Chapter Text
Amber stood at the edge of a cliff—panelled glass polished to transparency—with nothing to catch her and nowhere to hide.
Her hands were clutching the metal bar—her only form of visible safety; the surface was icy against sweaty, warm palms—skin that left imprints upon the silver. His fans were screaming, his not hers, a constant drone of sound that vibrated to the painful beat of the music. It thrummed from deep within her, shaking up her organs—lungs, liver, and heart. It led to a nausea that churned in her throat.
The panic, it seized her like wildfire.
She could notice a lot more things, like the way the smoke blew at the corners of the stage, or the upset that began in the darkness that was under her. Or perhaps the sound of tech speaking from stage right in jargon, or the jostle of wheels and the slow upward movement of her platform.
But her vision tunnelled to the microphone in her palm.
They were hands that she should recognize from the nicks of white scars and the blister on the thumb. The ring of fiery red. She should remember these hands, had once fingered the scars, and traced the tips.
As his soulmate, she should know who he was.
But she couldn’t think, couldn’t feel. She could only stare at the ground beneath her feet, watching it shake and tremble. Around her the screams began to dull into white noise—pitched like the shrill violent ringing of a bell. She licked her lips that had gone sticky and dry—but whose lips? Whose body had she stolen?
Whose life did she now hold in her grasp?
She hoped, no, prayed that no one had dropped Rumiko in the exchange. That no one had tried to pick up her crying baby, that no one had held their daughter within arms that would surely tighten and let go as souls were exchanged. Within her mind, so distraught and ruined, there laid a semblance of herself, a feeling of responsibility.
An edge of fear.
As her panicked breaths escaped her in soft whimpers, she felt for his face, traced the nose, the brows and the lips. That was good enough to send flashes of memories dripping through the turmoil. Memories of calmer, more peaceful days with her own hands on his face, her own hands feeling the shape of his mouth and the lids of his eyes. The length of his eyelashes—its flutter sent a spark of recollection through her veins.
Taehyung.
Taehyung was with Rumiko.
Beneath her the platform moved, and she stumbled into position fingers clasped upon the bar, held so tight her knuckles grew white. Her eyes were violently struck by the blinding gush of light, panned down as if it giving her time to take her place upon the pedestal. Her feet stumbled, moving back, but the platform was rising, and it continued bringing her up into the light.
She was stuck upon the precipice of disaster with nowhere to run.
It stopped high up in the sky— it was a stand, and she was a witch to be burned. She was at the top of the moving stage, staring into the darkness that was a mixture of bouncing lights and spinning effects.
The music swept, entering a crescendo and a spotlight affixed itself upon her, highlighting her every move. She knew without a doubt that all cameras were now focused on her person. And her face, her every move, was broadcasted on the screens behind her. The technician counted away, calling his name.
The screams grew higher, then stuttered as the beat dropped, quelled when her mouth opened and closed.
Lost.
In her ears she heard staff calling his name, repeating the cues. Someone asked if he wanted to do it again. The instrumental continued edged with the soft adlib of her soulmate. It continued just as she was left behind—a lonely boat in the storm. She’d missed his cue, destroyed his solo and she wondered if they would cut the lights if she just waited long enough. She wondered if they would end her misery.
But they didn’t and seconds crawled by with her bottom lip quivering and her mouth open but soundless.
She’d left him behind in that jail cell, left him in those four white walls, stuck with their child as she failed in his place. She felt sick, she felt awful, felt the need to scratch and claw at the pricks of heat in her skin. And her lips parted once again, her mind searching for the lyrics. At the very least, she had to try for him. She had to give him that chance.
But where was she? The beginning of the chorus? The end of the first verse? Or had it all already passed and she was knees deep within the bridge? She felt the burn of awareness over her skin, the eyes of the audience that took and didn’t give. And for that she felt cold, so cold. Her knees buckled, and she sank feebly onto the ground. Her legs were trembling with the weakness of fear.
Beyond her consciousness, the fans roared demanding for retribution.
How cruel could her soul be? How could it lay her upon the chopping board right before the very people she feared the most? How could it ruin everything just when she’d finally convinced herself that she was strong? Her nose burned and her breathing grew wet.
Taehyung, she had to try for Taehyung.
Her mind searched for the lyrics, the melody, the song and yet her heart had given up on success. There was no point in singing for Taehyung because her presence, her broken soul, was not him. This was their last tour, and she was here just to ruin it all. On her tongue she tasted the salt of her tears, gooey with shame.
~Fated destiny, I’ve stolen your chances in exchange for the abyss~
She jumped as a new voice entered, rippling through the bass and her eyes danced to the corner of the stage. It crept to the handsome figure that stood right below her, spellbinding with his lips on the microphone, and his eyes on her frame. He had dark hair, tousled waves sprinkled with glitter, on a flawless feline-like face.
Namjoon.
~I’m in your fire, bloodied by your surrender—all your greatest desire~
His voice wasn’t suited for the song. It was a million octaves too high for his vocals and yet he tried for her in a soft head voice that struggled and strained. He tried as hard as he could with his eyes swimming with colours, and yet she couldn’t bear to take a longer glance. She buried her head in her arms, an ostrich under sand.
~I’ve taken all that you love, I’ve taken all that you know~
Another entered, Seokjin voice melting with Namjoon’s, a sweet gentle lull that had her shivering despite her anxiety. But she couldn’t look at him, not when she was blinded with shame and so much humiliation.
This was all her fault.
Her and her weak, weak soul.
~I’ve stolen things you deserve; your worth is weighed against my accomplishments ~
Yoongi’s voice slipped in as if they’d practised it, as if Taehyung’s mistake and his downfall were all on purpose. It was as if this were all just an act to get seven into a song. But it only made her feel worse—her body shrivelling her breath escaping her lips in pants.
She hated attention and having spent months alone with nothing but her head, this was more than she could take.
This was everything in pounding, blood-hounding awareness. This was all her mistakes on a silver platter laid out to the people she loved. This was worse than an ‘I told you so’ and a ‘you were wrong to have pushed us away’.
This was torture. This was revenge. And she wanted to fall from the cliff into the darkness and just die within the shadows of the stage.
~My pound of flesh to your heart of gold~
Hoseok was singing too, and she could see them all from the corners of her eyes, standing in an oval that encompassed her silhouette. She wondered if they were looking at her, wondered what spiralled in their heads. She wondered whether Seokjin blamed her for being so stupid, for telling him to go.
Because she was wrong.
So wrong.
~I know I come across, undeserving, unworthy. But it is you I will never sacrifice~
The platform jostled just as Jungkook’s voice trailed in. She was sinking, the podium was finally falling. The light caressed her face, flashing as she fell with her hands clutched tight against the bar. And finally, she stopped and there was the brief beat of gentle silence. She flinched when a hand touched her shoulders, something inside her sparked in answer.
Jimin stood before her, beautiful like salvation, angry like redemption. His clothes were a mess of his next outfit and his previous one—a head scarf of army green, a satin jacket draped around his shoulders, and suit pants with two earrings that did not go together. He was glowing, skin glistening as plump lips twisted into a smile. Or perhaps it was all just a trick of the light.
All of it, even his kindness.
~So take my name, say I’m yours, swear you’re mine as you look into my eyes. ~
Her lips trembled as they pressed against the microphone, and she closed her eyes in defeat. Get it together Ambs. And so, with a trembling voice drenched in shuddering emotions, she whispered the last words of the song that she’d been unable to sing.
“Yes.”
How pathetic.
*
Staff got to her when the platform vanished deep into the darkness.
The moment she’d stepped off there were towels dabbing at her temples and brushes across her face. But Amber stumbled loosely, a technician was in her face talking and questioning. What’s wrong Taehyung? What happened? Are you okay?
God, she didn’t know, how the fuck would she know if she was okay? There were bottles of water pushed against her chest, then icepacks rubbed against her skin, someone tugged at her clothes wanting it off. She pushed them all away with a heavy grunt, but someone took her hand. The smell of wood was thick in the air, and it fell in motes of dust and heat.
The stage was vibrating, and she could hear the beginning of Yoongi’s solo. The thumps of the dancers’ feet led to the quaking of the stage above her head. Jimin held her shoulders, his attempt to stabilize her, his eyes sweeping over her face. He looked her over once, then twice.
“Are you okay Taehyung?”
What?
Her nose scrunched in confusion and she wanted to explain. But his brow tightened, and he shook his head, eyes sweeping to the coordinators, the technicians, staff that seemed frightened for her. Oh, they couldn’t know. They weren’t supposed to know to protect her identity, to protect their reputation.
The amount of money they’d spent to protect her ass wasn’t a small sum over the years, and she’d fucked up royally more than once. Perhaps this would top it all. She snapped her mouth shut and looked at Jimin. His lips pulled tight into a straight line and waved them off with a promise that Taehyung just needed a break.
“Come on,” Jimin pulled her to her feet, and people tried to help her up, but he assured them that he could handle it. They took a step back eyeing them both but giving him space. “Can you walk?” She nodded, stumbling, faltering but his grip was strong.
The lights pounded from above her as they walked, bent under scaffolding through a tunnel that only grew narrow. He held her hands, his fingers now smaller than before. Someone bumped into her, a bucket under one armpit and a tank of oxygen in another. The stranger smiled, shoving the mask against her face. It hissed, sprouting smoke, and she inhaled in shock, but Jimin took it away with a shake of his head.
“He’s fine, just needs some rest, I’ll talk to him.”
The stranger seemed confused then brightened. “Need to pee?” Her brows raised when he lifted the bucket motioning to her fly, already his hands were reaching for his pants. “There’s a lot of buttons I can take it off for you—”
“No, thanks we’ve got the time to walk there.” Jimin pushed, shaking his head. “I’ll take him there.”
“If you say so,” the staff bowed and left.
But instead of going straight ahead Jimin turned to her this time, hushed as he pulled her to a corner in the darkness. He tucked her into the space between flashing lights and dark shadows, out of the path, between metal bars and shaking wood.
His hand left hers and he pulled it back into his pocket. She couldn’t help herself, couldn’t help her eyes from dancing down to his hands, distraught. He didn’t want to touch Taehyung, but she imagined it was her he didn’t want. It was hard getting that thought out of her head.
“Do you actually need to pee?” Jimin asked quietly, looking around for people, fidgeting with his sleeves.
“You pee in buckets?”
“Yeah,” he answered, licked his lips. “It’s that or the nearest bin or a bottle…We’ll take whatever we can get. Daniel asked because you-I was supposed to—” he cut himself off with a breathy laugh, albeit a little strained. “Forget it.” She understood his panic now that she was freed from the spotlight.
“Taehyung’s main act, he had more than one song…”
“He’s just got a couple more pieces, but it’s okay.” Jimin shrugged, but there was panic in the bite of teeth upon lip. He nibbled, then pressed a tongue to the corner of his mouth. “Yoongi’s got plenty in his head. He’ll just rap something.” He stared at her, eyes flickering with a strange emotion then glanced away. “Professionals don’t think about what could have been perfected, we think about what can be fixed, so don’t worry about it. He’s got it covered, okay?”
“Okay,” she rubbed her nose, and he patted her shoulders a little too manly for her liking. “God, Taehyung’s body is so strange.”
“Yeah?” he smiled, and this time he wasn’t so weird anymore, “changing bodies with you was wild.” This time she couldn’t help the embarrassed smile, withering at his words.
“Bad wild?”
“Don’t get me wrong, baby.” He looked alarmed, and the nickname came out easily when he was afraid of her emotions. “It was nauseating but…You—” he exhaled, scratching his upper lip, “you really hurt.”
“It’s a little disorienting.” She agreed quickly. “The stretching skin, the changing sexual organs—”
“No, you’re in a lot more pain than I thought you would be in.”
“Pain?”
“You ache all over. Haven’t you realised how much lighter Taehyung’s body must feel to you?”
“Oh.” She hadn’t realised too caught up in her panic she’d assumed this was all just adrenaline. “I couldn’t tell, I’m used to it.”
He hummed softly, leaning against the pole. “I’ll rub your feet more when we get back, massage your back.” This time his voice grew softer, but he pulled out his phone before she could meet his gaze, typing quickly. It didn’t take a genius to know who he was talking to or what he was trying to solve.
“Rumiko?” she whispered, mouth going dry. Fuck, she had to be okay.
“She’s fine, Taehyung’s called the nanny. Didn’t want an accident happening while we’re still trying to figure out what’s going on,” his eyes were glued to the screen. And she stared at him, at the glitter of eye shadow, and at the swell of full lips, the sharpness of his jawline, sexier with bronzer. “He’s asking if you’re okay.”
“Tell him his pants are too tight,” she tugged at her ass, “they’re up his crack.”
Jimin chuckled, a burst of a giggle fell through his lips, and she saw her Jimin for a second. And he seemed to notice her gaze, magnetic voice growing warm with exasperation. “God, this is so weird. You in his body, can’t even kiss you even though I’ve wanted to for so long.” His voice curled into a smooth flirty groan and her heart stuttered. “And that’s not a wedgie, it’s a dance belt, darling.”
She smiled; anxiety soothed but her heart skipped three thousand beats. “You wouldn’t kiss me in this body even with Taehyung’s consent?”
“Switch with Yoongi and we’ll talk.” He murmured, but there was no husky lull in this voice when his eyes met hers. He patted her back like a good bro, his gaze snapping back to his phone. “But no, my handsome young soulmate. We aren’t even a couple ship, and there’s good reason for that.”
“Can’t get it up?” she teased a little hurt, but nothing too bad.
“I could, but this is a bro code I wouldn’t cross.” He dropped forward, taking her hand. “But this, this I can do. And this?” he wrapped her in a hug, patting her back wildly, it helped just a little and she curled into the crook of his neck, pressing her face against his skin. “This. I do all the time, including cuddles.” Then he released as if she were fire and he were oil, shuddering just a little. “But it’s weird with him, doesn’t feel right.”
“Am I too tall for you now?” She giggled, hand to her mouth, her fingers searching for his weak spots. But he pushed her away, hands not letting her close. And she felt just a little dejected, heart falling quickly. Right, she wasn’t in a body he was attracted to.
“Everyone’s watching,” he said aloud, then whispered. “Try to act a little bit more like him if you can.” That was his reason. “Just until the concert is over. And we get you back in your body, okay?”
“Fine.”
“Then you can tickle me all you want.”
*
They were fighting.
She had her arms clasped around her neck, feet tapping madly against the floor as her soulmates stood crowded around each other in a circle. The staff with the security clearance—had signed NDAs and were sworn into secrecy—were busy changing set lists and solos, dabbing away at sweat and adjusting clothing.
She had a drink in one hand and Taehyung’s phone in the other.
It had a password that he’d been a little reluctant to give perhaps because of the cute message—AmberxTaehyung. But he’d stiffly messaged her a pleading text to not look at his private twitter accounts, and she was sure it was full of deranged porn. She promised him she wouldn’t look if he didn’t take a peek at her own stash.
They’d given her space, and that had led to a chasm that seemed to divide her from the group as if she had the plague. Her on the huge sofa, misted by the humidifiers, versus them—a group of six men and three staff members huddled around a coffee table pouring over the list.
They had six minutes to solve the issue.
“We’ll do Love Crown and Renaissance, skip out on Endurance. We’ve got that loaded up as backup.”
“But Taehyung has to lift me in Love Crown.”
“Then we skip out on Love Crown and we perform Em dash.”
“Taehyung’s centre in Em dash. And I’ve got to reach stage left at the half-minute mark just to support you. Without Taehyung I might miss a count—”
“Then you just have to go faster.”
Seokjin glared, stabbing a finger on the paper. “It’s the fastest I can go! We’ve tried this before, remember? This was the song that we swore to keep out of our list if we ever had a smaller team. We cannot do this. We just can’t, so stop trying to make this one work!”
The frustration in his voice startled her more than she liked it to, and she held herself close begging her brain to stop thinking about how this was all her fault again. Because for God’s sake she couldn’t start her own little pity party while they were sinking in her shit storm. She dropped her cup on the table when it threatened to spill from the trembling in her hands.
“Then fuck it, we’ll do…” there was an aggressive scratch of pen over paper, “the wet weather set list without the dancing.”
“Who’s covering Taehyung’s lines?”
“Hey,” she called to them in that husky voice that she loved but just wasn’t hers.
They turned to look at her, albeit with a tiny bit of hesitance. Their eyes were different, friendly but lacking in the warmth, the same type of love. It just wasn’t the same as when she was in her old body. But she knew that they tried to remember, tried to tell themselves that it was her not Taehyung because their smiles grew sweeter with each passing second.
They loved Taehyung but not in the way they loved her. She could see it in their eyes, beside them the staff that had clearance seemed uneasy.
“I do remember how to sing some of your old songs,” she mumbled, hoping to help even when she knew that she’d just proven to them on stage that she couldn’t. “I could do something if you wanted me to.”
They exchanged glances, quiet resignation sinking in their eyes.
“Love,” Namjoon murmured, unable to look up and yet he had to as he met her eyes. There was the strangest look on his face, one that she didn’t recognise. “Thank you for the offer, but I don’t think—”
“Yeah,” she sighed, hands in her head, looking away so that they didn’t have to suffer under her gaze, “sorry, yeah.” She nodded quickly, bouncing on her feet. “I’ll just leave and find a quiet spot that’s safe, just outside. If anyone asks, I’m struggling with some soulmate related trauma that’s strictly classified.”
“Amber…”
“We’ll talk after,” she sat up, dusting her pants. “I’ll get out of your hair and text Taehyung.”
They seemed lost for words, but her reminder sent them spiralling back into action plan. She left, slumped over in the corridor that was empty and devoid of people. Her fingers were on the keyboard, clumsy from its unfamiliarity.
Amber [8:45] I’m sorry, this is all my fault.
The reply back from Taehyung was instantaneous.
Taehyung [8:45] Don’t be, I love my baby monster that just let out an explosive shit all over herself. We’re having a really good father and daughter bonding time, although I don’t know if she knows that. Maybe she does, she’s giving me the stink eye.
From the speed of his message, she knew that he’d been waiting for her to text him.
Taehyung [8:46] But she seems to know that it’s not her real Mama’s boobs in her face which brings me to the question—do your boobs have a soul?
Her lips twitched and she smiled. Idiot.
Taehyung [8:46] I’m tempted to evaluate that theory.
Amber [8:46] Touch them and then tell me what you think, you pervert. Are you already horny just because you grew a set of tits?
Taehyung [8:46] It’s fucking weird. I’m aroused because of the body I control. It’s like some kind of twisted VR porn.
She choked, coughing into her palm.
Taehyung [8:46] Sorry babe :(
Amber [8:46] You’re looking at me in the mirror?
Taehyung [8:47] It wasn’t on purpose! Rumiko pissed on you while the nanny and I were figuring things out…Had to get some of it out of your shirt, then I decided that I should just strip and change. Your bra was in the way, one thing led to the other. Now I’m naked. We’re naked.
That was totally an excuse, but her smile stretched wider and she shook her head.
Taehyung [8:47] Don’t be mad…
Amber [8:47] I’m just teasing you. Go explore your new femininity, I know you’re curious.
Taehyung [8:47] Your boobs look a bit different from your viewpoint. And it’s heavy? I couldn’t stand at first because of the change in the centre of gravity. It was so much fun swinging back and forth, holding on to these jugs just to stand.
She snorted. Trust Taehyung to enjoy himself despite the situation.
Taehyung [8:47] And I didn’t know that your pussy lips aren’t sensitive at all…Makes me feel like shit for stroking them that one time. Damn it you should have said something, or at least tried to explain!
Amber [8:47] It was funny watching you try. And what the fuck are you doing Tae…
Taehyung [8:47] Calm down baby. Just wiping you down after a pee with one hand on this phone.
There was a pause.
Taehyung [8:48] Do you want to talk about something more serious?
She exhaled, biting her lips.
Amber [8:48] I ruined your solo.
There was a lot of typing for a good ten seconds.
Taehyung [8:48] Nope, you made me ten times more famous. I’m trending on Twitter, TikTok and Google. Thanks for the publicity.
Amber [8:48] It’s because I sat on the platform and looked stupid. I panicked like an idiot instead of singing a song I’ve heard you sing a million times. I’m ashamed. I should have known those lines.
Taehyung [8:48] Sweetheart.
She swallowed, feeling a lump swell in her throat as she buried her face in her arms. But it was not her face nor was it her arms which made her feel like a parasite sucking life out of her host.
Taehyung [8:49] The performance was beautiful; you didn’t screw up. I couldn’t even fucking stand in your body and you think I would insist that you sing?
Taehyung [8:49] And seven members performing a song meant for a solo? Do you know how many comments I got from my fans begging me to sing a line from Jimin’s songs? You’re a genius.
Amber sighed, nibbling on her bottom lip.
Taehyung [8:49] Tell me you wouldn’t have appreciated that performance.
Amber [8:49] Fine…I would have loved it.
She pursed her lips.
Taehyung [8:49] Plus, I’m having lots of fun, I get to spend some time with our daughter, and I get a clit for a day! FUCK YES. Who knew I’d get to experience a body switch? By the way, feel free to rub one out if you need to, I’m sure that’ll be fun <3
She snorted.
Amber [8:50] I’ll try.
Taehyung [8:50] Get the others to help you if you’re not sure.
Amber [8:50] They can’t look me in the eye, Tae. They’ve been patting my shoulders, bodies three feet away from mine. It’s so weird.
Taehyung [8:50] Ouch…That just tells me that none of those idiots think I’m hot.
He sent her an ugly sticker featuring a depressed chicken and she grinned.
Amber [8:50] You’re best friends, Tae. They’re confused. They see me and their souls see a girl but their eyes see a man.
Taehyung [8:50] I promise you I’ll suck you off even if you’re in me, okay? That sounds so weird.
Amber [8:51] Taehyung, you’re crazy.
Taehyung [8:51] I’m just a better man, one that’s willing to suck his own dick to make his soulmate happy.
Those words made her laugh.
*
They took a group photo for their fans, with their arms wrapped around her waist and hands ruffling her hair.
They feigned a scene of playful banter and she smiled as brightly as she could with Taehyung’s lips pulled back and his eyes almost closed; a finger to the cheek just because his fans were savages for the adorable on a grown man. They pulled back just as quickly as they came when they got the picture, flinched as if fingers touched fire.
But she tried not to let that get to her.
She had to take a couple more photos just to ease their fears with cringey hearts on her fingers and a message that the social media team had written for her in his name. Officially, Taehyung was diagnosed with vertigo and a bad throat which explained her quiet disappearance off stage. Their collective aid was a good move for PR, a pretty show of professionalism for the media, and a public display of virtuous brotherly love.
An easy end to the storm that just passed.
But the bite of awkwardness continued to stink in the air, and she knew from the looks in their eyes that there was more that they wanted to say. She’d heard Jimin muttering to staff behind her about cracked vocals and broken sound; had seen Hoseok loiter just to listen to Seokjin blurt out the stress of a messed step.
But even worse, behind the tiniest of whispers, was the fear that she would stay. And that disquiet—honestly, it could have been just her hyperactive imagination—lurked over her shoulders like a shade. It led to a pulse in her temples, and a dryness on her tongue, a solemn angry voice in her head.
What a fucking burden you are.
Their concerns grew quiet when she passed, their eyes dragging over her frame. And she watched with an equally heavy heart, the crinkle in their brows and their inability to hold her. She called it ‘the coldness of existing in a new body’. Then decided it wasn’t fair to them for her to be so damn unpleasant about the situation.
So she chose to not speak instead, couldn’t risk exposure, couldn’t let their situation spread.
Amber had been silent when she listened to the call with the soul doctor, who’d assured them all that the situation should be temporary as long as she ate the pills. They were green and yellow, some huge, others the size of her baby’s little nails, and she swallowed them straight without water.
They tried to keep it light over dinner, smiled and laughed two times harder, talked three times faster. It felt odd and she imagined this would have been what would have happened if she’d stayed in Jungkook’s body on the day they’d met. She imagined that this would have been what it would be like to meet her boys in the body of another.
They sat in a circle of concern, over a table of plastic takeout boxes. At least they tried to make her happier, got foods that she enjoyed: knife cut noodles, sweet and sour pork, frogs stewed in a clay pot of spring onions and oyster. It looked good, tasted divine, but her appetite was missing.
Their love was shovelled upon her, heaped over her plate as they took what they knew she liked from the plastic and placed it onto her bowl. The beginning of dinner was filled with meaningless chatter that they all knew was spoken aloud only to fill in the silence. But eventually someone just had to address the elephant in the room, eventually someone had to tackle the problem that tasted bitter on their tongue.
“Honestly, it could have been much worse,” Yoongi mumbled, attacking chicken on bone, the timbre in his voice was rougher than normal—dull. And her eyes stayed on her plate, fork toying with the vegetables. “Could have been a lift. We could have dropped someone mid body exchange, or we could have been dancing with fireworks behind our asses. No one would have known and we’d each collapse to the ground like fucking dominos.”
She didn’t have to look up to know that someone had glared at him to shut up from the way his voice trailed off soft and hesitant, then stopped firmly to echoed breaths that whispered across the room. She smiled, a low chaff through the nose, and her teeth felt wrong in her mouth when she spoke.
“Right,” she answered, more for them than for herself. “Would have been a catastrophe if I dropped Jungkook on stage, broke all our arms. Knowing my luck, I’d be on the news for weeks, but I’d say the stunt I pulled today’s going to be immortalized in your history. Hope none of you mind.”
“We don’t,” Seokjin answered quickly, raising his eyes to meet hers. But they flickered with strange light that she just knew for sure was him chanting the phrase in his head, ‘this is Amber, this is Amber, this is Amber.’ His handsome face contorted into one akin to constipation. It would have been funny if the situation was different.
“Yeah,” she bit lips that felt too thin, “of course you don’t.”
For a beat she prayed for someone to stand and proclaim cheery and good-natured that this wasn’t controllable. That like her menstrual cycle and the seasons, this was just the natural phenomenon of things. The strangeness of fate.
But all she heard was the scratch of utensils over porcelain filled with unspoken words, the hiss of the humidifier soaking their throats. Then a second too late her validation came in the form of Namjoon’s false cheer.
“Alright guys, this is a wonderful opportunity for family time. It’s so nice to eat together like this again,” He spoke with a smile that dimpled, then faded when he looked at her. “Don’t worry about the performance, okay Tae—No, Amber—Fuck, sorry. I’m—” he let out a low groan, sexy when it coiled out of his throat, “I’m running on three hours of sleep.”
She snorted. “What were you doing?”
“Hm? Oh, planning,” he wet his lips as if he had more to say, then clarified quickly for her suspicions. But his voice filled with lies, and she knew he wasn’t telling her the truth just from the twitch of his eyes. She knew him that well. “Remixed a few songs. Work. You know, the usual.”
“Right.”
She rubbed her hand on her neck, stretched out kinks that now weren’t there in her new body. Then frowned when the stretch and the soft cracks didn’t happen. The quiet that continued was unnerving and she glanced up to see them with their eyes on her face. They looked away almost immediately, ashamed.
“Is it that weird?” she sighed, sucking on her lips.
The way they were acting made it seem as if she’d grown two heads and had dicks for eyes, but she supposed it must look odd to see Taehyung with different habits. And for that she understood now that the awkward silence in the air wasn’t about the situation.
It was because they didn’t know how to act with her in Taehyung’s masculine, male body.
“It looks like Taehyung’s acting,” Hoseok answered with a hesitant smile, no longer sunshine and rainbows, but a storm brewed in his eyes. And his brow was tipped in irritation, a scowl forming on his handsome face. “We’ll get used to it, of course but it’s unnerving.”
“I know we’ve all experienced body exchange,” Jimin tried to explain quickly for him, “but I haven’t interacted with you in the body of another. And you’re in him for so damn long. It’s like a fish flopped on land and is now acting like a cat.”
Namjoon nodded, brushed his curls back with long fingers. “He’s right. It’s just cool? Like a science experiment.”
Amber exhaled, feeling the stretch of awareness crawl over her skin. “So I’m like a mutant rat.” They all winced collectively.
“It’s not that bad. And honestly? I could accept it if you exchanged with another. The problem is he’s an aspiring actor, and he’s ridiculously good. So this doesn’t feel genuine to me?” Yoongi cracked a knuckle, anxiety tapping through his feet. “I’m anticipating his reappearance any second now. For him to just fuck me up and laugh.”
She raised a brow. “So you’re saying, I could be Taehyung lying to your faces that I’m Amber just because everyone misses her.”
“Fuck no, that would be a low move,” Yoongi barked out a laugh, but he squinted at her. “Right?” And she saw the hesitance in his eyes. “Right? Amber?” It was enough for her to slap a hand to his arm with a laugh that was too husky for her liking.
“Yoongi! It’s me!”
“I’m sorry, baby,” he winced, placed his fork down, “I know, I know.”
“I’m staring so that I can get used to it,” Jungkook said, his eyes were wide open, doe-like they bore into her frame. They were adorable but now? They were just downright creepy as fuck. “We’ll all get used to it, just need a couple more hours. Need to watch you talk and laugh and register in our heads that you’re you—”
“Don’t, I intend to set this right, don’t want to let that perv over exploit my real body. He’s been asking for lots of permission.” Amber shrugged and this time their smiles were genuine, but she raised a hand before the righteous ones protested. “I don’t blame him; I would do it too. Body exchange’s the only reason why I can suck dick so good.”
“Hands-on lessons,” Yoongi smirked, but his eyes were dazed when he glanced at her a coldness that she didn’t notice but now saw. It wasn’t as if Yoongi didn’t love Taehyung, but it just wasn’t the same without the sappy undertones. “You know,” he swallowed, scratched his upper lip, “if you want to try some…Things. I could come give you a—”
“No, not even if Taehyung’s convinced you all to try,” she interrupted him. She didn’t need him to finish the sentence to know what he was getting at.
“You haven’t even heard the question.”
“You’re offering to give me an experience,” she cleaned off her plate, chewing on the leftovers, “but inside you’d rather lick the carpet than suck Taehyung’s fleshy cock.”
Seokjin choked and there was a muffled giggle from Jimin behind his palm. Yoongi raised a brow. “Your words in my mouth, darling. I’ve sucked off uglier dicks. You might not be the partner of choice, but I enjoy feeling pleasure throb deep in my throat.”
“God,” she let out a raspy laugh, “Taehyung’s going to be so fucking mad when I tell him everyone thinks he’s ugly.”
“On the contrary,” Jimin interrupted, “Taehyung’s hot. Anyone with working eyes can see that.”
She faltered at his words, swallowed hard and she noticed the way his eyes drooped to her throat where Taehyung’s adam’s apple announced her nerves. Her smile dropped. “I agree. But let’s not take Taehyung’s virginity just because I’m inside of him even if he wants to see me happy. Because let’s face it, none of you are really that interested. You can’t even look me in the eye.”
That led to a pause in the air, and she fingered the paper napkin. But Jimin was the one who spoke next, quiet as he tapped his fingers on the table to a silent beat, his cheeks plump with his displeasure. “Don’t get us wrong, baby. It’s a little hard switching the best friend tag with lover. I want to see your eyes, your pretty voice and taste you on my lips not him.” She tried not to notice the juicy plumpness of spiced tinged lips, or the curl of a purr deep in his throat, and the thing in her pants gave an answering twitch.
“I know, I get it,” she sighed soft and just as sexually frustrated. “It’s just frustrating. I’ve spent hours thinking about what it would be like to have precious time with you all. Good food, good sex, maybe I don’t know some quality time together. And here I am in another’s body, with this weird hard on that’s sweating in your strange thong like pants, and we’re not connecting because I probably look like a clown.”
“He’s going to be mad at you for calling him a clown,” Hoseok teased, and she stuck out her tongue at him. But it didn’t elicit the reaction she knew and loved, the one that featured him chasing her to drag her into a kiss so that he could ‘whip that naughty tongue into shape’. Instead, he seemed surprised.
“You haven’t changed out of the dance belt?” Jimin gasped, his eyes crinkling. “You’re going to get a rash.” He moved, hands tugging at her waist, and it was weirder to feel a whisper of warmth instead of the roar of her soul that she’d grown so used to that she’d forgotten its intensity.
“It’s just that I’m scared of erections,” she answered with a groan, scratching the side of her head, crossing her legs to squeeze at the meat between his legs. “It’s like a signal. I want that shit tucked down and taped.”
“I agree,” Seokjin answered her with a soft smile. “It is quite embarrassing.”
The ice was broken, and yet she didn’t feel right in Jimin’s arms. She didn’t like the drift of their gaze, the way their touch was lacking and how much she hated being in a new body even if it did feel lighter, well-rested and sane.
And like a goddamn milking cow.
“You know what?” She stood, tossing the paper plate in the trash, “I’m fucking exhausted, Taehyung’s body is drifting.” She faked a yawn, which grew real too quickly and her eyes smeared with tears. “I think I’ll try to sleep, might as well get more rest before I go home to our little girl. Maybe I’ll switch back with more sleep. Then this would be like a fever dream, and we can forget that this stage ever happened.”
“Are you sure? You could take a break,” Hoseok suggested, stood automatically for a hug he would usually give, but left his hands hanging awkwardly by his sides. He quivered, unsure what to do, then bounced on one leg and then to the other. “We could talk more; it’ll be fun to play—”
“It’s fine, all of us are beat. I can see death in your eyes.”
“That’s not death love,” Hoseok smiled, and his lips formed the famous heart that she so dearly adored, “that’s just my eyeliner. And with enough alcohol I’m sure we can all get pass the strangeness of your new pretty form, my love.”
But she continued insisting on leaving. “Let’s just take a break, we all need one after the chaos of today. I’ll see you, hopefully at home?” She said, her feet had instinctually moved for a kiss, which he avoided. Her lips missing his, to go for the air beside his cheek. For a moment she’d froze then went cold with shame. Fuck, what a catastrophe. Hoseok turned pink, babbling with shame.
“It’s just y-you’re Taehyung now. I’m not used to it,” he explained, pursing his lips, “I will kiss you, just give me a minute.” He seemed to school his features, leaning in but she stopped him. Her hands against his chest, her larger hands against his chest. Fucking hell she wanted to die.
“I get it,” she felt her cheeks warm when she spoke, but it was because she was embarrassed and not in a good way. “I’m sorry. Fuck, I forgot that I’m not me. I’m not thinking straight. I’m sorry, really, so sorry.” Her apology spilled, babbled out for more reasons than just her accidental assault on his person.
“No, it’s just—”
“Hobi, I’m tired, truly. I’ll take a shower, and call it a day, we can talk when I’m back home with our baby.” She let loose a laugh to quell their fears. “Can’t let Rumiko forget about her real mummy.” She stepped out of the way, avoiding their arms, avoiding their touch. Not when she was unwanted, ‘disgusting’ and cruel.
“Amber—”
She left before they could pull her back, swept into a random room at the end of the giant hotel suite. Then hopped into the restroom for a bath before anyone could stop her. She heard footsteps and saw shadowed figures at her door, but they left as soon as she turned on the water.
Her bath was perhaps a little too quick, and her hands barely touched anything avoiding his genitals with ease. She wasn’t interested in exploration, didn’t want to spend a guilty minute masturbating with her new cock while her soulmates fretted about the situation. So instead, she dressed quickly and immediately tried to sleep, closing her eyes but shot up when a knock came from the door.
Jungkook stood, leaning against the frame, just as gorgeous and just as sexy as always. His muscles were tight against the stretch of too thin pyjamas that hung off his body, draped over skin that she’d tasted and felt. He perked up when he saw her, smile easy on his face, and it stretched into one that twinkled his eyes and made laugh lines crease. Her heart jumped at the blindingly white teeth and the curl of humidity in his hair—it was the little things that made her outsidesnow squirm.
Unlike the rest, Jungkook understood what it was like to exchange bodies. He understood what it felt like to lose control; he understood the despair, the fear, and the oddness of existing in something that wasn’t you.
“Hey, beautiful,” he said easily, and she smiled when his hands wrapped around her waist, drew her closer with an eagerness that she hadn’t seen all day. He allowed her to breathe him in, the musk of his vanilla and pear salt. And despite her larger body he leaned and nestled his cheek against the crook of her neck. He was everything she needed right then and there.
“Thanks,” she let out a chuckle, “I’m really loving my new skin. It’s the latest model with all the upgrades.”
“What kind?”
“A dick and no leaky nipples, or aching boobs,” she patted her flat chest and sniffed jerking a thumb to the mattress, “I was just going to bed.”
“With wet hair?” His brow had raised, eyes moving over her hair, his fingers reached to twist soaking strands. “I can dry it for you.” He burst in without another word, shoulders nudging her aside like a bull. He entered, closing the door behind him and she knew he wasn’t going to leave quickly or easily.
“Jungkook…”
“You want to sleep off the body exchange?” He snorted picking up a towel, patted the bed for her to come. And she trotted up to him like a good girl, sat quickly beside him as he made quick work to squeeze out the water. “You know it doesn’t work like that.”
“I do, but I had to try at the very least,” she sighed.
“Why want to leave your soulmates so soon?” he teased, clicking his tongue over teeth, but it was a low blow and she shoved him for it. Perhaps, a little too hard because he wheezed, but there was laughter in his eyes. “Sorry, but you have to admit it is a good opportunity to talk.”
“But a weird one.”
“You can’t blame us,” he smiled gesturing for her to sit down and she did. “Taehyung’s nothing like you, it is interesting to see your mannerisms on his body. I know it’s you and yet I’m looking into the idiot’s eyes. It is a wild experience for them, but not so much for me.”
“Too used to the change?”
“Maybe, I’ll need more than this to analyse my own thought process. But I care about you more than anything else.” He ruffled her hair, combing out the last of the wetness and she closed her eyes. He leaned down, pressing a kiss to her cheek. It was chaste but enough and her heart grew warm at the softness in his eyes. “I missed you, Amber.”
Inside, she was melting into his big brown, barren eyes. “Missed you too.”
“The soul bond knew that and that’s why you switched.”
“But this is a kind of torture,” she groaned, wiggled fingers. “Can’t even hold you close.”
“Who said you can’t?” He leaned back; arms splayed against the pillows. “Come here.” He patted his chest, gorilla like and she giggled, but muffled its sound under her palm. He laid sprawled and languid, lacking in the indecision and reluctance that she thought he might have. In fact, he was relaxed as fuck, and she felt a little sheepish for overthinking the situation.
She stared down at him, but his eyes remained free of hesitation, “are you sure? I’m kind of bigger now.”
“Yeah, I spoon Taehyung all the time,” he assured, tugging at her arm, “I lift weights remember? Nothing can crush me. Come here, big guy.”
She smiled, snuggling against him. It was a tight squeeze, but he didn’t complain, and she enjoyed the scent of her soulmate wafting around her in its sweet juicy freshness as he stroked her hair, combing it out with his fingers. His warmth radiating just as sweetly as his soul.
He was everything, and it took all her goddamn self-control to hold herself back from turning around and swallowing him down, press her mouth against his and kiss him senseless. Especially with his body emitting the scent of good memories and the best sex. She groaned, let out a sigh and tried to not think about sex for fear her new penis might awaken.
“God, I needed this.”
“Me too,” he hummed, his nose in her hair, “don’t have to overthink cuddles; always a good idea.”
“You cuddle with Taehyung?”
“Taehyung’s a cuddler, needs something in his arms to sleep. That ‘something’ can sometimes be me. You know what’s the coolest thing about this?” He mumbled, eyes already drooping quickly, his word sliding over tongue. “I can smell you on him. All that juicy apple pie, it’s here somewhere.”
“Could just be his shampoo, it’s sweet.”
“Nah, I can’t fuck up this apple pie. Because it’s mine,” he groaned, and this voice was all sex and cream as he pulled her hips closer. But there was nothing malleable about Taehyung, and she felt him pat her sides instead of the way he would tug when there was meat and malleability on her hips.
Nonetheless, she fell asleep in his arms to the soft hums of his voice lulling her into gentle dreams. But when she opened her eyes, it wasn’t to the sound of squalling cries from a baby. She was confused, and so the first thing she did was slap a hand to her left boob. It was flat as fuck. Honestly, it was pretty damn meaty it just wasn’t her jugs.
Her soulmates did have muscular chests that could be fitted with a bra.
Fuck.
She’d sighed then turned only to stare at Taehyung who looked back at her squinting through sleep. He lifted his head, adorable as he bounced a few times, smacking lips. Then turned to look at her with a perverted sneer that she sometimes saw on his disgustingly handsome face. Now that she was outside of him, she allowed the traitorous regret to seep in just once.
She should have tried out his dick in her palm.
“You know I know you were helping Amber,” he mumbled, in morning voice that was too sexy for his own good, “but it’s so weird to wake up in your arms. I felt something in me just die inside when I’ve got my dick against your ass crack. Do you know if she touched me last night—”
“Tae, it’s not Jungkook…” she whispered, swallowing around new teeth and new tongue. “It’s me.”
He blinked then parted his lips. And she stared confused at the curious dilation of his pupils, the sweet brown consumed by endless darkness that could only expand further until there was nothing. It was eery, the way he stared at her in Jungkook’s body, a strange predatorial glint in his eyes. The tension grew, boundless as it expanded exponential as his gaze grew oddly suggestive.
Weird.
Then she heard the sharp inhale of someone tasting the air and not really breathing it in for the sake of survival. She noticed now the perspiration that beaded over his forehead, then the twitch of his brow as he continued panting hard, drinking it in as if he wanted more.
“Fuck,” he exhaled, lips parting into a moan that was definitely sexual. And now she grew alarmed, pulling herself up. He twisted, his body curling into himself, as he dug fingers into the sheets, chiselled chest heaving. “Fuck, what the fuck?” he echoed, staring at her as if she was everything and yet nothing. His gaze empty and dazed, she was lost in the coal of his eyes that crumbled and twisted into desperation.
Then chaos ensued as what felt like a flutter of her insides escaped in a slather of perfume.
Taehyung flipped over her, his body looming, and she gasped as his face buried against her throat. His nose against the sides, his body was feverish as he shook, as his chest expanded against hers, then contracted. He breathed and took her scent deep into his lungs, and yet he wanted more, digging his face deeper into her neck to taste her skin.
His soul pulsed with warmth, in short intense bursts under her fingers. It throbbed, swaying in her chest. Then pulled away, it ebbed and flowed like the waves in the ocean. It came and then went, beckoned and then left.
And in turn Taehyung’s smell— the gentle musk that tasted sweetly of lavender—wrapped her in its embrace and she felt the twitch of her cock between her legs. And she gasped, felt her back arch as his nose travelled over sensitive skin, pressed against places that felt too good and too right. Then his hands were on her waist, fingers digging against skin as it travelled and then finally stopped as he seemed to understand that it wasn’t her.
It was Jungkook.
His eyes flew open, reared back with an ugly scowl, hands pressed to his nose, stumbling backwards as he inhaled into everything but her. Desperately, he tried to flee almost tripping on his own feet. He seemed lost and hazed as he left her.
“Good God,” he muttered, “Christ, I need a minute. I just need a second. Almost, almost fucking lost it.”
“What’s wrong Taehyung?” she called to him, but he moved, body slamming against wardrobes and then walls.
But he ignored her, chose to pull himself out of the room, crashing over people and babbling words like she was Satan and this was Hell. Outside her soulmates didn’t seem to understand the truth and they circled Taehyung assuming he was her. They flocked with worry, pulling him down into his seat, and asking thousands and hundreds of questions.
The moment she stepped out of the room, wind rustling her hair and pulling her scent across the room, was when they truly understood the torture of existing in a space without your real soulmate. Because right now Jungkook was a walking aphrodisiac.