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[jimmydemaret]

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[maddiwrites]

Secrets of the Shore (Chapter 1)

Pairing: Pogues x reader, eventually JJ x reader.

Summary: This is just my rewrite of the show Outer Banks with my own twist by adding another main character which also happens to be John B’s twin sister. 

Note: Hey guys! Thank you so much for the support of my last couple of fics. All your messages have been so kind and so sweet! I’ve made a rewrite of the show with a new character that eventually falls in love with her best friend. I’m gonna be posting a new chapter three times a week. Let me know what you guys think!

Word Count: 4.3k

Warnings: None

Chapter 2 

"That's what, a three-story fall to the deck?" John B tip toes across the middle of the roof as he sips out of the can of beer in his hand.

I lean to my right, pressing against JJ's shoulder as we sit on a construction slack used to hold construction workers as they work on the siding of the home. Scaffolding, I think it's called. I narrow my eyes at my brother, counting down the seconds until he falls.

"I give you about a one-in-three chance of survival," Pope jokes from the deck below us.

John B shrugs. He licks his finger and holds it up in the air as if he's feeling which way the wind is blowing. "Hm. Should I do it?"

"Yeah, jump." Pope holds up a power drill and points it at John B like it's a gun. "I'll shoot you on the way down."

"You'll shoot me?"

"Yep." Pope closes one eye and pretends to shoot it. "Pow!"

I roll my eyes and look forward again, letting the beer slip down my throat like a refreshing glass of water. The warm North Carolina air presses soothingly against my freshly tan skin and I bask in the sunlight. Its days like these that I like the most. Days where none of my best friends have work, we're drinking causally, and joking with one another. Even if it's on a construction site in the middle of Figure Eight. But the idea of getting caught just gives me an adrenaline rush.

"They're gonna have Japanese toilets with towel warmers," Kie says as she walks out of the unfinished house.

"Of course. Why wouldn't they?" JJ says next to me with a shrug like it's not the craziest thing that a Kook would own.

"This used to be a turtle habitat, but who cares about the turtles, I guess."

"I can't have cold towels."

Kie looks up at John B, shielding her eyes with the back of her hand. "Can you please not kill yourself?"

"Don't spill the beer. I'm not giving you another one," JJ says.

As if on cue, John B's foot slips. Luckily he catches himself, but his beer, however, drops to it's death on the deck below. As John B steadies himself I release the breath I didn't even know I was holding. I take another greedy gulp of my warm beer to steady the nerves in my chest.

"Whoa! Oh, shit," John B curses.

"Of course you did," JJ rolls his eyes playfully. "Smooth."

"A plus, really." I glare up at my brother, feeling his mischievous smirk right back at me.

"Dumbass," Kie mutters under her breath. She looks up at me as if waiting for me to say something, but I only giggle to myself. John B can be clumsy but he's not going to accidentally kill himself.

"Hey!" I hear another voice shout behind us towards the street and front of the house. A voice that doesn't belong to any of my friends or my brother.

"Hey, uh, security's here," Pope says.

Immediately knowing what that means, I jump to my feet with the help of JJ right after he slugs the rest of his beer. A delirious grin dances along my lips as I hop down to the main deck.

"Let's wrap it up!"

"Boys are early today."

"Humpty Dumpty, let's roll!"

My legs take off after my friends through the house. Adrenaline rushes through my veins and straight to my head like a power high. I can't even feel my legs as they jump over wooden slacks and construction tools. The high from running from the police is better than any drug JJ can get his hands on, even the good stuff.

"Gary is that you?" JJ plays along before accidentally running into him, making him slip on his feet before running the other way. I grab his wrist and pull him closer to me to catch up. "Gary, good to see you man!"

I laugh as my feet land on the freshly cut grass in the front yard. "You're asking for it."

"JJ!" The obese cop chases after us, recognizing my best friend's face instantly. I'm not surprised, not even a little bit. JJ had his fair share of run-ins with the law.

"They're going out front!" I hear another cop shout. I can barley hear through the wind rushing through my ears.

We run into a tall white painted fence that blocks us from our car, better known as the Twinkie. Hopping fences is something I've learned to become better at after doing it so many times. However, I can't say the same about Pope. He's always struggled.

I swing my legs over the fence and land with a small 'oomf.' I look over my shoulder for my slow-poke friend and see him falling over the fence, landing on his side. I laugh as I pick him up by the shoulders.

JJ is waiting for us, clapping his hands like a coach on the sidelines at a football game because his players aren't running fast enough. But there's a smile on his face. "Get up, Pope, fatso's coming!"

"Hey!" The guard shouts behind me. He's halfway up the other side of the fence, but he doesn't have the strength to pull himself over completely. "Come here you little pricks!"

I hear the familiar honk coming from the van John B and I learned to drive in. My brother and Kie are waiting for us in the front seats of the Volkswagen van that would look better in the 70s than the 2020's but I love it. It fits our friend group perfectly. Plus I'd choose this car over any fancy Mercedes Tourons usually drive. The only time I've ever been in one of them is when I snuck off with a golf player from Georgia after a boneyard party. It was luxurious of course, but nothing like the Twinkie.

"Bus is leaving!" John B says as we get closer.

"Come on!" Kie yells at us from the passenger seat, banging the flat of her palm against the door.

I dive through the back first, landing on my elbows and rolling over. Pope and JJ follow less than a second later.

"Hey, hey, hey!" Gary calls after us as John B steps on the gas.

JJ leans out of the sliding side door that's still wide open. I lay on my back watching him as I try to catch my breath. His smile is contagious. For a boy who's been through hell and back, he smiles a lot, and I love every second of it.

He holds out his beer can as if he's offering it to the cop who's still trying to catch us...if he can catch up to it. "Check out Gary, gunnin' for a raise. Come on, Gary!"

"Wait. Slow down. Hey! You little pricks! Hey!"

"You're gonna give him a heart attack!" Kie tries to scold him but she can't fight the smile on her lips either as she watches from the side rearview mirror.

"You're so close! You can do it. There you go. They don't pay you enough bro."

"JJ, stop. Stop!" Kie says through her laughter.

I love Kie. She always tries to keep the peace between her friends and the world itself. Always the girl who raises money for charities that protect this Earth and save animals and solve world hunger. She's going to change the world someday. Her and Pope. Maybe if they can tolerate each other, they'll do it side by side.

JJ slumps back into the van with a toothy grin. He sits next to me and pulls me up so I'm sitting up straight. He dangles his arm around my shoulder and I lean further into his side. If I could choose one position to be in for the rest of my life it would be this one.

But I'd never admit that.

"Oh, come on. That sort of initiative is just begging to be punished," JJ says.

I hum in response and lean back into the seat behind me and stare out the window. A view of passing vibrant green leaves takes over the window as John B drives. The scene comforts me. Summer is my favorite season. No school. Just work and friends and the Outer Banks. Paradise on Earth, some may call it.

It's the sort of place where you either have two jobs or two houses. Two tribes, one island. We're currently driving through Figure Eight, the rich side of the island. Home of the Kooks. So, guess where we don't live.

As John B drives further South, the houses get smaller and smaller, feeling more like home. This is the South side. Or as we like to call it, the Cut. Home of the working class who make a living bussing tables, washing yachts, running charters. The natural habitat of...drumroll, please...the Pogues. That's us. Pogues, pogies, the throwaway fish. Lowest members of the food chain.

I know... a little harsh, don't you think?

So, the downside of the Pogue life is we're ignored and neglected. But the upside of the Pogue life? We're ignored and neglected, which means we do whatever we want, whenever we want.

The second John B parks the car, the boys are gathering all their fishing gear and we set off to our next destination. The marina.

"Nice haul, dude. Look at that!" JJ teases my brother when he reels in what I think is the smallest fish I've ever seen. If it was orange, I would have thought it was my old pet goldfish from when I was six. "Been all bait for, like, three weeks."

John B pulls the fish off his hook and tosses it in JJ's direction. JJ flinches back, knocking into me and almost throwing me into the water below. That was probably my fault, though. I shouldn't be sitting on an open ledge, dangling my legs twenty feet above the water.

"Watch it, idiot!" I smack JJ upside the head after letting go of the death grip I had on his bicep when I was about to fall to my death. Well...I'd probably survive, but it would hurt like hell.

"It's not my fault you chose the most dangerous seat!" JJ retaliates.

Yeah, that's JJ. John B's best friend since the third grade, which subsequently makes him my best friend since the third grade too. He's about as local as they come. Latest in a long line of fishing, drinking, smuggling, vendetta-holding salt-lifers who made their living off the water. Second best surfer I know. First being me of course. Mild kleptomaniac and a future tax cheat.

"Yeah, Mar, you should really get down from there," Kie says, walking over to me to help me down. I decide not to put up a fight. If I'm going to break my leg, I'm gonna do it in a surfing accident or something cool, not by falling off the dock.

Kiara. Or Kie as we call her. When not saving turtles or listening to Bob Marley, or getting a dolphin tattoo, she hangs out with us. I'm not really sure why though. She's a rich kid, actually. Her family owns the Wreck, this Outer Banks institution. Total cash down with the tourists and my current job. You know, I'm not really sure how her parents feel about us. But they like me enough to bring them money towards their restaurant. I bring in a lot of regulars. Advertising is kind of my thing. I'm pretty sure all my friends, even my brother, have a thing for her.

Kie hands me a water bottle and lays her legs across my lap. She lies down on the wooden bench and bathes in the sunlight the day still has to offer. Kie is my best friend. Best secret holder known to man, for the most part.

"I think she needs a leash," Pope adds, making me pass him a glare.

"The only thing useful about a leash is how I can strangle you with it," I say.

"Kinky," JJ says and winks at me. "That's my girl."

John B slaps JJ upside the back of his head.

I'm lucky my sunburnt skin is hiding the blush that creeps along my cheeks.

Pope glares at both JJ and I which only makes my growing smirk widen.

Pope...the brains of the operation...finalist for the Lucas T. Vanderhorst Merit Scholarship. And the smartest person I know. Little bit of a weirdo. His father's this legendary character, Heyward. Anything you wanted on the island, Heyward could get for you. Now, I'm not sure Heyward knew what to make of his oddball son, but it didn't matter. He was a Pogue, just like the rest of us.

"Trust me, if a leash was that easy, I would have tried a long time ago," John B mutters with a hint of a smile.

John Booker Routledge. My insufferable twin brother. Pain in my ass. Number one partner in crime. I hate him but I love him. Pretty much like any sibling relationship. We live in an old fish shack on the marsh. The Chateau as my dad use to call it. My dad disappeared at sea nine months ago looking for a shipwreck. I mean seriously, who disappears at sea these days? I miss him a lot. He may have been a little neglectful, but he took care of us the best that he could. My mom, however? She split when I was three. Last I heard she was in Colorado. At least I think it was Colorado. Honestly who knows and who cares.

Since my dad vanished, my Uncle T is supposedly my legal guardian. At the moment, he's in Mississippi, building houses which means it's just me right now, on my own, hangin' out with my brother and my friends.

Three months after my dad went missing, he was officially presumed dead. John B is more of an optimist than I am. He refuses to sign the paper and until he sees a dead body, he's not giving up. I back John B's decision, but I'm more realistic about what happened to my dad. The ocean, although my favorite place to be, is also one of the scariest.

My dad is probably dead and I will never get the closure that I want. So I'm dealing with it the best way I can, although I'm pretty sure everyone is a little worried about me, especially Kie now that John B is starting to follow in my footsteps by exhibiting reckless behavior.

But I'm getting better now. Day by Day. At least I wasn't acting like I did when my dad first left us.

                                                     ~ ~ ~

I woke up with a slap to my ankle and my head buried deep into my pillow. I groan from the abrupt living alarm clock that's now pacing my room and throwing clothes from my closet at me. It only makes me squeeze my eyes tighter in hopes for at least five more minutes of sleep.

"Seriously, Mar, we need to go. We're late." John B rips my blanket off my body, leaving me exposed in just my pajama boxer shorts and a tank top. The sudden chill sends goosebumps up my arms and legs.

"Go without me." I push myself up on my elbows and grab the clothes he threw at me. I knew meeting the social worker alone wasn't an option. Even if one of us goes to this stupid meeting, it will prove to the social worker that we're not being responsible enough to keep DCS off our backs. As far as they know, Uncle T is still living with us and keeping us safe.

"You have five minutes." John B ignores me and leaves my room, slamming my door shut.

I roll my eyes and tumble out of my soft bed. I slip on my jeans shorts and a white t shirt that I tie in a knot to make it a crop top. Underneath it I have on my plain black bikini, knowing that I will be surfing the second we get home. The News has been reporting a storm for weeks that's suppose to hit tonight. Vicious waves and crazy winds sends a thrill through my body.

We arrive to the social worker's office only two minutes late. I thought that was a sign of responsibility, but the social worker only looks at us with distaste as we sit in the two chairs in front of her desk.

"John, Marleigh, it's come to our attention that you two are unemancipated minors living on your own." Her hair is pulled back into a tight low bun and her glasses are perched on the tip of her nose. Her suit looks way too tight for comfort, like it's squeezing the life out of her.

John B scoffs and leans back into his seat as if we have nothing to worry about, but I know his heart is beating just as wildly as mine. "No....no." The social worker raises one brow in suspicion and glances in my direction to either confirm or deny what John B is saying. John B sees this and answers for me. "No."

I just shrug as a response, which only makes the social worker more weary. She leans into her desk and folds her hands on top of our folders that are piled in the middle. "I need honesty to help you. That's what we want, right?"

"Yeah. I'm being honest."

"Okay, then when is the last time you spoke to your uncle?"

John B looks down at his watch and purses his lips. "Uh...thirty-four minutes ago."

"When's the last time you saw him?"

"Two hours and...forty-three minutes ago?"

I hold myself back from rolling my eyes. It's clear on the social worker's face that she's not buying into any of John B's lies.

She sighs and turns to look at me. "We're gonna come out there tomorrow to talk to your uncle. If he's not there, we're gonna move forward with foster care." Foster care. The words make me dig my nails into the wood of the arms of the chair I'm in. The last place I ever wanna be is in foster care. I want to stay here on the island with my brother and our friends. Not with some random family who couldn't care less about us in a place I'm not familiar with. "I want to assure you, we're gonna find you a safe and loving home."

She says it like she's offering us a better life, one that we would want, one that sounds like the better option but it isn't. I ignore the worried look John B sends my way and watch the seconds go by on the clock above the door. We basically have twenty-four hours to find Uncle T or someone to be pretend to be him.

                                                  ~ ~ ~

The winds begin picking up early in the afternoon, the rain hitting by 5. On my way home from working at the Wreck, I watch people board up the windows of their stores and homes. All John B and I can do is hope that our little shack won't blow away by morning.

Unfortunately for Pope, he's at our house when John B catches me leaving the house with my board. When he tells me to stop, I'm prepared to put up a fight. I've been looking forward to surfing in this storm all day - something I can use to push the DCS lady out of my head and the promise she made that sounded more like a threat.

"You think you were gonna go out without me?" John B smirks and leads the way to the beach.

Pope follows behind us like a lost puppy, basically talking to himself as he tries to convince us that this is a bad idea. We stop at the edge of the beach. It's almost impossible to see the ocean through the wind and the rain.

"Those aren't surfable waves, bro," Pope says, squinting through the rain that splatters our faces wet.

"Says who?" I say, passing him a devious smirk and make a run for it towards the ocean.

I paddle past the choppy waves, letting the water knock me around like a feather in the wind. When I see a decent looking wave to ride, I prop myself up on my feet and stand. I lean into my board. The warmth that's taken over my body outruns the cold water I fall into when the waves crash over me. My body tumbles under the water and my board bumps against me. I try to swim back up to the surface but the current is strong. I don't know where I am and I can't see under the water. My nose burns when water rushes up my nostrils. I squeeze my eyes tight and just swim upwards in hope of reaching air. Maybe this was a bad idea, but the thrill is still keeping me excited.

I finally reach the surface after what feels like years. John B and Pope's screams are dull against the whistling wind. I hop back on my board and give the two guys a thumbs up and a wicked smile. Pope looks like he's about ready to have a heart attack and John B breathes out a sigh of relief as he paddles closer to me.

"You alright?" He asks me.

"Fine," I yell against the wind.

John B nods. He looks like he's about to say something else, but something over my shoulder catches his attention. I turn myself around, intrigued at what's he's seeing other than the water, clouds, and a bunch of rain. Then I see it. A boat that barely looks afloat, so far out that it looks like a speck against the rain.

"We should probably go," I say. I don't want John B's mind to run to what might have happened to Dad out there. Maybe he was caught by a storm like this, maybe his boat went overboard and his body is out there floating with the fishes. I don't know. The last thing I need him to do right now is speculate. Even if the same thoughts are running through my head, John B thinks he's still alive. These thoughts will keep him up all night. He doesn't move, however. "John B let's go."

                                                  ~ ~ ~

JJ is already laying on the pull out bed in my living room when I get out of the shower. JJ crashes here most days of the week. He'd much rather be here than with his drunk abusive dad. Our friends don't know the extent of how shitty his relationship really is with his dad. But I do. I found out when I was thirteen. JJ snuck through my bedroom window after a tough night with his dad. His face and torso were covered in bruises. It took everything in me not to burst out in tears right then and there. But for some reason, he trusted me of all people with his biggest secret. I cleaned him up and let him sleep in my bed with me. Every once in a while we repeat the process. Sometimes he's not even hurt, he just shows up. And I let him in because I like having him there.

I fall onto the mattress next to him and prop my head up on my hand, leaning on my elbow. I run my fingers through his hair, feeling satisfied and bubbly when he moans in response.

"When did you get here?" I ask him.

"You were in the shower. Don't worry I didn't peak, but I was tempted," He says into his pillow.

I use the same hand I had woven in his hair and punch his shoulder playfully, making him fall on his back. His lips turn up in a grin.

I lay there for a second, looking up at the ceiling. My eyes feel heavy, the events of the day officially taking over my body. I peek an eye over at JJ who's watching me carefully as if I might break under his fingertips.

"What?" I grin to myself, thankful for the darkness so he couldn't see the blush on my cheeks. Again.

"You all right?" He asks, pushing my hair out of my face so he can look straight into my eyes.

"Why wouldn't I be?"

JJ hesitates, like he's trying to pick the right words to say. I watch him closely, studying every mark and crevice on his face. Beautiful and clear like always. Even when it's covered in bruises and blemishes, he's handsome. I could look at him all day.

"You hate storms," He says.

"I can sleep through anything," I tell him. "And I don't hate storms. They make for...eventful surfing days."

His face drops to a more serious one. "You know what I mean."

I do. Storms have never really frightened me. Not really. But ever since my dad disappeared nine months ago, I worried that he would get caught in a storm like this, that by morning there would be a knock on my door from an officer who would tell me that a dead body has washed up on shore and they ID'd him as my father. The image leaves me with nightmares on nights like tonight.

JJ's the only one who knows this.

I don't like talking about it. Like JJ, we have this in common. So instead of telling him I'm fine and him not believing me, I pull the blanket at the edge of the mattress over our bodies and tuck myself into his side, laying my head on his shoulder. A position so intimate for just us "friends." I hope he can't feel my heart pounding beneath my skin, against his side. I let my body soften against his, feeling sleep take over me. I fall into a dreamless sleep next to JJ, hoping that the storm will be gone by the time we wake up.

[bubmyg]

Can you write about crushing Yoongi always trying to find an excuse to hold your hand or touch you in little affectionate ways?? 💞

prompt: seven different types of physical affection and seven different times yoongi acted upon those

word count: 2,215

1. caressing/stroking

Yoongi had an unwarranted itch to be closer to you. He barely knew the taste of your name on his tongue yet he so badly wanted to crush his fingers around yours, flatten his lips against your cheek, test if your skin tasted like the sweet vanilla wafting off the soft cotton of your shirt. 

He rocked onto his heels, shoving the tips of his fingers into the front pockets of his jeans. The relaxed lean of your stature was in direct contrast to the rigid tip toe of his own, your head tilted against your shoulder, care free smile painting your lips as beautiful laughter tumbled past petaled lips to each squeaky giggle presented by Hoseok. 

Rocking steps tottered Yoongi closer, a pendulum sized movement that seemed to account for a hinge drilled between the exaggerated part of his feet. Hoseok acknowledged him with a tilt of his head, parting the flush of his apple cheeks as he followed the shy crush the elder’s chin against his clavicle, scuffing his untied shoe into the tile. 

“Hi!” Hoseok cheered, folding his arms to his chest as he took a heeled step backward. 

Yoongi acknowledged his friend with a curt nod while peering under thick eyelashes, gaze instead swinging to where you stood. An equally bright smile stayed toothless over your plush lips, eyes crinkling slightly, chin tilted toward him. 

“Hello,” He greeted lowly, a rumbling timbre that shivered at the waver of your bottom lip. Gingerly and almost unconsciously did his arm raise, crooked fingers gently rubbing over your bicep down to the crook of your elbow where his touch shyly returned to glue against his hip. “How are you?”

You refused to recognize the surprised puff of air that caught in your throat as his feathery light contact. 

“I’m great, Yoongi,” You hummed, meeting the bashful scrunch of his squished cheeks, “How are you?”

2. back rubs/massages

Yoongi eyed you as you chewed raw into the dip of your bottom lip, hunched over your laptop, one eyes scrunched and the other bordering on a mist of elicited tears. 

His steps were slow, calculated, sinking a sizable distance away from the bend of your thighs on the couch cushions. Quietly, he inquired, “Where did Jimin run off to?”

You shrugged, a full bodied movement that had your wrists clattering to your laptop and your fingers clicking into a jumbled mess of keys. “Taehyung called him I think,” You whispered, voice meek as the angry red squiggle of a typo mocked the frustrations of your key smash. “I don’t mind being here alone. I was about to head back to my place anyway…”

He nodded, leaning back a bit to support his elbows on the high rise of his thighs, ring clad fingers clasped underneath his chin. Eyes craned, sliding over the expanse of your open word document. Softly, “What are you working on?”

A small whine gurgled in the back of your throat, head shaking as you shoved your laptop up to teeter off your knees. “Just an essay,” After a moment, you added with a bitter laugh, “it’s really frustrating. I don’t think I’m ever going to get done.”

Yoongi leaned further, crooked fingers rubbing soft circles into the small of your back before he could coil the jump of his muscles. He reveled when you seemed to relax into his ministrations, braving him enough to flatten his expanse palm over your spine. 

“Are you okay?” He softened between circled rubs. 

You arched your back when his fingers flexed, blunt fingernails scratching into your skin, watching his profile from the crease of your eyes. 

“I will be. Thank you for asking.”

3. holding hands

The shake of your giggling shoulders brushed against Yoongi’s, his head tearing away from darting between the playfully heated exchange of Jeongguk and Seokjin to instead map the smile lines that laced the beauty of your visage. 

“Do you even know how to hold a golf club?” Jeongguk lipped, effectively dodging the playful box of Seokjin’s fist to his collarbone in a fit of high pitched giggles. 

“First of all,” Seokjin huffed, “it’s mini golf…”

Namjoon mediated it, stepping between the two with a soft smile crinkling crescents into his eyelids and palms flattened out to the eldest and youngest. “We can split into teams,” The leader suggested, “It’ll make everything go quicker for us and for everyone else that’s just trying to have a peaceful evening.”

“I like teams,” Hoseok chirped, smiling affectionately at a bouncing Jimin who threw himself against his arm, “Teams are good.”

Yoongi shoved his fingers between the spaces of your own, tugging you impossibly close into the dip of his side. He barely had time to consider the repercussions or the dusted pink cotton that rooted to his cheeks, announcing a space above a whisper, “Y/N’s my partner.”

When no one acknowledged him, he cleared his throat, speaking evenly, “Y/N and I are on a team,” His gaze cut promptly to the shine of your eyes, stuttering, “I mean, if that’s okay.”

Six pair of eyes softened knowingly. 

“Okay, Yoongi-hyung,” Taehyung beamed. 

You nodded, securing the crook of the top link of your fingers to the prominent veins on the back of his hand, squeezing tenderly before turning your pointed attention to a gloating Jeongguk, “We’re going to kick your ass-”

4. hugging

A towel etched over the droplets of sweat painting ebony locks against a crinkled forehead, sweeping away the result of the exhaustion clinging to Yoongi’s sore muscles. The pain balled and wretched away in favor for the jump of his heart in his throat the second a small commotion erupted near the door of the dressing room, the stocky figure of Jimin diving over a chair to intercept a bobbing figure. 

“Jimin!” You gasped, thrashing in his grasp when damp locks dug into the juncture of your throat. The stick of sweat surrounded you, drenching at your top and clinging to the back of your nostrils as a nearby staff member tutted in reprimand at the small man. 

He huffed, pulling away to inspect you with a smug grin. “You mean you come to visit us and you can’t even handle a little post show sweat?” He feigned hurt, hand fist into his shirt over his heart, features scrunched as his chin jerked back. 

“Yeah, yeah,” You swatted at chest, barely catching the pads of your fingers to the wrinkle of his top as you craned your neck over his shoulder. “Where’s Yoongi?”

His heart swelled, towel clutching tighter in delicate digits as he slid into your line of sight, waving softly, “Hi, love,” Yoongi greeted, teeth in his cheek unable to contain the light of his gums stretching over his lips. The towel met the drench of sweat at the nape of his neck on habit, eyes trailing the bounce of your figure around Jimin as you moved to stand in front of him. 

“You did great,” You blurted. The sole of your shoe dug shyly into the tile as you sidestepped a purposeful staff member. “I mean you always do, but…”

The brunt of the towel smacked Jimin’s cheek as Yoongi stepped forward, softly looping his arms around your stature to bring you into a tentative hug. “Thank you,” He hushed, alternating the slide of his hands over the supple skin of your back. “I’m really glad you’re here.”

5. cuddling/holding

Yoongi spun in his desk chair, mouth parted to question what you wanted for dinner. The sighed inquiry instead stuttered down the length of his tongue, getting lost in the sharp swallow he took as his eyes cast down the curl of your stature on his studio couch. 

You were curled into yourself, holding a pillow across your arms like a blanket. The awkward curve of your wrist cradled your phone, the soft illumination brightening the contours of your features in a separate shade from that in which cast in shards from the monitors of his computers. Faintly, he caught the rise of goosebumps littering the bare expanse of your skin, eliciting a tighter clench to your jaw as your toes curled into the cushion. 

Cute. 

A chuckle matched the creak of plastic as he rose, trekking the short distance to slide in beside you. The movement of his hand against your thigh was planned, thumb stroking out the bumps, smile curtaining when you glanced at him over your phone. 

“Are you cold?” Yoongi reached, plucking at the puny upholstery of the pillow with his thumb and index finger, “Because I have much better blankets than this.”

You rolled your eyes, launching it to bounce off his chest. “I mean yeah,” You trailed off, dropping your phone in your lap, “I’m a little cold, I guess.”

He shook his head, touch leaving your skin as he shuffled for a stack of shelves in the corner. The spread of his arms came wielding a downy grey blanket, one that wrapped over the planes of his stature as he fell back in beside you. 

“I come with the blanket,” Yoongi’s teeth bit into the corner of his lip, gauging your reaction, “If that wasn’t clear.”

You crawled the short length to the surface of the blanket, cuddling against the warmth of his chest as he aided in wrapping the fuzzy surface over the chill of your skin. Your cheek met knuckles curled in the puffy hem of the blanket, eyes fluttering shut as he continued to gather his embrace around your figure in his lap. 

“I wouldn’t have wanted anything less,” You whispered. 

6. kissing on the face

He met you halfway down the hallway, catching the trip of your stature into his chest with a muted, “Hey, hey, what-”

A spilling sob racked your shoulders, tears seeping through the thin cotton of Yoongi’s shirt as you clung to him. He stuttered only for a moment, gently drawing his arms over the high slope of your shoulders to crush you against him. “Please, you have to calm down,” He told the frantic shake of your shoulders, “Breathe for me angel, try to calm down.”

You met his requests in stutters, sharp breaths drawing your swelled bottom lip under your teeth, stalling the wet of your cheeks to gentle streams rather than rushing rivers, loosening the clutch of your grip on his shirt to flatten your hands to the dips in his collarbone. 

“Sorry, I just came straight here, I meant to call…” A huff dropped the tautness of your shoulders, voice a bit smaller as you told him, “Jin let me in. They all saw me, I’ve probably worried everyone, I’m sorry, I just-”

Yoongi hushed you, cupping your cheeks in his palms to bring your gaze firmly to his own. “It’s okay,” He assured you softly. 

You silently observed as he ducked at the waist, angling your head to press a tender kiss to your forehead. The wet of his lips lingered on your flaming skin, pooling a fond buzz all the way to the tip of your toes as you froze in his hold. 

“You’re okay,” Yoongi corrected, pecking your cheek on the way down in slotting his forehead to yours, “You’re okay, yeah?”

7. kissing on the lips

“Angel?”

Yoongi covered his laugh by the back of his wrist when your head shot up, scattering granules of cinnamon and sugar across the treat balanced on the paper plate perched in your lap. The clump of fried bread continued to snag on the crease of your mouth, faltering when your lips parted in a soft shape of questioning. 

“You uh,” He pointed with a crooked finger, arching over the bend of his knees, “You’ve got a little something on your lips.”

You pouted, a soft whine of indignation falling from your lips. “Get it for me.”

He blinked, once, twice, cheek dimpling when his teeth sanctioned the inside of his mouth. His knees straightened, coming to crouch next to you as the curled edge of his thumb reached for the piece of the treat. It plucked easily to the pad of his thumb, flicking to the soft blades of grass wavering in the gentle breeze. 

You held your breath as Yoongi’s hand slid back across your cheek, thumb clearing the collection of sweetened spice on the crease of your mouth before rising to the soft apple of your cheek. A sharp inhale met the puff of his own cheeks as he leaned, softly pressing his mouth against the spot he’d just cleaned. 

“Got it,” He hummed, dark chocolate orbs falling to your own. 

Bluntly, you corrected, “You missed.”

“I-I what?”

You giggled, sliding the elephant ear to the grass below as you shifted, sliding your fingers across the pliable squish of his cheek. Your mouth slotted just a breath away from the dead center of his lips, nose cocked to slide against his own. 

“I said,” You breathed quietly, “You missed.”

The heel of your palm flattened to the middle of the dessert when Yoongi leaned over you, eagerly tasting the sought after sweetness of your mouth, suddenly sure that the sugary syrup of your lips he’d so often envisioned was natural and not due to the soft pieces of bread you’d shoveled into your cheeks. 

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