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gunwoo-bh · 1 month ago

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you like because, you love despite part eight [yours] - myg

yours

chef!yoongi x korean!f!doctor!reader | mdni 18+

summary »» Your friendship always made sense to you and those around you. It wasn’t difficult when both your parents grew up together as best friends too. Your moms always used to refer to your friendship as being written in the stars, whereas your dads believed it impossible for you two, being girl and boy, to be best friends. Your mothers constantly remind them how wrong they’ve been to believe that. Or were they?

cw »» fluff, emotionally charged angst and yearning?, SMUT, there is actual SMUT in here, penetration, oral sex, fingering, some breast play, yoongi has been let go and he went for it, he is so in love, but still grieving, still some cussing, please let me know if I forget anything,

wc »» 13.4k

author’s note »» HIIIIII! I've returned again, and with a long one. I think this is my longest one yet. I am so excited to explore this part of their growing feelings for each other! I am gonna be gone camping for a about a week so the chapter after this will be a tad late but I hope this one holds you over til then! Let me know what you think :D

The sun is low now, casting long shadows over the cemetery. It’s the third day, and it feels like the world has held its breath for too long, waiting for something to exhale.

Yoongi stands at the edge of the burial site, his back straight, his shoulders heavy with the weight of the past few days. The air is thick, not with just the scent of earth but with the quiet reverence of final goodbyes. His family, somber and respectful, lingers nearby, exchanging soft words, their hands brushing each other’s in fleeting gestures of comfort.

You stand just a little behind, your eyes never leaving Yoongi. His face is unreadable, masked with the kind of composure that only masks the storm raging inside. But you know him too well. You see the tension in his neck, the way his hands, clenched by his sides, tremble slightly. Even as he’s surrounded by the people who love him, you’re the one he looks for, the one who silently promises that he’s not alone.

His eyes flick to you once — just a glance, and you don’t need him to say anything. You’re already moving before his gaze pulls you in.

You step to his side, silently offering your presence. You don’t speak, just rest a hand on his back, fingertips barely brushing the fabric of his jacket. He doesn’t pull away, instead leaning into you ever so slightly as if the weight of it all is getting too much.

He’s tired. You can see it in the deep lines under his eyes, in the way he’s barely standing, like he’s been carrying the world for far too long. But he lets you stay close, lets you ground him in ways no one else can.

The family begins to say their final goodbyes to everyone who’s come. Yoongi’s parents are leading the way, their voices low, tinged with something you can’t name. But Yoongi stands still, staring down at the freshly laid earth, and you know this is when the silence will be the hardest for him — when there are no more formalities left, no more rituals to be followed, and nothing but the quiet, aching space left behind.

You stay close, moving with him as he finally takes a step back from the gathering, retreating to a quieter corner of the cemetery. No one follows. This is his time, his moment of solitude before the world swarms back in.

Once there, he exhales a long, shaky breath.

“Thank you for being here,” he says, the words quiet, as if he’s speaking to the space between you, the air around you, not wanting to fully say them aloud.

You smile gently, reaching out to rest a hand on his arm. “I’m not going anywhere.”

He lets his eyes close, tilting his head back slightly as though the weight of the world is slowly sliding off his shoulders. “I don’t know how I would’ve gotten through this without you.”

The honesty in his voice stirs something in your chest — a tenderness, a quiet ache for the man in front of you. “You don’t have to go through it alone,” you murmur, voice soft but firm.

There’s a long pause, a silence that feels deeper than anything. He doesn’t speak, but the way he looks at you says everything. It’s as if, in this moment, he’s seeing you — really seeing you, for all that you’ve given, all that you’ve become in his life.

After a while, Yoongi finally turns, looking back toward the gathered crowd, his posture straightening as if he’s taking the final step in his process of closure. It’s not over, but it’s the beginning of a different kind of grieving — one where life continues, where the ache is carried differently.

Before he walks away, he looks over his shoulder. “Wait for me at the car?”

You don’t even hesitate, nodding. “Always.”

He leaves you for a moment, greeting people, exchanging the necessary pleasantries, but you’re always watching him, always making sure he’s okay. The final goodbyes linger, the air heavy with words left unsaid. But as the day closes and the last person leaves, Yoongi makes his way toward the parking lot, his expression lighter, a quiet gratitude settling on him, despite the weight of it all.

When he finally reaches you, he stands in front of you for a moment, still a little too distant but close enough that you can feel the pull of everything unsaid between you. The night is settling in, cool air biting at your skin, but Yoongi doesn’t move to leave.

“Are you okay?” You ask, your voice soft, your eyes searching for something in his.

He doesn’t answer at first, just looks at you, like he’s seeing you through a different lens. Then, without warning, his hand comes to rest gently on your shoulder, pulling you closer.

“Can we go home?” he asks quietly, like the question holds more than just a physical space. Like it’s about more than just the ride back.

You nod, your throat thick. “Yeah. Let’s go home.”

And as you step toward the car together, his hand brushes yours again, fingers intertwining like it’s the most natural thing in the world. The road home feels shorter than it should, but in the silence, you both find something comforting — the weight of grief shared, and the quiet promise that no matter how much has changed, you’ll always have each other.

The air in Yoongi's house is heavy, but there's a sense of comfort in the shared space. The past few days have been a blur of grief and mourning, but now, in the quiet aftermath of the burial, the soft clinking of silverware and the murmur of voices fill the room as your parents, Yoongi’s parents, and the two of you sit around the dining table.

The meal is simple, home-cooked, the kind of food meant to nourish the body but also offer comfort after days of emotional weight. Yoongi's mother fusses over everyone, offering refills and making sure everyone is okay, but you can see how her eyes keep darting to her son — the way she checks in on him between every question and every offer of food.

You can’t blame her. Yoongi has been the rock of this family, and today, you’ve seen him break, just a little. The strain is there, beneath the surface, even if he’s wearing his usual stoic mask. He’s been polite, but you can tell the day has drained him. He’s been a man caught between duty and grief, between holding the pieces together and wishing for some kind of relief.

Yoongi glances at you from across the table, his gaze heavy and laden with a quiet thankfulness that no words can convey. It’s moments like this when you wish you could tell him everything — everything you’ve been holding inside since the first day he’d cracked open your heart. But you don't. Not now. Not yet.

After dinner, the adults continue their conversations, but Yoongi rises from the table with a small nod toward you. You stand, half in hesitation, but the way his eyes meet yours is an invitation you can’t ignore.

You slip away from the table, following him up the stairs. The house is quieter now, and as you step into Yoongi’s room, the door clicking shut behind you, a sigh escapes you — both of relief and exhaustion. For the first time in days, you're alone with him. Alone, without the weight of the world outside.

Yoongi stands by the window for a moment, his hands shoved into his pockets, his back turned toward you. His hair is still slightly damp from the earlier moments of the funeral, but he’s looking out into the yard as though lost in thought.

You don’t know what to say, and honestly, you don’t have to. This silence between you feels like the softest conversation — a moment where words aren’t needed. Slowly, you approach him, your feet light on the floor as you step closer, reaching out to place a hand on his shoulder.

He doesn’t flinch. His muscles tense for a second, then relax, as if he’s letting himself feel the quiet touch.

“I don’t want to be alone tonight,” Yoongi says, his voice lower than usual. There’s an edge to it, but it’s more than just a request. It’s a need. A need that you can’t help but want to fulfill.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you reply, the words simple but filled with meaning. You gently pull him toward you, not needing to say anything else. His arms wrap around you instantly, his grip strong but unhurried. He’s not in a rush. Neither of you is.

You stand there for a while, your head resting against his chest, listening to the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath the fabric of his shirt. His hand slides down your back, the simple, comforting gesture speaking volumes.

"I don’t know what I’d do without you here," Yoongi murmurs, his breath warm against your hair. It’s a confession, quiet and sincere, and for a moment, the world outside seems to pause.

And even though you want to respond, want to tell him how much you need him too, you don’t. Instead, you just let yourself stay in the moment — pressed against him, breathing him in. It’s enough.

But as you pull back slightly to meet his eyes, he seems to sense the shift. His thumb gently brushes over your cheek, and he leans down, his lips hovering just above yours, like he’s waiting for something — for permission, for a sign that this closeness isn’t just a fleeting thing.

The tension between you is undeniable now, a delicate string pulled tight between two hearts, each of them yearning but both still hesitating. Yoongi’s eyes soften when he looks at you, and it’s almost as if he’s seeing you for the first time, really seeing you. And the air between you crackles with the electricity of everything unsaid.

“Stay with me tonight,” he whispers, his words more of a plea than a question. The weight of them lands heavy in the air, but you don’t move. You don’t pull away. You just nod.

“I will,” you whisper back, and in that moment, it feels like the whole world has narrowed down to just the two of you. His arms tighten around you again, pulling you closer. It’s not just for comfort anymore. It’s something else, something deeper, but neither of you is ready to cross that line just yet.

But tonight — tonight you don’t need to. Tonight, you’ll just be here. With him. And that’s enough.

The morning light filters softly through the thin curtains of Yoongi’s childhood room, casting a pale, golden glow across the sheets. The house is quiet now — the kind of quiet that comes after the storm of days filled with visitors, rituals, grief, and goodbyes. The funeral is over. The final farewells have been said. And now, there’s nothing left but the stillness that follows.

You lie there beside him, both of you tucked beneath the worn comforter that smells faintly of home, of him. The room is filled with that familiar, heavy warmth — not oppressive, but safe, like neither of you is quite ready to face the world outside just yet.

Yoongi’s eyes are half open, watching the way the light dances across the ceiling. His hand rests on the space between you, close enough that his pinky brushes against yours, but neither of you moves to close the distance. The air between you is thick with everything you want to say but can’t — or maybe shouldn’t. Not yet.

You can feel the weight of his gaze when he turns his head toward you. His features are soft in the morning light, his dark hair a little messy against the pillow. He looks tired, but there’s something peaceful in him, too — like, for the first time in days, he’s letting himself breathe.

“Thank you,” he murmurs, his voice low and rough from sleep and emotion. “For being here. For... all of it.”

You shift slightly, turning onto your side so you can see him better, your face just inches from his now. Your heart aches with the closeness, with the way his words make something tender stir deep inside you.

“You don’t have to thank me,” you whisper, voice barely above the hush of the morning. “There’s nowhere else I’d want to be.”

His lips curve just slightly, the ghost of a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. Not yet. But it’s there, a flicker of light through the heaviness. His hand moves, just a little, fingers brushing yours more deliberately this time, but he doesn’t take your hand. There’s a restraint there, the kind that hurts and comforts at the same time.

“I don’t want this morning to end,” he admits quietly, the words falling into the space between you like a secret he can’t keep anymore. “Because I don’t know what happens when it does. I don’t know how to go back to normal after this.”

You swallow hard, the truth of it settling heavy in your chest. You feel it too — this fragile bubble you’ve both built around yourselves these past few days. A safe place where you can hold each other up without having to name what’s between you.

“Maybe we don’t have to know right now,” you say softly, your fingers twitching like they want to reach for him but stopping short. “Maybe this morning is enough. Just... being here.”

Yoongi closes his eyes, and for a moment, it looks like he might say something else, something more. But he doesn’t. Instead, he lets out a breath, slow and steady, and nods, the smallest movement that says he understands.

So you stay like that — close but not quite close enough, hearts aching with everything unsaid, the morning stretching on around you. And in that quiet, in that fragile stillness, you both find a little bit of peace.

But the day calls, as it always does. The soft cocoon of the morning, of this room, of the space you and Yoongi have carved out for yourselves, can only hold for so long.

A gentle knock at the door breaks the stillness, so polite it almost feels like an apology for the interruption. His mother’s voice follows, kind but firm — the voice of someone who knows grief still lingers but understands that life keeps moving forward.

“Yoongi-ah, breakfast is ready. Come out soon, okay?” There’s a pause, and though she doesn’t say it, you know she’s aware you’re in there too. Her voice softens, warm and understanding. “Both of you.”

Yoongi doesn’t answer right away. His eyes stay closed, his head tipped back against the pillow, like maybe if he stays still enough, the world will wait. But after a long moment, he sighs, and you feel the shift — that inevitable pull back to reality.

Your heart sinks a little. The weight of leaving this space, this peace, feels heavier than you expected. His fingers brush yours again, lingering, as if to say I’m not ready either without having to voice it.

“I guess we should...” you start to say, but the words don’t come out with any conviction.

Yoongi hums, almost in agreement, but neither of you moves right away. There’s a shared resistance, an unspoken wish to stay in this moment a little longer. Just a few more seconds where it’s just the two of you, tucked away from the world.

Finally, you force yourself to sit up, pushing the blanket back, the chill of the room against your skin making you miss the warmth of the bed — and him — instantly. Yoongi follows your movements slowly, as if each small task takes effort now that he has to let this morning go.

You glance at him as you smooth your hair, your heart softening at the sight of him — his dark hair tousled, his expression open in a way it rarely is, as if grief and tenderness have stripped him bare.

Neither of you speaks as you stand, as you both gather yourselves. But when you catch his eye again, you see it — that flicker of everything you’ve both been holding back. And though the moment has passed, you know it’s still there. Waiting.

Together, you leave the room, stepping back into the day, into the pull of family and obligations. But part of you stays behind, in that quiet space where, for a little while, it was just you and him, and everything that almost was.

The house feels a little different this morning — quieter, but not empty. There’s warmth coming from the kitchen, the faint clatter of dishes, the low hum of voices.

And then you both stop in your tracks at the same moment.

There, gathered around the table, are not just Yoongi’s parents, but yours as well. Your mother’s laugh, soft and familiar, floats toward you, and you catch the unmistakable scent of a dish only she makes — the one she always cooks when words aren’t enough to comfort someone. A dish that tastes like home, like care.

Yoongi’s father is pouring tea, his expression lighter than you’ve seen it in days. And your father is speaking quietly to Yoongi’s mom, the two of them working together to set out more bowls, as if they’ve done this a hundred times before. As if this was always meant to be.

Yoongi pauses beside you, his shoulder brushing yours. You glance at him, catching the flicker of surprise softening into something deeper in his eyes — relief, maybe. Or gratitude.

“I didn’t know they were coming over,” you whisper, still taking it in.

“Me either,” Yoongi murmurs, voice quiet, full of wonder. His gaze lingers on the scene, as if realizing something he hadn’t before. His parents — who have carried so much these last few days — are in good hands. Your parents, steady and kind, have closed the gap that grief tried to widen. Together, they’re creating a space of comfort neither of you expected but both of you needed.

Yoongi’s hand hovers near yours for a second, as though instinctively reaching for that grounding presence you’ve been for him all week. And when his fingers brush yours, it feels less like something new and more like something that’s always been.

“Come on,” you say softly, nudging him gently, a small smile pulling at your lips. “Let’s eat.”

You both step into the kitchen, greeted with warm smiles and easy conversation, and for the first time in days, it feels like maybe — just maybe — the hard part is over. And what comes next, you’ll face together.

The morning air is crisp, carrying that particular scent of earth and memory that only comes after rain and long nights. The sun is just starting to peek through the clouds, casting a soft glow over the quiet street in front of Yoongi’s family home.

Your bags are packed and loaded into the car. The last of the goodbyes are waiting — the ones that are the hardest to say.

Yoongi stands beside you, his hand brushing yours, not quite holding it, but close enough that you can feel his warmth. His parents are at the foot of the porch, your parents standing alongside them, all of them gathered in that gentle, expectant way families do when it’s time to part.

His mother pulls you into a hug first, the kind that lingers, the kind that says thank you without needing words. When she lets you go, her hands stay on your arms for a beat longer, her eyes warm and full of something like affection — and understanding.

“Come back soon, okay?” she says softly. “Both of you.”

You nod, throat tight. “We will. I promise.”

Yoongi hugs his mom next, and though he tries to keep it together, you can see the slight shake of his shoulders, the way he clings for just a second longer. His father clasps him on the back, strong and steady, and says nothing — because he doesn’t need to.

Then it’s your parents’ turn. Your mom pulls Yoongi into a hug without hesitation, as if he’s always been one of her own. You hear her murmur something only he can hear, and though you can’t catch the words, you see the way his expression softens, how his shoulders drop just slightly, like she’s given him a little more peace.

And then your dad steps forward, clapping Yoongi on the shoulder, firm and fond.

“Yoongi,” he says, and though his tone is light, there’s real meaning behind it, “take care of our girl, yeah?”

It makes you laugh, a soft, breathless sound that Yoongi mirrors, the tension between you both breaking for just a moment. But beneath the shared chuckle, there’s that unspoken truth hanging in the air — your parents see it now. They see what’s shifted. They know.

“I will,” Yoongi promises, his voice gentle but sure. “Always.”

Your father seems satisfied, his gaze kind as he pulls you into a hug next. “We’re proud of you, sweetheart. Both of you. Don’t be strangers — come back soon.”

You feel Yoongi’s hand finally find yours then, his fingers threading through yours as you turn toward the car together. The final hugs are exchanged, promises to visit soon, to call, to text when you get back to Seoul.

And as you both climb into the car and Yoongi starts the engine, you glance back one last time — your parents, his parents, standing side by side on the porch, waving, watching you drive away. There’s peace in their faces. Like they know — whatever comes next — you’ll have each other.

And for the first time in days, as the road stretches ahead, it feels like maybe you’re both ready to face what’s waiting.

The hum of the engine is steady beneath you as Yoongi guides the car down the familiar roads, leaving Daegu behind. The city fades in the rearview mirror, giving way to stretches of open highway, fields, and low rolling hills that glow under the soft morning light. The air still carries the weight of the last few days, but with each passing mile, it feels a little easier to breathe.

Yoongi is at the wheel now, his profile calm, focused but relaxed in a way you haven’t seen in days. There’s color in his cheeks again, and though fatigue lingers in the shadows beneath his eyes, you can tell that being behind the wheel brings him a kind of peace — something steady to hold onto after everything.

His playlist drifts through the speakers, a gentle mix of old songs and quiet instrumentals that seem to suit the mood perfectly. You recognize the familiar melodies — songs you’ve heard a hundred times before when you’ve driven together late at night or on lazy weekend afternoons. But today they sound different somehow. Softer. More intimate. Like every lyric and note is wrapped around the space the two of you share in the car.

Neither of you speaks much. Words feel unnecessary right now. The silence between you isn’t heavy — it’s comfortable, like an old blanket. Your hand rests on the console, close enough that Yoongi’s pinky brushes yours every so often when he shifts gears or adjusts the volume. And each time it happens, your heart gives a small, quiet ache that you don’t know what to do with yet.

The road stretches on ahead, the city still hours away, but you don’t mind. Not with the way the morning light warms the car, not with the soft hum of music filling the space, not with Yoongi beside you, his presence grounding and familiar.

Every so often, he glances at you, just for a heartbeat — like he’s checking to make sure you’re really there, or maybe like he’s drawing strength from the simple fact that you are. And when your eyes meet, there’s something unspoken exchanged in that look — something that promises, we’ll figure this out.

The highway carries you both forward, but for now, it doesn’t feel like you’re running from the grief or the tension or the unspoken. It feels like you’re simply moving together.

“Feels strange, doesn’t it?” His voice startles you lightly.

Leaving.” He pauses, searching for the right words. “Like… like we’re leaving her behind.”

You shift in your seat, watching the landscape blur past the window, and nod. “Yeah. I know what you mean.” Your voice is soft, too. Careful. “But she’s not just there. She’s with you. With your family. With all of us, really.”

Yoongi exhales slowly, the tension in his shoulders easing just a little. “I keep thinking about the little things. How she always used to sneak me those candies when I was a kid. Or how she’d scold me for staying up too late working.” A tiny smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. “She’d probably be fussing at me now, telling me I look tired.”

You smile with him, heart warm despite the ache beneath it. “She loved you so much.”

He nods, fingers tightening briefly on the steering wheel. “I just hope I made her proud.”

“You did,” you say without hesitation, turning to look at him fully. “You do. All the time.”

Yoongi’s eyes flick to yours for just a second, and in that glance, you see the depth of his gratitude — not just for your words, but for your presence beside him, through it all.

There’s a pause where the music fills the space again, gentle and steady.

Then it’s your turn to speak, your voice quieter now. “Yoongi… when we get back to Seoul…”

He hums, like he’s been waiting for this. Like he knows where you’re going with it.

“…we should talk,” you finish, the words almost shy but certain.

His hand shifts, resting briefly over yours on the console before returning to the wheel. The warmth of that touch lingers long after.

“Yeah,” he agrees, his voice soft but sure. “We should.”

And that’s enough — for now. The promise of the conversation to come hangs between you, but neither of you rushes it.

The hours slip by, the countryside gradually giving way to signs of the city — the way the highway grows busier, the way clusters of buildings start to rise in the distance like markers of the life you’re returning to. The soft haze of the afternoon sun casts everything in gold, and as the familiar skyline begins to take shape, you both fall into a quieter kind of stillness.

Seoul stretches before you now, vast and familiar, its tangle of concrete and glass, bridges and towers catching the light. It feels like both a welcome and a reminder — of everything you left behind for these few heavy days, of everything waiting for you now.

Yoongi exhales slowly beside you, and you catch the subtle shift in him — the way his grip on the wheel tightens just a little, the way his shoulders lift and drop like he’s trying to brace for impact, or maybe let something go. His gaze flicks between the road and the horizon ahead, where the city hums with life, unaware of the two of you returning a little more changed than when you left.

The playlist hums low in the background, but even the music seems quieter now, as if it, too, understands the weight of this arrival.

You lean your head back against the seat, watching as the buildings grow closer, taller, as the familiar signs and streets appear like old friends you’re not sure you’re ready to see yet.

The city is the same — bustling, unbothered, endless. But you and Yoongi… you’re not.

And as the skyline surrounds you, swallowing you back into the rhythm of home, you feel it settle between you both: that what comes next can’t be avoided any longer. The grief, the longing, the feelings neither of you spoke aloud in Daegu — it all rides with you now, woven into the streets and lights and noise of Seoul.

The city has swallowed you both whole again, its hum filling every corner of Yoongi’s neighborhood as he guides the car through familiar streets. The last stretch of the drive feels heavier somehow, like the air itself knows what’s waiting at the end of it. When he finally pulls into his parking spot — the one that’s always been his, the one you’ve stood in so many times before — there’s a hush that settles over you both.

The engine clicks off, the car falling silent except for the faint tick of cooling metal and the heartbeat rush in your ears. Outside, the building rises above you, solid and still, the windows of his apartment glinting faintly in the fading afternoon light.

You both stare up at it for a long moment.

There it is — home. Safety. Familiar walls that have held so many versions of the two of you. But tonight, it feels like a threshold. Like crossing it means stepping into a conversation that neither of you can avoid anymore.

Yoongi exhales, his breath fogging faintly against the glass. His hand tightens briefly on the steering wheel, then lets go. He turns to look at you, his eyes soft but steady, like he’s bracing himself but finding courage in the fact that you’re here beside him.

You could wait. You both know that. You could unpack, shower, fall into the comfort of routine for just a little longer. But the truth is, it’s been delayed long enough. And the weight of it has followed you all the way from Daegu, sitting between you on every mile of that drive.

Without a word, Yoongi opens his door, stepping out into the cool air. He circles around to your side, opens your door for you, and reaches in to grab your bag before you can protest. His fingers brush yours in the exchange, and that simple touch is grounding — a reminder that whatever this talk brings, whatever truths come to the surface, you won’t face it alone.

The two of you move in quiet tandem, heading toward the stairs, the soft hum of the city behind you. And as you climb up to his floor, bags in hand, hearts full of everything unsaid, there’s only one thing you’re sure of — it’s time.

The soft click of the lock turning echoes louder than it should as Yoongi pushes open the door. The apartment greets you with stillness — that kind of stillness that feels like it’s been waiting, holding its breath for your return. The air inside is faintly cool, tinged with the familiar scent of him: clean soap, coffee, something warm and subtle that’s always just been Yoongi.

You step in behind him, and it’s like crossing the threshold shakes something loose inside you. The weight of the last few days — of standing graveside, of hushed goodbyes, of sleepless nights in Daegu — seems to settle in the air here. But it isn’t just the days behind you that fill the space. It’s the weeks, too. The nights you didn’t say what you meant to say. The moments when glances held too much, when touches lingered too long. The silence you both kept — it all feels like it’s seeped into these walls, waiting for you to return and face it.

You haven’t been back here since before Christmas, but it looks exactly as you remember: the soft throw on the couch, the plants on the windowsill stretching toward the gray light, the books stacked on the table. Ordinary things. But tonight they feel heavier, like they bear witness to everything you’ve both refused to name.

Neither of you speaks. There’s no need. You don’t ask if it’s okay to stay. He doesn’t offer. It’s simply understood — of course you’re staying. Of course this is where you belong tonight, no matter what truths get laid bare before morning.

Yoongi sets your bag down gently by the door, his keys clinking softly as he drops them into the dish on the counter. His movements are quiet, almost reverent, as if making noise might disturb the fragile balance of this moment.

You toe off your shoes, heart thudding as you glance at him — the way his shoulders rise and fall with a deep breath, the way his eyes flick to you and soften at the sight of you in his space again.

For a moment, neither of you moves further. You just stand there, in the hush of the apartment that feels like it’s holding the two of you in its palms, waiting for you to take the next step.

And you both know: tonight, there’s nowhere else you’d want to be.

The quiet between you stretches as you both wordlessly drift deeper into the apartment, as if led by instinct, by years of knowing exactly where to go in his space. When you reach his bedroom, the familiar sight of it nearly undoes you — the unmade bed, the soft lighting, the comfort of it all. It feels like stepping into somewhere safe, but tonight, that safety is edged with anticipation, with the weight of what you both know is coming.

You move to the dresser, your hands sure even though your heart pounds. You know where he keeps the spare t-shirts, the ones you’ve borrowed more times than you can count. You pull one out — soft, worn-in black cotton — and grab a pair of sweatpants you know will be too big but comforting. Yoongi doesn’t say anything. He just watches, his gaze tender, heavy with things unsaid.

When you finally glance at him, you find that same quiet understanding there. He gives the faintest nod, as if to say go ahead. Take your time.

You slip into the bathroom, closing the door behind you, and lean against it for a moment, exhaling the breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding. The room is warm with leftover steam, the shower waiting, the promise of a few moments to yourself.

The water runs hot over your skin, soothing the ache in your muscles, but doing nothing to quiet your mind. You let it pour down your back, your shoulders, your face — hoping it might wash away some of the tension curled tight in your chest.

You know he’s just outside, probably moving slowly through the familiar motions of unpacking, maybe sitting on the edge of the bed now, head in his hands, maybe pacing the room as his thoughts tangle with yours. The image of him out there, so close, makes your heart clench.

Your mind races as the water beats down: the last few days, the nights spent near him but holding back, the touch of his hand in the car, the look in his eyes as you stepped through his front door. All of it swirls inside you, loud and urgent.

You’re scared — scared of what your talk might bring, of how everything might change once the words are out. But beneath that fear is something steadier now. You’re no longer afraid of what you feel for him. That truth has settled deep in your bones. There’s no denying it, no wishing it away. It’s been there all along. And now, it’s time to face it.

The water cools slightly, pulling you back to the present. You shut it off, toweling yourself dry, pulling on his clothes that smell like him, like home. You stare at your reflection for a beat, gathering your courage.

And when you open the door, the quiet of his apartment greets you again — and so does Yoongi, waiting, his eyes lifting to meet yours.

You’re just standing there in his clothes, your hair still dripping droplets as you stare at each other. And you’re just about to take a step when you hear the sharp intake of breath he takes.

“I’ve been in love with you for as long as I can remember…” he exhales the words like a confession he’s been dying to set free, like he’s finally releasing something that’s lived in his chest for years. His shoulders drop, tension spilling out of him as he leans against the doorframe, gaze heavy, vulnerable, waiting.

You don’t let the words hang too long, don’t let even a second of doubt sneak in. You close the space between you in a heartbeat, drawn to him like you always have been. Your fingers slide into his soft black hair, the other hand curling around the back of his neck, tugging him down to you. And when your lips meet his, it’s like striking a match — sudden, bright, inevitable.

Kissing Min Yoongi feels like breathing for the first time. His lips are softer than you imagined, but there’s nothing soft about the way he kisses you back — not after waiting this long. He kisses you with his whole body, with years of wanting, of holding back. His arm wraps around your waist, pulling you flush against him, desperate to feel you close. His other hand cups your cheek, his thumb brushing your skin like he needs to memorize the feel of you.

You gasp for air, your lungs burning from the rush of it all, and he pauses only to look at you — really look. His eyes roam your face, drinking in your flushed cheeks, your parted lips, the way you tremble just slightly in his hold. He grins, breathless himself, and lifts you onto his desk in one smooth motion, like he can’t bear to have you too far away. The soft sound you make — that surprised little yelp — only makes his smile deepen, warmth and hunger flickering together in his gaze.

His hands cradle your face now, so gentle despite the way his heart must be racing beneath his ribs. He tilts your chin up, wanting nothing between you, wanting to see you — and when your eyes meet his, when you breathe his name so quietly, so reverently, “Yoongi…” he shatters in the best way.

The hunger fades to something even deeper: pure, aching tenderness. His lips find yours again, slower now, kissing you like he can finally, finally say everything he’s kept buried. Like every soft press of his mouth is a promise. His mouth on yours says it all: I’ve waited. I’ve wanted. And now I have you.

And then he speaks, voice low, rough at the edges with emotion. “You don’t have to say anything back.” His thumb strokes your cheek, his gaze locked on yours, fierce and tender all at once. “I just needed you to know. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

It leaves you breathless — not just from the kiss, but from the weight of his confession, the way it wraps around your heart and squeezes, the way it fills all the empty spaces you didn’t know you had. His mouth lingers close, his nose brushing yours, both of you still caught in the hush that’s fallen over the room, the world narrowing down to this.

Your thoughts are a rush of warmth and disbelief and wonder — swirling so fast you can’t catch hold of a single one. All you know is him. The feel of his hands on your skin, steady and sure. The sound of his uneven breathing, so close. The look in his eyes, like you’re the only thing he’s ever seen clearly.

And before you can stop yourself, before doubt or fear can creep back in, you find your voice — soft, trembling, desperate in the sweetest way. “Say it again…”

Your fingers tighten just slightly where they rest in his hair, anchoring yourself to him like you’re afraid you’ll float away otherwise. Your eyes search his, wide and shining, your chest rising and falling with the weight of what you’re asking — Please. Let me hear it again. Let me hold it.

Yoongi’s lips curve, just barely, something tender and wrecked all at once. His thumb brushes your cheek, and he leans in, his voice a breath against your skin.

“I’ve been in love with you for as long as I can remember,” he whispers again, as if he could give you the words as many times as you need, as if he’d say it forever if it meant you’d believe it.

And God, the way he says it — like it’s the most natural truth in the world, like it’s always belonged to you — makes your heart race, makes you melt beneath the weight of it, makes you want to give him everything.

Yoongi is no longer holding back.

You feel it in the way he holds you — the way his hands stay so sure and gentle, like he never wants to let you go. There’s no expectation in his touch, no pressure, just the quiet joy of finally having said it. Of having let the words loose into the world so they no longer sit heavy on his chest, no longer weigh down his heart. His body softens against yours, as if he can finally breathe.

And that—that is what undoes you.

Because it’s him. Yoongi. And he loves you. And you’ve never felt anything so right, so overwhelming, so inevitable.

Your fingers tighten in his hair, your lips parting with a shivering breath — and then you’re kissing him again, unable to help yourself, unable to hold back a second longer. This kiss is nothing like the first. There’s no hesitance, no cautious wonder. This is need. This is years of wanting spilling over all at once.

Yoongi groans low in his throat, the sound swallowed by your mouth as he kisses you back, deeper, hungrier. His hands slide down, gripping your hips, pulling you to the very edge of the desk, closer, closer, like he can’t stand even a breath of space between you. You feel the shiver that runs through him, the way his whole body leans into you, as if he’s trying to pour everything he feels into this kiss, this moment.

It’s messy and breathless and so real. His mouth moves over yours like he’s trying to memorize you, like he’s waited so long for this that he doesn’t know where to begin — so he just feels, lets it all out, every bit of longing, every unspoken word.

And you match him — hand on his jaw, thumb stroking his cheek, your body pressed tight against his as you lose yourself in him, in this.

You can feel the tremor in his hands as they hold you, the unsteady way his lips press to yours, like he still can’t quite believe this is real — that you are real, here, kissing him back with just as much need, just as much want. And you feel it in yourself too — the rush of it, the way your heart races, the way your breath catches, the way your whole body aches with everything you’ve been holding in.

Your fingers trace his jaw, your thumb brushing his skin like you’re grounding yourself in the reality of him. And in that closeness, with his mouth on yours, with his breath warm against your lips, the words rise up in you — trembling and soft, but too full to stay buried.

You break the kiss just barely, your nose still brushing his, your forehead resting against his. Your lips part, and before you can overthink it, before you can talk yourself out of it, the words spill out, a whimper against his mouth.

“I love you, Yoongi…”

It’s not confident, not like his had been — it’s softer, raw, like you’re offering him your heart and hoping, trusting, he’ll catch it. But there’s no fear in it, not anymore. Just truth. Just you, finally letting it out.

Yoongi stills for a heartbeat — his breath hitching, his grip on you tightening as if your words have undone him completely. And then he’s kissing you again, harder, deeper, his relief, his joy, his everything pouring out in that kiss, like he’s thanking you without words, like he’s telling you me too, always, forever without needing to say it at all.

Yoongi pulls back just enough to look at you — really look — his eyes dark with emotion, with want, but shining with something even deeper: pure, unshakable adoration. His lips are parted, his breath unsteady, as if your confession has stolen the air from his lungs. And then, with a soft, almost shaky laugh of disbelief, he presses his forehead to yours again, like he needs to feel you this close, to know this is real.

His hands slide down your sides, firm and sure, and before you can think or speak, he lifts you — so easily, so gently. Your legs wrap around his waist on instinct, your arms winding around his neck, your heart pounding so loud you swear he can hear it. His hands splay across your back, holding you to him as he walks the few steps to the bed, his gaze never leaving yours.

He lowers you onto the mattress like you’re the most precious thing he’s ever held. And then he’s there with you, hovering over you, his fingers trembling as they brush your hair back from your face. His thumb traces your cheekbone, your jaw, his breath mingling with yours as he takes you in.

Neither of you rush. There’s no urgency, only the need to feel, to know, to take in every second. His hands move to the hem of your shirt, lifting it slowly, pausing to let you nod before he draws it over your head and tosses it aside. You mirror him, your fingers finding the buttons of his shirt, undoing each one with care, as if you’re unwrapping something sacred.

His mouth finds yours again, softer this time, lingering, savoring. And as your hands explore, as clothes fall away piece by piece, you feel it: the years of waiting, of longing, of loving from afar, all coming together in this quiet, reverent undressing of each other’s hearts as much as your bodies.

And through it all, his voice, low and wrecked, whispering between kisses, “You’re so beautiful… I can’t believe I get to have you like this.”

You’re trembling — not from fear, not from doubt, but from the weight of this moment, from how long you’ve waited, from how real it feels now that it’s here. His hand finds the clasp of your bra, fingers gentle, pausing just for a heartbeat as if giving you one last chance to stop him. But you don’t want to stop. God, you don’t want to stop.

Because this is Yoongi — your Yoongi. And you want to know what it’s like to have this side of him. To feel him, all of him, no more walls, no more holding back.

Your breath catches as his eyes meet yours, dark and soft all at once, searching, making sure. And when you don’t pull away — when you lean in, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth, your silent yes — he exhales like he’s been holding it in forever.

His fingers work the clasp open with careful ease, and the fabric slides away, leaving you bare to him in a way you’ve never been. And Yoongi—he looks at you like you’ve stolen his breath, like you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. His bangs fall into his eyes, dark and a little messy, and the sight of him — this man you love, looking at you like that — makes your heart ache with how much you want him.

“You’re perfect,” he whispers, so quiet it’s almost like he’s speaking to himself. His hands skim over your skin, reverent, his mouth finding yours again, slower this time, deeper, as if he’s trying to memorize the taste of you.

And as his touch explores, as his kisses fall soft and sure against your skin, you feel it everywhere — in your chest, in your bones, in the way your body arches into his without a second thought. There’s no going back now. But with Yoongi, you realize, you wouldn’t want to.

Your breath hitches the moment his hands find you — warm, steady, trembling just barely at the edges. He takes his time, as if he’s memorizing every inch, as if he knows there’s no rush, not ever, not with you. His palms glide over your torso, slow and sure, fingertips brushing the curve of your waist, the rise of your ribs, the softness of your stomach. Each touch feels like it leaves a trail of heat in its wake, like he’s mapping out all the places you never knew could ache for someone’s hands.

Your skin is hypersensitive beneath him, every inch of you tuned to the way he’s touching you. The pads of his thumbs trace gentle circles just beneath your ribs, and your stomach tightens beneath the care of it, a soft whimper escaping before you can stop it.

And Yoongi — he notices. His gaze flickers to yours, his eyes dark but so full of tenderness it nearly undoes you. His lips part as if he’s about to say something, but he doesn’t. He lets his hands speak for him, gliding higher, slowing over the swell of your chest, brushing so lightly it makes you shiver. He’s not hurried, not desperate — just taking his sweet, sweet time like he’s waited too long to rush this now.

You arch into him without thinking, your body craving more of his warmth, his closeness. And Yoongi’s breath stutters against your cheek, like your need fuels his own. His mouth finds your shoulder, your collarbone, his lips soft, tasting, worshiping, as his hands continue their slow, reverent path.

And through it all, you can’t stop trembling — not from nerves, not from fear — but from the overwhelming way he makes you feel: cherished, desired, loved.

Yoongi’s hands continue their slow, reverent exploration, his thumbs brushing the underside of your ribs, then higher, until he’s cradling you like something precious — and to him, you are. You feel the way his breath shudders out, his lips barely grazing your shoulder as if he can’t help but be close, closer still. But even now, even with all that want coursing through him, he pauses. His hands still, his forehead resting against yours for a fleeting moment.

“You okay?” he murmurs, his voice wrecked and low, but laced with so much care it nearly makes your heart burst. His eyes search yours, dark with longing but soft with worry, with love. “Tell me if you need me to stop. Just—tell me.”

Your heart clenches at his tenderness, at the way he’s holding himself back for you. And you don’t hesitate. Your fingers weave into his hair, tugging him just a little closer, your voice breathless but sure. “Yoongi… I’m okay. I’m more than okay. I promise. Please—keep going.”

Something in him unspools at your words — that last thread of hesitation falling away. His mouth finds yours in a kiss that’s soft, slow, filled with relief. And then he shifts, lowering his head, his lips brushing the slope of your neck, your collarbone, trailing lower with such aching patience it makes you tremble.

When his mouth finally finds your chest — the soft, reverent press of his lips, the warmth of his breath — you gasp, your back arching into him without thought. His hands steady you, one splayed wide at the small of your back, the other cradling your side as his lips and tongue explore, tasting, worshipping, taking his time like he’s dreamed of this for years.

And maybe he has.

But he doesn’t have to anymore.

Because this is real.

Yoongi’s lips never leave your skin, his breath warm, his mouth soft as he trails kisses across your chest — slow, reverent, like he’s tasting something he never thought he’d be allowed to have. And then, with a low, shaky exhale, his fingers find yours, lacing them together as he gently guides your hand above your head, pressing it into the mattress. His grip isn’t tight, isn’t controlling — it’s grounding. Like he needs the connection, needs to feel you tethered to him, needs to show you with every part of him just how much he’s wanted this — wanted you.

His dark eyes flicker up to yours, checking, always checking, and the way you look back at him — breathless, trusting, wanting — it undoes him. His mouth lowers again, and this time his lips find your breast, the soft curve of it, the sensitive skin he explores with gentle kisses, with slow, teasing drags of his tongue that have you gasping, arching, your free hand trembling where it clutches at his shoulder.

Yoongi hums against you, pleased, as if the sound of your soft, unguarded whimpers is the only thing he’s ever wanted to hear. His mouth moves with maddening patience, savoring every reaction, every shiver, every hitch of your breath. His thumb strokes over the back of your hand where he holds it pinned, his other hand steadying your waist, anchoring you beneath him.

“God… you’re beautiful,” he whispers against your skin, voice so full of wonder it nearly brings tears to your eyes.

And in that moment, as his mouth and his touch leave you trembling, you feel it in every part of you — how deeply, how completely this man loves you.

You’re shaking beneath him, overwhelmed by the way he’s touching you, the way his mouth moves so gently over your skin. Every kiss, every brush of his tongue sends sparks through your veins, and you can’t help it — the soft, needy whimper that escapes you, the way your hips shift beneath him, desperate for more.

“Yoongi… please,” you breathe, voice trembling, fingers tightening where they’re still entwined above your head. Your eyes find his, wide and glassy with longing. “I need—please, just… take me.”

Something in him breaks at your words, at the way you’re looking at him like he’s your whole world. His breath stutters, his lips parting as if he’s trying to say something — but instead, he just nods, slow, as if he’s barely holding himself together.

“Okay… okay, baby…” His voice is wrecked, tender, full of wonder that you want him just as much as he wants you.

Yoongi lets go of your hand, only to trail his fingers down your side, slow, savoring, until they find the waistband of your sweatpants. His gaze stays locked on yours as he hooks his fingers there, as if waiting for even the smallest hesitation. But you lift your hips, wiggling beneath him, desperate, wordless in your need.

He lets out a low, shaky laugh, soft and full of affection, and he tugs them down — slow at first, like he’s memorizing the sight of you, the feel of you — then faster as his own need starts to match yours.

When you’re bare beneath him, he pauses, just for a heartbeat, to take you in — flushed, trembling, beautiful — and then he leans down, capturing your mouth again in a kiss that’s deeper, needier, his hands already mapping out new places to touch, to worship.

Yoongi’s mouth never leaves yours, his kiss growing deeper, hungrier, as if he’s finally letting himself feel everything he’s held back for so long. And then — his hand, warm and sure, slips between your legs, and he groans low in his throat the moment he feels you. The dampness, the heat — like your body’s been aching for him, waiting for this, for him.

“God… you’re so ready for me,” he breathes against your lips, voice wrecked, full of wonder. His forehead rests against yours, his fingers brushing through the slick heat of you so gently at first it makes your hips jerk up, desperate for more.

His other hand cups your face, thumb stroking over your cheek, grounding you as his touch between your thighs grows bolder, surer — slow circles, teasing, drawing out every soft whimper, every trembling breath you can’t hold back.

And Yoongi watches you fall apart under him — your lashes fluttering, your lips parted, the way your body arches into his hand — and he looks at you like he can’t believe this is real, like you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

“Look at you,” he whispers, voice full of awe. “So perfect for me…”

And you can barely think, can barely breathe, caught in the way he touches you — like he’s worshipping you, like he wants this to last forever.

Yoongi’s hand moves with maddening precision, his fingers sliding through your heat, teasing circles that have you gasping, trembling beneath him. Every time you think—this is it, every time your body coils tight and ready to break apart for him—he pulls back just enough, just in time, leaving you aching, needing, desperate for more.

“Yoongi…” you whimper, hips tilting up, chasing his touch, but he only smirks against your skin, his breath warm as his mouth drifts along your jaw, your neck, slow and savoring.

“Mm, what’s wrong, doll?” he murmurs, his voice low, but laced with mischief. His fingers return, stroking, circling, bringing you right to that edge again, making your heart pound, making your breath hitch—and then he pulls back once more, just as you’re about to fall.

A frustrated laugh escapes you, breathless and shaking. “You’re more of a tease than I ever expected,” you snark, voice cracking on a gasp as he brushes his mouth over your shoulder, his hand still lingering between your thighs, warm and right there but not giving you what you want.

His low chuckle sends shivers down your spine, his lips finding your ear. “You have no idea how long I’ve dreamed of this,” he confesses, voice soft but full of heat. “I’m gonna take my time, baby. I want to feel everything.”

And with that, his fingers slip back where you want him most, slow and sure, but still just shy of letting you fall apart — savoring you, tasting every sound, every shiver, every breathless plea.

Your whole body tenses, breath hitching, so close—so close—and just when you’re about to tip over that edge, his fingers slow, retreating, leaving you trembling and aching. A groan of pure frustration escapes you, but there’s laughter in it too, because you realize—he really means it. He’s going to savor this, savor you.

“Yoongi…” you gasp, breathless, your head tipping back against the pillows. “You’re killing me.”

He laughs softly, the sound warm and wrecked and so full of affection it makes your heart ache. “Told you,” he murmurs, lips brushing the curve of your hip, “I’m not rushing this. Not when I’ve waited so long to have you like this.”

And then—before you can protest, before you can even catch your breath—he shifts, his mouth following the path of his hands, kissing his way down your body. Slow, soft presses of his lips to your skin, your ribs, your stomach, your hips. Each kiss leaves you trembling more, your fingers threading through his hair, needing something to hold onto.

And when he finally settles between your thighs, when you feel the heat of his breath against you—your whole body shudders. His hands steady you, palms warm on your hips as he looks up at you once, eyes dark and full of nothing but devotion.

Yoongi’s mouth moves with exquisite care, slow drags of his tongue that have you trembling, gasping his name like a prayer. Every time you feel yourself teetering on that edge — body taut, hips arching toward him, fingers fisting the sheets or buried in his hair — he senses it, feels the way you start to come apart. And just when you think you’ll finally, finally fall, he eases back.

His mouth leaves you aching, empty, but his hands are still steady on your thighs, warm and grounding. And he rests his chin there, on the soft inside of your leg, his dark eyes lifted to you, watching you with a gaze so full of heat and devotion it makes your heart stutter.

You writhe under him, breathless, your skin flushed and dewy, your chest heaving. “Yoongi—please,” you gasp, your voice just a whimper, and he just smiles, soft and like he’s in awe of you.

“You’re so beautiful like this,” he murmurs, voice low, rough. His thumb strokes absent patterns on your skin, soothing and teasing at once. “I could watch you like this forever.”

And then he leans in again — mouth hot, tongue slow, building you up once more, only to pull back when you start to fall, leaving you shaking, needing, and so, so desperate for him to let you go over the edge.

But Yoongi? He’s savoring this. Savoring you. Like he’s waited long enough, and now that he has you like this, he’s going to make it last.

This time, when his mouth finds you again, there’s no more pulling back. No more teasing. His pace shifts — purposeful, certain — his tongue moving with slow, deep strokes that have you gasping, your body tightening beneath him. His hands, firm and steady, hold you right where he wants you, thumbs stroking soft circles into your skin as if to soothe and encourage all at once.

“Yoongi—” his name breaks from your lips, a choked, desperate sound, and your fingers thread tighter through his hair, needing something to anchor you as your world narrows to nothing but the feel of his mouth, his tongue, the heat of him.

He hums low against you, the sound vibrating through your whole body, and that’s all it takes. You fall — hard, fast — your release crashing over you like a wave you’ve been chasing for what feels like forever. Your back arches, a sob of pleasure spilling from your throat, and he stays with you, tasting you, savoring every last tremor as you come undone for him.

And when you’re spent, trembling, breathless, he finally pulls back — his lips kiss-swollen, his cheeks flushed, and his grin soft, pleased, wrecked in the most beautiful way.

He wipes the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand, eyes dark with warmth and mischief. “God,” he breathes, voice rough, eyes drinking you in — dazed, flushed, beautiful. “You’re even more perfect than I dreamed.”

And he leans up, kissing your thigh tenderly, as if he’s thanking you for letting him have this, for letting him love you like this.

You’re still trembling, chest rising and falling as you try to catch your breath, your body boneless beneath the weight of what just happened. The ceiling blurs a little through your lashes, the world still hazy with the high of your release. You can feel your heartbeat everywhere — in your throat, your fingertips, the very center of you where he’s left you aching and wrecked and so thoroughly his.

Without thinking, your hand drifts between your thighs, fingers brushing over the warmth, the slick mess of you, of him, evidence of how completely he’s undone you. The touch draws a soft, shivery gasp from you, too sensitive, too overwhelmed — and it makes you laugh, quiet and breathless, like you can’t quite believe this is real.

Yoongi’s watching you, eyes dark and soft all at once, his hair mussed from your hands, his mouth kiss-swollen, and that smile — that smile that says he’s just as ruined as you are. He leans over you, brushing your hair from your face, his fingertips tender on your skin.

“You okay?” he murmurs, voice low, warm, wrecked with love and wonder.

And all you can do is nod, cheeks flushed, heart full, still feeling him everywhere. How could you ever be anything but okay, when it’s him?

You can’t help it — you laugh, quiet at first, then fuller, your body still trembling with the aftershocks of everything he’s just made you feel. It bubbles up from your chest, breathless and real, and Yoongi’s eyes widen a little in surprise before they soften even more, like he’s falling all over again just watching you.

“More than okay?” he teases gently, his thumb brushing along your cheekbone, his grin crooked, eyes dark with tenderness.

You nod, still catching your breath, your hand slipping away from between your thighs to cover his where it rests on your face. Your fingers lace through his, grounding yourself in him. “More than okay,” you whisper, voice thick with emotion, with wonder, with the weight of what you’ve both just shared. “I don’t think I’ve ever been this okay.”

Yoongi leans in, pressing his forehead to yours, his breath warm as it mingles with yours, his lips brushing your temple. “Good,” he murmurs, voice wrecked, like he can hardly believe this is real. “That’s all I wanted.”

And for a long moment, neither of you moves — just breathing each other in, hearts racing, tangled up in everything you’ve waited so long to finally have.

The quiet between you hums, the kind that settles for only a heartbeat before that spark flickers to life again — stronger this time, undeniable. You feel it first in the way your fingers tighten around his, the way your heart pounds not from the high you’re coming down from, but from the need building all over again.

And before Yoongi can even register it, you’re pushing at him — gentle but insistent — and with a breathless laugh of surprise, he lets you guide him, lets you flip your positions until he’s on his back, his dark eyes wide and blown with want as he looks up at you. His hair fans out messily on the sheets, cheeks flushed, lips parted — wrecked and beautiful, and yours.

Your legs straddle his hips, your palms flatten on his chest, feeling the heat of his skin, the wild thrum of his heartbeat under your touch. You lean down, your lips ghosting over his, your breath mingling as you whisper, voice trembling with all that want: “I need you. I need all of you.”

Yoongi groans low in his throat, hands finding your hips, fingers digging in like he’s trying to ground himself. “God, doll,” he breathes, wrecked and so, so ready, eyes locked on yours. “Take whatever you want. I’m yours.”

And the air between you crackles with that hunger, that shared need that neither of you can hold back anymore.

Your hands tremble where they brace on his chest, your breath shallow as you guide him, slow and careful, until he’s slipping inside you. The stretch makes you gasp softly, your body adjusting, your heart racing — not just from the physical, but from the weight of it. Of what this means. Of finally having him, like this, after all the waiting, all the wanting.

Yoongi groans beneath you, deep and wrecked, his head tipping back against the pillows as his fingers grip your hips, not to guide you, not to rush you — just to feel you. To remind himself this is real. His breath shudders out of him, chest rising and falling as he takes you in — the sight of you above him, the warmth of you surrounding him, the wonder in your eyes as they meet his.

“God—” he whispers, his voice breaking around it, full of awe, full of everything he feels but can’t find the words for. “You feel… incredible. You’re perfect.”

You both stay there for a beat, unmoving, just feeling, your foreheads resting together, your bodies trembling from the sheer intensity of it — of finally being this close, this connected. Every breath, every heartbeat shared, like the world’s gone quiet except for the two of you.

And when you shift, slow and tentative, Yoongi moans softly, his hands smoothing up your sides, his touch reverent. “Take your time, doll,” he breathes, lips brushing yours. “I’m right here. All yours.”

You move over him slowly at first, tentative, savoring every second, every inch, the way he fills you so completely it steals the air from your lungs. You hadn’t anticipated it—how deep it would feel, how consuming, how it would leave you trembling as you try to find a rhythm, as your hands clutch at his chest like you need something to hold onto or you’ll fall apart.

Yoongi’s eyes never leave yours, dark and wide, his lips parted as he tries to breathe through the wreckage of it, tries to feel without losing himself too fast. His hands roam your body, worshipping as they go—your hips, your waist, the soft curve of your back—like he can’t believe you’re really here, really his.

“Fuck…” he groans, voice wrecked and low, his head pressing back against the pillows, his fingers gripping your skin. “You’re perfect—feels so good, can’t—can’t believe it’s you…”

And neither can you. Each slow slide of your hips has your breath hitching, your body tightening around him, both of you trying to make it last, to draw it out, but the feeling is too much, the emotion behind it too strong. His hands help guide you, but he’s letting you lead, letting you take what you need, and all he can do is hold on, love you through it.

You lean down, your forehead resting to his, both of you panting, lips brushing, tears almost stinging your eyes from how full this moment feels — of him, of love, of everything you’ve both held back for so long.

“I’m close,” you whisper, shaky and breathless, and Yoongi groans, his hands trembling as he cradles your face, pulling you down so your lips meet, soft and desperate.

“Me too,” he gasps against your mouth. “Just stay with me — don’t stop—please—”

And when you both finally fall together, it’s not rushed or frantic, it’s right — bodies pressed close, hearts pounding, everything spilling over at once in a wave of relief, of wonder, of love. You cling to him, and he holds you tight, neither of you willing to let the other go, not even for a second.

You stay there, breath mingling, bodies trembling, the world beyond the two of you fading away.

You stay draped over him, your cheek pressed to the warm skin of his chest, his heart still racing beneath you, steadying little by little. His arms are around you, holding you close, not possessive—just there, solid and real, as if he too is afraid to let the moment slip away.

Neither of you speaks. There’s no need. The room hums with the weight of everything you’ve shared, everything that’s passed between you without words—the breathless wonder, the tenderness, the relief of finally, finally having each other like this.

Yoongi’s hands move in slow, lazy circles over your back, his fingers tracing patterns that have no shape or end. Your own hand rests over his heart, feeling the soft thud beneath your palm, grounding you in him, in this.

His breath is warm against your hair, steadying, soft. You feel when he presses the faintest kiss to your temple, like he can’t help himself, like he needs to touch you in any way he can.

The world outside doesn’t exist. It’s just you, him, the quiet, and the shared heartbeat between your bodies. He’s still buried in you, the connection so complete it’s overwhelming, and neither of you wants to break it just yet.

Your eyes flutter closed, your body molded to his, the rise and fall of his chest lulling you deeper into that peaceful haze. Every so often, you feel the gentle brush of his thumb over your spine, the faintest sigh leaving his lips, the small unspoken thank you in every little touch.

And you stay like that, wrapped up in the quiet, in the wonder of what it feels like to belong like this—for as long as the world will let you.

Eventually, it’s Yoongi who moves first, just barely—a deep, steadying breath beneath you, the softest squeeze of your waist like he’s checking you’re still there. His nose nuzzles at your hairline, and his lips brush your temple again, lingering like he wants to leave a piece of himself there.

You shift a little, legs tangled, limbs heavy, reluctant to leave the safety of his warmth. The connection between you eases as he gently slips from you, and it leaves you both sighing, soft and wistful, like neither of you was ready to let go of that closeness just yet.

Yoongi’s hands don’t stray far. One stays at your hip, the other smoothing over your thigh as you settle beside him, your cheek finding the curve of his shoulder, your fingers lazily tracing his ribs. The air between you hums, quiet and full.

Your eyes meet, and it’s almost shy now—the reality of what’s just passed settling between you. Yoongi gives you the softest smile, eyes still heavy-lidded and warm, like you’re the most precious thing he’s ever seen.

You can’t help but smile back, cheeks warm, heart full. The kind of smile that’s just for him.

Neither of you says anything—you don’t need to. It’s in the way his thumb brushes over your hipbone, the way your fingers curl against his side, the way your noses nearly touch when you lean in for the gentlest, sleepiest kiss. Just lips brushing, lazy and sweet.

And though daylight streams in through the curtains, warm and golden, the world outside feels far away. The weight of the past weeks, the ache of longing, the intensity of finally having—it all melts into this moment.

Yoongi sighs, content, his voice barely above a breath. “Stay like this… just a little longer.”

And you do. You both do. Eyes drifting closed, smiles soft and secret, hearts finally at rest. Letting the world wait, because for now, there is only this: the two of you, wrapped in each other, and the quiet promise of what comes next.

The room is dim now, the afternoon light slipping into golden dusk through the curtains. The two of you stir, tangled in the sheets, warm and drowsy from sleep that came so easily after everything—after the rush of being together, after the weight of so many feelings finally spilling free.

You blink up at the ceiling, still catching your breath from dreams you can’t quite remember, and when you turn your head, Yoongi’s already watching you. His hair is messy, his eyes soft, and there’s a kind of peace on his face you hadn’t seen in him in weeks. Maybe longer.

For a few seconds, neither of you says anything. Just lazy smiles, the kind that don’t need words. His hand finds yours beneath the sheets, fingers lacing together like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

But eventually, you can’t help yourself. Your voice is quiet, still a little rough from sleep. From him.

“What made you say it?” you ask, your thumb brushing over his knuckles. “What made you not want to wait anymore?”

Yoongi swallows, his gaze dropping to your joined hands for a moment, as if gathering his thoughts. His thumb traces the back of your hand, slow and thoughtful, and when he looks up again, his eyes are shining with honesty.

“Because I couldn’t carry it anymore,” he says, voice low, steady. “Not after this week. Not after coming home without her. And seeing you—being here with me, staying by my side when I didn’t know how to hold myself together…” He pauses, takes a breath, like he’s letting it all settle inside him before he says it. “I realized I didn’t want to waste another second pretending I didn’t feel what I feel. Life’s too short. I didn’t want to leave it unsaid. Not anymore.”

Your heart aches and swells all at once, your throat tight as you squeeze his hand.

“I’m glad you didn’t,” you whisper, the words shaky with feeling. “I’m so glad you didn’t.”

Yoongi leans in, pressing his forehead to yours, his breath mingling with yours. The kiss he gives you is soft, lingering, full of everything he doesn’t have to say because you know.

And for a long moment, you stay like that, tangled up in each other, the weight of unspoken things finally lifted, replaced by something lighter. Something full of hope.

It’s quiet, the kind of quiet that feels almost holy — Yoongi’s breath mingling with yours, the warmth of his hands at your waist, the weight of everything unspoken between you finally lifted. Your heart is still racing, not from nerves, but from the sheer intimacy of it all — the way he looks at you, like you’re the only thing that matters.

And then— knock knock knock.

The sound slices through the stillness. Another knock follows, louder, more insistent.

You freeze, eyes wide, heart leaping into your throat.

Yoongi groans softly, leaning his forehead against yours as if trying to will the world away. But the knocking doesn’t stop. Now there are voices.

“Yoongi!” Namjoon’s voice, warm and familiar, too close.

“Hyung, open up! We brought food!” Hoseok, cheerful and unrelenting.

“And beer!” Seokjin’s voice carries, amused. “We missed you! Let us in!”

You and Yoongi stare at each other, breathless for a very different reason now. And with one shared look — wide eyes, silent agreement — you both know: not yet. This isn’t how you want them to find out.

You scramble out of bed, limbs tangled, both of you fumbling for clothes. Your heart pounds as you tug on your shirt, trying not to laugh at the absurdity, the rush, the way Yoongi curses under his breath as he tries to smooth down his hair.

“Come on, come on,” he mutters, grabbing sweatpants and throwing them on.

Just before he goes to the door, he pauses — and you do too, breathless, hair still a mess, cheeks warm. He cups your face, leans down, and presses a quick, sweet kiss to your lips.

“Later,” he whispers against your mouth, a promise.

You nod, grinning despite yourself, and slip into the kitchen, pretending to busy yourself with anything that makes it look like you’ve been there for a while.

Yoongi opens the door, and the flood of voices fills the apartment at once.

“There he is!” Namjoon claps him on the shoulder as they come in, arms full of takeout bags and bottles.

“Yoongi, you look like you’ve been asleep for a week,” Seokjin teases, raising an eyebrow. “And your hair!” The boys are stunned, they haven’t seen that yet.

Then they see you, and any surprise they might’ve had is fleeting — you’re always here.

“Ah, you’re here too!” Hoseok beams at you. “Good. We brought enough for everyone.”

Yoongi glances your way, and the smallest, secretive smile tugs at his lips before he schools it into something casual. But you see it. And you know — this moment, this secret, it’s yours and his. For now.

You gather the empty takeout boxes, stacking them carefully as the low hum of conversation fills the apartment. The boys’ voices — warm, familiar — wrap around the space, bringing with them a sense of comfort, of normal, after the heaviness of the week.

Namjoon is saying something about work, Seokjin is already cracking jokes, and Hoseok’s laughter rings bright through the room. And Yoongi — you don’t even have to look to feel him watching you, his gaze a tether, soft and constant.

You let the quiet task ground you, fingers brushing stray grains of rice from the counter, folding bags, wiping down the table. But even as you focus on the cleanup, you can’t stop your thoughts from drifting — to how different this apartment feels now. To the way your skin still hums from earlier.

They think they’re providing the distraction Yoongi needs — and in a way, they are. But you know. You know the truth of it, the way his eyes keep tracking you, the way his shoulders eased the moment he kissed you, the way the storm inside him finally started to settle with your touch.

You were already the distraction. The solace. The thing he reached for when the grief felt too heavy.

Yoongi’s voice floats through, joining the easy banter. But when you glance up, just once, you catch him watching you — soft-eyed, small smile, like he’s memorizing the sight of you doing something as simple as clearing the table. And in that look, you see it all: his thanks, his awe, his quiet promise that tonight, when it’s just the two of you again, he’ll let himself fall apart in your arms all over again.

You take a breath, cheeks warm, and turn back to the task at hand — heart racing, because you’ve never been more his.

author’s note »» PART EIGHT DONE! It's happened! They did it and it feels so powerful and peaceful but now they have to navigate this new aspect. And how easy is that going to be? No one knows.

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gunwoo-bh · 1 month ago

Text

you like because, you love despite part seven [together] - myg

together

chef!yoongi x korean!f!doctor!reader | mdni 18+

cw »» so much going on, fluff, physical affection galore, so much fucking yearning, yoongi and reader are goners for each other, MAJOR warning for death and loss, grieving and such, cussing as usual, reader gets roasted a little at the beginning,

wc »» 10.3k

author’s note »» HI EVERYONE. I am sorry for the absence here, I have been overwhelmed with life and I took my sweet time writing this. I really wanted to cover a lot of ground and I don't think I'll ever be truly happy with what I write but this is a big one. I really hope you enjoy it!!!!

Celebrating a big event with your friend group always required a lot of planning.

And that hadn’t changed since the last time you gathered for a celebration. Running around the kitchen gathering plates and food, you’d swear you’d worked in a restaurant your entire life, not as a doctor. Yet here you were, helping Yoongi plate food while the sound of laughter echoed from the dining room.

When Namjoon came to Yoongi with the idea of throwing a congratulatory dinner for Seokjin and Soojin’s engagement, Yoongi hadn’t hesitated. With Namjoon’s help, they had chosen a date and time—tonight. Involving you in the planning had been easy, so here you were, apron tied around your waist, finishing up the last of the prep.

Jimin and Jungkook were running back and forth from the kitchen to the dining room, carrying out dishes. Compared to the last gathering, Seokjin had requested surf and turf, and Yoongi, ever the perfectionist, had curated a special menu for the night. He was proud of it, wanting everything to go off without a hitch—even if he acted like he couldn’t care less.

You wiped the edges of a plate with a cloth, making sure it looked exactly how Yoongi envisioned. Jimin slid beside you, eagerly waiting for the “okay” to take it from your hands.

“Go ahead.”

“This the last one?”

You glanced up. “Yep. Just mine and Yoongi’s left, but we’ll bring those in. You go sit down, okay?”

Jimin gave you a playful salute and darted out with the final plate. You turned back to Yoongi, who was still hunched over a large pot, keeping the stew simmering on low heat.

You approached him, grabbing his forearm as he glanced up, eyebrows raised.

“Let’s go eat. The stew will be fine.” You tugged gently, trying to pull him away.

He grabbed you by the waist before you could move. You froze, your face inches from his as he pulled you closer for a moment, his hands resting on your lower back. You met his gaze, a flicker of something unspoken in his eyes, before he tugged on the strings of your apron.

You laughed, “Don’t want you hiding that outfit.”

He grinned as he folded your apron, and you took the chance to untie his apron from his waist. He watched you with an amused smile, and you could feel his eyes on you even after you’d finished.

“Thank you…” he hummed softly.

You smiled, heart racing. “No, thank you, doll. You helped me a lot.”

“Hey!” You both jumped at the sudden voice behind you. Jimin stood there, a curious look on his face as he glanced between you and Yoongi, who still had his hand resting casually on your waist. “You two coming? We’re all waiting!”

Jimin’s gaze flicked between you and Yoongi, the closeness between you two obvious. He grinned, crossing his arms. “We’re hungry. Come on!!”

Yoongi flipped him off in response, but Jimin just burst into laughter. You grabbed Yoongi’s hand and pulled it between you two, looking up at him with a mix of amusement and disbelief. His grin was smug, and your cheeks turned bright pink.

Yoongi gave you a gentle nudge, squeezing your hip as he turned you toward the dining room.

“Wait! My plate,” you suddenly remembered, trying to reach around him.

He clicked his tongue and grabbed both plates, smirking at you. “God, you’re stubborn.”

You walked out in front of him, heading to your seat. When you both finally entered the dining room, everyone cheered. You rolled your eyes at their antics.

“Okay! Okay! Enough with that! You weren’t waiting for that long!” You teased, sitting down as Yoongi placed your plate in front of you.

He sat beside you, but before you could settle, he pulled your chair closer, making you startle. You looked at him from the corner of your eye, confused and a little breathless.

Things had definitely shifted between you and Yoongi. It was December 20th, almost a month since your botched date, and in that time, boundaries with your best friend had blurred in ways you hadn’t expected.

Like now. You hadn’t realized why he’d seated you both at the head of the table—Seokjin and Soojin were in the center of the seating arrangement—until he scooted your chair closer. His hand settled on your thigh, and you froze, squeezing your legs together instinctively at the intimate touch. You licked your lips nervously, grateful no one seemed to notice—or they were too focused on the happy couple.

You placed your hand over his, lacing your fingers together and squeezing in warning. You gave him a sidelong glance.

Namjoon’s voice cut through the tension, commanding everyone’s attention.

“Alright, everybody. I wanna start by thanking Yoongi for letting us use his restaurant again for this amazing moment in our friends’ lives. And for cooking up such a storm, as usual!” Everybody raises their glass up and then right back down. “But what I would like to really bring to attention is why we’re gathering. Soojin,” she looks up with a grin, “I hope you know what you’re getting yourself into.” Everybody laughs as she leans into Seokjin. “I’m gonna make this short and not drag this out because damn, this food smells amazing! But uh, Seokjin, Soojin? Congratulations on your engagement and upcoming wedding! We are all so happy for you and you two deserve every bit of happiness. Cheers!”

Everyone raises their glass and finally takes a sip this time, digging into the beautiful meal. Yoongi finally takes his hand off your thigh and you let go of his hand as you dig in.

Listening to the engagement story from Soojin’s own lips makes everyone awe at Seokjin’s master planning of this proposal. She shares the photo of the night he had planned, passing the phone around and it truly makes you burst in pure joy hearing the pure happiness emanating from your friends.

When you take the first bite of your steak, you turn to Yoongi with a soft look, “It’s not fair that you’re this good. Please teach me how to cook?”

He chuckles, smirking, “No.”

“Fuck you…” you mumble, earning yourself a glance from Taehyung who hears your interaction.

“What did he do now?”

You pout, “He won’t teach me how to cook. I asked nicely.”

Taehyung looks at Yoongi, “Yah. Why won’t you teach her?”

Namjoon leans over, joining in, “Better question. Why won’t you teach any of us? Some of us need real help!”

This gets a round of laughter from everyone as you look over to him with a slight grin and he looks amused as he shrugs, “I can send you recipes.”

Namjoon sighs, “See? This is what we’re dealing with.”

You look at him and stick out your tongue, “You’re mean. I don’t love you anymore.”

He quirked an eyebrow at you but says nothing as he continues eating, listening to the flow of conversations happening all around him. You keep an eye on him between bites, reaching for his hand as he looks over to you with a soft look. You feel him squeeze your hand, your eyes focusing on your friend talking amongst themselves and laughing.

You snap your eyes up when your name gets called, meeting Jimin’s eyes when he smiles, “How did your date go?”

And in a matter of seconds you see every single pair of eyes looking at you, except the ones of the man sitting next to you. Everyone has a shocked look followed by an eagerness to hear about it as you glare at Jimin because he knows exactly how it went. He got a full report on it. The dipshit.

“It was fine. More of a friend vibe so I never went back on a second date. I’m thinking of setting him up with someone…” you keep your eyes on Jimin.

Hoseok grins as he looks at you, “You went on a date and didn’t tell any of us!?”

Harin smiles, “Look at you getting back out there in the dating world!

Minha leans forward, “I have someone I could introduce you to if you’re looking to go on a date!”

Right away you shake your head, “No, no, thank you. That’s fine. I am uh,” you inhale deeply, “I’m actually thinking of not going on dates for a bit to focus on myself…”

A silence falls at the table and you know why. You’re the dating girl. You rarely say no to a date because dating was fun, but this being the first time you are refusing to be set up confuses everyone it seems. And you get it.

You’re not oblivious to the inner gossip in your group of friends, especially the light gossip about you. It’s no secret that all of your friends have hoped and wished for Yoongi and you to end up together. It has been a ‘not so secret’ secret amongst your group. And you always joked with Jimin – your favourite gossip – that the day you stopped dating was the day you most likely were either going to end up single for the rest of your life or the day you would consider Yoongi.

And here you are now.

Jimin shoots Yoongi a quick look then back at you as you shake your head as subtly as possible.

“I say ‘yay!’ for self-care, girl!” Soojin cheers you on, smiling brightly.

Taehyung looks at you, “But seriously,” everybody glances at him, “tells us about the guy?”

“What?”

“Your date. The one that was friend vibes only…”

You shake your head and Yoongi steps in, “Guys, come on…”

You feel his fingers tighten around yours when you quickly look up at him, Namjoon shrugging when he looks over to you, “Won’t lie, I’m a bit curious too…”

Yoongi scoffs and Hoseok looks at him, “When you end up on a date with someone one day, we’ll be all over you too but right now…” he grins at you too.

You laugh nervously, “Jesus, guys, have you all become so boring…”

Hoseok chuckles, “Come ooooon…no one here ever goes on a date, you gotta keep us, like, entertained or something…” he’s teasing, grinning wide.

“Well, I’m going on one.”

The room falls silent and your heart drops, snapping your head to Yoongi who’s captured everybody’s attention.

“On a date. I…asked a girl out.”

You let go of his hand and look at him as your friends start badgering him for answers. Especially the boys who are all curious and getting out of their seats in excitement. You meet Harin and Jimin’s eyes, the only two of your friends who know anything about your feelings or where your mind was at in regards to your best friend.

A part of you is aware this could very well just be a ruse for them to leave you alone because Yoongi is like that but the suddenness of it startles you enough to feel like you need space. To breathe and to process. Not too freakout over what he means by that. If you were hoping to keep your attraction subtle to him, the secret was probably out of the bag now.

The group disperses as most of the guys swarm Yoongi, and you’re playfully ousted from your spot. You chuckle as casually as you can manage, then make a beeline for the door. Once you’re out of sight, you break into a sprint — through the kitchen, out into the back alley, where the December chill rips a shudder from you.

Your heart hammers against your ribs, like it’s trying to claw its way out. You rub at your sternum, trying to soothe the sudden onset of anxiety. God, how you wish you’d dragged Yoongi out here with you — just to ask if he was kidding.

Of course he was. He wouldn’t have let the last few weeks happen if he planned on dating someone else. Is he even planning or thinking of me that way? You sigh, confusion washing over you as you exhale loudly.

“Fuck, calm down. It means nothing until you get an answer out of him…”

You concentrate on your breathing, releasing the anxiety that consumed you so fast.

“You’re right, y’know?” You yelp, jumping what feels like five feet in the air when you turn to see Jimin there. “You’ll relax once you talk to him.”

“Shit, you scared me.” You can’t help but laugh.

“I’m sorry.” He looks guilty. “I was hoping for a different result and I didn’t think he would…do that.”

“Maybe…maybe he does have a date…”

Jimin snorts, “Let’s be honest here,” he walks towards you, “he does not. Unless you have something to tell me…”

You shake your head, “You or Harin would be the first to know…if that were the case…”

Jimin grins, “I’m glad to hear…”

Sighing loudly, you meet his eyes, “What if he does have a date?”

“He doesn’t. He would have told you way before and never in front of all of us like that.” Jimin is right, you think. Yoongi would never do that. “And I think he’s holding out hope.”

You frown, Jimin adding, “For you.”

“No…”

He nods, “Babe,” you feel him grab your hands, “I love you and you’ve become one of my closest friend, so I am telling you this because you need to hear it and believe it…” he takes the longest pause known to man as you inhale sharply, anxiously anticipating what he says next, “Yoongi has been hopelessly in love with you for as long, at least, as I’ve known you two…”

Hearing it out loud from someone’s lips feels unreal. You don’t even realize you whimper until Jimin gathers you in his arms to hug you and you don’t realize how badly you needed that.

“Really?”

He hums, “We’ve all known but to be fair, he’s scary when it comes to you so…”

“I still…have a hard time believing it…” You confess.

He chuckles, “I expect you not to until he, hopefully, decides to just tell you…” he pulls back, “which one of you should because you two have been avoiding this for so long…”

You can’t help but laugh, “I really hope you’re right because…” he listens intently, “I’m pretty sure I’m in love with him now…”

“Oh, babe, c’mere…” he hugs you again, squeezing you so tight against him. “Look, I’ve known him for a while and he won’t believe you could actually like him until you make a gigantic sign to say so…or until you grab that face and kiss it…”

You snort, “Oh my god, I don’t know that I could do that…”

Jimin smirks, “Babe, I have seen you make first moves and you are damn good at them…”

The compliment makes you blush, “I am not about comparing but you two have been the longest ‘been a long time coming’ I have ever seen and you would absolutely be mind blowing together…Your chemistry is through the roof already when you’re just friends…”

You’re giggling as you blush harder, “God, am I as red as a tomato now?”

“Oh, definitely…A bull would definitely run at you with how red you are!”

You smack him, “Yah! Stop making me blush…”

He laughs, shaking his head when he pulls away just to hold your hands but you both startle when the back door opens again, Yoongi stepping out as he looks at the two of you. He immediately looks down to your joined hands before looking at Jimin.

“Can we get a second?”

Jimin looks back at you, a soft smile, “Yeah, sure.” He squeezes your hands one final time before letting go as he walks past Yoongi to go back inside.

You suddenly hope Yoongi hasn’t heard a thing about your conversation with Jimin.

“Hey…”

“I don't actually have one.” At your confused look he adds. “A date.”

Oh god. Could Jimin be telling the truth? Could Yoongi have feelings for you?

“Oh.”

He sighs, “I thought I was gonna get them to leave you be but I made it so much worse…” he rubs the back of his neck.

You shrug, “I didn't want them to get excited over a guy I won't be seeing again other than as a friend…”

“So, you are gonna see him again?”

His voice wavering catches you off guard, “Yeah. As a friend. I am setting him up with someone I know.”

“Oh. You're the one setting him up?” He steps to you.

“Yeah. Figured I would try this matchmaking thing considering it doesn't seem to work well with me…” you cross your arms over your chest, shivering.

Yoongi walks over, slipping his coat off and over your shoulder so fast you don't even have time to protest. The closeness immediately gives you anxiety because you don't know how much longer you'll be able to resist acting on your feelings.

“Thanks…”

“Any time…” you jump at the warmth of his hand suddenly cupping your cheek, eyes snapping up to him. “I’m not going on a date.” he reaffirms, his voice steady and certain.

“Okay,” you try to look everywhere but his face, “it doesn’t matter…”

Yoongi huffs the softest laugh, amused by your blatant lie, “Sure, okay…”

Yoongi’s hand pulls your face up and you gulp, “What?”

“Doll,” he begs, “look at me, please…”

You do as he tells you, meeting his eyes and this is the first time you’ve been so close where you actually believe he might just kiss you. He leans in softly but stops when your foreheads are just shy of touching.

“I. Am. Not. Going. On. A. Date.”

He licks his lips when he watches your reaction to his words but you bet he feels it because you relax immediately, releasing a breath held in so deep your entire posture changes. You believe him. And more than that, you believe Jimin.

Yoongi probably does have feelings for you, because no way would he lead you on simply out of boredom. He would never do that. He loves you too much.

“I believe you…”

“Thank god…” he sighs in relief, “I was worried what hoops I was gonna make myself jump through to make you believe me…”

You snort the tiniest laugh, “Not that many, luckily…”

“I’d jump through a thousand of them…”

“You can’t keep saying shit like that…” Oh shit! Did you actually just say that?

“Why not?”

You sigh when you look at him, “Yoongi…”

He cups your other cheek and pulls you as close as he can, “Doll…”

“It’s confusing…” you confess, making him nod, “so fucking confusing…”

“I’m sorry…”

“I know…” you sigh, “can we clear this up,” you gesture between you two, “after the holidays?”

You rarely feel like he would protest but he’s about to before thinking better of it, “Yeah…I promise.”

“Until then…” you pull away, “I need to figure myself out so, I’m gonna sleep at my place tonight…”

“Are we gonna be okay?”

You smile right away, nodding with absolute certainty, “We will be. Always. But I can’t pretend that things haven’t changed…not anymore.”

Yoongi still holds onto your face, keeping you close as his breath hits your face, “Doll…”

“We’re fiiiiiiiine…” you grab his hands, gently pulling them off your face gently and he clings to your hands then. It hurts you to feel him clinging to you like that, feeling his fear of you pulling away. “But we gotta head back in…”

He keeps holding onto your hands, eyes filled with concern, “Don’t…”

“I won’t…I promise…”

You let go of him and for the first time, you think, in your life you walk away from him and head back inside.

And it fucking sucks doing it.

January 3rd

You don’t ever regret choosing being a doctor as a career, because being able to help people is exactly what you were meant to do. But you are human and have feelings. So, understandably, having your holidays cut short three days in had been upsetting nonetheless and since then you hadn’t had a day to yourself until your senior had noticed the amount of days in a row you had worked. You were finally headed home for some well deserved rest, given more than two days to finally get the rest you had so badly needed after a particularly busy, and not so great, holiday season.

Christmas back home was well needed and had gone on really well, both your family and the Min’s holding a wonderful holiday dinner together. And even with the mild awkwardness – left back in Seoul – between Yoongi and you, things had felt normal for those few days until you got the call.

You had disappointed people when you told them you got called in and saying goodbye to everyone had sucked. Saying goodbye to Yoongi had sucked even more.

You remember the way he drove you to the train station and checked that you could still talk when he came back to the city. And you had promised. You’d just had no time whatsoever.

You weren’t pulling away – not entirely at least. You were terrified of the change that could, or would, follow once you two figured things out. But aside from a few texts daily, these last six days had been the longest you had gone without seeing him since his mandatory military service.

You missed him. More than words could ever describe.

Driving yourself home is something questionable considering the hours you worked recently, but you figure the fifteen minute drive will be just fine. You love driving this late at night in the city because the city is still awake but far quieter, enough to enjoy the beauty of it through the quick drive home.

When turning on your street you’re filled with warmth at the mere closeness to your bed, knowing you get to rest your weary body soon enough.

Dragging your body out of your car and up to your apartment, the trek feels unreachable but your dramatics aside, you’re glad to come out of the elevator and see your door at the end of the hallway. When you get in, you kick your shoes off as you march inside and directly to bed.

“Oh shit!”

You scream so loudly, startling yourself so bad you slip and fall on your ass, grunting as you look up to Yoongi standing in the kitchen. Your kitchen.

“Jesus christ, Yoongi!”

But he doesn’t move. He stays still, leaning against your kitchen island and his stoic posture, plus his lack of reaction to your falling directly on your ass is enough to let you know something is off. You’re still on the ground, slowly dragging yourself up and once you’re on your feet, you carefully approach him and you notice then the streaks of tears falling down his cheeks, making your heart hurt.

You hurry to his side, turning his entire body towards you, grabbing his hands and you feel the guilt crawl up your tired body. Did you cause this? Did you make him feel this way?

“I’m so sorry, I know I should have reached out and I really have no other reason than the fact that I’m scared, okay? I’m scared of what this means for us and you’re the most important person in my life and I hope to god you know that, and that losing you is not an option for me and oh my god, Yoongi,” the cry of his name makes him look at you, “please tell me what’s wrong…”

“My mom called…”

Your breath catches in your throat as you wait for him to continue, “What did she want?”

He finally looks at you and you hate that the only thing that crosses your mind in that instant is how much being close to him makes you feel like being home, “My grandma passed in her sleep…”

It all washes over you so fast. The disbelief, the anger, the grief and the sadness, but you’re still in doctor mode and you’re also in caring mode over Yoongi. But you do feel the tears streaming down your face as you wipe them with your shoulder. You sniffle as you let his hands go and you grab his neck, pulling him in and you’re glad he wraps his arms around you.

Yoongi lifts you, making you gasp softly as you let him hold you for as long as he wants. You let your legs dangle, taking all of him in. But he pulls back faster than you anticipate, looking at you as you tenderly cup his cheek, “Oh, I’m so sorry, babe…”

His eyes widened just barely, “Is that normal for pancreatic cancer? To just be asleep and die? She looked smaller but she looked okay still, right? I mean, you saw her at Christmas…”

He sets you down, your hands settling on his shoulders, “It depends. There could be other factors…I mean, I don’t have…” you sigh, “I don’t have an answer for you and I hate not being able to give you one…”

It’s his turn to grab for you, hands gathering your face, “I’m sorry, I’m so fucking sorry. I know…”

“What do you need? Let me help. Tell me what I can do…”

He sighs, “Can you drive me to the train station in the morning?”

You frown, “Train station? What the fuck do you mean?”

“I gotta go back home…”

“No, that’s obvious, but you’re not going alone. I’m coming with you.” He sighs.

“What about work?” He sounds annoyed.

You push his chest, “They ruined my fucking holiday, I’m not not gonna be there for you and your family, especially for this. So, no. I’m not driving you to the train station in the morning. But I will drive us back home.”

He stares at you, scoffing, “Fucking stubborn, you are…”

“I thought you loved that about me…” His breath catches in his throat and you keep staring at him. “Look, it’s almost one in the morning. We need rest, okay? I am…gonna figure work in the morning before we leave. Do we have to stop at your place before?”

Yoongi looks over your shoulder and you follow his gaze to a duffel bag, “I brought my stuff already…”

“Good. Smart. Let’s get some sleep, okay? We’ll be gone by seven and be there a little after ten if we drive straight through, yeah?” You make to move past him but he grabs your arm, looking down at you.

“Thank you…”

You nod, “Get ready for bed…”

You hurry past him to your bedroom, snatching your sleeping clothes and closing the door to the bathroom, leaning against it as you collapse to the ground in tears. You slap your hand over your mouth, muffling your cries as you sob. His grandmother might not be family by blood but she is family, and until now you had never lost someone so close to you or the people you love. You’ve never grieved this kind of loss before and it's come crashing down faster than a bullet train.

Minutes pass, calming down as you drag your body up and you get changed. You feel exhausted from all the crying and your body feels like it weighs a ton right now. Once you’re done patting your face dry, you swing the door open and don’t know why you’re shocked to find your bedroom empty.

Padding your way to the living room you find Yoongi lying down on your couch, on his back and arm tucked behind his head. You walk next to it, poking his shoulder as he snaps his eyes open and stares up at you. You lean down to grab his hand and it triggers something in him that takes your breath away.

He moves so fast, swinging his legs over the edge and comes to stand at full height, wrapping his arm around your waist and picking you up like you weighed nothing, his free hand patting the back of your thigh and wrapping it around his waist as he carries you to bed, your face buried in his neck. No point in hiding it anymore.

He deposits you gently on the bed, following after you as you watch the way he grabs for you and pulls your back against his chest, effectively pulling you into his arms. Grabbing your hand in his, he laces his fingers with yours as you both relax in the darkness of your bedroom.

You both feel the weight of the last few weeks weighing down on you, carrying you both to sleep.

It’s five when you wake up. An hour before your alarm.

You gently crawl out of the grip Yoongi has you in and make your way out to the living room with your phone, calling your supervisor at the hospital to explain your absence over the next couple of days. It’s a small battle, but you gather your courage to say it’s non-negotiable, calling them out on calling you in over the holidays. You fear reprimand but once you hang up the call, you’re given five days off.

Sneaking back into the bedroom and you start to pack a bag, quietly shuffling around and being careful not to wake Yoongi up. It still feels completely unreal to think you’re headed home again but for a funeral, just mere days after what is usually the happiest time of the year.

You finish packing your bag right as the alarm is about to go on, sneaking over to his phone and shutting it off. Sitting on the edge of the bed, you watch over him sleeping and you smile softly. You reach over, placing your hand steadily against his chest as you rub it back and forth. He startles awake but calms down the moment his eyes settle on you, grabbing your hand on his chest.

“Hey…”

“Morning…” he sighs, rubbing his face with his free one.

You watch as everything comes crashing down on him again, his eyes growing sad as he breathes out loudly and you call his name, “I called work and I was given five days. I can take a train back if you want to stay longer obviously…”

“I need to get someone to cover at the restaurant…”

You shake your head, “How about you go get ready and I’m gonna figure that out for you?”

“It's my restaurant…”

“I am very aware, but you shouldn’t have to think about that, okay?” He sits up, looking at you.

Yoongi has never looked so haggard before, the bags under his eyes making him look sunken in. It hurts to watch what grief does to a person.

“I can call–” “Baby, please…”

Yoongi reacts viscerally to you calling him that – again – and he sits up as he stares at you. You feel it in the way he squeezes your hand that he is holding back from doing what you think he would do if he had the chance. Kiss you.

“Let me call. Take a moment to wake up and we’ll snack quickly before getting on the road…” You cup his cheek, smiling softly. “Take your time. I’ll be a minute…”

You get up off the bed and wander out of your apartment, calling Jungkook first and letting him in on what was happening, begging for his help which you find out, you really don’t have to beg for too hard. He promises he will keep the place running.

“Do me a favour though, Kook,” he hums, “if there are, like, any questions or issues, call me first? I’m just…just trying to keep his mind away from thinking about all the things that could go wrong over there…”

“I promise. You’ll be my first call…”

You hang up with Jungkook to call your mother, letting her know you’ll be on the road with Yoongi soon. You coordinate with her what’s going to happen when you arrive, knowing the funeral viewing would be taking place already.

“So, we’ll go to his and get ready there, I’ll bring my stuff back home after the viewing. Can we make sure, and I am begging, that he doesn’t touch a single pan or stove? This man is going to want to cook to feed people but I will personally poison people with my cooking if I see him touching any kitchen items…”

Your mother laughs sadly, “He’s in good hands it seems…”

Your heart flutters because you believe that to be true, “Yes, he is.”

“Okay, you drive safe now.”

When you enter the apartment you see him standing in the living room in the same clothes from the night before. His hair is messy from the restless night of sleep and it makes you wonder if he’s slept at all or much.

“Hey, you good to go?”

He nods, “Yeah, I grabbed us some food we can eat maybe when we hit the road?”

You go around shutting off all your lights, the gas appliances and taking one final look at your apartment before following him out the door, locking it behind you. He carries your bags in his hands as you go to his car, realizing just now he had parked on your street which you should have noticed last night.

You take the keys from him, insisting you’re driving and he gives in without a protest.

Thank god.

Halfway through your journey home you feel Yoongi’s hand reach for yours, startling you until his fingers settle between yours as he lets it rest between you. This feels comfortable and it actually makes you think of something else. Home. Yoongi is home and has always been. And even in the sadness and grief of the situation, you’re constantly reassured by the fact that he is your home.

“Have I said how much I love you?” You randomly say.

He squeezes your hand and you know your words hold more meaning than ever now, because the way he’s looking at you makes it easy to finally believe without the shadow of a doubt what Jimin had so confidently revealed to you.

“I’m always gonna be here for you, y’know that, right?” You squeeze his hand a little bit tighter.

“I know.” He nods, his thumb gently rubbing the back of your hand.

He stays quiet just for a moment, glancing from you to the road and back again. You feel his hand getting sweaty, his nerves definitely getting to him as you glance towards him a few times. You focus on driving as you let him take your words in, merging into a different lane as you exhale loudly. This whole being honest with yourself about your feelings for him is honestly the most uneasy you have felt, but it’s also felt so much lighter on your shoulder. What a weird fucked up way to feel.

“I have a favour to ask you…”

You glance over to him, “Anything.”

He can’t help but grin at your eagerness to help him at that moment, “My grandma hated my hair.”

You snort, “You mean, your dyed hair.”

“Yeah, well, I feel like the least I could do for her is get your help to…”

You start smiling, “...toooooo dye it black?”

He nods, “Yes. Black.”

You hum, trying to hide your satisfaction at hearing that, “Yeah, I can do that. Before the viewing?”

“Mhm. Ideally.”

“Okay.”

Silence.

“You’re really happy to be the one dyeing it black, huh?”

“I am so fucking happy to be the one dyeing it black!” You giggle.

He sighs, trying to stop his grin from growing wider before clearing his throat, “Then, the honor is yours…We just need to stop at a store before going to mine.”

“Min Yoongi,” he looks at you, “I am so fucking happy you trust me with your hair…”

He softly looks to you, “I would trust you with more than just my hair…” he feels your reaction and you know it too, because his hand tugs your linked one closer to his body, “I'm sorry, I know I'm not supposed to say shit like this…”

“You can say whatever you'd like, you hear me?”

“Okay then,” he turns his body towards you the best he can, “I trust you with my life…”

You're silent as you process his words, humming softly, “Maybe say shit like this when I am not behind the wheel, driving one handed…”

He laughs softly and you're glad you get that out of him, chuckling to yourself. Hearing him chuckle always makes you happy, makes you feel relieved.

Driving the rest of the way with his playlist playing in the background as a distraction makes the drive go faster than you had imagined, pulling into town and stopping by the store to grab all the supplies needed for your hair dyeing mission. Yoongi follows you around the store, keeping close behind you and making it so much harder to focus, his hands always at your waist and moving to look over your shoulder.

When you turn around and he is right there, you push his abdomen softly and he barely budges, grabbing the basket from your hands before walking to the counter to pay. Yoongi barely ever lets you pay for anything even though you have a full time job and even though this is ultimately for him, you really wanted to buy it for him. You just want to do things for him.

Fuck. Being in love sucks sometimes. (It doesn’t.)

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“Like, on a scale of one to ten?”

“Fifteen.”

Smack.

“Ouch!”

“Don’t be a smartass, Yoongi…”

“Doll,” he grabs your gloved hand, looking over his shoulder, “I want to do this.”

You sigh nervously. “I don’t want to mess this up.”

“You’ve done worse. Remember the first time you helped me bleach my hair?”

You groan. “Don’t remind me. What a fucking disaster that was…”

He laughs, tapping your wrist. “It’ll be fine.”

You let out another sigh. “Okay. Let’s do this.”

You grab the dye bottle, your hands shaky as you start to apply the product to his honey-blonde hair—saying goodbye to every strand as it darkens. The silence between you stretches, broken only by the sound of time ticking away, closer to the beginning of the funeral service. You shuffle around him, glancing down at his legs, nudging them apart with your knee. His sharp breath catches, but you try your best to ignore it, inching close enough to gather his front bangs to ensure an even spread of the dye.

A shiver runs up your back when you feel his hands grip the back of your thighs. You continue emptying the bottle, your focus split between the task and the heat of his touch. The back of his head already darkens, the dye working faster than you'd anticipated. When the bottle sputters air instead of color, you squeeze it one last time, trying to extract whatever’s left. You use your fingers to rub the product in, slicking his hair back to prevent it from dripping messily down his face.

“There,” you say softly, glancing down as he looks up at you. “The box says we’ve got to wait twenty minutes…”

“Okay…” His gaze lingers on you.

You pause, taking a moment to really take him in. Then, exhaling, you mutter, “So unfair…”

“What is?”

“You have such nice skin…” Before you can reach out, you realize you're still wearing the dye-covered gloves. You carefully pull them off and drop them in the empty box on the counter, then gently brush the back of your fingers along his jawline. His eyes flutter shut at the touch.

“You do too…” he mumbles, “I bet,” he pauses, carefully weighing his next words, “I bet your skin is soft, too…”

You laugh, pulling away softly, “It is…” He exhales loudly as you start cleaning up, throwing away any sign of any kind of hair dyeing happening. “We’re gonna have to rush outta here…”

“Yeah, we’re cutting it close…”

“So, while you wash the colour out I’ll get dressed then when you’re done, we can just hustle to the hospital…” you lean against the counter, looking at him sitting there.

“Will you help me with my tie?”

You snort, “Of course, I will…” you grunt, “I am gonna go put my face on a little, I’ll save myself the trouble later…”

“Okay…”

Disappearing in his childhood bedroom you grab your makeup bag and rush to apply a thin layer to look presentable and not as tired as you are. It’s really useless which you realize that as you’re applying your waterproof mascara because you’ll be crying most of it off within a few hours.

Yoongi pokes his head in, eyes tired but kind, dark hair damp and falling into his face. There’s a small, almost sheepish curve to his lips. “I might need your help to wash my hair…” he says quietly, voice soft — like asking is a small comfort in a morning that feels unbearably heavy.

You smile, gentle this time, because you know what today is for him. “I’ll be right there…” you say, setting aside everything else, because nothing matters more than being there for him right now.

You’re glad you haven’t gotten dressed yet. The bathroom fills with steam as you carefully work your fingers through his hair, massaging shampoo in slow, soothing circles. His eyes fall shut as he leans slightly into your touch — a moment of peace in the chaos of grief. Water splashes, drenching both of you before you even notice, but neither of you really cares. There’s comfort in the distraction, in the simple act of being close, of sharing this quiet task.

By the time Yoongi has a towel draped over his now dye-free, ink-black hair, you’re both soaked, your clothes clinging to your skin. But you’re breathless with soft laughter, a fleeting lightness breaking through the weight of the day. He stands there for a second, looking at you — clothes dripping wet, cheeks flushed — and his expression shifts. His eyes soften, glistening not just from the water. There’s gratitude in them. And love.

He clears his throat, glancing away, grounding himself again. “We should—get ready,” he murmurs.

You nod, and together you move through the motions of dressing, quieter now, helping each other smooth out the wrinkles, button the collars, tie the black tie just right. His gaze meets yours in the mirror, and for a beat, neither of you speaks. The air is filled with unspoken promises: I’m here. I’ve got you.

Yoongi can’t help but smooth out your dress at your hip as you stand in the kitchen, gathering your things in your purse before leaving for the hospital. You look over your shoulder to him, “Let’s go?”

He nods, humming quietly.

Returning later feels weird because you aren’t with Yoongi, having left separately and with your parents. He returns home with his for a moment alone with them and you ache to be there with him, knowing you have to go later to grab your things which you’ve left there. It hurts. This entire afternoon hurt. Seeing the very people you’ve considered family be greeted by what feels like your entire neighbourhood and given condolences was hard, but you ensured everything went off without a hitch. That the Min’s didn’t have to worry about a thing as they focused on saying goodbye.

“Honey, are you hungry?”

Shit, yeah, you probably should eat.

“Uh, I’m okay…”

Your mother tilts her head, staring at you, “You have to eat. You have been in hostess mode, answering medical questions for people who don’t even need to know and trying to process your own grief too…”

“It’s fine. I’m just glad it went as well as a funeral could have for them. There’s still two more days of this too, so…”

Your dad walks in from the bedroom, “Eat, honey.”

You huff a dry laugh, “I want to go see him.”

Your parents aren’t completely surprised but your needy tone is what surprises them. You often want to just be with him, that’s just who you two are. Attached at the hip, but this time your chest hurts being away from him in a moment where he’s clearly stated wanting you around.

“Let’s eat first then we can go check on them.”

You agree, reluctantly, because you know he’s just next door, meaning you can go see him any time. But the waiting until then is driving you up the wall.

Your mid-bite when the soft buzz of your phone on the table is almost too loud in the stillness, but it’s the sound you’ve been waiting for. Your heart lurches as you grab for it.

Yoongi 🧡🍊[8:18 PM]: Come over please? Window is unlocked.

You shoot up from your seat so fast the chair nearly topples over, your parents startled by the sudden movement. Their voices blur together as they call after you, concern laced in their tone, but you’re already slipping on your shoes. “I’m sorry — thank you — I’ll be back late!” you rush out in one breath, grabbing your phone with trembling fingers. Your heart races, thundering in your chest as you bolt out the door, the cool night air biting at your skin as you sprint down familiar streets.

By the time you reach his house, your lungs burn, but it’s nothing compared to the fire of anticipation and nerves twisting in your stomach. You don’t slow down — you can’t — as you round the side of the house, your steps quick and light, your fingers tightening around your phone like it’s the only thing grounding you.

You stop at his window, heart hammering so loudly you’re sure he can hear it. The sight of it — the soft glow spilling from inside, the faint shadow of him moving — only makes your chest tighten further. With a shaky breath, you raise your hand and tap on the glass, the sound small but urgent. The seconds feel endless until he appears, sliding the window open with those familiar, graceful hands.

His dark eyes widen slightly in surprise, and in the dim light, that ink black hair of his makes him look different — striking, almost unreal. The sight of him steals your breath, but it’s relief that wins out, flooding through you so powerfully your knees nearly buckle.

Without thinking, you cross the space between you in a heartbeat, launching yourself forward. Your arms around his shoulders, clutching him like you’ll fall apart if you let go. You feel the low rumble of his soft gasp against your ear as he instinctively catches you, his hands firm and warm as they slide down to the back of your thighs. He lifts you effortlessly, and your legs wrap around his waist, fitting together like this is exactly where you’re meant to be.

For a moment, neither of you speaks — both caught in the swell of everything unspoken, everything you’ve been aching to say. All you can do is hold him tighter, your face pressed against his neck, as his arms anchor you to him like he’s just as unwilling to let go.

The room smells faintly of him — clean laundry, a hint of cologne, something warm and familiar that makes your heart ache. His window clicks shut behind you, sealing you both in a pocket of quiet where it feels like the rest of the world can’t reach. His hands don’t leave you; one stays at your thigh, the other drifts up, fingers splaying across your back, holding you so close you can feel his heartbeat against yours.

“You’re here,” he breathes, almost disbelieving, his voice low, like he’s afraid to break the moment. His forehead presses gently to yours, his breath fanning across your skin, calming and electrifying all at once.

“I had to see you,” you whisper, your voice shaky with all the emotion you’ve been holding in. Your fingers thread into the hair at the nape of his neck — that new, striking black that makes him look softer somehow, like it reflects how vulnerable he’s been feeling.

For a beat, he just gazes at you, eyes tracing every inch of your face like he’s trying to memorize it, as if you might slip away if he looks away even for a second. Then his lips brush your temple, feather-light, and he exhales, the tension in his shoulders easing just a little as he finally lets himself hold you.

“God, I missed you,” he murmurs, voice thick, like the words cost him to say out loud. His thumb rubs slow circles against your back, grounding you both.

You loosen your legs from around him and let him lower you gently to the floor, though neither of you really lets go. His hands settle at your waist; yours linger on his shoulders. The room is dim, just the soft glow of his lamp casting long shadows, wrapping you both in warmth.

“I was there all day with you.”

He huffs the gentlest laugh, “Not where I wanted you to be.” he sighs, “I can’t believe we have two more days of this…and tomorrow is really an all day affair…”

You lift your hand to frame his face, “I wish I could be next to you for that…”

“Please, be?”

“How do we explain that?”

“We don’t have to. My grandmother adored you. That’s reason enough…”

He watches you pull away as you exhale loudly, making you feel like it should have been the easiest of decisions but you know what people will think. You don’t want the focus to shift from what’s really important but Yoongi is pleading with you. How can you say no?

“Okay. Can you please make sure your parents are okay with that?”

“Why wouldn’t they be?” You tilt your head sideways. “Okay, I promise. I’ll ask, but I seriously don’t think it’ll be a problem.”

You take your time to wander around his room, smiling at the wall of photos of you two. It makes you smile, “You never took those down?”

“No,” he sits on his bed, “why would I?”

You shrug as you look at your luggage, still open and unpacked. You meet his eyes and you both know what should come next. But neither of you want that.

He’s sitting on the edge of his bed, head bowed, fingers laced together like he’s trying to hold himself together. And when you softly say, “I should probably let you rest…” his head snaps up, eyes wide and glassy in the low light.

“No. Please…” His voice cracks, raw from the weight of unspoken grief. He stands and crosses to you in a few steps, his hand reaching for yours, holding on like you’re the only thing keeping him from falling apart. “Don’t go. I don’t—” he swallows hard, gaze dropping as if he’s ashamed to ask. “I don’t want to be alone tonight.”

Your heart aches at the quiet desperation in his voice. Without another word, you nod and let him pull you gently into the room. His fingers stay wrapped around yours as if afraid you’ll change your mind. He exhales, relieved, and guides you toward the bed.

You settle under the worn blankets together, the ones that still smell faintly of this home, of old memories. Yoongi tucks his face into the crook of your neck, his breath warm and shaky against your skin. His arm wraps around your waist, holding you close, grounding himself.

“Thank you,” he whispers, voice barely audible. “Just… stay.”

And you do as your fingers comb through his hair, your touch slow and soothing. You lie there in the quiet, his grief softening in the safety of your presence, his heartbeat steadying against yours.

There is no hurry the next morning when you both get out of bed, followed by Yoongi who clicks his tongue when he realizes you’re still wearing your dress. You can tell he feels awful for the way you didn’t even get the chance to get into proper sleeping attire but you reassure him.

“I’m more concerned about explaining to my mom and dad where I slept. And your parents too. I’m shocked I even made it through the window with my dress…”

He chuckles, stepping to you, “I didn’t think it was appropriate but you look good in that…”

You look down and smile, “Thank you. I’m changing to a new one for today.”

You’re both still standing near the bed, feet barely apart, voices low like you’re afraid to break the fragile quiet of the morning. His eyes are tired but warmer than they’ve been in days, fixed on yours like he’s grateful you stayed, like he doesn’t want you to go.

“Don’t know how weird it is to say but I can’t wait to see you in it…”

You shift your weight, heart pounding — because it feels like something should be said, like something should happen, but neither of you dares cross that invisible line. Not yet.

Then the floor creaks just outside the door. Before either of you can react, the door opens slowly, and his mother steps in, her expression gentle, but her brows lifting ever so slightly in surprise at the sight of you both — standing there, close enough that your fingers could easily find his if you dared to reach.

“Oh.” She pauses, eyes flicking between you and Yoongi. Her lips twitch, like she’s holding back a knowing smile. “I didn’t realize you had company.”

You feel your cheeks go warm. Yoongi rubs the back of his neck, glancing down for a second before meeting his mom’s gaze. “Sorry, um…I didn’t want to be alone.”

His mother’s features soften completely, any trace of surprise melting into tenderness. “You don’t have to explain, Yoongi,” she says, voice quiet and kind. “I’m glad she was here.”

You look down, embarrassed, but when you glance at her again, you see that same look — the one that says she’s been hoping for this, for you, for him.

“I was about to start breakfast,” she adds, turning toward the door but casting one last glance at you both. “Come join me when you’re ready.”

And with that, she’s gone, leaving behind a lingering warmth — and the sound of Yoongi’s soft exhale, like he’s been holding his breath this whole time.

“She’s gonna think—” you start, voice barely above a whisper.

Yoongi looks at you, eyes crinkling just a little at the corners, that familiar, shy smile playing on his lips. “Maybe… let her think it.”

And before either of you can say anything more, the air between you feels charged again — full of what’s been building quietly for so long.

It’s not very long before you exit his ensuite wearing a different dress, your hair up in a neat bun as you watch him slip in behind you to get changed quickly. He’s gone for a while before you knock on the door, Yoongi allowing you in.

Yoongi stands in front of the small mirror, his fingers fumbling with the dark tie that hangs crookedly against his chest. His brows are furrowed in frustration, his shoulders tight beneath the black suit jacket that seems too heavy for him today.

You watch him for a moment from the doorway, heart aching for how tired he looks, how much weight he’s been carrying — and then you step forward before you can think too much about it.

“Here,” you murmur, reaching out. “Let me.”

He hesitates, glancing at you in the mirror, and for a second it feels like the room holds its breath. Then he lets his hands fall to his sides, swallowing hard, and nods once.

You’re so close now — closer than you’ve dared to be before — and you feel the warmth of him, the subtle hitch of his breath as your fingers brush the hollow of his throat. The fabric of the tie is smooth beneath your hands, but it’s nothing compared to the awareness of him standing so still, watching you with those deep, unreadable eyes.

Your fingers work carefully, looping and folding the tie into place. “You should’ve told me you were struggling,” you whisper, not trusting your voice to carry any louder.

His lips quirk, just slightly. “Didn’t want to bother you.”

You glance up at him through your lashes, your heart thudding hard. “You’re never a bother.”

And it’s the truth. Every second with him feels like something you shouldn’t want this much, but do anyway.

He watches you as you tighten the knot gently at his collar, your knuckles grazing his skin. His breath fans your cheek, and for a moment you swear he leans in, just barely — like he’s fighting the same pull you are.

You smooth the tie down against his chest, your palm lingering for a beat too long over his heart, feeling its steady, nervous rhythm beneath your hand.

“There,” you say softly, stepping back, though it takes effort. “Perfect.”

But the way he looks at you — gaze dark and tender all at once — makes you wonder if you’re talking about the tie at all.

Neither of you moves. Neither of you speaks. The air between you hums with all the things you aren’t saying, all the things you want to say.

And when his fingers twitch like he might reach for you, when his lips part like he might speak — the sound of his mother’s voice calling softly is what finally breaks the moment.

Yoongi clears his throat, nodding. “Thank you,” he says, voice low, but his eyes say far more.

You manage a small smile, turning before you give yourself away completely. “Anytime.”

After breakfast, the car ride is quiet, the kind of quiet that feels thick, like the world itself is holding its breath. Outside, the morning is overcast, gray clouds hanging low, as if even the sky understands the weight of the day. You sit beside Yoongi in the backseat, hands folded in your lap, gaze flickering between the window and the side of his face — pale, solemn, his jaw tense as he stares ahead.

You want to say something, but nothing feels right. So you just are, next to him, hoping somehow that’s enough.

And then his hand finds yours.

It’s slow, like he’s debating it in his mind even as he does it. His fingers brush yours first, tentative, and then he laces them together, his palm warm and a little unsteady against yours. His grip tightens, like he’s anchoring himself, like holding you is the only thing keeping him grounded right now.

You glance at him, heart squeezing at how his thumb grazes yours absentmindedly, over and over, like a silent thank you. And when you meet his eyes — dark, glistening, exhausted but soft as they flick to you — you understand. Words aren’t needed. His touch says it all. I’m grateful you’re here. I don’t know how I’d do this without you.

You squeeze his hand back, gentle but sure. I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.

Neither of you speaks, and neither of you needs to. The silence fills in with that simple, steady connection — fingers woven tight together, two hearts holding on in the middle of the storm.

The rest of the ride passes in a hush, the kind that hums with unspoken things. Yoongi doesn’t let go of your hand. Even as his parents speak quietly up front, even as the funeral hall draws closer, he holds on like he’s afraid he might lose his grip on himself if he lets you go.

When the car slows to a stop, you feel his fingers flex around yours once, almost like he’s checking — you’re still there, right? — before he releases you, slowly, reluctantly. You can feel the absence of his touch like a ghost against your skin.

Outside, people have already gathered. Family, friends, faces lined with sympathy and grief. Yoongi draws a breath, deep, steadying. You watch the way his shoulders square as he steps out, the weight of the day settling over him.

But before he closes the door, he pauses. Leans down just a little. His eyes meet yours, and they’re shining with unshed tears, with exhaustion, with gratitude so deep it nearly breaks your heart.

“Come with me?” It’s soft, barely audible over the murmur of voices outside.

You nod. “Always.”

And so you do — walking beside him, close enough that your arm brushes his. During the service, you stay near. Your presence is a quiet constant: the tissue you press into his hand at the right moment, the way you rest your palm at his back when the weight gets too heavy, the way your gaze finds his whenever he needs something steady to look at.

And Yoongi feels it all. Every little kindness, every silent reassurance. In the middle of it all, he keeps finding you. Your face, your touch, your warmth.

It hits him between one breath and the next. There’s no life I want if it doesn’t have you in it.

When it’s all over, when the goodbyes have been said and people start to drift away, he pulls you aside — behind the building, where it’s quiet, just for a minute.

He takes your face in his hands, thumbs brushing along your cheeks. His black hair falls into his eyes, and there’s something raw in his gaze as he looks at you.

“I don’t want to do any of this without you,” he whispers. “Not today. Not ever.”

And as he leans his forehead to yours, as his breath mingles with yours in the hush of that moment, you know — you’re both exactly where you’re meant to be.

Together.

author’s note »» Here we are! Part seven! A heavier and loaded chapter but things are unfolding for our dear reader and Yoongi! I am planning on longer chapter and I truly hope you plan to stick around to see where this goes for these two!

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#min yoongi #yoongi #yoongi x reader #bts #suga #min yoongi x f!reader #agust d #min yoongi x reader #yoongi x f!reader #yoongi fanfic #yoongi fic #min yoongi fanfic #min yoongi fic #you like because you love despite gunwoo bh #you like because you love despite series #you like because you love despite

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gunwoo-bh · 2 months ago

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beautiful blooming darling

#yoongi #min yoongi

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gunwoo-bh · 2 months ago

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welcome home my beautiful 🥹

#yoongi #min yoongi

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gunwoo-bh · 2 months ago

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you like because, you love despite part six [date night] - myg

date night

chef!yoongi x korean!f!doctor!reader | mdni 18+

cw »» fluff, pet names, some tooth rotting stuff for sure, yoongi being scared of feelings, reader being the same, cussing, two idiots in love and oblivious about it, heeeaavy flirting, more cuddles, yoongi is horny as hell

wc »» 7.6k

author’s note »» HI EVERYONE! I appreciate all the love you keep giving my story, this fic has been a labour of love honestly and I love it so much. I will be taking the smallest break between this chapter and the next, not only to write it because of how important this next part is but because, if I'm being honest, I am feeling burnt out in my personal life. I hope everyone understands. But for now, enjoy the chapter! :D

“What do you mean you chickened out?”

“Exactly what that means, man!”

“What happened?”

“If I say it you’ll think I chickened out over some stupid reason…”

“I can’t tell you that until you tell me though, bro…”

Yoongi can’t help but glare at his friend, holding no animosity behind it but conveying his annoyance at the situation, “I can’t even be mad at it either…it’s dumb. I’m dumb.” He scoffs, rubbing his face harshly.

“Stop! Tell me what happened. Come on.”

Yoongi glances at Namjoon, chewing the corner of his lower lip, “We were sitting in her living room and she went to clean up, insisted I stay on the couch so I did, because I am not gonna fight her…”

“Smart man, she is always right. Get used to that.” He teases.

Yoongi snorts, “Okay, well, I am sitting there finally getting the courage to just get her attention so we can talk and I can tell her.” He clears his throat. “And she starts screaming ‘oh my god’ over and over. For a second I thought something bad happened but no, and here comes the thing that stopped me from just telling her,” he takes a deep breath and releases it, “Seokjin sent the engagement announcement text and photo to the group chat.”

“Oh.” Namjoon covers his mouth, staying quiet.

“Yeah.”

“Oh shit.”

“Yup.”

“What did you do?”

He sighs, “I considered riding the coattails of the happy moment, but I felt like a dick the moment the thought even crossed my mind…”

“So, you said nothing?”

He shakes his head, “We just talked about the engagement for a bit…she said one day that’ll be us,” Namjoon’s eyes widen, “but she didn’t mean us ‘us’ just that we’ll be married some day to other…people.”

“And that was it?”

Yoongi nods.

Namjoon sits arms crossed, reaching for his beer and sips it, “Wow.”

“Yup.”

Sitting in a tent restaurant in the middle of November, Yoongi had spent the last week bottling all of his feelings down and not updating his friend since sending him that clear, yet cryptic, text. Both men are around a table of ramen and booze, the first time in a while since they’ve managed to hang out.

“Actually…” Yoongi starts, Namjoon’s eyes snapping to him, “something else has been happening…”

His friend senses the reluctance in his words, “What’s that?”

Yoongi points at him, “What I’m about to tell you stays between us, yeah? And I don’t wanna hear any jokes about it because I am aware of how it’s gonna sound when I say it…”

“Gotcha. Go on, say it.”

Yoongi sucks in a breath, “For the last few weeks…her and I have been sleeping together,” Namjoon’s eyes widen, “and not like that, but just…sleeping over at each other’s place like, in the same bed…”

His friend is quiet for a moment, “Like, you guys are, like, just sleeping there?”

“No, we cuddle and I hold her…” He lets the sentence hang.

“That must confuse the fuck outta you…”

Yoongi scoffs, “Yeah, no shit…”

Both men sigh, reaching for their beers and quietly taking a sip. It’s late now, Yoongi far more than aware that he should head home to get some rest.

“And she’s going on a date?”

Yoongi sighs, eyes closed as he breathes in deeply.

Ah, yes. This.

He found out from Jimin three days ago that a colleague of yours had set you up on a date. He didn’t know the details of how it came to be, but Jimin, in his infinite wisdom, had shared it to Yoongi in the hopes he had some information.

Yoongi didn’t even know that was something you were entertaining. It had come as a complete shock to him and he hated how caught off guard he was when facing Jimin. He didn’t want to text and question you from finding out about it from someone else. He wanted you to come to him, but since the day he found out, almost like the universe shifted, he hadn’t seen you at all, or heard from you much.

He was slowly going insane from not knowing what was going on in your head.

“Yeah.”

“Shit, dude.” Namjoon rubs his mouth. “You okay?”

Yoongi finally lets go.

“It fucking sucks, but I have no one but myself to blame for that. I keep looking for the right moment to tell her and I keep waiting too long. What do I do then? Shove my head into the ground and ignore this feeling,” he taps his chest, “until the next time I get the guts to tell you and when it inevitably fails again…” he huffs a dry laugh.

“Do you even know if she’s going on the date? She could decide not to go…” God bless his friend for trying to cheer him up.

Yoongi sighs loudly, “I don’t know. I know fuck all. We’ve barely texted these last few days and I haven’t seen her in about three…”

His friend frowns, “That’s…unusual for you guys…”

“I just…I’m starting to think I just need to move on, y’know? To let go of my feelings and maybe just let myself stop holding on…” Yoongi’s heart hurts as he even utters those words. Not loving you feels like a mockery to the universe.

Not that he would ever admit to this out loud but Yoongi does wholeheartedly believe he was born to love you. And he is – was? – okay with that. He is okay with that. Yoongi can’t just stop the way he feels about you, he just knows as such.

“We both know, even if I haven’t known you for as long, that you have loved her for too long to just let go…”

“I know, but it feels like the only logical next step…”

“Or,” Namjoon carefully tries his approach, “you tell her anyway. Let her make a decision.”

Yoongi has thought of that more than a few times because maybe, just maybe, it was possible you could feel the same. It would be the easiest way to go about it and then, if it all falls apart, the only thing to do is live with the awkwardness for a bit and move on. Be friends. What you’ve always been.

Yoongi rubs his face, “I want to…”

“She’ll always love you, y’know?”

“Yeah, I know…”

Namjoon sighs, “Maybe the date won’t work out…”

Yoongi laughs, “I appreciate you trying to cheer me up, but every date she’s ever been on has ended in a relationship. No matter how long it lasted…” he sighs, “god, I sound so fucking bitter…”

“You’re in love with your best friend…it’s gotta fucking hurt…”

Yoongi stares at the condensation on his beer can, licking his lips, “I still have her in my life at least…”

“Just text her, bro. She’s probably overthinking the whole thing too.” Namjoon kicks his foot under the table. “I mean, think about it. It must confuse her too how you’re both into cuddling and sharing the bed now, and now she has a date? I think she’s probably in her head as much as you are…”

“She asked me to stay…”

“But you went for it. You didn’t have to.”

Yoongi sighs, “I’ll see what happens…with her date.”

Namjoon nods, “Good idea. Go see her. Or text her. It’s weird to think you’re not talking right now…”

Yoongi digs for his wallet and takes out a few bills, placing it down on the table as he stands, “Let’s share a cab and go home.”

Namjoon follows his friend as they hail a cab, dropping Namjoon off first and leaving Yoongi a few minutes more before finally getting home. He stumbles up the steps, already hating the slight hangover he is going to battle first thing in the morning before work. The entire time he stumbles through his apartment he replays the conversation he just had with his friend and as he pushes into his bedroom, his eyes settle on the messy bed.

He misses you something awful.

Yoongi doesn’t even bother changing into different clothes before throwing himself on his bed, patting the side of the bed you had been sleeping on and hating the emptiness.

“Getting too fucking old for this shit…”

Yoongi hates the feeling in his chest. It’s like the weight of the world is pressing against it, with his ribcage caught between it and unimaginable pain. That’s what loving you felt like in that moment. The sensation is probably worsened by the alcohol coursing through his body. Right now, it may feel like anger directed at you, but Yoongi knows it’s all weighing down on his shoulders. Your not knowing how he feels isn’t really your fault, but his.

He pushes himself off the bed, reluctantly undressing to get ready for bed. He drags his feet back from washing up and slipping on his shirt when he pauses in his shuffling. He swears he just heard knocking, but in his state, it could very well be in his head. He smooths out his shirt, rubbing his chest as he waits and is shocked when he hears knocking again, this time louder. He’s not imagining things.

He peeks his head out of the bedroom, waiting to hear it again, only for it to be the doorbell, causing Yoongi to rush to the door. He doesn’t even think twice before swinging it open, and the wind gets knocked out of him when he sees you standing there. He stands tall, licking his lips nervously as your eyes meet.

“Hey…”

You smile timidly, “Hi…”

“Excuse me?”

“Remember you asked me to set you up with a nice guy? I got you a date with a friend of mine.” Jiwoo, your colleague, proudly announces to you. You obviously can't tell her you're no longer interested in that idea. I mean, yes, you could.

“Oh…so, have you told him about me yet or…?”

She's so excited, “Yes! And he's looking forward to it. He usually doesn't let us set him up on dates. I showed him a photo of you and he was sold!”

Biting your lip, you chuckle dryly, “I see,” you suck in a breath, “what's his name?”

“Kim Woohyun. He owns a marketing company. He's thirty-four. He's my brother-in-law's younger brother.” She opens her phone to find a photo, which she shows you as you take it from her.

He's handsome, stereotypically so. You can't deny that but you can't help but be disappointed at your lack of interest in the guy. Before your growing feelings for Yoongi this guy would have hit every single requirement on your checklist for a man. Handsome? Check. Successful? Check. Age appropriate? Check. Good references? Check. But now? None of that mattered.

“I guess, it wouldn't hurt to go on a date?” You hope she hears how unsure you sound.

“Oh my god! Awesome! I will give you his number and I’ll give him yours so you guys can figure a time and date! You are going to love him!” She’s so excited she doesn’t catch your lack of it.

You give her your phone and it doesn’t take more than fifteen minutes before you receive a text from Woohyun confirming he was given the right number. As you sit in your office texting him, it occurs to you that for the first time in the few times you’ve been set up? You don’t actually care to go on the date.

No, you’d rather be somewhere else.

Present Day

“Do you also enjoy long walks on the beach?”

You snap yourself out of the reverie you’re stuck in, “Shoot, sorry?”

Woohyun laughs gently, sipping his glass of wine as he leans back in his seat, “Am I boring you?”

You shake your head, “I’m sorry, I am so tired. I probably should have started with that.”

“Long shift?”

You nod, hoping the reasoning is enough to get him off your trail, “Yeah. I had a lot of appointments to squeeze in today and I basically got ready at work to come here…” you tuck a strand of hair in mild embarrassment.

“I think sometimes my life is crazy, but I can’t imagine what being a doctor is like…” he shakes his head, smiling at you.

Woohyun is charming. He’s well mannered, kind, a good listener and patient. You texted him on your way to the restaurant warning him you would be late a tad and you had felt truly embarrassed at that even though you never intended on going on a second date. Your heart truly wasn’t in it.

“It can be but I’m lucky compared to some other doctors. I still work insane hours sometimes though. As proven by today…” you take a sip of your wine too, hiding your nerves. “And don’t you also work some insane hours? You own a marketing company.”

“Did you look me up?” He grins, shamelessly flirting with you.

You mouth the air, feeling awkward, “Uh, well, yeah…who doesn’t in this day and age?”

Woohyun smiles at you, not taking his eyes off of you as he brings his glass to his lips. You almost feel like you’re being scrutinized when he watches you that way and you don’t enjoy how judged you feel as he clears his throat, leaning forward to look you in the eyes.

“Who is he?”

Your jaw goes slack, mouthing the air for a few seconds, “What?”

“The guy.” You continue to play dumb, hoping the subject gets dropped. “The guy you’re not over.”

“Oh! Oh no! I don’t have–There’s no–I mean…” you trail off.

Woohyun chuckles, “Look, I may be single and looking to mingle, but in the last couple of years of going on dates I’ve become really good at figuring out if a date is going anywhere and this,” he gestures between you, “is not going anywhere because your heart isn’t in it.”

You almost want to fight. To prove him wrong but he gently grabs your hand as he speaks again, “I’m not offended, just so you know. But I can see it all over your face that you have someone else on your mind…” he sucks in a breath, “so, who’s the ex?”

You freeze because it is far more complicated than it seems, “Not an ex.”

“Oh?” He looks surprised. “Unrequited love? Friend’s ex?” You make a face. “No. Then, a friend’s brother? No? Okay. Uh, co-worker?” You sigh loudly. “Childhood best friend?” You choke on your wine and sigh loudly as Woohyun breaks out into a smile. “Ding ding! Childhood best friend it is then…”

“Why am I even entertaining this? Is this a joke to you?” You sigh.

He shakes his head, “No. I can imagine how much your situation sucks.”

“You really shouldn’t be this eager to find out. Your date turned into a dud…” He clicks his tongue at your words. “Is this how you entertain yourself after a failed date? You try to get them to open up about their feelings to revel in the bullet you dodged?”

He continues smiling but this time it’s gentler as he puts his hand against his chest, “I’m sorry. I may have become jaded by failed potential dates, but really? If you’re not into me? Then odds are, as gorgeous as you and let me say that you are a fucking ten outta ten, I am not into you either…” you mouth the air, “but also, you’re obviously having a shit time with whatever is happening with your childhood best friend?”

And you don’t know what it is about Woohyun that makes you open up and answer, “Yeah…”

“Childhood best friend, gotcha. I don’t know what’s going on there but I could tell you would rather be with him or her…?” he trails off.

“Him.”

“With him, then.” He leans back when your meal arrives, and you suddenly feel awkward letting the meal continue, but Woohyun seems almost unbothered by the whole situation. “So, we can either really awkwardly end dinner and go our separate ways? Or,” he takes a bite of his steak, “we can try to be friendly, and you can tell me what’s up. Because right now? I don’t know much, but if you're torn over your best friend like this? He’s either an idiot or he has no idea that you have feelings for him…”

You huff a breath, in disbelief at his ability to read a complete stranger, as you smack your lips. What’s the worst thing that could happen? You wonder over and over, thinking through all the ways this could go wrong if you’re not careful. He doesn’t seem like a bad guy, and under any other circumstance, this date might have been a success if it wasn’t for your heart essentially belonging to your best friend now.

“He doesn’t know…” you look at your plate, hesitantly picking up your utensils to begin digging in.

“Ah…so, how long has this been going on?”

“It’s recent…” Woohyun watches you and urges you to tell your story. And just like that you unload everything that’s happened these last few weeks, not going in depth but covering all your bases so a stranger can share his opinion over the wreck that is your current love life.

You don’t realize how nice it is to just let everything come out with someone who really won’t have any bias or personal feelings about your situation. Woohyun listens without interrupting, only asking questions for clarification but he doesn’t share his opinion yet. The meal on your plate progressively gets smaller the more you talk through your history with this complete stranger who, after all this, may not be a stranger anymore.

“So, you basically ghosted your best friend when we got set up on that date because…?”

You're glad you switched over to water when your glass of wine was empty, “Because it means having to face the reality that I am falling in love with my best friend and that is terrifying…” you thank the waiter who picks up your plates, “and I can’t– I won’t lose him…”

“Mhm.”

“Mhm, what? What does ‘mhm’ mean?”

He chuckles, “I’m sure you might have been asked this before but uh,” he clears his throat, “have you ever considered he might feel the same about you?”

You laugh, unable to stop yourself as you blush when people around you look over to your table, “No. Never, because he’s…there’s no…” you let the sentence, and confidence, die right then and there.

“Ah, just give it one second…it’ll hit you soon enough…” Woohyun is a little shit who thinks he knows everything and maybe with good reason, because some of the truths he’s dropped on you have hit harder than ever. You sigh softly and look at him, “There it is. It’s hitting you right now, right? That maybe all this denial you’ve buried yourself under this entire time might actually hold some truth…”

“But why wouldn’t he say something?”

He chuckles, “For the same reason you don’t want to confront what you’re feeling…at least, I think.” You wait for some enlightenment coming from Woohyun. “Because he doesn’t want to lose you. Losing you is probably the last thing he wants.”

“I just…never thought about the fact that somehow he could maybe feel that way towards me…” you confess.

“It never crossed your mind that for the same reason you’re not telling him anything, he’s doing the same…?” He leans his chin in his hand, staring at you. “Look, I don’t know you very well and I don’t know him, but from what you’ve told me you two are as thick as thieves, right?” You nod. “I am not gonna hold back, okay? But it sounds to me like you two are a bit slow…”

You gasp at the insult, prompting him to laugh, “Ouch! Rude much?!”

He’s laughing while watching you, “Look, I am telling you this as a guy who tried going on a date with you who has now heard your entire dilemma? Sounds to me like you two have feelings for each other and you have no idea what to do with that information. That’s all I’m sayin’...” he shrugs.

You sit back, “Fuck you.” He laughs harder as you shush him, other guests in the restaurant staring at you two. “Shhh!! Sh!!”

Sitting there in comfortable silence with this man you’ve just met – who under any other circumstance would have been a fantastic date – makes you reflect on where your heart is at the moment. There is no more confusion about where you are emotionally. You’re falling in love with your best friend and trying to figure out what it means for you two.

“I can’t believe I figured it out while on a date with another guy…” you mumble.

“You’re welcome. My services are free today…” He snarks, making you chuckle. “Where is he right now?”

You shrug, “I don’t know…I’m thinking right now he’s either home or…I don’t know. I haven’t seen him in a few days…” you admit.

Woohyun takes his wallet out while looking at you, grinning softly, “Tonight’s on me. I had fun even if the date didn’t turn out the way I had hoped…” You are about to protest but he stops you. “Go find him. Even if nothing happens, you want to be with him tonight and it shows. You haven’t stopped blushing since mentioning him…”

Staring at him in shock you can’t help but chuckle, “Thank you, that’s very kind of you…considering…” You rub the back of your neck.

“Do me a favour and you don’t owe it to me obviously but,” he sits straight, “don’t wait too long to do anything, because it sounds to me like you two are just so afraid of losing what you have that you are missing what could be instead if you just let things happen…” he stands up, “and stop missing out on that, mhm?”

He extends his hand and you take it, “Thank you. I don’t know if it would be weird to…stay in touch but…”

“Oh please, keep in touch. I wanna know what happens because I’m a sucker for romance and plus, I want an invite to the wedding.” He winks as he guides you out of the restaurant after paying. The nearly freezing December air chills you to the bone as you turn to Woohyun, “I’ll get you a cab. Please shoot me a text to say you made it safe…”

“I will.” You smile timidly, looking up at him as he hails you a cab with ease and opening up the door for you. “Thank you.”

“Sure thing.” He gets you in and before shutting the door he playfully eggs on. “If you do have a friend looking to date a guy that’s decent please send her my way?”

You burst out laughing as he shuts the door and you lower your window, “I will. I feel like that’s the least I can do now…”

He looks at you, gentlest smile on his lips before he shuts the door for you and waves you off, the cab driving off. You look back for a moment and he’s still looking at you as you smile gently to yourself.

This was good. Meeting Woohyun was a good thing even if the date didn’t work out the way he had hoped. Given that things weren’t going to be awkward, you might have made a new friend for life. You open your phone and shoot him a quick text thanking him for being a great listener.

Woohyun [10:39 PM]: Any time! Text me when you make it safe, mhm?

The ride to Yoongi’s feels longer than it actually is. You know this because, from anywhere in the city, you’re aware of how long it takes to reach his place. But this journey gives you the time you need to mentally prepare your explanation for Yoongi about your disappearing act. You sincerely hope he understands and forgives you since neither of you is known for pulling a stunt like that. It just isn’t like you at all.

The cab comes to a full stop, startling you enough to make the driver laugh as you blush. You pay your fare and step out, staring up at the familiar building. You sigh, wrapping your coat tighter around you as you climb the stairs. You shiver when you reach the door, standing in front of it. You could let yourself in, but you hesitate. So, you knock and wait.

Nothing.

There are lights on, so you know he’s home. You shift your weight from side to side, feeling the chill settle in your bones as you knock once more and wait. Still nothing. The longer you wait, the more uneasy you feel, leading you to ring the doorbell, hoping he maybe couldn’t hear you. Just as you start considering leaving and going home, you hear his footsteps approaching the door.

The door swings open, and there he is, looking like he’s ready for bed and surprised to see you standing there at his door.

“Hey…”

“Hi…”

Yoongi hates that his first thought when he sees you is how beautiful you look. He realizes within seconds that you must have just come back from your date, and jealousy creeps up his spine at the idea of another guy enjoying your beauty this way. He doesn’t usually consider himself a jealous person, but when it comes to you lately? He hasn’t been able to stop his feelings from overwhelming him.

But there you are in front of him, wearing a stunning outfit he hasn't seen on you before, and the way your hair cascades in gentle curls down your shoulders reminds him of how much he loves you. He’s also immediately willing to forgive and forget your lack of communication. However, judging by the look on your face, it seems to weigh heavily on you because you look concerned.

He clears his throat and moves aside, “Come in, it’s cold..."

You walk past him, and Yoongi tries to shake off the beginnings of his hangover as he holds your arm while you remove your heels. You look up at him as you suddenly reach your normal height, neck craning to meet his eyes, and Yoongi sighs softly as he asks if you’re okay.

“Yeah, thank you…”

He releases you, and you carefully step into his spot, with Yoongi following closely behind. He rubs the back of his neck, watching how timidly you shuffle around, arms crossed over your chest as you turn to face him. His eyes roam the length of your body, taking in the way the skirt you’re wearing clings to your hips and stops midway down your thighs. Damn, what a guy he is, he thinks as he wonders what it would feel like to slip his hand between your legs, and damn, he’s never let his thoughts go that far. He knows he’s in trouble now, with his feelings growing wildly out of control for you. And something else. Calm the fuck down, Yoongi.

“You okay?”

You hum, “Mhm. Just…just wanted to see you…”

He licks his lips, huffing a quick breath, “Yeah?”

“I’m sorry.” He knew this was coming. “I felt weird spending the nights with you when I said yes to going on a date.”

His chest tightens, “Why?”

“I felt like I was doing something wrong…” You confess and Yoongi understands right away what you mean by that.

“You weren’t.”

You hum, “I know that.”

“You wanna stay over?”

He’s never seen so much hope shining in your eyes when you look up at him, “Could I?”

“Yeah, of course you can, silly.”

The dam must break for you because you rush into his arms, crashing into his body as he wraps his arms around your waist. He lowers himself when you wrap your arms around his shoulders, Yoongi burying his face in the crook of your neck as your feet dangle when he stands at full height.

“I missed you…” you mumble in his ear.

He chuckles, squeezing you tighter, “I missed you too…”

He feels your legs moving, for a moment wondering if he grabbed at one if you would wrap them around him. Yoongi wants to know what having you pressed against him that way would feel like, carrying you to bed like he’s so badly wanted to do every time you two stayed over. But instead he puts you back down, pulling back as you keep your hands on his shoulders. Yoongi shamelessly looks at you, admiring your date outfit as he plucks at the fabric of your top.

“You look beautiful…” he meets your eyes as you gasp at his comment, blushing furiously.

“Yeah?”

“Why do you sound surprised?”

Giggling, you squeeze his shoulders, “You’ve never…said that before that’s all…”

“I have. I must have.” But you’re shaking your head, making him realize he hadn’t. “I’m sorry, I should have more often…”

You shrug, “It’s okay…”

He clears his throat, “How was the date?”

“Good. It was good.”

Yoongi’s heart sinks as he tries not to overthink it, “Yeah?”

“I’m not seeing him again, not that way any way, but yeah it was good.” You chuckle, pulling away slightly but Yoongi doesn’t let you go, pulling you against his chest.

“Why wouldn’t you see him again if it was a good date?” He swallows thickly.

“We hit it off more as friends, but he did say I was a ten outta ten so,” you chuckle, timidly tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, “I guess my ego is feeling pretty good right now, but we agreed to try being friends. He wants me to set him up on a date.”

You seem happy with the outcome, “And you’re not upset it didn’t work out?”

You shrug, “I honestly didn’t want to go on the date…”

He looks down at your outfit, “You look like you wanted to go on the date…”

You grin softly, laughing, “Well, what if it worked out, right? Wouldn’t hurt, so I made an effort.”

He wants to thank your date with a lifetime amount of meals at his restaurant for turning the date friendly. He’s never been so grateful.

“Speaking of,” you officially pull away, Yoongi missing your warmth, “could I borrow some clothes?”

Yoongi nods, taking your hand in his and tugging you to his bedroom where he finds a pair of sweatpants and a shirt, handing them to you. He sits on the bed when you disappear in his ensuite and he’s not even spread out on his bed for longer than twenty seconds when you come back out, wearing his t-shirt but still sporting your skirt. You're tugging on the edge of it when you walk to him as he sits up.

“This stupid thing is stuck again and no amount of tugging on it is doing anything. Help?”

You stand between his legs and he swears the universe is constantly testing his resolve, testing how long it will take him before he snaps and finally does something about his feelings for you. He grabs your hips, angling you sideways as he tugs on the flimsy zipper, concentrating on the task at hand and not on the way your hand holds the back of his neck for purchase. He gives a firm tug on your hips, earning a gasp out of you as he looks up.

You’re staring at his face, lips parted and pupils wide as he smiles gently, “Got it.” You snap your eyes to his fingers and he’s tugging the zipper down, your breath visibly catching as he grins. Oh. For the first time in all the years he’s known you, Yoongi gets a hint there may just be some requited attraction between you two. He pats your hip and lets go of you, “Go get changed…”

You're holding onto your skirt as you disappear again and Yoongi puts a hand to his chest, chuckling at how hard his heart is beating in his chest. His nerves are getting the best of him, urging his brain not to overthink what’s happened between the two of you recently.

When you come out of his ensuite again you’re dressed head to toe in his clothes, the sight making him feel warm as he looks at you. You’re both smiling gently, staring at each other.

“You ready for bed?”

“Mhm.” You nod.

When you both crawl into bed, you easily snuggle in his side as you hook your leg over him and he pulls you as humanly close as possible. Yoongi worries you’ll feel his heart beating out of his chest as your fingers trace patterns on his chest when you look up at him, chin on his chest when he looks down at you.

“Hey…” your voice is small, playful and even flirty.

“Yeah, doll?”

“Why do you call me that?”

“You don’t like it?”

“No! I do, I do…” you are quick to assure him, making him chuckle. “I was just wondering…”

“I like it, that’s all…”

“We’re okay, right?”

He licks his lips, “Yeah, always.”

You both fall quiet, the feeling of your gentle breathing nearly lulling him to sleep as you speak up again, “I haven’t slept well these last couple of nights…”

“Yeah?” He’s surprised by your confession.

“Mhm.” He licks his lips. “Me neither, if I’m honest.” He looks down to you as he asks, “I missed having you here…”

“Is this weird? Us…sleeping together like this…”

The question lands heavily and the air shifts in the room, “I don’t think so…I think it’s very us actually.”

You laugh, “We’ve never done this before though…”

“Well, I guess, even after years of friendship things can change and evolve…”

You giggle, hiding in his chest but Yoongi cups your cheek, forces you to look up at him and you glance at his lips before meeting his eyes, “Yeah, I guess so…”

“You did look beautiful tonight…by the way…” he clears his throat, his thumb gently caressing the high point of your cheek. He feels your hand crawl its way up his chest and you do the same, cupping his cheek and gently holding him.

“Thank you…” your breath catches again, “you know what I miss? And I am aware how random this is…” you giggle.

He frowns, shaking his head, “No?”

“Your black hair.” He’s caught off guard by that one. “What?”

“I thought you liked the blonde?” He chuckles.

“Oh, I like it but I think black suits you better, makes you look more handsome.” Your hand moves from his cheek and you drag your fingers across his scalp as he moans softly at the feeling. “Okay…” you chuckle.

“Shit, sorry…that…that just felt nice…” he’s blushing, feeling warmth rushing to his face at his reaction. You do it over and over again, massaging his scalp and earning little breathy moans out of him. Yoongi is willing himself to stop but each time your nails go over the spot, he grows putty in your arms. He’s breathing softly as his eyes snap open, pulling your face up to his as he stares down at you, “Doll, I need you to stop that…” he pleads with you.

He doesn’t realize how hard he’s breathing until he feels his chest heaving, your hand rubbing it in order to ease the intensity of his breathing.

“Okay…”

You’re in love with him. You’re certain of that now.

Getting such a reaction out of him is all the evidence you needed to know he felt something for you that wasn’t just about the physical. There’s reassurance in this newfound knowledge and you feel relieved for the first time in weeks. Now, it’s all about taking the steps to explore the changes in your friendship. How do you suddenly go from being best of friends to being best of friends who are going to explore dating? Slow down, you tell yourself. You need to tell him how you feel first.

Your face is so close to his, glancing to his mouth and pulling back slightly, “You okay?”

He’s nodding, looking down at you, “Yeah, I’m sorry I just…”

You sweetly shush him, running your fingers through his hair, “It’s okay. We’re okay.”

He slips his arm under you and around your shoulders, pulling you in closer as you end up a mess of tangled limbs hugging each other. You feel his lips against your forehead, pressing a few kisses to it as you settle like this together. A comfortable silence falls, making you believe he had fallen asleep but you feel his hands squeezing your body gently.

“Yoongi,” he hums, “how did you know I was on a date?”

You feel him go rigid for the quickest moment before you hear him mumble, “Jimin.”

You laugh, feeling him pull back to look at you, “What a gossip, I love him…”

Yoongi looks concerned, “Was he not supposed to…?”

“Oh, no, he wasn’t under any obligation to hide it. I’m just, I’m not surprised he told you…” you’re just looking at each other, your fingers gently combing through his blonde hair.

“What was he like?”

“Huh?”

Yoongi sighs, “Your date.”

You snicker, “He was nice. A bit older than me. Woohyun. He owns a marketing company. It was a fun dinner and I think, if anything, I made a friend, which I’m sure is not what Jiwoo hoped for.”

“Jiwoo. Nurse?”

You shake your head, “Nah, she works in OB. Woohyun is her brother-in-law’s brother I think…”

“She wanted to be a matchmaker, huh?” He chews the inside of his cheek.

“She tried, but she maybe gave me another friend…”

“And he was okay with that?”

Your chest feels heavy, not quite ready to tell him how Woohyun had called her out on having someone else on her mind during their date, “Yeah, there was no ‘spark’ other than it felt like talking with a friend. Honestly, it felt like one of my regular gossip sessions with Jimin.”

Yoongi chuckles, “I’m glad you at least made a friend.” he leans into your touch as you continue combing through his hair, “You weren’t too disappointed?”

“No. Not at all.” You look at him. “I went on the date to make Jiwoo happy but I was going to tell him my heart just wasn’t in it, y’know? But he caught on.”

Yoongi breathes out deeply, “Good guy.”

He almost sounds jealous, the thought making you chuckle, “He really is. He’s going to make some other girl really happy…”

“You sure you won’t have any regrets?” He looks like he regrets asking that the moment it leaves his mouth.

Your hand stops its movement in his hair, now resting at the nape of his neck, “None. Whatsoever.”

“Good.”

Both Yoongi and you relax, falling silent as you let sleep take over with the feeling of his hand rubbing up and down the length of your back as you snuggle closer. You don’t realize how quickly you fall asleep, just that you do.

You open your eyes with a yawn, covering your face with your arms before stretching in bed. When your hand doesn’t hit Yoongi’s body you immediately assume he’s gone to work but when you grab your phone, which he must have plugged in for you. Sitting up in bed you smile when you notice your outfit from last night neatly folded on his dresser.

Things feel different.

You grab your phone, noting that the time is just past eight that morning. You respond to a few texts when you hear the door open, and Yoongi pokes his head in before swinging it wide as he leans in the doorway with a small smile. He has an iced Americano from the coffee shop at the end of his street and walks over to the bed, sitting in his empty spot. You scoot closer as he hands you the drink, and when your eyes meet, he glances at your lips, and you catch him in the act. You break into a smile, thanking him as you sip the divine drink he got for you.

“Morning.” He chuckles.

“Morning. Thank you.” You mumble with the straw between your teeth.

He stands up again making you protest as he chuckles, “I brought breakfast, I’m just grabbing it…”

You laugh, watching him disappear before returning with a container you recognize, “You ‘brought’ breakfast. You raided your own restaurant…”

He shrugs, “Perks of being the owner?”

You scoff as he opens the container to reveal seaweed soup, “Oh yes. Thank you.”

“Easy,” he pulls it away, “we’re sharing.” He hands you a spoon as he holds one in his other hand.

He runs to the kitchen to grab a tray for the soup and you both have breakfast in bed, talking very little between each bite of the delicious meal he brought over. You look up at him, snorting as he looks at you.

“What?”

You shake your head, “Why haven’t you given me cooking lessons? I basically rely on you…”

He’s mid-bite, eyes squinting at you like you’ve said the most ridiculous thing on the planet, “You have me. You don’t need to think about that.”

It’s your turn to squint, staring at him, “Uh, basic life skills? Maybe I want to cook? What am I gonna do when I have a husband some day and I can’t cook him anything?”

He swirls the spoon in the soup, “Don’t worry about it. Maybe he’ll like cooking?”

His nonchalant attitude about it makes you grin, “You little shit.”

He chuckles as he steals your drink to steal a sip of it, handing it back to you and you can’t help but shake your head, crossing your legs as he shrugs, “What?”

“You just don’t wanna teach me.”

“That’s not it!” he insists. “You don’t need…to concern yourself with that.”

Did he just insinuate he would always be there for you to be the cook in your life? He sure did and he said it with certainty, like it was the most obvious thing. You hum, content with life as of this very moment as you sit in your best friend’s bed, eating delicious food and in his company.

And this is what you imagine happiness to be as you look at reels on your phones, showing the funny ones that pop up on your feeds and laughing at this absurdness of it all. This is being happy. You spend the few hours before he has to go open together in bed, snacking and drinking coffee as you laugh over silly reels, talking about your date or talking about your plans for the holidays.

“So, holidays. Are we driving up together or separately?”

You snort, “Every time I try to offer going separately, we always end up going together because you wanna save on gas. So, I’m just gonna say together…”

He chuckles, “Alrighty, then.”

“Have you heard from your grandma?” You tentatively ask.

He nods, “Yeah, her doctor has her on pain management meds right now. He’s still trying to convince her to get treatment but even I’ve realized she’s not going to. She’s tired but she’s still the same, pretty much…”

“Good. I mean, that’s as good as it can be.” You smile, hoping it was comforting enough to him. “I’m glad we get to see her for a week though. It’ll be nice to see everybody.”

“Mhm. My mom is beyond happy we’re both coming down.” You smile at that, looking forward to the chaotic holiday week you were bound to have there.

“I bet she is.” You giggle as you move closer to him. “I can’t wait to sleep in for days in a row and not have to wake up butt ass early…”

He laughs, “Don’t say that. You always end up disappointed because you’re always awake bright and early even when you’re on vacation…”

Pouting, you grab his hand, “Let me live in the fantasy now and be disappointed later, okay?”

He laces his fingers with yours, “Alright.” He squeezes your fingers before sighing, “I should get ready to go down…” your pout makes him sigh, “are you okay staying here? Or are you working?”

“Not until tomorrow…” he unwillingly untangles his hand from yours. “I can stay if you want me to?”

“Please, I’d like that.” He stands up, looking at you. “I’m letting Jungkook close up to get him used to it, I can’t physically do these twelve hour days anymore…”

“So, you’ll be back around…?”

He frowns, “Somewhere around seven or eight. Maybe earlier if it’s quiet…”

You push yourself to your knees, dragging yourself to the edge of the bed as he watches you like a hawk. You surprise him when you wrap your arms around his shoulders and he latches his around your waist, pulling you closer as he buries his head in your neck. You’re both humming contentedly as you hug, feeling him squeezing you periodically before he pulls back first.

“I’ll see you later?”

Smiling at him, you nod, “Yeah. Have a good day at work…” he squeezes your waist once more before letting go completely. You sit back in his bed as he gets ready, popping in and out of his bedroom as he waltzes in one more time to grab his charger as he looks at you.

He walks around the bed to your side, eyes trained on you like a man on a mission as he cups your cheek and leans over to press a kiss to your forehead as you break out into such a giddy smile, your cheeks growing bright pink.

“I’ll see you later, doll.” And with a grin, he walks out.

author’s note »» Part six is over and done with! Reader and Yoongi are being such flirts now, and I can't wait to explore more of the flirtiness these two will have! I really hope you enjoy this! I will see you all soon after I take a small break! :D

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#min yoongi #yoongi x reader #yoongi #min yoongi x f!reader #min yoongi x reader #bts #suga #agust d #yoongi x f!reader #yoongi fanfic #min yoongi fanfic #min yoongi fic #yoongi fic #you like because you love despite gunwoo bh #you like because you love despite series #you like because you love despite #yoongi x you #yoongi x oc

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gunwoo-bh · 2 months ago

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unlimited gifs of min yoongi ➔ 50/?

#min yoongi #yoongi

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gunwoo-bh · 2 months ago

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music healed him. so he is using it to heal others as well.

{cr. 0613data}

#yoongi #min yoongi

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gunwoo-bh · 2 months ago

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you like because, you love despite part five [yours or mine?] - myg

yours or mine?

chef!yoongi x korean!f!doctor!reader | mdni 18+

cw »» fluff, swearing, flirting, talks of illness (cancer) and treatments, talks of dying, physical affection, dual povs, lots of sadness, some angst, pet names, yoongi is gone and a sucker for reader

wc »» 7k

author’s note »» SURPRISE AGAIN! I managed to finish this in record time and it has been sitting there for a couple of days now. So here we are! WOW. And I mean that, WOW! I am completely amazed at the response for this fic so far and I love you all for reading! I am getting really excited for where I am taking these two! I hope you enjoy this one too but fair warning, it is a rough and emotional one but thank you for sticking with it.

You stop straight in your tracks when you see the person who is standing at your office door. It is not everyday you get this kind of visit and quite frankly, something about the stance makes you feel uneasy.

“Hello, Mrs. Yoo.”

Mrs. Yoo is Yoongi’s grandmother. You adore her. She’s like family but you also haven’t seen her in over two years so her sudden visit at the hospital intrigues you.

“Would you have time for an old lady like me?” She asks.

You glance down to your wrist watch then back at her, “I could do lunch?”

She smiles as you go into your office, grabbing your wallet and you follow her as you walk just across the street from the hospital to go for food. You’re surprised she doesn’t want to go to Yoongi’s restaurant and you even push for that, but she insists she will go later.

You’re sitting down as you look at her from across the table, “So, what brings you to Seoul?”

“How have you been? You look like you’re busy.” She deflects and you can’t help but smile.

“I am great actually. And yes, busy is definitely the word I would use for it.” You chuckle, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “Internal medicine is…non-stop.”

“Make sure you rest and feed yourself. I’ll tell my grandson to make sure he keeps an eye on you.” You blush at that, shaking your head.

“There’s no need, he already is…” You catch the quick curious look she gives you as you add. “So, you’re going to see him later I assume?”

She nods, “I called him, told him I would be in town for the day so we are having dinner tonight. You should come, I would love to see you both.”

You shake your head, “Oh I wouldn’t want to intrude on your time with him…”

She looks up at you from under her eyelashes, “Are you available tonight?”

You sigh softly, “Yes…”

“Then you are having dinner with us…I am meeting him at six.” She smiles proudly and you know you can’t say no.

“I might be a tad late, I have a meeting right before that…” You hope it’ll dissuade her but she simply gives you a tight lipped smile.

“We’ll wait on you then…” She chuckles lowly when you’re left staring at her. “You’re not getting out of this.”

“I wasn’t trying to–”

“Liar. Whatever the reason may be? I want to see you and my grandson. And we both know how rare it is for both of you to come back home or for me to come down here, so…”

You stay silent for a moment, finally looking up at her, “Where and when is dinner?”

“His home. At six.” She is grinning as you sink in your seat further.

You nod as you sigh softly, “So, what brings you to Seoul all by yourself?”

Her demeanor changes slightly; her eyes snap down to her lap, her shoulders slump, and she suddenly fidgets with the sleeves of her top. You straighten in your seat, carefully watching her as your leg begins to shake immediately. Your gut feeling tells you something is wrong, and you brace for the worst.

“You were at the hospital for an appointment, right?” She nods quietly. “And I’m assuming you were sent here to see a specialist, meaning it’s a condition the local hospital back home couldn’t handle or you were looking for a second opinion…” She smiles softly as you speak. “And if it’s a second opinion, you were either not happy with the first one or… you’re hoping the second gives you a better chance for treatment, which would indicate that…”

You meet her eyes, and her lips are slightly upturned as she sighs, “I’m dying.”

“What?”

“I’ve been really tired, y’know, just suffering god awful belly aches that just…” she groans, rubbing her abdomen, “and I thought it was the diabetes, and it’s been getting worse…so I went to see my doctor.”

“What is it?”

“Stage four pancreatic cancer.”

Your heart drops, but your job has taught you to remain composed, “Where has it spread?”

“My liver and lymph nodes so far…I have another test tomorrow to check my lungs.”

Your brain reviews all the treatment possibilities you’re aware of, considering what next steps an oncologist would recommend for her given the late stages of her condition. You lean forward, joining your hands together as you look at her.

“What did the oncologist recommend for treatment? Have you gotten any? Does your family know? Does Yoongi know?” She reaches over, covering your hands with one of hers.

All you can focus on is how devastated the family will be, especially Yoongi. He and his grandmother share a special bond, one that rivals the closeness he has with his parents and you. Why are you seemingly the first to find out? You assume it has to do with your being a doctor. Whatever the reason, you suppress the devastation you feel at the news.

“You’re the first to know.”

Fuck.

“Why?”

The smile she gives you is gentle, comforting even, “Because I knew you would understand and respect what I’m going to do next…”

You stare at her with knitted brows, mouthing the air, “And what is that?”

Her smile is sad as she looks at you, “The doctor listed off lots of medical things that were just too much for me to really understand but my understanding is that it would give me a few extra months, maybe, at the most…”

“Okay…”

She turns, digging in her purse for something as she whips out papers and hands them to you. “I asked the oncologist to give me those today. Can you take a look and answer me one question?”

Your eyes flit from her to the papers in your hands as you start reading over it all. It’s her medical file from her very first appointment to the one she had today. You feel her eyes boring into you as she watches. Your heart continues to shatter the more you read, flipping over every page. You don’t even notice when she orders for you both or when the food is brought out, but when you finally finish reading, the stew in front of you is still steaming hot.

You hand the papers back to her after a moment, blinking softly as the reality of her diagnosis and prognosis washes over you.

“What’s that question?”

“What is the likelihood of decent quality of life if I pursue any of the treatments this oncologist recommended to me today?”

And you just feel like you’ve been punched because what a question that is.

“It depends on many factors like age, previous health history, the spread of the cancer…” you’re rambling as you inhale and exhale deeply. “But with the treatment recommended here…chemo, radiotherapy and I see he’s even suggested some targeted and clinical therapies too, that’s without mentioning the medication to keep all the symptoms at bay as best as possible…” you sigh. “And then there’s pain management too…”

She squeezes your hands tighter, making you look at her, “Would I have a decent quality of life?”

You feel your eyes filling up with tears already, lower lip trembling, “Given…everything I know, and I’m sure I’d need to read up on more in regards to your case, but…” you pause, bracing yourself, “given you follow the course of treatment recommended? You’d most likely end up bed ridden, needing help for…everything and it’s going to happen fast…”

“How fast?”

“It really depends, but it is most likely to be…difficult. And it’ll be quick, the shift from feeling good to bad…”

She continues squeezing your hand, “So, I wouldn’t be myself anymore…”

“I mean, yes, but…life as you know it would never be the same…” you sniffle, trying to stop the tears from falling.

“And if I did no treatment…what would that be like?”

“Cancer moves at different speeds for everyone so I can’t say but you wouldn’t be…undergoing all those treatments meaning you wouldn’t be dealing with the side effects of that…” you lean back in your seat, “but there’s no guarantee how quickly or how aggressive the cancer on its own will get…”

“But I get to be myself for as long as I can be…”

You nod softly, “Yeah…for as long as the cancer lets you…”

She smiles solemnly, “I figured as much…”

You wet your lips, “Are you telling Yoongi tonight?”

She meets your gaze and apologetically looks on, “Yes. I…I did miss you and wanted to see you, but I need you there to make him see what you see in regards to my decision…”

“What do you mean? You want me there to convince him that the decision you’re making is the right one?”

She nods, “That boy will drag me into more hospitals than I can count to try to fix me….I can’t do that, I do not have the energy to do that…”

You raise your hand, chest heaving, “Please, please don’t ask me to get in the middle of it…” you feel terrified of having to face Yoongi with this, “there’s no right or wrong with deciding what you would like to do for terminal cancer…and…”

“He won’t see it that way…”

You brace yourself, lower lip trembling, “And it won’t change the outcome…” you gasp, covering your mouth as you realize what you’ve said, “oh my god, I’m so sorry…I didn’t…”

She’s blinking softly, a soft smile tugging at the corner of her lips, “You’re right, but you know he will take it hard and won’t let up.”

“It’s your decision…your choice to handle how you want…” you let the sentence hang, wiping away tears.

“How I want to live the rest of my life? However short that is?”

You nod softly, “Yeah…” she smiles sadly, “but I am begging you to not ask me to fight that battle for you because…while I support your decision as…”

“Family, you’re family. Don’t ever doubt that…”

You smile, sad, and it never quite reaches your eyes, “And I support that decision even as a doctor…but don’t ask me to fight that battle for you to him, because…because I won’t…I can’t…”

She grows quiet and for a moment you think you’ve upset her or worse, disappointed her because it feels like it’s been hours that she’s gone silent. She looks up at you and her face changes, her features soften even more and she smiles at you.

“When did you realize you loved him?”

The question should have startled you, but you’re actually not surprised and for the first time you realize you actually have an answer to the question.

“I’ve always loved him, but to answer your question, just recently…”

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked you to fight my battle to convince him that I’m making the right decision…”

You speak up quickly, “I respect and support your decision, and if…if Yoongi needs to talk through the logistics I will be there to support you too, but I won’t be the one explaining to him why it’s right because he won’t see it that way, not at first…”

“You think he will?”

You nod, “Eventually…but remember, you’re telling him that no matter what you do? It’s terminal. Treatment or not, it leads to one thing and one thing only…He’s going to be devastated…”

“I know…” she takes one bite of her food and stops. “I’m sorry to have burdened you on your lunch break with this…”

It’s your turn to reach over and squeeze her hand, “No. I’m…grateful you felt like you could come to me. And don’t worry, I will help Yoongi and your family understand the real impact of treatment and no treatment if they need to, especially if it helps them understand the decision you made…”

“Thank you…” she smiles gently, grateful to you. “So, my grandson…”

You can’t help the laugh that leaves you, “Let’s not…”

She leans forward and smiles, “Would you really deny a dying woman this?”

Your jaw goes slack, eyes wide as you stare at her in amazement, “Wow, wow, you…you have come to terms with death very quickly…”

She chuckles, “I am too old, and too sick now, to waste any time…”

“Well, I suppose when you say it like that…” you blush, “Yes, your grandson?”

She wiggles in her seat, making you chuckle, “Are you two?”

“No! No, not at all. I…We’re just friends. I just realized that y’know…” you frown as you realize just how easy it had been to admit your feelings for Yoongi out loud, but also because of something else, “Why would you think we were together?”

“Because he loves you too.”

Another freight train hits you, the second, or third, that day and she can tell because the smile that once graced your features falls so fast you can’t even explain what just happened.

“We’re just friends…”

She’s confident as she shrugs, “If that’s easier to believe…”

You’re about to question her further when your phone buzzes about three times in a row and as you look at it, you slump in your seat and look at her, “It’s work. I–I have to go…I’m so sorry…”

Mrs. Yoo looks over to the waiter, asking them to pack your untouched meal to go, “No, I’m the one who is sorry. I basically made it impossible for you to enjoy your meal…”

“No, no. I understand. I can eat in my office later…” you assure her as you both stand up, waiting for your packed meal, “I’m sorry I have to leave like this…”

“I will be seeing you later, yes?” She smiles hopefully.

You sigh loudly but you nod, “Yes, I will be at Yoongi’s the moment my meeting ends. I promise.”

She walks around to give you a quick hug, holding your shoulders when she pulls away, “Good. You go, I will be fine.”

You nod, grabbing the food as you thank her quickly before rushing back to work. The moment she’s out of your sight you can’t help the few tears that fall down your cheeks as you wipe them just as quickly as they fall.

You dread the next few hours, but more so, you dread the heartbreak Yoongi is about to undergo.

This is going to suck.

When you enter Yoongi’s apartment, your nostrils are met with the fantastic smell of whatever he has cooked up for his grandmother. After your meeting, which ended early, you took the liberty of going home to wash up and get changed into something comfortable. The entire drive back you are nervous tapping a rhythm on the steering wheel and even when you pull into a parking spot you take your sweet time before going up.

You announce yourself, kicking your shoes off and taking your coat off, looking up when Yoongi comes into view and you start smiling softly, “Hi…”

“Hey, doll…”

“Your grandma here?”

He nods, “Yeah,” he leans against the wall, hands in his pockets, “she wanted to wait for you, pretty much insisted…”

You step forward to stand in front of him, waiting to pass him, “How was work?”

“Always the same. Busy. Jungkook is running the place tonight. I may not have a restaurant in the morning…” he jokes, chewing the inside of his cheek.

You shove his shoulder as you move past him, “He’s run the place without you before, he will be fine…”

He grabs your forearm and gets eye level with you, “You good?”

Nodding, you give him a tight smile, “Yeah, I’m just tired. Long day.”

Oh, you hate yourself for this because right away you can tell that he knows you just lied to him, but he lets it go, which confuses you even more because why would he? He usually loves to call you out on your shit. His fingers linger around your arm longer than usual before you walk into the dining room. His grandmother gives you a gentle smile as you sit across from her at the table. Yoongi pours you a glass of your favorite wine, placing it in front of you as he finds his seat next to you. You glance from his grandmother to Yoongi with the knowledge of what is coming soon.

“So, Chef Min,” you turn to him, his gaze is piercing as he looks at you, “what’s on the menu?”

When he shifts, you feel his knee touching yours and your heart tightens, “What do you think?”

“I can smell the stew,” you glance at Mrs. Yoo, smiling softly, “but I can also smell the meat, I’m assuming you made some Kalbi…no, bulgogi…”

He grabs your hand, squeezing it before looking over to his grandmother, “I’m gonna stop you there before you ruin our entire dinner…”

“Hey!” He stands up to go back to the kitchen, squeezing your hand one more time as he glances over his shoulder at you with a small smile.

Turning back to face his grandmother, your eyes meet and she has a sudden sadness – even concern – cast over her features as she raises her eyebrows at you and you shake your head. Not right now. You rub the top of your thighs back and forth, trying to calm your nerves as you grab your wine to gulp half of it down. She gives you a surprised look, more than amused by your need for wine to tame your anxiety.

“Not funny…” you tell her, sighing loudly as she chuckles.

Yoongi looks at you two, balancing a few side dishes in his hands as he grins, “What are you two up to?”

“Having a staring contest, what do you think?” She says, which makes you snort.

You’re laughing softly as you shake your head, releasing a shaky breath as Yoongi begins placing the food down on the table. You’re excitedly shifting in your seat, stomach grumbling as you admire the feast he’s prepared.

“Wow, you went all out.”

“Well, when my grandma told me she wanted to have dinner and that she had invited you, I knew I had to go all out…” He grins as he places the final plates of food down. This gentle but playful Yoongi is your favourite and it is a rare sight, considering he only gets this way around his grandmother, his mother and you.

Min Yoongi is a ladies’ man and not in the usual way one would expect. His softness surfaces around the women he’s close to in his life. That’s not to say he doesn’t get along with the men in his life, but his energy tends to gravitate towards women. He relaxes as he sits next to you, gazing softly while you start grabbing food to put on your plate. You catch him in the act, and he doesn’t look away, his lips parting slightly to inhale sharply.

“This looks amazing,” his grandmother’s voice startles you both, “you didn’t have to outdo yourself like that… ”

He shrugs, “It’s not much…”

You smile to yourself when he blushes, slightly embarrassed at receiving a compliment from his grandmother. It fills you with pride when he breathes out, smacking his lips together as he groans after a moment, “Okay, enough. Enjoy the food. You’re welcome.”

You both laugh at how uneasy he is as he shoves a large forkful of meat in his mouth, making you chuckle as he avoids eye contact with you both.

His grandmother keeps conversation going, setting a comfortable and easygoing tone to your evening, letting it be filled with laughter and funny stories from your childhood. She reminisces as she watches the two of you talk about the day you went to the zoo and Yoongi had convinced you to go alone to see the lion enclosure, giving your parents a fright so much so they had to deploy security to make sure neither of you had been taken.

It still embarrasses you still to this day that you had given them such a heart attack and they loved reminding you of it. Including his grandmother. Her reminiscing has very little to do with just being with the two of you. No, being with the two of you makes her want to reminisce before she’s too sick and too ill to remember.

And almost right when you expect it – right at the end of your meal – you see her brace to begin the conversation you have been dreading all day but Yoongi beats her to it.

“So, what were you doing down here in the city?” He asks, leaning back. “Did you drive yourself down?”

She shakes her head, “No, no, no. Don’t worry about that…I took the train down. I’m sorry I didn’t warn you but I know you’d worry…”

He snorts, “I would have…”

“But I came down here for a reason and it wasn’t shopping…” he chuckles at her words as you become stiff next to him, shifting away from him. He notices it because he frowns as he looks at you, trying to decipher your body language as his grandmother speaks up. “I was actually here because of a doctor’s appointment…”

Here we go…

Yoongi’s entire energy shifts, right away knowing something is off based on how quiet you are and how relaxed his grandmother is when she says that. He’s often been in positions like this where dread crawls all the way up his spine and lives there in his shoulders until he finds out what it’s all about. Until he gets a reason for it.

His mouth is dry when he speaks up, “A doctor’s appointment? Isn’t Dr. Cho still practicing back home?”

Maybe her doctor retired. That’s likely. It’s not that though, because you wouldn’t be pulling away from him in discomfort. Yoongi is left uneasy as he leans back in his chair, inhaling sharply as he crosses his arms over his chest. He knows he’s immediately defensive and he shouldn’t be, because he truly won’t know until she continues speaking.

“He’s still my doctor and I did go see him.” He gulps. “He referred me to a doctor in Seoul, to make a very long story short. I had some tests run because I wasn’t feeling so great recently…”

He sighs, “What’s going on?”

She pushes her plates aside to make space so she can lean against the table, staring at him before she pushes herself up and shuffles closer to him. Yoongi’s eyes are trained on her the entire time, suddenly feeling his heart beating out of his chest when she finally grabs for his hands.

“The doctor confirmed to me today that I have cancer. Pancreatic cancer.” Yoongi squeezes her hands and he releases a loud, shaky breath as he listens intently. “Stage four. It spread and is going to continue spreading. It’s terminal.”

He can’t believe how lackadaisical she is with this, her tone gentle – maybe somewhat anxious – but nonetheless so restrained, like she’s practiced this all day. And his train of thought suddenly shifts to you. Oh shit.

“Did you know?” His head snaps so fast that it makes you jump.

His grandmother tugs firmly on his hands to bring his attention back on her, “Yes, she does. I told her earlier today. Do not take this out on her, Min Yoongi. I put her in that position.” She tugs on his hands again, which forces him to look at her and not you. “I needed a second opinion. Someone who would be honest. Someone who – even with medical knowledge – wouldn’t treat me like a patient. But like me. So, yes, I went to her.”

He glances at you, softer this time, as he sighs and reaches out to you, your hand meeting his as you lace your fingers with his. He looks back at his grandmother, one hand in hers and the other in yours. His breathing increases, his chest hurting now as he inhales deeply and loudly.

“So,” he swallows thickly, “what are you gonna do? What did the doctor–what’s it called– what did the oncologist say to you? Like, what are the treatment options? When are they starting? Have you told mom and dad? Is your hospital the best one in terms of that? I mean, not to discredit it, but you said–”

“Stop, stop…” she stops him, grabbing his face and forcing him to look at her, Yoongi letting go of your hand to squeeze his thighs in the hopes he can ground himself. “Listen to me. Listen to me very carefully…”

Yoongi isn’t known to be emotional, and there are very few things that could make him feel that way. His family is a subject that most people know to approach carefully because of his protectiveness over everyone, particularly the women in his life. He has witnessed how his dad was always ready to drop everything to help his mom or his grandmother. Yoongi learned this behavior from his father and has tried to replicate it with the women in his life—always. They are some of the most influential people in his life, if not the most. Not once has it occurred to him that this could potentially be ripped away from everyone. From him.

She’s still holding his face and he stares at her as she gives him the saddest smile, one he hasn’t seen since his grandfather died.

“I’ve decided not to do treatments.” He opens his mouth to protest right away, his eyes filling up with tears so fast as his lower lip trembles. “I can’t do this, okay? Treatments, doctor’s appointments, blood tests, scans, being sicker than I already am…I won’t spend what time I have left doing that.”

“Have you considered all your options, though? Have you spoken to more doctors?” He turns to you really quickly but glances back to his grandmother, “There are trials that aren’t as invasive…”

He knows exactly how he sounds right now. He bet he sounds exactly like when he was eleven years old after he was told about her first cancer – terrified. It’s almost an exact replica of the moment too – with you by his side holding his hand and his heart breaking the longer reality settled.

She calls his name, the assertiveness in her tone really pushing the point across that Yoongi was never going to change her mind. She made her decision and that was final.

“I don’t want to. I know I could. I could be extending my life but I also might not…I might die faster because doing treatments will make me weaker, or sicker…” He doesn’t get it, not yet, but there isn’t much he can do because his grandmother is so certain, she is an immovable object. “And I want to enjoy having this amount of energy for however long I can…But I will be taking some medication to help with the pain…”

He nods softly, his face still in her small hands, “Are you feeling okay?”

She nods, “Mostly, yes. I’m exhausted but I am okay.”

“Mom and dad?”

“I am telling them tomorrow when I get back…I needed to take it in,” she smiles sadly, “and I didn’t know when I’d see you again or how soon, so I knew I needed to tell you in person – today.” Yoongi sniffles, feeling her wipe at the few tears that have fallen. “Also why I went to…” she glances over to you, Yoongi following her line of sight as he takes you in.

You’re still watching them as you give him the smallest smile, “Hi…” you say softly and Yoongi has never wanted to kiss you more, he thinks.

“I needed someone who would understand my desires about how I was going to handle it and even as a doctor? I knew she would put me and my wants first instead of her personal hopes…” she smiles at you, “and she did, even if it hurt her to have to do that…”

She lets go of one of his cheeks, “In the end it’s your life and you did bring up some fair points about not doing treatments…” you’re glancing between him and his grandmother.

“Would it be bad?” He asks.

You wrinkle your nose, “I don’t think there is such a thing as bad or good when it comes to treating terminal cancer,” you exhale loudly, rubbing the back of his hand with your thumb, “I think what your grandmother is choosing to do is, in my personal and professional opinion, one of the bravest and wisest thing to do considering where she is at in the sickness…”

He turns to his grandmother and mouths the air, “Y’know, I would have had your back, always…”

She chuckles, “But not at first. And I know that because you were always going to try to fix it. Your dad is the same…” he chuckles, “but there is nothing that can be fixed. I knew you’d come around, but I still wanted someone in my corner…”

He leans back in his seat, his grandmother moving back and letting go of him, but you immediately grab his hand in yours. Yoongi finds comfort in your touch as he rubs his chest.

“So, what’s next?”

She smiles fondly, “I have another appointment in the morning before I get back on the train to go home. I am gonna tell my oncologist what my decision is and I guess we’ll figure out pain management?” She looks over to you for confirmation.

You’re nodding, “Yes, once you’ve told your oncologist your decision? He will insist and try to convince you to get treatment but when he realizes you’ve made your choice? He will talk you through pain management and the medication. You’ll have follow ups to monitor how quickly or slowly this is progressing…but then you just go home and enjoy the time you have left. I would also recommend and sorry, this is the doctor in me coming out,” you giggle apologetically, “that you plan palliative care ahead of time if it ever comes to that so that family are prepared and don’t have to figure that out…”

“Is your appointment at her hospital tomorrow?”

She nods, “Yes, it is.”

You speak up right away, “Would you like me in there with you or would you rather be by yourself?”

“I can come, too…I want to. If you want to…” Yoongi looks on, hopeful.

Her eyes fill up with tears that never fall as she nods, “Yes. I would appreciate that from both of you.”

She stands up and Yoongi lets go of you, albeit reluctant to do so, and he hugs her tightly against him. He tries not to cry as he holds – actually clings – onto her like his life depends on it.

She wipes at her eyes when she pulls back, “Thank you. Thank you for supporting me even though I’m sure it goes against everything you’re used to…”

He huffs, “Yeah, it does…”

She looks between him and you, “I’m relieved you have each other here.”

Yoongi glances down at you and you look away with a soft smile, standing up as you start grabbing the plates, “I’ll start cleaning up so you two can have a moment…” They both try to protest but you shush them, “Stop. Let me do this. You two talk and plus, you don’t wanna have to think about dishes right now.”

He sighs, wetting his lips as he checks in with you, “Are you sure?”

He feels himself melting when you place a hand on his chest, patting it softly before confirming, “Yeah, you guys go have a talk. I’ll clean up and don’t worry…”

His grandma mouths a thank you and tugs on him, Yoongi taking one final glance at you as he takes a seat on the couch. He glances over his grandmother’s shoulder to your back in the kitchen, comfortably moving around like you were home.

And that – in the heartbreak of this evening – is of the biggest comfort.

You are elbows deep in dishes, tuning out the conversation that goes on behind you as best as you can. You want to give them as much privacy as possible, but you also know Yoongi will have a lot of cleaning up to do after preparing a feast for you. The least you can do is make it a little easier for him. The sleeves of your sweater are rolled up as you clean one of the larger pots, yawning for the third time in about fifteen minutes.

It is already getting pretty late for you, especially after an emotional day on top of a work day. It feels too long at this point, but this evening could have gone so many ways, and you wanted to be supportive for two people you love very much.

You look over your shoulder when you hear her laughter, shutting off the water, wiping down the counter, and drying your hands. You pick up your phone to check for any urgent texts before glancing tentatively at them. You round the kitchen island to catch their attention while standing there a bit timidly.

“Hey, I just wanted to say I gotta head home, I have work early tomorrow…” chewing the inside of your cheek you gaze over to Yoongi and he meets your eyes, both of you speaking so loudly to each other. And you’re grateful it isn’t something she can understand.

“Are you sure? You could probably stay here…”

Yoongi looks ready to protest but you speak up, “Oh, I know, but I do have some things I wanna make sure I get done back home…” your heart breaks a little when he looks absolutely dejected. “I am seeing the both of you tomorrow morning anyways and I’ll get to see you off…” you look at her as she pushes herself off with some difficulty to come and say goodbye.

You wrap your arms around her, hugging her and enjoying the feeling of holding this tiny woman who has been nothing short of family to you. You stay there in her arms until you feel her yawning, chuckling when you pull back to look at her, “You might just be tired too it seems…”

She shrugs you off, chuckling softly, “Maybe. I’m getting old, you know?”

You laugh, “I will see you tomorrow.” You turn to Yoongi. “Send me a text to confirm the type because I will forget…”

She pats your cheek, “I’ll make sure he won’t forget.”

Yoongi rolls his eyes, “I won’t forget. I have to call Jungkook to see if he can cover me for a bit in the morning…”

“Poor thing, you’re gonna have to give him a raise…” You tease, biting your lower lip as you look up to him.

“He gets paid well enough…”

Your laughter dies down as you look between them, “You get some rest because I know I’m gonna do the same…”

Mrs. Yoo grabs and hugs you once more, squeezing you as tight as her body can before letting you and you turn around to grab your purse.

“I’ll walk you down to your car.” His voice sends a shiver down your spine.

You turn around to object but his gaze is so focused, eyes begging you to go along as you nod, “Okay…” you look at her one more time, “goodnight and get some rest..” She waves, waddling her way down the hallway to the guest room and Yoongi gently nods as you start walking to his door.

When you step out into the cold early November air, you pull your coat tighter around yourself as the chill literally crawls over your body. You glance over your shoulder at Yoongi, who has his sweatshirt with no coat on. “You should go back in, it’s cold as hell…”

He shrugs, his breath visible to you. “I’ll be fine…”

You lean against your car, crossing your arms over your chest in an attempt to warm yourself, while Yoongi appears as unbothered as usual when he steps closer to you. He shoves his hands into his pockets, staring at his feet for a moment before glancing up at you from beneath his eyelashes.

“Thank you. For being here tonight.”

Lips curling gently, you hum, “Of course. She didn’t have to ask me. I would have found some way to be there for you…” you gulp, “and for her.”

He grins, huffing a laugh, “Yeah, I bet…”

You both stare at each other for too long before breaking into nervous laughter, “Are you okay?”

He nods softly, “No. It’s…the scariest thing ever, but I’m glad that she involved me. That she didn’t lie, y’know?”

“But you still wish she’d let you help try to fix it…”

He snorts, “You know me so well…but,” he licks his lips, sucking in a breath, “she’s right. It’s…the end of her life. She should be able to decide how it goes.”

Nodding in agreement, you move to grab his forearm and he gazes tenderly at you at that moment, “You putting her wants and feelings first probably helps so much with her not feeling guilty about that choice. You’ve helped her a lot, I’m sure…”

He shifts, your hand slipping down as he grabs your hand in his much larger one as he plays with your fingers, “I hope so…I wish there was more I could do.”

“You’re already doing plenty…” you both fall silent, clearing your throat, “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you anything. I wanted to tell you right away but it wasn’t my place, y’know?”

“Hey, doll?” The nickname sucks the breath right out of you, like every other time he says it. “It’s fine. I…I’m sorry if you felt…pressured or like you lied or betrayed me because that’s not the case. I get it and I’m glad she had you…”

You’re biting your lower lip harder than you should, nodding and humming, “Good. I was worried for a second…”

He steps closer, tugging your hand up to hold it against his chest, “Don’t. We’re always okay…”

“Good.”

You’re so close to each other you don’t know what to do with yourself so you look down to your feet, chewing the inside of your cheek so hard you’re afraid you might just make yourself bleed.

“I’m sorry about tonight…”

You snap your head up, his eyes searching yours, “Huh?”

“Tonight?”

And you release the shakiest of laughs, understanding exactly what he means then.

“It’s okay. It’s one night. Plus, it would be hard to explain to your grandma…” you chuckle timidly.

About two weeks have passed since Yoongi spent the night in your bed that one day, and without ever truly addressing it, you both have pushed the boundaries of your friendship further. By that, you mean that in the thirteen days – more like nights – since then, ten of those have been spent together.

As salacious as that sounds even in your head, you know you’ve done nothing more than sleep in the same bed and cuddle, but considering this had never happened before as full-fledged grown-ups? It marks a big change for the two of you. Yet, you have never actually discussed it beyond checking in with each other about whose place you were sleeping at that night. And your crush? It’s not just a crush any longer. No. You were falling in love with him, you were pretty sure.

“Yeah, she asked to stay and I wanted to text you but…” he lets the sentence die, tugging himself closer to you as you suck in a breath.

“It’s fine, I swear…” you make the mistake of looking up at him and gulp, because wow, he is that close to you.

“Make up for it tomorrow?” The husk in his voice sends heat throughout your entire body, head to toe. He plays with your fingers as he waits for an answer. He’s anxious. You feel it in the way he shifts side to side on his feet.

“Yours or mine?”

He releases a breath of relief, “Yours.”

You smile gently, a blush softly spreading over your cheeks, “Okay.”

He looks so happy as he releases his nerves in a quick shake of his entire body which makes you grin softly, but you don’t mention it as he speaks up, “You okay to drive?”

“Mhm. I am. I had my glass of wine almost three hours ago. I will text you when I get home.” You promise.

He surprises you when he lets go of your hand, reaching for the back of your head to pull you into a hug as you wrap your arms around his middle. The warmth of his body makes you completely forget about the cold, his body a complete furnace compared to yours. Or maybe your growing feelings for him also fooled your body into thinking it was warmer now that he was holding you.

He pulls back, his hand buried in your hair as you look up at him, “Drive safe, okay?”

“I promise.” You smile and he reluctantly lets you go, taking a few steps back from you to give you space to get in your car, but you don’t move quite yet. “Goodnight, yeah?”

“Mhm. You too.”

“I am not getting in the car until you go, Yoongi. So, get walking…” you’re playful, biting your lower lip.

“Fine. Fine. I’m going.” He turns around as he sighs loudly, earning a giggle from you.

He’s halfway up the steps to his apartment when you turn to start keying into your car, opening the door as you toss your purse inside.

“Hey, doll?”

You turn so fast, the smallest hopeful smile tugging at your lips, “Yeah?”

“I love you, y’know?”

Your heart leaps, the shock visible in your face as you break into a smile when you lean against your open car door. He starts smiling softly, your favourite gummy smile of his showing as he licks his lips. You giggle, covering your face for a second as you sigh.

“I love you too.”

author’s note »» Thank you for sticking with Yoongi and Reader for a slightly heavier chapter. I have based the illness aspect on my own experience with a family member that battled the same cancer so pardon the inaccuracies. But things are changing and developing between two really oblivious people! Well, let's just say soon? Oblivious no more?! I hope you enjoyed! :D

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#min yoongi #yoongi #yoongi x reader #bts #suga #min yoongi x f!reader #agust d #min yoongi x reader #yoongi x f!reader #yoongi fanfic #yoongi fic #min yoongi fic #min yoongi fanfic #you like because you love despite gunwoo bh #you like because you love despite series #you like because you love despite #gunwoo bh you like because you love despite

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gunwoo-bh · 2 months ago

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The Min Yoongi Paradox™: when you are a cocky, flirty, confident superstar and also the shyest, sweetest, giggliest man in the whole world

happy birthday to the absolute love of my life! so thankful that this is the last year i'll have to celebrate without him. i am counting down the days ♡

#min yoongi #yoongi

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gunwoo-bh · 2 months ago

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yoongi x his signature smirk

cr. namuspromised

#yoongi #min yoongi

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gunwoo-bh · 2 months ago

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countdown to yoongi’s return

d-4 ♡ 달려라 방탄 (run bts) ✦ dance practice

#yoongi #min yoongi

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gunwoo-bh · 2 months ago

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👋

#min yoongi #yoongi

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gunwoo-bh · 2 months ago

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2 days til my love is coming home I hold on tight, I'm staying strong,

{cr. 0613data}

#min yoongi #yoongi #SO CLOSE HE IS ALMOST BACK

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gunwoo-bh · 2 months ago

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you like because, you love despite part four [because] - myg

because

chef!yoongi x korean!f!doctor!reader | mdni 18+

cw »» fluff, yoongi is also an overthinker, reader is crushing hard, secret pining, swearing, dual pov, terrified yoongi, physical affection (cuddling?)

wc »» 7.4k

author’s note »» SURPRISE EVERYBODY! It came a day earlier. THANK YOU everyone for all the love for this. I do have to say pardon my absence in the comments, I've been dealing with some family emergency but I am back now. I am so so happy to continue exploring this relationship between Yoongi and Reader! This chapter contains dual POVs and to make it clear it is Yoongi's POV the beginning of the section will start with a bold orange letter! Anything else is the reader's POV! I hope you enjoy!! :D ALSO. The boys are almost all back!

After circling three times to find a parking spot, you decide to give up and drive down a road you know leads to an underground parking lot. Glancing at the clock on your dashboard, you let out a loud sigh. Your mom is going to have such a laugh when she realizes how stressed you are about arriving late to lunch. This woman has instilled the best manners in you, and you constantly fear disappointing her. As you pay on your phone while walking to the restaurant, you look up and down to avoid getting run over.

Checking your emails and texts simultaneously, your fingers are typing faster than your brain can process all the information on your screen. The last few weeks have been incredibly busy with work, all while trying to maintain some semblance of a social life. But at least it kept you and your mind occupied.

When your mother called to announce her visit to Seoul, relief washed over you, and you unconsciously began a countdown to her arrival. Work nearly ruined that today; an unplanned emergency requiring your presence almost got in the way of your time with her. But now, as you approach the restaurant, you feel your body relax for the first time in weeks.

And that’s how you feel when you spot your mom, jog over to her, and hug her tightly, reverting to that kid who never wanted to let go. You’re laughing in her ear, and she is, too. Almost nothing is more comforting than one of your mom’s hugs.

When you pull back from the embrace just enough to look at her, you giggle, “I am so sorry for being late! It’s been insane, and work called me, so I honestly had no idea how long it would take me, to be honest, and I just couldn’t—”

“Honey, breathe.” She takes your face in her hands, stopping you in your train of thought.

“Hi, mom.”

“Hi…”

She hugs you again, “Oh honey, I know it’s a mom thing to say but you need to eat more, you’ve lost so much weight…and you need sleep…”

There’s no fighting your mom on that, because she would be right. To say you’ve been slacking on bare minimum self-care is an understatement. It had taken everything within you that morning to put some effort into looking presentable for your mom because you didn’t want to worry her but she noticed. Because she’s your mom.

“I know. I have…been busy to say the least…” She grabs your hand tightly, tugging you to the restaurant for your reservation.

“Well, this is on me today. Let me treat you.” You smile, allowing yourself to be babied just a little by your mom. As you’re seated across from her, you remove your coat and set it beside you, looking up at her with the brightest smile.

Getting a visit from your mom is, much like many of your plans, a delicately organized event. You book your time off in advance, usually plan your outfits ahead, and ensure you have as much time as possible with her since it makes for a long day of traveling. You know to make every minute count.

As you begin to look over the menu, your phone screen lights up with a text from Yoongi, and you smile, quickly glancing at it.

Yoong~ 🍊[11: 39AM]: Is your mom in town? She shot me a text. If she is, can you get her to stop by?

You [11:39AM]: I will tell her but you can also text her, y’know? 😋

Yoong~ 🍊[11:40 AM]: I did already, but you know she’ll forget…

You [11:40 PM]: I’ll tell her, I promise.

Yoong~ 🍊[11:40 AM]: See you later 👋

His assumption you’d be tagging along makes you smile, placing your phone down to look back to the menu and quickly making a decision.

“Was that Yoongi?”

Glancing to her, you nod and push the menu aside, “Yeah, he’d like to see you. When is your train again?”

“Just after eight…”

“Wanna go there for an early dinner before I drop you off at the train station?”

Your mom smiles, “Of course, I was hoping he could come to lunch but you know, him being a business owner…”

“Ugh, I know. It just keeps getting in the way, no?” You joke, making her laugh.

The waiter comes over, takes your order and leaves, letting you relax as you look at your mom. Watching the way she’s changed over the years, growing just the same as you have makes you look forward to aging and you can only hope to age as gracefully as your mother. You never realized just how much you’d miss your mom once you moved to Seoul for school. And then staying in the city for work seemed like the right choice and it was. Your life was great.

But there was no denying how difficult it was not seeing your parents as often as you’d like, making time with them the most precious thing. You missed home and hadn’t returned to your hometown in two years, the last time for your cousin’s wedding.

“How’s dad?

“Oh, you know your father…” you snort at her words, “he can’t stop working even if his life depended on it…”

“I wish he’d take it easy every once in a while…”

Your mother smiles, “Not until he gets me a home on Jeju like he said he would when we were kids…” Your heart warms at your father’s promise. “I swear we have a good life but your father hasn’t stopped squirreling away money for it…”

“Hasn’t it been your dream to move to Jeju?”

“I was fifteen when I said that!” You both laugh, sipping your water. “I didn’t think he would actually make it his goal.”

Snorting softly, you hide behind your hand, “Didn’t you two honeymoon there though?”

“Mhm. That and,” she clears her throat, “I used to go there when I was a kid with my family…”

“Dad is never giving up. You know that, right?” You plant your chin in the palm of your hand.

Her knowing smile tells you her answer but she still says, “Yeah, I know that…”

When your meal arrives, it’s easy to forget conversation when all you can focus on is how good the food is. You definitely both limit the amount you eat, knowing you’ll end up at Yoongi’s later for a good meal.

“Speaking of Jeju,” she sets her utensils down once she finishes her meal, “your dad and I are planning a trip down there for our anniversary…”

“Oh yeah! That’s coming up soon, no?”

She smiles, the lightest blush colouring her cheeks, “Mhm. And this being our thirtieth anniversary plus we’re both turning fifty…it means a lot.”

“I’m sure dad already has something planned…”

She scoffs playfully, “He wouldn’t be your dad if he didn’t…”

You have always loved hearing about your parent’s love story and how they got together, their marriage being the ideal relationship to emulate. Very rarely did you hear about parents, especially from your parents’ generation, that marry for love and continue being married. Many of your friends in high school had parents who cared for each other but had been set up by their families. Not you. No. It was love.

“Mom?”

“Mhm.”

“Can I ask you a question?” You nervously chew on the inside of your cheek.

She watches you carefully, able to tell that something is bothering you just by the way she leans forward, “Of course…”

How do you phrase this now?

Mom, I think I like my best friend. Mom, I want to date Yoongi? Oh, hey mom! Like mother, like daughter, I might end up with my best friend too!

You wince at how awkward this all sounds in your head. This shouldn’t be this hard. But saying it out loud makes it feel so real and you haven’t quite grasped that. It’s been an emotional roller coaster to say the least.

“Uh…when did you know that dad was more than just your friend?”

She stares at you, the corner of her lips curling up just barely while blinking softly and it is unnerving. Not often does your mom elicit this reaction out of you, where you feel unease. The last time was the one night Yoongi and you had snuck out to attend a local concert. Although upset, then, about your impulsive rebelliousness, this look she’s giving you now is different. It’s knowing. Unsurprised about the question.

“Well, you know the story.”

You mouth the air, “N-no, I know that…” your voice shakes, “I know the story. I love it. I remember asking you to tell it to me as a bedtime story…”

Her smile is warm, remembering that memory fondly, “That was the only story I told for months after I first told you…”

You both laugh with you rubbing your neck, “But how did you go from being friends one day to dating. I mean…you two were fifteen one day, four years later oops I arrived and then a year after that you got married…I mean, how does that happen?”

Watching her carefully, you see the way she plays with her ring as she looks at you, “Well, we grew up together in Daegu. By all intents and purposes we shouldn’t have been friends because of gender, especially back then, but we gravitated to each other. We were eight when my mother and his mother met, and then I was asked to help him with math in our fifth year of middle school. By the time we were eleven I liked him.”

“Really? I don’t think I ever knew that…”

She shakes her head, “Well, back then, we were told that getting attached to a guy at school was useless because our parents would find someone for us when we got older…so, I figured he’d only ever be my friend…”

“But?”

“Everyone knew but us…and when we were fourteen I knew I had feelings for him. And I told my mom, who spoke to my dad and then they spoke to his parents…but I never heard about that until before we got married…” she takes a sip of water, “his parents didn’t protest it…”

“You say that like they didn’t approve of you…” You frown, wondering if she had drama to deal with.

“Oh no, nothing like that. But you know most parents? No one is ever good enough for their child even if they get the ideal partner…They warmed up after you were born though.” She chuckles.

“Because they got a grandchild?”

She nods, chuckling softly as you roll your eyes, “Typical.”

“Hey, be nice…That was normal then, and is still normal now, sometimes unfortunately…” You’re both shaking your head.

“So, grandma and grandpa didn’t protest it so…you told dad how you felt and that was it?”

“No. You know the story.”

You sigh, “Okay, yeah, I do know that part…but,” you’re sounding desperate now, “was it never weird? That shift from always hanging out as friends and then…always hanging out but as a couple? Were you never afraid of things just being…weird?”

She shakes her head right away, “No. The moment I found out he liked me and he found out I liked him, we just knew if we never got over the initial awkwardness that we would never make it…so, we sort of treated it like a brand new relationship. We left our friendship at the door when we went on dates…trying to get to know each other as boyfriend and girlfriend…”

“Was it easy?” You don’t mean for your voice to sound so small and afraid when you ask her.

Your mother must hear the emotion in your voice because she grows concerned, “No, of course it wasn’t, but we loved each other enough as friends and as more to know we wanted it to work. Your dad still believes to this day that we were meant to be…”

“Yeah?”

“Yes, of course. He’s a hopeless romantic that one,” you snort a little, biting the inside of your upper lip, “but honey,” you look at her, “why are you asking me all of that?”

You sigh loudly, your face contorting in fear before feeling your lower lip trembling. Your mom’s posture changes and she reaches across the table for your hands which you give her so willingly. She looks at you, sighing softly and she squeezes your hands tightly.

“Mom…”

“Yes, honey…”

“I think I might like Yoongi,” you whimper, “as in, more than a friend…”

And her reaction is not one you expect because she simply starts to smile at you. It is soft and so loving, very much like your mom. It’s comforting. Oh. “You knew…” you whisper.

She nods, “I mean, I wasn’t certain…but I suspected it would happen someday…” her smile is soft, “I always thought your crush would grow but when you said it went away…that boys were stupid, I started thinking maybe you had let it go.”

You blush as you remember the pouty rant you gave your mom when you were fifteen, insisting to your mother that boys were too stupid to date and that included Yoongi. It had helped with making you forget your crush then.

“Oh…”

“Does it scare you?”

You nod, “He’s been my closest friend for over twenty years…he’s been the constant in my life I can’t do without and…and,” you pause, “if I love him, I risk losing him…”

“You know that boy, no, that man has always said he’d be there for you no matter what, and I believe him…” you open your mouth to protest but she continues, “and I deeply believe, no matter how many times you’ve told me off about this,” you laugh at that, “that in some way, shape or form he loves you…”

“I know he does…” your eyes grow soft, aware of just how much love you two already hold for each other even just as friends. “But…just not like that…”

“How could you know? Is it never something you’ve talked about?”

You shake your head, “Never. We never ever brought it up…”

“But you like him?”

You groan loudly, “Yeah…It just happened, I started looking at him differently…” she quirks an eyebrow, “I mean, it didn’t just happen. Someone asked us how long we’d been dating and it was the first time that we have ever been asked that. Then I wondered…why haven’t we ever?”

She chuckles, “He’s a good guy…”

“Yes, I know,” you laugh, feeling your cheeks grow warmer, “and then I just…noticed stuff and then I got butterflies and mom, I am a thirty year old woman and I am freaking out over some butterflies!? Like, what the heck…”

You’re both laughing with you hiding your face behind your hands as you relax, your mom’s presence making everything feel far less scary.

“Tell me something,” she looks at her, “why does it scare you so much? Let’s just say…he feels the same. Is that so bad?”

“No…” You sigh, pouting. “It would be…weird? We’ve been best friends for so long and yeah, we’re childhood best friends, it would be…weird because…yeah…”

She leans back as she watches you blush and stutter, “Well, let me ask you a question,” she’s smiling too confidently and you know she’s about to blow your mind, “what if, and only what if it wasn’t weird? Couldn’t it be wonderful instead because you are childhood best friends?”

Poof.

Mind blown.

Stuttering and mouthing the air for a solid twenty seconds, you start laughing and your heart is thundering in your chest as you blink rapidly. Oh, your mom is good. She always knows exactly what to say for it to make sense. And it does, it just makes sense.

“You really think so?”

“I know that just because it worked for me and your dad doesn’t mean it’ll be the same but,” she smiles sweetly, “I have a good feeling about this…”

You gulp, never having entertained the possibility that Yoongi could or might end up feeling the same about you but your mom’s confidence gives you that reassurance you needed. That no matter what? Yoongi and you are going to be okay.

“We have always been alright…” you remind yourself mostly.

“You have. And honestly? The worst that will happen is maybe it’s awkward for a bit, but he, especially, will always make sure you two are okay…”

“I’m a chicken though…I don’t see myself doing anything about it now though…” you admit, embarrassed. Your mother can only laugh as you sigh.

“Well, you can take the time you need with this realization…it’s a lot. Changes a lot for you in how you view Yoongi…” She lets go of you, patting the back of your hand after a moment as you hum.

“Thank you…”

She gets up off her chair, coming around to sit next to you and she wraps her arms around you, hugging for a moment just the way you need it. When you pull back she wipes away a tear that’s fallen, smiling as she says, “Let’s go. I wanna do some shopping before going to see Yoongi…”

You laugh, “Good, there’s a new store that has your favourite brand of skin products. I was gonna send you some but I’ll take you and buy it for you.”

“Deal.” You both laugh, looking at each other. “What a good daughter you are.”

When you both waltz into the restaurant with your hands full of bags, Yoongi can't help but smile widely, his lips stretching into a grin that reaches the corners of his eyes as he lets out a soft laugh. He wipes down the counter and tosses the cloth aside before walking around to meet your mom, who spots him within seconds of entering. He bends down to her level and wraps his arms around her just as she goes in for a hug. Yoongi doesn’t hug many, but your mother is among the few he cherishes.

Looking over her shoulder as he embraces her, he meets your gaze and sees you smiling softly at him, making his heart leap in his chest. He mouths a small 'hi,’ which you return, while Yoongi pats your mother’s back, keeping his eyes locked on you. When he pulls back from your mom, she takes his face in her hands and squeezes his cheeks, eliciting that musical laugh he adores so much from you.

“You are too thin.” Your mom chastises him.

“I am a healthy weight. My doctor has said so.” He grins softly.

She glances at you then back to him, “He needs a new doctor. That doctor is dead wrong.”

You laugh, “Mom, I’m sure I could tell you the same thing. He’s fine.”

She scoffs, pouting at the both of you, “Sure, team up against me.”

She turns away from the two of you, walking to a table while he looks at you and mouths, ‘just fine?’ You shake your head, tugging him with you, and he can’t help but playfully resist. It elicits the reaction he desires from you each time: you tugging and begging him to just follow, your fingers wrapped tightly around his hand.

He joins you two for dinner, only leaving you alone for a moment while he cooks your meal, unable to resist smiling broadly at your mother’s excitement. She’s always been like a second mom to Yoongi, and the same goes for his mom with you.

He sits next to you, your mother sitting across from both of you as he reaches to pop open your soda can. He nudges the side dishes you prefer closer and makes the mistake of looking up, meeting your mother’s eyes. Shit.

One quick glance is enough for him to realize she’s noticed. He’s known her long enough to understand what she’s communicating with her eyes. Because he knows all too well, too.

Yoongi doesn’t remember when he fell in love with you.

He could think about it all day long, but all he knows is that the feeling has existed within him for pretty much as long as you two have known each other, which is pretty much your entire lives. He suspects some people close to both of you have noticed, such as your mother, who is giving him a small knowing smile.

It makes him nervous that people can tell just from looking at him, and the longer he doesn’t tell you, the more people notice. Yoongi has mastered looking indifferent toward you without appearing uncaring either. For years, he’s managed to come across as a big brother figure to you, and people around you have never questioned him. But coming to Seoul and making new friends had put a damper on his plans.

Namjoon was the first to ask Yoongi about a year into their friendship. Yoongi remembers exactly when he was asked about his potential feelings for you. You had just been cheated on by your then-boyfriend and had come knocking at Yoongi’s door one late night when he and Namjoon were just hanging out. He had wiped your tears, given you words of reassurance, made some promises to maim your ex, made you laugh, and tucked you into his bed for the night. When he returned to Namjoon in the living room a little while later, both men sat in silence until one question was asked and one thing was said.

Have you ever had feelings for her?

And…

I never wanted to assume or say anything, but you love her and it shows.

Yoongi has since attempted to refine his whole pretending act. Did it work? No. It only got worse, and the one person who never noticed—thank god—was you. At least, that’s how he felt for years until his last relationship, which just ended. Daehyun brought up many feelings for Yoongi, mostly fears, when the realization hit that he would likely lose his chance to tell you how he feels about you forever.

When you met your now ex-boyfriend, Yoongi remembers how giddy you were after your first date. Within just a few dates, you were in such a daze that you were certain he was the one for you. That scared him so much back then. Maybe not so much now, considering how things have turned out.

Ever since that night he woke up with you in his arms, a debate has been raging in his mind. How much longer could he continue to hide his feelings for you? Not much longer. He had rationalized that it was worse if you knew, but these last few weeks? He had made his decision.

He was going to tell you tonight.

The mere thought of doing so made him sick but Yoongi realized there was never a good time, especially if he sat around waiting for one. He’d wait forever.

“Please tell your mom I am feeding myself just fine.” He speaks up, serving her some meat.

You nudge him, “She knows. But mom likes to worry about people. You’re included.”

He snorts, shaking his head as he looks to her, “I am fine.”

“If you say so…” she playfully rolls her eyes at him, which earns her a chuckle out of him.

He’s always amused by your mom’s playfulness, which you’ve obviously inherited from her and he can’t help but look at you as you chuckle.

“You two need to come home soon enough. Not only does your dad miss you,” she looks at you, “but your parents are really hoping you come down for the holidays…” She says this final part while looking at Yoongi.

“I was planning to…”

You snap your head to him, “You were?”

Yoongi looks at you, “Yeah, you said you wanted to spend the holidays back home so…I finagled some things to get ten days away from the business…”

Yoongi isn’t prepared for the softness in your features at his words, forcing himself to look away when it becomes too difficult to stare at you. His heart is thundering in his chest while grabbing his water, gulping it down.

“That’s really sweet, but still weeks away…” you breathe out softly.

He shrugs, “I knew if I didn’t plan now? I’d never get the time…”

You’re pouting at him, mouthing the air and he pushes you with his hand, clearing his throat and looking away in the hopes to hide his blush.

“Well, that’s gonna make a lot of people happy…” Your mother comments. “We’re all planning a Christmas at yours, Yoongi…”

He nods, “Sounds like something my mom would do…”

Yoongi stiffens when he feels your hand grabbing his under the table, chancing the quickest glance down to see your much smaller hand around his. The moment ends just as quick as it happens, you squeezing his hand and letting your fingers linger on the back of it before letting your hand fall in your lap.

Yeah, he has to tell you tonight.

Yoongi doesn't know how much more of this he can take.

Tonight will have to make or break it.

Yoongi got your text a few hours ago when you dropped your mother off at the train station, that feeling of dread growing in his stomach like a snowball rolling down a snowy hill for the rest of the evening. He instantly wanted to call it quits and avoid his plan. He no longer wanted to confess, but his smile whenever he got a text from you and how soft it made him feel was the reminder that he needed to just commit.

He's closing up the restaurant, putting away his cleaning supplies as he wipes his hands off on his apron. Grabbing his phone he sends you a quick text.

Yoongi [11:03 PM]: You awake?

Right away he sees you responding, making him chuckle.

Doc 🩺 [11:03 PM]: Yes. Sadly. Just finished work?

Yoongi [11:04 PM]: Yeah. I got some leftover chicken and tteokbokki…late night snack and a movie?

Doc 🩺 [11:05 PM]: …

Doc 🩺 [11:05 PM]: Are you asking me to Netflix and chill WITH snacks? 😏

Yoongi chokes on his own saliva or breath, whatever it was he needs to catch his breath for a moment. Damn you. You would be the death of him.

Yoongi [11:07 PM]: 🙄 Do you want to watch a movie with food, yes or no?

Doc 🩺 [11:07 PM]: Yes, pretty please 🙏

Yoongi [11:08 PM]: I’ll be right over.

Yoongi knew better than to invite you. It makes rejection easier if he is the one leaving you rather than asking you to leave his place.

Tonight, your friendship as you know it will change forever, all because Yoongi is about to alter your dynamic. Forever. A part of him absolutely fears this could ruin your relationship beyond repair. After all, it is always easier to claim that things will be okay without actually knowing they will be.

When he has packed the food and locked up, the drive to your place suddenly feels too short. So much so that Yoongi takes a detour, giving himself a little extra time and courage before facing you. It becomes harder to see the hope and love shining in your eyes as you look up at him. He knows you love him; there is no doubt about that. However, the only doubt that creeps into his mind is whether you could love him the same way he loves you.

The universe seems to want him to just be upfront since he finds parking conveniently right in front of your building—a first in all the years he has been coming over. No traffic, easy parking… could this be a sign that his confession would be well received?

It's obvious he is trying to reassure himself, as Yoongi is about to either improve, remain the same, or worsen the very fabric that holds your friendship together.

Why did he have to fall in love with you…

He doesn't know that answer exactly. All he knew is that it came easy to him, like breathing.

Yoongi codes into your building and goes up to your apartment. He feels just how sweaty his hands are as he holds the bag, switching it from hand to hand while hyping himself up. Your entire friendship has felt natural, and never once has he felt this nervous to be around you in any way, shape, or form.

But when he opens the door and waltzes in like he always does, he suddenly feels fear. His mouth goes desert dry, and he feels somewhat dizzy, like he might be sick. After removing his shoes, he turns the corner to find you sitting on your couch, all cozy in your sweatpants and hoodie. His hoodie. Fuck.

You look up, and the moment you make eye contact, you start to smile so brightly as you launch – yes, you quite literally launch – off the couch and slide towards him. The nerves he feels dissipate ever so slightly as he watches you.

“Easy there…” he’s chuckling as he holds out his arms to make sure you don’t trip and fall.

“I have been so excited for food. And you. Obviously, but I feel like that’s a given already…” You giggle, snatching the bag out of his hands.

He hums, following you and helping you plate the food, “How was dropping your mom off?”

You sigh, “You know, the usual. It was fine because I’m a big girl, but then it gets so serious and I start missing her before she’s even gone…the moment she was out of sight though? Tears. Not full on sobbing but y’know…”

He chuckles, “You always try to be strong for her so she doesn’t worry but you know she knows right?”

“Knows what?”

“That you cry every time she leaves…”

“How?”

Yoongi shrugs, “Oh, I don’t know how…maybe because you have a friend–ouch! Don’t smack me!”

“So it is you! I always wondered how she just knew…” You are playfully glaring at him with a shake of your head. “Why does she text you?”

“Because she knows you’ll try to be the strong girl. I mean, you are strong, but with your mom you try harder because you don’t want her to worry…” He sucks on his finger when it accidentally dips into the tteokbokki sauce.

“Well, I guess…keep going.”

“Really?”

“Are you actually going to stop if I ask you?”

He opens his mouth to speak but stops for a moment. He wants to carefully tread the waters before answering that question but he finds nothing better to tell you other than the truth.

“You know you could ask me anything and I’d do it…”

The air changes there just for a moment and then the moment is over just as quick as it happened. You’re looking up at him with wide eyes and biting your lower lip, resisting a smile.

“I know.”

Yoongi hands you chopsticks and the plate containing the chicken, making you chuckle as you walk to the living room where you’ve set up a show to watch. A comfortable kind of quiet falls on the apartment with the sounds of chewing and reality TV playing in the background. He appreciates this distraction before he makes that move, the one he’s been thinking about all evening.

And it isn’t long before plates are empty, scattered messily on your small coffee table with cans of beer and soda spread over it. He checks you’re not too tipsy to be able to handle the conversation you two are about to have and somewhat wishes you were drunk because it would mean he could have this talk with you at some other time. But nope, you are quite aware and just buzzed maybe.

Yoongi opens his mouth to speak when you suddenly stand up from the couch, gathering the empty containers and plates.

“I’ll clean these up really quick then we can continue watching…”

He grabs your hand but you pull it out of his grip, “Let me help…”

“You stay right there…” you playfully giggle as you step away from him. He sighs, prompting you to glance over your shoulder, “Stop pretending like you hate it. And let me take care of you…”

He clears his throat, leaning back on the couch and instead of watching the TV screen he settles on watching you move around your kitchen. The lazy bun on your head is coming undone, strands falling and framing your face as you look over to him quickly with a smile. He loves when you look like this. Looking happy and cozy makes him want to hold you again, never having let go of that memory.

Yoongi turns his head to look at the TV and he thinks of what he’s going to say next. And how he’s going to say it. He is terrified of messing up and saying the wrong thing, fearing he might hurt your feelings inadvertently. He fishes his phone out of his pocket and checks his messages, nothing of note jumping up at him. As his eyes gaze over the names on the list he clicks on Namjoon’s name, fingers hovering over the keyboard as he types out a quick text and sends it.

Yoongi [12:53 AM]: I’m telling her tonight.

And once it’s sent and read, relief suddenly washes over him and he feels okay. This has been coming for a long time and there is no time like the present. This sudden burst of confidence is only amplified when he gets a response.

Namjoon [12:54 AM]: You got this! 👏

While Namjoon and he had never openly discussed their feelings, Yoongi had acknowledged his emotions for you once or twice and spent the following years sharing meaningful looks with his friend whenever they were in a group. Namjoon had always been a quiet supporter for a reserved man like Yoongi, someone who rarely allowed significant possibilities beyond professional ones. Truly, Yoongi did not feel worthy of the kind of love you could offer him if given the chance.

He always thought you were too good for any of the men you’d dated before, consistently reminding you when you got your heart broken, were cheated on, or simply ended a relationship. He wasn’t so blindly in love with you that he ignored your insecurities. No, you were incredibly self-aware, and you also knew Yoongi would tell you honestly when you were in the wrong. It was another reason he loved you; you trusted him implicitly.

He glances at you one more time, your back to him as you focus intently on your phone, and that image of you standing in his hoodie, looking domestic and just existing, gives him hope for what life could be if you felt the same way about him.

“OH MY GOD!”

Yoongi rises to his feet so fast, eyes glued to you as you bend to grab your phone. Yoongi hears his phone buzzing on the couch where he left it as he slowly walks over to you. He’s about five feet away when you turn around and he’s relieved to see the smile on your face, but wondering what caused this sudden burst of happiness.

“What’s going on?”

He walks to stand behind you as you giggle, jumping up and down. As he’s reading over your shoulder, he feels a weird mixture of feelings brewing deep in his belly. Your excitement at the news is palpable and he feels it too, because it is good news.

“Seokjin proposed! Oh my god, did you know he would? Has he ever mentioned anything?!” You are so delighted for your friends he can’t help but smile.

“I…I uh, I had no idea…actually…” he gulps, looking down at the gorgeous photo your friends have sent the entire group chat. It’s the two of them with Seokjin tenderly holding his brand new fiancée in his arms with the ring being the star of the photo.

“Oh, that is so fucking sweet. God, I could cry I’m so happy for them…” you sniffle with a small laugh, rubbing your eyes already.

Yoongi puts his hand on your back, rubbing gently up and down the length of it, “It’s really great news…”

You look up at him from over your shoulder and fuck, you’re so close. He could just do it right now, exploit the happy moment in the hopes for a happier one too, but this isn’t right. It would feel too wrong to exploit your friends’ happy moment for his own.

Yoongi has to admit slight defeat, his confidence plummeting and instead focusing on the happy news in the hopes that he can avoid focusing on his disappointment. You’re still looking at him as he unexpectedly wraps his arm around you to pull you into a one armed hug. If Yoongi can’t tell you how he feels right now, he will at least give you something he doesn’t always do, which is a hug. You stiffen only for a moment before he feels both of your arms tightly wrap around him, your face buried in his chest.

He feels his heart soaring at that. You feel so safe with him and he knows it, because you show it when you're vulnerable with him in moments like this. His chin is resting on the top of your head as he smiles softly, rubbing your back still as he kisses the crown of your head.

He's immediately gone still when he realizes what he's just done. Shit. What has he done? He wonders if you've noticed because you also aren't moving.

“We’re at that age now…” you mumble.

“Mhm?”

“The age where our friends are now getting engaged and married…” Yoongi thinks about your words, the hand still at your back gently moving up and down, “soon,” he pulls back and looks down at you, meeting your eyes, “that’ll be us…”

Oh, Yoongi knows his reaction isn’t subtle at all in that moment, but your wording sends him spiraling downwards in seconds. He quickly reminds himself that your words have nothing to do with the two of you but are more about the reality that someday he’ll be engaged, and so will you, most likely to other people.

You’re looking at him so softly, your eyebrows raised as you take him in, and Yoongi’s lips are pursed gently as he looks down at you. The grip you have around him loosens, his hand pulling you just a bit closer in hope that you won’t let go. He’s proven right as you stay close, and he looks down between you two.

“Show me that photo again?”

You lift your phone and show him the gorgeous engagement photo again, Yoongi grabbing your phone to take a closer look as you both finally step away from each other but just barely.

“He’s gonna ask me to cater, I can already tell.” He jokes, earning himself a slap on the arm.

“Don’t say that…if he does ask it’s because he knows you’ll do the wedding justice. Oh my god, the wedding! There’s gonna be a wedding. Yoongi! Seokjin is getting married.” You’re giggling in disbelief at the news and he hasn’t seen you this giddy in a long time.

“Like you said, some day that’ll be us…”

You bite your lip to stop yourself from grinning, “Stop it, that idea still feels…I don’t know, weird…?”

“You don’t see yourself being married?”

“I do, but actually putting legit thought into it? With life the way it is…it doesn’t feel like a possibility because of my luck really…” you take your phone he hands back to you.

“You know that means nothing…” he sighs, “you’ll…you’ll find your penguin…”

You frown, “Did you just quote me to me?”

He winces, slightly pained at having been caught, “Yes, yes I did. You said that once and it…it just stuck with me…”

You look down to the engagement photo, gesturing to it, “He found his. Lucky guy.”

“He deserves it. We all know he’ll deny it but he’s liked her since the beginning, he was just frustrated that he did and didn’t know what to do with his feelings…” His observation makes you laugh.

“He’s been hopelessly in love with her since the beginning…” You say, playfully rolling your eyes.

Yoongi sighs because he, too, would know something about that. He looks up to you when you nudge him, “What?”

“Stay over. We can have breakfast and go for a walk before you have to go to work…” you exhale nervously, “please.”

This is new for the two of you: being nervous. Suddenly he’s scared you’ve figured out he has feelings for you, that his actions have given it away and that it’s finally sinking in. But if that were the case, why would you want him to stay?

Stop thinking that hard. He can’t help but think that maybe you could want him the same way.

He finally meets your eyes and he admires how they shine brightly, so hopeful that he will agree to it, which of course he will.

“I’ll stay…”

You turn to finish cleaning up as Yoongi does the same and cleans up the living room. You’re both quiet as you move about the main area of your apartment, sometimes glancing at each other. When he’s done turning the same cushion over and over he finally looks back at where you are in the kitchen. You’ve just finished cleaning up the sink and you dry your hands, doing a quick inspection of your hard work before looking over at him.

“You gonna be okay sleeping in that?”

He glances down to his outfit then back at you, “Yeah, I’ll be okay…”

“I’m gonna get ready for bed…” you’re shifting on your feet left to right when you say that, biting your lower lip. Yoongi waves you off with a small smile, watching you disappear as he goes to the closet where your extra blankets are. He grabs that and a pillow, setting his bed up for the night on your couch.

He hears your bedroom door open again, glancing up just as he’s about to lie down until he sees your head peeking around the corner. He stands to his full height, hands shoved in his pockets as he looks at you. It’s dim in the living room, with Yoongi having shut all the lights except for a few. He watches as you come into full view, standing there in a t-shirt and sweatpants, your hair cascading freely over your shoulders.

You exchange no words as you extend your hand to him, chewing the inside of your cheek nervously while waiting for his answer to your silent but very clear question.

He stands there, visibly shocked, when it dawns on him rapidly, like a freight train. He continues watching you; your eyes engage in a silent conversation as you wait for him to make a decision. You knew. That night you spent in his arms, you must have realized something or woken up in the middle of the night because you wouldn’t be inviting him like this. Or maybe Yoongi is going mental, thinking that’s what’s happening right now.

He takes a quick glance at his makeshift bed and then back at you before walking over. You release a shaky breath in surprise as he moves, grabbing your hand, and you look up at him, eyes wide and mouth barely open.

God, he could kiss you right now.

But he won’t. And he doesn’t. Instead, he lets you tug him down the hall as you open the door, glancing back at him over your shoulder, meeting his gaze as he follows you in. He shuts the door behind him as you let go of his hand and look at him. You walk directly to your side of the bed and look over at him as he slowly steps to the other side. It is dead silent between you two as the sheets rustle and the bed creaks under the weight of his body getting into bed first.

His back settles on the soft mattress, covering his body with the duvet as he glances at you sitting there with your back to him. You’re plugging in your phone, scooching down to lie in bed as you settle just like he did. You both lie on your backs, staring at the ceiling and breathing softly. You’re the first to glance over at him, Yoongi able to see you from the corner of his eye before he clears his throat. But instead of ignoring it, he looks over at you, and in a moment of your two locking eyes, you drag yourself over to him as he opens his arm to let you snuggle up. He holds his breath when your arm snakes around his middle and he wraps his around your shoulders, pulling you in closer as you rest your head against his chest.

You don’t speak; your actions and rapid heartbeats speak enough for the both of you as you lie together. You push your cheek firmly against his chest, shutting your eyes and moving your hand to rest there, mindlessly tracing patterns with your fingers.

Neither of you falls asleep, Yoongi focusing on everything about you: your breathing, your body, your hands, your heartbeat—everything. It feels good to have you in his arms like this again.

He feels you move as he stills, waiting for what comes next but nothing does.

So, Yoongi glances down and whispers softly in the darkness, “You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m okay.”

He squeezes you tighter, resting his cheek on your head as he shuts his eyes and releases a long held breath, “Are we okay?”

This question makes you look up as he looks down, “Of course. Always.”

He smiles in relief, licking his lips as he shuts his eyes and lets his body relax, your body also doing much of the same as he squeezes you tighter to him, effectively snuggling as close as possible to you.

“Goodnight, doll…”

author’s note »» Thank you for reading! Yoongi and Reader are finally just letting go a little bit more but they're not speaking about it. I have more excitement coming in the next few chapters for Yoongi and Reader. I will definitely be putting them through the ringer a bit. Until next time!

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