Chapter Text
She knew she was taking too long to get ready considering she wasn’t doing anything except obsessing over details that no one would notice (the subtle shimmer of a glittery shadow dusting her brow bone, for one). Jimin had helped her pick out an outfit, and Yoongi insisted there was nothing to worry about but tried very hard to understand why she needed an hour longer to get ready for tonight than she did any other night.
“It’s our 100 days,” she said from her room. Yoongi sat on the couch, Jimin’s head resting in his lap. Jimin glanced up at Yoongi and smirked at Yoongi’s confused and concerned look.
Jimin crooked his finger until Yoongi curled over him and their heads almost touched.
“She’s nervous,” Jimin said. His lashes fluttered with the change in angle of Yoongi’s hand as it carded through his hair.
“Why?” Yoongi said, turning his head toward the cracked bedroom door. “It’s just the guys. She knows about them, they know about her. We’ll both be there. It’s like meeting more of us.”
“It’s like meeting five more of you and I can barely deal with the two of you as it is,” she said, coming out of her room. Her gaze was steady, but the thumb of her right hand circled the pad of her middle finger over and over and over. “I’m ready, let’s go. Can we go? Is it too early? We could stop somewhere on the way, I should get a different gift, anyway. If we’re doing that, I should change shoes--”
Jimin ducked from under Yoongi and darted to his noona, blocking her way back into her room and giving her a supportive smile.
“We can go straight there now,” he said, watching the tension swirl in her eyes. “They’ll love whatever you bring them, even if it’s only yourself.”
She searched his eyes , feeling foolish. These were friends, not diplomatic dignitaries. It’s not that she worried they wouldn’t like her, she knew well how to be likeable and was going into this situation already in the positive based on what they had shared with them about her. It was a nameless, faceless anxiety she couldn’t even identify to rationalize.
Long , cool fingers brushed through her hair and the distinctive scent of Min Yoongi cleared her thoughts.
“They already love you,” Yoongi whispered, placing a small kiss on her temple. “You’re our 소녀단.”
She took a deep breath, told herself this wasn’t the apocalypse, and nodded. The three walked out her apartment door, arms linked.
“Maybe we should stay here,” Yoongi said. She and Jimin had similar looks of confusion. Hers with a touch of tension. “You'll end up hitting it off with one or more of them then I'll have to figure out how to share you even more.”
She squeezed his arm and kissed his cheek as he grinned.
“Doubtful,” she said as they walked down the hall. “I used up all my luck getting the two of you. I don’t have enough left to rope another 방탄.”
Jimin pushed up to his toes to look at Yoongi over her head before saying:
“Luck has nothing to do with it.”
Knowing it would terrorize her, Yoongi and Jimin both paused in front of the dorm door. It prolonged that moment where the brunt of her anxiety would meet its head and could then dissipate once she could confirm for herself that they were all a bunch of goofballs with little to no social graces for interacting with an actual female for over two or three minutes and no table between them.
“What?” she said , looking between them both, her eyes so wide Jimin became worried they might fall out. “Are we too early? Should we wait--”
Yoongi kissed her on the head, unlocked the door, and swung it open to reveal…
Nothing .
The living room was empty.
“I told you we should have waited,” she whispered, lest the couch might overhear.
Yoongi ignored her and walked in, slipping off his shoes as Jimin nudged her gently forward. A head with a mop of brown hair appeared from around a corner she hadn’t noticed before. Wide eyes widened, and the head turned back to where it had come from to whisper ineffectually:
“아! 누나 진짜 이쁘다!”
“She speaks Korean, Kook,” Yoongi said, ruffling his hair and pushing his head down as he passed him. He turned back and tipped his head back to beckon her. “Why else do you think Jimin talks to her at all?”
She felt rather than saw the pout Jimin shot at Yoongi. Jimin’s face was obscured by the hem of her dress as he helped her out of her shoes. He had just moved to stand next to her when five beautiful humans came around the corner. She felt a little dizzy and a lot overwhelmed, uncertain where to focus her gaze.
Due to her insatiable curiosity and the recurring mentions of names, she knew each of the boys, but was still shocked and amazed by how much more beautiful they were in person.
Namjoon was the first to step forward.
“Hey, I’m Namjoon,” he said. His grin was halfway between polite and goofy and she wondered for not the first time what all Yoongi and Jimin had explained about their situation.
The rest followed, Jungkook barely audible as he spoke to the ground and hid most of his large body behind Taehyung.
“I’m happy to finally meet you all,” she said.
“Happier than you were earlier ?” Yoongi said.
“What happened earlier?” Taehyung said. He looked very concerned.
“It was nothing ." She turned to Yoongi with a look. He met her with a grin. “Everything is fine.”
“She was nervous,” Jimin said, not even an ounce of decency to whisper.
“And you’re both just letting her stand there in the doorway while we all stare at each other,” Jin said. He had a pleasant smile as he held out his arm to her. “Hungry?”
“More often than I’d like to admit,” she said, resting her hand in the crook of his elbow. She held the gift she had been holding up then back behind her. Someone (Jimin, presumably, but she didn’t look to check) took the box. “I brought a present.”
“I love presents,” Jin said.
Jin led her into the dining room which was not much larger than her living room, despite being intended to fit seven hungry boys. On the long dining table was an array of side dishes, and after having her wait by the far end, Jin disappeared into a small but pragmatic kitchen and returned with a lettuce leaf wrapped around something she couldn’t quite make out.
“What’s this--”
“Here,” he said , moving it quickly and insistently towards her face.
“Oh okay ” wasn't out before a much too big bite of lettuce, warm bulgogi and cooked garlic was stuffed in her mouth.
“Welcome to eating with Jin ,” Yoongi said. She could only respond in muted vowels, but he was certain she was perfectly happy with being fed. Yoongi decided he would fold that information up and file it away for later use.
Jin waved them all to sit down, and Jimin darted to her, claiming the spot immediately to the right of the far head of the table. Yoongi moved to sit to her left but Jin shooed him away.
“You see her all the time,” Jin said. “And you’ll burn her garlic.”
And so she sat at the end of a long table of boys who goofed and joked and sometimes shot questions or off-the-wall statements her direction before falling back into rounds of their own chatter. They reminded her of well-behaved children, trying their best to sit nicely at a table for dinner when all they wanted to do was roll around and play.
Yoongi looked past Jin at her frequently, deciding that if he couldn’t touch her, at least he could look at her and know she was there. They had made it.
He had had to explain the 100 days celebration concept to her. Had he known that that was necessary, he would have brought it up more than a few days beforehand. In retrospect, that probably enhanced her nervousness for the evening — an open admission to each other and the boys’ closest friends that they had made it through their rose-colored-glasses period and no one had bolted. Again.
Jimin was pure delight. He laughed with the ease of someone who had finally felt, even if just for a few moments, every part of him was aligned and present in one space. The weightlessness of his breath, the softness in his face, the way he ate without a care except making sure her plate stayed full — his easy manner alone was worth the nerves, the tension, even the high potential for later awkwardness when they weren’t given the social crutches of food and a dinner table between them. Seeing Jimin look relaxed and happy was worth it all.
Beneath the table , her foot found his, and he looked at her, a look of expectancy and readiness and willingness and submission and happiness. The wonderful, perfect, sweet boy she once ridiculously thought she could ever live without. But one can not live without their heart, and there hers sat in a soft blue shirt she asked him to wear because it calmed her.
She hooked her foot around his ankle and pulled him as close to her and she was able. A breathy smile set his face as she wrapped both her legs around his calf and squeezed. She scrunched her nose at him and he grinned and only then did they realize the rest of the table had gotten rather quiet. They were all looking in their direction.
“It’s really both of them,” Hoseok said. He had a look on his face that was somewhere between astonishment and confusion. “Isn’t it?”
She turned to him, gauging his intent. He was difficult to read, his smile seemed a touch too easy.
“I’m as shocked as any,” she said. She let her gaze drift to Yoongi and his dreamy half-grin. “I don’t deserve either of them, but they humor me for now, so I’ll take what I can get.”
Jimin and Yoongi met eyes and shared a look of exhaustion.
Less than an hour later, the music was up and the drinks were flowing. Had she not known better, she would have thought she was transported back several years to a frat party. The alcohol and snacks were of much better quality and yet those were nothing compared to the company. If there had been even one or two boys like this at her college, she might have partied more and felt much less obligated about it.
They were beautiful , of course, but also kind and interesting and often quite shy. Jungkook hadn’t made eye contact with her since they sat down for dinner, which Jimin absolutely noticed and was increasingly more tickled by as the evening wore on and the drinks set in.
The most interesting fact was that, for guys who have spent a majority of the last few years of their lives dancing, they enjoyed dancing during their free time as well. Now and then, some song would come on that seemed familiar in that way that popular songs do when they become part of the cultural consciousness by way of commercials, retail radio, and drinking the tap water. One or more of the guys would suddenly sit up straight, lock eyes with whoever seemed the next most excited, then they’d jump up and groove.
During one song, Jimin tried to pull Yoongi up, but he wouldn’t budge. Before he had a chance to turn to her, Taehyung had come out of the kitchen with another bottle of something she wasn’t interested in. Not being much of a drinker had its ups and downs, but tonight was turning into an up as seven boys turned more gratuitously into puppies before her very eyes. She’s fairly certain Namjoon even growled at one point.
Drinks going around calmed everyone down except Hoseok, who had not sat down now for the past five songs. He varied between swaying with expert rhythm and busting out some complicated yet smooth combo.
“Does he always dance like this when he’s drunk?” she said, turning to Yoongi and brushing her lips on his cheek.
“He always dances like this, alcohol doesn’t play into it. The difference is, with alcohol,” Yoongi said, then paused for what she assumed was dramatic effect until she felt a light tap on her shoulder. “He likes to dance with other people.”
She turned to look up into the radiant and slightly dazed face of Jung Hoseok, looking not unlike the sun on a blistering hot day, heating the ground with such ferocity that wet hot steam rose to greet it.
“I’m not that drunk,” he said. She wasn’t sure he was talking to her though he was looking at her. “But you should dance with me.”
“I don’t --” she started, but he shook his head and grabbed her hand, pulling gently.
“I do.”
She let herself be pulled, turning around as she stood to look back at Yoongi who sat further back into the couch with a pleased smirk on his face. Turning back to Hoseok, she caught sight of Jimin, who hadn’t quite noticed she had a dance partner, but when he did, he looked caught between disappointment it wasn’t him and intrigue about what was about to happen.
Hoseok wasn’t lying before. The way he moved commanded being followed. From the outside, she must look like a rag doll, twisting and turning this way and that, hair flying behind to catch up. But inside, her skin and bones felt like those of a puppet, and Hoseok controlled her invisible strings. On many levels it set off a discomfort alarm — she wasn’t too fond of people pulling her strings, but the way Hoseok held her had no touch of vindication or ego or anything other than wanting to dance with someone and he had chosen her. So she told parts of her mind to calm down, it was only dancing, not fucking. Then other parts of her mind perked up at the mention and she had to tell those parts to calm down as well.
Just focus on the music , she thought , and once she did, she could understand Hoseok’s movements a little better which made her feel more in control, though she definitely wasn’t.
“I like the highlight here,” he said, indicating her brow with his finger. It was a move like a loving caress that never quite made contact. She smiled a thank you at him and he dropped his hand.
Several seconds or minutes or an hour later, she felt rather than heard Jimin cooing at her.
Noona ~ he called from inside, and she turned to see him standing up, unable to bear it any longer that she was dancing and he was not. His eyes were that particular sleepy she adored, like she had tied his wrists down and slowly bit her way across his entire body. The thought made her jaw hurt.
He came up behind her and she reached a hand back to card her fingers through his hair and guide his sweet mouth to her cheek. He kissed her there and her cheekbone and her temple and everywhere else he could reach with little effort.
“I’ll let him do that,” Hoseok said. She decided the roughness in his voice must come from the burn of the alcohol. He grinned at her. “Though if you want him to cut in--”
“He’s fine where he is,” she said. Just a few nights ago, she had said the same thing to Yoongi, but in a much different situation.
Yoongi had brought over take out, but was earlier than expected, so he walked in on the end of her session with Jimin. It wasn’t anything Yoongi felt uncomfortable with or anything they hid from him, but it did sort of put a tiny puncture in the atmosphere to have the front door open and close, and attention declined when the smell of fried chicken made its way over.
“You guys keep going, don’t mind me,” Yoongi had said, leaning down to plant a kiss on her lips as she sat crouched by Jimin, her boot pressed firmly between his shoulder blades. Yoongi glanced down at Jimin then back to her. She nodded. He bent and ruffled Jimin’s hair. “Dinner’s ready when you guys are.”
“I’m coming,” she said, releasing her foot to stand and getting a moan in reply that was part relief and part disappointment.
“Wow, he’s getting better,” Yoongi said. Jimin snorted, and she gave both of them a look. “Is he joining?”
“He’s fine where he is,” she had said.
She lasted maybe three more minutes before the weight of Jimin’s puppy dog eyes bored a giant hole into her heart and she let him get up and eat.
Now , the weight of Jimin’s kiss intensified as she pressed him a little harder, her fingers gripping scalp. She might not have been drinking more than nursing a pineapple soju for an hour, but she was always easily influenced by her boys’ changes in mood.
“Such a good boy,” she said, caught up in the way Jimin’s hands pawed at her waist, begging for a treat from her.
Something in Hoseok’s eyes changed, but he made no move to change anything about their situation. They danced like that a little while longer, then she caught sight of Yoongi walking toward the kitchen, meeting her eye with a wink before he turned the corner.
“Water ,” she said, then disentangled herself from limbs familiar and not.
“Mind if I keep dancing with your boyfriend?” Hoseok said. “One of them.”
“Please do,” she said . She smiled at Jimin and pursed her lips and he took the half-step away from Hoseok to meet her mouth. He tasted of peach soju. “Be a good boy,” she breathed, but Hoseok was close enough to hear.
“You ready to go soon--” she was cut off barely a second after she turned into the kitchen. Yoongi pulled her into a kiss with an urgency she loved. Neither of them could place when he’d get like this. Sex was always great with them, but sometimes it was as if Yoongi thought he might die if he didn’t rip into her right then. That feeling destroyed her defenses every time.
“Yes,” he growled in her ear before dragging his teeth across her lobe and sending chills throughout her universe. “Soon.”
“Okay , same,” she somehow managed to say, because at that exact moment, Yoongi pushed her against the kitchen counter and was merely a few layers of clothes away from fucking her right there. “God, Yoongi. I’m buying stock in peach soju.”
He stepped back and turned away from her, regaining his composure. After a moment he walked to the freezer, opened the door, and stood there, letting the air rush his face.
She grinned and walked behind him, pressing a sweet kiss to his shoulder.
“I’ll get Jimin?”
He nodded and bumped her head lightly with his own.
“Another minute,” he said. “Just to avoid indecent exposure.”
A grin was still on her face when she turned back into the living room area. Jungkook must have disappeared at some point, Jin was sprawled across the arm of the couch, Namjoon curled up in his lap, with Taehyung on the floor at their feet. All passed out. That must have happened while she was dancing. She admitted to herself that she had forgotten anyone else was there for a while.
In the middle of the living room, Jimin and Hoseok were still dancing. More like swaying, trancelike. Hoseok held the back of Jimin’s head, right where she had held him moments ago, and their faces were so close she was sure Hoseok was about to kiss Jimin if not eat him. Their eyes were open, Hoseok’s with a concentration like he was performing an intricate magic trick, Jimin’s just barely, as if he himself were the magic trick.
Any way that Hoseok moved, Jimin followed. It made sense, her own body had been doing that for most of the past hour. Something about Hoseok’s hold on Jimin felt different, and she wasn’t sure what to think or feel of it, because it also felt familiar.
“Jimin ,” Yoongi’s rough voice came from behind her, startling the scene. “Are you staying?”
He looked around for a moment, and she told herself he was merely dazed and therefore unsure what the question was and that’s why he didn’t answer at first. It made the tiny hurt in her heart go away.
“Go on,” Hoseok said, not meeting anyone’s eye. “I’ll get these guys to bed.”
“Do you need help ?” she said. “A sober hand before we go?”
“No, it’s --” But she had already started toward Taehyung.
“Taehyung ,” she sang at him, rousing him enough to pull him to stand and put his weight where she could manage it.
“Noona ,” he mumbled, his voice like rolling thunder. “Do you have a sister?”
“I do,,” she said , pulling him into the room he indicated with a lazy point.
“Good ,” he said. “Bring her to Korea.”
She chuckled and helped him into bed.
“I’ve been trying ,” she said. He passed out again.
When she walked back out of Taehyung’s room, she almost ran into Hoseok.
“Jin is in bed,” he said, back to being rosy and friendly and willing to make eye contact. “Namjoon wants to sleep on the couch.”
“And you?”
“I love you,” Jimin’s angel voice was a whisper of bells that danced through the hallway from where he perched himself on the corner, staring at the two of them. “Both of you. And--” he turned, as if he lost Yoongi, then spotting him immediately to his right, judging by the pleased smile he had. “And you. And… and everyone.” He seemed almost upset by this as if loving everyone was such a burden.
As she looked at the pouting boy, Yoongi’s head dipped around the corner, and she understood. To love so many people is no easy task. It’s ripping a piece of your soul out and tossing it at someone. Even if they caught it, you had no control over what they did with it anymore. What effort it must take to keep up with the well-being of so many pieces of yourself.
“It was nice to finally meet you,” Hoseok said, sounding much closer than he was. He gave her a smile that felt like a spotlight being shined on her, complete with the accompanying applause of a loving audience and accolades from all her peers and contemporaries, for what she did not know.
The three of them left, squeezed into a cab, then rode silently. When they got up to her apartment, Jimin flung himself on the couch, jacket still on. Before she could do so herself, Yoongi pulled her back, pressed her against the closed door, and fucked her until she couldn’t stand up anymore.
“Jesus fucking Christ you guys are hot,” Jimin murmured.
Yoongi kissed her slow and deep and with such overwhelming adoration it made her head spin. Then he took an unsteady step back, then another, then turned and walked toward the bedroom, letting his unbuckled pants fall away and pulling his shirt off to toss at Jimin.
“Come on, baby boy,” she said, pulling on Jimin’s hand, but he resisted her. She looked down and saw him frowning at her. “What is it?”
“Are you upset ?” he said, then cleared his voice for more clarity. “Because of Hoseok and… and me.”
She sat down next to him. The sight of Hoseok holding Jimin close, looking like he was mere moments from pulling his head back and throwing him on the ground or pushing him up against a wall or any number of glorious things she herself would do.
“I don’t think so,” she said. It was true. Her feelings were conflicted, but she didn’t feel upset in the sense Jimin might be meaning. “I wasn’t expecting it.”
“I’m sorry, Noona,” Jimin said, sitting up and doing his best to clear his vision. “Nothing happened, it was just that, just the dancing and— and the holding.”
“Did you like how he held you?” she said. He nodded, looking guilty. “Does he do that often?”
“He’s always sort of been like that now and then,” he said. “He likes to sort of get in people’s face and he does this thing where it’s like he looks into your soul, deeper and deeper until you can’t help but back down and give in. It doesn’t go beyond that, nothing manipulative. We usually end up cuddling after.”
It sounded terrible, but she wasn’t the ideal candidate to be on the receiving end of that.
“You do it, too,” Jimin said. She looked at him. “You don’t push the same way he does. His is like a high speed train barreling down into you. Yours is like… it’s like going for a hike and realizing you’ve made it to the top of a mountain and you had no idea, but afterwards you feel the exhaustion. You get that look, you see my soul.”
She knew what he meant. She held a particular form of power throughout any of their interactions, but there was still a necessary build up to get to something beyond the mundane. Little by little, play-by-play, pain by pain, she could build herself up, and if she did it in good proportion with pulling him down, pulling him inside, she could reach a certain peak, and that moment, that moment when she knew she had him heart, mind, and soul, she had to look in his eyes to know it, but that’s what it was.
Hoseok was power playing with Jimin. Had been apparently for years. Then they would share after care. Did either of them have any idea?
“Is that why you seem upset ?” Jimin said, a whisper. “Because he does what you do?”
Jimin , at least now, was putting it together.
“She’s not upset.” Yoongi’s exhausted voice drifted from the bedroom. “She’s confused ‘cause it’s hot when he does that, but you’re her toy and she thinks she should be upset that someone else was playing with it. But--” Yoongi paused to yawn and smack his lips. “To be fair, he did ask first .”
She and Jimin shared a look. Hers turned soft and Jimin’s existence relaxed.
“Not mad, Jagiya,” she said . “You can go where you like, as long as you come back to me, my beautiful boy.”