you guys really liked the first twt link, so I made a pt.2 <3
cw: fingering, vaginal sex, creampie, breeding, masked men (ghostface), 'making a sex tape', dry humping, car sex, riding, angry sex
You knew the consequences of what would happened to you if you stepped out of place. Who can blame you? Maybe acting out of line will force him to treat you like the whorish little slut you are~
Just before he was about to leave he decided he needed to give you...a small reminder of him~
streaming was something you really liked doing on the weekends...you decided to bring a special guest for a special collab~
having a man is nice...but having a man who knows how to use his fingers to (actually) make you reach orgasm??? Thats a rare find...
You went to his house with the intention of watching movies. well...you did end up watching some random ass film-but 20 minutes in you guys decided to make your own homemade movie~
your boyfriend was such a gentleman-took you out to a nice restaurant, payed for dinner and treated you like a princess! You were spent, all you wanted to do was go in bed and stay up all night...lets just say the 2 of you were way too excited to wait~
live laugh fucking LOVE dry humping.
It doesn't take a lot for your boyfriend to get jealous. Today you found out that it's actually really fucking easy-laugh and playfully hit another guy and your bf will be FUMING.
──𝐛𝐭𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 :: when they’re secretly in love & get jealous
𝙒𝘼𝙍𝙉𝙄𝙉𝙂𝙎::emotional tension, clingy behavior, silent jealousy,smut,dom x sub,
𝗪𝗼𝗿𝗱𝘀::11k
ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ╰ bts x reader
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✧ 𝐍𝐚𝐦𝐣𝐨𝐨𝐧
On the surface, Namjoon was the embodiment of calm control. The leader who carried the weight of the group with quiet strength, always composed, always measured in his words and actions.
But beneath that polished exterior, a fierce storm brewed whenever he had to watch you interact with anyone else. He was secretly in love, the kind of deep, unspoken affection that had been building for months behind closed doors and stolen moments.
You two had agreed to keep everything hidden—the pressures of idol life, the fans, the contracts—it all demanded secrecy. Yet that secrecy only sharpened the jealousy that clawed at him.
He sat in the corner of the spacious backstage waiting room, one leg crossed over the other, pretending to immerse himself in a thick philosophy book he'd carried from the hotel. The pages turned slowly under his long fingers, but his sharp eyes weren't absorbing the text.
Every sound from across the room pulled his focus: your soft laughter, the low murmur of the backup dancer's voice, the way the man leaned in just a fraction too close. Namjoon's chest tightened with that familiar burn.
He told himself to breathe, to stay rational. You weren't his in the eyes of the world. Not yet. But in his heart, you were already everything.
The dancer said something that made you laugh again, brighter this time. Namjoon's grip on the book pages tightened until the paper creased. He forced his expression to remain neutral, but inside, his mind raced with possessive thoughts. That smile belonged to him.
Those sparkling eyes when you were amused—they were for him during late-night conversations in hidden hotel rooms. Not for some guy who didn't know the way you sighed when his hands traced your spine.
Then it happened. The dancer reached out, his fingers brushing your arm in what was meant to be a casual gesture. But it lingered.
The touch dragged slowly, too familiar, too bold. Namjoon's jaw clenched hard, the muscle ticking visibly for a split second before he schooled his features. He closed the book with a deliberate snap, the sound cutting through the room like a quiet warning.
Rising to his full height, broad shoulders straight and presence commanding, he crossed the space in unhurried strides. The air seemed heavier as he approached.
"Are you done talking?" His voice was low, deep, and smooth like velvet over steel. It wasn't overtly rude—Namjoon was too intelligent for that—but the underlying edge of authority made the dancer straighten immediately.
The man mumbled something about checking on choreography and excused himself, retreating quickly under the weight of Namjoon's steady gaze.
You turned toward him, one eyebrow arched in that knowing way that always sent heat through his veins. A small, secret smile played on your lips.
Namjoon didn't speak further in front of the others. Instead, he placed a large, warm hand on the small of your back, the touch firm and guiding. It was possessive without being obvious to anyone watching.
He steered you out of the main room and down the quieter hallway toward his private dressing area.
The second the door clicked shut behind you, locking out the world, the composure cracked wide open.
Namjoon backed you against the wall in one fluid motion, his tall, muscular frame pressing flush against yours.
One hand cupped your jaw, tilting your face up as his mouth claimed yours in a hungry, demanding kiss. His tongue swept in, tasting and dominating, pouring out all the jealousy he'd bottled up.
When he pulled back just enough to breathe, his forehead rested against yours, eyes dark and intense.
"You enjoy testing me like this, don't you?" he murmured, voice rough around the edges. His free hand slid down your side, gripping your waist hard enough to leave faint marks. "Letting him touch your arm, laugh with you, stand so close... knowing I'm right there watching every second."
You started to respond, but he silenced you with another deep kiss, teeth grazing your lower lip. His hands worked quickly but deliberately, peeling your shirt over your head and tossing it aside.
His mouth trailed hot kisses down your neck, sucking at the sensitive spot just below your ear until you gasped. He marked you there, a subtle bruise that only the two of you would know about later.
"I hate it," he admitted between kisses, voice low and honest. "I hate pretending I don't feel anything when someone else gets even a piece of your attention. You're mine in every way that matters, even if we can't say it out loud yet."
He lifted you effortlessly, your legs wrapping around his hips as he carried you to the wide couch against the far wall. Laying you down gently but with clear urgency, he hovered over you, stripping off his own shirt to reveal the defined lines of his chest and shoulders.
His skin was warm as he pressed down again, mouth exploring every inch of exposed skin. He took one nipple between his lips, sucking firmly while his fingers teased the other, rolling and pinching until you arched beneath him with a soft moan.
Lower still, he went, kissing down your stomach, nipping at your hips as he removed the rest of your clothes. When you were fully bare, he knelt between your spread thighs, eyes locked on yours with burning intensity.
"Look at me," he commanded softly. His tongue dragged slowly through your folds, savoring your taste with a deep groan that vibrated against you.
He took his time, licking and sucking with expert precision, two thick fingers sliding inside you and curling just right to hit that perfect spot.
Your fingers tangled in his soft hair, hips rolling against his face as pleasure built fast. Namjoon held you steady with one strong arm across your lower stomach, refusing to let you escape the overwhelming sensation.
He alternated between slow, teasing licks and intense suction on your clit, fingers pumping steadily until your thighs trembled around his head.
" Namjoon... please," you gasped, right on the edge.
But he pulled back at the last moment, lips glistening, a dark smile on his face. He stood, shedding the rest of his clothes to reveal his thick, hard cock already leaking with need. He stroked himself slowly, watching you writhe on the couch.
"Tell me who you belong to," he said, voice husky with restrained desire.
"I'm yours, Joon. Only yours."
He moved over you again, positioning himself at your entrance and pushing in with one long, deep thrust. The stretch was perfect, filling you completely.
He groaned your name, hips starting a slow, grinding rhythm that quickly built in intensity.
One hand pinned your wrists above your head, the other gripping your thigh to hold you open wider for him. Each thrust was deliberate, possessive, skin slapping against skin in the quiet room.
"You feel incredible," he breathed against your neck, biting down gently. "So tight, so wet for me. No one else will ever have this. No one else gets to hear the sounds you make when I'm inside you."
He angled his hips to hit that sensitive spot inside with every stroke, driving you higher. Your moans filled the space, mixing with his low grunts.
The jealousy fueled him, making his movements harder, deeper, more claiming. When your orgasm crashed over you, walls clenching tightly around him, he kept going through it, prolonging the pleasure until you were shaking.
Only then did he let himself go, thrusting deep one final time and spilling inside you with a guttural moan, his body shuddering against yours. For long moments afterward, he stayed buried deep, holding you close as your breathing slowed.
He eventually pulled out carefully, gathering you into his arms on the couch. His fingers traced lazy patterns along your back, the earlier storm of jealousy easing into tender affection. "I'm sorry for the intensity," he whispered, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead.
"I know we have to keep this secret for now. The timing isn't right, the world isn't ready. But seeing another man touch you, even innocently... it drives me insane. I just want you completely. Mind, body, everything."
You nestled closer against his chest, smiling as you felt his heartbeat under your cheek. "I love when you show me how much I mean to you. It makes me feel wanted in a way no one else ever has."
Namjoon chuckled softly, the sound warm and genuine now. His hand slid down your body again, cupping your ass possessively. "Good. Because we're not done yet. I need to remind you a few more times before we have to go back out there."
He kissed you slowly this time, building things up again with patient touches and whispered praises. Round two was slower, more intimate—him taking you from behind while you gripped the back of the couch, his chest pressed to your back, one hand between your legs rubbing your clit in time with his thrusts.
He murmured how perfect you were, how no one could ever compare, how he fell more in love every single day.
By the time you both finished again, the room felt warmer, heavier with the scent of sex and shared breaths.
Namjoon helped clean you up gently, then held you in his lap, stroking your hair as you talked quietly about nothing and everything. The jealousy hadn't vanished completely—it never did when love ran this deep and had to stay hidden—but it was soothed by the certainty of your connection.
He was calm again on the outside when you eventually returned to the others.
But now you carried his marks, his touch, his claim beneath your clothes. And that was enough for him, for now.
✧
✧ 𝐒𝐞𝐨𝐤𝐣𝐢𝐧
Seokjin had always been the dramatic one, the member who could turn even the smallest inconvenience into a full theatrical performance.
But when it came to you, his secret love, that drama wasn’t just for show—it masked something much deeper. He was head over heels, the kind of love that kept him up at night thinking about your laugh, your voice, the way you looked at him when no one else was watching.
You two had agreed to keep it hidden for now, protecting the relationship from the intense spotlight of idol life. Still, every time someone else stole your attention, it hit him harder than he let on.
The backstage area buzzed with pre-concert energy. Staff members hurried around, stylists adjusted outfits, and the members stretched or reviewed last-minute details. Seokjin lounged against a table, flipping through his phone with practiced nonchalance, but his eyes kept drifting to you across the room.
You were chatting with one of the newer lighting technicians—a friendly, outgoing guy who had been making everyone laugh all week. The technician leaned in closer as he explained some technical detail, gesturing animatedly, and you smiled at him, nodding along.
Seokjin’s fingers paused on his screen. He forced a smile, but inside, irritation prickled. It’s just a conversation, he told himself. You’re allowed to talk to people.
Yet the way the guy’s hand brushed your shoulder lightly as he pointed something out on a tablet made Seokjin’s stomach twist. He cleared his throat loudly, but no one noticed. Fine. He could play this game.
“Wow, okayyyy, I see how it is,” he muttered under his breath, loud enough for you to potentially hear if you were paying attention. You didn’t turn. The technician said something else, and you laughed again—that bright, genuine laugh that Seokjin usually earned with his dad jokes and cooking stories.
He pushed off the table, wandering closer under the pretense of grabbing a water bottle. “Guess I’m invisible now,” he added in a sing-song voice, dramatic and pouty, drawing a few amused glances from nearby staff. But his eyes stayed on you, sharp and needy.
Deep down, it wasn’t just theatrics. He genuinely felt the sting. He wanted your focus on him, your smiles directed at him, your time reserved for stolen moments in hotel rooms or quiet van rides where he could whisper how much he adored you.
The technician touched your arm again, this time resting his hand there a second too long while showing you a funny video on his phone. That was it.
Seokjin stepped forward with exaggerated flair, placing a hand on his chest like he’d been wounded. “Ah, I see the new lighting expert has taken over my role as the funniest person in the room. Should I just disappear into the background? Maybe become a stage prop?” His tone was light, teasing, but the undercurrent of real upset made his words sharper than usual.
The technician blinked, suddenly awkward, and pulled his hand back quickly.
You turned to Seokjin, catching the flash of genuine hurt behind his dramatic mask. The technician excused himself with a nervous chuckle, sensing the shift in atmosphere.
As soon as the two of you had a moment of semi-privacy near the edge of the room, Seokjin’s facade cracked further. He crossed his arms, lips pursed in that signature pout. “You like him more than me now? Be honest. I can take it. I’m just the handsome chef who makes you laugh and cooks your favorite meals at 2 a.m. No big deal.”
You rolled your eyes fondly, but before you could respond, he grabbed your hand and tugged you toward his private dressing room down the hall, closing the door firmly behind you. The lock clicked, sealing you both away from prying eyes.
The moment the world was shut out, Seokjin’s dramatic complaints melted into raw emotion. He pulled you into his arms, wrapping you in a tight back hug from behind, his chin resting on your shoulder.
His breath was warm against your neck. “I hate this,” he whispered, voice dropping the playful tone. “I hate pretending I don’t care when someone else touches you or makes you laugh. I want all of it. Your attention, your time, your everything. It’s selfish, but I’m in love with you. Secretly, stupidly, completely.”
His hands roamed up your sides, pulling you closer against his chest. The clinginess kicked in hard—exactly as expected after his jealousy flared. He pressed a series of soft forehead kisses along your hairline, then turned you in his arms to face him. “You like me more, right? Tell me. I need to hear it.”
“Of course I do, Jin. Only you,” you reassured him, and that was all it took.
His mouth descended on yours in a kiss that started tender but quickly ignited with pent-up need. Seokjin kissed like he performed— with full commitment and flair.
His lips moved against yours hungrily, tongue teasing until you parted for him. He backed you toward the couch, never breaking contact, his large hands cupping your face as if you might vanish.
Clothes came off in a heated rush. He peeled your shirt away slowly, savoring the reveal of your skin, then shed his own to expose his broad shoulders and toned chest. “You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, voice thick with emotion and desire.
He laid you down on the couch, hovering over you, dropping more forehead kisses and soft ones along your collarbone. His hands explored everywhere—squeezing your waist, tracing your curves, gripping your thighs as he settled between them.
Seokjin took his time, despite the urgency of his jealousy. He kissed down your body, lingering at your breasts, sucking one nipple into his mouth while his fingers played with the other. You arched into him, fingers threading through his dark hair.
Lower, he went, until his breath ghosted over your core. He looked up at you with those expressive eyes, still a hint of that dramatic pout lingering. “This is mine. Only mine.”
His tongue delved in, licking a slow stripe through your folds before focusing on your clit with precise, teasing circles. Two fingers slid inside you, curling expertly as he worked you open. He moaned against you, the vibrations sending sparks up your spine.
Seokjin ate you out with the same dedication he put into everything—thorough, passionate, a little extra. He brought you right to the edge, then eased back, kissing your inner thighs while you caught your breath.
“Not yet,” he said, climbing back up your body. “I want to be inside you when you come. I want to feel how much you want me.”
He positioned himself, rubbing the thick head of his cock against your entrance, slick with your arousal and his saliva. With a deep push, he entered you, both of you groaning at the perfect fit.
Seokjin’s hips rolled slowly at first, savoring the connection, but jealousy still simmered beneath the surface. His pace quickened, thrusts becoming deeper and more insistent.
“Tell me again,” he panted between kisses, pinning your hands above your head with one of his. “You like me more, right? Say it while I fuck you.”
“I like you more—fuck, Jin, so much more,” you moaned, legs wrapping around his waist to pull him deeper.
That spurred him on. He released your hands to grip your hips, angling you so every thrust hit that sweet spot inside. The room filled with the sounds of skin meeting skin, your shared gasps, and his occasional dramatic whispers. “That’s right. No one else gets to make you feel like this. No technician, no staff, no one. Just me.”
He shifted positions, pulling you up so you straddled him on the couch. You rode him while he guided your movements with strong hands on your ass, thrusting up to meet you. His mouth latched onto your neck, sucking marks that would be hidden under your clothes later.
One hand slipped between you, thumb circling your clit in time with your bounces.
Pleasure coiled tight in your belly. Seokjin could feel you tightening around him. “Come for me, baby. Show me I’m the only one.”
Your orgasm hit hard, waves crashing through you as you clenched around his cock, crying out his name. Seokjin followed right after, burying himself deep and spilling inside you with a long, satisfied groan.
His arms wrapped around you tightly in another back hug as you both came down, even while still connected.
For several minutes, he just held you like that, pressing forehead kisses to your temple, your cheeks, anywhere he could reach. The clinginess returned full force.
“I’m sorry for being dramatic out there,” he murmured, nuzzling your neck. “But I can’t help it. When I see someone else getting your smiles, it makes me realize how badly I want to tell the whole world you’re mine. Until then… stay close to me, okay? Lots of hugs like this. Lots of kisses. And always tell me I’m your favorite.”
You laughed softly, running your fingers through his hair. “You are my favorite, Jin. Dramatics and all.”
He smiled, genuine and warm now that the jealousy had been soothed by your touch. But he wasn’t done. After cleaning you both up gently, he pulled you back into his lap, hands wandering again. “Round two,” he announced with a playful wink. “I need more reassurance. And more of those sounds you make just for me.”
This time was slower, more intimate. He took you from behind while you leaned over the couch arm, his chest pressed to your back in a constant hug.
One arm wrapped around your waist, the other between your legs, rubbing you as he thrust steadily. He whispered praises and silly jokes mixed with love confessions, keeping things light even as pleasure built again.
By the end, you were both exhausted in the best way, tangled together on the couch with his arms securely around you. Seokjin’s dramatic jealousy had led to this—raw passion, tender aftercare, and a deeper bond strengthened in secret. He kissed your forehead one last time.
“Don’t forget who loves you most, even when I have to pretend I don’t in front of everyone else.”
The concert would start soon, and he’d be back to his charismatic, funny self on stage. But you would carry his touch, his words, and the quiet promise of more hidden moments like this.
✧
✧ 𝐘𝐨𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐢
Yoongi didn’t need to raise his voice or put on a show for his jealousy to land like ice water down the spine. It was the silence that made it terrifying—the way his face stayed almost neutral, sharp eyes narrowing just a fraction, while the temperature in the room seemed to drop ten degrees.
He was in love with you in the quietest, most consuming way possible. A love built on late-night studio sessions where words weren’t necessary, on shared headphones and fingers brushing under tables. You kept it secret because that was the only way it could survive right now. But secrets had a way of sharpening everything else, especially the possessiveness he rarely let show.
The green room hummed with the usual pre-show chaos. Staff adjusted mics, members chatted in low voices, and you stood near the couch talking to one of the tour photographers.
The guy was friendly, talented, and clearly interested. He leaned against the wall, camera slung around his neck, smiling as he showed you some shots from the previous night on his screen. “You always end up looking perfect in these,” he said, voice dropping a little. “The way the light hits you… I could shoot you for hours.”
You laughed politely, flipping through the images. Yoongi sat on the opposite couch, hood up, earbuds in but no music playing. His expression didn’t change. He looked half-asleep, legs stretched out, cap pulled low. But his gaze followed every movement.
The way the photographer stepped closer. The way his hand brushed your elbow to point at something on the screen. The way you smiled back—not flirtatious, but warm enough to twist something deep in Yoongi’s chest.
He didn’t speak. Not at first. His answers to the staff member asking about setlist changes became short, almost curt. “Yeah.” “Fine.” “Whatever works.” The calm shifted. People around him started glancing over, sensing the subtle change in the air without understanding why. Yoongi’s eyes stayed locked on you, dark and unreadable, tracking the photographer’s every gesture like a predator deciding exactly when to strike.
When the guy laughed at something you said and let his fingers linger on your arm, tracing a light path down to your wrist while complimenting your “natural presence,” Yoongi moved. No words.
No dramatic sigh. He simply stood, crossed the room in that slow, deliberate way of his, and slid an arm around your waist from behind. His hand settled firmly, fingers pressing into your side with quiet ownership. He pulled you back against his chest, chin brushing your shoulder for a brief second before he released you—but not really. His presence stayed right there, a wall of silent warning.
The photographer straightened immediately, mumbling something about checking equipment, and disappeared faster than expected. Yoongi didn’t smile. He didn’t gloat. He just looked at you once, eyes saying everything his mouth wouldn’t: We’re leaving. Now.
He guided you out with that same hand on your waist, touch deceptively light but impossible to ignore. Down the hallway to his private dressing room.
The door shut with a soft click. The lock turned. And then the real shift happened.
Yoongi leaned against the door for a moment, staring at you. Still silent. The jealousy didn’t explode out of him like it might with the others. It coiled, controlled, and burned hotter because of it. He crossed to you slowly, backing you against the makeup counter without touching you at first.
His hands finally came up, framing your face, thumbs brushing your cheeks with surprising gentleness before his grip tightened just enough.
“You let him touch you,” he said, voice low and rough, barely above a whisper. It wasn’t a question. “Laughed with him. Let him look at you like that.”
His lips crashed into yours before you could answer—slow, deep, devastating. Yoongi kissed like he produced music: layered, intentional, every movement building something heavier. His tongue slid against yours, claiming, while one hand dropped to your waist again, pulling your hips flush against him.
You could feel how hard he already was, pressed against your stomach.
He broke the kiss only to trail his mouth down your neck, sucking lightly at first, then harder, leaving marks that would hide under your collar. “Mine,” he breathed against your skin. No theatrics.
Just fact. His hands worked methodically, peeling your shirt off, then his own. The sight of his pale skin, slim but toned torso, and the faint lines of muscle made your breath catch. He lifted you onto the counter, stepping between your legs.
Yoongi’s possessiveness showed in the calmest, most intense ways. He didn’t rush. He unbuttoned your pants and dragged them down along with your underwear, eyes never leaving yours. When you were bare, he ran his palms up your thighs, spreading them wider.
Two fingers traced your entrance, feeling how wet you already were, before sliding in deep. He curled them slowly, perfectly, watching every flicker across your face.
“Eyes on me,” he murmured when your head tipped back. His free hand gripped your chin, forcing your gaze back to his. Those dark eyes held you captive while his fingers pumped steadily, thumb circling your clit with maddening precision.
The room filled with the wet sounds of his hand and your growing moans, but Yoongi stayed mostly quiet, only letting out low, controlled breaths.
He brought you right to the edge, then withdrew his fingers, ignoring your frustrated whimper. He freed himself from his pants, thick and flushed, stroking once before pressing the head against you.
One smooth thrust and he buried himself to the hilt, groaning softly into your neck. The stretch was perfect, overwhelming.
His hips rolled in deep, measured strokes. Not frantic—deliberate. Each thrust claimed you, reminded you exactly who you belonged to. One arm wrapped around your back, holding you impossibly close, while the other braced on the counter. Skin met skin in rhythmic slaps, but his voice stayed low.
“No one else gets this,” he whispered against your ear, biting the lobe. “No one else hears you moan like this. No one else feels how tight you get when I’m inside you.” His pace increased gradually, still controlled, but the jealousy fueled every snap of his hips. He angled just right, hitting that spot inside you that made stars burst behind your eyes.
You clutched his shoulders, nails digging in. “Yoongi—”
“Say it,” he demanded quietly, voice dark. “Tell me who you belong to while I fuck you.”
“You. Only you.”
That seemed to break something in his restraint. He lifted you off the counter, turning you around and bending you over it. Your hands braced on the cool surface as he entered you again from behind, deeper this way.
One hand gripped your hip hard enough to bruise, the other reached around to rub your clit in tight circles. His chest pressed to your back, lips against your shoulder as he thrust harder, faster, but still terrifyingly silent except for the occasional low groan.
The orgasm built like a wave you couldn’t escape. When it crashed over you, your walls clenched around him, legs shaking. Yoongi followed moments later, burying himself deep and coming with a quiet, shuddering breath, filling you completely.
He stayed inside you for a long minute, arms wrapped around your waist, face pressed to your back.
Finally, he pulled out carefully, cleaning you both with a warm cloth from the side table. He didn’t speak much even then. Just pulled you into his arms on the small couch, holding you against his chest.
His fingers traced slow patterns on your bare skin—possessive, soothing. The silent jealousy had morphed into this: quiet intensity, the kind that wrapped around you like smoke.
“I hate it,” he said eventually, voice barely audible. “Seeing someone else flirt with you. Touch you. Makes me want to pull you away every single time. I know we can’t say anything yet. But you’re mine. In every way that matters.”
You turned in his arms, kissing his jaw. “I am yours, Yoongi. Always.”
He nodded once, eyes softening just a fraction. But the possessiveness lingered. His hand slid down to grip your thigh, pulling you closer. “Good. Because we still have time before soundcheck.”
His lips found yours again, slower this time, but no less hungry.
The second round was different—slower, face to face on the couch, your legs wrapped around his waist as he moved inside you with those same deep, claiming strokes. He kept his forehead against yours, eyes locked, forcing you to feel every emotion he rarely voiced.
When you came again, whispering his name like a prayer, he followed, spilling into you once more with a quiet curse.
Afterward, he held you tightly, pressing soft kisses to your temple. No dramatic declarations.
No over-the-top clinginess. Just Yoongi—silent, steady, and terrifyingly in love. The kind of love that didn’t need noise to be felt in your bones.
He helped you dress eventually, adjusting your clothes so the marks he left stayed hidden.
When you stepped back into the hallway, his expression had returned to that neutral calm. But his hand brushed your lower back one last time, a secret reminder.
The mood around him stayed shifted for the rest of the evening. Short answers. Watching eyes. And when anyone got too close to you again, that arm found your waist without a word.
Because Yoongi’s jealousy didn’t roar. It simply took what was his, quietly, completely, and left no room for doubt.
✧
✧ 𝐇𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐨𝐤
Hoseok was sunshine personified—bright smiles, infectious laughter, and that endless energy that lit up every room he entered. But when jealousy crept in, especially over you, the person he was secretly, deeply in love with, that sunshine didn’t disappear. It just burned hotter, more focused, until it consumed everything else.
He tried so hard to play it cool, to keep things light and fun like always, because that was his role. The one who kept morale high. The one who made everyone feel at ease. But with you, his ult, his hidden heart, the mask slipped faster than he could catch it.
The backstage lounge was alive with pre-rehearsal chatter. Members stretched, stylists touched up makeup, and you were standing near the snack table talking to one of the new choreographers—a charismatic guy who’d been brought in for a fresh routine. He was funny, confident, and clearly drawn to your energy. He demonstrated a quick footwork move, laughing as you tried to copy it, his hand lightly steadying your waist for balance.
“See? You’ve got natural rhythm,” he said, eyes lingering a second too long. “We should practice together sometime. I could teach you a lot.”
Hoseok, who had been sipping water across the room while chatting with staff, felt the shift instantly. He forced a wide smile, the one that usually lit up stages worldwide, and sauntered over with his signature playful bounce. “Yah, what’s this? Stealing my favorite dance partner?” he teased, voice bright and sing-song.
But the smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. It tightened at the corners, turning a little sharp. His laugh when the choreographer joked back sounded forced, almost brittle.
He tried again, keeping it playful. “Careful, she might outshine you on stage if you teach her too well!” Another laugh, but it fell flat even to his own ears.
Deep down, it wasn’t funny. Not when this guy had his hand on your waist. Not when you were smiling at someone else the way Hoseok wanted you smiling at him in every stolen moment—those quiet van rides, late-night texts, and hidden hotel nights where he whispered how much he adored you. You were his secret, his everything, and watching someone else flirt so openly made his chest ache with a need he couldn’t voice publicly.
The choreographer chuckled and touched your arm again, leaning in to say something quieter. That was the breaking point. Hoseok’s playful facade crumbled in an instant. He moved smoothly but decisively, sliding right beside you. One arm wrapped around your shoulders, pulling you firmly against his side. His other hand found yours, fingers intertwining tightly.
He rested his chin on top of your head, nuzzling in just enough to make his claim crystal clear without words. The warmth of his body enveloped you, that familiar mix of cologne and stage energy that was so distinctly him.
“Actually,” Hoseok said, voice still light but edged with something deeper, “we have some partner work we need to go over. Right now.” His smile stayed plastered on for the choreographer, but his grip on you tightened. Everyone in the room could see it—you two were close. Very close.
The choreographer got the message, nodding awkwardly and stepping back with a quick excuse about checking the stage layout.
As soon as the guy was out of sight, Hoseok didn’t let go. If anything, he held you tighter. His arm around your shoulders became a full embrace, chin still on your head as he swayed you gently side to side like you were dancing to music only he could hear. “I hate that,” he murmured into your hair, voice dropping the playful tone. “I try to act cool, but seeing him touch you… it makes me want to pull you away and keep you all to myself. You’re my person. My favorite. I need everyone to know how close we are, even if we can’t tell them everything yet.”
He guided you down the hallway to his private dressing room, never once releasing your hand. The door closed behind you, and the lock clicked. In the quiet space, Hoseok’s energy shifted completely.
He turned to you, eyes soft but burning with that mix of love and jealousy. “You know you’re my ult, right? My everything. I can’t stand the thought of someone else thinking they can have even a piece of you.”
His hands cupped your face tenderly, thumbs brushing your cheeks, before he kissed you. It wasn’t rushed—it was deep, passionate, full of all the affection he poured into every performance. Hoseok kissed like he danced: with soul, with fire, with every part of himself.
His tongue moved against yours in perfect rhythm, drawing soft sounds from you that made him smile against your lips.
Clothes disappeared between heated kisses and wandering hands. He peeled your shirt off slowly, worshipping every inch of skin he revealed with his mouth. “So beautiful,” he whispered, voice husky.
His own shirt came off next, revealing his toned dancer’s body, lean muscle honed from years of powerful performances. He lifted you effortlessly, your legs wrapping around his waist as he carried you to the wide couch.
Hoseok laid you down like you were precious, but his touches grew more urgent. He kissed down your neck, sucking gentle marks along your collarbone—marks only the two of you would see.
His hands explored your curves, squeezing your hips, tracing your thighs as he removed the rest of your clothes. When you were bare beneath him, he took a moment just to look, eyes full of adoration. “Mine,” he said softly, almost reverently. “All mine.”
He settled between your legs, mouth hot and eager as he tasted you. His tongue moved with expert precision—playful flicks on your clit mixed with deep, languid strokes that had you gripping his hair. Two fingers slid inside you, curling in that way he knew drove you crazy, matching the rhythm of his mouth. Hoseok moaned against you, the vibrations sending sparks through your body.
He looked up at you the whole time, eyes locked, making sure you felt exactly how much he needed this.
But he didn’t let you finish that way. He wanted to be closer. Needed it. Hoseok climbed back up, shedding the last of his clothes, his cock hard and flushed with need.
He rubbed the tip against your entrance, teasing just enough to make you whimper, before sliding in deep with one smooth thrust. The feeling of him filling you completely drew matching groans from both of you.
He started slow, rolling his hips in that fluid, dancer-like motion, grinding deep. One hand held yours above your head, fingers still intertwined, while the other caressed your face. “Look at me, baby,” he breathed, forehead resting against yours. “I need you to see how much I love you. How crazy you make me.”
The pace built gradually, thrusts becoming more powerful, more possessive. Skin met skin with rhythmic slaps, the couch creaking softly beneath you. Hoseok’s usual playfulness returned in little ways—he nipped at your lip with a small smile, whispered silly-sweet things between moans—but the jealousy fueled an intensity that made everything hotter. He shifted you onto your side, lifting one leg over his shoulder so he could go even deeper, hitting that perfect spot with every stroke.
“You feel so good,” he panted, sweat glistening on his skin. “No one else gets this. No one else gets to hold you, touch you, love you like I do.” His free hand slipped between you, thumb circling your clit in tight, perfect patterns. The combination sent you spiraling fast.
When you came, it hit like a wave—walls clenching around him as you cried out his name. Hoseok followed right after, burying himself deep and spilling inside you with a long, throaty moan, hips stuttering through the pleasure. He collapsed gently on top of you, careful not to crush you, arms wrapping around you in the tightest hug.
Even in the afterglow, the clinginess stayed. He pressed kisses all over your face—forehead, cheeks, nose, lips—while still inside you. “I’m sorry I got jealous,” he whispered, nuzzling your neck.
“But I can’t help it. You’re my ult, my sunshine, my reason for smiling even on hard days. I need the world to see how close we are, even if it’s just through little things like holding your hand or resting my chin on your head.”
He pulled out eventually, cleaning you both with gentle care before pulling you into his lap. The second round came naturally, slower and sweeter this time. You rode him on the couch, his hands guiding your hips as he looked up at you with pure adoration.
He sat up midway, arms around your waist in a full embrace, mouths meeting in messy kisses while he thrust up to meet you. More forehead kisses, more whispers of love, more of that special energy only Hoseok could bring.
Afterward, tangled together and breathing softly, he kept you close. Fingers tracing patterns on your back, chin resting on your head again. “Promise me something?” he asked quietly. “No matter who flirts or how hard we have to hide this… you’ll always come back to me like this.
Let me hold you, love you, remind you that you’re my favorite person in the entire universe.”
You smiled, kissing his jaw. “Always, Hobi. You’re my ult too.”
Hoseok’s bright laugh returned, genuine this time, as he hugged you tighter. The jealousy had faded, replaced by warmth and certainty.
He would go back out there soon with his playful energy, but everyone would still see it—that extra closeness, the way his arm found your shoulders so naturally, the protective glint in his eye. Because when it came to you, Hoseok didn’t just love quietly. He loved with his whole heart, his whole body, and everyone nearby would feel it.
✧
✧ 𝐉𝐢𝐦𝐢𝐧
Jimin carried his heart in his eyes. That was what made his jealousy so devastating—not loud or possessive in a flashy way, but a quiet ache that turned those expressive eyes softer, almost glassy, like the light inside him had dimmed. He was deeply, secretly in love with you, the kind of love that bloomed in stolen glances during rehearsals and whispered confessions in the dark of hotel rooms.
You kept it hidden because the world demanded it, but that only made moments like this cut deeper. He wasn’t angry. He was hurt. The kind of hurt that made him question everything.
The waiting area backstage before the showcase was filled with the usual energy—stylists rushing with last-minute fixes, members warming up their voices, and low chatter bouncing off the walls. Jimin sat on a low couch, legs tucked under him gracefully, scrolling through his phone. But his attention wasn’t on the screen. It was on you, across the room, talking to one of the backup vocal coaches.
The guy was kind, experienced, and had a gentle way of speaking that clearly put you at ease. He laughed at something you said, leaning in slightly as he offered tips on a tricky harmony, his hand resting briefly on your shoulder in encouragement.
Jimin’s smile, the one he’d been holding for the staff earlier, faltered. His eyes softened, the usual sparkle dulling into something quieter, more vulnerable. He looked away for a moment, biting the inside of his cheek, but his gaze kept drifting back. Do they make you happier than I do? The thought crept in uninvited. Am I bothering you lately? Maybe I’ve been too clingy in our secret texts. Maybe you need someone who doesn’t have to hide. His fingers tightened around his phone, but outwardly, he stayed composed—almost too still, too quiet. The members noticed the shift; Jungkook asked if he was okay, and Jimin just nodded with a small, forced curve of his lips.
When the coach’s hand lingered on your arm a second longer while demonstrating a breathing technique, Jimin couldn’t stay seated. He stood gracefully, crossing the room without fanfare. No dramatic words, no tight smiles like Hoseok might use. Just a gentle touch—his hand slipping into yours, fingers intertwining as he tugged you lightly toward him. “Hey,” he said softly, voice barely above a murmur. “Can we talk for a minute?” His eyes met yours, pleading in that subtle way only you could read. The coach sensed the moment and stepped back with a polite nod.
Jimin led you down the hallway to his private dressing room, his hold on your hand never loosening. Once inside, with the door closed and the world locked out, the overthinking spilled quietly from him. He turned to you, eyes even softer now, almost misty. He didn’t let go of your hand, instead pulling it up to press against his chest so you could feel his heartbeat—steady but a little faster than usual.
“I saw you with him,” he whispered, voice gentle but laced with that hurt. “The way he made you laugh… it was nice. Really nice. Do they make you happier than I do? Be honest with me. I can take it, I think. But lately I keep wondering if I’m bothering you. If all these secret moments, the late calls when I can’t sleep, the way I always want you close… maybe it’s too much. Maybe you need space.”
His free hand came up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, touch feather-light, as if afraid you might pull away. Those beautiful eyes searched yours, vulnerable and open in a way he rarely showed the world. Jimin melted when he felt loved, but right now, the jealousy had him unraveling in the softest, most heartbreaking way.
You reassured him immediately, cupping his face and telling him how much he meant to you—how no one compared, how his attention was your favorite thing. The words worked like magic. His shoulders relaxed, eyes fluttering closed for a moment as he leaned into your palm. “Really?” he breathed, voice cracking just a little. And then he melted completely, stepping closer until his body pressed against yours, arms wrapping around your waist in a needy embrace. “I need you,” he murmured against your neck. “Show me I’m still your favorite.”
The kiss started tender, almost hesitant, like he was afraid to ask for too much. But as you deepened it, pouring reassurance into every brush of lips and tongue, Jimin came alive. His hands roamed your back, pulling you impossibly closer, fingers tracing the curve of your spine with familiar reverence. Clothes came off slowly, between soft kisses and whispered affirmations. He peeled your shirt away like unwrapping something precious, lips following the path of exposed skin—collarbone, shoulder, the dip between your breasts.
“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered, eyes drinking you in. His own shirt slipped off, revealing the lean, sculpted lines of his dancer’s body, skin glowing under the warm lights. He lifted you onto the vanity table, stepping between your legs, hands gentle but sure on your thighs. “Tell me again,” he asked softly, forehead resting against yours. “That I’m the one you want.”
“You’re the only one, Jimin. Always.”
That was all he needed. He kissed you deeply, tongues sliding together as his hands explored. He cupped your breasts, thumbs circling your nipples until they peaked under his touch, drawing quiet gasps from you. Lower, his fingers trailed, slipping between your legs to find you already wet for him. Two slender fingers eased inside, curling slowly, perfectly, while his thumb brushed your clit in lazy circles. He watched your face the entire time, eyes soft and locked on yours, feeding on every moan like it was oxygen.
“Please,” you breathed, and he nodded, removing his fingers to free himself. His cock was hard, flushed, curving beautifully as he stroked it once before pressing against your entrance. He slid in slowly, savoring every inch, both of you sighing at the connection. Jimin’s hips rolled in fluid, graceful thrusts—deep and unhurried, like a dance only the two of you knew. One arm wrapped around your back, holding you close, while the other braced on the table.
“Feel me,” he whispered, voice husky with emotion. “I’m yours too. Completely.” His pace stayed tender at first, but reassurance turned the heat up. He buried his face in your neck, sucking soft marks as his thrusts grew firmer, hitting that spot inside you that made your toes curl. You clung to his shoulders, nails lightly scratching his back, and he shivered in pleasure.
He pulled back to look at you again, eyes half-lidded but shining. “I was scared for a second… that maybe someone else could make you smile bigger. But this—us—it’s everything.” The vulnerability mixed with desire made it intensely intimate. He shifted you slightly, angling deeper, one hand slipping between you to rub your clit in time with his movements. The build was slow, overwhelming, until you came with a soft cry, clenching around him, pulling him over the edge too. Jimin moaned your name quietly, spilling deep inside you, hips stuttering as waves of pleasure washed over him.
He stayed inside you for a long moment, holding you tightly, foreheads pressed together as breaths mingled. Then the melting happened fully—soft kisses all over your face, gentle hands cleaning you both with a warm towel from the side counter. He carried you to the small couch, curling around you like a koala, legs tangled, arms secure around your waist. “Thank you,” he murmured, nuzzling your hair. “For always making me feel wanted. I get so scared sometimes that I’m not enough in all this hiding.”
“You’re more than enough,” you reassured him again, fingers carding through his hair. He practically purred at the touch, eyes closing in contentment.
The second round came naturally, slower and even more emotional. You straddled him on the couch, sinking down onto him inch by inch while he gazed up at you like you hung the stars. His hands guided your hips, but gently, letting you set the rhythm. Every roll of your body drew soft praises from him—“So good… you feel perfect… I love you like this.” He sat up midway, chest to chest, arms wrapped fully around you in a tight embrace as he thrust up to meet you. Mouths met in lazy, deep kisses, tongues dancing as pleasure built again. When you both came this time, it was together—whispers and shudders, bodies trembling in sync.
Afterward, Jimin kept you in his lap, tracing invisible patterns on your skin, chin resting on your shoulder. The hurt jealousy had dissolved into pure, warm affection. He was quiet again, but this time it was peaceful, content. “I don’t want to go back out there yet,” he admitted with a small smile. “Just a little longer like this. You make everything better.”
He would return to the others soon, eyes bright once more, that charming stage persona slipping back into place. But the secret marks on your skin, the way his hand would brush yours a little longer than necessary, and the soft glances only you understood—they would remind everyone, subtly, that his heart was already claimed. Jimin’s love was like that: not loud, but profound. And when reassured, he gave it back tenfold, melting completely into the person who made his world feel right.
✧
✧ 𝐓𝐚𝐞𝐡𝐲𝐮𝐧𝐠
Taehyung felt everything deeply. Love, joy, sadness — and especially jealousy. Out of all the members, no one burned with it quite like he did. You weren’t dating. Not officially. You had never put a label on whatever this was between you: stolen kisses in the studio after midnight, fingers brushing under tables, late-night talks where he called you his soulmate in that low, sincere voice of his. But the lack of a title didn’t stop the fierce possessiveness that surged through him every time someone else got too close to you. If anything, it made it worse. Because without a label, he had no real right to feel this way — yet he felt it all the same.
The green room before the soundcheck was lively. Members sprawled across couches, staff moved around with tablets and cables, and you were sitting on the arm of a chair talking to one of the new international staff members — a tall, friendly guy who had been helping with translations. He was charming in an easy way, laughing as he showed you something on his phone. Taehyung sat across the room, legs spread wide, wearing an oversized hoodie, but his usual boxy smile was nowhere to be found.
Instead, his dark eyes were locked on you. Brows slightly furrowed. Lips pressed into a straight line. He didn’t even realize how obvious it was until Jungkook nudged Jimin and both of them started smirking.
“Hyung, you’re staring again,” Jungkook teased quietly, loud enough for the others to hear. “Looking like someone kicked your puppy.”
Taehyung blinked, trying to school his expression into something neutral, but it was too late. The frown was already there, deep and sulky. His gaze flicked back to you immediately. The staff guy leaned closer to show you another video, his hand resting casually on the back of your chair. Taehyung’s jaw tightened. That should be him. Sitting next to you. Making you laugh like that. Being the only one allowed in your space.
He stood up suddenly, long legs carrying him across the room without thinking. The members watched with knowing grins — they had seen this side of Taehyung more than once when it came to you.
“Hey,” he said, voice deep and a little rough as he stopped right beside you. He didn’t even acknowledge the staff member at first. His eyes were only on you. “Come sit with me instead.”
You looked up, catching the unmistakable sulk in his expression. The staff guy paused mid-sentence, suddenly aware of the heavy aura surrounding Taehyung.
“I was just—” you started, but Taehyung was already gently taking your hand, fingers wrapping around yours with quiet determination.
“Please?” he added, softer this time, but the jealousy was written all over his face. Big brown eyes, slight pout, shoulders a little hunched like the weight of watching you with someone else actually hurt him physically. The staff member cleared his throat awkwardly and found an excuse to leave.
The second you let Taehyung pull you over to the couch and sit beside him, his entire mood shifted. The frown melted away. That beautiful boxy smile broke across his face like sunshine after rain. He immediately draped one long arm around your shoulders, pulling you against his side, chin resting lightly on your head. Soulmate behavior. Like the universe had clicked back into place now that you were close again.
“Much better,” he murmured happily, voice low enough for only you to hear. His fingers played with the sleeve of your shirt, absentmindedly tracing patterns. The members exchanged amused looks but didn’t comment further.
But the jealousy hadn’t disappeared. It had simply been redirected into need.
A little while later, when the room cleared out slightly, Taehyung leaned down, lips brushing your ear. “Come with me for a minute.” No room for argument. He took your hand again and led you to his private dressing room, locking the door behind you with a soft click.
The moment you were alone, the intensity returned. He backed you against the wall, hands framing your face as he stared down at you with those soulful eyes.
“I hate it,” he confessed, voice husky. “I know we’re not… official. But seeing him next to you, making you laugh, touching your chair like that — it drives me crazy. You’re mine in here.” He pressed a hand over his own heart. “You feel like my soulmate. Even if we haven’t said the words yet. I get so jealous I can’t hide it.”
His kiss was deep and consuming, the kind only Taehyung could give — passionate, emotional, like he was pouring his entire soul into it. Tongues moved slowly, tasting, claiming. His large hands slid down your body, gripping your waist and pulling you flush against him so you could feel how hard he already was.
Clothes came off with urgent but reverent touches. He peeled your shirt away, kissing every inch of skin he revealed, whispering how beautiful you were, how no one else should ever get to stand that close to you. When he removed his own hoodie and shirt, revealing his broad shoulders and toned chest, you couldn’t help but run your hands over him. He shivered under your touch.
Taehyung lifted you effortlessly, carrying you to the couch and laying you down. He hovered over you, eyes never leaving yours as he removed the rest of your clothes. “So perfect,” he breathed, kissing down your stomach until he reached your core. He took his time, tongue moving in slow, sensual strokes, savoring you like fine wine. Two long fingers pushed inside you, curling gently while his mouth focused on your clit. He moaned against you, the vibrations sending pleasure shooting through your body.
But he didn’t let you finish there. He needed to be closer.
Rising up, he freed himself, thick and flushed, and rubbed the tip against your entrance. “Look at me,” he whispered. The eye contact was intense as he pushed in slowly, stretching you open inch by inch until he was buried deep. Both of you groaned at the feeling.
His thrusts started deep and rhythmic, hips rolling in that smooth, artistic way of his. One hand held yours above your head, fingers intertwined, while the other cradled the back of your neck so he could keep kissing you. “You’re mine,” he panted between kisses, even though you weren’t officially. “Even if the world doesn’t know yet. Tell me you feel it too.”
“I feel it, Tae. Only you.”
That reassurance made him melt and burn at the same time. His pace picked up, thrusts becoming harder, more desperate. The jealousy that had been simmering all afternoon poured out in every movement — possessive but full of love. He shifted you so your legs wrapped higher around his waist, going deeper, hitting that spot that made you see stars.
When you came, clenching tightly around him and moaning his name, Taehyung followed right after, burying his face in your neck as he spilled deep inside you with a low, broken groan. His body trembled against yours, arms wrapping around you tightly like he never wanted to let go.
Even after, the clinginess stayed. He cleaned you gently, then pulled you into his lap, arms locked around your waist, chin on your shoulder. “I know I get too jealous,” he admitted quietly, pressing soft kisses to your temple. “But I can’t help it. You’re my person. My soulmate. Watching someone else get your attention feels like losing a piece of myself.”
You stayed like that for a while, his hands gently stroking your back, mood completely bright again now that he had you all to himself. When desire built once more, the second round was slower, more intimate. You rode him on the couch, his hands guiding your hips while he looked up at you with pure adoration. He sat up to kiss you deeply, chest to chest, whispering sweet nothings and jealous little confessions between moans.
By the time you both finished again, you were tangled together, breathing softly. Taehyung kept you close, refusing to let go just yet. “Stay with me a little longer,” he murmured, voice warm. “I need more of this. More of you.”
He would go back out there soon with that signature boxy smile, acting like nothing happened. But everyone would notice how his eyes followed you, how he found excuses to sit next to you, how his hand always seemed to find yours when no one was looking too closely. Because Taehyung’s jealousy wasn’t subtle — it was obvious, deep, and rooted in a love so strong it didn’t need a label to feel real.
He was the most jealous for a reason. You were his soulmate. And he would keep reminding you — and everyone else — of that fact, one stolen moment at a time.
✧
✧ 𝐉𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐤𝐨𝐨𝐤
Jungkook tried so hard not to care. He really did. He told himself a thousand times that you weren’t officially his, that the secret moments you shared—late-night gym sessions where he’d spot you, quiet studio cuddles, and stolen kisses behind closed doors—didn’t give him the right to feel possessive. But he cared the most. Out of everyone, no one’s heart twisted quite like his when someone else flirted with you. It made his ears burn red, his usual bright energy go quiet, and his big doe eyes stay glued to you like you were the only thing in the room.
The backstage lounge before the final rehearsal was buzzing. Members were scattered around, some playing games on their phones, others stretching or chatting with staff. Jungkook sat on the floor against the couch, pretending to scroll through his camera roll, but his attention was locked across the room where you stood talking to one of the young backup dancers. The guy was energetic, funny, and clearly interested. He kept leaning in, demonstrating a move and laughing when you tried it, his hand brushing your arm more than once.
Jungkook’s ears turned pink, then bright red. He pressed his lips together, trying to look unbothered, but his eyes never left you. That should be me,his brain repeated like a mantra. Making you laugh. Touching your arm. Standing that close. He stayed silent, jaw tight, fingers gripping his phone a little too hard. The members noticed. Jimin nudged Taehyung with a smirk, whispering something that made them both glance at Jungkook’s obvious struggle.
When the dancer stepped even closer, placing a hand on your waist to “correct your posture” while showing another step, Jungkook couldn’t stay back anymore. He stood up, ears still flaming, and crossed the room with that effortless athletic grace. Without a word, he slid right beside you, one arm wrapping around your shoulders and pulling you gently but firmly into his chest.
His other hand found yours, fingers intertwining tightly. To everyone else, he acted completely normal—casual smile, soft “hey” like he was just joining the conversation—but his body told a different story. His thumb stroked the back of your hand, and his fingers rested possessively on your waist, right where the other guy’s hand had been.
The dancer got the hint quickly, mumbling something about warming up and backing away. Jungkook’s ears were still red as he kept you pressed against him, chin resting lightly on top of your head for a second before he pulled back just enough to look normal. But inside? His brain was a mess of cute, jealous thoughts. Mine. Should be me. Only me
A few minutes later, when the room thinned out, he leaned down, voice low and a little shy. “Come with me?” He didn’t wait for a full answer, just gently tugged you toward his private dressing room, hand still holding yours the entire way. The second the door closed and locked, the shy act cracked open.
Jungkook turned to you, ears still tinged pink, big eyes soft and vulnerable. “I know I’m not supposed to care this much,” he admitted quietly, rubbing the back of his neck. “We’re not even… you know. But seeing him touch you like that? It makes me crazy. That should be me. Only me.”
His jealousy was the cutest thing in the world—those wide eyes, the way he tried so hard to play it cool but failed adorably, the soft pout forming on his lips. You smiled and stepped closer, cupping his face. The reassurance made him melt instantly. Jungkook leaned into your touch like a puppy, eyes fluttering closed for a moment before he pulled you into a tight hug, arms wrapping fully around you.
The kiss started sweet, almost shy, but quickly deepened with all the pent-up emotion. Jungkook kissed like he did everything else—with full commitment and passion. His hands roamed your back, pulling you flush against his strong body as his tongue moved against yours. He walked you backward until your legs hit the couch, then gently laid you down, hovering over you with those sparkling eyes.
“You’re so pretty,” he whispered, voice husky but still carrying that adorable nervousness. He helped you out of your shirt, then removed his own, revealing the sculpted muscles he worked so hard for. His hands were gentle as he explored your body, kissing down your neck, across your collarbone, and lower, sucking soft marks that made you shiver. When he reached your waistband, he looked up at you for permission, ears still faintly red.
Once you were both bare, Jungkook settled between your legs, pressing slow, open-mouthed kisses along your inner thighs before his tongue found your core. He was eager and attentive, licking and sucking with focused dedication, two fingers sliding inside you and curling just right. He moaned softly against you, the vibrations making your back arch. His free hand reached up to hold yours, fingers intertwined again—like even here, he needed that connection.
But he didn’t let you finish that way. He wanted to be closer. Jungkook climbed back up, kissing you deeply so you could taste yourself on his lips. He stroked himself a few times, then lined up and pushed in slowly, groaning your name as he sank deep. The stretch was perfect, his thickness filling you completely. He stayed still for a moment, forehead pressed to yours, breathing shakily.
“That should be me,” he whispered again, almost like he couldn’t help it. “Only me touching you. Only me making you feel good.”
His thrusts started deep and steady, hips rolling with that powerful athletic control. One hand stayed laced with yours above your head while the other gripped your thigh, holding you open for him. Jungkook’s jealousy melted into the sweetest, most intense lovemaking—every movement full of adoration and quiet possessiveness. He buried his face in your neck, kissing and nibbling as his pace gradually quickened.
“You feel so good,” he panted, voice adorably breathy. “So tight… so perfect. I get so jealous because I like you so much. Like… really like you.”
The confession made your heart flutter. You pulled him closer, legs wrapping tighter around his waist. Jungkook’s thrusts grew faster, deeper, hitting that spot inside you repeatedly until you were moaning his name. His hand slipped between you, thumb rubbing your clit in perfect circles. When you came, clenching hard around him and trembling, he followed right after with a cute, broken moan, burying himself deep and filling you with warm spurts.
He collapsed gently on top of you, careful not to crush you, arms wrapping around your body in the tightest hug. His ears were still pink as he nuzzled into your neck, pressing soft kisses everywhere he could reach. “Sorry if I was too obvious out there,” he mumbled, voice muffled against your skin. “I tried not to care… but I care so much. You’re my favorite person.”
The aftercare was pure Jungkook—sweet and attentive. He cleaned you both carefully with a warm towel, then pulled you into his lap on the couch, arms locked around you like he never wanted to let go. He kept playing with your fingers, intertwining them over and over, chin resting on your shoulder.
The second round came naturally, slower and even cuter. You straddled him, sinking down onto his cock while he looked up at you with those big, sparkling eyes full of affection. His hands guided your hips gently, but he let you set the pace, whispering praises and little jealous confessions between kisses. “No one else gets to hold you like this… only me, right?” He sat up halfway, chest pressed to yours in a warm embrace, thrusting up to meet you as you rode him.
The closeness made everything more intense. When you both came again, it was with soft moans and foreheads pressed together, bodies trembling in sync.
Afterward, Jungkook refused to let you move, cuddling you tightly against his chest, one hand stroking your hair. His jealousy had turned into the fluffiest, warmest afterglow. “Can we stay like this a little longer?” he asked, voice shy but hopeful. “I just… I like having you close. Makes me feel better.”
He would go back out there soon, acting cool with that signature Jungkook confidence, but everyone would notice the little things: how his hand always found yours, how his eyes followed you protectively, how his ears turned pink whenever someone got too friendly. Because when Jungkook got jealous, it wasn’t scary or dramatic—it was the cutest thing in the world.
A big, strong guy reduced to blushing ears and needy hugs, all because he cared the most.
synopsis: The big bang signified the universes creation, but also it's destruction. Regardless of the side of history you lie on, you are the catalyst either way.
ot7 bts x f.reader (poly)
ㄨ : wc: 10.7k
ㄨ : genre: yandere au, a/b/o au, zombie apocalypse au, survival thriller, dark “romance”, dark content
ㄨ : content: alpha bts!, omega!reader, post apocalyptic themes, hiding of second gender, light panic attacks, unreliable narrators, one flashback (1st scene), light torture in a flashback, references to dead bodies, namjoon kills someone, yoongi is a lil angsty, delusional jk (we’re never escaping him), major character injury (!!), bombs, explosions, light angst, light fluff, mostly action, omega stereotypes (omegaphobia? lol), hoseok is insane i fear, omg reader is back too i missed her, light religious symbolism, hoseok is a sadist and a masochist lowk, blood, guns, general violence, referenced masturbation, lowk i thought there were more? Lmk if i missed anything!! -> series warnings here
ㄨ : notes: HAPPY ARIRANG I AM OBSESSED WITH THE ALBUM AND ALSO SORRY FOR HOSEOK HE'S A BIT OF A MESS <3 Our little reader gets to meet the pack soon! Yippee!
ㄨ : chapter 4 <- index -> chapter 6
18+ -> minors / blank blogs dni
THEN.
BANG!
Seokjin’s form crouches low to the ground, his thighs spread while his arms hang precariously over his knees, wrists limp as they settle angling towards the ground. He simply just stares.
Well, the business deal Seokjin’s alpha was trying to procure had certainly gone south, that much is clear enough.
In front of him, lying on the floor, is one of the Jeon clan’s higher ups– clan’s beta, if Seokjin’s sources were correct
They were.
Though now, he looks like nothing more than a neutered puppy. The man's whimpering certainly doesn’t help with the picture either. It almost makes Seokjin want to laugh.
Namjoon is crouched on the other side of the body– body because that is simply what this man is, if he doesn’t start to give them answers. He doesn’t have much of a face left now anyway, so he might as well be.
The pack alpha’s hand is fisted into the betas hair, the tendon in his arms twitching from the effort of forcing the man's head into the ground over, and over, and over again. Slamming his head into the cold hardwood floor of the office, other bodies scattered around their forms.
The pool of red is still growing.
The pack alpha is huffing, there is a glorious fire in his eyes. Seokjin thinks he looks beautiful.
“Should I ask you again?” Seokjin questions, head tilting to the side. A small, placid smile dotting the corner of his lips, condescension radiating from his entire being as Namjoon pulls the man's head up just high enough once more.
What an ugly thing he has become. Maybe he’s the unlucky one, the lucky ones are probably the corpses scattered across the floor. At least they didn’t have to undergo their combined fury.
He should have just given Seokjin the answers he wanted already.
Seokjin sighs once more, looking up at Namjoon, “It doesn’t seem like he wants to, does it?”
Seokjin registers the opening of the office door. Huh, he really did not think anyone else was in the house today. Not that it matters much, Seokjin will deal with them the exact same way.
He sighs, closing his eyes as he stands. His arms feel tight in his suit, but he raises one anyway. Cresting it on the same side of his neck where Namjoon had left his bite, using its force to aid him in cracking his neck.
Seokjin doesn’t have time to dilly dally. He’ll be sure to make this quick.
The intruder relieves a sharp gasp from his lungs, the lazy drawl of Seokjin’s lids to draw upwards, taking him in for the very first time.
Soft, perfectly cut straight brown hair. Large doe eyes. Perfectly sculpted nose with little moles dotting around his face in constallations.
Seokjin’s recognition of him is instantaneous.
Jeon Jeongguk. 23. Important.
The Jeon pack alpha’s only child. The last progeny remaining in their all-alpha familial line.
Well damn, Seokjin was sure he wasn’t here. From the information Seokjin gathered before setting out to the groups's territory, the kid was practically treated as royalty. Spoiled rotten, coddled. There were even rumours he had never gone outside before.
Seokjin didn’t believe them, of course not, that would be a rather auspicious thing to do. But with how much he had heard about Jeongguk’s treatment, he didn't think they would just let the kid wander around on his own in a clan meeting house like this. He doubted Jeongguk would be involved in territorial conflicts at all. He was a member of the familial pack, not the territorial one like Seokjin… interogates… now. The distinction is clear as clear as day.
Looks like his intel may have been wrong.
Not only is he here and involved with them, he looks like a deer in headlights. His cheeks are turning a bright shade of red. It looks as though there are sparkles in his eyes. To be honest, Seokjin is taken aback. He isn’t sure what reaction he was expecting, but not something so… passionate. Something so devoted.
Is…. is this kid staring at Namjoon with… admiration…? While Namjoon has Jeongguk’s mom’s right hand is in a bloodied heap on the floor?
Huh. Well, this is certainly a surprising change of tune.
“S-Sir! Please leave! Don’t get yourself involved with this!” Huh, so the body still did have a voice. He was sure Namjoon had squeezed it out of him by now. Regardless, the words have Seokjin turning his head back towards the mess on the floor, back towards his alpha.
Oh. Seokjin’s eyes go wide.
Namjoon is staring right back at Jeongguk, that same star-crossed lovers expression on his face. Looking at him like the universe just changed for the better.
Turning back towards the younger, Seokjin confirms it– they are simply enamoured with one another.
When he makes the motion, when all the attention in the room is directly only at Jeongguk, it is clear the kid notices. His posture straightens, his chest puffing out just slightly. The most determined look that Seokjin has ever seen is as obvious as ever written across his features.
One of his arms raises up– certainly not the arms of someone who has had experience fighting– a single finger pointing towards both Seokjin and Namjoon. A cocksure smile on the pure alphas lips.
The world spins. This is nothing like Seokjin had been expecting out of the day.
“I want you.” He pauses, the determined smile blooming brighter. Seokjin doesn’t know how the kid could be so positive in such a thing– Seokjin needs time to fall, he guesses Jeongguk doesn’t. “Both of you.”
A sickening crack sounds throughout the room, the betas death as clear as day, though no one really pays attention. Instead, everything revolves around Namjoon rising to a stand right next to Seokjin, a similar smile on his own face.
“I feel like there are a few questions you should be asking instead of just saying something so bold.” All the rage Namjoon spoke with before the entry of Jeongguk is gone, a similar confident air in his tone. “Like who are we, why are we in your office. Why we just killed your clans beta.”
“I don’t care.” Jeongguk, though Seokjin just met him, looks like he’s never been more sure of anything in his life. “I didn’t like him anyway. He was shitty at taking care of me.”
Spoiled.
Namjoon hums, “Shouldn’t you be worried we’re going to kill you, too?”
Jeongguk thinks for a second, eyes looking up at the ceiling as he considers. “No. You want me.”
Maybe not spoiled. Maybe just sheltered if he thinks that simply about such things.
“You’ll have to deal with a few more than just us.” Namjoon leans forward a bit, the air around him bending to his will. Haughty. Attractive. “We have 4 other mates.”
Oh. Jeongguk now looks as though he is simply vibrating with delight. His teeth– ones Seokjin notices look like a bunnies– make an appearance, biting his lower lip.
“I want them, too.”
Well, Seokjin’s dealings are certain to become a lot more smooth from this point onwards.
NOW.
Jeongguk hasn’t slept.
Well, okay, to be honest, he’s not sure he remembers the last time he actually had a full nights rest.
Wait– no, that isn’t true either. The last night he did it was the night after he saw you for the first time, he remembers it clearly, actually. He would rather die than forget it. He would never in a million years forget dreaming of you.
He was in the woods, you were there too, obviously. Scampering between trees, looking so cute and playful. God, you were so fucking adorable– calling out to him, asking him to chase you.
Fuck, who was he to say no? He simply he complied. He would be an idiot to deny you of anything ever.
When he caught you? It felt like the last of his dreams had finally come true.
You were giggling underneath him, his body pinning you down by your shoulders. Your eyes in the prettiest little crests that he kissed over and over again.
He remembers the end, where you made him promise to find you when he woke up, too.
…Yeah.
He hasn’t had a full night's rest since then. But especially last night, last night he didn’t get a wink. Not even the half-hearted nap he usually gets by on.
How was he supposed to sleep after Joon broke the news that they would be going to your house the very next day? The house that he knows belongs to you now, all thanks to Yoongi. The house where– where–
Jeongguk clenches his fist, lets his nails dig into the skin of his palms as a way to manage the putrid smell that was already beginning to leak from his pores. In the tight confines of the armoured truck, he knows everyone else will be able to smell it.
Should he really care? Probably not. But he doesn’t want the second– first?-- time you smell him to be so… so unpleasant. He wants you to smell the real him. The alpha who your heart and soul belong to, the one you’ll build a future with. The one that can provide for you, that can take you out of whatever hell you’ve been keeping yourself in–
How long would it take before you let him give you a bite? How long will it take for you to give one to him?
Soon, hopefully. God, he can’t even count how many times he’s stroked his cock to the thought of your cute little fangs piercing the skin of his neck. How blown out your eyes would be with pretty red dotting your mouth. Do you even know that he saved the left side of his neck for you? Waited so many years just for his perfect omega to leave tangible evidence on his skin of your simple belonging to one another.
… Well, he hasn’t thought about it in awhile, but the point still stands. He hasn’t been able to, not since your face began to retain the essence of a shadowless blob whenever you appear in his mind, when you appear in front of him. Just…just out of reach.
Fucking had been in reach for over two weeks.
His top lip curls at the thought. He reminds himself to stop thinking such shitty things.
It doesn’t work.
He just needs to see you, and then everything will be right again. He’ll be able to protect you. His pack will be complete. The last piece of his soul, the part that felt like it has been missing will finally click into place.
Everything will be perfect.
You’ll be perfect.
Jeongguk forces his head back into reality as the wheels of the vehicle roll to a stop. His neck cocking to the side, deep eyes locking on Seokjin in the driver's seat. The clicking of metal registers in his ears, his hand clenching around the barrel of his semi-automatic a little tighter, the gun propped up against the floor, muzzle facing the sky.
“We're here.” Seokjin hums, completely carefree. Jeongguk isn’t sure how, to be honest. “We have a bit of a hike, if Jimin’s map is right.”
Today determines the rest of his future… do they not get that? Of course they don’t. They don’t understand what you and him have, no matter how much they might try to. They don’t understand the levels at which his entirety calls out to you.
He’s already reaching for the handle of the door, his entire body itching to leave, when another voice stops him– Joons’, “Gguk-ah, do a scan for us.”
His nose scrunches up while a little wrinkle finds itself between his brows, “Huh? Why me?”
That isn’t his job. He’s not good at that sort of thing.
At that, Joon only shrugs, handing the binoculars back behind him, “I trust you more to do it.”
Heat washes over Jeongguk instantly. The simple words have an even simpler effect on his body– his ears and eyes perk up a bit more, right alone with his chest swelling. No matter how much he just wants to get moving, that line has Jeongguk already hauling his upper half through the sunroof of the armoured vehicle, eyes scanning the distance.
From the top of the hill the pack has managed to find themself on, looking off into the distance is an easy task. Any subtle clearing is discovered, especially the very one they think contains your cabin.
Jeongguk sees it easily, mentally comparing it to the map he had been studying the entire ride over– the piece of paper that Jimin and Taehyung marked your approximate location on. Seems like they were paying enough attention to get that right, at least. Even if they might have messed up your potential first meeting.
No. As much as Jeongguk is angry at them, he’s even more upset with Yoongi. At least Jimin and Tae could plead ignorance. What they did was only a reaction to Yoongi.
What Yoongi did to him was straight malice.
Hiding you. Keeping you after he found out you were an omega. Only confirming it after Jeongguk was on the verge of a breakdown because he couldn’t fucking remember–
He takes another deep breath, centering himself. He’s lucky he’s been practicing the breathing exercises Seokjin-hyung has been prescribing and that the thought of meeting you soon is somewhat settling.
“Yeah. House is where Jimin said.” Jeongguk states, plain as day. Giving one final sweep before getting ready to hop down. Nothing much falling along the dense forest tree line.
Lucky that autumn was on their side– if it was any warmer out, the tree leafs may have kept you covered.
“It looks–” Wait, what was that?
Out of the corner of his eye, he sees a flash of light in the distance. Too solid to be a solar flare, too obvious to be a trick of the mind. Twisting the lens to make it focus, something different comes into view.
A truck, hardly hidden at all against the trees. Standing out so loudly it might as well be a homing beacon to anyone who wanted to discover its presence.
“Wait, hyung, I think–” Jeongguk scrunches his eyes, the hard plastic of the binoculars digging into his skin as he pushes his face into them deeper, like that will help him see better. “I think there's a truck over there?”
“Mm.” He hears the shifting of guns, probably Joon following the direction of his pointed finger from where the first car had already unloaded onto the ground. “About the same distance away as the house?”
Fuck if he knows, Jeongguk has always been shit with distances. It’s normally Yoongi’s job to take note of the perimeters like this– he still doesn’t know why he’s been put on the case instead. Why has he been given a job when all he wants to do is think about you. It's annoying.
He doesn’t need to be managed. He doesn’t need to be distracted.
“Yeah, looks like it.” Jeongguk pulls the binoculars from his face before taking a second to inhale, tasting the scent of the wind on his tongue. He won’t make the same mistake again.
He pulls himself the rest of the way out of the sunroof, heavy gun clattering against his shoulder as he jumps to the ground with a practiced ease only gained from experience. His form landing with a thud, both feet on the ground as he squats, one balled hand taking the brunt of the force not received by his knees.
He stands, eyes glued into the distance.
“We didn’t see any cars out here before.” Jimin’s voice is in his ears, but he half ignores it. He’s not focused on the conversation of his mates right now, all he can think about is the alpha in his head. The one telling him that these are your woods.
“Tracks.” Taehyung is supplying his mate, just like he always does.
“Yeah, there were tire tracks, but they didn’t lead to a car or anything.”
“Hm.” Joon is too analytical. Seokjin, too.
“Does it really matter?” Hoseok groans out the words– Jeongguk hears him cracking his knuckles, “We don’t have all fucking day, and if these two don’t stop laying it on thick there won’t be hiding from the little doe.”
Jeongguk knows Hoseok is referring to the pheromones he’s releasing, but he really doesn’t give a shit. At least the alpha is speeding the whole thing up– Jeongguk can feel his muscles burning. It’s only a matter of time before he leaves and just goes to get you himself.
His patience is a tether that is not withstanding gale force winds.
“We're triangled right between them.” Jeongguk’s eyes roll, unable to stop himself at the sound of Yoongi’s gruff voice chiming in. He guesses at some point he set up shop looking out of the top of the other car with his sniper. “About 750 meters that way is the car, 875 to the house. 1000 between ‘em, too.”
Soon, Jeongguk hears the footfalls of Yoongi jumping, followed by the scribbling of a pen on a map. He’s starting to get frustrated with all these semantics. These alleged important parts of the job.
He still doesn’t understand why they have to be so careful about this.
You’re his soulmate, you’ll understand even if you are a little scared at first.
“It would be worth it to check it out, at least.” Seokjin’s voice is there– one of Jeongguk’s only hyungs along with Joon that seems to care about how hungry Jeongguk is to have you already. “If Jimin and Taehyung wrecked her house, she could be staying there for cover.”
What? Jeongguk’s alpha is howling in pain. How could he let his omega live inside of a car?! Even if it’s just for the night, that’s too much for you to go through. It’s just too much.
You deserve to be in a nice big house, bundled up in his clothes– not anyone elses right now– relaxing in his big bed, the softest blankets surrounding you while he feeds you the meat he’s hunted.
Joon nods his head, arms crossed over his broad chest. “Jimin, Taehyung, Jeongguk, you go to the truck. Radio us with what you see.”
. . . Jeongguk blinks.
He blinks again.
He’s not half listening to the conversation anymore.
“What?!” His head snaps before his brain can process the words, eyes finally leaving the distant trees you resided in for so long. So long, all alone. So long without him.
…You missed him, right? Don’t worry, you won’t have to for much longer.
They want him to go with them to the fucking car?! To the fucking car instead of your house?! They’re insane. Fucking insane. The growl is already in his tone before he can manage to stop it. “No.”
Hoseok’s expression is bored, Namjoon’s is blank, Seokjin’s is sympathetic. Jeongguk couldn’t give any less of a shit.
“Gguk-ah…” Seokjin is using that tone of voice he always does when Jeongguk gets riled up like this, the one that means he’s treating him like a pup. Sometimes he likes it. Today is not one of those days. “We need Yoongi with us at the main house…”
Wrong thing to say.
Jeongguk scoffs, “So he gets to see her before me? Are you joking?”
His bonds pang– the internal urge of half of him wanting to soothe the others displeasure combating with his temperament still burning from the night before. The rest are lucky Hoseok managed to calm him down before he took off on his own last night.
“No.” There could be something more to it, something they’re not telling him. They never tell him things. Or maybe they do– either way, it doesn’t matter. He’s pissed right now. All he can feel is that. “We just…”
“They don’t want you to see what the others did and freak out.” Jeongguk has never been more thankful for Hoseok’s blunt tone– at least someone will tell it to him like it is, even when he is worked up like this.
“Thats…” He would like to argue against their stance– that he totally would not blow up and pounce seeing what Jimin and Tae had done– but the words die on his tongue. He knows it's more than likely, so… he chooses a different route to argue his case.
He stands a little taller, “I just want to see. I should get to know how my mates been living.”
“You can see that after, can’t you?” Jimin grumbles, finally merging himself back into the main conversation from where Taehyung had him dragged away before.
Oh, of course, it would be Jimin saying that very thing. The one who wants to avoid Jeongguk seeing whatever state they left his soulmate's den in.
“Jimin, be quiet.” Seokjin sighs, trying once again to be the mediator. Jeongguk normally thinks it’s an incredible skill to have. He respects Seokjin a lot for him stepping up as second in command of the pack, but he’s having trouble retaining any of that sense now as he feels the biting breeze against his cheeks. As he feels the woods trying to speak to him.
“We need you to take the lead here, okay? Manage these 2 and direct them if she’s at the truck instead of the house.”
He feels like he’s going to scream.
See, the issue here is that Gguk doesn’t give a shit about pack dynamics.
He feels like a broken record due to how often he repeats it, but all he cares about is you.
He doesn’t give a shit that more people are needed to case a house than a truck. He doesn’t care that Jimin and Yoongi can’t be in a group together out of fear of them fighting. Doesn’t care that he can’t be with Yoongi either due to the fact he will definitely be fighting him.
Hell, it doesn’t bother him that Hoseok doesn’t see the point in getting you, or that Seokjin is only following along because of Joon’s lead. Sure, he’s frustrated by the way Yoongi’s eyes light up whenever you are discussed, and by the way that Tae shrinks away at the same mention. He didn’t even argue last night when he was excluded from Namjoon, Hoseok, and Seokjin’s meeting last night while they were plotting today out.
He doesn’t care that the groups split makes the most logical sense– that the packs 3 highest in command should all be at the larger site. He doesn’t even care that the rest of them probably don’t even realise that he understands all of it– that he accounts for every minor detail, too.
He doesn’t give a shit about fucking anything other than getting to you and it feels like the others just aren’t listening to how his wolf howls for you.
He feels like he’s going in circles.
His head certainly is.
He should just go. He should just start listening to his instincts just like everyone else does. He should–
Namjoon’s solid hand comes down on his shoulder, his frame leaning down just slightly to look in Jeongguk’s eyes. “Gguk-ah. I’m counting on you. If you find her, you’ll catch her.”
Fuck. Jeongguk does care about that.
Cares about Joon. About the other pure-alphas approval.
As his heart begins to beat a little faster, he takes a step back while tossing the strap of his gun over his shoulder. His boots crunch against the solid soil as he turns his back to the rest of the pack, making sure his face is hidden before any sort of blush tries to rise to his cheeks.
Joon always makes fun of him for that.
“Whatever.” He grunts out, trying to keep it a secret how affected by his pack alpha he is. He’s not the pack’s pup anymore. He shouldn’t get so worked up over little things. “Let’s go.”
“If you see anything, radio.” Hoseok reminds, a slight strain in his voice from what Jeongguk can only imagine is another stretch. Another part of the generals routine. “Kill anything you see, infected people or alive ones. Doesn’t matter to me.”
As if Jeongguk doesn’t know that already.
He grunts, marching off down the unbeaten path with his two elder packmates in tow. His brain tuning out the words of the other four as his brain already moves onto the next thing. As the woods start to feel more and more familiar the deeper he finds himself going inside.
…He’s going to make sure the promise he made to the you in his dreams stays alive and well.
Yoongi's pace meanders a few behind the rest of the group, the heavy metal of his favourite gun thunking against his back with every step he takes. The smell of the damp forest floor invades his nostrils with every small pant he takes, the morning dew making the floor wet as mud decides to cling to his boots.
He never thought he would be out in the woods again.
His head tilts towards the sky as he thinks, lets his mind wander away from the sounds of birds while he has a moment to do so. His body instinctively following the guidance of the rest of his mates without having to put any conscious effort into doing so, something in him knowing they would keep him safe even if he got a little distracted.
The last time Yoongi stepped foot into the forest… into any woods like these… it had to be at least 10 years ago.
He doesn’t know how you live in them. How you survive it.
He knows the crushing weight of the trees.
He’s been trying to figure out how since last night, to be honest. Ever since Jimin mapped out roughly where you had been staying, he’s been wondering why you forced yourself out here. How long you’ve been managing.
The woods are so tall, how do you fight against them all on your own?
Yoongi couldn’t. Still can’t, probably.
Logically, he has to remind himself, something dense like this is probably safer from intruders– not safe enough, if Jimin and Taehyung were able to find you– and zombies. There were far less out here than there were constantly battering against the walls of their compound. Hoseok had only managed to spot 2 on their hike so far, both are double-dead now. So comes safety from others in isolation, he guesses. Maybe that’s how you view it. He almost wishes he could, too.
Still not safe enough.
Yeah, for once Yoongi has to agree with his inner alpha. You’re not safe enough. Not if two of his pack mates were able to track you down. Not if what they say is true about you having been out here alone for who knows how long.
As much as he hates the idea of taking that decision away from you, he hates the idea of you dying even more. He hates the idea of not being able to keep you safe from pain, from letting you rot out here.
That’s all forests do. They infest your brain with rot.
Yoongi can’t stand the idea of stumbling upon you, fungus covering your skin.
He can give you back other freedoms later. It’s what he’s promised himself. You’ll– okay, you probably won’t like his pack at first. He would be the first person to admit that, regardless of how much he cares for them. But… but eventually you might come around. You might like hi–
Yoongi shakes his head, forcing himself away from the train of thought his alpha keeps forcing him down.
He’s coming to get you, to protect you as a friend. Someone he considers a friend, even if it was only one night spent together under fictional stars. Even if he did just plan to let it all blur away.
He’s not coming to you as an alpha with a prerogative. He just… he wants you to be okay. Especially after what Jimin and Taehyung did. He just wants to make sure that you're safe. That you’re not spiralling like he would be under the same circumstances.
Yoongi hates the woods.
…Yoongi wants Jeongguk to forgive him.
He probably won’t.
He should probably stop worrying himself over it. He has more pressing matters to deal with– ones that are only a few meters away, not in an entirely different group, heading to another location.
The guilty part of him hopes Jeongguk will find you first, but the selfish part of him, the ever present one that seems intertwined with his wolf, hopes that he will get the honour.
It isn’t good for you to be alone. You shouldn’t have to suffer through it.
Yoongi is projecting, he knows it. He also can’t stop it, and honestly, doesn’t want to. He wants to feel connected to you. Maybe he’s being selfish again by allowing himself to do so.
…Well, he is the only one who’s actually met you. He’s the one you felt– feel safe with.
His fingers twitch, he wants to just hurry up with it all, already. He wants to get you out of here, bring you to the house. Comfort you, if you’d let him.
…Would you let him?
His heart starts beating a little bit faster. That can’t be good.
“You’re thinking too much.” Hoseoks’s hushed voice makes its way into his muddled mind, a broad shoulder bumping into his unsteady frame.
Yoongi’s eyes slowly draw back from the sky, instead finding their place upon Hoseoks’s handsome face instead. Too handsome. It looks like it was carved by one of the greats. It isn’t fair.
“That’s rich coming from you.” Yoongi deadpans like he definitely wasn’t just admiring the pack's chief of combat.
He totally wasn’t. “You never think when Namjoons’ ‘round.”
God, they’ve been together how many years and Yoongi still pretends to be coy. He knows Hoseok sees through it, though, so there’s really no harm. Not like when the Jeongguk first joined the pack and became acquainted with Yoongi’s sharp, unrelenting tongue. Yoongi will never forget the complete embarrassment of having to explain what Jimin dubbed his ‘cuteness aggression.’
Bleh.
It was the most embarrassing day of his life.
Thankfully, Hoseok likes it when Yoongi gets mean. Says it ‘gets him going’.
Hmph.
“Yeah, well it’s their job. I’m not on the clock right now.” Hoseok smiles, both of his arms raising up to hold the back of his head up. “Let Seokjin deal with it. Looks like he has a stick up his ass, anyway.”
Yeah, Yoongi guesses that’s true. Hoseok isn’t leading the pack’s recruits on any kind of clearing mission, nor is he leading anyone into war. Still, he doesn’t know how he is just so relaxed about everything when Yoongi feels like he’s dying inside.
Still, he doesn’t think he agrees with the idea of it being anyone else's job, especially not Seokjins’.
Yoongi hazards at the body next to the pack alphas. He still doesn’t understand why Seokjin acts like a saint. Their rooms are next to each other, he’s heard the elder’s rants. Yoongi’s one of the few other than the pack alpha that knows his position.
Huh, maybe Seokjin never realised how thin the walls are.
“Bullshit. You’re a control freak.” Yoongi grunts, “If Namjoon didn’t force you out of taking the lead, you’d be up there instead.”
Hoseok simply hums, acknowledging Yoongi. Probably agreeing that it's true in his head.
“Jin!” Hoseok calls up ahead, pulling Seokjin back towards the tail end rather than the front. Yoongi watches as he turns, as he lets his footsteps slow to allow for Yoongi and Hoseok to catch up.
Yoongi feels Hoseok’s hands on his shoulders, forcing him up in front, a big heart-shaped smile on his lips, “This one’s thinking too much. Calm him down.”
“Yah. Stop it.” Yoongi tries to shrug off the younger, but fails miserably. Hoseok’s grip is tight, his fists massaging the flesh, “That’s not his job.”
The conversation feels easy. Too easy, for the current conditions. Zfor the way Yoongi is feeling. He doesn’t fully feel like he deserves their care.
“Aish! What are you talking about! It’s what I was recruited for!” Seokjin huffs, a fake glare directed at Namjoon’s back steady across his features.
“Receuited?” Yoongi almost wants to laugh, “Not the story I heard.”
As much as Yoongi likes to feign disinterest, he certainly does not miss the colouring of red rising to Seokjin’s ears. The corners of his hips curl, already completely aware the elder is going to go on one of his tirades.
Cute. Seokjin is cute.
“Yah!” The elders whisper raises a hair, his lips pouting out a bit more as his words increase in pace. “That brat wouldn’t leave me alone— what did you expect me to do?! He wasn’t even in my department—“
Yoongi shakes his head, eyes staring at the ground. Yoongi doesn’t even try to deny the expression is out of fondness. “You trying to let the whole forest know we’re here?”
“I—“ Seokjin pauses, eyes going wide as he realises just how loud he was getting. His ears get just a bit darker, but he doesn’t acknowledge it. Instead, the eldest in the pack just clears his throat, standing a bit straighter. “What were we discussing?”
The corner of Yoongi’s mouth quirks, “How Namjoon pursued you for years before you gave into him.”
“Other than that.”
He shrugs, not really remembering. He wasn’t paying much attention, more so looking for a distraction.
“Ah,” The weight of Seokjin’s arm is dropped over Yoongi’s shoulder, his head shaking along with the addition. “That’s right. You were thinking too hard. Is it being out here?” There's a slight pause before Seokjin continues, “You don’t need to think about back then anymore.”
He wishes it was that easy.
Hoseok’s echo of the past blinks fresh in his mind— ‘Live in the moment with me.’ That’s what Hoseok had said back then.
Seokjin’s smile feels warm when it’s directed just at Yoongi, “Just let hyung take care of it, okay? We’ll be home soon.”
Now he is sure his heart is moving at a faster pace than before.
Hyung.
Yoongi never used those sort of honorifics with Seokjin— it just wasn’t in the nature of their relationship. The elder never outwardly seemed to care, anyway, other than in half-assed jokes. It’s only in times like these that it felt like it mattered.
Suddenly, Seokjin’s face loses all sense of peace, a cold mask of stone falling over it at the exact same time his body freezes in place, the hike coming to a close. Namjoon’s hand in the air being the direct cause.
Well, it was nice while it lasted. It is time for action now.
Namjoon's fingertips curl towards his palm in a silent instruction to lower their frames closer to the ground. The slow, controlled approach to the house already having been planned out since the night before.
Namjoon sends a glance towards the pack’s general, signalling the change of power between them, Hoseok taking over direction.
Yoongi follows it silently without question, waiting for Hoseok’s motion to continue the pursuit forward. He’s always been in awe of the way Hoseok is able to direct everything, to make the motions of a unit seem fluid and conjoined rather than just heaping bodies following orders.
It only takes a glance from Hoseok before Namjoon is moving– the pack alpha gliding through the underbrush as he makes his way around the back of the cabin where he is meant to be stationed in case you try to make a quick exit from the rear.
Yoongi’s job is a lot more simple than the rest of theirs, he is only meant to be a lookout. Honestly, he’s thankful for it. He’s not sure he could manage much more upon seeing you again. Upon seeing the new conditions of your home.
A few seconds pass, a soft cooing whistle from Hoseok along with the tilt of his head telling Yoongi it’s his turn to move. He does as ordered, moving up from his squat, though certainly not returning to full height as he takes a light jog through the underbrush. Only settling himself down when he finds the angle he was looking for.
Checking left, checking right– yeah, here will do just fine. He can see your front door, as well as both sides of your house. He’ll be able to spot you if you try to make it through a window. With fewer guys, it might be a little more difficult to catch you, but Yoongi knows Hoseok enjoys the chase.
… He hopes it doesn’t come down to that, but if he does, he’ll try his best to comfort you even if he isn’t the best at it.
Carefully, Yoongi lowers himself down to the forest floor, pulling the gun off his shoulder right along with the action. He clicks the legs of it down, lowering himself to his stomach to check the view.
Just as he suspected, it’s perfect. He can see everything. Will definitely be able to spot you if you try to move.
Fucking hell. Those goddamn assholes broke most of your windows– he can only assume they weren’t like that before.
It isn’t long before Hoseok and Seokjin come into view, their bodies doing similar low jogs to the ones Yoongi just performed himself. Though their angle was towards the door– if you were here, they were going to get to you first.
Yoongi shakes his head, forcing the jealousy out of his gut. It’s fucking stupid. There isn’t any guarantee you’re still here, anyway. Yoongi knows he would have cleared out first thing if it was hi–
His breath stops in his throat, his head raising from his site. Pupils darting around the scene in front of him.
Fuck. Fuck. No, no no. Why is this happening now? Why?
Everything should be fine. Everything is going smoothly. Namjoon should be positioned around the rear of the building by now, Hoseok and Seokjin are counting down in front of your door, ready to make their move. Yoongi is keeping an eye out as he lays against the forest as Hoseok’s hand raises, starting from 5. There are no zombies around, nor other people that Yoongi can smell.
So why why why why why is this happening right now?
Why is something wrong?
That same sensation that settled over him yesterday has returned at a ten-fold.
Yoongi feels an overwhelming sense of dread in his gut. Worse than he’s felt in a decade.
Panic starts to take over before he’s able to calm it down, his body rising to a stand. Something shakes against his thigh, but he can’t comprehend it. Not when he knows something is about to go wrong, but he doesn’t know what yet.
The universe had to curse him with the ability to know, but not with the ability to do anything about it before it’s too late.
His legs are moving before his mind can catch up, his body rushing towards the door to stop them. He can’t breathe, he can’t think. Words are willing themselves to leave him. They have to regroup, they would understand. They trust him. They trust his judgment.
Just a little bit further. A little bit further.
He should have said something.
The last of Hoseok’s fingers fall, Seokjin’s shoulder slams into the door, breaking it from its hinges. He thinks another figure swoops in, but he isn't really sure.
The entire world has just become red.
Yoongi, he can’t move. He can’t do anything. The world stops rotating on its axis, everything moves to a standstill right along with Yoongi’s form. He’s positive things are happening around him, but he can’t process a single one. He can’t.
One second, everything is red. The next, it’s white.
He can’t hear anything, he can only feel red hot pain blossoming in his gut as something hits him. As he is tossed backwards several feet.
The trees quake due to the force.
Boom.
It doesn’t take Jeongguk long to get to the truck– or maybe it does. He doesn’t remember half of the journey.
He remembers splitting off from the pack, Jimin and Taehyung trailing behind him. He remembers hearing something reminiscent to a giggle beyond that was similar to the ones in his dreams. Remembers deciding that they meant he was on the right track to find you, that his alpha would never steer him wrong.
He didn’t talk at all the entire journey there, staying focused on the prize. There isn’t time for any distractions. He needs to see if you’re at the truck, then rush over to the cabin in case you’re there instead. He needs to hold you, tell you that you’re safe now, and bring you home.
Simple enough. There isn’t really much to do but actually do it. He can stop fantasizing about you once you’re actually in his arms. Maybe then the wolf inside of him will finally settle.
He just wants to breathe you in. For you to build a nest in his room.
He promises he won’t go in it! Not until you give him permission to. But just knowing you feel safe enough around him, safe enough around his scent, shit he wants it more than anything else.
He even has the perfect corner picked out for you already, he’s cleared out space in his closet, too, if you’d rather go there. Sure, he did that forever ago when he still remembered your face, but he’s been keeping it open ever since. He’ll keep it open forever waiting for–
A large hand tugs at the back of his shirt, halting him in his advance forward. The heat of it is almost blinding, but Jeongguk doesn’t let himself get distracted. Of course not, he’s an alpha on a mission.
A haphazard glance over his shoulder is the only thing he offers, finding Taehyung standing there, Jimin still quite a ways away, keeping himself separated. Hm. He’s been like that since yesterday, keeping himself a bit more closed off.
Good. He should feel bad, even if it was a mistake. Even if Jimin didn’t know you were his.
Another tug and Jeongguk is brought back to the moment again, a grunt signalling from his throat as a question meant to ask Taehyung what he wants.
Taehyung’s tongue comes out to lick at his bottom lip lazily, his eyes moving from their stare on Jeongguk to farther ahead on the path. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out that Taehyung wants him to look, too.
His head turns back to the main trail, vision narrowing.
Fuck. He didn’t notice that.
Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.
Jeongguk’s heart swells, hope filling him to the very brim. Butterflies already dancing in his gut as his eyes go wide, as he feels a gentle heat curve into his cheeks.
Footprints. There are footprints on the same path they’re following now.
If Taehyung’s insistence is anything to go by, shit, it means your scent still dots the trees, too. Means that recently you followed the same path Jeongguk trails now. That you might just be living in the very truck Jeongguk is called towards now.
You– are you really waiting at the truck for him?
God, his entire being in inflating. His alpha is howling at him to go get you– that something as perfect as you shouldn’t be living out here. You shouldn’t be subjected to living in your truck because of what his idiot mates did.
Jeongguk’s legs are moving faster than before– he doesn’t really know when his pace picked up, but he knows the others are close to follow. 3 pairs of heavy thuds are marking up the forest floor, along with the sound of clanging guns against shoulders.
Within a few minutes he’s there. He’s standing in front of something you call your own.
It takes his breath away. Of course his omega would drive something cute like this– it makes perfect sense for you. Even if he doesn’t know you well yet, he’s sure of it. Oh, or wait… maybe you only use this one cause it’s convenient? Maybe another vehicle style suits you better?
He’ll get you a hundred cars, if you want. That way you can know what all of them feel like. It’ll feel so good to provide for you.
He moves in without really thinking, stalking towards the car, his noise unable to stop itself from the constant sniffing, attempting to weed out your scent from the rest of the woods. It’s difficult for him to, if he’s being honest. He always gets overwhelmed when so many different odours surround him, but he tries for you anyways.
He thinks he gets some of it, something that smells like beta– he knows better, he knows that even if you smell wrong, you’re still an omega– with hints of eucalyptus. Like some kind of herb used for healing, if he were to guess.
He frowns.
Now, standing only a few feet away from your truck, away from the source, he can tell it’s at least a day old. There isn’t anything that smells more fresh, there’s no sign of life within the cabin even with how forgetful he was at the volume of his approach.
It isn’t his fault though! He knows he was supposed to be quiet just in case but you distracted him. It doesn’t look like it matters anyway, you’re clearly nowhere to be found.
Jeongguk’s shoulders drop– all that hope that had been welling up drifts out. A laboured sigh from Jimin behind him, along with a kick to something– when Jeongguk turns his head, he identifies it as a fishing net with brush interlaced with the rope– signals that the others are sure of the same thing.
“She’s not here.” Even though Jeongguk is on better terms with Jimin than Yoongi, he still would rather not hear him talk right now. It’s not really any fault of his own, but stating the obvious when it’s clear Jeongguk is already irritated? When he can clearly see that you’re not here? It just makes Jeongguk’s teeth clench together a little tighter.
“I can see that.” Jeongguk rolls his eyes, one hand closing around the passenger cabin handle. The muscle in his arm straining in preparation for it to resist the movement, for the door to jerk back.
It doesn’t. It’s unlocked.
Jeongguk grunts as he stumbles just slightly, not enough to cause worry or for him to actually fall, but enough for his eyes to go wide. One hand reaching to steady himself on the top of the interior doorframe. His shoulders hunching just slightly while a small, growled ‘fuck’ slips from the back of his throat.
Thank god you aren’t here. That would’ve looked totally uncool.
He grunts, forcing himself to stand straight and only give half checks to his right and left to re-confirm your absence. Even if he wants to see you, he doesn’t want to look so lame. “We’re still checking. Maybe she left something to say where she’s going.”
“Or maybe she’s at her house.” Jeongguk’s eyebrows furrow, the back of his throat itching with a warning growl that wants to be let through. Didn’t Jimin hear Joon? Jeongguk is in charge, he shouldn’t be–
Jeongguk hears a sniffing sound right next to his ear, distracting him. It’s Taehyung taking the chance to scent the inside of the cabin, he guesses. Doesn’t really know what the other is looking for though. All he can smell is a slightly distressed undercurrent to your beta– it’s okay, he knows what you actually are, even if your scent is trying to lie to him– scent, most significantly clinging to the bag lying right across the passenger seat in a heap.
His frown deepens. Probably those two that made you smell like that. Made you scared with no one around to comfort you. There is a 0% chance Jeongguk is going to feel less bitter about it any time soon.
In the back of his head, Jeongguk realises the sniffing has stopped
He doesn’t offer Jimin any kind of response, instead focusing on the bag. Maybe you had left a map in there? Some supplies? Maybe just anything that would make him feel closer to you?
He should take it, right? That way, when you come home, you won’t be missing whatever's inside.
His lips purse just slightly, head nodding in agreement as his hand reaches out to grab it.
Well, he was grabbing it. Now, he’s on the forest floor, his head banging against the surface. Taehyung on top of him, his head pressed into Jeongguk’s throat, not even thinking about letting him up.
The growls begin to leave Jeongguk instantly, a second nature swelling up to the top.
“What the fuck are you doing? Get off of me!” He still won’t let up. He’s keeping Jeongguk pinned with everything he has. Jeongguk can’t see Jimin either. Can only feel the pounding in his head and shoulders from being throttled to the ground.
Is this a fucking coup or something? Were they just waiting to get Jeongguk alone so he wouldn’t be there to protect you anymore?
Jeongguk’s growls increase in volume, his limbs thrashing to try and get out from underneath Taehyung. He can’t believe this. He can’t believe they would fucking try something like this.
“Bomb.” Taehyung’s panicked baritone sends a lightning bolt through Jeongguk’s spine. He’s not fighting anymore. “Bomb inside. Bomb in bag. Don’t touch. Don’t touch! Can smell it! Intentional! Bomb! Don’t touch! Don’t!”
There’s…? You left a…?
Jeongguk looks back towards the car, his entire face morphing into that of complete disbelief.
You were trying to protect yourself… did you…? They said they didn’t see your car yesterday.. The covering was pulled off to the side, making the truck noticeable. Your footprints were in a clear line in the mud when you could just have easily veered off the beaten path, covered up your trail.
This was on purpose. You were trying to protect yourself if Jimin and Taehyung came–
What would have happened if Taehyung wasn’t there?
Jeongguk’s blood runs cold.
Joon doesn’t have a Taehyung at the house.
His mates can’t smell if the same trap has been laid just beyond the door.
Jeongguk shoves Taehyung off of him, adrenaline pumping through his veins. A newfound strength adorning his features as he manages to rattle the big puppy off. His frame rolling onto its stomach, reaching for the radio in his belt loop as he looks towards the direction of your cottage, his pupils shaky.
“Joon– Joon! There was a bomb in the truck! Abort the pursuit! Abort it!” His voice is yelling, crackling as it bounces through the radio.
Time feels like it’s extending itself, 30 seconds morphing into half an hour as he waits for a response.
There is none.
Shit. Shit. Shit! Shit! SHIT!
Jeongguk bolts upright, forgetting about the car, leaving it in the past while his mates are in danger in the present. “Fuck! Go! We have to go now!”
His pheromones, the same ones Joon used last night are unintentionally leaking from his pores, his body already beginning to rush through the tense trees. His head is spinning– he doesn’t know if the others followed. Only that he has to get to the rest of his mates before, before–
The sound rattles the trees, a deep ball of red rising above them.
Jeongguk freezes, his mind blank as he stares towards the distance in awe.
If it wasn’t his mates you were targeting, he would think you’re incredible. But right now, you’re not a thought in his mind. He’ll be upset with himself later over that fact. The fact of the matter, he knows where his bonds lie. He knows how much they’re in pain.
You didn’t know it was them. You don’t know it’s your soulmates. You’re just so scared, just so… everything hurts. His body is on fire. 4 spots across his form are radiating a pain he’s never felt before.
It hurts so bad.
So bad.
He wants to crumple to the floor. He wants to sob. He doesn’t know what to do.
“Get a fucking hold of yourself!!” Oh, Jimin’s screaming at him. He wonders when that started. When the shorter of the two grabbed his shoulders and began shaking him, when the look in his eyes became so deadly that they lost all of their spark.
The slap to his face stings, but he’s thankful for it. It finally brings him back to the moment, finally forces him to do what he needs to do.
“Stupid purebred! Fucking move! You’re useless to them if you can’t even do that!” Jimin’s shouting should sting, but it doesn’t in the slightest. He knows the words are true.
Jeongguk is running again, faster than he thinks he’s run in his entire life. He doesn’t really remember the rest of the interaction with Jimin, his memories feel jumbled. He knows at one point Jimin began dragging him towards the house, then he remembers overtaking Taehyung on his own while running.
The sight he sees when he finally reaches the cabin is one he’ll never forget.
He’s so lucky he’s never had the experience of his mates being in abject danger before. He doesn’t know if he could ever take feeling like this again.
The house, what's left of it, is up in flames. Wood panels have been blown off the side, half of the covered porch has caved in upon itself.
His chest heaves as he finally spots his pack. His soulmates. The ones he loves the most in the world. Namjoon’s form is on top of Seokjin and Hoseok’s bodies, looking like he pushed them out of the way just in time. Wood scattered debris lays around them still burning bright, though none directly on top.
A whizz of air passes by Jeongguk, Jimin’s shorter form running past him in the direction of Yoongi.
Yoongi.
Jimin is hauling a piece of burning wood off Yoongi’s stomach, his hands shaking his shoulders. His voice is yelling, but Jeongguk can’t really hear it. At some point he began to move, too. His body acting for him while his mind remains scattered.
His arms haul Namjoon off of the others, it’s clear all of them are injured– they’ll need to get medical attention when they get home. Seokjin, as much as he wants to, likely won’t be in the state to provide it. Jeongguk will yell at him if he tries.
Taehyung frame finally joins Joengguk too, following his lead in grabbing Seokjin instead, propping his body up rather than continuing to let him lay against the forest floor. From Jeongguk’s extremely limited medical knowledge, he knows his knee looks bad. But so does Hoseok’s shoulder. And god, Jeongguk has never been more thankful for the fire-resistant lining of the gear they wore today. He can’t imagine what the state of Namjoon’s back would be without it.
“Hyung! Hyung!” Jeongguk hears his voice, but he doesn’t remember willing it to sound. He finds himself in the same place as Jimin, his hands shaking the pack alpha's shoulders, trying to wake him from his passed out state.
Fuck. If only he was faster getting to the truck, if only Taehyung was able to tell him sooner none of this would have happened! He would have been able to tell them and, and, and–
“”M fine.” Jeongguk feels air enter him for the first time at the sound of Joon’s voice, even if it does sound a little weak. When Joon wheezes, his heart still pangs, “‘M fine. No one died. Take care of the others, they need it more.”
Jeongguk has never wanted to sob more in his life from relief.
The relief is short-lived when his eyes shift towards Seokjin being coddled by Taehyung.
Hoseok has propped himself up, too. He’s looking off in the distance.
He’s smiling.
You know, when Hoseok said he wasn’t interested in having an omega, you didn’t have to go and be such a fucking brat about it.
Yeah, yeah. Sure. Whatever. He was going to let his packmates have their new little toy until they got bored of it– he didn’t mind. Pretty pussy is pretty pussy, and alphas have their urges. Hoseok has never minded sharing a beta between a few of them for a night in the past, though that stopped when Jimin joined and started killing them.
Hoseok still didn’t really care.
He didn’t have any loyalties to them. Didn’t wanna bite them. They were just for fun.
If the youngest wanted a new pet, he wouldn’t deny him. He bets he would look cute staring at you like you were the world. Teetering after you while Hoseok had his.. Fun.
He wouldn’t deny himself the pleasure of playing with you, too. Again, pretty pussy.
And sure, Hoseok never really cared much for the second gender that seems so– his upper lip wants to curl– mystifying, almost like mythical creatures with their decline. He remembers even back in school when he was learning about them, being bored out of his mind.
Everything about them just seemed so boring.
Helpless.
Culling.
Too much work for what? Something that just likes to sit around the house all day pretty? God, sounds like his fucking nightmare.
Hoseok has always thrived on the exciting. On whatever could get his blood pumping the fastest.
It’s what Namjoon promised him. The alpha never did disappoint.
Months ago, when Namjoon first came to him about the idea of getting an omega, Hoseok thought that it might be the first time he would. He never expected a desire so… simple, baseline… traditional, from the pack alpha. He agreed, sure, but he didn’t expect anything from it. Thought that the alpha might finally be becoming boring.
He should be admonishing his past self for ever doubting him, but his present self feels high as a kite.
This is certainly a motherfucking treat.
Even with the pain radiating from his shoulder socket– it’s definitely popped out– he doesn’t deny it. His tongue, despite its pain from biting through the meaty flesh during the blast, runs over his teeth. Copper tang in every breath he breathes.
Awwwww, and you planned it all yourself, huh? Laid out a little bomb to catch the wolves in a trap? What an adorable little doe, thinking you could be big.
He raises himself up on his forearms, flinching a little at the weight put onto his shoulder. He should be screaming from it now, right? That’s what anyone else would do. His cock is hard.
“Hyung! Hyung!” Shit. He really can’t hear now. Most of it just rings. Call it love the way he was still able to hear Jeongguk through it. Whatever. It’ll come back soon. He’s got other things to focus on.
His eyes continue to scan the tree line, looking for something. He’s not sure what.
He’ll find out soon.
Ha, you really did a number on all of them, huh? Did alllllllll of this just for them? Wow, you must really care. You must really want Hoseok to think you’re worth it, huh? That you’re better than all those other little omegas out there?
You want him? That's the message you were trying to send, huh? That you want a chase?
You’re fucking lucky Hoseok loves them. You want him to love you, too? Are you ready for something like that? You really think so?
His lips crack open, a splash of red coating the inside edge. Another trail of blood running down his cheek from where he nosedived into the dirt.
You wanted his attention? That’s why you pulled this bratty little stunt? Well now you have it.
He sees a glint of light in the distance, way beyond the trees. Light reflecting off of glass. Binoculars, huh? Cute.
His smile grows, blood on his teeth. The taste of copper still coming through on his punctured tongue. His canines have never been more excited to bite.
Found you, baby.
Let’s play red riding hood.
“Boom.”
Your voice is soft, cusping just on the edge of the wind. Certainly nowhere near as loud as the sound that just permeated the forest, but felt as though it was even greater than it. A beautiful, radiating fire lighting the trees in the distance, a new glow.
On your face rests a satisfied, self serving smile.
You, and your predictions, had been right. They came back.
Now, there was no way you could be certain it was the same alphas that came to destroy you yesterday, of course not. It would be silly to completely presume but… it was nice to think it was, anyway. Had your legs feeling lighter as they rest against the wooden edge of the fire escape, your body slumped against the high-back stool that you just so happened to find in the fire tower.
Ha. Fire tower. Ironic.
Either way, you knew they would be back, and now they knew the consequences of doing such a thing, even if it is a pity the second bomb hadn’t gone off alongside the first.
The corner of your lips quirk a little higher, hand finally reaching to grab the binoculars from their place hanging against the chair. The cool metal raising to your eyes, allowing you to see even more of the beauty you had just created.
Mmm, the view isn’t too much better– you suppose you did walk pretty far– but still. The act of seeing everything is divine. Your house, the place you had crafted for years, may now be in shambles, but so are the alphas. Poor things.
Well, you’ll build your life back better, anyway. Every new start has become more and more easy. Lessons have taught you the proper steps, especially the steps to properly disappear. That everyone should have the tools and the knowledge to make an out if need be.
Your bottom lip perks out in a bit of a mocking pout, head tilting to the side as the fire begins to grow. It won’t make it far, you know that. The conditions aren’t great for it to actually spiral, but it feels prophetic almost. It feels perfect.
Leave no witnesses.
Mhm, and after they saw your nest, you knew you had to. Fixed up the house to make it look like you were planning on trying to stay, left your car uncovered as a second honeypot. Disabled your trip wires to make it seem like you didn’t know what you were doing. Packed all the suppressants you could. Made sure to leave a little trail to each.
Agitated clucking sounds from your left, drawing you out of your thoughts. The binoculars leaving your eyes as your head twists down towards her, instead.
Ah. Of course, there was Cheryl, too.
To be honest, you tried to leave her. To let her go back to the woods and live with the wild flock but… she wouldn’t stop following you.
Pack has to stick together, you suppose.
“Shhhh, shhh shh…” Your fingers slowly stroke down Cheryl's back, her plumage puffed up from the noise that rang throughout the forest. “You gotta be quiet. They could be watching us back.”
You stand from your spot, moving back towards the interior of the little fire tower. One hand scooping up Cheryl from her tummy, the other slinging your pack over your shoulder. A continued soft hushing leaving as you walk.
You have no plans of unpacking, you’d be leaving this location soon enough.
A small buzzing sensation runs through your entire being, the aftereffects of your successful plan still migrating through every one of your nerves, lighting each up like little stars in little galaxies.
Your lips curl once again, little sharpened canines hanging from below your upper lip, the corner of your smile tweaking upwards. “Well, if they’re still alive, that is.”
chapter 4 <- index -> chapter 6
⌬ : notes:
"oh, these weren't homemade. they were made in a factory. a bomb factory."
🧍♀️
ha..haha.. right guys?
*a tomato is thrown at me*
DAMN! Fine! Lemme just pack my shit and--- lmaooooo I'm joking!! Seriously though, I am desperate to hear what you guys think about this chapter. What I have been teasing for awhile has finally kicked off!! Like i said, reader still had a few things up her sleeve. She's crafty, huh? Either way, it isn't too much longer before she meets the guys!! it should be happening next chapter, isn't that exciting? It is to me!!
I am desperate to hear all of your thoughts on this chapter-- it really is my favourite one that I've written so far. Especially now that we have 6/8 povs unlocked for the main cast... mwahahah, hoseok is certainly a treat, isn't he? I have full confidence you will either hate him, or think he is entirely too hot (i am of the later group lmao, I know what I am) (a freak, if that wasn't clear LMAO)
Jeongguk too, with how desperate he is to have you :'< poor guy. Plus a look into the way he joined thep pack ?! Either way!! As always, please let me know any and all of your thoughts, I absolutely love hearing them!! Everything coming together, and the objects set in motion are rolling super fast now, even if it doesn't totally seem like it yet.
Ahhh, anyway, this is entirely too long! As always, thank you for reading and falling into the story of summer rain just like I have!!! We have officially hit 100 pages in my google doc! See you guys when the next chapter finishes out!! MWAH!!!
pairing: fashion pr! fem reader x idol! kim seokjin
summary: It all started as a silly joke between friends. One harmless unimportant conversation, one name thrown into the mix, and one boring late-night search that should’ve ended after a single Instagram post and not in thousand of hours stalking a famous idol. Looking back, maybe your feminine intuition already knew that the story wouldn’t stop there… because once Kim Seokjin crossed your mind, it seemed impossible for the universe to keep him out of your life.
warning! ── reader is obsessively and stupidly in love makes you want to puke. mentions of stalking. mentions of anxiety. nonchalant jin era but not really. he’s very shy and cute. a real man. this is very much inspired by candace and jeremy’s relationship (phineas & ferb) — literally like she will gaslight you into thinking he doesn’t like her.
author’s note: okay so i had to delete the smut part because when i paste the story here i realized i reached the limit and i didn’t want to make it a two-part one shot (i do love the smut and the original final i wrote so if u ever wanna see it lmk) i hope u still fuck with it tho i’ve been really excited about this one and i really like how it turned out without the smut too so i hope u enjoy it:( HI guys let’s pretend is the first of august okay?? happy first of the month yay!!!!!!
word count: +20k words.
──── pretty sad for a girl so in love (series)
The first thing you noticed when you stepped into Mina’s apartment was that she had definitely invited more people than her dining table could fit.
There were already six pairs of shoes scattered by the front door, music playing quietly from a speaker somewhere in the living room, and at least three different conversations happening before you’d even taken your jacket off. Someone waved at you from the kitchen, another person you vaguely recognized from college smiled in your direction before going back to whatever story they were telling, and the smell of garlic and takeout filled the apartment.
“She’s here!” Mina called the second she spotted you. She was balancing two bowls in her hands, somehow managing not to drop either of them as she crossed the room. “Finally. I was about to tell everyone you bailed.”
“I said I’d be late,” you laughed, slipping your shoes off. “Some people have actual jobs.”
“So do I.”
“Then act like it,” you joked harshly. “I have you at 10am on a Wednesday asking me to bring ice cream. Sounds very unemployed to me.”
“It was an emergency.” You raised an eyebrow. “The convenience store only had one tub left and you know I need to host perfect hangouts, okay?”
“Yeah, I know you’re a control freak.”
“See?” Mina pointed at you before turning to the rest of the room. “She gets me.”
Haeun looked up from where she was sitting on the floor beside the coffee table, her legs crossed underneath her. “No,” she said, completely unimpressed. “She enables you.”
You laughed as you walked over, dropping onto the empty spot beside her before kissing her cheek.
“That’s what real love means,” Mina said like it was obvious.
“It’s definitely not what it means.” Haeun rolled her yes. Mina disappeared back into the kitchen, already distracted by someone asking where the serving spoons were. “You came empty-handed?” Haeun asked.
“I brought dessert.”
“Where?”
You reached into your tote bag and pulled out two tubs of ice cream, probably already melted. Mina immediately reappeared. “I KNEW I invited the right people.”
“You invited everyone,” you looked around to your friends who all raised an eyebrow. “What? It’s true, I love you guys but really I can’t believe everyone agreed to hangout a Wednesday night. Do you guys need a job or a reference? I can help you with…”
“This is why we leave early when you come to the hangouts.”
“Hey!”
“Agreed.”
An hour later, dinner had turned int a bit of a mess. Half the food and dessert were empty and every plate on the table was being shared whether the person who ordered it liked it or not. You’d barely managed to keep more than three fries on your own plate before Mina reached over to steal another one. She had always being a pain in the ass, specially the days you met her in college together with Haeun— at least the one was more generous and didn’t steal your fries.
“I don’t know why I even bother ordering food for myself.”
“You don’t,” she answered easily, popping the fry into her mouth. “You order food for the community.”
“The community can buy its own.”
“It could.”
“It should.”
“It won’t.” Haeun smiled into her drink. “You promised once you’d became rich you were always going to invite dinner.”
“I’m not rich, even Mina makes more money than me.”
“Doubtful,” your friend smiled.
“You manage the biggest singer in Korea right now, I know you’re making bank.” You pointed at her accusatory.
“I’ve never said I wasn’t making bank,” she said immediately. “I’m just saying probably not as much as you. You had been making big deals later.”
“That’s true,” Jiho said— another close friends of yours— suddenly everyone was having interest in the same conversation. He leaned back in his chair, “how’s work? The glamorous fashion world.”
You laughed. “Doesn’t feel glamorous at all. I spend more time looking at calendars than clothes.”
“What were you working on this week?” Haeun asked.
“A campaign for a luxury brand. I’m working now with some actor I’m not legally allowed to tell yet.”
Mina immediately leaned forward with interest. “I love hearing about celebrity gossip.”
“You literally work for IU. That’s the biggest it can get.”
“She’s too nice, she never reveals anything,” she pouted.
“Maybe because there’s no actual gossip going around,” you tried again.
“You work with more celebrities than me you have to have some.” She insisted.
“I work with their managers,” you corrected. “Literally I’m mostly coordinating schedules between the brand, photographers, stylists, management… making sure everyone’s available on the same day.”
“That sounds significantly less fun.” One of your other friends said. “I thought you just picked pretty outfits.”
“I wish.”
“You don’t even get free clothes?”
“I get emails.”
“I’d rather have the clothes.”
“So would I,” you sighed dramatically and everyone laughed. “But it’s still fun,” you admitted after a moment. “I get to see campaigns come together from the beginning, and when everything actually works it’s really satisfying.”
“You always sound happier talking about work than dating,” Mina pointed at you.
“Maybe because work doesn’t suck as much as dating,” you stated.
“I don’t know what that says about you.”
“Probably something concerning,” Haeun nodded.
Before you could answer, Soomin let out the longest sigh you’d ever heard. “Speaking of dating…” Everyone turned toward her. “I finally went out with that guy from Hinge.”
“The accountant?”
“The accountant.”
“And?”
Soomin stared into the distance for a second. “I don’t think he asked me a single question.”
Haeun frowned. “What do you mean?”
“I mean he spent an hour talking about himself.”
“That’s annoying,” you commented.
“He showed me a spreadsheet.”
There was a beat of silence. “A what?”
“A spreadsheet.”
“For work?”
“No. He tracks every restaurant he’s ever been to.”
Mina blinked and you tried not to laughed with Haeun “Actually…”
“No,” Soomin interrupted before she could finish. “Don’t even start.”
“I was going to say that’s kind of organized.”
“There was a section for him to rate the lighting!” she exclaimed frustrated.
“…Never mind.”
“I spent forty minutes pretending I cared about overhead lighting.”
You couldn’t help laughing. “I’m sorry.”
“No, you’re not.”
“It’s a good story.”
The table dissolved into laughter, and once everyone had recovered, the stories started coming one after another. One date had ended with someone accidentally running into their ex halfway through dinner. Another had spent the entire evening talking about cryptocurrency. Someone else admitted they’d been ghosted after what they thought had been the most amazing date ever.
“It feels impossible lately,” Soomin complained, reaching for another slice of pizza. “Either they’re creepy, they just wanna fuck or they’re trying to use you to make their ex jealous.”
“Usually all at once,” Jiho added.
“What about you?” Mina looked over at you. “Any exciting romantic developments?”
You looked up from your plate. “Not really.”
“None?”
“I’ve been on exactly one date this year.”
“The guy from the bookstore?” You nodded. “What happened to him?”
“He was nice but… I don’t know,” you thought about it for a second before shrugging. “He didn’t made me nervous or excited. I guess… he just wasn’t my person.”
“How do you know after one date?” Jiho asked.
“I don’t know.” You smiled a little. “You can usually tell if you actually want to see someone again and I didn’t.”
“So you’re taking a break from dating?” Haeun asked.
“I think so.”
“For how long?” she asked curious.
“I don’t know,” you said simply.
Mina rested her chin in her hand. “I’ve been saying this for years.”
“What?”
“You expect too much for a first date.”
You laughed. “I really don’t.”
“You do.”
“I have standards.”
“You have requirements.”
“I have normal requirements.”
“You eliminated a guy because you thought he was checking his reflection in every window you walked past.”
“He was.”
“You eliminated another one because he called every woman ‘female.’”
“That one was justified.”
“Okay, fair.” She frowned. “But one time you left a date because he was too perfect.”
“He was. He could definitely do better,” you nodded thoughtful.
“You know what?” Haeun grinned. “I support you for that one.”
“But,” Mina continued, refusing to give up, “my point still stands.”
“What point?”
“You’ve built this perfect imaginary man in your head,” she pointed at you. “After your ex boyfriend you’ve just put excuses for every new guy.”
“Not true and I really haven’t.”
“You have.”
“I just don’t want to date someone for the sake of dating.” The room quieted a little, everyone listening now. “I’ve done that before,” you admitted. “You convince yourself maybe the attraction will grow or maybe you’ll eventually have more in common, and then three months later you’re wondering why you stayed. I’d rather be single than settle because everyone thinks I should have a boyfriend.”
Haeun nodded. “I actually agree.”
“You always agree with her.”
“Because she’s right.”
Mina rolled her eyes dramatically. “Fine. I support healthy standards.”
“Thank you.”
“But you need to be a little more open,” she accused you.
“Sure, I’ll try.” You said without making it a big deal.
“I can help if you want me to. I can put you out with some friends.” Her smile started getting bigger.
You already knew where this was going. “No, thank you.”
“I absolutely can. I’m great at matchmaking...”
“Mina.”
“I know a lot of people who would be perfect for you,” she insisted.
“You know people who you think would be perfect for me.” You corrected her.
She ignored you completely. “What about my coworker?”
“No.”
“My cousin’s friend?”
“No.”
“The photographer I met last month?”
“You’ve run out of people already?”
She frowned, pretending to think. “Hm…” Then her face lit up. “Oh.”
“No.”
“What about Jin?”
You looked at her blankly. “…Which Jin?”
“Kim Seokjin.”
You stared at her for a second before laughing. “The idol?”
“Yes, the idol.” She said obvious.
“Mina,” you looked at her incredulous.
“What?”
“I’ve said hello to him, like… three times.”
“So you’ve met,” Mina took it as a win.
“I’ve greeted him.”
“Close enough.”
“It’s really not.”
“You literally worked with Taehyung,” she reminded you.
“I work with brands that hire Taehyung,” you corrected. “Those are two very different things.”
“But you’ve met Jin.”
“I’ve been in the same room as Seokjin.”
“And?”
“And that’s it.”
Haeun smiled, shaking her head. “I don’t even think he’s spoken more than five words to her.”
“He made me show him where the coffee station was once,” you told her. “And I think one time I probably bumped into him accidentally.”
“There you go,” Mina replied triumphantly. “You’re basically family.”
You laughed so hard you nearly spilled your drink. “I don’t even think he’d recognize me if we crossed paths tomorrow.”
“He might.”
“He absolutely would not.”
Mina insisted. “He’s a really nice person. Very shy but I know he would be perfect for you!. Ugh, I need to find an excuse to invite him to some hangouts now…”
“I’ll pass. Thank you.”
Your friend sighed dramatically. Like she had lost the war. “Fine. I tried.”
“You really did,” you said sarcastically.
“I’ll keep looking.”
“Please don’t.”
“Too late.”
By the time someone suggested opening another bottle of wine, the conversation had already moved on to something completely different. Jin’s name disappeared from the room as quickly as it’d come up, buried beneath complaints about work, arguments over which movie they should watch after finishing the dinner and if the next hangout would be this same month or the next one, trying to match schedules.
You didn’t think about him again that night. There wasn’t any reason to. After all, he was just someone you’d crossed paths with a handful of times through work— a polite face attached to brief greetings backstage or at brand events before you both disappeared back into your own schedules. The joke was exactly that: a joke. One of dozens exchanged over dinner that evening, forgotten almost as quickly as it had been said.
At least, that’s what you thought then.
——————————
Your apartment was completely dead by the time you arrived there. You dropped your keys into the ceramic bowl by the front door out of habit, kicked your shoes off somewhere behind you, and stood there for a second, stretching and feeling the weight of the day finally catching up to your body. After spending the last five hours surrounded by people talking over one another, laughing across the dinner table and arguing about movies nobody was actually going to watch, your own apartment almost felt unnaturally still. But you weren’t tired yet. Comfortably full, maybe. Socially exhausted definitely.
You changed into an oversized T-shirt, took your makeup off, tied your hair into a messy bun and wandered into the kitchen for a glass of water, your phone tucked underneath one arm. There were already three new messages in the group chat but you were too lazy to check, maybe it was just Mina planning the next hangout already.
By the time you crawled into bed, the digital clock on your nightstand had already slipped past one in the morning. You should definitely needed to sleep, however, sleep didn’t seem nearly as interested in finding you. You rolled onto your back, staring at the ceiling, thinking about some words that didn’t left your mind the entirely night after the conversation. Mina wasn’t entirely wrong, probably that was the most annoying part.
You really hadn’t been trying. For a while, you’d blamed it on work. Luxury fashion PR wasn’t exactly a nine-to-five job, especially once campaign season picked up. Some weeks you barely had time to eat lunch before someone called to tell you a fitting had been moved, a photographer had cancelled, or a celebrity’s schedule had changed for the third time in two days. It was easier to tell people you were busy than admit dating had quietly slipped to the bottom of your priorities.
But work wasn’t the real reason… or at least not completely. If you were honest with yourself, it had started long before your calendar became impossible. Your last relationship had ended almost two years ago. It didn’t really end in a dramatic way, nobody cheated and nobody threw plates across the room or begged anyone to stay, it had simply stopped working. Between different priorities, missed conversations and the slow realization spending time with someone was actually a big part for it to work, the relationship had quietly unraveled until one day you both admitted what you’d been avoiding for months.
Of course it hurt but the worst part hadn’t even been the breakup itself, it was everything that came after. Friends insisting you “just needed to get back out there,” blind dates, dating apps, conversations that felt more like interviews than actual conversations. Men who spent the entire evening talking about themselves. Men who seemed offended that you actually liked your career. Men who confused confidence with arrogance… Eventually, somewhere along the way, you’d stopped opening the apps, stopped agreeing to dates, stopped looking altogether.
It wasn’t that you’d decided to stay single forever. You’d simply gotten… comfortable in your own world, comfortable with your own routines, comfortable with dinners by yourself, comfortable enough that dating started feeling like another task to squeeze into an already busy week…. But Mina had been right, maybe you had checked out.
You reached for your phone on the bedside table and almost without thinking, you opened Hinge. Your profile was still there with the same pictures of months ago, the same prompts and a handful of likes waiting from weeks ago. You stared at the screen for maybe ten seconds before quietly laughing to yourself.
“Fuck no.” You closed the app.
You turned your phone over in your hands before another thought floated back into your head.
What about Jin? You actually laughed out loud this time. Mina’s ridiculous, you thought.
Of all the people she could’ve named… It wasn’t even that the suggestion was impossible— although it obviously was— it was just… random. You’d met him before… technically. The same way you’d “met” dozens of celebrities through work. A greeting backstage before a fitting, a polite nod while waiting for a meeting room to open, someone introducing you in passing before both of you were immediately pulled in opposite directions.
If you passed each other on the street tomorrow, you doubted he’d recognize you. You weren’t even sure you’d recognize him immediately either. Celebrities always looked different once they were standing three feet away instead of behind professionally edited photos.
Still… Why Seokjin?
You frowned slightly, unlocking your phone again. Purely out of curiosity you typed his name into Instagram. His account appeared immediately. Millions of followers and likes. Well, you couldn’t exactly say Mina had terrible taste. He was ridiculously handsome, that much was obvious.
You spent a minute absentmindedly scrolling through his feed, expecting to lose interest almost immediately. Instead… there wasn’t actually that much to see. A few campaign photos, brand collaborations, professional shoots, some travel and some silly pictures on tour. He looked exactly how you’d expect someone like Kim Seokjin to look. Polished, expensive and almost intimidatingly good-looking.
You were just about to close the app when your thumb drifted to the side to see his tagged posts. There were dozens of pictures and videos he was tagged from fans… One clip couldn’t hurt. It was only twenty seconds. A compilation of him throwing flower petals over him in award shows. You chuckled at his confidence and attitude, he was pretty funny.
“Cute,” you mumbled before catching yourself.
No, not cure. Funny. Endearing. There was a difference.
You scrolled a bit and another reel played. One that looked like it came from some variety show. He was laughing so hard he had both hands over his face, shoulders shaking as someone off-camera kept teasing him about something you didn’t understand. But he was so red and he laughed so loud it was really annoying.
You smiled. Then watched another… and another. One where he was stubbornly refusing to lose a game. One edit where he was winning a game and looked really hot. Another where he somehow managed to make everyone around him laugh within thirty seconds. One where he was confidently explaining something before immediately proving himself wrong.
Your eyebrows lifted slightly. He was… really funny. Not in the polished, media-trained way celebrities sometimes were, just naturally funny, comfortable in his own skin, a little too dramatic. The kind of person who didn’t seem embarrassed about laughing at himself or do something cringe just for the fun of it.
Later you were lying in the exact same position, phone balanced against your knees, smiling at a man you’d exchanged maybe three greetings with over the course of your entire career. You hadn’t even noticed how much time had passed until Instagram reminded you you’d reached your three hours of the day. Your thumb hovered over the screen.
“Holy shit.” You’ve spent three hours watching videos of Kim Seokjin. You lowered the phone onto your chest and stared at the ceiling. “Ah, fuck.”
Now you understood why Mina had said it. Not because he was famous or because he was objectively attractive. From the little you’d seen… He actually seemed exactly like the kind of person you would’ve liked if he’d been anyone else.
Shit.
——————————
The next time you saw Seokjin was not really your doing. It was, for once, the universe deciding to be surprisingly generous. Well… generous was probably a strong word. Convenient, that sounded way better.
The invitation had landed in your inbox earlier that week, forwarded by one of the stylists your agency worked with every few months. It wasn’t a launch party or a brand event, nothing that required speeches, photographers or carefully prepared guest lists. Someone had wrapped up a successful campaign, someone else had just gotten back from a tour overseas, and somewhere along the way the excuse had turned into come over, bring whoever you want and let’s have a drink. Half the people attending knew each other from the entertainment industry, the other half from fashion, and after working in luxury fashion PR for long enough, you’d realized the two worlds overlapped far more than most people imagined. So you decided to attend for once since Mina was going too.
By the time you arrived, the apartment was already buzzing with conversation. Music drifted through the open balcony doors, low enough that people didn’t have to raise their voices over it, and every surface seemed to be covered in bottles, half-empty glasses and small plates of food that everyone kept picking at without remembering what was theirs. Someone from a magazine you occasionally coordinated shoots with greeted you on your way in, another stylist pulled you into a quick conversation about Paris Fashion Week before disappearing again, and not five minutes later you spotted Mina standing near the dining table with a wine glass in one hand, laughing at something a singer beside her had just said.
She noticed you almost immediately. “There you are,” she said, reaching over to squeeze your arm as you walked up. “I was starting to think you weren’t coming.”
“I almost didn’t,” you admitted with a smile. “I spent all afternoon fixing a schedule because one actor suddenly decided he’d rather shoot in Milan than Seoul.”
Mina winced sympathetically. “Please don’t remind me what was working with actors. I still have PTSD.”
“You’re lucky you got yourself a nice boss.”
“Still stressful sometimes,” she grimaced. “Today I’ve answered twenty-five phone calls since six o’clock.”
“You counted?” You raised your eyebrows, not really surprised.
“I was angry enough to.”
You laughed, taking the glass she silently offered you.“Everything okay?”
She nodded. “Fine now. Everyone was losing their minds because they thought she wasn’t making it in time to a big event after a rehearsal fit. Bitch, I did her schedule, she was going to make it on time.”
“Only took twenty calls.”
“Twenty-five,” she corrected, like it was something it needed to be remembered.
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay,” she sighed dramatically before taking a sip of her wine. “I’ve accepted that this is my life now.”
The two of you stayed where you were for a while, talking about work the way people only could when they understood each other’s jobs. Mina complained about artists changing their minds at the last minute, you complained about luxury brands insisting every campaign was somehow the most important project of the year, and somewhere between those conversations someone joined in to tell a story about a photographer who’d accidentally shown up to a shoot in the wrong country. You weren’t sure if he was joking. With this industry, it was genuinely difficult to tell.
At some point your conversation broke apart naturally as people wandered off into smaller groups, and you found yourself listening more than talking, occasionally adding a comment before someone else picked up the thread. It was comfortable, you liked those kinds of gatherings, nobody expected anything from anyone. People drifted between conversations, disappeared onto the balcony, returned twenty minutes later carrying dessert as if they’d never left. People knew each other.
You were halfway through listening to a stylist passionately explain why silver jewelry was making a comeback when the front door opened again. Someone greeted the newcomers loudly enough for half the apartment to glance over.
You looked up too. And there he was.
Kim Seokjin stepped inside with an easy smile, greeting the host before taking a moment to shake hands with someone near the entrance. He looked almost exactly the way you remembered him from the handful of events where your paths had crossed over the years, except this time your brain supplied far more information than it had any right to.
He really giggles like that. The thought appeared before you could stop it… But he really did.
The laugh you’d heard through your phone speakers more times that you would ever admit out loud, it was unmistakable, warm enough that it carried across the room for being too loud. It was strangely disorienting, recognizing something so familiar about someone you barely knew.
You looked away almost immediately. Not because you’d been caught staring— he hadn’t even looked in your direction yet— but because it suddenly felt ridiculous that your first instinct had been to compare him to internet clips.
Get a grip.
You took another sip of your drink and forced yourself back into the conversation happening beside you, although it lasted all of three minutes before your attention wandered again. It wasn’t intentional, not that you would admit anyway. You simply… noticed him more this time.
You noticed that he never interrupted people when they were speaking, even if they were telling a story that was clearly going nowhere. That when someone walked over to say hello, he turned his whole body toward them instead of trying to keep talking to someone else at the same time. Every now and then someone would laugh at something he’d said, but he never seemed interested in becoming the center of the room. If anything, he looked happiest standing slightly off to the side, listening.
It was odd. A month ago you probably wouldn’t have registered any of it. Now every little habit felt strangely familiar, as though you’d skipped several chapters of a book and were only now catching up.
You were still mentally scolding yourself for finding this amusing when someone asked if anybody wanted another drink. You looked down at your empty glass. “I’ll grab one,” you said.
The kitchen was thankfully quieter than the living room. Someone had left the balcony door open just enough for the cool evening air to drift inside, carrying the faint sound of conversation from outside. You set your empty glass beside the sink and reached for one of the bottles lined up along the counter, only realizing someone else was doing exactly the same thing from the opposite side. Your hands bumping into each other a little hard.
You looked up. “So, you finally found your way to the beverage station without any help?.”
The words slipped out before you thought about them. For a second Jin looked almost confused. Then recognition settled across his face and he laughed softly as he blushed slightly.
“I did it all alone.”
“So I’m not imagining it.”
“No,” he smiled, reaching for another glass. “The first time was over coffee, right?.”
“Oh.” You pointed at him. “You asked where it was and then your manager made me guide you to the station.”
“Yeah… that happened.” He chuckled nervously.
“Don’t worry, I know the importance of coffee in the morning.”
Jin nodded in complete agreement. “Thank you. Coffee is the most important thing to survive.”
“And now alcohol. We’re upgrading.” You joked and he smiled.
For a brief moment the conversation settled into a comfortable silence while the two of you poured your drinks. It wasn’t really awkward, just a bit weird.
He glanced toward the living room before looking back at you. “You still work at Étoile?”
The question caught you pleasantly off guard. He knew that?. Maybe he remembered you working with Taehyung a lot. “I do.”
“I wasn’t sure. I thought I recognized you at the Cartier event a few months ago. I wasn’t completely certain.”
“I spend most of those events trying not to look stressed so I probably had a completely different face.” You said truthfully and Jin chuckled.
“You hide it well.”
“I absolutely don’t.”
“You do.”
“I promise I don’t.”
“I’ve only ever seen you looking very calm.”
You laughed. “That’s because if I panic, everyone else starts panicking.”
“So you’re secretly panicking,” he hummed.
“Almost constantly.”
“That actually makes me feel better. I thought everyone in fashion had their lives together.”
You stared at him for a second before bursting into laughter. “I’m sorry… Who told you that?”
“A lot of people?” He obviously lied.
“They lied.”
“So none of you know what you’re doing?” He asked jokingly.
“Oh, we know what we’re doing.” You leaned against the counter with an amused smile. “We just happen to be doing it while answering twelve phone calls, rewriting schedules and praying nobody changes their outfit thirty minutes before a campaign. So we are always panicking while making everything work.”
“That sounds exhausting.”
“It is.”
“What keeps you there then?”
You thought about it for a moment. “I like watching everything come together.”
“The campaigns?”
You nodded. “People only ever see the finished product, but there are so many people behind them. Stylists, assistants, lighting teams, producers, makeup artists… I like being part of that.” He listened without interrupting, his attention resting entirely on you in a way that felt unexpectedly rare. “I don’t know,” you continued with a small shrug. “When something goes well, it’s satisfying.”
“I get that.”
“I would thought so,” you smiled slightly. “Fashion it’s a performance so you should know about that.”
He smiled at that. You liked his smile. “I do. And I know the feeling when people assume performing is only the two hours you’re on stage.”
“But it isn’t.”
He shook his head. “It’s months before that. Rehearsals, meetings, recordings, planning… by the time people finally see something, you’ve been living with it for a long time.”
“I never really thought about it like that,” you hummed.
“I guess we’re both in jobs where everyone only notices the finished product.”
You smiled. “I like that.”
“So do I.”
The conversation wandered from there almost effortlessly. Somehow it turned into travel after he mentioned how often work had him living out of a suitcase, which became a debate over whether airport coffee was actually drinkable, which then led to food recommendations in different cities and also about what was the best dessert to have after a big dinner, and before either of you realized it, the glasses you’d filled at the beginning of the conversation were nearly empty.
You found yourself laughing far more than you’d expected to. Not because he was trying particularly hard to be funny, but because talking to him felt very easy and comfortable.
He listened just as much as he spoke, asked questions that made it obvious he was genuinely interested in the answers, and had a habit of smiling halfway through your stories that somehow encouraged you to keep talking. Every now and then he’d tell one of his own, usually ending it with an expression that suggested he still couldn’t believe it had happened, and you understood almost immediately why people seemed so comfortable around him.
“Hey.” Both of you turned at the sound of Mina’s voice. She was standing in the doorway with an amused smile, looking between the two of you before raising an eyebrow. “I’ve been looking for you,” she said, directing the comment at you. “Apparently someone wants to talk to you about a campaign you did last year. Hey Jin,” she greeted him with a smile he returned.
You blinked a bit confused. “How long have I been in here?”
“I don’t know.” Mina glanced at Jin before looking back at you. “Long enough that I assumed you’d gone home already.”
You laughed, setting your empty glass on the counter. “I should probably go save my professional reputation.”
“Probably.”
You looked back at Jin. “It was really nice talking to you.”
“You too,” he said with an easy smile. “Hopefully next time it won’t be around coffee or water.”
“I can’t promise anything. I like drinks.”
“I guess we’ll find out then.”
You smiled once before following Mina back toward the living room, already letting yourself get pulled into another conversation before you’d made it halfway across the apartment.
The rest of the evening passed with too many conversations happening at once, people arriving and leaving whenever they pleased, someone ordering late-night food nobody needed but everyone ate anyway. You spoke to Seokjin once more before leaving, nothing more than a quick goodbye as people gathered near the front door, and by the time you stepped into the elevator you were convinced that was all the night would become.
It wasn’t until you were driving home with the windows cracked open and the music playing quietly in the background that you realized something had changed. It wasn’t that you’d spent the evening talking to someone super famous, that part genuinely didn’t matter. It was that, somewhere between discussing airport coffee, impossible work schedules and the strange satisfaction of seeing a project finally come together, you’d completely lost track of time.
You couldn’t remember the last conversation you’d had with someone new that had felt so effortless.
And, much to your own surprise, you caught yourself wondering what the two of you would’ve talked about if someone hadn’t interrupted. That thought stayed with you all the way home, quietly settling into the back of your mind.
For the first time in a long while, you found yourself hoping your paths crossed again. And, for the first time ever, you just knew it will happen again.
——————————
You could dress it up however you wanted, tell yourself you were simply becoming more social or that it had been nice meeting new people outside of work, but somewhere between leaving that apartment three weeks ago and accepting yet another invitation you normally would’ve declined, you’d become painfully aware of one very embarrassing fact.
You were trying to see him again. Not in a creepy way, of course… At least, that’s what you insisted every time the thought crossed your mind.
It just so happened that after that night you’d kept in touch with a few of the people you’d met. One of the photographers had sent you a meme after discovering you shared the same hatred for some kind of food, a stylist had invited you to lunch with a couple of mutual friends, and before long you found yourself in a group chat that seemed to organize dinners, birthdays and last-minute gatherings every other weekend.
You said yes to all of them.
Was it because you’d genuinely enjoyed everyone’s company? Absolutely. Was it also because every invitation carried the tiny possibility that Jin might be there? …That part didn’t need to be examined too closely.
By the third invitation you had accepted, even Mina had started looking at you suspiciously. “You’ve become weirdly available lately.”
You looked up from where you were digging through your wardrobe. “I’ve always been available.”
“You canceled dinner with me two weeks ago,” she reminded you.
“I had work.”
“You left work at six.”
“Then I was tired.”
Mina crossed her arms, watching as you held two nearly identical sweaters up against yourself before putting one back on the hanger. “And yet,” she continued slowly, “you’re apparently not too tired to drive forty-five minutes across the city for a casual hangout hosted by people you’ve known for…” She pretended to count on her fingers. “…Roughly three weeks?”
You didn’t even bother turning around. “I’ve known them more time, silly. We just started talking more since the hangout. We connected.”
“Right. I’m sure you did.” She said suspiciously.
“They’re fun.”
“Mhm.”
“And it’s good to make new friends.”
“Mhm.”
You sighed, finally looking at her. “Okay, what? What are you implying?”
“I’m not implying anything.”
“You’re humming like a bitch, just say it.”
Mina smiled into her coffee before taking a sip. “I just think it’s interesting.”
“What is?”
“That you suddenly have a thriving social life.”
“I’ve always had a social life.”
“You absolutely have not.”
“I did.”
“You’ve spent the last year declining every invitation that wasn’t work-related.”
You opened your mouth to argue before stopping halfway through. “…Okay, you’re right. But I’m just trying something different now.”
“I think that’s great.”
“I knew you’d understand,” you pointed at her with a cheeky smiled, turning around to keep looking for an outfit.
“I do.” She smiled sweetly. “I also think it has absolutely nothing to do with the fact that a certain someone might be there tonight.”
You froze for a second before reaching for the nearest cushion and threw it at her. “Shut up.”
She caught it without much effort. “I knew it”
“You don’t know shit.”
You rolled your eyes, but the smile tugging at the corner of your mouth ruined whatever annoyance you were trying to perform. “I cant believe I was right. Do you like Seokjin?”
“Of course not!” You laughed despite yourself, dropping onto the edge of your bed. “I barely know him.”
“But you wanna see him again,” she pointed out.
“… Yeah.” You couldn’t lie. “I don’t even know him enough to know if I like him but… I don’t know. He’s cute.”
“I haven’t see you interested in someone in so long!” She said excitedly. “I’m so happy. I’m sure he’s interested in you too.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I can feel a vibe.”
“I bet he barely remembers our conversation. He was probably being just polite.” You shook your head.
“Nah, people usually remember conversations. At least he had to remember a word or something.”
You groaned dramatically, burying your face in your hands. “You’re the worst person to ask for reassurance.”
“I don’t think he dislikes you.”
“That’s not reassuring at all!.”
“Okay, okay. I’m serious.” She set her coffee down before looking at you properly. “From what I saw that night, he looked comfortable talking to you.”
“He also looked comfortable talking to literally everyone.”
“Thats true but because he knew everyone. Usually with new people he’s very shy. So the fact that he was talking to you comfortably I think it says a lot.”
“So?”
“So go and find out. Talk to him more, see if you actually like him.”
You chuckled. “Okay, sure. Whatever I’ll just go. Worst-case scenario, I spend an evening with nice people.”
“And best-case scenario?” She raised an eyebrow.
“I’ll tell you about it if it happens,” you said with a smirk.
Mina groaned so loudly that she nearly spilled her coffee laughing.
——————————
The gathering was even smaller than the last one. Someone had volunteered their apartment, someone else had ordered enough food to feed twice the number of guests, and by the time you arrived most people were already spread around the living room, talking over one another while music played quietly from the speakers. You recognized almost everyone this time. Not well enough to call them close friends, but enough that conversations started easily
The photographer from the previous party greeted you with a hug before immediately pulling you into a discussion about an impossible decision he had to make for his career, an stylist insisted you try whatever dessert she’d brought, and before long you found yourself laughing at stories from a recent campaign shoot that had apparently gone catastrophically wrong. It felt surprisingly natural and comfortable being with these people you never really had the chance to get closer to.
You were halfway through telling someone about a model who’d accidentally boarded the wrong train during Milan Fashion Week when the apartment door opened. You didn’t look immediately because you obviously weren’t waiting for anyone.
Then someone near the entrance said, “Jin!”
Your head turned so fast you almost broke your beck… Very subtle.
He stepped inside carrying a paper bag from a bakery, apologizing for being late before greeting the host. There was something oddly familiar about watching him move through the room now. A month ago he would’ve blended into the evening like everyone else. Now you found yourself recognizing little things almost unconsciously— the way he smiled before saying hello, the habit of slightly bowing his head when someone older greeted him, how he always seemed to listen before speaking.
You hated that your brain had memorized all of it.
He spotted you a few moments later. There was the smallest pause before recognition crossed his face, followed by an easy smile. “Hey.”
“Hi.”
“You made it.”
The words were so ordinary that you almost laughed. “So did you.”
“I almost didn’t. Work really keeps you busy.”
“Were you actually working, or is that the excuse everyone in our industry uses?”
He smiled, rubbing the back of his neck. “…Both.”
“Fair enough.”
Someone called his name before either of you could continue. “I’ll talk to you later,” he said apologetically, nodding toward the group waiting for him.
“Yeah, of course.”
He disappeared almost immediately and you watched him walk away before frowning slightly. You weren’t entirely convinced if he was just being nice of if he also felt that weird vibe going between you two. Maybe you were just too delusional.
Over the next hour your paths kept crossing in the strangest ways. Every time you thought maybe you should walk over, someone else was already talking to him. When he finally looked free, another friend dragged you into a conversation on the balcony. Then, just as you managed to excuse yourself, Jin was helping someone carry drinks into the kitchen.
It was becoming almost comical.
You couldn’t help smiling when he finally made his way over, balancing two glasses in one hand after what felt like an entire evening of narrowly missing each other. It had almost become a running joke in your own head; every time one of you looked free, someone else inevitably appeared to steal the other’s attention. By now it was honestly impressive.
“I was starting to think this apartment was cursed,” you said as he stopped beside you, accepting the glass he held out. “Every single time I thought about coming over to talk to you, somebody got there first.”
“You wanted to talk to me?”
“Of course,” you didn’t shy away, trying not to make the situation uncomfortable. “We had a nice chat last time.”
A laugh escaped him, quieter than the ones you’d heard from across the room but just as genuine, and he shook his head before taking a sip of his drink. “Me too. And I thought that was only happening to me,” he admitted. “Twice I walked over because I figured everyone was finally done talking to you, and then someone else started another conversation before I made it halfway across the room.”
“Seriously?”
“Mhm.” He smiled, looking almost sheepish. “At one point I thought maybe you were avoiding me.”
You looked at him for a second before laughing “I thought you were avoiding me.”
For a moment he simply stared at you, almost as if he was trying to decide whether you were joking, before the corners of his mouth lifted again. “So we’ve both spent the last hour being wrong.”
“I guess we have.”
Whatever awkwardness had followed you around since he’d arrived seemed to disappear with that exchange. It wasn’t some magical shift where suddenly everything became effortless, but the uncertainty you’d both apparently been carrying dissolved enough that the conversation no longer felt like something either of you had to force. Instead of wondering whether you were interrupting him or whether he was only being polite, you found yourselves walking toward the quieter side of the balcony almost without thinking, making room for another group squeezing through the doorway while continuing exactly where you’d left off.
“So, what do you do for work?” You said almost jokingly.
He looked genuinely caught off guard by the question. “What do you mean? You already know.”
“I don’t know,” you laughed. “Everybody always asks what you do for work, but work is only part of your life. So I don’t know, maybe tell me something you like to do that is not working.”
He thought about it for a second, absentmindedly turning his glass in his hands. “I sleep.”
You looked at him. “That cannot be your final answer.”
“I’m serious.”
“I believe you. I just refuse to accept it.”
“It takes up a surprising amount of my free time.”
“I’m trying to discover your hobbies, Seokjin.”
Jin smiled to himself before giving in. “I play video-games.”
“You play video games?”
“I do,” he nodded confidently even when his neck started getting red. “And I’m really good at them. Computer games, play station. Everything.”
“That’s nice,” you nodded with a little chuckle trying to scape out of your lips. “I don’t know anything about that.”
“It’s pretty fun.”
“Yeah, I can tell by the way you talk about it.”
He laughed quietly, and there was something strangely endearing about how easily he laughed at himself. Most people, especially in your line of work, had a habit of polishing every story until they sounded impressive. Jin seemed to do the opposite. Every time he talked about something he’d done well, he somehow ended up mentioning the part that had gone wrong too, as though he didn’t really see the point in pretending otherwise.
“So what about you?” he asked. “What do you like to do?”
You smiled. “I like to read.”
“What kind of books?”
“Anything that makes me forget to check my phone.”
He nodded thoughtfully. “I like movies like that.”
“The ones where you forget you’re watching one?”
“Exactly.”
“Oh my god. I actually have a section in my Letterbox like that. ‘Movies that feel like movies.’” You said excited.
“I’m gonna need you to send me your account then,” he said seriously.
The two of you ended up lingering near the balcony more minutes, just talking. Around you, people drifted in and out of the apartment with the same relaxed rhythm the evening had carried from the beginning. Someone stepped outside to answer a phone call, another group squeezed past on their way to refill drinks, music floated faintly from the living room, but none of it seemed to interrupt the conversation anymore. It simply became part of the background.
“I know this is going to sounds ridiculous.” He looked almost embarrassed. “But I’m not great with new people,” he admitted. “So I’m glad you’re easy to talk to.”
“Really? You said, shaking your head as you leaned against the railing. “You seem so in ease.”
“Nah. Two years ago you probably would’ve had to carry the conversation by yourself.”
“I feel like I already do that sometimes.”
He looked at you, amused. “You?”
“I overshare when I’m nervous.”
“I would’ve never guessed.”
“Exactly. That’s the problem, I just talk to much.”
Jin smiled to himself before taking another sip of his drink. “I get quieter.”
“So we’re opposites.”
“Maybe.”
“I fill every silence.”
“I wait for the other person to.”
“So we are a match made in heaven.”
“Exactly.”
You both laughed, and for a second you simply watched the people inside the apartment. Someone had convinced half the room to play some card game that looked increasingly chaotic with every passing minute. A girl was already arguing about the rules despite the game having barely started.
“You know,” you said, “It’s kind of funny. I would’ve guessed the complete opposite.”
“About me?”
You nodded. “I don’t know… I think because you’re around people all the time, I just assumed talking to strangers came naturally.”
“It doesn’t, at all.” He shook his head. “I still overthink almost every conversation.”
You frowned. “Seriously?”
“Mhm.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“It’s true.”
“But you seem…” You searched for the right word. “…Comfortable.”
“I pretend.”
“So you’re acting?”
He laughed. “I don’t know if I’d call it acting.”
“What would you call it?”
“I just… remind myself that nobody else knows I’m nervous.”
You looked at him for a moment, surprised by how simple the answer was. “I’ve never thought about it like that.
“It helps.”
“I usually assume everyone can tell.”
“I think everyone assumes that.”
You smiled. “I’ve spent half my career convinced people can see me panicking.”
He looked genuinely confused. “I thought you were one of those people who had everything under control.”
You laughed so suddenly you nearly spilled your drink. “I don’t think anyone who’s worked with me would describe me that way.”
“They would.”
“They absolutely wouldn’t.”
“They would.”
“Seokjin.”
“I’m serious.”
You raised an eyebrow. “You’ve only talked to me like twice.”
“I would say more.”
“Mm, not really.”
He nodded. “There was a campaign dinner last winter where we talked a bit.”
You blinked a little taken aback. “You remember that?”
“You were trying to find someone’s assistant. I remember because in that event you were working with Taehyung too.”
“Ah, yes. I was trying to find a missing garment bag.” You couldn’t stop yourself from laughing. “I can’t believe you remember that.”
He shrugged almost apologetically. “I remember weird things.”
“Apparently.”
There was something about that answer that stayed with you. Not because he’d remembered the event itself— that wasn’t impossible— but because he’d remembered you in it. You hadn’t been the client, you hadn’t been the center of the evening. You’d simply been another person running around making sure everything worked. Most people never noticed those things.
“You know what’s strange?” you asked after a moment. “I’ve spent years assuming nobody notices the people behind events.”
Jin tilted his head. “Some do.”
“You do.”
“People behind the scene make everything happen. It’s impossible not to notice.”
You smiled, a little uncertainly. “Most people only remember the face wearing the clothes.”
“I think that’s normal.”
“I know.”
“But…” He paused for a second, as though trying to explain something he hadn’t really put into words before. “I think once you’ve worked around enough productions, you start noticing the people who keep everything moving. You can usually tell who’s solving problems. I guess that’s why I noticed you.”
You looked down at your glass for a second before smiling. “I don’t think anyone’s ever complimented me like that.”
He looked almost surprised. “It was a compliment?”
“Yeah. For me it is.”
“I was just telling the truth.”
The conversation wandered somewhere else after that, not because either of you tried to change the subject but because that seemed to be how talking to him worked. One thought naturally led to another. You ended up discussing the strange satisfaction of crossing things off handwritten to-do lists, the fact that both of you still preferred carrying notebooks despite having every reminder imaginable on your phones, how much you hated the smell of beer, how much he loved snowboarding and the ridiculous amount of time people spent pretending to enjoy networking events.
“So you don’t like them either?” you asked.
“I like leaving them.”
You laughed out loud. “That’s such an honest answer.”
“I always tell myself I’ll stay for an hour. Then I look at the time and it’s three hours later.” He shook his head. “Every time.”
“Why don’t you leave?”
Jin smiled. “Because then I meet someone interesting.”
You felt your heart give one annoyingly noticeable beat. “Does that happen often to you?.”
“It doesn’t.” Before you could think of a response, someone called his name from inside. He turned instinctively. “What?”
“Your food is getting cold! Are you eating?”
“I’ll be there!” He looked back at you almost immediately. “Sorry.”
“It’s okay.”
“You were saying?”
The fact that he’d come back to the conversation instead of letting it die made something warm settle somewhere in your chest.
“I honestly don’t even remember.”
“You were probably making fun of me.”
“I probably was.”
“I think you were.”
“I’ll continue after you get food.”
He smiled. “Deal.”
And he did.
Five minutes later, after grabbing two slices of pizza and somehow convincing someone else to stop stealing olives off his plate, he walked right back over and picked up the conversation as though nobody had interrupted it in the first place. It happened again later. Someone asked him to settle an argument in the kitchen, another friend pulled him into a group photo. Every single time, he came back. Not tired or with some grand excuse, just quietly returning to where you’d been standing before asking, “Where were we?”
By the end of the night you realized you’d talked about almost everything and almost nothing. Childhood hobbies, the fact that both of you hated talking on the phone but would happily send ten-minute voice notes, how neither of you understood people who enjoyed going out every weekend to party, the weird satisfaction of grocery shopping late at night. You talked about the best convenience store snacks, whether pineapple belonged on pizza and more. The conversation never felt like it needed to impress the other person, it just kept going.
When people finally started putting on their jackets, you were genuinely surprised to see the apartment had emptied without you noticing. “I should head out too,” you said, slipping your phone into your bag.
Seokjin nodded. “Me too.” For a second neither of you moved. “I had a really good time,” he said, smiling in that same quiet way he always seemed to.
“Me too.” You stayed in your place, waiting for him to ask for your number.
“I’ll…” He hesitated just enough for you to notice it. “…I’m sure we’ll see each other again.”
“Right,” you said, almost disappointed. “Yeah, I hope so.”
He smiled once more before following his friends toward the door. You watched him leave, waiting until the apartment had almost emptied before saying your own goodbyes.
The drive home was spent replaying conversations you hadn’t meant to memorize. Not because anything extraordinary had happened. He hadn’t flirted with you, he hadn’t asked for your goddamn number. Seokjin hadn’t looked at you in some life-changing, movie-worthy way. If anything, the evening had been remarkably ordinary. And maybe that was exactly why you couldn’t stop thinking about it.
You liked talking to him, like a lot. There had been no awkward pauses to fill, no pressure to sound clever, no moments where you found yourself wondering what you should say next. Somehow the two of you had managed to spend hours discussing the most ridiculous, everyday things, and you’d still walked away feeling like there were another hundred conversations left to have. That should have been exciting. Instead, it left you hopelessly confused. Because Jin was nice. Painfully, consistently nice. He listened to everyone, he smiled at everyone, he remembered details about people that most would’ve forgotten. So how were you supposed to tell whether any of tonight had actually meant something?
Maybe he talked to everybody like that, maybe every person who left one of his conversations went home thinking they’d been understood, maybe this was just who he was. You couldn’t read him. Every time you thought he’d given you a sign, your brain immediately found another explanation for it, and by the time you pulled into your apartment building you were somehow even more confused than when the evening had started.
The only thing that wasn’t confusing anymore was yourself. There wasn’t any point pretending this was simple curiosity, that excuse had expired somewhere around the conversation about how much you loved strawberry cheesecake.
You liked him. Entirely, inconveniently and undeniably.
You smiled all the way upstairs because the realization was somehow equal parts embarrassing and exciting. And later, before you’d even finished getting ready for bed, you found yourself opening the group chat from the party. Your thumb hovered over the upcoming plans someone had mentioned earlier. A birthday dinner next week. A movie night the weekend after. A barbecue if the weather stayed nice. You stared at the messages for a moment before smiling to yourself. A month ago, you would’ve checked your calendar first or invent another excuse to not show up. Tonight, you were already trying to figure out how to make sure you didn’t have any plans at all so you could see him again.
——————————
Monday mornings at HYBE building looked exactly the way you imagined a music company would. Stylists hurried down the hall balancing garment bags over one shoulder while trying to answer phone calls at the same time, assistants walked briskly between meeting rooms carrying stacks of documents that somehow looked urgent regardless of what was inside them, and every few minutes someone you vaguely recognized from a campaign, a magazine shoot or an awards show passed by with a polite nod before disappearing around another corner. It was organized chaos, the kind that somehow managed to function despite looking as though everything was happening at once.
You’d been there often enough over the years that the receptionist greeted you by name before you’d even reached the desk. “Good morning.”
“Morning,” you smiled, accepting the visitor’s badge she handed over. “I’m here for the ten o’clock.”
“They’re already waiting for you.”
“Perfect. Thank you.”
Luxury fashion PR had a funny way of making every company building start to feel familiar. One month you were spending every afternoon at a magazine headquarters preparing a campaign, the next you were coordinating fittings at a fashion house, and then suddenly you were sitting in entertainment agencies discussing contracts between artists and brands. It meant learning hundreds of names, remembering dozens of schedules and somehow keeping track of who was available on which side of the world.
By the time you reached the conference room, three people from HYBE’s partnership team were already seated around the table, laptops open and coffees untouched.
The meeting itself was surprisingly straightforward. The agency had recently signed a new rookie group whose first luxury campaign was already attracting attention from several international brands, and your company had been hired to coordinate the negotiations and oversee the campaign schedule. Most of the creative decisions had already been approved weeks earlier, which meant your morning was spent going over travel dates, confirming fitting appointments, discussing possible magazine covers and making sure nobody had accidentally scheduled three different events in three different countries on the same day… It happened more often than people realized.
“I’ll send over the updated timeline this afternoon,” you said, closing your notebook once everyone seemed satisfied. “As long as the group’s comeback date doesn’t move again, everything should stay on schedule.”
One of the managers laughed. “Please don’t say that out loud.”
“I’m choosing optimism.”
“We’ve learned not to.”
You smiled. “Fair enough.”
Another hour disappeared into emails and final revisions before the meeting finally wrapped up. By the time you stepped back into the hallway, your shoulders already felt lighter. There were still a dozen things waiting for you back at the office, but the most complicated part of your week had gone considerably smoother than you’d expected.
You had just slipped your notebook and laptop into your bag when a familiar voice called your name from the other end of the corridor. You turned just in time to see Taehyung walking toward you, sunglasses hooked onto the collar of his T-shirt despite being indoors. For a second you simply stared.
“Well, that’s a face I haven’t seen in forever.”
He laughed. “I was about to say the same thing.” The two of you met halfway down the hallway, exchanging a quick hug before stepping back. “What are you doing here?” he asked. “I thought your office was like 3 hours away.”
“It is. We were meeting with the partnership team.”
“For the rookie group?” You nodded. “Please tell me they’re behaving.”
“So far.”
“So they haven’t started changing schedules every six hours yet?”
“It’s only Monday.”
“There’s still time to run.”
You laughed. “You sound like you’ve been traumatized.”
“I’ve worked in this building long enough. Rookie groups are starting to be a nightmare.”
“That’s fair. I’ve seen some news.”
The conversation slipped back into familiarity almost immediately. You hadn’t worked together in nearly two years, but spending months coordinating the promotional aesthetic campaign for his first solo album had a way of making people remember each other. After that there had been fashion events, magazine dinners, a handful of award shows and enough passing greetings over the years that seeing him now felt less like bumping into an old client and more like running into an old coworker.
“So,” he asked, leaning casually against the wall, “how’s life?”
“Busy.”
“I expected a more exciting answer.”
“I coordinate luxury campaigns.”
“So… busy.”
“Exactly.” You chuckled. “What about you?”
Taehyung sighed dramatically. “We start rehearsals again next week.”
“For the tour?” He hummed in agreement. “I saw the dates.” You mentioned. “They look impossible. You have, what…” You frowned, trying to remember. “Three countries in a week and then another one next week in another continent?”
“Yeah.. I’ve stopped looking.”
“I don’t blame you.”
“You learn not to pay attention,” he smiled cheekily.
Before either of you could continue, another voice joined the conversation.
“I had a feeling I’d find you here hiding.” You looked up instinctively. Jin had just stepped out of one of the rehearsal studios further down the hallway, a black hoodie thrown over his shoulders. He slowed as he reached the two of you, smiling in quiet surprise when he noticed you standing there. “Oh.” His smile widened just slightly. “Hi.”
“Hi,” you smiled slightly, heart starting to beat a little faster.
“What are you doing here?” he asked.
You lifted the visitor’s badge hanging around your neck. “Work.”
“That makes more sense.” He nodded knowingly.
“Lucky for her,” Taehyung interrupted, “she gets to leave.”
You smiled. “I do.”
“I’ve still got vocal rehearsal.”
Jin looked at him. “I thought you were eating first.”
“I was.” Taehyung glanced down at his phone before groaning. “…Actually, no, apparently I’m not. They just moved my reservation.”
“Again?”
He held up his screen dramatically. “I’ve officially given up questioning management.”
You laughed. “Some things never change.”
“They really don’t.”
He pushed himself away from the wall before pointing between the two of you. “I’m leaving you to catch up because if I’m late one more time they’ll start pretending I’m difficult.”
“You are difficult,” Jin said.
“But you love me anyway”
“Ew, don’t say that.”
“You do!” Taehyung looked back at you. “It was good seeing you again.”
“You too.”
“Don’t disappear for another two years.”
“I’ll do my best.” With one last wave, he disappeared around the corner, leaving the hallway noticeably quieter. For a moment you and Jin simply watched him go. “He hasn’t changed,” you said eventually.
“Not even a little.”
“I think that’s impressive.”
“I think it’s exhausting.”
You laughed. “I can imagine.”
The two of you started walking almost without discussing it, heading slowly toward the elevators at the end of the hallway. Neither of you seemed particularly rushed, and after the last few times you’d talked, it no longer felt strange to fall into conversation so easily.
“So,” he asked, glancing over at you, “how did the meeting go?”
“Better than I expected. I was preparing for at least one scheduling disaster but everything went well.”
“You sound disappointed.”
“Nah. I like being pleasantly surprised. You shrugged. “What about you?” you asked. “Taehyung mentioned rehearsals.”
He nodded. “We leave in a few weeks.”
“You excited?”
“I am.” He smiled to himself before looking ahead again. “I think the rehearsals are always the hardest part.”
“Really?”
“I like performing but I don’t like preparing to perform.”
You laughed softly. “I don’t know why that makes perfect sense.”
“I spend weeks wondering if we’re ready. And then the first show starts and I stop worrying for about two hours.” He told you, a little exhausted. “Then I start worrying about the next one.”
You smiled. “I feel like that’s every job.”
“It probably is.”
By the time you reached the elevators, the conversation had wandered somewhere entirely different. Somehow you’d ended up talking about travel again, comparing favorite cities from work trips, complaining about airports, laughing over the fact that neither of you had figured out how people managed to sleep comfortably on planes.
The elevator arrived with a quiet chime. You both stepped inside. “Oh, I forgot to ask,” he said as the doors closed. “What are you doing this weekend?”
You looked at him, a little excited. “This weekend? I don’t really have plans. Why?”
“You wanna have dinner?.” He hesitated for a second before clarifying. “Everyone’s getting together on Saturday. Some close friends, Taehyung is also included. We’re going to a nice restaurant. I thought maybe you would like to come.”
“Oh.” You smiled. An invitation, as friends. Great. “Yeah, of course. I’ll be there.”
“Great,” he said with a smile. “Nice.” There was a small pause, comfortable rather than awkward, before he looked at you again with the same thoughtful expression you’d started recognizing over the past few weeks. “Actually…” He rubbed the back of his neck almost absentmindedly. “I just realized I don’t have your number.”
You hummed. “Yeah… You don’t.”
“I probably should.”
“That would make things easier. You know, for the address of the restaurant and all.”
“It would. Yes.”
You unlocked your phone and handed it to him. “Here.”
Seokjin smiled as he typed his contact into it before giving it back. “I’ll text you,” he said simply. “To let you know it’s me and send you the address”
You nodded. “Right.” The elevator doors opened onto the lobby. You stepped out together before stopping near the entrance, where your paths naturally split in opposite directions. “I should let you get back to work,” you said before smiling. “I’ll see you Saturday.”
He nodded. “See you Saturday.”
You watched him disappear back toward the elevators before pushing through the glass doors into the afternoon sun. Halfway across the parking lot, your phone vibrated.
Unknown Number. You opened the message before you’d even reached your car.
Seokjin: Just proving it’s actually me.
A second message appeared almost immediately.
Seokjin: Don’t be late on Saturday. Taehyung will absolutely blame someone else if he is, and I’d rather it not be you.
Seokjin: [address]
You: Noted. I’ll arrive early just to preserve my reputation.
His reply came less than a minute later.
Seokjin: Smart girl
Okay, that was hot.
You know it wasn’t flirtatious, it wasn’t even particularly memorable. But as you slid your phone back into your bag, you couldn’t stop smiling. In all the times you had spent talking for hours at a friend’s apartment and now exchanging numbers in an elevator, things had quietly become very comfortable with him. You still had absolutely no idea whether Jin saw you as anything more than someone he enjoyed talking to. If anything, getting to know him had only made him harder to read. He was attentive with everyone, kind without making a performance of it, and thoughtful in a way that could easily be mistaken for interest if you weren’t careful.
Which was exactly the problem. You couldn’t tell whether he liked you like that. The uncertainty was still there, lingering in the back of your mind every time you replayed one of your conversations, but it didn’t bother you quite as much anymore. Because one thing, at least, had become impossible to deny. He liked spending time with you.
Saturday suddenly felt very, very far away.
——————————
The restaurant wasn’t particularly fancy, which somehow suited the group better than any upscale place ever could have. It was tucked away on a quiet street a little outside the city center, the kind of place people only seemed to know about through recommendations rather than advertisements. Warm lights hung above the terrace, the windows were thrown open to let the late summer air drift inside, and the steady murmur of conversations mixed with clinking glasses and the occasional burst of laughter from another table.
You spotted everyone almost immediately. There couldn’t have been more than ten people, already gathered around a long wooden table near the back of the restaurant. Someone waved the second you stepped through the door, and within moments three different voices were greeting you at once.
“There she is.”
“I told you she’d be late.”
“I am three minutes early,” you protested, laughing as you slipped your bag off your shoulder.
“You’re ten minutes late.”
“That’s early for her.”
You smiled, making your way around the table to greet everyone properly. A couple of faces were still relatively new, people you’d only met once or twice over the last month, while others already felt strangely familiar despite how recently they’d come into your life. It was funny how quickly comfort formed when everyone shared the same chaotic industry. Then your eyes found Jin. He was already seated halfway down the table, listening to something Taehyung was saying with that small smile you were becoming increasingly familiar with. When he noticed you looking over, he gave you an easy wave.
“Hey.” He smiled. “You finally found the place.”
“Barely,” you admitted. “Your directions were significantly better than my navigation.”
“I knew I should’ve sent more landmarks.”
“I still would’ve gotten lost.”
“I believe that.”
You caught yourself smiling at the quick exchange before you’d even reached your chair. When you looked around for somewhere to sit you noticed there was only one empty seat left. To the other corner of the table, directly across from him, not close at all. You stared at it for a second. “…Seriously?”
Someone looked up. “What?”
“Nothing.” You smiled, sliding into the chair. “I just thought I’d made it before everyone else.”
“Why?”
“No reason.”
You reached for the menu before anyone could ask another question. Across the table, Jin looked briefly amused, though he didn’t comment, instead returning to whatever story Taehyung had been telling before you’d arrived. You tried very hard not to let the tiny disappointment bother you. It was ridiculous, really ridiculous. You weren’t in middle school. You weren’t twelve years old trying to sit beside your crush in class. You were a grown woman who coordinated campaigns worth more money than most people made in a year. You could survive sitting far from this guy …Probably.
Dinner started slowly, with everyone ordering drinks while waiting for the last two people to arrive. Once they did, the conversation settled into that familiar rhythm you’d started associating with this group. Nobody stuck to one topic for very long. One person would mention work, someone else would remember a completely unrelated story, and twenty minutes later everyone would somehow be debating whether overnight flights were worse than six a.m. call times.
Laughter rippled around the table. You found yourself joining in easily, adding comments here and there whenever the conversation naturally drifted your way. It felt comfortable, and yet every now and then your attention wandered somewhere it probably shouldn’t. Across from you, Jin was talking to one of the producers about the upcoming tour. You couldn’t hear everything they were saying, but every so often he’d laugh quietly or shake his head at something someone else had said, and despite telling yourself not to, your eyes kept finding him. Once and then again. Then another time. It was becoming embarrassingly automatic. At one point he happened to glance up while reaching for his water. Your eyes met for barely a second and he gave you just a small smile. Then the conversation beside him continued, and he turned back toward it. You did the same.
See? He’s talking to everyone.
You forced yourself to pay attention to the conversation happening on your side of the table instead. For the next hour that became the pattern of the evening. Whenever everyone spoke together, it felt easy. You’d catch each other’s eye occasionally across the table, laugh at the same stories, tease Taehyung whenever he exaggerated something, but there wasn’t really an opportunity for the kind of conversation you’d secretly been hoping for.
The distance of a table suddenly felt much larger than it actually was. You hated yourself a little for caring. There were at least eight other people there and you liked all of them. You were having a genuinely good time. And yet some stubborn, irritating part of your brain kept thinking… I haven’t actually talked to him. Every now and then someone beside him would ask him something directly, another person would join in, and before long he’d be caught in another conversation while you were doing exactly the same thing at your end of the table.
Maybe this was normal, maybe you’d built up the last few weeks too much in your own head. Maybe they had felt significant because they’d happened one-on-one and your brain had made the situations feel extra intimate only becuase you liked him like that. Here, surrounded by everyone else, he seemed exactly the way he always had. Kind, relaxed and happy to talk to whoever happened to be nearby.
It occurred to you, not for the first time, that maybe this was simply who he was.
You were halfway through telling the photographer beside you about a campaign that had nearly fallen apart because a shipment had been sent to the wrong country when another burst of laughter echoed from Jin’s side of the table. Almost instinctively, you looked over. He was smiling at something a friend had just said. Nothing unusual, nothing you hadn’t already seen a hundred times. Still… A tiny, childish part of you felt oddly deflated.
You took another sip of your drink. Get over yourself. The evening wasn’t about you. You’d barely known him for a month. There was no reason to expect him to spend the entire dinner talking to you. Honestly, if someone else described this situation to you, you’d probably tell them they were overthinking it. Which, unfortunately, meant you were almost certainly overthinking it.
“You’ve gone quiet.”
You looked back toward the woman sitting beside you. “Hm?”
“I was asking if you’re coming to Milan next month.”
“Oh.” You laughed softly. “Sorry. I got distracted.”
“I noticed.”
“I probably am.”
“You probably?”
“My calendar changes every three days.”
“That’s the most PR answer I’ve ever heard.”
“It’s also the only honest one.”
The conversation picked back up, and eventually you stopped checking the other end of the table quite so often. Or at least, you convinced yourself you had.
Dinner stretched comfortably into the evening. Plates gradually disappeared, dessert menus appeared almost without anyone noticing, and one by one people started glancing at their phones, remembering early schedules or long drives home.
“I should probably go,” one of the producers sighed eventually, pushing his chair back. “I have a seven a.m. meeting tomorrow.”
“On a Sunday?”
“I know.”
“My condolences.”
Another person stood and some of them followed. Goodbyes started overlapping with fresh conversations, people lingering by the table while putting on jackets because nobody ever managed to leave immediately. You’d barely noticed how many people had already gone when the friend beside you launched into a story about their parents divorce.
By the time she’d finally reached the end of the story, probably regretting saying too much, the restaurant had become noticeably quieter. You looked around almost absentmindedly. The table that had been full less than fifteen minutes earlier was almost empty. Taehyung had already left, your photographer friend was gone, one stylist had disappeared after hugging everyone goodbye. Only one chair across from you was still occupied.
Jin looked up from the beer he’d been absentmindedly nursing for the better part of an hour and smiled. “I think everyone abandoned us.”
You blinked before looking around once more. “They actually did.”
He laughed quietly. “I didn’t even notice.” Neither had you. Jin glanced toward the front of the restaurant, where the last of your friends were saying their goodbyes near the entrance, then looked back at you with an expression that suggested he was just as surprised as you were. “I guess we were really invested in our conversations.”
You laughed, still looking around as if someone else might suddenly reappear. “I feel like there were ten people here five minutes ago.”
“There were. But I think they slowly escaped while we weren’t paying attention.”
“So we’re the last ones here.”
“I don’t think the staff minds.”
As if on cue, one of the waiters walked past carrying a stack of empty plates, offering the two of you a polite smile before disappearing into the kitchen. You glanced back toward the entrance. “I should probably head out too.”
Jin looked down at the beer still sitting in front of him before looking back up. “I mean…” He hesitated for a second, almost like he was debating whether to ask. “Would you mind staying for a bit? I haven’t finished this yet.”
You followed his gaze to the glass. It was still almost half full. “…Of course.”
“I don’t want to keep you if you have plans.”
“I don’t.”
“You sure?”
You smiled. “I’m sure.”
He smiled back, a little relieved. “Okay.”
Neither of you spoke for a moment, but unlike before, the silence wasn’t searching for a conversation. It simply existed while the restaurant slowly emptied around you. Someone in the kitchen dropped a tray, a waiter laughed at something another employee had said, and outside the windows the street had grown noticeably quieter than it had been when everyone first arrived.
Jin took another sip of his beer. You were almost certain it had to be warm by now. “So,” he said eventually, moving to seat next to you before resting his forearms against the table, “did you have a good time tonight?”
“I did.” You smiled. “I actually like this group a lot.” You thought about it for a second. “I feel like everyone already knows everyone else’s schedules are a mess.” He laughed. “So nobody gets offended when someone cancels.”
“They know what life is like this.”
“What about you?”
Seokjin shrugged. “I like that they remember you’re also a person.”
You looked at him curiously. “What do you mean?”
He smiled as he said it, but there was something thoughtful underneath the smile that made you think he wasn’t entirely joking. “I think when people see someone whose job is public, they forget that the rest of your life still exists.”
You nodded slowly. “That makes sense.”
“They just assume you’re always in your performing mood.”
You rested your chin lightly against your hand. “I prefer the honest side of people.”
“That’s even better then.”
The conversation drifted naturally from there, taking the same shape all of your conversations seemed to take. One topic quietly became another without either of you trying to steer it anywhere in particular. Somehow you ended up talking about childhood, about the strange jobs you’d imagined yourselves having when you were ten years old, laughing when he admitted he’d once been absolutely convinced he’d become a veterinarian despite fainting the first time he watched blood being drawn.
“You fainted?”
“I was twelve.”
“I don’t think age helps your case.” You laughed silently. “So what happened to becoming a veterinarian?”
“I realized animals deserved someone much braver.”
“I think that’s fair.”
“What about you?”
“I wanted to be a librarian or own a bookstore.”
His eyebrows lifted. “Really?” You hummed. “I can actually picture that. I feel like you’re the kind of person who probably organize everything alphabetically.”
You gasped dramatically. “I’m not. I’d organize them by genre!”
He snorted, blinking a little slow before biting his lower lip to not smile. You thought he was really handsome like that. “Of course you would.”
“Shut up, you don’t know me.” You said like a kid.
Seokjin looked down at his beer with the faintest hint of a smile before quietly saying, “I’m getting there.”
A waiter stopped beside the table before you could say anything. “Can I get you two anything else? Dessert, maybe?”
You instinctively shook your head. “I’m okay.” You glanced at Jin and he looked at you.
“You sure?”
“I don’t really have a sweet tooth.”
“I do.” He looked back at the waiter. “We’ll share one.”
You blinked. “You don’t have to—”
“I know.” He smiled. “But I want cheesecake. You said you like the strawberry one, right?”
“Yeah, but—”
“I think dessert is always better with company.”
You laughed, accepting defeat. “I can’t argue with that.”
“Good.”
The cheesecake arrived a few minutes later with two forks. Seokjin ended up stealing exactly two small bites while you finished the rest while he insisted that if he was ordering dessert anyway, someone should help him justify it.
And by the time the plates had been cleared away, neither of you had noticed that the music inside the restaurant had grown quieter. It wasn’t until a chair scraped across the floor nearby that you looked around. The staff had started stacking the empty tables near the windows. Someone was wiping down the counter, another waiter was rolling silverware into napkins. You checked your phone. 10:54 p.m.
“We’ve been here for a while.”
Seokjin followed your gaze before looking down at the beer still sitting in front of him. He laughed. “I don’t think I’ve touched this in twenty minutes.”
You looked at the glass. “Longer. It’s definitely warm.”
“It probably is.”
“You should finish it.”
“I probably should.” Instead, he took the smallest sip imaginable before setting it back down exactly where it’d been.
You smiled to yourself. He wasn’t trying very hard but you weren’t about to complain. You were hoping he never finished that beer. You wanted to stay longer with him either way. Even if the restaurant closed at 11pm…. But the fantasy broke because few minutes later one of the waiters approached with the bill tucked neatly inside a black folder.
Seokjin reached for it before you even realized it had been set on the table. “I’ve got it.”
You looked up. “I took most of the dessert so I definitely should—” You reached for your wallet.
He shook his head. “You can get the next one.” The words came out so naturally that neither of you reacted immediately. He paid quickly with his card before looking at you with a small smile. “Although I’ll fight you again next time.”
Something warm settled somewhere beneath your ribs. “I can live with that.”
As you walked toward the door together, he stopped briefly near the counter where a small glass bowl filled with individually wrapped mints sat beside the register. He picked one up, unwrapped it as the two of you stepped outside and laughed quietly when he caught you watching him. “What?”
“Nothing.”
He smiled, shaking his head as he popped it into his mouth. “I just don’t like leaving restaurants smelling like beer.”
You stared at him for a second. “That’s oddly considerate.”
Did he really remember all you said? You were definitely making him up. He couldn’t be real.
“I’ve always done it.” He slipped his hands into the pockets of his jacket as the two of you started walking down the quiet street. “Which way are you parked?”
“I’m not.”
“You took a taxi?”
“I walked. Its only about twenty minutes.”
Jin looked ahead for a second before nodding once. “Then I’ll walk you.”
“You don’t have to.”
“I know,” he shrugged. His answer was immediate, almost matter-of-fact. “I’d like to. I live close this neighborhood anyway.”
You smiled despite yourself. “Okay.”
The streets had quieted considerably by then, the warmth of the evening lingering even as the city settled into the slower rhythm that only seemed to exist after ten o’clock. You walked side by side without rushing, continuing the same conversation you’d been having inside as though leaving the restaurant hadn’t interrupted it at all. You realized, somewhere between laughing about the worst movies either of you had ever paid to see and debating whether breakfast food should be acceptable at any hour of the day, that talking to him never felt like work.
By the time your apartment building came into view, you almost wished it were another ten minutes away. “So…” you said, slowing to a stop outside the entrance. “Thanks for walking me home.”
“Of course.”
“And thanks for dinner.”
“Don’t even mention it.” For a brief second, neither of you moved. Then he smiled. “I’ll see you soon.”
“I hope so.”
“You will.”
He said it with such quiet certainty that it didn’t even occur to you to question it. You watched him disappear back down the street before finally heading upstairs. It wasn’t until you were brushing your teeth later that night that the entire evening replayed itself in your mind.
The conversation. The strawberry cheesecake, the warm beer he’d barely touched because he’d been too busy talking to you. The mint he took after. The way he’d said the next one as though another dinner between the two of you was already the most obvious thing in the world.
You still couldn’t tell if Jin liked you. Not in the way you wanted him to. He was still frustratingly impossible to read, still so effortlessly kind that every thoughtful gesture came with another explanation you could use to convince yourself not to overthink it. Maybe he walked everyone home, maybe he paid for everyone when he was feeling generous. Maybe he remembered everyone’s favorite dessert, maybe he was gentle enough to know what the other person dislike. Maybe this was simply who he was. But lying in bed that night, staring at the ceiling with a smile you couldn’t quite get rid of, you admitted something to yourself that you hadn’t been brave enough to say out loud before.
Whether he liked you or not had almost become secondary. Because somewhere along the way, without even noticing exactly when it had happened, you’d stopped looking forward to seeing him but you started missing him.
——————————
By the time May rolled around, seeing Jin had stopped feeling like an event. It had happened so gradually that neither of you could have pointed to the exact moment things changed. One dinner became another, then someone suggested drinks after work one Thursday, a birthday turned into brunch the following weekend, and before long your names simply started appearing together in plans without either of you having to ask. If someone created a group chat to organize something, you already knew there was a good chance the other person’s profile picture would be somewhere near the top.
Somewhere in between all of that, phone calls had quietly become part of your routine too. It had started innocently enough. One evening he’d called because he couldn’t remember the name of a restaurant you’d recommended a few weeks earlier. Another time you rang him while walking home because you’d spent twenty minutes trying to decide between two birthday gifts for a friend and wanted a second opinion. Then, somehow, those practical conversations turned into hour-long calls that had very little to do with why either of you had picked up the phone in the first place.
You’d tell yourself you only had five minutes. An hour later you were somehow debating whether cereal counted as dinner, arguing over which city had the worst airports in Europe or listening to Jin explain, in alarming detail, why he believed every household should own at least three different frying pans.
“You don’t need three,” you’d laughed one night, curled up on your sofa with your laptop forgotten beside you. “No normal person owns three.”
“You own twelve mugs,” he fought back.
“Mugs are different.”
“How?”
“Each one has a purpose. They hold memories.”
He’d been quiet for exactly two seconds before laughing so hard you could barely understand what he was trying to say. “They hold coffee.”
“And memories.”
“I’ll pray for whoever has to move house with you one day.”
“I’ll make them carry the mugs.”
“You’ll have to marry someone very patient.”
“I know.”
There had been a tiny pause after that, neither of you had acknowledged it. Then the conversation had simply moved on. Moments like that happened more often now, little sentences that accidentally wandered somewhere dangerously close to something bigger before one of you quietly steered them back toward safer ground.
It was strangely comfortable, enough that, when one of your friends suggested meeting for drinks after work on Friday, you didn’t even think twice before sending Jin the details.
You: we’re at Kaqwi bar around 8 if ur free
Jin: I’ll be there :)
The smiley face shouldn’t have made your heart react the way it did.
The bar wasn’t particularly busy when you arrived, but it filled quickly as the evening went on. Music hummed softly beneath conversations, the terrace outside was crowded with people escaping the lingering starting of summer heat, and inside your group had somehow managed to claim one of the larger booths before anyone else could steal it.
You were already halfway through telling a story about one of your clients showing up to a fitting wearing two completely different shoes when Jin finally appeared. He apologized to everyone for being late before sliding into the empty space beside you like it was second nature. “Traffic?”
You looked at him. He nodded dramatically. “And one very determined taxi driver.”
“Well, you survived.”
“Barely.”
“You look alright.”
“I’ve been through a lot.”
“Oh, please.” You rolled your eyes. “You texted me from the car saying you were buying chips because you were hungry.”
Jin looked genuinely offended. “I can have two problems at once.”
The people sitting across from you laughed. You glanced at Jin, unable to stop smiling. Three months ago you would’ve hesitated before teasing him. Now it came naturally. He teased you back just as easily too. He looked at everyone else. “Do you see what I deal with?”
One of your friends laughed. “You two sound married.”
You nearly choked on your drink, trying really miserably not to blush. Jin, somehow, stayed completely composed. “I think married people argue less.”
“Oh, definitely less,” you agreed.
“They eventually get tired.”
“We’re nowhere near that stage.”
“I wasn’t aware there were stages.”
“There are.” You nodded thoughtfully. Nobody took the conversation seriously and neither did you, moving to the next subject and pretending that you haven’t been daydreaming about him for the last couple weeks…. At least until you noticed that he’d stolen three fries from your plate while arguing. “You’ve been eating my fries this entire time?!”
“…Have I?” He said while grabbing another one.
“Yes. You’ve eaten half my fries. You didn’t even order anything!.”
“I genuinely didn’t notice,” he lied. “I thought they were ours.”
“There is no ‘ours. You owe me fries.”
“I’ll buy you fries.”
“I don’t want replacement fries.”
“Do you want me to throw up and give them to you then?”
“You’re disgusting.”
He smiled to himself. “I know.”
You stared at him for a second. It was becoming a problem. A genuine, actual problem. Because somewhere over the last few weeks you’d become frighteningly good at recognizing all the tiny expressions nobody else seemed to notice. The smile he did when he was trying not to laugh, the one where he ducked his head slightly whenever someone complimented him. The way he’d absentmindedly roll up the sleeves of his shirt whenever he got comfortable somewhere. How he listened with his entire attention, never looking over someone’s shoulder to see if another conversation was more interesting.
None of those things should’ve been attractive. And yet your brain had apparently decided they were the most charming habits any human being had ever possessed. It was honestly becoming ridiculous. You caught yourself watching him while someone else spoke, noticing the way he laughed with his whole face, the little crease that appeared beside one eye, the way he always pushed his empty glass a few centimeters away before leaning forward whenever he got interested in a conversation.
He wasn’t even doing anything, he was just existing. There were moments— small, completely insignificant moments— when you’d look at him and genuinely wonder if your body was capable of handling much more of this before simply giving up altogether. He was just so handsome and he got more prettier everytime you looked at him. He’d looked at you across a crowded table while stealing your fries and smiled like he already knew you’d forgive him. It was embarrassing, you’d never been this gone over anyone before.
The worst part was that nothing about it felt obsessive in the loud, dramatic way people usually described crushes. It was quieter than that. It lived in all the little things. You wanted to see him everyday, you wanted to spend time with him and talk to him almost every second. You liked seeing him even if your body went immediately into an intolerable nervous breakdown because he was so annoyingly handsome. It was frustrating.
As the evening stretched on, people naturally split into smaller conversations, the table growing louder without ever becoming chaotic. Someone suggested another round of drinks, someone else started planning a weekend trip that would almost certainly never happen, and at some point you found yourself sitting slightly turned toward Jin, the two of you talking while the rest of the table carried on around you.
“So…” you said, tracing absentminded circles through the condensation on your glass, “next month.”
He nodded slowly. “Next month.”
“The tour.”
“Yeah.”
“You finally sound excited.” You pushed him slightly with your shoulder. “How’s it going?”
He let out a quiet breath through his nose. “My legs hurt.”
You laughed. “That’s your review? I expected something more profound, Seokjin.”
“I’ll save the profound thoughts for next week.”
“You don’t have any.”
“I probably don’t.” For a moment, he watched the people around the table before looking back at you. “I am looking forward to it, though. I just…” He searched for the words. “It’s strange.”
“What is?”
“I’ve gotten used to being here.”
You tilted your head slightly. “Home?”
He nodded. “And…” He smiled. “…To seeing everyone.”
You knew he meant the group, even if he was only looking at you. So why did your stomach still flip? Well, you couldn’t control your reaction very easily. “Well,” you said lightly, “we’ll survive. You’ll be back before you know it.”
“I hope so.”
“You’ll call?”
“I will.”
“You better.”
“I was planning to.”
“You can tell me all about your glamorous airport meals.”
“They’re never glamorous.”
“I know.”
“And you can complain about work.”
“I always complain about work.”
“I know.”
You smiled. “See? Nothing changes.”
He smiled back, though there was something softer about it this time. “I guess not.”
Even surrounded by everyone else, the thought settled quietly between you. Next month would be different. And for the first time since meeting him, you realized there would soon be weeks where seeing Jin wouldn’t simply be a matter of waiting until the next weekend hangout. You’d actually have to miss him. The realization sat surprisingly heavy in your chest. You hid it behind another joke, another laugh, another stolen fry from his plate this time, but as you watched him throw his head back laughing because you’d finally managed to get revenge, one completely unhelpful thought echoed through your mind.
You’re in so much trouble. Because if you already felt like this now… You couldn’t imagine what a month apart was going to do to you.
——————————
The strange thing about missing someone wasn’t that one dramatic morning you woke up and suddenly realized two months had felt unbearably long. Instead, it settled quietly into your routine until one day you noticed you were reaching for your phone before anything interesting happened because you already knew who you’d want to tell first.
The first week after Jin left for tour had been easier than you’d expected. You’d both been busy enough that the time difference and impossible schedules almost worked in your favor. If he finished a show just as you were leaving the office, you’d call while walking home. If you happened to be awake when he landed somewhere new, he’d send you a blurry photo from the airport with a single complaint about the coffee. There were days when your conversations lasted forty minutes and others when they barely stretched past five, but somehow neither of you seemed bothered by it. The expectation wasn’t that you’d always have time; it was simply that, sooner or later, one of you would hear from the other.
Then Fashion Week arrived with its usual lack of mercy.
Your calendar became a wall of color-coded appointments, garment fittings, showroom visits and dinners with clients that somehow always ran longer than anyone intended. You spent more time inside black cars than in your own apartment, learned to survive on coffee and protein bars tucked into your handbag, and answered emails in elevators because they were sometimes the only quiet place you could find.
One evening, somewhere between a fitting that had overrun by an hour and a last-minute venue change for a presentation, your phone buzzed in the pocket of your blazer.
Jin: Are you alive?
You: Debatable.
His reply came almost immediately.
Jin: That’s not very reassuring.
You: Fashion Week.
Jin: Good point.
You laughed softly to yourself while stepping into the back of a waiting car.
You: What are you doing awake?
Jin: Airport
You: Again?
Jin: Again
The conversation drifted from there, as it always seemed to. He complained about delayed boarding, you complained about a designer deciding fifteen minutes before a campaign shoot that he no longer liked the original styling direction, and somehow twenty minutes disappeared before either of you realized you’d both reached your destinations.
That became the rhythm of the following weeks. He called from hotel rooms that all looked vaguely identical no matter which country he happened to be in. You answered from backstage corridors, quiet taxis or empty office kitchens long after everyone else had gone home. Sometimes you talked about work. More often you talked about absolutely nothing.
One night he spent almost fifteen minutes trying to convince you that cereal counted as a perfectly acceptable dinner after ten o’clock. “It absolutely doesn’t,” you insisted, balancing your phone between your shoulder and your ear while searching your apartment for clean pajamas.
“It does if you’re tired.”
“That’s not how nutrition works.”
“It does for me.”
There was something strangely comforting about those conversations. You’d never imagined that spending so much time talking to someone who wasn’t physically there could make them feel even more present in your everyday life. You started recognizing the sounds in the background before he mentioned where he was, could tell whether he was tired just from the way he said hello, and without consciously trying, both of you began remembering the smallest details about each other’s days.
By the middle of the second month, it felt unusual not to hear his voice. Which was precisely why your eyebrows lifted when his name appeared on your screen one Tuesday afternoon while you were standing outside a showroom in Paris. You answered almost immediately. “Hi.”
“Hi.” There was a pause. “Are you busy?.”
“I little.”
“So am I.”
You smiled. “Then why did you call?”
“Why did you answer?”
“Touché,” you giggled a little. “I’ve been working nonstop for this fashion week events. But I don’t know what’s worse the people or the heat in Paris—”
“Wait, wait…” His voice changed completely, a little hurried and surprised. “You’re where?”
“Paris.”
“Right now?”
You frowned. “…Yes?”
He stumbled into his words. “I’m in Paris.”
You stopped walking. “…No, you’re not.” You blinked at absolutely nothing. “I thought you were in Amsterdam.”
“That was yesterday.”
“I’ve completely lost track of your schedule.”
“I think I have too.”
You laughed. “So you’re actually here?”
“I’m literally looking at the Eiffel Tower.”
“No way.”
“What about you?”
“I’m near Place Vendôme.”
He laughed, he sounded happy. “I can’t believe we didn’t know. How long are you going to be here?”
“I leave the night after tomorrow.”
“So do I.” There was a small pause, one that somehow felt different. “Do you have any free time?”
You smiled before he had even finished asking. “I actually do.” You checked your calendar. “I’ve got one meeting tomorrow morning, then I’m free after lunch.”
“So am I.”
“…Seriously?” You laughed. “That’s almost suspicious.”
“I know.” He hesitated for just a second. “So… Do you want to hang out?”
Your answer came so quickly that it surprised even you. “Yeah.”
“I was thinking maybe Versailles?”
You looked down the street, smiling to yourself. “I haven’t been since I was seventeen.”
“Perfect. I’ll meet you there then
The rest of the afternoon disappeared in a blur of meetings you barely remembered.
The following day was one of those rare Paris afternoons where the sky seemed almost impossibly blue, the late summer sun soft enough that walking outside actually felt pleasant instead of exhausting. By the time your train pulled into Versailles, you had changed out of your work clothes and into something far more comfortable— a simple summer dress, comfortable enough for hours of walking but still presentable enough that your professional instincts didn’t entirely panic.
You arrived first, for the first time ever. You wandered toward the entrance, watching groups of tourists gather beneath colorful umbrellas held high by guides speaking half a dozen different languages. Families posed for photos in front of the gates, children complained about the heat, and somewhere nearby someone was playing violin badly enough that it somehow added to the charm rather than taking away from it. You checked your phone.
Jin: Two minutes.
You smiled. Exactly three minutes later, you spotted him. He was walking across the courtyard with one hand tucked into the pocket of a pair o white summer linen pants, an oversized white linen shirt shifting gently in the breeze as he looked around searching for you. A pair of sunglasses rested on top of his head, pushing his dark hair back from his forehead, and for one completely unfair moment you simply stood there watching him weave through the crowd. He was just so pretty you wanted to eat him whole.
It wasn’t until he caught sight of you that you started walking again. His face brightened immediately.
“There you are.” You both laughed at saying exactly the same thing.
For a second, neither of you seemed entirely sure what people who had spent two months talking almost every day but hadn’t actually seen each other in person were supposed to do. Then you stepped forward first and hug him, he held you back with easy, his hands wrapping around your shoulders and pushing you a little too hard to his chest. You giggle a little from the action, his broad shoulders and back feeling too good against your body and arms.
The hug lasted just a fraction longer than a polite greeting without either of you acknowledging it. “You look tired,” he said as you pulled away, taking his time to look at your face without fully taking his arms off of you.
“I was going to say the same thing.”
“I’ve been rehearsing.”
“I’ve been surviving Fashion Week.”
“So we’re both victims.”
“I think we are.”
You smiled. “I’ve missed you.”
The words were so simple that they slipped past you very easily. Your heart gave one completely unreasonable thud when he answered immediately. “I’ve missed you too.” For a second, all the noise around you seemed to fade into the background. Then someone brushed past with a stroller, breaking whatever strange little bubble you’d accidentally stepped into. Jin cleared his throat lightly. “So…” He held up two tickets. “I may have already bought the audio guides with translation.”
You laughed. “You came prepared”
“You said one time that you actually like listening to museum tours.”
“I do,” you smiled softly, your heart beating so loud you almost thought he would be able to hear it. “Thanks for remembering.”
“Of course.” He handed you one of the devices. “Although I figured we’d probably spend half the time talking anyway.”
“You know us surprisingly well.”
He rubbed the back of his neck, smiling sheepishly. “I would hope so.”
And somehow, within less than five minutes of seeing each other, it already felt like no time had passed at all.
The palace unfolded around you one room at a time, each grander than the last, but after the first few minutes you realized you were paying remarkably little attention to the gold ceilings or painted frescoes the audio guide seemed so determined to explain. Not because they weren’t beautiful, they absolutely were. It was simply difficult to concentrate on eighteenth-century French history when Jin was walking beside you after two months apart, occasionally stopping to look at a painting with the kind of genuine curiosity that always made him tilt his head ever so slightly, as though he was trying to understand not just what he was looking at, but why someone had chosen to create it in the first place. He looked like an angel every time your eyes wandered to his figure.
“Do you understand what they’re saying or I’m just that bad at the language?” he asked after removing one side of his headset.
You looked at him with amusement. “I’ve listened to several words… I heard ‘Louis.’”
He laughed. “I don’t think that narrows it down.”
“There were numbers too.”
“You’ve learned nothing.”
“I’ve learned the ceilings are expensive.”
You smiled to yourself. Talking to him still felt exactly the way it had over the phone, except somehow easier. There was no delay before one of you answered, no crackling signal, no wondering whether the other person had gotten distracted by work or simply lost reception. Every joke landed immediately, every smile came without having to imagine it on the other end of the line, and every now and then one of you would point at something entirely ridiculous just to hear what the other would say about it.
“I think I’d get lost in here,” you said as you stepped into another enormous gallery.
“You absolutely would.”
“You agreed with that a little too quickly.”
He laughed at you but didn’t say anything else, and the sound echoed faintly through the room before dissolving beneath the quiet voices of the other visitors. The more you walked, the more obvious it became that something had shifted between you over the last two months. The conversation no longer needed a beginning. There was no catching up in the traditional sense because neither of you had really disappeared from the other’s life. You already knew how rehearsals had been going, which city had unexpectedly become his favorite stop on tour, how exhausted you’d been during Milan Fashion Week and even what you ate last week. Instead, you filled in the little gaps. The expressions that texts couldn’t capture, the stories that were funnier in person, the tiny details that somehow never made it into phone calls. And at one time you laughed so hard you had to steady yourself against his arm for a second before realizing what you’d done. Your hand lingered for the briefest moment against the fabric of his sleeve. His bicep was surprisingly strong and warm. You pulled it back almost immediately.
“Sorry.”
“For what?”
“I practically used you as furniture.”
“I don’t mind.”
He said it so casually that it almost made it worse. You nodded once, pretending to be far more interested in the next doorway than in the fact your pulse had suddenly become embarrassingly noticeable.
The palace gradually gave way to the gardens, where the afternoon sun spread across endless stretches of perfectly trimmed hedges and fountains that glittered beneath the light. Compared to the crowded galleries inside, everything outside felt slower. There was more space between people, more room to wander without constantly stepping aside for another tour group. You fell into step beside him and somewhere along the gravel path your shoulders brushed. Neither of you moved away. You kept talking and he did too. It happened again a few minutes later when the path narrowed between two rows of hedges, your fingers moved a little trying weakly to catch his so he would take the hint. But again, nobody acknowledged it.
It was ridiculous how aware you had become of every tiny point of contact. You wondered if he noticed, and you also wondered if he didn’t. He had made time for you despite living on the opposite side of the world half the year. He called, he listened, he laughed at jokes that weren’t particularly funny simply because you were the one telling them. And yet… He’d never crossed that invisible line, not once. Which left you trapped in the world’s most exhausting guessing game. Maybe he was just wonderful and charming with all people... which, honestly, you didn’t like.
As you rounded another corner, he reached out without thinking and lightly touched the middle of your back, guiding you aside as a large tour group swept past in the opposite direction. “There you go.”His hand disappeared almost as quickly as it had arrived. You tried not to think about the fact you could still feel it. You thought how his fingers would feel around your waist or touching your bare skin.
“This place is busier than I remembered,” you managed.
“It’s because everyone had the same idea we did and decided to come on the nicest afternoon of the week.”
“This was poor planning.”
“It was.”
You smiled. “I’d still choose today.”
He looked at you. “Me too.”
You looked away before your face had the chance to betray you.
By late afternoon the palace had begun to empty, the crowds thinning just enough that you could finally stop lingering behind slower groups. You’d walked for hours without really noticing it, your conversations interrupted only occasionally by the audio guide insisting on explaining another room or another portrait neither of you had been paying enough attention to appreciate.
Your feet, however, had started protesting. “I need five minutes,” you admitted with a laugh as you sat down on a stone bench overlooking one of the fountains.
“Tired?”
“I’ve been standing in heels for all week.”
“You’re wearing sandals.”
“For the first time all week.” Jin smiled quietly before sitting beside you. For a few moments neither of you said anything. Not because there wasn’t anything left to say, quite the opposite, the silence had simply stopped needing to be filled. You watched families wander through the gardens, children racing one another across the paths while parents unsuccessfully attempted to keep up. “I forgot how nice this is,” you said. “I’m glad we came.”
He turned slightly toward you. “So am I.”
Something about the way he said it settled softly in your chest. He looked at you for a second longer in silence and you wondered if he was really thinking the same as you. Eventually you stood again, deciding to make your way back through the palace before heading toward the station. But halfway there you stopped abruptly.
“I need the bathroom.”
He nodded immediately. “I think there was one near the entrance.”
“There was.” You looked ahead. “Okay seemed like everyone else also wanted to use the bathroom.” The line stretched embarrassingly far down the corridor. You sighed. “Of course.”
“I’ll wait.”
You glanced at the queue again before groaning. “This is going to take forever.” Jin looked around thoughtfully, his eyes wandering down a quieter side hallway. “What?”
“I might know another one.”
“You do?”
“I saw a staff sign earlier.”
“You think you saw one?”
He smiled. “Come on.”
Before you had the chance to question him further, he reached for your hand almost absentmindedly, weaving your fingers together with his as he led you down the quieter corridor. Your entire brain stopped functioning. He was holding your hand. Just like that. As though it were the most natural thing in the world. As if you hadn’t been throwing hints all those hours so he would do it.
You stared at your joined hands for half a second before looking back up, praying he couldn’t somehow hear your heartbeat. “You realize,” you said, trying very hard to sound normal, “if we get caught wandering through staff corridors, we’ll be in big problems.”
“Isn’t that more fun?”
You both started giggling out of nowhere, trying —and failing— to keep your voices down as you wandered through the quiet hallway. He checked one door that was locked. Then another one that was a storage. “This is going well.”
“Just trust me.” He looked at you with a grin that made it impossible not smile. A few steps later he stopped in front of another door. “This has to be it.”
“You’ve said that twice.”
“I feel better about this one.”
“You’ve become overconfident.” He reached for the handle, still locked. You shook your head before laying back in the door. “I would be already in the front of the line.”
“I was close with this one.”
“You were nowhere near.”
You were still smiling when he looked back at you. His smile slowly fading as he saw you against that door. Suddenly you were seeing a face of him that you haven’t seen ever. Your smile slowly faded too as he took a step closer. The hallway around you had gone unexpectedly quiet, the distant sounds of the palace reduced to little more than an indistinct murmur somewhere beyond the walls. Neither of you spoke. “I’ve missed your face,” Seokjin admitted in a low voice.
The words were so quiet that, for a second, you almost wondered if you’d imagined them. You looked up at him, and for the first time since you’d met him, you weren’t trying to figure him out anymore. It was all there, written across his face so plainly that you almost laughed at yourself for every hour you’d spent wondering whether he liked you or whether he was simply the nicest man alive. He looked at you the way you’d been looking at him for months. Like you were the only person in the room, like he couldn’t quite believe you were standing there. His thumb absentmindedly brushed against the back of your hand, still intertwined with his, as he took another small step closer until there was barely any space left between you. “I’ve…” He smiled to himself, almost embarrassed by what he was about to admit. “I’ve been dreaming about doing something all day after months of not seeing you.”
You tilted your head. “What?”
His eyes dropped, just for a second, to your mouth. Then back to your eyes. Your entire body forgot how to function. “…This.” Your heart lurched so violently you were convinced he had to hear it. It wasn’t beating anymore, it was galloping. Somewhere in the back of your mind you thought, completely irrationally, this is it. This is actually how you’re gonna die. You’re gonna drop dead if he kissed you.
He hesitated for only a heartbeat, giving you every opportunity to move away. Instead, you found yourself closing the last inch between you. His lips met yours softly, almost carefully, as though he’d imagined this moment so many times that he was afraid reality wouldn’t live up to it. But it did, it definitely did. The second you kissed him, every thought that had been racing through your head for the last two months simply… disappeared. There was no overthinking, no wondering if he liked you anymore, not trying to read between the lines of every text message or every smile. There was only him, his warm hands sliding from your cheeks to every part of your body until they settled on your waist. The man you’d spent months convincing yourself not to fall too hard for was kissing you back with the same certainty, pressing you against a bathroom door that couldn’t be open. Like he wanted nothing else to do that for the rest of his life.
When you finally pulled away, it was only enough to catch your breath before he smiled— that same shy smile you’d loved from the very beginning. You didn’t say much, you giggled into each others mouth, the sound echoing softly through the empty corridor, before he kissed you again. This one was slower and less hesitant. As though the first kiss had answered every question either of you had been too afraid to ask.
Your fingers found the front of his linen shirt almost without thinking, bunching the fabric lightly as he smiled against your lips. His hand romearirng around your body like he couldn’t push you any closer to him. “I think,” you whispered while he kissed your jaw, “we should— we should probably leave before someone catches us.”
“Probably.” Neither of you moved. “…Definitely.” Still neither of you moved. Seokjin laughed quietly. “I don’t really want to.”
“Neither do I.”
He bit down your neck and your hands sinked into his hair to push him a little so you could see his pretty face. You gave him little pecks on his big lips as his eyes narrowed, dark pupils looking at you brightly. But he still looked at you with that same soft expression he’d been wearing all afternoon.
“You should come back to the hotel with me.” Your stomach immediately filled with butterflies. He continued before you had the chance to answer. “You don’t have to leave tonight if you don’t want to.” His smile widened just a little. “Honestly… you should spend the night there.” He paused, looking almost amused by his own train of thought. “And the next hotel if you want.” You raised an eyebrow. “And the one after that.”
You couldn’t help laughing. “Jin…”
“I’m serious.” He kissed your lips again. “I like having you around.” He shrugged as though that explained everything. “I think I’d like having you around in every city.”
For a moment, you simply stared at him. If he kept talking like that, you really were going to end up following him across Europe and staying with him… well, forever. You forced yourself to recover just enough to tease him. “Hm…” You pretended to think about it. “I don’t know.”
He frowned slightly. “No? Too fast?”
“I think…” You smiled innocently. “you’d have to ask me on a date first.”
He looked genuinely confused. “…A date?” You hummed and for the first time he took a little step back to looked better at your face, hands still over your sides. There was a beat of silence before he blinked, really unsure. “I thought we were dating.”
You stared at him confused. “What?”
“I mean…” He rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly looking adorably uncertain. “We call each other every day.”
“I call all my friends.”
“We’ve been having dinner together.”
“With friends.”
“I walked you home.”
“I thought you liked to walk.”
“I really don’t.” He looked at you as though the conclusion was obvious. “I thought we’d been dating for weeks… Or, at least, I don’t know, seeing each other.”
You looked at him so deadpan your face almost froze. “Are you stupid?”
His expression softened into a grin. He took your hand again, squeezing it gently. “Okay, okay. My bad. Let me start again… Would you like to go on a date with me?”
You looked at him, at the man who had somehow turned months of stolen conversations and phone calls into the easiest love you’d ever known, even when distance could have been an end. So you just smiled so widely your cheeks already hurt.
He was actually really stupid. “I thought we already were in one.”
could I ask for a BTS reacting to reader doing topless at the beach? thank you 💕
(not a minor btw!!!!!!!!!)
a/n: Omg I appreciate you telling me you're not a minor!
warnings: mdni, 18+, boyfriend! BTS, dirty talk, these are hc, suggestive touching, pet names (baby, my love, etc.), public beach, nude beach, private beach, a boat, allude to bj, allude to m-st-rb-t-ng (f. rec), allude to smut, mentions of dumbification, all boys down bad, skinny dipping, teasing, etc.
wc: 1.7k+
[BE VERY AWARE, SMUT BELOW THE 'KEEP READING' TAG]
Namjoon - When you go topless, showing Namjoon your pretty tits, his mind blanks.
He knows deep down he should probably be worried about someone seeing you partially naked, or be smug to show you off to anyone who might see you, but Namjoon doesn't think.
He sees your breasts, and his mind shuts off, or better yet, goes into autopilot. He doesn't even give you a chance to reach for the sunscreen before his body is rolling on top of yours. The beach umbrella covers you both from the left, but Namjoon's body covers yours entirely as he finds his hips between your open plush thighs.
"Joon-" You can't even finish saying his name when you feel his cock harden, barely separated by his swimtrunks and your bikini bottoms. And then it's your turn to have your mind blank because Namjoon's lips are sucking one of your nipples into his wet mouth while his cock is throbbing against your covered, puffy folds.
He uses his tongue to flick, lick, and lap the nub until your eyes are rolling to the back of your head, and your fingers are threading into his hair to pull him closer.
He makes you forget where you are. The only reason you two came to this beach was to relax, and Namjoon now planned to do that while sucking on your pretty titties. Once he was satisfied that you were wet and wanting, he planned to drag you back to the car to fuck you stupid and take you home to do it again. He wasn't going to last long for this beach day, but he was going to make it up to you.
Jin - You're at the beach, but on Jin's boat, far out in the ocean. You can see the many colorful dots of people lounging around on the sand, waddling into the ocean, or walking to find a place to tan, and you're happy that you get the privacy of relaxing with your boyfriend alone.
You knew that he most likely brought you onto this trip so he could go fishing while still spending time with you, and you were more than happy to come along. You didn't always fish with your boyfriend; sometimes, you would take advantage of the small yacht to tan or read inside, enjoying the soft waves lapping at the boat as you got lost in your latest book.
Today, you decided to tan first.
Jin was barely two feet away from where you lay, his posture relaxed as the sun beamed down on both of you. It was a perfect day. And you hadn't even realized he was watching you and not the ocean when you slipped your top off, closing your eyes and sighing happily. Your hand was resting just under your breast, and you were about to move it to your side when Jin spoke up.
He's soft but firm as his eyes rake over you slowly, his tongue licking his lips as he hums. "Move your hand up."
You furrow your eyebrows, blinking over at your boyfriend in confusion until you see the way his eyes hood and his cock twitch under your gaze.
"I want you to touch yourself for me, Baby. Move your hands up."
Jin's eyes stay on your pretty tits, ready to show you another way to relax, waiting for you to follow his orders. And you're always so good at taking his orders.
Yoongi - The strings to your swimsuit are already undone as you lie on top of your beach towel. You're lying on your stomach, resting your head on your arms as the sun rays beam down on you, and you're pretty positive you could nap just like this.
Yoongi is lying right next to you, but in the shade of the beach umbrella you two brought. His hair was wet from the ocean after you two had been swimming around for an hour before, trying to spot little schools of fish, and now, after another layer of sun lotion was rubbed on you, you were tanning as your boyfriend took in the beautiful day.
Waves lapped at the shoreline, the clouds were fluffy in the sky, and for the amazing day it was today, hardly anyone was on the beach but the two of you. It was perfect, and Yoongi didn't think it could get any better until it was time for you to flip over.
Your pretty tits grab all of Yoongi's attention the moment you turn over, making his lazy grin turn into an amused smirk. "If you wanted my attention, Baby, all you had to do was ask."
His teasing made you grin, your eyes rolling playfully as you shook your head. But then Yoongi was leaning closer, his thumb brushing over one of your nipples, and making you suck in a breath as he chuckled.
"I think you should take a break from the sun, c'mere, let me help you cool off."
Hobi - The day was warm, the ocean was cool, and Hobi was spending his free day with you on the beach. He wanted to have you all to himself; the long days of his job keeping him busy and away had taken a toll on him, so any chance he could have with you, he was going to take it.
It's why he lugged the beach towels, the umbrella, the sunscreen, etc., while you took care of the picnic basket full of snacks and drinks for both of you to share.
Hours of sun, sand, and swimming had left Hoseok tanner, his smile brighter, and your eyes gleaming as he swam closer to you. You two weren't far from the shoreline, but you were far from people, and it's why you forwent your top.
Your giggles rang in his ears as Hobi's eyes took you in. You were wet, hair drenched with ocean water, droplets sliding down your neck and into the valley of your breasts before joining back into the ocean. Your smile was mischievous, a knowing sparkle swirling in your eyes as you took in the way Hobi's breath caught.
He had pulled you in closer, his hands brushing along the curve of your breasts as your own hand teased the top of his swim trunks. He wanted to know if you had taken your swim bottoms off, too, suddenly wishing he was home alone with you instead of on this beach as your hand slipped under his swimtrunks in the ocean to grab his aching cock.
If you wanted to play, then Baby, he'll play. His cock was already growing hard under your touch, his pupils dilating as you gave him another playful giggle.
Jimin - Jimin is just finishing setting up your spot on the beach when you take your top off.
You two had taken a drive to a little trail that led to a private beach. It was the perfect getaway after both of you had the busiest workweek and had finally made it to the weekend.
Good weather, and belting to your favorite songs with your loved one had cured multiple long days at your day job, and feeling the sand underneath your feet had revived the energy you hadn't realized was depleted until now.
And it's how you end up taking a leap, untying the strings around your back and neck, and allowing the thin fabric to slip off your body as you look back at Jimin with a grin.
He watched as your grin grew bigger, his shocked face amusing you to bend over and slip your swim bottoms off next. "Catch me if you can!" You taunted, and then you were off, racing into the ocean with him short-circuiting under the umbrella he had carried all the way here.
It takes him three blinks to realize what you've said, and then his grin matches yours, and his swim trunks are pooling at his ankles as he chases after you. Your laughter rings in his ears, pushing him forward, eager to hear it again.
Taehyung - The moment you are topless on the beach is the exact moment Taehyung contemplates how he can convince you to follow him back to the car.
He doesn't care if anyone sees you; if anything, it makes a confident and smug grin dance on his lips because you're his, and he's proud to show you off.
Honestly, he isn't above fucking you in front of everyone if that's what you want. And he does ask you as he kneels between your legs, dipping his head down to lick a stripe up the valley of your breasts with a sparkle in his eyes. "You want to play, Baby?"
His tongue swirls the question mark over one of your nipples, his teeth grazing the little nub just to see you whimper in response.
"Are you going to take everything off? Want me to help you?" His fingers play with the strings of your bikini bottoms, brushing along your inner thighs until his knuckles are dragging over your puffy folds. "I can use my mouth, if you'd like?"
Taehyung forfeits the idea of sneaking you into the car. You're the one who caused his cock to harden, twitching pathetically in his swimtrunks as he presses it into your thigh. Now, he expects you to solve it.
Jungkook - Any thoughts in his head disappear the minute you take your top off at the beach.
You two were here to enjoy the sunny day, a little beach weekend if you will, where you two had planned to laze about on the beach and do nothing else.
But Jungkook's plan to swim around is immediately put onto the back burner in his mind as you lie back on your beach towel, topless, and looking like his wettest dream. "Fuck you're gorgeous." Jungkook is brought to his knees, his hands reaching for your waist and sliding up your sides until he can cup your pretty tits in his hand.
"Babe, I'm just trying not to create any tan lines." You giggle and then gasp as his fingers pinch your nipples, pulling them softly until your cute cunt clenches needily in response.
"Yeah? Are you gonna strip completely naked then, and show everyone your pretty body?" His hands move down from your tits and over your stomach to your bikini bottoms, teasing the little strings keeping the fabric covering the one thing he wanted most right now. "Are you gonna show me your pretty pussy, too? I've always wanted to fuck you on the beach, Baby. Want me to fuck you right here, right now?"
대박 - you made it to the end!
Tell me about it. Reblogs, likes, and comments are always appreciated ♡ . Tumblr is based on reblogs, not likes, and they help writers like me to get a better reach. Thank you for your support!
Summary: When your neighbor Jin is dealing with a leaky pipe in his kitchen, you rush to his aid. But oh no, now you're both soaked... Guess what happens next.
Warnings: MDNI, explicit sexual content, cheesy barely there plot that's straight from some 90s porno, reader is a bit shy, based on Jin's only scandal (he has a horse c*ck), comedy, first time together, heavy make out, oral (both receiving), PiV, protected sex, bit of dirty talk where Jin is still a comedy king as always, Jin being very sweet even though he is so big that you can see MC's stomach bulging from the outside :)
A/n: Inspired by Jin's recent habit of exposing his stomach. Which I approve of. Heavily.
Wordcount: 4.8k
Masterlist
It’s Saturday afternoon and you just sat down on your couch, strawberry matcha latte in one hand, your phone in the other. That drink got popular for a reason and since you finally gave in and tried it yourself, you’ve been indulging in it almost every other day. It might be partially due to the hot weather, but your new obsession even dethroned your long time favorite, a dirty chai latte. Now instead of having to replace your chai syrup every month, you keep pureed strawberries in your fridge.
You shuffle back on the sofa, cozying into the pillows behind you, ready to aimlessly scroll on your phone for a while.
A sudden loud thump, followed by a hissing sound and cursing makes you almost drop your cup. God damn, you almost spilt the matcha on yourself and the couch. The noise undoubtedly comes from your next-door neighbor. You would have strangled Jin had he made you soil your new cushions.
He was actually the one to put you on to the strawberry matcha. Jin’s always in for a fruity treat, never one to care about being judged for his ‘girly’ drink choices. Just yesterday he knocked on your door, as you were getting ready to go out with some girlfriends, to borrow some of your strawberry mush. With a pout and a big sigh too, as if he’d die weren’t you to provide him with the missing ingredient for his matcha. Jin is big on dramatics, that’s also why hanging out with him is always a fun time. You think he might actually implode if he doesn’t do anything dumb for a few minutes.
So, what the hell is he doing now, causing all this ruckus on a sunny Saturday afternoon?
Jin’s voice keeps thundering through your shared wall. “Fuck, fuck, shit, no!” you hear him yelling. Well, now you’re worried. Did he hurt himself?
You sigh and put your drink on the coffee table, already mourning the relaxing day you had planned to enjoy. With urgency in your step, you hurry out of your door, not even bothering to put on shoes. You know Jin never locks his door when he’s home, a habit you’ve scolded him for multiple times. Now though, you are glad about it as you fling open his front door.
“Jin? Are you alright? What the fuck?” you call out.
“Kitchen!” he just yells in reply, and you scurry further into his apartment, following the loud clamor.
Your worry immediately dissolves into incredulous laughter when you spot Jin. He’s on his knees in front of the open cupboard under his sink. The pipe is spraying water all over him with the pressure of a fucking fire hose.
“What the hell did you do?” you ask him, still snickering. He looks up at you, obviously trying to glare at you for laughing at his misery, but you can tell that there’s a smile tugging on the corners of his mouth. Even in the worst situations imaginable, Jin is always keeping his spirits high. You always admired this about him, his endless optimism.
“Grab my sweater from the table,” he pleads, kneeling there in the relentless spray of his sink pipes, in a white shirt and some light blue cotton boxers.
Not trying to draw out his troubles, you move to take the hoodie that’s slung over the back of one of the dining chairs. Turning back to Jin, he waves you down to the floor next to him. You crouch and put the sweater towards the leaking pipe, trying to stop the fountain of water. The fucking cold water you realize as the stream hits you, immediately soaking your clothes. You shriek and now it’s Jin who’s laughing.
“The drain was blocked, I just tried to check what the problem was,” he chuckles while wiping his wet hair out of his face with the back of his hand.
“Did you empty the coffee grounds in the sink again?” you immediately accuse him. “I’ve told you not to do that!” This is not the first time his kitchen sink is mysteriously clogged.
“I might have,” he admits with a sheepish smile. You snort and lean towards him to nudge him with your shoulder, hands occupied trying to unsuccessfully stop the water from leaking. You are basically sitting in a puddle by now and the hoodie around the pipe is already soaked through as well.
Jin is now scrambling to get up from the floor, moving to finally turn off the kitchen’s water supply. You slump your shoulders in defeat, feeling useless as you cover the leak with the dripping sweater, but you’re huffing out a laugh while doing so. This is not how you imagined - or hoped - your weekend to go.
Suddenly, the water stops flowing and you sit back on your heels with a relieved sigh.
You hear footsteps and when you turn, Jin is standing in the kitchen door, scratching his neck. Now that the chaos has come to a stop, you finally look at him properly for the first time. He’s just standing there, water dripping off his body. Your eyes start to wander further down, from the dark strands of hair sticking to his forehead, to his chest, where the white t-shirt is clinging to him, at this point completely see through from the involuntary shower. Damn, when did Jin start working out for his body to look like this? Absent-mindedly, you start nibbling on your bottom lip as your gaze lands on his very defined v-line, uncovered as the shirt has ridden up a little, revealing the skin above his boxers. When your eyes roam even further down, you gulp, almost choking on your own saliva. You can basically see his whole dick through the wet fabric, calling it an outline would be the understatement of the year. And dear god, is that one hell of a dick. Fuck, get a grip. You try to snap yourself out of ogling Jin when you start to imagine what his cock would be like hard if it’s already this impressive soft.
You shake your head to get rid of the thought and return your gaze to Jin’s face.
The corner of his mouth is pulled up into a smirk and you can tell he caught you drooling over his body.
“Hey, my eyes are up here,” he pouts and crosses his arms in front of his chest. “At least take me on a date first, Jesus.” His fake frown only lasts a second - Jin was never good at keeping a straight face - before he chuckles.
You know he’s not actually offended but you’re still embarrassed, even though he managed to draw a little giggle from you with his dumb comment.
You drop your gaze to the puddle you’re kneeling in, mumbling more to yourself than him while doing so.
“Well, why’d you have to walk in here all indecent and wet?”
“You’re one to talk.” His reply makes you lift your head to find his eyes, not immediately grasping what he’s getting at now.
And, oh. He’s staring right back at you. With his mouth slightly agape, he’s eyeing you up and down. A cold shiver runs down your spine and suddenly you are very aware of what you are wearing. A white flowy dress. Which is not so flowy anymore in its wet state - it’s clinging to your curves instead now. Why, of all days, did you have to wear white today? With horror, you remember that you are also not wearing a bra. You look down to your tits and find your nipples sticking straight out through the translucent fabric, hardened from the cold. A bead of water is currently running down between your breasts and Jin's gaze is unabashedly following it.
With heat spreading up from your neck to your cheeks, you clumsily get up from your kneeling position. When you lock eyes with Jin for a moment, the tip of his tongue slips out and licks a droplet of water from his lip that’s dripped off his hair. You feel a familiar tightening in your abdomen and look away in shame, mortified by the fact that all it took for you to be turned on by your neighbor of 8 months was a leaking pipe. Maybe you should have listened to your friends and downloaded a dating app after your last relationship because this is ridiculous.
“Um, you should probably mop up this mess,” you mutter as you get up and try to move past Jin, your head lowered, eyes trained towards the floor. Well, he definitely should, because after just three steps, you slip in the puddle on the tiles and stumble until arms wrap around you and keep you from falling on your ass.
“You okay?” you hear Jin’s soft voice close to your ear. When the adrenaline of the almost-fall wears off, you find yourself pressed against him, his arms around your back holding you close.
Your breasts are squished against Jin’s chest and one of his legs ended up being wedged between yours. His heartbeat is synced to yours, going fast and hard.
“Yeah,” you breathe out with your forehead resting against his shoulder. “I’m fine.” Neither you nor Jin make any effort to move. It’s as if time has frozen and you’re stuck in his embrace, turning your cold and clammy bodies warm again.
His breath is fanning over the side of your face with each exhale and when you finally turn your head up to face Jin, he is, once again, already looking at you. This time, a shy smile is painted across his face. An unusual sight for you, but to be fair, the whole situation is new territory. Yes, you’ve hugged before, but only quickly and mostly in greeting or to say goodbye. You’ve never been flush against his body without an inch of space between you. You are very aware of the thigh between your legs too, applying slight pressure to your groin. It’s making your stomach flutter with each tiny movement of his leg as you’re standing there, holding on to each other. Consciously fighting the urge to rut against his thigh, you blink up at him through your lashes as one of his hands moves from your lower back up to your face and he pushes your hair behind your ear.
“You’re pretty when you’re flustered,” he whispers, his fingers still softly resting against your jaw. You could swear his leg moves against you with more intent as you feel your cheeks heat up at his words. Feeling shy, you nuzzle your face into the space where his shoulder meets his neck.
Not letting you evade his eyes, he gently lifts your head up again, cupping your face.
“Can I kiss you?” he asks quietly, looking down at you.
All you manage is a nod.
When he bends down and his lips meet yours, the fluttering in your stomach intensifies and you sigh against him. Jin is softly slotting your lips together, the pads of his fingers caressing your cheek. He’s humming when you catch his bottom lip between your teeth and tug carefully. His tongue slips out and traces your lips, before licking into your mouth to meet the tip of your own tongue. It’s a sweet kiss, unhurried, but it has you in a frenzy nonetheless.
Your hands are holding on to Jin’s sides when his own palm moves to the back of your neck and the arm around your waist pulls you against him harder. You unintentionally rub over his thigh with your crotch when he presses you to him and you whimper into the kiss, surprised by the sensation. Your reaction has an obvious effect on Jin as he immediately licks into you with more urgency. His digits slowly wander down from your back to the curve of your ass. He doesn’t quite squeeze but firmly rests his hand there with splayed fingers.
At this point, you can feel Jin all over your body. He’s pressed into all your sensitive parts and your body is about to go up in flames. You can’t hold back and your hips start moving on their own accord, seeking stimulation where you need it most. Your obvious excitement isn’t lost on him. You can feel his mouth twist into a grin and his hand snakes down further and under the moist fabric of your dress. He properly grips the flesh of your ass now as if to guide your movement. His dick is twitching against your right leg, slowly filling out.
That’s when Jin breaks the kiss and pulls away from you a little.
“Are you alright with this?” he asks you with slight uncertainty in his eyes.
The sight is making you giggle. It’s not like you were just humping his leg from how horny he’s got you by just making out.
“Am I giving you the impression I’m not?” you ask him grinning with your head cocked to the side.
He just huffs out a laugh and you get up on your toes to catch his mouth in another kiss while he’s kneading your ass cheeks with both of his hands now. After a moment of your mouths tangled and bodies rubbing against each other, he peels away, breathing heavily.
“Let’s move out of this mess,” he smiles and playfully slaps your butt to get you moving into the direction of his bedroom.
With your naked feet you carefully trudge through the water still all over the kitchen tiles, producing squelching sounds with each of your steps. It’s making you laugh for some reason, your head feels airy and you giggle like a teenager as Jin leads you through the apartment.
Once inside the bedroom, he grabs your hand and spins you around, so you are back in his arms. He walks you towards the bed while placing kisses all over your face, neck and shoulders. When the back of your legs hit the bedframe, you go to plop down on the mattress but Jin stops you by picking you up with his arms under your thighs. He turns around and sits down himself, placing you in his lap in the process.
With your knees on either side of Jin’s legs, you grind down immediately, making Jin groan and fall back. His fingers are pressing into your sides while you roll your hips, gliding over Jin’s now hard cock still confined by his boxers. You giggle again, elated by the fact that he’s already so unraveled too.
You remember your wet dress in that moment and lift it up and over your head, leaving you in nothing but your panties. Your initial coyness has completely dissipated. Although this is far from a normal situation between you, you feel at ease with Jin. The fact that the horniness is mutual might have played a part in that.
“Fuck,” you hear him breathe out from under you and when you look down, you see that he’s propped up on his elbows, watching. With his eyes darkened by hunger, he comes back up and catches one of your nipples in his mouth. You lift up on your knees to give him better access. His tongue is flicking over your hardened nub and he sucks before releasing your tit with a plop to kiss up your neck again, now gently rolling your nipple between his fingers instead. You bite back a whimper, but apparently you’re not doing a good job as you hear Jin tease you from where he’s attached to you.
“You’re gonna be all shy now? I'd love the feedback.”
You groan, but as his tongue runs over the skin of your throat and he latches on to mark you with bruises straight after, you erupt into goosebumps and finally let out a high-pitched whine. You are going crazy between the soft and harsh sensations, impatience gradually building up until you can’t take it anymore and you push Jin back down into the mattress.
Before you settle in his lap again, you grind down hard just once, eliciting a low moan, a stark contrast to his airy laugh from just a few minutes ago in the kitchen. Your fingers grip on to the moist fabric of his shirt and you slide it up until his stomach and chest are bare. You could already make out his abs through the white top earlier, but now, out in the open, the sight is making saliva gather in your mouth. With your gaze trained on his skin, your fingers splay across his torso, feeling the taught muscles beneath your touch. Your index finger traces from his abs to the line that’s leading from his side down into his boxers. It’s so fucking hot, you’ve always loved a good v-line and Jin’s is absolutely driving you insane currently.
His breath hitches when you don’t stop at the waistband of his underwear but instead start to peel it off of him while moving from his lap to get down on the ground between his legs. He lifts his hips up to help you pull the clingy fabric down his thighs until his dick slaps up against his stomach. Dear. God. That is the biggest cock you’ve seen in your life. Your thoughts are interrupted when you hear Jin chuckle at the sight of you drooling over his dick with your mouth agape.
“Before you ask - no, I don’t need a license for that.”
He shuts right up though when you wrap your hand around his shaft, not wasting a second. You tug once before letting a big bead of spit drip down on the tip of his dick where it’s mixing with the precum already pooling there. You spread the slick around with your thumb, easing the glide of your palm when you start to slowly pump him. With each flick of your wrist Jin huffs out quiet hisses.
His dick looks so damn delicious between your fingers that you can’t resist leaning in and licking at the head. Jin’s thighs tense up when you suck the tip of his cock into your mouth. You let your tongue swirl through his slit before carefully lowering yourself down on his length. There’s no way you’re getting him all the way in. You get about halfway down his shaft before you feel your gag reflex kick in so you move back up. His hands are gripping the sheets as you bob your head up and down. Just as you’re getting a good rhythm going, his fingers tangle in your hair and he gently peels you off his cock.
You look up at him, a string of saliva still connecting your mouth to his dick and he mutters out curse words at the sight.
“Come back up here,” he directs you and takes your hand to help you up the bed. You move to straddle him again, but once you’re on top of him, he grabs your hips and rolls you off his body onto your back.
He is sitting back on his heels next to you, his eyes roaming over your body.
“Beautiful,” he whispers before leaning over you and catches your mouth in a kiss. While his tongue is gliding against yours, he comes up on top of you, one knee between your spread legs and one of his hands finds its way between your thighs. His fingertips are trailing the seams of your panties, just ghosting over the soft skin where your pussy meets your inner thighs. You whine against his lips, you can’t take the teasing touches.
“P-Please,” you stutter.
“Hm?” he hums into another kiss, his fingers still not where you need them.
“Jin, please,” you almost beg. You can’t be arsed to think about how pathetic you sound; your composure has long crumbled to dust by now. “Touch me.” It comes out in nothing but a whisper, but it’s enough for Jin to finally comply.
His fingers press into your clothed pussy, the fabric is pushed in between your folds by the movement. Jin hums when he feels your arousal seeping through it.
“Did I make you so wet or was it the sink?” he wonders while his fingers rub up and down your labia, feeling the slick that’s soaked through your panties. “You’re dripping.”
He shuffles back to remove your underwear, lifting your legs up to slide them off and discard them on the floor. He places a soft kiss on your calf before lowering your feet back to the mattress. The shirt still bunched up at his chest follows suit as he slips out of it and throws it to the side.
Jin pushes your legs up into a bent position and spreads them with his hands on your knees. He gazes at your exposed pussy with droopy lids and blown pupils. “I want to taste you so bad,” he exhales before his tongue darts out to wet his lower lip. “Can I?”
“Yes, please,” you mutter and rest your head on the mattress as he leans in closer to your core. Your hand finds the back of his head while he slips his arms under your legs to pull you towards his face. It sends sparks through your body when his soft lips finally make contact with your pussy. He buries his face in your heat, his nose brushing against your pubic mound as he immediately licks between your folds. His tongue drags from your entrance up to your clit, not quite focusing on it yet though. He’s savoring the taste of your arousal, eating you out as if you were the juiciest fruit he’s ever gotten his mouth on to. He moans into your body while he’s working his tongue. He’s not in a rush to leave his place between your thighs anytime soon it seems. All you can do is gasp each time he makes contact with your clit, as he keeps increasing the pressure before finally giving all his attention to your most sensitive spot. He’s switched to harder flicks now, dragging you close to the edge with each pass.
With one hand in his hair and the other gripping the blanket you’re lying on, the coil in your abdomen finally snaps and your legs press close around his head, trembling. Your voice comes out in a high-pitched shaky moan as your back arches off the bed. Jin doesn’t stop until you basically melt into a puddle under his mouth. He detaches from your pussy just as you start to get overstimulated and moves back up to your face, caging your head in with his arms. He kisses you swiftly, before lifting himself back up.
“See how sweet you taste?” he asks you, looking down at you fondly.
Heat rises up your face and you have to avert your eyes, but you still reach up to stroke his arm next to your head.
Your eyes fall to Jin’s hard cock twitching between your bodies and your pussy clenches around nothing.
“Need you inside me,” you whisper, not quite meeting his gaze.
“Okay,” he breathes against your neck, leaving another trail of kisses down to your tits. He flicks his tongue over both of your nipples before he sits back up on his heels.
One of his hands is caressing your thigh, the other wraps around his cock and strokes a couple times before he reaches for his nightstand and fishes out a condom.
XXL, you can make out on the foil. Well, shouldn’t be a surprise, but it still makes you giggle in excitement. You can’t wait to find out how he feels inside you. Your pussy throbs, just as impatient as you are, so you grab for his leg, trying to urge him to hurry up.
He rips the packet open with his teeth and rolls the rubber over his length before giving it another tug. His eyes are locked on where he lines his cock up with your entrance then and he curses under his breath as he slowly watches it sink into you.
Without any prep, you feel your pussy stretch around him with every inch entering you and you whimper.
“Hurts?” he asks you when he notices your scrunched up face and halts his movement.
“A little,” you huff. “But in a good way. Keep going.”
Jin nods and you can tell he’s going slower than before, but he keeps pushing into you until he feels the resistance of your cervix and backs up an inch. He stills for a moment, looking into your eyes for any signs of discomfort. He pulls out a little before thrusting back in slowly. It’s a delicious drag against your inner walls as he goes in and out, the feeling eliciting moans from you each time.
He is biting his lip while watching his cock disappear inside you with every pump until he finally picks up pace and he falls forwards, head lowered now as he grunts synced with his thrusts.
You lock your hands behind his neck and your legs are wrapped around him, pulling him closer.
It doesn’t take long until his movements start to go a bit choppy and his breathing increases in speed. He sits back up again and places his hand on your lower abdomen. When your own palm follows his to your stomach, your eyes go wide. You can actually feel his cock bulging out from inside you. You press against it, making Jin lose his rhythm for a moment as he huffs out swear words again. You let your hand rest there, stunned by the new sensation. His thumb finds your clit and he rubs in tight circles that immediately make you clench around his cock. You didn’t realize how close to another orgasm you were already until his touch sends bolts of electricity through you.
You meet his thrusts with a lift of your ass, pressing yourself into his hand harder in the process as well. All you can feel is Jin, Jin, Jin. All over you, in you, even protruding from your insides. The room is filled with the nasty sounds of skin slapping against skin and your moans and grunts meddled together as he fucks into you. He’s going harder now, but you can tell he’s still trying to be careful. You wish he’d just let go. You could take it, you are sure.
“Gonna come,” he warns you before his hips start to stutter as his head shoots up with his eyes squeezed shut. His mouth hangs open as he releases inside you, every spurt of cum accompanied by loud, broken moans echoing through the room.
You look at him unraveling on top of you and the sight takes you over the edge too. With a gasp your pussy throbs, milking Jin through his own orgasm as you whimper, his thumb still brushing over your clit, dragging out your bliss. You throw your head back, panting, all your limbs tingling and twitching, just as Jin is on top of you, his orgasm slowly ebbing down. He finally collapses, his arms giving out, but he’s careful not to crush you, so he plops down next to you on his side. His chest is heaving as you turn to look at his blissed-out face. You reach out to stroke his cheek softly and he sighs into the touch.
He throws his arm around your middle after pulling off the condom to tie it and put it aside.
“Cuddle?” he asks you with a tired smile.
“Yeah,” you let yourself melt into his embrace and turn to face him. You feel him go slack against you, sighing happily. Blissful exhaustion starts to wash over you and your eyes slowly blink shut.
You doze off for a few minutes and when you open your eyes again, you nudge Jin’s shoulder with your forehead.
“Hey,” you wake him up. “We still have to deal with the mess in your kitchen.”
“Way to ruin the mood,” Jin pouts and then suddenly starts chuckling as if he’s just thought of something.
You turn your head up to raise an eyebrow at him before rolling onto your back.
“This is like the plot of the cheesiest porn ever,” he chortles. “Next time I’ll get stuck in the dryer I guess.”
You swat at him, but you can’t deny that he’s absolutely right. And you’d like a next time, you decide for yourself.
“You know what I’m in the mood for?” Jin suddenly asks, ripping you from your thoughts.
“What?” you ask him, smiling up at the ceiling.
“Strawberry matcha.” Jin sighs in content before he leans up on his elbow and looks down at your face. “You have some puree left?”
Masterlist
A/N: Thank you so much for reading :] Please consider reblogging or commenting if you enjoyed, or if you're shy, feel free to send us an anonymous ask! <3
