Amber sits stunned into a stupor. Her eyes staring blankly at the screen. Did she just hear that correctly? She doesn't even know that her mouth hanged wide open until she snaps it shut to look at MiRi.

The girl laughs, twirling with red strands of hair.

"I might just have given him inspiration with your name."

Amber's eyes widened. It doesn't help that blood pounds in her ears and the upper part and lower part of her body still burns from watching Jimin seduce the pants off millions of girls worldwide while slipping in her name.

To be completely fair, the word Ambrosia is not exactly hers to keep. It did tickle her fancy that her name was actually the reason for his usage in a twisted way of how fate works. Scratch that.

She might be relieving her horny ass with that soundtrack on repeat at this rate.

"YOU DID NOT!" Amber gaped at her. "HOW?"

MiRi laughs brightly. "All I told Deok-Su was: Hey don't you think Amber's full name is great as a song lyric? "

"SHUT UP! I DON'T EVEN KNOW WHAT TO FEEL!" Amber groaned, plonking her head onto the table. "What am I going to do now? You and Deok-Su are ruining me for my own soulmate, damn it!"

Amber pointedly glanced up to look straight into MiRi's dark brown eyes letting her best friend catch a glimpse of the state of her cheeks. A shade so red it might as well be a tomato.

Don't get her wrong. Amber is happy, so deliriously happy that her body feels light and so full of energy.

"How am I ever going to feel a greater level of happiness for a boy saying my name?" Amber wailed, pressing her hands to her eyes in exasperation.

"Uh...When your future son says Mama?"

"That isn't even my name! That's the word MAMA!" Amber whined. "MiRi!"

"Oh fine, poor dear." MiRi chuckles patting her hair. "I'm a great best friend aren't I?"

"The best," Amber grumbled out.

"Aw, I'm surprised. I thought you would yell at me a bit more." MiRi giggles behind her palm, her ring winking in the light. Amber sulks at that thought, her love-starved mind grumbles about evil best friends who ruined people's future love lives. "I'm sorry but it was partially your birthday present."

"Because initially, as an apology, I wanted to get you this." MiRi fishes around in her bag and pulls out a neat little card. Amber frowns taking the thing from her and reading it carefully.

"Seoul Olympic Stadium? You know I hate sports, don't you? I mean, football ain't my thing-" Amber pauses when she flips open the card. The familiar name stared back at her in bold printed letters.

B.

T.

S.

Listen to Me. World Tour. Category 1.

Then the date of her birthday, January 19th, and a time, 7.30pm.

Amber doesn't even think. She sits looking at the tickets, blinking rapidly and just reading the words over and over again. Her heart swimming with emotions. Her mind flashing with emotions.

Amber loves BTS.

That was a fact.

It's not simply because she's physically attracted to them. Her love was more than just a lust for beautiful Asian men. It was never about their beauty.

It's partially their music. The lyrics that resounded so strongly with their own personal voices, the music that they sang with so much emotion that she can feel it even through a digital device after going through thousands of editing.

Most of all, she's fallen for them because of how hard they've worked to get to where they are today. She fell for how high they jumped as they danced, fell for how strongly they moved to the beat, fell for the boys who stood to dance despite being close to fainting.

They never gave up in pursuit of their dreams and that was what pulled Amber through so many cruel deadlines and harsh realities over the years.

Because if BTS could do everything and even more.

So could she.

"Hello? Did I just break you?" MiRi smiled at her softly and Amber finds her vision going blurry and her eyes heavy and wet with tears.

Damn it. She didn't want to cry. Amber tries to suck the tears back in, blinking rapidly and smiling brightly at her best friend.

"You didn't have to. You shouldn't have." Amber whispers. Her voice breaks, heavy with emotions. Her mind flutters to all those nights struggling under the weight of stress. She's calmed herself down to the tunes of BTS's songs, laughed to their fan videos after spending hours weeping, slept to the sound of their voices like a lullaby.

Their music has always been the remedy to many things...Stress, Anger, Sadness, Depression.

To listen to them live would be a dream come true.

"Of course I did." MiRI laughs taking her hand. "You've helped me so much over the years and I just wanted to do something for you, you know? So I asked Deok-Su to get me two tickets directly from BigHit Entertainment. Ya know, since he's their music producer he's got a leg up to these kinds of things. He basically just said he wanted to watch BTS's concert with his wife and they handed him the tickets with a word of thanks."

"Oh wait. It's Deok-Su's tickets? I shouldn't-"

"Calm your tits, my girl." MiRi giggles at her flustered expression. "Deok-Su's got a business meeting in Australia on that date. He said it's your birthday present from him. A thank-you-for-taking-care-of-my-wife ticket."

"Aw you guys." Amber's voice crackles, wet with tears and she sniffs as her nose clogs up with tears. She could feel them, warm wet and sticky crawling down her face. "You're too good to me."

"Oh my gosh. Don't cry." MiRi laughs, wrapping her arms around her gently rubbing soothing pats on Amber's back.

"I'm happy. You know that." Amber garbles, tears wetting MiRi's shoulders.

"I thought I would finally hear you scream." Amber could hear the smile in MiRi's words. "I didn't expect waterworks. You're such a cutie, Ambs." MiRi giggles.

"I don't scream, you know that," Amber replied. "I mean I can, and I feel like doing it but...We're at a coffee shop MiRi! I'll look like I'm crazy!" Amber ends her words in a hiss, rubbing tear stains away with the corners of her sleeves. They part from their hug and MiRi pats her cheeks gently.

"Polite queen." MiRi ruffles her hair. "Although, I'm sorry that it's on your birthday."

Amber froze. She was born at 10.30pm, which was technically speaking, right after the concert. If anything were to happen like a teleportation soul bond, a flicker bond like MiRI's or worse, a body exchange. It technically should make it just in time for the end of the concert. Plus, if it were truly a body exchange. It didn't matter.

Her soulmate would just have to accept her love for BTS. She was done with trying to relinquish her love for those boys. They were honestly her rock in this turbulent world and she was sure that she would still be listening to the same tunes even with a lover at her side to calm frazzled nerves.

This love was simply just meant to be.

"I'm okay with it." Amber finally replies to MiRi. "If it really is body exchange," Amber gave MiRi a wicked smile. "You're the one who has to deal with it anyway."

MiRi giggles. "I promise to protect your body. I mean how hard can it be? In fact, with your love for BTS, there's a 50% chance dude might just be at the same concert."

"I wish." Amber replied, sipping at her chilling shit tasting coffee. She downs it in one gulp.

"There's no way that fate would be that good to me."

Famous last words.

They arrive in Seoul on Thursday night via a business class flight on Singapore Airlines. The exorbitant price had sent Amber reeling and practically on her knees, desperate to persuade her bestie that a broke girl like her should not be worthy of such luxuries.

Plus, she could scarcely pay MiRi back for all that she would be forking up for her during the entire trip.

Cue empty bank sound. Well, at least whatever that sounded like.

Her bestie had declined with excuses like: 'There's no way you can get a cheap budget airline at this time!'-very true- and 'you think I would buy your tickets to a Seoul concert without buying your aeroplane tickets or booking you a hotel room? I'm not that stupid or evil!'

Trust MiRi to treat Amber's declines as an insult to her person.

The flight had been amazing. Amber had gorged herself on the business class lounge food even before she had stepped into the aircraft.

Amber calls it stress eating. MiRi calls it Amber-being-super-cheap-and-trying-to-eat-out-the-whole-cost-of-the-flight. Like the cheapo she was, Amber had hoarded all the freebies into her bag and consumed every on flight refreshment they could offer to her fat ass even opting for a few glasses of champaign.

Amber's pretty sure the steak they offered for lunch had been one of the best she's ever eaten in her middle-class life and it screwed with her mind that science supposedly proclaimed that tastebuds were supposed to be duller when on flights.

Now it gets her really wondering exactly how good that steak must have been on land.

After a thousand cups of apple juice and Amber taking a dump a good five times on flight to relief herself off the excess carbs. They touch down in Incheon Airport at midnight and speed off to the hotel in a black Porsche. That in which was driven by a burly Korean chauffer with a neck thicker than her thighs and biceps that were twice the size of her waist.

She's pretty sure he could snap her neck with just a flick of his fingers.

MiRi had flippantly explained the car to be one of Deok-Su's and the driver was there because Deok-Su didn't trust her driving skills. MiRi had scowled after that comment with a loud huff about paranoid husbands.

Amber has never doubted Deok-Su's fame as a music producer, but right now, with the obvious flaunt of wealth, it's safe to say he's richer than she expected.

So it's no surprise that the place of their stay is a five-star hotel with a Michelin-starred restaurant, a commonplace of stay for Deok-Su during business trips to Seoul. At this point, Amber could vomit from the amount of money they were spending with just this trip, not like she wanted to know. Ignorance is bliss and MiRi is an angel.

That and she's overflowing with apple juice and her bladder is bursting with too much pee so the minute they step into the lobby she's hurtling down the halls towards the toilet signs, too preoccupied with thoughts of pee to even step to the counter to check the bill with MiRi

Amber has no doubt that seeing the number would have definitely sent her pee flowing down her legs and all over the pristine white rugs.

She's pretty sure she would have woken up the entire hotel with the sound of her loud flailing stomps to the toilet if not for the thick carpeted rugs. At 3 am in the morning, she really doesn't blame the staff but the female toilet was shut with the 'cleaning-in-progress' board propped up.

Basically, Amber's screwed.

She's tried to enter. She's peaked in, in hopes that the signboard was a lie. Of course, it was not, and the toilet bowls were all ladened with bleach and sprayed with lime green cleaning liquid. If she didn't want to risk skin tissue damage she's better off not seating on that toilet bowl, especially with the BTS concert being so close to the date.

If she has to miss the concert just because she sat on a toilet bowl she would literally kill herself.

Honestly, a figure of speech but Amber's better off not risking it.

She dances outside the toilet, prancing around in a weird pee dance for a few seconds in contemplation as the other familiar stickman symbol stared at her with obvious judgement. The thing bored down at her ominously, like the clock in the exam room when there are 5 seconds left and she's scribbling squiggly unreadable lines across the paper.

God. Amber almost wants to scream in frustration if not for the fact that it's 3 am and she's in one of the most expensive hotels she's ever stepped into. Amber's more of a cheap deals girl. Her gotos are dingy little motels with rugs stained with yellowed liquids and pillows possibly drenched with human waste judging by its smell.

With no other option and her pee slowly dripping out of her, a quick glance into the non-existent eyes of the familiar stickman symbol sends Amber sliding into the boy's toilet which looked just as sparkly and clean as the entire place.

She dashes into an empty cubicle and slams the door counting down seconds as relief is finally achieved and her bladder sighs in sheer happiness.

Freedom. Said the Pee.

When you got to go, you got to go. It was honestly either this or the shiny waxed floors of the hotel.

When in the face of two great evils, pick the lesser evil.

Amber's new motto of the day.

As she wipes herself down ready to leave, the soft squeaky pads of flip flops on waxed floors echoes across the toilet as the door is flung open to reveal a moment of ambient hotel noise before it closes with a soft bang and the toilet is once again an enclosure of little happy piano tunes from the speakers of the toilet.

Oh shit. Amber froze, her breath hitching in her throat. She pressed her lips together in anticipation as the footsteps trail to the cubicle beside hers. Just her luck. The steps are light and soft but whoever was beside her cubicle was wearing cheap plastic on his feet and it made a horrendous squeak across the waxed floors.

The sound bounces and resounds around echoing with the soft piano keys that played from the speakers in the toilet, almost in time to the sound her racing heart.

Shit.

With bated breath, she waits for the sound of the lock. The minute she hears the clumsy snap of the metal against metal, she's tearing through the cubicle towards the taps (hygiene is still the key to health) shoving her hands under the automatic tap-

-Only to be met by a few seconds of awkward air hanging time.

If you photoshopped her out of the toilet, Amber swears would have looked like a joke. Thousands of internet trolls would have placed her with golf clubs and hockey sticks. Her hands slapped together and reached out in an almost exaggerated prayer, with her ass sticking out behind her like she's faking it way too hard.

Damn it, technology. She cursed under her breath and tries the next one but to no avail.

When she finally figures out the mechanics, she's met with sweet sweet bubbly flow of water and she furiously rubs her hands together. The water droplets spew out from her hands, spraying across her thick, baggy black hoodie. She's sure she's got half the water stream onto her jacket.

She's ready to make a run for it. Ready to escape the depths of male secrecy and take this secret to her grave only for a deep baritone to emit from the dreaded cubicle.

"Hello? Is anyone there? Sorry, but could you pass me some tissue?" The voice is low and crisp, heavy from possibly sleep. It's the kind of natural deepness that Amber has troubles guessing his age by just his voice alone, especially with her mind frantically switching to its Korean filter.

Amber swallows. Her mind spinning but her kind feet is already moving towards the cubicle. Her fingers subconsciously pulling out wads of tissue from the dispenser. She knelt reaching downwards into the cubicle with her hands outstretched.

Mentally, the scaredy-cat side of her is cursing at her for her stupidity, because staying any second longer in this toilet might end her with a police complaint for harassment. The other side of her is singing angel praises for her guts and kindness towards this poor bare ass stranger.

No one likes to poop and find out there's no toilet paper. That's just horrible. The person on the other side must agree to this because he takes the whole wad from her quickly like the squirrel from Ice Age after his acorn.

Fast.

"Thank You." The guy replies sweetly and coupled with the deepness of his voice it's like dripping honey into a cup of well-roasted black coffee. Amber's a bit too frazzled to really give a detailed food description of his voice but that doesn't deny it's velvet beauty.

Or the things it does to her already exhausted body.

What she doesn't expect was for the toilet door to suddenly pull open. What a fast ass wiper, her traitorous mind comments.

For a second, her vision is engulfed by someone really tall and young. He was dressed in a soft white cotton shirt and black track pants, a black silky bathrobe wrapped around his shoulders. She spins away quickly only to be hit by his smell.

No, it was definitely not the smell of shit nor the smell of artificial air freshener from the toilet.

It smelled-Amber swallowed, her skin tingles at the scent-good.

Above that delicious scent is the soft warmness of his shampoo or body soap, subtle floral sweetness with berry notes and a woody undertone. Under all that is something she just can't quite put her finger to.

It's musky and masculine. Deep and spicy. It's something she's never smelled in her entire life and she could only describe it as the flare from Sichuan peppercorn, the sweetness of pine and maybe the aroma of roasting tea leaves?

God, whatever the hell it was, it was the best scent she's smelled in her entire life.

She wants to bottle that smell, take long sniffs and sell it by the dozens. Seriously, whatever that perfume was it was hella good.

Amber blinks a little dazed, feeling stupid because her mouth floods with saliva at the thought and she's so embarrassed she can't bear to look at the guy because-

Was she becoming a cannibal or something? Why the hell is she salivating over a man?

Against her better judgement, because it's 3 am and she's stupid. Her idiotic mouth opens and she asks a really dumb question that should have revealed her gender.

"What did you use to make yourself smell so good?" Her Korean is a little misused and her voice cracks and dips at places which thankfully must make her sound like a prepubescent boy because the stranger doesn't react in angered shock.

Instead, there's a pause and a low chuckle. The kind that is crackly like a warm fire, rich and spicy like Manuka honey. A chuckle that sends her head swimming and her face heating up because it just sounded that good to her horny body. The sound burns and twirls into a fire that sinks well below her waist.

"Body Soap?" The faceless male figure replies. Faceless because Amber's still staring downwards away from his eyes or face. It's not too good to stare someone down, especially if you look extremely girly and you stand in the man's toilet.

Then he blurts out a familiar house brand that Amber knows should smell of Lavender and should explain the floral sweetness that masks the original delicious scent.

Amber dazedly watches as he continues to struggle with the tap, swiping his hands under the sensor over and over. His long limbs, however, definitely made his awkward poses less ugly as hers must have looked minutes ago.

She can't help it. Part of her, kind and loving, urged her to take a step to help him. The other part was eager for another sniff. Just one more before they part ways and never meet again. So she steps forward and quickly takes his hands moving it to the perfect spot for the sensor to take action.

What happens next is nothing she can ever imagine.

Notes:

Final disclaimer that this is actually an original story on that IS inspired by BTS. I think you can totally tell from my descriptions of their voices and looks.

Although I'm making it a point to change it up a little with descriptions of extra moles/freckles/scars...

What this means is that :

1) If you read on my Wattpad, in which I update faster (because I update every 1000 words instead of an entire full chapter like I do on AO3), I changed their names. So the BTS boys are actors in my story?

TBH I write with the changed names...It kind of acts as a personal reminder that I'm writing fiction and not reality.

2)I will NEVER discontinue this story...Because it's an original story so I plan to publish it one day on Amazon along with the other reverse harem authors in the world. (I will probably get an editor...WHEEHEE I love reverse harem)

Well, I hope this clears up everything...If you don't want to learn new names...XD Just wait a lil I'll update soon!