You're mine

3

When I open my door to Hoseok and Yoongi, it's to be instantly swarmed by the feeling of my soul attempting to burst out of my body.

Tall, magnificent and sexy, that's all I can think of to describe the two men who now stand in front of me. Intimidating, dangerous, but oh so enticing. Like a pretty bottle containing a sparkling poison, I would drink it down without a single hesitation.

Hoseok's fiery red hair has been combed properly with some gel to free up his face, and he wore some loose fun pants with a black t-shirt, which gives him that street dancer vibe - which I know he excels at - while Yoongi still has yesterday's clothes on him.

His black hair is messy to the point of looking annoying as they fall right into his eyes, his honeyed skin slightly paler than Hoseok's, and he's got that roguish/devilish look that must make everyone - men and women alike - turn in his direction wherever he goes.

He doesn't seem like the type to care, though I may be wrong about that. His dark feline eyes lock on me with thousands of emotions flashing through them that I can feel in my own chest - worry, excitement, shyness, attraction - and it's a relief to know that I'm not alone feeling this way.

The closer they got and the louder Yoongi's voice became in my head, allowing me to follow one half of their conversation as his nerves flooded my veins.

I know he wishes he could've gotten a change of clothes before coming here, and that he cursed at Hoseok for saying they didn't have time for that because he woke up so late. He was given a hangover drink as soon as his eyes opened and then had to be on his way here.

I know that he believes he smells like the whisky he underestimated last night, and that he most likely put too much of Hoseok's perfume on to mask the scent that still overpowered the musk. He's scared that I'll be disgusted once he stands too close, and he's afraid of the image that'll give me of him.

How weird it is to know all those things without even being part of the conversation. What's weirdest, though, is that not all of what I heard seemed to be said aloud. As I paid closer attention while waiting for them on the couch, I could hear a small distortion in the sound of his voice when they were thoughts.

I should be freaked out that another's voice is in my head, with his emotions pushing aside my own as it forces a connection between us, yet it oddly feels familiar and natural, like that was always meant to happen.

Which it was, but that's besides the point.

It does make me wonder if Yoongi could hear mine as well, though. If I heard all of that so easily, what about him? Does he already know the words I wish to say? He doesn't look like he does, but maybe he's just pretending.

Either way, now's my chance.

I secure my two feet on the entrance's carpet, square up my shoulders, then look at the handsome man straight in the eyes. He startles, eyes widening as he too stands straighter, confusion all over his face at my concentrated expression while Hoseok grins on the sideline.

"I'm yours".

I stand exactly where I am, immobile as I glance down at his arms, face warming up the longer it takes for my words to ink themselves onto his skin. I can tell that Hoseok's grin is widening as he stares at us, and being able to feel Yoongi's bashfulness makes me feel ever more embarrassed.

"Did it not work?" I eventually blurt when there's nothing happening yet, and Yoongi's about to reply something, now vividly sensing my anxiety, when the itch of the letters finally drawing themselves on his skin cuts him off.

The first words I told him settle neatly over his forearm, just as I'd wished for, and I release the breath I was holding while the rest of my body combusts, reality of the chosen words only truly sinking in now that they're there and visible for all to see.