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Weekend Story: A Japanese GP Special (Part 2)

Summary: Years before all the heartbreak and drama, Kim Taehyung walked onto my paddock at Suzuka. Try as I might to look away, he was the only thing I could see on track.

or

How Taehyung and Dilara first met

Pairing: Taehyung x OC

Genre: Fluff, smut, angst

Word count: 13 K

Rating: 18+

Warnings: mentions of anxiety, stress, sexism, jealousy, heavy making out, blowjobs, fingering, dirty talk, sex

Tagging: @bbl32, @quarter-life-crisis2, @meirkive, @dreaming-with-happiness, @kflixnet, @k-radio

A/N: This had to be split - it was wayyy too long. Once again, since this was written long long ago and wasn't intended to be posted, there will be minor inconsistencies and differences in style of writing compared to the rest of the series. The biggest of these is probably that it's told from a first person POV, ie. Dilara's POV.

It picks up straight from the end of Part 1 and ends eight months prior to Los Angeles, taking place over the span of a race weekend.

Listen to: “on se plaît” by françoise hardy

part 1 | taehyung masterlist | main masterlist

qualifying

When I wake up, it’s with the momentary fear that I’ve overslept. I lunge for my phone on the bedside table and sigh out loud in relief when I see that I have a good hour before I need to leave for the paddock. I sit up and realise then that not only am I still naked, but that I’m also alone.

It isn’t… shocking. I know we’d fallen asleep together for sure, because I remember my sleep breaking somewhere in the middle of the night as I shifted and feeling Taehyung’s arm around my waist, his chest pressed against my back, his face in my hair and his leg over my hip. But one look at the bathroom tells me that he isn’t in there and another sweep around the room makes it apparent that his clothes have disappeared as well. 

I step out of bed and head straight into the shower, calmly, methodically. There’s something a bit unsettling about this - but I reason with myself that it’s not inconceivable that Taehyung may want to go back to his own room for a shower or a change of clothes, or even just go back to his room. But it’s the fact that he just left, especially when I was asleep. When I come out of the shower, hair in a bun and towel wrapped around me, I even check the dresser for a note or something, followed by my phone for a call or a text or something.

When I find nothing, I give up. I can’t care this much about a boy I just met and fucked - not today. Not on Qualifying day. I officially compartmentalize and, putting on a Red Bull t-shirt, jeans and Doc Martens, I grab Max’s hoodie to return it and throw on a leather jacket (my own hoodie still in the back of Taehyung’s car) and grab my bag. I’m just on my way out when I notice that Tae’s left his hoodie, the black one I’d been wearing all day yesterday. Ignoring it, I head downstairs.

It doesn’t get any better. I’m sitting at a table with Lexie, Max, Alex and Max’s trainer Dean, everyone in Red Bull gear, with a plate piled with nothing but fruit and a bowl of cereal next to it. I don’t want to think about why I’m not hungrier; it becomes more difficult when I spot the group troop into the restaurant and take a table at the back, all looking like they’ve just woken up. Taehyung is in another black hoodie that I’m assuming is Jungkook’s, only because it’s absolutely enormous. It doesn’t matter, though, for it doesn’t escape my attention that even when dressed like a hobo, Taehyung looks absolutely gorgeous, with his hair effortlessly falling into his eyes and face smooth and impassive as usual as he scans the food he walks past with no expression.

It also doesn’t escape my attention that, despite standing at the buffet right across from him, he walks past me as though I’m a stranger. I’m frozen in front of the croissants for a moment, my already elusive appetite disappearing entirely, wondering what the fuck just happened. When I walk back to our table, I realise my plate is empty, but I can’t be bothered. 

Listen, I’m not that girl, alright? I know what a casual hook-up is. I’ve had them, I prefer them a lot of the time. If looked at from a certain point of view, Taehyung was exactly that: a popstar who fooled around with a fan after his concert and fucked her the next night because they happened to live in the same hotel. It’s fine if that’s what it is, I tell myself, even as I feel my heart fall into my stomach at the thought. But I just want to know. 

With a great deal of effort and courage, loathing myself, I actually turn around in my chair to look at the BTS table, hoping I’m wrong and that maybe Taehyung genuinely hasn’t seen me. Instead, Jimin catches my eye and raises his eyebrows, lifting his hand in a half wave. He nudges Taehyung, who seemingly ignores him, heavily focused on his eggs. Even Namjoon notices me and gives me a small smile. 

I turn back in my chair to face my friends, starting to feel a whole different kind of anxiety, not to mention irritation. I force myself to focus on the conversation in front of me and almost cry with relief when Daniel and Michael stop at our table and we all decide to head to the paddock together.

Daniel takes one look at my plate. “Fruit? Where’s the good stuff?”

“I’m not hungry,” I mumble as I push my chair back in and pick up my bag.

“Oi, that’s not healthy at all,” he informs me while Michael nods at his side, both looking very tan and very Australian. Without permission, he snags a slice of toast from the bread station next to him and shoves it at me. “Eat it, come on.” I know by now that Danny is stubborn and if he wants me to eat toast, I’m eventually going to. So instead of arguing, I simply reach forward and bite off a large piece from the slice in his hand and force it down.

“Attagirl,” says Max, clapping me on the back and putting his arm around my shoulder as we all head out. Just as we’re exiting, I sneak another last look at the BTS table. Taehyung’s still looking at his food, his usual smooth and sharp side profile visible, but I could swear that he’d just been looking at me. I can’t be sure, though, but before I can mull over it any further, Max pulls me away and we head to Suzuka.

An hour later, I’ve found an extra Red Bull hoodie that I’m literally snuggling into, given how cold it is at the track. Natalie Pinkham holds a mic before me, asking me what I’m expecting today. I love Natalie but it isn’t the most insightful question, given that I have absolutely no idea what to expect - but the last thing I can do is admit that to the world.

I’m doing what I do best, which is evading, my hands balled into fists in the pockets of my hoodie and strands of my hair blowing in the cold breeze when I hear a collective shriek and I just know, even before I’ve looked up, who it’s for. It’s not surprising, for haven’t I been waiting for them to show up?

I try not to look at them too obviously. I’m still a bit annoyed, if I’m being honest (and worried, but we won’t go there) and frankly, I could care less if they showed up or not. But they do and in some sick coincidence, have to literally pass right by me to get to the Honda camp where I’m presuming they will be briefed on their PR for the day.

Hoseok is the first one I see, dressed par for course in comfy jeans and a jacket. All of them are dressed well - they always are - and walk with confidence, waving occasionally at the tons of Japanese fans in the paddock. He comes in right at the end, standing in the corner next to Jin, looking rather like he’d be anywhere else but here.

I try not to let that get to me - his face always looks like that, I tell myself. But then he shifts slightly to the side and my heart skips a beat, for while Kim Taehyung looked like peak boyfriend material yesterday, today he looks like he belongs on a freaking runway. He’s in black trousers, a white button down and a dark green blazer, hair styled to casual perfection. His hands are shoved into his pockets as he walks along with the rest of the band, all tall and uncaring and incredibly charismatic.

But no. I cannot afford thoughts like these, not when I have zero indication from him as to what’s going on and have a Qualifying to prepare for. They’re walking towards me, though. I have to focus all my energy on Natalie and look anywhere but at him, even while the weakest part of me waits in anticipation for when he will have to walk past me to enter the Red Bull Honda enclosure.

They reach me quicker than expected. Given that I’m in an interview, I don’t actually expect them to say anything at all, but I have to know that Taehyung, who was finger-fucking me about twelve hours ago, will at least look at me. He doesn’t, though; he hangs back a bit behind the group and walks right past me, close enough that I can smell his lotion and cologne as he sweeps past, towering over me.

I don’t know what to think. Thankfully I’m not fully alone; Lexie, after a recovery from bad sushi, is at the paddock today, still looking a little pale. Dark-haired with olive skin and a dancer’s body, she looks a lot like me, enough that people have mistaken us for sisters. I realise only while she’s helping me warm up that she’s missed all the BTS action in the last day and a half. I decide to tell her later, only if and when there’s something worth telling.

Free Practice - the only free practice - begins in an hour. I drive out, head full of numbers and strategies and tactics and come back some ten minutes later with a reasonable amount of feedback. I stay in the car, my helmet off and sipping on warm lemonade from a Red Bull can while I wait for an engineer to bring me the data from my drive. My gaze roams around to finally land on none other than two members of the group standing at the edge of the garage and chatting up a couple of fans.

Not fans as in a throng of screaming girls, but exactly two fans, two girls who are laughing and talking to Taehyung and Jimin, the two biggest flirts of the band. Amidst all the mixed emotions, I once again have no choice but to admire how flawless he looks, one hand on his hip, pushing his blazer back. There’s a moment where Jimin is measuring his pinkie with those of the girls and Taehyung joins in as well. I watch with a sinking feeling in my stomach as one of the girls places her pinkie against his and, when it’s deemed smaller, links their fingers and brings their hands down. 

Taehyung makes no great effort to retrieve his hand; it happens smoothly and casually and ends up back in his pocket. At that moment, still laughing, he looks around and his gaze stops right at me. I look away immediately, mortified at being caught staring at what can only be described as a one-night stand who clearly couldn’t care less. That’s the word, isn’t it? It’s humiliating, to be sure, but more than anything, it’s mortifying. It’s mortifying to know that I more or less fell for a popstar who, since he can’t date, does this more regularly than I would’ve believed; it’s mortifying to know that he got what he came for; and it’s an unprecedented level of embarrassment I feel when i remember how I poured my fucking heart out to him last night about my past.

Sitting there in my car and staring hard at the dials on my steering wheel, I feel a prickle in my eyes. But I know crying isn’t an option. Crying over a boy is not an option and, more importantly, crying in front of my team is absolutely not an option. As a girl, every emotion I display is automatically blown out of proportion; the last thing I need to do is give them more fodder. So instead, I go out again and reach P3 in the FP standings.

We have a break before Qualifying. Lexie and I grab lunch outside the Red Bull building; I’m still on the fence about whether or not to say anything to her about Taehyung. She knows they’re here, of course; she’s as big a fan as I am. We’re just finishing up when she fixes her gaze on something behind me and lets out a low groan.

I turn around to see him on the phone and, indeed, looking over in our direction. “Oh. Yeah, that’s him,” I say uneasily just as he catches my eye and raises a hand in greeting.

“Oh, God, it’s him,” she whispers longingly. “It’s Namjoon. Is he - is he taller in real life. He looks incredible. He looks -” she pauses. “He’s looking right over here.”

“Is he -” Lexie chokes. “Is he coming over here? Does he - do you know him?” All this is asked in furious whispers as Namjoon comes over, now shoving his phone in his pocket and smiling at us.

“Hey, Dilara,” he says easily, a huge contrast to how his stupid band member is being. “We saw you drive - man, how fast do those cars go?” 

“Pretty fast,” I admit, smiling slightly - because, really, how can I not smile back at him? “By the way, this is my trainer and friend, Lexie,” I tell him, pointing to the horny mess that she surely is right now. 

Namjoon immediately greets her with a winning smile and Lexie’s reaction doesn’t disappoint when she nods and stutters out a reply before smiling back. I watch her in mild amusement as he responds like a true gentleman, privately glad that I was a bit more graceful while meeting them - hopefully. Just before he’s about to leave, he turns to me.

“By the way,” he says, picking a grape out of the bowl I offer him, “you really did a number on him.” With that extremely cryptic piece of information, Namjoon waved and strolled back towards the Honda building.

I stay there, frozen, not knowing what he means or how to answer Lexie’s incredulously questioning expression. Well, I think I know what he means because there aren’t a lot of guys I may have done a number on, but… what does he mean? Is Taehyung angry about something? Is that why he’s been avoiding me? Is he shy? Is he - and here’s where I might have to kill myself - regretting last night?

“Dilara!” Lexie snaps her fingers in front of me. “What is it?”

But I can’t answer, because the fury rising in me is essentially clouding everything else. This is ridiculous; I’m at a goddamn race weekend and some guy (that I’m pretty sure I’ve fallen hard for) that’s slept with me is ignoring me like we’re in high school, while his friend comes over hours later to give me the vaguest detail ever? A number on him? Seriously?

“I have to qualify today,” I state. Lexie frowns.

“I - of course, you do. You - what?”

“Yeah, I need to qualify,” I repeat, standing up now. “Think we have time for a track walk?”

We don’t, but that’s beside the point. I’m not spending another moment pining over some jackass, even if he does look like an Adonis, who sneaked out the morning after and can’t be bothered to make eye contact with me. I’m back in the car an hour later, now fully focused on Q1, when my phone buzzes next to me. Lexie picks it up and frowns. “Good luck,” she reads, “from… who’s Tae - wait, Tae - Taehyung?”

Her wide eyes hold too many questions and I don’t have the mental bandwidth to answer them all. “I’ll tell you later,” I say shortly, struggling to stay focused on Qualifying. She gets it and doesn’t probe further, while I strap on my helmet with unnecessary force, now beyond annoyed with the situation. “Don’t reply to it,” is the last thing I say to Lexie before Simon tells me on the radio to head out.

I drive with everything I’ve got, conscious of the fact that I do have Q2 and Q3 to get through. As expected, Q1 ends with me in the top six, and my car gets brought back in to wait for Q2. I look up at the TV to see who I’m competing with: today, a Ferrari and an Alpine have been eliminated, which means both Haases and George Russell as usual have made it into Q2.

I watch the TV while I wait, looking at replays and Max’s final lap which puts him at P1. The camera pans over the Red Bull garage to cover me, Christian and even - my heart jolts - members of BTS standing with headphones on and watching.

Focus, I tell myself immediately as Q2 begins. I get sent in almost five minutes after everyone else in a pursuit of clean air and I zoom out, determined not to let Suzuka get to me. I’m aware that the tradeoff for clean air is that while everyone else might get three attempts, I only get two. It’s no matter, for I go out on a set of soft compound tyres and fly to P1. 

I’m just as shocked as everyone else. It’s not the end of Qualifying, but it’s something, especially on such a treacherous track. My engineers are rattling off streams of encouragement while I drive back, ready for a set of mediums that I will most likely start my race on tomorrow. My P1 position is slipping fast; everyone’s already on their second round. With less than two minutes to go, I’m sent out again. 

I drive with fire in my bones, the adrenaline pumping and the car feeling like butter under me. I start my flying lap with nothing but the track to focus on, just the road and the kerbs, feeling my arms and my neck withstand the pressure of the g-force. I’m midway through sector two, hitting every apex, running into no traffic -

There’s a jolt that almost makes my stomach fall out and I feel myself lifted off the ground before I crash into the barriers with a sickening thud that I know is my poor car getting destroyed. “What the fuck?” I shout furiously into my mic, hearing my own voice shake. “Was that - who was that? Was that Mazepin?”

“That will be investigated, Dilara,” comes Simon’s voice, following some static. “Are you good?”

“Yeah, I think so,” I mutter, undoing my seatbelt and stepping out with a marshall’s help. I stumble out of the car, feeling a dull ache in my ankle. I take off my helmet right there to go and inspect my car which, wouldn’t you know it, has the entire rear destroyed.

“Ma’am,” says the marshall behind me, gesturing to the medical car. “You need to get checked out, ma’am.”

I nod and we drive to the medical centre as the red flag signs come on and the Qualifying halts. I comply with the doctors but I am fuming. When Vicki Reid enters the centre, I immediately demand to see a replay. It comforts me that she seems just as angry on my behalf, enough that she hands me her phone immediately so I can see the live replay.

I was right; it was Mazepin. The camera follows my car into sector two behind the Haas on its out lap (out lap!). For some reason, he tries to race me and pushes me off entirely. I wince as I see my car flying into the barriers and hear my own shaky voice as I curse.

The camera then pans to the garage, where the pit crew shouts at the screen, where Christian punches the table and shakes his head, and, in a shot with Kim Taehyung, Park Jimin and Kim Seokjin, Taehyung’s eyes widen as he jerks in shock, with very obvious fear in his eyes.

It’s the only thing right now that can give me pause. I hand the phone back to Vicki as the doctor signs off, telling me my foot might be a bit sore for a couple hours but there’s no reason I can’t race tomorrow. Then we walk back to the garage just as Q3 begins - but I can’t give a fuck about Q3 right now; I’m so mad. I also can’t get Taehyung’s face out of my mind. Both the others in the shot had looked shocked as well but Tae… he’d looked terrified.

It turns out that since I had such a good lap time before I crashed out, I start at P11 tomorrow. Christian hugs me and agrees that it doesn’t make up for anything, that he’s going to make sure Mazepin gets a penalty for this, and that we’re going to work on a strategy tomorrow to fix this. I nod, trying not to scream out of anger. I go straight to the mechanics and start to apologise but one of them cuts me off with a hug, telling me they’re just glad I got out okay.

I make it through what remains of Q3 with Lexie, watching as Max puts the car on pole. In a surprising twist of events, Seb and Alonso get penalized for racing each other, both of them receiving three-place grid penalties, pushing me up to P9. It’s not great, but it’s something. 

As the post-qualifying interviews take place, I head out of the garage to the fridge to get myself a bottle of water. Since I didn’t participate in Q3, my interviews are already done. Just as I’m about to open the door, a slender hand appears in front of me, a white gold band around the index finger, and opens the door for me.

Ignoring how my heart skips a beat, I refuse to turn around and instead just take a bottle. “Are you okay?” he asks, the first thing he’s said to me since whispering sweet nothings into my ear last night while we lay naked in bed together. 

“Mhm,” I answer shortly. “What, were you worried about me?” I can’t keep the slight scoff out of my voice, even as I try hard to act like I don’t care that he’s been ignoring me all day. 

“Of course I was,” he replies immediately, like it’s the most obvious thing. “I think I’ll be this worried every single weekend from now on.”

Every single weekend. I pause while screwing the cap back on the bottle. I just can’t deal with this anymore. How complicated is this guy? Why is he so determined to act like I don’t exist, even while he’s sending me good luck messages and fearing for my life?

I finally look up at him just as Vicki calls both of us for a group picture. We both look to see the rest of the band, Max, Christian, Geri and the head of Honda waiting for us. We nod at the same time just when Taehyung turns back to me, almost taking my breath away with how good he looks.

“By the way,” he says, and his voice is suddenly lower, smoother, “you’re really cute when you get jealous.” With his trademark smirk and eyebrow raise, he takes a couple of steps back before turning around and strutting over to the group.

Okay, not that complicated. 

I don’t know what it is exactly that I’m feeling as I follow him slowly. There’s too many emotions flooding through me, relief and annoyance tied for the top spot. But as I watch him reach the group and turn around to face the camera and lock eyes with me, arm raised slightly in a silent call for me to come stand next to him, I know that despite everything else I may be feeling, I don’t back down from a challenge.

You have no idea what you’ve done, Kim, I think silently as I walk up and stand beside him. He’s clearly glad; I can see a smile appear on his smooth face as he rests his hand on my left shoulder. Hesitating briefly and checking that it’s just Seokjin standing behind him, I lean into him very slightly and place my hand on his back, taking care to slide it up. I’m looking straight into the camera but I can see in my periphery how his smile widens into a real smile as opposed to his model smile. Swallowing the relief I’m too stubborn to acknowledge, I smile, too.

The driver’s briefing isn’t for another hour so everyone is hanging out in the press room. Half the drivers are in team briefings and the journalists are also nowhere to be seen, giving the drivers and, in this case, BTS some free time after Qualifying. It’s a pretty comfortable room, almost like a lounge, with food and drink spread out on tables along the sides.

Since Taehyung and I can’t approach each other in public, I use this opportunity to consider what I’m feeling. Thankfully Lexie isn’t here, which means I don’t need to get into the story of it with her, but it also means that I’m figuring this out alone. 

You look cute when you’re jealous. I could kill him. Literally get on top of him, wrap my fingers around his throat, squeeze hard until he flips us over and smirks at me, long hair falling in his eyes -

“Goddamnit,” I whisper out loud and pour myself a coffee. I don’t move, however; I stay standing at the table when, to my horror, I catch a whiff of a familiar scent of lotion and cologne until Taehyung comes to stand right next to me, oh so casually scanning the sandwich bar. I don’t know if he’s here to talk to me or what, but I’m saved from guessing when Daniel Ricciardo sidles up on my other side and sneaks my coffee out from right in front of me.

“Finders keepers, Komyshan,” he says cheekily, clapping my shoulder. “Want a bite? I got the last one.” I look up to see him holding a brownie in his hand. I nod vigorously so he lowers it to my mouth and I take a bite from his hand.

“Oh, wow,” I mumble through a mouthful of brownie. “Of course you got the last one.”

“Yeah, I’m fast,” he says cockily, grinning and brushing a crumb off my cheek. Next to me, I hear a clang, possibly of a cup being slammed on a saucer. Danny hasn’t noticed, speaking to Max across the room, but I have and I turn very slightly to look at Taehyung. He isn’t looking at me either, but he’s biting his lip and his jaw looks hard enough to cut glass. 

I take a tiny step back so my shoulder brushes against his arm but he makes no move to acknowledge it. I turn around a bit more as Danny leaves and - I can hardly believe it - see Taehyung glare in his direction before turning around wordlessly and stalking back towards the rest of the band. Jimin is stifling a laugh with his fist while Hoseok isn’t even bothering with that, but all it does is give me the perfect idea - so perfect, that I can’t believe it’s taken me this long to see it.

I turn to survey Daniel Ricciardo where he’s sitting in light blue jeans and a long-sleeved McLaren t-shirt, curls long and thick. When it comes down to it, Danny is the opposite of Taehyung in every way: he’s loud, unsubtle, white, hardcore millennial, and can’t sing or dance to save his life. But despite all that, no one can deny that if there’s one similarity between them, it’s that Daniel Ricciardo is god-tier hot when he wants to be. 

For a moment, I reconsider. Maybe I’m being too petty? I look down at my phone to check the time and see one unopened message on WhatsApp. It’s the same one from Taehyung that he’d sent me during qualifying, wishing me luck. The same time that I’d been agonizing on the inside as to whether he gave two shits about me at all. 

And the decision is made.

I make my way over to where Danny is sitting on the sofa and connecting his phone to the stereo’s Bluetooth. He’s just played some vague R&B track when I reach him and place a hand on the back of the sofa behind him, essentially leaning over him. He looks up to see me and immediately frowns.

“Uh, what’s happening?” he asks, blunt as ever.

I consider lying for a moment but then sigh. “I’m trying to make someone jealous and I need your help.”

His frown clears somewhat. “What - what do you mean?”

“What do I mean? Come on, you’re a guy. You know exactly what I mean.”

His face relaxes into a grin. “Yeah, I do. It’s a risky game, padawan,” he says, cocking his head and leaning back against the couch. “Risky, but effective.”

I smile back. “Great. So, can you just… do something that’ll piss him off?”

Danny’s gaze flickers away from me momentarily before he tilts his chin slightly higher towards me and suddenly, goofy Dan’s gone and sexy Dan from Monaco 2016 is here. “I think you talking to me in such close proximity is doing it already.”

My heart skips a beat. “Really? Is he - is he looking? Wait -” I bite my lip. “How do you even know who I’m talking about?”

He gives me a look. “I’m guessing it was the bloke in your room last night wearing nothing but a towel?” I can’t stop myself from smiling as I lower my head, hoping I’m not blushing. “Oh, that was great. Do that again,” he tells me. “Guys hate it when another guy makes their girl laugh.”

“Okay, so tell me something funny,” I say, ignoring how my heart zooms at that..

“Technically, it’s Bon Iver,” he says, leaning back as well. “But, yes, it’s exile by Taylor Swift.”

Danny bites his lip and grins, sitting forward so his face is closer to mine. “You know, I don’t know why you need my help,” he says. “You really seem like you know what you’re doing.”

Of course, that makes me smile in pride again. Just then a song plays on the stereo that I recognize. “Wait, is this Taylor Swift?” I ask, genuinely surprised as I stand upright.

“Wow,” I exclaim, flopping on the couch next to him. “Who would’ve thunk it? I mean, I love this song. Like, love.”

“Doesn’t everyone? Okay, here we go - I think I’ve seen this film before, and I didn’t like the ending,” he begins singing, face screwed up in mock angst.

“So who am I defending now?” I join in, one octave higher, just as passionately again. All games of jealousy forgotten, we belt out the entire song together, neither of us very good, a sub-par impromptu duet in the middle of the press room. When the bridge begins, Danny pulls me up as I throw a grape at Lando who’s snickering and filming us.

“All this time,” he sings, clutching a pretend mic, “I never learned to read your mind.”

“Never learned to read my mind,” I echo, loving this song all over again.

“So many signs,” we sing together, just as he grabs my right hand and spins me around before pulling me in. I giggle in surprise as Lando and Max mockingly hoot and continue filming us. We’re sure to make it onto one Lando Norris’s Instagram today when I see a flash of something dark disappear out the door. I freeze as Danny falls to his knees beside me, belting out the last note, because I think I know what it is. 

As the song ends, I feel the smallest bit of guilt creeping into my stomach because I know that I’ve crossed a line, that I may just have taken a fresh, intimate memory with Taehyung and tainted it with a petty agenda.

Slowly, I turn towards where the rest of the group is seated and I know instantly that I’m right. None of them look surprised per se; the only one who catches my eye is Jimin, who has a mildly exasperated look on his face, and shakes his head slightly at me, essentially letting me know it’s not good. I nod and immediately excuse myself, hurrying out the door. 

It’s not too hard to find him. The press office is about twenty yards away from the Red Bull energy station and the Honda office. When I reach the enclosure, I spot a tall figure standing at the edge of the garage, scrolling through his phone with his other hand in his pocket. Taehyung looks up to see me, face smooth and impassive as ever, revealing nothing.

But I know him. I know, it’s been a day and a half, but I know him. I know this, at least. I know he’s angry, hurt, jealous - or some combination of the three. We look at each other in silence for a moment, alone for the first time since he sneaked out on me this morning. That memory is all I need to remember why I did this in the first place.

I turn on the spot and start walking. I don’t turn around to see if he’s following me because if I know him as well as I think I do, I know he is. He’s probably looking like a runway model while he does it, but he’s doing it. I keep walking until I reach my changing room and unlock the door, entering and turning around only when I hear the door lock behind me.

I stand with my arms folded across my chest as Taehyung leans back against the table at the opposite end of the room, hands in his pockets, surveying me coldly. I swallow; this isn’t how I was picturing the next time we’d be alone together. I don’t want to apologise - I won’t. I force myself to think about how I’d feel if I saw him dancing like that with one of those fangirls and I instantly want to throw something.

I lick my lips slowly. “Okay,” I say finally. “I know I may have gone a bit too far just now. But you know… you did ignore me all fucking day and - what are you doing?”

He’s taken off his jacket and pauses while unbuttoning one of the cuffs of his shirt. He raises his eyebrows slightly. “Keep going.”

I clench my jaw. “You sneaked out on me this morning. You really didn’t want to deal with the awkward morning-after with a one-night stand? You could’ve dropped me a text. Do you think I’m some pathetic, needy - okay, seriously, what are you doing?”

Taehyung’s rolled back both his sleeves to just below his elbows and is unbuttoning his shirt, stopping when I exclaim, just before his pecs start. His expression is unmoving; cold, smooth, impassive, with cheekbones that would put any model to shame. He slowly takes a step towards me, and then another, and another until he has me backed up against the wall.

“Keep going,” he repeats, voice deep and calm. Too calm. He licks his lips slowly and nods at me to continue.

“I -” I struggle to steady my breathing. He’s so close; his bangs fall into his dark eyes and he flicks them out, gaze unmoving. “I’m not a clingy lay. If you’d - if you’d had enough, you could’ve told me,” I add, breath stuttering when his hands reach for my belt and start deftly undoing it, slender fingers unbuttoning my jeans and unzipping it.

“Keep going,” he says a third time, not taking his eyes off me for even a moment. “Or do you want me to stop?”

Fuck. It sounds quietly threatening but I know, just like I knew that he was pissed, just like I knew that he’d follow me, that underneath the suppressed fury, he’s asking me for my consent. And, man, does he have it.

I swallow, looking him back in the eye and trying to ignore his fingers lightly brushing me through the denim. “I - you didn’t even look at me when we were sitting in the same fucking restaurant,” I continue in a low voice. The slightest of smirks appears at the corner of his mouth as his hand slips into my jeans. When he softly palms me through my underwear, I let out a gasp and see him raise an eyebrow and I’m shocked at how wet I am.

“I did. I just didn’t want you to see.” His voice is deep and sultry and I’m powerless to stop. 

“And then you were - you were walking around, looking all famous and sexy,” I stutter, squeezing my eyes shut when he presses the ball of his palm against my clit. I have to struggle not to moan out loud. “I had to just sit around in the garage watching you do your fanservice while I was just sitting…” I finally open my eyes and look at him, silently pleading, “... inside.”

The smirk grows but he doesn’t comply - not until I let out an actual moan and shut my eyes involuntarily. He slips two fingers in and I lean my head back against the wall and bite down on my lower lip, hard.

“Keep going.”

I nod, not wanting him to stop. “I was - I was so mad at you and then I got sad and then - then I decided to… to be mad again,” I ramble on, barely aware of what I’m saying while his fingers curl inside me and his thumb brushes against my clit. “Oh, fuck, Taehyung,” I gasp, letting go of all pretense.

Apparently the sound of his name is all he needed to hear. His eyes darken under his long hair and all signs of teasing leave his face. “You were mad at me?” he asks, his voice a deep, rumbling mess. His thumb presses against my clit without warning and I raise my hand to clutch his shirt but he preempts it and grabs it, holding it against the wall.

“Yeah, I - I was.” I force myself to look him in the eye, this incredibly hot, sexy, jealous Taehyung that I’d do anything for right now. “Especially when - when you tried to make me jealous? You really thought that would work?”

He raises an eyebrow. “Didn’t it?” he asks coolly.

His thumb is drawing circles against my clit now and I know I have maybe a minute at most before I come all over his hand. “Sure,” I manage, “but I think my plan worked out a lot better.”

I’m provoking him and I’m not surprised when it works. Taehyung says nothing, but his jaw hardens and his fingers move faster. He lowers his head slightly and I think for a moment that he’s about to kiss me, but he tilts it at the last moment so his lips hover near my ear.

I’m so close now. “Oh, God,” I whisper, shutting my eyes and tilting my head back. “Don’t stop, don’t stop…” My leg bends at the knee of its own accord and I feel my stomach contracting when suddenly, his fingers disappear and he places his hand on my hip.

“I think that’s enough, don’t you?” A deep murmur against my neck and he retreats, still standing right in front of me, looking unbelievably smug.

“I hate you,” I groan, shaking my head and resting it back against the wall. 

“I know. Looks like you’ll have to take care of it yourself.”

“Mhm,” I nod, “or find someone else to take care of it for me.”

And there it is. Taehyung’s face clouds over again. “Really?”

I nod, though, pushing my luck at this point. Brushing a lock of hair out of his eyes, I speak and move my mouth closer to his. “I mean, I’d really prefer you to do it but… you saw my other options, right?”

It works like a fucking charm. Thirty seconds later I’m so close, so close that I’m clutching the front of his shirt and moaning his name, trying my hardest not to be too loud. His lips are at my jaw and trailing down to my neck until they reach my ear and he whispers for me to come for him.

“Fuck,” I mutter two minutes later, panting in the aftermath of that glorious orgasm. Taehyung’s looking down at me in a mixture of lust and fondness and for a moment I can’t quite believe that I’d thought he’d considered me just a one-night stand. He places his hands back on my hips and waits for me to finish buttoning my jeans and buckling my belt before pulling me in for a surprisingly sweet kiss.

I respond without hesitation, lightly tugging on the collar of his shirt and savouring him after what feels like ages. Taehyung does, too, pushing me back against the wall and running his hand up my back before pulling away reluctantly. “Will I see you again tonight?” he asks, his previously narrowed eyes now wider and more hopeful. His eyes search my face as though he hasn’t seen it in ages and he runs his thumb across my cheek.

I bite my lip. I’m sure it hasn’t slipped his mind either that my flight leaves tomorrow right after the race; I’d mentioned it to him last night and we’d both become quiet for a few moments before he’d hastily changed the subject. I don’t want to talk about it right now, though. 

“Yeah, of course,” I answer, brushing his long hair out of his eyes. His face breaks out into a soft smile as he pulls me closer to him. 

“Good.” He lowers his head and kisses me again, the same nice, toe-curling kiss, so unlike what happened when we first entered the room. We both leave minutes apart; he goes back to the group and I head over for the drivers’ briefing, feeling all tingly and fucked out, the spots on my neck still feeling hot from when he’d kissed me there.

Nikita Mazepin gets horribly called out for his stupid move that fucked up my Qualifying. Apart from that, I can barely focus on the briefing; in any case, most of the session is taken up by Seb and Fernando arguing over their incident after which I hitch a ride back to the hotel with Max, Lexie and Dean with us. I head straight into the shower and emerge twenty-five minutes later, hair clean and curly.

Wrapped in a towel with my wet hair down one shoulder, I gingerly pick up my phone, wondering what to tell Taehyung. I have to see him tonight; there’s no question about that. The fact that it’s our last night together has dawned on me all of a sudden and it’s making my stomach twist so unpleasantly that I think I may throw up. It’s inconceivable that I’m this attached to a man I met only forty-eight hours ago - but it’s happening, and the dread feels like it’s looming..

But when I open my chat with him and look at the last message (Good luck) and all the pictures before that, my heart stutters. I open my favourite one, the one that had become my favourite the moment I’d seen it: I’m on his back while he walks, my arms around his shoulders and one hand clutching his baseball cap. My hair is long and wavy, falling to one side as I turn my head towards him and kiss his cheek. Taehyung’s face - and this is my favourite part - is caught in what I can only describe as wonderfully surprised, eyes slightly wide but his smile even wider as he looks into the camera. Our faces are lit by the sunlight, our hair looking bright and black against our white t-shirts. Matching outfits.

We haven’t talked at all about how we feel about each other. It doesn’t make sense that we would; a weekend fling is barely a fling, yet somehow I know that this is just as confusing for him as it is for me. Just as I’m contemplating it even further, my phone buzzes and I almost drop it when I see Taehyung’s name. Heart skipping a beat, I answer it.

“Hey, beautiful.” His voice is deep and raspy as always, and I have to bite my lip to keep from sighing.

“Hey, handsome,” I reply, smiling wider than I should. “I’m back at the hotel; do you want to meet?”

“Yeah, I know. Hobi hyung saw you and your friend Max in the lobby. Are you free now? We should talk.”

“Um…” Technically, I’m free. I’m just in a towel. But there’s something different about his tone, apart from the fact that he wants to talk. “Where are you? I’ll meet you.”

“Oh, uh…” This time, he falters. “I’m actually on your floor… not too far from your room,” he adds, sounding slightly sheepish. “I’m sorry, I can wait. Let me know when you’re free.”

“No, no, it’s okay,” I say quickly. “You can come in. Just…” I look into the full-length mirror; aside from the fact that I’m in a towel with wet hair, I look okay. “Are you alone?”

“Yeah, of course.”

“Okay, I’m coming.” Phone still at my ear, I go to the door and look through the peephole. Even distorted, his figure takes my breath away. Hesitating for a fraction of a second, I open the door and step back behind it, letting him in. He enters and looks around for a moment before spotting me and his eyes widen.

“Oh… I can - I can come back if you’re - if you need a few minutes to -”

“Tae,” I interrupt, shutting the door behind him, “you saw me naked for hours last night. It’s okay.”

He raises an eyebrow in agreement. “True. You still look beautiful,” he says generously, kissing me on the cheek.

“So many compliments,” I remark teasingly, walking past him and into the bedroom so I can change. “Not all of us have stylists that can make us look all effortless and sexy all the time, you know.”

“How was the briefing?” he asks, taking a seat on the edge of the bed, letting out a low whistle as I let my towel drop.

Taehyung laughs as he follows me inside. “I’ve changed out of the sexy clothes now in any case, if that helps.” And he has. I don’t know how he manages to do it, but in the time I’ve known him, he’s gone from idol post concert, to boyfriend date material, to runway model, and back to cuddly boyfriend material. Now, in a baggy black sweater and dark grey joggers, I feel like climbing into bed with him and doing nothing else.

I throw the towel at him before starting to pull on my clothes. "It was okay. Just have to hope it doesn't rain tomorrow or we're going to have to prepare ourselves for a ton of crashes," I tell him, shuddering a little at the thought.

"What happened to the idiot who crashed into you?" Taehyung's question is casual enough, but I can hear the snippy edge to it. 

"He got a penalty. That's the best we can get, believe me," I add when he scoffs. "What, were you really that worried?" I ask again, a little teasingly this time, now fully dressed and walking up to him.

"Of course, I was," he says in a low voice, pulling me to him by the hand so I come between his legs, and wrapping his arms around my waist. "I think it might’ve killed me if you'd gotten hurt," he adds in a mumble, pulling me in further.

Rolling my eyes a bit at his dramatics, I hug him back automatically as he tilts his head slightly and rests his forehead on the side of my neck. Softly, I run my fingers through his long hair, breathing in his scent, overwhelmingly touched by how worried he was.

The longer we stay there, the more the hug seems to become less about my crash and more about just holding each other - no, clutching each other, but without making it obvious that we are.

"I need to tell you something," he says quietly after a while, his hold on me loosening slightly.

I pull away and step back. "Okay," I say slowly, suddenly nervous about what to expect. 

Taehyung stands up, hands in his pockets, head bent low as though contemplating what to say. "I know I was being a bit…" He's searching for the word, I realise. He's nervous. "... distant today," he says after a few moments. "I didn't realise how it would look to you. That you'd think that I didn't care or - or you were a fling or whatever."

His eyes flicker up to me for a moment, as though making sure I'm still here. "It was really the opposite, actually. I felt… a lot of things. It was confusing and - and I needed to figure it out by myself before I…" He trails off. "Basically, I think… Dilara, I think -"

My eyes widen the moment I realise what he's about to say. "Taehyung -"

"- I'm in love with you."

My heart jolts so hard I think it may break. "No," I breathe, realising too late that I've said it out loud.

His face falls very slightly, but remains the same smooth, impassive one I saw all day. He looks at the floor, hands still in his pockets and long hair obscuring his face from me, clearly processing a reaction he didn't expect.

"I'm - I'm sorry," I stutter. "I didn't mean… Tae, why would you tell me that?" I ask, hearing how desperate I sound.

He gives a small shrug. "It's how I feel."

"But… but you know nothing can happen," I say, shaking my head. "Why would you -"

"I know nothing can happen. I just want you to know how I feel," he says, and I think I hear a note of impatience there as well. When I don't reply, he scoffs. "What, is that so bad?"

"It's not bad at all, Tae," I say quickly, trying to blink back tears now. "But you're just making this harder! We know we can't be -"

"Dilara, I know, okay?" he snaps. "This is hard for me, too. You think I expected to fall in love with a world-famous athlete one fine weekend? You think I planned this?"

I bite my lip. "Do you regret it?"

"Meeting you? Not a single moment," he answers immediately. "I just want you to know." He pauses. "I'd want to know."

You know, though. It's obvious; he knows how I feel, too. The way he's looking at me, how he knew I'd follow him out of the drivers' lounge - it makes complete sense. I'm in love with him, too - not V of BTS, but Kim Taehyung, Tae, the man who knew to take me to hang out with puppies and slow danced with me in the middle of nowhere, who got jealous because he saw me do the same with another man.

"Tae…" I bite my lip, feeling my eyes prickle. “Of course, I -” But I can’t continue. Saying it is a whole lot different from simply feeling it; putting it out there, establishing that we love each other, especially when we know it can go nowhere - it’s insane.

I take a deep breath but it comes out all ragged and I cringe, hoping he doesn’t notice but it’s pointless, for a second later he’s walking up to me and taking my hands in his, gently pulling me closer.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs, running his thumb over my knuckles. “I didn’t mean to… I shouldn’t have said anything.”

But I shake my head and look up at him. “I don’t regret anything either,” I tell him honestly. “I just… it’s a lot, you know? It’s scary.” He bites his lip, looking very much as though he’s trying to understand. I don’t know how else to put it, so I just reach up and kiss him, hard and deep, hoping it conveys what I need it to.

For a moment I think he’s going to push me away, but at the last moment he pulls me closer to him by my waist, so close, so tight, like he’s afraid he’ll never get the chance again. Which he might not, I think as I pull at his hair, and the thought makes me want to cry again.

We land up in bed, neither of us willing to let the other go. It’s a combination of haste, fear, desperation - and love. So much love. I may not be able to say it but I want him to know, too. I hold his face when I can, mark his neck and chest as much as I can, moan his name as loud as I can. Somewhere during it all, when Taehyung’s lowered himself down and has his head between my legs, I say it.

I don’t know if he’s heard it; it’s only a whisper and the only indication he gives me that he may have heard it is a slight pause with his tongue, where he pulls away for a moment and kisses my inner thigh before continuing. When we’re done, we’re done. I’m fucking exhausted, with being on my feet all day, a Qualifying, constantly worrying about whether or not I’ve been pseudo-dumped.

“I have to go,” says Taehyung after a while, voice soft and deep. I look up from where our fingers are intertwined on my torso, suddenly fearful. He turns to look at me and hurriedly adds, “Just for a while. We have to do a livestream on our last day in Japan and Namjoon hyung wants all of us there.”

I nod, not knowing how else to respond. “Okay. I’ll go get dinner, then. I’m sure Lexie has me on the most boring chicken and salad for race weekend, even in the land of sushi.” I’m rambling and I know it, as I sit up and start looking for my clothes, avoiding his gaze.

“I’ll see you after, okay?” Taehyung appears in my peripheral vision, pulling on his t-shirt and joggers. He ruffles his hair and we meet in front of the bed. There’s a moment where we don’t know what to do. I can tell he’s hesitating, the fact that I haven’t said I love him not skipping his mind. I don’t want to particularly prolong this either, but something just feels… too much. It’s too overwhelming, the looming feeling of a goodbye to a person I barely know.

I see him raise his hand slightly, so I immediately take a small step back. “Yeah. See you later.” 

He drops his hand and nods. At the last moment, he kisses the top of my head and leaves, shutting the door softly behind him.

sweet night

An hour later, I get back to my room after an early dinner with Lexie. I told her everything - everything except the I love you part. She seemed to have pieced at least part of it together by the time I told her, but she hung on to every detail, gasping at all the right parts, whistling when I told her how good the sex was (because it so was).

She’d groaned more about the fact that I’d actually met some of them. “God, I hope they come to another race. Stupid food poisoning.”

Now, I stand alone in my bedroom, wondering what to do now. On a normal race weekend, I’d have dinner with Lexie (and Fred and Chris if they were there), take a warm shower, maybe go out for a walk with my earphones on, and go to bed early. Now, all I can think about is Taehyung - or, more specifically, the lack of Taehyung after tomorrow.

What am I supposed to do? Do we say goodbye? Is it a break-up? Or is it just an amicable farewell, acknowledging a fun weekend and going our own way? I might have thought it was the latter, until he blurted out the L word. I’m almost mad at him for complicating it like this, enough that I have half a mind to ghost him if he calls and avoid the shit out of him until I have to leave for my flight. It’s a bitchy, bitchy move, but it could just be the only way to avoid any real heartbreak.

A small, tiny part of me is happy, though. No, not happy. Ecstatic. A part of me is fucking ecstatic that he loves me, that Kim fucking Taehyung fell in love with me in less than two days, that average old me managed to confuse the sexiest, most talented and mysterious person I’ve ever met. Of course, I fell in love with him, too. There’s no point denying it now, not to myself. Weekend fling or not, I’m completely in love with Taehyung; I just don’t know where it takes us from here.

When I meet him later that night, I still don’t know. He calls me about half an hour after I’m done with dinner, asking if I want to come over. I can’t stay cooped up in a hotel room, though, so I suggest that we go to the gardens, to the most secluded area we can find. He agrees, and I meet him ten minutes later, wearing my leather jacket over a baggy Beatles t-shirt and sweatpants. Coincidentally enough, Tae’s still in the same light sweater and joggers, with a long black overcoat thrown on top of it.

You’re even wearing matching outfits. Jungkook’s voice rings through my head when I see him, when he sees me and he smiles. It’s not his normal boxy smile; it’s smaller, sadder, but so heartbreakingly beautiful that I can’t help it, and even before I say hi, I blurt it out.

“Saranghae.”

There’s a brief pause where he stares at me as if he’s heard it wrong - or I’ve said it wrong - and I want to slap myself for deliberately complicating it because, really, why did I have to go say it in Korean? Chris would lose his shit if he heard you right now, Komyshan. I take a deep breath, hoping to say literally anything to cover it up, but he smiles again and chuckles.

“Really?”

It’s out there now. I wait for the regret to come but looking at how obviously happy it makes him, I can’t seem to find it. I bite my lip, feeling myself smile as well. “Yeah. Saranghae… very much.”

That makes him laugh, his deep, throaty laugh as he walks over to me and hugs me, wrapping his arms around my waist and kissing the side of my head. “I love you, too,” he murmurs, and I know he means it. I hug him back, tightly, suddenly glad I’ve said it because it might just have been my only chance.

We don’t talk about anything deep after that; I think we both consciously stay away from it, not wanting our last night together to be any harder than it already is. I have a race tomorrow and he senses that I’m stressing almost immediately. So we talk about the race. I explain the track to him, why Suzuka is harder than most, why the expectations from me are sky high while I’m in the privileged yet unfortunate position to be Max Verstappen’s teammate. 

He listens with complete concentration. Eventually we sit under a clump of trees, nothing but us and the grass and softly chirping crickets. 

“It’s bad enough doing Suzuka for the first time,” I sigh, absently pulling blades of grass out of the ground. “But doing it from P9? So fucking unfair.” I want to kick something before I immediately remind myself to calm down. “Nope. Nope. I can’t… uh, I can’t do this.”

Taehyung frowns. “Can’t do what?”

“I can’t stress or get angry or - or do anything that takes my focus away from the race. Not tonight.” And it’s like a lightbulb goes off in my head. I know now, finally, what’s been bothering me all day, while he was supposedly ignoring me, when he told me he loved me, when I told him the same.

I must look troubled, for I feel his hand on my knee. “Dilara?”

My eyes rise slowly to meet his. “Tae,” I begin, swallowing, hating this but knowing beyond the shadow of a doubt that I have to do this. He raises his eyebrows slightly in response. “I - can I ask you for something?”

He nods. “Anything.”

Goodbye, Tae. You’re going to hate me forever. I lick my lips slowly. “Can - can you…” I take in his big, concerned eyes, his long hair and how he’s biting down on his lip in anticipation, and it’s too hard. “Forget it. I can’t ask you to do that,” I say instead, shaking my head.

But he doesn’t let it go. “Dilara,” he says again, squeezing my knee. “Come on. Ask me.”

I think about how much he says he cares, how much he wants me to succeed. Maybe this is how I see if it’s true. “Can you - can you not come to the race tomorrow? To the paddock?” The silence that follows my question seems deafening. “It’s just… I need to focus tomorrow, more than ever. And with you there… I just don’t think that’s possible.”

Taehyung’s face is back to being its smooth, impassive one. I can’t tell what he’s thinking and for a moment I’m deathly afraid that I’ve said something very wrong. But then he nods once. “Okay.”

“I’m sorry,” I say without thinking. “I just don’t know if I can handle -” I break off again but this time because my throat gets stuck and I can feel myself, finally, about to cry.

He seems to realise it, too. “Hey, no, don’t apologise,” he says softly, picking up my hands and bringing them to his chest. “Dilara, it’s okay. You’re going to be amazing tomorrow,” he tells me, bringing one hand up to my face and looking me right in the eyes. “Don’t worry about me. You’ll be great.” He chuckles softly, almost as though he’s just realised it himself. “You’re a force of nature, baby.” 

I nod, my vision starting to blur now. “Don’t forget me, okay?” I say quickly, sniffling and looking at the ground.

Taehyung scoffs quietly, and I can tell he’s on the verge of losing control, too. “I couldn’t even if I wanted to,” he murmurs, reaching forward and kissing me. I lean into the kiss immediately, without question, without shame. He pulls me onto his lap and I comply, straddling him and holding his face, kissing him so deeply, knowing now with certainty that I will never get this chance again, that this is finally goodbye.

I can feel his ring against the side of my face as he kisses me back with the same desperation and longing, both of us forgetting where we are, what time it is, what’s to come tomorrow. It’s just Taehyung; there’s nothing else in the world for me right now. Our kisses are all lips and tongue and teeth, nipping at each other’s lips and grabbing whatever we can: shoulders, hair, waist, clothes, chest, hips. 

I don’t know when we separate and finally decide to walk back to the hotel building. We still have to keep a reasonable distance between us so we enter separately but get into the same elevator. The walk until there is silent; we’ve exhausted everything we needed to say to each other. Anymore and we break down and I, at the very least, cannot afford to do that tonight. I have to hold it in; I don’t have a choice.

Unfortunately, we aren’t the only ones in the elevator. It’s a Japanese couple and businessman already in there when we enter, giving us no choice but to stand quietly, separately. My floor arrives before his but when the doors open, I’m suddenly rooted to the spot. It’s not until I feel Tae’s hand brush my back and nudge me forward that I actually step forward and out. As the doors close, I glance back one last time, seeing his smooth, impassive face looking back at me.

When I head back to my room, I shut the door behind me and pause. I have to collect myself; I cannot break down tonight. This race is too important and my Qualifying disadvantage means that I need double the focus, double the determination, double the mental strength to cut through the field and finish at a decent position. 

I take a seat on the sofa, breathing slowly through my nose, focusing on it as much as I can. I lean back when I feel something soft behind me. I reach for it and see a black hoodie, the same one I wore to a dog park a million years ago and the same one I saw this morning, thinking my one-night stand had accidentally forgotten it.

I pull out my phone and, hesitating, drop him a message. I have your hoodie, I write and send it. I don’t say anymore, like how it smells of him, how wearing it would probably feel like a hug from him, how much I’m hoping I can keep it.

The reply comes almost instantly. And I have yours.

---

The next morning when I wake up, my heart hurts and for a moment I can’t remember why. Then I feel the soft material of the hoodie I fell asleep clutching and I remember. Do not cry, I remind myself sternly. Not today. I bury my nose in the soft fleece interior for a moment and take a deep breath before I swing my legs over the side and get ready for the day.

I enter the restaurant for breakfast warily, but it’s pointless, for no one from the group is here yet. I suppose they’re sleeping in, given it’s a Sunday, for which I’m thankful. Lexie and I eat breakfast with Max and Dean and Lando and Blake, before heading down to the paddock.

I try to immerse myself in anything and everything that will distract me from how heavy my chest still feels. I focus on literally every word Christian and Simon say to me, trying to forget how deep Taehyung’s voice sounded in my ear; I go over my newly repaired car with the mechanics, trying to forget how Taehyung’s arms looked as he hovered over me in the grass on Friday. It’s near impossible, but I try my best.

Evidently it’s not working great, because something seems to show on my face. Max asks, Danny asks, Seb asks. Even Natalie Pinkham asks - on camera. I shake my head each time and make a joke about it simply being a resting bitch face, trying not to think about another resting bitch face I’ve come to know and love recently.

When the band enters the paddock, I can feel my heart in my mouth. I watch them pass by me, agonizingly counting only six members as they enter the garage. I try to avoid them. I feel like even the slightest reminder of Taehyung can reduce me to tears at any moment. It’s bad enough when Lexie tells me nonchalantly that apparently Tae is feeling under the weather which is why he isn’t here; even eye contact with those guys would be too much.

I hold it together with immense effort all through the day, during the pre-race build-up, the parade - everything. The real trouble comes just before the race, after I’m in my unzipped race suit, hair pinned back specifically so it fits comfortably inside the balaclava. Everyone’s wishing me luck since I’m due in the car in about five minutes; Christian is thanking the sponsors and chatting everyone up, and it’s too late before I realise the group that’s slowly forming around us.

The six BTS members present are finally here, for the customary picture or some sort of PR appearance, probably. I’ve seen them around the garage today, of course; they’ve all wished me luck at some point or the other, in passing. But seeing them here, all together - it just highlights the fact that one of them is missing… because I told him to be. When I look at the rest of the guys, I can’t help but imagine something accusatory in the way they’re looking at me.

My chest feels heavy again. I wonder if I’ve made a mistake, or if it even matters. I suddenly feel so alone, so alone without him which doesn’t make sense, just like everything else. I’m twenty minutes away from the race, fifteen from being out there on the track, ten from settling inside the car - and I feel like my heart could break.

Before I know it, I can feel my face contorting and all my resolve to not cry since last night shatters, and I break down. Right there in the middle of the garage, in front of Lexie, Christian, Simon, a bunch of mechanics - and the members of BTS. I hide my face in my hand immediately, trying not to sob, and excuse myself, hurrying into my dressing room and shutting the door behind me.

All I can hope for is that the Red Bull folks think it’s nerves about my starting position and nothing else. BTS, I’m sure, will know it’s not but there’s nothing I can do about that. I don’t care what they think of me; they don’t know, I tell myself, how hard it is, how bleak it all seems now that it’s the end. There’s only one person who really knows and he’s not here, and it’s because of me, and it just hurts so bad. 

My phone buzzes. Are you okay?

I half-chuckle through my tears. I'm sure one of the members informed him the second I started crying - my money's on Jimin or Jungkook. How do I answer him, though? I can't lie; it's too much effort and also, I don't want to.

No.

Do you want me to come? I can be there in 20 minutes.

I picture him sitting in his room, hunched over his phone, his long-haired silhouette looking pristine against the grey sky outside. Is he worried? He sounds worried.

I have to be out on the track in 15.

I can't make up my mind about whether his next response is what I wanted. Don't worry, I'll be there.

Regardless, I have to go out now. This breakdown was embarrassing enough but I can't do badly in this race and have it be said that it's because I can't handle pressure. The F1 community would slaughter me and I'd probably ruin it for every other girl that wants to enter the sport.

So I go out, my media face plastered on and joke it away. Ten minutes later I'm strapped into the car and being carted onto the track. When it's thirty seconds to the formation lap, I grip my steering wheel, eyes blazing, looking at nothing but Carlos Sainz's rear wing in front of me and the gap I intend to leverage when the lights go out.

You're a force of nature, baby.

I grip the steering wheel harder. You're goddamn right I am. When the formation lap ends and we take our positions on the grid, my focus is singular. My foot is on the clutch, ready to release it at the right moment, when the lights go out.

When I climb out of my car two hours later, I don’t know what to expect, mostly because it’s so unexpected. I vaguely register the hands patting my head and my shoulder, Lewis coming up behind me and hugging me, running up to Max and practically jumping into his arms as he hugs me tightly.

I’m hot and sweaty as I take off my helmet and balaclava, shaking my hair out and hearing a roaring in my ears. I’m pushed forward for my interview but all I can hear is the cheering of the crowd, the booming of voices and the sound of my own heartbeat. I force myself to focus on Jenson Button, handsome face smiling down at me like the sun.

“Dilara!” he exclaims, holding the mic. “A sensational drive to P2 today! Congratulations - how do you feel right now?”

There’s a question. I’m still panting, feeling my face stretch from smiling. “Um - hasn’t sunk in yet, to be honest,” I say finally. “I knew it was going to be difficult because of where I was starting from and Suzuka doesn’t have a lot of overtaking capability, but…” I shrug, still trying to gather my thoughts. “We got lucky with the safety car and then Max had built up a really good lead so by the time I came out of the pits, we had the McLarens behind us by a decent gap, I think. But the real victory is for our mechanics,” I add honestly, hearing a cheer go up from the stands. “My car was shattered yesterday but they did it, you know? They fixed it and it felt perfect today, so… this is for you guys.”

Walking up onto the podium is surreal. It’s not the first time; it’s my third this year, actually, but never after a drive like this. P9 to P2 is all that’s ringing in my ears. I step up onto the second place dias, my overalls unzipped and hanging around my waist, my hair long and messy down my shoulders, my chest light and full. I know I’m going to cry - I’m pretty sure I already am. All the stress and anxiety feels worth it now, though, and as I scan the crowd, I know I can do this again. 

I see the Red Bull team - my team - looking up at a 1-2 result with victory in their eyes; Christian is applauding, crow’s feet visible even from this distance, Geri at his side looking radiant; all the ex-drivers from Jenson to Nico Rosberg, DC - everyone looks like they’ve experienced the race of the season. The Minister of Sports hands me my trophy then and a loud cheer goes up. I raise the trophy in the air and look back at my people: Lexie, looking happier than ever, standing next to BTS - and now I spot the face I’ve been wanting to see all day.

Looking up at me with a smile I’ve only dreamed about, Taehyung claps with everyone else, his long hair unstyled and blowing lightly in the breeze, wearing what looks like a black bomber jacket. From all the way up here, I can see the pride in his face, the euphoria, all the love he confessed he felt last night. Whether or not I was crying before this, I’m definitely crying now, still smiling but wiping away my tears as well.

He seems so far away but it makes my heart full to know that he’s here, that this proud and happy Taehyung is the last one I see before I leave. I blow him a small kiss, trying not to make it obvious but hoping he’ll know it’s for him. We hold each other’s gaze all through the anthem until everyone picks up the champagne and, less than a minute in, I’m drenched in cold liquor. 

We pose for the podium picture, me a whole head shorter than my companions but just as capable, still looking down only at Taehyung, the love I never saw coming, and who will forever be the one that got away. When we get off the podium and I take off my drenched fireproof top, the first person to hug me is Lexie. Right behind her, I see Jimin approaching me, his famous and beautiful smile wide and breathtaking. Ignoring my protests at how gross and sticky I am, he wraps his arms around me in a tight, enveloping hug.

“This is from Taehyung,” he says softly in my ear, and I nod into his shoulder, unable to stop the tears now.

“Is he still here?” I ask shakily, clutching at Jimin’s jacket, already knowing the answer.

He shakes his head. “He left. But he watched the whole thing. And he’s so proud of you.”

It’s all I can ask for, understanding better than anyone that all our goodbyes were already said last night. Jimin pulls away and kisses me on the cheek, and I know it’s a goodbye from the guys as well, to a girl their Taehyung fell in love with.

I don’t expect to see him again. I don’t know what I would say, how it would help anything, how it could possibly make saying goodbye any easier. I’m leaving the hotel lobby with my suitcase in tow, spotting my cab waiting for me outside, Lando already settled in the backseat, when I hear the receptionist calling my name.

“A gentleman left this for you,” she says, handing me a small beige envelope. 

I frown, taking it. It's small; too small for a letter. I open it and turn it upside down and my heart skips a beat. It's a ring - a very familiar ring, white gold and probably meant to be worn on an index finger. There's no note or anything else, but I don't need one. The meaning is clear as day.

If I have to guess, I'd say seeing me today was as hard for Taehyung as it was for me to see him. Ithink back to the pause after I’d asked him not to come last night, and I know his heart is just as broken as mine is. If I know him as well as I think I do, he's saying it just as much as I wanted to - that this isn't goodbye.

Later that evening, I'm at the airport when I take a selfie with Lando. His arm is around my shoulder but all I'm focused on is the black hoodie I’m wearing, the V-shaped peace sign I'm making with my hand and the long silver chain around my neck which has a ring around it, resting right over my heart. Smiling with a myriad of emotions, I upload it.

—

Thank you for reading. Don't forget to drop a review :)

[bangtanbathhouse]

Weekend Story: A Japanese GP Special (Part 1)

Summary: Years before all the heartbreak and drama, Kim Taehyung walked onto my paddock at Suzuka. Try as I might to look away, he was the only thing I could see on track.

or

How Taehyung and Dilara first met

Pairing: Taehyung x OC

Genre: Fluff, smut, angst

Word count: 27.5 K

Rating: 18+

Warnings: mentions of anxiety, stress, sexism, jealousy, heavy making out, blowjobs, fingering, dirty talk, sex

Tagging: @bbl32, @quarter-life-crisis2, @meirkive, @dreaming-with-happiness, @kflixnet, @k-radio

A/N: In honour of one of the best tracks on the calendar (but a questionable race :/), I've decided to post the first draft of Taehyung and Dilara's origin story! The initial idea was to just post an excerpt but not only was it too hard to choose, but so many of you wonderful readers requested the entire thing (despite the 40K threat) and after a point I couldn't imagine cutting anything out.

Do remember, though, this was written a very very long time ago, over a year before I even opened this blog. So while this is canon, in that these events already have and will continue to be referred to in future fics, there will be minor inconsistencies and differences in style of writing compared to the rest of the series. The biggest of these is probably that it's told from a first person POV, ie. Dilara's POV.

That being said, this is the first BTS fic I ever wrote and is therefore vv special to me, and I hope you all love it too :) It is set eight months prior to Los Angeles over the span of a race weekend.

(Also, congratulations to Max Verstappen who became two-time world champion today 🇳🇱)

Listen to: “on se plaît” by françoise hardy

part 2 | taehyung masterlist | main masterlist

a night to remember

Something’s different.

I stare at the ten foot poster, frowning and tapping my foot as the coffee in my cup sloshes around softly. Something’s different. I’m sure of it. My eyes skim everything; my own face, hair and race suit until the poster cuts off at the torso, followed by Max’s features and everything else on the poster. I still can’t figure it out.

Someone sidles up to me. “Do you know that from back there, it looks like you’re just admiring a poster of yourself?”

I shake my head, not changing my posture one bit. “Something’s different.” From the corner of my eye, I see Max frown, studying the poster himself. For all his fame as a hot-headed prodigy in Formula One, guaranteed future world champion and my very own teammate at Red Bull Racing, he looks just as confused as I am.

“I think my hair is parted differently,” he says thoughtfully after about a minute.

“No, it’s not that.”

“Well, maybe it’s the fact that you’re smiling. In fact, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you smile this -”

“It’s nothing to do with our faces,” I interrupt him, rolling my eyes. “It’s something else… the background or design or - or layout…” There’s a few more seconds of silence before Max sighs.

“Alright, I’ve lost interest. Can we go inside now?”

“I’m right behind you,” I murmur absently, now scanning the text at the bottom of the poster.

“Dilara, Christian is literally looking right at you from the Red Bull enclosure.”

That gets me to pay attention. I snap away from the poster in the parking lot and join a mildly smug Max as he makes his way into Suzuka, the circuit in Japan. One of the last races of the season, Japan is chilly as expected and I internally groan in anticipation of the three days of the weekend that we’ll need to drive around in the cold, waiting for our tires to heat up before they can really zoom.

Thursday is PR day, however. All of us drivers have reached the paddock early in the morning, straight from the airport from the looks of it, while our luggage gets wheeled to our hotel about twenty minutes away from the circuit. I’m not the only one that’s jetlagged and bleary-eyed; from across the paddock, I see Lewis Hamilton, seven-time world champion, in Ray Bans and what looks like a set of robes over his jeans, rubbing his eyes as he looks down at his phone. Behind him, Daniel Ricciardo and his trainer Michael appear in identical McLaren hoodies, slow and unsmiling, with large coffees in their hands. I take a sip from my own when Max groans.

“What a shitty PR schedule?” Max doesn’t bother with any more small talk and gets straight to the point. “Why can’t we just have PR where all we need to do is sit and answer a bunch of questions?” he complains, reaching for my cup without permission.

I make a sound of annoyance but let go of the cup without much protest. Becoming friends with Max was as easy as it was unexpected, despite the fact that I share a first name with his ex. We don’t talk about it or even refer to it, but when everyone was in Monaco a week early for Daniel’s birthday party, the unspoken assumption was that I would be crashing at Max’s.

“One final year of Honda PR,” I tell him, trying to be comforting but failing, for I don’t want to sit around while a bunch of people talk in Japanese and Christian, our prematurely greying team principal in his early forties, pretends to not be annoyed while he answers questions in his dry English accent. “Gotta suck it up, though. They did deliver some pretty good engines the last couple of years. I was hoping to get in a quick workout today before leaving, though. It’s like a three hour drive to Tokyo.”

“Taking time away from your fangirling, is it?” Max grins when I squirm, reaching over and snatching my coffee back.

“I don’t fangirl,” I reply shortly. “Not in public anyway.”

“What about -”

“And that one night in Ibiza.” I don’t bother explaining to him that I was drunk and that the entire club was jamming to Daechwita. Max just wouldn’t understand.

He does give me a look, though. “You’re telling me you won’t fangirl while you’re at their concert? How would that even happen?”

“So we’re officially using fangirl as a verb, then? Believe me, no one’s going to be noticing what I’m doing at the concert,” I inform him confidently. “There’s probably a one percent overlap between BTS fans and F1 fans anyway - I’m pretty sure I’ll be anonymous.”

“Oh, sure, we’ll see.”

Over the year or so that I’ve known Max, I’ve gotten used to his need to add a sarcastic comment everywhere, irrespective of the context, which is why it takes me almost a minute to process what he’s just said.

“Wait.” I slow down slightly before frowning up at him. “What did you just say?”

Max raises his eyebrows under his Red Bull cap, ignoring a photographer who darts in front of us to take a picture (Red Bull teammates enter the paddock together!). “I said we’ll see.”

“Yeah, but… you’re being facetious, right?”

“Not a hundred percent sure what that word means but I’m going with no.” When I stare at him, eyes widening, he frowns in confusion. “I meant, we’ll see because we’ll be there,” he explains kindly.

“No, no, no, no,” I mutter, slapping his shoulder. “What does that mean? How are you - how did you even get tickets?”

“Lily got them for us.”

Lily, meaning Lily He, Chinese-American golfer dating Alex Albon, another fellow driver. Also the person who got me my ticket. “Um -” I clear my throat, trying to make sense of this. “Lily said she was getting tickets for us.”

“Yeah. That’s what she did,” he says calmly, reaching for my coffee again.

“No, as in, her and me, us,” I say tightly, feeling my heart race. Max Verstappen cannot see me at a BTS concert. “And Lexie, of course. 

“Didn’t Lexie get food poisoning or something?”

I sigh. My trainer and probably the closest friend I have these days threw up on the flight from London to Tokyo and given the tight circle that is the F1 community, the news probably travelled to everyone before we even landed. It’s a blow, but there’s not much I can do about it.

“Yeah, she did,” I confirm, trying to hide my disappointment at losing my trainer for a day. “I told her not to eat ramen at Kuala Lumpur airport. Anyway,” I add hurriedly, getting back on track, “I thought Lily would just give that ticket to Alex and that’s it.”

“Oh, so you don’t mind if Alex goes with you?”

“No. He’s nice. And he can't make fun of me without making fun of Lily, too,” I point out, shrugging.

“Well, Lily’s us definitely included more people than you and Lexie. She got tickets for George and Lando, too, but George isn’t landing until the evening so -” He shrugs exaggeratedly, clearly oblivious to my growing horror.

George, Alex’s oldest friend and driver for Mercedes wouldn’t have been half bad. He teases and banters but is overall a decent guy. Lando, of course, a twenty year old twerp in McLaren who’s sure to have at least ten memes of me floating around by tomorrow morning, might be an even worse addition than Max.

“This is a nightmare,” I state as we reach the Red Bull garage. “Just be warned, Verstappen. I still have that video of you at that Martin Garrix concert.”

“Point taken. And don’t worry - we just want to get out of this town and see Tokyo before the race weekend officially starts,” he adds, sounding almost sincere as we pass another giant poster of him and I. “If your fangirling is the most fascinating thing we see there - not our fault.” We automatically separate to enter our own garages, right after I knock his baseball cap off his head and he playfully shoves me. “We’ll head out at four, yeah?” he calls, turning around and walking backwards, hands in his pockets.

It’s far from ideal; while everyone I’m having to go with tonight is ultimately a friend, they’re also a competitor, which means there’s still a certain distance I need to keep with each of them. Going to a concert together isn’t a bad thing at all, but watching me tearfully scream in extremely basic Korean at performers my own age is not something I want them to see. Ever.

I suppose I don’t have a choice. I’ve never been lucky enough to snag tickets to a BTS concert, mostly because I’ve never been in the same location. This time, though, their calendar and the F1 calendar have somehow overlapped - and even that’s only due to a stroke of luck that they decided to add a few more Asian concerts before their tour officially comes to a close. 

I had no idea, of course; ever since I moved from F2 into F1, I’ve only barely managed to keep up with their music, let alone anything else - I couldn’t even tell you what colour hair they’re currently sporting. Today is the last concert, though - the absolute last one - so when Lily called me as she sat in front of her laptop, waiting to pounce the moment tickets went live, I said yes without a second thought.

After an hour at the gym and a quick shower, I reach the paddock the same time that Max does. Near the Red Bull enclosure is a huge standee with both our faces on it, similar to the one I was staring at in the parking lot, Max looking smug and so Dutch while I tilt my chin down and look up with only a hint of a smile. It was a suggestion from my publicist: “You’re a girl - the only girl - and people will underestimate you. Try not to smile too much. Stay somewhere in between the Gasly and Raikonnen territory - far away from the Ricciardo area.” Under our picture is a stream of sponsor logos, starting with Honda. I frown as we walk past it, still unable to put my finger on what’s wrong with it.

Once we’re inside, I’m descended upon by hair and make-up, who touch up my cheeks and hair until PR officially starts. Half an hour in, I’m taking a break outside my garage, drinking a bottle of water and talking to Tom Clarkson, a journalist, who’s passing by on his way to the McLaren enclosure when I see a handful of photographers approaching, backs to us, busy taking pictures of someone. My first thought for some reason is Yuki Tsunoda, the only Japanese driver, but he’s no longer on the grid… I frown, but all it takes is a moment where the photographers back away and I recognise the guest immediately.

Or guests, I should say. I can hardly believe my eyes. I almost hope I’m having a moment of unconscious bias and mixing my Asian men but I know that’s an empty hope. There’s only four of them, but they’re unmistakable: the tallest, the visual, the pretty one and the one with the cheekbones. I haven’t had favourites in this band in years, but I would recognise their faces anywhere. It’s only when Namjoon points at Max’s banner on top of his garage that I realise I’m shamelessly staring.

Calm the fuck down, Dilara. I avert my eyes instantly, wishing Tom had stayed so that it would force me to rein in the fangirl inside me, but before I can, one of the Honda PR guys meets them and says something in Japanese - presumably - and points at Max’s garage. There’s a moment of foreboding when I remember that Max is still in PR and therefore the only driver left is -

“Dilara Komyshan!” The Honda guy points at me and I make out my name in the flurry of Japanese as all four members turn to look at the same time. An entire year of media training means I automatically smile and give them a small wave as they approach. Namjoon is, as expected, the first to speak.

“Dilara, great to meet you,” he says, smiling and offering his hand. The others next to him wave and mutter their greetings. My first thought is that they’re taller than I expected - or maybe that’s because everyone looks tall when you’re five foot one. They’re also… bigger than I expected. They’re lean, but camera angles must be a thing because I suddenly feel like they’re towering over me.

They must have really taken me off guard, for without thinking, I go, “Aren’t there more of you?” I realise what I’ve said only after I’ve said it. There’s a moment of silence before all of them snort. Even though I’m embarrassed, I’m also glad; there’s usually no better way to start off a conversation than a joke. “Just four of you performing tonight?”

They’re just about coming around. “They were too lazy,” says Jimin, his smile even prettier in person. “Are you coming to the concert?” he asks, raising his eyebrows.

“First time ever,” I confess, crossing my fingers before cringing and lowering my hand. “But at least I know my favourite members now,” I add, gesturing to them and Jimin winks. 

I know what I’m doing - and I have a feeling they do too. It’s not a big deal, but it does happen remarkably often. Every time a male celebrity comes to the paddock, they inevitably pass by Red Bull to meet the first and only girl on the grid. It’s never to hit on me or anything, but as per my publicist during media training: “There’s probably something about the sudden dip in testosterone in the interaction that if you flirt, they will reciprocate”. It was subtle, but I knew what she was telling me to do.

“Well, I’m everyone’s favourite.” Jin deadpans and Jimin snorts again, but my eyes automatically go towards the only member that hasn’t spoken yet. Taehyung, in a loose brown button-down and black trousers, stands silently behind the other three, his smooth face betraying only the tiniest of smirks. He’d laughed at my joke - I think, for he’d lowered his head, too, but his long hair had obscured his face entirely. Now, his dark eyes snap from Jin to me in an instant and I hold his gaze for a moment before I look back at Namjoon, who’s now talking about why they’re in the paddock. I try to pay attention, for I really do want to know why, but I’m still hyper aware of Taehyung looking at me. 

Just media training. I force myself to think of them as any other celebrity; the last and only time I’d been this starstruck was when Daniel Craig had come to Silverstone in England and the humiliation of that day is not something I wish to repeat ever again, especially not with BTS.

Thankfully, another member of the Honda team appears next to me and greets them, and without thinking, I look back at Taehyung. This time, he holds my gaze for a couple of moments before turning his attention to the Honda guy. I don’t even try to follow the conversation; I just stand there politely, silently daring Taehyung to look at me again. When I chance it, his face is still smooth and impassive, with that same slight smirk as he listens to the conversation in front of him, almost as though he knows I’m looking at him. At that point, the Honda guy asks a question and Taehyung replies in Japanese, voice surprisingly deep and deadpan as ever, and the other three burst out laughing at whatever he’s said. He simply grins, clearly aware of how funny he is, and flicks his long hair out of his eyes.

At that moment, an arm goes around my shoulder and someone else joins me. “Dude, I think I figured out what’s wrong with the -” Max breaks off abruptly when he looks up, noticing only then apparently that I’m not alone. “Oh, hi, I’m Max,” he says, leaning forward to shake each of their hands. 

As they greet each other, I struggle not to roll my eyes because despite Max’s sub-standard acting, none of this is a coincidence. One day, last year, when Tom Holland had come to the Portuguese Grand Prix and stopped by our garage to talk to me, Max had slithered next to me exactly like this and whisked me away, introducing me to the move. When I’d been most unimpressed, he’d informed me that there was no better way to gauge the interest of a man I’d just met than to see his reaction when another man entered the picture. 

It seemed vaguely prehistoric and sexist, not least because he’d just assumed that I cared at all about a man’s interest on a race weekend, but its results had proven undeniably effective. Tom Holland had slid into my DMs that very night, Harry Styles had retweeted a picture of me and him the day after I’d met him at the French GP with a questionable caption, and Michael B Jordan - Michael B Jordan - had sent flowers straight to my London apartment. Nothing had ever happened with any of them, of course, but their gestures had been enough for me to gain a little extra, if begrudging, respect for Max.

I look up to see if Max’s move today has generated any desired results, only to see Taehyung looking at me again, face completely unreadable. His gaze flickers momentarily to Max before meeting mine again, before he flicks his hair out of his eyes and looks away towards Jimin, jawline sharp. Jackpot.

Meanwhile, Max tugs slightly. “Natalie’s waiting for us,” he tells me, pointing to the blonde journalist next to the garage, and the boys seemingly get the hint. They start saying their goodbyes and I wave back, when Namjoon says, “Hope you have a good time tonight.”

I start to smile and nod, when next to me, Max beats me to it. “Oh, we will,” he says casually, making me want to hit him. But I rein it in to the best of my abilities and simply smile, just needing this awkwardness to be over.

“See you tonight,” says Taehyung, face smooth and impassive.

I stare, for his tone makes it seem like it could be directed at both me and Max, but his eyes are still on me. The other members don’t seem to notice anything strange but I suddenly feel unbelievably grateful for Max Verstappen.

“Yeah. I can’t wait,” I add, waving and taking a step back and Max’s arm drops from around my shoulders. “Good luck.” As we walk away, Max leans down slightly.

“Think it worked?” he mutters.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I say automatically. “But… what are they doing here?”

“It’s a Honda and Samsung event this weekend,” he answers, clearly pleased that he knows something I don’t. “That’s what’s wrong with the poster. There’s a Samsung logo in there. Your boyfriends got paddock passes.”

Elbowing him in the side and ignoring his grunt, I glance back one more time, making sure to flip my hair a little and see the band walking away as well - with Taehyung glancing back at me, face unreadable, a smirk at the corner of his mouth.

The rest of the afternoon passes by in a blur of random PR until we hurry back to the hotel to get ready for the concert. Tokyo is a good three hour drive away but with four F1 drivers in the car, we easily make it in under two and a half. Since Lando and Alex seemingly have no intention of drinking at all tonight, Max, Lily and I relax a bit and decide to have a good time, pre-gaming with a round of shots at a sushi bar close to the venue.

We have good seats; since we’re all VIP (“Lily, I could kiss you.”) and have a balcony to ourselves, we’re allowed to be liberal with seat numbers and, more importantly, are allowed alcohol. Lando, true to form, procures beer from somewhere, placing two six packs under one of the seats and passing cans of some Japanese brand around. About fifteen minutes before the band is announced, by which time fans are already screaming in the thousands and we are buzzed as hell, a bouncer-type comes up to us.

“Komyshan?” All four of my companions point to me as I raise my hand curiously. He hands me a white envelope, shrugging when I ask him what it is before walking away.

As he leaves, I tear it open to find a card in my hand, approximately the size of my phone. There’s a picture of BTS on one side, with the logo and details of today’s concert. On the back is a QR code, followed by the unmistakable words that tell me what it is, despite my disbelief: a backstage pass. For a moment, I’m speechless while Lily groans softly in longing and Alex and Lando frown. “How’d you get that?” Alex asks, looking over my shoulder with ease, six foot frame coming in handy.

I don’t know where to begin. I don’t know how they knew for sure that I’d arrived, when I had, and how the bouncer had found me. Fortunately, Max comes to my rescue once more. “She met the band today,” he says nonchalantly. Alex and Lily shrug it away, the latter still eyeing the pass in disappointment, but Lando, who is no stranger to my occasional brushes with male celebrities, raises an eyebrow knowingly.

“Shut up,” I mutter, even as I continue to wonder how and why they’ve singled me out with a pass. As far as I remember, backstage passes aren’t even a thing BTS does very often. In fact, I’m not even wholly sure that it’s from the band. The smallest, most optimistic part of me that’s replayed my brief interaction with Kim Taehyung over and over in my head, feels convinced that it’s he who’s sent it - or at least it’s he that the rest of the band has agreed to send it for. 

But when the band finally comes out and the crowd screams deafeningly, my heart sinks a bit, for there’s no way in hell that I’m the only one that has a backstage pass. Immediately, I feel like slapping myself for reading this deeply into an interaction that had lasted less than three seconds - in fact, if I have to guess, Taehyung doesn’t remember it at all and the only reason they’ve sent it is to be polite, since we met in what can be considered backstage at my place of work.

It’s an incredible experience, though. All seven members have a stage presence of their own, different people stealing the show depending on the song. My eyes keep going only to one member, though. When Taehyung sings, smiles, or does literally anything else, I’m left with nothing to do but admire how exhilarated he seems when he looks at the crowd, how his long and sweaty hair falls into his eyes, how his trademark smirk widens to become the smile that I’m sure will one day kill me. 

They do plenty of crowd work in Japanese - in which, it seems, most of the band is fluent - and the crowd screams and laughs. None of the five of us understand anything except for the bits they say in English, of course, but Max is hopped up on enough liquor to jam to the music while Lando keeps busy streaming what feels like the entire concert, and Lily and I sing along to nearly every song.

At first, the distance to the stage had seemed much smaller. I’d half-expected at least one of the members (Taehyung, Taehyung) to spot me but when they’d come on, it was clear that they were performing to the crowd and not sections of it. The realisation had been mildly disappointing but it also meant that I could enjoy the concert without feeling too conscious, even as I forced myself to remember the people I was here with.

It’s objectively a wonderful concert. At the end of it, Lily and I are still buzzing as we head out with the guys. Just as we reach the door, I stop.

Max turns. “What?”

I don’t answer. The backstage pass feels like it’s burning a hole through my sling bag. I want to go, but this would be the first time in my whole life that I’ve ever entered a party alone. Max seems to know where my thoughts are. “You want to go?”

“I -” 

“Of course she does!” Lily exclaims. When I say nothing, she turns to me incredulously. “You - you do, right? You actually have a backstage pass, Dilara,” she explains to me slowly, as though I’m a toddler. “This chance will literally never come again.”

“But…” I’m suddenly stumped. “What - what do I do backstage? What do people do at parties? Do I - do I mingle?”

Alex and Lando, my fellow introverts, seem to seriously ponder this question. Max just squints at me thoughtfully while Lily half-glares at me. “Yes,” she deadpans.

She’s right, of course. I take out the pass and stare at it, hoping the answer will jump out at me. Finally, I look up. “If I’m not back in fifteen, you guys go on without me.”

Lando's eyebrows rise high up his forehead as Lily beams, but Max is much less subtle. He snickers and nods, telling me in a low voice to go and get lucky. Ignoring him, I take a deep breath and head backstage.

It turns out that "backstage" isn't actually backstage at all; a docent informs me that the backstage party is taking place at the hotel across the street where the band is staying tonight before leaving for their next destination in the morning. When I reach, the party is in full swing. I was right: there are at least a hundred people here, most of them girls, almost all of them with drinks as a Dua Lipa song plays on the speakers.

It's not as dark as I'd expected it to be. In fact, it’s less like the rock and roll afterparties I’d imagined and more of a lounge night, with a nice vibe and what looks like an open bar. The lights are dimmed and the music is blaring, but I spot the band almost the moment I enter. I spot Namjoon with a drink, standing with Jin and Suga as they laugh at something. Next to them is Hoseok, enthusiastically talking to a couple of girls, both of them hanging onto his every word. On the other side, Taehyung, Jimin and Jungkook bop to the music together, looking effortlessly graceful as they do so.

Now that I've spotted the maknae line, I have no idea what to do. It's far too awkward to walk further into the party while not knowing a soul. Even when I scan the rest of the crowd, I can’t really tell who they are. They definitely aren’t fans; everyone is dressed in designer-wear which makes me wonder if this, too, is a PR-related afterparty. It would certainly explain my presence here. Just as I start to wonder if this is all a terrible idea, from all the way across the room, Taehyung's eyes meet mine.

Before anything else can happen, though, we're blocked by a bunch of people entering the makeshift dance floor. Suddenly feeling uncomfortably alone, I go to the bar and order a beer - anything to not feel this awkward. The feeling doesn't last, though, and when another ten minutes pass and I don't see Taehyung anywhere, I get ready to admit defeat.

I turn around to leave, placing my beer on the bar and calling Max, when I finally see him again. I don't know if he knows that I was just about to leave, but this time he sees me and starts walking straight towards me, squeezing through the crowd of dancing people.

I stay rooted to the spot, my phone at my ear but the ringing sounds more distant by the second. When he reaches me, he places a hand behind me on the bar and leans in to speak into my ear. His long hair brushes my cheek and I catch a whiff of cologne.

"Do you want to go somewhere quiet?" Taehyung asks, sounding like deep velvet.

Finally.

I hesitate for a second and then nod, trying not to seem too eager, and motion for him to lead the way. My phone call is forgotten as I follow him through a side door, a couple of dark corridors and two flights of stairs to what looks like a balcony. I step out onto it, registering the long patch of fake grass and soft and sparkly lighting, to see us overlooking the pool of the hotel. Okay, this is it. 

I can feel Taehyung behind me, albeit a few feet away. I turn around to see him with his hands in his pockets, long hair falling into his eyes, surveying his surroundings with a mildly satisfied expression - I can’t tell for sure, because his face is just so goddamn unreadable. His eyes land on me, though, and - I know it sounds ridiculous - but the night suddenly feels warmer.

“I feel like Rapunzel,” I begin, peering over my shoulder at the ground again, not knowing how else to mention my deathly fear of heights. When Taehyung simply tilts his head curiously, I continue. “Rapunzel. She had really long hair, locked up in -”

“No, I know Rapunzel,” he interrupts, looking slightly amused. “Should I rescue you, princess?” he asks seriously, raising his hand to his side in a fist as though holding an invisible sword.

I almost laugh. The Paddock’s Princess was what the media had titled my first feature article when I started in Formula One, a slightly sexist nod to the first girl in the sport. Some fans who couldn’t stand the sight of me on the grid used it with vigour on social media until my fellow drivers started deliberately using it, too, succeeding in eventually turning it into a somewhat casual nickname rather than an insult.

I highly doubt Taehyung knows this. In fact, hearing the name come out of his mouth makes me feel something else entirely. It’s incredible that he’s already eliciting such ridiculous thoughts in my mind; the only saving grace is that I’ve resisted displaying it so far - and it’s only because he seems to know the effect he has on me. “Oh, please, my prince,” I answer dryly, putting a hand to my chest. “Help me?”

Taehyung smirks, like he’s enjoying an inside joke. “Did you enjoy the show?” he asks, voice calm and deep. The Korean lilt in his voice is more pronounced than some of the other members’, based on the few things they’d said on stage and certainly more than Namjoon’s. It makes my toes curl inside my shoes.

“Of course,” I say honestly, leaning back against the railing. “My friends enjoyed it, too.” I say it without thinking but if Taehyung thinks of Max, he doesn’t show it.

“Oh, I know. I saw you dancing.” 

I raise my eyebrows, genuinely surprised. “You - you did? There were some ten thousand people there.”

“You were in the VIP box. It wasn’t hard.” His smirk is more pronounced now as my face starts to heat up. “You’re a good dancer.”

“Thank you. You’re a good singer.”

That makes him laugh. His smile hits me like a ton of bricks and I know that I absolutely have to see it again, that I’ll do whatever it takes to make it happen. “Show me what you know,” he suggests.

I laugh nervously. “No… no way. My dancing is for my trainer and my studio only.”

“Isn’t there a video of it?”

I stare, having forgotten this rather important detail. “There is, but that was filmed against my will.” I shake my head. “I don’t - I don’t dance in public.” Definitely not in front of an idol who does it professionally.

“You were fine dancing in public during the show,” he points out. If my mortification shows on my face, he doesn’t comment on it. “If you dance, I’ll sing,” he suggests.

It hardly seems fair, so I cross my arms across my chest and raise an eyebrow. In response, he simply sits on the floor on the fake grass, leaning back on his hands with his legs stretched out in front of him, looking up at me expectantly.

“You really want to see me dance to one of your songs?”

He shrugs. “I performed for you,” he points out.

I scoff. “You didn’t perform for me, you performed for the thousands of fans in the audience.” I cringe inwardly the moment I’ve said it, half-expecting a corny line like But I was only looking at one, but all Taehyung does is slowly smirk a bit more, as though daring me to guess what he’s thinking.

"Oh, come on, don't be afraid to get it wrong," he says smoothly. "I'll help you." He says it very casually but I have a feeling he knows what he's doing, because despite how nervous I am, the one thing I can’t let go of as a professional athlete is a challenge.

“I’m not afraid.”

It’s the wrong thing to say because based on his smirk, he knows he’s hit a nerve. “Dance for me, princess,” he says softly, only halfway back in character.

I would normally die rather than say this, for it’s the most filmy line imaginable. But then again, nothing about this night feels real, so I say it before I can stop myself.

“Make me,” I say, meaning it.

Taehyung stares. Then he shrugs and stands up, dusting off his hands as he comes up to stand behind me. My smirk fades when I realise he’s taking me at my word.

“Like this,” he says, turning me slightly so that we step together. He’s just about a head taller than me; the top of my head reaches his jaw and his chest brushes my back. I do my best not to sink into him and try instead to focus on what he’s doing. “And up, step, step, turn…” Taehyung’s hands fall from my shoulders to brush my arms and down to my hands, so casually that I barely notice until the last step when I turn around and he doesn’t. Instead, our arms crossed and fingers still intertwined, he lowers his head and kisses me mid-turn.

Or I kiss him. I’m not sure. But we kiss, and all I can think is Fucking finally and Holy shit, this is what people mean when they say fireworks. One of his hands drops mine and comes up to my face, brushing my hair. It’s a really, really nice kiss, all lips and butterflies and hormones. I start raising my hand, wanting so badly to run it through his hair when his phone rings.

Taehyung pulls away, face scrunched up in annoyance and embarrassment. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs, dropping my hand and reaching for his phone. “I need to -”

“Go ahead,” I tell him, taking a small step back, feeling somewhat glad that I get a few seconds to process what’s just happened. He nods and touches my arm before stepping away and answering the call. All I can make out is Jungkook’s name amidst all the Korean. If I have to guess, his bandmates are trying to locate him. I remember then that I’d called Max a while back; I whip out my phone and find a message from him.

Did you call me? We’re at a club one block over and I can’t hear a thing. A few minutes after this message, he’d sent another. Oi, Komyshan. You alright? 

I frown, trying to suppress my smile at how perfectly alright I am. I turn around to see Taehyung still on the phone, body tilted towards me but looking away as he speaks to Jungkook. Suddenly, even though he tries to cover it up, I hear my name. It’s the first time he’s said it - Dilara - and with his deep, raspy voice and Korean lilt, it sounds like a song. I make up my mind in an instant and reply to Max. I’m good.

Taehyung’s call ends and he puts his phone back in his pocket before walking up to me slowly. “So… where were we?”

I grin. “You were teaching me how to dance.” Just as he nears me, I take a step back. “Uh-uh. You aren’t going to rescue me from this big, scary tower first?” I ask dramatically, flipping my hair over my shoulder.

He stops in his tracks. For a moment, I’m afraid he thinks I’m a complete lunatic. I know half my friends definitely think that, every time they ask me the time or to pass them a bottle of water, and I respond with a line out of a movie. But before I can step back and hastily apologise, he grabs my wrists in his hands and tugs.

“It’s more fun if I’m the one holding you up here,” he suggests, tilting his head again like he’s asking my permission to change the story. When I bite my lip, trying to suppress a smile, he tightens his grip and narrows his eyes. “You can’t escape me, princess.”

“Yeah, I think I’m okay with that,” I murmur, throwing caution to the wind and reaching up to kiss him again. He responds immediately, pulling me even closer as his arms go around my waist, his much taller figure engulfing me as I stumble backwards.

Keeping me close, Taehyung snickers against my lips. “You’re a very easy captive,” he teases, biting my bottom lip and kissing me immediately, swallowing my gasp of surprise.

“I’m pretty sure I’m stronger than you,” I inform him, wrapping my arms around his neck and finally running a hand through his thick hair, returning his kiss. “I could totally get out of this if I wanted to.”

“M-hm?” Taehyung brings a hand up to my face to kiss me deeper and I feel all vestiges of self-control about to leave me. “It’s a good thing you don’t want to, no?” he mutters, backing me into the railing before pulling away. “Still want to be rescued?” he asks cockily, tilting his head towards the drop.

Barely suppressing a smile and feeling my cheeks flushed, I playfully push him in the chest, making him stumble. “I can escape you all by myself,” I remind him, ducking out from under his arm and walking away, my heart skipping a beat when I hear him laugh behind me.

Before long, we end up lying down on the grass next to each other, making out, playing around and just talking for what feels like hours. His grasp on the English language is better than he gives himself credit for; it’s good enough to carry on a conversation, like we’re doing, although he does stop every now and then to recall a word or to ask me for one. I remember how he didn’t speak much at the paddock; does it mean he trusts me a bit more now? It’s strange but I know I do, enough for someone I’ve known for less than half a day, enough that talking to him feels like the easiest, most natural thing in the world.

“You can call me Tae, by the way,” he says after a while, lying down on his back with his shirt unbuttoned and looking up at me. His long hair looks jet black against the bright green grass and, finally giving into my urge, I reach over and brush his bangs out of his eyes from where I’m lying down on my stomach next to him, propped up on my elbows. “Although I like how you say Taehyung, too.”

I bite my lip. “Really? I think I’m getting the accent wrong.”

“Not really. Where’s your accent from? It sounds English, but…” He tilts his head again, squinting slightly.

“Yeah, it’s English, mostly,” I reply, a bit evasively. “I moved to London when I was a kid so my old accent is probably in there somewhere. I think I’ll just call you Tae, though,” I add quickly, hoping to move on. “And you can call me…” I trail off here, because I don’t actually have a shortened version of my name that anyone calls me. “Just Dilara, I guess.”

Taehyung chuckles. “It’s a nice name,” he remarks, playing with the ends of my hair where it’s falling down my shoulder. “Sounds really nice. Dilara.”

I lower my head slightly, feeling my face get hot, suddenly glad I don’t blush. “Thank you. It’s Persian. My mother named me.”

“Is she Persian?”

“Not exactly.” He continues looking at me expectantly, so I give him one more detail. “She’s Asian.” I don’t go any further and I can tell he’s picked up on my deliberate silence. 

“You’re Asian?”

“Yes.”

“Oh.” His face is unreadable once again, but I can hear the curiosity behind that one word. I picture him trying to place me, taking into account my name, the beige complexion, my facial features and eliminating East Asian countries immediately. I feel my stomach squirm unpleasantly the longer he watches me and I drop my gaze. His slender fingers have paused, a lock of my hair looped around one of them. “And Komyshan?” he asks after a moment, a bit softer.

I bite my lip. “It’s Ukrainian. My stepfather is Ukrainian and… I took his name when I turned fifteen.” This is as far as I can go, at least with a virtual stranger, no matter how infatuated I am with him. I wonder if he’ll Google me after this; Wikipedia might be able to shed a bit more light but the most intimate details have thankfully remained wholly private. I raise my eyes to look at him again, making my stance clear.

His expression, still mostly unreadable, can only be described as thoughtful. He’s truly beautiful, I acknowledge, momentarily diverted. After a moment, his fingers resume their absent playing with my hair. “Dilara is prettier,” he says in a matter-of-fact way, as though coming to a conclusion.

Once again, the sound of my name from his lips is enough to get my heart to skip a beat. “You think so?”

“Definitely,” he chuckles, sitting up and gently pushing me back down, his long hair tickling my face as he kisses me again. I kiss him back, sighing into his mouth as he pulls me gently by the waist and, if I’m not mistaken, silently apologising for prying.

I almost forget that it’s a Thursday night before race weekend; being with Taehyung on this balcony with absolutely no one else feels like something you’d see in a movie. We talk well into the night about anything and everything - his tour, my first year in F1, places we’ve visited, funny things that have happened to us. He’s easily one of the most charming and charismatic men I’ve ever met in my life and I can feel myself falling fast and hard for someone who, for all intents and purposes, was a stranger just earlier today. 

“So tomorrow is when the race weekend actually starts?”

I nod, mouth full, as I pass him the protein bar. We’re sitting facing each other, cross-legged, sharing a protein bar I found in my bag, the only source of food we have up here. There’s a paper napkin between us on which I’ve drawn a rough sketch of the Suzuka circuit from memory, pointing out the difficult corners everyone’s worried about. Tae watched me as I drew and explained, brushing his hair out of his eyes as his face scrunched up in concentration.

“Tomorrow we get two hours of free practice,” I tell him, already looking forward to it. “We get to just take out our cars and get used to the track. Then we have one more hour of free practice on Saturday morning, followed by Qualifying in the afternoon and then the race on Sunday.”

Tae frowns as he chews. His shirt is buttoned up halfway now and all the sexiness he’d put on a little while back has disappeared. “How do you decide who starts first? In the race?”

“Well, that’s what Qualifying’s for. All twenty cars do the fastest lap they can and the slowest five get eliminated. Then the remaining fifteen do their laps again, and the slowest five get eliminated again. Finally the top ten do their laps one last time and based on everyone’s speed in their fastest lap, we decide who gets to start where.”

“Wow.” Taehyung nods. “Sounds stressful.”

It is, but I don’t say it out loud. It’s an unspoken rule in Formula One - in most sports, I would presume: you never let your competitors see you stressed. Ever. In F1, given that there’s just twenty of us who are friends, teammates and competitors all at once, it becomes all the more difficult but even more important.

The jet lag is properly hitting me now and the concert could not have been easy for him. But it’s clear that neither of us wants to leave. He makes me laugh. So much. It’s insane how witty he is and with my momentary flashes of sarcasm and self-deprecation, we end up laughing so much it starts to hurt. But I don’t lose sight of reality. As time passes, I know that we’re getting just that much closer to probably never seeing each other again. 

We’re lying down next to each other on the fake grass while Taehyung absently plays with my fingers, humming something under his breath. It sounds extremely familiar but the drink and the exhaustion is making it impossible to identify and it’s starting to drive me crazy. I think about asking him but that would mean disturbing the moment and nothing right now is worth that.

“How will you get back to your hotel?” he asks after a while. 

“My friends are still here in Tokyo, so I’ll go back with them. Whenever they decide to leave,” I add after a moment. I can feel him stiffen next to me and I guess that he’s looking forward to that just about as much as I am. My chest suddenly feels heavy, like it’s closing up, and when I feel my eyes sting, I realise that I absolutely, so badly don’t want to leave. A small part of me notes how ridiculous this is, how extreme my reaction is at the thought of saying goodbye to what is barely even a one-night stand. 

Taehyung has asked me another question, but I haven’t heard it. He sits up on his elbows and turns to me and I can see him frown at the look on my face, whatever it is. “What’s - what’s wrong?”

“I -” What do I say? No matter how crazy I’m being, there is no way I can tell him what I’m thinking. I open my mouth and close it again. “It’s - it’s nothing.”

It doesn't work. In fact, his face doesn't move at all. "Dilara." There it is again. He says my name and it sounds like a goodbye song.

I try again. "I…" But it's impossible with him watching me so intently. I look away. "I… don't want to leave," I say slowly, hoping it sounds like I just don't want to leave the city, not that I don't want to leave him.

His face remains as unreadable as ever, but I think I see a flicker of relief in his eyes and the deep breath he takes. He's quiet for a moment where I wonder if I've freaked him out. 

"Then don't." He says it in the same matter-of-fact way. I force a chuckle but don’t disagree with him. I look slightly lower; he’s still wearing a bunch of jewellery from the concert. Most of it is pretty blingy, but one of them is a black string with what looks like a guitar pick for a pendant. I want to ask what it is but I’m afraid that if I open my mouth, he’ll hear my voice tremble and then I’ll have to kill myself. So I hook my finger around the string and tug slightly, and he bends his head and kisses me again. 

The next thing I know, I’m being woken up by a phone ringing - mine, this time. I frown and look around; it’s still night, I’m still on the balcony, and Taehyung is still with me. At some point, we’ve fallen asleep, me on my back with one leg bent at the knee with Tae beside me, one arm around my waist, one leg on me, and his head buried in my neck. He stirs as I sit up, looking adorably annoyed as he opens his eyes slowly.

I scramble for my phone to see a call from Max. My eyes dart up to the clock on my phone and I breathe a sigh of relief. It’s only one a.m.; it’s not great, but it’s not a disaster either. Of course, it means it’s Friday, or -

“FP,” I whisper, realising that no matter how fast we drive to get back to the hotel, if Max and I aren’t in top form for practice, Christian is going to kill us, or worse, kick us off the team. I answer the call, bracing myself.

“Hey, where are you?”

“Hey, Max,” I say, hoping he doesn’t hear the sleep in my voice. “I’m, uh, across the street from the concert. Are you - are you guys leaving?” I turn to see Tae, now sitting up and watching me with sleepy eyes, messy hair and something else in his expression I can’t identify. I can’t help but smile and shake my head at him, when his phone rings as well. He looks at the screen and swears in Korean before picking up the call.

“Wait, who is that?” Max’s epic hearing comes into play. “Are you with -”

“Can you just tell me where to meet you?” I interrupt him, the thought suddenly occurring to me that he probably thought I was at a party this whole time. He gives me a location about two minutes away from where I am and hangs up, but not before telling me to hurry the fuck up.

Shit. Free practice. I’m not drunk anymore, but I’m definitely running on a lack of rest. I have no idea how tomorrow is going to play out but I know I need to leave now. I turn around to see Taehyung hanging up the phone as well.

“I have to go,” he says, already buttoning his shirt, before I can say anything. “I’m sorry, but my car is leaving and -”

“Yeah, I know. Me - me, too.” I don’t know what to do now. Neither does he apparently. We stand facing each other for a moment when I hear a ping. I know it’s a message from Max, that we need to leave, that we’re going to fuck everything up for our team tomorrow if we don’t. So before I lose my nerve, I reach up and press one last kiss to Tae’s mouth. 

His hand snaps up to my face and he kisses me back. It takes everything I have to pull away, turn around on the spot and sprint out of there. I take the steps two at a time and run through the halls, hoping that even the slightest dose of the real world will ensure that I don’t cry in front of the guys who will never let me hear the end of it. Mercifully, by the time I’m out of the building, I’m more stressed about finding their car than anything but fortunately, Lando pulls up right in front of me and Max throws open the back door. I jump inside and the moment the door closes, the car zooms forward.

“You alright?” Alex asks from the shotgun seat.

“Yeah, you were gone a while,” comments Lando, his tone betraying all sorts of theories as to why I was possibly gone a while.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine,” I say, reaching for a bottle of water in between their seats and gulping down about half of it. “Just - just tired.” When they all snicker, I just roll my eyes. “Grow up. I was - it was nothing.” Yep, just Kim Taehyung and nothing else. Nothing at all.

“I’m sure “nothing” was sad to see you go,” he smirks into the rearview mirror, catching my eye and making it clear that at least one of his theories is probably confirmed.

“Well, for your information, I don’t kiss and tell.”

“Yeah, you just get a hickey instead,” says Max, brushing my hair back from my neck. I slap his hand away just as Lily pops her head up from the back row. 

“Oh, leave her alone,” she pipes up, almost giving me a heart attack. “She lived the dream. Believe me, D, you are the luckiest girl in the world,” she slurs, patting my shoulder and promptly passing out.

Drunk as she might be, Lily’s words make me feel a bit better. I don’t believe I’m the luckiest, but the fact is, I did kind of live the dream tonight. Leaving Tae… it was harder than I expected, but if I have to, I’ll take what I can and just hope he doesn’t forget me.

I fall asleep in the car. Deeply, deeply asleep. I’m woken up by an equally exhausted Max and all of us clamber gracelessly out of the car and trudge towards the elevators. It opens to Daniel Ricciardo, Lando’s older teammate and resident jock of the paddock, with his trainer Michael inside, both looking sleepy as well.

“Guess we’re all fucked tomorrow, huh,” I comment, rubbing my eyes as we enter, not caring about my smudged mascara. It’s taking everything I have to stay awake - and Max to help me stand upright.

“I can’t believe the traffic,” grumbles Lando, fist bumping Daniel and going to stand next to him.

“Was it just me or were there like ten bellboys in the lobby just now?” Lily mumbles as the elevator starts moving, head on Alex’s shoulder. “Is the President arriving or something?”

“Nah, it’s some celebrity,” says Daniel as my floor arrives. “Some boy band type. That’s why we were down there. I asked for room service like an hour ago…” I tune him out as the elevator door opens and I stumble out, dreaming about my soft bed, when something clicks.

“Wait.” I turn around to see the doors closing. “Wait! What did you say?”

suzuka city

The next morning, I wake up with a mild headache and a desperate thirst. I reach blindly for my phone and realise I’ve woken up before my alarm, an unprecedented turn of events. It’s still nine a.m. though and despite the fact that FP isn’t until after lunch, I force myself out of bed and head straight for the shower, stripping off last night’s clothes on the way. The water is hot and soothing and I end up standing under the shower for a good five minutes, feeling it through my hair before I do anything else.

Last night, despite a revelation from Danny, the only thing I’d managed to do after I entered my room was kick off my shoes, take off my bag and set an alarm before I fell on my bed and passed out. I’d clearly underestimated how exhausted I was, for you’d think that I’d stay up overthinking the obvious, but not only had it seemed far too good to be true, it also made no difference, for Taehyung and I had already said our goodbyes and I’m not sure I can do that again.

But they’re brand ambassadors for Samsung, says a stupid, hopeful voice. Of course it’s them. What are the chances of two K-pop bands roaming around in Suzuka at the same time? But it matters not, for I have not one but two Free Practice sessions to focus on.

I rub a bit of product in my hair and let it air dry as I rummage around in my towel for clothes and make-up. Days without PR are not days where I’m required to wear any make-up but I do anyway, for very few things give me the kind of confidence that perfectly wing-tipped eyeliner does. I don’t have the patience or the will to blowdry my hair today, but I’m satisfied with the natural curls forming so far. 

FP’s not for a while but I want to do a track walk this time - Suzuka is not easy on newcomers. And it’s raining today. So I pack a backpack with an extra Red Bull t-shirt and put on normal clothes, along with a Red Bull hoodie on top and head out of my hotel room, switching on my phone to text Lexie that I’m on my way. Before I can, however, I see a bunch of texts: one from Christian, one from Danny, one from Lily, three from Max and a bunch of Instagram alerts. I open Instagram first to see the announcement: Free Practice Cancelled On Friday Due to Rains. Under that it mentions that there’s only to be one FP tomorrow, along with Qualifying - meaning today is completely free.

My first thought is sleep. I’m in front of the elevator when I open the other messages: Christian’s is purely informative, Danny’s asked if I want to explore the city with him and Mike and Charles, while Max has informed me that there’s a FIFA tournament taking place in the game room and if I’d like to join. I’m just about processing that I can’t test my car today, when the lift doors open and I look up to lock eyes with one Kim Taehyung.

He looks just as surprised as I am. A baseball cap perched backwards on his head, he looks up from his phone just when the doors open and his eyes widen, face breaking into a smile that he immediately struggles to suppress. I notice then that he’s not alone; Jimin, with resplendent vermillion hair, has also looked up and evidently recognised me, for he’s looking at Taehyung with raised eyebrows and a Cheshire cat grin. After a moment’s hesitation, I step in and stand next to Jimin, hyper aware of Tae on his other side.

There’s a moment of knowing silence before Jimin asks him something in Korean. Tae clears his throat and replies, and Jimin immediately turns to me with the prettiest smile in the world and says, “Dilara? I’m Jimin.”

I smile back automatically - I don’t know a single person in the world who couldn’t smile back at Park Jimin. “I - I know. We met yesterday.”

“No, I know.”

Okay. “I’m a big fan,” I reply, shaking his hand. 

“A big fan of BTS or a big fan of Taehyung?” Next to him, Tae elbows him in the ribs and says something exasperatedly in Korean while I try and fail to hide a smile as I look away, basically confirming whatever Jimin is hinting at.

The elevator continues to descend. “So,” begins Jimin again, “what are your plans for today? Driving?”

“Um, no,” I say slowly, “everything’s cancelled, because of the rain, so no driving for me.” I shrug at him and chance a look at Tae next to him, who’s standing with one hand gripping the railing behind him, clearly listening to every word.

“Oh, so you’re completely free today?” Jimin asks transparently, already looking back at Taehyung with a raised eyebrow. I nod in answer and, as they begin speaking in Korean, I feel something brush my fingers. I look down to see Tae stretching his arm behind Jimin and intertwining his fingers with mine. As the elevator doors open, Jimin steps forward but we stay put, unspoken but clear - and Jimin seems to know it, too.

“He’s ditching us for you today,” he tells me in English as he steps out of the elevator and turns back to us.

“I’m sorry," I tell him cheerfully, not sorry at all, as Taehyung inches closer to me, already hurrying Jimin out.

Jimin grins. "You two have fun," he says knowingly as the doors close. I turn to Tae just as he pulls me to him and, slipping an arm around my waist, lowers his head and kisses me.

I kiss him back immediately, one hand going to the back of his head to his long hair. The elevator moves but I have no idea where to, and I don't care. I can't believe Taehyung's actually here, that I'm actually with him again, let alone making out with him in an empty elevator.

Evidently, he feels the same. His kisses are hungrier than last night and he's holding me tighter, as though he's afraid I'll vanish. Despite that, it still has the same playful, sweet, young feel to it. I run a hand down his chest, accidentally nipping his lower lip when I register hard muscle. While he'd been wearing a loose button down last night, today he's in a more form-fitting white t-shirt and jeans and I finally realise why he looked so much bigger in person than on screen. It doesn’t help to be thinking about this while we’re making out, as I find out when I involuntarily sigh into his mouth and immediately feel his jeans move. Given a choice, I'd do him right now.

But I can't. Eventually, before we both have a PR disaster, I reach for the cap on his head and take it off, pulling away and placing it on my own head. Tae pulls away and smiles down at me, shaking his hair out. "Hi."

"Hey yourself."

"Are you really free today?"

"Mhm." I nod, reaching up and kissing him again, the adrenaline pumping at the thought of spending time with him again. "One hundred percent."

"Do you want to..." He frowns, apparently searching for the word. "... explore? Explore the city with me?"

I raise an eyebrow. "Suzuka City? Um, sure… it's pretty public but we can -"

"Not exactly -" He starts to say when the doors open again and this time, Charles Leclerc steps inside. Taehyung and I immediately take a step back from each other but the damage is done.

If it's possible, Charles looks even more mortified than us. "Oh - oh, my God,” he stutters, his French accent sounding thicker than ever. “I am - I am so sorry. I didn't -"

"Charles, it’s - it’s okay," I assure him, foreseeing an I am stupid situation come to life. Both boys look so awkward that I decide to introduce them just to say something. "Tae, this is Charles. Charles, Tae."

Two sinewy forearms meet and shake hands, and they nod at each other briefly. "So, uh, I guess you won't be joining FIFA?" Charles asks, as Tae places his arm behind me on the railing.

"That would be a no." Thankfully, the elevator stops then and Charles steps out. Before he leaves though, I call his name. "Um… it goes without saying…?"

It takes him a moment to catch on but he nods. "Of course. I didn't see a thing." He nods at Taehyung and leaves. I try to believe him; I love Charles Leclerc, bless him, but I also know that he's one of the biggest gossips on the paddock. If anyone gets wind of what's been going on since last night…

I frown. It isn’t something I’ve given much thought to, if I’m being honest. I’d just assumed that both of us had to keep this quiet due to the public forums we were on. Before I can think any further about this, Tae nudges me to him. 

I’ll go anywhere with you. But before this corny spiel threatens to come out of my mouth, I nod. “Let’s do it.” I promise to meet him outside by the lobby in his rental car and get out on the ground floor so that he can get to the parking lot. Truthfully, I couldn’t care less about where we go. Saying goodbye last night had been harder than expected and despite Danny’s big reveal last night, I hadn’t dared to dream that it was BTS that was staying here.

“So?” he asks again. “Do you want to go on a drive with me?”

I stop at the breakfast buffet to grab a couple of croissants before I exit the hotel and it’s only when I see Melissa Nathoo, an F1 reporter, that I realise I’m still in my Red Bull hoodie. She catches me with a cameraman following her, and shoves a recorder at me. “Dilara Komyshan is here this morning, the third driver we’ve spotted so far,” she says enthusiastically into the camera as she falls into step beside me. “Tell me, Dilara, what are your plans on a rare free day on a Formula 1 weekend?”

I rather like Melissa Nathoo overall and the media is not something to be played with, so I wave at the camera before I answer. “It is quite rare,” I agree, “but I don’t know. Not a lot of rain here yet, so I might check out the city?”

“I hear there’s a FIFA tournament going on upstairs in the hotel,” she says. “I know Max, Lando, Alex, George and Carlos are going to be there for sure. Think you’ll make an appearance?”

I chuckle and shake my head. “It sounds fun but I think I’m gonna have to ditch my boys today for - for something else.”

“Girls’ day it is, then,” she says, completely misunderstanding me but I make no effort to correct her. Behind her, I spot a black SUV with Kim Taehyung in the driver’s seat, baseball cap backwards on his head again, pulling into the driveway. He looks so hot, turning the wheel with one hand and surveying the area around him with his smooth, impassive face. He stops the car when he sees me, the slightest smile appearing and making my heart skip a beat.

I say goodbye to Melissa and, aware of the camera following me as I leave, hop into the shotgun seat quickly and slam the door shut. The car is on neutral and immediately moves forward, and we exit the premises.

“Isn’t the city way too public for you?” I ask as I hand him a croissant.

“Oh, thanks. And, yeah, it is. That’s why we’re not going into the city… exactly.” Tae says no more, just looks out the windshield with the same slight smirk on his face as he dares me to ask where.

I don’t take the bait, though. “How’s that croissant working out for you?” When he chuckles with a mouth full of bread, clearly struggling with managing both the wheel and his breakfast, I roll my eyes. “Want me to drive?”

“But you don't know where we’re going.”

“Do you?”

“Of course. I think.”

I give him a look. “Tae, hop out. I’m the professional driver,” I tell him. “Unlike you, I can drive and eat at the same time.”

He gives me a wounded look even as he stops the car. “But… then what do I do?”

“You give me directions,” I suggest. “Oh, and you’re a professional singer - why don’t you sing for me?”

Taehyung snorts and leans his head back against the seat. “I’ve missed you.”

It’s admittedly been eight hours since we’ve seen each other, but I know exactly what he means. My heart gives a jolt when he turns to me, long hair falling into his eyes. I reach over and brush it away before taking off my seatbelt and hopping out, gesturing for him to get out, too. He groans but gets off as well, brushing my waist as he goes around the car, when I see it. Someone, about twenty feet away, squinting at us.

Without further ado, I slide into the car but don’t start it. I’m sure his fanbase is as strong in Japan as anywhere in the world, so it’s no surprise that someone might recognise Taehyung, but now that I think about it, I’ve never seen any of the boys in the media with a girl before. Ever. I sneak a sideways glance at Tae as he straps on his seatbelt, once again with a mouthful of croissant, and wonder if this would bother him. But when he looks back at me and raises his eyebrows, I can’t think of anything to say.

“Um… I should take this off,” I mutter instead, shrugging off the Red Bull hoodie and tossing it into the backseat. “Too recognisable.”

“Yeah, okay. You can wear mine if you get cold,” he offers, gesturing to the backseat. “Now. Ready to go?”

We end up driving outside the city, from what I can tell. The buildings decrease, the crowds of people start thinning out, and the roads become wider. Tae has Google Maps open, but I haven’t the faintest where he’s directing me to. At first I’d thought we were just driving out somewhere, but it turns out he has a specific destination in mind. He refuses to tell me what it is, stating only that he and a few of his group members had been there last year and he thinks I’d like it. I pretend to be annoyed but it only makes him laugh and frankly, I’m more than okay with this arrangement. I love driving, the roads are nice, the weather is beautiful - and I’m with Taehyung on a rare, free day on an F1 weekend.

Despite whatever I’d said about being able to drive and eat together, Taehyung still ends up feeding me bites every couple of minutes, occasionally licking chocolate off his fingers absently. He does end up singing; he starts off by casually humming random melodies, followed by lyrics, some English and some Korean, and while I recognise some of them, I have a sneaking suspicion that he’s composing music on the fly. I want to ask, but his voice is the drug I didn’t know I needed and I can’t bring myself to interrupt him. Somewhere during the drive, his hand travels to my knee and rests there, big and warm as he occasionally taps along to whatever he’s singing.

“Tae, are you sure you’re reading the map correctly?” I ask about an hour in. So far he’d been confidently giving me directions, but now he’s peering into his phone, looking concerned.

“I think it’s this way…” he says, sounding rather unsure, looking ahead at a mostly blank expanse of the outskirts of the city. “This place does look familiar…”

I turn to him incredulously. “Every place looks like this place. There’s a town in England that looks like this,” I tell him. “Do you want to ask someone for directions?”

Taehyung looks at me and then looks outside, to see absolutely no one around. “Okay, look, it’s okay. Alright? I remember this place. There was a McDonald’s and then there was… you know, that - that tree.”

I can’t remember being this exasperated and endeared towards anyone in my entire life. “Tae?” I have to consciously resist the urge to add a baby after his name. “Just tell me where it is - or even what it is - and we can take the shortest possible -”

“Found it!” He turns to me, eyes wide and bright. “It’s here,” he says, zooming into the Maps on his phone. “It should be… there!” I look to see him pointing in the distance to a low house with a sloping roof and trees around it. “It’s right there! It should only take us…” He checks his phone and his face falls. “... another twenty-five minutes. Shit, I’m sorry, Dilara.”

But I shake my head. “I do this for a living, remember? I’ll get us there in ten. Seatbelt on.” I step on the gas and zoom. By the time we reach and I bring the car to a halt, Taehyung is plastered to the seat, breathing heavily with his face slightly green. When I hastily put on his hoodie, go over to the other side and open the door, he tumbles out, groaning and breathing heavily.

“Oh, my God.” I try not to laugh as I kneel down next to him where he’s curled up on the paved grass.

“Am I alive?” His voice is muffled. “Is the car still moving? Am I dead?”

“Shut up,” I murmur, brushing grass off his white t-shirt as he continues moaning on the ground. “Tae, you’re okay,” I tell him when he finally turns over on his back and opens his eyes slowly.

“I’m never getting into a car with you again,” he says seriously, which only makes me burst into laughter. He shakes his head and closes his eyes again, long black hair looking darker against the green grass. It suddenly reminds me of last night. I think it does the same for him, because he opens his eyes and doesn’t say anything for a few moments. He tugs on the zipper of my - his - hoodie before finally sitting up and shaking out his hair. He throws on the baseball cap and claps his hands. “Ready?”

I raise an eyebrow. “Are you?” When he chuckles and nods, I stand up and offer him a hand. He takes it but doesn’t let go, not until we reach the gates and he knocks on it with the metallic clasp. A man appears and, after a brief interaction in what I’m pretty sure is Japanese, Tae ushers me inside and takes me behind the house towards what looks like a large grassy field.

“Where are we -” But he shakes his head and gestures for me to keep moving, with his hand hovering over my back across the expanse of the field. I can hear sounds; they’re soft and high-pitched, immediately reminding me of Angry Birds for some reason. When I look back, the man who’d let us enter hasn’t moved from in front of the house and is instead watching us go. 

I stop in my tracks before a small dip in the ground. The sounds are louder now and all the other silence is making me uneasy. “Tae…” He bumps into me and I feel myself backing into his chest even more. “Where - where are we?”

“Almost there.” His hands close around my shoulders. When I don’t move, he squeezes them and nudges my head with his jaw. “Dilara, come on, I promise you’ll like it.” It’s only the sound of my name in his deep voice that makes me move forward. Come on, I think, you drive tiny cars at ridiculous speeds. You can take whatever’s down there.

I keep repeating it to myself as we continue walking, Taehyung’s hands on my shoulders the entire time. Finally, when the field opens up and I open my eyes - I had no idea they were even shut - to see a field of -

“Puppies!” Taehyung hops out from behind me and throws his arms out, looking thrilled, evidently gesturing to the large backyard full of puppies of all breeds. The moment Tae backs out into the field, they yelp and yip and swarm towards him, eventually tripping him, where he laughs and stays fallen as three different puppies start crawling on top of him.

My heart is still returning to its normal speed after the anxiety of finding out what it’s in the mysterious backyard, but now it’s beginning to expand, feeling so full and so happy because I know - I just know - that if there is one more sure-shot thing that confirms that I’m falling in love with Kim Taehyung, a field full of puppies is it. 

The feeling doesn’t go away the entire afternoon; in fact, if anything, it only intensifies. The serotonin that the puppies provide is incomparable. There have to be at least twenty of them, some bigger than others, all of them thrilled with the entry of two humans they’ve never met before. The owner of the dog farm only appears once after that, briefly, to check if we need anything but apart from that, Tae and I are alone. It doesn’t even matter; I know I could spend hours here, running around with a bunch of puppies and Taehyung, the only person it seems who can actually draw my attention away from them.

I catch him looking at me sometimes; while it’s mostly with laughter and happiness, once in a while, he gets this strange expression on his face, like he’s just noticed that something’s wrong. Every time he sees that I’ve noticed it, however, he shakes his head and smiles, almost like he’s telling me not to worry about it. I try not to - and succeed, for the most part. Most of the time, we’re laughing and cuddling puppies and taking pictures and videos of each other, silently desperate to commemorate today as much as we can.

Hours later, we’ve calmed down, as have the puppies. I’m lying down on the grass, two cocker spaniels curled around each other next to me and leaning their little heads against my waist. I turn my head to the side to see Tae lying back on the grass as well, a labrador falling asleep on his chest, while he strokes its head and hums a song absently. I recognise it instantly; it makes me catch my breath because he’s honestly the last person I would’ve expected to be singing a Francoise Hardy song - but for some reason, right now, it also feels like it makes complete sense.

I’m about to ask when he turns slightly to see me watching him and gives me a small smile, stretching out his arm towards me. I touch his fingers and run my thumb over a ring on his index finger. “Did we really meet at the paddock for the first time only twenty-four hours ago?” I ask softly.

Taehyung chuckles. “Seems crazy, right? I noticed you immediately, though.”

I frown playfully. “Of course you noticed me. You were talking to me - or at least the other guys were. You wanted to look all mysterious and sexy so you didn’t say anything.”

“Aw, come on,” he says, grinning and sitting up on his elbows as the labrador crawls off, “I liked you. You know I did.”

I roll my eyes before looking back up at the sky and closing them. “Define like.”

“Well…” I hear a shuffle and suddenly the sun behind my eyelids disappears and I open my eyes to see Taehyung on top of me, long hair falling on his forehead and into my eyes. “I wanted to do this -” He lowers his head and kisses my cheek “- and this -” He kisses my neck “- and this -” He kisses my lips “- and a whole lot more,” he finishes with a smirk. 

Feeling my face heat up, I wordlessly grab the front of his t-shirt, pull him down and kiss him. One hand goes straight for his hair and the other stays where it is at his chest as I kiss him deeply, never ever wanting this moment to end. Tae lowers himself onto me and kisses me back with the same hunger he’d displayed this morning in the elevator; his hand goes down my waist and up my thigh as I bend my leg, and he feels so steady. I want him so bad. He’s in jeans and I’m in pretty solid leggings, but it doesn’t stop me discovering that he wants me too, at least just as bad.

I bite his lower lip and his grip on my leg tightens - and I swear he growls softly - but before I can be sure, I hear a soft yelp and feel something pushing gently against me. Taehyung pulls away immediately to see one of the puppies standing on its hind legs and using my torso to balance. The sight is so adorable that neither of us can ignore it, and he rolls off me onto my other side, breathing slightly heavily.

I sit up and bring the puppy onto my lap before turning back to Tae, who’s lying back on the ground with one hand covering his eyes. I can’t help but snicker at how disappointed he looks, which makes him look back at me and shake his head, still looking a little pissed. All I can hear Just wait until I get you alone again which, combined with how flustered I am, gets me wondering if we can start it back up again right here, right now.

However, just then the owner appears, saying something in Japanese. Taehyung sits up and replies and I get the gist: it’s time for us to leave. It’s just as well; we’re both hungry and tired so we get up and dust ourselves off - he jokingly messes up my hair as he does so before pulling me back into his chest for a quick hug. As we walk to the car, I wonder how much of the small affectionate gestures he’s even really thinking about. With the quick pecks, the occasional squeezes of the shoulder, I don’t know what worries me more: the fact that they’re seemingly natural or how much I love it.

“What do you want to eat?” Taehyung asks me, in the driver’s seat this time. “Keep in mind it’s just a town so we won’t get anything fancy.”

“Do I seem like the kind of person who’s into fancy?”

He shrugs. “You’re in the most expensive sport in the world,” he points out.

I give him a look and reach to pick a blade of grass out of his hair. “Fair enough. But I’m hungry and I know we can’t be seen, so I’m good with anything.”

The drive into town is quieter. Tae drives a little slower than I’m used to but it means longer with him, which I’m good with. We switch on the radio this time and a Post Malone song starts from the middle and Tae immediately starts singing along, his deep voice a whole octave lower than Malone’s. I roll down the window and look out, letting the wind blow through my bangs and closing my eyes. I look around after a few minutes to see Taehyung with one hand on the steering wheel and the other pointing his phone at me.

“Tae!” I exclaim, swatting the phone out of his hand as he laughs and swipes it out of my reach. “Eyes on the road!”

Another song starts and this time I recognise it immediately. I look over to Tae to see him smile automatically as Jimin’s voice comes floating out of the stereo. “Can I just say that this is one of my favourite BTS songs ever?” I tell him and his smile gets wider as his part comes and he starts singing along. Just then my phone pings; I open it to see a message from Vicki.

Grill the grid taping at 4:30 with AT guys. Need you in at 4 for HMU and micing.

I stare, my heart sinking. It had been so easy to forget that, technically, this is a working weekend for me. I briefly consider asking Vicki if I really need hair and make-up done, given that Max is probably going to show up looking like he’s just left the gym and Jehan I know for a fact has not shaved in at least a week. I’m wondering how I can word it without sounding like I’m complaining, when Tae notices my expression.

“Everything okay?” 

I sigh. “Yeah, I just… I have a PR thing to do today so I have to be back by four. Which gives us…” I look at the clock on my phone, “... a little over four hours.”

Taehyung nods. “That’s not too bad.” After a moment, he turns back to me. “How important is PR again?”

I chuckle. “Well, it’s part of my contract so I’d say it’s pretty -” But I’m cut off by a jerk. The car jolts and revs momentarily, before going still. “What was that?”

He shakes his head, hands hovering over the steering wheel. “I - I don’t know. I think we hit something -” He takes off his seatbelt and opens the door to hop out, and I do the same. At the front of the car, I see a huge stone that’s stopped the car and is preventing it from moving. 

“Damn it. We need to change the tyre.” I turn to Tae. “Do you know how to do that?”

His eyes widen. “Me? Aren’t you the professional?”

“I’m a professional driver,” I clarify. “But I don’t… I’ve never changed a tyre,” I admit, a bit sheepishly. When Tae simply shrugs, I realise we’re essentially stranded. I look around the fairly deserted town area. “Do you think we can find anyone to help us? You speak Japanese, right?” I look back to see him typing something on his phone. “Calling us a cab?”

He shakes his head. “Too risky. I can get the car towed back but to pick us up…” He dials a number and puts it on speaker, holding it between us. I hear what I think is Namjoon’s voice, but the conversation takes place fully in Korean. I hear other voices in the background which I presume is the rest of the band. At one point, he asks Taehyung a question and Tae, after a brief glance up at me, says my name in the midst of a long sentence. In the background, the rest of the boys hoot and Tae shakes his head, fighting a smile. The conversation ends after a few minutes.

“Okay, so Namjoon hyung is coming to pick us up,” he informs me, putting his phone back in his pocket. “We just need to get out of this district - it’ll take ages for him to navigate his way through the dirt roads.” He flashes me a heartbreaking smile. “Ready?”

The towing company arrives - surprisingly quickly - and arranges to take the car back to the hotel. I just about retrieve my bag before Tae pulls me back by the arm out of the way so that the giant tow truck can get the car off the ground. Once the car is gone, we start walking.

Even though it’s not really a surprise by this point, it’s amazing how quickly time seems to pass when I’m with Taehyung. The weather is cool and breezy and the town fairly empty, making it unnecessary to keep our distance too much. We still don’t engage in PDA per se, for it isn’t desolate, but walking together, laughing, and taking pictures and videos of each other doing silly things become so easy, almost natural. It’s the first time in a long while that I haven’t had to worry about photographers, something that’s definitely amplified with Tae, and we get to spend a rare day in privacy.

Taehyung takes so many pictures of everything. He doesn’t have a professional camera with him, something he laments more than once, but his phone seems more than enough as he constantly documents everything, finding even the most mundane object and getting a beautiful shot of it. Even when we’re walking through a canopy of trees and brambles and I’m piggybacking on his back, he has his front camera on and before I know it, snaps a picture.

“The sun’s glare is too strong,” I tell him after a while. I’m lying on my back on the ground where I’d bent down to take a picture of a ladybug. Taehyung is standing over me, hands in the pockets of his jeans, laughing as I point my phone up at him. I think he thinks I’m taking a picture but this moment is too adorable to not record. A few light rays of sun poke out from through the grey clouds behind Taehyung’s head, his dark hair thick and long; he looks like an angel.

“Alright, come on, you’re going to screw up your back,” he says after a while, bending and pulling me up by the hand in one swift movement. I feel a pit of butterflies in my stomach when he pulls me in and casually puts his arm around my shoulders as we continue walking and I show him the video, promising to send it to him.

We finally get to the outskirts of the town where Namjoon is supposed to pick us up. I sit on the pavement and sweep my hair off my neck as Taehyung walks in random circles on the road.

“So, hang on,” says Tae, kicking a stone and watching it roll away. “You’re half-British, right?”

“No, my father was Asian, too. My biological father,” I clarify, automatically clamping up at the topic. “So I’m not really part anything. I don’t know, my mum doesn’t really talk about him.”

“But you grew up in London?”

“Partly. We moved there when I was pretty young,” I say evasively, not wanting to get into how she was essentially kicked out for having a child out of wedlock. “Maybe when I was like eight or nine, and she met Rudy a few months later.”

“Your stepfather?” When I nod, he frowns. “But… what happened to your - your real father?”

I bite my lip. I don’t usually give out details of my family, especially my father. I’ve moved on from it but it’s not exactly a thing about my past that I want the public to know. I look away from Taehyung for a moment, who’s waiting patiently, thinking about how much I want to tell him. 

“He, uh…” I wonder why he wants to know. “... he left when my mom got pregnant. Wasn’t ready for parenthood, I guess.” I’m reasonably relieved at how nonchalant I sound. But I can feel Taehyung’s eyes boring into me and the last thing I want to see there is any kind of pity - seriously, it would make me livid if I saw even a hint of it - so in an effort to get far away from this topic, I take a deep breath and lean back on my hands. “How long until Namjoon gets here?”

Tae frowns at the abrupt change of topic but doesn’t comment on it. “Well, it took us over an hour to get here so I guess, around the same?”

I sigh and look away, still a bit put off at talking about my father. I can feel Taehyung watching me and I think he knows what’s bothering me. Either way, he doesn’t prolong it. Instead, after a few seconds, I hear a sound come out of his phone which turns again into Tu les garçons et les filles by Francoise Hardy. I look up in surprise to see Tae holding his phone up with a questioning smile on his face, as if asking me if this is okay. 

“I can’t beIieve you know this song,” I comment, unable to stop a surprised chuckle.

His smile widens, obviously relieved at my reaction. “I don’t think I’ll ever stop listening to this song,” he says, walking forward and holding out a hand for me to take. “It makes everyone feel better.” As if to test this theory, he pulls me up when I give him my hand, smiling down at me like the sun. “Now... “ He lets go of my hand and turns around on the spot, looking back at me with an exaggerated sexy look. “... we dance.”

Taehyung dancing on stage or in music videos is addictive. He’s so sexy and so talented that I could watch him and nothing else all day. It turns out, though, that when there’s no one watching and no obligations, Kim Taehyung grooves and bops to music like any other person. I laugh but can’t help but join in with him, dancing along to what is truly a very nice song. He looks so happy that I’ve joined in that it makes it all worth it. Somewhere during the song, he grabs my hand and twirls me into his arms, and we sway to an indie French song on a deserted dirt road in Japan.

“You have a really nice smile, you know?” he tells me, touching my cheek with his finger. “I have a thing for dimples.”

I feel the heat rush to my cheeks but I keep looking back at him. He looks angelic; I try to memorize everything - his hair, his smile, his cheekbones, his lips, his jaw, how his hand is firm on my lower back, how his other hand is gripping mine with his slender fingers - before I shake my head and tilt it. “Flirt.”

“Guilty. What does the rest of your day look like?”

“Well, if we ever get back to the hotel, I have about an hour of PR,” I tell him. “Then I have a drivers’ briefing - although since we haven’t even driven around the circuit yet I’m sure it’ll get moved to tomorrow afternoon. After that… after that, I’m free, I guess.” My gaze involuntarily falls to his mouth and I immediately raise it to look back at him, feeling my face heat up.

Tae simply nods, but I just know where his mind’s at, especially with the small smirk appearing on his face. He spins me around once but I don’t make much effort to hide my smile because I’m so sure that I know where his mind’s at, that the moment this morning in the elevator was something we hadn’t seen last night, that the interruption at the dog farm was only momentary. 

After that, both of us seemingly silently agree that we need to keep some distance between us, at least until we get back to the hotel. We share a can of Diet Coke that I find in my bag but it’s practically warm so after I empty it on the side of the road, we end up playing a makeshift game of football with the can.

I’m a pretty good racecar driver, but I suck at pretty much any other sport, apart from swimming maybe. As per his own admission, Taehyung is good at tennis - and anything requiring hand-eye coordination, really - but here, on a dirt road with a can for a football, we’re both abysmal. 

It’s so fun, though. We completely forget that we’re hungry and stranded; even kicking around an empty soda can be amazing if Tae’s around, apparently. I’ve always known that he’s extremely good-looking but seeing him like this, happy and care-free, flicking his long hair out of his eyes, tall and lithe - he’s otherworldly. I feel like I could watch him forever. I know I’m not a troll, but I find myself wondering more than once what exactly he seehs in me.

“Okay, okay, it’s happening, I’m doing it!” I kick the stupid can, dribbling it around Tae to get to our makeshift goal. I hear him groan and then feel him grab me from behind, stopping me from going any further. “Hey, that’s cheating!” I exclaim over his laughter, secretly loving the feeling of his arms around me.

He does, too, clearly, for he doesn’t let me go even after I’ve stopped struggling. I look up at him, about to say something, when I hear a shout. Both our heads snap forward to see a black SUV with the Hilton logo on it driving up the hairpin, with someone’s hand appearing out of the passenger window. Whoever it is shouts again, waving, and while I can’t make it out, Taehyung does immediately. He straightens up and his hands come up to my shoulder.

“Jungkook is here,” he says, only the slightest bit of surprise in his voice. “Must have pestered Namjoon to let him come along.” His hands fall from my shoulder and he goes back to sit on the pavement, leaning back on his hands, apparently satisfied that his friends are finally here.

“Oh. Great,” I say, sitting down next to him, his hoodie and my bag in hand. By the tone of his voice, it’s pretty clear that the reason Jungkook has insisted on coming along is because of me. We watch the car approach; when they’re about thirty feet away, I can see Namjoon driving and Jungkook in the driver’s seat, the latter grinning far too widely.

Looking at it, I can feel my nerves beginning to act up. “So, um… what happens if Jungkook doesn’t like me?” I ask, cringing when I hear the nervousness in my own voice.

“Then we’re done,” says Tae casually, before catching sight of my expression. “I’m kidding. Jungkook likes everyone. And you’re not that bad,” he adds generously. “Don’t worry, he’s the nicest out of all of us.”

“I’ve heard. That’s why he’s my favourite one,” I add innocently. 

“You said the same thing about Jimin this morning.”

“Depends on my mood. For example, last night I was in a very different mood.”

“Sexy and mysterious?”

“More like curious and horny.”

Taehyung chokes, I look back ahead, chuckling. He mutters something under his breath as his arm goes around my shoulder and he kisses the side of my head casually, naturally. My heart skips a beat and I think I see Jungkook raise his eyebrows in surprise as the car approaches and stops a few feet away from us.

Here we go, I think warily, standing up as Namjoon and Jungkook step out of the car. Namjoon waves at me as he walks over but Jungkook gets to me first, holding out a hand. “Dilara! Finally! It’s so nice to meet you - I’ve heard a lot about you,” he adds, looking over at Taehyung, who’s rolling his eyes.

“Nice to meet you, too,” I say absently, because Jeon Jungkook is even better looking in person than he is on screen. He flashes me a smile and I almost forget to breathe for a moment, but then he looks at Tae and laughs at something, nose scrunching up, and he suddenly reminds me of the puppies we’d been hanging out with an hour ago. 

Namjoon appears then and greets me with a nod and a smile, looking very tall and leader-like. His politeness is distinct, like he’s had a ton of practice at it. He asks me with a well-placed chuckle how we managed to get ourselves stranded in the middle of nowhere in the outskirts of Suzuka City. I start telling him that all Tae had to do was let me drive, but we get distracted by Jungkook running after him and leaping on his back. Taehyung catches him effortlessly and they begin laughing and joking around, too far for me to understand what they’re saying.

“Are they -” I start to ask but Namjoon beats me to it.

“Always,” he says knowingly. We all pile into the car after that, once Jungkook discovers that neither of us have eaten anything except a croissant hours ago. Namjoon gets into the drivers’ seat and, thankfully, Taehyung and Jungkook slide into the backseat, leaving the shotgun seat for me. I wasn’t crazy about the idea of sitting in the backseat alone with Tae while both his friends shot us side-eye glances trying to observe us. This way, those two have their fun giggling in the backseat while I’m up front with the most intimidating member of the band so far. 

We stop at the first fast food place we see, which ends up being a KFC. Once the three guys put on a variety of hats and hoodies, all four of us shuffle in and dive for the menu; when I realise that everything is written in Japanese, I have to rely on the boys to translate and order for me. Taehyung stands behind me at the counter, hands resting comfortably on my shoulders as he peers at the plastic menu over my head. I’m looking up at him and frowning, trying to decide whether to go for chicken or pork, when we’re interrupted by Namjoon who offers to order for all of us.

The food arrives almost immediately but when we look around and see the few other customers squinting slightly at the boys, almost as if they recognise them, we opt to head out and eat by the car. I walk with Namjoon; I discover pretty quickly that as much as my heart belongs to Taehyung, Namjoon is clearly the most interesting member. There’s something so mature, so intelligent, so attractive about him that I immediately feel like I should have been more prepared before meeting him.

It’s also clear that he knows his group members extremely well. The entire time as we walk back to the car, while he’s speaking to me, he’s also keeping a clear eye out on Taehyung as he talks with Jungkook. Even as we sit around the car and devour the food, I feel increasingly like I’m being vetted for the honour of being Taehyung’s… whatever I am. That throws me into a bit of a tangent as my mind instantly starts wondering what I am to him, what he is to me, what we’re doing, what we’re planning to do -

“You want to throw that away?” 

My head snaps up to see Taehyung to my left, two empty boxes and a cup of Coke in his hands. He points with the cup to the wrapper in my hand and tilts his head towards the trash can at the door of the restaurant. I take the hint and jump to my feet, so, so relieved at his arrival, and offer to take Namjoon’s wrappers with me as well. 

“So?” Tae asks as soon as we’re out of earshot. “Are they being nice to you?”

I scoff. “Of course they’re being nice. And Namjoon…” I glance back surreptitiously, “... God, he’s so cool. It’s like he knows everything about everything.” I look up to see Taehyung raising an eyebrow, looking amused.

“Should I be worried? Am I going to lose you to my fearless leader?” he asks dryly, just as we reach the trash. “Because I can take him. Probably.”

“Probably.”

Taehyung chuckles and, lightning fast, leans over and presses a quick kiss to my lips. Before I can react, he gestures for me to continue walking, smiling down at me as if nothing just happened, brushing a hand down my waist comfortingly as we start walking back. “They like you, too. At least Jungkook does. And I’m guessing Jimin, too, otherwise Jungkook wouldn’t have tagged along today.”

“Ah, good. My favourite and my second favourite,” I say, laughing when Tae scowls. We get into the car again, everyone in the same seats, and it’s barely a five minute drive when Jungkook states that he feels like dessert - and not just any dessert, but a specific Japanese sweet that they’d had the last time they were here. Both Namjoon and Taehyung agree immediately and we drive around looking for any passing store that might sell it.

When we finally do, Taehyung volunteers to get out and go buy them while the rest of us stay in the car. He takes our order (I decline since it’s a race weekend) and walks away towards the shop. I watch him - I don’t think I’ll ever be able to stop - as he walks away, how he walks with his hands in his pockets, how his long hair brushes his t-shirt at the nape of his neck, how when he turns his head slightly to look for oncoming cars, his haughty features looking like a statue’s.

“He likes you,” says Namjoon from right next to me, almost scaring the shit out of me. I turn to him to see him looking back at me with a peculiar expression, part-knowing, part… approving? Before I can examine it deeper, Jungkook speaks from behind me.

“He really likes you,” he contributes, leaning forward so that his head appears in between our seats. “He usually never makes any effort with girls. Definitely doesn’t ditch us to hang out with one. I mean, you guys are even wearing matching outfits.”

I notice then that we are, kind of; white top and black bottoms, but I ignore this statement in favour of the one before. His words are practically identical to what Jimin had said to me earlier today. Like Jimin, Jungkook doesn’t sound miffed at all; on the contrary, he sounds almost wondrous, as though this series of events had never occurred to him. I can feel my palms getting clammy and the heat rushing to my face, so all I can say is, “Oh, did you - did you guys have - have plans today?”

“Oh, no, nothing like that,” says Namjoon dismissively, almost like he knows what I’m thinking. “It’s just good to see him like this. Happy,” he adds for my benefit, raising his eyebrows at Taehyung who’s now started walking back with a small stack of boxes the size of my phone.

Jungkook says something to Namjoon in Korean but I lose track. As I watch Tae walk towards us, I struggle for a moment to pinpoint why Namjoon and Jungkook’s words have suddenly made my insides tight. I should be happy, I suppose. I should, knowing that Taehyung likes me so much, that his closest friends in the world have noticed and more or less approved. But all that is overshadowed by the burning question of why? Why does he like me so much when we’ve only just met, when it’s been an unspoken cloud hanging over us reminding us that this weekend is all we have?

As he approaches, our gazes meet - and his eyes light up. It’s subtle, but it’s there and I know it is because even Jungkook behind me whispers wow before asking me if I’m sure that I don’t want one of the sweets. “Um… no, I - I prefer cupcakes,” is all I can manage to say before looking away from Tae. By the time he climbs into the backseat, I’m almost angry at him for making this so much harder.

I feel a tap on my shoulder and turn to see Tae holding out an open box filled with what look like Reese’s peanut butter cups. His eyebrows are raised and the hand he’d tapped me with is still lingering against my bare arm, but I suddenly find it hard to look at him. So I shake my head and turn back to look ahead.

As we continue to drive, I find that I can’t look at anyone in the car; not at Taehyung who apparently likes me way more than he should, not Namjoon who seems to know way more than he should, and not Jungkook who definitely seems way more excited than he should be. Truth be told, I haven’t the faintest idea what to do with this information and I definitely have no idea what it is that Namjoon and Jungkook were trying to achieve by telling me. So I just stare out the window at the sky, the trees, road signs - anything to distract me.

“Dilara?” Taehyung saying my name sounds like a song again, like his favourite song in the world. “Any requests?”

It takes me a moment to realise he’s talking about the music in the car. “Um…” I turn slightly in the direction of the backseat and shake my head for a moment before looking back out the window. “Not really. Anything’s fine.”

There’s a moment of awkward silence where I can practically feel Taehyung’s confusion at my change in tone. He says something in Korean to the other two, almost accusingly, and while I don’t understand a word of the language, I imagine he’s going What did you two say to her? or something to that effect. I can’t really blame him because, let’s face it, had I been in a similar situation, that’s exactly what I would’ve asked. 

My theory is more or less confirmed when, after both mumble answers in equally confused tones, Namjoon looks over at me, asking, “You alright?”

I look back, not wanting to seem rude, and nod. “Yeah. Of course.” I force a smile but I don’t think anyone is fooled. It’s almost too convenient when just a few minutes later, we make our last stop of the drive at a gas station. I mention something about using the washroom and jump out of the car, breathing in the fresh air like my life depends on it.

All I really do, though, is head over the back of the station and lean back against a wall, wondering what the hell to do now and how I can manage to avoid Taehyung for the rest of the weekend when we literally live in the same hotel -

“Hey.”

My heart skips a beat when I see Tae walking towards me, hands in his pockets, long hair falling into his eyes, face as smooth and impassive as ever. I immediately turn towards the wash basin next to me and start washing my hands, letting my hair fall in front of my shoulders and shield my face. “Hey,” I say after a moment, cringing at how fake even the simplest word sounds.

He stops a few feet away from me. “So, uh. My friends told me what they said to you. That I like you." He doesn't stutter around the inadvertent confession. "And that they might have freaked you out.” He says no more, just waiting for me to confirm it.

I swallow, wiping my hands on my leggings and still not looking at him. “Not exactly.”

“Then what is it? Dilara,” he says when I don’t respond. I finally sigh and look him in the eye, suddenly feeling guilty at shutting him out. He looks at me expectantly, perfect features betraying only the slightest bit of concern. “Tell me.”

I bite my lip and look at the ground, wondering how to word this without making it a bigger deal than it is. “You know we can’t… you know that nothing else can happen, right?”

“I know.” His response is immediate, accompanied by a small shrug, confirming that he does indeed know that nothing else can happen. And why shouldn’t he? With my calendar, his job, and both our careers in front of us, of course he knows that nothing can happen.

“Then… why do you like me so much?”

Taehyung’s expression doesn’t change much, except for a small frown. Hands still in his pockets, he shrugs again. “Since when can anyone control how they feel?” He says it like the most obvious thing in the world and all of a sudden, I feel ridiculous. The affection and adoration in his eyes is clear even to me and I can’t believe I’ve just spent the last thirty minutes essentially icing him out, especially when I know we don’t have much time.

“Not me,” I admit quietly, looking at the ground and then back up at him.

His mouth moves just a bit, giving me a small smile. “Look, I know it’s scary and it’ll be… hard, when it finally happens.” Neither of us needs to elaborate on what ‘it’ is. “But today’s not goodbye. We’ll - we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it, alright?”

I look away and nod, taking a couple of steps towards him. He meets me halfway and raises one hand to brush my arm comfortingly as his gaze drops to my mouth and back up to me, as though asking for permission. He lowers his head slightly and pauses, waiting for me to confirm that it’s all good. I get on the tips of my toes and kiss him, feeling him kiss me back immediately. It’s a nice, comforting kiss. For about a second.

He moves his hand to my waist just to steady me but it’s right at that moment that I open my mouth slightly, his tongue slips in and I moan softly, making his grip on my waist tighten. All it takes is one look between us before Taehyung has me pinned against the wall, kissing me fiercely and holding me flush against him. My hands go into his long hair and I pull at it, and Tae bites my lower lip. I snake one hand down between us and loop one finger in his belt loop and tug, feeling his pelvis against mine. His erection rubs against my core and I sigh, ready for him to fuck me right here and now. Taehyung’s hand slips down my waist, down my hip and to my arse when -

“Oi! We’re in public!” Namjoon’s furious whisper makes us jerk apart immediately and look around to see if we’ve been spotted. Fortunately, there isn’t anyone around but even I can’t believe how risky that was. That’s hot. Yes, it is, especially when I look up at Tae to see him looking right back at me, panting slightly, lips swollen and eyebrows together, looking pissed that we were caught. 

We trail quietly behind Namjoon to the car and get into our seats. While Namjoon looks exasperated as hell, Jungkook can't look either of us in the eye. My face feels so hot that I can’t look at either of them. I can’t look at Taehyung either, but that’s for a whole different reason. As we drive back with nothing but the radio providing any sound, I look out the window, trying not to think about what just transpired and what is sure to be replicated later today.

I count myself lucky; technically, I can think about whatever I want with no one the wiser. Taehyung on the other hand, can’t think of shit without an erection appearing for his friends and the world to see. I can hear Jungkook murmuring in Korean and Tae responding with short, abrupt replies. Our eyes meet in the wing mirror constantly, both of us now knowing what we want and how soon we want it.

It’s a quarter to four by the time we reach the hotel. If I have any hope of making it to PR on time, I have to leave now. I hop out of the car after Namjoon parks and fluff my hair out, checking for my bag and phone before I head out.

“Hey,” says Taehyung, coming up behind me. I turn to see the other two waiting by the car, trying to pretend like they aren’t paying any attention to us. Evidently, Tae’s noticed them too, for he glances back at them before turning back to me. “Do you have to leave now?”

“Yeah. Thankfully it’s happening here at the hotel, so we don’t have to drive to the paddock.” I bite my lip and say no more. This is the awkward part. How do two people who aren’t dating, who’ve literally just met, who aren’t even friends, say goodbye to each other? 

“So, I’ll, uh…”

Taehyung nods, taking my hand and linking his fingers with mine. “Yeah, I’ll see you later,” he agrees. I have the strongest urge to brush his long, thick hair out of his eyes, but I’m afraid it’ll be too intimate here. Taehyung sneaks another look back at his friends, who are now not even pretending to give us privacy, before rolling his eyes and quickly kissing me on the cheek.

I try to fight a smile as I shake my head and leave. I rush to the poolside after that where our thing is supposed to be taking place. Jenna from the PR team is waiting for me at a small makeshift energy station with a transparent pouch filled with make-up products and a hair straightener, heated and ready to go. 

Max arrives halfway in and Vicki briefs us both about the game while Max sips on water out of a Red Bull can and I sit painfully straight as locks of my hair fall in soft waves down my shoulders. Jehan and Pierre arrive soon after, everyone in their team hoodies. Jenna is holding up a mirror while I apply a nice brick shade of lipstick when Vicki suddenly exclaims that I’m not in Red Bull gear.

It seems to have occurred to everyone only now, five minutes before the interview. I’m still in a plain white top; I’m about to mention that I probably have an extra team t-shirt in my bag when Max tosses me his hoodie, saying with a very Max smugness that he’s not feeling cold at all. I give him a look but put the hoodie on anyway, kind of liking how nice and oversized it is.

All four of us are seated around a small poolside table, chatting as the production team sets lights and mics around us. I go onto my phone for a moment, secretly hoping for a text from Taehyung. There isn’t one, which is to be expected, so in a rare moment of initiative I text him. I send him the video I’d taken of him earlier today from the ground along with the message Thanks for today, I had a great time.

He replies almost immediately with Day’s not over ;), along with a picture. I download it and need to bite down on my lip from smiling. It’s a picture of me at the dog farm with the puppies: I’m lying on the grass upside down, two labradors clambering onto me, with my hair all dark and wavy on the grass, smiling with genuine happiness and cuddling a third puppy as I look into the camera - as I look at Taehyung.

I’m about to respond with a quick ‘thanks’ but instead, he sends a second picture, then a third, and then about ten more, all of us today with the puppies, strolling the streets together, piggybacking down the canopy. There’s one of us that he sends at the end, a few moments after the others, of us walking together. It’s obviously taken by someone else - most likely Jungkook; I realise it’s from when we’d both volunteered to chuck everyone’s trash after lunch. We’re just walking back, looking at each other, with Tae’s hand disappearing behind me.

I zoom in. I hadn’t even noticed that his hand had been on my back; in fact, it doesn’t even seem as though he’s conscious of it. It looks so natural; even the fact that we are indeed wearing very similar clothes doesn’t escape me this time. We’re walking close together - very close. I remember feeling his chest brush against my arm, feeling his fingers linger on my elbow - but I hadn’t thought about how it would look. We look like a -

“Alright, everyone ready?” 

PR forces me to abandon my train of thought and focus. It takes us about an hour and a half; it’s fun, no doubt. All four of us get along pretty well and the games include a Q&A type and a taste test of Japanese cuisine. By the end of it, after it’s confirmed that there’s no drivers’ briefing today, we start to head back into the hotel. I check my phone (not eagerly) to see a message from Taehyung. Ignoring the leap in my chest, I open it.

Once you’re done, come over to 2006.

two hotel rooms

I halt. Now I have no way of knowing who lives in 2006; for all I know, it’s just Taehyung’s room and he’s calling me over for tons of passionate sex after a day of teasing and yearning. If that’s what it is, I’m on board. 

But there’s something about the text that makes me think that that’s not all that it is. I try to figure it out; after a couple of minutes, I decide it’s not flirty enough. If there’s one thing I’ve discovered about Kim Taehyung in the last twenty-four hours, it’s that he’s smooth as shit. If he were inviting me over to fuck, I have no doubt that I’d be dripping by the time I got to his door. 

I have to ask. But not too pointedly. My fingers hover over the screen as I chew at my lower lip before finally typing out a response. What’s in 2006?

Taehyung replies in under a minute. Food and stuff. 

I frown, having learnt nothing from this incredibly vague text. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think he’s being vague on purpose. I replay the events of today in my head, specifically the moments I spent with Jimin, Namjoon and Jungkook. I remember them looking at me like a specimen they never saw coming, but I also remember the huge, boxy smile on Tae’s face each time I joked with any of them. 

I exhale. Spending a Friday evening hanging out with members of BTS: it’s a goddamn dream - for some. I know of millions of people around the world who’d literally murder me to take my place. But nothing about it is exciting me; in fact, I think this is the most stressed I've been all weekend.

I briefly consider making an excuse. Tomorrow is Qualifying after all; I can sneak away to hang out with the other drivers while they obsess over FIFA, dull as it sounds. But I do want to see Taehyung again, so badly. I finally make my way up to the twentieth floor, the entire time debating the possible outcomes of this situation in my head, before I reach the room. I can hear muffled noises from inside, both music and voices. I find I can’t physically press the doorbell, so I text Tae instead.

I’m outside. Can you come out here for a second?

Ten seconds later, the door opens and Taehyung steps out, still in the same white t-shirt and jeans, black hair thick and long, looking so incredible that I have to consciously try not to launch myself at him. His face automatically breaks into a smile at the sight of me and my heart skips a beat.

“Hey,” he says, shoving his hands into his pockets and stopping a couple of feet in front of me. “Everything okay? Oh, hey, your hair is different,” he comments, taking a straightened lock in between his fingers.

“Yeah, for PR. Um…” I take a deep breath, folding my arms across my chest nervously. “Who else is in there?”

Taehyung glances back at the room and when he turns back to me, it’s clear that he’s immediately caught on to what’s bothering me. “It’s six of my friends.”

I can’t help but chuckle. “Really. Exactly six?” 

He smiles, knowing I’m not fooled. “It’ll be fine. They’re looking forward to meeting you,” he says, dropping all pretense.

That doesn’t make me feel better at all. My face must show this, for he immediately comes up to me and places his hands on my shoulder. “Dilara, there’s no pressure. You don’t have to. But…” He shrugs. “It’ll be fun.” When I don’t respond, he squeezes my shoulders gently. “Come on, you’ve already met most of them and it’s been fine. Right?”

“Yeah. Yeah, of course,” I say honestly. The only ones I actually haven’t met at all have been Hoseok and Yoongi, but meeting all of them together? But I can’t say no to Tae, not when he looks this hopeful. “Just… just six friends, right?”

“Right. Oh, wait, Jimin and Jungkook are at the gym, so it’s really only four,” he adds helpfully.

I frown incredulously. “Jungkook is the one person I actually know in there.”

Taehyung bites his lip and holds his arms out wordlessly. I take the hint and step in, wrapping my arms around his waist as he hugs me back, head resting against mine and rubbing my shoulder with one hand. “If you really don’t want to, you don’t have to,” he says softly.

I say nothing, revelling instead in his scent and the feel of his lean torso and strong arms around me. This is our first hug, I realise, and I hold him a bit tighter, resting my forehead on his shoulder. “You’ll be there the whole time?” I murmur into his t-shirt.

I can feel him smile as he nods. “The whole time,” he confirms. “Until we leave, that is. Which will be… early?" he guesses.

That makes me laugh. I step back and ruffle his hair affectionately. “Sure. As long as you stay by my side.” I take a deep breath and roll my shoulders back. “Let’s do this.”

Tae rolls his eyes at my theatrics but I see him smile again and it’s all worth it. He rings the doorbell and Namjoon opens it, immediately noticing me and greeting me loudly. “Oh, hey. Hey, Dilara’s here,” he calls out, beckoning me inside and shutting the door behind me. “There’s food and… well, tons of gummy bears on the table,” he adds, pointing at the coffee table.

I step in to see Seokjin on the phone in the corner of the room, Yoongi and Hoseok in front of the television, the latter laughing his head off at something before noticing me. All of them wave and call me over just as the doorbell rings again. While Jin waves at me with his free hand, we both turn to see Jimin entering, hair wet and newly washed, smelling like strawberries. The moment he sees me, his eyes widen and he turns to Taehyung, who’s standing with his back against the wall and watching me, with an impressed look and a wide smile before coming over to me.

“Hey, what’s Verst- oh, Max Verstappen?” Namjoon’s voice from behind me makes me do a double take. I turn to see him pointing at my torso and I realise he’s talking about the hoodie I’m wearing, the one that has Max’s name printed on the back.

“Hey, it’s good to see you again,” he says easily, hugging me around the waist as if we’ve known each other for ages. Jungkook follows close behind, waving enthusiastically before his gaze shifts to Namjoon and he says something. Within seconds of meeting me, everyone simply goes back to their own conversations.

“Oh, yeah,” I answer, tugging at the hoodie. “I had to borrow his hoodie for PR. I left mine in your car,” I tell Taehyung. There’s a short but unmissable moment where everyone’s eyes flit to Tae, with Jimin and Jungkook clearly fighting smiles and Yoongi rolling his eyes. But I’m only looking at Taehyung, who’s still standing against the wall with his hands in his pockets. His face is still the same, smooth and perfect with the small smile as he watches me interact with his bandmates, but I swear I can see his chin tilt up and jaw harden for just a moment. 

Fortunately, at that moment the doorbell buzzes again and he goes to get it, and everything seems to go back to normal. I take a step back and go to stand next to Namjoon who’s helping himself to a sushi roll, an exasperated smile lingering on his face. “Um,” I begin in a low voice, “what was that?”

His smile gets just a bit wider as he looks up at Taehyung across the room before looking back down at me. “Nothing. Just Taehyung… and his jealous tendencies,” he says, chuckling quietly. With a knowing raise of the eyebrows, he sweeps past me and heads towards the TV.

It turns out Namjoon is bang-on. When Tae returns, he looks like his normal self, coming back up to me with the same small smile and asking me if I’m okay. Jungkook and Jin join us and even as everyone continues talking, I feel Tae move to stand closer to me, sliding a hand down my waist to rest low on my hip. It’s subtle but I can feel a heat between my legs. I decide to experiment.

“Oh, I should text Max and tell him I have his hoodie,” I say nonchalantly, tapping my phone on but keeping all my attention on Taehyung. He doesn’t disappoint. I’ve barely opened my chat with Max as Jin and Jungkook drift away, telling us to come to the TV, when Tae casually moves to stand behind me. Both his hands are low on my hips now as he looks over my shoulder. For a moment I think he’s looking into my phone, but the next second his lips are at my ear, brushing against my hair.

“Hey.” His voice almost makes my knees buckle. It’s the deep, low baritone that I’ve come to know and be obsessed with over the years but hearing it this close while his fingers grip my hips and his pelvis brushes against mine, and especially when I can hear that slight edge in his voice, I know this is what I’ve been waiting for. “Come sit with me?”

I literally cannot think of words. Instantly forgetting all about Max, I follow Kim Taehyung to the couch where everybody else is. It’s a k-drama; I don’t recognise it, but whoever has the remote immediately turns on the English subtitles when I automatically take a seat on the floor next to Jungkook, the one person apart from Namjoon I’m slightly comfortable with at this point. Taehyung, after repeatedly offering me the one empty spot on the sofa, sits right behind me and I lean back against his legs as I try to catch up.

There’s no spotlight on me, thankfully; they don’t go out of their way to include me in conversation but they don’t ignore me either, and it ends up being just the right balance. Jimin comes after a while to sit on my other side, smiling so prettily at me that it feels like my heart will stop. 

Sometime later the doorbell rings with a package for Park Jimin; everyone turns to see him holding a pink cardboard box that I recognise as the hotel bakery’s. To my surprise, he comes straight back and places it in front of me. He opens it with a flourish to reveal six cupcakes, each with a different coloured frosting on it. “For you,” he says proudly.

It takes me a moment to realise he’s talking to me. “M-me?”

“Yeah, Jungkook told me you like them.”

Before I can ask, Jungkook shrugs on my other side. “You didn’t have dessert with us and you said you liked cupcakes.”

It’s probably the nicest thing anyone’s ever done for me which is why, even though I can’t eat sugar due to it being a race weekend, I pick one up and take a bite. It’s really good; I almost consider risking it and eating the whole thing but I know Lexie would end me, so I just take a second bite and turn around to offer one to Taehyung. It’s just an excuse, though; the gesture is so unexpected that I just want to share it with him - do your friends really like me? His eyebrow raise and secret smile answers it - I told you they like you - as he takes a bite from the cupcake in my hand. By the time I’ve turned around, all the other boys are helping themselves which is just as well.

“It’s amazing,” I tell Jimin, trying to ignore the heat rising in my cheeks when he flashes me another winning smile. “Thank you.”

Nearly an hour later, after everyone has moved on from watching TV, I notice that I’ve lost track of time completely. I’ve been sitting at one of the smaller coffee tables with Jin who, after having informed me that I’ve been using chopsticks wrong my entire life, is attempting to teach me how to use it right. I look up for a moment to see Taehyung sitting on the window seat with Namjoon and Hoseok, while Jungkook lounges on his lap and scrolls through his phone. 

By the time Jin finally succeeds in teaching me a crude version of chopsticks usage, we’ve both devoured two boxes of maki - the only thing I know Lexie will be okay with me overindulging on on a race weekend. Jin leans back in his chair and sighs loudly and my eyes automatically find Taehyung again. He’s in the same place but Jungkook is no longer in his lap. Instead, Tae is leaning back against the window, one arm resting above his head while the other holds his phone, and his legs are spread out again, as though inviting me to come sit on his lap. His gaze meets mine right then and he gives me the tiniest smirk, almost as if he knows what I’m thinking.

I shake my head just as Namjoon joins us. “Aren’t you warm?” he asks, sitting on the arm of Jin’s chair and popping a gummy bear into his mouth. 

I frown and look down, realising that I’m still in Max’s hoodie and something clicks. “Oh… I hadn’t noticed.” Hesitating for a moment, I take it off the second I see that Taehyung’s looking. As expected, the smirk gets wider, as though he’s suddenly happier… or satisfied.

It’s so hot - and adorable - that it occurs to him to be jealous. It’s past nine now, which means I’m almost done with twenty-four hours of waiting since meeting Kim Taehyung before I can officially start to pursue him. My thoughts are getting dirtier by the minute and I’m just waiting for a signal from him that it’s okay to leave. 

Ten minutes pass and nothing changes. Taehyung’s still sitting with his lap looking inviting as hell and all my attempts at walking across the room, touching Jungkook’s shoulder and even wrapping Max’s discarded hoodie around my shoulders don’t work. Finally, when Tae’s alone at the food table, I fall back to Plan A.

I come up from behind him and run my hands up his arms casually, resting them on his biceps. The moment I touch them, I feel the familiar heat between my legs again. Focus, Komyshan. Tae turns slightly to see me behind him, head lingering next to his shoulder.

“Hey,” he says, voice deep and sexy as ever.

“Hey. So, um…” I move closer to him, not wanting anyone to overhear, “Tomorrow is Qualifying and I have to be well-rested and up early, so…”

It takes him exactly half a second to catch my drift and another to drop the gummy bears in his hand back into the box. He turns to face me, leaning back against the table. “So…?”

He wants me to say it. Sneaky little shit. Taehyung’s casual confidence coupled with his laidback position, not to mention that goddamn smirk, makes me want to simultaneously choke him and ask him to -

“So… I should head out,” I tell him, mimicking his nonchalance.

“You’re leaving?”

“Mhm. Long day tomorrow.”

“Sounds like you should be good and tired to get a good night’s sleep.”

“I think I can figure something out.”

Taehyung’s jaw clenches slightly again and I know it’s working. “I thought we had some… alone time planned.”

“I don’t want to take you away from your friends,” I tell him. “And besides…” I take a small step closer to him “... I’m not really sure what to expect during… alone time.”

Taehyung doesn’t respond. Or rather, he doesn't respond with words. Instead, his smirk gets just a bit more pronounced and he just continues looking at me, almost like he’s picturing it. Just when I feel like he’s literally undressing me with his eyes, he gives me a small shrug and an innocent smile. “Whatever you want.”

Aaaand we’re done. I want a lot - but I’m not about to tell him that. “Good. So it’s settled, then?” When he doesn’t say anything, I play my last card. “Or you can stay and I can just go take care of it myself.”

All vestiges of a smile leave Taehyung’s face. He grabs my wrist with one hand and his black hoodie with the other and turns to his friends with a completely normal expression. There’s a general dry outcry that we’re leaving so soon, followed by Jimin yelling something in Korean and everyone laughing. I look up at Tae to see him avoiding their eyes and fighting a smile when Jin shouts “Have a good night!” 

Taehyung rolls his eyes and waves to them as we head out the door. Just to add to the drama, I pull him out by the hand, walking backwards and winking at the boys as the door closes behind him.

The walk back to my room is a blur. All I know is that we’re hurrying as much as we can, taking great pains to not draw any attention to ourselves until my room finally comes into view. My keycard is ready in my hand and I can feel Taehyung’s hand hovering over my lower back and I know he’s desperately resisting the urge to touch me until we’re inside. The second my door opens, I turn around and walk backwards, not bothering to turn on any lights other than the dim ones already on. The door closes behind him and I immediately hook my fingers around his belt loops and pull him towards me the same moment that his hands go up to my face and he lowers his head and kisses me.

“Finally,” he murmurs against my lips, echoing my exact thoughts, reaching one hand into my hair and pulling me closer to him with the other on my waist. Why haven’t I realised until now just how tall he is? Or how lean his torso is, or how his arms feel like the steadiest things I’ve ever felt around me? I open my mouth to let him in and sigh into the kiss, unable to help myself. I run one hand through his hair, his long, thick, sexy hair, and pull, making him grunt and move his hand down my waist and hips to my arse.

“Clothes off,” I say softly, pulling away for the briefest moment to take my top off over my head. Taehyung does the same with his t-shirt and I realise that seeing Taehyung with an unbuttoned shirt last night came nowhere close to seeing him like this, half-naked in the semi-darkness with a look of hunger in his eyes as I look right at him and unhook my bra, letting it fall on the floor next to him.

He has me pulled flush against him in a moment, kissing me harder than ever. Our hands are everywhere and our kisses are all lips and tongue and teeth; an entire day’s worth of tension and longing has finally come forth and neither of us are willing to waste even a single moment of it. My hands travel down to his jeans and I begin unbuttoning them, brushing against his hard abdomen, before I slip one hand in and feel his erection through the fabric of his boxers. 

“Fuck,” he whispers, grabbing me even harder and moving  us to the couch where I push him down and climb on to straddle him, lowering my head to kiss him again. Without thinking, I roll my hips forward and he groans into my mouth, pulling away and resting his head back against the sofa for a moment. I look at him - no, I gaze at him, never ever wanting to forget this sight. His hair is falling into his eyes, his jaw is clenched and mouth parted slightly as he catches his breath. 

Taehyung kisses me again, moving his lips down my jaw and to my neck, immediately finding the exact spot just below my ear that drives me crazy. He sucks on it as one hand moves to cup my breast, the other firm on my hip. I bite my lip to stop myself moaning too loudly, clutching at his hair and feeling his erection harden even more against me. 

“Fuck, Tae,” I whisper. I need him now. He feels so right against me that I find myself not even caring if I’m being too obvious about how much I want him. I palm him through his boxers and he groans again.

“Shit, Dilara,” he mumbles against my collarbone. “God, I need you, I -”

I pull away to stand up and peel off my leggings, standing in front of him in nothing but my underwear. His eyes rake over my entire body and I revel in it. I take a step forward and he reaches for me but instead of straddling him again, I drop to my knees in front of him.

Taehyung bites his lower lip. “Dilara -”

“I want to,” I interrupt him, reaching for his erection. His eyes shut involuntarily but he opens them again.

“You - you really don’t have to -”

“I know,” I tell him and look him in the eye. “I’ll stop if you want me to… but I don’t want to.”

He shakes his head. “Fuck, where have you been all my life?” he sighs.

I grin and reach for his jeans, pulling them down. He raises his pelvis off the couch so I can take them off completely along with his boxers. His erection springs free and my eyes widen at his size. I just know my jaw is going to get a workout from hell and just the thought of it makes me so fucking wet that I wrap my hand around his cock and stroke him once.

Taehyung’s eyes flutter shut immediately and he swears, his back against the couch and his hands clutching the fabric of the seat. I run my tongue along his tip and continue stroking him, watching him the whole time as he slowly comes undone. Somewhere along the way, I link my fingers with his and squeeze his hand. His eyes open to meet mine and he gets the hint, reaching for my hair and grabbing it hard. I moan in sweet pain and he swears again, getting close. I suck him off until my jaw hurts, until he’s louder than I’ve ever heard him and he finally finishes in my mouth, warm fluid coating my tongue as I continue stroking him slower now, letting him ride out his high.

I pull away, swallowing and wiping my mouth as he gets his bearings back. He opens his eyes and looks down at me with an unreadable emotion in his eyes. “Come here,” he says softly, helping me back up onto his lap. I straddle him again and he kisses me, deep and long, holding my face in one hand and pulling me close to him with the other. His hand is big and flat on my back as I kiss him back, wanting him, needing him so badly.

Almost as though he’s read my mind, he suddenly stands up and, without breaking a sweat, carries me straight to the bed and drops me on it. He comes up to kiss me once, biting my lower lip softly, before moving down to my neck. “I’m gonna make you feel so good, baby,” he murmurs in my ear. He runs one hand down my torso and abdomen to reach my core and presses against the cloth. His sharp intake of breath tells me that he can feel just how wet I am. 

He pulls my underwear off and, before I know it, sinks one finger into my folds. I whimper; it feels so fucking good, finally, finally, to have him inside of me like I’ve been thinking about all day. He slips another finger in and my back arches. “Fuck, fuck,” I moan, clutching my pillow as my knees bend automatically.

Taehyung grunts softly and kisses me, his long hair falling into his eyes and onto my forehead. “Can you take another for me, baby?”

“Yes,” I say immediately, biting my lip in anticipation as he slips a third finger into me. His thumb goes to massage my clit and I’m so close, so close… “God, Tae, I’m gonna -”

And I do. It’s like an explosion when I finally come and feel him slow his fingers down slightly as he lets me ride out my high. I open my eyes slowly to see Taehyung watching me, eyes blazing and jaw clenched, biting down on his bottom lip. He lowers his head to give me a quick kiss before his eyes flash. “Think you have one more in you?” he asks as he moves lower down my body and settles between my legs. He kisses my inner thigh before running his tongue along my folds but I know I can’t take this anymore.

“Taehyung,” I whisper, sitting up on my elbows, “I can’t. I just want… I just want you. Now.”

“Are you sure? I just want to make you feel good,” he says, frowning with what I realise is concern. “I don’t - I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Mm, you won’t. Please, Tae,” I add, and apparently that’s what works. Taehyung kisses my inner thigh once again before he gets off the bed and goes to pick up his discarded jeans next to the couch. I can’t help but just stare at him as he does, long hair and lean body completely on display. Just for me, I think. Mine.

He returns with a condom and a smirk. “Always ready,” he quips, making me laugh. He puts it on and climbs on top of me, lining himself up at my entrance. Brushing my bangs off my forehead, he asks, “You’ll tell me if it hurts?”

“I will,” I promise, reaching up to kiss his jaw. Tae nods and enters me slowly; both of us groan in pleasure and I fall back on the bed, opening my legs further and taking him in until he bottoms out. He’s big - that I knew the moment I’d taken off his boxers. It hurts, but not in a bad way. Another sigh escapes my lips as he pulls out to enter me again, and again, until we establish a rhythm.

“Fuck, Dilara, you feel so good, baby,” groans Taehyung, dropping his head onto my shoulder as he goes faster. I grip his bicep and wrap my leg around him to pull him in as he turns to capture my lips in his. I kiss him back; it’s messy and desperate and full of sighs and moans as he goes even faster. His hand comes up to grip my breast, lips still against mine, and I clutch at his shoulder, feeling my nails dig into his skin.

“Oh, my -” I can’t even finish my sentence before he hits the spot and I hit my second orgasm of the night, so much louder this time as I fall back on the bed again. Taehyung’s still going but I can tell he’s close by the way his grunts are getting louder and his jaw is clenching harder. It’s another ten seconds before he slams into me a final time and finishes inside the condom, supporting himself with his hands flat on the bed.

We stay there for a few seconds, both breathing in what just happened. Then, Taehyung raises his head to look at me and presses a soft kiss to my mouth before climbing off me and going out to dispose of the condom. He comes back in a few seconds, beautifully naked, and climbs back onto the bed next to me. We lie there in comfortable silence, our hands intertwined between us, while I think about how we were lying exactly like this just last night on a hotel rooftop when we’d met for the first time.

As the high slowly dissipates, I feel goosebumps erupt on my arm from the AC. Taehyung notices too, and wraps an arm gently around my waist. “Cold?” he asks, kissing my shoulder.

“Just a bit,” I answer, turning onto my side and kissing him. He kisses me back and, contrary to the roughness of what just happened, this is slower, deeper, almost loving. I brush my thumb across his cheekbones as he pulls me closer, eventually pulling me on top of him. Straddling him again, I pull away and sit up, getting my first good look at Kim Taehyung, naked. In my bed.

He’s beautiful. Unlike Jungkook who’s all bulk and muscle, Tae is much leaner, like a tennis player or a Formula 1 driver even. His torso is long and slender, while his collarbones arch to become lean biceps, sinewy forearms and slender fingers currently resting on my thighs. I look up to meet his eyes again to see him smirking up at me, like he knows exactly what I’m doing.

“This is my favourite hair on you,” I tell him, brushing his bangs out of his eyes slightly. He flicks his hair back as though out of habit. “Black… suits you.”

“Yeah?” His hands rise up to rest on my hips. “Just black?”

“The grey is a close second,” I agree after a moment. “The dark blond, too.” The fact of the matter is that Taehyung looks fantastic no matter what his hair looks like, but I can’t tell him that. He’s looking at me far too intensely; it’s making my face heat up. I suddenly feel conscious; he’s too gorgeous himself to be looking at me with this much reverence. “I need to… clean up,” I say finally, climbing off him and the bed, gathering my hair and slipping on my underwear as I search the floor for something to wear.

“My t-shirt’s right there,” he says, apparently knowing what I’m doing. I turn to see him watching me with a content smile, hands behind his head. Wordlessly, I pick it up and put it on, waving to him as I walk into the bathroom and close it behind me. 

Once I’m in, I lean against the door and exhale. I can still smell him on me, on my skin, on his white t-shirt that reaches the tops of my thighs. I shut my eyes; it’s not that I can’t believe I just had sex with V of BTS - it’s that I can, even though just twenty-four hours ago, I was at a BTS backstage party waiting for him to just talk to me. I turn my head to look at the mirror and wince as I move closer. 

My hair is a mess - no surprise there, considering how much Tae kept running his hands through it, tangling it and pulling at it. My stomach leaps at the memory of it. My lipstick, which had stayed through the entire time I’d been with the band, has now finally disappeared as well - no surprise there either. Moving closer, I brush my hair off my neck to inspect the most critical aspect of our session; I can’t stop a smile from appearing on my face. At the side of my neck, a couple inches below my ear, is a brand new hickey, blooming red and big.

I touch it gingerly and, almost as if it’s a signal, my inner thigh tingles. I know what it is before I’ve checked; right on the inside of my left thigh, barely three inches below my crotch are two smaller hickeys. When I check, there’s another on my right. 

He’s marked me, I realise. The thought makes me feel strangely reassured. It doesn’t feel aggressive or possessive; if anything, it gives off a sense of… desperation, almost. As though he doesn’t want to miss the chance to prove that I’m -

“No,” I whisper out loud. I can’t let my thoughts go down this road, not tonight. I close my eyes, forcing myself to think about literally anything else, when I hear a soft humming of Tu les garçons et les filles again.

He’s on the bed where I’d left him, but he’s put on his boxers and is scrolling through his phone. The moment he sees me, he ceases humming and his face breaks out into the same boxy smile that regularly breaks millions of hearts around the world. 

“Don’t stop,” I tell him, climbing onto the bed next to him and settling down on my stomach. “Sounded nice.”

Tae raises his eyebrows. “Yeah? You like it?”

“I always like hearing you sing,” I say honestly, my heart skipping a beat when he smiles and drops his gaze. “What? That can’t be the first time someone complimented your voice.”

“It’s not,” he admits, “but people usually prefer Jungkook or Jimin.” He says it in a matter-of-fact tone.

I shrug. “Yours is the sexiest.” He smirks, like I knew he would. When I bite my lip and raise an eyebrow, it widens into a grin.

“Will I get to see you drive tomorrow?” he asks, tugging on the ends of my hair.

“Definitely. I don’t see how they can postpone anything any further even if it pours all day,” I add, resting my head on my hands and looking up at him. “I really hope it doesn’t, though. We only get one practice session and Suzuka is hard enough for a rookie without the track being wet.”

Taehyung frowns but doesn’t say anything, brushing the back of his hand light against my cheek. My eyes flutter shut for a moment at his touch as I try to savour it as much as I can and not think about tomorrow. I’m just about to ask him if he wants to switch on some music - anything to get me to stop stressing before I really start stressing - when my phone pings, first once and then in a succession of pings.

I raise my head and turn around to the backpack I’ve been carrying around all day. I get up, leaving Tae lying on the bed, and retrieve it to see a series of messages from Lexie, all apologising for being MIA all day because of her food poisoning and that she hopes I’m ready for tomorrow. I text her back immediately, telling her to chill, when I see a notification from Max pop up just as a pair of arms wrap around my waist and my back meets a nice, warm, naked chest.

Taehyung lowers his head onto my shoulder and presses a kiss to the side of my neck, his long hair tickling my cheek. “Dilara,” he says quietly, and it sounds like his favourite song in the world. “Dilara,” he says again, this time in a whisper, grazing my ear with his teeth. My breathing stutters a bit but I don’t want him to stop; I close my eyes and sink back into him, tilting my head slightly to give him better access. I feel his breath on my ear and shiver.

“Do you want to order some food?”

My eyes snap open and I snicker, elbowing him in the ribs and pulling away. He laughs his deep, open laugh and I swoon - internally, of course. “I can’t eat anymore,” I tell him, shaking my head and leaning against the table. “I’m driving tomorrow so I have to, you know. Stay light.”

Tae nods understandingly. “Alright, I’ll just get food for me. Is that alright?”

“No, you are forbidden from eating if I’m not.”

“Hilarious. Oh, can you have ice cream?” he suggests. “Come on, who can say no to ice cream?”

I scoff. “All twenty of us getting into a car tomorrow. Food is bad enough, but sugar is absolutely the worst. Why do you think I said no to dessert in the car today?”

He frowns. “But… you ate the cupcakes,” he points out. “Why -”

I give him a look. “Well, firstly, I actually only had, like, two bites. I strategically offered bites to you and Jimin and Jungkook by which time the rest of you had finished the box. And secondly… well, of course I ate them. Jimin was so nice to get them for me,” I add, looking at the floor self-consciously. “Actually, why was he being so nice?”

Taehyung raises an eyebrow, clearly knowing what I want him to admit. “You ate the cupcake even though you’re not supposed to be eating sugar. Why were you being so nice?”

“Fair enough.”

He simply grins. “That’s me. I think Jimin likes you, though. He’s such a… how do you say it? Flirt?”

I laugh. “He’s cute. And, you know, my favourite member.”

Taehyung gives me an unimpressed look as my phone pings again and I go back to checking my messages. They’re mostly from Lexie and Christian, the latter of whom has sent me a screenshot of some data from last year’s race in Suzuka. 

“Something wrong?” Taehyung asks, coming up behind me and wrapping his arms around my shoulders, kissing my cheek with ease, as though he does it all the time.

“No,” I sigh, “just stuff to look over for tomorrow.” I try to keep the anxiety out of my voice but I know I haven’t succeeded. Instead of random encouragement, Tae just holds me a bit tighter and rests his head on my shoulder, swaying slightly to the music. I close my eyes and sink back into him, gripping his arms and swaying along.

“I dare you to do something!” We sing together all of a sudden and I turn around to see him singing just as dramatically as I am. He takes my hand and, just like earlier today, spins me and pulls me in by my waist and we sing the entire chorus and the next verse together until his long hair in his eyes and broad shoulders get too much for me and I get up on my tiptoes, wrap my arms around his neck, and try to kiss him.

Except I don’t reach.

It seems to take Taehyung a moment to realise what I was trying to do before he bursts out laughing. He overdoes it for sure, even when I pick up my t-shirt from the floor and throw it at him. “You’re so cute,” he tells me, smiling fondly and coming up to me to wrap his arms around my waist even as I half-heartedly try to push him off. He lowers his head and kisses me and, without warning, places a hand under my thigh and picks me up. I wrap my legs around his waist out of instinct as he turns around and takes me back to the bed. I’m on my back for just a few seconds before I flip us over and straddle him.

“My turn,” I tell him, flipping my hair over my shoulders and bending over him, tucking my hair behind my ears just as my phone rings. I groan and drop my head onto his shoulder before I climb off, chuckling at his protests. I pick up the call to hear Max Verstappen’s voice.

“This better be really important,” I state, placing a hand on my hip and looking back at Tae apologetically.

“It is,” says Max confidently. He sounds like he’s with someone when he says, “You want to go get a snack from the restaurant? It’s probably empty by now.”

I frown incredulously. This is important? “I’m, uh…” I trail off, turning and looking at Taehyung again, who’s now lounging on the bed looking like a Greek statue. I get the overwhelming urge to run my tongue up his lean, hard torso and force myself to focus. “... busy.”

I can almost hear Max raising an eyebrow skeptically. “Busy?”

“Yes. Very.”

“Like last night kind of busy?”

“Alright, Verstappen, I’ll see you tomorrow morning at breakfast. Bye,” I say loudly, interrupting his joking response. I shake my head and turn around to see Taehyung now off the bed and walking towards me.

“Hey,” he says, kissing me quickly on the mouth, “do you mind if I take a quick shower? I mean, I could go back to my room and do it and then come back to -”

“Go take a shower, Tae,” I say, leaning up and kissing him on the cheek, and smacking his arse for good measure. He laughs and disappears into the bathroom while I settle on the couch in Tae’s hoodie that’s lying on the table and open up Christian’s messages.

Fifteen minutes later, I’m going through the last one, my laptop open on my side with a picture of the track on full screen. I’m frowning, trying to calculate something in the third sector, when the doorbell rings. I get off the couch and open it to reveal Max Verstappen and Daniel Ricciardo, both in hoodies and joggers.

“Hey, we came to see if you changed your mind,” said Max, not even trying to lie. His gaze falls to your lower half and he smiles. “Looks like you didn’t, though.”

I’ve just remembered that all I’m wearing is an oversized hoodie (and it’s Max and Danny), so I don’t really care. “Afraid not.”

Daniel shrugs. “We can order in, too,” he suggests, his trademark grin appearing on his face, telling me instantly that Max has told him all about last night. 

“That’s really not a good idea,” I insist. “In fact, why don’t you -”

“Hey, Dilara, I was thinking of ordering dessert in case you want -” Taehyung’s deep voice comes from behind me and I turn around in horrendous anticipation to see him in nothing but a towel around his waist, looking up from his phone, first at me and then at my guests.

Max and Danny are evidently speechless - and so am I, but for different reasons. Under normal circumstances, I would’ve been mortified, but I’m too distracted by the discovery that apparently the only thing that’s more attractive than Kim Taehyung is Kim Taehyung straight out of the shower. My eyes roam shamelessly over the beads of water still on his body, his wet hair falling into his eyes, how low that towel is…

I remember I have company and look back at Max and Danny, shrugging innocently. Taehyung, to his credit, doesn’t look the least bit embarrassed. His smooth, impassive face reveals the slightest smirk before he turns around and nonchalantly disappears back into the room.

I turn back to the boys, both of whom have a mixture of amazement and embarrassment on their faces. “You know what,” says Daniel finally, clapping Max on the shoulder, “you do seem really busy.”

“Yeah, we’ll see you in the morning,” agrees Max quickly, winking at me before I nod and shut the door. I walk back into the room to see Tae still in his towel, scrolling through his phone as he stands near the edge of the bed. I go up to him purposefully, shedding the hoodie and t-shirt on the way. He looks up at me and his eyes widen in surprise but I don’t stop.

“That was so hot,” I tell him in a low voice, reaching up to kiss him with one hand in his hair and undoing his towel with the other. If Taehyung is taken off guard, he doesn’t really show it. His arms go around my waist and he pushes me down on the bed, kissing me back. 

This time, it isn’t quite like before, where we were just desperate to finally be together. No, this time, we go slower. Tae takes his time which, as it turns out, elicits a whole lot of other responses from me. He fully takes charge, too; it’s subtle and I don’t even realise it’s happened until I’m on my knees while he’s sucking on my neck and rubbing furious circles on my clit and I’m practically begging him to fuck me. He pulls me back flush against his chest as he begins a rhythm, each thrust making me whimper until we both finish almost at the same time and I can feel him pant against my back and kiss my shoulder.

We stay in bed after that, under the covers. We talk about indie music; he tells me he writes it and I inform him that I listen to it, followed by a bunch of recommendations. I tell him about the time I was at a music festival back home and was waiting for my friends at the smallest, least crowded stage and how much I don’t regret that decision to this day. He tells me about the first song he wrote and produced and how the songwriting process makes him feel lonelier than he’d imagined. I, after privately considering, end up telling him about my mother, and how Rudy Komyshan treating me like his real child is the only reason I’m able to race today.

Taehyung kisses me at that, a gentle, protective kiss, holding my face and brushing his thumb across my cheek. He doesn’t say anything but then again, he doesn’t need to. We lie next to each other and at some point I fall asleep, smelling lotion and feeling hard muscle underneath my fingers.

When I wake up the next morning, I'm alone.

~

Thank you for reading. Check out the link for Part 2 in the description, and don't forget to drop a review :)

[bangtanbathhouse]

drabble: you’re next (3tan) (m) | myg

drabble: you’re next | part one pairing: 3tan!yoongi x reader(f) series: three tangerines | fall drabbles masterlist | submit! rating/genre: m (18+) ; fluff , smut ; brother’s best friend au, implied age gap au summary: after you get the texts from yoongi, you continue to keep goading him. little do you know that he’s still at the festival. because your brother is the only one that left. note: so… this is part 2 to the first fall drabble apple bobbing bc of this post. y’all are spoiled af what am i gonna do with you all lolll note 2: if you haven’t read the three tangerines series yet, i highly encourage you to! the side characters would make a lot more sense :D also this is unedited LOL warnings: language, dirty talk, fingering, tae is best boy, oral (f rec), haunted house, yoongi on the phone lol i’m sorry, spanking, edging, yoongi is rude?? drop date: october 13th, 2022, 9:07pm est word count: 4.5k lolll

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Yoongi [8:20pm]: You’re next :))

Keep reading

[bangtanbathhouse]

buzzer beater 2 | myg

SUMMARY halloween special!

PAIRING basketball captain!yoongi x reader

RATE 18+

WARNINGS unprotected sex 😬 don’t do this irl, pet names, oc is put into some ridiculous positions, ass shots, making out, uhhh matching costumes :”)

GENRE smut, college AU, established relationship

PLAYLIST ♫

WC 2.5K

A/N no yoongi was not wearing a hoodie under his costume... yes he looked like this 0_0

⇢ part of the Shoot Your Shot series: game face | shoot your shot | swish | bb: hot shot | bb: halloween

With midterms coming up, Halloween had taken a backseat to long nights hunched over your computer and endless textbooks scattered around your apartment. You and Doyeon had been in full study mode for the past two weeks, the only evidence of something living in your apartment being the doordash orders dropped off at your door, which were just as quickly snatched up and brought inside. 

You’d barely gotten to see Yoongi, let alone spend any real time together. He’d been holed up in the studio with Namjoon, tirelessly looping the same beats over and over again for his song composition class, and texting you only during breaks. It was starting to feel like a long-term relationship, with all the sexting you two had to succumb to to keep sane.

You’d tried to study together once, getting about half an hour of silent reading and note-taking done before Yoongi’s loud sigh pierced the study bubble, and his hands started to wander. Apparently, playing “strip flashcards” wasn’t the best study method, as evidenced by the way your books were pushed off the bed in a pile next to your clothes. 

But Halloweekend was upon you, and with your last midterm paper submitted barely before the deadline yesterday, you were finally free to get dressed up and get plastered with your friends to ring in the pagan holiday. 

Yoongi was meeting you at the apartment, Doyeon having long left to pregame at Seokjin’s place. You were putting on the last touches to your makeup when you heard the knock on the door, brushing on one last swipe of mascara before you were skipping over to greet him. 

“Apparently, Jimin drank all the alcohol at Jin’s, so we should probably pregame here—” he started, but his drawl tittered away with the sight of you swinging the door open. One eyebrow raised, he didn’t hesitate to run his eyes down your body. He tucked his bottom lip in between his teeth, shaking his head as he took in your appearance. “So… you’re my number one fan, huh?” 

Your hand landed on your hip immediately as you rolled your eyes, turning around and letting him follow you into the apartment, closing the door behind himself without ever taking his eyes off of you. “I’m a Sixers Dancer, duh,” you pointed at the logo on your bra. “It has nothing to do with you.” 

“Oh really?” he coaxed, taking off his own jacket, revealing his own costume. “So, it has nothing to do with the fact that you knew I was wearing Allen Iverson’s jersey this year?”  

You snorted, crossing your arms over your chest, and turned around. But he was a lot closer than you realized, standing over you with a haughty tilt of his head. “You wear that jersey every year for Halloween,” you exhale exasperatedly, turning away. As if you hadn’t donned the 76ers’ cheerleader outfit for a reason. 

You pretended not to be fazed by the hand snaking around your bare waist, or fingers grasping your chin, making you tilt up. But you couldn’t help but let out a small yelp of surprise when he tugged you closer, making you stumble forward ungracefully. “Baby, you’re gonna make us miss the party,” he rumbled softly, breath fanning over your face. “We can’t leave the house now.” 

“Hm, it’s almost like I strategically planned this on a night that Doyeon would be busy sucking Seokjin’s dick,” you hummed, wrapping your arms around his neck with a roll of your eyes. 

“Gross. Why’d you mention my best friend’s dick when you’re about to suck mine,” Yoongi grimaced, nose cutely scrunched as his hand traveled down to the hem of your skirt, scrunching it up unscrupulously.

“You’re cocky,” you raised an eyebrow. “I haven’t even shown you my cheer routine yet,” you pouted.

“Oh, I’m not gonna stop you,” he backed up, waving a hand in open invitation with a giant grin. “By all means, princess.” 

You took the opportunity to push him down onto the couch behind him, relishing the surprised look on his face, which quickly turned into a smug tongue pushing against the inside of his cheek as he made himself comfortable. The music from your bluetooth speakers was already blasting your playlist from when you were getting ready, Big Poppa running through the apartment. 

“Oh, you’re so wrong for this,” Yoongi shook his head as he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his thighs. “To Big Poppa? You know damn well—” 

“Oh, you like this song?” You fluttered your eyelashes in faux surprise. “You made it your entire personality? My bad, I had no clue.” Yoongi rolled his eyes at your jab, leaning back against the couch cushions with a hard-to-fight-off half smile. Maybe he did listen to the song too often. You would know, the way it always played at least once when you’d get in his car. 

You climbed into his open lap, his arm automatically wrapping around you as you pressed your glossy lips to his. Grinding your hips down, you let his tongue push into your mouth, smacking sounds filling the living room. Your hands trailed down to fiddle with his shorts, reaching in to retrieve the object of your desire. His cock looked heavy in your small hand when you fished it out, wrapped around and stroking him. 

Yoongi groaned into your mouth with a rough nip to your bottom lip, dropping his hand from your waist to your ass to give it a squeeze. He was in too deep to realize you were pulling away, chasing your lips with his eyes closed until he no longer felt the heat of your breath, opening his eyes to see you sitting up, perched on his lap. 

His confused expression was cute, pouty lips and searching eyes, so you pressed one last peck to his lips to console the boy before reaching behind you. You placed your hands flat on the floor, back arched as you kicked your legs up, backflipping out of your boyfriend’s lap and sticking the landing with a triumphant cheer. 

“You know,” he leaned forward, snapping out of his daze. “That would be cuter if you cartwheeled into my lap instead.” 

“How about this instead?” You turned around, leaning backwards until your hands landed on the floor again, and you were looking at him upside down while holding an arch. Your mouth was level with his crotch, and you opened your mouth to stick your tongue out, making your intentions very clear. 

“Oh fuck,” he rushed to stand up, making it easier for him to slide his dick into your awaiting mouth, a loud hiss escaping him once he felt the warm, wet opening engulfing him. “You’re insane, baby. You know that?” 

Knowing full well you couldn’t answer, you just replied with a generous suck, pulling him further into your mouth, invading all your senses. You swirled your tongue around his bulbous tip, bobbing your head as best you could down his length. “Just like that, there’s a good girl.” He threw his head back in a grunt and you sighed happily at the praise. 

“How’d I get so fucking lucky,” he breathed, looking over your flexible position, rutting into your mouth at the sight of you sucking him off upside down. He didn’t know why it turned him on so much to see you like, bending over backwards for him in your little 76ers outfit. You were trying so hard, and doing it so well. Matching your outfit to his, remembering his habit of wearing his favorite player’s jersey—he was filled with fondness over how much thought you’d put into this.

You loosened your jaw, feeling spit dribble down your cheeks towards your hairline as Yoongi quickened his pace. Light dizziness started to set in as he hit the back of your throat, and your eyes fluttered as you tried to stay stable. The view of Yoongi’s large body looming above you looked even more colossal upside down, pretty bangs falling in his face as he looked down at you. 

He seemed to take the sign of your drooping eyelids, pulling himself out of your mouth, and letting you back up. “Fuck, that was amazing baby,” he pulled you in, getting a taste of himself when he kissed you. “Thank you.” 

“I’m not done,” you spoke through the kiss, palming his rock-hard dick in between you, swiping a thumb at the precum on top, your own spit dousing your palm from his length. You grabbed his hand, dragging him into your bedroom with giggles as he stumbled behind you, pushing him onto your perfectly made bed. His back leaned on the Kuromi plushie ornamenting your bedspread as you climbed on top, turning around and placing his hand on the waistband of your booty shorts. “Help, please?” 

Yoongi tried to hold back a smile at your antics as he slowly reached into the band of your shorts, hooking his fingers into it, and tugging it down your jiggly ass. But he couldn’t hold back the string of curses when he saw you were wearing nothing underneath, bent over on all fours looking back at him with a cheeky glint in your eyes. “It’s like you’re begging for me to stuff you.”

You bent down to rest on your elbows, arching your back even further as you watched him through half-lidded eyes. He matches your gaze, holding your staring contest so deeply that you jump when a smack lands on your ass. 

“My girl, so dirty just for me,” he curses, pulling you back by your hips to sit in his lap, cock pressed in between your cheeks. His mouth is next to your ear when he mutters, “Wanted to scream my name so bad you put on this little outfit?” His hands grope your tits as he speaks, right over the 76ers logo. 

“Wanted to spell your name out,” you pout, throwing your head back with a moan when he starts nipping harshly at your neck. “Let me do it, please—”

You reach behind you, finding his length easily, giving it a few strokes before lining it up with your entrance and leaning forward to give him easy access. One of his hands comes down to wrap around yours, guiding himself into your wet heat. You hiss as he enters you, feeling the stretch as he penetrates your pussy deeply as you lean forward to balance yourself. 

“Fuck, so tight,” he grunts, wrapping his hand around your waist and keeping you steady as he adjusts you to his pace. It’s slippery, sweat coating your body as his grip only sets fire to your skin, messily holding onto each other as you try to find your rhythm with loud slaps filling the room. 

Your muscles get accustomed to his thrusts as you start to bounce on his dick, lifting and dropping yourself as your hamstrings allow. Your palms fall forward, holding you up as you get comfortable, throwing your head back as you call his name. 

Yoongi’s hand wraps around your chin from behind you, tugging you back to press against his chest. “You wanted to spell my name, sweetheart? Give me an S.”

You repeat after him as your hips swivel to follow his command, looping around perfectly. Yoongi curses under his breath at your smooth movements, watching the way you move on his dick with laser-focused eyes. “Give me a U…” 

You do it again, hands going up to cover your jumping breasts as you spell it out with your hips, finishing with a G and an A to complete S-U-G-A. 

“Do ‘champion’ next,” Yoongi requests, and you turn around to see him leaning against the headboard with his arms resting behind his head comfortably and his eyes glued to your ass. Your eyes narrowed, scoffing at your boyfriend’s cheeky appeal. “Wanna see you do an ‘i’.” 

You slow your hip movements until you come to an eventual stop, Yoongi’s face falling into a pout as he sits up, but you’re quick with pushing him back down with your manicured hand on his chest, “You take what you get and like it, champ.” You’re resuming your bouncing once you see that brazen smirk on his face, rolling your eyes as you pant heavily at how good his cock feels inside you. Fuck him and his dick game. 10/10, would not recommend to a friend. 

Your legs start to spread as Yoongi sits up on his elbows, spreading wider and wider until you’ve broken out into a complete split. “Oh—fuck.” He watches as you bounce just like that, feeling himself push deeper into your cunt with every move. You were whimpering his name, reaching out behind you for him to wrap you in his embrace and he complied. “Doing so good for me, doll.” He whispered into your ear, slithering his hand down to find your clit, long fingers rubbing circles into the tiny nub. He felt your reaction immediately, the way you clamped down on his dick, clenching fiercely as he hit your deepest spots from within. “Almost there. I’ve got you.” 

He angled his hips to help you, thrusting up into you as you worked towards your orgasm. Bouncing away with your name on his lips, you came around his cock hard, your gushing arousal spilling out and coating him with slick. He quickly found your lips, letting you moan into his mouth as you rode out your orgasm, clutching his arm for dear life. 

“Good girl,” he praised, chasing your lips for another kiss as he thrust up into you in search of his own peak. You clutched his thighs as your bed shook, Kuromi plushie falling clean off the bed in all the action. Your headboard slammed against the wall behind it, sure to leave marks, but neither of you noticed. 

Yoongi’s thrusts got inhumanly fast, jostling you and shocking your oversensitive cunt. He finally pulled out, pushing you down onto the bed as he pumped himself to completion. You fell down with an oomf, no time to adjust your position before Yoongi was spilling his seed all over your ass cheeks. 

You never showed up to the party, opting to stay in with your boyfriend who you hadn’t seen enough of the past month, and watch your favorite Halloween movie. He chose the Purge, and you chose Ghostbusters (you won). Bundled up in your bed, TV flickering in front of you, you leaned back against Yoongi’s chest with a content hum. 

“We should do matching costumes again next year,” he mused out loud.

“Next year?” You echo without taking your eyes off the screen. But your mind is going a mile a minute. He was already thinking of next year’s Halloween… with you…

“Yeah, I was thinking we could do Monica and Quincy…” he rambled on, listing out the possibilities. But you weren’t listening, the only thought in your head was of your boyfriend thinking a whole year ahead, confirming he wanted you in his future. Practically claimed it. 

You smile to yourself as you wrap his hands tighter around you, absentmindedly agreeing in “Mhm”s as he goes on, heart fluttering endlessly.

⇢ let me know what you think! 🏀

main mlist | taglist

Copyright © 2022, yoon2k | tumblr | no reposts, translations, copies, modifications, etc. allowed

[bangtanbathhouse]

A Siren's Call 🌙 PJM

Moodboard 🌙 Playlist

🐚 Pairing: siren! Jimin X reader

🐚 Genre: angst, fluff (?), fantasy au

🐚 Warnings: character death

🐚 Rating: pg-15

🐚 WC: 2.8k+

🐚 Summary: It was supposed to be a retreat, a vacation, but you find yourself being pulled towards the sea. You feel a deep yearning towards the sea and probably more for the man in the waters.

🐚 A/N: Happy Birthday to the loml Jimin!! I hope you have a wonderful day and get all the happiness in the world Jimin. Thank you for brightening my day, everyday.

I hope you all like the fic!

Special thanks to Lillia @moccahobi and Ashley @moonleeai for beta reading this!

Also! Clare @nabiolive and Ashley @/moonleeai have a small cameo hehe

The sun shone brightly on the sea, the reflection falling right into your eyes. The sea looked like a plethora of sapphires stacked together due to the reflecting light. It was beautiful. The ship moved rhythmically on the sea, pulsating with cadence. You took a deep breath; the smell of salty water hit you strongly. 

You moved slightly, a little forward then back. Most of the ship ride was smooth, but you couldn’t help but move ever so slightly. It was good that you didn’t have any sea-sickness. The waves whispered in your ears as the wind caressed your face.

A sense of tranquility and serenity washed over you as gazed far off into the sea. You could see the horizon. Many times as a kid you believed that the horizon was a place where the sun, the moon and the stars hid, and came out whenever they felt like greeting people. You smiled as the nostalgia of your childhood sea adventures came forth in your mind.

“Dad, where is the sun going? Why is it leaving us?” you asked as you saw the sun set on the horizon. 

“It is not leaving you, it will come back to meet you tomorrow and you will soon have the moon and stars take its place,” your dad said, patting your head. 

“I told you coming here was a good idea,” Clare said smugly as they looked at you with a raised eyebrow.

You rolled your eyes, recalling the big tantrum you had thrown when they told you that they had booked a spontaneous trip, on a cruise ship, to the Mediterranean Sea without your consent.

In your defense, you had work to do, but you were not going to lie, this was amazing. But would you admit to it just like that?

“It's fine, I guess,” you mumbled looking away.

“Say ‘thank you Clare’,” they teased you as you narrowed your eyes on them.

“You’re mean,” you said with a pout.

They laugh as they wiggle their eyebrows, “I know you love me,” before walking off to find their boyfriend Yoongi.

You rolled your eyes but you knew they were not wrong.

There was something about the sea that was very enthralling, attracting, addicting even. The waves hit the ship in periodic motion. It was an alluring rhythm to which your heart thrummed. The chatter on the deck drowned out as you closed your eyes and listened to the waves crashing into the boat in symphony, you were the only audience to this mystical performance.

You opened your eyes and stared dreamily at the sea. You sat on the seat made just beside the edge of the deck and placed your chin on the railing, taking in the beauty of the sea. You took a deep breath and smiled to yourself, and that is when you saw it.

Was that a figment of your imagination? You thought you had seen a person, a man, in the sea. Somehow you knew you needed to see him again, there was a calling deep within you that you couldn't ignore. You gripped the rails as you peered into the distance, at the spot where you had seen this mysterious man. You felt a slight ringing in your ear, like a calling from the sea. Was there nothing there? Were you just hallucinating? You didn't know what it was about that man, but you desired to see him again.

“Y/N, we are going to have a small dance party, come join us!” Ashley hollered at you from the other end of the deck. You peered into the ocean once more before sighing to yourself.

You were definitely making things up.

“Coming!” you called back as you ran towards her.

When you were dancing around with Clare, Ashley, Yoongi and Hobi, their respective boyfriends, you had never imagined the three-sixty degree turn in the day’s weather.

It was all sunshine and rainbows in the morning, but as the time progressed the sea turned fiery. The calming waves were now enraged and roared instead of singing. The water that seemed warm and inviting hours ago now seemed cold and ruthless.

The captains aboard ordered everybody to move into their cabins, staying on the deck would be dangerous as the rogue waves were rising. People groaned and cursed the weather, this was supposed to be their vacation! But nonetheless, everybody slowly moved to their rooms. The crew kept moving the tourists' bags and other things on the deck. You were about to head to your room but something made you linger back. 

And then you saw him again, this time closer. You were sure you were not hallucinating.

Despite the clear warnings to stay away from the deck, you rushed to the edge of it. You needed to see him again. You heard the ringing again, this time a little louder. It was some sort of melody and you wanted to hear more. 

You gripped the railings tightly as the ship swayed a little and a heavy downpour started. Thunder crackled in the sky and the light drizzle turned into merciless rain. 

Who was that man? And what was he doing in the sea?

“Y/N!” you heard a voice call out before you saw a large wave rush towards you.

In spite of holding the railing, the waves were too strong for you. You felt a strong blow land on your left as your hands clasped over nothing. You tried to helplessly grasp for the railings as your hands slipped and you were thrown into the sea.

You flailed around your arms as you tried to come back to the surface. The water was cold and rough on your skin. The salty water filled your lungs and you shut your mouth and tried to stop it from entering any longer. It only partially helped as the water still entered through your nose. You could vaguely make out the screams from the deck, they were probably trying to find you. The continuous tides kept pushing you inwards; fear and frustration gripped you.

With half frozen limbs, you moved around, trying your best to swim with very little success. You were slowly losing the synchrony of time and place as the waves ruthlessly crashed against you.

With the instinct to survive and the adrenaline pumping through your veins, you managed to push yourself to the surface. You immediately coughed and gasped for air. You pushed your hair out of your face as you looked around for your ship.

It was nowhere to be seen.

You wanted to yell, cry out in fear and frustration, but all you could do was try to stay afloat pathetically. It was a situation where you could do nothing but wait for your fate to decide your next move. You looked around, trying to find any piece of land, anything at all.

But as fate would have it, you were alone, cold, and probably dying in this freezing sea.

Then as if nature smiled at you with sympathy, you saw a weathered wooden board floating at some distance. It looked sturdy enough to hold your weight.

You tried your best to swim against the tides and reached the wooden board. Grabbing it with your desperate hands you held on to it. You felt relief wash over you as soon as your palms made contact with the board.

With much exhaustion and the sea salt and water soaked clothes weighing you down you managed to pull yourself on it. You immediately flopped on it, sighing and gasping all the same. The adrenaline left your body quickly as you huffed and tried to take long gulps of air. The torrential downpour didn’t bother you or your drenched clothes.

After you had calmed down a little which almost felt like twenty minutes, you were thanking Mother Nature for being kind to you when you felt a sharp pain shooting through your leg.

You sat up as you examined your left leg and saw that there was a cut on your leg. Thankfully, the cut wasn’t very deep and it would probably heal quickly if you could get to a shore. You guessed that the adrenaline didn’t let you realize about the injury but now that you were not in a frantic state of woe you were becoming more aware of your body. Your back and neck hurt while your arms throbbed.

You felt a gush of wind wash over your water battered skin and shivered. It was getting colder. You could feel hot breath coming out of your mouth. 

You wondered how the others were, they were probably worried about you. You hoped that all of them were safe. You felt your eyes burn at the thought of your family and friends. They will send somebody to find you soon, right?

The stars were shining brightly and you pulled your knees to your chest, hugging them close, hoping for some warmth. You rubbed your arm, hoping that friction would favor you by warming you up. 

The inky waters somehow matched with the inky sky. It looked like one expanse of a never ending cloth. Even though the stars are supposed to shine, they looked contradictory, like holes in the big cloth. Like they weren’t meant to exist. 

You rested your head on your arms as you looked onto the sea that had somehow calmed down. The calmness of the sea was a little unnerving to you, the sudden silence after the loud thundering felt weird. Your eyes were getting droopy as the tiredness of the day was catching up to you.

You saw something glowing in the sea and your eyes snapped open. You fumbled onto your knees and hands as you narrowed your eyes. The black sea was lit up with something green, like there was a light hiding under the inky blanket. There was that weird calling again, deep in your heart. Your heart wanted to escape your body and move towards the calling. 

It was dangerous. 

You gulped as the light moved around your wooden board, to the center of the board, trying to keep yourself away from the edges. You didn’t have anything to protect yourself with.

You gasped when you saw a beautiful man come out of the waters. His jet black hair framed his face perfectly, his eyes were square like with droopy ends and he had a very pretty nose. His lashes brushed against his cheek and his plump lips were turned upwards into a beautiful smile. His ears were long at the ends. His sun kissed skin shone under the moonlight. He had a slender torso. Perfect, just like you read in fantasy novels.

He swam around your wooden board as your gaze lingered on him. His back arched beautifully to give you a view of his muscles. He had crescent moons littered on his back, like tattoos, but they glowed under the moonlight, like stars. 

He was ethereal.

You were taken aback due to the sudden appearance of this man, but he was just…enchanting. You found yourself moving towards him even before realizing. You moved on your board, scooting ever so slowly. 

When you moved closer you realized he had scales on his neck and arms.

He placed both of his arms on your board and looked at you curiously. You blinked at him, and then saw a long tail swaying behind him. The tail was long and thick as it tapered at the ends. The scales on his tail were more shiny as compared to those on his neck. The tail tapered into tips that looked like ribbons trailing behind. It  was pinkish with a little tinge of blue at the ends. It was so alluring to you,g like nothing you had ever seen, it was beautiful. 

You found yourself staring at him and it was only when you realized he was getting closer to you that you snapped out of whatever spell he had put on you.

“Who are you?” you asked, not above a whisper, as if afraid that your voice would break whatever tension that was created around you.

He stared at you with those eyes of his that were somehow both seductive and mysterious.

“Can you talk?” you asked.

“Yes,” he simply replied and you felt a shiver run through your spine.

You had never heard a more beautiful voice in your life. As you heard his voice, your surroundings started dissolving into nothingness, a strange desire took over you. It was captivating. You felt yourself crave more for his voice, for him. You wanted him to talk more.

“What is your name?” you asked, getting closer to him, a mystical force pushing you towards him.

“Jimin,” he said.

You felt an uncomfortable turn in your stomach and you felt electricity run through you.

“Jimin,” you said, tasting his name on your tongue. Even his name was bewitching to you. “I am Y/N,” you said, trying to introduce yourself and trying not to think too much about how attractive he was or how badly you wanted to kiss him.

“Y/N,” he said, repeating it after you and it took everything in you to not visibly shiver. You felt a tingle run through your arms as he touched your hand. You liked the way your name rolled off his tongue. It was like a spell, binding you to move towards him; like a command you wanted to comply to; like you were the sinner and he was the sin; like you were the parched soil and he was the rain. 

He smiled ever so sweetly at you and you swore that the moon shied away due to his beauty. You couldn’t look away; you were enraptured by this mysterious creature in front of you.

He raised himself a little more onto your board as his hands moved further up your arm. You liked it, you liked the touch. You didn’t flinch, you didn’t pull away, you wanted his touch. He opened his plump lips again and this time he sang.

You were spellbound. His skin glowed brightly, a greenish-blue hue, as his eyes turned white. If you thought he was beautiful before you were surely very wrong. His glowing skin added an ethereal look, making him look like the sun. If he was the sun you surely were Icarus because you couldn’t help but move towards him.  

You moved towards him willingly, you wanted to be near him, only him. 

The world around you melted as his timbre surrounded you. You saw nothing, nothing but him. You were intoxicated. His one hand slowly slithered to your torso and the other hand cupped your face. You were hypnotized by him, by his voice, by the haunting melody that left his lips.

He moved back as he pulled you along with him, and you let him, mesmerized by his white pupil-less eyes. He moved further back into the water, as you moved yourself to be with him, you didn’t want to lose his touch.  

You slowly lowered yourself into the water. The water was neither warm nor cold. It was like you could feel nothing but Jimin. Jimin's touch seemed to overpower the feeling of water. The water moved upwards and upwards, your hips, your torso, and now your shoulders. Only your head was above the water as you stared at Jimin. The moon shone brilliantly down at him, like his eyes.

He kept singing as his tail wrapped around your legs and his fingers slowly turned webbed. The scales grew on his neck and you were still mesmerized. You held onto his shoulders as his hands moved to the back of your neck and pulled you closer.

He kissed you as the singing stopped momentarily.

The kiss was ever so sweet, inviting, home-like, everything. He was like an aphrodisiac, a drug, the kind you were ready to get addicted to. It was consuming. You felt like you were going to combust due to the intense amount of desire that was pouring through you. 

As the kiss got deeper, you realized that you were going deeper into the water; drowning, just like you were drowning in his eyes, drowning in his touch, drowning in him. 

You opened your eyes and saw his slender torso tapering down to his tail that was currently wrapped around you. His eyes kept glowing even under the water, pulling you in them. The scales were now visible on his face, but he was still beautiful.

You saw fangs growing out of his mouth and he still looked bewitching. You knew what was coming for you, but you still couldn’t take your eyes off him.

Not even when his webbed fingers grew out nails;

Not even when those nails dug into your skin;

Not even when the fangs tore your skin;

You were slipping, far into darkness

You looked at his face one last time as darkness washed over you completely.

🐚 Taglist: @sugarwithtea @lvoekook @madbutgloriouspond @lovelgirl22 @vanillacupcakefrosting @cramseys @suryanwesha @persphonesorchid

🐚 A/N: Hope you all liked it! Please reblog and comment as it keeps me motivated to write

[bangtanbathhouse]

HAPPY BIRTHDAY JIMIN 🌒🌓🌔🌕🌖🌗🌘

© sugarwithtea. all rights reserved.

[bangtanbathhouse]

✧ INCANTATION ✧

 -like/reblog ☑, do not repost!-

[bangtanbathhouse]

Make an Offer (M)

Sensuous, sexy, erotic

How you working your body

You gon’ make me do it, do it to you

• Pairing: Sugar Daddy!Jimin x Sugar Baby!(F)Reader  

• Genre: Non-Idol!AU, Sugar Daddy!AU, Smut, Strangers to Lovers (?)  

• Rating: 18+

• Words: 14.8k

• Summary: Money in exchange for companionship and fucking? It was an arrangement that you were comfortably taking part in with your current sugar daddy. But when you lock eyes with a stranger during a night out, you’re approached with an offer that could shake things up.  

• Warnings/themes: Merchbox. Jimin. 🥵, cheating but not cheating?, sugar daddies, open relationship, Tae is a damn cheapskate, Jimin’s dancing is an automatic warning, drinking, hooking up, flirting, Jimin makes an offer Y/N can’t refuse, teasing, making out, dirty talk, fingering, oral (m. and f. receiving), Jimin and Y/N’s CHAINS 🤪, edging, spanking, begging, daddy kink I don’t usually do this but it fits the fic shhh, bath sex, protected sex (shield yourself!), multiple positions

• Playlist: 🎧

• Song Inspo: Seduction - Usher (Spotify | Soundcloud)  

• Notes: *sighs* I wasn’t planning to make anything new for the mochi’s birthday, but thanks to having a nice convo with @ressjeon​, it turned into something bigger 😅 I’m definitely doing some things in here that I normally wouldn’t write about, but it fits the circumstances! Besides, I’ll do anything for Merchbox!Jimin… 🥴💦💦💦 A huge thanks to @jeonspub​​ for beta’ing with some lovely suggestions and tips (and comments that had me rolling)! 💖 Happy birthday to our sassy lil’ mochi man! 🎂

Crossposted to AO3.

• Taglist: @parkdatjimin​​ @jimilter​​ @joontied​​ @highly-functioning-mitochondria​​ @swweetnightt​​ @sunshinerainbowsbts​​ @minttangerines​​ @miscelunaaa​​ @sugalaritae​​ @herecomesjoon​​ @crisle19​​ @codeinebelle​​ @ssaboala​​ @effielumiere​​ ​​ @nglmrk​​ @m1sss1mp​​ @bebejungkook​​ @jiminscheekies​​ @firesighgirl​​

“What do you want to drink, baby?”

“Mm, a round of martinis sounds nice.”

You weren’t surprised to have Taehyung look at the bar with apprehension before fixing you with a placating smile.

“Why don’t we start off with one and go from there, hm?”

It took a second but you managed to keep your honeyed smile from souring.

“If you say so, Tae.”

Keep reading

[bangtanbathhouse]

Happy Birthday to our calico cat Park Jimin 

😺 💜✨ 🐱

13.10.1995

“It’s alright if you started from right now. It’s alright if you’re in a good mood. It’s alright if you do everything you want to do. It’s alright if you miss Bangtan. Just be happy.”

Park Jimin

resources found here: 1, 2, 3, 4

[bangtanbathhouse]

Splish (An Intersect Drabble) | KNJ

Splish (An Intersect drabble)

✫✫✫Intersect Masterlist✫✫✫

Pairing: KNJ x Fem!Reader

Rating: M 🔞 (NSFW)

Genre: Established relationship; PWP; smut; sprinkle of fluff

Warnings: dirty talk; exhibitionism; edging; fingering; clit play; tub sex; riding; breast play; nipple play; heavy petting; unprotected sex in a committed, monogamous relationship; cussing; cuddling; aftercare; domestic life

Word count: 3,811 words

Summary: You and Namjoon find a way to reconnect after a busy summer at work.

A/N: Fine. Another horny word-vomit piece, after that Weverse photo. But I calmed down, took a little nap and decided to tie it into my Intersect!AU, which you do not necessarily have to read to get the references. 🤗 It's soft...a little filthy...and then soft again. I slipped a tiny Friends reference in there, if you can catch it 😅 The title was taken from Miguel’s song, “Skywalker,” (don’t wait to jump in too long 🤭)…or if you prefer Bobby Darin’s song, that works, too!

Namjoon trudges through the doorway after his final day of working overtime. The summers were always tough at the office—it was the busiest time with new contract bids and the end of the fiscal year to cap it all off.

“Hey, baby,” you greet him from where you sat on the couch. You got home hours before he did, after your deputy, Lee, offered to wrap up the final day of contract proposals addressed to the Foundation. You and Haejin would start poring over them in the coming days to determine which firm you would award contracts to.

“Hi,” he managed to say. He tosses his keys, phone, and jacket on the adjacent couch before plopping himself next to you, leaning his head back against the couch cushions.

It was the end of the week and he was feeling drained after sitting in back-to-back budget meetings with Jin, and at the same time, mentoring Jimin and Taehyung as they settle into more senior positions at the firm.

You scoot closer to him, pushing some errant strands off his eyebrow. “Rough day?”

Leaning into your touch, he gives you a small nod.

“Have you eaten?” You start to get up from the couch, “I can make you something–”

He shook his head gently before crawling up to you, making you sit back down so he can nuzzle into your neck.

Your arms instinctively envelop him into a warm embrace. His frame was much larger than yours–you found it imposing and sexy at the same time. But when he craved contact like this, he wasn’t afraid to make himself smaller. He was just a big teddy bear.

He exhaled deeply, feeling relieved to wrap up a very busy few months and that he can finally spend quality time with you.

You run your hands through his hair, massaging his scalp gently at each pass. “Are you sure you’re not hungry?”

“No…too tired to chew,” he croaks out..

“Well, that’s a first,” you chuckle teasingly. As payback, he poked you on your side where you were ticklish, making you yelp and recoil your body from him. “I’m kidding,” you giggled. “Is there anything I can do? Besides turning myself into a cushion for you?”

His laugh reverberates through you. “Can’t we just stay here,” he mumbled.

Your hand travels down his spine and back up into his shoulders, giving it a squeeze. 

He moans softly at the pressure, making you shift your hand onto his other shoulder to massage it. There was so much pent up tension in them.

“That feels so nice,” he drawls.

Suddenly, a lightbulb goes off in your head.

******

“I don’t know about this, YN,” He says skeptically, rubbing the back of his neck.

Your new place’s en suite bathroom had a shower and a large soaking tub–which your brother, Jungkook, took full advantage of whenever he would house-sit when you and Namjoon were away on vacation or traveling for work.

He watched while you sat on the outer edge of the tub, putting in a couple drops of calming essential oils into the water.

You wave him off. “Shush…don’t knock it ‘til you try it!”

He hissed through his teeth and flexed his mouth awkwardly, unconvinced. “Yeeeahh but…I don’t really know if I’m a bath-guy.” Namjoon preferred your high-pressure shower, with scalding water beating down his back to ease some of the tension in his shoulders.

“I can get you a little battleship to play with, if that makes you feel better?” You joked while you swirl the oils around in the water, the scent melding with the bubbles that had already formed on the surface.

“Ha-ha, you’re so funny,” he deadpanned.

Once the room was filled with soothing aroma, you flick your fingers over the tub, shaking off the bubbles and excess water that clung to your skin. You turn your attention to him, standing in the middle of your bathroom, barefoot, with his hands on his hips.

You turn the taps to shut the water off once it reaches an ideal level for him to soak in. “Your bath is ready, sir,” you say with a smile and a slight tilt of your head.

The corners of his mouth twitched and he bites down at his bottom lip. “Mm…are we doing that tonight, too?”

You roll your eyes playfully at him. “Next time, you fiend!”

Role-playing was exciting every now and then but you genuinely just wanted to make him feel relaxed tonight.

With a defeated sigh, he took a couple of steps closer and started to loosen his tie. Getting up from where you sat, you moved towards him and placed your hand on his, making him pause his actions.

“Let me.” You offer. His hands drop to his sides and he lets you undress him.

“Can I do it for you, too?” His voice is low and raspy.

You smirk at him and shake your head ‘no.’ You pushed his shirt past his broad shoulders and let it fall to the floor. Your hands gripped at his belt to unfasten it, undoing the top button then unzipping it. Wedging your hands between his waistband and his ass, you rid him of his boxer-briefs and trousers in one smooth move.

Your eyes drift lower to find that he was already sporting a semi. Seeing the hunger in your eyes, his large hand drifted over to your side and reached around to palm your ass. “You know, I can just carry you to the bed and we can skip this whole slow burn and get to the good part!”

“Joon!” You laugh at your man’s impatience and step back from him. “Just let me do this, please?” You stand your ground even though it was extremely difficult to do so while he stood there completely naked in front of you.

He let out a groan of frustration but relented anyway. He found it difficult to say ‘no’, especially when it came to you.

“Go on,” you motioned towards the tub. He stepped in and settled beneath the bubbles, inhaling scents of lavender and ylang-ylang. He closed his eyes and let out a hum of appreciation once the warm water calmed him.

You grinned in satisfaction. “See? What did I tell you?”

“Fine…I’m slowly getting why this is one of your favorite things to do,” he comments, while leaning his back against the tub, resting his neck on the rolled up towel that you propped at the end to cradle his head.

You shrugged. “Maybe we should do baths more often now,” you coaxed. He lifted his arms and rested them on the sides of the tub.

Opening one eye, he flashed a dimple at you. “I’ll only enjoy it if you’re in here naked with me.”

You smiled at his cheekiness, but ignored his proposition. You reached above the water spout to grab the sponge and knelt beside the tub. You dip the sponge into the water then squeeze it over his bare chest. You watched the suds slither down his skin before swirling the sponge carefully on his skin.

Once you were done with his chest and arms, you move behind him. You tap him on the shoulder, urging him to lean forward so you could scrub his back.

You couldn’t deny yourself the pleasure of admiring him like this. Thinking about how much he drove you crazy…and how much you loved him.

Your head tilts in silent contemplation. Although he’s always said that you made him weak in the knees, you were just as overcome by him. He had a certain power over you. Though it was soft and gentle–it was still potent enough to knock you off your feet.

Your mind continues to wander as you watch his legs shifting under water.

“YN?”

You are awakened from thoughts of him by the soft sound of your name, and you turn to find his neck arched backward and a hand held out to you. 

“Please.” His eyes were soft, inviting, and full of need–for you.

How could you stand to refuse him again with that look etched all over his face?

Simply put, you couldn’t. You get up from behind him and strip down. Eyes never leaving you, he blindly reaches down beneath his leg, pulling the plug to drain some of the water from the tub. Once the water level was low enough to avoid flooding your bathroom when you got in, he pushed it down to seal it again.

You took his hand, step into the tub, then lower yourself as he carefully brings you down with him until you’re snug between his thighs.

He releases your hair from the claw clip that holds it up, pushes it over your shoulder and down your front then pulls your back flush against his chest. “That’s more like it.”

“This was not exactly what I had planned when I said that I wanted to take care of you.” Your arms come up over your head and reach back to circle his neck, your head resting to the side, eyes closing.

“Plans change, baby.” His hands brush the exposed underside of your arms before they slide down onto your stomach. “You just have to roll with it.” Your legs intertwine with his, slippery skin on slippery skin.

You turn your cheek and sigh. “I’ve missed you.” You couldn’t help but voice your longing for him. It’s been so long since you spent quality time like this. Work has blurred time in the past few months and not that you were complaining, but the quickies that you snuck in on random days and nights were just not doing it for you anymore.

”Me too,” he murmured against your temple. “At least everything’s calmer for us now…and we can have more of this.” He laces his fingers with yours.

You knew your busy season was coming to an end and that gave you comfort. You were so looking forward to reconnecting.

A comfortable silence falls, him snoozing peacefully, you staring at the ceiling, happy to let him rest undisturbed.

Minutes later, you feel him absentmindedly tracing circles on your hips with the tips of his fingers. He relished whenever you squirmed in reaction to it. You sigh deeply, trying to quell the heat pooling in the pit of your belly.

Then his chest lifts, rolling you upon it. He flattens his palms on your hips and strokes down onto your thighs, making wider circles across your skin. Your body instinctively tenses at his touch, making your nipples come up through the water’s surface. Your arms, still linked over his head, shift a little, as does your bottom, giving him a treat for his hardening length. He flinches slightly and stills his hands.

Two can play that game.

You shift again, and this time he growls under his breath, biting down on his teeth to get through the feeling of your ass nuzzling his cock. 

His hands move of their own volition and slide inward, taking his touch to the apex of your thighs, letting his senses guide him. Right now, his senses want you in every way possible.

His face plummets into your hair and he inhales, his fingers creeping closer to your center. Your legs spread as wide as the tub can allow, giving him better access. You nuzzle your cheek to his pectoral, your eyes closed, lips slightly parted.

He knew at that point that all systems were go once your hips started to buck at the stroke of his hand–but he decides to prolong the agony a bit more.

“Want me to touch you there, baby?” He asks quietly, skimming the swollen entrance teasingly before withdrawing, going back to circling your thighs. Your back arches, breasts lifting, sending streams of water pouring down the sides of your body.

He doesn’t accept your wordless answer. “Is that a yes?”

One hand leaves the back of his neck and reaches down for his hand, trying to guide it exactly where you wanted it. The fact that that’s where he wanted his hand craved to be, too, is beside the point. He needs to hear you ask. Nicely.

“Say it,” he all but growls, resisting your attempts to move his hand. “You want my fingers in your cunt?” He breaks free of your hold and takes his hands up to your wet breasts, cupping each one.

All you seem to be able to do is mumble broken sounds of pleasure, water lapping your body as you squirm on top of him. You let out a pathetic squeak when he tugged at your taut nipples–the sensation being too much for you.

He dips his head and nibbles at your ear. “Use your words, love.”

You dragged out a moan. “Hmmm…yes.” 

He smiled. “That’s better.” His hands drift back underwater to between your legs, massaging them gently, still keeping his touch just shy of your entrance.

Fuck, he made you feel so good.

You were so wet, so warm for him. Your whole body goes lax, every curve melting into his chest and legs, your weight perfectly balanced on him, your arms curled back around his neck again. Your head falls limply to the side, eyes drowsy, and he just watches, completely captivated as he plays with you, teases you…until he shallowly dips his finger…only to withdraw it quickly.

You whine at the aching feeling of emptiness.

“Feel good?” He whispers, his tongue tracing the shell of your ear.

Your answer is a long, breathy sigh. His cock felt so hard against your back, but he took his time fighting every instinct to roll you both over and just sink deep into you. He simply enjoyed watching you take the pleasure he was giving.

His touch glides in and out of your swollen flesh with ease; your walls sucking in his fingers greedily. The tips of your nipples beckon him. The only sign of your slow build to orgasm is the increasing tension in your body. He could always tell by touch and feel but it was more evident to him when you were spread over him like this, with your back slipping across his chest.

Part of him wants to maintain this level of pleasure for you, where you’re teetering right on the edge, holding you at the precipice when you were so close to seizing your climax. But then there’s the other half of him who just wants to hear you scream his name.

While he seems slightly distracted, you take control back when you spin around the tub and you’re on your knees, the juncture between your thighs perfectly aligned with his raging hardon. 

He clings to the edges of the tub, surging forward to make room for you to slide your legs on either side of him, all the while supporting your weight. Water sloshes around and a fair amount spills onto the bathroom floor while you get into position, your ass cheeks settling on his thighs…a hair’s breadth away from your intended target.

He wriggles underneath you, nuzzling his nose, his cheek, his chin against your neck. The slightest shift of your hips sends his cock plunging into you with ease. You choke out your surprise then watch him grit his teeth, every inch of his skin covered in goosebumps.

You both fight hard to control your breathing. “That…was not fair,” he panted against your cheek, his cock pulsating wildly, desperate to lunge forward.

“I’m sorry, are you complaining?” You cock your head and an eyebrow at him while your thumb rubbed over the flat disk of his nipple. Once. And again. His mouth narrowed into a line, deepening his dimples as he bit back a groan. He sheepishly tears his gaze away from you.

“Didn’t think so,” you say triumphantly before attacking his mouth with a firm but gentle force, whimpering happily when he doesn’t put up a fight. You have him just where you want him, relishing in the thought that he finds you irresistible.

He palms your ass while he guides you in slow circles, grinding into him while he hums into your mouth, his tongue fighting with yours. You pull back, needing to see his face.

“I want to see you.” Your heart is beating, hard and steady. You needed to see those dragon eyes. It’s quite an effort for him given the sensation of you riding him, but he drags them open anyway, his lashes wet and heavy, his gaze dripping with yearning and want.

“I love you.” He whispers before his head drops back against the tub, the muscles in his neck failing him. “You’re so good to me.”

“I…” you trail off, leaning into him while your forehead pressed against his on a groan. “...Love you, Joon,” you utter, while your walls contract around his cock. “Let me take care of you, baby.”

He counters immediately. “You are,” Your eyes are so close together that your lashes touch. “Believe me, you are.” He bucks his hips, driving deeply. Now you start to lose the ability to keep your eyes open. Your lids drop, fingers now gripping his hair while your core spasms around him.

“No, no–you have to keep them open,” he demands, “I need you to see how good you make me feel.”

Your eyes fly open. “Yeah?” You pant, and he nods. You grab onto the sides of the tub for leverage and rock your hips hard against him making him growl when he feels his cock hit the tip of your cervix. “God, I love it when you fuck me like this,” he grits, digging his fingers into your hips.

You were in awe at how you and Namjoon have maintained your connection after all of the challenges your relationship has been through. Yours was a connection so ridiculously electric that neither of you could stop the onset of the current once you were in the same room.

You still bicker every now and then, especially when things get stressful and you unintentionally snap at each other. Although the makeup sex and angry sex were hot, it was this slow, sweet pace that always made you soar.

“Fuck, Joon….” Your fingers tighten in his hair, the rhythmic clenches of your walls while your clit strokes his cock takes him closer to his climax. “I’m…clo…ahh.” You murmured somewhat incoherently, the constant assault to your center bringing tears to your eyes.

“I know,” he breathes, “Me, too.” His arms crawling up your back, you take him in a tight hug as you both chase your release. Bodies crushed together, your hips flexing in sync, swallowing each other’s breaths and moans while your eye contact never faltered.

You go first, but he’s not so far behind. Your body goes rigid, your jaw tight while he lets out a long, primal growl as you feel him spurting into you.

“Ahhh, fuck.” Air bursts out of him, the bloodrush in his face dissipates as he visibly relaxes. Although the sensitivity starts to become too much for him, he endures it, seeing that you were still riding the waves of your orgasm.

And when you’re over it, you collapse on his chest like jello, gasping for breath.

“You…are…amazing,” he rasped.

You laugh weakly. “I just wanted to give you a bath.”

He snorted. “You just wanted to get me naked and wet—which is what you really should have led with,” You sink your teeth on his shoulder, making his body jolt in laughter.

You both settle, relaxed, sated, and happy. And that’s exactly how you remain until the water is too cold for his liking. You had goosebumps all over you, no matter how much he rubs his hands all over your back and arms.

“C’mon, let’s dry off.”

You resist him at first when he tries to get up, becoming dead weight on his chest. “But I’m comfy,” you whined.

He lifts your head gently off him. “And you are going to catch a cold. Now, c’mon, please?” You acquiesce and release your hold on him. He reaches for the rack behind him for a towel then lays it by the side of the tub to keep you from slipping since the bath-mat was soaked through from your earlier activities. So much for trying to preempt it.

He helps you on your feet and takes another towel, draping you in it while he wraps one securely around his waist.

He goes on to rub at your wet hair while you stand motionless before him, letting him do what he needs to. When he finishes, you raise your arms up and he wraps it around your body.

You take him by surprise by grabbing the towel wrapped around his waist and mirror his previous actions on you, drying the expanse of his back, then making him yelp when you give his bare ass a light smack to finish off.

After putting on a pair of shorts, he offers to tidy up in the bathroom and start a load of laundry for you.

You thank him with a kiss, then slip into one of his oversized, lived-in college hoodies before heading into the kitchen.

******

The scent of grilled beef and noodles lures him out of your bedroom, parking himself on one of the stools at your kitchen counter. He sat there in silence, watching you make him a meal while you were barefoot, dressed in just your underwear and his hoodie.

You scoop a serving into a bowl, set it down on the surface then hand him a pair of chopsticks.

Before he takes them from you, he tries to argue, “You know you didn’t have to—“

“Joon—I said, let me take care of you,” you say firmly before planting a quick kiss on his lips. “Now eat up.”

He knows this was a battle he wasn’t going to win. He nodded obediently and mouthed his thanks.

You take the seat next to him and he takes comfort in resting his left hand on your knee. Your skin alights when his fingers absently brush against it every now and then.

You smile while listening to him intently as he continues to chew on his food then talk about his day. And he didn’t seem to mind when you fidget with the ring on his finger, slowly spinning it while you hum and nod at his anecdotes.

He halts his rambling, turning his head in your direction. “Do we have any dessert?” he wondered out loud. For someone supposedly too tired to chew earlier, he seems to have gotten a second wind.

“Yeah, we do,” you answer quickly but pause for suspense.

His eyes light up in anticipation. “And?”

“It’s mint-chocolate ice cream!”

He threw his head back and groaned loudly, nearly falling off his chair while your laughs ring through your home.

You’ve reached the end! Thank you so much for reading!

If you loved it, please comment, reblog, or send me feedback! 📩. I love hearing from readers! If you didn’t like it so much, I would still like to hear about it. Help me become a better writer! 💜

Tagging my Intersect/Namjoon hoes: @internetjunkdrawer @deepseavibez @dany-but-not-targaryen @scuzmunkie @sweetjellyfishland @joeybeanxbts @amylouisecullen @knjkitten @gcintia @daphnxy @rkivecenter @serendididy @arisud @kalala22 @little-dark-empress @humasthings-blog @katribbon @reliablemitten @joheunsaram @kissme-ornot @playmetheclassics @itdoesntmatterwhy @e-cm @saweetspoiled @miksancheese @yoongukie-ff @purplewhalewrites @writersblock0625 @kookierecs @im-falling-without-you @ut-dixisti @norushtolive

[bangtanbathhouse]

some jinkook wiggles

[bangtanbathhouse]

jin wearing the bad day pyjamas

[bangtanbathhouse]

boy next door

🌿 genre: smut, pwp, fluff, romance, s2l

🌿 pairing: kim taehyung x poc!(f) reader

🌿 rating: 18+

🌿 warning(s): swearing, body worship, confessing, hand holding, cuddling, sexual tension, fingering, romantic/gentle sex, fondling/massage, protected sex, tae is sweet

🌿 word count: 3.2k

🌿 credits: thank you to @namjinsmoonchile and @highly-functioning-mitochondria for beta reading this!

🌿 a/n: 

banner resources found here: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5

Autumn Acquaintances 

⁂ Hosted by: professor valerie through @bangtansorciere

⤐  AU Type: white pumpkins - something new

⤐  Theme(s): opposites attract, guy next door

⤐  Kinks: confessing, hand holding, cuddling, sexual tension, romantic/gentle sex, fondling/massage

Keep reading

[bangtanbathhouse]

scent of eager suds ⏤ knj (m)

pairing: husband namjoon x fem!reader

genre/au/rating: 18+, smut, angst, pwp, some fluff

summary: you missed each other, too fucking much. but your head had stayed down in futile hopes of remaining stubborn, forgetting that there is a wedding ring on that tricksy little finger of his for a reason.

warnings: swearing, angst, couples fighting, mixed feelings, explicit sexual content, oral (f. receiving), hair pulling, angry sex, shower sex, unprotected sex (can't go wrong if you shield your dong!), breath play, nipple play, yeah it's basically just porn with feelings

word count: 3.7k

𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑'𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄: she's back y'all!!! just with a few tweaks, alterations and additions ⏤ like this new banner!!!! i kinda wanted to give it a whole new vibe hehe. another thank you to my beta @magicshopaholic, and my brainstormers @taetaesbaebaepsae and @hobateas! hope y'all enjoy!

❥ masterlist.

...

If anyone else was to describe it, lifelessness was the prime impression. There’s nothing else that one could possibly gather from your fairly cryptic manner; no words had fallen from your lips to aid the hypothesis.

You’re always so annoyingly adept at your motives. But somehow, there was still one - and only one - living soul that held the mindly means to figure this shit out. To figure you out. He would spend a considerably scant amount of time on such a task, yet fulfil it so thoroughly that the constant aching between your legs seemed more equitable than you would like it to be.     

He’d recognized it through the minute rising of your chest as if it were obvious. He’d recognized it in the concerningly restive footsteps to your shared bedroom. He’d recognized it in the amusingly shrewd vibrations of your voice box that he’d supposed were to display your deadly level of vexation. Even the fresh, new callousness of your hands had been sensed, the ground being much more than the wrathful nails pressed against your palms in a fist - a skillful maintenance of your bitterness. 

You’d hoped to be a mystery. You’d hoped to seem as composed as you believe yourself to be. But truth be told, you were utterly feeble in your means to conceal it; almost in a way that should have you cowering in humiliation. From careless hands inertly twisting your braids into a bun to your unrelaxed journey to the bathroom; cards were laid out. You fucking knew it. 

What lies beyond sustaining his oh so honorable hand as your lover - your spouse, or partner in crime as some might call it - is absolutely no reason he should know you this well. The wonders, the mysteries… the frailties of your being weren’t just on the back of his skillful hand, but were studied, revised and crammed tirelessly by means of writing on every wall he turned to. 

Fuck him, a cunning conscience with devil horns would whisper every two seconds to your delicate soul. Fuck his criminal wit. Fuck his willingness. Fuck those audacious, plump lips against your neck and his wispy “I missed you.” Fuck his free hand for its knowlege of the riddling workings of your body; sliding up your soft inner-thigh in dissonance with the tiny warm droplets. 

But most of all, fuck you. 

Fuck you for your sweet sighs of compliance. Fuck you for leaning back against his chest and serving absolute fuck-all to simmer his smauldering pride. Fuck you for carelessly rivaling your better judgment. 

Fuck you. The one message that he’d received throughout the noise of your mindly cursing… because Lord, was he just too damn good at fucking you. 

“Still don’t wanna talk to me?” His hand makes a bold move towards your aching cunt, leisurely and patient. Perversity had won the part as your middle name, commiserating you with honeyed whispers, convincing you that maybe, just maybe, the steamy torrent before you was well in outwitting the gears of your autonomy. The heat, the profuse clan of droplets crashing boorishly on your skin and on the shower floor, the wispy tendrils of steam, the cruel rashes of pleasure. Your instincts were hampered from the prospect of pushing him away. It wasn’t you. 

Your breathy shudders were back at failing you, alas, and giving a fuck was thoroughly out of the question. His finger proceeds, light rubs against your clit abettering the drift of his persistence, “Tell me, baby. Are you ready to push me away like you always do?  Like you say I always do?”

“Joon…” You drag, lulled by the whispery milieu of the water, whilst afire by the skill of his fingers. You were beyond certain you’d heard a chuckle, a song of timeliness as per what you’d call it; a fair response to what was supposed to be a lesson learned. 

“Baby,” he murmurs against your neck once more, whilst long, beautiful fingers in a pair begin their jaunt to fuck you before his cock does. “I missed you. I missed you so fucking much and all you need is for me to prove it to you.” 

Your gasp might’ve said something, but you’d basked in it for only an appropriate instant. His fingers, slyly slipping between your folds hadn’t done much for your lively ire. They had, however, certainly succeeded in peeving you further. 

You wanted more. You needed more. 

“We both know that this isn’t enough to prove it. ” You managed to breathe out.

Kisses on your neck cease, and fingers retract from what was the miry wetness of your pussy, certainly ready for more than just a round of listlessly apologetic fingering. 

“Then what is?” He slyly murmurs. 

Damn you for having retained the valor to communicate thoroughly. Spinning around to face him (which was, by apt means, quite difficult), you gift your husband with a bold move of your own, bringing a hand up to grip tightly at the nape of his neck and shorten the distance between your burning faces. A piece of your mind was the treasured cargo. 

“I don’t know how long you’d hoped to play dumb with me, but it ends now. You know what I want.” You hiss through gritted teeth.

The deep and tyrannous buzz of your chest had barely succeeded in vanquishing the serene chaos of the atmosphere. In some obscure way, you felt like it mattered despite his fitting proximity to your lips. Hearing words could only do so much. It isn’t enough until his eardrums are damn near dissipated from your vague desires. 

But there’s no need. Hushed demands are sweet in entertaining his specialty as, afterall, he is your husband.

“Always so bossy.” He tuts. Though, he does all but support the remark. 

You’re moving backwards at his accord, coming in contact with the too-near dead end. You wind up grimacing softly at the rabid coldness of the wall against your shoulder blades and ass, instinctively deterred from the warmth of the recurring downpour. But all is effortlessly shirked once the stirring sensation of his cock against your thigh makes its rise. You feel so hot again, a manic arousal putting zero effort into making your head spin. The strengthening masses of steam would have to try harder. 

Just about sick and fucking tired, you pull him in to kiss you, hard, bringing vengeful tongues and teeth to clash against one another in zeal. With a nip of his teeth and swipe of his tongue on your bottom lip, perhaps a good start in replacing the venomous tidings of each other’s disagreements was put in place  A divine pair of hands is making ravenous journeys across the spacious sweeps of your melanated skin, helped by slippery suds that all but succeeded in concealing the scent of your unending keenness. 

“For what it’s worth,” he mutters, breaking the kiss, “I do know what you want. I always know what you want, and I’m always willing to give you what you want.” 

You’re fucked up. Manic. Aching. And your husband is having too much fun with you.

But one last peck against your lips is where it officially begins. 

He continues down your neck once more, whilst this time, your breasts are caught in the arrest of his hands, squeezing and thumbing across the supple skin of your nipples every now and then. 

It happened too quickly, too far from the likes of your expectations. As if only a nip at your collarbone later, his thumb is benevolently replaced by the eager muscle of his tongue, circling vigorously like his life depends on it… which, in this particular respect, it does. 

“Fuck, Joon.” You heave, almost whimpering, back arching in a deliverance of access. A pair of plump lips wrapping around the erect nub was your response.

He then does the same with your left tit, licking, lapping, sucking, skillfully relishing the flavor of your skin as if it were his last. Your hands had conceded defeat and befriended the burning itch to touch him once again. You bring them up for your fingers to card through the doused tresses of his grey hair, which he’d been making points to trim every so often.

 You sensed an obscure motive behind it. He need not explain a damn thing, he’d probably say if you asked him about it. But the echoes of your casual “you look so much better with short hair” had made its homecoming. His beautiful cheeks would betray him in your honor, alluding with a pink hue at every vibration. You missed it, and you’re sure he missed it too. 

The same could be said about the recurring shifts in his physique. Although you’ve come to appreciate it more than dwell on the intricacy.

“Oh my God,” you moan as he releases your nipple with a final pop to placidly continue with open mouthed kisses down the valley of your chest, your stomach, then down to your pelvis. The feat had become less farfetched than thought to be. But still, it was about fucking time. 

“I missed you,” he murmurs once more, for what seemed like the umpteenth time to you. But it’s impossible to say that you didn’t appreciate it. 

As you basked in the sight of him knelt down before you in diligence, what you did say was, “You said you were gonna prove it to me. So prove it to me.” 

An index finger making its way back to your throbbing pussy, stroking in between your folds and up your slit to gather the flavourful mess of your arousal, serves the power of his cheeky rejoinder. “As you wish.” He murmurs before wontonly sucking on that fucking finger. 

A bullet was wisely dodged. Dissipating the chance of a thorough scolding for him to just fucking get on with it, he wastes absolutely no time. 

Senses fleeting, mouth forming an ‘o’ and hips arduously urged to buck against the art of his mouth and tongue, you free a series of curses as if it were a play for the casual streetwalker outside your house. One thing for sure is that the neighbors were pissed. Loafing folk sat in what was supposed to be the comfort of their homes in fumes, having attained the gall to complain if it weren’t for knowing of the obvious circumstance. 

If it weren’t for the sound of your husband’s name bouncing off your tongue in a notably pornograhpic lilt, the neighbors would’ve said something. And you’re aware of 

The strong, wet muscle zealously wiggles on your bundle of nerves before it is engulfed within the warmth of his mouth for him to suck softly. Your husband was finally fucking home. 

“Fuck, so good, Namjoon. Always s-so fucking good with your mouth.” Along with your words, the grip on his hair meliorates in palpable praise, earning you the pulsation of a deep hum sauntering amongst the nerves of your throbbing pussy. 

One last nip at your clit foregoes his hushed and mellow response, right before he eyes your zestful form through lidded, dragon-like irises. “So sweet.” he murmurs. “Sweet as always.”

He wastes not an ounce of time before diving in between your thighs again. 

Knees lose a few tinges of functionality at the momentous feel of his tongue parting your folds.  His hands dance up and down the stage of your lower body, caressing the small of your back before landing on the bounteous flesh of your hips to squeeze and detain you taut as he devours the absolute fuck out of you. Loud cries ensue in simple accordance. 

A thunderous call from reality was in your heavy braids having rebelliously twisted out of their bun to fall back onto the expanse of your shoulders and back, carelessly falling victim to the wrath of the downpour. You should be irritated. But his tongue, fucking you ever so sterningly, had garanteed failure to give a fuck about anything opposing the likes of his amazing apology. 

“Mmh- o-oh my… fuck!” More whimpers slip out in reverence as his head shakes vigorously from side to side, his nose rubbing against your clit before it is shortly replaced by his tongue again. He soothes the agonizing emptiness of your entrance with his long fingers; scissoring, curling, prodding sweetly at that spot that had, for too long, begged to be touched. 

He could only keep this up for so long. There’s only so many praising mewls you could set about as he laps at your clit, as he works his digits to what he would know to be your principle. His fingers fucked you so good, but not good enough to make your forget whatever else you had craved throughout the course of this dumb fucking stress-train. 

“Joon.”

The benevolent moil of his fingers ends as he returns to fucking you with his tongue again.

“Namjoon, please.”

Continually, his mouth shifts back and forth from your entrance to your still throbbing clit; licking, sucking and biting ever so softly. At decent levels you were certain that his neck was tired. 

“Namjoon! Namjoon, please,” you heave desperately,  “fuck me. Fuck me now. I need you to fuck me right now.” 

The unremitting sounds of the pouring atmosphere stood not a chance against your grippingly melodious pleas. He heard you, loud and crystal fucking clear. The treasurable element that many would identify to be control had blindly resided within his procurity. 

You weren’t going to let him have it for long. 

“Namjoon!” You mewl with absolute finality. Having devised the mastery from his hair still intertwined between your fingers, you harshly pull his head back for him to look up at you. “Quit playing games and fuck me!”

“Patience, baby. There’s time.” He, once again, proceeds in ways that effortlessly contradict the dulcet tone of his rules. Kisses already take small treads back up to your pelvis, then to your stomach. “I need you to be patient with me. I need you to lay low and let me fix things.”  He is soon up on his feet, his lips traveling towards the now acquaintable stop between your breasts. He lingers to plant a few more kisses on the spot, then slowly moves up to your neck as he murmurs, “I can make you feel so good. But only if you let me. Just trust me for once.” 

“Namjoon,” a sigh escapes your lips as you aid his treatment to your neck, leaning back and giving him access. 

���Just let me…” he stops to suck at the advantageously delicate skin before he’d then made it to your lips. “ …make things right.”

His lips were well guarded within the intention of connecting with yours, steeling you for what is soon to come. His hands were gentle too, having found purchase on the space of your hips and being so dexterous to the touch whilst his intentions were anything but. 

Your hands grip tightly at his broad shoulders, hopes instinctively goaded by his cock conveniently rubbing against your thigh again. You thought of it to be the final tease before he adheres to your lusty inclinations. But it is only after the heat of a “Turn around,” is softly blown against the flesh of your treated lips that he does what he’s raucously told. 

You do so without question, facing the wall in anticipation. 

Though (with arrant difficulty) you’re inwardly vowing to be obedient, your form misplaces all pretense of control. It is especially to the songy squelches behind you directly disclosing the act of your husband stroking his cock; your hands are against the wall as you’re moving your hips backwards to brush up against him. You’re fortunate that he responds with some form of enthusiasm, which is closing the distance between your eager bodies and lining himself up with your dripping entrance. 

The contact induces another knotty spate of desperate whimpers, which he obediently acknowledges, sinking into you with utmost precision. “Oh, f-fuck!” 

“Shh, you’re okay. You’re okay, baby.” 

The soothing response to your sonorous gasp was hushed and ever so demure, a stark polarity to the harsh grip of his winsomely big hands now on both of your breasts, squeezing like stress balls. 

“Namjoon,” you call out once more, “Namjoon! Fuck me. Please… fuck me.” 

The need for those words had successfully reached its coming of age; even posing as an anagram had been deducted as an option. You’ll never have to say them again. 

He begins to move, steady thrusts gradually progressing into a speedier rhythm. His grunts, as well as your whimpers, had joined in with the feat of increasing in a higher measure.

 “Baby,” It was his turn to silently twine a series of praises as you, in return, release a reverberant string of salacious cries for the neighbors to hear and possibly enjoy. “You look so beautiful like this. You always look so beautiful like this, taking me so well.” 

Your hips are once again a landing spot for his hands. You bring your hand down as well, letting it rest upon one of his as he fucks into your pussy with an unsparing velocity. 

The vibrancy was beyond sinful. The warm water continues to strike the lustily responsive flooring as his hips rival the noise with jarring contact against your ass. Each cry made up for a snarl, each word of praise made up for a cold shoulder, each thrust made up for a petty form of dismissal.

 He finds it within himself to slow down, the only unchanging fruit being the brunt in which his skin slams against yours. “I missed you, I missed the way you feel. Baby, tell me how good it feels.” He goads. 

“Oh, baby,” It had been your turn to sing the term of endearment. An urge to finally say “I missed you too” was frighteningly near, but remained still… in your favor, really. It seemed like your tongue’s desire to untangle was only in support of praising his touch; praising the way he felt inside of you, praising the clench of your walls around his length or the nudge of his tip against your dear sweet spot. “So good! So f-fucking good,” you mewl. “Please… please make me come.”

 But you’re empty again, pussy clenching around vain flecks of air. The incompleteness brought waves of confusion. Rhythmic pumps of irritation. A need to spew pleas that was soon held off by the gentle contact of his hand on the front of your neck. Your hand that was once atop his had made its way back against the wall.

It is when his grip gradually strengthens do you meet his return to fucking you senseless. Your sounds travel at staggering heights of volume amongst the echoey air. “Oh- Oh- fuck!” You scream. It encourages him. 

Groans, grunts and a final round of “Oh baby”s against your ear had made its endmost cut. A knot in your stomach signals an approach to orgasm. You were close. “Fuck, Joon… I’m gonna-” 

He doesn’t respond. Not with his familiar breathing of “Come for me” or anything else of the sort. No. He speeds up, in pursuit of something much, much more than a customary finish. A compromise. A refitted amity. Hopes had desperately arised from your moans. Hopes of an “I love you” reattaining its fittedness. It’s exactly what he murmurs against the shell of your ear as you reach your high, cumming with ear-cricking wails that do nothing but praise his laborious efforts. 

The jets and quells of warm liquid inside of you incline a decrease in the speed of his thrusts, which eventually turns into a steady stop once light sobs from overstimulation make their way into the cleft of echoes. 

“You’re okay,” he repeats against your neck. “You’re okay.”

Heavy breaths, weak knees,  and a space freighted with teeming clouds of steam. From the very moment that he’d pulled his cock out, that’s all he could’ve left it to be. You were slightly stunned, for a reason that wasn’t identifiable. 

Your loofah remains lifeless, devoid of its purpose with fluffy white froth sticking languidly out of its miniscule gaps. You were about to pick it up, mind unmoved from the strident feel of cum dripping down your inner thighs, to resume the sorrowful bout of washing away the sense of need that your husband could only do so much to vanquish. 

“Hey, relax.” 

You were still facing the wall. You weren’t making eye-contact. You weren’t going to. And you knew that he knew. But his feet were resolutely taut upon the shower floor. They reeked of intention. It seemed like he wasn’t done. 

It was still foreign to you, the slight suction between your back and his upper body that soon vacates as he bends down to retract the loofah. He’s up straight again.  “Can I?”

Yes please, the words had begged to be the ones to make ties with his mellow request, but all you managed to bring out was a hesitant “Sure.”

He proceeds enthusiastically, nonetheless. 

“I am, however, still waiting for you to…” he begins as he sweetly drags the contraption down the trail of your back, “rank the irrefutability of my proof.” 

Be it your weak knees or your opulent bathroom’s restored comfort, you suddenly feel that there’s no point in arguing the prowess of his sex skills. Maybe, just maybe, you’ll find the time to praise him with more words. 

Within the beat that you remain silent, your eyes instinctively follow his hand trailing towards the swell of your breasts, making it difficult to not stare. Studying the garish shine of soap down the smooth canvas of your melanin, and its corrivalry with the single shimmer of your husband’s wedding ring… was artful. Artistic. Just like him. Just like you always thought he was. 

It gave you time too; time to realize that all this was you. If only your pride allowed it, an immersive rewind to the oh so salacious removal of your dress and heels after what Namjoon had made out to be a stern “don’t talk to me” could teach you something. 

But despite it all, and you being greatly incapable of turning an inquisitive mind away from what was the flavorus scent of eager suds… control was a factor that you would do everything in your power to make yours. And yours only. 

“We’ll see, Joon.” You reply softly. 

[bangtanbathhouse]

JIN in Lee Youngji’s Nothing Much Prepared Tune in on 20th October 2022, Thursday at 19:00

[bangtanbathhouse]

An Affair Of The Art (KNJ x F!Reader)

pairing: husband!Namjoon x reader genres/au/rating: fluff, slight angst, pg summary: One rainy day looking at art sets off a spiral of events Namjoon can’t control, leaving his heart for the taking

warnings: references to infidelity (no actual infidelity), references to PPD, dad!Joon (yes this is a warning)

word count: 1.3k

a/n: so I went to go look at art when it was raining today and saw so many kids with their parents, and then listened to Namjoon’s podcast which was a mistake bc the yearning is just at all all time high. please enjoy this self-indulgent piece. disclaimer: i’m not a mom, and have never experienced PPD, but i’ve known moms who did. my heart goes out to anyone who struggles with it, I’m sending you a big hug.

It starts when Dan-Bi is seven months old – but Namjoon never meant for it to happen in the first place. He can see the exhaustion seep into your bones, the light leave your eyes, how every day you become less and less like a person and more and more a machine that changes, feeds, burps. Being there for you had always been his solution, but even that doesn’t seem enough. 

So one day, when you’re finally able to catch up on sleep, and he’s unwilling to rouse you from some well-needed rest, he settles on it. Slipping on his boots and sliding his rain jacket, he looks around him nervously before sending a hushed message to the other person in his life that it was time for them to get away for a bit, maybe at a nearby gallery.

And so he sets out on the rainy city streets, the anticipation making him shiver almost as much as the cold. It’s a prolonged journey, one where he stops in for cup of coffee, the hot liquid warming his frigid inside. Next he stops by the park, looking at the many families that travel along the lush green walkways, and his mind guiltily flashes back to you. It wasn’t your fault. You needed time to be yourself again, as did he.

When he finally steps into the warm gallery space, the hostess greets him with a flutter of her eyelashes, her gaze hungrily traveling to the way his plain t-shirt has soaked through, clinging to the muscles of her chest. Namjoon doesn’t indulge her. There’s only one person whose company he craves right now.

The stares of the other patrons burn into the back of his head when he rides up the elevator to the second floor, and he wonders if they know his secret - if they silently judge him for being here in this state right now, a fraud amongst them. Instead of dwelling on it, he shakes the rain from his hair and walks right out, never turning to look back.

His boots click against the tile floors, the echo bouncing off the walls as he wanders, searching, and searching until — he finds it. The vivid reds and pinks reflect onto the floor, creating an eerie glow to the harshly caricatured scene Guston portrays - Namjoon can’t stop staring.

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[bangtanbathhouse]

bby 💕