#bts holiday fluff

[jiminrings]

mature

pairing: jungkook x reader

wordcount: 8k

glimpse: the good thing about professing your feelings to jungkook is that it'd be over with, whether or not he likes you back — the bad thing is that he rejects you, even if you haven't confessed.

alternatively, crushing on jungkook who's in your friend group is, has, and will never be a good idea.

[ push n pull fic YIPPPEEEEE, fluff, angst, So Much Yearning, friends to lovers trope, jealousy, dunking on a stewpid jk (as one does), arguments that kinda hit home, redemption!! ]

notes: WE R SO BACK!!!! thank u for waiting 🫂🤍

as always, lmk what you think <3 send in feedback n love to my askbox anytime!!

You will never tell Jungkook how desperately you want to be loved.

In your defense (much to Jungkook’s offence), you want to be loved as desperately as he acts on an everyday basis. He’s not pathetic in the sense that he’s hopeless, but rather pathetic in the light that you want the entirety of him (stubbornness and occasional dimness included) to rub off on you.

You want to be loved pathetically in the same way that Jungkook never computes his expenses when it comes to self-indulgence yet always calculates when it comes to actual requirements. You want to be loved as wholly by the guy who can get by one DIY dorm dinner at a time by asking for scraps from the whole floor with a grin and his hands cupped in begging.

Jungkook’s one of your friends, if not the best you’ve ever had, and it’s a miracle that you haven’t jumped at each and every available chance to confess your growing feelings for him.

You bit your tongue that one time he bought you "one of those silly blind boxes you like" on a whim from a bookstore he only went inside to in the first place because he was dying outside in the heat, only to open it for you with your eyes closed and earn you an extra rare figure.

You had to physically restrain yourself (read: clasp your hands together in front of you) when Jungkook made you swap your counterfeit, barely-holding-on kitten heels for his trustworthy slides on the way home because your research presentation prior had you pacing nervously.

Every time that he gives you your tax of whatever he ordered (which always ends up being the best variant that your friend group could possibly order for a meal or a sweet treat), you have to etch into your head clearly, with ballpoint pen, that you will never tell Jungkook how desperately you want him to love you.

Every time that he gives you a one-on-one friend outing, just as he does with everyone else from your circle of ten people and counting (you lost count because you figure that all of you are about to outgrow the long table in the library that nobody else could fill), you convince yourself to never tell him how much you want it to be just you.

You figure that you’ll tell Jungkook that you do hold a candle for him, despite not detailing the extent, in this lifetime— maybe even the next time you get a moment alone with him, but you figure you won’t do it now; now, when he’s berating you for just a tiny sacrifice you made that’s minuscule for everything he does for you and everyone else.

“You’re impossible!” he huffs, his annoyance for you being loud enough to stop his faux display of studying and gather attention from everyone else in the library who actually is. Jungkook holds up his phone for you to read, brows scrunched at your look of amusement. “Jimin told me you were lactose intolerant!”

You can’t figure how and why Jungkook and Jimin’s conversation even flitted towards you when you recall clearly that the lactose-filled meal in question was from two weeks ago. You don’t question it because you already know that even giving it a second thought would already be too pompous of you, and you don’t question either why Jungkook looks too devastated at the realization.

“I just tolerated it,” you snort, burying your nose back into your notes, missing the flash of regret in Jungkook’s features.

He doesn’t know whether he’d feel more sorry over the fact that he didn’t know you were lactose intolerant, or that you didn’t speak up at all to preserve his excitement over eating at the restaurant he wanted to try out.

“But why would you?” he sulks, completely foregoing the textbook he has opened on the same page for the last hour.

You know exactly why you did, but you’d rather not tell Jungkook now. 

You’ll tell him some other time, that much you’re sure of, but not now — not now when he’s too devastated over your tummy issues, and not now when he’s just one revelation away from chewing you out over something he has to learn from someone else.

“Your broke ass bought it so I had to,” you murmur, rolling your eyes as you rest your chin on the palm of your hand.

“Foul,” Jungkook immediately chuckles, shaking his head at your retort even if he knows you’re just kidding around (he knows you won’t hurt him like that that), finally opening his laptop.

Jungkook, your friend, finally types on his laptop, yet it’s not for the contribution that he badly needs to put in for a group project.

Instead, he opens up the Google Doc and writes in a bullet point underneath your name, the words do not give cheese acquainted with three exclamation points — along with your name, is the names of your mutual friends and Jungkook’s observations that would come in handy for an outing, a gift, or both.

Jungkook’s that good of a friend, and that’s why you’ll never tell him how desperately you want to be loved by him.

( ♡ ) 

Getting gifts for someone who has a credit card and has no inhibitions when it comes to buying whatever they want is a difficult task.

Getting Jungkook for Secret Santa this year is even harder than the last, and that was when Jin snuck five strips of his name and left more than five of you (you don’t even know how that happened) without gifts, all while he was laughing to himself after he successfully gaslit everyone into thinking that they were all drunk and made the mistake themselves.

You don’t know what to give Jungkook that he doesn’t already have. He doesn’t have a girlfriend the last time you checked and while you can’t exactly wrap yourself in ugly, recycled kraft paper (as opposed to Jimin’s dumb, all-knowing-about-your-hidden-feelings suggestion), you’d rather not drive Jungkook away, even if you don’t know either how to drive him in.

You don’t have the slightest clue to what his ‘surprise me ;)’ scribble underneath his name means and it makes you feel guilty, far more than he ever could have after Jimin’s revelation of your dietary restrictions. 

It’s not the dilemma of who would sit next to who in the large albeit crowded dining table in the cabin that you rented out, nor is it the cooking and wrapping duties that each of you are tasked with that stresses you out this holiday season.

You wish so badly that the largest champagne problem you have at the moment was wondering if your Christmas gift for your nitpicky mom and nonchalant dad back at home arrived in time. You pray that your biggest hurdle is either convincing Namjoon that his room is just cold and not haunted, or breaking off a fight between Eunwoo and Soomin because they keep fighting over whose overpriced film camera will be used for the picture by the tree, or even talking Mingyu down from smacking Jin in his sleep.

The largest champagne problem that you have, even if it’s actually between life and living said life in peace without minding your inevitable heartbreak, is worrying about Jungkook’s gift.

You hold your breath as soon as Hoseok gathers everyone into the living room, your nerves probably getting the best of you because you hear Jungkook hollering to whoever’s closest to the thermostat to adjust it because your teeth kept chattering.

You have nothing to be nervous about, you convince yourself as Jungkook steps up into the middle and awaits with wide arms, your best friend being another victim of assuming that the comically large wrapped present is his (it’s not).

Jungkook doesn’t have any expectations for you to meet, you convince yourself as he becomes even more hyper when he learns that it’s you, so much so that he takes a lap around the backyard with his hands clapping furiously.

You can’t love Jungkook any more than you do now, you realize as you see Jungkook throw his head back in glee when he opens up your gift.

It’s only a Himalayan salt lamp. It’s only a lamp that you didn’t buy for so much. It’s only a thing that Jungkook said to you in passing one time, yet he’s beyond grateful — enough for him to carry you in his arms and take another lap around the backyard.

“God, you love me soooo bad,” he lulls, teasing you mercilessly as he unceremoniously drops you so he could adore the lamp up close. “I always wanted to lick one!”

“You’re so stupid,” you mutter, rolling your eyes at his excitement over something so simple; something so insignificant in the world of thoughtful, expensive gifts.

You affectionately think that Jungkook’s stupid, yet you can’t tear your eyes away from him.

“I didn’t hear a no,” Jungkook hums with his tongue out, eyes wide and flickering between you and the lamp. “Should I do it? Should I? I’m doing-…!”

You put a spoonful of cake into his mouth instead, the whine that escapes his throat still sounding like gratefulness to your ears.

Tonight’s not the night wherein you tell Jungkook how badly you want to be loved by him — not when he’s so preoccupied with his new salt lamp that he keeps daring people to take a lick of, not when he’s the one who’s being convinced that there’s a ghost in Namjoon's room and being bullied into sleeping in.

Not when Jungkook’s being the perfect, lovable friend that he is during the holidays and every other day.

( ♡ ) 

You’re well-aware that Jungkook’s a catch.

You know that he’s a catch and he’ll never live it down, and neither can you.

You’re very painfully aware that Jungkook’s a catch because you’re reminded of it every single day whenever you’re with your friends. You know that atleast two of them were integrated into the group in the first place because they liked Jungkook, and that doesn’t really bother you (more than it should, atleast) anymore. 

Sora’s crush formed out of boredom on Jungkook disappeared as soon as she got a boyfriend, but you understand why her gaze lingered on him in the first place.

Eunji’s crush on Jungkook already dissipated the moment she learned about his GPA, but you get why she had been attracted to his charm anyway.

You know that he’s a catch and that he’s not solely yours either, and the latter makes you humble.

“There’s flowers on your desk again,” you point out, the arrangement irking you for more reasons than one. “Why do you have to be so popular and handsome.. and lovable,” you mumble, the tail end of your mini rant barely being heard by Jungkook because he's too busy admiring his gift.

“What’s that now?” Jin piped up, eyebrows furrowed upon picking up your angry muttering. He's beyond confused, maybe just as much as you are, when you just snarl at him for his unintentional use of supersonic hearing.

“And why do I have to sit next to you even if I have allergies,” you redirect your attention to Jungkook who has to sweep the flowers to a beaten-up paper bag for safekeeping, the item in his backpack being the most used object for all of the admiration towards him.

“Because you’re the best-est friend ever,” he rolls his eyes, the faux pout on his lips surprisingly softening you instead of the opposite. “And maybe I’m the worst-est one to keep putting you through this.”

“You sound so stupid,” you reply automatically, crossing your arms and keeping them there. “But you’re right,” you exhale through your nose, conceding your defeat over willingly letting him put you through this, carrying the blame by yourself.

Jungkook doesn’t only act like this with you anyway. There’s no special treatment, there’s no false hopes being promised — it’s just you genuinely happening to fall for him.

“Come on, just tolerate it! Pinch your nose or something!”

“Why should I? Find another seatmate,” you sulk, making a point to angle your back away from him and towards Jin who’s at your right, doing his best at holding in a laugh over how ridiculous the both of you look.

“Obviously you’re the one with the latest phone so you have to take pictures of me with the flowers!” Jungkook whines, punctuating his sentence with a hand on his hip. He’s sulking because you’re sulking, and you’ve never hated him more at the moment. “Why else would I force you to sit with me?”

Jungkook’s stupid, and so are you, so you’d rather not tell him how desperately you want to be loved by him today.

( ♡ ) 

In all fairness, you thought you would lose nothing.

You thought you would lose nothing because in the first place, you barely expected anything out of Jungkook. Liking him didn’t mean that you were indebted to him, and liking you back isn’t something that he owed to you either.

You weren’t expecting Jungkook to fall on his knees and say something stupid to hint at his mutual love for you (although you did think about it a couple of times), but you atleast expected a little bit of respect from him to try and see the strength it took you to even confess.

You planned it perfectly, even taking a page off his book and making a whole word document for it wherein you spent days typing whatever crossed your mind throughout the day and erasing what seemed the most impossible throughout the night. 

In your word document, you and Jungkook would be out in the snow, skating in an outdoor rink even if neither of you know how to. You figure that you won’t attempt to drag (read: hobble with) him to the middle of the ice because in case he doesn’t like you back, the waddle back to the exit wouldn’t be as awkward; if Jungkook does like you back, you’ll still be hobbling to the exit, albeit happily.

In your word document, there’s a spine of a script that you would say when the day comes. You’ll skim along the lines of how you’ve never been so enamored with someone in your entire life (with the internal note that you’ll dial it back a bit if his expression turns sour), of how bright he makes your days for you, and how he doesn’t have to be obligated to like you back.

In your word document, you’re set. You’ve planned a foolproof blueprint of what would turn out, whether or not Jungkook is set on loving you the way you desperately want to be —

Except now, Jungkook completely undoes everything you’ve ever worked for.

Now, he looks at you with a glint in his eye that looks more apologetic than it is endearing. You don’t even know what led to your heartbreak exactly because one minute, you were just studying, and by the next, Jungkook’s already letting you down even if you hadn’t had the chance to rise.

You swear on your life that you weren’t giving any signals at all that you were actually about to confess. You were only silent, refusing to talk to him because you were too stressed over your task and that you were scared you would burst into tears if you tried mouthing the formula out loud, yet Jungkook mistakes it for your love.

Whatever you do on a daily basis, whatever you do based on your nature, Jungkook mistakes it for a confession that he wasn’t even supposed to hear until the end of the week.

He wasn’t wrong about the fact that you love him — what he’s wrong about is his assumption that your silence around him when it’s just the two of you, right now while you lose your mind over an assignment as you’re dressed in last week’s sweater and last semester’s horror, is your confession.

“I’m sorry, Y/N,” Jungkook winces, gently patting you on the shoulder as you’re yet to digest his rejection. “But I just don’t think we’ll work out.”

( ♡ ) 

You theorized that getting over Jungkook would be fairly easy on the chance that he rejects you after your confession.

You figure that Jungkook himself as a concept would be drastically difficult to move on from because he was just so lovable. He doesn’t know how to read a room and it’s one of his better quirks when you’re worrying over nothing. He doesn’t know much about knowing when to let up, and it comes in clutch when he’s pushing you to wholeheartedly do an assignment even if you’re already burnt out from crying.

Jungkook, as a concept, is indestructible. He’s the everyday variant of the goodness that some frat guys possess occasionally. He’s the realistic, attainable version of a main lead in a manhwa that’s only perfect 1/4 into the plot. 

He’s the manifestation of every good deed a stranger has done for you, except he’s someone you know with your heart and not just someone you could sketch from memory. 

With that, you also figured that moving on from Jungkook can’t be that hard because he was too out of reach despite being in the same friend group as you. Surely, it wouldn’t be so catastrophically hard to move on from a guy who just gasps for air every five minutes when he’s in charge of cooking in the BBQ hangout (instead of using the exhaust like a normal person), or from a guy who thinks citing references for a paper is only a suggestion.

The funny thing about it all is that you never actually confessed to Jungkook.

Actually (and contrary to the assumptions of the other friends you have from your circle), you’ve never said it to his face that you do have a crush on him. You’re ultimately known to be the friendliest person to ever walk the campus, and while not the most confrontational, they atleast expected for you to confess to Jungkook in your own way.

What actually happened was that Jungkook read through you — he does happen to be right about your feelings for him! He’s the second friendliest person right beneath you, and so the way he rejected you should never sting this much.

Jungkook thought it out meticulously. He read into the way you spent extra attention listening to him with your eyes practically gleaming. He read into the way you’d lag back behind him and hold him by his wrist whenever you were all crossing the street. Hell, he even read into the way you would take a shot at opening the extremely tight water bottle from the vending machine before everyone else.

The funny, tragic thing about it is that whilst Jungkook wasn’t wrong about pinpointing your feelings for him — you never confessed.

Jeon Jungkook, the second, ultimate friendliest man that your university has ever known, rejected you without even hearing the actual words from you.

He’s turned his back on you even before you could reach him, and the realization sinks in you unsettlingly. You never expected for him to like you back because it would be unfair of you, and you knew that; what just happened to hurt you most was that Jungkook didn’t even think twice.

He hadn’t given you the chance to pour your heart out at the very least.

He hadn’t even given you the space to breathe right after the rejection, because he skips and puts a smile on before winking, telling you that he’ll never speak of it again because you must probably be embarrassed.

The funniest thing about it all is that you aren’t embarrassed — you’re actually devastated about it.

It’s an odd event for Jungkook to feel lonely because with such a big friend group, he never thought he’d feel a little empty despite literally rubbing elbows in a circular table. He never thought he’d come to be a little annoyed at Jimin and his routine, playful, borderline offensive banter he’d always have with you at the top of the morning, and he never thought he’d even be more annoyed over the absence of it.

There’s one less laugh in the circle. One less bag strewn underneath the table, one less coffee order written on the notes app, and one less person to look for when hanging out.

You’re missing from the friend group, and oddly enough, Jungkook seems to be the most devastated about it.

“Why is Y/N not here?” he asks in the middle of Jin retelling his drunken fishing story, grabbing the attention of everyone in the table and maybe just about everyone else’s in the common area with the way his voice is frantic. “And why is she there with the new kid instead?”

Everyone flits through separate conversations after Jungkook’s interruption, some even wincing to themselves because although they know about your admiration for the guy and not your confession-that-wasn’t-one, they figure that nothing good could come out of Jungkook sucker-punching the new kid in his head.

“I don’t know, man. Buddy system, maybe?” Jin shrugs, stealing his food because it was obvious that Jungkook’s attention is everywhere but himself and the table.

Jungkook snorts, crossing his arms tightly to the point that even he feels a little suffocated. His entire face is crumpled with hurt, eyebrows furrowed out of frustration when you still aren’t looking at him; when you’re still not looking at him with confusion in your eyes, silently telling him off for glaring.

“Buddy system? We’re in uni. Who the fuck would bully that guy?”

“By the looks of it, probably you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he huffs, refusing to unclench his fists on his thighs.

“Well, what’s it to you that Y/N’s hanging out with someone new? What are you so heated for?” Jin elaborates, eyes flitting to you again.

Jungkook could only glare at you.

“What are you so nosy for?” he asks defensively, leaning back on his chair in a faux display of relaxation when all he wants to do is to remove the stupid smile on the guy’s face as he watches you talk.

Unlike Jungkook, Yoongi’s not stupid at all — in fact, he’s been vigilantly aware of Jungkook’s glare on the side of his face ever since you sat in front of him.

Yoongi’s not stupid, so he angles himself in a way that Jungkook gets to see him more. He doesn’t know the guy personally, but he does know of him and his “charm” that seems to make everyone go nuts for him. 

If looks could kill, then Yoongi would’ve already had mourners at his feet, but if provocation could posion, then Jungkook would already be frothing at the mouth.

The thing is, Yoongi doesn’t even know about your admiration nor your foiled confession to Jungkook. The latter hasn’t even done anything personally to him. 

All he knows is that you’re in a big friend group and that you chose to sit with him, your friend whom you share a couple of advanced classes with but not a friend-friend like Jungkook is, and that you’re very easy on the eyes and admirable yourself if he thinks about it (he doesn’t need much time to ponder over it) — and, that he doesn’t really like being glared at.

“No really, I insist!” he laughs, pulling out his handwritten reviewer from a backpack with a grin. “I don’t know anybody else who likes making reviewers anymore by hand, so really, you’re just perfect to get them.”

“But you worked so hard on them,” you gasp, eyes already widening in both surprise and awe at the thick stack of papers in front of you. Yoongi’s handwriting and formatting are perfect; there’s no unnecessary calligraphy, the vividness of the highlighter is just right, and there’s even sticky notes at the bottom for additional details and references you could cross-check. “I.. I don’t want you to feel that I’m taking advantage-…”

“But I offered! You didn’t ask for reviewers from me shamelessly like every other opportunist does,” Yoongi laughs, throwing his head back as he slides the papers closer to you. “I’d be a really shitty senior not to give you any help. If anything, I think you deserve even better than-…”

Jungkook can’t resist.

Jungkook can’t take any more of watching you and Yoongi push and pull over whatever topic he can’t hear nor force Jin to eavesdrop on. He can’t take another second of seeing you be so happy talking to a guy that he doesn’t know, so much so that he comes up to you without a second thought.

“Hey,” he greets, his body only turned to you, completely ignoring Yoongi and blocking him off from your sight. “You didn’t order any coffee.”

You angle your body slightly to excuse yourself, except Jungkook conveniently happens to mirror your every move, confusing you even more. “Oh, I wasn’t feeling like it,” you trail, looking up at him in confusion while Yoongi could see right through him.

“Really?” Jungkook replies, the smile on his face being far from amused, eyes narrowed as he tries to catch up with the own annoyance that he harbors. “Because I’m seeing two coffees right now, and one’s in front of you, so…” he trails, shrugging his shoulders exaggeratedly.

Jungkook’s jaw is still clenched, along with his fists by his sides. He’s standing tall between you and Yoongi with his shoulders squared and his face steeled, the immovable forces that are him and the unnamed pit in his stomach starting to garner attention.

Namjoon has his phone out. 

Hoseok only has one cheek remaining on the seat because he’s ready to stand up and collect bets. 

You’re still sitting, mostly confused, when you realize the attention that’s starting to build towards the three of you.

“Yes, Jungkook. Great observation,” you snicker, the discreet roll of your eyes making him take offense.

“Oh okay, I see. So you were lying by saying that you weren’t feeling it, and I don’t get the hold-up of you-…”

“What did you come here for now, Jungkook?” you angrily whisper, keeping your head down as you retain your gaze on him and lightly tap at the table to indicate to Yoongi for the both of you to move. “It’s a little far-fetched for you to come all over here to pick a fight about coffee.”

Jungkook huffs, turning his head back to Yoongi behind him because he most definitely saw your signal. The lazy, amused gaze of Yoongi is what sets him off even further, the anger in his eyes unmistakable, except you recognize it for only what it is and not jealousy, because Jungkook doesn’t see you like that.

Or atleast that’s what the both of you assume.

Jungkook, your best friend, scoffs loudly.

“You sound so defensive right now.”

( ♡ ) 

You don’t respond much to Jungkook’s calls. 

As a matter of fact, you don’t respond much to Jungkook at all.

You don’t show up whenever he’s present, meaning that you’re only magically available whenever there’s half of your friend group at the most because if there’s more, then the search for the missing members would ensue, then you’d end up squished in a long table next to Jungkook again.

It’s very much like him to form grudges, yet he can’t even tell if he’s capable of having one towards you. Jungkook, with all his chest and afflictions, wants so badly to hate you because you’ve been blowing him off ever since he literally and physically came between you and Yoongi.

He apologized to you for that (and not to Yoongi because he didn’t really matter to him at all), and he doesn’t know the answer for it yet because his messages still remain unread. He’s enlisted the help of your mutual friends on various occasions by trying to get them to give all his little treats for you, yet you refuse them as soon as you catch wind that it’s from Jungkook.

He even tried studying for real in the library in hopes that reverse psychology (he thinks that’s what it’s called) would work and that thinking he doesn’t want you to come would make you do the opposite, yet it still doesn’t work. Jungkook’s already mad that he studied for nothing (he’s more interested in getting you to notice him than to actually learn), but he becomes even more heated to realize that your anger for him is just directed at him alone.

You still talk to your best friends, with the exception of him, and Jungkook has never been more envious of people who are apparently of the same status as him.

Jungkook wants you to drag him like you drag Sora to the nail salon and have you whisper at his ear to tell the nail tech not to cut your cuticles because you’ve been afraid of getting them done since that 1/34th part of a medical drama episode you watched on your phone.

Jungkook wants you to complain to him like you complain to Namjoon when you’re frustrated with a professor whom you’re convinced is only critical to you and no one else, later making him promise not to tell anyone else from your friend group because they like said professor.

Jungkook wants you to run to him as you always did, just because you feel like it. He wants to sit in silence with you again and put his hand on your knee when you’re in the verge of tears just looking at your schedule for the week.

He wants to stand guard again outside the bathroom door of the expensive coffee shop because it’s either the lock is broken or because Namjoon's managed to instill in you the existence of ghosts in cold spots.

He wants to be the Jungkook like you’ve always known, again, because it seems like you’ve forgotten him completely. You have the Yoongi now, it seems like — the smarter, more composed, and more charismatic variant of him that he wants to get rid of because Jungkook never predicted the existence of him.

Even more, Jungkook didn’t even entertain the concept of him being replaced because it was always the two of you together, even in a sea of friends. 

He’s your best friend, your confidant even, but nothing more — all Jungkook feels is that he’s even less than the status the both of you are assigned to be. 

He’s angry and sad and disappointed all at the same time because he thought he had almost lost you since he rejected your confession. You were fine; you were as fine as you could be for someone rejected when it comes to yearning to be his, and yet the moment you let Yoongi in, Jungkook feels as if you threw everything the both of you had just for him.

“Just so you know, student-teacher relationships are illegal,” he corners you one morning in your dorm, two godforsaken weeks after chasing you around the campus yet turning up empty.

“What the fuck are you on about?” you immediately scrunch your nose at him, the accusation he throws at you being too farfetched to the point that you don’t even think of shutting the door at him, ignoring Eunji’s betrayal for you by pretending to come over.

“What am I on about?” Jungkook exasperates, the scoff that leaves him making you feel small in front of him. “You’re literally the one who’s getting chummy with fucking Yoongi of all people!"

"Yoongi's a teaching assistant! He's our senior! Do you not know that?"

"Do I look like I'm interested in any other people outside of our circle?" he retorts, lips turned up in a snarl. Jungkook provokes you with a sarcastic glare, the look on his face enough to make you throw your head back in irritation.

"Come on, even Jin and Jimin are friends with Yoongi and-..."

"This is not about them!" 

"But you just-..." you stop as soon Jungkook interrupts you, losing your gaze on him for a single second to close your door and when you look back, you find that he’s already comfortable being vindictive on your bed, his arms crossed and his back straight.

"Also, teacher and teaching assistant both have the word teach so it's literally still illegal," he narrows his eyes sarcastically, the tone to his voice unclear despite his words suggesting otherwise. "You look so stupid right now."

"Jungkook can you stop?!" you burst, your temples stinging at the back and forth that Jungkook’s thrown the both of you in. “What the hell is going on with you?"

Jungkook had sworn to himself up and down that he has so much stuff to pick with you. He knows he has so much baggage to unpack and how much shit he has to bring up, even if it’s only been two weeks with you. He’s partly relieved that you’re in front of him and you still haven’t fled, yet a large part of him is beyond frustrated with you because you don’t even look like as if your time apart has taken a toll on you.

Between the two of you, it’s only Jungkook who looks like his distraught has manned him completely beyond surrender. Even coming to see you by hatching a plan with a hesitant friend is something he considers an act beyond surrender — whatever the space is between surrender and demand is where Jungkook lies with you.

"No, what's going on with you!” he argues, standing to his feet to come face-to-face with you. “You can't just spin this around when I've done nothing but be a good friend to you!"

"You think I'm not being a good friend to you just because I don't spend every single minute attached to you? I can still hang out outside of our friend group without being-..."

"This is not about our friend group!" Jungkook emphasizes once again, the tell-tale sting of tears behind his eyes coming up because he feels as if you can’t hear him no matter how much he repeats himself. ”This is about us and how you abandoned me ever since I rejected you!"

"I didn't abandon you, Jungkook!" you spit, pushing at his chest lightly with your finger to get him to back up from your face yet he refuses to. He’s still insistent at staring you down with his jaw clenched, eyes wide and unblinking because he knows that if he moves even just a millimeter askew, he’d cry. “You didn't even give me the chance to confess to you! You rejected me without even hearing me out. Do you think I would still be able to talk to you, face to face like how you want so badly, as if nothing happened?"

"The answer would've been the same even if you confessed,” he grits with his chest heavy, not at the way he keeps holding his breath in order not to break down in front of you, but because you look at him with so much disdain that it makes him want to puke.

"Do you not think I know that?" you laugh humorlessly, gnawing on your bottom lip as you don’t drop his gaze. “Do you think I didn't prepare for that possibility? I knew what could've happened if I confessed and I'd still be okay with it, Jungkook!" you raise your voice, throat already giving out at the slightest pressure because you know you lost the fight ever since you let him in. ”What I'm not okay with is that you didn't even give me the chance.”

It’s evil, really, with the way no amount of self-pity could ever pull you from the grave you’ve dug up. You went for Jungkook, carrying all grief you knew you were bound to feel, and yet you still feel unprepared. You still feel unworthy even moping for someone like Jungkook because not even his rejection, nor anyone else’s acceptance of your admiration by some sort of miracle, is enough to make you feel like you’d be missed.

Your two weeks without Jungkook is your rehearsal for the two months, then two years, then two forevers eventually without him by your side. You had still been able to live by yourself and with your friends, excluding him, and you thought you were fine because it feels as if nothing had changed.

You thought you were fine until Jungkook gets in your face to tell you that it’s not, and all over again, you’re reminded of how desperately you want to be loved by him to the point that you’d rather drown in your own pity to try and preserve whatever’s left of you.

"I told you the answer would-..."

"Shut up!" you cry, steeling your nerves when you realize that Jungkook’s angrily crying in front of you, wiping at his eyes hastily. ”For the love of god, shut up!"

Jungkook stays quiet, not because you told him to, but because nothing good comes to mind when he realizes that you’re crying because of him.

"See? You don't even get where I'm coming from because you're not even giving me the chance to explain myself without making it all about you,” you sob, finally pushing him away, to which he lets you. "That's the problem with you, Jungkook. You're too self-involved."

"Not true," Jungkook whispers, shaking his head earnestly even if he feels the stupidest he has ever did in his life in front of you.

He follows your steps out of routine even if his brain had convinced his system that he hates you just seconds ago, arms instinctively trying to crowd you when you almost trip on the flooring on your way to the coat rack.

"Since you keep insisting that I abandoned you," you chuckle dryly before grabbing your jacket, turning your back on Jungkook and on your own space, which had just been the default hangout place of the both of you for the longest time, in pursuit of your own quiet without him. "Let me follow through."

Jungkook doesn’t want to tell you how desperately he wants you to want him again, to love him as you already did, and neither do you.

( ♡ ) 

The perks of having a big friend group of that the absence of several members wouldn’t make that much of a difference when it comes to hanging out. It would still sustain itself without a few extra voices joining in on the chatter watching movies and the bullying when it comes to a forgotten birthday greeting here and there.

The downside of being in one, is that said big friend group doesn’t matter at all to Jungkook when you’re not in it.

The lengths that your friend (read: a word that Jungkook’s come to abhor) has went through since your fight at your dorm are basically incomprehensible because he’s fully involved himself.

He’s pining after you pathetically, just like how you had always dreamed of, yet seeing him take turn after turn just trying to gain your forgiveness for something you’ve always pitied yourself for makes you feel guilty.

In Jungkook’s defense, he wants to be forgiven and loved (again) as desperately as he acts on an everyday basis. Not only is e pathetic in the sense that he’s hopeless, but also pathetic in the light that he wants the entirety of you (stubbornness and occasional sharpness included) to rub off on him.

“I know I’m stupid. I-I.. I know that I was unfair for not even letting you confess your feelings because I felt like dying when you started to ignore me,” he mumbles to your bedsheets, his legs crossed on the ground and his head muffled by the fabric because he doesn’t even want to sit next to you in fear of you revoking his chance to apologize in person, again, as if that’s not what he had been doing the past weeks. “Y/N, you don’t deserve someone as stupid as me and I hate it so, so bad.”

The sound of Jungkook apologizing to you has already been repeated enough to the point you’ve learned when to tune him out, but with the way his heart precedes his tone this time, you stop folding your clothes in favor of Jungkook who’s just two seconds away from passing out on your bed by fabric conditioner-bathed quilt-induced suffocation, to which he couldn’t pass up on because it was your scent and he missed hugging you.

“I can’t catch up with you on anything that you’re talking about with Yoongi. The only times I open a book are when I want to look at you but I don’t want you to see me. I can’t— I can barely even talk to you without feeling like I’m beneath you,” he admits lowly, the truth of his rejection finally springing up a little too much, and almost a little too late. “I thought, stupidly, that we wouldn’t work because you deserve someone better.”

“I don’t need you to catch up with me, Jungkook,” you murmur, lightly slapping his cheeks because he looks sleepy from all the sniffing he’s done on your quilt, but really, his eyes are only narrowed into slits because he feels like he’s about to cry. Again.

“But I need to, b-because when we run out of things to talk about that you’re willingly to dumb down to my level, what else could we catch up on?” 

“You’re not stupid. I just say-…”

“No. Don’t make excuses for me,” he laughs lightly, still sat on your carpet obediently like a dog because he doesn’t want to push your boundaries. “I’m beneath you and I didn’t want to drag you down with me because I.. I didn’t feel that you deserve me,” he confesses. “But I want you so badly, Y/N. You have no idea.”

Jungkook wants you so badly, that in your insistence of self-pity, it was his self-preservation that led him to cry by himself when you finally left the library after not-confessing to him.

He wants you so badly, that in his fit of self-preservation disguised into stubbornness, he had tamped down his desperation for you.

“I want to catch up with you, not you to slow down for me,” Jungkook rests his chin on your thigh, his wide, pleading eyes looking up at you. “I’m so sorry, my baby. I’m so, so, so sorry for being stupid enough to let you go the first time,” he tilts his head, resting his cheek on your awaiting hand. “Please. I’m just begging you to slow down for me this one time,” Jungkook swallows the lump in his throat, nudging your hand gently with his cheek. “Please let me look stupid trying to earn you.”

Jungkook, without fail, tells you how desperately he wants to be loved by you.

[kithtaehyung]

holiday (3tan special) | myg

title: holiday  pairing: 3tan!yoongi x reader(f)  series: masterlist | three tangerines | fireworks | house party | basketball | stay | sidewalk talk | friends | dalo | like that | anytime | sundress season | yoongi’s interlude | forfeit | flutter | video call | busted | broken (pt. 1) | broken (pt. 2) | lollipop rating/genre: pg (18+) ; fluff ; brother’s best friend au, implied age gap au, holiday au summary: from what you can gather, holiday gift exchanges are supposed to be pretty straightforward. but this one quickly escalates. because no one can follow directions. note: this is all thanks to the person that suggested a 3tan crew secret santa! they don’t do actual secret santa, but they do host a gift exchange. so enjoy this speedily but still tenderly written holiday special! i wanted to get it posted asap so that we could all have it during the holiday season. hope it helps lifting spirits in any way<3  warnings: yoongi looks like sin, but reader does too🤭, kissing, no one follows directions, but especially jimin, hella kissing, no fr jimin is chaos incarnate, sibling holiday woes, tense situations, tender moments, gift exchanges, dialogue heavy i’m so sorry, also not too edited i'm sorry again sdfkljdskl. reader is adorable y'all i wanna cry, 3tan crew being wholesome af drop date: december 27th, 2024, 8:37pm est word count: 8.1k bc i love y’all???

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“Wait… I’m in this, too?” 

Your brother winces while checking his phone, probably also seeing the texts that Jimin sent to a freshly created group chat. “Tae and Chim roped us in this time. But it’s cool if you don’t wanna.” 

As you both don work attire in your foyer, you shake your head, one hand firm on your bag strap, “I don’t even know how they work.”

“I think we random draw names. Then just give a gift to whoever we get.” 

Seeing the names and numbers in here, you’re already running through a lot of possibilities. Maybe too many possibilities. But you don’t wanna make things more complicated or awkward, so you quickly concede, “I mean.. I’m down if you are.”

“I guess it’s cool.”

Head lowered, you notice that your brother’s shoes are the ones you gave him for his birthday a couple years ago. Because those days are the only ones you both celebrate every passing run of three hundred and sixty-five. “At least we’re doing something this year.” 

He chuckles to his feet. “Two years in a row.” 

Your sad laugh tumbles and rolls next to his. “Wild.” 

“Hey.” When he pauses, it’s to wait for you to look up. “If you ever wanna talk about it, we can.” 

There are a lot of times in which you dismiss your brother. Because it’s just what siblings do. 

This time is not one of them. 

“Same,” you offer, the weight of the world dragging your smile down. 

He gives you a hug, and you feel the luxury press of his suit as you lean in with scrunched brows. 

Two years in a row. 

Maybe things do suck less with time. 

When you both head out the door to your cars, you wonder if your brother knows how much you appreciate him and his friends for including you in things. Even if you don’t show it as much as you need to. 

Guess this time of year is a good place to start. 

Work drags in the wake of oncoming holiday. 

But you’re learning to appreciate the decorations around the office, including the little cards that coworkers have given you at your desk—despite your many protests that they didn’t have to. 

When you look up, you start to notice other things. Like the way people smile just a little more. Or the way peppermint and cider waft around the building, smelling of sweet instead of spice. 

You wonder if Jungkook has decorated the studio, too. Or if he recruited everyone else to help with decorations, which means that Yoongi and the guys had to fuss with lights and whatever else people spend money on.  

Laughing to your many stacks of papers and documents, you start daydreaming of what it would be like to decorate the house.

Would you and your brother do it someday? You do admit that it’s kinda nice to look around the neighborhood. And when you went into the mountains last year, you concede that the surrounding town decor was pretty inviting. 

Maybe your house would be a little brighter on the inside too if you both just…

You get a notification on your phone. When the screen brightens, you see that it’s for the app that shuffles you all for the gift exchange. 

You have no fucking clue what you’re doing.

But here goes.

Opening and hoping you get someone that’s easy to please, you stare at your device and blink a few very hard times. 

And after every time, you still get a name that has your heart quickening faster than reindeer working overtime. It’s reindeer, right? You think that’s cor—

“You okay?” 

Snapping your head up, you notice that one of your coworkers stopped mid-stride to check on you. Staring at his candy cane tie, you try not to be distracted as you slightly cringe, 

“What do I get a guy for the holidays?”

“Friend or lover?” 

Well, that was not what you expected to hear! 

When your jaw unhinges, you’re quick to snap it back into place. “Umm.” 

“Oh, this is juicy,” he perks up, quickly settling into a nearby chair and resting a strong chin in his hand. “Tell me more, I got time.” 

Laughing, you shake your head while pretending to type on your computer. “Nothing to tell.” 

“That means you got a whole lot.” His eyes are way too shiny right now! “But alright, I’m gonna assume both. In which case, I suggest something nice.” 

“Something nice?” 

“You know, like. Nice nice.” 

“It’s for a gift exchange, though,” you slump, hands stopping on the keys. Looking at his whole holiday ensemble, you divulge, “The money limit’s definitely not enough for nice nice.” 

“Then fuck the limit?” 

Your answer is more of a sound than a word. 

But he does get you to consider, even if just for a little bit. “Maybe…” 

“Fuck the limit,” he advises again. “He’s gonna dig that. Especially since everyone will see it.”

Your face falls from the snowy sky. “Everyone?” 

“Uhh, yeah? You said gift exchange, right? Everyone sees what everyone gets.” 

“Oh. Right,” you pretend to agree to your computer. Because no, you actually didn’t know that. “Guess it’s been awhile.” 

“Well, that’s what makes it fun! Good luck.”  

While you would normally agree, you have a whole hoard of conflicting feelings. Because while seeing Yoongi’s name on your screen is enough to get you giddy as hell, you know there’s a couple people that may not share the same sentiments. Especially if you gift him something nice nice. 

In front of everybody.

However… 

As your striped and jingling coworker strides away with a hum, you drum your fingers on your minimally decorated desk. 

Maybe there is a way you can finess this. 

After a few weeks, the day has come for not just one exchange, but two—your friends also decided to have your own. Because it’s the easiest format, you convinced them with logic, seeing their shock at you being the one to suggest the exchange in the first place. 

When they asked if you were sure, you assured them that it was okay. And the way they all brightened told you that you made a sound decision. Even if they still seemed hesitant, you know it’s because… 

You’ve never done this. 

So as you observe everyone in your bare living room, you start to see how their presence alone illuminates the space, with gifts in shine and glitter painting the area in holiday colors. 

This is nice. 

“So… Uhh.” You clear your throat, watching everyone look at you at the head of your coffee table. “How do we do this?” 

They all laugh before Taehyung explains, “So one of us goes first and says who we got before giving the gift—you can sit, you know.” 

In the midst of more teasing, you settle onto the floor while exclaiming, “I’m nervous, okay! This is really new to me.” 

“You have a gift to give, right?” 

“Yeah?” 

“Then you’re already doing great,” Reia assures, and you’re even more excited to give yours away. Because you drew her name. 

But before you can say that, Taehyung continues, “So after someone gets their gift, they announce who they picked, and so on.” 

“Pretty straightforward,” you observe. “I wanna go first!” 

Dom cackles, “You just wanna get it out of the way.” 

“And?” you question, grinning when you shoot up and grab your very amateurishly wrapped bag. “Okay, okay, I got…”

“This is adorable,” Yuri cuts in, and everyone’s agreement makes you suddenly shy. 

“No! Don’t make fun.” 

“We aren’t!” Taehyung reaches out to rub your leg. “Promise. Who’d you get?” 

“I got… Reia!” You exclaim, raising your bag a bit as she yells with everyone. The sudden raise of noise gets you a little shocked, but hyped nonetheless. And maybe a bit nervous that your gift won’t live up to the excitement. “Sorry about the wrapping job.” 

“What are you talking about, this is so good,” Reia soothes, smiling wide as she delicately takes out the folded paper. “Wow, the wrapping is nice?” 

Dom chimes in as she leans in, “Yeah, this is too good. Did you watch videos?” 

“Uh huh.” 

Everyone laughs again as you keep your nose held high. Because sucky or not, you were not gonna half-ass your first ever gift exchange. With seasoned people, at that. No way. 

When Reia opens the gift you carefully picked while perusing through a local music store, you watch with the anticipation of a small child, eyes wide and waiting. Hoping that the best outcome is the real outcome. 

And when she quietly yells behind her hand, everyone cheers while asking what she got. When she turns the package around, they cheer even more, because it’s a guitar pick set in her favorite colors. And one that you knew was so, very much her. 

She stands up immediately and opens her arms for a hug, and you blink before getting lovingly crushed. 

“Thank you,” she whispers in your ear. “This is more than great.” 

“Of course, babe,” you murmur back, feeling her jean jacket under your palms and a beating in your chest. “Thank you, too.” 

The rest of the exchange goes off without a hitch, with you cheering with everyone and understanding the cues more and more. Everyone’s gifts are wonderful, and Yuri’s the last to go out of the five of you. 

And she got your name. 

You figured giving the gift would be the hardest part. 

But somehow, this part is a lot harder. 

Braving it anyway—because there’s ironically no time like the present—you carefully unwrap the thin package and stare at what’s inside. 

It’s a photocard. But the picture is of the five of you, one that Taehyung took with his long ass arms while the four of you huddled behind him with drinks in hand. Around its edges are stickers, hearts and stars and cute little animals. 

And it’s the most precious thing you’ve ever seen. 

You don’t even realize you’re crying until Yuri rushes over to ask if you don’t like it. 

“This is the best thing ever,” you choke out, and she smiles before laughing and tearing up, too. “I love us.” 

“We’re the best, duh.” 

“Got that right,” Dom adds to the air while Reia and Taehyung start cleaning up the wrapping scraps. “You like your first gift exchange?”

“I should’ve joined y’all sooner.” 

“Joined us?” Taehyung looks up from the ground. “What do you mean?” 

“Oh. I figured you guys do this every year.” 

Tae looks at Yuri, who then looks at you again before very seriously admitting, “We’ve never done this, either. Not with each other.” 

“Really?” 

“Yeah.” She taps the back of your now most precious, most coveted photocard ever. “We didn’t even think about it since you wouldn’t be there.” 

Smiling at your prized possession, you vow, 

“I’ll be here now.” 

Regarding all of them, you start to decorate your place in your mind. Seeing where all the lights go. Where all the little trinkets hang, or whatever. You don’t quite know how this goes just yet, but you do know there’s trees involved. So that’s gonna be figured out in a year’s time. 

“I’m not missing this again.” 

With bellies full of laughter and a little bit of cider, you and your friends head over to Jimin’s cul-de-sac. 

Dom took the wheel this time, so you get to stare out the passenger side window, eyes reflecting golds and colors as you take in the surrounding lights. 

Were they always this pretty? You don’t remember being so taken by electricity and staggering electric bills, especially the houses that go all out and cover every nook of their yard in lights. 

But it’s a spectacle on every corner and street, and Jimin’s little half circle of houses keeps the holiday illumination alive. 

“Uhh, I think we can park down there,” you point, noticing there’s some space a little bit beyond the street. It’s alarmingly next to where Yoongi had to park once, and you cherish that memory with stars in your eyes. 

“Everyone have their gifts?” 

“Tae, if anyone lost theirs on the way here, we have other issues.” 

It’s a quick walk to Jimin’s, and the music around the house gets louder as you approach his entrance. There are people already set up in his open garage playing what you assume are card games, and everyone greets your group as you pop in to say hi. 

“Hey!” Namjoon calls. “Y’all are late! Everyone’s inside.” 

“We had our own party first,” you call out, struggling with your gift bags and food tray. “Can someone—”

Before you finish your ask, you smell nice cologne and feel a big presence at your side. 

When you look to see who’s assisting, you slow in your motions before uttering a small,

“Thank you.” 

Jungkook slightly smiles as he grabs your last bag. “Your perfume’s nice,” he compliments behind tousled bangs. Which makes you blink because that comment is more than hard to come by from him. 

So you can only grin. “Just got it,” you explain as you follow your friends inside the house. “It’s a dupe, can you believe it?” 

“Damn! It’s a good one.” 

“I know,” you agree, very proud of your find. Taking the gift bags from his hands, you tilt your head. “Can you bring the tray to the kitchen?” 

“On it.” 

When you make your way to your friends at the front area, they all eye you with concern. But you wave it off and shrug off your coat to hang on the loan coat hanger—earning teasing and whistles.   

“Shut up,” you groan, laughing with everyone before straightening the reason for the noises. It’s a dress you’ve been eyeing specifically for holiday parties. Because as soon as you started to shop for your gift exchanges, that quickly spiraled into shopping for outfits to wear to them. Did your coworker spook you into looking good because it was a public event? Maybe. Absolutely. 

So you shopped around before finding a dress that even you knew you looked good in. And the past couple weeks were the longest stretches ever because of your anticipation to wear it again. 

As you and your newest fit walk into the kitchen, you start to greet everyone, giving them hugs and smiling bright at their compliments. Because you feel good. You feel nice. Maybe you’re just drinking the holiday cheer and letting it consume you but you don’t care because it’s fun this time. This isn’t like any other year, and it’s wonderful. 

But then. 

Even the most wonderful moments have to come to a halt. 

And yours crash when you see Yoongi. 

Leaned back on one of the kitchen counters, his body appears relaxed in another damn black button-up, telltale silver chain hanging from a neck you wanna devour in front of the whole house. 

He was already annoying last year. But this time, his hair’s longer, and made up with just the right amount of disarray and a little bit even tucked behind his ear.

Fuck, this is so much worse! 

If he wasn’t so attractive and magnetizing, you’d have way less than ninety-nine problems. It would be a lot closer to zero. 

But you make your way over to him anyway, because of course you would. Of course he knew you would, too. 

“Hi,” you greet him, hands tingling with the desire to cup his beautiful chin and yank him in for a kiss. 

But he greets you back while giving you a hug, not without giving you a very obvious once-over. 

“Beautiful,” he whispers in your ear before pulling away, which can only make you babble out, 

“What?” 

He grins wide. “You look nice.” 

Oh. Oh, he really did say that. Why are you surprised? Why are you always surprised? But you have to stay poised so you stick with a neutral, 

“So do you.” 

“Thanks,” he says with a sly curve, still leaning back on the counter with a drink in hand. “Say something else.” 

“Goodbye forever,” is what you go with, back heating with his staccato laughs following your speedy retreat. 

No, no, no. He cannot notice how excited you are to give him his gift. Your bubbling excitement needs to be projected elsewhere. Because you know you picked perfect. It’s something you know he’d appreciate. 

But he cannot have his ego inflated anymore or else the house would float to the sky. 

But fucking hell, he looks damn good and he knows it. 

After an hour or so of socializing and keeping to your little friend circle, Jimin gets everyone together in the big living room to do the exchange. 

“Okay! One, two… Okay, we’re all here, so. Who’s gonna start?” 

When someone calls his name, the man grins and shakes his head. “Nah, I’m host.” 

“So shouldn’t you be the one to start?” 

“My house, my rules!” Jimin argues with zest, pointing to the guy that dared to challenge him, “So you go first.” 

And that man just so happens to secretly be yours. 

Shouts erupt around the living room, and you can mostly hear Hoseok and Seokjin since they’re closest,

“Go, Yoong!” 

“Ah, Yoongi’s first for a change.” 

Secretly and not so secretly, you’re hoping and wishing that he pulled your name. But the odds of that would be pretty slim if you pulled him, even though it was an even chance across the board. 

But as he gets up from the arm of Jimin’s couch holding a small gift bag, you determine that maybe it’s best if he didn’t pull your name. Because you already had trouble opening Yuri’s gift. How the hell would you control yourself opening his? 

“K, uhh. I got…” 

Wait, he’s looking towards you from across the room.

Shit. Is it happening?

You? 

“Taehyung.” 

A pang of disappointment and relief shoots through your veins, even when you shout with everyone while watching Tae smile from his place right next to you.

Yoongi walks right up to your seats, which are really some extra fold-out chairs by Jimin’s decorated tree. And he smells so good. Why do you have to be close to him again? 

But this moment is about Taehyung, so you watch as he opens the gift. When there’s a small box inside the bag, he opens that to reveal a nice, slim… wallet? 

Wait, is that leather? 

Your mouth drops as everyone’s up and raising questions already, and you can clearly hear Jungkook and your brother protest the highest,  

“Wait, huh?” 

“We set a limit for a reason!” 

Yoongi’s hands stay in his pockets when he refutes, “It was on sale.” 

“Nah, he’s lying!” 

Taehyung doesn’t know what to say, so when he looks at you, it takes all your strength to encourage him neutrally, 

“It’s so you! Deserved.” 

Yoongi looks at you before asking your friend, “Is it okay?” 

“It’s perfect,” Taehyung says, full of gratefulness. “I’m just shocked.” 

Jimin and Shiv chuckle from one of the couches, 

“Oh? He’s never shocked.” 

“This is new.” 

Yoongi smiles as Tae gets up to hug him, and you’re immediately okay not being the one receiving anything right now. 

Because you don’t need anything from him. 

All you want is his happiness. 

Once the initial gift is given, everyone goes down the line. And you’re feeling a little lighter after knowing who Yoongi got. Also, you feel less and less awkward about your gift, since the chaos of Yoongi’s was only the beginning.

Because when Taehyung gifts your brother a chain, everyone’s up and yelling again while your sibling is shocked to hell. 

On one end of the living room, Namjoon shakes his grinning head while Jungkook throws his back, 

“Alright, there needs to be a penalty for the most expensive gift.” 

“We obviously didn’t give a shit about the limit.” 

Everyone’s laughter fills the house, even drowning out the faint holiday music floating from the surround speakers. 

Immediately clipping on his necklace, your brother shouts, “Am I the only one that stuck to what we agreed on?” 

“Sucks for who got yours then.” 

Everyone starts laughing or reprimanding Yoongi for saying that—you with a cackle included. 

But then your brother busts out a fucking watch for Shiv and everyone goes bananas. 

At this point, Taehyung’s fully laughing behind his fingers on his forehead, and Jimin collapses on a gawking Yoongi when Shiv quite literally jumps up. 

“What the hell? Dude, I can’t take this.” 

“Yes, you can! And you will.” 

Fingers are pointing in every direction while people are calling each other liars, and your brother laughs on like a gremlin.

But it’s all so adorable that your heart is squeezing. Shiv’s damn near tearing up. “I’ve been eyeing this one for forever.” 

“I know! You wouldn’t stop running your damn mouth about that thing.” Your older sibling claps him on the shoulder. “You can shut up now,” he says with a grin, and Shiv gives him a big hug. 

“Thanks, man.” 

“Don’t sweat it.” 

Shiv’s turn. And everyone is waiting for what he decided to gift. 

Turns out he keeps the shenanigans going by gifting Jungkook a luxury tie set.

The blond’s jaw drops as he stares hard at the package. Looking up quick, he has to ask for sure, “A set, dude?” 

“It was on sale!” 

“Again?”

“Are we all gonna say the same lie?” 

Everyone can’t hide their amusement, with creased eyes and fake annoyance in every seat. Jungkook can’t believe his luck, since he’s been telling himself to get dress clothes forever but hasn’t gotten around to it.

“You gotta dress like a man now, kid,” Shiv tells him with a bright smile. “There’s a lot coming now that you’re making it.”

A light bulb softly glows when you realize that Yoongi might need to do the same. Trying not to look obvious, you peek in his direction. 

As he stares at the floor, you already know he’s mulling over the same thoughts. 

But it’s Jungkook’s turn now, and you still haven’t gotten a gift yet. 

So you’re waiting with all the air in your lungs. 

As the blond teases his pick, the studio boys are quick to handle him as Yoongi only huffs.

“I got… I got… I got, I got, I got, I got—”

“Kook, just say it.”

“Always like this.”

“Jimin!”

Your heart beats again as the host pops up from his couch, everyone cheering as Kook meets him in the center. Around you, speculation from your friends mixed with a little laughter spikes,

“He probably stuck to the limit.”

“Definitely.”

“Jimin’s gonna be the only one left with—”

Cackles and screams rip as Jimin kicks his head back in laughter, because in his hands is a sleek white box that everyone recognizes. 

This man got Jimin designer shades.

Your cheeks hurt as you react with everyone, giddy and bubbly with how absolutely ridiculous this whole night has gone. Everyone accusing each other of cheating, while all the while every single gift has been over the top.

You really don’t feel bad about revealing your gift anymore. Quite honestly, you almost feel more bad about it not being enough.

No. It’s enough.

Yours is the best and you stick to that.  

Jimin takes the sunglasses out of the box and protective pouch, slipping them on and modeling immediately.  

Oh’s and ah’s echo before his friends inflate his ego,

“Damn, you sure you aren’t a model?” 

“You’re one step away.” 

“He really is.” 

He looks great and he knows it. And he carefully puts them back in their packaging before giving Jungkook a hug. They exchange conversation, and you can feel the latter’s smile as he laughs before sitting down. 

Suddenly, you have the strongest intuition that you’re next. On Jimin’s turn. He’s getting out a very nice bag from behind a couch and your brain is firing off. 

“Okay! The best gift is going to…”

You were right. He calls your name.

Smiling, you shakily stand as Jimin approaches, a twinkling look in those features glowing in incandescent lights. 

Eyes on you. Many eyes. 

A little overwhelmed, you thank him before sitting down. Because it’s much easier to do this while on a solid, structured surface. 

“Hope you like it.”

“I’m sure I will.”

Best gift? What could Jimin possibly mean by—

Your scream shoots out as you clamp the bag shut because no fucking way you saw what you just saw in there. 

Jimin’s laughing his ass off but it’s not funny. 

“Jimin, what the fuck!” Now you know how Shiv felt and he is absolutely valid for his reaction. “I can’t accept this.” 

People are concerned around you, and you quickly think they may have the wrong idea.

“What did he get?” 

“What’s in there?”

Quelling some thoughts, you explain, “It’s a box.” 

“Okay?” 

You just gotta say it. They’re all gonna know as soon as you take it out anyway. So you breathe out,

“…It’s Dior.” 

It’s the loudest it’s been all night, even though your friends are completely speechless. All the guys are up in arms and Jia’s scream for penalty can be heard through the chaos,

“What!” 

“Where’s my Dior?” 

“What the fuck?” 

“Jimin…” 

“Okay, that is way over limit! That’s cheating!” 

“Penalty!” 

Jimin’s sneaky smile as he turns around doesn’t help, “You know I get everything for less.” 

“So?”

“Still, what the hell, man!”

You know Jimin works there. You do. But this is still making your limbs jelly and you can’t even speak. 

There’s no way Dior is passed around at every gift exchange. 

“You deserve it. For dealing with him.” He looks at your brother, but the look in his eyes is too sparkly to be completely truthful. Does he mean Yoongi? Or is he being serious? 

Of course, your sibling throws out a droning, “Wow.” 

After lots of shaky unboxing, you reveal a stunning bracelet, your friends bending down around you to gawk at how brilliant it is. Dancing in your fingers, this piece shimmers and gleams, and every single person is quiet. 

Guilt. You feel guilt. 

And you can’t even look at the reason why.

“Whatever you’re feeling, don’t. It’s okay.” 

You’re tearing up because it’s way too nice. Which proves worse because you also feel bad for crying for the sole fact that Yoongi’s watching. You don’t want him to get the wrong idea. 

You get up to hug him. “I… This is really nice, Jimin. Thank you.” 

“Stop by the store sometime,” he offers with a smile. “Maybe I can slip more in your purse.” 

“Easy,” your brother eyes him. 

“So are we all getting fancy gifts or what?” 

“Nope! Ran out of my discount, sorry.” 

“Wow.” 

When you finally glance around, everyone’s either a mix of shock and awe, visibly confused, or just jealous and wondering what the hell just happened. 

Meanwhile. 

Yoongi straight up looks like he’s holding his tongue. 

And you suddenly feel really bad. 

Hopefully giving him his gift will make up for what just happened. Even though you’re going after the hardest hitter of the damn night, this one’s special. 

But who are you kidding? People are definitely gonna talk in private about Jimin’s little gift. 

So now you have to try and mend this while acting like Yoongi’s just your brother’s friend. Cool. Awesome. 

“So...”

Just try your goddamned best. 

“Yoongi is mine.”

…Wait.

Your secret looks your way immediately while everyone snaps their heads to him.

What the fuck did you say?

Wait wait wait wait what did you fucking say?

Flapping your arms, you reach for words while everyone starts teasing, “Oh, god. I mean—I have Yoongi—I mean, wow. Hold on.”

Fucking fuck fuck, he’s grinning.

Thank the lord above for someone cheekily asking,

“First time at a gift exchange?”

You look away from the laughs while trying to compose your grin of embarrassment. Get it the fuck together, this is peak time to get it right.

“God. Okay.” You look down at your bag. All of its carefully folded and primped paper, the delicate folding inside. “For the gift exchange,” you clarify with a forced firm tone, “I got Yoongi.” 

You feel Dom try her damned best to hide her laugh. And you know for damn sure Jimin and Taehyung are thoroughly amused right now. 

All the oh’s sounding off in the living room are already enough to set your ears smoking. Your brother’s voice can be heard, but you know that’s for a specific reason. 

Everything had to be carefully calculated, after all. 

You walk up to him, and you cannot—absolutely cannot—look too long at the way he’s looking up at you. Him sitting in any capacity is enough to drive you up a wall, but now? When he looks so freshly fitted and prepping to tease you about all this later? You can barely think straight. 

“I don’t think I can beat Jimin’s gift,” you sigh to his curious eyes. “But it’s a little too late to change.”

His smile turns so soft. He shouldn’t be the one comforting you right now when you probably broke a little of his heart. “It’s all good.”

Keep going. 

Cleaning your clogged throat, you brave the crowd and breathe before starting again, “Anyway. This is kinda from both of us, but I picked it because I have better taste.”

“Hey, what the hell?” 

Ignoring your brother’s protest, you watch as Yoongi softly opens the gift before pulling out a basketball jersey. 

Of his favorite player. 

“Holy shit.” 

Shouts start erupting behind your back as you laugh, your sneaky gift joining the rest of them. 

“Hello? That’s way too much!” 

“That’s over the limit for sure.” 

You wave your hands frantically among their teasing arguments, and your brother chimes in on your side. “I didn’t know what to get!” 

“So you got a real jersey?” 

“Relax, y’all. It’s from both of us.” 

“Wait, which one’s Lillard again?” 

“Damian,” Yoongi softly says in awe. “How’d you know?” 

You can only blink, smiling faltering by the slightest amount.

Fuck, he’s gonna be cheeky right now? Knowing you know and exactly how you know? Cuddled up with him in his bed as he shows you highlight reels and tells you the guy’s whole story and that he happens to be a rapper, too? 

Looking back towards your brother, you explain, “Well... He gave me a list. And I just picked off vibes.” 

Yoongi’s eyes sparkle so much when he grins. “Good choice,” he compliments with creased eyes. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome!” You say back with a little too high of a pitch. “But tell him he still owes you a gift. This doesn’t count for him.” 

“Uhh, it sure as fuck does!” 

Yoongi breaks eye contact to shout behind you, “Didn’t you already tell me you got me something?” 

“Yeah, it was that!” 

“What a lie,” Yoongi says through a smile.

“Yeah, I did,” your brother surrenders. “The shoes are in my bag. Okay, next!” 

Hilariously, two pairs of people end up getting each other. Yuri’s older sister Jia got Seokjin, who also drew her name—to the slight angst of your brother, you imagine. 

And Hoseok ends up getting Namjoon. Which turns out being twice as funny because they both got each other the same pair of earphones. You can’t breathe with how hard you cackle with everyone, and your heart skips when you catch a glimpse of Yoongi’s eyes across the room.

By the end of the exchange, everyone’s bellies and cheeks sting from laughter, and every eye in sight has twinkles embedded inside.

Throughout the night, everyone starts branching off into different groups. You and your friends talk in the kitchen, and both in and out of the house, there’s groups of games and conversations. 

The holiday decorations everywhere shine bright. Enveloped in the music, you keep looking at the lights, feeling happy but a little bittersweet. 

You really wanna set the record straight with Yoongi. You had no damn clue that Jimin was gonna give something like that, much less in front of everyone. 

The fact that you haven’t been in the same room for a bit makes it worse. What could he be thinking right now? You can’t tell because he’s nowhere in sight. 

Screw it. You’re gonna at least text him. There’s no way you can survive the night if you’re gonna plague your own head without checking in with him. 

Fishing out your phone, you sidestep away for a second to type something quick. 

You [10:38pm]: i know it’s not dior.. but hope you like your gift :’)) 

Yoongi [10:38pm]: You know I do. It’s perfect, doll. 

Well. He texted back super quick.

Maybe he’s really okay? Maybe he and Jimin already talked it through? 

Then again.. Yoongi didn’t look happy at all during the big reveal. To the point where he was actively showing emotions you rarely get to see.

But if he says he likes his gift, that’s a good sign. 

You [10:42pm]: i can’t believe jimin did that

Yoongi [10:42pm]: That was bold. 

You [10:42pm]: seriously!!! 

Hmm. So he didn’t know. That’s even more surprising than him knowing, now that you think about it. 

You’re called over to get another round of food, and you turn down the initial invite but stay around as they get more to eat. 

When you see a tray that smells way too good, you do break and get a piece anyways. 

“Yeah, those are amazing,” Yuri chirps. “Shiv made those.”

“Really?” Dom grabs a couple pieces. “Lemme try these then.”

“You’re gonna want more.” 

As you find a place outside to eat, you stand next to the heater while conversing with Taehyung. It’s adorable how you can tell how excited he is about his gift, turning it in his hand before pocketing the leather again. 

“It’s so nice,” you compliment. 

“He knows how to pick, I guess,” Tae smiles, looking at you and making you shy. Because hello? There’s no way he’s gonna be bringing that up tonight. 

When you silently mouth for him to shut up, he grins like a madman. Glancing down at your hands, he suddenly asks, “Are you gonna put that down?”

“No,” you say with a tiny pang of guilt. “Afraid not.”

“Mm.” 

Your phone buzzes again, and you’re thankful for the interruption.

Yoongi [11:09pm]: Guess I have to do better😔

Instantly, you take that gratefulness back.

You [11:09pm]: NO!! you don’t have to worry about me at all

Yoongi [11:10pm]: I can’t lose to you

You [11:10pm]: trust me, i just… 

You think about sending the other text or not. But you do anyway. 

Taehyung sees the look in your faraway face, but doesn’t comment as you peer down again. 

You [11:11pm]: i just wanna see you happy

That’s all you want. If he’s happy, you’re happy. So it sucks to have part of the night come as quite the shock. 

Interestingly enough, though.. Someone else in the house should also be pretty upset about your gift, and you haven’t seen Jimin cornered by him yet. 

Unless your brother is just deciding to be courteous and beat his ass after everyone leaves. 

Yoongi [11:13pm]: Then come over here

You’re not gonna argue with that. 

So when your friends finish their plates, you suggest you all head into the garage. It’s already rowdy before you open the door, so the sounds get booming loud when you all enter. 

Looks like everyone is blowing their money on other things tonight, too. The gifts were the nice part of the party; now everyone is fiending to take everyone’s cash.

“Damn, Yoongi’s clearing me out.”

“Told you not to go all in.”

“He did.”

As the cold weather rolls in, you watch as the games go on, with heaters humming with energy and your brother’s friends radiating competition. 

No wonder Yoongi wanted you in here.

He’s on a damn roll.

As everyone groans after another win, Namjoon and your brother are in tatters, 

“Yoong, what the fuck!”

“You hiding cards in those sleeves?”

“I told you!” Yoongi boasts, “Don’t get too cocky.”

“Says him.”

“Cocky, my ass.” 

When you laugh, you earn a tiny glimpse of his eyes. But as his vision falls to your hands, you’re quick to look away, out into the night to look at all the lights instead.

Shit.

After some time passes, you find yourself alone on a balcony. Yet again. Cold wind blows through your coat, chilling you but making you feel alive. Too alive in this moment. Too aware.

The holidays aren’t so bad this time around. But you do need to set this one thing straight before things go a little sideways with Yoongi. 

If he’s upset, you don’t want him to be. Even if he doesn’t say it, you want him to know you’re considering his feelings. There’s some things you just can’t control.

So you wait for Jimin, telling him earlier to meet you up here for the best chance at privacy.

When you hear the door opening, you see him come through, hair lifting in the breeze and his lips in a slight curve. 

Get right to it. “Jimin, I—”

“Isn’t it so nice tonight?” 

Stopping, you settle into a smile, watching him walk up to stand next to you before you both look into the night. The neighborhood glows beneath your feet, and everyone in the backyard mingles while puffs of air leave their lips. 

“It really is,” you say with a smile, clutching the gift bag in cold fingers. Because you haven’t let go of it ever since it was given to you—it’s way too expensive. You’ve been guarding it all night. 

Which is why you need to hand it back to the one who gave it to you. “We haven’t done something like this before, so.. It’s a nice change of pace.” 

Jimin turns before realizing something. “Oh. I meant the weather.” 

Embarrassed, you let out a laugh while his eyes crease. “Ah. That, too.” 

“Got deep real fast.” 

“Jimin!” 

Both of you puff out laughter as you look down, just in time to see someone gazing right up at you. Someone that makes your heart squeeze on sight. 

Oh, shit. Is he gonna get the wrong idea again? 

You need to do this quick. Yoongi can’t be let down more than once tonight. 

Sighing, you start to hold up the bag again. “Thank you—”

“He’s lucky you came around when you did.” 

“Huh?” 

Jimin leans on the railing before eyeing you with a smile. “You don’t even know, do you.” 

“I don’t…” When you look below, Yoongi’s not looking anymore. And you panic. “Jimin, thank you. But I seriously can’t take this.” 

Why does he look so calm? Why does he keep acting like this isn’t a big deal? “You can.” 

“No, really. I—” 

“I may have gone too far this time.” 

Your eyes still as you breathe out a confused, “...What?” 

Jimin’s face is dusted with peach in the cold, and you get a good view of his jawline as he peers down below with a regretful curve. “I kinda tricked him,” he admits. “Into picking your gift for the exchange.” 

The shock you feel prevents you from even blinking. How the hell can this get even more overwhelming? “What do you mean?” 

“I wasn’t lying when I said I got some good discounts.” Jimin turns around to lean against the railing. “So I thought it would be fun to rope him into getting you something.” 

When he laughs to the chilly night sky, you don’t join him—the shock is preventing you from doing anything. 

“Didn’t think he’d pick a whole bracelet, though. Made for one hell of a gift exchange pick.” He looks at you at a tilt. “You like it, right?” 

Even if Yoongi was the one to pick out the jewelry, Jimin still had to purchase the damn thing. And even with his discount, it’s still expensive as hell. It has to be. You haven’t let go of the bag once because you don’t want to lose it. “But you still had to pay,” you blurt out. “I’ll find a way to pay you back if you aren’t gonna take it.”

“I didn’t pay for it, either.” 

Your heart stops. 

Full on halts. 

When he turns his head, he looks toward the sky in thought. “Well, I did secretly pay the exchange limit. But..” He straightens before staring back at your absolute silence, dropping the biggest surprise of the whole night,

“Yoongi paid the difference.”

The sudden sob that leaves your throat startles him immediately, and he rushes forward to put hands on your shoulders. “Hey, hey, you okay?”

“Yeah, I just—”

The sound of a door slides open, and you turn to see your favorite, favorite, favorite person walking through. You must look like a wreck but you don’t care, don’t care, don’t care. 

“I’ll leave you both to it then,” Jimin says to your watery eyes before squeezing, heading out to give you both the quiet space you need. 

But Yoongi clutches his arm as he walks by, and you hold your breath as he stares him in the eye, voice burning with a steady glow,

“Don’t pull that shit again.” 

“I know,” Jimin agrees without pause. “I owe you one.” 

“No one comes up here then.” Yoongi releases him slow. “Until I come back down.” 

The host of the night shares a quick hand clutch before assuring, “You got it.” 

Bag clutched tight in your hands, you watch in wonder as Yoongi approaches you with a quiet determination. His presence alone makes your heart beat warm and soft, but you cannot stop the tears from flowing down your cheeks. 

All you can ask as he gets close is a wondrous, “Why..?”

“He’s a very persuasive salesman.” When you wipe your eyes, he helps with a little look of tenderness. Though there’s still some frustration evident in his features. “But I didn’t know it would be for tonight.”

“Oh, shit,” you sigh. “Why did he do that?” 

“I’m not sure.” Yoongi holds your chin, rubbing your frosty cheek with a handworking thumb. “Taehyung didn’t know he’d do it, either.” 

“Tae knew, too?” 

“Yeah. He thought I had it, not Chim.” He sighs to the side, hair lifting slightly in the breeze. “I almost stood up when you screamed.” 

Your heart shrugs off some chill. “Really?” 

Yoongi nods before looking up with scrunched brows. “It took all of me to keep my ass down. Honestly, I’m still pissed the fuck off.” 

You believe that. One hundred percent, you believe that. Because you’ve never seen him talk to Jimin like that before tonight. 

Reaching to cradle one of his cheeks, you feel how cold he is before whispering to soothe, “Tell me how you wanted it to go.” 

When Yoongi looks at you, your lips curve into a small smile. Peppered with a bit of your tears and willingness to make him feel better. 

He softly grips your hand on his face before turning to kiss your fingers. Voice low, he reveals, “I was gonna take you straight to dinner. After you got off work one day.” Another set of kisses makes your fingers both hot and cold. “Then I would’ve faked needing something from the studio. And you would’ve gotten it there.” 

“Oh…” You blink as your vision blurs. “That’s…” 

“Among other things.” 

At his suggestive look, you playfully pat his jacket. But your heart starts leaking from your eyes.  

Because you just want it all to be out already. Just everything. Everything, everything, everything, you’re so tired of keeping it under wraps. 

“What’s wrong, doll.”

“Nothing,” you sob. “I’m just… I didn’t know, and… This is a lot.” 

You’re overflowing with emotions. From all the experiences you’ve had tonight to this very moment, everything has been wonderful and magical and there’s nothing quite like this feeling. But you’re also so embarrassed because he definitely brought out much bigger guns than you did. 

Sniffling into his jacket, you whisper, “Thank you… You got me something timeless. This is so much cooler than my gift.” 

“No! Yours is great, are you kidding me?” 

“It’s a jersey… That’s much less cool.” 

“Mm... You also called me yours.” When you freeze completely, Yoongi's shoulders bob with his pride. “Gotta say, that was the highlight of the night."

“Oh, shut up!" When you groan into his clothes, you feel him laughing through his chest. And it's one of your favorite feelings in the world.

Shoulders slumped, you heavily yearn,

“I want it all out now. Everything.” You squeeze him closer. Closer, closer, closer. “I want everyone to know it was from you.” 

Yoongi doesn’t say anything, though you do feel his heart beat a little faster. When he finally answers, you close your eyes. “I know I said this last time, but.. Next year. For sure.” 

“Can we decorate, too?” 

Yoongi looks into your starry eyes. “You wanna?” When your nod is quick, he laughs. “Guess I don’t have a real choice then, huh?” 

“Nu uh.” You squeal as he hauls you into a full kiss, squeezing you in his arms and more tears out of your eyes. “Wait!” 

When he tilts his head, you grin at his adorable quirk. “Let’s do it anyway.” 

“Huh?”

Holding up the bag, you cheekily suggest, “Everything you said. Let’s do it.” Biting your lip and feeling the chill on your ears, you finish, “There’s a new place I wanna try with you anyways.” 

Yoongi just stares, smile unsure but huffing amusement from his nose. “You sure?” 

“Duh! And I’ll act even more surprised, just for you.” 

Your giggling is purely born from excitement. Because you can’t wait to take him somewhere you know he’ll enjoy, too. And you get to see the studio? It’s gonna be a fantastic—

You’re brought into a tight hug before your thoughts finish. The bag between you crumples a tad, but you’re more focused on the way your head is moved for a soul-tying kiss. 

Warmth and gold and sparkles burst from your chest as you’re completely taken by Yoongi’s lips, and you start to feel your house inside change. It’s festive. It’s decorated. It’s made just for you and him. 

You've never been one for this season. But getting to spend it with Yoongi two years in a row? It's becoming one of your favorite times of the year.

“I just…” he murmurs to your features before gripping you close. “Thanks, babe.” 

“Thank you,” you whisper into his handsome features. “Once you give it to me for real, I’m gonna wear it everywhere.” 

“Please do. Get my money’s worth.” 

When you both laugh, your affection leaves in puffs of white. And you give him a more tender kiss than the first. 

You feel so at home it hurts. But it hurts because your heart is so full you can’t fit it all. All the love for everyone that fills that hole in your life that you and your brother have had for years. 

You’re gonna tell him one day. And it’s gonna rip you apart. 

But you hope everything will be okay. This time next year, all of you will be okay. More than okay. 

When you lean in close, you whisper something you’ve never really said to anyone. But you’re gonna try to start, even if you aren’t quite familiar with it yet. It’s a good year to start, start, start. 

“Happy holidays, Yoongi.”

His lips spread slow before giving one more kiss to your chilly nose. And every anxious feeling floats away in the frosty breeze.

“Happy holidays, doll.”

-

-

fin. :)

-

so... how did it go! | join the server! | join the taglist!

a/n: happy holidays, merry christmas, happy new year to everyone that celebrates! just wanted to get this one out for the ones needing a little bit of cheer around this time. we learn quite a bit about some of the crew's backstories and where they work now, huh. is this a pocket universe, too? who really knows! but it all flew out of my fingers as soon as we got the suggestion, so thank you again to that anon message! a/n 2: thank you to everyone that's stuck with me and 3tan this year. it's been a rough one, but i also wanted to post this one to let you all know i'm still here. 3tan will forever stay with me, and i have not ever forgotten it. not one day goes by where i don't think about it, or y'all, or them. trust me. also, stay on the lookout for some physical copy interest checks! we are getting closer and closer to 3tan copies being A Real Thing! ++ feedback box: ⇥ of course, any reblogs/comments/messages are appreciated! ⇥ for the ones that are too shy to reblog with a review, comment on this, or send a message, i went ahead and made another anonymous form where you can send in what you think! ⇥ no emails collected, no need to put in a username. it’s literally just a comment dropbox :D feedback can be as short/sweet or as long as you’d like! ⇥ here! ++ more links: ⇥ masterlist  ⇥ three tangerines masterlist

[moonlight-records]

BTS shopping| FC43 (HAC #8)

pairing: franco colapinto x reader

summary: a glimpse into what shopping is like with you and franco

warning: fluff!

fc: none!

a/n: f1 seating changed. day 8 of moonlight records holiday advent calendar! another sm au!

day 1 | day 2 | day 3 | day 4 | day 5 | day 6 | day 7 | current day | day 9

francolapinto tagged ynvibes in a post

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francolapinto prettiest view of 2024 😊

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ynvibes oh stoooop it babe (keep going)

↳ francolapinto thanksfully, i won't stop ↳ ynvibes good 😊 ↳ ynbestie excuse meeeee ↳ francolapinto and my favorite chaos buddy appears! ↳ ynbestie damn RIGHT

user1 NEW FRANCO SIMP POST JUST DROPPED!!

user2 me too franco, me too ↳ ynvibes liked this comment

landonorris and no invite?

↳ francolapinto you're alive!!! ↳ ynvibes we tried but you were hungover, but we can bring something back for you!! ↳ landonorris my savior!!! ↳ ynbestie can you bring y/n home so we can go shopping? please?? i miss my wife 😫 ↳ francolapinto how about i bring y/n home and i take both you out to shopping? ↳ ynbestie I KNEW YOU WERE MY FAVORITE FOR SOME REASON!!! 😍

user3 WE NEED A SHOPPING HAUL STAT

↳ ynvibes ask and you shall receive! ↳ user3 LETS GOOOOOO!!!!

user4 I NEED THAT RED BAG!!!!

user5 this haul bout to hit, i just know it!!!

ynvibes maybe i can help get your secret santa gift

↳ francolapinto PLEASE

ynvibes tagged francolapinto in a post

liked by ynbestie, francolapinto, charles_leclerc, landonorris, oscarpiastri, and 835k others

ynvibes got the secret santa gift and then went back for movies & legos

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user6 oh to shop and then watch movies and build legos after

maxverstappen1 what lego set is he building?

↳ ynvibes no clue but it was on sale. so were the flower sets since I know P wants to build legos!! ↳ maxverstappen1 i knew there was a reason you're my favorite wag ↳ user9 HELLO? ↳ ynvibes awww max!!! ↳ maxverstappen1 don't get use to it

user7 I love Up!!!!

user8 god bless y/n for expanding franco's fashion design. doing the lords work 😫

landonorris whatcha got there? 👀

↳ francolapinto a surprise ↳ landonorris boooooo

user9 it's either for franco or secret santa and either way someone's winning

user10 im excited for them shopping for each other

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francolapinto when we together, it's only one brain cell between all of us

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user11 who's in the first one???

↳ user9 i think that's ynbestie

user12 these are the vibes we need this holiday season

ynvibes REUNITED AT LAST!!!

↳ ynbestie I KNOW THATS RIGHT!!!

user13 oh to witness them shopping

alex_albon the paddock's favorite three musketeers!!

↳ francolapinto thank you amigo!! ↳ ynbestie damn straight!!!

user14 OMG I WALKED BY FRANCO IN THE PILLOWS AND THOUGHT IT WAS SOME RANDOM GUY 😭

↳ user15 OMG!!! ↳ user14 I DIDN'T EVEN REALIZE I WAS JUDGING SO HARD

ynvibes tagged ynbestie in a post

liked by francolapinto, ynbestie, landonorris, oscarpiastri, charles_leclerc and 594k others

ynvibes this and yapping ❤️ (thank you franco for giving us your card while you took a phone call you forgot about)

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user16 THIS HAUL BOUT TO SLAP!!!

user17 this is what girlhood is all about

ynbestie OH THANK YOU DEAR FRANCO!! I SHALL BAKE ALL THE BOOZY BROWNIES YOUR HEART DESIRES!!! 🩵 ↳ francolapinto I WIN!! ↳ landonorris I WANT BOOZY BROWNIES???!!!! SHARE PLEASE!!!???? ↳ francolapinto of course i will! ↳ landonorris LETS GOOOOOO ↳ ynvibes smh not you trying to court with the boozy brownies, i am right here ↳ francolapinto my love, i have two hands. one for you and one for lando. like you and your bestie and i ↳ ynvibes this is true. i call one corner piece and i'll accept this arrangement ↳ francolapinto deal!

user18 soooooo book haul when???

↳ ynvibes soon 🤭 ↳ user18 YESSSSS

user19 need a man like this

user20 where's the coffee?!

↳ ynvibes we finished them before we took photos!!! ↳ user20 valid!

francolapinto posted

liked by ynorris, arthur_leclerc, lewishamilton, charles_leclerc, oscarpiastri, alex_albon, and 1.2m others

francolapinto post shopping lunch and celebration 🥳

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user21 WHAT CELEBRATION???

user22 k-pot after shopping? oh y'all got this under lock and key

landonorris what news???

↳ francolapinto soon! ↳ landonorris sir????

user23 WE THE PEOPLE ARE NOSY FOR ANSWERS!!!

ynbestie i know you're doing to do great things 🩵

↳ francolapinto thank you amigo 🩵

user24 YNBESTIE CONGRATULATING FRANCO??? FRANCO IN F1 SEAT???

alex_albon hell yeah!!! congrats franco!!

user25 OMG OMG OMG IS FRANCO TO WILLIAMS???

ynvibes so proud of you babe 🩵

↳ francolapinto thank you mi amor ❤️

ynvibes posted

liked by ynbestie, francolapinto, arthur_leclerc, landonorris, oscarpiastri, and 937k others

ynvibes family presents ✅

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user26 you love playing with fire, don't you? 😂

user27 ugh target run sounds so nice right noe

charles_leclerc i thought you said you needed one thing? ↳ ynvibes target tells YOU what YOU need. ↳ charles_leclerc ...y/n wtf???

user28 any good sales going on??? love target but it's so far

↳ ynvibes a few! if you need household items and clothes def check them! ↳ user28 i will!!

user29 that fuzzy jackets look SOOOO comfy

logansargeant we love a good target run

↳ ynvibes YOU GET IT!!! ↳ logansargeant i do i do ↳ francolapinto petition for you and logan's partner to go to target while logan and i stay back and play video games ↳ logansargeant where do i sign this petition?? ↳ ynvibes petition granted

user30 time to run to target!!

francolapinto posted

liked by ynbestie, arthur_leclerc, ynvibes, charles_leclerc, oscarpiastri, alex_albon, and 2.1m others

francolapinto christmas shopping officially done (ft. y/n refusing to let me to carry her bags)

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user31 y/n is a strong independent woman!!

↳ user32 independent yn 🤝 simp franco ↳ user31 god you're so right ↳ user32 wonder if franco carried the bags in ↳ ynvibes he did 😒

user33 can't wait for the wrapping video!!!

ynbestie so am i coming over to help wrap presents???

↳ ynvibes fuck YEAH ↳ francolapinto am i getting wine? ↳ ynbestie yes please!!!

user34 please tell me you guys are doing advent calendars for each other!!!!

↳ user35 PLEASE ↳ user34 begging for it

ynvibes posted

liked by ynvibes, landonorris, alex_albon, maxverstappen1, charles_leclerc, oscarpiastri, carlossainz55, quadrant and 2.5m others

ynvibes welcome williams newest driver & qudrants newest member 🩵

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quadrant welcome to the team, franco!!!

↳ francolapinto thank you for having me!!

user36 OMG OMG OMG!!!

user37 BEST. DAY. EVER!!!!

landonorris glad to have you apart of the team, amigo

↳ francolapinto thank you for having me!! ↳ ynvibes just make sure i get to see him ↳ max_fewtrell i will ↳ ynvibes thank yoooou

user38 YAY MORE FRANCO CONTENT!!!! AND Y/N WAG ERA!!!

user39 im crying this is great

user40 what movie y'all seeing?

↳ ynvibes wicked! ↳ user40 are you guys holding space??? ↳ ynvibes ofc!!!

[michuga]

santa baby *•̩̩͙ ✩ •̩̩͙*˚

summary: in which you wait all night long for santa, as you have been every year, for as long as you can remember. expecting a swollen belly and a full white beard, you're surprised to see a tall, dark, and handsome stranger staring back at you. or santa gets caught red-handed and has to play it off.

pairing: jeongguk x reader

genre: idek. holiday skit? palette cleanser 4 you!

warnings: swearing included, lowercase intended

very silly. i laughed for a good minute when the idea came to me, hope you enjoy!

wc: 1.5k

it's finally the holidays, your favorite time of the year. at 21, your resolve to catch santa has stayed stronger than ever. it didn't matter how many people told you santa wasn't real, you were an ambitious girl. surely one of these years, you were bound to catch him, right? i mean, who else could be responsible for the gifts under your tree, every single year?

"alright everyone, gather round! it's time to pick your secret santa buddy!" you hear your coworker yell out, along with squeals of excitement.

for the first time, this year, your company decided to hold a secret santa event, as a means of reviving the workplace environment.

yawning, you make your way to where everyone from your department was gathered. how do they have so much energy? it's barely eight in the crack ass of the morning.

"like every secret santa, each one of you will pick out a paper randomly from this bowl right here. the name you get is the person you'll be buying a gift for. any questions?" your boss says, enthusiastically.

subtle chatter fills the room. "all right then. if there are no questions, go ahead and pick your draw"

waiting your turn, you take a sip of your coffee.

"are you excited?" your friend taehyung beams, joining you.

"not really, just looking forward to my bed today."

"why? you still waiting on santa to pop down your chimney?" he says with an elbow nudge, wiggling his eyebrows.

"he's REAL taehyung. i'm not doing this with you again." with a roll of your eyes, you walk closer to the bowl filled with names.

"it's probably one of your family members, be serious for five minutes. if it's not, you definitely need your locks changed. you don't find that creepy at all? have you asked them?"

"nope. because i know it's not them. and my locks are perfectly fine. he doesn't use doors, you idiot, it's the chimney."

tsking, taehyung follows close behind.

waiting for the cookies to cool down, you plopped down on your couch. your eyelids heavy, you decide to take a quick half hour nap.

THUNK

waking up from your slumber, you're startled by the loud noise. confused, you slowly rub your eyes and scan your surroundings.

well this definitely isn't what you were expecting.

wide eyed, you stare at the strange man across the room, standing right in front of your fireplace.

are you dreaming? you're not sure. you always thought santa would be old fat and ugly, the man standing in front of you is anything but. carrying a big red sack on his back, the fabric of his sleeves lays taught against his biceps. woah, santa's jacked. you can also see a slither of a tattooed sleeve under his little getup, and piercings on his face. what the hell?

after it seems like an eon of staring at eachother in silence, you finally muster the courage to speak up.

"santa?" you ask, delirious from sleep and yet hopeful as ever.

"i'm your... secret santa!" the man says reluctantly.

"oh.. yeah you don't really look like santa." dejected, you say with a sigh.

offended, the stranger scoffs, and gestures at his read coat and matching red pants. "um.. hello?"

"nah. santa's all fat and old n' shit. you could pass as his grandson, though," you think aloud, tilting your head to the side.

"i'll take that as a compliment.. i guess?"

"wait.. i've never seen you at work before, though?"

after another awkward silence, "i'm new. i was only recently hired a few weeks ago."

"oh.. okay!" you answer, delirious on sleep and perfectly satisfied with his reekingly suspicious answers.

"well since i baked cookies for santa and you're the next best thing, why don't you have some?" getting up, you casually walk towards your fridge, grabbing the half empty carton of milk, along with two cups from your cupboard.

you hear quiet footsteps behind you, taking a seat on your kitchen island.

"so.. santa? you really believe in santa?" the stranger says, taking the cup of milk you offered him.

"i swear to god if i get made fun of one more time, i'm turning into the grinch." you deadpan, serious expression adorning your face. flat lipped, you cross your arms and stare at him.

suppressing a giggle, the stranger goes on, "no, no! don't get me wrong, i think it's cute."

you squint your eyes. "but you don't believe me."

"now you're just putting words in my mouth. when did i ever say that?" amused, he takes another bite of the freshly baked cookie.

"this is damn good stuff, you know? you should definitely sell these." your secret santa remarks, mouth full of cookie, and a visible scorn on his face.

"only the best for santa." you say, plopping down on the stool across from him. face in your palm, you watch the perfect stranger eat cookies, made with all your love, that were never meant for him.

"i really thought i'd catch him this year, damn it."

"you just wait here every year, waiting to catch him?"

"pretty much."

"well if you had caught him, that would mean he's lousy as his job, wouldn't it?"

"as lousy as you were?" you playfully say, "surely he has better work ethic than you do."

snickering, the stranger nods in agreement.

"i'll let you in on a little secret." your santa says, gesturing for you to come closer.

you lean in, lending him your ear.

"i know santa personally. i could put in a good word for you, if you want."

jerking back, you're quick to remark, "stop making fun of me, i already told you! i'm serious about this!"

"i am too! i'm being for real."

"sure. well since you do know him, let him know i've been an awful good girl this year, and i demand a gift worthy of that," you say, going along with his bit.

"hmm.. i'm pretty sure he's the one who gets to decide that, but alright, i'll let him know. anything else?"

"and that i've written up a wishlist." you pick up the piece of paper you left under the plate of cookies. "here you go. make sure he gets this."

taking the piece of paper from you, the stranger quietly reads what's written.

"alright. shouldn't be too hard to accomplish," he says, matter-of-factedly.

this dude's a wacko.

yawning, the sleepiness from earlier latching onto you again.

"well, i'll be going to bed now. would you like me to show you out?"

"i'll manage. thanks for the cookies!" grabbing his gift sack from off the ground, he gets up and heads towards the chimney.

going up the stairs with your back turned to him, you wave him off.

mere seconds after plopping down onto your bed, you fall back asleep, wondering off to dreamland for sure this time.

you hear the sound of birds chirping, feel the sun shining on your face.

you peacefully turn in your sleep.

one, two minutes pass.

with a furrow of your eyebrows, you come to.

wait.

wait.

what the fuck?

startled, you spring out of bed.

as the events of last night dawn on you, your eyes gradually widen in shock.

????????????

running down your stairs, you scramble into your kitchen

to find

the plate of cookies

empty.

you weren't dreaming.

oh god. oh god. now you've finally done it. a stranger merrily breaks into your house and you made conversation with him?

from the corner of your eyes, you spot something shimmering under your christmas tree.

gifts?

"jesus, what happened to you?" taehyung asks with a sandwich in his mouth. "did the grinch visit you?"

you hadn't bothered to look at the mirror this morning, rushing to get dressed and out the door. you need real human interaction to feel sane. you were also hoping to find an answer to whatever the fuck happened last night.

"i think a stranger broke into my house last night. i think i also offered him cookies."

choking on said sandwich, taehyung coughs a few times before finally clearing his throat.

"pardon?"

"he said he was my secret santa."

"and you just.. accepted the fact?"

"well.. yeah? i was half asleep and waiting for santa," you say with a pout.

"the fuck? that's breaking and entering?? you should file a police report! oh god, he works here, doesn't he? do you remember what he looks like??"

recalling the events of last night, you find yourself lost in thought. "yeah.. quite an odd fellow."

scratching your head, you continue, "damn, he never even told me his name."

"dude, i knew you were off your rocker, but this has got to be a new low."

"um.. excuse me?" a voice calls out from behind you.

you turn around to see mingyu, one of your coworkers, holding a neatly wrapped gift box.

"i got your name.. i didn't really know what you'd like so i got you a bunch of different things.. i really hope you like them."

silence.

"or if you don't, i can always return them and get something else! really, it's no trouble!"

silence.

...

taehyung nudges you hard.

"mingyu, you're my secret santa?"

"..yes?"

"then who the fuck was that at my house last night?"

[pjmmania]

Spirits Bright - PJM

A Park Family Christmas Oneshot

*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*

Genre: JiminxReader, IdolAU, Fluff, Christmas

Author’s Note: I thought I'd make a one-shot for the holiday season. No warnings, just good old-fashioned family stuff with you and Jimin. Enjoy the read and Merry Christmas!

*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*

Your four-year-old snuggled up to you, her fleece red and green pajamas adding to her warmth.

Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer was playing on the mounted television, right above a fireplace that wasn't aglow. As your daughter told you earlier that evening with a concerned look on her sweet little face, you couldn't light a fire tonight. Otherwise, Santa wouldn't be able to come down the chimney.

Little Mina was drowsy, her body becoming gradually more limp against you. Though she was watching the movie, her tell of falling asleep was showing. She had a self-soothing habit left over from infancy of taking her ear lobe and rubbing it between her fingers, pulling on it gently. You and your husband thought it was still as adorable as it was when she was six months old.

Any other night, you would have taken her up to bed at this point, but you promised her that she’d be able to see her father first. And you knew he’d want to be the one to tuck her in on this Christmas Eve, especially after not being home for a couple weeks. Jimin had been in Paris, doing some promotional engagements. A long stint like this was never easy for your little family, but at least it ensured that he’d be able to spend ample time at home for the holiday and the weeks after.

Lovingly, you rubbed her back, keeping your other hand on your belly. As she focused on the animated characters on the screen, your gaze fell on the three stockings hanging off the mantle. One red, one green, and one white - all embroidered with your names. You considered the spacing between them, and how you would need to adjust their placement next year. Come next Christmas, there would be a fourth stocking. A new little Park was six months along in your womb.

“Mommy?”

Her voice was so tiny and exhausted.

“Yes, baby?”

Mina didn’t turn her head away from the screen, “Will Daddy be home soon?”

She wasn’t looking at you, so you permitted a gushing pout to form on your face. Their bond was so strong that she was fighting sleep for him, and you knew that he was in his car right now, rushing to get home to you both. You could only pray that he obeyed traffic laws on the way to your apartment.

“He’ll be here any minute, don’t you worry,” you told her without a hint of doubt in your tone, “You have to be ready. He’s going to give you the biggest hug in the world.”

“He has to go to bed too, and you Mommy,” she said, “Or Santa won’t come, right?”

You laughed a bit, “That’s right. We all have to be asleep if we want Santa to come and leave presents under the tree. So we will finish the movie with Daddy and then we will all go to bed, okay?”

The sound of Jimin’s key entering the latch in the door couldn’t have come at a better time. When you gasped with excitement, your daughter sat up from your lap. Every paternally-inherited feature on her face was alert and joyful, as if she hadn’t just been falling into slumber.

The two of you had your eyes trained on the door to the right. You were craning your neck backward and caught a glimpse of him as he came through, black suitcase in his hand.

Mina was looking at you with a beam, her lips parted for an instant until she heard her father’s call.

“Where are my beautiful girls?”

She leapt off the couch and took off towards the door, “Daddy!”

As a mother, even though you were happy to see her so overjoyed, one of your chief concerns was making sure she didn’t slip and fall in her socks on the wooden floor, “Careful!”

The little girl barely heard you, far too eager to be in Jimin’s arms.

Then he saw her round the corner into the entry hallway, in her cute Christmas pajamas. A plump, smiling face that looked exactly like his was fast approaching, swelling his heart. Though he was exhausted from a day of travel and a couple weeks of work, Jimin’s expression became one of pure elation.

Mina squealed again once she saw him, “Daddy!”

The sound of her high-pitched voice moved him more than any music could. His precious baby girl, somehow appearing bigger than she was when he departed mere weeks ago.

He set his suitcase down before crouching to meet her, arms opening wide, “Hi, little miss!”

Your heart warmed as you heard him use his go-to nickname for her. You paused the movie and got up to greet your husband. You found the two of them in a snuggle, right in the middle of the hallway. His arms totally enveloped her, bringing her to his chest. He looked as if he'd never dream of letting her go, placing kiss after kiss in her black hair.

You chose to say nothing and let them stay in this moment.

"I missed you Daddy." your daughter said, her voice muffled in his black sweatshirt.

Jimin’s voice was nearly at a whisper, her words and the way she said them nearly breaking him, "I missed you more, princess.”

When he opened his eyes, Jimin saw you standing a short distance away. Grinning, he took hold of the four-year-old's waist and lifted her up as he stood. Mina's arms looped around his neck as she let her chin rest on his shoulder, enjoying her father's familiar scent.

Your husband gave you a sweet, long kiss, "Hi, you. And hi, baby.”

He placed a free hand on your bump. You smiled against his lips, "Welcome home. Have you eaten?"

The look he gave you was one of gratitude. You were the most nurturing wife and mother he could have ever hoped for.

"I ate on the plane, but thank you." he said.

"I don't like it when you go on planes," Mina interjected with a random comment, "But I like it when they bring you home."

You put your hand on her back and gave it a few rubs. Jimin turned his head to kiss her cheek, "Do you want to know what I saw when I was all the way up in the sky, Mina?"

The curious child lifted her head, "What?"

"I looked out the window and I saw Santa's sleigh."

You feigned a surprised response for her sake, while her reaction was completely real and excited.

"Really Daddy?!" she giggled.

Jimin tapped her nose once with his index finger, "Really. He's on his way with all the reindeer. Did you and Mommy leave him some milk and cookies?"

She nodded eagerly.

"We sure did," you added, "And we even put out some carrots for the reindeer, didn't we?"

"Yeah!”

Your husband chuckled and the three of you started towards the living room, “Well that’s very thoughtful of you. I bet all that flying is making them tired. Have you been a good girl while I’ve been gone?”

He glanced at you when he asked that question, directing it more at you than her.

“I’ve been very good.” the child vouched for herself.

You’d reached the couch in the living room. With a smile, you decided to affirm, “I’d say you have. No mean words, no complaining before bed time. And you helped me wipe the counters we folded some towels together.”

“And cook!”

Your husband grinned, glad to learn of her good behavior, “That’s my girl.”

You laughed. There was a story of Mina accidentally spilling a sack of flour all over the place that you’d have to share with him later. It was a harmless accident, one you remembered fondly along with the image of her face coated in a white dusting.

Jimin set her down on the couch and kicked off his shoes, more than ready to relax and spend what was left of Christmas Eve with his family. The living room looked beautiful, all lit up from the twinkle of the tree and the trimmings of red and gold.

When he finally sat down, your daughter climbed right into his lap and cuddled close, seemingly ready to resume the movie, as you told her you would. You scooted closer to them and pulled a warm chenille blanket over all three of you.

Soon, Mina began to play with her ear lobe again, sinking back into her sleepiness. The jubilation and excitement from reuniting with her father was dying down. She experienced what she had stayed awake for, and now her body was depleted of energy. By the time the movie ended, she was almost completely under.

He was looking down at her, lightly pushing some hair out of her face, “You getting sleepy, little miss?”

She shook her head ever so slightly, eyes closed. You knew your daughter’s heart - all she wanted was to stay with him. But she wasn’t even playing with her ear now, indicating that she was about to pass out at any moment.

There was no need to try to coax her to go to bed. You could have taken her then and there, but you wanted to give them both some more time snuggling. All of Mina’s complaints over the last two weeks were echoing in your mind, asking you where her Daddy was and when he’d be home. Now he was here with her, and you couldn’t look forward to separating them.

A few minutes later, she was out.

You smiled at her for a second, before getting up from the couch to straighten up a little bit.

“Baby, take her,” Jimin whispered, “Whatever it is, I got it.”

From behind the couch, you bent forward and kissed his forehead as he tilted it back, “No, enjoy a couple more minutes with her. I’m just tidying up.”

After folding some blankets and wiping down the counters in the kitchen, you turned off all lights that weren’t in the living room. When you returned to the pair in the couch, Jimin hadn’t moved an inch.

With a content sigh, you sat back down with them, but wouldn’t sit all the way back and relax. It was time to get your little girl to her room.

Your husband saw the look you were giving him and chuckled, although careful to keep his voice down, “I know she needs to be put in bed but I don’t want to let her go yet. I just got back.”

You smirked and whispered in reply, “We can tuck her in together.”

“Do we have to?”

You widened your eyes a little so he paid close attention, “Yes, because Santa has to come and put all the presents under the tree.”

He sighed, “I wish Santa could come later though. I missed holding her.”

“I know,” you said, “But you can hold her tomorrow. Plus your wife has been waiting patiently for her turn.”

He chuckled warmly, “Well I couldn’t possibly disappoint my Mrs., so let’s go.”

As he rose from the couch, he used his core strength to ensure Mina didn’t jostle. He held in one arm, keeping one hand free for you. Fingers intertwined with yours, you both headed into her bedroom. Her big girl bed was waiting for her, with flannel sheets in her favorite color, purple.

Jimin took the utmost care when laying her down. His technique had been perfected when she was a tiny thing, in those days where she had to be put in her crib with such stealth - otherwise she’d wake up and resume crying.

Once she was comfortably on the bed, she turned on her side naturally. You pulled up her covers, tucking them around her without pulling your eyes from her angelic face.

Then you leaned further down to kiss her cheek, “Goodnight, sweet girl. I love you.”

Your husband did the same, “Sleep tight, little miss. Daddy loves you too.”

Mindful of the softness of your steps, the two of you exited the darkened room and closed her door quietly.

Now, to play the important role of Santa Claus.

You kept your voice quiet, “Presents are in our closet, behind your suit rack.”

Jimin held in a laugh. He’d grown to love doing this over the past couple years, where the girl had come to understand the concept of Santa and look forward to it. Her enthusiasm had renewed his own love for Christmas, as there was no greater joy than seeing the look on her face in the morning.

It was fun for both of you to sneak around with the gifts, tiptoeing from your bedroom to the living room. Together, you knelt at the base of the glowing tree and placed the wrapped boxes and bags underneath. As a parent, you cared about the positioning of the gifts, wanting the scene the following morning to be nothing short of magical for your child.

As you moved things around, Jimin went over to the fireplace to stuff some smaller things in Mina’s stocking.

The whole process only took a few minutes. When the stage was all set for a delightful holiday morning, Jimin helped you stand up.

“One more thing we have to do,” he grinned, “Hungry?”

You raised your brows with a sly smile, “I do have a sweet tooth these days.”

The two of you were soon munching on the cookies and carrots on the couch. You rested your head on his shoulder, finally feeling relaxed.

“Thank you.” he muttered as he exhaled, putting his arm around you.

With a mouth full of cookie, you furrowed your brows, “For what?”

Jimin’s plump lips pressed into your temple, “For all you do as a wife and mother, making sure our family has a good Christmas in spite of my work schedule. You’ve basically been putting on the holiday all by yourself until now. Can’t be easy with our four-year-old ball of energy and another in your belly. I don’t know how you do it.”

You smiled softly, “I’ve been fine, I promise. She really was well-behaved. If anything, this one has given me more trouble, making me pee nonstop, always wiggling around.”

As if on cue, the baby kicked your side. You put your hand on your belly, “Like right now.”

Jimin’s palm dashed to the same spot of your abdomen, eager to feel the movements. What felt like a jab to you translated as a tap against his hand, spreading his smile wider.

“Hello, little man,” he chuckled, “Daddy missed you. Have you been making trouble for your Mommy? Hm?”

“He’s been dancing, I think,” you remarked as you bit into a carrot, “Way more active than Mina ever was, which is funny considering how rambunctious she is now.”

“Then maybe he will mellow out once he joins us out here. Be the opposite of her.” you husband pushed a tuft of dark hair out of his face.

You laughed lightly, “Not a chance. His big sister is going to teach him her ways. We will have our work cut out for us.”

“She’s been getting more excited to meet him,” he concurred, “I think it was hard for her to understand at first, but now that you’re showing and she can feel him move, it’s more real to her.”

You hummed in agreement, “She told me last week that she wants to name him Frosty.”

Jimin threw his head back in laughter, covering his mouth so he wouldn’t spit out the contents. You put your finger to your lips and shushed him, reminding him that there was a sleeping child.

“Sorry, sorry,” he whispered, “That’s just so adorable. She’s really gotten into the Christmas spirit, huh?”

You nodded, “Big time, and I love it. She’s entering those peak years where it’s all so wondrous.”

His smiled faded ever so slightly, “I know. I will make sure I don’t miss as much holiday time in the years ahead. I want to be there for the cookie baking, hot chocolate, movies, everything. Not to mention, we will have two next year.”

He rubbed your belly, both of you imagining your lives at this time the following year. Mina would be five, and this baby boy would be a few months shy of a year old.

The expression on his face became more serious as his deep brown eyes found yours, “There’s no way I’m leaving you for that long to manage both of them. I’m so-”

“Don’t,” you put your hand on his cheek, your face kind and soft, “Don’t say you’re sorry, Jimin. You were gone for just two weeks. That’s the longest you’ve been away in a while, and you didn’t miss the actual holiday.”

“I know,” he said, smiling somewhat sadly, “And I remember us talking about this stuff before we started trying for Mina. We knew things like this would happen.”

“Exactly,” you grinned softly before giving him a kiss on his cheek, “We are making the very most of our circumstances. Your career offers our family so many blessings that other families don’t have, but it does come with some downsides. This is a downside and we’re handling it the best we can. At the end of it all, I still say we are extremely fortunate.”

“We are,” he sighed, “I don’t mean to sound ungrateful. It just gets harder and harder to leave you both, especially in your condition.”

It was tough to see him full of regret. You wanted him to feel like the amazing husband and father that he was.

“Then we can try to adjust your schedule going forward. But this is Christmas, Jimin. It’s about family, and we are together now. That’s all we need to think about.”

He was silent for a moment, but your words seemed to subdue any negative feelings entrenched within him. He kissed you more deeply than he could have in front of Mina.

“How did I manage to find myself the perfect bride?”

You giggled lightly, “Luck of the draw, I suppose. I love you.”

“I love you more, baby.”

You cuddled on the couch for a while longer, before the weight of the day came crashing down on both of you. He was exhausted from traveling, and you were wiped from another hectic day of motherhood.

Jimin made sure that the empty cookie plate and glass were set back by the fireplace. You switched off the tree lights and the lamps in the living room, and then you headed into your bedroom together.

You were using a pregnancy pillow for hip and back support, and to keep you from turning in your sleep. Jimin spooned you, the scent of your hair products acting as a soothing tonic for him. Slowly and absentmindedly, he rubbed circles on your bump.

“And to all a good night.” he mumbled.

Nearly asleep, you chuckled, “Goodnight, Jiminie.”

You awoke to your alarm at six. You knew Mina would wake up earlier than normal due to her excitement, so you wanted to be ready.

To your surprise, your husband was already out of bed. Typically after getting home from a longer trip, he slept in up to the point where you’d have your daughter come and wake him up, sitting on his torso and laughing at his light snoring.

After brushing your teeth, you padded out of your room and into the hallway, where you could pick up on the faint sound of the coffee maker brewing. Walking to the kitchen, you passed through the living room, where the tree was already lit up and a fire was cracking in the fireplace.

You paused to take in the perfectly merry scene. It looked like the quintessential Christmas morning.

You heard his hoarse morning voice behind you, “Merry Christmas, baby.”

When you turned around, you doing your husband holding two mugs of coffee. You trusted that he’d made yours decaf.

Jimin came up to you and gave you a quick kiss, handing you one of the mugs, “For you.”

“Merry Christmas,” you pecked his lips again, “And thank you.”

The two of you sat on the couch together to catch a moment of peace before the festivities began. Just as the night before, you laid your head on his shoulder.

“How did you sleep?” he asked you, “I remember before I left that it was getting tricky.”

You hummed, “Pretty good, actually. I think your son was sleeping. Not many kicks. I did have a little bit of heartburn, but miraculously I didn’t get up to pee.”

Jimin couldn’t help but chuckle, not because it was funny, but because he was totally in awe of you. He set his mug down on the side table next to the couch before leaning to press his lips on your belly.

“What a nice present you gave Mommy, little man. A night of decent sleep.”

You giggled, placing your hand in his black hair, “It’s a Christmas Miracle. And speaking of presents…”

You took another sip of your decade before hoisting yourself off the cushion, putting your mug on the coffee table. You took a few steps over to the tree and retrieved the gift you got for your husband. It was a small box, wrapped in a classic green paper with a red and white bow.

You hadn’t noticed, but your man already had your gift next to him. It must have been there before you ever sat down. You returned to his hide and handed it to him, “You first.”

Jimin sat up a little more, keeping the box in his lap as he pulled off the bow and tore away the paper. By the brand name on the box, he instantly knew what item it was, but could have never anticipated the detailing of the gift within.

He was beaming as he took the platinum watch, with a deep blue dial. Right away, he caught something unique about it. There were four different gemstones along the bezel, giving it a pop of color.

“Our family’s birthstones,” you explained, “Here’s mine, there’s the opal for you, the peridot for Mina, and the aquamarine for our boy. I just thought when you travel, you might like to wear something that keeps us all together.”

Unexpectedly, he became choked up, rubbing his fingers on his bottom lip. He loved the thought behind it, of taking his family with him wherever he went.

He cast his arm around you and pressed a long kiss on your temple, trying not to cry, “Thank you, baby. This means the world to me.”

You scooted closer to him, linking your arms together, “You mean the world to us, no matter where you are. We are always united as a family.”

Jimin chuckled, lightening his own mood, “Just wait until I show the guys. They will be dropping hints to their wives to get them the same thing.”

You giggled too.

Then he placed it back in the box with care before setting it on the coffee table. He reached to the side table to grab the gift he’d gotten for you. It was a flat, rectangular shape, wrapped in red and white.

When he handed it to you, it became apparent that this was a folder of some kind. You unwrapped it gently, not wanting to tear whatever was hiding beneath.

It was a yellow business envelope with gold prongs sealing it at the top. You pinched the prongs together, freeing the flap to be lifted. Your face expressed your confusion thoroughly, but your husband knew you were going to love this.

You pulled out a packet of papers that were stapled together. Honestly, it looked like a headache to have to read, but that wasn’t the part you needed to focus on.

Then you read the top line, which told you what kind of document this was.

“A land title?” you asked.

Jimin nodded, pursing his lips together in anticipation for you to finally know, “Yes, a land title.”

You laughed, though you were terribly perplexed, “Why do we need a plot of land?”

“Because I’m going to build you a house.”

Your hands and the papers dropped into your lap as you looked at him with astonishment. Speechless, your mouth was slightly agape. It was as if you short-circuited.

You looked back and forth between him and the title papers a couple times, unable to get a word out. Jimin was quite satisfied with your reaction.

“W-What?” you finally got out, a smile growing on your face.

He chuckled at how cute you looked, “I know we’ve enjoyed our time here in this apartment, but it’s time we had a place that’s truly our own. I want you to have the home of your dreams, where our kids can have a yard to play in and multiple floors to run around and wreak havoc.”

Then he put his hand on your bump, “Plus, the Parks are growing in number. And I know he isn’t our last one. Best to have enough space for them all, right?”

You were grinning ear to ear as you practically pounced on him. The title papers fell off the couch as you kissed his face repeatedly, “This is amazing, Jiminie! Thank you so much!”

His laughter rang out, “You’re welcome.”

When you pulled away, he could see the tears of joy brimming in your eyes.

“I-I can’t believe it,” you beamed, “Our very own home!”

“You deserve it, baby. You and our children. Plus, I thought with more space, I’d be able to put in a home studio or something. Do more work at home. I think it’s exactly what we need.”

The two of you ended up snuggling on the couch for a while, daydreaming out loud about all the possibilities. You laid on your back and your husband on his side, propping his head up with his elbow. He was perfectly content just listening to you think of ideas for your new home. Throughout, he kept his hand on your belly so he could feel his son’s hiccups, focusing on your smile as you talked about how you’d design the master bedroom.

Life was pure in this moment, only to be improved by the sound of Mina’s door opening.

You had told her not to come out until you came to get her, but it appeared your effort was futile. She was just enthused, and you weren’t about to make a fuss over it. You quickly sat up, as did Jimin.

“Let me bring her in,” he grinned, “You stay.”

You nodded, watching him get up to go meet your little girl in the hallway, before she marched herself into the living room. You got out your phone to record the two of them when they came back in.

Mina was slowly making her way towards the living room, as if she was trying to do it without getting caught. She knew that she was technically disobeying her mother’s instructions. When Jimin saw her, she froze.

He laughed, “Are you sneaking out of your room, little miss?”

She nodded.

He went to swoop her up in an instant, erasing any fear of retribution from her mind. She belted out a sweet giggle, receiving two kisses on her cheek.

“I snuck out early this morning too,” he smiled, “And I think you will love what you find in the living room.”

Her eyes were wide and thrilled, “Did Santa come, Daddy?”

“Why don’t we go find out together, hm?”

He set her down and held her tiny hand, leading her into the living room. You got it all on video, but watched her reaction directly, rather than through your phone screen.

Her short legs sprung up and down a few times, her face bright with unbridled joy. Jimin was looking down at her, treasuring every bit of it.

She pointed to the gathering of presents under the tree, “Mommy look! Santa came!”

You matched her level of excitement, “I see, baby! Did he eat the cookies?”

She bounded away from her father to verify what you’d said. She bent down in her pajamas to inspect the plate before jumping back up, “He did eat the cookies!”

You and your husband laughed as she ran into your arms, too giddy to contain herself. You hugged her tightly, “Merry Christmas, my love.”

As you held her, Jimin went and took a seat next to the tree. Wanting his wife to remain comfy on the couch, he assumed the role of gift-passer, ready to begin a beautiful family experience. Embracing your daughter, you opened your eyes to find him looking at you. His smile was gentle and subconscious, containing all the adoration in the world. You mirrored this same expression, knowing that your future was as bright as your spirits that morning.

Then he clapped his hands once, calling Mina over, "Alright, little miss. Let's see what Santa brought."

[persphonesorchid]

Tasting Jealousy - KSJ

Summary: Seokjin is more than happy to accompany you to your company's New Year's Eve party, he's not happy however, that your co-worker is trying to flirt with you. The presence of this man brings up feelings Seokjin thought he left behind him.

Word Count: 3.2k

Genre: COH!au, Cupid!Seokjin x F!Reader, fluff, smut...angst 😀

Warnings: Jealous jinnie, smut (Protected sex bcus Seokjin ain't looking to be a daddy for the new year. Soft Dom jinnie, fingering, kitty spanking - you'll see what I mean lmao.) Jin gets very sad at one point and it gave me flashbacks of a universe in which he left 🤡

Masterlist - HERE

Notes: Happy New year my darlings!! I hope this year brings you lots of joy, love and peace!! Be good to yourselves!!

Now, I love this couple so much and I just can't get away from them ajsjhsha so here you go, my last fic for the year! And guess what? You guys will finally get to know who sent MC the flower arrangements. I know a lot of you were wondering lmao. I hope to write more drabbles for these two...even though is can't be considered a drabble because it got way out of hand 😭 but! I'm not complaining! I hope you guys enjoy!!

this follows Cupid's on Holiday's What If drabble Picking Peonies

“Ranunculus.” The word is a hissed breath between Seokjin’s teeth, eyes narrowing into slits. There’s a muscle twitching just under his eye, and he should be careful. If he grips the champagne flute any tighter the fine glass will shatter.

You pause in the middle of your sentence, fingers brushing his as you take the glass he offers, head turning and tilting back a little to look up at him.

The chatter of the party populous and the soft crackle of Christmas jingles fades into background noise against the rising ring in his ears.

The man who stands across from you both must’ve been raised without manners, that or at least a little common sense. He stands tall, a inch or so shorter than Seokjin if he were to guess. They’re unintentionally matching, both wearing black turtleneck sweaters. Though, Seokjin’s coat is tweed and brushes his knees, the man’s is dark grey and stops where his hands are tucked into the pockets of his black slacks.

Its been about a minute since Seokjin went off to get you both something to drink. A minute since he spotted this man through the crowd and just knew.

It’s been about a minute since he’s walked over here, weaved his way through the crowd with a wide boxy smile and a wave in your direction. A minute of his eyes trailing over your form, lingering over the way the peach fabric accentuates your waist and flutters at your feet in soft waves. A minute since he’d leaned in with a smile and kissed both your cheeks.

A minute of him pretending Seokjin isn’t standing right here, like your arm isn’t linked with his.

Six minutes. Not like Seokjin is counting or anything.

Something burns hot in the back of Seokjin’s mind when you giggle around the syllables that make up this man’s name. You’re smiling at something he said a second ago, but Seokjin is so far in his head he didn’t hear. It’s the kind of smile you give him when he brings you your favourite treat; your cheeks puffing up and squishing your eyes. He doesn’t know if the guy’s actually funny or if you’re only smiling at him to not seem rude.

“This is Seokjin.” You say, and briefly, you look up at him, smile unmoving. There’s a pinch to your brow, probably still wondering what the meaning behind his word earlier was. A bit of pride blooms in his chest with the way you wonder; you’ve long forgotten where his distaste stems.

Seokjin dips his head in greeting when, the man – Taehyung – finally looks over at him. He extends a hand, overhead lights of the venue catching on the face of his watch that Seokjin knows is expensive. He knows because it matches his.

Seokjin shakes his hand firmly, even as Taehyung’s eyes meet yours again with a smile that seems a little more strained and a lot less boxy.

“Strong grip you’ve got there.” Taehyung's chuckle is deep as his hand falls back to his side and Seokjin only hums. “Friend of yours?”

There’s nothing in his tone that gives reason for the feeling that floods Seokjin’s chest. It rises quickly from his feet and burns the back of his neck and ears and he bristles.

“Partner, actually.” There’s an edge to his voice that he knows you’ve caught; you squeeze his arm a little.

“Ah, partner... That’s nice, I didn’t know you were seeing anyone.”

There’s no way he couldn’t have known.

He’s not in your department, Seokjin knows. This encounter would’ve happened a whole lot sooner had he been. Seokjin had been about your work place many times over this year alone, sometimes for no particular reason. Everyone in your department knows him by now.

Office gossip spreads like a flame in a dry grass field, so it isn’t that he hadn’t known, the man just chose to blatantly ignore it.

Something about that sets Seokjin’s teeth on edge.

“Ah, well, I’m pretty private so that’s fine.” You wave your other hand, the motion careful as not to spill the champagne that sits in it.

You and Taehyung make small talk, and Seokjin drowns in the feeling that’s swimming around his head. You ask him about how his birthday went and Taehyung says it could’ve been better. And there’s a twinkle in his eyes that Seokjin doesn’t like when he says it.

Taehyung smiles, after a while of Seokjin just staring him down. “Well...all my best for the new year.” He says, the curls of his dark hair sways on his forehead when he looks to Seokjin again. “Nice meeting you.”

And like that, he was gone, back through the crowd to linger when he’d came from.

Seokjin feels you shift, and when he looks at you, you’re already watching him.

“What was that about?” you ask, a brow raised.

“What?” Seokjin raises a brow back and you sigh, tapping at his arm with hand that was looped around it.

“Jin...” You say nothing more and Seokjin busies himself with draining the rest of the champagne in his glass. He sets it down on a nearby table and you do the same, unlinking your arm from his to stand in front of him.

“Do you want to leave?” you ask softly.

“We’ve only been here two hours.” Seokjin replies, shaking his head.

“You didn’t answer my question. And besides it wouldn’t be any fun if you’re gonna be like...that for the rest of the night.”

“I’m not being like anything.” His voice is a little harsh, and Seokjin isn’t sure if it’s because he’s being called out. He sighs, brows pinching. “It’s fine. It wouldn’t be fair to you if we leave now.”

“I don’t mind, that’s why I asked. If you don’t want to stay that’s okay.”

“Why’re you so stubborn? Stop pushing it.”

You step away from him, eyes rolling as you step past.

“Where are you going?” Seokjin calls, turning as you walk, following the motion of your body with his.

“The bathroom.” You snap and Seokjin stares until you disappear into the throng of people.

There’s a low whistle behind him and Seokjin slowly turns, hackles raised again.

Taehyung is back. Barely seems to be paying him mind as he fills a plate with finger food and snacks. The long rectangular table is tucked into a corner, laden with different types of foods. He’s a bit away, but Seokjin’s certain he heard the exchange if the little smile he donned was anything to go by.

“Trouble in paradise?” He nods with his chin in the direction you stomped off to, picking a mini sandwich off his plate.

“Just a small fire. Containable. Although, I don’t see how that’s any business of yours.” If Seokjin’s eyes could narrow any further, he’d close them.

Taehyung lifts his shoulder in a shrug, “Just worrying, she’s my friend after all. Would hate to see her not have a good time.”

“Right.” Seokjin says, and then takes a breath. He doesn’t have to entertain this. He turns on his heel, walking through the crowd towards the bathrooms.

He finds you just coming out, pulling the lace of your sleeves back down to your wrists. He takes your hand, “We’re leaving.”

“Okay.”

You follow without complaint or question. Once outside, Seokjin gives you his coat because he doesn’t need it, a hand on the small of your back as he leads you to where he parked. Ever the gentleman, he opens the door for you and waits until you’re situated before going around and getting in.

He turns the heat on, and the drive is silent.

After a moment of your eyes burning into the side of his head, you finally speak: “Are you okay?”

“M’fine.” Seokjin tries to keep the edge out his tone because there’s no reason to snap at you.

You still catch it, and Seokjin sighs when you go quiet. His teeth aches when he clenches his jaw, grip tight on the steering wheel. It wasn’t long before he’s pulling into the parking lot of the apartment and you’re out the car first.

The way up to your apartment is silent, and it continues until you’re both inside, taking your shoes off at the door.

“Wanna tell me what’s wrong now?”

Seokjin feels guilt knot his stomach as you stare at him, a patient look on your face.

“I’m sorry. It’s just...”

There was still a lot of things Seokjin was getting used to. It’s been a year since he decided to break every rule set for him and stay with you. There are times when he’s blissfully unaware of it. When he’s tucked it into the far reaches of his mind in a box under lock and key and it doesn’t bother him. Sometimes though, like now, it rattles along the inside of his head, bouncing off corners.

Taehyung is the one who sent you that horrid floral arrangement on valentines day. It had long stopped irritating him whenever thought about it. The initial jealousy had come and crested like a wave and was gone then. Now it crashes in like a tsunami.

It’s not just jealousy he feels, but a strange sense of being lost. Like he’s walking through a fog with a blindfold. He’s aware of what he did, when he decided to turn his back on his duty and be selfish. He knows well there are some things he can’t ever give you.

A normal, happy life is one of them.

He can give you whatever you ask for, anything you want it’s yours without question. But what happens later? Years down the road and you’re married to him and he can’t give you the one thing you’ll want then.

The person meant for you could give that to you.

He’s being selfish. You’ve never complained, but Seokjin knows you must’ve wondered about it by now. The what if. Maybe...perhaps it would've been better if he'd followed through with leaving then...

“Jin?” you call softly, ducking your head a bit to meet his gaze, “Talk to me, what is it?”

“Do you regret it?” His voice is just as soft, looking down at his feet. He looks up, somewhere above your head, sighing, “Do you know that he’s the one who sent you those flowers?”

You seem confused for a moment, and then recollection lights in your eyes. “Oh! Oh...Jin.” you chuckle a bit and step closer.

“Don’t laugh, it’s not funny.” Seokjin groans, and meets you halfway when you reach for him. Your fingers dance at the nape of his neck and Seokjin pulls you closer by the waist.

“Is that what was bothering you?”

He can only hum, and you chuckle again. The warmth of your hand rubs circles against his back and he feels that warmth seep into his bones and settle there.

“I don’t regret anything. None of it.” You murmur against his neck, and Seokjin pulls away, cupping your cheek with a hand. His thumb gently caresses, and he meets your eyes for the first time in a while and calls your name softly.

“There are things that I can’t give you.”

“So?”

There’s a fierce look in your eyes that makes Seokjin wrap his next set of words up neatly and swallow them.

“None of that matters. You’re more than enough.”

Seokjin closes the gap between you both, pressing his lips firmly to yours. The arm at your waist pulls you close and the hand that sits at the side of your neck tails into your hair to tug at the many pins that you’d secured it with.

He spins you with practiced ease, pressing your back against the wall of the entryway and crowding your space.

He places a kiss at the corner of your mouth just to tease, and chuckles when you chase. His kisses trail along your jaw, stopping just below your ear, and he takes the lobe between his teeth.

The little sound you make shoots down his spine, and he feels your fingers curl into the fabric of his sweater. He taps at your waist, his hand trailing over the curve of your ass and he gives you a moment to settle your arms securely around his neck before he lifts.

He doesn’t need to see where he’s going to find his way to your bedroom, and he busies himself with kissing and marking the skin he could reach. The fingers of his other hand finding the zipper at the back of your dress to tug down.

He sets you on your feet, pulling back just enough to help you out of your dress, his eyes still closed as he trails his lips over your collarbone, pushing the fabric off your body until it pools at your feet. Your skin is warm where he touches, he ghosts his fingers along your sides and revels the way you visibly shiver.

The bralette you chose for the night is lace and hides nothing from his hooded gaze, your nipples taut from the chill and his caress. He thumbs at the peaks, and when you tug on the hem of his sweater, he tuts at your impatience.

His hand slides up your back, unclasping the bralette and pushing you gently back until you hit the bed. The straps slide down your arms and he tugs it off, palming at a breast with a groan trapped behind his teeth.

“Jin..” you sigh his name and Seokjin hums, tilting his head at you.

He leans into you and you fall back. Seokjin holds his weight on his hands just above tour shoulders, and his knees trapping your thighs between them. He watches you blink up at him with some confusion as he simply stares.

“Let me ask you something.” He says, and then he shift, getting onto the bed and sitting with his back against the headboard. He curls his fingers at you, and with a bit of uncertainty tinting your form you follow. He settles you between his spread legs, pressing a kiss to the junction where your neck meets your shoulder as he traces patterns against the skin of your thighs.

He spreads you legs with a gentle hand, bringing his legs up a bit so that the back of your knees hooks against his thigh. Seokjin brings his hand down quickly, the lace of your underwear does nothing to shield you from it and he chuckles when your surprised whine meets his ears. He feels you trying to snap your legs shut as the sting of his hand runs through you, the way your back arches away from his chest.

“Tell me, sweet girl.” Seokjin coos, and he decides to be nice, rubbing soothing circles against your lace covered pussy. He could feel just how wet you are, your panties slide against your slick skin with his movements, damp against his hand. “Do you think you’re deserving of my touch right now?”

Your exhale rattles against his chest, and he waits patiently for your answer. He allows you a moment to think, and he knows it’s hard, as his fingers tease at the seam of your underwear, slipping underneath to find the wetness there.

“I am.” You finally say.

“Oh, are you?” Seokjin chuckles, dipping a finger into the warmth of you just to hear your gasping moan. He presses the finger against your clit, circling once, twice, and then he stops. “Do you want me to tell you why you’re not?”

Seokjin kisses your jaw, and the slight shift of your hips doesn’t go unnoticed. “You let that man get near you. Allowed him to act like I wasn’t there. Ignored the way he was looking at you.”

“Jin, it wasn’t...”

“Shh,” Seokjin shushes you gently, fingers resuming the slow, torturous grind against your clit. “I should make you cum until you cry.”

The whimper you let out makes his slacks feel constricting. He sinks two fingers, knuckle deep into you and kisses your neck when your head lulls back against his shoulder. He watches the way his hand moves under your panties, curling his fingers against the spot that makes your toes curl.

He presses the heel of his palm against your clit, and runs his tongue along the shell of your ear when your pussy clenches and your moans go up in pitch.

“Close already?” Seokjin coos mockingly, a chuckle on his exhale. The fingers of his other hand pinching lightly at your nipples, and then he stops, “That’s too bad, then.”

Your groan holds frustration and Seokjin unhooks your legs from his. He stands to rid himself of his clothes, his cock hard and weeping when it slaps lightly against his stomach. The reaction you invoke in him has never changed, a shiver slithers down his spine and watches at your tongue darts out to moisten your lips. You reach a hand out to him and Seokjin takes it, bending a little at his waist to press kisses against your fingers.

He fishes a condom from your nightstand – ever mindful – and then crawls between your legs, taking a moment to slide your panties down them.

“Okay?” He asks to make sure that you’re okay to continue, that he’s not driving you too hard.

You nod, and you lift your hips, pressing his cock between your wet heat and his stomach. Seokjin groans against your lips, tightening his grip against your thigh.

He moves his hips, pulling back and then pushing into you with slow, languid strokes. He kisses you tenderly, his tongue exploring your mouth. When his fingers brush against your clit, the way your core tightens around his cock has him seeing stars. His thrusts gets faster, and he knows just how quickly you’re hurdling towards your end, he watches every minute expression. The way your eyes squeeze shut and how your lips curl around his name, the scratching of your nails down his back.

Just as you reach the peak, Seokjin moves his hand away and slows his thrusts, leaving you trembling and whining. He smiles against your lips, and whispers, “Let’s take this slow.” He kisses you again, his thrusts becoming slower and gentler.

He continues to move in and out of you at a slow, steady pace, taking his time to bring you to the edge of pleasure again and again. Eventually, he begins to speed up, and he moves his hand back to your clit, sending you over the edge into a powerful orgasm.

“Fuck.” Seokjin groans, following not long after, his forehead against your collarbone. There’s a ringing in ears when he comes down, and he presses a kiss to your sternum before pulling away.

After you were both cleaned up and the sheets were changed, Seokjin holds you close as you both watch the couple of minutes tick by until midnight.

“Do you have any resolutions?” Your head is against his chest, a leg over his hip.

He traces patterns against your thigh, thinking quietly. This is another one of those human things that he wouldn’t ever grasp. You rang in the last new year with Yoongi and Hoseok while he was busy with his duties with the other Cupids in the area, so you must’ve had this question for a while.

Seokjin hums softly, “Loving you. That’s it.” He smiles when you giggle and when the fireworks start up at the stroke of midnight you both watch them light up the night sky through your open window.

“Happy New Year, Jinnie.”

Seokjin turns, capturing your lips in a gentle kiss and he whispers the words back to you.

You both lay there for a moment, quiet, and then Seokjin speaks: “You know, I could make him fall in love with his office chair or something.”

“Jin.”

tagging: @xpeachesncream @bangtansmauyeondan @taestefully-in-luv @blog-name-idk @madbutgloriouspond @euphoricfilter @luaspersona @mssukeyna @allhobbitstoisengard @eoieopda @minmin2022 @liveyun

[kingofbodyrolls]

Christmas at Lissa’s 🎁

🎄✨ I’m back, my wonderful friends! And what better way to celebrate the season of giving than to share an early gift with you—or rather, a shimmering glimpse of your Christmas surprise, lovingly wrapped from me to you. 🎁✨

The air is crisp with holiday magic, and you know how much I cherish spreading joy, warmth, and cheer. So, as the twinkle of inspiration found its way back into my heart, I knew I had to craft something special—something that whispers the enchantment of the Christmas stories I’ve cherished for years. This year, I’m delighted to present my own little Christmas event, a celebration of tales both familiar and new.

Within this holiday collection, you’ll find a mix of cozy extras from beloved stories and fresh adventures that glitter with festive wonder. And for even more holiday delight, I’m also hosting a Christmas Rec Event (Lissa’s 25 Days of Christmas) + (Bangtan Christmas), brimming with treasures to share.

So come along, dear friends, and let’s make this holiday season unforgettable. Together, we’ll unwrap the magic of stories, sharing laughter, love, and joy with every page. 💜✨ 

Let’s read, dream, and sprinkle the world with holiday cheer!

Since today is my birthday, I wanted to give you this little present, even though I still need to finish writing the last story (but it’s like ¼ done 🤭). edit: this was posted on November 10th (on my birthday).

🎄Doughn’t Go Baking My Heart // Seokjin // enemies to lovers + romance // 16.5k 🎁 This Christmas season, you’re back in the kitchen, whisk in hand and determination in your heart, entering the annual holiday baking competition once again. The goal? Finally beat your long-time rival, the infuriatingly talented Kim Seokjin. But as the ovens warm and the ingredients come together, you realize it might not be just the doughs rising this year… Will the holiday spirit bring you closer, or will the heat of competition drive you further apart? 😜 🎁 Peek at the gift [teaser] 🎁 Peek at the spoiler [JINtastic subreddit] 🎁 Release date: 4th of December 2024 [link]

🎄 Perfect Strangers // Hoseok // fake dating + romance // 19.7k 🎁 When a man as warm as a crackling hearth steps into your cozy bookstore seeking the perfect gift for his friend’s Christmas party, you can’t help but offer him your brightest smile. But when he returns days later, with a spark in his eye and a bold request—to be his pretend girlfriend for this very party—you think, Why not? After all, Christmas is a time for a little magic, a little whimsy. Yet as you step deeper into his world, you discover a heart weighed down by scars from the past, a man more complex than the merry mask he wears. Still, what’s Christmas without a little hope, a touch of wonder, and a heart ready to spread the joy it knows so well? 🎁 Peek at the gift [teaser] 🎁 Peek at the spoiler [text messages between Namjoon and MC] 🎁 Release date: 9th of December 2024 [link]

🎄Coming Home to You // Jimin // thriller + comfort // 11.7k 🎁 It’s been five years since Hyun was arrested, and you’ve done a lot of healing to get where you are in life; married, finally opening your very own yoga studio. But when the shadows come crawling back, and old memories resurface, will Christmas be ruined? 🎁 Peek at the gift [teaser] 🎁 Peek at the spoiler [MC’s text messages to Jimin] 🎁 Release date: 13th of December 2024 [link]

🎄Sprouting Love // Namjoon // fluffy + romance // 13.7k 🎁 As snowflakes dance in the crisp winter air, you and Namjoon find yourselves wrapped in the warmth of each other’s company. The holiday season brings the aroma of freshly baked cookies, the magic of twinkling lights strung through the house, and laughter echoing in your greenhouse where you tend to flourishing plants, lovingly nurtured together. Amid the glow of Christmas cheer and shared moments filled with wonder, perhaps this season will sprinkle a touch of courage and clarity to finally define the blossoming connection between you. Will the magic of Christmas help turn what’s unspoken into something beautifully real? 🎁 Peek at the gift [teaser] 🎁 Peek at the spoiler [text between Jungkook and MC] 🎁 Release date: 17th of December 2024 [link]

🎄Stuck in a Cave // Jimin // enemies to lovers + romance // 9k 🎁 Trapped in a snowbound cave over the Christmas holidays with your long-time rival, Park Jimin, you're forced to face the simmering feelings you've both been burying beneath layers of denial. As the cold closes in, unspoken desires begin to thaw, setting your hearts ablaze in a season meant for warmth and wonder. 🎁 Peek at the gift [teaser] 🎁 Peek at the spoiler [group chat texts] 🎁 Release date: 24th of December 2024 [link]

If you wish to be tagged for one (or more) of these stories, please just leave me a comment here, or on the specific story’s teaser and let me know. Then I’ll add you! 💝

[taeyongdoyoung]

summary: you're tired of your relatives asking you if you're still single every Christmas. on the spur of the moment, you lie that your have boyfriend. luckily, your best friend sweeps in like your knight in shining armor to save the day pairing: jin x reader genre: romcom with a lil angst, best friends to fake dating to lovers warnings: nosy annoying relatives, lying, fake dating trope, one bed mentioned, some crying, insecurities, confessions, kissing, it is quite mild tbh author's note: the title is super lame but hey, Jin likes dad jokes so here we go 🤷 also i intended to post this for his bday but didn't have enough time to finish it word count: 2.4k

Christmas is the loneliest time of the year for you. Even though you spend it with your relatives, they always make a point of asking whether you are still single. Spoiler alert: you are. It's gotten annoying that they don't appreciate you for your academic and personal achievements and they are only interested in your relationship status. You are so tired of the recurring question which is why you dread Christmas so much. A few weeks before it, you get a call from your parents.

"You're coming home for the holidays, right?"

"Of course, mom," you respond, rolling your eyes.

"So…have you found a special someone?"

There it is. Again. Ugh.

"If I hear this one more time…" you sigh.

"Got it," your mom chuckles condescendingly, which frustrates you to no end.

You don't know what spirit possesses you to do what you do next but the words are out of your mouth before you can think twice about it.

"I actually have a boyfriend but maybe if you weren't nagging me about it every Christmas, I would have told you earlier."

"You do?" your mom exclaims, surprise evident in her voice."Well, isn't that wonderful! You should bring him, introduce him into the family."

"He's really busy, mom, I don't think he'll make it," you keep lying, trying to get out of the situation you'd brought upon yourself.

"Nonsense, no one works on Christmas. I expect to see the happy couple soon. And no excuses!"

Before you could argue, your mom hangs up. Great. Now you have two weeks to magically find a boyfriend to bring home for the holidays.

You are sitting on your best friend's couch, playing games with him.

"Damn, you're so good at this!" you shout in fake annoyance at being defeated but you are actually happy for him. You know how much Jin loves winning.

"What can I say? I was born this way," he smirks confidently and puts the console on the table.

"Humble, as always," you tease him, nudging his shoulder.

"So, do you have any plans for Christmas?"

"Ugh, don't remind me."

"Why? I thought you loved Christmas movies and decorations and all things Christmas-related," Jin tells you and you are beyond touched to have someone who knows you that well and remembers such details.

"I do, but…I got myself in a bit of a predicament."

"Do share," he turns to the side so that he can face you.

"Well, you know how my relatives always ask whether I'm still single? And they're especially persistent around the holidays."

"I know," he laughs. "You've only complained about it like a hundred times."

"Sorry," you grimace at your own predisposition to torment your best friend everytime something goes wrong in your life. "So, um…this year I told my mom I have a boyfriend."

"And I learn about this now?" Jin puts a hand on his heart, expressing disappointment that you'd kept such a big secret from him.

"What? No, I don't have a boyfriend. I lied to my mom and now she expects me to bring a guy to meet the family."

"Oh, shit," he now understands why you're not looking forward to Christmas.

"Yep. I'm such a mess. Everyone will be so mad at me when I come home alone. Again. Kill me now."

"Well…you don't have to be alone."

"Huh?"

"Hear me out. What if I pretend to be your boyfriend? Just for the holidays. Then, your relatives would get off your back."

"Jin…I can't ask this of you."

"Good thing you're not asking. I came up with this brilliant idea myself. If it bothers you, you can tell them we broke up some time next year. Don't you want one Christmas of your relatives not repeating the same old annoying question?"

"I do want it, more than anything. But I would hate to inconvenience you…"

"Come on, it will be fun! My parents are spending this Christmas in Australia, drinking cocktails and soaking in the sun. It's not like I have anything special planned. It would be delightful to spend it with my best friend," Jin keeps talking and you are almost convinced.

"What about your best friend's super messy family?" you try to change his mind.

"Oh, I'm sure I'll charm the pants off them."

You are not worried about how your relatives will immediatelly fall in love with Jin. You are concerned that it will be you being charmed…

You are revising every small detail while Jin is driving his car to your grandparents' place.

"When did we start dating?" you ask him.

"Three months ago. We naturally realized that we are great friends and would make an even greater couple," he responds without hesitation. "How did I ask you out?"

"You told me I am the best thing that happened to you and I would make you the happiest man in the world if I went on a date with you," you reply naturally. "What was our first date like?"

"We went to watch a movie together, after that we had dinner at a lovely restaurant and I walked you to your apartment where I kissed you in front of the doorstep."

"The roses! You forgot to mention the roses!" you cry out, almost panicking. This has to be perfect or your snoopy relatives might suspect something.

"I was supposed to bring roses to your grandparents? I thought the wine would be enough," Jin mumbles in confusion.

"No, for the first date details! We agreed that you'd mention the roses. What if…what if they ask and we mess something up and…"

"Darling, relax. We've got this. We've been best friends for seven years. We know each other well enough to handle anything."

You try to ignore the way your heart flutters when he calls you darling. Damnit. When he'd suggested pretending, you hadn't thought about the fact that it wouldn't be pretending on your part.

"Do you trust me?" Jin asks.

"Unequivocally," you assure him. It is yourself you don't trust.

Once he parks the car, you are immediately greeted by a bunch of your relatives.

"Come, come! It is lovely to meet you," your mom welcomes Jin.

"Mom, this is my best friend," you say by force of habit and then correct yourself, "and now my boyfriend, Jin."

"Nice to meet you, ma'am," Jin shakes her hand politely.

"Pfft, call me by my name," your mom says and introduces herself.

Quickly enough, your poor bestie is hounded by your grandparents, your aunt, your cousin and her kids. It's a lot of excitement considering you'd just arrived and you are already looking forward to going to bed. You love your relatives but sometimes they can be…a lot.

Jin, however, seems to be thriving. He talks to your mom about cooking, to your grandparents about fishing and politics, to your aunt and cousin about acting and singing. Even the kids seem to love him, as he takes the time to play hide and seek with them. He also promises to build a snowman with them when it is warmer tomorrow. You have no reason to worry and yet, seeing him naturally fit in with them on their first meeting…when you have felt like an outsider your whole life, is enough to bring tears to your eyes. You excuse yourself from the table, saying you need to use the bathroom.

Not expecting anyone to notice your absence, you cry quietly in your room, feeling as if you have never been good enough and your relatives were always disappointed in you. You hear a soft knock on the door, which takes you by surprise.

"You alright, love?" Jin asks.

You let him in and he wraps you up in one of his warm hugs that have the magical ability to make you stop crying.

"What's wrong? I thought it was going well," he whispers, not wanting anyone to overhear.

"It's going splendidly," you agree. "It's just that…they love you more than they do me."

"That can't be true, you're the most precious granddaughter, niece and cousin anyone could possibly have."

You sniffle and look up at him.

"You only say that 'cause I'm your best friend," you try to make light out of the situation.

"Girlfriend," he corrects you with a wink.

"Right," you chuckle through the tears.

"Come on. Let's not give them the opportunity to discuss us behind our backs," Jin jokes and you decide to return to the table. He gives you the strength needed to face them again.

The Christmas holidays go by smoothly and in the blink of an eye. The days are filled with laughter, hot chocolate, yummy meals, wholesome Christmas movies, cozy socks and snowball fights with your cousin's kids. This might be the best Christmas you've ever had. You wonder if it's Jin's presence that made it so special and heartwarming. During the family dinners, he is the life of the party, always knowing the right thing to say to each and every one of your relatives. And when the two of you are alone, cuddled up in your room, he is your rock. You know you can count on him and tell him everything that has bothered you. And you know that he would understand you and comfort you like nobody else could.

Which is why it hurts so much when he is now driving you both back to the city. The pretense is over. You would no longer have an excuse to hold his hand or sleep in the same bed as him or kiss his cheek so openly. He is back to being your best friend. And perhaps that's the way it should be. You couldn't risk your friendship by doing something stupid like confessing your undying love for him. No, that would certainly be a terrible idea. Perhaps more terrible than having him as a fake boyfriend for the holidays.

"What's on your mind?" Jin asks.

"Hm?"

"I can see the gears turning in your head. Something is bothering you."

"Hey, aren't you supposed to look at the road instead of the gears in my head?" you tease him.

"I can multitask. Come on, just tell me."

"It's nothing. I just found myself wishing the Christmas holidays could last longer. I really had an amazing time, which doesn't usually happen around my relatives."

"Glad I could be of service," Jin smirks proudly, making you laugh. You would never grow tired of his casually confident nature.

Silence ensues for a couple of minutes and you are back to worrying and thinking about your unresolved feelings for your best friend. When suddenly, he interrupts your thought process with an unexpected suggestion.

"How about we have a second Christmas?"

"A second Christmas?" you repeat in confusion.

"My place. Just the two of us. We'll do all the things we didn't have the chance to do at your grandparents' house."

"Such as?" you inquire, wondering what you've missed.

"We'll play games and I'll make you my famous roast beef. We'll have midnight snacks and watch anime with no one judging us. We'll bake Christmas cookies together and we could even go ice-skating."

"That…sounds lovely. I'm in," you immediately agree, excited to have a second Christmas with Jin. Maybe, just maybe, a miracle will happen.

The next day, you arrive at his place and are amazed to find how magically decorated it is.

"Ta-da! Welcome to your own personal winter wonderland."

"My goodness, Jin, it looks incredible! How did you achieve all this so quickly and all by yourself? You must be exhausted."

"Nah, it was my pleasure. And besides, seeing the smile on your face is the best Christmas present I could hope for," he responds.

"Merry second Christmas to you, too," you grin and give him a hug. It feels so natural and like you were meant to end up right there.

As promised, the two of you get to do all the things you couldn't at your grandparents'. You watch the spiciest animes with zero shame, you eat ramen at 1am and you play violent games that would make your relatives gasp in horror. It is genuinely the most incredible Christmas. Even more incredible than the time you spent with your family.

But all good things inevitably come to an end. Tomorrow, it is time for both you and Jin to go back to work. And with that, the magical holidays will be over. You don't want them to be. You wish you could stay in this bubble forever, with Jin's arms wrapped around you.

"I should probably head home. You have to wake up early tomorrow."

"Or…you could stay. We can share the bed," Jin suggests and you can swear you hear a hopeful hint in his voice.

"Jin…we're no longer surrounded by my nosy relatives. You don't have to pretend it's okay with you to have me intruding on your personal space."

"Who said I was pretending?" he whispers and you probably shouldn't but you allow yourself to dream. There is no way he feels the same…or is there?

"Don't…don't say stuff like that if you don't mean it," you mumble, feeling more vulnerable than ever.

"I'm tired of hiding it, sweetheart," he sighs and presses his hand against your cheek. "I only offered the whole fake dating thing because I was hoping you would finally get the hint and realize how important you are to me. But in case it wasn't obvious enough, let me spell it out for you. I. Am. Crazy. About. You."

You blink in shock.

"Pinch me so I know I'm not dreaming. You…like me back?"

"How about I do something better?" Jin smiles softly and leans in to kiss you. It is slow and sweet, just as how you'd imagined it hundreds of times. No, scratch that. It is so much better. He makes you feel so special and loved. You wish you had confessed earlier. You have been missing out on so many Christmas kisses.

"Look up," Jin says gently once he finally breaks the kiss.

You do as he asks and you realize that you have somehow ended up under a mistletoe decoration he must have put up and you haven't noticed before.

"Aww, man, did you only kiss me because of that mistletoe?"

"Let me take you to my room and prove you otherwise," Jin vows, grabs your hand and urges you to follow his lead.

Christmas is truly the most wonderful time of the year.

The End

[madameaug]

Turkey Turkey Day

Pairing: Jungkook x Jennette

Context: New parents Jungkook and Jennette getting food prepared with their little Peanut. Peanut is 3 months <3

Jennette listened attentively to the baby monitor to watch out for when Peanut woke up. Peanut was sleeping on her back with her hands resting above her temple. Her feet occasionally rubbed against each other, so she would be waking up soon. Jennette would sometimes wake up in the middle of the night just to watch Peanut breathe. It didn't matter if she was exhausted or just put the toddler down from feeding. She would get up again and make sure she was okay.

Lucky for the new parents, they just had to host Thanksgiving. Their parents were bringing all of the dishes that they would be eating. They weren't heartless. No way could three months postpartum could Jennete prepare a proper Thanksgiving dinner.

"Jungkook, do you wanna go wake up Peanut. It's getting close to her feeding time." Jungkook in the middle of brushing his teeth nodded. He rolled his neck to the side. He was dressed up semi-formally. A brown collared shirt, with khaki pants. A gold watch on his wrist and he was rocking his shorter hairdo. Jungkook cleaned up nicely.

"You look beautiful Jeanie."

Jennette was putting on more than a graphic t-shirt and maternity pants for the first time since Peanut was born. She still had a bump but was slowly returning to her pre-pregnancy weight. She wasn't too worried about losing the baby weight. It made her nostalgic. She grew a tiny human in this deflating belly. The same tiny human that had captured her heart since she came into the world a few months ago.

Nevertheless, soaking in the tub and getting gussied up still felt good. Going along with the brown theme, Jennette was in a puffy-sleeved maxi dress. Around her hips was a gold belt, that gave her that hourglass shape. The baby weight that she had was distributing itself nicely. Her breast went up a cup size, and she butt was more pronounced. She was a walking definition of a milf. An inside joke with Nala.

"Damn I look good."

Jennette shamelessly took pictures of herself. Her face card was valid with matte look. Her Coi Leray braids were freshly done two nights ago and her confidence was high. Now it was time to go see her baby.

She didn't expect to see her three-month-old newborn in a miniature. turkey outfit. Peanut was awake, bubbles coming out of her mouth. Jungkook was playing with her feet. Giving them rapid kisses.

"Why is my baby a turkey?"

"I saw it on Amazon and thought it was too cute not to buy." Jungkook gently lifted Peanut out of her crib. He supported her head as she laid her cheek on his shoulder. Peanut’s fat feet were sticking out of the turkey onesie. The hood was decorated to look like feathers, with a small peak on the top. Jennette wanted to coo, seeing how small Peanut looked compared to her father. She was a little bit bigger than his pecs.

"She does look adorable." Jennette snapped another picture. She would definitely send this picture to her family group chat.

"Come on let's feed her, before she everyone shows up.”

<3. <3. <3.

Peanut in all her turkey glory was the center of attention at the dinner table. Her travel crib was pulled up beside Jennette and Jungkook. This was the first time that the grandparents could touch their grand baby.

Jungkook and Jennette wanted a couple of weeks to themselves with Peanut. They didn’t want to be suffocate under the new baby attention. And now that Peanut had a couple of vaccines in her system, they were slowly introducing her to other adults.

Jungkook’s mother currently held Peanut in her arms, bouncing her softly. Peanut was staring at her grandmother, leaning forward to leave wet “kisses” on her cheek. In any other context the sight would be gross, and very unsanitary. But it was melting the hearts of the older adults.

Jennette ate the Korean-Soul food dishes. She had her favorites from each couzine. Mac n cheese, collard greens, honey butter cornbread, and her mother in law kimchi. She was eating good, and baby duty was being happily taken care of by her parents/ in laws.

Jennette was truly grateful and thankful for her family.

[hobipaint]

Peppermint Mocha

synopsis: Wanting to break away from the hubbub of the big city life, you decided to return your quaint, tiny town, seeking solitude. However, you meet Hoseok, who seems way more familiar than he should, and your solitary vacation takes a turn - for the better, or for the worse?

genre: fluff

word count: 4.6k

rating: pg13

a/n: A very happy new year, everyone! And especially to the amazing @the-boy-meets-evil - jess, I was so glad I could be your secret santa this year! carol worked hard on her puns hehe :) i hope you enjoyed my asks and this fic! i'm so sorry for the delay in sending out this gift, but i hope you enjoy the extended holiday spirit :) and for everyone reading, I hope you have an amazing 2024!

written for the @kpopsecretsanta secret santa event! | my masterlist

The holidays always went a little too fast for your liking. You didn’t know when it Christmas had come, shown its colours, and left; it felt like yesterday that you were preparing for Halloween. And yet, the wispy bits of fluffy snow falling from the sky said that it had been long since that time. You could feel the frosty bits of snow crunching under your feet as you trudged out of the airport into the lanes of the town. 

In the distance, you could see the festive hubbub that surrounded your town - with officials figuring out logistics for lights and trees, vendors setting up their markets and little kids toying about with the snow: everything was exactly the same as you remembered when you had last been here. 

“10 years,” you whispered to yourself, a small smile forming on your lips. “Hello again.” 

Your family had once called this town home, back when you and your siblings were young kids. Time had flown away like the little snow flakes did now, and forced you all to move away from your home to build a future of your own. Normally, you would have wanted to be with your friends and family to celebrate the holidays, but something oddly made you want to come back here. 

Making sure you had your belongings, you asked around to figure out where your lodge was located, not recognising a lot of the shops that now decorated the streets. Your parents had recommended a lodge they had first stayed in when they came here, one out of two cabins owned by a family friend who had since shifted to New York. They let you rent out one for the holidays, and encouraged you to get acquainted with the stranger who would be renting the other cabin around the same time - “wouldn’t hurt to make a new friend,”  they’d said. 

A tap on your shoulder broke your reverie. “Y/N?” A voice called behind you, making you turn to face the person in question. Dressed cosily in a green sweater that screamed the holiday spirit with vibrant red hearts and candy canes all over it, it was a man, snowflakes settling in his fluffed up brown hair. He was tall in a way that made you stretch your neck up to look at his big smile, and his eyes had a soft crinkle to them, as if you had just shared a funny anecdote. 

“I’m Hoseok,” he mentioned, stretching out a hand. “I figured you’re the other person staying at the Woodson’s cabin, aren’t you?”

You accepted his hand, surprised at the warmth instantly engulfing your frosty fingers. “Yeah, I am. How did you know it was me, though?” 

He grinned, tilting his head to look at your heavy bags - as if they were a clear indication. “No one really travels alone with three big bags to this town unless they’re planning a long vacation.” 

You smiled sheepishly. “Yeah, I guess that kinda gave it away.” You could feel him staring at you as if trying to figure out what kind of a person his neighbour for the next few days was like. 

Hoseok flashed a friendly smile. "Well, it's nice to meet you, Y/N. I’ve got my car here, so if you don’t mind, we can get to the cabin together? Let me help you with those bags." He effortlessly grabbed two of your heavy bags, leaving you with just one.

“Thank you,” you said, following after him and settling into the warmth of his car. Helping him load your luggage on the car, Hoseok immediately ran off inside the car, immediately cranking the heat on. You couldn’t help but laugh as he gestured for you to come in quickly. 

“Not a fan of the cold, I presume?” you asked. 

“Brrrr,” he shivered, rubbing his palms together and blowing at them. “I love the aesthetics of cold weather, but absolutely hate the feeling of cold.” Starting the car, he slowly drove out of the parking lot, suddenly grinning to himself. “By the way, Y/N? You haven’t asked me for any proof of who I am,” he hesitated, looking over to you cautiously as if to detect any signs of panic. 

You froze at his words, realising his perspective: you had just trusted an absolute stranger and gotten in the car. “Should I be worried, though?” You tried to play it off casually. 

“I would suggest being worried, and not being relieved until you were sure I was the right person to approach you,” he said, lips pursed and hands tense on the steering wheel. “I could be really dangerous.”

For some reason, that stunned you, and yet, it made you burst out into laughter. 

Hoseok looked at you confused. “What?” 

Gasping for breath, you could barely stop your laughter enough to calm Hoseok’s concerned face. “Mrs. Woodson is a family friend, Hoseok. She’d already told me about you, and how you’ve been here for a few weeks at the cabin. I did recognise you a few seconds after you spoke to me.”  You grinned. “It would have been concerning if I did blindly trust you and get in the car, though.”

Hseok dramatically breathed out, as if a huge tension had been lifted off of his chest. “Well, at least you knew who I was. Imagine if you didn’t know anyone or anything in this town and got all lost? I would feel terrible.”

You settled into your seat, humming in agreement with him. “I do know this town well enough, though. I have lived here for long enough to know these streets, even if they’re more colourful now than then.” 

Hoseok smiled. “Ahh, so you lived here too.”

You turned to him in surprise. “You, too?”

He nodded. “I lived here for some years when I was younger. I don’t have very strong memories of this place here - I moved away with my dad after my parents divorced, you see - and came here only sometimes to visit my mom while she still lived here. And when all my family moved from here, I didn’t really have a reason to come back here as much.” He smiled softly. “But then, I just felt like I wanted to be here this year, alone, yes, but in a place I first started enjoying the holidays.” 

You hummed in agreement, understanding the sentiment.

He pointed to the houses you were crossing outside, all cheerfully decorated in lights and decor. ‘I used to rank the houses by their decor every year, and then go to the house I ranked first to tell them that they won,” he said, making you both laugh. “I wonder if the owners are still the same people.” 

“I would hope so, too,” you said. “‘My family and I had loads of friends we lost touch with. It would be nice to meet some of them.” 

The road to the cabin was a long one, you knew, and yet, you weren’t as bothered about travelling a long distance as you thought you would be. Hoseok’s company and your childhood nostalgia got the best of you, keeping the conversation in good spirits as you made your way to the cabin.

As you climbed the steps up to the Woodson's cabin, Hoseok spoke up, "By the way, if you ever need anything or have any trouble, feel free to knock on my door. We're practically neighbours for the next few days." He knocked at his door jokingly, before showing you into your cabin.

You nodded in gratitude, feeling a sense of warmth in both the gesture and the offer.

The Woodson's cabin was a rustic haven nestled amidst a picturesque snowy landscape. Its exterior, adorned with a glistening layer of snow, exuded a quaint charm that perfectly complemented the festive spirit of the holidays. A trail of footprints led to the wooden porch, where a wreath of pine cones and twinkling lights welcomed visitors.

Upon entering, the warm aroma of burning pine logs greeted you, emanating from a grand fireplace that stood as the heart of the cozy abode. The crackling flames cast dancing shadows on the log walls, revealing a collection of Wooderson family mementoes – framed photographs capturing moments of laughter, family gatherings, and snowy adventures. The memories were frozen in time, a testament to the cabin's rich history and the cherished moments shared by generations past.

The living area featured plush, oversized chairs and a well-worn sofa, adorned with festive throw blankets that beckoned you to sink in and relish the comfort. The windows, framed by heavy curtains, offered panoramic views of the snow-covered landscape, while the soft glow of fairy lights added a touch of enchantment.

In the corner of the cabin, a towering Christmas tree stood adorned with an array of ornaments, casting a festive hue that bathed the room in a warm and inviting light. A quaint dining table, draped with a red-and-green checkered tablecloth, held the remnants of a shared meal, as the remnants of peppermint hot cocoa lingered in the air.

The Woodson's cabin was a rustic haven nestled amidst a picturesque snowy landscape. Its exterior, adorned with a glistening layer of snow, exuded a quaint charm that perfectly complemented the festive spirit of the holidays. A trail of footprints led to the wooden porch, where a wreath of pine cones and twinkling lights welcomed visitors.

Upon entering, the warm aroma of burning pine logs greeted you, emanating from a grand fireplace that stood as the heart of the cosy abode. The crackling flames cast dancing shadows on the log walls, revealing a collection of Wooderson family mementoes – framed photographs capturing moments of laughter, family gatherings, and snowy adventures. You could spot your family and more familiar faces in the frames: the memories were frozen in time, a testament to the cabin's rich history and the cherished moments shared by generations past.

The living area featured plush, oversized chairs and a well-worn sofa adorned with festive throw blankets that beckoned you to sink in and relish the comfort. The windows, framed by heavy curtains, offered panoramic views of the snow-covered landscape, while the soft glow of fairy lights added a touch of enchantment.

In the corner of the cabin, a towering Christmas tree stood adorned with an array of ornaments, casting a festive hue that bathed the room in a warm and inviting light. A quaint dining table, draped with a red-and-green checkered tablecloth adorned the center of the cabin as the fragrance of toasted peppermint lingered in the air.

Hoseok bashfully scratched his head. “I may or may not have used your stove to make myself some Christmassy drinks.”

You grinned. “Was it something with peppermint?” 

“How did you know?” Hoseok asked, nodding in agreement as he stacked the washed and dried mug back in the cabinet. “I’ve always loved a good old mint flavoured drink, and ‘tis the season for peppermint, isn’t it?”

Seeing your vigorous agreement, Hoseok offered to whip up a drink for you while you settled your belongings in the cabin. 

“I’ll start the fireplace,” Hoseok called after you, busying away in the hall while you made your way to the bedroom. 

It felt like ages since you had sat by yourself, giving yourself time to do nothing. 

After you had moved away from your hometown, your life had been consumed with racing against the clock. With all your hardwork, you had been successful in your education, your career, and you had a place that you called your own. And yet, there were barely moments where you got to enjoy the time you so rightfully deserved to give yourself. Running around to prove yourself had only made you deprive yourself of your own time, seldom finding it in your busy hubbub. 

And now, as you overlooked the snow-laden mountains, with the town distantly coloured in a warm hue, you felt your shoulders melt into a more carefree, comfortable posture. You deserved this, you thought to yourself. It was more than worth it to come here, all alone, and enjoy one vacation in solidarity. You deserved the time all to yourself. 

And plus, Hoseok’s here for company, you added, feeling more and more resolute in your decision to take a break from the festive season. 

“This tastes really good, and I say that as someone who barely drinks coffee,” you hummed, hands wrapping around the warm mug that Hoseok handed to you.

He occupied the other end of the sofa, matching mug in his hands, crossing his legs comfortably. “That’s mainly because of the peppermint, Y/N. It adds a sense of uniqueness to the otherwise common coffee and elevates it.” You giggled at his narration as he indicated to his mug as if pitching a billion-dollar idea. 

“I noticed you like peppermints a lot,” you said, sipping away at the drink. “I like them too, but it is rare to find a fellow lover.”

“Oh, I love them!” Hoseok beamed eagerly. “Peppermint mochas are probably my favourite thing to make over the holidays. It is the only time of the year where it tastes just right and fits in, you know?” 

“My family used to make peppermint-infused hot chocolate,” you grinned. “It used to taste amazing.” 

As the crackling fire painted a warm ambience across the cabin, a subtle wave of nostalgia washed over you. The flickering flames seemed to dance in sync with the memories of holidays long gone, reminding you of the lively chaos that filled your childhood home during this time of year. 

Hoseok, sensing a shift in your demeanour, looked at you with understanding eyes. "Something on your mind, Y/N?" he asked, the glow from the fireplace casting a gentle warmth on his features.

You hesitated for a moment before responding, "It's just that... well, I miss my family. The holidays were always about being together; this year, being here alone feels different. I mean, it's wonderful to be back in this town, but the absence of their laughter and the familiar holiday chaos is hard to ignore."

Hoseok nodded empathetically, a soft smile playing on his lips. "I get that. Family has a way of making this time of year special. Maybe we can bring a little bit of that magic here. What's something your family always did during the holidays?"

As you shared tales of your family's traditions, Hoseok listened attentively. You don’t know when you two had started shifted closer, but soon enough, you and Hoseok were slapping each other on the arms while laughing away at old, embarrassing childhood stories. 

“I can’t believe you would do that!” you laughed, wiping a tear away from your eyes. Hoseok chuckled at your state. 

“Well, its at least better than when my family paraded me as baby Jesus on Halloween - my neighbour’s kid actually thought I was him,” he added, making you laugh even more. 

Outside, you could see the snow settling up higher and higher, and soon you and Hoseok decided to bid goodbye for the night. While walking him out, you chatted about more anecdotes from your time in this town - and you found yourself thinking, this vacation isn’t off to a bad start at all. 

Just before saying your goodbyes, Hoseok's eyes caught something above the door – a delicate mistletoe, adorned with tiny white berries, hung there as if placed by some unseen holiday fairy. A mischievous glint sparkled in Hoseok's eyes as he gently pointed upward.

"Well, look what we have here," he remarked with a playful grin, drawing your attention to the festive foliage above.

Your gaze followed his, and a soft gasp escaped your lips as you realized the implication. The air seemed to crackle with an unspoken tension, and a warm flush crept up your cheeks. Hoseok, with a charming smile, took a step closer, the glow of the cabin's lights framing his silhouette against the snowy backdrop.

"Tradition dictates that if two people find themselves beneath mistletoe, they share a kiss," Hoseok said, his voice low and filled with a playful warmth. “Unless they both don’t consent, of course.” 

You hesitated, before responding. “I’m single, so - unless you don’t want to -”

Before you could fully complete your words, Hoseok leaned in, closing the gap between you. Time seemed to slow as his lips met yours in a gentle, lingering kiss, capturing the essence of the winter night and the enchantment that hung in the air. The snowflakes continued their silent descent around you, adding a touch of whimsy to the unexpected yet welcomed moment.

As his lips parted from yours, you could feel the frosty snow take away his warmth, and you oddly wanted nothing more to pull him back and kiss him. 

But he was already walking away, promising to see you the next day. “See you tomorrow, beautiful."

The mistletoe kiss had cast a spell, and the days that followed became a tapestry woven with the threads of shared laughter and newfound connection. The town, now dressed in the shimmering aftermath of Christmas, beckoned the two of you to explore its post-celebration charm.

In the heart of the town, where the streets turned into a canvas painted with the hues of festive lights, you couldn't help but marvel at the lively holiday market. "It's like walking into a snow globe," you mused, the twinkling lights reflecting in her eyes.

Hoseok grinned, the glow of the lights accentuating the warmth in his eyes. "A magical snow globe where every shop is a treasure trove waiting to be discovered."

The vendors, like holiday artisans, showcased their creations with pride. Hoseok found himself drawn to a quaint bakery where the scent of peppermint-infused pastries lingered in the air. "I can almost taste the nostalgia in these," he remarked, savoring a bite of a holiday treat.

You chuckled, a melody that harmonized with the festive ambience. "Nostalgia is the secret ingredient that makes everything here taste like a piece of childhood."

As you both strolled through the town square, the ice-skating rink unfolded like a winter dreamscape. People of all ages took advantage of the icy wonderland, gliding and playing around on the ice. "Care to join me?" Hoseok extended his hand, the invitation echoing your kiss from a few nights ago.

You hesitated for a moment before taking his hand. “As long as you don’t make me fall,” you remarked, making him laugh. 

Evenings were a journey through the luminous streets, where each step resonated with shared stories and whispered dreams. The glow of holiday lights reflected in his eyes as they approached midnight. Hoseok, holding Y/N close, whispered against the backdrop of fireworks, "Here's to new beginnings."

It was almost as if the post-Christmas festivities had turned the town into a living storybook, with Hoseok and you as its protagonists. The holiday magic lingered in the air, blending seamlessly with the enchanting connection that unfolded like the turning pages of a heartwarming tale. 

A chilly onslaught broke the rather pleasant dream you were having. Groggily, you woke up, wrapping the blanket around you strongly to block out the sudden rush of iciness. The fireplace weakly flickered, and you could hear the howling winds outside as a storm built up. 

Not knowing what to do, you decided your best option was probably to try to revive the fireplace and whip up something warm for yourself. You poked at the fire, but it seemed like it wouldn’t revive at all. As the firewood dwindled and the flames grew weaker, the bitter cold of the snowstorm seeped into the cabin, chilling the air and turning every breath into a visible mist. Despite your best efforts, the fire refused to revive, leaving you shivering and desperate for warmth.

“I did come here to be alone, but this is not what I envisioned,” you laughed to yourself, hugging your blanket tighter. 

Your phone was not getting any network, so you hoped that Hoseok would somehow be awake at 2 AM. Bundling yourself up to the best of your abilities, you set out to his side of the cabin, knocking at his door as loudly as you could. 

A few minutes later, a rather disgruntled Hoseok appeared at the door. “Is everything okay?” he rasped, hair awry and clothes haphazardly pulled on. 

“I think my heating is broken, and the fire isn’t reviving, either.”  You explained. 

“Ahh.” Hoseok welcomed you in his cabin - a near mirror image of your one - and let you settle up on the couch while he volunteered to check on your heating system. 

While Hoseok busied himself outside, you noticed how tidy Hoseok had kept the cabin. There were more photos here - though you could only recognise a few faces - and a few more albums, stacked on the table next to the fireplace. Curiosity getting the better of you, you decided to peruse through one of them, immediately finding pictures of people from your neighbourhood celebrating Christmas together. On some pages, you could find your own parents smiling back at you, with your siblings holding hands with the other kids from the neighbourhood and singing carols captured in a faded photo. 

 To your surprise, you stumbled upon a faded photograph of two young kids, clutching a bag of peppermints, wearing matching grins.

Hoseok stepped in at that time, and yet, in your shock, you could barely register any of the words he was saying.

"Hoseok, is this...?" you began, showing him the picture.

He glanced over and chuckled. "Yeah, that's me, and my neighbour’s kid. We used to be quite the troublemakers when our families spent holidays here together."

You smiled. “Do you know where this kid is now?”

“No,” he said, sadly. “I wish I did, though. We used to be best friends when we were younger, literally joined at the hip, but didn’t really stay in touch after I left. I sometimes do wonder about her.” 

You held the picture up to your face, making Hoseok face you. “Don’t you think something about us looks similar?” 

Hoseok frowned, judging the faded Kodak with your beaming face. “You do have the same eyes, now that you say it. She had very pretty eyes.”

“Do you not remember her name?” You asked. 

“We would call each other with nicknames,” Hoseok said, dusting the snow off his hair. “I used to call her Bunny, and she used to call me-”

“Hobi,” you completed, eyes gleaming. 

Hoseok looked stunned. “Yeah, that’s what she called me. How did you know that?”

You laughed at his oblivion. “Because I am Bunny, silly.”

“Wha-oh?” Hoseok exclaimed, bracing himself as you rushed to hug your childhood best friend. “Are you serious?” 

“I am,” you convinced him, finding it just as hard to believe as him. I mean, you don’t come to a cabin on the outskirts of the town looking for solitude only to bump into your childhood best friend again, do you? 

Hoseok pulled away from you, gripping your shoulders and letting his eyes take in every part of you - as if he were meeting you for the first time again. “I can’t believe it is you.” 

“Me neither,” you said, as you kissed his cheek. “It has been far too long, Hobi.” 

Hoseok's astonishment lingered in the air as you both navigated the surprising reunion. The faded photograph, a relic of childhood mischief, lay forgotten on the table, replaced by the incredulous exchange between Bunny and Hobi after years of separation.

The cabin, with its walls echoing with the laughter of yesteryears, seemed to encase the timeless connection that had just resurfaced. Hoseok's eyes remained fixed on you, his disbelief slowly giving way to the realization that the Bunny he once knew was standing right in front of him.

As the shock settled, you couldn't help but laugh at the sheer serendipity of the moment. "I never imagined I'd find Bunny and Hobi reunited in a cabin on the outskirts of town," you remarked, a playful gleam in your eyes.

Hoseok joined in your laughter, the familiarity of shared memories weaving a comforting thread between you. "It's like a plot from a nostalgic movie," he added, shaking his head in amazement.

The two of you, now seated on the sofa, exchanged stories of the years that had passed, bridging the gap between then and now. The cabin, a silent witness to the unravelling narrative, seemed to cradle the essence of your rekindled friendship.

As the night wore on, and the snowstorm outside intensified, the cosy cabin transformed into a haven against the wintry tempest. Hoseok, ever thoughtful, stoked the fireplace, the flames casting a warm glow on the shared stories and laughter.

The sofa, now an island in the sea of nostalgia, beckoned both of you to its comforting embrace. The flickering flames, the snowstorm outside, and the whispers of shared memories paved the way for an unspoken understanding.

"You know," Hoseok began, his tone gentle, "it feels like we never really left those days behind. Just picked up where we left off."

You nodded in agreement, feeling a sense of belonging that transcended time. "It's like we're continuing a story that got interrupted."

As the night deepened, the warmth of the cabin and the shared connection became a refuge from the cold. The sofa, once a witness to the nostalgia of the past, now cradled the reunion of Bunny and Hobi.

Hoseok, looking at you with a softness in his eyes, spoke words that resonated with the atmosphere of the cabin. "I'm glad you found your way back, Bunny."

You leaned in, your shoulders brushing against each other, and whispered, "Me too, Hobi. Me too."

The flickering flames painted a dance on the log walls, casting shadows that seemed to waltz in rhythm with your shared laughter. The coziness of the cabin, the gentle snowstorm outside, and the rekindled friendship all merged into a symphony of comfort.

In the hushed moments that followed, the realization dawned that sleep was claiming its territory. The sofa, now transformed into a shared haven, invited both of you to surrender to its embrace.

"You know, Hobi," you said, your voice a sleepy murmur, "I never thought I'd find such warmth in the midst of a snowstorm."

Hoseok chuckled, the sound a gentle melody. "Maybe the storm outside brought us the warmth we didn't know we needed."

And so, amidst the crackling fire and the distant howl of the snowstorm, you and Hoseok snuggled closer, finding solace in the shared warmth. The flickering flames painted a canvas of comfort, casting a soft glow on your intertwined fingers.

And then, as if the universe had orchestrated the moment, your gaze met Hoseok's, and in that shared glance, a silent understanding bloomed. With a tenderness that mirrored the nostalgia of rediscovery, your lips met in a gentle kiss, sealing the night with a promise of new beginnings. The flickering flames seemed to dance in celebration, casting a warm glow on the cabin, now a witness to your reunion. 

As sleep began to weave its tranquil spell, Hoseok whispered, "I’m so glad I met you again, Bunny."

You smiled, the words a gentle echo in the cozy cabin. "I’m so grateful, Hobi."

While your previous year left much to be forgotten, it seemed that this year had begun with the embrace of an unexpected reunion, the flickering flames and the snowstorm outside bearing witness to the rekindling of a friendship that time had only strengthened. In the arms of the cabin, beneath the quilt of shared memories, you and Hoseok surrendered to the tranquility of the night, finding peace in the warmth of each other's presence.

If you made it till here, thank you for reading! i hope you enjoyed the fic - i would love to hear from you about it! love, hazel <3

[theharrowing]

Hope for the Holidays

Meeting someone extraordinary and deciding to leave your partner of three years wasn’t quite what you had in mind for the holiday season, but life rarely goes as planned, does it?

❄ Hoseok x Non-binary (AFAB) Reader ❄ word count: 25.9k ❄ strangers to lovers, chance encounters, slow burn, angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, sfw ❄ warnings: a smidgen of emotional infidelity (but mc tries not to!), emotionally manipulative, toxic and vindictive partner, having complicated feelings about a relationship, breaking up, hurt/comfort, falling for someone new, angst, fluff, not going home for the holidays, strained relationship with family, panic & anxiety, recreational drinking, moving on very fast, falling in love, honestly just trying to live their best lives ❄ this fic is part of a hyung holiday collab! check out the other fics by @here2bbtstrash, @gimmethatagustd and @sailoryooons! ❄ beta read by @neoneunnajimin, banner by @sailoryooons ❄ posted on dec. 2022 | read on ao3

❄ note: hi friends! this is a breakup fic, as advertised. but it is also a discover someone new fic and a feel alive for the first time in a long time fic. although mc's relationship isn't explicitly abusive, the way Ash behaves may be reminiscent of the way abusers behave so please proceed with caution. this has a happy ending, so don't fret! i poured a lot of my personal feelings into mc, their relationship to the holidays, and their strained relationship to their family. there is going to be angst and lots of fluff (and in a separate part, there will be smut, so if you are not an enjoyer of smut, then the ending of this part is also an ending.) also! shout out to @m1sss1mp for letting me use her name (sorry you were a chismosa in this story hehe i'll give you a kinder role next time! <3) since Ave is a real person, i did not describe her, so you are free to imagine she looks any way you would like!

With each buzz of your cell phone, you take a deep, shaky breath in an attempt to steel yourself. You already know what to expect, and this is not the conversation you want to be having on this bright—albeit frigid—Wednesday afternoon. 

You answer the call and do your best not to sound too nervous as you say, “Hey, Ash!” in a practiced, bright tone.

They sigh, which sends a pang of anxiety to your guts, and you squeeze your eyes closed, turning from the sun that suddenly shines far too brightly into your reading nook. 

“Baby! Hey! I miss your voice, oh my god.”

Their chipper tone brings you a hint of relief, and you smile in an effort to keep your voice smiling, as well. “I miss you too. How is everything? How are the parents?”

“Parents are good,” they respond, sounding a bit out of breath. “Dad and I just took a little hike around the land, and mom’s been cooking up a storm! They’re both stoked to see you. Any, uh…any word on that?”

Of course, Ash would jump straight to the point. You feel like mold in a petri dish, ready for examination. 

“I, uh…” you cringe. “No. No, I haven’t been able to find any good prices, and—“

Ash sighs—heavy, exasperated. “Baby, please just let us chip in,” they mutter quietly, as if to hide their words from eavesdroppers. “It’s fine, they want to help—“

“I don’t want that, Ash,” you insist, absolutely unwilling to let their parents send you any money. “Look, I’ll keep trying. There’s bound to be a holiday deal, maybe I can cope with a long layover somewhere warm…I don’t know. I’ll figure something out.”

It’s silent for a beat, and you inhale slowly, count to three, and then let the breath out. 

“It’s okay, baby. If things don’t work out, there’s always next year.”

You hum a weak, “mmhmm,” feeling anxiety pound at your rib cage. 

“At least you got yourself a tree,” Ash says brightly, as if attempting to save the mood. 

You glance around your reading nook, where the large, ornate pine tree would ordinarily stand, finding only pillows and stacks of books. “Yup.”

“Send me a pic! I want to see it!”

Panic rises like bile in your throat, and you do your best to swallow it down. “I w—I will. I haven’t found the perfect topper, yet, so once I do that, I’ll send a pic,” you lie. 

“Just use mine! It's in a box somewhere."

"Uh–okay, I'll look for it."

"Alright, well, I have to go. Let me know if you find any tickets! Mom and dad really miss you!” There’s an insistent bite in Ash’s tone, and you do your best to ignore it. 

“I will, baby," you respond, unable to hide the shake in your voice. "I miss them too.” 

“Bye, I love you!”

With shaky hands, you end the call, and glance around the space. A tree. If you won’t fly out to San Francisco, the least you can do is get yourself a tree. What a bother. 

The thing about living in the middle of a big city and choosing not to own a vehicle—because the public transit is okay enough to get you where you need to go—is that getting large things like an eight-foot fucking pine tree is a bit of a hassle. 

Thankfully, with the internet comes people ready and willing to deliver pretty much anything you could possibly desire, often within the span of several days. 

And that is how you wind up in the crowded foyer of your apartment building, attempting to heave a giant box toward the elevator. As soon as you laid eyes on the thing standing tall beside the mailboxes, you burst out laughing. There is just no fucking way—absolutely ridiculous. 

You probably make it two inches in the correct direction before deciding that this box is not only too tall, but too heavy to move, and instead, you sit on the foot of the steps with your head in your hands, running through a list of people you may be able to bribe to help you out, shooting off a few texts starting with folks who live nearby. 

“This is just fucking great,” you mutter under your breath. 

All of this, you’re doing to appease someone who won’t even be here to see the damn tree, just so that you can prove to them that you’re not miserable without them. 

The truth is, this is the first time you’ve really gotten to breathe in months, and having a holiday-tree-free home has been just fine. But that is a thought you do not let yourself dwell on. You and Ash have been together for three years; you have a history. Every relationship has its rough patches. This is simply one of those. And who knows, maybe having the damn tree around will brighten your mood. That is, if you can get it into your apartment.

With a defeated sigh, you bury your face in your hands and let out a heavy exhale. Why is it that the holidays always come with some sort of nonsense? This is truly the cherry on top of a towering nonsense cake. 

You are about to say fuck it and leave the box in the lobby for someone else to claim, when the front door of the building opens, and in comes a large, cold gust of wind and one of the prettiest people you have ever seen. 

They’re tall, wearing a long, camel tan jacket with fur lining the hood and perfectly framing their face—sharp yet soft, and scrunched in the cutest frown you have ever seen. 

“Shit,” they mutter under their breath in a slightly high-pitched, nasally voice. “It's cold!”

The pretty stranger meets your eye and gives a wide smile, and if you weren’t already swooning, their heart-shaped lips would have done you in. You sit up straight, beginning to worry that you are in the way of this stranger, and start to shift around on the steps that are effectively blocked by a large box.

"Need some help?" the person asks with an accent that rolls their words ever so slightly. 

You shake your head and mutter, "No, no it's too heavy. I think I'll leave it."

"Leave it here?" the person asks with wide eyes, and you nod your head. 

"Yeah."

They hum and glance around the box, then ask, "Which floor are you on?"

"Three," you respond meekly, hoping that with that information, they will surmise that it is, in fact, too big to get to your door, and that you should leave it out on the street. 

They hum again, then say, "Wait here. Two minutes!" and take off running toward the elevator. 

You stand, holding a hand out while shouting, "Wait, no, it's alright," but as they press a button, closing the elevator doors, they smile widely, holding up two fingers, convincing you to stay. 

With a huff, you sit back on the steps and take out your phone. Of course, your traitor friends have not responded to your pleas for assistance, leaving you to wait on some beautiful stranger who left in a flash, just as chaotically as they arrived.

When the elevator dings, you sit up straight and turn toward the sound, and you actually feel disappointed to find someone else exiting and walking down the hall. They pause to ask if you need help with the box, but the way they stand—chest and shoulders puffed out with a frown on their face—has you certain they are just asking to be polite.

"Nah," you say, shaking your head. "I'm waiting for someone."

They shrug and leave, and that is that. Now, you are some weirdo on the steps with a giant box who has been perceived by not one building tenant, but two, and you are ready to bury a deep, deep hole in the earth where you can go lay down and freeze to death.

Certain that two minutes have passed and the pretty stranger may have just been messing with you, you stand and begin to push the box back toward the front door. They never said what they were going to get; maybe they decided that offering you help was a mistake and that the best thing for them to do is run far away and never show their face on the third floor. You can't say you would blame them.

The elevator dings once more, and you hear the sound of wheels against the shitty linoleum of the foyer. You turn to find your beautiful building-mate standing before you with a layer of clothing shed, and a dolly in their hand. How and why they even have that device is beyond you, and you nearly cry when they wheel it up and stop it just before the box.

With an eyebrow raised, they ask, "You were pushing it to the door, weren't you?" in a teasing tone.

Warmth floods your cheeks, and you give a sheepish glance, responding, "Noooo..." sarcastically. 

"Here," they offer, pointing the dolly at you to hold onto, and you walk around them to take the handles, which come up to your ribs, holding it in place while they wiggle the box onto the rectangular base on the bottom, which sits between two large wheels. Then, they come back around and hold out their hands, muttering, "I got this," so you step aside and watch in horror as they slowly lift the far end of the box from the floor, tilting it toward their body, then begin to walk backwards toward the elevator. 

You charge ahead and push the call button, then run inside as soon as the doors open to hold the button that keeps them from closing. It is a precarious feat to get the eight-foot tall box into the small elevator with the two of you, and there is quite a bit of squishing yourselves against the wall with your feet nearly getting rolled over before the doors are able to close.

As you crane your neck to look at the person standing with their shoulder pressed into yours, they look at you and smile. 

"My name is Hoseok, by the way."

"Hoseok," you repeat, enjoying how it sounds on your tongue. You tell them your name, followed by, "They, them pronouns."

Hoseok's eyes widen, and he smiles softly. "My pronouns are he, him."

"Nice to meet you," you mutter, glad to have that all sorted out.

Hoseok opens his mouth to respond, but the elevator dings open. The fight to get out and into the hallway begins, though it is much easier this time around, and you pause briefly after exiting, allowing your heartbeat to even out. It takes you a moment to realize Hoseok does not know where to deliver the tree, and you spring into action, walking a few doors down before coming to a stop in front of yours and fishing a key from your pocket.

"Will someone be by to help you decorate this later?" Hoseok asks politely.

You shove the door open, kicking stray shoes out of the way, and allow Hoseok to enter the space. A kitchenette is to the left, with a countertop that separates it from the small dining area and living room. Ahead, past the restored wood tables and forest green couches, is a nook where the windows jut out, creating a nice, cozy space for you to sit and read. You lead the way, picking up stray clothing items, then tell Hoseok to set the box down beside a pile of books.

"No," you finally respond. "It's just me."

Sheepishly, you glance around and scratch your head as the realization hits that you don't have anything to decorate the tree with. Ash has a bin of holiday items, and you are certain that there are some that are meant for a tree, but the idea of digging through their things makes you uncomfortable.

"Actually, I don't have anything to put on this yet," you admit.

"I guess we have to go shopping, then," Hoseok says with a soft smile.

We. Just like that, Hoseok breezes into your life and makes himself at home, and you feel helpless to stop him, returning his smile with a smaller one, as you mutter, "I guess we do."

While shopping with Hoseok, you learn several things about him. The first of which is that he is from Gwangju, South Korea, which is about three hours south of the capital city Seoul, by car. He moved halfway across the globe about a year and a half ago to study fashion abroad, and since he isn't a huge traditionalist when it comes to Christmas, he opted to save his trip home for the Lunar New Year, instead. 

You also learn that Hoseok is extremely curious and animated, and he enjoys pointing at and touching things, making tiny little sound effects, and turning everything into characters for which he creates special voices. You found it alarming at first and shied away from the excitement, ducking your head and looking on in confusion. But as you eased into the afternoon with Hoseok, you found yourself pointing to things that reminded you of previous characters and moments, and laughing along. 

"It's nice to see you relax," Hoseok says over a steaming paper cup of hot chocolate, and you look up with a start, tilting your head the way he tilts his whenever you say something that doesn't sink in immediately. 

"What do you mean?" you mutter, bringing your own paper cup of cocoa to your lips and blowing over the top to cool it enough for a sip. 

"You've just been really tense all day," Hoseok continues, still holding his drink to his lips but making no move to taste it. "Not a complaint, though; just an observation."

You hum and accept Hoseok's observation. Truth be told, you have been tense for months—not just this morning. And, in fact, this time spent with Hoseok is the first time you have really laughed and let yourself go in so long, you actually feel embarrassed. Holing up in your apartment by yourself and being a recluse has been too easy, especially with the weather as cold as it has been, and you have forgotten how nice it is to get out and have a cup of hot chocolate. 

Try as you might to not let your mind wander to when things used to be this carefree and simple, you can't help it. You imagine the early days with Ash when you would meet up at the local cafes and initiate impromptu snowball fights, falling into a pile of goose feather padded fabric and giggling with snow stuck to your hair and a chill on your cheeks. 

Now it's tense smiles and words replaced by hums and grunts. You can't remember the last time you bought a gift out of the blue because you saw something that reminded you of them, or suggested trying a new eatery just for the fun of it. Even meals cooked at home are usually performed by one, without consulting the other, and you either share the food or choose to make something else.

How depressing. 

"Earth to marshmallow," Hoseok chimes, waving a hand over your face, and you blink away from your thoughts, tasting rich, warm chocolate on your lips. 

"Marsh—" you begin, questioning his choice of nickname, when you feel a stray, small marshmallow stuck to your bottom lip. You tug your lip into your mouth while warmth rises to your cheeks and set your cup down so you can bury your face in your hands. 

"Embarrassing," you groan. 

Hoseok begins to yank at one of your wrists, and you give in, smiling as your one free eye reveals his smiling face. 

"It was cute," Hoseok teases, releasing his grasp on you. 

The spot Hoseok touched tingles, and you drop both hands to the table and rub your fingers over your wrist in the hope of making the feeling go away. 

"So," Hoseok says with a wide, pretty grin, "we got tinsel, lights, some ornaments—but maybe not enough ornaments?"

You shake your head. "Definitely not enough ornaments."

"So we just need more of those and a topper, and this tree is ready to decorate!"

You nod and worry your bottom lip. Shopping with Hoseok has been nice, but you feel bad for dragging him all around downtown, looking for the perfect decorations. Why you are being so picky about the final product in the first place is beyond you, since this tree is more to appease Ash than anything, and they won't be back in time to even see the fucking thing. Why should you care so much?

"I think we should find something that is less traditional than an angel for the top," Hoseok suggests, eyes staring off into the distance as he takes a sip from his cup and lets it settle in his mouth before swallowing. "You don't strike me as an angel person."

"Like a star?" you recommend, considering the shades of gold and pretty pastel colors that the rest of the decorations are. 

Hoseok hums. "Exactly! I think a star would be perfect."

The realization hits you, sinking into your guts to swirl with all the bile and acid: You care about the way the tree looks because Hoseok cares, and you want his approval. During the entire shopping trip, you deferred to his opinion and considered his feedback. And now, here you are, sipping hot chocolate and planning the star—the piece de resistance—with him as if this tree is also his. 

If you had any shame at all—even just a single ounce of it—you would cut the excursion short, lie about something you need to do back home, and take what decorations you have back to your place to adorn the tree alone while shopping online for the rest of what you need, thus cutting all ties between Hoseok and the entire event. 

But you do not want to exclude him from even a second of this project because his company is warm and comforting, and you hate the thought of doing it alone. And sure, you can remind yourself all day that you wouldn't be doing any of this alone in the first place if you had just gone to San Francisco with your partner as is tradition, which you have done for the last two Christmas and New Year seasons, mostly to make them happy. 

But things don't always work out according to plan, and you think maybe it is time to start new holiday traditions that bring you joy. Hoseok is the only reason you got the damn thing into your apartment in the first place; he deserves to see this through to the end, as well. 

At least, that's what you tell yourself in order to abate the guilt.

With a fortifying breath, you put the compostable plastic lid back onto your hot chocolate, take a drink, and then ask, "Ready?"

Hoseok beams at you, eyes turning into pretty little crescent moons as he replies, "Ready."

Ash That's...interesting.

You Interesting? Really?

Ash I mean, it's not really Christmas-y.

You It is literally a Christmas tree. 

Ash Why didn't you use any of my decorations? Seems like a hassle to go out and buy all new stuff when I have a bin full of shit that you could have used. 

You IDK it felt weird going through your stuff.

Your phone rings, and you sigh, watching as Ash's name and smiling face appear on the screen. Beside you—on your couch, watching some shitty Hallmark movie that you have all but spaced away from paying attention to—Hoseok cocks his head to the side and knits his eyebrows, studying your sullen expression. 

"I have to take this," you grumble, standing from the warmth of your fuzzy baby blue blanket and making sure the large bowl of popcorn that sits between the two of you is undisturbed. 

Hoseok nods and reaches for the remote, but you shake your head and say, "It's fine, don't pause it," as you leave the living room and walk to your bedroom. 

Ash has already cut the unanswered call short, and you thumb through your phone and call them back. It rings twice before they pick up and let out a familiar sigh, setting your nerves on end.

"Sorry, I—"

"You can text but you can't answer your phone?" Ash snaps.

Your jaw tenses and you take a deep breath, attempting to keep your voice steady. "I was on the toilet, geez. Did you want to listen to me flush and wash my hands that badly?"

"It's not like I haven't literally watched you take a piss," they respond, and you roll your eyes.

"Pardon me for wanting a moment of privacy."

Silence hangs, and you wait for Ash to speak since they were the one to initiate a conversation by calling first. When they say nothing, you mutter, "So you hate the tree?"

"I don't hate the tree, babe, I just...I don't understand what you're doing."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean," Ash sighs loudly, "it feels like you're not even trying to come here, and now you're decorating the tree with shit that you went out to get yourself rather than just using what I have. It's like you're trying to cut me out of your holiday altogether, and it just feels fucking...weird."

Your gut instinct is to get defensive and question where this newfound paranoia is coming from, but although Ash is not correct in their assumption, they are also not entirely wrong. No, you are not trying to cut them intentionally out of your holiday, but it is true that some part of you has begun to pull away from them, in general. 

"Ash," you respond, keeping your voice as level and guilt-free as you can manage, "I'm not trying to cut you out of anything, alright? I just had some free time and wanted to go trudge around in the snow for my own decorations. I'm sorry if that made you feel left out."

Ash hums, and mutters, "Alright. Sorry for getting defensive."

Although nobody can see you, you shrug as you say, "Nah, I think it's a perfectly reasonable way to feel. And I'm glad you voiced those feelings."

"Thanks for being understanding," Ash says, then, after some chatter is heard in the background, they mutter, "Gotta go, babe. Love you," and hang up before you can say anything back.

As you shove your phone into your hoodie pocket, you rock in place, unsure where you want to settle your feet. It would be rude to stay in your room while your guest is on the sofa, but returning to the living room and explaining your relationship to Hoseok feels...awkward.

And you are unsure why it feels that way because it's not as if he would judge you for being in a relationship. At least, you assume that to be the case; you don't really know. It is late evening on day one of your whirlwind friendship with Hoseok, and he has already taken up more space in your life than anyone else has in months. 

After the shopping excursion, Hoseok ran to his place—also on the third floor, on the far end of the hallway—to change into dry socks and some sweatpants while you also changed, and then he returned promptly to help you clear away the piles of your books, unpack the tree, decorate the tree, and help himself to two bags of microwavable popcorn that you had forgotten were in the kitchen cabinet. 

There were talks of eating actual dinner, but Hoseok became very invested in a film about two neighbors competing to decorate their house for Christmas, so you settled on popcorn because you are an adult and are free to make poor dietary choices from time to time. 

All day, despite the ebb and flow of emotions, everything with Hoseok has felt really easy.

Hoseok is very friendly and open, and he would most likely be understanding of whatever version of the situation you choose to tell him. So why would it be awkward? Assuming today is not just a one-time thing, Ash will eventually come home and meet your new friend. So he should therefore know they exist, right?

You trudge back to the living room with an impassive smile, hoping that your presence alone will be enough and that Hoseok will refrain from asking questions. And your wish is granted as he shoves popcorn into his mouth while attempting to explain everything you missed in what he has adorably coined The Battle of the Dads. With a nod and a smile you listen, despite having no idea which dad is which in this story. It doesn't matter; Hoseok is smiling. 

Your apartment feels empty when Hoseok leaves—too quiet for comfort. You had gotten so used to the chattering, the humming and singing, the sounds of busy shopping malls, hanging decorations with hip-hop tracks playing in the background, and winding down in front of the television. This one day feels like several have passed, and you lay in bed staring at the ceiling, fighting the urge to text Hoseok, just for something to do. 

You failed to bring up Ash after returning from the phone call, but there are signs of them all over, so you reason that Hoseok has probably picked up on the fact that another person lives in the apartment with you. Earlier, when you were talking about Hoseok's life, and how he was not intending on going home for the holiday, you had mentioned that you were also not planning to visit any family, but you left out the part about Ash's family. For once, it felt good to have a conversation about the holiday season and not really think about their family at all.

It is not as if they are bad people; Ash's parents are wonderful. But there is something about being the add-on to someone else's holiday celebration that makes you feel a little displaced. And not for lack of trying on their part; Ash's mother always goes out of her way to make sure your favorite snacks are stocked, and she is very considerate with the gifts she buys you. But, no matter how hard she tries, you will always feel like an outlier. And this year, you are not in the mood to feel that way.

Perhaps, in the back of your mind, you are allowing yourself to admit that you and Ash are drifting apart a little too much, and that things will probably never be as exciting and nice as they used to be. Ash is becoming more standoffish and defensive, always assuming the worst about every little thing—even from miles and miles away. 

And you are tired. Work is stagnant, the city doesn't feel as charming as it used to, your friends are all getting married and having children, and you feel like there is nothing left to do but let the tides carry you like a hunk of driftwood. Will the waters pull you back out to sea, to discover new and exciting things? Or will they toss you onto the sand and leave you to rot in the sun for the rest of your days? It does not matter because you simply do not have the energy to care one way or another. 

Except...for today, with Hoseok. 

For one day, everything else felt tertiary; less important. Hanging out with him felt so natural and comfortable—as if you had known each other for years—and time flew past in the blink of an eye. When he disagreed with one of your suggestions, he was polite and non-judgmental, and he never attempted to talk you out of something—even when the pink tinsel you wanted was evidently "bland and inferior" to the pink tinsel he liked best, he encouraged you to buy it anyway. In the end, you bought them both, just to make him smile. 

Hoseok feels like a breath of fresh air—a tide gently pulling you away with a promise to no longer let you smash into the cliff sides over and over again. Hoseok is full of life, abundant with joy, and shrouded in mystery. Though, if you continue to play on the ocean cliche, the mysterious bit becomes less appealing, as the ocean is literally full of unimaginable horrors, but in your sleep-addled state, you reason that you can let the metaphor slip just this once.

With a sigh, you turn to your side and close your eyes. Staring at the ceiling all night is not going to do you any good, so instead, you begin to replay the moments of your day that stood out the most. Hoseok whooshing into the building like a friendly wind elemental to save you from your sorrows. Hoseok suggesting hot chocolate and taking you to a place he recently discovered and was so giddy to show you. Hoseok smiling, and giggling, and laughing, and being so calm and patient while a silent storm raged inside you. 

With a smile on your face, you fall asleep thinking about Hoseok. 

"Wait," you mutter against his lips. "I can't."

He pulls you closer, makes you whine as your bodies press together flush and fitting, like they were always meant to be.

"Of course, we can," he teases, voice far lower than you remember. 

Your palms are on his chest, and you attempt to push him away, but he holds you tighter, tighter, tighter. 

"You don't love them," he growls, words stinging like capsaicin across your lips.

You push some more, afraid to agree but far more afraid to disagree. Whatever this is, it cannot be happening. Especially not with him. 

"Give in to your desires," he growls like a wild beast. "You want me, so have me."

"I can't!" you shout, attempting to push him away. 

When you wake up, sweat beading on your forehead, you sit with a start, muttering, "I can't," under your breath. 

Your heart pounds like a drum behind your ribs, and you attempt to get your bearings, searching your bedroom for any sign that something is amiss—desperate to be out of that dream.  

If you try hard enough, you can remember the smell of Hoseok's musky, floral cologne and how, in your dream, it invaded your senses and made you dizzy with desire, against your better judgment. 

This is bad. You have only known Hoseok for one day, and already, you are having dreams of infidelity while in his arms. Your only reprieve is that you cannot imagine Hoseok actually behaving in that manner. That was purely a work of your imagination. Though, where it is coming from, is a mystery. 

Hoseok is attractive, yes, but you barely know him. Ordinarily, it takes a lot of emotional connection before you begin to feel the arousal butterflies flitting about, and although you did feel incredibly comfortable with Hoseok yesterday, it should take far more than that to have you dreaming about nearly kissing him. 

At least you manage to wake up at an appropriate hour, and rather than having to fight to get more shut-eye, you toss aside your blankets, slip your feet into a pair of bright yellow chicken slippers, and pad into the kitchen to start up your coffee pot. 

As a rule, you try to begin your day without immediately checking your phone, and you usually have no problem with going through the motions of making coffee and breakfast, consuming the coffee and breakfast, and then returning to your room to check your notifications before you shower and get on with the day. But today, as you set out the frying pan and open the fridge to grab two eggs, you find your mind wandering to your phone again and again. 

You wonder whether Hoseok is awake and if he has plans for the day. He still has classes, but he mentioned half of them are online, and you wonder if he is on campus yet, or still just down the hall. Or, perhaps, at a third, unknown location. 

Although you work as a freelance writer, you tend to have the holiday months carved out for traveling, and for that reason, you do not have much to do. The pile of books began to accumulate at the reading-nook-turned-tree-nook all thanks to not having much of anything to do without Ash around. Before meeting Hoseok, you were comfortable in the vast nothingness, but now you feel antsy. 

With your breakfast cooked and your coffee steaming up from your favorite mug, you trudge into your bedroom and grab your phone from its charger. It is only 8 AM, but you still find yourself surprised to have no notifications, and even feel a tinge of sadness. Surely your new platonic bestie would think to message you the moment his eyes opened to the new day. 

Just thinking about it makes you cringe. Seriously, who are you?

With a huff, you return to the small dining table and plop down to go through the motions of breaking fast despite barely being awake enough to be hungry. The coffee helps to perk you up, but you still feel listless and out of sorts after that very tame but alarming dream. You are no stranger to your subconscious thrusting arousal upon you at unsuspecting times over people you adore, but this...this just seems far too hasty. 

For the rest of the morning, you make motions through the apartment, navigating around the giant tree to find your copy of Bell Hooks' All About Love, and curling up on your couch with your favorite blanket. 

In a blink, your coffee is empty, the words are beginning to blur, and you stretch your limbs before getting up and walking around, glancing outside to see the early afternoon sun hanging high. 

You should go out and do something, you tell yourself. Yesterday was a blast; you should make today another blast. But you hesitate to text your neighbor, and there is nobody else who lives nearby and is not already fully absorbed in the chaos that this time of year brings. You could always go alone—something you have happily done plenty of times before—but a voice scratches at the back of your mind, telling you to text him, text him, text him. 

You Busy? I was thinking about going out to grab lunch.

You chew on the inside of your mouth while you wait, anxious for a response. When your phone finally dings—a mere thirty or so seconds later—you let out a light, excited huff of air and check the notification immediately.

Hoseok Not busy. Give me 10?

You Sounds perfect.

In a flash, you toss the book aside and jump to your feet, making your way to your bedroom to attempt to become presentable. Luckily, Hoseok already saw you dressed in typical jeans and hoodie attire with no makeup yesterday, because you were not anticipating interacting with another human being when he came breezing into your life, so you don't feel too much pressure to get done up. 

A coat of mascara to make your eyes pop, and a black sweater that is more form-fitting than a hoodie, coupled with a pair of skinny black jeans feels decent enough. You leave your hair down and find your favorite mustard beanie, then check your phone to find twelve minutes have passed since Hoseok asked for ten. 

You wonder if he is the type to take a long time getting ready, and nearly return to your book on the couch when there is a knock at your door. The sound startles you, and you call a shaky, "One moment!" as you make your way to the entrance.

When you twist your knob and fling the door open, the sight nearly takes your breath away. Hoseok's hair is parted over his forehead, and he also looks a little more put together than yesterday, despite wearing the same camel, fur-lined knee-length jacket. Beneath the jacket is a brown, blue, and white argyle sweater and light grey slacks.

"What did you have in mind?" Hoseok asks with a pretty heart-shaped grin, leaning into the doorway.

You take a step back and begin sliding your feet into chunky, brown snow boots. "Honestly, I haven't gotten that far," you admit sheepishly.

"Do you like Korean food?"

You think briefly about what your past experience with Korean food has been. "I've only had Korean barbecue, but I really liked what I had."

"How do you feel about soup?"

Soup does sound good, and you nod as you tie the strings of one boot and then the other. "Soup would hit the spot."

With a pleased hum, Hoseok says, "There's a spot kind of nearby that makes it close to how my mom does...well, as close as I will hope to get away from home."

Eager to know that little detail about Hoseok and his life back home, you agree to trek several neighborhoods over, just to have some soup. Without another word, you throw on a long, black pea coat and wrap a mustard scarf around your neck that matches your hat.

The walk through the hallway, to the elevator, and out to the front entrance of the building all feel uncharacteristically quiet, but you don't question it. There are many reasons a person might be chipper and talkative one day and not the next, and it feels weird to pry. You still don't fully know Hoseok or what kind of a person he is, and this is only day two of discovering the various sides of him. 

Despite the sun hanging high and bright in the sky, the afternoon air chills you to the bone the moment it touches your skin, and you instinctively bring your scarf up to your cheeks. 

"Does it get this cold back home?" you ask, watching your footsteps make prints in the shallow snow, which crunches under every step.

Hoseok hums. "The weather is similar. Cold in the winter and humid in the summer."

At the thought of heat and humidity, you roll your shoulders back, thankful for the cold. Soon enough, your breathing is steady, your posture is relaxed enough not to shiver, and you feel comfortable. And, perhaps, there is a warmth that radiates from your new friend, as well. 

"You wear a lot of black," Hoseok says after a block of comfortable silence. 

You snicker. "I do."

"You would look nice with some color."

Something in your stomach lurches at Hoseok's words, but not necessarily in a bad way; it's hard to put your finger on it. Sure, the thought of looking nice for Hoseok is something that has crossed your mind, but it is much easier to have these thoughts without the added pressure of knowing that he has an opinion on the matter.

"Color is overrated," you tease, turning to watch Hoseok's expression go from calm to feigned offense. "Anyway, you wear enough color for the both of us."

Hoseok laughs, then playfully nudges your shoulder with his, throwing you momentarily off balance. It's so subtle he could not possibly detect the way his touch makes your world spin—throwing you off trajectory entirely—but you can feel it. 

Conversation the rest of the way is so light and relaxed, you keep remembering that you and Hoseok only just met yesterday. You point out cafes, bars, and restaurants that you like and discuss going to them one day together as if there is no question that your future is now forever entwined with his. 

It feels nice to talk about things with no pressure or fear of being judged. So far, the only judgment Hoseok has offered is that you would look nice wearing color—something you can hardly hold against him. He is, after all, a fashion major.

"Does the black make me seem like a gloomy person?" you ask somewhat out of the blue when the conversation lulls. 

Hoseok chuckles beside you. "It was just an observation. Don't let it make you feel insecure."

"It doesn't," you respond somewhat insistently. "I'm just curious."

"Not gloomy," Hoseok says, offering you a smile. "Just less...I don't know...bright?"

The uncertainty in Hoseok's voice could be from worrying about whether you are likely to be offended, and you give him time to sort it out.

"I guess, yeah, gloomy. Black makes you gloomy."

You can't help but laugh and nudge Hoseok with your shoulder. He gasps in surprise and holds his hands up defensively, whining innocently, "I was just repeating what you said!"

All you can do is giggle as Hoseok links his elbow with yours and trudges you forward quickly. It takes about thirty minutes to arrive to your destination, so your cheeks are numb as you walk in the front door, and warmth instantly settles over your skin, tingling ever so slightly. 

The place is quaint, with wooden tables spread throughout and a bar that overlooks part of the kitchen on the far end. Hoseok leads you past all of the tables and pulls out a seat at the bar. Then, he calls to the older woman behind the counter, and they banter in Korean. 

Hoseok speaking his native language kicks up a new feeling in your chest—seeds taking root and germinating into sprouts. Whereas he is usually slow and calculated in his speech with you, with the older lady he is fast, giggly, and emphatic—alive in an all new way. It is beautiful, and you do your best not to stare. 

The older lady disappears into the back, and Hoseok apologizes for speaking for so long and leaving you out. Warmth crawls up to your cheeks when you observe how flushed and giddy he is, and you shake your head and say, "It's alright. I don't mind."

"Do you drink alcohol?" Hoseok asks, and you nod, cracking a smile. 

"From time to time."

"Have you had soju?"

You think you have had soju at the Korean barbeque spot and say, "Maybe? It was clear and reminded me a little of sake."

Hoseok nods and smiles widely. "She's going to warm some up for us."

You grab a menu and look through it, suddenly overwhelmed by the choices. Soups and stews, rice and meat bowls—some with an egg on top. Everything looks amazing. But you want to have the meal that Hoseok says tastes like home.

"Which one is the soup that you mentioned before?" you ask, running your finger somewhat aimlessly over the pictures. 

"Oh, you don't have to get that specific one," Hoseok says as his lips turn into a slight frown. "Everything here is great."

"I want to," you respond with playful defiance, making Hoseok laugh.

"Alright. It's this one," he points to the menu. "Kimchi jjigae. You can get it with pork, tofu, seafood, or a combination. I usually get pork and tofu."

You repeat jjigae quietly to yourself as you read the description, and decide on getting pork and tofu, as well. "That sounds good. I'll have that."

"Should we just get different things to share?" Hoseok suggests. "Or are you afraid of my germs?"

A laugh rocks through your chest before you can stop yourself, and you lightly smack Hoseok on the arm. "We can share. I think I can handle a little soup spit."

There's a sparkle in Hoseok's eyes as he observes you, and it makes your heart pound wildly in your chest. You duck your head down, suddenly feeling shy under his gaze, and pretend to read the menu despite everything blurring and becoming impossible to parse. 

"How about some appetizers, so you can try some different things?" Hoseok suggests, voice softer than before. 

You can't bring yourself to meet his eye and nod instead, looking over the options. Rice cakes in sweet, spicy sauce sounds appealing, and you point at the photo, unsure how to pronounce tteokbokki. Hoseok hums happily, suggests also getting fried chicken, and then it's settled. When the older lady returns, Hoseok slips between speaking Korean and English, sometimes repeating himself in both languages, and once the food is ordered, he gets to work pouring the two of you small glasses of soju.

"She speaks English too, but it's nice to fall back into Korean," Hoseok explains. 

"Understandable," you respond, feeling a myriad of questions bubble up. You want to learn everything there is to know about Hoseok, about the language he grew up speaking and the city he moved so far away from. But you also feel at a loss for what to say and instead accept the small, warm cup of clear liquid. 

"Repeat after me," Hoseok says, "geon—"

"Geon—"

"—bae."

"—bae."

Hoseok taps his class to the side of yours and says, "Geonbae," and you recite it with a smile, then follow his lead of drinking the liquid back.

The taste is subtly heady and bitter, and not too strong, but it warms your mouth, throat, and chest instantly. Hoseok watches expectantly with his eyebrows raised, and you nod with a smile, telling him, "It's good."

As Hoseok pours the next round of shots, it dawns on you that you are still bundled up, and the warmth is beginning to feel stifling. You peel off your hat and scarf and set them on the counter beside your glass of water, which has a foot or so of extra space before the wall. Then, you begin the precarious feat of wiggling your shoulders and arms out of your jacket while sitting in a somewhat narrow space. Hoseok follows suit, shrugging much more easily from his jacket. Then, he slides your cup of soju over, and you pick it up. 

"Does geonbae mean cheers?" you ask, holding the glass up for him to tap his against. 

"It means empty cup," Hoseok responds cheerfully, with the same shimmering gaze as before.

"Ah, like bottoms up," you say as he taps his cup to yours. 

Hoseok cocks his head, and you tap your middle finger against the bottom of the cup, then mimic throwing it back without actually moving enough to spill any liquid.

"Oh, yes!" Hoseok says as he grins. "Bottoms up!"

You take your shots, setting the small glasses down with a light thunk. The warmth slowly spreads throughout your chest, giving you a slightly dizzying haze as sweet intoxication ripples at the edges of everything. 

"I wonder how many strange sayings and words there are for you to learn, in English," you muse.

"Too many," Hoseok responds with a laugh. "You will have to teach them all to me."

Once again, your future feels woven with his, and you nod and say, "I will do my best."

After two more shots, the appetizers arrive, and you feel somewhat overwhelmed by the inviting smells, unsure where to start. Hoseok picks up his phone and takes a photo, then grabs two sets of wooden chopsticks and hands one to you. As you pull the chopsticks from their paper sheath, you remember Hoseok taking a photo of his hot chocolate at the cafe yesterday and you smile to yourself at the thought that he likes to document things. 

"Do you post those online? Or just keep the photos for yourself."

"I post them usually," Hoseok responds, taking a piece of fried chicken and blowing on it before taking a bite, wincing and hissing as he perseveres through chewing, grumbling, "Fuck that's good," with his mouth full.

You decide to try the chicken first, finding a smaller piece and giving the skin a little nibble before blowing on it to cool it down. Ultimately, like Hoseok, you give in too soon and take a steaming hot bite, quickly inhaling air with the hope of cooling down your mouth as the chicken heats it up.

The skin is crispy and crunchy and paper-thin, with a perfect blend of spice that brings out the flavor of the juicy meat inside. You hum and close your eyes, savoring it to the sounds of Hoseok gasping and hissing, undoubtedly eating a second piece before letting it cool.

The tteokbokki is equally as delicious, with a rich, spicy flavor that is delicately sweet. And when the soup comes out, you can barely contain your excitement as you grab a plastic spoon and have a taste. The broth is hearty and reminds you of home in a way that is inexplicable and impossible to articulate—a warm, comforting home that is not yours. Hoseok waits quietly for your opinion, and when your wide-eyed surprise turns to soft appreciation, he smiles and nods, hastily shouting something to the older lady who brought out the food.

"It's perfect for winter," you mutter after a second slurp, and Hoseok hums. 

"It's a really simple dish to make, and sometimes I break down and make it myself, but there is something special about receiving it from someone else."

You nod and watch as Hoseok's smile downturns into a slight frown. 

"My mother always made it when I was sick. She swore it could cure anything. So when my heart feels sick thinking about her, I eat it."

"Ah, homesick," you mutter, suddenly feeling a heavy sadness hanging over you.

Hoseok nods, shrugs, then smiles. "I made the choice to move away, but sometimes it feels hard to be so far, you know?"

"I do know," you respond, using chopsticks to grab a piece of the pork. "Sometimes, even if the choice is necessary or good, it can still be painful to reconcile."

At this, Hoseok watches you, eyes soft and intent. Embarrassed under the undivided attention, you duck your head and eat the pork that has cooled at the end of your chopsticks. 

"You're wise, marshmallow," Hoseok teases. "I appreciate it."

"I need a better nickname," you groan past half-eaten pork, and Hoseok shakes his head, muttering that it is cute, then joins you in eating.

By the time the dishes are empty, you are full and warm and ready for a nap. Hoseok huffs out a sigh as he sits back in his chair, and you nod, agreeing with the sentiment.

"Caffeine?" Hoseok suggests.

"Caffeine sounds amazing," you groan, sitting up and stretching your limbs. 

"I know just the spot," Hoseok says—because, of course, he does—and you both stand and begin to put on your jackets before heading out into the cool afternoon air. 

Coffee leads to walking the long way home, which leads to Hoseok inviting you to his apartment for more soju and another terrible Hallmark movie. You concede without much of a fight—only a few groans at the mention of the movie genre—and that is how you wind up curled up on Hoseok's cozy, brown faux leather couch, falling asleep against the armrest with a belly full of soju and food and a head full of him.

For the next two weeks, Hoseok says he has to keep his head down and focus on studying. He has exams in all of his classes and rattles off a list of essay, presentation, and project deadlines that are also coming up, over the phone on Monday afternoon, in between classes.

"I just wanted to call and tell you that I will be distant, even though we live in the same hallway."

You smile to yourself, glancing out into the city from your nook window beside the tree that the two of you decorated two days ago. "That's fine. If you need me to bring you anything, just let me know. I can grab coffees or something."

Hoseok hums and says, "Maybe. I will probably be on campus a lot more, only coming home to sleep. But if I am home and need to call in reinforcements, you're at the top of the list."

You chuckle at Hoseok's response despite feeling a tinge of sadness at the thought of not seeing him for a little while. It feels silly to admit how much you expect to miss someone who only just met and began spending time with, and when Hoseok teases you about it, you very flatly tell him that you are an adult and will handle his absence just fine, thank you very much.

But you do miss him. It surprises you how much, in fact, considering you hardly know him, all things considered. Although, even as you tell yourself that over and over—an attempt at talking yourself out of caring as much as you do—you know that it is not true. Hoseok is radiant and open and loves talking about himself as much as he seems to enjoy learning about you, and he has shared quite a lot of himself over the span of just two days. His presence is hard not to miss. 

Tuesday afternoon, when Hoseok calls to catch up between classes, you learn that gender and identity are fluid to him and that—although Hoseok uses he, him pronouns and presents as male—he loves to play with androgyny and fashion in a way that attempts to erase any cisheteronormative assumption. He tells you that he sticks with he, him pronouns because things back home are a little different when it comes to gay and trans rights, and, for now, changing the language is something he is not fully ready to embrace, but he thinks he feels closer to how you describe your feelings, and that warms your heart. 

"I can't really put into words what I think about gender," Hoseok mutters before sipping loudly from a compostable coffee lid. "But I feel disconnected from it. Indifferent."

"Me too," is all you could bring yourself to say as you stare at the bright red cover of your open copy of All About Love that sits sprawled open, page-down on your lap. Suddenly, you find yourself overwhelmed with feeling a deep, strong connection to him.

"Anyway," Hoseok continues brightly over the phone, "I have to run, but once finals are over, I want to show you some of the pieces I have designed."

"I can't wait," you respond happily as the call comes to an end.

On Wednesday, when your phone dings thrice in a row, you drop your book onto the table and grab your phone excitedly, only for the feeling to dissolve into disappointment when you find the messages are not from whom you want to hear. 

You almost don't open them until you take a moment to read the third message that has come in succession, sitting on top of the notifications, and decide that whatever Ash is going on about needs to be addressed.

Ash So you're definitely not coming for Christmas, right? I know you said you would look into it and search for deals, but you're not actually doing that, are you?  I wish you would just be honest with me.

With a deep, fortifying sigh, you close your eyes and center yourself. This is a conversation that you have been putting off, but you are tired of always feeling put on the spot by them, and it is partially your fault for not being forthcoming. 

You I have looked, but not as much as I could have. I'm sorry, I guess I'm not in the mood to travel this year.

Not ten seconds after you send the message, your phone begins to ring, and your anxiety spikes to the ceiling. Talking to Ash right now feels like willingly throwing yourself into a lion's pit covered in fresh meat, and you end the call and shoot off another text.

You I'm not in a great place to talk. Can we text instead?

Ash Are you fucking serious?

Your hands tremble, and you take another breath, but this one is less deep than the last, and when you close your eyes, tears form around your lashes. When did things reach this point? You and Ash used to be open and honest and receptive to one another's problems, and now everything they say is laced with impatience and vitriol. Which of you was the first to begin pulling away? When did the pulling begin?

You Geez, Ash. I'm sorry that this is upsetting, but behaving this way is not going to make me change my mind.

Ash Behaving what way, exactly??? Because last I checked, you were the one telling me one thing while wanting another, and you have also been keeping my hopes up. My family has been eager to see you, and now I have to let them down.

You Every single thing I say and do seems to piss you off. You were angry when I had to stay behind for work, angry when I bought my own tree decorations, and now you can't respect the fact that I'm not in the mood to travel to someone else's family event for a holiday that I'm not a huge fan of, in the dead of fucking winter. Even if I had been excited to fly out, the ticket prices were already exorbitant. And during all of this time, you haven't once asked how I am, how things have been going with work, or what I have been doing to keep myself busy. You just complain and take everything personally and treat me like an inconvenience.

Ash Wow.

You Yeah. Wow.

Minutes pass, and you brace yourself as you see Ash typing a response. 

Ash Please can I call you? I just want to hear your voice.

You almost concede and tell them yes. A part of you would even like to hear their voice, hoping to find comfort in their familiar cadence and tone. But you know that all they are going to do is backtrack and offer empty apologies that will only last until the next time they blow up again. Or, worse, they will just yell over the phone until you feel forced to hang up on them.

You I don't want to speak right now. I need some space to think.

Ash That's rich coming from someone who is not only physically far away but has the entire apartment to themself. How much more space do you require, exactly? Should we fly you to the moon?  My family has been nothing but good to you, and this is how you treat them.

With an exasperated sigh, you fire off your response—

You And this is exactly why I didn't want to talk to you. Not an ounce of understanding for how I am feeling, just jab after jab about how inconsiderate I am when I have been telling you for years that I would like a quiet holiday all to myself or just the two of us. And I understand if you want to be with your family, but please understand that maybe I don't. Being on the sidelines of someone else's event is really fucking difficult when all I can think about is how much I wish I had that too. No matter how nice your parents are, they still aren't my parents. I just want one fucking holiday with a clear head and no stress, and you can't even grant me that because you would rather be pissed off at me for not doing what you want than try to understand how I feel. I'm muting my phone now; I need to walk away from this conversation for a bit. 

—and then mute your phone before shoving it between the couch cushions. All at once, you heave for air and fall forward against the armrest as tears pour into your open hands. Things have been rocky for a while, but when did they get so bad? Ash used to be your safe space, and now all they make you feel is anguish and frustration. 

Although your phone is muted, you still hear it vibrate as a message comes in, followed by another. There have been times in recent weeks that you have considered blocking their number altogether, but at that point, you figure you would be better off just ending the relationship.

Tears continue, and you breathe deeply, attempting to quell them. A good cry is cathartic, yes, but this is not how you would like to spend your sunny Wednesday afternoon. Determined to pick up the pieces and attempt to have a good day, you decide a trip to the cafe will be nice. You can get something warm and covered in marshmallows. Maybe you can take your laptop and start working on a new writing project to take your mind off things for a little while. 

Between the cushions, your phone vibrates consistently—an incoming call. At first, you sigh and squeeze your eyes closed, eager to ignore it. But then you remember it could be Hoseok calling, and you fish the device out, careful not to hit the answer or end call buttons in the process. Hoseok's name greets you, and you fumble to answer before it disconnects 

"Hey, Hoseok," you say with an obvious shake to your voice. 

"H-hey," Hoseok responds carefully. "Did I call at a bad time?"

You sniffle and let out a chuckle over how unconvincing you must sound. "No. I mean, I'm not having the best day, but it's always a good time to talk to you."

"Corny," Hoseok responds, though the laugh in his voice is more subdued than usual.

"God, it was, wasn't it?" you cringe, replaying what you just said and how it must have sounded. 

Silence hangs, and you fiddle with a loose thread at the bottom of your shirt as you try to come up with something to say that is unrelated to having a fight with your partner of three years. Ordinarily, Hoseok launches into how his day is going over the phone, and his silence makes your tension rise. 

"Are you sure it's not a bad time?" Hoseok asks again, softly.

"I'm sure," you respond, voice unsteady but more measured than moments ago. "What did you call to tell me?"

Hoseok hums and says, "I actually called to ask about your day. Everything here has been boring me to death and I need some excitement. But whatever made you cry doesn't sound too exciting, so now I don't know. I don't want to pry."

"Ah," you respond, letting your shoulders fall. Then, you remember you were going to set out to try to enjoy the day, and sit up straight. "Well, I was going to leave the house and get some fresh air to clear my head. Do you want to talk to me while I get bundled up and head out?"

"Sure," Hoseok beams, smile evident in his voice. "Where are you going?"

You get up and stretch your shoulders, arching your back as you stand on your toes, then let out a yawn. "I was thinking about the cafe we went to for hot chocolates. I might take my laptop and do some writing."

"Ooh, writing?" Hoseok asks excitedly. "What kind of writing?"

You make your way toward your bedroom to grab your favorite black hoodie, then you pause. Hoseok telling you that you would look good in color rings out in your mind, and you drop the sweater back onto the bed and head toward your closet, putting your phone on speaker so you can set it atop your dresser and look through the shirts that are hanging. 

"I don't know. I usually write articles and essays for money, but occasionally, I like to write short stories."

"Like fanfiction?" 

You can't help but laugh at the suggestion, and although you have certainly penned a steamy scene or twenty in your day, that is not quite what you had in mind. "It concerns me that that's your first thought."

"Write a story about the handsome stranger who turns your world upside down and makes you believe in love again."

Hoseok's words are playful, but you can't help but wonder if he is trying to tell you something without saying it explicitly, and it makes your hands tingle and your heart pound. "Sounds unrealistic. Aim lower."

Hoseok laughs loudly and brightly, and you chuckle along, though panic still surges through you. Surely, Hoseok does not have those kinds of feelings for you, and is only joking, right?

You pull out a forest green sweater with a loose turtleneck and pull it over your head, shoving your arms through the holes and attempting to steady your breathing, but the garment makes you feel somewhat claustrophobic. Still, you keep it on and grab your phone, making your way to the dining table, where you have left your hat and scarf. 

"First the Hallmark hate and now this? You really are not romantic at all, are you, marshmallow?"

The nickname makes you scoff as you pull the hat over your head and loosely wrap the scarf around your neck. "On second thought, maybe I will not get any writing done," you chide, getting bundled up. 

Hoseok laughs again, and you picture his wide, heart-shaped smile and eyes scrunched into tiny crescent moons. You grab your black coat from where it hangs beside the front door and shove your feet into your chunky brown boots, placing your phone atop a black Vans sneaker that sits on the top shelf of a very chaotic shoe rack. 

"Almost bundled up and ready to head out."

A sigh comes through the phone, followed by, "I wish I could join you."

"Me too," you say softly before you can stop yourself. 

Thursday passes quietly, with a few texts exchanged from a very stressed Hoseok. You wish him luck, sending more kaomoji than you might ordinarily use, then get dressed to head out to the cafe again. Getting out and walking in the cold air and warm sun has been doing wonders for your mental health, and having a sweet treat to look forward to is the perfect incentive. 

You still haven't opened the messages that Ash sent the day before, and you are not sure when you will.

On Friday evening, after not hearing from Hoseok all day, he calls. You are in the middle of scrolling through recipes for kimchi jjigae and wondering if making a soup from scratch for the holiday is a challenge you are up for, when his name glows brightly on your screen.

"What are you doing?" Hoseok asks, rather than saying hello.

"It's top secret," you respond. "What are you doing?"

Hoseok chuckles—music to your ears. "Keeping secrets already? I'm hurt."

"I'll reveal it soon. Consider it a Christmas gift."

You think you may hear Hoseok gasp, then he mutters something in Korean before saying, "Really? A gift for me?"

Warmth spreads to your cheeks, and you hum. "It's nothing big. Don't get too excited, okay?"

"Nope! This is exciting. Shit, now I have to do something for you."

"Absolutely not," you chuckle, closing your laptop with the soup recipe left open in a tab. "Don't feel obligated to do anything."

Silence, save for the sounds of Hoseok humming softly, hangs between you. Then, he continues. 

"Hey, so, I don't have anything too big coming up on Monday. We can hang out this weekend if you'd like."

Hope blooms behind your ribs, and the sprouts that have begun to grow behind your ribs stretch toward the sun for sustenance. "Of course I would."

"Awe, missing me already?"

"Shut up," you complain with a laugh.

Hoseok hums. "It's fine if you do, because I miss you. Tomorrow?"

Your heart pounds as you agree, "Tomorrow."

Thrice since Wednesday, your phone has buzzed with messages from Ash, and each time you have ignored them, clearing the notifications and allowing the little red dot beside your messenger app to increase its number. This morning, as you open your messenger app to find out what time Hoseok was thinking about hanging out, you hover a thumb over the row containing the message preview from your partner and open Hoseok's text thread, instead. 

You What time did you have in mind? 

Certain that Hoseok will not respond immediately, you set your phone down on your dresser and begin pushing the various hangers around in your closet, looking for something with a splash of color. A red flannel button-up catches your eye, and you grab a white long-sleeve tee to accompany that and your standard black skinny jeans. You may be trying to be less gloomy when you visit with your friend, but he will have to pry the black denim from your cold dead hands. 

Your phone dings and you step out of your closet and grab your phone, unlocking it before checking the notification. When you find yourself peering down at a wall of text from the person you were not wishing to hear from, your heart sinks. Although you do your best not to read every message, your eyes flit over certain words—ungrateful, selfish—and you back out of the app, wishing you could erase the image from your mind—childish, a waste of time.

Another ding accompanied by a gentle buzz from your phone causes you to jolt, nearly dropping the device to the floor. "Shit," you mutter as you fumble to unlock the screen, checking the notification bar first. Luckily, this message is from Hoseok, but your excitement is now dimmed.

Hoseok Just showered. I could be ready in 20? Or is that too soon?

You 20 is fine. I was already getting ready for the day.

Hoseok What if it only takes me 15?

You Then show up in 15.

Hoseok See you soon! :)

You :)

As you get dressed, you remind yourself that today is a day for positive, happy feelings, and you do your best not to let the weight of the other messages bring you down. There is something to be said for their accusations—you are being childish and selfish by ignoring them flat out. But you cannot ignore the way your anxiety rises when you think about confronting the conversation, even if you remind yourself that the longer you wait, the worse it might become. 

At least you are making an effort to get out of the house and see a friendly face rather than sitting in the apartment in a bubble of self-loathing like you would otherwise be if you stuck to doing what you had been doing prior to The Great Tree Incident, as you have begun to call it in your head. So, whatever Ash is assuming of you and spitting at you daily without giving you a chance to gather your thoughts and form a response is likely only partially true. 

You apply a little mascara despite knowing it will just make your lashes sticky and eventually sweat onto your cheeks, then apply a nice lip balm to ward off chapped skin, rubbing your lips together while attempting to stay grounded and not get so far into your head that it will be impossible to come out by the time your friend arrives. 

And, when he does show up with his signature single knock followed by three quicker knocks, you give yourself a once-over in the mirror and decide that red flannel is definitely your look before trotting from your bedroom to the entryway.

When you swing open the door, you can't help but smile widely. Hoseok must have gotten the flannel memo, though his is less traditional than the lumberjack-type style, and instead, has larger squares in muted blues, greens, and yellows against white. He wears a white tee underneath, khaki pants, and his camel tan jacket overtop. 

"Wow!" Hoseok exclaims, holding his arms out. 

You are unsure whether he is using his arms to signal that he is impressed with your choice, or if he is expecting a hug, and you hesitate, lifting your arms after a beat and cocking your head. With a chuckle, Hoseok steps through the threshold, into your personal space, and wraps you in an embrace, squeezing you tight. You reciprocate the hug but in a looser fashion, awkwardly giving him a pat with your hands when you are unsure whether it has lasted too long. 

"Nervous?" Hoseok asks, and you hate how easy you must be to read. 

"Nah," you respond, "just a little tired still."

"Well, you're in for a treat, because I found a new coffee shop on Instagram that has been going viral for their latte art, so let's go get caffeinated."

And that is how your Saturday began—and your third day of spending nearly every waking moment with Hoseok. The latte art was just the tip of the iceberg. After deciding to grab a reasonable lunch and not just snack on pastries from the cafe, the two of you found a noodle bar nearby and had udon and some sake. Then, you walked to a neighboring park and moseyed along with two fresh cups of coffee and a bit of a buzz. 

"Should we go to a bar later and keep this momentum going, or do you want to have a chill night in, falling asleep while I watch another holiday movie?"

You roll your eyes and bump your shoulder into Hoseok's, groaning at the mention of more holiday movies. "Don't you get sick of that sappy shit?"

Hoseok chuckles and wraps his arm around your shoulders, pulling you into a tight side hug that nearly throws you off balance. "No. I like sappiness and romance. Don't you?"

You scoff and shake your head, though something settles in the pit of your stomach. Sadness, perhaps. Envy. It's hard to put a name to, and you do your best to ignore it. 

"No. I don't know. Maybe? I've never dated someone who was romantic," you admit. "Or someone who has made me want to be romantic, you know? I guess if someone I loved enjoyed romantic gestures, I would do them, but it's not my default."

Hoseok hums, gives your shoulder a squeeze, and lets you go. You are curious about the hum, and the squeeze, and the hug itself, but you swallow it down and decide not to ask. 

"This could be romantic," Hoseok says after silence has settled, and you glance at him to find him looking out over a frozen body of water covered in ice. Trees line the area, giving it a calm, serene feel, and around you, people chatter quietly and walk by, their feet thudding softly against the wooden bridge on which the two of you stand. "What I mean is, it's not something that needs to be forced or bought. Small, quiet moments count, as well; enjoying something simple together."

Eager to sway away from the thought of the two of you sharing a romantic moment, you circle back to the topic at hand. "Okay, but the romance in those movies is always so over the top."

"True," Hoseok concedes with a playful smile. He turns to you, eyes soft and full of something you dare not try to define, and you smile briefly and turn away, looking over the scenery once more. "Over the top is fun to indulge in from time to time. You're just a scrooge."

"Oh, okay," you chide, stepping back from the wooden railing and continuing your walk down the bridge, in the direction you had been going. "I'm a scrooge. Right."

"I have hope for you, though," Hoseok says as he catches up, falling into step beside you. 

"Oh thank god for that," you mutter under your breath, pulling your coffee to your lips. 

Hoseok laughs and nudges you, nearly making you spill, and you swat at his arm playfully. "You just need more corny holiday films to melt that icy heart and you'll be a true romantic in no time. A soft little marshmallow."

After spending the afternoon walking around, you and Hoseok agree to return to your apartments for new socks and dry shoes before you decide on what else to do. There is a bar nearby that you and Ash used to frequent, and you remember the conjoining pizzeria being pretty good. Hoseok agrees to the idea the moment he returns to your door, and you head back out into the chilly winter evening. 

The bar is only two blocks from your apartments, and it is a bit of a dive. The tables are all scratched up, the music is a little too loud, and the drinks are cheap. The bartenders have been working there for ages, and tend to know the regulars pretty well, making it a welcoming atmosphere, overall. 

Hoseok surprises you by suggesting whiskey shots to go with your cheap cans of beer, and you agree. Two shots and cheap beers in, the world has a haze around the edges, but you feel good, and Hoseok is so friendly and pretty, and everything is great. The two of you order a medium pepperoni pizza to share, and when it comes, you thank your lucky stars to have greasy bread to sop up the alcohol.

After finishing your pizza, the two of you sit with your heads close, looking at the jukebox app on your phone, making selections from the comfort of your rickety barstools, when someone taps you on the shoulder.

"Hey," the voice calls, and you turn to find Ave, one of Ash's friends, standing with her arms folded over her chest.

"Ave, hey," you respond in a forced chipper tone, not exactly thrilled to see her. 

Ave nods her chin toward Hoseok. "Who's this?"

"Oh," you say, half-turning toward Hoseok before turning back to her, "this is Hoseok. He lives in our building."

With a hum, Ave nods her head and squints her eyes. "Are you not spending the holiday with Ash's family?"

A chill runs down your back, and you shake your head. "No, work kept me here too long, and then flights got too expensive."

"But you work from home, right?" Ave presses. Anger rises, and you keep your smile pulled tight, lest you scowl. "So you could have just gone."

You exhale, steeling yourself. "Is that all?"

Ave takes a small step back and cocks her head. "Excuse me?"

"I don't owe you an explanation," you grit through a stiff grin. "So if you have no other questions, I would like to get back to hanging out with my friend."

With a huff, Ave turns on her heels, and you flag down the bartender for two more shots before downing a quarter of your third beer. You can see that Hoseok is fidgeting with his hands on the bartop, but you try not to draw too much attention to the situation, and instead stare ahead, desperately searching for something to say to change the topic, but falling short. 

"You don't have to tell me," Hoseok says, leaning in to make sure you can hear him over the music. Your eyes fall to your phone—the screen of which has gone black, abandoning your task of finding songs to play—and you feel guilt begin to rise to your chest and throat. "But if you want to talk about anything, I'm here."

"Thanks," you respond, turning to offer Hoseok a smile, aware that your eyes betray you. "I should talk about it but I guess I'm not ready."

Hoseok nods in response as the bartender drops off two shots, and you slide his glass toward him, then pick yours up. "Gunbear!" you shout, which is what you said earlier when you couldn't remember the word Hoseok had taught you, to Hoseok's utter delight, with the hope of lightening the mood. 

"Geonbae," Hoseok responds with a smirk, tapping his glass to yours and shooting back the bittersweet liquid. 

Three shots and three beers may just be too many, and you stumble out of the bar with your elbows linked, leaning into Hoseok's side. The night is still relatively young, and you would rather continue to hang out than go to bed, but you also feel nervous to ask, not wanting to intrude on Hoseok's time any longer than necessary. Luckily, Hoseok does not share the same worry.

"So, my couch or yours?" he asks as you approach your apartment building. 

"Yours is cozier," you respond, leaving the thought of not wanting to return to a home surrounded by Ash's stuff left unsaid. 

Hoseok hums and leads the way through the building, to the elevator, and you ride to the third floor in silence, eyes glued to the silver doors ahead. Blurred figures are reflected back, standing with their elbows linked together, and suddenly, you worry that you might be doing something wrong. But you don't want to drop your arm to the side, letting go of Hoseok; you need your anchor now more than ever. 

The doors slide open, and Hoseok leads you down to the far end of the hall in silence, stumbling slightly and letting out soft giggles here and there. You knock your hip into his for comic effect when he over-adjusts and knocks slightly into you, and this sets off a game of back and forth of hips hitting hips and feet stumbling to trudge forward. By the time you reach his door, you are doubled over laughing and gripping onto his arm like a lifeline. 

As Hoseok fishes his key from his pocket, you lean against his door, attempting to get your bearings. Three whiskey shots and three cheap beers have never gotten you so drunk before, and you squeeze your eyes shut in an attempt to replay the night, but all you can picture is Hoseok's pretty smile flashing over and over again. 

With a hum, Hoseok nudges you, and you open your eyes to find him looking at you with concern. 

"I was trying to sort out how we got so drunk from just those shots and beers," you grumble, words coming out in a slur. 

Hoseok laughs as he slowly opens the door, which you continue to lean into, stumbling as its momentum carries you over the threshold into his apartment. "We had sake with lunch and a bunch of caffeine."

The laughter that rocks through you at the realization that you had been drinking earlier in the day threatens to throw you completely off balance, and you reach with your free hand to try to grip the open door but end up flailing, instead. Hoseok grabs your arm with his free hand and gently pulls and rotates you forward, steadying you on your feet, and you stare at him with surprise.

"You're strong," you mutter, only realizing now how close the two of you are—inches apart. 

Hoseok smiles and nods, then releases his hold on your arm and allows you to move into his apartment. You stand a while longer, however, still surprised by how Hoseok effortlessly handled you, and by how, in this tiny, confined space, he smells like a freshly picked bouquet on a cool autumn morning. 

"May I..." Hoseok begins, nodding his chin toward the rest of his apartment, and you snap out of your daze, clear your throat, and take a step back and around, pressing your back flat against the wall to give Hoseok room to close the door, bend to remove his shoes, and walk into his kitchen. 

Your shoes slide off easily enough, and you attempt to chuck them in a mindful place, in the general direction of his neatly organized rows, but they tumble out into the middle of the floor, where you decide they shall live because bending over right now feels precarious and you need water. 

"Since you'll fall asleep anyway, I'll pick the movie," Hoseok calls from the kitchen. 

You can hear popcorn popping away in the microwave, followed by the sound of the sink running, and you shrug your jacket off, hang it on a hook above the shoes and round the corner from the small entryway. You find Hoseok has removed his sweater, and he stands in a white tee and khakis. His arms are much more toned than you had expected for his otherwise willowy body, and before you can help yourself, you wonder about his chest, then immediately blink heavily and instead try to conjure images of kittens laying in a basket that has a pretty bow tied on the handle—anything to clear your mind.

"Did you hear me?" Hoseok asks, and you meet his gaze to find his eyebrow raised. 

The microwave dings and Hoseok opens it up, retrieves the bag of popcorn, and tears it open. You watch as the steam wafts up, past his smiling face. Then, he dumps it into a large plastic bowl and turns you. 

"Loud and clear," you respond with a small smile. "I have simply given up on trying to argue about the movie. The choice is all yours!"

Hoseok approaches and holds the bowl out, which you reach out to grab. Then he taps you on the chin with the pad of his index finger and says, "So good for me," sending a chill down your spine as he turns back to the kitchen to grab the two glasses he had filled with water. 

You have no idea why those four little words leave you stunned, standing in the threshold of the kitchen as if you have been glued to the spot, but when Hoseok turns back toward you, you clear your throat and will your feet to move, turning in a daze toward the living room where his cozy brown sofa awaits. 

Hoseok walks past you, hurrying to put the glasses down and grab one of the three blankets that lay hung over the back of the couch. He likes to lay a large, fuzzy royal blue throw down, then cover himself up with a thin white blanket with a birds of paradise pattern, or with another fuzzy throw that is soft and thick and has a black and white plaid pattern. 

As you approach, Hoseok reaches over the sofa for the bowl of popcorn, and you open your palms, handing it over while still feeling a bit discombobulated and holding your hands open for a few seconds too long. Hoseok either does not seem to notice the shift in your demeanor or he is unfazed by it. You have never heard someone tell another they were "so good" for them outside of a sexual context with the tone his voice took, but maybe he is too drunk to realize what he said. 

Hoseok turns on the TV and pats the cushion beside him, telling you to sit. As you make your way around the small wooden table, to the end of the couch your phone starts to vibrate in your pocket. You attempt to ignore it, but it keeps going and going, stopping by the time you take a seat, only to start up again. 

"Fuck," you mutter as you pull your phone from your pocket at glance at the screen to find Ash's name and face lighting it up.

You silence the vibrating and sit back with a huff, then drop your hand to the cushion with the phone clenched tight, keeping your gaze on the TV. "What movie did you have in mind?"

Hoseok hesitates, then asks, "Do you need to take that?"

"No," you respond quickly but softly. "I don't need to."

"That person at the bar..." Hoseok begins, but he trails off as your phone starts to buzz again, lighting up the space beside you. 

You end the call and open your messenger app, to type, "Trying to sleep. Text and I will respond in the morning." Then you set your phone screen face-down on the cushion. 

"Sorry," you mutter. "I can shut my phone off."

"Is it important?" Hoseok asks cautiously, voice slow and measured.

"It is," you admit, swallowing a lump of worry as your heart pounds, sending the room into a dizzying spiral. "But I don't want to deal with it right now. I should, but...I just don't want to."

Your phone buzzes again, just once to signal a text has come through, and you squeeze your eyes closed, nausea pooling and threatening to rise. 

Gently, Hoseok places a hand over your knee, and you open your eyes to find his expression worried—pleading. "Can I ask why?"

All at once, your breathing becomes shallow, tears threaten to spill, and you have to gasp for oxygen. "They're my—" you begin, then swallow saliva that has pooled too quickly under your tongue. 

"I'm in a—in a relationship," you try again, eyes falling to your hands, which are clenched tightly together against your thigh. "But I want to end it. I've been wanting to for a while."

You have never voiced it before, and now that the words are spoken to the universe, a sob rattles through your chest, settling in your throat, and you attempt to breathe past it, finding the task difficult.

"Oh," Hoseok says, moving his hand away from your knee. 

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you," you mutter softly, suddenly feeling guilty for keeping something like this from your new friend for the entire week of your friendship. "I didn't want to lie, I just...they're away with their parents for the holiday, and...it's been nice pretending they aren't coming back."

Hoseok remains silent, and your anxiety rises to great new heights as you wait for him to respond. Of course, you have no idea whether this information will matter to him at all or not, but you imagine that he might feel upset that you haven't been as forthcoming about your personal life as he has been about his. 

When Hoseok says nothing, you turn to him and mutter, "Say something," instantly feeling regret over the distant look on his face.

"I just..." Hoseok trails off, throat bobbing as he thinks. "I guess I saw the photos of the two of you and didn't think much of it. Nobody else has been around, nobody was going to help you with that Christmas tree...maybe I was seeing their stuff all along and assuming it was also yours."

"To be fair," you make an attempt at lightening the mood, "most of the shoes by the front door are mine."

Hoseok cracks a smile, undoubtedly because there are many pairs of shoes by the front door, and the thought of them all belonging to one person is a bit ridiculous. But then his lips tug back into a frown, and his eyes fall to his hands.

"I don't want to tell you that you should leave, and I don't want to shut you out when you seem to be going through something difficult," Hoseok says, bringing his earnest, doleful gaze to meet yours. "But I was really starting to have feelings for you, and this news is kind of hard to take."

All at once, the air feels knocked from your chest, and you heave out a silent sob, blinking through a fresh set of tears. Hoseok's hand lifts slightly and twitches as if he wants to reach out to you, but he pulls it back and shoves it beneath his thigh. 

You nod and take this as your cue to leave. Hoseok is not asking you to, but it clearly pains him to sit with you, and the last thing you want to do is hurt yet another person, especially one who you have quickly come to care for so much.

"I'm gonna go," you mutter softly, watching as Hoseok's eyes fall to the floor, and he nods. "I need to deal with this, and then we can talk."

Hoseok doesn't look at you as you leave, simply muttering, "Okay."

In a daze, you walk back to Hoseok's front entrance to step into your shoes, letting your heels bend the backs, wasting no time to put them on correctly, and grab your jacket from the hook, draping it over your arm with a sad sigh. You slip out the door as quietly as possible, twisting the nob as you pull it shut, then releasing it slowly. 

The fluorescent lighting in the hallway is bright and boring into your brain, and you stumble down to your door as quickly as you can, fishing your key from your jacket pocket and fumbling to get it into the lock. The familiar smell of your apartment fills you with a heavy emptiness, and tears begin to pour once more from your eyes as you drop your jacket and key to the floor and step out of your shoes. 

All you want is to throw yourself into bed and disappear from the world, but you make a pitstop in the kitchen, pulling a glass from the drying rack and shoving it into the slot on your fridge that produces water. You only have the energy to fill the glass halfway, then you stumble out and pause, making a choice.

If you go to the bedroom, you will undoubtedly climb under your covers and cry yourself to sleep with your head buried half under your favorite pillow. But if you go to the living room, you can sit and read through Ash's messages once and for all, and make a choice. 

As you pad toward the couch, you tell yourself that your decision cannot be swayed by Hoseok admitting that he is starting to have feelings for you. Especially considering you have no idea what he is thinking right now—what if his feelings change after tonight? You can't say you would blame him. 

With a huff, you sit and pull the soft baby blue blanket that is bunched up on an armrest to drape over your knees. Then, you take a deep, fortifying breath, hold it for a few seconds, and slowly release it. The whiskey and beer continue to swirl and knock you off your axis, but you feel more sober than you did stumbling into Hoseok's apartment less than an hour earlier.

First, you read the messages that came in from Wednesday, sent just after your novella about feeling misunderstood. 

Ash Ignoring me to "clear your head" sounds more like shutting me out, but okay. Do whatever you fucking want, just like always.  I just think it's funny that you had nothing to say about this trip before and then waited until after I fucking left to drop the bombshell. How long have you been planning not to come? You are so fucking ungrateful. 

And then you read their texts from Thursday—

Ash Are you seriously going to leave me hanging this close to Christmas? How selfish are you??? For three years, I have put up with your fickle, shitty moods, and this is how you repay me? This is childish, even for you.  How am I supposed to wrap my head around everything when you make me feel like it has all just been a waste of time? You know how much Christmas means to my family, why are you acting like this?

—and from Friday.

Ash Baby, please just talk to me. 

And finally, you read what was sent tonight after you ignored their call at Hoseok's place. 

Ash Are you fucking joking? Pick up the phone.

You Trying to sleep. Text and I will respond in the morning.

Ash Trying to sleep??? Less than an hour after Ave saw you at the bar with some guy??? I don't want to jump to conclusions, but I need to know who this friend is and why you haven't bothered to mention him to me. Ave said you were rude, which sounds like you, but it still raises concerns if you were giving an attitude simply because she was asking about him. This is fucked up. I can't believe the person you've become.  Maybe I shouldn't come back home once the holiday is over.

Your thumbs shake as they hover over the keys, and instead, you bite the bullet and dial Ash. Everything you want to say to them feels too big to say over text. The tone rings for so long, you wonder if they might not pick up. But then, they do, and your heart sinks a little.

"Trying to sleep, huh?" There is a bite to their voice that makes the hairs on your neck stand tall.

"Ash—"

"Tell me what is going on."

You take a deep breath and close your eyes. "Maybe you should stay there for a while."

Silence hangs, and when Ash speaks, their voice is meek. "What?"

"I can mail your things."

"Wait, baby, what are you saying?" Ash asks, sounding panicked.

Numbness fills you, warm and heavy, and you open your eyes to stare past the tree—a dark, looming figure without its lights plugged in—out the window. A golden glow dapples through the thin curtains from the streetlights below, and you worry your bottom lip between your teeth.

"We haven't been happy for a while. I don't know when it began but...I want it to end."

Ash sighs, then lets out a humorless laugh. "So that new guy is more than just a—"

"No," you interrupt firmly. "He's a friend, and that's all. I wouldn't do that to you, or to him. That's not fair."

"When did you meet him?"

"A week ago," you admit. "I couldn't get the tree upstairs and he saw me struggling and helped me."

"A week ago? You told me you bought the tree before then."

"I know. I originally didn't want it at all. Funny, how I got it to appease someone who isn't here to see it."

"So he lives in the building?" It's more of a statement, sounding accusatory. 

"Yup."

"And you're sure you're not fucking him?"

Anger builds, and you grit your teeth. "Don't do this."

"So you're really breaking up with me?" Ash practically shouts, voice shaking. "Over the fucking phone, two weeks before Christmas."

"Yup."

"Wh—"

"Look, I know you haven't been happy, either. You've been so fucking cold lately; I don't know who you are. So, consider this your gift from me this year. I'm putting an end to everything before it could get any worse and we could become any more miserable."

"Oh, fuck you!"

All you can do in response is sigh. Truth be told, you feel really good—like this should have been done months ago, but neither of you had the guts to see the problem, much less voice it.

"You can't just break up with me!" Ash pleads, voice breaking. It feels like a final test to hear them on the verge of tears and have no emotional reaction of your own.

"I'm sorry. I can find a new place if you want to return to this one, or I can mail your things in the new year."

"Baby, please—"

"I'm happy to draw a contract promising to send your half of the security deposit when I move—"

"—you can't do this!"

"—just let me know what you feel the most comfortable with."

A loud sob comes through the phone, and you fold yourself in half, leaning forward to rest your forehead against your knee. Intoxicated or not, you know you are doing the right thing and that you need to be patient, now. But you are also fucking exhausted.

"You c-can't just break up with me," Ash sobs, sniffling loudly.

"I'm sorry," you say flatly, making no attempt to show emotion. 

"You are not fucking sorry!" Ash shouts before breaking down into more sobs. 

Tears do threaten your waterline, and when you move to readjust your bent forward position, one even falls down your cheek. But you do not sob, and you do not feel all that sad. You are simply letting go. If anything, you feel lighter. 

"I need sleep," you say after a long moment filled only with Ash's anguish as the backdrop. "We can talk more about this tomorrow."

"Fuck you. I never want to talk to you again."

You yawn and sit up straight, stretching your back. "Be that as it may, we still have to figure out the living situation, or the stuff situation. Whichever it comes down to."

"I hope that new boy knows what a fucking coward you are!"

"I can always look for a new place if you need to move back for the time being."

"I hope he breaks your heart twice as hard as you fucking broke mine!"

"Just let me know what works best for you. We have time; I don't want to rush you."

"Stop it!" Ash screams, and you wince, pulling your ear an inch away from the phone. "How are you so fucking heartless? Aren't you sad at all?"

With a sigh, you lean your head to the side, against the backrest sofa cushion. "I've been sad for months. For months, you have been cold and callous and distant. For months we haven't been intimate—have barely had a conversation about anything but work. We don't cook together, we don't go out together. I am done with feeling insignificant. I loved you, and we had some good times, but I don't want to do this anymore."

With another sniffle, Ash says, "Fine. We're done. If I am so fucking terrible, then, by all means, shut me out. But nobody else will love you like I do."

"Sure," you respond with an anger-tarnished smirk. "They'll love me better."

And with that, you hang up and drop your phone to the couch, then let your face fall to your palms to rub the heels of your hands against your eyelids. Exhaustion covers you in a thick blanket, and you grab the glass of water, take a nice big gulp, then abandon it on the table to take your phone with you and go to bed.

Hoseok Good morning, sunshine!  Thank you for giving me the space to think. I'm sure leaving wasn't easy, and I honestly hated to see you go, but it seemed like we both had some soul-searching to do. I would like to catch up and chat over coffee when you are feeling up for it, though I fear it will either have to be today or next Friday, because of exams and all that. If today is too soon for you and you need more time or space, I will respect that. And if not, I will be looking forward to seeing you later.

You smile and hug your phone to your chest, then stretch and get out of bed. At the very least, your friendship with Hoseok seems intact, which is the best news you can hope for. Anything beyond friendship is something the two of you will have to build up to and figure out along the way.

You Today would be nice, actually. I could use a friend to talk to if you have the energy to listen to me finally open up about all of this.

This morning, you skip breakfast and jump straight to taking a quick shower, letting the steaming warm water beat down against your muscles for a little longer than usual before washing up and getting out. As you towel off, you do your best not to rush, allowing your mind to be clear and patiently ready for whatever this day may bring. 

Once you are finally dressed in the same green turtleneck you wore earlier in the week and your signature black jeans, you make your way to your bedroom and find your cell phone sitting face up with one new text message.

Hoseok I definitely have enough energy for both of us. I hope you haven't already had breakfast.

You I have not. And I am showered and dressed, so I could be ready for breakfast as early as right now.

Hoseok See you in 10. :)

Although you feel optimistic about the day ahead, you worry that things may become a bit emotional, so you skip the mascara, instead deciding to pull your hair back from your face, pinning it just above your ears and attempting to keep the back and sides as tame as possible. 

As ready as you'll ever be, you make your way to the entrance and pick up your discarded jacket and keys from the floor, then search around for your scarf and hat, wondering if you had worn them to—and, consequently, left them at—Hoseok's place. You look around a bit, but, ultimately, decide that one day with your ears and cheeks out in the cold air will be fine. 

Several minutes pass before Hoseok's signature knock pulls you from your thoughts—which had led you to meander into your living room to twirl aimlessly on the balls of your socked feet—and you make your way to the front door, plastering on your brightest smile as you pull it open. 

Hoseok is bundled up with cheeks pink from the cool winter air, and he is holding a bag full of to-go containers and a drink tray with two coffee cups. 

"Oh!" you exclaim as you retrieve the cups and take a few steps back into the entranceway to give Hoseok room. "I didn't realize you meant you would bring breakfast."

With a soft, perhaps apprehensive smile, Hoseok says, "Well, I didn't think either of us would want to have a heart-to-heart in a restaurant. I don't know about you, but I hate to cry in public."

Gently, Hoseok nudges the front door closed behind him with his foot, and you reach out to grab the bag while the tray balances on your other hand, so Hoseok can get out of his jacket and boots. 

"You were anticipating crying?" you tease. "Interesting turn of events."

Hoseok gently sets his boots among your chaotic pile of footwear and unravels a royal blue scarf from his neck. "Well, I am the romantic one, after all."

You turn and take the items past the perfectly good dining room table to the living room and set everything on that table, instead. As you begin to unpack the boxes, the smell of fruit and maple syrup hits your nose. 

"I got us pancakes," Hoseok explains as he joins you on the couch, "and peppermint mochas. I actually placed the order after your first text, and received it after your second. Talk about perfect timing."

Excited to dig in, you turn to Hoseok and flash him a grin. "Perfect, indeed."

Hoseok offers a small smile, and you get to work unpacking everything and immediately digging in. The pancakes are fluffy and sweet, complemented nicely by strawberries and blueberries—which are just slightly tart—and salty pads of butter. There are also sides of bacon and sausage, which you slather in the rich, thick maple syrup.

"Wow," you groan with a mouthful, and Hoseok hums in agreement. 

The two of you eat in near silence, with only groans and hums voiced. Once the containers are empty, you grab your paper coffee cup in both hands and adjust on the cushion with your legs bent, facing Hoseok. He takes the last two bites of his food, then has a drink of his mocha and sits the same, turning to you and leaning against the backrest of the couch.

For the first time since he has arrived, you finally take in the sight of him. His hair is parted over his forehead, and he wears a simple black turtleneck tucked into tight-fitting black slacks. 

"Now who's dressed gloomy?" you tease, and Hoseok gives a soft smile, eyes falling to his hands. 

"I wasn't sure what to expect," Hoseok admits, "so I dressed for the worst."

"Well, why don't we start from the top? I'll tell you everything that I wasn't telling you before, and then we'll go from there."

Hoseok nods, and you take a deep, slow breath. You start from the beginning with Ash, how you had been together for about three years, and how you usually went to their parent's place for Christmas. You briefly explain how—despite how wonderful their parents are—being there makes you feel like an outsider. And, if you are being totally honest, getting closer to the parents of someone who you were beginning to drift away from felt disingenuous. 

You explain not wanting to travel, putting it off, and ultimately buying a tree because Ash insisted that if you were going to be spending some of the holiday season alone, you should at least do so in style. Hoseok nods and listens attentively, only pulling his gaze away from time to time to look down at his fidgeting hands that cradle his coffee cup, before looking back at you.

"And that brings me to the day you found me on the stoop, ready to leave the damn thing to die or be stolen in the hallway. When we were watching The Battle of the Dads, I was in my bedroom arguing with them over whether or not my tree was festive enough, because of course, they hated our choice of decorations and wondered why I didn't just use theirs, instead."

"You seemed unhappy when you came back, but it felt rude to pry."

You nibble on your bottom lip. "Honestly, if you had asked me about it, I would have told you. I wasn't planning on keeping my relationship a secret. It just felt so good to forget a little."

"And when I called last week and you had been crying," Hoseok mentions gently. 

"We had been fighting over text. I finally admitted that I didn't want to go to their parent's place, and that I wasn't actively looking for tickets, and they were just so angry and defensive, and unwilling to see my point of view."

"That's rough."

"I haven't been perfect," you admit. "The spark between us has all but died out months ago and I have been allowing myself to become numb rather than try to rekindle it. I guess I wanted them to try harder, too, and it already began to feel like the relationship was over."

Hoseok nods and takes a drink from his mocha, and you take the opportunity to have a sip, too. It is perfectly balanced between mint and chocolate, and you hum with delight before resting the cup against your knee and diving into the conclusion. 

"So, anyway, I broke up with them last night."

Hoseok's head shoots up, and he watches you with wide, worried eyes.

"They had been nasty over text all week, bombarding me with messages despite me not sending anything in response, and it just became so clear that they did not have my concerns or interests at heart. When I called, after I left your place last night, they were quick to accuse me of cheating with you and told me they hope you break my heart one day, even after I insisted we were just friends. Then they sobbed and shouted, and didn't seem to care at all about my reasoning. So I told them it was over, and in the end, they agreed that it was for the best."

Hoseok's eyes seem misty with tears, and he sets his cup down on the table, then opens his arms. "Can I hug you?"

You smile and nod, reaching to place your cup on the table before walking on your knees across the couch and allowing yourself to fall into Hoseok's arms. His familiar light, floral musk fills your senses, and you wrap your arms around his ribs, smiling as he pulls you into a tight embrace. 

"Are you alright with everything?" Hoseok asks against your head, voice reverberating from his chest to your cheek. "Are you sure you made the right choice?"

"Honestly, I feel amazing," you admit, and Hoseok squeezes you tighter. "I am sad when I think of little things that I have lost, but over the course of the last year or so, I have felt like a ghost merely existing in this apartment with them. I can't do that anymore."

You loosen your hold on Hoseok and begin to sit back, and he drops his arms and watches you settle in front of him. "And, I feel like it's only fair to tell you that, in a lot of ways, you have helped me realize that this was something I needed to do." Hoseok's eyes widen, and you worry that he may take it the wrong way, so you continue to explain. 

"Even before last night, when you admitted to maybe having feelings for me, I felt a lot of platonic love and appreciation from you in such a short amount of time, that it honestly blew me away and made me wonder why the fuck I had been settling for someone who wasn't giving me even an ounce of that."

Slowly, Hoseok reaches for your hands, and you place your palms in his larger ones, smiling when he gives them a gentle squeeze. "I wanted to talk to you about that."

Anxiety and anticipation race through you, and you nod, doing your best to seem perfectly calm, despite the storm brewing within. "I meant what I said. Since pretty much day one, I have felt a connection with you, and I have wanted to spend every waking moment near you and speaking with you. The affection was not all platonic, but I was also trying to show my feelings without being pushy because it was impossible to gauge whether or not you had feelings for me, too. And now I understand why."

Embarrassed, you look down at your hands, and Hoseok gives them another gentle squeeze. 

"Do you...have feelings for me?" Hoseok asks softly, with a slight tremble to his voice.

For the first time since the start of the conversation, tears well, and although you try to blink them away, one falls down your cheek. You nod in small, quick movements, then finally utter what has been blooming behind your chest for a week. "Yes. I do have feelings for you."

Hoseok looks stunned—mouth agape with eyes wide and brimming with tears, and you smile, then softly shake your head. "I didn't fully realize it at first. Or, rather, I wasn't ready to let myself. There were moments when you would say or do something that gave me butterflies, but I would try to ignore it. I didn't want to be unfaithful, even emotionally. Although, there were times when I think I was. But then you told me how you felt, and I played back different moments from the last week and realized that, if I let myself, I would feel the exact same way."

With a pleased sigh, Hoseok brings your hands to his lips, leaving a soft kiss against your knuckles, and you smile as the flowers behind your ribs bloom brightly. It feels so good to have everything out in the open, you never want to keep a single thing from Hoseok again. 

"If you do want to be more than just friends, then I want to take things a little slow," Hoseok says, lips moving against your skin as his warm breath ghosts between your fingers. "At least, I want to wait until after this week. Our friendship was already whirlwind, and, if we're on the same page, I honestly don't know how long I will be able to hold out before I want more."

"I can wait a week," you respond with a grin, feeling adoration swell at the sight of his wide, eager grin. 

The rest of the day is spent on your couch, watching holiday movies back to back. You manage to stay awake for one and a half before curling up against a pillow placed on Hoseok's lap and drifting to sleep while he plays with the hairs at the nape of your neck. 

When you wake up to the ending credits of what might be the second movie—but could also be a third, for all you know—Hoseok stretches and rubs his hand over your shoulder, down your arm.

"I should get going. Although I don't have much to do for tomorrow, I have a lot to do for Tuesday, and I should get a head start."

"Sounds good," you say with a yawn, and you sit up to stretch your arms out and fall against the backrest of the couch. 

"I'll call you everyday," Hoseok promises, lifting a hand to caress your cheek ever so gently before dropping it.

"I hope you do," you respond, feeling lightheaded both from having just woken up and from Hoseok's gentle caress. 

"On Friday, after my last final, we'll talk about this some more, yeah?"

You nod, smile, and say, "Yeah," feeling hopeful.

For the next week, Hoseok does call every day. 

He spends a chunk of Monday with you on speaker while finishing up a sewing project, pausing what he is saying from time to time to let a machine whirr loudly in the background.

On Tuesday, he only has time between classes to tell you that he hopes you have a lovely day, and on Wednesday, you don't hear from him until late evening, when you are returning home from a trip to the convenience store because you have been feeling a bit lonely and wanted to soothe your weary soul with chips. 

"You sound a little down tonight," He remarks as you unlock your apartment door and quietly close it behind you. 

"Yeah," you admit, "I find myself missing you a lot. But it's alright. I have Friday to look forward to."

Thursday, Hoseok calls in the morning, nervous for his big final presentation; in the afternoon, antsy after showing his pieces to the professor and to his class; and on his way home late in the evening to say he thinks he did well, and that your well wishes in the morning have helped him get through everything. 

Then, on Friday, Hoseok calls between exams, telling you to be ready by 5 PM sharp. He instructs you not to dress fancy, so when 4 PM rolls around, you settle on wearing the red flannel with the first few buttons undone and a form-fitting black tee underneath. You apply some mascara and lip balm, then proceed to pace around your apartment for a while, realizing you still have a little over thirty minutes before he is supposed to meet you. 

As you settle in to do a little reading, your phone dings with an incoming text. The rational part of your brain knows that Hoseok is likely not messaging while taking his exam, but you are antsy and unlock your screen, clicking on the notification with reckless abandon. And, of course, it is not from Hoseok. 

Ash I have been giving it a lot of thought, and I am not ready to let you go. I know things haven't been great for the last several months, but what we had before that was amazing, and I know we can find that again. Please reconsider. I will be coming home as planned on the first weekend of the new year, and I would like for us to talk and reconcile.

The wind feels knocked from your sails as you read over Ash's message, and your eyes prickle with fresh tears. The absolute fucking audacity, after everything you have been through—everything you have voiced to them—for them to steamroll through it all and demand a reunion.

You I am disappointed that this is the conclusion you have drawn from our last conversation and the texts that came before it, and I have no desire to reconcile. 

You hate how quickly your pulse goes from antsy over seeing Hoseok to frantic and angry to be communicating with Ash, and you lay back on the couch, waiting for their inevitable response to come through with a ding and a buzz. 

Ash You are being so unfair, you know that, right? I'm pouring my heart out to you and all you can say is no.

You Coming from the person who didn't listen to a word I said over the phone. If you really do care about how I feel about any of this, then you will be able to clearly see that I am unhappy and ready to move on.

Ash But I'm not.

You I don't know what to tell you, Ash, but we're not getting back together. If you really do plan on coming back here, then I will begin looking for a new apartment and put my stuff into storage for the time being.

When Ash says nothing in response, you sit up and begin to pace around, once more. Threatening to move out is more or less empty at this time of year, and you would hate to leave the convenient proximity to your favorite neighbor. You hope that, as per usual, Ash is all bark and no bite.

A knock at your door pulls you from your spiral, and you flounce to the door, flailing your arms happily. As you swing it open, you only briefly check to make sure nothing is in Hoseok's hands before throwing your arms around his shoulders and taking a nice, deep inhale of his scent. 

"Wh—hey, marshmallow," Hoseok greets, voice surprised, yet soft and deep.

With a pleased and somewhat exasperated sigh, you loosen your hold and let your head rest against him. Hoseok's arms gently wrap around your sides and give you a squeeze. 

"They're tormenting me again and I thought I was going to have an anxiety attack," you admit, feeling Hoseok's hold tense slightly, briefly. 

"Your ex?"

You hum in response and take a step back to get a good look at Hoseok's pretty, understanding face. He continues to gently hold you, and you rub your fingertips over the hair at the nape of his neck. "Sorry, that's not a pleasant way to greet someone."

Hoseok chuckles and slowly begins to move forward, forcing you to step backward, into your apartment. Your heart pounds, heat rises to your cheeks, and you do your best to keep your eyes on him. 

"A hug is the perfect way to greet someone," Hoseok counters, closing your door gently with his foot and spinning you until your back is flush with the wall. "And I want you to always tell me what's bothering you."

The two of you stand so close that one of your legs is slotted between his and one of his, yours. His breath is warm as it ghosts your face, and you can pick up a hint of coffee on his breath. 

Ordinarily, this is where the two leads of a story would lock lips, moan in tandem to let out all the pent-up feelings between each other, and tighten their grasp on one another, desperate to never let go. But this is not a corny holiday film, and you want to allow Hoseok to make the first move. 

"I've missed you," Hoseok says as he leans in and brushes his lips gently over the apple of your cheek, sending a shiver down your spine. 

Instinctively, you tip your head to the side to give Hoseok access to anything he would like. He leaves a soft kiss against your cheek, and one on your temple, then he releases his hold and takes a step back.

You realize you had been holding your breath, and you release it in a slow, shaky exhale, voice coming out ragged. "I've missed you too."

"You look great," Hoseok beams quietly, heart-lips smiling wide. 

Hoseok's hair is styled partially off his forehead, with some bangs hanging parted, just above his eyes, and he has a fresh undercut with his short sideburns coming to points around his ears. He wears a black turtleneck with a black and white knit sweater vest overtop, tight-fit black slacks, and black boots. No jacket, this time. He is absolutely stunning.

"You look—" you begin, losing the words as you examine him up and down, smiling when your eyes meet his. There is a hunger in Hoseok's gaze you have never seen, and you mutter, "—ah-amazing," as the heat of his stare threatens to set you ablaze and turn you to dust. 

"I thought we could go to the dive down the street and celebrate the end of my semester and your breakup with some pizza and beers," Hoseok says as he lifts a hand and gently places it below your chin.

You can't help but chuckle, feeling the mood lighten despite the heat that radiates from his skin to yours. "Pizza and cheap drinks is how you want to celebrate?"

Hoseok grins and shakes his head. "I've been craving the pizza."

With a nod, you concede. You would have suggested something a little nicer to celebrate such important life events, but if Hoseok wants pizza and two-dollar cans of piss beer, then that is what he will get.

"Alright," you say with a lift of your eyebrows, "let's go."

Your whole body trembles as you bend to slip on some black boots—sleeker than the ones you tend to wear in the snow, but similar to the ones he wears. These are not warm-weather footwear, but being that the bar is close, you figure your toes can take it.

Once you are bundled in your favorite mustard scarf, Hoseok takes your hand, linking your fingers between his, and tugs you toward the exit. You lock up and allow yourself to be dragged down the hall, giggling as you stumble to keep up. Once the elevator doors close behind you, Hoseok turns and steps into your personal space, caging you in with his arms, and you feel your breath get stuck in your throat. 

"You seem so nervous," he teases.

"A little," you confess softly.

Hoseok hums, cocking his head to the side, and you can't help but chuckle at how simultaneously adorable and sexy he is. 

"You're making me nervous by getting in my face so much," you complain, grinning. 

Hoseok lifts an eyebrow and smirks. "Scared I might kiss you?" 

You open your mouth to respond, but you are so taken aback by his forwardness, and the opening of the elevator doors pulls you back to reality, leaving you dizzy and fumbling around loose vowels. 

Hoseok chuckles, mutters, "Cute," and tugs you through the building and out into the cold. 

The two of you walk hand in hand to the dive. It's a raucous affair inside, full of others who you presume are wrapping up their semester. In the back of the room is a small two-person couch with a dingy wooden table, and you slip your hand from Hoseok's and nod to the corner.

"I'll grab the seats, you get the drinks."

With a nod, Hoseok approaches the bar, and you make your way through the small crowd, to the worn, ripped black leather couch that wheezes as you sit on it. You glance up to find Hoseok leaning against the bar, placing an order, then you take a deep breath and pull out your phone, curious to see whether you have any messages. None. 

Hoseok returns with two shots of whiskey, then quickly spins and returns to the bar for four cans of beer cradled between his slender fingers and a long metal stand wedged in his armpit with a plastic card attached to the end displaying the number 13. You stand to slip the number out of his grasp to place it in the center of the table, then take two of the cans. Hoseok sits beside you with a huff and holds up both of his cans as if wanting to call cheers with two at the same time. 

"I got us pepperoni again," he announces. "To the illusion of freedom!"

You lift both cans and tap them to his, then take a drink from one, followed by the other. The first taste of cheap beer is always uncomfortably sweet, and you wince slightly as your taste buds adjust. 

"The illusion of freedom?" you ask, setting one of the cans down and settling with your body angled toward Hoseok. 

Hoseok nods and leans in, speaking over the music, "My semester is over, but I return in the fall. And your relationship is over, but I intend to sink my claws in soon."

Your pulse quickens, and you scoff in an attempt to hide just how affected you are by Hoseok's sudden change in demeanor. This new side of Hoseok is dangerous, and you are eager for more. 

"Is that so?" you ask, feigning resistance. 

Hoseok leans in, placing a hand gently on your knee, and speaks low into your ear. "I see how shy I make you. Am I wrong?"

You shake your head in small, quick movements and mutter, "N-no."

"Good," Hoseok responds, smacking a kiss to your cheek before sitting straight and causing your brain to buffer momentarily as you stare into space, then blink back into reality. 

Hoseok sets down his beer, then grabs both shots of whiskey and hands one to you. "Bottoms up!"

"Geonbae," you shout in response and tap your glass to his before shooting it back. 

The first shot of whiskey is vicious the way it settles over you in a thin blanket of warmth. You roll your shoulders back, feeling yourself loosen up just enough to lean in and sneak a peck on Hoseok's cheek. The startled look that melts into a smile kicks up a swarm of butterflies in your tummy, and you chuckle, then sit back in your shared seat. 

"You're a menace," you shout as you pull your beer to your lips and have a sip, eyes trained on Hoseok, who leans toward you. 

"Is that so?"

You nod. "I had no idea what kind of monster you would be once given the freedom to flirt with me."

Hoseok laughs, throwing himself back against the small sofa as his shoulders jolt and bob. He looks so pretty and carefree, and you want to kiss him stupid. 

"This is nothing!" he finally shouts once he has gotten his breath back. 

"Oh?"

"I'm holding back a lot, trust me. I don't want to rush anything; you're fresh out of a breakup. And I want to be more than a rebound."

You know that there is no ill intent in Hoseok's words, but they do make you feel a tinge of sadness, so you lean forward and take Hoseok's free hand in yours, rubbing your thumb over his knuckles. "You would never be a rebound. Even if we jumped into a whirlwind relationship before I had a chance to heal from my breakup, you would be so much more. But I appreciate the caution. We should take it a little slow."

The gaze Hoseok fixes you with is soft and warm, and you smile to match his. There is so much you want to express, but the bar is loud and you feel content with what has been said, to this point. 

The moment the pizza is set before you, your stomach groans, and you lean in to take a slice, flopping it onto a paper plate and settling back with it. Its warmth is welcome, and you hardly let it cool before taking a bite, letting the cheese and grease ooze into your mouth, hitting the spot. You understand why Hoseok has been craving it. 

The two of you eat and drink mostly in silence, and when all of the beers are empty, Hoseok returns to the bar for another round. In your pocket, a buzzing signals an incoming text, and you sigh before pulling out your phone. 

Ash I wish you could just be honest for once. Ave says you're at the bar again with the same guy, and the two of you are holding hands. How am I supposed to believe your intentions were pure before you broke up with me?

You Man, Ave really needs to get a life. 

Ash That's all you have to say?

You Nah, but what's the point? You aren't going to listen. 

Ash Try me.

Alcohol emboldens you, and you chew your bottom lip, ready to make a big fucking mess of things. To hell with it. 

You It's true that I have been holding hands with Hoseok tonight. Before tonight, we were just friends, spending most of the week speaking only on the phone, giving one another space while he finishes his semester, and I allow the breakup to settle over me. And now, we are treading the territory of becoming more than that.

Ash Wow.

You It's called moving on. You should try it.

Ash Fuck you.

You I'm good! Anyway, I have better things to do than argue. Have a good night.

Surprisingly, Ash does not fire off any snarky closing remark, and when Hoseok returns, you slip your phone back into your pocket and glance up to find Hoseok approaching with two more shots.

"Are you trying to get me drunk?" you tease as Hoseok hands you a shot and taps his to yours, bent over the table.

"I'm trying to get us both drunk," Hoseok responds innocently. "We're celebrating!"

"Bottoms up!" you shout, met with his, "Geonbae!" and you shoot the liquid back. 

Hoseok takes the glasses, returns to the bar, and comes back holding two cans. You drink the beers while leaning in close, bumping shoulders and foreheads while people-watching and loudly singing along to the various songs that play just a bit too loudly. 

Then, you close out the tab and stumble out into the cool, winter night. It is still fairly early when you shuffle down the hallway and onto the elevator, and without a word spoken between the two of you, Hoseok leads you to his apartment, to his cozy sofa, where you fall asleep in his arms, watching some corny holiday film.

Waking up on Hoseok's couch used to feel awkward. The discombobulation of getting your bearings and realizing you had let your guard fall so far with someone who was not your partner always set off panic in your guts. 

But as you sit up in a daze, still drunk and wrapped in a soft, thick blanket, you smile at the sight of a sleepy Hoseok stirring below you. As he opens his eyes and his lips crack into a soft grin, endearment blooms and bursts behind your ribs. 

"You should get to bed," you grumble, poking at his sides.

"Don't want you to leave," Hoseok whines, tugging you closer.

You sigh; you also do not want to leave. "Soon," you say, pushing away from Hoseok's warmth and stretching your limbs. "I'll be ready to stay the night with you soon. And not cramped up on the couch."

Hoseok whines, and you will yourself to stand, tugging on his arm to encourage him to sit up. "Go to bed and stretch your limbs. I'll text you in the morning."

With a groggy smile, Hoseok nods and says, "Okay." 

He stands, stumbling slightly on his feet, then wraps you in a warm, tight hug, grumbling, "I'll miss you."

"I'll miss you too," you respond with a chuckle, full of warmth. "You'll hear from me as soon as we wake up."

The next week breezes by in a flurry of trips to the local Korean market without Hoseok catching wise or tagging along. Christmas is on Sunday, and you want to surprise him with a homemade pot of kimchi jjigae. 

Luckily, Hoseok claims he has to make something special for the holiday, doing a very bad job of hiding the fact that he is planning a gift for you, as well. 

Several mornings are spent with one of you showing up at the other's front door with coffee in hand, or an invitation to trudge out to some cafe nearby. Most evenings are spent curled on one of your couches watching movies, either after breaking apart in the afternoon for a few hours or seeing each other for the first time, that day. 

The closer it gets to the holiday, the more Hoseok seems intent on sitting in front of the television, not voicing many thoughts or emotions, and you wonder if the weight of being away from home is starting to overwhelm him. 

You give Hoseok as much space and pampering as he needs, doing your best to pick up on cues for when he seems to need attention versus alone time. Hoseok is usually pretty forthcoming with his emotions, but some things are harder to voice than others, and you understand that better than anyone. 

The night before Christmas, Hoseok is particularly quiet, hinging on difficult to read. You wrap your arms around his neck and pull him close before leaving for the night, drowsy after having woken up on his couch, curled against his side. 

"Are you alright?" you ask, brushing the tip of your nose against his. 

Hoseok nods, but his eyes stay trained on the floor, and you pull him in for another embrace, muttering, "I miss my family too."

At this, Hoseok squeezes you tight and sighs. Then, he releases the hug and takes a step back, offering a soft smile. "I'm sorry, I didn't expect this week to take so much out of me. It feels like everything has passed by in a blur."

You nod and rub your palms up his long yellow sleeves. "I agree. But tomorrow should be nice. And if you need to talk about anything, you know I am here to listen, okay?"

"Okay," Hoseok responds. "Talking would be nice. I do have some things I need to tell you, and I have been trying to wait for tomorrow."

"Grand romantic gesture?" you tease. "I'm so shocked."

And with that, Hoseok pulls you into a hug, kisses your forehead, and wishes you good night. You feel a mix of sadness and happiness settle over you as you pad your way to your apartment. But also, hopefulness. Tonight, you have a gift to wrap before you can go to bed, and you really hope Hoseok will like it.

On Christmas morning, you wake up with a smile on your face and begin to prepare, marinating the pork belly in rice wine and black pepper, and putting two servings of rice into the rice maker. Then, you shoot off a text to Hoseok—

You Ho, Ho, Hoseok, good morning, and merry Christmas!

—smiling like an idiot at your phone as you type.

Everything has to be perfect, and you have each ingredient needed for two servings of stew already separated and kept neatly in the refrigerator. While on your various outings over the past week, you found a very adorably ugly hand-embroidered red sweater with a giant Christmas tree and gifts on the front, complete with ribbons hanging from the various ornaments and boxes to give it a nice 3-dimensional feel. 

You add a little glitter above the eyes, apply some mascara, and really take in your reflection as you stand before the mirror in all your glory. If Hoseok isn't instantly charmed by this nonsense, you truly do not know what will work. A ding from your phone pulls your attention, and you nibble on your lip as you read it.

Hoseok I guess the hot cocoas that I am cradling as I type this are not the only sweet treat I have to look forward to, today. Marshmallow, you made me laugh so hard, I embarrassed myself in public. 

You Cute.

Hoseok Be there in 10? Or do you need more time? I was hoping to surprise you, but I also don't want to rush you.

You Be here now, for all I care. I'm ready for you.

Hoseok See you soon. ;)

You walk to the living room to plug in the Christmas tree, stopping in your tracks at the sight of two gift boxes sitting below it. Earlier yesterday, Hoseok had come by to drop off your gift, sternly insisting that you not shake it. The recipe for kimchi jjigae was up on your laptop, and you rushed to the dining room table to close the screen, nearly letting Hoseok in on your surprise prematurely. 

And today, in mere moments from now, the two of you are going to exchange gifts. Yours wrapped in gold with pastel pink dots—a paper Hoseok helped you pick out back when you were buying ornaments and still not certain you would have any gifts to actually wrap this year—and his in shimmering green paper with little red bows. You plug in the tree and stand, marveling at the pastel colors and big, bright star. 

Everything feels surreal. The past several weeks have felt like a hurricane swept in and completely washed away traces of your former self, leaving you in ruins. But in a good way. You still have a huge mess to clean, and you are still not sure what the aftermath of the storm will entail, but as the sunshine breaks through the clouds, offering warmth and light, you can sit in the wreckage and smile. You can be ready to rebuild. 

Four rhythmic knocks on the door jolt you from your thoughts, and you gasp as you stand up straight. It has definitely not been ten minutes. 

As you prance over to the front door, giddy to finally get to see Hoseok, worry begins to stir in your guts. Worry that you are moving too fast, that your gesture is too big and too romantic, that you are not cut out for this at all—especially not so soon after a breakup. 

But you grin and swing the door open wide, ready to accept Hoseok into your heart and into your life as more than just a friend. And judging by the endeared smile Hoseok gives you as he eyes up your sweater and glances at the lit-up tree behind you, you think that perhaps, he is just as ready as you are. 

Hoseok is dressed in a green sweater that has poorly puff-painted ornaments covering it, and you huff out a laugh at how precious and ridiculous it looks. He wears khakis and slip-on shoes, and his hair is tousled somewhat messily. 

"You are full of surprises," Hoseok muses as you take a step back and allow him to enter the small space. 

"I am," you respond, biting back a grin. 

Hoseok toes out of his shoes, handing you a nice, large paper cup of hot chocolate, and you turn to make your way through the apartment, to the couch. You are eager to open the gifts, especially when you turn to find Hoseok sniffing the air with a squint in his eyes, already on the path to discovering what his will be. 

"I smell rice."

You hum, feeling warmth rise to your cheeks. "I read that Koreans eat rice for breakfast."

Hoseok's eyebrows lift, and he smiles playfully. "Just rice? How thoughtful."

"Not just rice," you tease in return, rounding the sofa and kneeling on the cushion to face Hoseok. "Come, open your gift."

Hoseok, nosy as ever, takes a step into your kitchen and leans over the counter to observe the plastic wrap-covered bowl, holding the marinating meat. Then, he lifts his head, cocking it to the side as he peers over the small island. "What's in here?"

With a huff, you stand and stomp over to Hoseok, grabbing him by the arm and yanking him toward the couch. He only puts up an ounce or two of resistance, giggling as you drag him along. With him settling down, you grab his gift—which is a bit heavy—and place it on the table in front of him. 

"Open at the same time?" Hoseok asks, and you smile and return to the tree, grabbing your featherlight shoebox-sized present and bringing it back.

Once you sit, you make a show of shaking your box while grinning at Hoseok, who gives you a wide, surprised gasp. There is some movement inside, but it is simultaneously too heavy and too light to give itself away. 

"Awe, you bought me socks," you chide, "how charming."

Blush creeps up Hoseok's neck, and he leans to pick up your gift, attempting to shake it before realizing how heavy it is and muttering something in Korean under his breath. 

"What is in this?"

You arch a brow and say, "Open it and find out," then take the edges of the shimmering green paper under your nails and begin to dig your fingers in. 

"Wait," Hoseok says, reaching a hand out, and you stop, looking up to find a worried expression. "I just—I don't want you to—" he takes a breath, "I made this for you. So...just don't expect something extravagant and expensive, okay? It's—it's not a big deal."

Your heart soars at the thought of Hoseok making you a gift, and you rip the paper open, clawing at it like a wild beast. Hoseok clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth and shakes his head as if ashamed, but a shy smile creeps across his face as he watches you.

"Open yours too!" you insist as you pull a plain brown box from the shredded paper, curling your fingers under the lid but waiting to lift. 

Hoseok tears at the taped paper flaps, opening his gift much more carefully and calmly, setting every nerve of yours alight with anticipation. Once enough paper is torn away, you begin to lift the lid from the box much more slowly than you ripped into the wrapping. 

"Oh!" Hoseok exclaims, examining the photo of the ceramic hot pot on the box. "This is great, but...I feel so bad telling you this...but I have one of these."

"Of course you do," you respond with a cheeky smile. "But I didn't have one, and that's...technically not your actual gift."

Hoseok cocks his head, and you watch the wheels turn. Then, he bursts out laughing. "You made me unwrap something that you're keeping?" 

With a cheeky grin and squint you lean in and say, "Your gift is what I am going to make in that pot once I open this box."

Hoseok's mouth drops, though he still hasn't seemed to figure it out, and you smile as you return to your task. As you lift the lid, you find a neatly folded pile of black knitted fabric with dots and lines of various yellows and golds—like shooting stars against a pitch-black sky. You lift it, and it unravels into a thick, beautiful infinity scarf, knit in a chevron pattern of deep v's. 

Tears well in your eyes, and you hug the scarf close, rubbing the soft fabric against your cheek. It smells like Hoseok, and you bury your face against it, taking a sniff as a sob chokes from your chest. 

"You made this for me," you whimper, overwhelmed by affection.

When you open your eyes and glance up, Hoseok is smiling soft and sweet. You can tell he is nervous about the gift, but that he no longer feels the need to apologize. You wrap the scarf over your head twice and bury your nose once more, shamelessly filling your senses with your favorite musk.

"Hoseok, this is—I love this. Thank you."

Hoseok sets the hot pot on the table and opens his arms, and you accept the invitation and throw yourself against his chest. Nobody has ever handmade something like this before, and you cannot fathom how long it must have taken him. 

Suddenly, your gift feels silly. A meal is hardly a tangible thing, not compared to a scarf. Fresh tears threaten your eyes, and you sit up, rubbing them away before they can form streaks on your face. 

"Now I have to finish making your gift," you say shyly, taking Hoseok's hands in yours. "And while I do that, you should put on The Battle of the Dads. This time I won't fall asleep."

Hoseok laughs and nods his head, and you let go of his hands and sit back, reaching for your hot chocolate to savor a nice, warm sip. Then, you take the hot pot and make your way to the kitchen, setting it on the counter and opening it up. You give it a quick wash and dry, then place it on the stove.

First, you take the prepped container of kimchi and tofu from the fridge and set it close to the stove, then you light a burner beneath a small skillet and take out the kimchi to warm and soften over the heat. After a few moments, movement comes from the living room, and you shut off the burner and turn in time to find Hoseok sliding into the entry on socked feet. 

"I smell Kimchi," Hoseok announces with wide eyes. Then, he glances again at the bowl of marinating pork, this time moving the plastic wrap from the edge, and back at you. 

"I know it won't taste like the soup your mother makes," you say shyly. Tears form in Hoseok's eyes, and he brings his hands to his mouth. "But I wanted to try. I know your heart has been sick for home lately."

Hoseok strides through the kitchen, wraps one arm around your back while the other comes up to gently take your chin. "I'm going to kiss you," he mutters softly, so close you can smell the cocoa on his breath. 

You nod and smile, tilting your chin in an invitation, and Hoseok closes the space between you, brushing his lips gently against yours. A light exhale leaves your lungs—a sigh of relief and joy and so many things left unsaid—and you wrap your arms around Hoseok's neck and pull him ever so slightly closer, slotting your lips between his and smiling as he lets out a sweet, contented groan. You kiss Hoseok slowly and steadily, movements languid and soft as if you have all the time in the world.

Hoseok turns you, maneuvering you away from the stove to press you against the countertop as he rests his forehead against yours. You open your eyes to find him looking down at you while tears streak his pretty face. 

"Be mine," Hoseok mutters an inch from your lips. "Please."

"Are you sure it's not too soon?" you ask, and Hoseok chuckles, shaking his head. 

"I should be asking you that."

Fondness and desire fill you with warmth, and you pull Hoseok closer, kissing his lips fully and eagerly. "I'm ready if you are," you mutter against him. 

Both of Hoseok's hands take you gently by the head, cradling you as he licks over your lips—as he grins against your mouth at the sound of your soft whimper. You push your fingers into his hair and part your lips, inviting Hoseok to have more, but he sucks your bottom lip gently between his teeth then releases, sliding his hands to your shoulders and pulling you into a firm embrace. 

"I want to kiss you until we're both dizzy and out of breath, but I am also very hungry," Hoseok mutters softly against your temple.

You laugh, overcome once more with emotion as hot tears fall down your cheeks, and you sniffle as Hoseok steps back to give you space to turn on the burners and resume preparing his gift. You expect him to return to the movie—which he has left playing in the living room—but he sits on your counter and watches as you work, asking about where you picked up this and that ingredient, impressed that you memorized the recipe—which you have stored on your phone, just in case.

"It's an easy recipe," you tease as you pack the tofu and kimchi on top of the pork and scoop in the rest of the ingredients. 

"It is, but everyone comes up with their own spin. My mom always adds a dash of sesame oil, something not everyone does."

With a frown, you chew on your bottom lip. The recipe you memorized didn't call for sesame oil, and it is not something you have cooked with before. Hoseok hops down from the counter and approaches, giving your forehead a kiss as he mutters, "Be right back," then slips on his shoes and runs out the door. 

As the pork cooks, you bring the scarf back to your face and smell, closing your eyes and smiling. Hoseok kissed you. Here, in your kitchen, on Christmas morning, Hoseok kissed you, and it made you feel more precious than any single kiss has made you feel in a good long time. Hoseok kissed you and the clouds parted and the birds began to sing and the sun warmed your cheeks.

Several minutes pass and Hoseok returns with sesame oil. He helps with the rest of the ingredients, measuring the water and scooping bowls of rice. Once the soup is ready, Hoseok uses oven mitts to carry it to the living room, where he has set out a pot holder, bowls, and utensils. 

"I was supposed to do all this," you complain with a smile as you walk to the living room empty-handed, "this was supposed to be my gift to you."

Hoseok sets down the soup, slides off the oven mitts, and places them on the table. Then he approaches you and gently places his hands on your cheeks. 

"You've already been my gift," Hoseok says softly, rubbing the tip of his nose against yours. "Bringing me along for your errands, welcoming me into your home...I haven't felt this happy during the holidays since I left Korea. For weeks, you've been light," Hoseok kisses the tip of your nose, "warmth," he kisses your cheek, "home."

Tears spill as you wrap your arms around Hoseok and kiss his lips, chin, and cheeks in quick, wet smacks, one after another after another until he is quaking from laughter and pulling away.

"Soup first, then more kisses later," Hoseok proposes, holding his hand out toward the table. The Battle of the Dads plays on the television, and you smile widely, feeling truly at home in this apartment once again. Finally.

"Deal. Soup first, then kisses later."

“To return to love, to get the love we always wanted but never had, to have the love we want but are not prepared to give, we seek romantic relationships. We believe these relationships, more than any other, will rescue and redeem us. True love does have the power to redeem but only if we are ready for redemption. Love saves us only if we want to be saved.” ― bell hooks, All About Love: New Visions

writing this fic was incredibly cathartic, and even made me cry at times! thank you so much for reading. i love you and i hope you have a safe and happy new year!

please don't be a silent reader! comments and kudos go a long way and likes are always appreciated.

tags: @1dsn @btsiguess-kpop @codeinebelle @dasexydevitt13  @giriiboyy  @moonleeai  @m1sss1mp @spookyminyunki

Hope for the Holidays  is copyright 2022 theharrowing, all rights reserved.

[moonchild-in-blue]

Sometimes all you need is a good ol' coffee shop au tbh.

[kithtaehyung]

the window (3tan) (m) | myg

title: the window (m)   pairing: 3tan!yoongi x reader(f)   series: masterlist | three tangerines | fireworks | house party | basketball | stay | sidewalk talk | friends | dalo | like that | anytime | sundress season | yoongi’s interlude | forfeit | flutter rating/genre: m (18+) ; angst , fluff , smut ; brother’s best friend au, implied age gap au   summary: you get to spend the holidays in a lavish private lodge with your brother and all his friends. but you’re just really fucking sad tonight… and maybe a bit mad, too. note: so in order to not fall more behind than i already am, i went ahead and combined both holiday specials into one🥃this one came about due to window anon’s reminder about yoongi’s window threat, and everyone that proceeded to cause outright chaos all day after that. so if you want someone to yell at for this, yell at them!!! note 2: this is a holiday special! therefore where it fits/if it fits in future canon is not disclosed. so this can be enjoyed as a one-shot, but i still highly recommend reading all the three tangerines series if you haven’t yet<3 it’ll make things make a lot more sense.  warnings: strong language, alcohol, this yoongi requires his own warning tbh, chains making a comeback who is shocked!!!, or*l (m rec), manhandling, hitting it from the back a ha ha, angst :(((, masturb*tion, exhibiti*nism, omg we’re kinda pissed y’all😳, ….c*ckwarming, rough s*x, slow motion l o l, missi*nary, protected s*x, cmnf (clothed male), pain kink :)), kissing haha, !!!angry!!!s*x!!!!, c*wgirl, light d*m/sub dynamics, tense scenes, bro appearance, body worship, yoongi is deliciously aggravating, but so is brat!reader<333, ch*king (m/f rec), head/hair pulling (m/f), multiple org*sms, yoongi’s fit is basically 2022 grammys have funn🥴, cute af aftercare<3 drop date: january 10th, 2023, 7:17pm est word count: 15.3k bc i can’t stfu !! 

-

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“You sure you don’t wanna join us?”

“I’ll be okay, Tae.” 

“Okay. Well, call me if you change your mind.” 

“I will.” 

“Wait. Are you really sure?”

“Yes, Chim.” 

“...Okay.” 

Before you shut your door, you offer both boys a smile they don’t buy. 

But they leave regardless, and you watch as they make it down the staircase of your elaborate rented house, their chatter coating both the polished floors and the decorated walls. 

A sigh escapes. 

You know they’re meeting up with everyone else, but you can’t bring yourself to join in on the festivities. Not after whatever the hell you witnessed at dinner last night. 

Why did Yoongi… 

Fuck, forget about it. It’s probably nothing. 

Drifting to your bed, you check your phone previously dumped on the nightstand, sighing at an empty screen before making your way into the cozy nook of your bedroom. 

Seriously, does every bedroom in this mansion-like place have a mini kitchen and living area, too? How did Jungkook happen to score this house for a whole week? You even have a decent balcony, which you would be sitting on if not for the subzero temperatures outside.

However this happened, you’re still in shock that you’re the only one who got a bedroom to themselves. 

Well, maybe it’s not that surprising. Your brother definitely muscled everyone else into rooming with each other, claiming Yoongi for himself. The only one that really complained was Jungkook, but Seokjin only said to suck it up before rolling his suitcase right past the younger one’s pout.

Contemplative, you walk over to fill the electric kettle you found in the kitchen, flipping it on before watching the sunset outside hickory windows.

If only your friends were able to come. At least you could’ve enjoyed their company around your fireplace while you downed hot chocolate and stewed in your thoughts. Maybe then you would brush off these icky feelings faster, or at least had Dom there to get another read on the situation you’re replaying in your head. 

Then again.

She would probably be biased and say Yoongi isn’t shit.

Groaning, you grab a mug from one of the cabinets before taking a hot chocolate packet from the counter, tearing it open and hoping it helps.

Upon inspection, there doesn’t seem to be much of anything—just a wad of the powder stuffed in one of the corners.

Of course.

A tsk scratches your teeth before you lean the cocoa against your cup, and the kettle boils just as your blood pressure falls close behind.

Yoongi knew you could see him.

Why did he do that?

And why hasn’t he said anything about it since?

The trip had been pretty magical and fantastic before that dinner. You got to go sightseeing in the snow-capped mountains with everyone, snuck a peek of Tae’s little moment with Jimin in the hot springs, visited a quaint village with pretty shops, and even sat around a fire pit after grilling food.

Only the studio guys and your brother have been less active during this trip, since they’ve all committed to various projects that they’ve been working on in their rooms. 

Profoundly different from, as that woman so wonderfully put it last night, going sightseeing at her place instead. 

You still remember the look Yoongi had after she slipped him what you imagine was her number. Smack dab in the middle of all of you having dinner in the same little town as the first time. 

When she popped up unannounced, Hoseok and Namjoon were too nice to wave her off. But it wasn’t until it was apparent that she was only there for Yoongi did they swallow their niceties—only for your brother to swoop in with the wingman charm. 

“Are you all enjoying the town?”

“Hell yeah,” he blurted before Yoongi could even say anything. “Food’s good and the views are great. We just went on one of those mountain tours, too.” 

“Ugh, aren’t those so fun?”

“You get it. Right, Yoong?”

Frankly, you don’t wanna recall how the rest of that went down again. Not when all you could picture is the hand kept on Yoongi’s back the whole time, or the look he actually gave her when she turned suggestive. 

And how deep you dug your nails into Tae’s dress pants.

Fuck, you should apologize for those marks he definitely has.

What makes everything even worse? You recognized exactly where you saw her before that night. 

You… She…

“Fuck.”  

Saddened even more than before, you dump hot water into your cup, yelping when some sloshes out onto your hand ouch.

Of course. Yes. How perfect. 

The next curse is less subtle than your shout as you bang the kettle back onto the countertop. And you’re one second from tossing your fresh cup in the sink before you hear rapid knocking. 

Shit. 

Your brother most definitely heard you from right next door. 

Eyes shut, you fling your hand around while making your way over to tell him to screw off. He knows better than anyone why you could possibly be in one of these moods, dinner woes or not. 

“Don’t worry, dude, I’m—”

Oh.

He’s not who you expect to see at all.

“Kook,” you whoosh out, closing the gap so that only your soured face can be seen. “Hi.” 

“Hey. You okay?”

Observing concern under blond bangs, you give a sniff nod. “Yeah. Why?”

“I just…” When Jungkook pauses, you finally notice how nice he looks. “Thought I heard you shouting.”

“Oh.”

He looks really nice, in fact. His suit is a whole step above the sweats and baggy shirt you’re sporting behind thick wood and room care instructions.

This holiday event the neighborhood is throwing must be fancy as hell. You figured Taehyung and Jimin dressed up just because, but apparently you’re missing a whole—

God. Damn it.

Your heart must’ve seen Yoongi coming from your brother’s room before you did, because its beats already stop before he fully comes into view.

Wow.

What in the fuck?

Why the hell does he have to look like that when you’re this frustrated? Of course he’d rock a black button-up and slacks. Of course he’d style his hair in a way that makes you wanna snatch him from the hallway. Of course he’d look the most expensive you’ve ever seen him.

This is a whole other layer of upset that you didn’t need tonight. 

Did he dress up because…

Shut up. Just shut up shut up and talk again because Jungkook looks gravely concerned.

“Well,” you start, tearing your gaze away from your current problem and fighting back pent-up rage. “I’m fine. Have fun.”

“You aren’t going?”

Like some tether that would go taut if pulled apart for too long, your eyes snap back to Yoongi’s. But your response remains tight as he adjusts one of his cuffs, “I said I wasn’t gonna.”

Damn it, don’t lose it when they’re both here. Jungkook’s already got a look in his eye and Yoongi is definitely sussing you out with his furrowed gaze.

Don’t be like this right now. Let them go first. 

It’s the younger one that tries to convince you,

“Hey, it could be fun. And it’s an open bar! We can wait if you wanna cha—”

“I’m good,” you clip him off, heart sinking because you’re being brash but you can’t rein yourself in. With what already happened combined with… other things, you are way too wound to be social. “I already said I wasn’t going at dinner last night. But y’all seemed distracted enough, so.” 

Yoongi straightens while Jungkook simply utters a confused sound. 

Fucking hell, just let them go. 

Don’t make it worse. Don’t do it. 

But the dinner, the dinner, the dinner. You didn’t ask about it, but Yoongi still could’ve said something about it right he could’ve texted well okay this really shouldn’t be that big of a deal anyway maybe it’s nothing but fuck you’re still mad wait you’re saying something,

“Have fun sightseeing.”

Shit.

“Wait—”

Doors slam a lot louder when they’re huge.

And leave a more prominent silence, too.

Slowly pressing your back against the grain, you instantly feel rife with regret. 

That didn’t need to happen like that. 

Especially with Jungkook there looking both lost and confused as hell, when all he wanted to do was check on you.

Goddamn it. All you had to do was wait until they were gone. Why did you take it out on them? 

Yoongi didn’t say anything about what happened. But you didn’t talk to him, either. A whole day passed and his texts about the snow outside and going to the party tonight are the last ones in your thread. 

Which you were mad about because you already mentioned you weren’t going.

What the fuck is wrong with you?

“What the hell just happened?”

Wait, they’re still at the door? 

Eyes downcast and grey, you perk your ears to see what they could possibly be saying.

If any insults are thrown, you can’t be mad. Not when you just acted so damn shitty.

“Don’t, Kook.”

“But I—”

“Drop it.” 

“Did I do something wrong?” 

“The fuck? No. Let’s go.” 

“Okay… Wait, is he coming?”

“Nah.” 

“They both aren’t? Who’s going?”

“…Everyone else.” 

“Oh… Right, okay.” 

You’re fully slumped on the ground once their deep voices vanish down the stairs, and a single tear slips from your chin as your arms top shaky knees. 

You hope Jungkook doesn’t take it personal. 

Dinner woes or not, you weren’t going anyway. 

“Hey, babe. How’s the trip without me? Boring as hell probably.” 

“Something like that,” you huff, voice rueful through your matching, broken smile. As you take another bite of your tiny snack bowl, you keep your eyes on the movie that some people deem a Christmas one, despite there being more shooting and a guy in a destroyed white tank than anything. 

Whatever. You’ll take it above any of the fluffier choices. 

“Babe?”

“Hmm?”

“I asked what’s wrong. Now you’re just scaring me. Do I need to fly my ass over there?”

“No, Dom,” you sigh. “Just need a metaphorical gut punch.” 

Immediately, your friend’s voice turns low and condensed. 

“What did he do.” 

“Uhm.” For some reason, her protectiveness makes you want to cry again. But you have to get through this in one piece, especially if it turns out to be nothing. “Technically, I don’t know if he did anything.” 

There’s a pause before Dom responds again, 

“Why not?” 

Your lips press together with guilt. “I didn’t ask.” 

“Okay, so…” 

“Ugh, I wish you saw what went down,” you respond with frustration. “I know I sound dumb, but—”

“What happened, baby. I haven’t heard you like this in a long ass time.” 

“Sad?”

“Pathetic.” 

“Well, goddamn!” You give your phone a glare before a surprise laugh bubbles forth, and you can hear your friend cackle on the other line. “Whose side are you on?”

“Tell me everything first and I’ll decide.” 

“Fuck you and your sag brain.” 

“Don’t have this tat for nothing.” 

After you take a deep breath, you turn down the gunfire and explosions before reliving the dinner. How Yoongi had been giving you looks as you and your brother traded embarrassing stories, your whole table laughing with every single one. 

You tell Dom about how you saw the woman come up to you all, hand going right to the back of Yoongi’s chair before it slipped onto his shoulder—which he did nothing about. 

She stays silent throughout the whole thing, even when you tell her how Yoongi glanced down at the napkin he got before turning to your amused as hell brother, both of them engaged in what seemed to be interesting conversation. 

When you’re done, you stuff a bunch more food in your mouth, so much so that you have to chew a lot before answering her follow-up question, 

“And he hasn’t texted you at all after that?”

You cough a bit before forcing the pity snacks down, swallowing more than salt before admitting, 

“He has.” 

“Oh. Okay, and?”

“I…” Damn it. “I haven’t responded.”

There’s a long sigh before Dom recaps, 

“So the man texts you once after that and you don’t even—”

“Twice.” 

“...What?”

Your eyes shut in embarrassment. “He, uhm. He texted twice.” 

Silence.

“And I may have just slammed the door in his face.”

Triple, layered, compounded silence.

In fact, after a whole thirty seconds, Dominique is so quiet you think she literally walked away from you and her phone.

You’re so curious that you bring it up to your face before getting blasted by her yell,

“Really?”

“Look—”

“You called me to tell me this? You made me walk away from family game time, you know that? I’m taking all the heat—”

“Dom, I’m sorry, but—”

“For the love of— Finish whatever the fuck you’re stuffing your face with, and text him back.” 

“But he—”

“He what? Flirted with some chick in front of everyone like he’s supposed to?” 

You snap your mouth shut. 

“What did you expect him to do? Lock eyes with you the whole time and wave the girl off as if he’s already got someone at home?” 

“I—”

“What happened to keeping things on the down low.”

“Alright!” Your head ducks straight between your arms. “I get it, okay? I’m just in a shit mood like I am every year and the one person I…” 

You inhale slow through your nose, eyes closed to the world. Two people already got burned by your misplaced wrath. You don’t need to add a third. 

Swallowing, you try again. “The one person that could possibly make it better this time just took this chick’s number in front of me.” 

“Babe.” 

You sigh. 

“I just wanna see him, Dom,” you finally admit to the universe. “But we can’t.”

“Mm.”

“And that dinner just made it even worse.” Another saddened whoosh of air slips from your nose. “I know I’m overreacting. I am. But it’s upsetting to have to sit through that.” 

“Then tell him that.”

“Not right now. Not after shutting him out.”

“Then suck it up and apologize first.”

She’s right. 

Either way this goes, an apology to Yoongi is definitely in order. 

But also, this is the first conversation in awhile in which your best friend absolutely grilled you. Even when she cornered you in your car to warn you about Yoongi before, it wasn’t this caustic. 

The way she’s come around is mind-blowing. It’s enough to make you question, “When did you start defending him this hard?”

Dom immediately corrects with a scoff before comforting you in the most Dominique way possible. 

“This isn’t even about him. I’m looking out for you. And right now, you’re the one that’s hurting you.” 

Your face scrunches with emotion.

“So make up with my future brother in law and I’ll see you when—”

“What?”

“—get back. And y’all use protection, right? Cus I don’t wanna be an auntie just ye—”

“Dom!” You are so whooping her know-it-all ass when you get back. She doesn’t get to give you butterflies after making you cry! 

“What? I need to be stupid rich first.”

“I’m hanging up on you now goodbye.”

There’s a fizzy cackle on the other line, and you can’t help but break into a grin when she bids farewell.

“Love you!”

You wipe a trail from your cheek before moving your phone up to your mouth. Because you wanna cradle it close while saying bye for real, 

“Love you, too.”

You [10:11pm]: hey

You [10:13pm]: i’m sorry 

There. 

You did it. 

…And now you wait.

Ten long minutes of fidgeting and worrying later, you finally get a response. 

Yoongi [10:23pm]: You coming?

Part of you wishes to, especially knowing he looks like the devil incarnate. 

But you just can’t bring yourself to go. It’s just not in you tonight. 

You [10:27pm]: still no

Yoongi [10:27pm]: Ok hold on

You wait for a few moments before you get a call, and your eyes bug out of their sockets because you certainly didn’t expect this.

When you pick up, it’s loud as hell on his end. “Hi.”

“Talk to me.”

“I’m…” This feels silly to do right now. There’s a ton of sound and music, and your subject feels supremely out of place. “You sure?”

“Yes, babe.” 

What did he just say? Can’t people hear him?

“I’m just…” Well, if he’s fine with it then you’ll take the opportunity. “Sad? Upset? Something like that.”

“I know. I’ve been trying to get outta here but—”

“One more drink, Yoongi!”

“Yoongi, hurry up.”

“Is that his girlfriend—”

Ah. Cool.

And your mood sours even more than before. 

“Right,” you respond, voice hardened and emotions knotted. “Sounds like it’s been super hard.”

“Okay, hold up. Is this about the dinner?”

Teeth grit when you confirm, “Yes, it is.”

“What about it?”

“You know exactly what.”

“No. I don’t. So if you wanna say something, say it.”

You’re boiling inside. If he knows it’s about the dinner he should know what the fuck you’re referring to. Why is he being difficult?

Truthfully, you’re so fed up that you damn near drop it. “Never mind.”

“…What?”

“Nothing.”

Yoongi’s voice competes with a flurry of other sounds, but its heat still comes across,

“It’s not nothing. Don’t lie.” 

“Did you end up calling her? That girl.” You exhale sharp as you finally ask, body tightly wound and ready to burst. “If I can’t lie then you can’t, either.”

And there’s a moment of silence. 

Stupid, dreadful silence.

“I did.”

And your heart slams into the ground. “I see.” 

“You wanna know why?”

Absolutely not. “No.”

“No?”

“I’m done now.”

“Wait a sec—”

“Yoongi!”

There’s a commotion on the line before you hear a much higher voice, way too close to the receiver,

“He’s with us now, ma’am. Bye!”

The line cuts.

Your vision burns.

And you fold.

Yoongi: Incoming Call

Yoongi: Incoming Call

Yoongi [10:47pm]: Pick up. Please.

You [10:49pm]: i can’t do this. not tonight.

Yoongi: Incoming Call

Yoongi: Voicemail

“Look. I don’t even know if you’ll hear me out, but. I only called her cus she works at that jewelry store in the village. The one we all looked at the first day? Maybe you remember, if you don’t it’s cool, too. But I was getting something for your brother and I didn’t want him to know. So, yeah.”

That’s where you saw her before.

But Yoongi could’ve at least told you that beforehand. Or at all. 

Why didn’t he even mention that? 

Why did he have to leave you guessing and what about the people at the party… 

It helps to know. 

But it doesn’t mend you entirely.

Yoongi [11:02pm]: I left. 

Yoongi [11:03pm]: It’s still fucking cold btw

You [11:05pm]: you left ?? why?

Yoongi [11:05pm]: You know why

You [11:07pm]: it’s still early

Yoongi [11:08pm]: Got somewhere to be 

You [11:10pm]: i’m sure you do

Shutting your eyes, you already regret sending that. 

…But when he replies? 

Yoongi [11:12pm]: K

Yoongi [11:12pm]: Night

You know you crossed the line.

And just like that, your haze of anger whooshes from your eyes, vision snapping as clear as your head should’ve been ages ago. 

Fuck.

You know for a fact that Yoongi wouldn’t do anything to hurt you. So why the hell have you been treating him like shit? Being in a sour mood doesn’t give you an excuse to be this way.

All anger now melting into pure regret, you slap the mattress before rushing up, snatching your snack bowl up and berating yourself like hell. 

But are you yelling at yourself entirely? Or is part of your wrath still staring Yoongi down? 

Fuck. You don’t know. Maybe it’s both; maybe it’s misplaced entirely. 

Dumping your dish in the mini-sink, you hear it clink into others, your pathetic, unceremonious pile growing even larger.

Absolutely no reason to check your phone anymore.

There’s no way you’ll hear from him now.

Buried in bed, you sniffle for the umpteenth time, turning the television up louder so that your pitiful state can’t be heard through the wall. 

Your brother is on the other side. And if he heard you crying, you wouldn’t get rid of him until you told him a lie or claimed Mother Nature’s monthly wrath. Which would also be a lie tonight, too. 

You messed up.

And you deserve this silence because why can’t you just trust him like you’ve been working up to? Do the holiday lows really affect your mindset this much? 

Well. Now that you think about it. 

This does remind you of a similar situation from some years back… Is that why—

Wait.

Your phone’s vibrating. 

You shoot up from under the covers.

Where is it?

You tossed it where is it—floor. 

Snatching it from the cold carpet, you check the screen and crack into a sob at the caller ID. 

Goddamn it… Why is he giving you so many chances.

You’re the one that screwed up.

Yoongi: Incoming Call

“…Hi.”

“Hey.”

“I’m sorry,” you sniffle, still feeling the burns near your eyes. “I didn’t mean to—”

“Just let me in, doll.”

“Huh?”

There’s a pause before he breathes, and you cannot believe what you’re hearing. 

“Open the window.” 

What…?

No fucking way. 

You pause while staring at your curtains, wondering if Yoongi is really on the other side of the thick, neutral material. 

He can’t be. 

But if he is, you gotta get him the fuck inside because it’s cold as hell out there. 

So you fling the covers off while ending the call, chucking it behind you while tugging the drapes to the side. 

And you can’t believe what you see. 

One thing about Yoongi: he’s always going to look better than you. Even when standing on a dark balcony, bangs so stiff they aren’t even jittering with his shakes. 

“Oh, shit,” you curse aloud as you unlock the latch, not realizing that as soon as you slide the door open just enough—

“Come here.”

In seconds, you’re swooped into a freezing hug, and he smells like whiskey and cologne but also like him and home and you’re too caught up in his fingers on the back of your neck to notice him sliding the door shut with his other hand. “Why did you—” 

“Quiet.” 

“But—” 

“Uh uh.” 

“You’re mad—” 

“I am,” he mutters, and your heart constricts before he clarifies. “But only cus I didn’t do this right.” 

“What?” 

What didn’t he do right? What are you missing? How is he even here? There are too many questions and not enough answers at all. 

But Yoongi still doesn’t let go of your head, instead palming it just a bit more into his dress shirt before he whispers, “Just...” 

And he stops. 

Without any indication of—

“Can I just kiss you.” 

Your heart drops, which is painfully ironic because it feels lighter than ever. 

Lifting your head from his person, you can only stare into his awaiting gaze, shifting your eyes side to side because this man needs to be studied by all of humanity. 

How can someone manage to break down your defenses in five words? How can someone make a day full of missteps and wasted time feel like it wasn’t a waste at all? 

You only get to nod once before he consumes you in a frenzy, nerves and senses going haywire at the way he’s tugging you in holy fuck you see stars. 

Desperation. Frustration. You taste both of these, but there is also something else—an apology. 

Good. 

Because even though you messed up, he kinda did, too. And you think you now have the courage to tell him what he did to upset you.

“You know what?” 

“Hmm.”

You snag the front of his shirt. “I’m pissed, too.” 

As he slings you around to kiss you against the chilled glass door, your body buzzes with a flurry of thoughts. Under all the pain, the anger, the relief that he’s here… 

It’s just intriguing as fuck to see him in this state.

Because Yoongi has shown you time and time again how dangerous he can be. How he can lose control in the best ways just as you do for him. 

But right now? Devouring you like you both had been apart for months while your brother’s on the other side of the wall? 

“Yoongi—” 

“Don’t.” 

This is the most daring he’s ever been. And you’re completely surrendering to the flames he’s engulfing you with. 

Your hands grip his top incredibly hard, clawing at him with unspoken words of your own. With each tug, you’re oscillating between telling him to leave, and begging him to stay. 

And with both of his palms on your neck, his firm presses tell you he’s not leaving regardless of what you have to say. 

Suddenly, your heart isn’t aching because of what you witnessed before. It’s aching because of how wonderful and stupid and perfect this man is. It hurts because…

“This is all I wanted,” you finish your thoughts through wobbly, puffy lips. 

When Yoongi hovers just enough to ghost over you, you can’t keep from shaking when you continue, 

“I just… I wanted you here, even if you upset me.” 

Instead of claiming your lips again, Yoongi goes for a light touch to your nose. Which is just as fine because that’s his to claim, too. “But all I did was shut you out, and just now those girls sounded all over you and—” 

“You should’ve seen what happened.” 

Blinking, you feel the distance he’s creating by leaning away. “Hmm?” 

“After that chick took my phone,” he explains, deep set in a frown. “Shit pissed me the fuck off.” 

“Oh.” 

“I don’t even know where they came from. Hobi, maybe?” He shakes his head again, and the agitation you witness between his shoulders makes you crumble. “But doesn’t matter. At all. Okay?” 

“No, I know. I’m not—I’m not normally like this. But this time of year is just…” You sigh, tilting your head down until Yoongi forces you to keep looking him in the eye. When you go on, his insistent finger on your chin makes tears form. “It messes with me. But that’s no excuse to be an ass.” 

In the wake of your admittance, he simply stares. And stares some more. 

A single drop of remorse slips from your eye, but you swipe it as soon as you feel the trail. Because you’re not gonna dwell in this any longer. He’s here, knowing damn well he shouldn’t be, and you realize that’s enough to tell you that he’s sorry, too.  

But what is that look in his eye? 

What is he saying that you can’t quite decipher? 

“Did you get my message?”

You nod.

“Mm. Well, it’s not all true.” 

Oh. 

Hell no.

When you’re about to move away, he stills you with a hand on your arm while reaching into his back pocket. 

What does he mean he lied what did he lie about he better explain quick or else… a pouch?

Your eyes stay unblinking as you register that Yoongi’s holding a soft bag in his hand. 

And you know exactly what those are used for. 

“Yoongi,” you whisper, voice almost lost. “What the hell is that?” 

“I didn’t go back just for him.” He keeps staring at the tiny container while you regard him, still gobsmacked. “But yeah, that girl? She thought I was there for her, so. Wasn’t exactly happy when I mentioned you.” 

Your heart has got to keep it together. “Me?” 

“Yeah. I knew what I wanted to get you, but. Couldn’t exactly go there myself without a reason.” As he places the soft pouch in your hand, he explains, “He was on my ass about seeing her after the dinner, too.” 

Your hand closes around the bag. 

He knew what he wanted to get you? 

You?

This whole night just seems to drift more and more into dreamland. Are you sleeping after all? Those kisses did feel very, very real, though…

Suspended in disbelief that Yoongi is both present and handing you a gift, you breathe out, 

“Thank you… But why didn’t you tell me?” 

Yoongi scrunches his face in what you assume is embarrassment. Adorable. “I wanted it to be a surprise,” he says through a regretful smirk. “Guess I should’ve just fessed up.” 

“This time? Yeah.” You look down at the bag, feeling like you don’t deserve it. “I know I shouldn’t have, but my brain went straight for the worst possible scenario. It’s, umm…”

Looking away, you fight the tears that you specifically didn’t want falling. The ones that you were done crying years ago, 

“It’s happened before. Around this same time, actually.” 

Eyes burning, Yoongi seethes. “Who the fuck?” 

You shake your head and face him again, whispering out reassurance, 

“Someone that doesn’t matter now.”

His silence seems to be different than before. When he runs a hand along the side of your head, you press into it like second nature. “I’m sorry, babe. I didn’t know.”

“It’s not something I like talking about,” you quietly confess. “Which is stupid if it’ll also make me upset. So I’m sorry, too.” 

“You wanna know something?” 

“Sure.” 

He drops his hand into a pocket. “You being mad never crossed my mind. No one else can even...” Yoongi lets out a huff so delicate you would never guess it was his. “If anything, I’m pissed that I haven’t shown you well enough.” 

Now that’s interesting. 

Blinking, you reach for context, “Haven’t shown me? Shown me what?”

He rakes a hand through his hair while glancing away. But when you lock eyes, he clarifies with zero waver in his tone,

“How I feel about you.”

…Oh.

Your stare is full of wonder and, while you didn’t notice it before, he seems to have a certain aura around him tonight. Something strong. Something resolute. 

“No,” you whisper, a tear pinging onto your shirt. “You have. Damn it, I—It’s my fault.” 

He is quick to assuage your guilt, just like always. And like all the times before, he moves on before you can protest, 

“Open it.”

Oh. Right. You still have the impossible gift in your hand that you know you’re gonna keep forever without even knowing what it could be. 

In front of you, Yoongi remains silent as you widen the opening. And you feel him awaiting your reaction as you pull out a necklace so simple, yet so elegant, that you can only assume that yes, you are dreaming. None of this is actually happening.

It’s a thin chain, with small links and no embellishments. 

And it’s perfect. 

“Oh my god.” 

“She insisted I get you some sort of charm or whatever for it,” he finally speaks in murmurs. “But I didn’t wanna pick something you wouldn’t like.” 

You stare. 

“So I’ll just bring you next time, and you choose.” 

And you damn near drop the gift. “What?” 

When you slap a palm over your mouth, Yoongi’s lips curve. “No bullshit.” 

“I…” What is happening? What is going on? “I dunno how you’d swing that since everyone’s here.” 

“I’ll just take you here myself.” 

His look of confidence has you averting your gaze in an instant. 

“Just us.” 

Tonight has taken too many turns into madness. He’s joking, right? It’s not enough to sneak into your room with your door completely unlocked, huh?

No. He’s not serious. You both know that’s the longest shot in history, especially considering your situationship isn’t even fully fleshed out. 

But it’s nice to pretend. 

Especially when he sounds so sure it’ll be real someday.

“This is way too much,” you say through a rueful smile, head shaking as you continue to dub tonight unreal. “Thank you, Yoongi.” 

“Huh? You deserve a lot more than this.” He scoffs while taking the necklace from your hand, carefully slipping it back into the bag. “And I was planning to give it to you later, but uhm. Figured now was a better time.” 

“Why?” 

He shrugs. “Just wanted to say you got nothing to worry about.” He softly tosses the bag on your rumpled comforter before grabbing at your hips. “And that you looked hot as fuck at that dinner.” 

Shivers coat your body as you parry, “I wore the biggest coat I brought, are you kidding?”

“Nope.” 

Suspicion makes you hum, but you enjoy his compliments regardless. Even if he’s full of shit, his kindness never fails to heal wounds. “So…”

“Hmm.”

It seems like Yoongi’s done all he wanted to do. Running back the minutes in your mind, he’s managed to kiss the living crap out of you, show that you have nothing to be anxious about, given you a gift, and offered to take you back here on your own getaway trip.

What the hell is he still standing around for? He’s done more than enough, so he needs to get the hell out of here.

“You really came here to tell me all that?” 

“Yeah.” He snags your chin. “And to teach you a fucking lesson.” 

What.

What.

Slack-jawed, you rush out, “You aren’t serious—” 

“Dead serious.” 

You know exactly what Yoongi’s implying. But as much as you want nothing more, you can’t. There’s no way! 

“But—” 

Your brother is still very much awake, judging by the loud hip-hop beats bumping through the wall. 

You know it’s a slim chance he would even swing by your room. But still… 

“We can’t.” 

Yoongi grins at the panic you feel buzzing in your eyes. Grins! “Why not?”

“You know exactly why!” you whisper, grabbing him to kiss some sense into that reckless brain you love so much. 

He responds in kind, pushing into you and almost bending you backward. Releasing you with a pop, he asks, smug, “You want me to leave?” 

“Fuck no.” You bring him back in with more force, and your belly flips at his conceited chuckles. “But he’s next door.” 

“I know,” he rumbles. “So keep it the fuck down.” 

Goddamn it. The thrill of having him here while everyone is on this trip bursts your senses wide open, and you’re embarrassed that you’re the most turned on you’ve been in a minute. 

How the hell is that even possible? 

Is it the secrecy? The danger? The possibility of Yoongi getting his entire ass beat if you were caught? 

Fucking hell, it’s everything. And what makes it even worse is how stupidly attractive this man gets when he’s cocky. 

You’re so caught up in your thoughts that you lead him straight back against the edge of your bed, and he grunts as his legs bump right into it. 

Shit, that was loud. Was it loud? Crap, you’re paranoid already.

With a sigh, you finally let go, hanging your head. “We can’t,” you repeat, breathless and more to yourself than to him. 

Because this little secret cannot be revealed. Not yet, at least. Maybe not ever since your brother would probably riot.

Yoongi lets you sit with your thoughts for a few seconds before relenting, “I can go, doll.” When you jet your head up, he offers a tiny squeeze of your arm. “If that’s what you want.” 

“Oh… No, I”—you gulp, not believing what’s coming out of your own mouth—“I want this.” 

His brow cocks up. “You sure?”

“Yes,” you affirm, face serious but stomach acting outright silly. “I wanna forget my own name.”  

“I can make that happen.” 

You don’t doubt that. He’s done it more than once before.

“But also…” Summoning courage from all angles, you place a firm hand on his chest. “Can I still be mad at you?” 

Yoongi falls completely silent for a moment, his stare incredulous and his chest stiff under your palm. 

Did his heart… beat harder there?

But he regains his voice before you question it further. His deep, sinfully low voice,

“Whatever you want, baby girl.” 

“Good.” You push him immediately, heart stammering when he falls onto your bed. “Because I wanna make you forget yours, too.” 

“Fuck.”

As soon as you pounce, Yoongi wastes no time in groping both cheeks of your ass, and you can’t help but squeak when he hauls you off to pin you down into the mattress. 

Air leaves you in a rush as he keeps up the offensive, bearing down on you as he lodges a tone thigh right against your cunt. Another mewl escapes before he clasps a hand around your mouth. 

When he speaks, it’s compressed thunder. And his words strike through you like lightning,

“As much as I wanna hear you, you better shut the fuck up, doll.” 

You hum into his palm, twisting your body to try and gain control again. But you find it’s no use as you thrust your chest into his, the slow rumbles of his conceited laughs all you receive. 

“So cute,” he coos into your ear, chuckling even lower when you whoosh out a grunt. “But you’re gonna wait your turn like a good girl.” 

“No!” you grit into his hand, moaning low when you feel fingers graze right over your cunt. 

When did he even move his leg! 

Yoongi shifts his head, bangs tickling the side of your neck when he questions, “No?” Shifting your shorts, he slips his fingers right underneath them and your panties, causing you to flinch right away. “Wanna try that again?” 

“N…” You breathe out of your nose, and quickly realize that he isn’t gonna move his fingers any longer unless you give in. 

…But why do it so easily?

You’ve spent the past twenty-four hours being pissed at the world—and this man to some degree—so why waste all the compressed energy making a warzone of your body?

Use it. Use it to make the most of the time you get this version of Yoongi to yourself.

Lifting one of your arms, you grab his palm to yank it away from your mouth before defying him a second time. 

“Make me,” you hiss, lifting your head to meet his lips. “Bitch.”

Everything happens at once.

Before you can blink, your arms are pinned above your head while large fingers lodge their way into your mouth. While you’re busy taking them in, there’s a dark, almost sinister vow trickling into your ear, and shivers coat every inch of your skin,

“You’re gonna wish you kept this pretty mouth shut.” 

Your reply is a gurgle, but he keeps going in, 

“Because you seem to think I’m not yours.” 

Wait. What? 

That’s the… That’s the lesson he’s gonna teach you?

“And I’m gonna fuck you until you get the point.”

Oh, fuck. He’s still pissed.

He may not tell you exactly how mad he really is, but you can tell he’s frustrated. And quite frankly, you would be too if your devotion was questioned.

Fuck. If you saw things from his side, you really would be upset. 

The twinge between your thighs rattles your entire lower body. Because he’s gonna tear you apart in the most beautiful way.

“Get up.” 

“What—” 

Yoongi hauls you upward, getting you out of the bed before bringing you to the other side of the bedroom. 

Huh? 

What’s he doing? Why is your mind a whirlwind right now? 

Silent but firm, he leads you to one of the armchairs in your room’s nook, sitting you down before giving a chaste kiss. After, he goes to your door to lock it, and you watch unblinking as he takes long strides back to you. 

You don’t know what the hell is going on.

But you literally cannot be more ready for it.

Unbuttoning one of his cuffs, Yoongi simply stands over you while explaining, 

“You’re gonna show me first.” 

“Huh?” 

He folds his sleeve inward before pushing it up his forearm. “How you get off.” 

Oh, god. 

God.

“Yoongi—” 

He uses a knee to spread one of your legs to the side, staring at your center that you know is already wetting straight through your bottoms.

When you stay silent, he proceeds to slip his other sleeve upward, cocking an impatient brow from above,

“Don’t make me wait.” 

Before you can respond, he walks away, moving towards a tall lamp standing in a corner of the dark room. As you wonder how he’s able to switch demeanors as quickly as a lightbulb, he flicks it on, shortly before taking comfortable residence in the armchair opposite you. 

You can only sit there, full of wonder and not knowing what the hell to do. 

Does he really have to spread his legs as wide as yours, though? 

Handsome asshole.

“You tappin’ out already?”

“Shove it,” you rush out, pouting with a beating heart when he leans his smug face on defined knuckles. 

Because whatever Yoongi’s plan is, this scenario? Is a dream. 

You’ve been wanting to do this for so long—longer than you’ll ever, ever divulge. All the nights you spent touching yourself imagining him watching from your desk, or even right beside you on the bed, whispering things that you will never admit that you thought of yourself. 

It doesn’t help that Yoongi looks like Sin.

So you bite your lip, the essence of time and possibility of someone knocking on your door spurning you into action. 

You reach down to stick your hand down your pants—

“Fuck that.” 

What?

Freezing, you watch his face, hardened and dark. 

“Who said you could go inside?”

“You said—”

“Uh uh.” He pins you with a fiendish curve. “Lemme see those pretty nails first.” 

Your senses don’t know what to do with themselves. 

How long has Yoongi been hiding this side of him? This demanding, uncompromising side that you wish you knew sooner? Why did he decide to bring it out during the most inappropriate time? 

Because it’s fucking hot, that’s why.

Not only that. It’s also reaching into you and unearthing parts that you wouldn’t dare show anyone else. If you were honest, you’re a bit frightened at the thoughts dripping into your mind, coalescing into a dark, wonderful pool. 

But those little scenarios can wait. Right now, you just want this so-called lesson to go as long as it possibly can.

Slowly, you rub yourself above your sweats, immediately understanding why he made you do this. 

You loathe this. Complete pleasure is miles away, and yet right there. 

Fucking hell, you’re already embarrassed at how sensitive you are. Will he force you to try and come this way? Is that even possible?

Well. You can’t truly rule anything out when it comes to him. 

Silently, you beg him to not let that be the case, already angry as if it was. 

Yoongi chuckles, and you can’t help but shudder at his low scratchy tone. 

“You mad?”

“Yes.” 

“Good. Stay that way.” 

You growl, throwing your head back and rubbing in aggravating circles, trying anything to get the friction your lust desires. Your mouth forms shapes until words fit through, and Yoongi responds to a plea you didn’t know you uttered,

“Please what?”

“Please…” You breathe harsh. “Lemme take them off.”

“Why should I?”

“Let me do it and I’ll show you.”

“Pass.”

“Fuck you,” you grit out, groaning in annoyance when he chuckles with little pity. 

If you had to guess what would happen on this trip before going, you would never have chosen anything close to this. Laid out on an armchair, shamefully rubbing yourself through your pants while your brother’s friend watches? What kind of fucking universe did you stumble into?

“I don’t like repeating myself.”

In your haze, you open bleary eyes and ask, “Huh?”

“Shirt off.” 

Shit. You didn’t even hear him. “But my pants—”

“Don’t care.” 

Oh, you hate this Yoongi. And you love how outright feral he’s making you feel. 

Fingers shaking, you raise your shirt up, and he hums when you reveal a braless chest.  

“All the way off,” he commands with gravel in his words, and groans in approval when you follow instructions.

When you fling the shirt towards him, he doesn’t move an inch as it reaches his shoes. 

And as he stares down at the material, something stirs in your belly, and you’re quick to wonder where any and all if this rebellion is coming from.

Maybe it’s the painfully obvious tent he has in his pants. Or the ravenous, subtly proud look in his eyes anytime you act out. 

Either way, you wanna ride this wave as far as it carries you. 

“Now what,” you bite, cunt throbbing as you keep trying to find euphoria through thick cotton. 

“Nothing until I say so.” 

“Please,” you beg, huffing hard from pleasure being kept at arm’s length. 

Why the hell is he taking his sweet time? He’s not even supposed to look at you for too long around your brother, and yet here he is fucking you with his eyes as you writhe in a chair. Doesn’t he know he’s on severely borrowed, stolen time?

“Please what?”

Breath ragged and chest heaving, you grunt, “You know what.” 

“I don’t,” he lies. “Tell me.” 

You’re gonna kick his ass. “Lemme take them off.” 

“No.” 

Fucking hell, you can’t take it anymore. Your core aches so hard it’s starting to coax tears, and you know that he’s fully aware and not doing a single thing about it. 

Screw it. You need this, you’re pissed, and you can be difficult, too. 

“Fine then.” Against his orders, you slip defiant fingers into the band of your pants.

“Careful.”

“Pass.” 

His whole face glowers as you offer a devilish expression of your own, slipping your hand right into your panties and rubbing exactly where you want to. 

Finally. 

Pleasure throws your head back as you grasp what you crave, and your ass slides to the edge of the cushion as your back arches taut. Lust shoots through you as you launch yourself into space, turned on by the fact he’s watching you out of all control. 

Are you already this close? How?

Why isn’t Yoongi—

As soon as you open your eyes, you come face to face with him, both of his arms caging you in on each armrest. 

And he looks delightfully pissed. 

Grabbing your wrist, he warns with thick anger, 

“Do that shit again and see what happens.” 

Honestly? You kinda want to. 

But you hear a sound, so your thoughts derail as you snap your head towards the door. 

Your chin is grabbed. “I’m watching, baby girl,” he whispers, making your head spin with how soft he suddenly became. With a passing thought, you just realized that he hadn’t even been using names until then. “Don’t worry.” 

You nod, and he lets you go, reverting back immediately,

“But since you wanna fuck yourself so bad, I might just head out anyway.”

“Don’t you fucking dare,” you hiss, moaning when your scalp is tugged back. 

“Then do as I say,” he orders, releasing you fast. “And take those off.” 

He doesn’t need to tell you that twice. 

Lip bitten, you stare up at him while slowly slipping off your pants, underwear coming off with them in a pile at your feet. 

As soon as they hit the ground, your legs are pried open again, and you whimper before he commands, 

“Who said you could stop?”

Fuck. 

Gulping, you feel strangely powerful despite being the one with no clothes on. Even though he’s the one towering over, you have a feeling he’s trying hard as fuck to keep himself in check. 

And it’s making you want him more than ever. 

So you continue fingering yourself, his stare chilly and warm at the same time on your bare skin. Your nipples pebble under his attention, and your whines fight through your pressed lips as you get closer and closer to climax.  

“Fuck, the things I wanna do to you,” Yoongi growls, his hand coming up to cradle your face. 

Looking up, you’re sure you look pitiful when you ask, but you can’t help it. “What things.” 

“Wanna fuck your throat.” You whimper into his palm before he sticks a thumb inside your mouth. “Paint this pretty face.” 

Holy fuck.

You moan as tiny as you can muster, cunt pulsing around your fingers and making your eyes roll up.

A snicker erupts before Yoongi smothers your saliva across your cheek, “What’s on your mind?” 

“You.” 

“What about me.” 

And you feel it. Your defiance. Coming out once more before you can even stop it, “Being put in your place—” 

Your throat is snatched in a dime, and you clench when he threatens, “Do it. You won’t.” 

Gurgling, you surprise both of you with a laugh. “I like it, you know,” you choke out, and he’s so confused that he unhands you. 

“Huh?” 

“When you’re mad,” you admit, fingers stopping in between your folds when Yoongi tilts his head with a cautious smile. 

Unprompted, he lets out a tiny laugh of his own. There’s a bit of worry in his voice when he checks in, “You okay, doll?” 

Huh?

Immediately, you assure him with knit brows. “What? Yeah, why?”

He leans down, and you’re regarding him with a strange look as he looks from one eye to the other. 

What’s he doing? Did you do something wrong? 

“Just thought I lost you for a sec,” he finally explains. “Which I would love to see, but not tonight.” 

See what? You’re thrown off guard for a second as you blink. “Oh. No, I really do just like making you mad.” 

He laughs before kissing your head. “I can see that. Punk ass.” When he lifts your chin again, he makes sure with a quiet, “You wanna keep going?”

You don’t know what he means about losing you, but he seems to be back in a comfortable state. And since you’re sure he’ll tell you more about it if you ask, you decide to leave that question for another time. Another night when there isn’t risk and danger right next door.

That knowledge is potent enough.

When you nod, Yoongi makes you answer him verbally, so you confirm, “I do, baby.” You sit up high to kiss him before assuring again, “Do your worst.” 

He immediately grins, shaking his head before slipping into a toe-curling smirk. “Nah,” he declines, winking when you pout. “Not like this.” 

Eyes wide, you wonder, “Are you really just gonna watch the whole time?”

“What do you mean?”

“I feel bad.” Staring at the hardness in his pants, you offer, “At least let me suck you off.”

He only tsks. “Have you earned that yet?”

“I dunno but I know you want it.” 

A tongue prods his cheek. “You’re too good at this.” 

Proud, your smile is wide in response. And you salivate when you hear the clinking of his belt, knowing he’s gonna be a menace during this part, too.

“On your knees then, baby girl.”

You slide off the chair, feeling all your essence between your legs as you sink to the ground. When he only unzips to free his cock, you groan at what appears in front of you, wanting it—needing it—to split you in two.

But you don’t think things will get to that point. This is already pushing the hell out of it, so him plowing you into next week is out of the question. 

This fact is probably why he decided to bring you to the chairs in the first place. That coupled with the fact that it’s on the further side of the room from his shared space with your brother. 

How can he think straight while you’ve been a mess? Your vast difference in experience hits you out of nowhere every time. 

“Go ahead then,” he taunts, and you snap out of your daze. “Let’s see it.”

Rolling your eyes, you internally bite back while taking his weight in your hand, licking his tip before taking him in. 

When he curses, you slide your gaze up his torso, reveling in the way he’s already shifting his jaw.

He’s gonna eat all of his words.

Sliding your mouth back and forth, you make a few passes before releasing him to spit, coating him with your saliva before going again. With your other fingers busy on your clit, you feel the dirtiest you’ve felt in a long time.

And you love it. 

“Fuck, doll.” 

You preen, taking more of him in each time and pumping his base with equal rhythm. You lodge wet digits into yourself the same way, and imagining him both in your guts and in your mouth drives you to the very edge.

Fuck, you really are about to come like thi—

“Hands off,” he says out of nowhere, and you pause for him to clarify, “On your thighs.” 

Wait, no! “But I’m—”

“Now.” 

Fucking hell! 

You know he’s enjoying making you mad, too. There’s no way he’s not having the time of his life. 

When you plant wet palms on your legs, you keep sucking him off, realizing that this is just as hot as what you were doing before. Fuck.

But he takes his cock out with a pop, smacking your cheek before sliding it back into your mouth. As you let out a high whine, he praises,

“So cute like this.” He doesn’t explain further, but falters with a moan before laughing to himself. “Hustling the shit out of me.”

Mouth stuffed, you can only hum in reply. Which only makes him fold forward and curse under his breath. 

Your fingers dig into your thighs, wanting to pleasure both you and him instead of being useless. It’s taking all of you to follow orders while your cunt is throbbing impossibly hard. 

And he finally reaches to fondle your tits to push you over the edge that knock was on your door. 

Wait.

That knock was on your door. 

“You in there?”

And that’s your brother oh FUCK!

While you rush up to stand, Yoongi’s already shoving clothes into your hands and moving away in a flash, and you’re mortified and wondering where he should hide. 

Hide! Like some high schoolers! 

Panicked, you tremble as you attempt to dress, letting the blare of the television respond to your sibling instead. 

Holy shit holy shit holy shit. Yoongi’s done for you’re in deep shit this trip is gonna go sideways real quick. 

When you look his way, he’s already next to your bed on the other side of the room, not moving to open the sliding door. 

What is he doing?

“Did you leave?” 

Talk, for heaven’s sake! “N—No, hold up!” 

“Okay, thought so. Hurry up!”

When you shake your head at Yoongi, all he does is try to smother a cheeky grin—which you immediately reject with a swat down of your hand. 

What the fuck is he thinking! 

Never mind that. You don’t have time for this because your room smells like arousal and cologne and it’s not subtle in the least.

Dashing to your bathroom, you come up with the stupidest plan and hope to every higher power that it works. 

“Are you taking a shit?”

Oh, god. Grabbing perfume, you yell out, “No, just wait! Goddamn!”

“God, you always take so fucking long.” 

When you pop back into your bedroom, you catch Yoongi pinning you with amusement, almost telling him to shut up out loud. 

Why the fuck does he look so hot you need to focus! 

You point down with force, signaling for him to duck behind the other side of your bed as low as he can. Cursed with a frenzied brain and throbbing core, you spray an ungodly amount of perfume while speeding around the room. 

Chairs, bed, air, neck, tv for no reason, chairs again good enough just get the door.

“I swear if you’re hiding something—” 

You pull the entrance open with a yank, pursing your lips and wondering how you’re gonna send him away. 

But his brows pinch instantly. “Damn, what’s up with the face?” 

Shit, you probably look like a trainwreck. What the hell do you say? Certainly not that you were just sucking off his best friend that’s still very much in the room oh god.

“I was watching something.” 

When he cocks a brow, you figure he doesn’t know what to say to that. Whatever. It’s fine as long as he doesn’t suspect anything—

“Lemme in.” 

“Why?” 

“If you checked your phone, you would know.” He scoffs before moving his way into the doorframe, quickly ignoring your protest. “It’ll just take a sec.” 

You’re too horrified to realize that he doesn’t even take two steps before swatting the air with his free hand. “The fuck? Did you just put on perfume?” 

“Yeah,” you stare with hesitance, trying damn hard to not glance towards a certain hiding place. “Don’t want you judging if it doesn’t smell all nice.” 

“Since when have I ever judged your room? Fuck, turn the TV down.” 

Is Yoongi on the ground next to the bed? Or did he somehow fit under? There’s a small chance your brother will even look there but if he does and Yoongi’s visible you’re gonna perish.

Grabbing the remote with eyes unfocused, you simply retort, “You judge everything.” 

“Touché. But you’re good at this stuff so I need an opinion.” 

Oh, fuck. He’s sitting on your mattress? 

Ironically—hilariously—that’s better than him sitting on one of the armchairs.

Fucking hell, you’re gonna need ten medics. 

As you feel like sinking right through the floor, your sibling opens the laptop settled on his legs. Eyes glued to the screen, he beckons, “Look real quick.” 

Just do it. Don’t act like there’s anything wrong. Don’t give away the fact that he’s severely close to his friend, or the fact that your cunt is throbbing so hard it’s starting to pang.

Body twinging with guilt and paranoia, you gingerly sit just close enough to him, leaning away when you see nothing but the Sun on his computer. “Dude, the brightness.” 

“Sorry. I got all the lights on next door.” 

“And you say my TV habits are to blame for our house bill.” 

“Damn, chill! Okay, so did I do this right?” 

You tilt your head and look where he’s pointing: one chart amongst a smattering of graphs and analytics. “What are you trying to show?”

“Correlation between quarterly earnings and model type.” 

“I mean, that seems pretty straightforward to me.” 

“Yes and no. We’re trying to gauge whether the newer shoe designs have the same longevity.”

Impossible. He should know the answer to that already. “Nothing will beat the OGs.” 

“I know,” he laughs. “Dunks are fucking untouchable right now.” 

“Right? Yoongi has like, fifty pairs.” 

“Huh?” 

Shit. 

“How’d you know?”

Fuck fuck fuck. 

Grasping for a ledge to latch onto, you remind him mid-freefall, “Bro, we give him two pairs every year. You haven’t noticed him wearing ones for every fit he has?” 

It’s not true. Well, the first part is true since your brother gets special privileges, being able to gift Yoongi an exclusive pair for every birthday and special holiday. 

But there’s no way the man wears enough to warrant you saying fifty. 

…Make that twelve medics. 

Your sibling is too quiet for comfort, but he ends up taking the bait. “I mean, maybe. Didn’t expect you to mention him is all.” He moves the cursor on the screen before thinking aloud, “Speaking of, I need to see if he ended up fu—” 

“It looks fine,” you interject. “Data is sound, but I would at least make a comparison with some of the older models around their same length of release.” 

“Good callout.” 

You’re glad that he’s a man of efficiency, because he moves to head out as soon as his question is answered. 

In fact, when you follow him to the door, it’s your curiosity that keeps him a bit longer. “Wait, why are you in charge of this? Isn’t your department…” 

“Yeah, it’s bullshit, dude,” he complains with a shut of his laptop. Nestling it against his hoodie, he explains, “But my partner is out sick, so I figured this would help.” 

Gotta hand it to your brother to be there if you need him. “That’s… really nice of you. Is this why you didn’t go with them?” 

He rubs his neck, a gesture you’ve been very familiar with for years. One he always does when he’s afraid to admit something. “Kinda. It’s due in the morning, but. I knew you weren’t doing anything, either.”

“Ah.” 

“I mean, this trip is cool and all, but holidays aren’t really…” 

“Our thing. Yeah.” 

As he mirrors your melancholic features, he gives a closed smile with no cheer. “Well, thanks anyway. I’ll leave you alone now.” 

“Go to sleep, dude. You’re pretty much done.” 

“Still need to make sure they all get back in one piece.” 

What? Why does he always take on everything alone? “I’ll stay up,” you offer. “You’re exhausted. Just sleep and send that thing in tomorrow.” 

After a moment of contemplation, he surprisingly relents with a yawn and a nod, and you wonder if he’ll follow through. 

For your own sanity, you hope he does. “Night.” You got through this surprise interruption unscathed, so if he would just go to sleep then everything will be—

“Wait.” 

“Huh?” 

“Your shades are open.” 

Spinning, you notice with fear that the curtains are still pulled to the side. Something both you and Yoongi must not have noticed in your haste. 

Oh. 

That’s right next to your bed. 

If Yoongi’s on the ground—

As your brother strides over, you try to stop him, “It’s fine!” 

He frowns over his shoulder. “What? No. You don’t want people creepin’ on you.” 

Your heart can’t keep a rhythm as he reaches the sliding door, pulling the curtains closed before glancing at the space next to your bed. 

What… What’s happening? Why’s he just standing there?

Voice tight, you ask, “You good?” 

“Yeah, I’m good…” Looking at you, he questions with a point, “When did you get that?”

You freeze, your heart pounding when you realize that Yoongi didn’t grab the jewelry pouch resting on the mattress. 

Upping the number of medics you need to fifteen, you flounder, 

“I— Got something at the jeweler.” Lamely waving one hand in the air, you feign normalcy as you just tell the truth. “When we all went together.” 

“You did?” He mercifully moves away from your bed then, heading back past you and towards your door. “Should’ve told me. I wanted to get something, too.” 

“It was a last second thing,” you tack on with a cringe, attempting to appear merely playful and not like your soul is leaving your mortal confines. 

“Ah, k. Well, I’m thinking of grabbing that Octomore I saw at the liquor store anyway. I can’t find it back home.” He finally makes his way to the exit, grabbing the knob with his free hand. “See you tomorrow.”

He closes the door with a soft click after you say goodbye.

And you let out the biggest breath you’ve ever held.

Holy shit. 

That was fucking close.

There’s no way he couldn’t hear your heartbeat bumping against your chest, right? Or did your body just give up entirely and flatline that entire time? 

“You talk about me like that?” 

Fliching, you clutch your chest before swerving around to battle Yoongi’s smugness with a glare. “You wish,” you whisper with bite, heart palpitations shaking your words on the way out. 

“Now I wanna know.” 

“Shut up.” Damn, your cunt really aches now with the adrenaline fading, and your face finally falters when you lean forward. “Fuck.” 

Yoongi’s there before you can blink, fully concerned. “What’s wrong?” 

“It hurts, baby,” you whimper. “I need you.” 

When he understands, a low curse shoots out. “Fuck, my condoms are in the room.”

“I have some.”

His eyebrows ascend. “You do?”

“Yeah,” you admit as you walk over to your suitcase. “Just in case we got to… Yeah.” 

“Same.”

You grab a packet from a hidden pouch before tossing it, and Yoongi catches it with ease before asking low, “You sure, babe?”

In return, you nod, because the ache is so overwhelming that you can’t think straight. All you need is the man next to the bed stripping quick, and you follow suit until he interrupts you with a soul-snatching kiss. 

Your hands are frantic as they grip his chest, his shoulders, the base of his hair. Breathing takes a backseat as you keep claiming his mouth, and he’s just as possessive with your lips as he grunts into your throat. 

“We gotta keep it down.”

“Mmhmm.” 

“Good girl.” 

After you slip into the bed, he’s close behind, kneeling while finally wrapping himself with deft fingers. 

Your body is thrumming with excitement as he positions himself between your legs, feeling comfort in his bare skin on yours while he pulls the covers over his back. 

A thought occurs to you as he whispers, “You ready?” 

And it’s how you can be anywhere in the world, in any situation, and yet feel so at home if he’s there. “Just for you,” you whisper, suddenly overcome with something more than yourself. 

He nods before reaching down, grabbing his cock to slide along your folds. “Breathe for me.” 

You nod, face scrunching as soon as he enters. 

As soon as Yoongi senses your discomfort, he stops, instead sliding fingers along your cunt before rubbing your swollen bud. 

“Missed you,” he admits, and you agree with your eyes as you fight back a moan. “So fucking much.” 

“Me, too.” You close fingers around his flexed biceps. “And I messed it all up.” 

You don’t really refer to anything specific. Because in your mind, you just messed things up in general. But Yoongi slowly shakes his head as he claims your lips, pleasuring your folds with a tenderness that blows your mind. 

“None of that,” he murmurs, and you swallow as he moves to insert his cock once more. 

You noticed with admiration that it’s much less of an intrusion this time, him slotting into your center with more ease and almost instant relief for your pulses. 

And just like that. 

He’s inside you. 

And your brother is right next door. 

“Holy shit,” you whisper, inexplicably on the verge of heightened euphoria already. “I’m—”

“Holy fuck.” 

“Yoongi, I—” You’re gonna come already. What the fuck you’re already gonna come? You knew you needed him to ease the ache but you didn’t expect just his ridges resting in your folds to be all it would take. 

“Doll—” 

“Hey!” 

Chills run through your veins, icing your heart over in one swoop. 

Because that was your brother. 

Yelling with a knock from the other side of the goddamn wall. 

…Did he hear you?

The universe can swallow you now.

Petrified and with one foot in the grave, you lock eyes with a Yoongi caught just as off-guard. 

What do you do? What do you do what do you do what do you do?

Blood sucked from every inch of your body, you simply yell back to your ceiling, 

“Yeah…?” 

“Getting food! You want anything?” 

Oh, what the fuck.

You’ve never experienced a more frightening rollercoaster. 

Relief is both fast and yet not enough to calm your racing heartbeat. Trying not to look at Yoongi’s growing grin you can absolutely sense, you shout, “No, I’m good!” 

“K!” 

Holy fuck. 

What in the fuck is happening right now!

“Seriously, check your phone once in awhile, geez.” 

“Good night!” you holler back in response, hoping, praying, begging that it’s the end of a conversation you never, ever wanna have again. 

When you think you hear your brother shut his door, your eyes finally seek Yoongi, who indeed breaks into a shit grin while you try your absolute hardest not to laugh in utter disbelief. 

Because what the fuck just happened! 

“Oh, my god,” you whisper before covering your wild smile with both hands, one laugh escaping your throat. 

Yoongi has to bury his head into your chest to stifle his own, and his body shakes over yours so deliciously that you feel like staying in this position forever.  

You almost cry from your muffled laughter, but it’s Yoongi that makes the next sound. 

And it is not quiet. 

“Baby,” you warn through your grin, and he digs his face deep into your neck while holding you close.

“Stop being so fucking cute,” he groans into your ear. “I might not make it, doll.” 

“Just stay like that.” 

“Uh uh.” He grunts when you laugh again, and he slightly breaks. “This is worse.”

When you chuckle at his predicament, he groans,

“Fuck.” 

“I’m not even doing anything!” you whisper with a smile, and he thoroughly disagrees with despair.

“Yes, you fucking are.”

You think you’re starting to get what he means, because with one twitch of his length, your jaw goes slack. “This—this feels really good.” 

He hisses before breathing onto your skin. “I’m gonna bust if I don’t move.” 

“Just a—little longer,” you gasp, straining your ears to hear any sounds from downstairs.

All you have to hear is the front door close. Once you hear that, you know the coast is clear and Yoongi can teach you all the lessons he wants. 

But holy fuck, this feels fantastic. 

“Babe—” 

“Hold—Hold on,” you breathe, your cunt thrumming around him with pulses so big you have to physically block yourself from coming. After being pulled back from orgasm multiple times tonight, the ache is once again making you crumble. 

But you hear it. 

The front door opening. 

Shutting after a few dreadful seconds. 

And Yoongi breaks down beautifully when you give him the tiniest go-ahead. 

“Fucking finally.” 

The way he rocks into you makes you moan so erotically that even you’re surprised at the sound, your whole body shoved up the bed and an arm flinging back to press against the headboard.  

“Oh, fuck,” you cry out, body bouncing with his insistent strokes as he sets the pace at one-hundred from the start. 

And you don’t blame him in the slightest, widening your legs to give him all the room he needs to wreck your shit, eyes shut in bliss as you hand over control. 

When hot lips close over a nipple, you arch up with a whine, and his hands come around your sides to claw love lines in your back. 

“So fucking nice,” he growls, before sliding a tongue to your other breast, licking in a way that has you zooming to the edge of paradise. 

You’re close. You’re already so close and it’s gonna break you into pieces. “Yoongi!” 

And he seems to sense it because he coaxes you straight through to the end. “That’s it, doll,” he guides, spearing so far into you with his last command, 

“Fucking come.” 

And come you do, light shooting across your vision as your entire body finally erupts, quivering so beautifully violent underneath him. Nothing exists except how you feel—infinite, limitless, fulfilled. Colors fill where the brightness reigned, and you’re quite sure you’re sailing across a vast ocean of spinning stars. 

But your vision slowly returns, with blurred lines and an image of the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen. 

No. Not an image. 

Someone very real, and someone looking at you like they want nothing else. 

“Baby,” you plead, feeling the lust and desire and something even more dangerous rise back to the surface. Because you want more. You need more. “I want… I want—” 

He kisses you deep, and you grip onto his chains. “What do you want, love.” 

“You. Fuck me. Teach me. Do what you want, just”—you pull him in—“I need this—”

Your arms are gripped before they’re pinned above your head just like before, and Yoongi wastes no time in thrusting forward, claiming your lips before you let out a sob. 

His strokes are much harder, much rougher, and they’re exactly what you want. You don’t know when the hell your brother is coming back, so you want to make the most of whatever time you have. And this is exactly what you need. 

Sparks alight in your bones, you tug on his hair, grunting his name and suddenly clamping onto his hips like a vice. 

And he moans in a higher pitch before hissing, surprising you with a goad, 

“Just like that.” 

“Huh?”

“Tug on my shit,” he grits, humming with eyes shut when you yank his head to the side. “Fuck.” 

You’ve forgotten how much he actually likes that, since you apparently go for his hair regularly anyway. But you make it a point to pleasure another part of him, pulling him close and choking him with your other hand.

“More,” you command in his ear, and wings batter your stomach when his curve goes lopsided and his cock twitches in your cunt. 

“Turn around.” 

You groan in want, straining to flip when his cock slips out of your pulsing folds. When your ass comes around, you buck forward with a moan when there’s a sudden bloom of pain. And you whine to the headboard when Yoongi does it again. 

“This fucking ass.” 

You bury your face in the pillows when he takes your cheeks in large palms, molding them before pushing them apart to reveal a view that would make you incredibly shy. 

He lets out a half-grunt, half-hum as he grips your hips, hoisting them up before he grabs a pillow to slide under your belly. When you wiggle your ass, he huffs before slapping his cock against your folds, sliding inside with a frustrated sounding groan.

Pride bursts in your chest when you hear that. Because you’ve heard that one before, and it’s not true frustration. In fact, you’ve let that one out yourself—when you can’t fucking wait to get this man alone. 

Yoongi digs strong fingers into the folds at your hips, and you only get one warning in four words, 

“Bite that fucking pillow.” 

Your teeth close around the case for a single second before you’re open-mouthed, stroke after stroke after stroke making you a useless mess on rented sheets. You don’t even know if you’re saying your thoughts out loud or not, but they’re gibberish anyway, broken syllables and a repeating of his name—over and over and over again. 

Suddenly, a hand closes around your mouth, and Yoongi’s chains slide along your back when he hisses in your ear, 

“The fuck did I say?” 

You let out a high hum in response, completely forgetting that you had one job and you failed at it. But the way he still hasn’t stopped ramming into you makes you crumble on the bed, and you revel in this position of him folding you back and shutting you the fuck up. 

Your mouth is freed before your head is pushed down, and your teeth know what to do as you go straight for the pillowcase, your hand coming up to bunch more of the material inside—

Wait what’s—what’s he—oh, fuck! 

Before you know it, your hands are snatched up, pinned against your back as he launches into a furious pace. “Mmm!” 

“Teach you to think I’m not yours.” 

“B—”

“As if I don’t wanna give you my shit—”

“Fu—!” 

“—so you can walk around everywhere with it on.” 

You scream into the pillowcase, arms thumping onto the bed when he mercifully lets your hands go. Immediately, you brace yourself with sore arms while he tugs on your shoulder, bending you back again and showering you with praise. Like how you’re so fucking hot when you’re mad, and how you’re taking his dick so well. 

You also have praise for him, but you’re very sure yours will come out as screams if you so much as let up off the cloth material. So you can only whine into cotton, tears streaming down your face in rivers. 

The point. You get it. You get it you get it you understand it so fucking well. 

Apparently, this is something you do say out loud, because you’re released back onto the mattress before Yoongi yanks himself out of your throbbing folds. 

Your body is being turned while your eyes struggle to refocus, drool sliding down your chin as you lay flat on your back again. But you can’t do anything about it because he’s already kissing the shit out of you, one hand on your head and the other forearm making a crater out of the mattress at your side. 

You look like a wreck, but your emotions fare far worse. 

Because Yoongi decides to switch up the pace, going slow enough to make you sob into soft lips rubbed raw.

Praise, reassurance, more praise. All of these things fall on your features and into your ears, and you hold onto him as if he’s your last lifeline. 

“God, I can’t wait to feel all of you.” 

And that’s when you break completely, knowing that your eyes are closed and knowing that he’s kissing you deep but seeing him and hearing him so clearly. 

You can’t believe you ever doubted him. A whole two days’ worth of self-loathing and regret floods out of your eyes, and your apologies come out in streams.

“I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t be.”

“I’m so sorry.” 

“It’s on me.”

No, it’s not. All you had to do was ask. You didn’t need to assume shit and there’s no way he could’ve known what you felt unless you told him. 

When you give a vigorous shake of your head, fingers you adore clasp yours, and your hand is pressed into rumpled sheets next to your wet cheek. You’re so caught up and entirely whole that you don’t even realize where you end and he begins, don’t even register that you’re coming again because he’s already made you feel that fantastic. 

But he moans against your mouth before you feel his weight bear down on your chest, and you gently command into his damp strands, 

“Come for me, love.” 

At your whisper, Yoongi relinquishes, coming with force with a bite to your neck—as if that alone would brace himself against the torrent in his own core. Strong arms encase you as he shoves himself inside, and you feel the way he pulses again, and again. And again.

Then everything suspends in the night air. 

When he floats down from his high, his weight is a beautiful burden, and you nestle him into your sweaty chest. Not worried yet about when or how he has to leave, but instead showing him your feelings by running fingers through his hair.

Throat scratched, he tells you that he’s sorry, too.

To which you soothe with a soft, “Don’t be.”

Because you revealed a wound that still hasn’t healed, and he didn’t back away at the sight of it. Instead, he was only upset that it was there in the first place, and proceeded to try and fix it as best as he could.

Who does that? 

Certainly not someone that would hurt you, too.

Yoongi slowly props himself on an elbow to smooth a hand over your tired head. And even though his eyes twinkle with words, he doesn’t utter a single one. 

So neither do you, simply gazing up at your favorite stars and wondering how their beholder outshines every moon. 

“You did so well for me earlier, you know,” he finally says with admiration. “No way you’ve never done that before.”

You simply shake your head, eyes droopy but creased when he smirks in disbelief. 

“What are you doing to me?”

You wearily chuckle before playing with one of his chains, happily reminded that he really got you jewelry, too. 

“Please stay a little longer,” you wish in a wisp. 

And you feel comfort in his surefire, “I will.”

After a quiet, careful cleanup, Yoongi holds you close while you both listen to your TV in bed. 

Your brother had come back while you were both in the bathroom, and the two of you only looked at each other when you heard the next door over close. 

A hushed conversation determined that Yoongi would only stay for a few more minutes, but neither of you bring it up when a whole seventeen of them fly by. 

Instead, he tells you that he knew your brother didn’t do holidays, but he didn’t know you felt the same way about them, too.

You say it’s one of the things you have most in common, but you do kinda want things to be different. Happier. Very much unlike how you felt over the last eight years or so.

“I want them to be memorable in a good way,” you sigh into his bare chest. Content, you realize, “Guess this is a pretty great start.”

Your shoulder is squeezed before you hear a rasp, “Sit up real quick.” 

“Hmm?” When you push yourself upward, Yoongi slowly situates himself against the headboard, and you don’t know where this is… headed… 

He just took off a chain.

“Wait, what are you…” Butterflies fluttering against your ribcage, your breath catches when he drops it into your hand. 

“Keep it.” 

Feeling his warmth lingering on the thin links, you question with everything you have, “…Why?” 

Yoongi simply shrugs. “Just something I wanted to give you a long time ago.” 

“But you already gave me that necklace,” you stutter out, “And apparently went through all that trouble.” 

“Trust me,” he counters, pointing while still planting his hand on the mattress. “You gave me a lot more trouble right before I put that on you the first time.” 

Oh. 

Remembering the night you took him by surprise, you definitely agree with that. 

Speaking of surprises.

“I, umm. I have something for you, too.” 

He blinks twice. “No way?”

Nodding, your smile is big when you slip out of bed, going into your bag and getting out the one thing you bought so far. 

When you hand Yoongi a very familiar pouch, you watch with glee as he opens it, hoping that he’ll like the bracelet with links similar to most of his chains. 

With warmth in your chest, you notice that it best matches the one he just gave you. 

“You weren’t the only one that bought something,” you admit as he looks at you with incredulity. “I, umm. I saw you looking at that and grabbed it. Before we all left that day.” 

“You did that? For me?” 

With just a touch of sorrow, you confess, “I almost kept it for myself after all the… Yeah. But it’s yours. If you want it. Obviously, you can return it if you—” 

He kisses your cheek before whispering, “Thanks, doll.” 

“You’re welcome.” 

“I used to have one like this.” 

“What happened to it?” 

He lays it on his fingers while recalling, voice low, “Think it got stolen. But it’s all good.” 

“If someone steals that one I’m coming for them.” 

A huff. “I wanna see that.” 

“Hey now. This wasn’t cheap, punk.” You gently take his wrist, putting on the bracelet as well as you can with your nails—and shushing his playful roasting when you struggle. When you finally clasp it on, you hold up his arm with a smile. “Look! Now we match.” 

He looks at you with eyes that give you the shivers, his expression one that you wanna sear into your memories forever.

And you can’t believe you’ve been so stupid. “I really am sorry,” you apologize with a heavy heart, cradling his fingers in yours. “I should’ve just trusted you.”

“I get why you don’t.”

Your chest pangs as you close your hold. “Stop. I’ll work on it. Okay?” 

“Me, too.”

This man doesn’t need to be bogged down by what affected you before. Besides, he’s miles above whatever quicksand you found yourself in the last time, so there’s not even a reason to compare.

You can do it. If you can try thinking differently about the holidays, maybe this can be dealt with the same way.

Especially with Yoongi. 

…As long as you can keep whatever this is with him up.

It’s reached that point: the one where you both know a line is approaching and you can’t pass it. 

He’s gonna have to leave soon.

So you hold his hand tighter before both of you peel off the covers, getting up and slowly making your way to the door with his lips secured on yours.

“You okay?” he asks when he grabs his dress shirt to sling on, and when you nod, he nods his head before looking at his buttoning.

You watch, silent, as he puts the rest of his things on, wondering if he expected things to go this way. Because you certainly didn’t, and you couldn’t be happier. 

After all, you got to see a side of Yoongi that you had never seen before. Seeing him take complete control, painting his face even darker shades, watching as enjoyed your reactions…

Wait a minute. 

Hold on a dang second!

Eyes narrowed, you pin him with a glare as he finally finishes putting on his shoes. “Hey, wait…” 

“Huh?”

“You wanted to teach me that you were mine… But I never even got my turn. Shouldn’t we have started with me?” 

Oh, that sneaky man.

He grins so smug that you wanna wipe the whole curve off his face, and his wink makes you gasp before whispering in indignation,

“You little—!”

When he bobs his shoulders in quiet mirth, he enjoys the tiny pout you give. “It wouldn’t’ve lasted long anyway.”

“Now you’re just rude.” 

His lip bite is so handsome that you almost miss the dash of shyness. 

Or was that your imagination?

“Maybe next time, doll.”

Ugh. You huff. “Fine.”

Yoongi slides the door open before checking outside. When the area seems to be clear, he turns to give you a quick kiss before making his great escape, and you watch with awe as he silently makes his way down. 

And to think this is the same guy you had heard stories about back then. Behavior as lethal and punchy as a shot of whiskey but his head matured like fine wine.

You slide the door shut with your head full of thoughts.

Eyes going from the chain in your hand, to the wall that separates you from your brother, you suddenly come up with an idea. 

“What did he want again?”

“I think he said Octo-something,” you wonder to yourself, scouring the liquor bottles in front of you while Namjoon and Seokjin search with equal movements.

With all of your big coats taking up the tiny local store, you muse that it may look a bit silly. Or intimidating. Or both.

“He said Octomore,” Yoongi corrects from a few paces away. And your blood runs cold at Jimin’s glance behind him before he smoothly adds, “Pretty sure he would’ve said that, anyway.”

All the medics. You’re just gonna need all of them.

“That’s it,” you concur before letting out a huff. “There are so many bottles, what the hell?”

Namjoon suddenly straightens and leans to the side. “Wait, that’s a scotch, right, Yoongi?” 

“Yeah.”

“Oh, then why are we—” Your eyes follow as the man strides down to the front of the aisle, checking the signs before spotting what he needed to. “Over here!”

Everyone follows him to the shelves labeled Scotch, with Jimin breaking off to see what Taehyung’s looking at under the Wine sign.

If they buy a bottle, there’s no way it’s not finished by the afternoon. 

Once in the correct place, you notice that there are three Octomore choices, all black or grey cylinders with neat branding. 

Great. 

Seokjin’s quick to ask, “Well, which one?” 

“Hmm.” You think hard about what your brother mentioned before, and finally remember after a few seconds, “He didn’t say, but he said he can’t find it back home.”

Yoongi suddenly rotates one of the containers before his question is full of surprise, “They have this here?” 

“What is that?”

“The twelve point two.” He doesn’t elaborate, but his eyes are confident. “It’s this one.” 

“If you’re sure. How much is it?”

“Too much. But we’ll split it like you said.”

“Okay. Let’s hurry so Hobi doesn’t have the car running too long.”

“K.”

When you both leave the aisle first, you miss the look that Jin shares with Namjoon. 

Your brother’s yell is already worth it.

“What! When did y’all get this?”

“When you and Kook were still snoring.”

“Hey, I don’t snore!”

You speak up while an argument suddenly bursts, “You said something about it last night, and I figured, why the hell not? Eight years is long enough to go without a real gift.”

“But how did you know which one?”

“You can’t find that one anywhere,” Yoongi fills in, and your brother smiles at him before looking down at the bottle with soft eyes. 

“Damn. Thank you.”

“You wanna open it? We can all try some.”

You’re met with laughs from both guys, and they give each other a knowing look before your brother shakes his head.

“Y’all would hate this.”

“Really? Why?”

“You know what they say,” he shrugs, going to the kitchen island before popping open the can. “About fucking around and finding out.” 

Something about that statement makes you hot under your cheeks, and you contain your mischievous smile as you slide eyes to Yoongi. 

Who, unsurprisingly, is fighting back a look of his own.

“Will I really hate it?” you question him as the conversation in the living room fills into the kitchen. 

He shrugs. “It’s all subjective, but. You’ll see.”

And see you do three minutes later, with you wincing and coughing as soon as you sip. 

It tastes like nothing you’ve ever drank before. Why are you tasting rubbing alcohol and firewood? Why are you licking a dying campfire with fruit splattered on top?

You must look thoroughly disgusted because everyone is suddenly laughing, and you slowly shake your head before handing the glass to your brother.

“Worst gift ever,” you insult through a wince, getting more reactions and bobbing shoulders.

“Best gift ever.” Your brother sniffs the scotch before humming. “So good.”

“Well, as long as you’re happy.”

When he looks grateful, you think this can be the new tradition instead: him getting a shitty whiskey and you telling him how horrible his taste is. 

And maybe. Just maybe.

You and Yoongi can stand much closer next season.

You still cannot believe last night happened with no repercussions. After a full last day of the trip, you’re still expecting something to blow. But nothing does. 

However. 

When everyone is enjoying the dinner that Yoongi helped Seokjin cook, Taehyung goes to lean on the wall beside you, voice low as he holds his plate, 

“Heard you had some happy holidays after all.”

Watching the other boys chat and laugh around the living room, you shrug before feigning a sigh. “I mean, as much as I could.” Turning, you apologize, “Sorry about your leg, by the way.” 

He laughs under his breath, and you shoot him a look before his smile turns sly. 

“Don’t even worry about that.”

And your heart stops as he goes to whisper in your ear,

“Jimin and I came back when your brother left. You thought he left you in the house alone?”

You freeze.

The front door.

That’s why it took awhile to close.

Your best friend sounds downright devious as he speaks again, and you can positively say you’ve never heard him like this before, 

“I gotta say… I get it, babe.” 

He smirks while looking away.

“Y’all sound fucking hot in bed.” 

-

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fin. :) 

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how was ittt !! 💌 would you like to buy me a 🍊?

A/N: AHAHAHA SO... how did it go? how did the special that shouldn’t have ever happened turn out? lmfao i really hope you all liked this one. if not, i am so so sorry and you can yell at me. if you liked it, yell at everyone that sent in messages about the window scenario including window anon pfft. also, nicki got the gift of his chains right !! also octomore 12.2 is really desserty!  A/N 2: made a separate blog just for 3tan if you wanna follow @threetangerines​ <3 it’s 3tan unfiltered, so any absolutely filthy asks you would like to send, go ahead and let loose over there! also, the kofi is for any support you would like :D pls don’t feel pressured unless you truly wanna support me in that way and if you’re in a good position to. i appreciate anything i receive there!  ++ feedback box: ⇥ of course, any reblogs/comments/messages are appreciated! ⇥ for the ones that are too shy to reblog with a review, comment on this, or send a message, i went ahead and made another anonymous form where you can send in what you think! ⇥ no emails collected, no need to put in a username. it’s literally just a comment dropbox :D feedback can be as short/sweet or as long as you’d like! ⇥ here! ++ more links: ⇥ three tangerines masterlist ⇥ masterlist 

[alpacaparkaseok]

Taehyung + winter ?

"It's never going to stop snowing, is it?"

Taehyung stands beside you in the bay window, a grin on his face. "Never."

You groan, glancing at the clock on the wall. "How am I supposed to fly out like this? I was supposed to leave for the airport two hours ago!"

Rocking back on his heels, Taehyung watches you stalk back to the kitchen. Rifling through the cupboard until you find a familiar container of hot chocolate. Opening it, you can't help but grin at the half-gone contents.

"We've drunk our weight in hot cocoa," Taehyung teases. "Marshmallows?"

"Please."

Pouring milk into the pan, you set the burner to low and set to stirring it. "I'm sorry about being so lame today...I'm just feeling a little helpless. If we hadn't stayed another night, I would've made my flight."

The decision had been last minute. The rest of your friends left yesterday, but something about the holiday season always made you cling to it as it slipped away. Going home would mean giving in to the fact that you wouldn't see Taehyung for another year.

Between jobs and family and other responsibilities, you hardly ever saw your old roommate anymore. A part of you longed to go back to those college days, when you realized that your roommate Tae wasn't a girl, but a boy. A freakishly attractive, lovable boy, that later became your best friend.

Taehyung nods, grabbing the marshmallows. "Understandable. Although...I can't help but feel a little lucky."

"Yeah?" You bump his hip with yours, passing the spatula. He immediately began stirring in your place.

"Yeah."

"Why's that?" Measuring out the cocoa, you drop it into the milk.

Taehyung continues stirring, chewing on his lip. "I just...miss you, when you're gone. And I always wish we stayed together longer for the holidays."

"Right, let's pretend like you're not at your wit's end after two weeks together for the holidays," you tease. "Do we have whipped cream?"

"In the fridge. And -" Taehyung pauses, turning to look at you. "I mean it. Really."

Fridge wide open, you freeze. Staring back at him, you're reminded of a similar scenario five years ago. Back in your teeny tiny apartment, staying for the holidays when your parents got divorced. Your mom went south to Cancun with her girlfriends and your dad went east, to London. Both had tried to convince you to accompany them, but in the end you decided to stay on Campus.

Taehyung stayed as well. And you made cocoa and watched Hallmark movies and gave each other stocking filled with candy and cheap presents. Thus began the tradition - Christmas together. Whether it was over Christmas day or in the weeks that followed, you always found your way back to each other over the holidays.

"You alright?"

You blink, careening back to the present at breakneck speed. Shutting the fridge, you cross your arms. "Why'd you stay back, that first Christmas together?"

Taehyung turns back to the stove. "What do you mean?"

"You stayed. We both know your family had plans, you could've flown home to spend it with them-"

Turning off the burner, Taehyung spins around. He looks a sight in his bright red sweater and gray sweats.

“No. My flight got cancelled. I had no choice but to stay.”

You take a step back. He’s told you a similar story before, but for some reason you never believed it. That first Christmas spent together was the most mild weather that you can remember in December.

Yet still, he’s lying. You tilt your head to the side. “Really?”

Taehyung’s jaw drops. “Re- yes. Really.”

“Ok. I believe you.” He watches you as you reopen the fridge for the whipped cream. “All finished?”

“Oh, uh, yeah. Finished.”

“Great. Pour it up!” Cheering and clapping, you watch as he pours two mugs full. You do the honors of sprinkling in some marshmallows before topping it all off with hot chocolate.

“A toast,” Taehyung drawls. “To you.” He’s staring into your soul. “And our many years of friendship.”

Friendship. “Right back at ya.”

Together, you drink. When you glance back up at him, Taehyung is watching you with hawk-like focus.

“What?” You ask, defensive.

He shrugs. “It’s just…I haven’t been totally honest with you.”

Your heart drops. “…ok.”

Scratching the back of his neck, Taehyung blows out a breath. “My flight was canceled that first year because - because I canceled it. Personally.”

You freeze, hot chocolate nearly falling from your hands. Slowly, you set it down on the counter. Taehyung follows suit. You turn to face him only to find him already there, mere inches away. He reaches around you to set his drink down beside yours, but doesn't move away.

“You what?” It's hardly above a whisper.

“Canceled my flight so I could be with you. I knew - I knew that you wouldn’t take me up on the offer to return home with me, so I came up with an alternative solution.”

"By...missing Christmas with your family. On purpose."

He shrugs once more. "Yeah. I mean, why not?"

"Why not? Why - I feel like an idiot. I made you feel bad, didn't I? Is that why we still do this every year? Because you...pity me?"

"Wha - no! No, of course not. I don't pity you."

You raise your chin, watching the way Taehyung's eyes dip down to your lips with the action. "Then what? Why?"

He opens his mouth to speak but no words come out. "Uh..."

"Spit it out, Taehyung."

Eyes meeting yours with a flash of something sharp, Taehyung shakes his head. You go to challenge him once more but stop as you feel his hands on you. One hand tracing a line up your arm, the other pushing your hair back.

"Because, I..."

Words fail and he thinks better of it. Instead, he kisses you. Slowly at first, almost hesitant. You melt into him, arms snaking around his neck as he sighs into the kiss. He pulls you closer, smiling against your lips.

Taehyung pulls back just enough to rest his forehead against yours. "Because I wanted to."

Wanted you, are the words he doesn't say. You grin up at him. He smiles back, planting a peck on the tip of your nose.

"What are you thinking?" He whispers. You close your eyes, feeling what its like to be in his arms at last.

"I love winter."

[smartkookiee]

Holy shit I totally forgot I wrote this… I’ll add it to my master list and Merry Christmas to my Jimin girlies???? I wrote this in like 2021 so if it sucks im sooooooo sorry 😭🩵

I might go back in and edit this??? Because I never went in and fixed it (its been 3 years)

// cookies & keys //

Jimin x Reader (f) // one shot

Genre: slow burn, romance, comedy, neighbors au, holiday au, neighbor!jimin, baker!reader

Word Count: 4.06K

Warnings: Swearing, Fluff

Summary: You are in the middle of making cookies for your Christmas eve party that you and your brother, Taehyung, are throwing. Just when you put a batch in the oven, you run to get decorations out of your car. To your discovery,  you have locked yourself out of the apartment, and you need to get some help to get back in before the cookies burn the house down. Luckily a sheepish neighbor boy is around to help out.

_______________________

A/N: This is your present @httpjibooty​ !!! I am your secret Santa, Merry Christmas!! I hope you had a great Christmas! Sorry it took me to get out! I was really busy with Christmas but here you go. I’m so excited to have a new mutual! I really hope you like it. I’m sorry if some parts seem choppy.

This story is also my submission for the @kwritersworld​ Christmas event! I thought this prompt was a perfect Christmas idea and I’m glad to share it with everyone! 

This part is unedited currently so sorry if there are any mistakes, I have dyslexia so I do apologize.

Enjoy!

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“I swear to god, try not to eat the damn decorations.” You stomp around the kitchen at a frantic pace.

“You see you say it’s a decoration but it’s really just the fourth batch of cookies, when you have made six.” Tae takes another cookie from the snowman pile, you snatch it from him just before he took a bite, “Hey!”

“Kim Taehyung, get out of my kitchen. Don’t you have somewhere to be? Aren’t you going to Jin’s game night or something?” You huff and you begin to move all the cookies off the kitchen island onto the counters to keep some space between them and Tae.

“Kim Y/N, No I will not get out of our kitchen. I live here too and I will not take this disrespect.” He put his hands on his hips and pouted. You rolled your eyes.

“You’re my brother, you lost that respect years ago.”

“It’s the Christmas season Y/N why not share the love.” He tried to sneak his way to the cookies again but you grab one of the lean mixing spoons and start hitting him with it.

“Out!” You point the spoon at him. He holds his hands up in surrender.

“Fine, fine. I’m going. You sure you don’t want to go?” Tae begins to walk over to the door and starts to put on his shoes and grab his keys.

“No I don’t want to go. I’m not in the mood to deal with your creepy ass friends before Christmas Eve.” You continue to mix your cookies together again, trying to prep to put another few in the oven. You had two more batches to go. All of these were being prepped for the Christmas even party you both were throwing tomorrow but of course Tae was going to be no help and go off and party.

“Hey they are not creepy!”

“Tae I’m not going to listen to another joke about Jin trying to deck my halls and or jingle my bells.” You start to put new cookie piles on a cookie sheet.

“Point taken. I won’t be gone too long so if you need anything you can call or text okay?” He starts patting his pockets to make sure he has everything.

“Got it.”

Keep reading

[persphonesorchid]

Winter Plume - KSJ

Summary: Seokjin takes you to a cabin in the woods :)

Genre: Fluff, angst :) COH au

Word Count: 4.6k

Warnings: Seokjin gets sad, but he's okay, promise! Implied smut (you'll have to squint) Mc is briefly sick due to divine displacement (lmaooo)

Masterlist

Notes: Another year with COH, and I'm literally so happy, hehe (Has it been two years already? 😭). These two bafoons have come so far. To everyone who's been with them from day one, thank you!! I hope you enjoy another peek into their lives!! It got quite sad...unfortunately, Seokjin just has that vibe...i love you all, enjoy!!

Your head spins and it takes a moment for your brain to catch up and actually feel the solid ground under your shoes. There’s the odd feeling that your innards are shifting and settling back into place. Like something far beyond your comprehension had picked you up, shook you hard and set you back down.  

You wouldn’t be too far off.  

You can just faintly register Seokjin’s wide palm on your back, rubbing in soothing circles. Quite helpful, as it further grounds you. His mouth, however… 

“I did tell you it would be a bad idea.” He says, rather unhelpfully. His tongue clicks against his teeth, “You humans never listen. Your body isn’t made to handle that kind of travel. You’re too stu—”  

“Stubborn, I know.” You say, taking a breath that doesn’t help the feeling that everything in your stomach is trying to escape. Quicker, though, was Seokjin’s way. You were always curious about how he simply appears, if you’re not paying attention, he quite literally pops into existence. Teleportation isn’t like the movies. There wasn’t any flashing lights and wonder. Just a quick displacement, a sickening jolt that left you feeling scrambled.  

Seokjin sighs, voice softer now, “You’ll feel this way for a bit, if you need to throw up, you should. The feeling would linger otherwise.”  

A wave of nausea washes over you, churning in your stomach before your breakfast comes up and out. Seokjin holds your hair back and helps you straighten up when it was over.  

He wraps an arm around your waist, and you lean against him, “Better?”  

You’re still a little dizzy, but you nod. Now that your head is clearer, you can appreciate the fresh air. Where Seokjin has brought you is a cabin in the countryside, something he apparently owns and never told you about. He asked that you spend a couple of days with him here at the beginning of your holiday vacation.  

Despite your discomfort, you’re glad Seokjin teleported you both. There’s a bit of an incline before the ground evens out, and you’re not sure his car could’ve managed the steep, uneven path. The air is sharp and biting, carrying the crisp scent of damp earth and decaying leaves, mingled with a faint chill that nips at your cheeks and fingertips. 

The cabin stands at the end of a well-trodden walkway, surrounded by trees stripped bare of their leaves. Their skeletal branches stretch skyward, creating a lattice against the pale, overcast sky. The damp leaves on the ground form a thin, uneven carpet, their colors muted to deep browns and faded yellows by the cold and moisture. A light frost clings to them, catching what little light filters through the clouds and making the forest shimmer faintly, as though dusted in fine glass. 

The cabin Itself feels like a beacon against the bleakness of the season. Its dark wooden logs gleam slightly from the damp, and the stone chimney sends out faint curls of smoke into the chilled air, promising warmth. The wide, wraparound porch is dusted with frost, and tiny icicles hang from the edges of the railing, glinting faintly like nature’s decorations. Your boots crunch softly against the frozen path leading to the steps, the sound sharp in the stillness of the forest. 

Seokjin’s arm remains firmly around your waist, steadying you against the cold and the lingering nausea. His warmth is a small comfort as you both take in the sight of the cabin, its solitude amplified by the quiet hush of winter creeping in. The frost-covered world around you is still, almost solemn, and yet, for a moment, you feel at peace. Even in this barren, cold season, the forest holds a quiet beauty, the cabin a welcome sanctuary amid the encroaching winter. 

“C’mon let’s get inside.” Seokjin holds your bags and his in his other hand and leads you forward.  

You make it to the porch without much incident, and the blast of warm air that comes out of the cabin when Seokjin opens the door is much appreciated. 

The Inside is all dark wood, the open space of the cabin feeling both rustic and cozy. The floors creak gently under your feet, made of polished hardwood with scuffs and scratches that speak of years of use. A large stone fireplace sits against one wall, its flames crackling and filling the room with a soft, flickering light. In front of it lies a thick, woven rug, its edges slightly frayed but welcoming, as if inviting you to sit and soak up the warmth. 

The furniture is simple and sturdy, built to last. A couch sits in the middle of the room, overstuffed and draped with soft blankets that look handmade. A pair of mismatched armchairs flank it, their cushions plump and slightly worn. Shelves line the walls, holding old books, small jars filled with dried herbs, and a few hand-carved wooden trinkets.  

The kitchen, tucked off to the side, is small but functional. Open shelves display mason jars filled with sugar, dried berries, and other essentials. A black cast iron pot rests on the stovetop, and the faint scent of herbs lingers in the air. There’s a small square table in the center of it all, bare except for an empty glass vase. There’s a small fridge tucked near the wall, gleaming against the light. Where the kitchen ends and the living room behinds, there’s a sliding door that leads out to the porch and doesn’t offer much but naked trees.  

At the back of the cabin, a narrow staircase leads to a small loft. From where you stand, you can see the edge of a bed piled high with thick quilts, their muted colors blending with the natural tones of the cabin. The windows are fogged up from the warmth inside meeting the cold air outside, and the soft light filtering through them adds a gentle glow to the room. 

You take off your shoes, sliding your feet into house slippers Seokjin had set before the landing. He’d disappeared for a couple of hours the day before, never told you what he was up to. You suppose he was getting the place ready.  

“Go sit, I’ll be right back.” Seokjin gently steers you towards the living room and you plop down on the armchair. There’s a creak in the stairs as he goes up them. You gaze around, taking in the room and delighting in the warmth coming from the fireplace. You look up at the few light fixtures, solar powered, must be.  

The taste that settles on your tongue reminds you that you threw up what was possibly a vital organ outside, and stand up, meandering to the kitchen. The fridge is well stocked, and you pull a chilled bottled water from the door, swishing it around in your mouth, you walk down the short corridor under the loft landing and find the bathroom.  

After rinsing, you go back to the living room and sit again, gazing a bit mindlessly out the window on the opposite wall.  

When Seokjin comes back, he’d taken off his jacket and swapped his jeans for soft looking three quarter pants. He glances over at you and pauses, smiling broadly before sauntering over. He stands in front of you, bending a little to cup your cheeks with his hands and tilts your head back. You meet him halfway.  

The kiss is slow, like he's been waiting all day, you hum softly, fingers gently circling his wrist. His laugh is a puff of air across your lips when he pulls back, he swipes his thumb along your bottom lip, something more than fondness in his gaze.  

“We’re all alone.” He says – a kiss to the corner of your mouth – “no one to bother us…”, another, and then he smiles, “what do you want to do?”  

You think, really you do, you had pretty good options. “I’m hungry.”  

Seokjin snorts, closing his eyes, he nods. “Of course you are.”  

You smile innocently and Seokjin lightly flicks your forehead, “Do you want anything specific?”  

“No, anything is fine.” You stand and he takes a half step back, “Thank you.” 

Seokjin waves a hand, and the tells you to get comfortable. So, you go up to the loft, climbing the stairs as Seokjin busies himself in the kitchen.  

Reaching up on the landing, you find a bed that can easily fit four people, covered in a yellow patterned sheet and baby blue comforter. Thrown over that is a checkered quilt and more pillows you think the both of you would need. There’s a small window to the far right, the soft light muted by the short, dark curtain that hangs in front of it.  

You glance around, finding the chest of drawers tucked in a corner. Seokjin placed everything you’d need quick access to on the top in neat little rows, and packed the clothes you’d brought for the week in the two top drawers. You walk over, poking through the folded clothes to find something to lounge around in, and settled on a tee-shirt and long cotton pants.  

It's only mid-day, and you wonder if you’d actually be able to stomach anything after earlier. You trail back down the stairs, following the smell of toast and eggs to the kitchen.  

Seokjin slides you a plate, nibbling on toast, “Gotta eat light for now.” He says, smiling softly around his piece of bread. “I’ll cook something later.”  

The day goes by without much fanfare, there’s no TV here but you don’t mind it, you and Seokjin find lots of ways to entertain yourselves.  

Night comes quickly, and the drop in temperature was expected, but no less jarring. You and Seokjin have bread, cheese and fruit by the fire, laying on your tummies talking about nothing in particular. Your fingers disappear in the rug, fishing for a crumb of something you dropped – Seokjin had an easier time finding it.  

The night deepens, the chill creeping into the cabin despite the faint warmth lingering from the fireplace below. You stand near the loft window, watching your breath fog the glass. The bare branches outside are stark against the velvety darkness, the frost glittering faintly under the moonlight. Behind you, Seokjin moves quietly, the sound of rustling fabric and the faint creak of the bed barely breaking the stillness. 

“You’ll freeze standing there,” he murmurs, his voice soft, carrying the care you’ve grown used to. 

You don’t respond immediately, instead tracing patterns on the frosted glass with your fingertip. “It’s so quiet out here,” you say after a beat. “Peaceful.” 

Seokjin hums in agreement, his footsteps light as he crosses the small loft. You barely hear him until his arms encircle your waist, his chest pressing against your back. His warmth seeps through the layers of your clothes, chasing away the chill that had begun to settle in. 

“Still cold?” he asks, his chin resting lightly on your shoulder. 

“A little,” you admit, leaning into him. 

Without a word, Seokjin takes your hands, his touch gentle as he turns you to face him. His thumbs rub slow circles into your palms as he studies you, his gaze steady and soft. “Come to bed,” he says finally, the corners of his lips quirking in a small smile. “I’ll keep you warm.” 

You laugh quietly, but let him lead you to the bed. The layers of quilts and blankets seem even more inviting now, and you sink into them as Seokjin tucks you in with an almost absurd level of precision. 

“Do you do this with all the girlies you bring here?” you tease, watching as he adjusts the corner of the quilt near your shoulder. 

Seokjin’s laugh is low and warm, his eyes crinkling as he sits on the edge of the bed. “Only the ones who insist on standing by the window when it’s freezing outside.” 

You grin, tugging at his wrist until he lies down beside you. The bed dips under his weight, and he turns on his side to face you. You’re both close, the cold outside forgotten in the shared warmth of the bed. 

“You’re warm,” you mumble, already feeling the pull of sleep. 

He smiles, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “Good,” he says softly. “I like knowing you’re comfortable.” 

The words linger between you. You reach for his hand under the blankets, lacing your fingers together. His grip is steady, grounding, and you close your eyes, feeling a deep, quiet contentment settle over you. 

The faint crackle of the fire below drifts up to the loft, a soothing backdrop to the soft rise and fall of your breaths. Outside, the frost thickens, and the wind whispers through the trees, but within the cabin, there’s only warmth. Only you and Seokjin, cocooned in your own little world. 

In the early morning, you woke briefly, stirring for only a minute when Seokjin brushed his lips against your forehead.  

When you actually wake, the missing warmth enough to pull you out of sleep, Seokjin isn’t there. You can make out the soft sounds of him moving about below, and blearily clamber out of bed. You peek over the railing of the loft, spotting him moving from the living room to the kitchen.  

You go down, standing at the bottom of the stairs, and –  

“…Why are you dressed like that…?” You scan Seokjin’s form, the khaki shorts, knee high socks and army green cargo vest. The floppy hat on his head does just so –- flops –- as he crouches to pack small containers into a larger container. There’s a medium sized blue cooler at the kitchen sliding door, and you only catch his smile when he stands.  

“I’m going fishing.” He says, and you make a confused sound at the back of your throat. He chuckles, “There’s a lake.”  

“There’s a lake?” You repeat, surprised. “Can I come with you?”  

There isn’t much to do, not that you’re complaining. Seokjin asked you here to spend time with him, so you’re going to do just that. 

“If you want, yeah.” Seokjin smiles, “the temperature dropped lower this morning, so wear warm clothes.”  

When you step outside, after freshening up and changing, you can see your exhale. Your breath fogs up before disappearing, and you bury your nose in your scarf. Seokjin looks perfectly content, and you’re glad you’re the only two people around for miles. If someone sees him dressed like that they’d surely think he’s crazy.  

Off to the side of the cabin, where you’re pretty sure the bathroom is, is another room. Seokjin walks over to it, and from where you’re standing, when he opens the door, you could see a bunch of stuff on shelves. He reaches in and pulls out a large fishing rod and closes the door again.  

You follow him through the forest for about a minute, holding the blue cooler – filled with ice – and just listening to the sound of the forest. It’s quiet, but you think it only seems unnaturally so because you’re so used to the sounds of the city. There’s no screeching horns or cellphones ringing. Just the wind whispering through the trees, the calls of birds and the soft crunch of early winter frost under your boots.  

There’s a dock without a boat not to far, the lake looks only partially frozen.  

The dock comes into view, weathered wood stretching out over the lake’s mirrored surface. Frost clings to its edges, and the planks creak softly under your boots. The lake itself is a still expanse of dark water, rimmed with the beginnings of ice creeping out from the shoreline. Seokjin pauses at the edge of the dock, securing his rod against a post before glancing back at you. 

“Careful,” he says, gesturing to the frost-slicked planks. “Don’t want you sliding in. The water’s colder than it looks.” 

You glance at the lake, shivering at the thought of falling in. “Isn’t it a little… frozen?” 

“Not yet,” Seokjin says, crouching to set the rod up. “The top layer’s just forming. Fish are still active underneath, though slower. Perfect time to catch them off guard.” He grins, pulling a small container of bait from the cooler. 

“So,” you say, watching him expertly hook the bait, “what kind of fish are we going for? Anything specific?” 

“Mostly trout,” he replies. “The lake’s stocked, and this time of year they’re fattened up. It’s like nature’s way of prepping them for a nice meal.” He casts the line out, the lure arcing through the chilly air before disappearing into the water with a soft plunk. 

“And what are you planning to do with them?” you ask, gesturing to the cooler. It’s pretty obvious, you like listening to him, though.  

“Lunch,” he says simply, glancing at you. “Fresh-caught fish, grilled over an open flame? Add some lemon, garlic, maybe a little butter… It doesn’t get any better than that.” 

He hums, tilting his head back, “Or maybe some broth? Might be better with this cold.”  

You shrug a shoulder, “I’ll eat whatever.”  

Seokjin pokes at your tummy with a long finger, chuckling, “Yes…I know.”  

The cabin is quiet save for the faint crackle of the fireplace downstairs. You lie beneath the thick quilts in the loft bed, staring at the ceiling as shadows dance across the wood from the dim light outside. The snow has grown heavier, blanketing the world beyond the fogged windows in soft, silencing layers. The cold creeps into the edges of the room, but the bed is warm, and Seokjin’s warmth is even closer. 

He’s beside you, propped on his elbow, his gaze fixed on you with an intensity that feels almost fragile. You turn your head to meet his eyes, and his expression stops you short. There’s something weighted there, something unspoken, and it presses against your chest like an ache you don’t understand. 

“Seokjin?” you whisper, your voice barely audible. 

He blinks slowly, as though waking from some far-off thought. His lips quirk into a small smile, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. Instead, he lifts a hand, brushing the backs of his fingers along your cheek, his touch so gentle it makes your heart clench. He looks like he’s studying you, in that way he used to before.  

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs, his voice low and tinged with a sorrow he’s trying to hide. His thumb brushes over your bottom lip, lingering there for a moment before he sighs. It’s soft, almost imperceptible, but you feel it like the faintest crack in the stillness of the night. 

“What’s wrong?” you ask, reaching up to cover his hand with yours. 

He shakes his head, his smile tightening, as though he’s afraid the truth might spill out if he speaks. Instead, he leans in, pressing a kiss to your forehead, then your temple, before trailing to the corner of your mouth. Each kiss feels deliberate, like he’s memorizing you, piece by piece. 

“Nothing,” he whispers at last, but his voice betrays him, trembling ever so slightly. 

When his lips finally meet yours, it’s slow and searching, as though he’s afraid it might be the last time. The sadness in him is palpable now, woven into every touch, every lingering glance. His hand trails down your arm, his fingers threading through yours, holding on like he’s trying to anchor himself to this moment, to you. 

“Seokjin,” you say again, your voice firmer, but he only shakes his head once more, pressing his forehead to yours. 

“Let me have this,” he murmurs, his breath warm against your lips. “Just…please.”  

The snow falls harder outside, but the world feels small and still here in his arms. He moves closer, his body pressing against yours as his hand finds the curve of your waist. His touch is reverent, almost hesitant, and you feel the weight of his love, so full it’s breaking him. 

The night stretches on, filled with kisses that taste like sorrow, touches that linger as though he’s afraid to let go. You don’t press him for answers, though your heart aches to. Instead, you hold him, let him pour every unspoken word into the quiet intimacy you share. 

Later, as you lie tangled together beneath the quilts, his arms wrapped around you tightly, you feel a single tear slip from where his face is buried against your hair. You don’t say anything, don’t move, just tighten your hold on him and hope that he feels it. 

The snow keeps falling, and Seokjin clings to you like you’re the only warmth left in the world. 

You go down the stairs the next morning, yawning, the cold seeps in through the floor. The fireplace smolders, little crackling pieces of embers that do jack all to warm the place. There’s a sort of white blue look, as twilight recedes to make room for dawn. Shadows clings to the furniture and walls still. You’re glad you pulled the quilt with you, it shields you from the cold, even just a bit.  

You peek at the kitchen’s sliding door, and just spot the outline of Seokjin standing on the wrap around porch. You hold the quilt tighter, a hand leaving the warmth of it to slide the door open. Seokjin doesn’t turn, but you know he’s aware, probably knew the minute you woke up. He’s wearing a very thin tee-shirt and soft plaid pajama bottoms, which, would’ve been a cause of concern had he not been what he is.  

It's colder out here, and you quickly shuffle over to him, wrapping your arms around his middle and rest your cheek against his back. His hand is warm when he brushes it along your arm, and then, takes your fingers, lifting one of your hands up to press a fleeting kiss.  

Somewhere east, there’s a mountain that the sun hides behind, muted by winter, there’s not much of sunrise to see. The snow clings to the bare trees. 

Seokjin doesn’t say anything for a while, and you stand there, breathing in sync with him.  

“It’s cold.” He says, after a moment, “you should go back inside.”  

There’s something in his voice, the same sadness from last night. You don’t push him, you’re aware of what gets him in his head if he's allowed to think for too long. It bothers you though, the way it clings to him like a shadow that doesn’t shy away from the light. Like the dawn, he’s a little blue, the brightness of him muted.  

“Come back with me?” You mumble softly, squeezing his fingers gently.  

“In a moment, sweet girl.” His tone is fond, still soft and still a little sad. But again, you’re not going to push. You nod, unwrapping you’re arms from him, and he turns slightly to face you. He’s looking somewhere above your head, and even as he brings his gaze down, he doesn’t look you in the eye.  

He cups your cheek with a hand, thumb brushing softly against it and finally meets your eye. He leans down a little, kissing your forehead before he motions at the sliding door with his chin. “Go on, I’ll be right there.”  

You do as he ask, going back inside, and over to the living room. You sit on the couch and you wait for him. He’s inside not long after, his bare feet and the ends of his pants are damp with melting snow. He throws two logs into the fireplace and pokes around it quietly for a long time. You watch his movements with a careful eye, as he places the poker against the wall.  

He stands and meanders over to you, sitting down before he shifts you about, laying behind you. He doesn’t need the blanket, but you turn to face him, sharing it anyway. He observes you silently, then, he takes a breath.  

“Sometimes I feel like I’ll wake up.” His brows furrow and he looks beyond you.  

“Jin, I’m right here.” Your fingers brush his chin.  

“I know.” He kisses your brow, and lingers, “I’m sorry…I just…”  

“It’s okay,” softly, you trace your finger along the collar of his shirt, “if it helps, I feel like I’d wake up too. But I’m here, okay?”  

You pull away to catch his gaze, and he smiles. It’s small and fleeting, but it reaches his eyes this time, softening the weight he’s carrying. “Thank you,” he whispers, his voice steadier now. 

You shift closer, your hands moving to rest over his chest, feeling the gentle rhythm of his heartbeat. “I’m here, Jin,” you say again, firmer this time, anchoring the words between you. “Always.” 

He hums, a sound low and soothing, and wraps his arms around you, pulling you closer under the quilt. “I know,” he says softly, pressing another kiss to your forehead. His lips linger there, warm and grounding, and you feel the tension in his frame start to ease. 

“Do you think it’s snowing again?” you ask suddenly, your voice light. 

His brow lifts, curious, before a smile tugs at his lips. “Why don’t you check?” 

You grin, slipping out of his hold despite his playful groan of protest. Padding over to the window, you peek outside and turn back to him with a delighted laugh. “It is! Big, fluffy flakes this time.” 

Seokjin leans up on one elbow, his expression softening even further as he watches you. “You look like a little kid right now,” he says, his voice warm, affectionate.  

“Come look,” you urge, waving him over. He stands, taking his time, and joins you at the window, his arm coming around your shoulders. Together, you watch the snow falling gently outside, the world hushed and serene. 

For a moment, there’s only quiet, and then he murmurs, “We should build a snowman later.” 

You laugh, leaning into him. “You just want an excuse to throw snowballs at me.” 

He feigns innocence, but his grin gives him away. “Would I do that?” 

“Yes,” you say, laughing again. “Yes, you would.” 

And at that moment, with the snow falling and his warmth steady beside you, the sadness that lingered earlier feels a little smaller, a little further away.  

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