#me: a yoongi's nose enthusiast

[illeee-girl]

You Infire Me Chapter Thirty: Epilogue

yoongi x reader genre: fluff warnings: none word count: 1.5k

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“Love is like a friendship caught on fire. In the beginning a flame, very pretty, often hot and fierce, but still only light and flickering. As love grows older, our hearts mature and our love becomes as coals, deep-burning and unquenchable.” — Bruce Lee

It had been hours since you’d gotten off the phone with your agent, but only minutes since you’d arrived home from your doctor’s appointment. The two very routine tasks had turned extraordinary very quickly, and you were hardly able to process any of it.

Your novel had been picked up by a publisher.

And . . .

Yoongi bursts through the front door of your apartment.

“There’s my wife!” He enthusiastically exclaims, dropping his backpack and throwing his suitcase to the side. You run over to him, and he throws his arms around you, enveloping you in the scent of his clean cologne and showering you with a million kisses to your forehead and nose—and then one long, lingering one to your lips. “God, I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you too,” you sigh. “Two months apart is far too long. How was Seoul?”

He half-sighs, half-groans. “Crazy as ever. Concerts, interviews, TV appearances–” He stops himself. “What is it? What’s wrong? You look tense.” His hands run up and down your forearms, his eyes stare at you imploringly. Tell me, they say.

Though you’ve been married for five years, and you trust Yoongi with your life, you’re still you. Big news still comes with an element of apprehension.

“Yoongs, I . . . I went to the doctor today, and . . .” You let your voice trail off, unable to complete your sentence quite yet. You cross over into your apartment’s small white kitchen and begin to make a pot of tea. You fish around in the cabinets for Yoongi’s favorite kind. I know he’s got to be so jetlagged, you consider. Maybe some tea will help him fall asleep tonight.

“My Y/N,” he comes up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist, a hand settling on your abdomen. His voice then cracks a bit as he says, “Whatever it is . . . you can tell me. We’ll get through it together. We have enough money to get you the best treatment, and I’ll be by your side the whole time.”

You tighten your muscles in shock. How does he know?

You begin to breathe rapidly, stopping your search for the teabags. “I know,” you say. “I know. It’s scary—it’s totally scary.”

“Oh baby, don’t be scared,” you feel his arm muscles flex around you, drawing you into him. “If there’s anyone who can do this, who can get through this, it’s us.”

You break away from his embrace, turning to face him, painting a look of confusion on your face. “Well I . . . I don’t know if I would describe it as something to get through. It makes the future a bit more uncertain, yes, but also a bit more exciting.”

Now it’s Yoongi’s turn to look confused. “Exciting?”

He breaks out in sobs, face and eyes turning red as a rose.

“What part of me losing you could ever be exciting?”

What? He thinks . . .

You laugh. You cackle. You grin.

“Oh, Yoongs,” you wrap him in a hug as his body shakes, tears falling onto your shirt. “Yoongi, I’m not dying. I’m pregnant.”

You hear his breath hitch in his lungs before you hear him stammer, “Y–You’re pregnant?”

You take his face in your hands, forcing him to look you in the eyes. “Mm-hmm,” you nod. “With twins.”

His lips part in astonishment.

“I,” you laugh, “I thought I had a food allergy or something, cause I kept getting sick. But when I went and saw my doctor, she thought it might be something else, and she was right. I took a test, and then they did an ultrasound, and sure enough . . .”

He smiles his signature gummy grin and leans into you. “We’re having a baby?” He shakes his head, then corrects himself. “We’re having babies!”

You nod. As Yoongi’s eyes fill with a different kind of tear, you’re unable to hold them back yourself.

“I–I’ve been gone for two months,” his voice wobbles. “They are mine, right?”

You slap his arm. “Of course they are, idiot.” You roll your eyes. “I’m just—I’m fourteen weeks along. I’ll start to show soon. And . . .”

His eyes widen. “There’s more?”

“Well, because of how far along I am, they could tell the gender, and . . .”

You rush into the living room to grab the pictures from your purse. Your husband follows.

“We’re having twin girls!”

If his jaw previously dropped to the floor, it has now reached the center of the earth.

“They’re both girls?!” He grabs the stack of ultrasounds from you and shuffles through him, eyes glistening with fresh tears and newfound love.

You nod. “And I’m thinking of naming them both after Jimin.” Yoongi glares at you. “What? It was my turn to crack a joke.”

He quickly forgives you, drawing you to him and placing a kiss on your belly. He sighs. “Why were you so nervous to tell me?”

“Well, there’s this, and–”

“There’s even more?” He gapes. Then he looks around. “Did you get me a puppy?”

You laugh. “No. But I did get an offer from a publisher just this morning!”

“Y/N! Congratulations!” He picks you up in his arms and spins you around. “Oh. Maybe I shouldn’t have done that. We have to be very careful, what with your condition and all.”

You smile, his words arriving at your ears unexpectedly sweet. “I know you’ll take good care of me. Now, carry me to bed? And order in some fried chicken? I’m eating for three, now, you know.”

He nods, picking you up bridal style and carrying you into your bedroom. You almost shed more tears as he sets you down gently and lies beside you; you’ve missed—endlessly missed—falling asleep and waking up next to him. You brush away a stray strand of long, dark hair that falls across his face as he rests his head on his pillow.

“So . . . you’re happy?” Your hand rests on his cheek. “How do you feel?”

“I feel,” he holds your palm to his lips and kisses it, “like I’ve never been happier than I am at this moment.”

Your lips spread in a smile as you watch his eyes, so desperately joyful. It is an expression not even the best of actors could imitate.

“And you, my beautiful, genius, amazing Y/N—how do you feel?”

You’ve felt a lot of things in your lifetime: anger, disgust, panic, sadness, distress, hopelessness—and you’ve felt them travel through you in a repeating cycle, seemingly stripping your life of all light and your soul of all energy. Trying to block out any and all happiness, any and all hope. Unlike Captain Wentworth in Persuasion, you weren’t “half agony, half hope.” You were, often—if not always—wholly in misery. Consumed by darkness.

But if the past six years of your life have taught you anything, it’s that you’re never alone in experiencing those kinds of feelings—that kind of false reality your brain tried to shadow over your life. Yoongi had felt it, too. He still does. You still do. The difference is, now, you can feel it together. The darkness is certainly still terrible, and sometimes, it seems eternal. But never is it  lonely. Not anymore.

You close your eyes as you read the scenes from the past six years in your mind like a novel. Meeting him on that café bench. Hearing him play his song on the guitar. Walking alongside him on Halloween night. Kissing him in the rain in DC. Marrying him on a boat at Niagara Falls. Getting an apartment together in NYC. Holding his hand at your graduation from NYU. And now, telling him that you were about to become a published author and a mother.

All of these moments had carried undertones of anxiety. They never fully went away. But . . .

“I feel,” you open your eyes, “that ‘when pain is over, the remembrance of it often becomes a pleasure.’”

He smirks. “Persuasion?”

You nod shyly. “How did you know?”

“It’s always Jane Austen with you. And you’ve read it to me seven times.”

“Which you thoroughly enjoyed. Oh!” You gasp. “Can we name the babies Elinor and Marianne? Like the sisters from Sense and Sensibility?”

He laughs, wrapping his body around you. “Let’s table the whole naming discussion for another time. You have a publishing company to call, and I have fried chicken to order.”

He climbs off the bed, saunters into the living room, and leaves you to call and accept the book offer. In just a little over seven months, you and Yoongi will be carrying two little baby girls past New York City bookstores carrying copies with your name on the covers. The surrealism causes you to wonder if all the joy you’re feeling will last into tomorrow.

Oh, never mind tomorrow, you chide yourself. Let tomorrow bring what it may. Today, I have a promising future as an author, two little ones growing inside of me, and a husband who understands me completely and will never leave my side.

All in all, I’d say that’s a victory.

“There could have been no two hearts so open, no tastes so similar, no feelings so in unison.”

—Jane Austen, Persuasion

[sugakookie]

it’s that time of night again...where i get emo over how cute yoongi’s nose is

[casuallyimagining]

Home (15)

Hybrid Min Yoongi x Female Reader; Platonic OT7 x Female Reader; Namseok; Jinkook

Summary: After helping Yoongi get away from his abusive former owner, you’re left to focus on your relationship and how it progresses. That is, until you find six other hybrids who need your help, and their former owner decides he’s going to make your life hell. Genre: hurt/comfort, angst, fluff Word Count: 1,788 Rating: M Warnings (updated per chapter): stalking, wild animal attack, major character injury, blood, implied homophobia, slight internalized homophobia, starvation, hospitalization, discussion of sexual assault, discussion of physical assault, discussion of controlling behavior

Major thanks to @eatjeanjin for beta-ing this and for listening to me complain almost constantly. You’ve been nothing but helpful and sweet, and I’m so grateful for your opinions and assistance.

banners by @mintkims

Sequel to Fix You. Read it first.

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You could hear Hobi giggling outside on the stoop, even with the door closed. Your phone rang 20 minutes ago, the person on the other line asking for the viper hybrid in a very professional voice. You had handed the phone over dutifully, and Hobi had gone outside for some privacy. It had been almost a month since he and Namjoon had applied to a few jobs in the neighborhood, and while they had both been on a few interviews, neither had heard anything definite.

Judging by the sheer amount of giggling he was doing, he had finally gotten an answer.

Yoongi shifted, his head lolling to the side in your lap. He put his book down spine-up on his chest to save his place. His ears twitched against your hand, flicking indignantly as you traced a finger through the soft fur of their backs. “He’s going to be embarrassed if he comes back in and we’re both just sitting here listening to him.”

You hummed, your hand moving from playing with his ears to running through his hair. “He’ll live.”

He laughed through his nose just as the door opened. Hobi walked in, his bare feet padding across the wooden floor the only sound in the room. It was quiet for a moment as the viper hybrid walked into the living room and handed you your cell phone. You raised an eyebrow as you took it from him, a silent ‘well?’ to prompt him into sharing.

“I uh…” Hobi cleared his throat, a small, nervous cough. “I got the job.”

You grinned at him, offering him an enthusiastic thumbs-up. Yoongi shot up from his place in your lap, a wide, gummy smile on his lips.

“Hobi, that’s great!” you told him happily, accepting his outstretched hand when he reached for you and giving it a squeeze.

“Which place?” Yoongi questioned, catching Hobi as he fell into his chest in an attempted hug.

“The shelter on Longfellow Avenue.”

Longfellow Avenue was a 30-minute walk away if he cut through the park, and while you had never been to the shelter, Hobi had really enjoyed the atmosphere when he went in for his interview. It was more than just a homeless hybrid service. It provided resources for a variety of hybrid needs. They needed a cleaner and someone to help out with making meals every once in a while.

Hobi shifted his hug to you, and you held him briefly until you felt him pull away slightly. “When do you start?”

“Next Monday.”

“Hobi, seriously that’s great.” You reached over and fluffed his hair gently, your hand running over the tiny scaled horns on his head. He leaned into your touch. “I’m really proud of you.”

Suddenly, his golden eyes widened, and he jumped away. “I have to go tell Namjoon!” he exclaimed before scuttling down the hallway. You heard the door to their bedroom open and shut.

After a moment, Yoongi scooted closer to you on the couch, picking his book back up and reopening it to where he left off. He leaned into your side, your arm moving to wrap around his shoulders and hold him closer.

“When’s Taehyung’s meeting with Hwang?” he asked absently, turning the page in his book.

“Tuesday.”

“You going with him?”

You shook your head, reaching for the remote. “He wanted to go alone.”

Yoongi hummed. “Good for him.”

You scrolled through the channels, attempting to find something even remotely interesting to watch. Normally, you wouldn’t have hesitated to put on an episode of Yoongi’s favorite bar renovation show, but you were mostly caught up by now, having only a couple episodes left before you had to switch over to watching the new episodes live. And neither of you were capable of really following a tv schedule.

He readjusted, resting his head on your shoulder. The mid-afternoon sun streamed through the window, its beam falling on his torso. You knew that, between the warmth of the sun, the cuddles, and the quiet of the house with Jungkook and Taehyung out on a walk, Yoongi would be asleep soon. He loved an afternoon nap more than he loved most things. He snuggled in, his nose brushing against your neck. You felt him inhale slowly before letting it out, his body deflating and relaxing against you. You ran a hand through his hair, turning your head and pressing a kiss between his ears.

He was out before you even settled on something to watch.

A few days later, you helped Yoongi make dinner. He had seen a recipe for a cheesy pasta dish that he wanted to try, and you loved watching him work in the kitchen. Plus, you were sick of staring at your computer, and Jungkook’s boundless energy was a little too much for you to handle all the time. So hiding in the kitchen with your favorite kitty worked out perfectly for you.

Yoongi was a great chef on his own, but he never turned down your help. The two of you worked well together. You weren’t a bad cook yourself, but Yoongi tended to give you smaller tasks--chopping vegetables, making side dishes, those types of things. You didn’t mind. He liked cooking, liked the freedom it provided him, so you were happy to play his sous chef when he needed one.

When you had asked if he wanted help, Yoongi had handed you a knife and a pile of vegetables, setting you to task making a salad. He hated bagged lettuce, so you had taken the time to rip lettuce off the head and into manageable chunks. You were chopping onions when you saw Namjoon enter the kitchen, his ears on alert, but his tail hanging hesitantly behind him.

“Food will be done in 10 minutes,” Yoongi told him, the cat hybrid barely glancing up from the dish he was washing.

“Thanks, hyung.” Namjoon’s deep voice was soft. He sat down at one of the stools at your island. “Can I talk to you both?”

Yoongi’s head immediately shot up, his ears immediately snapping to focus on Namjoon. “What’s wrong?”

“I got a phone call today.” Namjoon sighed. You looked to Yoongi and he shrugged. You had no idea where the wolf was going with this, and quite frankly, you were a little worried. Luckily, you didn’t have to wait long. “They offered me that job at the park.”

“Namjoon!” Yoongi exclaimed, putting the pan he was rinsing down in the drying rack.

“That’s great!” you told him, setting your knife down.

The wolf hybrid shrugged, his tail barely lifting from behind him. “I don’t know if I’m going to take it. I told them I’d call them back.”

Yoongi’s brow furrowed. “Why?”

“It’s only part-time,” Namjoon said softly. “And it’s only minimum wage.”

“So?” You held back a laugh. “Namjoon, that’s great. Isn’t that the job you wanted?”

“Yeah, but I didn’t realize it would pay so little.”

“That doesn’t matter,” you told him, frowning.

“But I won’t be able to help out as much!”

You shrugged. “Yeah, but this is, like, everything you wanted, right? It’s outdoors. It’s close-by. It’s a good job, Namjoon. If you want it, go for it.”

“I just feel like I should pull my weight. Set a good example.”

You sighed. You wanted Namjoon to enjoy his job, even if it wasn’t the most well-paying. Anything was better than nothing.

“So pull your weight,” Yoongi said flatly, his attention returning to the dishes in the sink. “It doesn’t have to be monetary. Figure out how you can be most useful and do it.”

Namjoon’s mouth snapped shut, and for a moment, you could see him thinking. You’d never heard Yoongi talk like that to anyone before, although you supposed that he was older than Namjoon, and he could throw around that weight a bit when he needed to.

It was apparently effective.

Namjoon’s ears relaxed slightly, his tail giving a tentative wag behind him. After a moment, he nodded. “If you’re sure?”

“I don’t want you to be miserable at your job, Namjoon,” you told him honestly. “If you really want this, take it.”

His tail wagged again, more excited this time. “I’ll call them back tomorrow.”

Meal times were interesting with five additional hybrids in the house. You didn’t have a table--you didn’t even have room for a table--so you had to get creative. When it was just you, you ate wherever you wanted, whether that was standing over the kitchen sink, holed up in your office, or lounging on the couch. Then, as Yoongi started to cook more, you started using your island and the barstools.

But because you only had two barstools, things changed once again when Namjoon and Hobi, and then Taehyung and Jungkook, joined the pack. That was when you moved from the kitchen island to the living room, the six of you usually turning on some sort of movie or show to keep you occupied while you ate.

Yoongi always sat to your left, both of you claiming the couch as your designated spots. Jungkook sat on the floor directly in front of you, his back against your legs, his tail thumping happily against the hardwood floor as he ate. The other three didn’t have set spots, choosing instead to sit wherever their hearts desired in the moment.

Jungkook leaned his head against your knee, his ears coming dangerously close to flopping into your pasta. You moved them gently away from your plate, but he flicked them back and you gave up.

“Are you excited to start work, Hobi-hyung?” the pup asked, taking a sip of his puppy milk protein shake.

Hobi nodded vigorously, his tongue peeking out from between his lips. Normally, he was disciplined in suppressing his snake-like behaviors, but you noticed that when he got excited, he became more lax. Suddenly, his eyes widened as if he had thought of the most amazing idea.

“I can walk you to work every day, Namjoon!” he said reverently, his hands covering his mouth. Namjoon laughed, hearty and full, and playfully cuffed Hobi on the ear.

Taehyung and Jungkook both giggled, the pup leaning into you for support as he did. You didn’t miss the panther hybrid’s eyes darting to you briefly, and you smiled at him gently. He returned it almost immediately, a wide, boxy grin spreading across his face like wildfire. Beside you, you heard a soft, stuttering purr start to rumble in Yoongi’s chest.

You hummed to yourself, taking a bite of your pasta. You never would have dreamed that you would find so much happiness just sitting in the middle of your own little pack of misfit hybrids, watching some random made-for-tv movie.

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[yimejk]

Bts Reaction When You fall Asleep On Top Of Them

Seokjin:

At first he didn't pay attention to you. Too engrossed into movie about two lovers who have madly fell in love imaging you and him with tham sams scenarios that occured in the film. But he was pulled from his dreamy thoughts when he felt you shift and your little precious form laying at his side of body. Ever so slowly he pulled your body flush to his and gentle kissed your cheek. With a quite murmured goodnight and content smile he followed you into yours imaginary paradise.

Yoongi:

It was a cloudy day. The tale tale sight of pouring rain awaiting. On days like this it was great way to tak advantage of Y/n's affection. So when I heard the first drops of rain I pulled Y/n into my lap. She cutely snuggled in my neck. She made a sound alike a purr. I proudly grinned. Satisfied to have this affect on her made me feel so nice. I am glad she already started relying on me more

Namjoon:

It was midnight when I heard tossing. Sheets were sprawled everywhere. I looked right to see sweaty Y/n. I reached for her forehead to acknowledge she has fever. I gently sat her up. I pulled her top through jer head. She flinched from the sudden cold. I quickly discarded it into a laundry bin. It was all wet. I gave her one of my t-shirts. I made her take a pill. She drank a big gulps of water. When she was done I pulled her to lie at me and we then were drifting off again.

Hoseok:

Today marked the 62. day. It was our anniversary. I was beyond the clouds. I suggest to my dear wifey Y/n to have picnic in backyard. She enthusiastically confirmed she would gladly. Now we are laying at the soft blanket. With full belly we fell asleep. I woke up when I felt Y/n cling to me. She looked absolutely adorable. I pecked her on nose and tightly hugged her to myself.

Jimin:

I was at my studio when I heard shallow knocking. Confusedly I went to answer it. At the door was my bestfriend and the love of my life Y/n. She lazily made her way into studio. I closed the door after her and turned to her. In the meantime she sleepily made a grabby hands at me. I chuckled and walked to her. I made us lay on one of the many couch I have here. I wrapped my hands around her middle and just like that she was peacefully sleeping.

Taehyung:

Me and my fiancee Y/n were waiting in library for my friend. Because of that we had to wake up a little earlier. And with my sleepyhead it was hard task to convince her to go with me. In the end here we are. But as time pass I can see clearly how exhausted she is. To not make her fell asleep in this uncomfortable chair I pulled her to sit in my lap instead. I a few minutes she was put like light.

Jungkook:

It was 1 AM in morning. I slowly crept into mine and Y/n's home. It was late so I made sure to not to disturb Y/n's sleeping. I quickly washed myself and went into a bed. Y/n was nestled at my side of bed. I subtly hitched her up . I myself lay down on the mattresses. Like that I made Y/n lie down on me. I delicately stoked her hair and went into dreamland.

Credits to the owner of the giphs.

I tried something different so hope you like it. Have a nice day:)

[pantoneyoongi]

01 || hot chocolate with the mini marshmallows

series ; in love with love (with you)  description ; you’re a romantic. jungkook? jungkook is not. 

chapter 01 ; hot chocolate with the mini marshmallows prev || next 

word count ; 2.6k 

tags ; office!au / coworkers!au, frenemies to lovers, jungkook is lowkey a fuckboy but mostly he’s just a softie, like one (1) furry joke, pls go to main masterlist for more / general tags 

you cannot fathom why you continue to grab dinner with jungkook on a weekly basis. 

it was never on purpose. one thursday evening, jungkook passed by your desk, made a vague eating gesture, and for some reason, you packed up and followed him out the door. 

it’s always thursdays. fridays jungkook reserves for being a fuckboy, bar-hopping until he finds a girl within his standards to follow home then ditch after she’s fallen asleep. as a proclaimed romantic, you’ve always wrinkled your nose at the smug smirk he has plastered on his face whenever he talks about it, but you also know jungkook meets the bare minimum requirements of being a decent guy - i.e., fully sober, consenting only, clear one-night stand, no strings attached. so, to each their own. 

jungkook shovels a pizza into his mouth unceremoniously. “that’s stupid,” he asserts, mouth still full of cheese and pepperoni. you make a disgusted face, shoving a pile of napkins in his direction. 

“can you swallow before you speak?” you retort, in favor of arguing (for the upteenth time) that no, it is not stupid that mark showed up at juliet’s door with giant note cards to profess his undying love. it’s iconic. ‘love actually’ is iconic. 

“i’m multitasking,” he snickers, opening his mouth wide just to gross you out. you groan while he laughs, but still, he shuts his mouth to chew, eyeing you with amusement. 

you scowl but settle for taking a bite out of your own slice. jungkook, for all his misgivings, is the only one out of your close circle of friends that stayed in new york with you. jisoo, taehyung, and jimin are all scattered across various cities, leaving you alone with jeon jungkook, who, for some reason, not only lives in this city with you, but works in the same building, in the same company, on the same floor. 

fate loves fucking with you, that’s for sure. 

you open your mouth to ask jungkook if he’s booked his time off in preparation for your friends all coming home for the holidays, but get interrupted by the loudest human you know. 

“JAAAAYKAY!” your brother says jungkook’s initials like he’s revving up a car, and you close your eyes tiredly. you love him, you do, but hoseok by far has more energy than any human should realistically be allowed to have. 

jungkook perks up, waving enthusiastically, a drastic change from the way he treats you. you turn your head to face your brother, who brightens at the surprise of seeing you too. “fancy that,” he cheers. “scoot over.” he plops himself down in the booth, you narrowly sliding over in time to avoid being squashed. 

“hobi,” you whine, but he ruffles your hair and just smiles, stealing a bite from your pizza. jungkook shuffles in as well, and your eyes widen, realizing that with hoseok came yoongi, who has his hands shoved in the pockets of his coat as he relaxes into his spot next to jungkook. 

your heart jumps in your chest at the sight. yoongi looks at ease, if a bit tired, the white collar of his shirt peeking out from behind his jacket. he’s achingly handsome, windswept hair and sharp eyes that land on you, crooking the corner of his lips up in acknowledgement. 

“hey,” he greets briefly, eyes scanning over the pie you and jungkook had been trying to finish. you jolt your eyes away from him so you don’t get caught staring. “were you two planning to finish this yourself?” 

“yes,” jungkook answers at the same time you say, “no,” and yoongi chuckles, reaching over to steal a slice. 

“too bad,” he glances at jungkook. “you’re paying for me and hobi now too.” 

“who says i paid?” jungkook huffs. “we went halves.” 

“shitty date,” hoseok remarks with a grin. he leans towards you, mock-whispering. “i don’t like him. find a better man.” 

you snort, elbowing your brother while he laughs loudly. yoongi presses his lips together in amusement, eyes flickering to you for a moment before he goes back to his pizza, but it’s enough to have your heart skip a beat. 

your eyes glitter when you look at yoongi. your heart flutters at just the thought of him, his small but warm smiles, the baritone of his voice. hoseok’s been friends with yoongi since middle school, so you grew up watching yoongi play the gentle, quiet counterpart to hoseok’s loud, boisterous personality. 

your crush on him is possibly the worst kept secret in the universe. to call it a secret is borderline criminal, according to jungkook, but you rarely pay attention to jungkook’s opinions as it is. 

when the four of you have demolished the pizza (rip to the leftovers you were supposed to have, you’ll have to find something else for lunch tomorrow now), you follow hoseok out the door, mindlessly listening to him run his mouth about something or another. you try not to flush when you realize yoongi is close behind you, one hand holding the door open for you while his other hand guides you out the door, warmth emanating from where it’s placed on the small of your back. it sends sparks up your spine, ones that don’t disappear even after he’s removed his hand, shoving them back into his pockets as you gather outside the pizza parlor together. 

“it’s getting late,” yoongi comments. he glances at you. “do you want me to walk you home?” 

it’s a simple question. but it sets off the butterflies in your stomach, to hear him worry about you, and suddenly it feels significantly less chilly outside. 

“i’ll walk her,” jungkook says before you can answer. “we live two blocks from each other.”

you try not to let your disappointment show. you know it makes the most sense - yoongi lives a subway ride away in the opposite direction - but yoongi is also by far better company than jungkook, who picks fights with you just for fun. yoongi nods his approval and you watch him and hoseok leave, a wistful sigh escaping you as they turn the corner. 

jungkook makes a face. “you’re so obvious,” he mutters, grabbing you by the elbow to get you moving. the only other thing he’s ever seen you look at the way you look at yoongi is hot chocolate with mini marshmallows on top. ever the easy one to please. 

you ignore him, including the scoff he lets out seeing the fairytale pep in your step. you don’t care. your heart feels light whenever you’re around yoongi, comforted and warm. you can’t be bothered by jungkook’s pessimism - the boy didn’t have a romantic bone in his body, anyway. 

jungkook follows close behind you the whole way home, keeping pace with every bounce in your step with ease. he tongues his cheek, thinking carefully. “why yoongi?” 

all these years and he’s never been able to figure it out. you come to a halt so suddenly that jungkook jerks backwards, you twirling to face him. “wouldn’t you like to know.” it’s cheeky and smug, but jungkook just arches an eyebrow. 

“yeah. that’s why i asked?” 

you let out a huff. jungkook has a way of souring your mood in an instant - he calls it a talent, you call him annoying. “just because,” you lean in, not expecting jungkook to meet you halfway, dark eyes studying yours. he hums thoughtfully, but you refuse to budge until he does, tilting your head challengingly back, waiting for his response. 

“because he kinda reminds you of a cat?” he clucks his tongue, backing out of your space. “didn’t know you were a furry, y/n.” 

you sputter at his absurd response, and now you’re the one following him, a string of obscenities escaping while he laughs loudly into the night air. “what the fuck, jeon jungkook-” you smack him on the back and he at least has the decency to jump like it actually hurt him a little (but jungkook is built like a brick fucking wall, so actually, your hand stings a little bit). he cackles all the way to your apartment as you chase after him, yelling threats and causing a general commotion on the city streets on a simple thursday night. 

you’re both a little out of breath by the time you reach your building, jungkook wearing a shit-eating grin while you bend to rest your hands on your knees. “dick,” you mutter, but jungkook’s grin stays infuriatingly put. when you’ve gathered your breath again you turn heel to enter your apartment building, looking back only once just to stick your tongue out at him. he chuckles, waiting for you to disappear from his line of sight before he shakes his head. 

he’ll never understand your near-lifelong crush on yoongi. love is for suckers, he thinks. 

but if it makes you happy, well - to each their own. 

.

.

.

“here.” 

you look up to see a bleary-eyed jungkook nursing a cup of coffee, holding out a cup to you. you squint at him. “huh?” 

“it’s hot chocolate,” he grunts. “just take it. they gave me the wrong order.” 

you pop open the lid to see mini marshmallows on top, a smile spreading on your lips from cheek to cheek. “nice,” you cheer, eyes shining in a way that has jungkook shifting his gaze away, chewing on the lip of his cup. “but why’d you order two drinks to begin with?” 

“i was gonna get one for jaehyun,” he lies, glancing back at you. you peer up at him. 

“jaehyun doesn’t like hot chocolate?” 

you like it more. 

jungkook clears his throat at the thought, eyebrows furrowing slightly. he’d rationalized easily enough this morning, while he was waiting for the drinks after his split-second decision to buy one for you - he was doing it because you were friends. well, friends was probably a strong word in your opinion, but you’d known him for over a decade by now, so you probably legally no longer had a say in the matter. 

jungkook glances at you. “he needs coffee. you’re the only person i know who runs on pure sugar.” 

you throw him a small glare but it’s short lived. hot chocolate - specifically with the mini-marshmallows - makes you inordinately happy, cheeks dimpling as you happily inhale the sweet aroma. “well,” you hum, eyes fluttering shut. “someone’s got great taste. a shame they’re missing out.” 

jungkook rolls his eyes. “it’s literally one of the most common orders,” he retorts, but you shrug back at him, unbothered. 

“and? the people recognize it as the best, what can i say?” 

jungkook almost regrets buying it for you on his way to work. almost. he feels like he really needs the caffeine to kick in right about now, but still, you look incredibly pleased and he scoffs lightly, lips curling up in a disbelieving smile as he shakes his head. 

he raises an eyebrow, watching you sip chain-brand hot chocolate like it’s luxury before walking back to his desk a few rows behind you down the aisle. he peeks his head out past his cubicle in time to see you presenting the cup up to jinyoung with sparkles in your eyes, and even jinyoung laughs at how excited you are. 

without realizing, a fond smile makes its way onto jungkook’s face, eyes soft while he’s watching you. this is the happiest he’s seen you all week, and something warm settles inside his chest. 

it’s probably just the coffee. 

.

.

.

you’ll never admit this to his face, but jungkook’s hot chocolate is about the only thing that powered you through this day. 

well, his hot chocolate, and copious amounts of caffeine, but the extra serotonin courtesy of free sugar was a welcome boost to start off the morning. 

it’s nearing eight now; you have your head propped against one hand as you stare tiredly at the amount of data you’re currently filtering through. it’s been data analysis and back to back meetings all day, marking notes and double-triple checking work from junior analysts because you simply can’t afford to make mistakes for this project. 

you scrub your hand against your face, exhausted. your stomach has been begging you for sustenance for at least an hour now, and it’s friday, for god’s sake. you just want to go home. 

you scowl a little. director lee had of course left at five on the dot, like he always does, cementing his position as worst-project-lead-of-all-time. he disappeared when he wanted, had a total of zero useful comments, and actually made more mistakes than corrections, leaving you to clean up after him. 

you couldn’t wait until this project wrapped up, so you could dive headfirst into your bed, subject yourself to holiday capitalism with your friends, and return in the new year on a new project, with a new lead. fuck, what you would give to have this project just be over. 

jungkook is on this project too, but his team has less of a stake in it than your team does, so he startles you when he shows up by your desk, knocking gently on your table. “hey.” 

you make a vague, miserable noise in the back of your throat. “hi.” 

“pack up,” he says. it’s a command - not a request - but you’re so tired you don’t even have the energy to comment on it, throwing him an unamused look instead. he stares back resolutely, one eyebrow arched challengingly. 

you’re not gonna fight him. not really. it’s eight-fucking-pm, and you’re tired and hungry and jungkook has better work-life balance than you do, so if there’s anything you’re going to take pointers from jungkook about, it’s when to leave work. 

but you’re you and he’s him, so you also can’t make his life easy. instead, you faceplant into your desk, whining. jungkook sighs. 

he’s being nice today, you realize, as you hear him shuffle around you, packing up your notebook and pencils into your bag. you must look about as bad as you feel. timidly, you lift your head up. 

jungkook’s mouth twitches. there’s a red mark on your forehead from being pressed against the desk, and he presses two fingers against it, pushing you gently backwards. “come on,” he says. “hurry up. i’m hungry.” 

you obey this time, shutting off your laptop and shoving it into your bag while jungkook waits patiently. the two of you walk out together, quiet all the way down the elevator and out into the cold air. you suppose you’re both tired, if jungkook doesn’t even have the energy to poke at you the way he always does. 

“you stayed late today,” you say, as the two of you walk down the street. jungkook shrugs. 

“i’m on the same project as you,” he responds simply. 

“but it’s friday,” you comment pointedly, and jungkook presses his lips together flatly, eyeing you. 

“sex is great but so is having money in my bank account,” he says dryly. 

you laugh. jungkook’s expression lightens with yours. “besides,” he says, offhand. “the night’s still young.” there’s a wicked spark in his eyes that makes you sigh deeply and exasperatedly, sending jungkook laughing, bumping shoulders with you through the night as he teases your tired expression, wiggling his eyebrows. 

he walks you home, picking up fast food along the way, and you’re too tired to question it. he’s right - eight pm is hardly late on a friday, and the activities jungkook prefers on friday nights usually gear up earliest by nine. still, he gets you home safe, but not without making a mess of your hair right before you head into your apartment building, grinning widely at the loud whine you let out as you paw his hands off you. 

you make your way into your apartment building, but turn around in the lobby. the front walls are made of all glass windows, so you can see jungkook still standing outside, hands in his pockets. he tilts his head questioningly, eyebrows raised almost tauntingly, but you ignore the bait and simply wave good night. 

you watch his gaze soften into a smile as he waves back, and your heart warms. good night, jungkook.

prev || next || series masterlist 

[justanotherstarlightmonger]

Ice cream makes everything better- MYG

Genre: Fluff

Pairing: Dad! Min Yoongi x Mom! Fem reader

Warnings: None

Word count: 1.3k words

Summary: OC suffers from migraines. Here's how Yoongi and another special someone deal with it.

A/n: I wrote this at 3 am, exactly 6 hours before a very important exam. But this came easy to me, like it was waiting to be written since ages. 🥺💜💜

.

"Will omma be okay soon?" Little Sumi turned to Yoongi before jumping out of the car in front of her school. 

"Of course, love. Omma's just a little sick. But I'm sure she'll be okay once she rests a little" Yoongi reassured your wide eyed, concerned daughter.

"Will she come pick me up?" She asked.

"Not today. But appa will pick you up and then we'll go get ice cream" he promised. 

That promise lit up the little child's face as she nodded enthusiastically and got out, running to her friend who seemed to be waiting for her near the entrance, both of them linking hands and going inside. 

Yoongi smiled to himself. He'd never get over how much your daughter resembled you. But of course you always insisted that she had Yoongi's eyes and nose. Whatever the case, Yoongi loved her to bits and anything she did made his mind reel in wonder that this little girl was living evidence of how much he loved you. Pulling away from the school, Yoongi directed his mind back to business, getting some mangoes for his wife who was currently suffering a migraine and wanted something sweet and fresh to eat after the whole night of debilitating nausea. 

He tried to be as quick as possible, parking closest to the supermarket, rushing inside and grabbing the ripest, yellowest mangoes, checking out and speeding home. 

On days like these, when one thing or the other triggered your migraines, it was a given that Yoongi worked from home, if he felt like he could work at all. 

He looked at the mess he and Sumi had made as they had had breakfast, the dirty dishes still sitting on the table. He collected them and placed them in the sink, moving to your daughter's room where her pajamas were thrown on her unmade bed. He swiftly folded her pajamas and made her bed, placing her pillows in a neat pile and opening a window to let some fresh air in. Then he was peeling and slicing the mangoes, trying to be as quiet as possible.

When the juicy fruit was cut into cubes and ready, he added some toothpicks so he could feed you easily and eased open your bedroom door. 

The dark curtains that Yoongi had installed especially because of his wife's light sensitivity, were pulled all the way shut and there was no light in the room, despite it being bright and sunny outside. 

"Jagiya?" Yoongi whispered.

"Hmmm?" You hummed back, indicating you were awake. 

"Do you feel like eating something?" He asked, still hushed. 

He saw your silhouette sit up in bed, the raging bed head, still visible in the dim light. He came and sat down in front of you, placing the plate of fruit between you both. "I'm hungry, but my teeth feel tender, I don't understand." Yoongi could hear the pout in your voice. 

"It's okay love, these mangoes are really soft and juicy. They'll be easy to eat" he assured you. He saw you nod, scooting forward just an inch. 

Yoongi gladly lifted a piece of fruit skewered on a toothpick to your mouth.

"Did you take Sumi to school?" You asked before opening your mouth slightly to take the bite, relishing the sweetness spreading on your palate after the bitter aftertaste of all that dry heaving last night. 

"Yeah, she was concerned about you. Wanted to say good morning" Yoongi giggled. 

"Aww" you took another bite from his hand, "you should've let her come in."

Yoongi's heart hurt at how weak you sounded. He hated these episodes, he hated seeing you in so much pain, and he couldn't do much except wait for it to be over. 

"You had finally fallen asleep jagi, I told her and she immediately understood."

"She's my big girl" you smiled proudly, wincing slightly at how much your eyes hurt, despite the room being almost pitch dark. 

You and Yoongi sat in silence for a while, him carefully feeding you, and you focusing on chewing softly.

"All done" he announced as the last piece he'd cut up made it's way past your lips.

"Thank you Yoongi" you smiled sadly. "I don't know what I'd do without you"

" We're a team baby. You don't have to do anything without me." His hand found yours, your aching body always finding solace in his gentle touches. You grabbed back, tugging it closer to your face and kissing it fondly, aware of the slight flush that must have made it's way up his cheeks at that. He did have a way of getting flustered that was absolutely adorable. 

" Does your head still hurt? " He asked kindly.

" Yeah" you whispered.

" Do you want me to give you a massage? "

A massage from your husband sounded heavenly and you were nodding immediately. More than willingly, Yoongi climbed onto the bed, making his way behind you on his knees. When you felt him behind you, you leaned back against his soft belly, head resting on his strong chest as his skilled fingers came to rest on your temples moving in coordinated circles to ease the tension in your skull. 

A sigh of relief left you as he worked his magic, working quietly and surely, because he had done this many times before. 

Soon enough, you felt your head getting lighter, the deep throbbing behind your eyes going away. Tears of gratitude filled your eyes involuntarily. Yoongi had no idea how in love you were with him. Because of these simple things he did. How he always made you feel better in a matter of moments, in all that he did. He had your heart. One that always ached with love for him and your little daughter. You couldn't believe you were this lucky, yet here you were. 

"Oh Yoongs, you're magical" you hummed as he pulled away, fluffing up your pillow so you could lie down again. 

He tucked you in and gingerly kissed your forehead. "You're my magic" he whispered into your hairline. "Now rest, and don't worry about a single thing" 

You nodded, thanking all heavenly entities for him in your life as he left the room.

The next thing you heard was when you woke up again. The sweet singsong voice of your daughter on the other side of the door, "I'll call her softly to check if she's sleeping" she promised her father.

Then the door opened and a head peeked in. 

"Omma?" A tiny voice asked. 

"Yes sweetheart?" You answered.

"Oh you're awake!" 

"Shh Sumi too loud!" Yoongi's hushed scolding made you frown. 

"It's okay baby, come to me" you opened your arms as you sat up, feeling a bit better after your nap.

She ran to you, scrambling onto the bed as her father carried a tray with three bowls on it, leaving the door open a smidge to let some light in. 

"How was your day?" You asked Sumi as she settled into your arms.

"It was good. I got an A on my homework. Appa helped me yesterday." She announced proudly.

"Good job baby" you hugged your daughter to your chest eyes meeting your husband's with a fond shine. 

"How was your day omma?" The little voice asked from next to your heart. "Do you feel better? Are you okay now?"

You nodded. "I feel better now that you're here." 

"Oh. See appa? If you had let me come to her in the morning, omma would already be okay" Sumi scolded her father. 

You laughed softly. 

"What's this you brought me?" You asked, tilting your head to the bowls.

"We brought you ice cream!" She announced happily.

" Ice cream makes everything better" Yoongi nodded knowingly, repeating a dialogue you loved to say ever since he had begun dating you. It was now an impromptu rule in your house. Ice cream makes everything better. 

Sumi also nodded very seriously, before turning her attention back to you.

" Can I help you eat it? " She asked

"Huh?" The question threw you off.

"You always feed me when I'm sick, should I feed you now?" She explained, as if it was the easiest thing in the world.

"That's because you're my baby" you cooed. 

"You're my baby too," Sumi proudly announced, taking a bowl from her father's hands and lifting a half empty spoon to your smiling lips. 

[ladyartemesia]

TEASER: Kim Seokjin and the Mean Omega

Pairing: Nerd Alpha Kim Seokjin x Popular Omega Reader

Genre: A/B/O • Enemies to Lovers • (Sorta) College AU • Best Friend's Brother AU (Who is surprised? No one?)

Teaser Word Count: 3.6K

Teaser Warnings: A/B/O sexual dynamics • suggestive content

Rating: Explicit (18+) (Teaser is PG-13)

Summary: In the modern world, alphas are almost unheard of so why even bother learning about them? After all, as a spoiled (but reasonably kind-hearted) omega who is used to getting whatever she wants, you have better things to do. However, when unexpected circumstances throw you in the path of (extremely) nerdy and (probably?) shy Kim Seokjin, you're shocked to discover that he won't be wrapped around your little finger as easily as all the rest. Bringing that infuriating geek to his knees quickly becomes your personal mission in life... But it turns out that Kim Seokjin is not what he appears to be and the mean omega who eats beta boys for breakfast is about to get way more than she bargained for...

Author’s Note: This story would not be here without the love, support and friendship of my incredible support system. You talk with me, you laugh with me, you listen when I’m crying, and you read my chaotic drafts when I am ready to pull my hair out of my head in frustration. I love you all. @ppersonna @xjoonchildx @untaemedqueen @lemonjoonah. ALSO thank you to each and every one of you who encouraged me to post this story. This fic is dedicated to all of you as a token of my love and appreciation. Your support keeps me writing. Never doubt that for a second.

“...due to discriminatory anti-alpha policies in the late nineteenth and early twentieth century, alphas were nearly eliminated from the general population…”

You heaved a weary sigh and rolled your shoulders—stretching the buttons of your high-end Oxford shirt to their limit. The beta sophomore to your right whined audibly and you smirked.

“...despite efforts to restore the genetic balance of designations, alphas currently comprise less than one percent of the population…”

Your back arched slightly as you crossed your legs, letting the absurdly short hem of your skirt ride up even higher. The poor boy you were tormenting shifted miserably in his seat.

How was he supposed to focus on a Human Biology and Designation Studies lecture when the living breathing embodiment of every sweaty undergrad’s fantasies was twisting her fingers in her hair and wrapping her pretty pink tongue around a strawberry lollipop right there in the middle of class?

“...unlike betas and omegas, alphas possess enhanced strength and the ability to compel other designations with their voice. Unmated alphas especially were often baselessly feared and distrusted...”

You knew exactly how you affected boys like him. You were a shameless tease who relished their attention and the power it brought you. Who needed drugs when driving a man mad with desire was a rush more potent than any high?

“...and that’s all for today so please read pages 450-466 in the text over break and remember to turn in your essay on scent and consent in intimacy—”

That poor sophomore looked like he had finally worked up the courage to speak to you, but you were already out the door and tearing down the hall toward your beautiful (and entirely platonic) counterpart, Kim Taehyung.

“Do you think Professor Moore is unaware that class is over at 3:25 or is he just torturing us for science?”

Taehyung shrugged, falling into step beside you with practiced ease.

“I mean I would torture you for free so it’s hard to say.”

The corner of your mouth quirked up at his characteristic dry humor, but the irritation at being held in that sweltering lecture hall for an extra ten minutes had frayed your temper.

“It’s the last class before spring break, I’m sure he was on some sort of twisted power trip.” You dug around in your purse for some chapstick, ignoring Tae’s amused snorting, “Alphas barely exist anymore and none of us are likely to meet one. Why bother learning what they can do?”

Taehyung tilted his head in amusement.

“You might be surprised.”

The final party before the beginning of spring break was always a laid back affair.

Many people had already caught planes to their various destinations, but your flight was scheduled for early tomorrow morning—leaving you with some time to kill.

Taehyung pressed his newest experimental concoction into your hand within minutes of entering the house (a surprisingly neat bachelor pad owned by two seniors, Jung Hoseok and Min Yoongi) and then darted back to the kitchen to craft more questionable alcohol potions like a deranged party warlock.

You had just found a comfortable place on the couch and were contemplating whether sampling your best friend’s mad scientist elixir would be worth the probable damage to your body when—

“H-Hello...”

It was that sophomore from your Designations Studies class. What was his name again? Jungwoo? Jinwook?

“Jungkook,” you smiled, delighted to have remembered before it became awkward. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

You motioned to the empty cushion next to you and the man in question scrambled over like he’d won the lottery.

“I—I know we don’t know each other well, but I noticed you were absent during Professor Moore’s lecture on intimacy and scent consent so I—” he blushed deeply, “I wrote the essay for you—and I brought a copy on my flash drive if-if you want it.”

Your heart melted immediately.

“Oh my gosh Jungkook, that is so sweet of you!”

Your gaze darted over his muscular form and thick brown curls.

Sweet indeed.

“I don’t want to miss out on the learning though,” you pouted, placing a hand on his tattooed bicep. “Can you explain it to me?”

Jungkook nodded vigorously even as his wide eyes fell to where your fingers were sliding slowly over his chest.

Scent consent was a pretty basic and universally known concept, but you really were touched by the handsome sophomore's consideration.

Why not give him (and yourself) a little reward?

“Um so basically if two people are involved in...intimate activities—”

You leaned forward to nip his ear lightly and he whimpered.

“Like this?” you asked innocently.

“Y-Yes. Like that.” He gulped. “In an intimate situation consent or refusal can be smelled. The scent of refusal or reluctance in intimacy is strong, unmistakable, and has a high chemical potency.”

“Is that so?” you drawled, sliding over onto his lap. Jungkook’s eyes rolled back into his head and you bit back a grin.

He was adorable.

“Uh-huh—it—oh my gawd,” (you were nibbling on his ear again) “it can immediately block sexual arousal and performance in the other partner. Meaning, if consent is not present, then it becomes difficult or—ahh” (his voice began to waver under your continued attention) “—or even impossible to continue with intimate acts.”

Your hand slid up to his cheek, bringing him closer till your lips were almost touching.

“Then what does it mean if I’m still so turned on right now?”

“It means,” Jungkook shuddered—nearly delirious with your scent, “that I really really want you.”

Across the room, Park Jimin chuckled as he watched you seduce his enthusiastic friend.

Jeon Jungkook was such a sweet kid.

Hopefully he wouldn’t get too attached.

“Wow... Some people are genuinely born blessed I suppose.”

Jimin turned to see Jung Hoseok eyeing the dimly lit corner where you and the eager young sophomore were exploring each other.

It was a rather...provocative spectacle. Not quite raunchy (you weren’t truly an exhibitionist)—just insanely sexy.

Jimin’s gaze lingered on the smooth curve of your thigh where Jeon Jungkook was currently holding on for dear life.

Lucky bastard.

“Ah you know how she is,” he sighed. “That boy isn’t going to get any farther than anyone else.”

It was relatively common knowledge that you liked to mess around but rarely—if ever— fully hooked up with anyone.

Jimin asked you about it once during a drunken game of truth or dare and you had just shrugged, mumbling something along the lines of avoiding STDs (which—to be fair—was at least part of your motivation), but the truth was a little more complicated than that.

In terms of experience, you weren’t a virgin, but... you hadn’t actually had sex in years.

You loved the chase, the foreplay, the build-up—the game of cat-and-mouse between two people who were attracted to one another.

But the final consummation was always so…

Wildly unfulfilling.

Every encounter left you frustrated. Empty.

Grumpy—even.

So you stopped bothering with it all together. (That was what sex toys were for after all.)

At the end of the day you were perfectly content being labeled a tease—it meant that people tended to know what they were (or rather weren’t) getting into when they rolled the dice with you.

Besides…it hadn’t even put a dent in your throng of admirers.

You were sunny, spoiled, indulgent, almost universally adored—

And you loved every minute of it.

“You know…” Hoseok took a long sip of his drink. “I always thought she would end up with Taehyung, but it’s been three years.”

Like you, Kim Taehyung was a trust fund brat and it was only natural that two beautiful and absurdly privileged people would gravitate to one another. You met at a freshman pledge party and had been an inseparable (and formidable) dynamic duo ever since.

The undisputed king and queen of campus.

Yes—maybe the two of you were a little self-absorbed at times, but it was hardly your fault that people tended to instinctively cater to the force of your combined looks, wealth, and charisma.

And it didn’t hurt that neither of you were ever intentionally cruel or unkind.

Just... habitually thoughtless.

(Though not when it came to each other. If anything your friendship was one area where you were both a little more human.)

Jimin shook his head.

“Nah that’s never gonna happen.” He tapped his nose. “They’re scent-crossed.”

Hoseok’s eyes widened.

“Really?”

Scent-crossed pairs didn’t smell sexually attractive to each other.

Like. At all.

No matter how physically or visually appealing an individual might be, it would be near impossible to form a sexual or romantic attachment to them if you were scent-crossed. Alphas, betas, and omegas were all subject to their noses first and foremost in the realm of attraction.

You and Taehyung smelled like comfort and home to one another...

But you were more turned on by a crisp cup of apple juice than you were his scent and the feeling was quite mutual.

He might as well have been your actual brother.

“That explains so much.” Hoseok snorted as he watched a drunken Taehyung do a flying leap on top of both you and Jungkook.

“Why is sunlight so offensive?” you croaked, dragging yourself and your luggage toward the boarding ramp next to an equally miserable Taehyung.

“The next time I book a flight before 9 AM, please shoot me,” he grunted.

Your parents were celebrating their twenty-fifth wedding anniversary with a month-long European cruise so your best friend had graciously invited you to spend two glorious weeks of spring vacation at his family estate.

The invitation had actually come as somewhat of a surprise because—for all your closeness—Taehyung was uncharacteristically tight-lipped about his family.

Not that he was deliberately withholding information per se… It was just that he never really brought them up beyond an occasional passing comment.

The one time you did ask him about them directly he sighed and said—

“We’re very close, but… I suppose we’ve just gotten used to being very private.”

There was clearly more to the story, but you were confident that Tae would share it if and when he was ready.

“My parents are in Seoul opening a new branch of the company. They took my little sister with them and my older brother has his own house so it will be just us.” He snuggled deeper into the first class seat directly next to yours. “We’ll hang out by the pool and chill during the day, then hit up some of the new clubs or whatever at night.”

“So… No one from your family will be there?”

Perhaps the invitation was not so surprising after all.

“Nope. Just you and me and thirty acres of ocean front property.”

You grinned.

“Perfect.”

“Whose room is that?”

The two of you were lugging your bags down the main hall of Taehyung’s expansive mansion when a strange hint of...something caught you right by the nose.

Your friend turned to find you frozen and staring curiously at a familiar door near the balcony.

His eyes widened, but you were too preoccupied to notice his momentary concern.

“That’s just Jin’s room.”

A firm hand wrapped around your wrist and dragged you away, but your eyes stayed glued to the source of the mysterious scent until you were around the corner and out of sight.

Your suite for the next two weeks was right across the hall from Taehyung’s. There was a whirlpool, a full bath, a balcony, and an ocean view that would rival the cover spread of any travel magazine.

Tae headed for the shower (to ‘wash the airplane off’) immediately after showing you the room and you were thinking of doing the same except…

Your mind kept going back to that door and the hint of scent you detected.

There was something… different about it.

It was faint—and far from fresh (which made sense considering that one of the few things you did know about Kim Seokjin was that he hadn’t lived in this house for years).

But still…

The need to smell it again pressed insistently at the back of your mind.

Suddenly the sound of Taehyung singing raunchy lyrics in the shower carried over through the walls and you found your feet moving almost of their own accord.

What Tae doesn’t know won’t hurt him, you rationalized, making your way down the hall toward Jin’s door. Besides—it’s not as if I’m going to steal anything…

You just needed to find that scent again.

By the time your fingers closed over the knob every one of your nerves was strangely—acutely—alert but nothing could have prepared you for what was waiting behind the door.

Oh. My. Gosh.

“What a colossal nerd.”

The room was covered floor to ceiling in Nintendo memorabilia.

Bright primary colors assaulted your eyes from all directions in the form of action figures, posters, pillows, and every other conceivable merch variety known to man.

In the center of the suite stood a large king-sized bed covered in a custom black couture toile-style Mario-verse bed set (that looked every bit as expensive as it was geeky) and a mountain of high quality Nintendo character plush toys.

Everything was simultaneously luxe and nostalgic—a rare combination of sophisticated aesthetic balance and childlike indulgence.

And the scent was there.

It was faint and covered under layers of cleaner and air fresheners, but still lingering just below the surface—too weak for you to get a really good whiff, yet potent enough to torment you.

You moved forward unconsciously toward the strongest source of the hypnotic smell—the strangely inviting expanse of Kim Seokjin’s mattress.

Suddenly the urge to climb—no crawl—across the bed itself and roll around in it like a kitten in catnip gripped you out of nowhere.

“What the hell?” you muttered, rubbing absently over the mating gland at the base of your neck.

Something very odd was going on with your body.

Your restless gaze zeroed in on one of the stuffed toys piled atop his pillows. It was a cute little mushroom man your brain recognized as a Mario character named ‘Toad’.

Take it.

Your mouth dropped open in shock.

You need it.

“Am I going insane?” you wondered aloud.

You have to take it.

Muscles in your hand began to twitch involuntarily. You bit your lip.

Bring it back with you.

Several minutes later a freshly washed Taehyung wandered over to your room and found you sitting perfectly still on your bed while staring off into space.

His head tilted in curious concern.

“Everything ok?”

You started a bit at the sound of his voice, but recovered quickly.

“Never better!” you chirped—almost too brightly. “Let’s go get some dinner, I’m starving.”

Then you grabbed his hand and pulled him down the hall toward the kitchen—shutting the door before he could catch a glimpse of his brother’s stuffed Toad doll stashed underneath your pillow

“...a critical water main rupture in the city’s New Market district early this morning has forced several residents out of their homes as flood water swelled up to nearly two feet. The governor declared a state of emergency and ordered hotels around the city to accommodate the displaced citizens. Crews are still clearing the water and assessing damages. We expect—

“Hey!” you shouted through a mouthful of cereal, after Your best friend switched off the television, “I was watching that!”

“And what you should be doing is getting ready for the pool.” Tae snatched your cereal bowl and dragged you by your shirt collar toward the stairs. “It is the first morning of our vacation. I’m not trying to waste any time. Now go.” He shoved you forward, smacking your ass for good measure.

You swatted back at him half-heartedly as jogged back up to the room where you enjoyed a surprisingly restful sleep last night.

Kim Seokjin’s door glared at you accusingly as you shuffled past—unable to let you forget that you had kidnapped it’s little mushroom man in an unexplained fit of kleptomania, but that was a problem for your future self.

The you of right now was going to zen out in the Kim family's premium glass-enclosed indoor pool (it was still a little chilly for the outdoor pool) with her best friend and bask in the simple joys of good company and no responsibility.

...Or not.

A few minutes later you bounced into the living room wearing a simple black tankini with a cute floral cover only to find Taehyung on the phone with his head in his hands.

“Yes, sir. I understand… I...I know this is my responsibility...”

That didn’t sound good.

After a few more tense moments, Tae hung up and collapsed backward into the couch with a heavy sigh.

“That water main break you heard about on TV this morning was the last straw between the province and its current contractor. They called an emergency meeting for new bids.”

Your heart dropped as you sank down beside him.

“Your dad wants you to go...doesn’t he.”

Taehyung nodded miserably.

“He can’t leave the Seoul opening on such short notice and managing government construction contracts is part of what I’ve been training for. This could be huge for our company.”

“Well...why doesn’t your brother go?”

“Jin is the brains behind most of our patented gaming and tech innovations. He wouldn’t even know where to begin with this sort of thing. Besides,” his lips quirked up in a rueful grin, “my brother doesn’t have the patience to stroke entitled geriatric egos for hours on end—which is likely what I’m going to have to do.”

The two of you headed back to Taehyung’s room where you helped him pack some suits and toiletries for his trip.

Naturally you were disappointed but...this was a great opportunity for your best friend to prove himself in his chosen field and you both knew it. In fact, he was already starting to brighten a bit.

“The meeting is about a hundred miles north of here. My dad’s secretary already handled the flight and hotel room.” His eyes darted around the suite to see if he was forgetting anything.

It was clear he was nervous, though you were sure he didn’t need to be. Kim Taehyung was a trust fund brat, but he was also talented and deeply passionate about his family’s company.

Someday this would be the norm. The two of you were stealing time in college, determined to live a little before the expectations of your powerful families transferred fully onto your shoulders.

It was becoming more and more clear, however, that your carefree time was slowly running out.

Mother had already spoken to you about potential marriage alliances and your father expected you to intern with his Vice President this summer just as your elder sister had...

Taehyung’s voice suddenly interrupted your bittersweet introspection and you couldn’t help but smile at how grown-up he looked in his suit and briefcase ensemble.

Everything was going to change, but not quite yet.

“They estimate negotiations should take around a week or so…” He walked over and pulled you into a tight hug. “There should still be some vacation left for us when I get back.”

“Hurry back then,” you mumbled grumpily into his chest and he chuckled.

“I will.”

Taehyung had been gone for less than twenty minutes when you decided that the best use of your time would be to eat more snacks.

The last thing you expected when you skipped merrily into the kitchen was to find it occupied by a shaggy-haired homeless man in glasses.

Your first instinct was to scream which caused the homeless man to drop the apple he was biting right onto the floor where it rolled around for a small eternity before coming to rest at his ankles.

Your second instinct was to grab a butcher’s cleaver from the nearby knife block and wave it chaotically at the intruder while shouting something along the lines of—

“You’ve made a huge mistake! My boyfriend is the biggest, meanest mafia boss in Seoul! Leave now and he might let you live!”

The homeless man continued to stare at you with a mixture of confusion and shock, but made no move to run away in terror like you were hoping.

So you tried again.

“Didn’t you hear what I said?! The last man who touched me drinks his steak through a straw now! Do the smart thing and leave before my boyfriend comes down those stairs and it’s too late!”

Infuriatingly, the homeless man was still not fleeing for his life and frankly you were starting to get frustrated. You drew in a deep cleansing breath and were prepared to issue another grandiose threat when he finally spoke.

“I’m sorry, miss. I... think there’s been some sort of mistake. Who is your boyfriend?”

There was no rational explanation for what came out of your mouth next, but it rolled off your tongue so smoothly and you didn’t even flinch.

“Kim Seokjin.”

For the first time in your entire exchange, the intruder looked truly alarmed.

Now that’s more like it.

“You’ve heard of him I see. He’s a dangerous man and my body belongs to him.” You slammed the cleaver down onto the countertop with a (hopefully) menacing slash. “Kim Seokjin doesn’t like when other men put their hands on what belongs to him.”

There was a long, unpardonably tense moment of silence…Then the stranger slowly reached forward and picked up a mobile phone from the table in front of him.

His eyes remained locked with yours as he pressed a quick series of buttons, brought the phone to his ear, waited a few seconds and said—

“Taehyung… Would you mind telling me why there is a half-naked, knife-wielding omega in our kitchen claiming to be my girlfriend?”

Hello! Please comment on this post if you would like to be added to the taglist!

You guys were all so wonderful, and encouraging, and excited that I literally got this teaser out in three days! If you like what you read so far, please let me know! I cannot put into words how meaningful and valuable feedback is to me. I truly treasure it! It fuels my creativity and keeps me writing. I would love to hear from you!

[snackhobi]

this is my part of the rockin’ around the christmas tropes collab with @yeojaa, @underthejoon @ladyartemesia, @ppersonna, @untaemedqueen, @xjoonchildx ✨ MERRY (early) CHRISTMAS Y’ALL

summary: yoongi is your favourite regular. he’s patient, polite, and predictable, a-large-black-coffee-to-go-please, no cream, no sugar, thank you. rinse and repeat. the seasons might change, but yoongi’s order stays the same.

and then one fateful day in winter, yoongi asks about the weekly specials, orders a cup of christmas and sugary sweetness, and everything starts changing.

pairing: yoongi x barista f!reader / word count: 14.8k / genre: coffeeshop!au, fluff, dash of smut (NSFW)

warnings: slow burn, terrible drink concoctions, pining, miscommunication (kind of/reader comes to incorrect conclusions based on literally nothing), the tiniest bit of swearing, heated makeouts, oral (m receiving), I think that’s it

a/n: I have a lot of people to thank: thank you to my loveliest most beautiful wife @yeojaa for the beautiful banner 🥺💖 thank you to @morndas for helping me name this fic and suggesting some of the awful weekly specials featured within 🥰 thank you to @yeoldontknow for letting me have multiple meltdowns at her and for letting me pick her brain about working in the music industry, and for helping me with plot points I wasn’t sure about!! 💕

also thank you to @hobi-gif for helping me brainstorm the original fic idea with her; she hasn’t beta’ed this fic because I am TERRIBLE and literally finished this like an hour before posting. that’s on me and not her. I am a shambles without her indomitable proof reading skills; any mistakes are down to me, and I apologise for that. I’ve only read this through like once, sorry in advance, I’m literally formatting this while I should be getting ready for work

Being a barista isn’t all bad.

Like, okay, you’re on your feet for hours at a time, the pay isn’t exactly the highest in the world, and coffee beans have a tendency to end up in the weirdest places (how did you get the light roast in your bra?)—but it’s not entirely terrible.

Here’s a (totally not comprehensive) list of good things about working at the Paradise coffee shop:

The free drinks (y’know, for taste testing purposes)

The free food (you probably eat more than you’re actually allowed, but who’s telling?)

Your coworkers (like Taehyung, who is—yep—currently shoving a whole mini panettone in his mouth)

Most of the customers are pretty nice, too (you have some lovely regulars)

(If you had to be more specific, there’s one regular in particular that you really, really like—)

(Yoongi appears like clockwork every week. Just after the Tuesday lunch rush, the bell above the door will sing out its greeting as he steps inside, ordering the same drink each and every time he’s here—a large Americano, to go, plain and simple and unadorned, no room for cream or milk, no added sugar or sweetener.)

(Yoongi really is the perfect customer. He has been from the very beginning, a point of quiet in a churning sea of hot, sweaty people all begging for frappés and milkshakes, the hottest point at the very peak of summer. The queue had been growing longer and longer, out of the doors as the blenders whirred their way through a neverending cascade of sugary, iced blends; the counters were a mess and all the baristas were running around and everything was chaos and in had walked this guy, all dark hair and dark eyes and dark clothes, even in the height of summer—you were ready for death at this point, hands sticky with syrup and apron streaked with flecks from almost every drink from the summer menu, and you’d braced yourself for some terse words, impatience and passive aggressive comments on the long wait—)

(—and this intimidating man had just patiently asked for an iced Americano, calm and quiet and polite.)

(You’d fallen a little in love, then and there. Fallen in love with that simple order, quick and easy to make, and fallen a little in love with the dichotomy of the man who looked like nothing but sharp edges being the softest customer you’d had all day. There was nothing rushed about his motions, no desperate need to get his drink and get away, no anger at having waited for so long.)

(He’d been ready to pay, too, no fumbling with his wallet or money; he’d tapped his card, easy and breezy and all lemon squeezy, but he’d left a tip in change, dropped almost thoughtlessly into the jar. He’d collected his cup with the smallest upturn to his lips, a tilt of his head, and then he’d left, other customers parting before him like the Red Sea.)

(The only thing that’s changed over the months is that the iced coffees of summer have changed into hot Americanos for the cooler months, autumn and now almost-winter, warding off the chill in the air. Everything else is the same; his dark eyes and low voice and patient smile, small but ever present, pressed lightly into the surprisingly soft line of his mouth.)

(So, yeah. Yoongi is your favourite customer. Even if you’ve barely spoken, really, the two of you dancing through the same short script each time he comes in—the longest conversation you’ve had so far is the one where you’d tentatively asked if he’d like a rewards card, and after a moment of contemplation, he’d quietly agreed.)

(You like to think that you’re Yoongi’s favourite server, too. Maybe it’s wishful thinking, but—)

(Taehyung had been stunned into speechlessness, because, to quote his words exactly: “I tried getting him to sign up for a card last time and I swear he just pretended he couldn’t hear me? He just straight up didn’t respond? What?”)

(—you know Yoongi likes you at least a little bit.)

Anyway. You’re getting off the point. Paradise is a decent place to work, the people are nice, and the building is pretty and airy and welcoming and warm, toasty and cosy in the upcoming cold of winter. It’s one of the things that keeps people coming back, that lovely atmosphere.

Another thing that people apparently love about Paradise is the constantly changing menu. It’s not enough to have seasonal menus, no—you need to have weekly specials, apparently, to keep people interested.  It’s like a gachapon, but instead of cute little capsule toys, it’s a random mix of concoctions that are hit or miss.

“Well, I liked the Peachy Keen Jelly Bean,” Taehyung says, around a mouthful of sweet bread, still chewing his way through the panettone.

“You’d be the only one,” you reply, swiping a cloth over the counters and crinkling your nose  at the pile of coffee grounds you gather. “Iced peach tea with blackberry and vanilla and cherry and watermelon syrup has got to be one of the worst things we’ve ever served.”

That had definitely been one of the misses. This week’s special, though, is far more palatable, if incredibly sweet—Crystal Snow, a white chocolate mocha with whipped cream, dusted with powdered sugar, and a crystallised sugar stick to stir in. Sugar on sugar on sugar, basically. (Your teeth ache just thinking about it.) 

But there’s always something so fun about making the winter specials, no matter how sugary they are; the smell of the sticky syrups, the swirl of cream to top off the cup, the dusting of cocoa or cinnamon, everything mulled in the sweet warmth of winter. Even if the drink you’re making is questionable, you get so excited about it, genuinely enthusiastic when you recommend them to customers, carrying everyone into the spirit of the upcoming holidays. You’d hardly describe making coffee a billion times a day fun—it’s pretty exhausting, actually—but you’ve always had a weird affection for the winter menu and the weekly specials alongside it.

You don’t upsell the drinks because you have to. You do it because you want to.

(You’re pretty good at it too. Not a flex: just a fact. Your customer service is on point.)

The only person you’ve never tried to persuade into trying something new is Yoongi. He might not be rude or short tempered, but he clearly knows what he wants, and you hate the idea of ruining the easy flow of his visits. You’re not about to embarrass yourself by asking Mr No-Cream-Or-Sugar if he’d like a drink that's nothing but cream and sugar. Asking about the rewards card had been nerve-wracking enough, even if it had been worth it for the genuinely-unintentional-but-definitely-not-unpleasant brushing of your fingers when you’d handed the card over to him.

(Okay. Look. Yoongi is patient and pleasant and polite and cute. You never thought that you’d crush on a customer, but here you are. He just… oozes masculinity in an understated, self-assured way that has you internally swooning. He looks intimidating and serious but when he smiles his eyes go soft-soft-soft, his voice a low rumble as he gives you his gentle thank you, and everything about him is just so… attractive. Even the way he holds his coffee is hot, fingers loose around the lid as he makes his way out of the café, your eyes tracing every motion as he goes. Like. Come on. Of course you’re crushing on him.)

(Just a little bit, though. Just a little bit. It’s just an itty bitty crush. A teeny weeny crush.) 

The bell above the door chimes. Your kneejerk reaction is to snap your head over to see who it is—but you hold it together, instead letting your head turn at a normal, natural pace. It’s just an unfamiliar woman, rearranging the tassels of her long scarf with one hand and holding her phone with the other as the door swings shut, and you deflate.

(... It’s a small crush, you swear. It’s not like this is around the normal time Yoongi appears and you’d thought it was going to be him. Nope. Definitely not that.)

As the woman lingers near the counter, eyes flicking between her phone and the chalkboard menu on the wall above your head, Taehyung finishes licking the panettone crumbs off his fingers.

“It’s Tuesday,” he states solemnly.

“I know?”

“It’s just past two o’clock,” he continues.

“I know,” you repeat, glancing at him quizzically. “You told me what the time was less than five minutes ago.”

“I did.”

The bell chimes again. This time, a gaggle of giggling girls come bubbling into the café, cutting you off before you can ask what Taehyung is trying to say. You go to flick your cloth at him before thinking better of it, not wanting to rain dark roast everywhere.

“Go wash your hands,” you say, just as the scarfed woman approaches the counter, ready to order. A bright smile splits your face, voice rising into its usual peppy Customer Service tone. “Hi, welcome to Paradise! How can I help you today?”

She barely glances up from her phone as she orders, asking for a latte macchiato and croissant, a distracted ‘no thanks’ when you ask if she’s interested in this week’s special. Oh well. The girls behind her, though, all seem incredibly excited when they catch wind of it; they all eagerly listen as you describe what a Crystal Snow is, your eyes lighting up as you mime piping the cream and dusting the sugar on top, laughing when they ask if they can buy extra sugar sticks to take home, because of course they can, you’d be happy to do that for them, would they like those in to-go bags? Yes, the bags are cute, aren’t they, the snowflakes are lovely, you agree.

Taehyung’s just finished wiping the steam wand when you give him the next order. You see the way his face crumples before his brows lift and his lips purse, pleading as he looks at you with big eyes, and you just roll your own eyes affectionately.

“Yes, yes, I’ll make them even though you’re meant to be on the bar, it’s fine,” you say, and Taehyung’s whole face lights up.

You’ve worked with Taehyung long enough by now to know that it takes him until at least Wednesday to memorise how to make whatever that week’s special is. And there’s not a queue, so you don’t mind taking over, pulling espresso shots and steaming milk and pouring everything together, puffing air in Taehyung’s face when he peers at your cream swirling technique. (No matter how many times you’ve tried to teach him, he’s never been able to get it right, usually just farting a mess of cream out of the nozzle and hoping for the best. Results are… mixed.) Maybe the flourish you put into dusting the sugar on top is unnecessary, but, hey. It’s fun. You smile to yourself as you give a small flick of the wrist over each drink, powdered sugar floating down like snow, and, done.

You don’t like to toot your own horn but the drinks come out Instagram perfect, each latte glass set on a tiny napkin on a saucer, sugar stick on one side, and you take a moment to admire your work.

“They’re so pretty,” Taehyung says, and your smile grows wider.

The girls all agree, cooing over the drinks in a way that only makes your smile grow even more, wide on your face. You watch as they squirrel themselves away in a corner, talking and laughing and nibbling their food and sipping at their drinks, pleased at the way their eyes widen at the first taste.

Yeah, it’s the small things that makes your time here good. Being a barista is a thankless job most of the time, as relaxed as Paradise usually is, so you try to appreciate the small things. Like having fun when you make a drink, for example. Making nice customers happy. (Having cute regulars that you can quietly ogle.)

Actually, on the note of cute regulars—

“Your 2:15 appointment is here.”

You tear your attention away from the table of girls at the sound of Taehyung’s voice. “My what—?”

There’s someone in front of the glass display, hunched as they slowly and quietly peruse the selection of pastries and food inside—and you realise with a jolt that it’s Yoongi. You have no idea how long he’s been there, so distracted with patting yourself on the back for making a few nice drinks; oh, God, what if Yoongi had seen your pleased expression? Do you look smug? You probably look smug. Great, now he probably thinks that you’re a self-obsessed clown, honking your nose like some sort of narcissist. 

“You’re spiralling,” Taehyung points out mildly, voice low enough that Yoongi doesn't hear.

His surprisingly perceptive comment snaps you out of aforementioned spiralling, and after shaking yourself off, you glance over at him. “Why didn’t you serve him?”

He shrugs. “He didn’t seem like he wanted to be served so I just left him to it.”

To be fair to Taehyung, he’s not wrong. Yoongi is staring intently at a slice of carrot cake—even if he’s never ordered any before—and it’s not until you move to your usual spot behind the till that his attention finally rises, meeting your gaze with his deep, dark eyes.

Your inner schoolgirl feels like she needs to sit down. Your entire stomach and chest is a looping mess of frantic butterflies after making eye contact with the cute boy who you’re crushing on, but you’ve got a great poker face; you’ve worked as a barista long enough that you’re good at shoving your real feelings down, none of your internal turmoil playing across your face as you smile. Customer service mode activate.

“Hi, and welcome back to Paradise. What can I get for you today? The usual? Large Americano, to go, for Yoongi?”

You’re a little softer than you would be with other customers, a little more subdued, dialing down how upbeat you normally are to match Yoongi’s level. His lips lift almost imperceptibly, the faintest smile playing across his mouth, and it takes all your strength for your knees to not immediately buckle. 

“Hi,” he says. His voice is soft and low, faintest drawl at the end of his words, and yep, just your weekly reminder that you’re enamoured with him. Cool. “Yes, please, that would be great.”

He already has his card ready, you know he does. He always does; card to pay, loyalty card to swipe, tip to drop in the jar, quick and smooth and easy. This is normally where you’d rattle off the price—as if he doesn’t already know what it is—but you pause, thinking about how intent he’d been on the pastry display, as uncharacteristic as that is.

“Did you… want something to eat, too? I couldn’t, um, help noticing that you were eyeing up the carrot cake?”

Yoongi blinks, wispy lashes fluttering. You can see the muted surprise that flashes across his face, and you wonder if you’ve misstepped, thrown off the usual rhythm of his visit. It’s an unusual step away from your regular script, an ad-lib that he wasn’t expecting.

“Uh, no, thank you,” he says. “Maybe… next time.”

He’s polite as ever, thankfully. You’re not surprised at his answer but you do have to wonder why he was looking at the cake so closely if he hadn’t planned on getting anything; you know he likes getting served by you the most, if the evidence over the months means anything at all, but you don’t think he’d stare at cake just so he would avoid Taehyung. You’re making assumptions based on the fact he just drinks black coffee and literally nothing else, but you’ve guessed he doesn’t have a sweet tooth. (The only time he’s ever ordered food had been two months prior when he’d asked for a single croissant, and nothing since. Taehyung still talks about the croissant sometimes.) 

Well, it doesn't really matter. If he doesn't want cake, you're not going to force it on him, and the rest of the transaction goes as normal. Yoongi hands over his rewards card, fingers long and knuckles knobbly and altogether lovely, pays for his Americano—made by Taehyung, cup wrapped in the sleeve that you’ve written Yoongi’s name on, black sharpie bleeding into the cardboard—and smiles at you both when Taehyung hands it to him across the smooth wood of the counter.

“Thanks.” He gives you that slight tilt of his head that he always does, and you smile helplessly back. 

He’s a gentleman, through and through, even if he looks as distant as ever; dressed in all black, his ripped jeans the only splash of lightness in his dark outfit. Maybe you’re biased, but no matter what he wears, he looks stylish, somehow. It’s something in his aura. All cool understated elegance and power. 

And here you are, in your cream jumper under the dark mulberry apron of your uniform, a flower blooming next to the name on your badge. All chirpy customer service, smiling broad and wide as you go through the same motions over and over with each new person that comes in. Sometimes you wonder what Yoongi thinks of you, as different as you are to him, but at the end of the day it doesn’t really matter—because he keeps coming back, doesn’t he?

“Have a nice day,” you say as he turns to go, and when he glances over his shoulder and says you too, smile soft and eyes softer, you know he really means it. 

(And if your eyes always trail after him once his back has turned, who’s telling?)

“You’re staring.” Taehyung’s telling, apparently.

You tear your eyes away from Yoongi, bell tinkling as the door swings shut behind him. “He’s my favourite customer,” you say. As if that explains why you were staring.

“You’ve barely spoken to him.”

“He’s my favourite customer,” you say again, emphatically. “He comes in, he gets the world’s simplest drink to make, is always polite, always leaves a tip, and he goes. Literally the perfect customer.”

 “Alright, true,” he says, as if he hadn’t considered that before now. “Cute, too.”

You sigh. A little wistful. “Yeah,” you say. “Yeah, he is.”

Taehyung opens his mouth as if he’s about to say something else when someone spills their drink on their floor with an unholy clattering sound, even if nothing breaks; without saying anything, both you and Taehyung raise your hands, eyes narrowing at each other.

"Rock, paper, scissors," you chant. Taehyung promptly loses, and the pout that forms on his lips doesn't disappear until he's finished mopping everything up.

(“Why do I always end up having to clean spillages?”

“Because you never win rock-paper-scissors. You always choose scissors, Taehyung. You literally always choose scissors.”)

The tradition of the weekly specials at Paradise is a weird one, truth be told. Each Monday whoever’s on the opening shift will enter the coffee shop and find that the board on the wall has been updated, the recipe typed up and laminated, waiting on the counter for the baristas. You all assume it’s the mysterious owner, who no one has ever seen, and no one even knows the name of, apparently.

“Someone has to know their name,” you’d said, once, back when you’d first started, only to receive a shrugs from everyone.

“I heard one of the old baristas say the owner’s name was Jackson,” Taehyung had said, and you’d just blinked at him.

“Huh?” you’d said, but Jimin had rolled his eyes and told you to ignore him, so you had.

This week’s drink is the Marshmallow World. As always, when you and Taehyung start your shift together, you read the recipe and follow it step by step to learn how to make it. Warmed milk, vanilla syrup, topped off with marshmallow fluff instead of whipped cream—not bad in theory, if you like sweet things, although it does pose one significant problem.

“It’s clogged my hole,” Taehyung says sadly.

You sputter on your own drink, desperately hacking your lungs out as you try to stop milk from going down your windpipe. “I’m-sorry-it’s-what,” you wheeze all at once, struggling for air.

Taehyung tilts his takeaway cup at you, gesturing at the lid. (All the mugs are still out back or on a rinse cycle so laziness had forced you to make do.) “My drink hole. It’s blocked,” he explains. “The fluff is getting in the way.”

So, yeah. It clogs people’s holes, apparently. But other than that, you have to admit it’s pretty nice, and if you drink it in the café (and thus out of a mug) then you’re fine. You just get into the habit of warning the customers if they order it to go and laugh about it with them and it’s all fine and dandy and everyone is happy.

It’s starting to get busier, now. The nights are getting longer and the days are getting colder and everyone’s starting to think about Christmas, which feels both close and far away, all at once. Close, because you still have presents to buy and there’s never enough time for it; and far, because the lights have yet to go up and Christmas songs aren’t dominating the radio yet and you have yet to experience the real winter rush. Students home for the holidays and families out to see Father Christmas and workers grabbing Secret Santa gifts, everyone desperate for something warm and soothing, hot and comforting in the face of the snow which has yet to fall. 

But there’s something in the air, that cool hush that lets you know it’s nearly here—the changing of the seasons, the burnt sunset colours of autumn melting into the iced blues and greys of winter. No matter if you prefer hot or cold weather, there’s something about the beauty of wintertime that’s undeniable.

And it’s a lot easier to sell something like the Marshmallow World on a day like this, the nip in the air almost solid, biting cold into the apples of your cheeks, nibbling at fingers that are so cold they feel frost-bitten. Once again, your genuine enthusiasm shines through, persuading people to give the drink a go, happy to add a shot of espresso for whoever needs it, desperate for caffeine to buoy them up through the day.

You’ve just finished laughing with a lovely old couple, wearing matching scarves and hats—awwww—waving them goodbye as they go to sit down, when you come face to face with Yoongi, blindsided by his sudden appearance. You’d been so caught up, once again, too busy giggling your way through the conversation with your other customers, able to persuade them to try one special to share alongside everything else they’ve ordered. 

“Oh. Uh. Hi,” you say. Your hand is still by your face after you’d given the couple a cute wave, and when you realise, you freeze. Flustered. Behind you, Taehyung is struggling to spoon the marshmallow fluff neatly on the vanilla steamer, making small noises of distress, but you’re too caught up in your own distress to really notice.

Once again, you have no idea how long Yoongi’s been there. You’re slipping. You’re normally aware of him as soon as he steps into the coffee shop. (You know, because you’re always aware of when a new customer steps in. Like any good barista would be.) Had he witnessed you enthusiastically waving your hands and talking about marshmallows and s'mores? Seen the way you'd grinned and laughed as you'd gotten excited over the weekly special, yet again?

Well, if he had, he doesn't seem perturbed at all. His usual smile is on his face, though you would swear it seems a little softer around the edges, almost fond. 

“Hi,” he says, and… that’s it. 

There’s no addition of his usual that would be great, and that’s when you realise you haven’t asked about his coffee. In fact, your fingers are still curled near your chin, almost like a claw. You clear your throat and let your arm fall to your side, fiddling with the tie of your apron. 

“Hi,” you repeat. Flounder for a second. Try to remember your usual line. “Large Americano?”

“Y/n.” Taehyung whines your name from the bar, loud enough that it catches your attention. “The marshmallow isn’t staying. Why do you keep recommending Marshmallow World? Why must I suffer through this torture? Every day I wake up and I make coffee—”

“Sorry, sir, one second,” you say, face scrunching in apology at Yoongi. 

“It's just Yoongi,” he replies, gentle, and your heart thuds in your chest. "You don't have to call me sir."

Your face feels warm. "Um, okay, Yoongi." You've said his name before, of course, said it dozens of times to confirm his order, but never like this—by invitation from the man himself, an acknowledgement of familiarity.

Taehyung makes another noise. Yoongi's expression turns into one of faint amusement, eyes drifting over your shoulder to your friend; when you turn around, you can see why.

The other barista’s managed to get marshmallow fluff all over the edge of the glass, on the handle of the cup, all the way up the spoon, on his fingers—everywhere except on the drink itself. It’s funny, in a sad sort of way.

“Wow.” You have no idea how he managed it, but you’re here to help. “Alright, go wash your hands, Tae. I’ve got this.”

The cup is a goner.  There’s no way you’ll be able to wipe off the sticky marshmallow. You’re acutely aware of Yoongi at the counter, able to watch your every move, but then you get distracted as you salvage Taehyung's attempt at a Marshmallow World. You just feel grateful that it’s a steamer so you can pour it into a new glass, not having to worry about layers of coffee and milk and foam; it’s a pretty easy fix. Good. (You don’t want to keep Yoongi waiting, as patient as he may be.)

It doesn’t take long to spoon the marshmallow on, whipped peaks in the sticky white, and by the time Taehyung returns you’re ready to present him with the picture perfect drink, not a single lick of fluff anywhere it shouldn’t be. You've got your hands on your hips as you survey your work proudly, and Taehyung sticks his tongue out at you.

“Witchcraft,” he says, and you laugh.

“You’re welcome,” you say. “Alright, shoo, go take this over to the table before they start wondering where it is.”

When you turn back, Yoongi’s watching you. Contemplative. You tamp down the flush that threatens to spill onto your cheeks, face burning, but before you can say anything, he speaks.

“Was that the weekly special?”

You blink. Blindsided. Yoongi’s never asked about the special before, never commented on the A-frame outside, the sign on the wall that sits next to the regular menu. No surprise there—why would someone who only drinks Americanos want to drink ninety-nine percent of the weekly specials you offer? “Um, yeah,” you say. “We’ve got the Marshmallow World this week.”

“Would you recommend it?”

You can’t help it. You light up. You love when customers ask for recommendations, and the fact that it’s Yoongi—whose blood must be made of coffee at this point—who’s asking about it? Americano Yoongi, asking about something without caffeine? Black coffee Yoongi, asking about a weekly special that’s nothing but sugar and sweetness? Something inside you switches on, a Christmas tree, all flashing lights and shimmering tinsel and excitement.

“Oh, if you like sweeter drinks, absolutely! It’s great for a cold day like today,” you gush. Maybe you should reel it in, far more exuberant than you usually are with Yoongi, but. You can’t stop. “It’s warm milk and vanilla, so it’s a lovely comfort drink, and we can add a shot of espresso too if you were wanting a little pick-me-up. And then you’ve got marshmallow fluff on top for some extra self-indulgence. We were meant to, uh, toast the top, actually, but we don’t have the necessary health and safety clearance for blowtorches. I guess you could do that at home if you really wanted to. Everyone likes toasted marshmallows, right?”

Yoongi hums, and you wonder if you’ve maybe gotten ahead of yourself. Oversold it. Maybe he was asking out of curiosity. Just because he’s asking about it doesn’t mean that he wants one—

“Can I get a Marshmallow World, please? Large, to go?”

—or maybe Yoongi is an official convert to the world of sweet drinks, changing after a lifetime of drinking unadorned, unadulterated black coffee. Holy shit. Holy shit? Holy—

“And a large Americano to go, too, please.”

(Record scratch. Freeze frame.  

Yoongi of-the-black-coffee is ordering his usual drink, and another. Both large. Too much for one person to reasonably drink before one of them got cold. He’s not ordering for one person; he’s ordering for two people. Of course Yoongi wouldn’t order something as heart-stopping as the Marshmallow World—not for himself, anyway. 

Mental maths. Two plus two is four, four plus four is eight; one large Americano and one Marshmallow World is two people. Yoongi and one other person is two people, a couple of people, a couple—

Oh, God.

A couple.

You’ve been crushing on a taken man.

You know how they say your life flashes before your eyes before you die? It’s sort of like that, but rather than remembering your life, you immediately recall every moment over the months where you’ve looked at him or thought about him with even the smallest iota of longing and you want to crawl under the counter and never come out. 

You feel weirdly guilty. Like… like you’re some sort of unintentional homewrecker. Even though, you know, you thought Yoongi was single and you haven’t made a single move on him and nor had you had any plans to. The guilt bubbles up inside you anyway.

All at once, you feel immensely, incredibly embarrassed. Of course he’s taken. There’s no way he wouldn’t be, as attractive and nice as he is, and you’ve just been sat here crushing on him like a big dumb idiot. 

You are the worst.)

You manage to squeeze this internal breakdown into the span of a few seconds. You’re grateful that you have your customer service face locked on, giving nothing away—from the outside the smile looks just like that, a smile, rather than the rictus of deathly mortification it actually is, burning through you like a wildfire. 

Yoongi seems none the wiser, just patiently waiting for some sort of acknowledgement of his order. Most of your brain power is still taken up with the mish-mash of humiliation and guilt that’s roiling through you. Luckily, though, the part of your brain that’s still in the moment (trying to drag you back to the real world, shame-faced as you are) forces you to move before things get weird.

“One large Americano, one large Marshmallow World, both to go.” You tap the drinks into the till on auto-pilot, dimly noting that Taehyung’s been pulled into conversation with the old couple at their table, having delivered their drinks and food to them. It’s just you behind the counter, no one else to man the coffee machines. “Let me get those started for you.”

Luckily, making the drinks means you can turn your back to Yoongi, oscillating through the five stages of grief as you fiddle with hot milk and coffee grounds and paper cups. You always take pride in your work—especially when it comes to Yoongi—and you take even more pride now, determined to make these drinks as lovely as they can be. His Americano is fairly simple, but the Marshmallow World requires a bit more finesse, and you lavish attention on the fluff, swirling it beautifully, even though you know it’ll stick to the lid anyway. 

(Okay, listen. Whoever this person Yoongi is seeing must be as nice as he is. They both deserve nice drinks.)

There’s something sweet about it, actually. Before the lids go on, you spent a second staring down at the drinks and the juxtaposition between them; black coffee and white marshmallow, bitter and sweet, night and day. It’s lovely, really, these two opposing things coming together. You wonder what Yoongi’s partner is like. Exuberant and bright, rather than his subdued warmth? A balance, yin and yang, opposite but complementary. 

(Isn’t that a nice thing to think about? Finding someone who’s different to you but matches you so well?)

You firmly press the lids into place, making sure they’re secure. The protective cardboard sleeve of Yoongi’s Americano has his name—the name you’ve memorised, written out countless times—while the Marshmallow World has a scrawled happy face, and an enjoy! on it, for this mysterious person who likes sweet drinks. You do sincerely hope they enjoy it. You really do.

“The fluff blocks the hole,” you warn, sliding the cardboard tray for both drinks carefully across the counter. “It’s probably a better idea to just take the lid off.”

Something flickers across Yoongi’s face, too fast for you to identify. But then he nods, lifting the tray up with equally careful hands. “I’ll keep that in mind,” he says. 

He’s always polite to everyone, Taehyung and the other baristas, but he seems to smile at you the most. He’s smiling at you now, curling at the corners of his lips, and you smile back, fighting through ten layers of embarrassment and self-inflicted shame to do so. Just because he smiles at you the most doesn’t mean anything. You can smile at people and not have it be weird; it doesn’t mean you return their ill-fated attraction.

Why, oh why, oh why.

By the time Taehyung returns to the counter, having escaped the chatty, kind clutches of the elderly couple, Yoongi is long gone. Your fellow barista finds you crouched down in front one of the cupboards with your head in your hands.

“Y/n?” He sounds incredibly concerned. “Are you okay? Do you have a headache? Are you sick?”

You let out a quiet noise, a mix between a whale dying and a hippo trying to swallow porridge, muffled into your palms. “I’m such a doughnut,” you say. “Just an absolute doughnut.”

Taehyung crouches beside you. “A glazed doughnut or a jam doughnut?”

Your hands drop away from your face as you think. “Plain,” you say, eventually. “Unglazed. No toppings or fillings.” A little sad and disappointing. It seems fitting. 

Taehyung puts a hand on your shoulder, warm and comforting. “Do you want to talk about it?”

You feel embarrassed all over again, thinking about admitting your (now-squashed) crush to your friend. It was stupid in the first place, crushing on a customer, especially as you’d barely spoken to him; Yoongi might be cute, and nice, but your crush was silly and dumb and you’d been silly and dumb not to think that he was already in a relationship.

“I’m fine,” you say. “Just going through it. And by ‘it’ I mean life generally, you know?”

Taehyung makes a noise of understanding, patting your shoulder. “Big mood,” he says sombrely. He always knows what to say, empathetic to a fault.

“Uh,” a customer says, craning over the counter to see the two of you. “Sorry to interrupt, but can I get a refill on my coffee, please?”

That effectively kills the conversation, which is good. Keep yourself busy and distracted. By the time you see Yoongi next week, this crush will be dead and gone and you’ll be fine. Just fine. Absolutely fine.

He’s dyed his hair.

It’s a Tuesday afternoon, the café is full of people, and Yoongi has dyed his hair.

You’d spent all of last Tuesday alternating between all-consuming guilt and embarrassment, Taehyung catching you with your head in your hands in one moment and furiously cleaning the steam wand the next, channeling your tumult of emotions into anything that will distract you. 

It had worked. Mostly. You’ve had a week’s worth of time since, to get over this month’s long crush, your brain consistently reminding you that Yoongi is in a relationship, with someone who’s probably lovely and attractive and all around just wonderful (just like him). You remind yourself about this every time you find coffee grounds under your nails, or notice milk flecked on your apron, soured and off-white after a day of work; your life isn’t a meet-cute, and you’re not the cute barista who falls in love with the cute regular. You’re the tired barista who makes more cups of coffee in a day than most people probably drink in a year, and Yoongi is the cute regular who’s already in a long term relationship and comes to Paradise just because he likes the dark roast you use. That’s as far as it will go, because this is real life, and not a romance film or novel. (Even if you wished that it was.)

You’ve come to terms with it. Really, you have. But then he has to step into the coffee shop looking like that, his hair bleached so blond it almost looks white, silver hoops in his ears, and he’s still dressed in dark clothes but he’s wearing glasses, no, this isn’t a drill, Yoongi’s dyed his hair, he’s all light and dark, soft and sharp, and you want to crouch behind the counter again. Because he looks so good and of course he’s in a relationship because he’s hot, and you feel dumb for not having realised it sooner.

You can’t hide behind the counter, though. There’s a queue of people, all waiting for your attention and your time, and it’s still just you and Taehyung; none of your usual Christmas temps are back yet, still away at uni, hence the we’re hiring! posters that are up for all the customers to see (and mostly ignore). The seasons are changing and the weeks are passing and the really eager people are starting to think about Christmas shopping; you swear you don’t even need a calendar, able to trace how close you are to Christmas just based on the amount of foot traffic the coffee shop gets. You’re definitely hitting peak.

But it’s fine. You have this down to a fine art. You and Taehyung are both good on the till and scarily efficient at making drinks and plating food, dancing past each other with an ease that only comes with time spent working together and friendship alongside.

People aren’t ordering the weekly special as much, either, not today. You can’t blame them. Candy Cane Dreams is a white hot chocolate, flavoured with mint and coloured green, topped with whipped cream and sprinkles of candy cane bark and red and green drizzle too; it’s… pretty overwhelming. So it means you don’t have to take over for Taehyung from the bar, focusing on smiling at customers and soothing them after their wait, taking their orders and shuffling them along as quickly as you can. You keep a smile plastered on your face as Taehyung pulls espresso shots and grabs tea bags and heats milk, routine and familiar.

When Yoongi steps up to the counter, you’ve barely had time to mentally prepare yourself, so focused on serving everyone else in the queue; it feels like a slap to the face, a kick to the knees, but then you take one deep breath and exhale. Long, deep, slow, forcing air out of your lungs and thoughts out of your mind, and you smile.

You’ve been so careful up until this point, wanting to keep Yoongi happy, wary of misstepping—but he’s just a regular customer. You feel more confident, now, less worried about breaking this tenuous thing you thought you’d had; less worried about what you’re doing being construed as some weird, roundabout way of flirting, because. You know. He’s in a relationship, so it doesn’t matter either way. He’s definitely not interested. You can talk to him like you would anyone else. 

So you say: “You dyed your hair.”

And, just like you suspected, Yoongi doesn’t seem bothered that you’ve broken your usual script. “Oh, yeah.” He reaches up, touches his head, as if he’d forgotten. “I did.”

“It looks nice,” you continue, because it does.

He’s smiling back at you. He looks pleased; maybe a little bashful, even, as surprising as that is. “Thanks,” he says, warm and genuine. (The tiny gremlin of a crush that’s still lurking in your soul lets out a wistful sigh.) “Can I get a large Americano and a—” he squints at the board— “large Candy Cane Dream, please?”

(One plus one is two, Yoongi and his other half, the sugar to his coffee.)

“Sure!” Your voice is bright. “I’m guessing the Marshmallow World went over well?”

There’s a brief beat of silence, but you don’t notice, too focused on typing Yoongi’s order into the till.

“Yeah, it was great,” he says after that moment of quiet, and you smile. Good. You’re glad they enjoyed it. 

“I’m really happy to hear that,” you say, genuine and bright. 

“What’s actually in the, ah, Candy Cane Dreams?” Yoongi asks, and you laugh, leaning forward conspiratorially.

“It’s horrendous,” you say in a low voice, as if you’re sharing a secret. “Have you ever seen green hot chocolate before?”

You’ve never spoken to Yoongi like this, easy and light, and it’s… nice. He gives no indication of surprise at your sudden friendliness after months of barely talking. If anything he looks pleased, and at one point he even gives you a smile you’ve never seen before, wide and wonderful, flashing his teeth and gums. (The crush gremlin rattles at your ribcage like prison bars, trying desperately to escape, but you don’t give it a chance.)

“Alright, let me just swap with the other barista, he’s still not gotten the Candy Cane Dreams recipe down.”

You hear a suspicious crunch as you make your way over to Taehyung. He turns to you with a guilty smile, edged with sugar, munching on shards of candy cane while his back is to the customers.

“You’re terrible,” you say affectionately. “Go take over on the till, I have a special to make.”

Taehyung glances over, sees Yoongi making his way down to the collection point. “Huh. Alright.”

The Candy Cane Dreams recipe might be a questionable one, but it’s definitely fun to make (watching the white hot chocolate turn green makes you feel like a kid all over again, mixing shampoos together in your bathroom and calling them potions), and maybe you’re overly generous with the candy cane bark, giving Yoongi’s beau more to nibble on and enjoy. It’s not Christmas yet but you’re already in a giving mood, so sue you. 

“Here you go.” You slide the drinks towards him, the man busy reading one of the vacancy fliers, eyes flicking away from the poster when you appear. Your lips quirk up. “Looking for a job?”

You’re expecting a huff of a laugh, a small shake of the head, but he answers you seriously. “Not me, but I have a friend who is,” he says, reaching to take the tray.

You realise your hands are still curled around the cardboard; you quickly pull away so that there’s no chance your hands will brush. (You might have shoved your crush down as far as it will go, but you have to be careful with your weak, gooey heart.) 

“We could do with any help, honestly. Your friend is more than welcome to apply.” You glance over at the queue, which is small but ever present, and you know it’ll only get worse as time goes on. “And, hey, if you ever decide for a change of pace from whatever it is you do, we’d be glad to have you, too.”

This gets a laugh from him, a warm burst of sound. (The gremlin points out that this is the first time you’ve heard him laugh, really laugh, a little raspy and a little quiet and altogether lovely; you beat the gremlin back with a stick.) “I’m better at drinking coffee than I am at making it,” Yoongi says, eyes soft with lingering amusement. “I’ll leave that to the experts.”

You might have gone off script, but the nod he gives you is his usual one, that familiar tilt of the head. “See you next week?” His eyes are dark, dark and deep, and it’s so hard not to fall into them, to fall all over again.

“See you next week,” you echo, hoping the smile you plaster on your face doesn’t look as forced as it feels, as you struggle once more. Yoongi is just nice, okay? He's just being nice, but still. He needs to let a girl breathe.

(He needs to let the gremlin of her crush wither away, instead of making it threaten to come back as strong as before, fuelled by his smile and his eyes and his everything.)

(... maybe you’re not as over this crush as you thought you were.)

It seems like the we’re hiring! posters actually worked.

“I’m Jungkook,” says the new starter, all crooked smiles and warm eyes and thighs so thick they threaten to split the trousers of the café’s uniform, ties of his apron emphasising his small waist.

(“Good lord,” Taehyung says faintly.)

It’s the last week of November and even though Jungkook is still learning the ropes, he’s a massive help, and you know he’ll be a lifesaver over Christmas. He’s eager, learns quickly, and gets stuck right in, material of his shirt straining across his shoulder blades when he rips a bag of coffee beans open with his bare hands, rather than having to use scissors like you or Taehyung. 

Taehyung watches with stars in his eyes as Jungkook pours the beans into the grinder. You cover your smile by sipping at one of the espresso shots Jungkook has pulled—full-bodied and dark, rich in your mouth. 

“This is really good, Jungkook,” you say. He looks over, eyes squeezing into a smile.

“Thought it would be,” he says, and you can’t help but huff a laugh into the tiny espresso cup. He’s cocky and competitive, telling you that he’d never made coffee before but he was going to do a better job than any of the other baristas here. He’s too endearing to come across as arrogant, though, and you have to admit that the coffee is good. (Not as good as yours or Taehyung’s, of course, but still. Pretty good.)

Taehyung coos at him and reaches out to shamelessly squeeze his bicep. “Jungkookie is a natural barista.”

Jungkook’s cocky smile turns equal parts pleased and flustered. You continue to sip at the espresso as Taehyung moons over him, then the bell above the door rings, and the mooning temporarily is put on hold. (Temporarily, because Taehyung continues to moon over him for the rest of the shift, insisting on doing the bulk of his training, which is fine by you.)

It’s the 1st of December tomorrow, so not only do you have to clean after the café is locked up, you have to put out all the Christmas decorations, too. But it’s more fun that it is work, the three of you dragging the tree out of the storage room and decorating it with a menagerie of tinsel and baubles; Jungkook lifts Taehyung so he can get the star on the tree, wrapping his arms around Taehyung’s waist and hoisting him up effortlessly, leaving your friend with a pleased smile on his face.

Jungkook is new, only on his second shift, but he’s slotted in so easily. He laughs at Taehyung when he wiggles his butt along to the Christmas songs you've put on to play, and he helps steady the stepladder as you string garlands of snowflakes on the ceiling, even if he doesn’t really need to. 

He absently readjusts the reindeer headband Taehyung had unearthed from the storage room and proudly placed on his head. “Yoongi-hyung talks a lot about this place,” Jungkook comments, offhand.

If you’d heard this a few weeks ago, you probably would have fallen off the stepladder, inner gremlin grabbing your heart with both hands and squeezing tight-tight-tight. As it is you only pause for a moment, one of the larger snowflakes cradled in your palm, before you go back to your job of hanging them up. 

“So you’re the friend he mentioned that needed a job,” you say. 

“That’s me.” Jungkook grins, boyish and bright, and you laugh. “He really, really likes this café. Wouldn’t shut up about it, even before he told me that you were hiring.”

You can’t imagine Yoongi gushing about a café to his friends, but then again, he clearly is passionate about his coffee. Jungkook will know him better than you, having a real friendship rather than this patron-and-customer back-and-forth that you’ve had, so who are you to imagine what’s normal for Yoongi and what isn’t? You didn’t even know he was in a relationship, after all. You don’t know anything about the guy, really. 

“Well, we appreciate his custom,” you say. “I know Yoongi is the one who actually comes in, but you can thank his other half, too, and I hope they enjoy their drinks as well.”

You’re too busy hanging the garland to see the way Jungkook’s face twists. 

“Huh?”

“You know. Yoongi always comes in for his Americano and the weekly special for his partner,” you say.

You’re focused on stepping down the ladder without falling to see the expression on Jungkook’s face, nose scrunched and lips pursed, like there’s something he’s smelled that he really doesn’t like.

“Did he say that to you? That it was for someone else?”

“Hm?” You pause in grabbing another string of snowflakes, glancing up. “Oh, no, I just worked it out, you know? Yoongi is a religious coffee drinker, why else would he order something that’s basically hot sugar water? I think it’s cute,” you add, belatedly. “That he always comes in to grab something for them, too.” 

(You wish you had someone to do that for you.)

There’s a beat of silence. Jungkook’s holding the stepladder, ready to move it, staring at you in a way that’s weirdly intense. “I see,” he says, like that isn’t weird or mysterious at all.

Then he drags the stepladder’s rubber feet across the floor with such a loud noise that Taehyung startles, bauble falling out of his hand and shattering. Jungkook, of course, profusely apologises and insists on cleaning it up—but not before making sure Taehyung is okay, of course, grabbing his hands and looking over them, as if the bauble had broken in his palms and not the floor. 

Taehyung looks immensely pleased. You just smile quietly to yourself, roll your eyes lightly, and go back to hanging snowflakes as Jungkook speaks to Taehyung, soft and low.

You think your favourite thing about training a new starter is witnessing their reaction to the weekly special.

“So,” Jungkook says, slowly. “You put in the whole gingerbread man—gumdrops and icing and all—and just blend it?

“Yep.” Taehyung’s reply is cheery. “Straight in and whizz it all up.”

This week, it’s You Can’t Catch Me, I’m the Gingerbread Frappé which is a) probably the longest name known to mankind and b) probably the most questionable name known to mankind and c) who orders a frappé in December?

These thoughts are clearly playing across Jungkook’s face as Taehyung coaxes him to drop the gingerbread man into the blender, and you’re too busy enjoying the consternation on Jungkook’s face to notice someone stepping up to the counter—until they clear their throat, that is, and you all turn. 

“Hi,” Yoongi says.

“Oh! Hi,” Taehyung says.

“Hyung! Look!” Jungkook says.

“Jungkook, wait—” you say.

“Whirr,” the lidless blender says.

It’s chaos. Frappé ends up everywhere, splattered over the counter and the floor, splashed across the wine-red aprons of both of your fellow baristas, as close to the blender as they were—saving you from any of the sugary fallout, unwitting human shields.

There’s a beat of silence, where you all stare at each other—

And then Yoongi laughs.

You’ve never seen Yoongi laugh this loudly, eyes squeezed so hard you wonder if he can even see, almost cackling as he laughs at Jungkook’s expression, joyful and loud and free. It’s another dimension to him, another new part you witness as Jungkook wipes gingerbread and ice off his face and Taehyung stares at the mess spattered across his hands and arms.

It makes you think of a paper crane. Yoongi is this unfinished thing in your mind, each new thing you learn about him another fold that you add, a flat sheet of paper turned into something entirely and wholly new. You wish that it weren’t so alluring, watching it come together, finding out more and more about this man you’ve technically known for months, but only recently started to get to know.

(You wish that it wasn’t so easy to keep falling for him.)

Once the counter is cleaned, both Jungkook and Taehyung retreat to replace their aprons, leaving you—once again—alone with Yoongi. He’d stopped laughing to tease Jungkook, to gently rib him, but you can see the smile that’s etched on his face, the echoes of mirth written across all his features.

“We usually train the baristas to keep the lid on, I swear,” you say, and Yoongi’s face splits into another smile.

“I was going to say that it’s an unorthodox blending technique,” and you can’t help but smile back at this, even if you’ve been trying not to laugh. Professionalism barely wins out, your lips trembling as you try to hold your giggling back, but Yoongi spots it anyway, looking pleased, like he’s accomplished something by getting you to (nearly) laugh.

You’re not laughing when you have to make one of the special frappés, though. You stare at the gingerbread man as you hold him above the blender, at his cheery iced face and his cute little buttons (not the gumdrop buttons), and brace yourself to drop him.

“I’m so sorry,” you whisper, and let him go, before quickly slamming the lid on top and turning the blender on so you don’t have to look at the betrayal you’ve just committed. 

When you turn, Yoongi has an expression of sympathy on his face; for you or the gingerbread man, you can’t tell, but his face smooths the second he notices you looking at him, blinking innocently, as if there’s nothing unusual going on. It’s disarming, seeing that expression on his face, when you’d gotten used to seeing him act more reserved, but it’s cute.

(It is cute, whether you’re crushing on him or not. It’s just a statement of fact, okay? It’s nothing more than that. Even if that tiny gremlin of a crush still lives in your chest, scuffing its feet against your heart, reminding you of its presence when you least need it.)

(It digs its heels in when you put the frappé and Americano side by side, nestled snug in their cardboard tray. You slide it towards Yoongi and you’re a little too slow, fingers brushing his when he reaches for them; you’re surprised by how quickly he moves, how eager he seems to be reaching for his order, fingertips dragging across the back of your knuckles, and the gremlin kicks your heart, pulse rising just at that glancing touch. Even if you know it’s fruitless, useless, you can’t help but like Yoongi anyway.)

(“See you next week,” he says, and you can’t do anything but smile helplessly back.)

You normally love snow. You love waking up to the sight of it, pure and pristine white, adding another dimension to your familiar world—you love snowball fights and snowmen and snow angels, even if it all leaves you feeling cold, chilled right to the bone, nose running and hands freezing. The best part about winter is getting warm again, the season of throw blankets and hot water bottles, knitwear and scarves, tea and hot cocoa, all cosy and lovely and wonderful.

It’s a bit different when you have to work all day, though. You watch as the snow on the streets outside is threatened by the spray of salt and a thousand spinning car wheels and busy feet, ice turned to slush water; for now the snow is winning, though, and judging from the weather forecast, you think that’ll be the case for the rest of the day. You hope it lasts through to tomorrow, too; by the time you get home you’ll be too tired and it’ll be too dark to play in the snow, and it leaves you feeling disappointed and sad. 

(Winter is lovely but it can be a hollow season, too, something about the leafless trees and fogged windows making everything feel like an empty dream.)

At least Paradise is warm, even if you’re cooped up inside, safe from the still-falling snow that keeps trying to turn the world into an untouched, frozen wonderland. It’s quiet in the coffee shop today. Only the bravest of people have ventured out into the not-a-blizzard-but-basically-a-blizzard, plastered against radiators and putting drinks to their faces, letting hot steam heat their cold cheeks.

It’s why you’re both surprised and unsurprised when Yoongi appears, bell chiming above his head as the door swings shut and he stamps his feet on the front mat, knocking snow off his boots. He somehow looks disgruntled and soft all at the same time, a royal blue beanie on his head forcing his fringe down to sit messily over his eyes, bundled up warm even if his face is scrunched up and his cheeks are red from the cold.

“I hate cold weather,” he tells you once he reaches the counter, gloves peeled off his fingers so he can reach for his wallet, his nose tinged pink as he sniffs.

You proffer him a box of tissues. “You look like you need it,” you say gently, and he smiles at you, a warm hearth in the cold winter.

“Thank you.” His voice is equally as gentle as yours, and something aches in your chest.

It’s just you behind the counter right now, so you take Yoongi’s order and make the drinks too—one large Americano and one large Latteggnog (a basic latte made with eggnog instead of milk, rich and thick and creamy), this week’s special: everyone’s favourite Christmas drink, but with a twist of coffee. 

The quiet gives you time to think. Jungkook and Taehyung are out back, the older barista coming up with the most ridiculous excuses to take them away from the counter; you don’t mind that they’re taking the time ‘counting the coffee beans’, as deserted as the café is. 

The café is practically empty and Yoongi hates the cold but here he is, venturing into the ice and snow to get this person he cares about the drink they want, because they’re that special to him. (You hope they realise how lucky they are.)

You’re normally okay being single. Don’t really think about it. But there’s something about today, this moment, that has you reflecting; Taehyung has this budding thing with Jungkook, Yoongi has this steady thing with his love, and here you are, by yourself, alone. It’s hard to summon up your usual energy, going through the motions as you make the drinks. You tilt your head forward, dusting nutmeg on the eggnog latte, watching the way the sprinkle of spice settles delicately and softly in the foam. No flourish, no flick of the wrist, not today.

(There’s two cups in front of you now, but later, when you’re home, there’s just going to be one. Yours. Yours, and no one else’s.)

(When you get home, you’re going to do what any self-respecting single person would do: order too much takeaway, rewatch The Good Place, get emotional over Eleanor and Chidi’s relationship—they’re so different but they’re so perfect for each other, why can’t you have that?—mope for a bit, rewatch The Princess Bride, get emotional over Westley and Buttercup—where’s your cute farmboy who saves you from an evil prince?—mope a bit more, before finally climbing into bed and hugging a pillow to your chest in the space of having someone else there. You know. Perfectly normal single person things.)

When you turn to Yoongi, drinks ready and raring to go, you’ve forced a Customer Service Smile onto your face. They say that just the act of smiling makes you happier, right? Maybe if you smile hard enough, you’ll cheer up, chasing away this sudden sadness that lingers in the back of your throat, scratching at your lungs like black ice.

“Here you go!” Your voice seems too loud for the quiet hush of the café, but you roll with it anyway. “Enjoy your drinks!”

Yoongi takes them from you, hands carefully cupped around the tray, but his eyes don’t leave your face. He doesn’t return your smile, as convincing as it should be (even Taehyung struggles to tell between your real smile and your work smile, sometimes); he stands for a moment, looking at you.

You think he’s about to say something when he clearly thinks better of it. He tilts his head, like he always does, but you’d swear his expression is tinged with concern. “Thanks,” he says. Pauses. “The roads are really icy. Get home safe, okay Y/n?”

Blink, blink. Your eyelashes flutter. You suddenly realise that he’s never said your name out loud, never had a need to, even if he must have known it all along from the badge on your chest. It sounds so good in his mouth, soft and safe.

 “Oh,” you say, slow with surprise. “Thank you. I will. You, too.”

Yoongi nods again, as if to himself, before he turns to go.

He stops one more time before he goes. He stands at the open door, glances over his shoulder before he steps out, dark eyes meeting yours, as if checking that you’re still there, still tethered to the ground. Seems satisfied when he finds that you are. He gives you one last smile, all soft around the edges—that’s something you know intimately about Yoongi, that he’s soft through and through, even if he can look sharp, as cold as the ice outside—and then he goes, back into the falling snow to deliver a steaming sip of warmth into the hands of the person he loves.

(Your heart aches.)

It’s the week before Christmas. The whole world has that feeling it always does at this time of year—excited and bright, if a little frantic, the hanging lights in the city a backdrop to people’s last minute shopping, their breaths pluming out into the air as they rush around in the cold. The whole world feels full of life, that final push towards the end of the year; the hearth fire of Christmas before that weird in between before the new year, that held breath of potential, before the clock ticks over and the world is thrown into the next year.

Paradise has been busy. It’s like summer, only instead of sundresses and shorts, everyone is in knitwear and scarves, shivering as they wait to be served, desperate for a drink to warm them up, something to eat to fill their bellies. You spend more time in the coffee shop than you do at home, pulling overtime shifts to help your fellow baristas out—everyone thinks Christmas is a time of relaxation and coming together, but it doesn’t feel like that when you work in a customer facing job, oh no. It’s just non-stop busyness and being rushed off your feet.

(You’d barely had a chance to speak to Yoongi, café full when he’d stepped in, your pace frenetic as you’d danced around behind the counter with Taehyung and Jungkook; you’d slid his drinks towards him, his Americano and the special, and maybe your smile had looked more harrowed than you thought because he’d caught your hand and squeezed it.

“I hope you get a chance to rest over Christmas,” he’d said, concerned and sincere, as you’d stood in stunned silence, not expecting that almost-intimate touch, gentle against your skin.

“I will,” you’d said eventually. Yoongi had seemed to suddenly realise he was still touching you, fingers clasped around yours, and he’d withdrawn quickly, giving you a smile that felt like a whispered secret, before leaving you to deal with the ever-growing queue.)

Suffice to say, it’s been a long week, and you’re tired, and your feet hurt after all the running around you’ve been doing, and you just want to go home. You just need to finish the close, need to finish setting everything up for the open tomorrow, need to finish cleaning everything, and then you can get some sleep.

At least, that’s what you thought. Instead, you’re standing across from Jungkook and staring at him incredulously. You can feel a headache coming on.

“Wait.” You pinch the bridge of your nose. “What do you mean, we need to deliver some coffee?”

You don’t know if Jungkook is being deliberately obtuse, but he just stares at you as if you’re the one talking nonsense right now, and not him. “We have a customer order to deliver,” he says.

“Yes, I gathered that,” you say. “I just mean, why did no one tell me sooner?”

Paradise doesn’t do deliveries, as such. You cater for events, and you technically do deliveries then, but it’s less ‘one coffee to go’ and more ‘enough sandwiches and pastries and bagels and coffee to feed an entire office’. It’s not that you can’t bring someone their order directly, it’s more that you just… don’t.

“Taehyung took the order,” Jungkook says, as if that explains everything.

You pinch the bridge of your nose again. You can’t ask Tae about it, the other man having had to leave just as you’d been about to flip the sign to closed (‘Jimin says Tannie peed in his shoes again! I have to go clean it up! I’m so sorry, I swear I’ll cover a close for each of you next time!’), so it’s just you, and Jungkook, and the slip of paper on the counter between you. You’ve worked with Taehyung long enough to trust his judgement and his decisions, as inexplicable as they might seem sometimes, but you do think it’s weird that he’s taken this delivery on board.

“It’s not too far from here,” Jungkook adds, peering at the address on the paper. “It won’t take long.”

“We have to finish closing, Jungkook,” you say. 

He shrugs casually, carelessly. “I’ll do it, I don’t mind. You can just do the delivery and then go home straight after, it’s whatever.”

“It’s not whatever,” you mumble. “Why can’t you deliver it?”

“You’re the senior barista, you’re a better representative of the brand,” he says, and you have no idea where he pulled that from. (You blame Jimin. You know they’ve had shifts together, and Jimin is too smooth-talking for his own good.)

As much as you want to argue, you can’t help but cave, because the prospect of getting home early is one that you’re not about to sniff at. (You’d worry that Jungkook would get home late, what with the amount of prep he still needs to do for tomorrow, but you half suspect that Taehyung will reappear at some point, anyway.) You’re too tired to want to argue. “I just want to say this is a one off, and normally we cater for events, we’re not really a delivery service, okay?”

“Duly noted.”

It’s a simple enough order, anyway—it’s just two drinks. The first is a large quad shot latte with caramel and toffee syrup, extra whipped cream and cinnamon on top (something you’d definitely order, you think, indulgent and milky and with enough caffeine to kick you up the ass). Jungkook dutifully cleans as you start the second drink. The special this week is far, far less sweet than normal; a Rudolph the Red-eyed Reindeer: a simple red eye with a pinch of holiday spice, coffee with an extra espresso shot and topped with cinnamon and nutmeg. You take in a deep breath, swallowing down the warm smell and letting it flow through you before you double check the details on the note.

It takes you a second as you squint at the address, wondering why it looks familiar—and then you pause. This is Yoongi’s office, you think to yourself, and it feels a little like there’s an apricot pit sitting heavy in your stomach, heavy and hard. Paradise had catered a breakfast for them last week, and it hadn’t been on your shift and so you hadn’t gone, but—you’d heard enough about it from Jimin, the type who gets to know everyone and everything the second he walks in the door. You’d heard about the team that Yoongi manages, found out that Yoongi works in music, in artist and repertoire, and when you’d had the chance to Google exactly what that meant, you’d been bowled over. He has such a complex, high skilled job, and here you are, struggling to get a job with your degree, hence the barista thing. (Thanks, economy.)

You hastily shuffle past the address, trying to ward off your sudden sense of inadequacy, focusing on the name instead. What sort of name is Suga? you think to yourself, and then shrug. Probably one of the workers had enjoyed the breakfast the other week and was still hanging around before going on holiday for Christmas, or something.

“Alright, I’m off.” You’re ready to advance into the cold outside: coat on, scarf looped around your neck and hat secure on your head, cardboard tray of drinks clutched in your hands. “If you need help closing, just call me and I’ll come back, okay?”

“I won’t, but, thanks,” Jungkook says, equal parts self-assured and reassuring. “Don’t fall on your ass!”

It is icy outside, the entire world a winter wonderland, beautiful but cold and daylight long gone; snow drifts slowly from the sky above, dusting your shoulders and the top of your hat, flakes caught so softly by the weave of your clothes. It’s the kind of day that’s perfect spent indoors, curled up with the people you love, warmed through and through—and here you are, picking your way across the pavement slush to deliver a coffee to someone. (You’re not even getting paid for this.)

At least it’s not too far, really, just a few blocks away. The building is small, which is a plus, because it means you won’t have multitudes of rooms and offices to trawl past to get to your destination. The receptionist is more than helpful, too, when you say that you have a delivery for Suga; she gives you exactly directions and then she smiles at you, pleasant and pretty and lovely, and that gremlin that’s still clinging desperately onto your feelings for Yoongi whispers: what if this is Yoongi’s girlfriend? She’s beautiful.

Shut up, you think, before smiling back and thanking her, and heading on your way.

This close to Christmas you’d think that the building would be almost empty, but you’d be wrong. It’s not a buzzing hive of activity but there are still people walking around, speaking behind closed doors or laughing through open ones, decorations and tinsel hanging from the ceiling. Up ahead you see a someone come out of a room, shutting the door behind them before they walk in your direction. It’s a man who looks like he’s just stepped off the cover of a fashion magazine and as you pass in the corridor he pauses, raising his eyebrows at you. Not suspicious, just surprised.

“Uh, I have a coffee for Suga,” you say without prompting, as if he was about to accuse you of some sort of nefarious scheme and your coffee delivery is the only thing saving you from that.

“Oh,” mister-model-handsome says, suddenly smiling widely, like this is all perfectly normal and not weird at all. He’s got some of the poutiest lips you’ve ever seen. “You’re nearly there, he’s just down the corridor and on the right. Have fun!”

“Uh, you too?” you reply. (Is he Yoongi’s boyfriend? He’s tall and broad shouldered and incredibly attractive, with the type of smile that makes people’s hearts race, and Yoongi definitely deserves someone like that.)

Your destination seems to be the office the (probably) model just came out of. You look around the corridor, which seems to be deserted now, the hubbub of people elsewhere in the building. You knock quietly, not wanting to disturb the hush that’s filled the air around you.

A beat. Then: “Come in,” someone says, voice muffled through the door.

It swings open easily at your touch. You stand on the threshold, mouth open around the announcement of your delivery when the words die on your lips.

Yoongi’s there, sitting behind a desk and his head bowed as he scribbles something in a notebook. He doesn’t look up. “Shut the door,” he says. Dumbstruck, you do just that, and it’s not until the door’s quietly clicked shut that he starts to raise his head. “Hyung, I already said that I don’t need to eat—”

And then he spots you standing there.

He stops mid-sentence, mouth open, eyes widening. He looks as shocked as you feel, utterly taken aback and agog, and even now you can’t help but notice how good he looks. He’s in a black button up, sleeves rolled to the elbow and top button undone, revealing the pale skin of his collarbones. It’s another juxtaposition, the Yoongi that you’re familiar with (an aura of effortless authority and attractiveness) in a place you don’t know at all, completely professional, his desk neat and the entire space put together. There’s a tastefully decorated tree in the corner but it doesn’t throw off the balance of the room at all. 

“Uh.” You cough lightly. “I have… a delivery… for Suga?”

Yoongi stares at you.

“Is this… not the right room? I can go,” you mumble, gesturing over your shoulder with a thumb.

This seems to snap Yoongi out of whatever thoughts he was having as he shakes his head. “No, this is… Suga’s office,” he says. “I just didn’t order any coffee.”

You open your mouth. Shut your mouth. You don’t have an Americano on the tray, but he’d probably like the red eye, coffee with extra coffee, no sugar or cream. Just a little pinch of spice. 

“Maybe it was a surprise, or something? Couples get each other gifts all the time.”

Yoongi’s lips quirk up. “I’m not really the type that gets surprised with gifts.”

Something about this strikes a discordant note in you. He’s always delivering gifts of coffee—he deserves those expressions of love returned to him. You can’t help but say as such.

“You’re always giving gifts, though,” you say. “Those weekly specials. I wouldn’t be surprised if your other half is returning the favour.”

Blink, blink. He looks perplexed. “I don’t have an other half?”

Your mouth opens again. “Uh,” you say eloquently. “What?”

“I… don’t have an other half? I’m… single?”

“You’re…” Your face scrunches up, wrinkled in confusion. What? He’s… what? “But you always buy two drinks?”

Silence. Then: “I… the Americano is for me,” he says. “I usually just pour the special away. I only started ordering them because you got so excited talking about them and making them. I never planned on drinking them.”

Your mouth falls open, soft around a quiet breath, a soft oh. “You—wait. You ordered them because I got excited about them?”

Yoongi’s eyes are so dark, so gentle; melted chocolate, warm. “You started to talk to me more, after the first time I did,” he says, and you know you had. Because you thought it was safer to talk to him, though you were secure in the knowledge he wasn’t single—but he is single. “So I kept doing it, because I wanted to talk more to you. I thought you knew? And that’s why you started having real conversations with me.”

You’re frozen in place, eyes as big as dinner plates. Min Yoongi, your futile crush, who looks as sharp as a knife but is as sweet as spun candyfloss, has been coming back week after week—for you. He’s not in a relationship, and he’s been flirting with you.

Or at least he thought he had been. You, however, hadn’t even realised.

“I was going to ask you on a date after Christmas,” he continues, calm and steady, as if your brain isn’t melting. He’s still sitting behind his desk, and there’s something about his tousled hair and bared lower arms—watch on one wrist and a few bracelets on the other—that has your heart pounding, that casual air somehow not at odds at the weight of the surroundings. Because the world is a backdrop to Yoongi, and he makes it work.

“What the fuck,” you say. You realise you’ve never sworn in front of him when something flickers in his eyes; not a bad flicker, no. Definitely not. “I thought you were taken.”

“I’m very single,” he says lightly, belying the weight behind the words. And then his eyes drop to your hands. “You said you have a coffee for me?”

Which leads to this: Yoongi, in his chair, you, leaning against his desk. He’s taken the red eye (of course) while you sip at the latte, relishing the punch of espresso, the flavour of the syrups.

You’re both staring at each other as you drink, air in the room growing thicker by the moment, when Yoongi breaks the silence. “This is probably the only weekly special I’d actually want to drink.”

You can’t help but laugh. “Black coffee with more espresso? That’s you all over,” you say. “The other specials aren’t so bad, though. I think you just need to give sweet drinks a chance.”

You’re speaking without thinking, but the second those words leave your mouth, the air turns electric. Yoongi’s still staring at you, unwavering and intent, and everything inside you is melting, leaving you flushed and hot. The smile hasn’t left his face, which had been warm but it’s changed, evolved, edged with something sharper.

“If you say so,” he says. His eyes are on your lips. “Let me try?”

His fingers are so gentle on your face, hands cupping your jaw as he tilts your head down. All your thoughts leave you. There’s nothing in your mind but Yoongi, his warm hands and dark eyes, the heat of his body so close to yours, his mouth; you can’t help but look down, tracing the shape of his lips with your gaze, a small soft pout that’s so at odds with the weight of his intensity. 

When he kisses you, it’s featherlight. Barely the softest of pressures, the potential of something more—and then he pulls you in deeper, and there it is, that heat flickering in your stomach jumping into a full fire. The kiss turns hot and wet as he licks the flavour of caramel and toffee syrup out of your mouth, and he tastes like coffee, dark and bitter; you make a noise against his lips and he swallows it down, pulls you closer.

You’re straddling his knees, a little awkward and cramped in his office chair, but you don’t care. You’ve been wanting to kiss Yoongi for so long, even when you felt like you shouldn’t, thought about his dark eyes and pink mouth, the curve of his lips, the paleness of his hands; a steadying presence around your waist, holding you in place.

When you pull apart, Yoongi’s lips are flushed, kiss swollen. It looks good on him. Really good on him.

“I’ve thought about that more than I’d like to admit,” he says, and you can’t help but feel warmed by it, the realisation that you’ve wanted to kiss him but he’s wanted to kiss you, too.

“This really isn’t comfortable,” you say, wriggling a little—your ass is starting to go numb, sat on Yoongi’s knees—and Yoongi sucks in a quick breath at the way you’re all but squirming in his lap, even if he doesn’t say anything.

Oh, you think. 

When you move away, he lets you go without protest, hands sliding off your waist. It’s not until you fall to your knees that Yoongi realises what you’re doing, his eyes widening.

“Y/n,” he breathes. “You don’t have to—”

“Please, Yoongi, I’ve wanted to do this for months,” you say. Maybe it was a little crass to start with, wanting to get on your knees for a man you barely knew just because he was hot and polite to you, but now you know he wants you back. You’re not about to let this opportunity pass you by, staring up at him between his knees, hands braced on his thighs. “But if you want me to stop, I’ll stop.”

He looks torn, just for a second, eyes darting away from your face and to the door. It’s shut, but it’s not locked, and though the building is quiet there’s nothing to say that someone couldn’t walk in at any second.

Without thinking, you lick your lips. Yoongi’s eyes flicker back at the motion, watching how your tongue moves, and you can see how he crumbles.

“I don’t want you to stop,” he says, and you dig your nails into his trousers, electricity shooting through you.

“You’ll have to keep your voice down,” you warn, and reach for his zipper.

It’s a struggle for him, you can tell. He’s already biting his lip by the time you’ve tugged his trousers and boxers down, hardening under your grasp, and you knew his dick would be as pretty as the rest of him. You don’t have the luxury of worshipping him the way you want to, acutely aware of the fact you’re in his office, but it doesn’t mean you’re not going to make Yoongi feel good. It’s dirty and messy, the way you suck his cock into your mouth lewd and wet, lavishing attention on the most sensitive parts; his hips jump as you circle the head with your tongue and jerk the rest of his length with a hand. 

Everything’s sloppy with spit and precum and Yoongi’s biting off curses, hand tightening in your hair as you take in as much of him as you can, relaxing your throat and swallowing him down, down, down. When you look up at him through your lashes he looks wrecked, the paleness of his skin flushed pink, and you can’t wait to see that all over. Can’t wait to see Yoongi entirely bare in front of you, when you have the luxury of time and pleasure.

But there’s something about this, too, that has your heart racing, cunt throbbing. You’re running your spit slick lips down the side of his shaft, tonguing the throb of the vein there, when you hear footsteps nearby, muffled through the door. It doesn’t sound like they’re coming in this direction and Yoongi seems almost entirely lost to the feeling of your mouth on him, but you flick your tongue across the spot where the head of his cock meets the shaft and he bows forward, swallowing down the noise that threatened to spill from his lips. He’s so fucking hot like this, falling apart under your hands and mouth, and you know he’ll give as good as he gets.

“Gonna cum,” he rasps. You smile up at him before taking his cock back into your mouth, jerking him off hard and fast as you lick and suck—and when he cums it’s with a noisy exhale of breath, a muffled groan, and even as you’re swallowing down his cum and mouthing at him until he winces with oversensitivity, you’re imagining what he sounds like when he doesn’t have to be quiet.

He’s not shy, either. You’ve barely tucked him back in when he’s reaching for you, kissing you. There’s no taste of coffee any more and you shiver, molten and boneless at the way his tongue presses into your mouth.

“Still want to take me on a date?” 

You’re being cheeky, voice light as you joke, but Yoongi’s responding look is equal parts serious and affectionate. He sweeps a thumb over your cheekbone and you relax into his hands, feeling like a cat that got the cream. Here you are, on your knees in his office, the glittering lights of his Christmas tree thrown across your hair and skin, warmed by the touch of a man you’ve wanted for months but never thought you would get.

“Of course,” he murmurs, gentle-gentle-gentle, as if you hadn’t just sucked his soul through his dick—and you love that about him, love his inherent soft core, his big heart. You might not know him as well as you’d like—not yet—but you already know that much about him. “I owe you a present, too.”

Your face scrunches. “What, because I gave you a blowjob?”

At this he laughs, mouth split wide and gums on show as his whole body shakes with the intensity of it. “No, because you brought me a coffee,” he says. He still has your cheek cupped in his hand, palm warm against your skin. “But if you want to say it’s because of the blowjob as well, then sure.”

“There’s plenty more where that came from.” You smile at him, gentle expression at odds with the meaning behind the words and your position—still on your knees.

You don’t know if they ache when you stand, because Yoongi is kissing you again, distracting you. And it’s easy, this back and forth you have, comfortable as you finish the (now lukewarm) coffees and get ready to go, because Yoongi insists on walking you home. Because he’s a gentleman, your gentleman, and he even holds the door open for you.

You’re not sure if you can reach for his hand, if that would be too forward in his place of work, if he doesn’t want to when this thing between you is so tentative and new. But you’re barely halfway down the corridor when he stops you with a gentle hand on your arm; when you look over, he’s smiling at you, and then tilts his chin up.

“Oh!” You stare at the huge bundle of mistletoe above you, tied with red ribbon and messily taped to the ceiling. It brings a smile to your face. “Oh, how cute.”

The hand on your arm shifts down. Yoongi weaves his fingers with yours.

“You know about the tradition, right?” There’s a twinkle in his eyes, and it’s not just from the lights from the ceiling above, turning his dark eyes into warm chocolate, deep brown. “Kissing under the mistletoe?”

You can’t help but blink, surprised at his sweetness, his forwardness. There’s nothing to say that someone couldn’t walk by right now, to see the two of you hand in hand under the mistletoe, but Yoongi doesn’t care at all. He’s staring at you like you’re the only other person in the world, and you feel like a fountain of champagne is bubbling inside you, heady and sparkling and light.

“I think I’ve heard of it,” you say, and he’s still smiling, a small thing, just for you. “Do you think you can show me?”

And he does, with his hand in yours, your lips against his, and up above, the mistletoe sparkles.

(Your phone rings. Caller ID says it’s Taehyung, but when you pick up, he’s not the one who speaks.

“So.” Jungkook sounds knowing, his voice bordering on smug. “How did the delivery go?”

In the background you can hear someone crowding close, put it on speaker, Kookie, I want to hear too, and you can’t help but smile at Taehyung’s eagerness.

“Good,” you say. Yoongi’s palm is warm against yours and you swing your joint hands together, looking at him, entranced by the way the snowflakes dust his eyelashes. The sky above is dark and the wind around you is cold, but the man beside is so bright and warm. You feel wrapped up in it. “Yoongi says he’s going to kill you, by the way.”

“He won’t,” Jungkook says cheerfully, loud enough that Yoongi can hear. He looks fond.

“Well, tell Taehyung I’m going to kick his ass for lying about Tannie peeing on Jimin’s shoes,” you say.

“You won’t,” Taehyung says, equally as cheerful, and you can’t help but smile.

“No, I won’t,” you say. 

You think about the seasons. You think about the man walking beside you; the man who says he hates cold weather, but has kept his gloves off so he can feel your hand against his. The man who came out in the snow to order a drink, just to make you smile. The man who looks like winter but feels like spring, something cold bursting into potential, new life.

In the depth of winter, under the snow and twinkling Christmas lights above, Yoongi squeezes your hand.)

taglist: @beyoncesdragon​ @vensulove

[deepseavibez]

Why So Serious? || MYG

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-> Picture Source - Pinterest

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Why So Serious? [Yoongi x Reader]

Prompt - @casnextdoor

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Genre - Fluff; Comfort; Dad!Yoongi; Mom!Y/n; Drabble;

Summary - Why is your babygirl crying? And what can Daddy Yoongi do to make it better.

🎶- People - Agust D

Warning - Crying; Bad feelings(implied); Confused parents (at first)

Word Count - 1.7k

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'No.' You looked up at the short answer. Four year old tempers were a thing, you understood that but your baby girl hadn't said no to picking up her toys before.

After playtime Mina usually cleaned up after herself, the task relatively easy for her, something like a game to put everything in its place in the shortest time she could.

You believed she got it from her father, because there was no way the trait came from you. You relished in your organized chaos, if it felt like it should be there it would stay there. You would go as far as capping your pens but they were never in their holders, just strewn about your desk, the closest color to your mood for the day.

Stretching your arms out along the island where you were chopping up pieces of apple for a midday snack you gave your toddler your full attention.

'But your LEGOs are all over Minnie, and you finished playing with them this morning,' you tried to sound as gentle as possible - an invitation for an explanation.

'I don't want to.' She shook her head back and forth, no playfulness present, mouth a stubborn line, as if that answer was good enough.

'Mina, those are your toys, you played with them, would it be fair for Mommy to clean up after you?'

Shaking her head in response she looked down and away from you, twiddling with the ears of the giraffe teddy in her hand.

You gave her a minute to move, to respond, each second of it hiking up your level of annoyance.

'I won't ask again, Mina.' Your voice was stern now, patience worn thin.

'No, Mommy, No!' She cried out, and ran out of the room toward Yoongi's study.

'Mina,' you dragged out, following swiftly after her.

You found Yoongi at his desk, phone at his ear, he looked at you and motioned with his eyes toward the tuft of hair peeking out from between his legs.

Leaning on the door you watched her cry, something in you tugging at your chest in frustration, because all you wanted was for her to listen, but you also didn’t want her to cry. She was never like this.

'-- I'll email them by tomorrow, yeah sure, just text me. We can set up a meeting to discuss the list.' Ending his call, Yoongi discarded his phone immediately and reached between his legs to settle his babygirl on his lap.

The transition would amuse you on any other day, the serious, intimidating Min Yoongi, softening his lips, his eyes, using gentle fingers against Mina's cheeks to wipe away her tears.

'What is my pretty girl crying about huh,' he asked, as he tried to make her face him.

Shaking her head in refusal to answer, he looked up at you, a camouflaged seriousness in his eyes, meant only for you.

'She refuses to pick up her LEGOs, told me no, and when I asked her again she ran out of the room crying.' Your voice sounded even but just by looking at you Yoongi could see, you were unnerved. The tantrum uncharted territory, especially for a task carried out so many times before.

'Daddy!' You had barely explained before she burst into tears again, falling into his chest, hiding her face from view.

Holding her close and patting her head tenderly he looked up at you in alarm, 'Why is she-, ' he mouthed at you.

'I don't know,' you mouthed back, shrugging your shoulders in emphasis, your expression bewildered.

Staring ahead for a few seconds, he contemplated before his eyebrows smoothed out, a realization crossed his face, as he decided to do something.

Interest piqued, you straightened up, and watched him, ready to jump in and follow his lead.

Your crying four year old still bawled her eyes out, hiccups coming from her chest, her throat would be ouchy later, you thought in concern.

‘Shh, baby, shh, you aren't in trouble, but you need to tell Daddy why you won’t clean up your toys.’ His voice was soft and coaxing as he gradually pulled her back to look at him. Grabbing tissues from the box he had near his desk for situations like sticky fingers and leaky noses, he wiped her tears and her small nose.

Yoongi, even now, in a situation like this had you in a pile of mush. He was not outwardly one for softness, especially with his blunt nature and his solid hands, but here he was gingerly running his fingers through Mina’s hair and setting it as he cooed at her to stop crying, to listen to Daddy.

Her voice hoarse from crying so hard she answered him, ‘I don't feel okay daddy.’

‘Are you hungry?’ Yoongi prompted, discarding the tissues in the wastebin, his hand now at her back and waist, holding her up, and lowering his head with a sulky expression to match hers.

With a shake of her head, she rubbed at her eye, he tilted his head to the side, and prompted again. ‘Are you tired? We could nap, you and I together, Mommy too.’

Another shake of her head, this time her frown prominent and lip quivering, as if ready to burst into another set of tears.

‘Did mommy do or say something bad to you,’ he asked in a whisper, talking her into telling him a secret.

Your eyes widened at the question, panicking internally in resistance. What was that supposed to mean? As if there were eyes at the back of his head, he held up his hand, a clear sign to wait.

Mina shook her head hard, now in a state, more confusion than ever clouding her features as she battled not to cry. ‘It feels bad, Daddy, I don’t like it and it won’t go away.’

‘Is it telling you to be mean to Mommy?’ Yoongi asked as she grabbed onto his shirt again, ready to hide away.

‘It just feels icky,’ she answered wetly, looking over at you her eyes widened momentarily ‘Mommy don't cry. Daddy I made Mommy cry,’ she cried out in desperation.

Your eyes blurred with unshed tears at your baby’s voice, holding a hand to your mouth you kept as quiet as possible. Yoongi had this.

Yoongi swallowed hard at his daughter's face, his protective instincts flaring, but this was one boogeyman he needed her to fight with him.

‘Baby,’ he used another tissue to wipe up the fresh tears. Moving the keyboard aside, he sat her up on his desk in front of him so she could lay her head on his shoulder and he could rub her back. ‘Sometimes Mina, we feel bad inside, and we don't know what to do about it.’ His voice was smooth as he explained, no indication that he had been affected. ‘It tells us to be mean, because we don't know what we’re really feeling and it's okay baby, because Mommy and Daddy feel it too, and we’re here for you. We love you.’’

‘Do you think it's okay to be mean to mommy.’ He was so patient about it as he asked her and it left you in awe as he made her understand.

‘No,’ the word muffled as half her face was squished on her father’s shoulder.

‘No it isn't, baby, and we can't help you if you don't tell us what's wrong.’ Pulling back he smiled softly, her cheeks puffed up and blotchy, eyes shiny but without tears. ‘If you told mummy you were feeling icky, she would have tried to help, right?’

She nodded enthusiastically at that. ‘Mommy always helps me.’

Your heart soared at the statement as you watched the energy come back to your Mina.

‘There's my girl,’ Yoongi smirked as he pinched her nose and she scrunched up her face, at the action. ‘So from now on, when you feel like this again, you can tell Mommy or Daddy and we can help you and take care of you.’ Holding out his pinky finger, she smiled as she curled her small pinky finger around his - she knew we took pinky promises very seriously.

‘Come on, let's go give mummy a hug and tell her you're sorry.’ She reached up her hands to be picked up as he stood from his office chair.

Mina reached out for you as Yoongi carried her towards you and you plucked her easily from him. Her hands immediately wrapped around your neck and she placed a wet kiss on your cheek.

‘I'm sorry for being meany mommy.’

‘It's okay baby,’ rocking her back and forth, you closed your eyes at the feel of your small human in your arms, a certain escape, as if everything in the world mattered a little less as long as she was okay. ‘Mommy feels bad too sometimes, and you know what daddy does?’ You prompted excitedly.

She leaned back to look at you, her cheeks puffy, lips pouting, as she listened to you.

‘Daddy gives me lots of cuddles and kisses me here and here and here and here,’ you placed kisses on her cheeks and forehead and nose, ‘and he gives me food, and chocolate and anything else I want.’

Giggling now, your chest ached at her happiness, a sweet ache, her importance beyond anything she could imagine.

‘Did you know Daddy got me Gloss when I felt really really bad.’

‘Big white gloss,’ she motioned with her hands, her eyes full of wonderment.

‘Yep,’ you popped the ‘p’. ‘Big white gloss,’ your own excitement palpable at the mention of the white teddy bear on your bed, his size slightly bigger than her form.

‘Mommy,’ she motioned you forward with her hand and you leaned closer to her, ‘Can daddy get me a gloss too?’ She told you in your ear.

Her very loud whisper had you turning your attention to the man who now leaned against the wall and watched the interaction.

He smiled his gummy smile as wrapped his arms around both of you and answered her softly, ‘Anything for you Minnie.’

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[jimlingss]

I really enjoyed reading your fic fall in hatred with jin and liked the concept of a couple on the verge of a divorce. I thought I’d make a request for an angsty marriage/divorce au with another member like jk but it ends fluffy🥺

Whether you take this request or not, I wanted to say that you’re a great writer and I always love reading your stories 💜

↳ Honeymoon Horrors

3.7k || 55% Angst, 45% Fluff || Min Yoongi || Divorce!AU

It was great when it started.   Cloud nine had descended down and made its home above both your heads. You were practically floating, swooning, living a romance that Nicholas Sparks would’ve envied. You felt like you were on a permanent high as if weed and cocaine was permanently stuck in your system. You had reached enlightenment and you were permanently euphoric. How could you not be?   You had met your soulmate after all.   But as the years passed, it came tumbling down. Cloud nine started to rain. You swooned so hard that you struck your head against the edge of the kitchen counter. Instead of floating, you were getting dragged down to hell and the high you felt turned into a crash. Most importantly, you became enraged.   And you’re still mad now.   When you watch your wedding videos, all you can do is throw popcorn at the screen and scream at the grinning bitch that she’s making the worst mistake of her life.    Life’s full of plot twists, isn’t it?   And you can only chuckle at that realization now. Because what was meant to be the honeymoon you never had, a replacement honeymoon of sorts, is turning out to be a nightmare.   “Hey. Can you move?”   You rip off your headphones. “Excuse me?”   “You’re taking up all of the space.” Yoongi stares at you lazily. “This is supposed to be my armrest.”   “No. This is mine. That’s yours.”   “No. Yours is next to the window. This one is supposed to be mine. If you’re that uncomfortable, you should’ve just given me the window seat.”   You scoff and shove his arm off the armrest with your own. The half-offended, half-amused expression on Yoongi’s face is utterly stupid. It’s as if he’s judging you for being childish when he was the one who started this. You wish you could punch him square in the nose. “If you want me to move, then why don’t you move your legs? You’re taking up all the leg room!”   “You’re only out of space because you had to put your purse under the seat.”   “Where else am I supposed to put my purse?!”   “Do you see me carrying a purse?”   Suddenly, there’s a clearing of the throat. A female flight attendant is standing at the aisle and leaning over while wearing a perfectly, cordial smile. “Is there a problem over here?”   Your eyes narrow into the nosy bitch sitting across the aisle who probably tattled. You saw her looking in the corner of her eye from the very start.    “No. Not at all.”   Yoongi smiles easily. “We’re fine.”   There’s an urge to roll your eyes.    In all honesty, you underestimated Yoongi. While your divorce was well on its way and heading off like a bullet train, you had forgotten how petty he was. Exactly like you. Maybe that’s why for a period of time, you suited one another so well.   With the deposit already given on what was supposed to be the honeymoon extravaganza you never had and the plans already made long ago, you were set on going no matter what. Except he was also set on going. The asshole couldn’t give up and neither were you willing to give in.   So here you were. With your worst nemesis.    “Can you repeat that?”   “I’m sorry, ma’am. There’s no possible way we can get you two rooms.” The receptionist looks up from her computer screen. “You originally booked the presidential suite, correct?”   “Yes, but we changed it into two regular rooms a while ago,” Yoongi says. His brows are cinched together and he’s gripping onto the itinerary tightly.   The girl behind the front desk looks at her computer again and clicks twice but probably at nothing. “I’m so sorry. It looks like it didn’t register into our system. Is there anything else I can do for you?”   This is dreadful. As if things couldn’t get worse, they got much much worse.   “Great.” You haul in your luggage, no thanks to him. “This is just great.”   “Yeah, keep complaining,” Yoongi grumbles, “See how much that helps.”   “Shut up.”   On the top floor, the room is quiet and open. There’s a love seat in front of a flat screen television, a dining room and an open kitchen and bar. The large glass windows fully face the sandy, blue beach and allows light to pour into the enormous space. There are two chairs outside the private terrace and a jacuzzi too. But as beautiful as the place is, you feel bitter.    It should’ve been great.    It would’ve been great if you were alone.   And to make matters worse, it seems like the resort hadn’t gotten the news that your relationship with Yoongi was essentially decimated. Not when there was a scattered rose petal path leading up to the king-sized bed which also had two folded doves on it with the word ‘congratulations’ spelled out in more petals. There’s also a note: I hope you enjoy yourselves, Mr. and Mrs. Min. And neither of you miss the mountainous stack of condoms on the nightstand.   Yoongi’s pale. “Christ.”   The knock on the door breaks the thick tension.   Yoongi opens the door, and he immediately steps back as two enthusiastic employees enter while wheeling in a silver cart. “Aloha, welcome to Hawaii! Are you the newlyweds?”   “Umm…”    The two of you are well past that period. To be exact, you married nearly two years ago, but you don’t know how to break it to them. Yoongi’s never been good with words either.   “Enjoying your honeymoon, aren’t you? Congratulations!” The older man is excited as if he was the one who got married. “We bought you a bottle of our best champagne to celebrate and hope you have an everlasting marriage!”   The girl beside the man pops the cork and pours the champagne, and you realize it would be more painless to go along with it.   “Thanks,” you mumble, taking your flute of champagne and nearly downing the entire thing in one go. Yoongi holds his and raises a brow at you.   “We also have a red velvet cake.” He shows you on the busy cart. “And our freshest chocolate strawberries just made earlier by our finest chef. I think you’ll enjoy this chocolate as well.”   “Thank you.” Yoongi offers a faint smile. “This is really nice.”   “Of course, of course! Anything for our newlyweds!” There’s a small bowl of almonds next to the chocolates and two raw oysters served on a plate. It’s odd with the ensemble, but then the man leans closer as if revealing a secret and puts a hand by his mouth. “It is said almonds, chocolate and oysters are aphrodisiacs.”   You choke on your champagne, sputtering.   The girl grins. Yoongi’s wide-eyed.   He collects himself quicker than you do. “Thank you.”   Luckily the friendly, borderline-overbearing staff leave the both of you to it and you’re put out of your misery. For only a moment.   “Are you going to finish that bottle of champagne by yourself?” Yoongi asks across the room and you turn your head to see his cocked brow. Of course, he’s unpacking. The asshole doesn’t know how to relax and always has to make you look bad.   You scoff. “I’m about to open the red wine too.”   “Never thought I’d see you be reduced to a drunk so quickly.”   “Why can’t you just leave me alone? You’re always judging and nitpicking me.”   “I was making a comment.”   “Yeah and no one asked you to,” you mumble into the glass.   Yoongi eyes you. “You don’t have to get so upset, Y/N.”   “Are you serious?” Your posture straightens, legs lifted off the chair you propped them on and feet shifted onto the ground. “I was sitting here minding my own business. Why don’t you mind your own business.”   “I just thought you didn’t want to be sloppy when dinner hasn’t even started yet.”   “I know how to control my pacing.”   Yoongi snorts.   Your tongue rolls inside your cheek. “Excuse me?”   “What?”   “You look like you want to say something.”   “No. Not at all.”   You place the flute down onto the table. “Say it, Yoongi.”    “I thought you said I should mind my own business.”   “You’re such a condescending asshole, you know that?”   Yoongi stops folding his shirt and shuts the drawer. His expression is impassive and it irritates you more. “Pot meets kettle.”   “For someone who’s supposedly quiet, you fucking never know how to shut up.”   “Can’t you just calm down, Y/N? Unlike what you think, I’m not trying to get on your nerves. I’m trying to enjoy this trip.”   “Why are you acting like I’m the only one getting upset and that I’m the crazy one,” you spit, and he opens his mouth as if to say you are being crazy. But you don’t let him— “Don’t you dare say it. Fuck you, Yoongi. You don’t think I’m trying to enjoy this too? You think I wanted it to be like this?!”   “Maybe if you weren’t trying to pick a fight with me every goddamn second, you would have a good time, woman.”   “You’re the one who’s always trying to pick a fight with me!”   He sighs, body language dismissive to what you’re saying. “Stop being so upset—”   “Well too bad, I am upset! So just let me be!” You stand on your feet, teeth gritted and fist clenched. You’re practically screaming across the suite but there aren’t any close enough neighbours to complain. “You’re always telling me what I should and shouldn’t feel! This is exactly why we’re getting a divorce!”   With the last word said, you stomp away and the bathroom door slams shut. It’s the only place you can be alone, but even then, the four walls are frosted glass.   …   You’re not sure who brought up divorce first. It’s not like it matters. But one thing you do know is that it came up in an argument. A jab where someone’s sole intention was to hurt. And the other person stubbornly retaliated with ‘fine, have it your way’.   You remember calling your lawyer and him calling his. The process continued and continued and as it did, so did your arguments as the two of you realized no one was going to stop it. It became more painful the more time that went on. Clearly, it meant he was serious about it. Clearly, he didn’t care if he was happy to sign divorce papers. So you made yourself not care too.   And it continued to snowball like that.   Before you knew it, you were telling your families that the divorce was happening, much to their distress. Before you knew it, here you were.   By the time you get out of the bathroom, Yoongi’s gone.   He probably left for some peace and quiet. After all, it’s volatile when you’re together. It’s not like you want it to be that way, it just became that way. What sucks the most is that you know he’s right. You’re part to blame for the recent argument. You got too worked up unnecessarily. You’re constantly on the defensive as if he’s out to attack you. And once it’s quiet, you hate that you shouted.   But he has his own part to blame too. Yoongi knows how to get under your skin. He knew he was egging you on and he didn’t stop. So it escalated and escalated.   You end up wandering the resort by yourself. You enjoy the sunset on the beach and when the dinner buffet is open, you sit alone with your plate, staring out into the empty abyss of the ocean shrouded in darkness. All around you, there are families and lovers, jovial music that’s inviting.   Yet you feel isolated in the crowd.   You try to move around, preoccupy yourself.    But the last thing you expect is to see Yoongi. Across the bar. With a pretty, young girl on his arm. A sun-kissed blonde, to be specific. Wearing a crop top with booty shorts.    Yoongi’s nursing a whisky on the rocks, his usual drink, as she grasps onto his bicep. The swell of her breasts are practically pushed onto him. She says something and he smiles.   At the same time, something boils in the pit of your stomach. It’s pure, unadulterated rage.   Before you know it, you’ve turned on your heel and beelined to the hotel lobby bar. You call yourself hard liquor and down the drink as you seethe. The image of him and that Barbie doll is seared into your mind, flashing beneath your eyelids each time you blink.   The liquid burns and tears pool into your eyes, but you hold them back.   The bar is busy, filled of guests constantly ordering, so no one notices that you keep downing bitter drinks until there’s a tap on your shoulder—   “Aloha.” A concerned employee looms over you. “Is everything alright?”   That’s when you realize you’ve been drinking by yourself for three full hours. The table’s crowded with glasses and the ones on the edge are a centimeter away from falling over.   You end up waving him away and stumbling back to the room.   The world is teetering and you try to lean onto the wall for balance. It’s a miracle that you pressed the right number on the elevator when everything was swirling together. Or at least, you’re pretty sure this is the right floor.   You pound on the door. “Yoongiiiiii! Yoongiii! Open up!”   When there’s no response, you mutter ‘asshole’. Then your eye peels open and you realize you’ve been knocking against the door of the ice and vending machine room. You turn on your heel and careen to the next door.   “Yooongiiii!” you whine his name in exasperation, cheek pressed against the smooth surface.   You only have to call out twice before the door’s suddenly swinging open and you’re falling into the arms of your (soon-to-be ex-) husband. “‘Bout time. Was waiting foreverrr!”   “Fuck.” Yoongi’s nose scrunches at the smell of alcohol and he grabs a hold of your shoulders, pulling you away from him, nose scrunched at your smell. He keeps you at a safe distance as if you were nervous middle-schoolers at your first dance. You hate it. Why can’t he just hug you? “God, how much did you drink, Y/N?”   “Dunno. Lost my key card.”   “What?”   The door swings shut.   “Are you banging a chick in our room?” you slur, trying to keep your eyes open to look at him. He was already changed into his soft pajamas, a blue checkered print that made him look so much cuter. It’s unfair. “Am I interrupting?”   His brows cinch together, lips turning down. Yoongi’s visibly confused. “Ban—”   “Saw you talkin’ to that pretty girl at the bar,” you huff, wobbling back and forth.   He’s dumbfounded. “Who?”   “Don’t play stupid!” You poke his chest with your finger. “That lil girl who looks like a model!”   Yoongi winces at the volume of your voice and you add in frustration, “I’ll leave if you are, so just tell me already.”   “No, I’m not sleeping with anyone, Y/N.” Yoongi fixes his arm around your waist to keep you balanced and he sighs, reaching down to help you take off your shoes. “So much for knowing how to pace yourself, Y/N,” he mumbles with a faint smile on his lips instead of the annoyance you’re used to.   Yoongi loops your arm around his neck and begins to guide you towards the bed. But you stop, making your legs deadweight and you turn to him, staring into his eyes so deep, it’s like you’re looking into his soul. It’s pretty.   “What?” he asks, almost uncomfortable by your intense gawking.    “Do you not love me anymore?”   “What?”   “Just tell me, goddammit. Do you have no feelings towards me no more?” You pound your chest with your free hand. Yoongi plops you onto the love seat when he sees that you have no plans of making it to the bed. “Did everything mean nothin’ to you?”   He remains silent.   You angrily shout— “Answer me!”   Yoongi flinches. “God, Y/N. You don’t need to scream, I’m right next to you.” He sighs and drags a hand over his face. “If it meant nothing to me, do you think I’d be taking care of you right now? Now sit here and wait.”   With his dictatorial command wielded with his low voice, you pout but obey.    Yoongi returns a minute later with your pajamas in one hand and a cool glass of water in the other. “Drink this. And all of it.”   You nurse the glass of water with two hands and get a sip in. But your pout persists and before you know it, you’re bursting into tears. Yoongi all but freezes.   “’m sorry,” you sob, “I didn’t wanna fight.”   “Y/N.”   “I don’t mean to be so mad! I’m sorry.”   Yoongi kneels in front of you with a long sigh. “It’s okay, Y/N,” he coaxes and tugs the sleeve of his shirt to wipe the beads of teardrops trekking down your cheeks. “I know you didn’t mean it.”   “Really?”   “Yes. If anything….I’m sorry too,” Yoongi mumbles solemnly and before you can react, he’s already moved on. “Now drink your water.”   You cry into your glass, but you down the entire thing like he said and your crying stops by the end.   “Arms up,” Yoongi commands and you listen to him. He peels off your shirt in one single swoop and tosses it aside. He helps you put on your pajama top without blinking an eye and pulls the hem of your leggings to replace those as well. Yoongi even takes a damp washcloth to wipe your face and you watch him the entire time. His lashes are long, and Yoongi’s so nice and reliable. “Let's get you to bed, alright?”   You nod, and he guides you to it, having cleared the rose petals earlier. “So you didn’t sleep with her?”   “No.”   “Why not? She was hot!”   “I wasn’t interested.”   “Really?”   “Really,” Yoongi assures as he sets you to sit on the edge of the mattress. He moves to pull the sheets and struggles with how tucked in they are. In the meanwhile, you get the greatest idea you’ve ever had—   “Then fuck me instead before you fuck her.”   “What?”   Yoongi’s entire body goes rigid and he whips his head towards you with eyes that nearly bulge out of their sockets. You pout at him. “I wanna suck your dick and feel it in me, Yoongi. I miss it. When we used to have sex. It was so good.”   “Oh, you are so drunk.” He chuckles, a sound that sounds so nice you wish you can hear it forever and ever. “You’re going to be so embarrassed when you wake up tomorrow, Y/N.”   Yoongi pulls the sheet and is about to get you tucked in. But you steal the opportunity when he gets close and you loop your arms around his neck. “No, I’m not.” Your voice drops into a whisper. “Remember when you used to spit in my mouth? And you liked it sooo much.” You giggle when you notice his ears becoming hot and red. “You still like it now, don’t you, you nasty freak!”   You smack him on the shoulder in the midst of your bubbling laughter and he winces.    “Ow!”   “Imagine if I got pregnant from it too!” you add in your hysterics.   “Let’s not.”   “I always thought our kids would be so cute. Especially if they got your cheeks.” You reach and tug on Yoongi’s cheeks while giggling. He lets you have your fun, staying still and letting you squish his face together. And in your drunken state, you don’t realize how tender his eyes become.   “We’re getting a divorce, Y/N.”   You frown. “Why on earth would we do that?”   “Because,” he murmurs.   “Let’s not,” you slur. “Can’t we cancel it?”   It goes quiet with Yoongi gazing into your eyes. “Do you even know what you’re saying?”   “Yeah.” You grow sheepish. “Aren’t you supposed to get a divorce if you hate each other?”   “That’s how it works generally.” Yoongi stands and gently presses on your shoulder to lay you down. The pillows feel soft underneath your head and he starts to tug the covers up to your chin.   “But I don’t hate you. I care a loooooot about you.” You sulk. “Otherwise, why’d I get jealous when I saw you at the bar?”   The corner of his mouth tugs. “So you’re admitting you were jealous?”   “Wouldn’t you get jealous if you saw me with someone else?”   Yoongi thinks about it. “Maybe.”   “Maybe?”   He finally admits, “Yeah, I’d be pretty pissed.”   You hum contently, lids becoming uncontrollably heavier. You want to stay up. It’s so much fun talking to Yoongi. It feels like forever since you talked to him like this. But you’re so tired. And comfortable. You want him to cuddle and spoon you to sleep. Yoongi cuddles are the best.   “Yooongiiii.”   You call out to him with your eyes closed.   “Yeah?”   “I think—” You go dead quiet and after three seconds, he thinks you’ve fallen asleep, but then your mouth moves again. “—I loooove you.” A beat later, your two arms suddenly raises up into the air. Hands measuring about a ruler stick length. “This much.”   He snorts and turns off the lamp. “Go to sleep, Y/N.”   …   When you wake up the next morning, your head is absolutely pounding.   For the first time, you detest how much light the damn room lets in. You also curse aging and having to suffer hangovers when five years ago, you were perfectly unscathed the next day after drinking.   Luckily, there’s advil on the bedside with a tall glass of water and you down the entire thing after taking a pill. You’re not so sure where these came from, but your answer is across the room.   Yoongi, realizing you’re awake, has an amused smile on his face and his brow cocked. More importantly, his eyes have somehow softened.   You groan, remembering last night. Every detail. Every word. Like a film that could be played back. It’s mortifying and even without your obvious reaction, Yoongi’s been with you long enough to know how superb your memory is even after being wasted. He knows you know.   And the worst part?    You meant it all.

[bubblesuga]

Mahina || Part 1

Summary: Jungkook couldn't quite put his finger on it, but there was something drawing him to you. Like the moon tugs at the tides, he needed to be beside you. genre: smut, fluff, angst word count: 4,626 tags: idol!au, fantasy!au

When Jungkook awoke this morning, something was... different.

He couldn't quite put his finger on it, but the air in his room seemed to have shifted slightly. He felt lighter on his feet, a sudden bounce to his step while he pulled himself off of the bed and towards the bathroom.

He brushes his teeth as usual, carefully scrubbing his tongue and admiring his reflection in the mirror. The eyebrow piercing was a good edition, he thinks. It accentuates his high brow and sparkles underneath even the dimmest light. Spritzing himself with cologne, he opens the bathroom door just in time.

"Jungkook, I made breakfast! Hurry up!"

Smiling to himself, he trots down the stairs of the far too large penthouse he and his band mates bought a couple years ago. He doesn't mind sharing with 6 other people, though. Having grown up with no siblings, he enjoys the dynamics at play when he speaks to the members. They're all his brothers, co-workers, family... He couldn't have asked for a better turn out when it came to finding a career path.

Yoongi is standing in the kitchen when Jungkook walks in, the smell of pork and kimchi filling his nose. Thanking his hyung, he grabs a bowl and starts filling up.

"You seem happy this morning," Yoongi raises an eyebrow, "what's going on?"

"I don't know," Jungkook shrugs, "I just woke up in a really good mood. I feel like--" he takes a bit of his food, then speaks with his mouth full, "--something amazing is going to happen today."

"We just have rehearsals?" Yoongi's statement comes off as more of a question.

"Exactly." Jungkook says, continuing to munch on his food. Yoongi looks at the younger man and shakes his head, continuing to fry meat for the rest of the members.

"Hey, did Namjoon come home last night?" Seokjin asks as he walks into the kitchen. He takes a spot beside Jungkook on the counter, reaching into his bowl and grabbing a piece of pork belly. Jungkook attempts to push his hand away but Seokjin smacks it and grabs the meat anyway.

Yoongi shakes his head again, "Nah. He stayed at the studio last night, said something about a last minute inspiration."

Jungkook has noticed Namjoon's lack of attentiveness recently. It seems as though his head is always filled with potential themes and lyrics and beats, much more so than even in the early days of the band. He's curious about his inspiration as of late but Namjoon doesn't seem to want to give away his methods any time soon.

"He's been doing that a lot lately." Jungkook thinks outloud.

"More power to him," Seokjin says, "man works his ass off and it benefits all of us."

Yeah, it definitely does.

~*~*~

"5, 6, 7-"

Hoseok's counting is cut off by the music blasting again. It's the third run through of the new choreography, Jungkook is center and carefully watches the rest of his hyungs in the mirror. He moves to the left, following Hoseok's lead and smiling as he notices a mis-step on Jimin's part. Jimin throws his head back and yells, lifting his shirt up and wiping some of the sweat that's accumulated on his brow.

"It's okay, Jiminie," Hoseok sings, "this shit is hard."

Seokjin nods in agreement, "Yeah, what the hell happened to a laid back choreography for this come back?"

"It's the last one of the year. We gotta go out with a bang." Jungkook turns back to look at Namjoon, who chugs water in the corner of the room. "Speaking of big come backs, are you working on your mixtape?"

Namjoon laughs, "Nah, definitely not. I'm trying to get a couple more songs for the album."

"Don't we have like 14 tracks?" Taehyung speaks for the first time since rehearsal started.

"16 is better than 14." Namjoon smiles, listening to Hoseok as he calls everyone over again.

"One more time. 5, 6-"

It's then that the doors burst open and Hyun enters in. "And this is the rehearsal room containing the 7 men you will be photographing."

Jungkook's eyes travel to the person his manager is talking to, and he has to hold back a gasp. He feels the way his jaw drops, but he's unable to close his mouth while he looks at you. God, you're gorgeous. Your hair cascades down your back and your clothes cling to your body in all the right ways. Jungkook struggles to tear his eyes away, but once he sees your smile he realizes there's no way he can turn away. You're literally glowing, with god-like shining eyes. Who are you?

"Boys, this is _____. She's in charge of photography and will be around to film Bangtan Bombs, behind the scenes, or anything you all want filmed and made into content."

Jungkook repeats your name in his head five times. He whispers it to himself once while everyone else heads to you to shake your hand. Jungkook stands back, finally blinking his eyes.

You step forward after having shook the hands of everyone else, "And you're Jungkook," you smile again, "I like your tattoos. Glad you're finally willing to show them."

"T- tattoos..." Jungkook mutters pathetically as he takes your outstretched hand. You giggle, shaking his hand enthusiastically.

"Well, anyway. It was nice to meet you all. I'm excited to work closely with every one of you." your words are met with a chorus of 'same!' from everyone except for Jungkook.

Hyun puts a hand on your shoulder and leads you out of the room, continuing on the tour of the HYBE building. Jungkook stares after you, the doorway now long empty but he couldn't look away. You were, by far, the most beautiful woman he has ever come across. With your simple torn jeans and black t-shirt, he feels you could pull off anything you put on your body.

It's not until Yoongi speaks does Jungkook finally tear his eyes away, "Could you have been any creepier?"

"What?"

Jimin bursts into laughter, his frustration with the choreography long gone, "You were-" he takes a deep breath in between laughter, "you were staring at her like she was the last woman on the planet!"

"W- what?" Jungkook stammers.

Jimin doesn't respond, only laughing louder as he falls to the ground. Jungkook can see the hidden smirks of the rest of the members, turning his to look at everyone, "What the fuck just happened?"

"Love at first sight?" Taehyung suggests.

"More like love at first drool." Seokjin begins laughing before he even finishes his sentence, causing the rest of the members to groan at his joke.

Jungkook doesn't react to Seokjin though, as he turns to look back at the empty doorway. If love at first sight is a real thing, Jungkook just experienced it to the fullest extent.

~*~*~

Jungkook manages to continue the rest of rehearsal without a problem, except for the way his mind kept traveling back to you. Saying your name in his head again, he washes up in the gym showers. He thinks back to the way your skin seemed to be literally glowing to him, and your bright white teeth hypnotizing him.

Never in his life has he had such a short conversation with someone that had such an impact. He wants to learn everything about you, your passions, the music you like, the books you read. He hopes that you enjoy some of the same things he does, so he has an excuse to talk to you.

Though his interest in you is certainly piqued, he has to keep in mind that you are, essentially, his employee, and fantasizing about your employee is more than inappropriate.

Fantasizing might not be the right word, but he can't help and imagine conversations between the two of you. Your voice is so pretty, it's light but carries through the room. You make sure your presence is known, though with the way you shine you didn't have to try hard. He smiles to himself, closing his eyes and rinsing off the conditioner from hair. Then, he wonders what your hair looks like when it's wet.

Okay, Jungkook. That's enough.

He shakes the water off his head and wraps a towel around his body. Exiting the shower, he realizes he forgot his bag in the dance room and sighs. Checking the time on his phone, he realizes that it's after 9 pm. The odds of anyone other than the members being here is pretty slim so he can just walk his way to the rehearsal room and change in there, right?

Right.

Tightening the towel around his waist, he walks out of the gym bathroom and strolls down the hall. He scrolls through his phone while he walks, rounding the corner and hearing your voice.

"Thank you, Mr. Lee. I'm very excited to properly start tomorrow."

"We're excited to have you," Jungkook peeks his head around the corner and watches Hyun bow to you, "your work is incredible and I know Taehyung in particular loves your shooting style."

What? Taehyung knows her? Jungkook must have missed that earlier when he couldn't stop staring at you.

"Yeah! It still blows my mind that one of the bangtan boys followed my work," you let out a small, somewhat embarrassed giggle, "thank god for Instagram."

You and Hyun share a laugh, followed by a goodbye. Jungkook gasps as he sees you turn in his direction, rushing to a small doorway and pushing himself up against the wall. You can't see him like this, not already. He's nearly naked and he knows this towel isn't big enough to cover himself as well as he should in front of a stranger, so he holds his breath as your foot steps become closer... and closer... and-

"Hey Jungkook."

Fuck.

Jungkook exhales a breath and moves to tighten the towel around his waist even more. You're eyes are not scanning his body like he thought you would be. Of course, Jungkook knows that sounds cocky of him to say but he can't help but assume that that would be the outcome of this situation. Either way, his face still burns when your eyes meet his. Those gorgeous, glowing eyes.

"Were ya hiding?" you laugh, tilting your head to the side, and Jungkook realizes that he's still pressed up against the wall.

"I- I, uh-" come on Jungkook, get it together, "Sorry. I didn't want you to see me naked."

"Oh please. When humans are naked, they're at their purest forms. It's natural, there's nothing to be embarrassed about." you smile brightly, moving a hand to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.

Jungkook raises an eyebrow. Your phrasing is odd, but he doesn't question it. Instead, he swallows, "You're right, but I'm sure you wouldn't have been okay with my dick just hangin' out. Neither would the security watching the cameras."

You laugh, a proper laugh that doesn't seem to be masked by something else, and Jungkook realizes it's melodic. A fine tune singing into his ears as one of the most beautiful songs he has ever heard. It's soft, breathy, and makes him want to make you laugh for the rest of eternity.

"Either way," you say after a moment, the hint of humor still in your voice, "nothing to be ashamed of. I'll see you tomorrow, Jungkook."

Jungkook tilts his head, watching you wave and waving back as you carry your feet towards the elevators.

~*~*~

The air was even lighter this morning, and Jungkook can't help but think you play a part in his bright mood.

Following the conversation yesterday, Jungkook walked with a grin on his face to grab his clothes. You're incredibly charismatic, an stark difference to Jungkook's usual shy and laid back personality. Despite your conversations together being minimal, Jungkook feels you and him are going to be close.

Jungkook hops out of bed and styles his hair carefully. Checking his phone as he brushes his teeth, he's received a text from Taehyung apologizing because he had already left. The house sounds still, he remembers Yoongi and Seokjin opted at staying at their respective apartments tonight, wanting to be a little closer to home. Namjoon probably stayed at the studio again and Jimin and Hoseok more than likely left with Taehyung. He shrugs, making a quick protein shake and grabbing a banana before heading out of the door.

As he drives to work, he makes note at how much more productive the members have been these days. Not that they never were, but the usual slump of exhaustion that follows months of continuous promotions, rehearsals, and recording doesn't seem to be hitting anyone this time around. Surely, the explanation is the high everyone is riding from the success of Butter and Permission To dance in the west. It's motivated everyone, including Jungkook himself.

He pulls into the parking garage, rides the elevator up to the 13th floor, and steps off only to be stopped by Hoseok.

"Jungkookie!" Hoseok wraps his arms around Jungkook's neck and squeezes him tight.

"Hoseokie!" Jungkook mocks, giving a pat to the older one's back. Hoseok pulls away with a chuckle, "I guess _____ is doing behind the scene shoots today. Something about wanting to catch us in our element."

"Oh? Like individual shoots?"

"Yeah," he smiles, "she's with Yoongi in his studio right now. She told me to tell everyone to choose a thing they do on a daily basis that might be interesting to see for ARMY."

"Should I work out?" Jungkook smirks. Hoseok rolls his eyes, patting Jungkook's pecs,

"You work out enough." Smiling, he begin walking towards the commons area,

"I'm almost to where I want to be." "Whatever Jungkook, you bully us enough already." Hoseok pats Jungkook's head and walks away, leaving Jungkook to sit on the couches for a moment.

He picks up his phone and scrolls through Weverse and Twitter for a moment. Despite not being as active as people wish he could be, he does keep up with what everyone is talking about. Currently he sees excitement about their online concert from last year coming to DVD, and "JUNGKOOK'S ABS" is trending.

Yeah, he's definitely going to work out for his behind the scenes.

Holding his phone up, he snaps a quick selfie and posts it to Twitter. Once a month seems to be a good formula.

"Jungkook?" Yoongi's voice enters the room, "She's gonna shoot with Namjoon then you."

"Ah," Jungkook stands, "time to get nice and sweaty for ARMY."

"You're such a freak." Yoongi laughs, watching Jungkook leave the room.

Jungkook begins on the treadmill, listening to music and trying not to think about the fact that you're going to be photographing him while he's working out. He feels somewhat dumb, being so incredibly invested in your opinions of him already, but like yesterday proved, there was something about you that drew him in.

He speeds up the treadmill, his calves burning and his breathing quickening while he runs. It's incredible, the feeling of absolute bliss he feels after a run. When his muscles ache and his chest feels clear, he feels most at peace. Though, peace isn't difficult to come across these days. Even with the sadness of not being able to perform live like he wants to, it's not as looming as it was before. It's incredibly exhilarating to wake up not feeling like the end is near. It happened so suddenly, he's not sure what changed.

At the beginning, when they had to cancel the tour and stay in Korea, Jungkook felt as though life was never going to be the same. It was dark for everyone. He remembers Jimin crying in the bathroom after the cancellation, which caused Jungkook to start crying as well. He scrolled through social media for hours, reading the anger and frustration at those who had to return their tickets. It pained him, to see such a bleak view of the fans he adored.

Now that it's been close to 2 years, Jungkook has learned to-- for lack of a better term-- live with it. He wakes up every day and tries his hardest to live, and that's all you can do when your passion in life is ripped away from you due to an ongoing worldwide pandemic.

The gym doors slide open and Jungkook looks in the mirror to see you.

You have a camera around your neck, Jungkook recognizes it as a Canon. You close the door behind you and stop him as Jungkook starts to slow down the treadmill.

"Pretend like I'm not even here." you nearly whisper, and Jungkook has to stop himself from choking on his spit. Your voice sounded almost sultry. He can't tell if that was his imagination or if it was intentional on your part.

Jungkook shakes his head, turning up the speed just a little bit more.

He hears the shutter on your camera clicking, the action setting in full effect as he runs. You move around him, being sure not to get yourself in the mirror of the shots. The only noises in the room are his breathing and the sounds of his feet hitting the runway. It's rough, his chest heaving the more he pushes himself, but he's more interested in the way you seem to float around the room, or the fact that your hands seem dwarfed by the large camera.

It makes him wonder what your hands would look like on him.

A necklace dangles from your neck, it's gold and shines under the lights of the gym. It falls gently into the crevice of your chest, what looks like a golden moon on the end of the chain.

Again, he wonders what your skin would feel like against his.

"You gotta stop looking at the camera." you giggle.

He didn't even realize his eyes were following you. Suddenly, it's like a wave of confidence washes over him. Confidence that he was not ready for.

He swallows, taking a deep breath, "I'm not looking at the camera." Why is he saying this?

"Yes you are," you grin, "I have like 7 pictures in a row of you looking directly at the camera."

"No," he shakes his head, "I'm looking at the person holding the camera." Shut up, Jungkook. Stop talking!

"Oh?" you laugh, "what's catching your eye?"

"The necklace." what the fuck? He basically admitted to staring at your tits!

"The necklace that's right in between my tits?"

He laughs, you snap a picture.

"I guess so, I'm sorry." The usual nervousness that he would feel at an admission like that is non-existent. He feels comfortable enough to talk to you like this, and judging by the way you smile, you're comfortable with it too.

"No need to be sorry," you snap another picture, "I know they draw attention."

Jungkook nods, "They certainly do."

"What do you like about them?"

The question throws Jungkook for a loop but he doesn't let that show.

"They're perky," he explains, stopping the treadmill, "and your shirts show off the perfect amount to leave some to the imagination."

"Ah, so you're imagining my tits?"

"Yes."

You smirk, walking away. For a moment, Jungkook is scared he said too much, but it's very quickly washed away by the sound of the lock turning. "So," you begin, "you're saying that if I took off my shirt, you wouldn't be opposed to looking at me?"

Jungkook shakes his head, "I also wouldn't be opposed to touching you."

"Well," you slip off your shirt, "I'm ready."

Jungkook feels his cock twitch in his gym shorts at the sight of your bra. Of your fucking bra.

Despite the blood rushing to his cock, he shakes his head, "Oh come on, darling. You know that's not enough for me."

"Your shirt first, buddy." your eyes follow Jungkook as he grips the hem of his shirt and pulls it off. Now that there's verbal consent, your eyes roam all over his torso. He's ripped, Jungkook knows this, but under your gaze he feels like a meal. Like he's about to get devoured by you, and he can't say he's not enjoying the idea.

You reach behind you, unhooking your bra and allowing it to fall to the ground.

Jungkook's eyes widen at sight, stepping closer to you and falling to his knees. He places his nose against your torso, inhaling your scent. The sensuality of the small gasp that left your mouth fueled Jungkook. He grabs your hands and pulls you down to his level, leaning down and pressing a kiss to your lips.

It's rough and heated, all teeth and tongue. He's not used to being this way, to feeling almost primal in his movements. He gnaws at your bottom lip, eliciting another moan from you. It's high pitched and nearly whiny, proving that you're suddenly filled with as much need as he is.

"I'm gonna fuck you," Jungkook states, "right here. Right now."

"Please." you toss your head back, falling onto the padded floors of the gym. Jungkook follows suit, kissing his way down your body until he reaches your navel. Again, he presses his nose into you and inhales, you smell so damn good.

He keeps smelling, inhaling your scent as he undoes the buttons of your jeans. The less clothing there, the stronger your scent becomes. He feels insatiable, nearly ripping off your panties to get to your center.

"Fuck, you're so wet already," Jungkook groans, his voice deep with want, with need. Taking a single finger up your slit, he draws it back and sucks your juices clean, "and you taste as good as you smell."

You stare up at him with hooded eyes, holding yourself up on your elbows and spreading your legs as wide as you can. "Now that you've had a taste you might as well finish it."

Jungkook doesn't need to be told twice, diving into your soaked folds with his tongue. He moves fast but also meticulously, being sure to take note of all the places that make you moan a little louder, sink a little deeper into him. Your hand reaches down and snakes its way through his hair, tugging at the roots.

At that point, Jungkook begins to kick off his shorts without pulling away.

"Fuck, I've always wanted to fuck you," you moan in between words, "you always look so good everywhere you go."

"Yeah?" Jungkook chuckles, "did you imagine fucking me before you got hired here?"

You nod, "I couldn't help it, I knew you'd be good."

As Jungkook manages to get his shorts off, he grips ahold of his aching member. Pulling up to his knees, his thumb doesn't stop rubbing harsh circles against your clit.

"That's hot," Jungkook breathes, "I've been wanting to take you since I first saw you."

"Then do it." you demand, and a flip switches in Jungkook's brain.

He pulls his fingers away from you and leans forward, "Taste yourself."

You don't hesitate to take his fingers into your mouth, Jungkook feeling your tongue dance across the pads of his fingers. Feeling himself twitch, he strokes himself for a little bit of relief while you suck.

"Taste good?" He questions.

"Delicious."

"Good girl." He murmurs, leaning down and connecting your lips with his again. As he does so, he runs the head of his cock against your slit, enjoying the gasp you let out every time he brushes against your clit. You feel so warm, so inviting. He can taste you so well, he wants nothing more than to dive in.

So he does.

Pressing into you slowly, he feels your warmth envelope him. Your legs wrap around his hips and guide him in all the way. When he slips all the way in, you both pull away for a moan.

"So fucking good. So tight." He moves his hips achingly slow, enjoying the noises of content leaving your lips. Your moans spur him on as your tightness engulfs him yet again. He leans down and presses a kiss to your neck, your hot skin nearly burning his lips, "I don't want to hurt you."

You shake your head, "You can't hurt me. I promise."

Jungkook isn't sure what takes over him at this point, but he feels his lips begin to thrust harshly into you. He doesn't process the rest of the world, the only thing that's certain is you. You're everything that he needs to focus on now, your whines, your moans, the feeling of your legs guiding him in and out of you. He wants to take you here over and over again until the end of time, and he's never felt that about anyone before in his life.

Your lips are beginning to bruise from the rough kisses he's been laying on you, so he takes a gentle approach and sucks on your jawline. Every few thrusts, he rests his forehead against yours. Then he moves again. Then rests.

"Tell me how good I feel." you whisper against his lips, breathy.

"Baby," Jungkook's brows knit together in pleasure, "you feel so good around me. So warm. I want to cum in you and fill you up so bad. Do-n't stop squeezing- fuck."

Jungkook abandons the pace he tried to keep and slams into you, pulling you on top of him and lifting you up and down on his cock. You let out a scream as he reaches a point he hasn't touched before, your cunt tightening exponentially around him.

He latches his mouth onto your nipples, the sensitive peaks hardening against his tongue. Your nails rake down his chest while you grind against him, your ass smacking against his thighs while he begins thrusting upward.

His hands grip your hips harshly, sure enough to leave bruises by his fingertips. He feels his orgasm approaching quickly, but he needs you to cum first. He need to feel you cum around him. "Fuck," he growls through clenched teeth, "cum. I need you to cum. Cum around me, please please please!"

"I'm gonna- I'm-" your sentence is cut off by your orgasm taking over, clenching deliciously around Jungkook and pushing him over the edge. His hips stutter and he releases into you, your warmth mixing with his as he collapses onto the ground. You're both silent for a while, your chests heaving as you try to calm down. Jungkook leans up, keeping you in a hug as your knees move to either side of his hips. Neither of you make a move to pull apart, Jungkook softening inside of you but the sensitivity feels so good.

He rests his chin on your shoulder, glancing behind you and towards the mirrors. On the inner edge of each of your shoulder blades, lay two large scars. They're old, pink in color now. Jungkook reaches a finger up to trace the scars but is stopped by a knock on the door.

"Hey, I'm ready when you are _____!" Jimin's voice sounds through the gym, muffled by the door.

"Shit." You whisper, "shit, shit, shit!"

You quickly pull off of him, beginning to slip your panties and bra back on.

Jungkook flinches at the sudden loss of warmth around him, looking down at his cock and seeing a mixture of his and your cum coating his thighs. "Don't you need to clean up?" he whispers.

"I'll stop by the bathroom on the way." you murmur, now fully dressed, "thank you for that, by the way." you wink, grabbing the back of his neck and pressing a hard kiss against him. Then, you're out the door.

Jungkook is left naked on the floor, confused, and wanting to ask why exactly you have asymmetrical scars on your back.

[youarejesting]

Hope in the sheets.10

[Masterlist]

Beta: N/A Pairing: Hoseok x Reader Genre: Friendship, Comedy, Soft boy, Fluff, SMUT, Friends2Lovers, Words: 5k

Summary: You held many titles: his neighbor, colleague, wing-man… well, more likely a wing-woman, yet most importantly, you were his best friend. You had been friends since you were born. Between the two of you, you were younger; barely, but he never let you forget it. He always seemed to ruffle your hair and tease you, which could get rather annoying but he made up for it by treating you to things.

What if a drunken one night stand between you and your best friend Hoseok leads to more complicated situations? Your reckless twenties are cut short as you find yourself suddenly responsible for something a little more.

Warning: Implied sex, pregnancy, implied reader has baby.

[First] [Previous] [Masterlist] [Next]

Hoseok and the others were eventually led into the birthing suite; the entire place had been cleaned and only the bare minimum of staff stayed behind. They were sorting out equipment and monitoring your current state. When his eyes landed on yours he felt emotions bloom in his chest. There you were laying in the bed, a small bundle of soft blankets nestled delicately in your arms. You had showered and dressed in a nightdress that had been packed in your hospital bag. 

Hoseok’s lip curled. He was trying to hold his expression, giving you a forced smile before he broke out into tears. Holding your free arm out to him, he stumbled into your embrace kissing your forehead and telling you how much he loved you. 

His words were broken by the force of each sob. “Are you going to hold her, or do we have to hold you?” Yoongi playfully teased. Hoseok wiped his eyes taking a few shakey deep breaths trying to calm his emotions. 

When you moved the blanket to show your daughter laying gently against your chest, he was a mess once more. “Hobi, you want to hold her?”

“I can hold her?” He hadn’t even thought that far ahead. He could hold this baby, his daughter, he could hold her in his arms and she was real. 

“Of course you can hold her.” You laughed, reaching up to wipe his tears away. Hoseok remembered everything he was taught from the birthing classes, practically reciting them out loud. You placed his daughter in his arms and his bottom lip fell. 

Tears were his automatic response. There was nothing else, this miracle, this symbol of his love for you, his best and longest friend. This was his child, his flesh and blood and he couldn’t thank you enough for giving him such a gift. 

“You have to stop crying Hobi, we need a nice picture for your family.” You smiled and he tilted his head back sniffing. 

“I love you so much, and I love her, I just can’t stop crying.” The words broke again Hoseok turned to show off his daughter to his friends. They were some of the people he was closest to and when he looked at them they were all crying. Jungkook’s wet cheeks and red nose, Jimin’s sweet puffy eyes bubbling with tears, even Yoongi let out a stray sniff. 

By far it was a sight to see big burly Namjoon openly weeping like Hoseok and cooing over how precious she was. 

“Look how little she is,” Namjoon whimpered

“Her hands are so tiny too,” Hoseok said back. The two were just making it worse for each other, a back and forth of doting comments of your newborn each statement causing a fresh cycle of tears. 

The nurse who had been checking your vitals waiting to take you back to the ward rolled her eyes. “I have seen some sappy fathers but you brought a whole troop.”

“Gentleman it’s time to let mum and her baby get some sleep, the father can come back tomorrow morning any other guests can come two at a time during visiting hours.” She ushered the other six males from the room, Hoseok kissed you his cheeks were wet. 

“I don’t want to go.”

“Get some sleep Hobi, get the house ready. If all goes well I will be out of the hospital soon.” The nurse took your daughter from Hoseok’s arms. 

“Wait, can I give her a kiss?” You whispered. The nurse nodded bringing your daughter over allowing you to kiss her goodnight before she was wheeled down to the nursery. 

“Are you ready to go back to the ward? You should get some sleep. Your body will be exhausted. We will bring the child in when she is hungry.”

“Okay Hobi, I have to go rest now you head home and make the house all ready for when we come home okay.” You waved goodbye to him and watched as Jimin took his hand leading him from the room. He seemed reluctant to take his eyes off of you, his hand coming to lay flat under his heart. 

You touched your collar bone watching him mouth the words 'baseline'. It was like everything you ever wanted but such a weird and obscure way you got there. You wanted to be with Hoseok and cherish him and be loved in return, but you never thought you would get there by completely derailing your relationship and almost ruining your life. 

It was like you had to destroy what you had to build something better. It seems counterproductive and a step in the wrong direction but somehow you were able to shape the rubble of your friendship into a relationship stronger than before. 

You love Hoseok with all your heart and he only has eyes for you. It seems you were both delusional to believe that you weren’t in love. Everyone could see it except the two of you and now it was painfully obvious. 

Being a mother was kind of a shock. Scared when you woke up to cramps, only to remember you had already given birth, you were also woken throughout the night to feed your daughter. A part of you worried about taking care of someone, the responsibility setting in as being a mother was a full-time job.

“You are doing wonderful.” The nurse gave you some pain killers for your cramps, your uterus was slowly shrinking back to its regular size and you were uncomfortable. “Would you like me to get you anything?”

“I would love something to drink.” Voice hoarse from sleep, she nodded before setting off for you. You sat up watching the sunrise, your daughter sleeping soundly on the bed in front of you. She was so precious. Even with closed eyes she still wiggled and stretched her hands out to the warm glowing orb.

“Seonhee, do you like that name?” You whispered, taking out a small outfit: a white onesie with sunflowers and bright yellow footed pants with soft yellow ruffles on the butt. “Jung Seonhee.”

“Ah, is that her name?” The nurse smiled, placing some apple juice and water on the small bedside table. She sanitized her hands and began helping you with the baby's clothes and diaper, bagging the old clothes and disposing of the soiled diaper. She smiled down at the little girl in her bright outfit. “I think it suits her, Seonhee”

The doctor came by on her round, her hair pulled into a tight bun and her scrubs pastel blue with stalks. “You are looking better, how are you feeling?” There was no messing around, she was straight to business, checking for any concerns or pain. Your stomach was being palpated while she brought up things to look out for. “Ultimately if anything happens that you are unsure about, even if it is something silly like, should I have coffee while breastfeeding, call this number here, they are a great service and they will help you.”

“Thank you so much.” Taking the card you were handed and a little care package from the hospital, the nurse placed the card into the baby book which had accompanied you throughout pregnancy and after. “Am I okay to go home today?”

“You are all clear. Let us know what time you want to leave and we can have all the paperwork ready.” Pausing in the doorway, a young nurse almost bumping into her, she spun around, her coat swishing with her. “After giving birth a lot of women become a little moody, fatigued, or cry. This is totally normal as your hormones will be dropping back to a normal level. It is perfectly normal to feel these things during this time.”

“Ah, that’s good to know.” You replied while searching through the care package, glancing at some of the booklets and information sheets. There was a number for a community service where mothers take their babies to be weighed and receive checkups. The nurses had few information sessions on feeding techniques and developmental leaps. 

Looking forward to being a part of a group of new mothers, you knew you would have a lot of questions eventually. It would be nice to know if other mothers have similar concerns or effective tips for any future problems.

Hoseok arrived with a big smile, kissing you sweetly before heading over to scoop up his daughter. “Wait Hobi,” you stopped him, “I need to talk to you before you get all teary-eyed again.”

“Okay,” serious expression on his face he gave you all his attention.

“We need to agree on her name and sign the birth certificate.” The smile returned to his face, the twinkle in his eyes never dwindling since the moment he stepped into the room. “I like the name 선희 (Seonhee) written as 善 meaning Good or nice and 希 as in Hope”

Hoseok watched you write an example on a scrap piece of paper, and began nodding enthusiastically. Hands shaking the two of you eyed one another passing secret smiles, the taste of giggles on the tip of your tongue. Once the document was completed Hoseok’s hand swooped up into your hair, cradling your nape as he kissed you.

Neither lazy nor heated, the kiss was full and romantic, his lips telling a story against yours. The world stopped and only Hoseok existed. Until a shrill cry broke through the silence and the two of you apart. The cry brought with it the sound of machines and nurses walking down the hall.

“You want to go home,” Hoseok raced around the hospital bed towards your daughter, wiggling in the tiny hospital portable bassinet. His style was honestly amusing. Strips of fabric hanging from a graffitied shirt with a cargo jacket and sneakers. Strange to see him holding a baby but you loved it so much. 

Just because you were parents didn’t mean you had to get rid of everything you love. Sure you had to grow up and it was extreme. The transition you made while pregnant felt like your life was ending. That you would live to serve a tiny being. But seeing Hoseok still smiling the same, still wearing the same street hip hop style reassured you that you still had a life outside of being a mother and that would never change.

Of course, the two of you probably wouldn’t club anymore. It would be unfair if either of you went out without the other and unfair on your daughter if you were not there for her. Not to mention the cost of babysitting and the trust you would need in order to leave Seonhee with someone who wasn’t you or Hoseok.

Hoseok helped you with your bags packing the car, he had borrowed Jin’s for a smoother drive. Always thoughtful even on the littlest details. Sitting by the baby's car seat while Hoseok drove you home apologizing for every speed bump and every turn.

“Hoseok, I would like to go home before it is dark. You don’t have to drive that slow.” You laughed, he was being so serious like a knight or warrior preparing for battle to protect those he loves. In the reflection of the rearview mirror, you saw his lips twitch in amusement, the sun shining on his shaggy hair. “I love you.”

“Babe,” He whined, “you can’t say that when I am driving, I want to kiss you and then we really won’t get home before dark.”

His eyes flickered up to meet yours in the mirror before concentrating diligently once more on the road. He was singing softly to the radio as he crossed town, you must have fallen asleep as you were woken by his sweet laugh and some kisses on your cheek.

“We are home Lil darling.”

Breathing deeply trying to clear your head from your nap, as the fog in your mind disappeared your hands were secured in Hoseok’s as he helped you out of the car. Standing patiently for your body to catch up, the tender sensations in your stomach leaving you stiff.

“Seonhee, time to see your new home.” Hoseok scooped up the infant holding her to his chest as if it was the most natural thing like he had several years of experience. As opposed to this child being his firstborn. He took the soft yellow muslin wrap and covered her protecting her eyes from the afternoon sun.

Opening the door, you weren’t surprised, (mostly because you had spotted their cars on the curb) to see the boys sitting on your couch equally as excited to see you as they had been the day before in the birthing suite. Hoseok was placing your bag on the table when Seonhee started crying.

“Hey, sweetheart what’s wrong?” Hoseok patted her bottom to a steady rhythm hoping it would lull her back to sleep. Her crying continued and you felt your shirt grow damp, taking a seat you held out your hands for your daughter and nursed her while the boys kept their eyes firm on one another to respect your privacy.

“Are you drinking or are you sleeping?” You giggled at your daughter who was milk drunk. Burping her gently she wiggled releasing a few loud burps and spitting up a little onto the back of your hand and the small burp cloth you had been holding to her clothes.

“Let me take her while you clean up.” Yoongi smiled, scooping up your daughter, holding her so her head was supported, her arms and legs draped over either side of his arm. His other hand rubbed and patted her back gently as he swayed.

“You look like a squashed pie.” He smiled cheekily talking to the baby in his arms. “Cute bow shape lip from your mum, and your nose is very cute like Hoseok’s.”

“How dare you call her a squashed pie.” Namjoon tried to defend but when Yoongi turned he showed the infant, her cheek squished up against his arm, her drool slowly seeping between parted lips. “Okay, maybe a little but she is also adorable.”

“All babies look like aliens when they are born,” you grinned.

“But do you love her, more than anything else in the world?” Jungkook giggled trying to make small talk while also projecting his newfound love for such a tiny being.

“We just met, I need some time to get to know her some more.” You joke playfully curled up on the couch Seokjin handing you some dinner and a cup of tea while the boys took turns meeting your daughter.

“It says in the paperwork she can have a bath tomorrow, and that her first poo might be really yucky.” Hoseok read the take-home leaflets from the hospital and constantly checked on his two girls making sure they were both safe and sound.

“Put her in outfits you don’t care if they get destroyed,” Yoongi was singing something to the child. It was low and rough. He was talking about dreams, freestyling about how your daughter didn’t need to go to university and that she didn’t have to know everything right at this moment.  

Placing the little girl into Jimin’s waiting arms. His eyes sparkled and his lip dropped as he turned soft for the little girl.

“Hello, I am Uncle Jimin and I am going to spoil you so much.” His sweet voice gasped. He practically wiggled on the spot when she brought her fists up to her closed eyes and yawned. Taehyung was quietly snapping photos, careful not to use the flash as he didn’t want to hurt the baby's sensitive eyes, even while they were closed. He assured you, that he would get photos of everyone holding Seonhee. He had already captured Yoongi and was taking a few extra of Jimin with the small bundle.

It was honestly nice to see them all so supportive and there for your daughter. Images in your mind blooming of her first Christmas and birthday and all that would follow. Namjoon would buy her a green bike with flowers and tassels on the handles and Yoongi, helping assemble it before she woke up, attaching the training wheels for her safety.

Learning how to wrap people around her finger from her Uncle Jimin and then using it against them. She would be a dancer like her father and would light up the room. You could see her performing on a stage with the eight of you waiting with flowers to throw on stage. Maybe she wouldn’t win the first prize at her first show but they would still take her out for pizza and celebrate. Her skills would improve and the day she wins the trophy she would be lifted onto Seokjin’s shoulders. 

Not noticing you had started crying until Namjoon pulled you into a hug.  “Hey what’s got you so upset.”

“No, I am not upset, I was told that as my hormones go back to normal, I might cry and be more tired and moody and upset and I just,” Sniffing Jungkook handed over some tissues and hugging your back. The newer of the group Taehyung and Jungkook had just fit perfectly into the group, it was like they were always meant to be.

“Hey love,” Hoseok said, coming over to kneel at your feet holding your knees softly. "Tell me what made you so upset."

“I was thinking about her first Christmas and her first birthday and how you would all be here and she would be loved and…” Taking a sniff and pushing the tears from your eyes you looked up at them seriously. “You can never leave now, we are going to be one big family. I hope you know you are now each my daughter's uncles and therefore responsible to attend events. If you didn’t want to be a part of the family, I am sorry you are now my family.”

More tears shook your form. “You're the only family I have, I wasn’t exactly disowned more than I left when my mother told me not to have my sweet daughter. My precious baby deserves a big happy family and so I am sorry you are stuck with me. 

“And don’t even think you are getting out of it.” You pointed at Taehyung and Jungkook, “You are my family now. Seonhee needs lots of uncles to protect her.”

“We aren’t leaving,” Seokjin grinned, taking a turn holding the wiggling bundle, smiling for a picture, and looking at her. “She will be a heartbreaker.”

~

The first couple of weeks were a learning curve filled with broken sleep, reheated meals courtesy of Seokjin, and constant fatigue looming over your head. Jimin appeared one-afternoon Taehyung, Namjoon and Yoongi apprehended your daughter. Settling her into a baby carrier strapped to Namjoon’s chest. The thick bodyguard looked a little silly with a tiny child nestled against his pecs.

Seonhee was wearing a new outfit from her uncle Jimin. It was a sweet-footed onesie with bear ears warm enough for a day out in the park. Kicked out of the house by Jimin who stressed how much you needed a break. Hoseok was at work while you were still on leave which meant you took the larger portion of the home and baby duties.

Mostly because you were at home all day, but also not wanting to interfere with his sleep schedule seeing as he was going to an actual job that needed proper attention. There wasn’t even a moment of hesitation from Jimin as he dragged you into the bathroom and started the bath filling it with a generous amount of bubble bath. It was the sleepy-time product you had chosen for your baby, emitting a soft lavender scent.

“You relax and I will wash your hair.” He smiled and he massaged your scalp to help relieve any tension, after washing out all your hair products he took your skincare products letting you lay in the bubbles as he pampered you. “You are such a good mum, you are doing amazing.”

“I hope so,” you yawned.

You stepped out of the tub, quickly wrapping yourself into the fluffy robe you hadn’t used in a while. Then sat down on your bed whilst Jimin dried and styled your hair. The others had returned, poking their heads into the room and smiling at your new refreshed look. You quickly fed your daughter while Jimin braided your hair securely.

“You rest okay, we will watch her until Hoseok comes home. Don’t worry we will come to you if we are unsure about anything and for food times.” Yoongi said playing some soft tranquil music on the small speaker by your bed. 

It seemed pointless. Laying there believing it impossible to fall asleep. As you walked past the clock reading half-past one, your stomach rumbled in a gentle protest. Before you could even think of the food you wanted to get dressed, pulling on a white crop top and a baggy overall dress. Something easy to breastfeed in. It was definitely time as your breasts were heavier with milk.

Walking out you poured yourself a glass of juice and scooped up your fussing daughter, stomach growling again. Yoongi stood up marching into the kitchen, rapidly chopping ingredients. Soon the house was filled with a savory aroma and the glorious sound of oil sizzling. 

~

Hoseok was having his first afternoon with Seonhee. You were going for a checkup. Jungkook was free and agreed to accompany you to your appointment, he almost paled when he saw the equipment on the table for your checkup. It made for a good laugh and endless teasing during your small coffee date afterward.

Jungkook’s phone buzzed and he grinned texting back quickly. “Ooh, what or who is making you smile so big?”

“Uh, I just got a funny text from Namjoon. Apparently, Hoseok asked for company so Namjoon and Yoongi stopped by the house after their errands.” He laughed, nose scrunching showing off his front teeth. “And well, your daughter may have accidentally had a poo explosion. So far from the pictures I have seen, Yoongi and Hoseok are covered in it. And while trying to help Namjoon dropped a whole bottle of baby powder and they are vacuuming the carpet.”

“Jimin and Taehyung agreed to pick up some more and I have been asked to keep you busy,” Your smile growing the more you heard, of course, they would make a mess on your first day out. Expecting something chaotic to happen but never something as funny as this. 

“I am just glad it is something like this and not that someone is sick or hurt,” You smiled while eating a strawberry cheesecake and sipping coffee. Not making any move of leaving early and relieving them of their duty. It was a right of passage and showed just how much you trusted them. Hearing that something happened and not jumping to take over.

“They said not to tell you, but how could I not?” Jungkook turned his phone showing you some photos worthy of scrapbooking, the kind you would take out for Seonhee’s twenty-first and a story she would get sick of hearing at every family gathering. “Look at them.”

“Well while they are busy, how about we go grocery shopping? I think perhaps we can make something delicious for dinner,” Standing and collecting your jacket from your chair, and leading the way. Jungkook followed listening to your concerns about your weight and figure, he assured you how good you were looking and even offered to personally train you at 21, the gym.

~

Seonhee was growing steadily. Each milestone leading into the next, she would roll over and had started to crawl. Finding herself putting things she shouldn’t in her mouth. Going back to work was hard for the first few days, leaving Seonhee at the daycare was easy but she became more clingy when she came home. It was her way of coping with the separation that came with daycare and full-time work but eventually, Seonhee got into a routine.

Understanding that her parents were always coming back made everything in the house run a lot smoother. She had a small handful of sounds, mostly eomma, appa. 

Work was a lot more tolerable and dare you to say fun. Jimin had quit his sugar baby gig and joined the company working alongside you. Sure he had broken a few hearts by canceling his service but he was happier. He never explicitly said it but you believed he was trying to be more independent and above everything else make himself more approachable to Taehyung.

Taehyung however left for a while, he had been away working with a few celebrities and luxury brands, photographing concepts, photos, and more. He had been pushing and working harder and harder as the days passed until he traveled away for his latest project. 

It was a little sad that they weren’t together but you could see the longing in Jimin’s eyes whenever he replayed Taehyung’s Instagram story. Dragging him from his desk to have lunch together and distract him from the thoughts spinning around in his head.

~

December marked eleven months since Seonhee was born. Cruising against the couch and cabinets opening things she shouldn’t. You had invested in baby locks and a small playpen. Neither really did much as she knew how to push the whole contraption across carpet and tiles to get into things. 

Mostly she would follow you to the kitchen hoping to get teething biscuits or any other treats her father would sneak her. He was never able to say no and you often found them sneaking snacks together where he would give you his big eyes and pouty lips claiming that she deserved a snack.

Christmas had your house filled to the brim with presents and boys, Seokjin was cooking in the kitchen with Yoongi’s help while Jimin and Jungkook were playing with Seonhee. Hoseok was helping Namjoon into a Santa costume in the backyard. No one had heard from Taehyung. You assumed he was busy with work and that he would be unable to make it.

There was a knock and Jungkook raced to answer it and laughed, “Finally, I thought you were skipping out on the family Christmas.”

“I wouldn’t skip out on the family Christmas, you are my favorite family,” Taehyung said handing over a suitcase to Jungkook and carrying in some bags of wrapped gifts, placing them under the tree. “Look at you, you have gotten so big!”

Namjoon Santa came in and delivered gifts and ran off getting changed only to come back and watch the gift unwrapping. Jungkook went to collect the two eldest from the kitchen, pushing Seokjin before dragging Yoongi out the two stopping in the archway.

“Hey, you are under the mistletoe!” Jimin giggled, proud that his trap had worked, he was hoping that some people would get stuck under it. “You are going to have to kiss.”

“We don’t have to, we are watching Seonhee open her gifts,” Jungkook said only to be grabbed by Yoongi who kissed the younger male and pulled away.

“Satisfied.” Yoongi turned back to the young girl opening her presents, Namjoon got her some picture books and a few educational toys. Seokjin had wrapped a small toy kitchen that was her size. Yoongi brought her to everyone’s surprise a little clam pool and some plastic toys to play with.

Jimin brought her a whole lot of princess dresses, tiaras, and fairy wings. Jungkook got her a cozy coupe red and yellow plastic car that she could push around with her legs. Taehyung handed her the small gift bag and inside was a night light that made the roof look like a galaxy and played soft music.

After Seonhee’s gifts from the boys, Hoseok brought out a box. He was struggling with it but when he opened it out popped a little dog who began licking her cheeks and wagging his tail intensely amongst the large group. “His name is Mickey.” Hoseok grinned watching Taehyung taking pictures and smiling fondly as she giggled.

Other gifts were exchanged, the most notable was Seokjin giving everyone matching sweaters with his face on it, and Taehyung’s gift to Jimin. It was a small bag and inside was the signature Tiffany blue colored box.

“You didn’t have to,” Jimin said softly and Taehyung smiled.

“I told myself I would support you, and I know you didn’t want to be treated like a sugar baby, I just told myself that I wouldn’t allow myself to date until I got you those earrings you really wanted. I wanted to give you something you could be proud of.” Taehyung explained, “And it was so hard to resist you when you kept inviting me over.”

Opening the box Jimin saw the earrings he had once mentioned ages back, the exact earrings Taehyung had handmade for him. “Now you can get rid of the ones I made you, they look horrible compared to these.

“I still love the ones you made and I will keep them forever.”

“I won’t treat you like a sugar baby anymore, I wanted to ask if maybe you wanted to go on a date.”

“Well, these earrings will get you about five dates.” Jimin giggled cheekily

“Five I thought for sure it would be five and a half?”

“Five and a free butt grab?”

“Deal!”

~

The nine of you were walking through the kid's attractions at the theme park seeing some familiar faces, you were having lunch when some music started playing. It was the theme park's dance parade and Hoseok was dragged into the dance by Taeyong.

You were giggling when WinWin dragged you up dancing with you and turned to see Hoseok on one knee, a ring box opened in his hands. You felt your chest about to explode as you tackled him to the ground sobbing in his chest. “Hoseok really, you mean it?”

“Of course, I mean it, I have loved you for years.”

“I love you so much, hell freaking yes put that ring on me, quick quick.” You kissed his face nonstop giggling between your tears. He was finally able to get the ring onto the designated finger standing and pulling you onto your feet. He kissed you passionately, you pulled back burying your face in his chest squealing.

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Tags: @brbkpop @take-u-2-an0ther-w0r1d @munchyn @unadulteratedlyunique @jinhitwhore @knjkitten @jooniesdimples70307 @the-snowbear25 @yoobikook @moments-of-melancholy @bratzkoo @theadorkablezaza @crustycaitlin @verasays  @usagiserenity530 @carmxx  @alexalbby @seolaquotes @sunshinejunghoseokie @extraordinary_reads @ireallylikeyourwriting @littletinyhobi @myspi2010 @safi4x @joohyunzie  @bangtanited @greezenini @thatbasicduck @unicornbabylover​

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[lcksndkys]

Pairing: hobi x reader

Rating: NSFW

Genre: dancer!hobi x bff reader

Word count: ~4.1k

Warnings: explicit sexual content, unprotected sex on a kitchen counter (bffs who trust each other, but still should wrap it before you tap it!!), brief masterbation, nipple play (cus duh, it’s me)

A/N: When I wrote Permission, I thought I’d leave it semi open ended, but there were a few people who wanted some closure ( @btsarmy9593​ @junghelioseok ) and I was happy to continue this story!! S/o to my people @jinpanman and @wwilloww for the song recs and the figurative pom poms!! If you liked it, feel free to talk to me about it!!

01, 02

The next few days had passed without word- carrier pigeon, smoke signal, or otherwise- from Hoseok. 

If you’re being honest with yourself, you’d admit that it appears neither of you are willing to revisit the events that had transpired in the small studio any time soon. You still can’t believe Hoseok kissed you as part of his audition routine. A year spent romanticizing what it would be like, and he ruined it so recklessly. 

You had heard from Seokjin, a mutual friend, that Hoseok nailed his audition and was offered a job at The Pied Piper. Bitterly, you wonder who he locked lips with during his routine, and immediately banish the thought from your mind. 

According to your sources (read: Jin), Hoseok has been rehearsing choreography with the rest of the cast over the last few weeks. Part of you knows that he’s busy, and the other part wonders if he’s just using his busy schedule as a means to avoid you. 

Either way, it doesn’t stop you from missing him. Conversations have been short with Hoseok replying with one worded responses and no attempts to keep conversation flowing.

Logically, you know that you could confront him. Half of you is dying to, but the petty side of you refuses to cave first. 

You’ve spent the past few weeks burying yourself in work and chores. You almost forget the feeling of his body grinding against you, his hand wrapped around your neck, his lips on yours. 

Your skin prickles at the memory. 

I wasn’t talking about you. 

What was that supposed to mean? Who was he talking about? 

Hope is a dangerous thing, and you refuse to believe what Hoseok was possibly implying. Because if his affections were surface level, it would crush you. 

You dive back into your work, taking on as many projects as possible to keep from dwelling on thoughts of Hoseok. 

At work the following morning, your phone vibrates with a notification breaking you from your muddled thoughts. 

You feel around your desk for your phone tapping the screen to see that Jin has texted you.

[11:21am] WWH: it’s friyay. 

[11:22am] WWH: We’re goin to The Pied Piper tonight!! Pick you up at 9 ;)

Groaning, you discreetly check your periphery noting that your colleagues appear to be too absorbed in their work to watch you try to decline a very insistent friend.

[11:24am] You: No, Jin… I don’t really feel well :(

Several minutes pass with no further pleading from Jin, but then your phone buzzes again.

[11:34am] Yoongi: If you don’t come to Hoseok’s opening night, he’ll be crushed.

[11:39am] Yoongi: Come with us. Please

You sigh. It’s not often that Yoongi begs, but you know he’s right. Although things between you and Hoseok have been tense lately, you know you can’t miss the opportunity to support your best friend. 

[11:41am] You: Fine.

[11:42am] Yoongi: Atta girl

The Pied Piper isn’t what you thought it would be. It’s less of a strip club and more of a small concert venue with tables and booths of various sizes surrounding a raised stage. You let Jin lead you towards your seats with Yoongi following close behind.

To your dismay, the small table you arrive at is frighteningly close to the front row where you’re sure Hoseok could see you. 

Taking your seat flanked by your two friends, you cross your legs in the attempt to tamp down the nervous bouncing of your foot.

To your right, Yoongi places a calming hand on your knee to stop your fidgeting. 

“It’s just Hoseok,” he reminds you. His knowing eyes stare deep into yours. 

You take a deep breath and let Yoongi’s words soothe you.

On your left, Jin is trying to talk over you to Yoongi about checking out the strippers on the other side of The Pied Piper after the show.

Just after 9:30pm, the lights begin to dim, setting your nerves alight.

Soft music starts as a dozen or so men saunter through the crowd to take the stage. 

You feel the swoosh of air behind you as one of the dancers passes by the back of your seat. Coming around to the front of your table, you’re mesmerized by the fluid way his body moves. Blond hair slicked back, he dances in front of your table for the remainder of the song and sends you a flirty wink. 

Mesmerized by him, you watch as he spreads his legs in a deep squat, arms crossed over his chest as he thrusts his hips to the beat. At the end of the song, he blows you a kiss with his full lips, turning to focus his attention to a different table of patrons.

You feel a pointy elbow nudge against your side and you turn sharply to your left to see Jin’s smug smile as he waggles his eyebrows suggestively at you. 

Rolling your eyes, you focus back on the show.

The men have gathered around on stage as the intro song fades. Once in formation, another song starts up. More upbeat, the men break out into the next part of the choreography, each following the routine to complement his own style. 

Some have started unbuttoning their shirts to show more skin.

Your eyes dart around, stalling on a particularly handsome dancer as he rakes back his long, dark hair with a heavily tattooed hand while swaying his hips to the music. Slowly unbuttoning his black shirt and swaying his hips and thick thighs, he flashes his doe eyes and muscles to the crowd, looking equal parts boyish and lethal. 

Your gaze follows his powerful body as he moves across stage, undressing his upper body to reveal the smooth, inked planes of his torso. He throws his shirt somewhere behind the audience (probably for staff to pick up) and you watch him until he passes by a familiar figure. 

Dressed in a white button down with sleeves rolled up his forearms, Hoseok catches your eyes with his dancing. Your breath stutters in your chest, skin heating in memory of his hips grinding against yours. 

Trying to focus on a different dancer, you settle on watching Blondie while he drops to his hands and knees humping the floor slowly and sensually to the beat of the song. You remember this move when Hoseok performed his audition piece for you, and you can’t help but recall the way desire had pooled deep and hot in your belly. Watching this beautiful man dance tonight, while pleasing, does not move your heart. 

As the night progresses, the dancers move seamlessly through the choreography jumping from one routine to the next. Most of the dancers are now topless, in nothing but fitted jeans with underwear bands peeking up over their beltlines.

You try to keep your eyes off Hoseok. 

Try.

Until the group breaks formation to disperse into the audience for a more close up look at their, ahem, dancing skills. Hoots and hollers fill the air as the men spread out and start giving lap dances to their audience. 

At your left, Jin cackles loudly at the sight of Tattoos straddling a middle aged woman against her chair. His prominent front teeth are on display as he smiles at her, leaning down to whisper in her ear over the booming music. Seconds later, you see her nod her consent enthusiastically while he presses her hands against his rippling pectorals. 

Hoseok has been watching you watch Tattoos with a frown. 

Distracted, you don’t see him rapidly approach your table until he stands before you. Of course Jin bought tickets in Hoseok’s section. 

You tense up and think about running, but Yoongi’s calming hand briefly returns to your knee, encouraging you to stay. It’s just Hoseok, you remind yourself. 

In front of your table, Hoseok locks eyes with you, slowly starting to undress his upper body. Leaving his shirt open, he pushes his sleeves further up his elbows revealing his sinewy forearms.  

Although the room is dark, you can feel the flush of blood creep up your neck and face at Hobi’s intense stare. You swallow down a whimper as he grips the back of your chair and spreads his thighs wide over yours, hovering several inches over you. There’s no contact between his body and yours, yet you can feel his warmth.

“May I give you a dance?” he asks huskily into your ear.

You shiver at the contact as your body betrays you. Feeling your nod of consent, Hoseok grins and slowly drops his weight onto your lap. 

Bare witness to my evolution

Violent moans, untamed contusions

We’re not really here it’s all Illusions

Vaguely you hear and feel Jin howling in delight at the sight unfolding next to him.

Holding you close, Hoseok pulls your hands off your lap to wrap around his waist while he grinds his hips against you. He tucks his face into your neck, dragging his perfectly sloped nose against the sensitive skin there. At this distance, you can’t see his face and pray that he can’t feel the bounding of your pulse.

You grab me there your fingers sink

We breathe, we tense, no time to think

I take you 'til you’re on the brink

Then we dive off the edge in sync

Sliding up and down your body, Hoseok encourages your hands to wander across his hips and lower back.

You bite your lip and allow your fingers to ghost their way under his open shirt, up along the ridges of his ribs and down to his ass, feeling the way the muscle contracts as he moves against you. 

Make love, fuck

Lick me up

Petals, pluck

Drive me, clutch

You feel the rumbling in his chest as your wandering hands explore his body. 

Hoseok eagerly rolls his hips against yours to the beat of the song. Goosebumps litter your neck as he pants into your ear.  

What’s your pleasure, what’s my name?

Blend and merge until we’re same

Nothing much of us remains

As the song winds down, Hoseok pulls back from you to stare into your eyes. He gently removes your hand from his waistline and presses your palm into his chest- left of center- over his thrumming heart. 

Your breath catches in your throat at the look he gives you. Hand still trapped against his chest, all you can focus on is the pounding underneath your fingertips and the burning in his hooded eyes.

In this moment, there’s no strip club, no Jin or Yoongi, no audience or dancers. Everything fades away and it’s just you and Hoseok.

Until the song changes yet again and Hoseok dismounts from you without a second glance, swiftly moving on to the bachelorette party next to you. 

You can still feel the heat of his body as you watch Hoseok dance around them, hips thrusting wildly as he artfully maneuvers his body to the bass. He smiles at the blushing bride-to-be and her entourage.

Hoseok picks up her hand as if to inspect her engagement ring before pressing a kiss to her knuckles with a wink. He’s clearly flirting with her, but with the noise of the club, there’s no way to tell what he’s saying. 

Teeth clenched tight, you remind yourself you have no right to be jealous. 

Your gut wrenches at the sight of him wrapped around another woman as his body undulates against her. He backs off slightly only to pick up her legs, spreading them to wind around his waist to better grind against her. Peals of laughter ring out higher than the music. An unpleasant weight settles deep in your stomach as you watch Hoseok basically dry hump her.

There’s a brief lull in the song, barely long enough for Yoongi to hear the pained gasp that leaves your lips when he moves on to one of her friends.

The comforting hand on your arm prompts you to drag your watering eyes off Hoseok. You meet Yoongi’s furrowed brow. 

“Wait. Do you- ” he looks from you to Hoseok, and back again. His eyes widen as he rapidly deduces the reason for your sudden mood.

You quickly glance at Jin who is still busy watching Hoseok entertain the table of bachelorettes. 

Biting your lip to hold in your sniffling, you nod once up and down in quiet confirmation.

“Holy shit,” he whispers. 

Instead of relief, it feels like your chest caves to the pressure of admitting your feelings. It was easy to lie to yourself, but you don’t think you keep up the act now that Yoongi knows. 

Suddenly the club becomes unbearably stuffy. 

You lean over to Jin, raising your voice over the music. “I’m gonna go get some air,” you shout and quickly make a beeline for the exit.

With your back turned, you don’t see the pair of longing eyes follow your figure as you leave.

Outside, the air is crisp as it nips at your exposed skin. You take a few deep breaths letting the sharp air soothe the ache in your heart. Deciding you can’t stay and watch the rest of the show, you sent a text to Jin and Yoongi to let them know you’ve called an Uber to go home. 

Freshly showered and lying in bed, you browse through your work emails to keep your mind busy. You’re determined to fall asleep without the memory of Hoseok grinding against random women tonight. 

As the minutes tick by, your eyes grow heavy with sleep and you roll over to put your phone on your bedside table. 

Thump, thump. Thump. A firm fist pounds on your door insistently, ridding you of any drowsiness as adrenaline floods your system.

Tapping your phone, you see it’s much too late for any decent social visits. There are no missed notifications; nothing to suggest you may have a visitor tonight.

At your hesitance, the rapping continues more adamantly. 

You cautiously approach the front door and peer through the peephole.

Hoseok. 

Relief washes over you, followed closely by frustration. Weeks of near-silence and he shows up unannounced at your door at 2am??

Throwing open your door, you’re ready to send him away.

The words die on your tongue at the sight before you. Eyes downcast, hair messy. 

“I know it’s late, but can I stay?” he asks quietly. 

Your heart lurches in your chest as you swing the door wider and step aside to allow him entry. From the smell of his lightly floral shampoo you can tell he must’ve showered after the show. 

Your eyebrows raise in alarm when you note a slight wobble in his gait as he makes his way to your kitchen. He's clearly been drinking.

He pulls a glass from the cabinet and pours himself a cup of water. Taking a small sip, he nervously passes the glass back and forth between his hands. 

“I- uh- I went out with Yoongi-hyung and Jin-hyung after the show,” he explains. 

Arms folded over your chest, you nod in understanding. 

“I’m sorry,” he croaks. “I’ve been an ass.”

There’s a tense moment as you both regard each other.

“Yeah it fucking sucks to have your best friend ignore your existence for weeks at a time” you retort.

He flinches at your harsh tone. “I just… I didn’t know how to be around you after… that.”

“After what? Your audition? Hobi, I don’t care that you want to dance in a strip show!” you lie easily through your teeth.

“It’s not the dancing,” he pauses to take a deep breath, steeling himself. “I meant… the kiss”

His adam’s apple bobs as he breaches the topic. “It wasn’t part of my audition routine. I kissed you because I wanted to. I want more” he whispers.

Eyes rounded in surprise, your mind is both loud and silent at the same time, short circuiting at his confession.

“And you kissed me back, but like, it didn’t seem like you were that into it and I just- I let you think it was part of the routine” he babbles on. 

“But- “

“I like you- really like you” he says earnestly. Fingers wrap tightly around his water, cutting to the chase.

“I had no idea,” you insist.

“I literally told you how I feel back when I practiced my audition piece for you” 

“Yeah, well, it wasn’t clear.” you bite back. 

“My kissing you wasn’t clear enough?” he shoots back with a quirked brow. 

You sputter. “I really thought it was part of your audition!” you exclaim.

“Forgive me for being old-fashioned, but I don’t often kiss women I’m not interested in,” he says, setting down his glass to take a few steps closer to you. 

Your head spins. “So, you’re still interested?” 

“How many times do I have to tell you I’m into you before you get it?” 

“Maybe one more time” you grin up at him suggestively.

Hands hovering over your waist, he smiles as he leans in, nose gently grazing yours as he breathes you in.

You tilt up chasing his lips when he suddenly pulls back.

“I need to know this isn’t just some fling for you. If we’re going to do this, it needs to be the real deal.” His eyes search yours and he must see what he’s looking for as he grins, dimples on full display.

Hand sliding up his chest and cupping his jaw, you hold him close. 

“I’ve liked you for months” you confess quickly. “It’s real, trust me” you say, pulling him back into you. You slot your lips against his, eager for another taste. Suckling gently on his lower lip, you feel his chest rumble with a growl as he presses into you with ardour.

Hoseok’s hands find their way around you, feverishly mapping out your body as he allows you to mold your mouths together. 

He immediately tilts his head, deepening the kiss. 

Your fingers pull at his dark strands and eagerly caress his neck. You feel the way his jaw moves as his mouth opens wider to send his tongue out to press into your mouth.  

His hands turn frantic, pawing at the curves he's been fantasizing about over the past couple of years. 

You let him push you up against the counter top as you continue kissing, his hips pinning you in place as his hands continue to greedily rub up and down your back and sides before slowly creeping up your front. 

"Can I?" he rasps, fingers staying below your ribs,waiting for your consent. 

"Please. I want you to touch me, Hobi" you beg. 

He growls at your enthusiasm and roughly cups your breasts. Even beneath the layers of clothing, he can feel the way your nipples pebble with desire. 

Pushing his hands aside, you reach down and pull your sweater and top up and over your head exposing your bare torso to him.

“Fuck,” he grunts, hands returning to roll and pinch at your sensitive buds.

You shiver with need as he plays with your tits, enjoying the way pleasure shoots down to your cunt. 

Hands leaving your breasts, he swats at your bottom. “Up,” Hoseok commands.

Obediently, you hop up onto the counter top, careful to avoid his barely touched glass of water. He spreads your thighs to slot his body against you. Legs pulling him in closer, you feel the evidence of his arousal at your center as he presses his erection against your quickly dampening panties.

His arms wrap around you bringing your chest to his face and suckles your nipple into his hot, wet mouth. Moaning, you send both hands into his hair as he continues his erotic assault on your body.

Hoseok grinds his hips against your core as he laves equally at both tits, leaving your nipples perked and shining in his saliva. 

“On or over the counter,” he rasps.

“I want whatever you want,” you pant, desperate to feel him against you.

“Fuck,” he huffs. “Can I take these off? I wanna see all of you” he pleads, tugging at the waistband of your sleep shorts.

Instead of responding, you push him back a step to slowly slide off your remaining clothing and scoot back on the counter top. You part your thighs giving him the perfect view of your glistening cunt. 

To entice him further, you slide a finger up and down your slick, swirling around your clit, and dipping into your sodden entrance.

“Holy shit, I want you so bad,” Hoseok groans with his eyes focused on the way you fuck yourself open with your fingers.

He allows himself a moment to enjoy the sight of you pleasuring yourself for him, studying the way you touch pussy. Having enough, Hoseok pulls your hand off yourself and wraps his lips around your digits, moaning at your taste. 

“Fuck me, Hobi, I’m ready,” you whimper.

Unable to hold back any longer, he growls, pulling you down from your perch and flipping you to face the countertop. With gentle pressure against your upper back, he encourages you down to your elbows, bending you forwards to present your cunt to him.

You hiss at the feeling of cold marble against your hardened nipples.

Distracted, you don’t hear the rustling of clothing as Hoseok tears himself free, eager to feel your skin against his. 

You gasp at the feeling of the blunt head of his cock sliding against your slit, bumping against your clit to send tingles of pleasure through you in waves. 

“Is this ok? I’m clean,” he promises.

You trust him.

“Me too. I’ve never had anyone bare,” you moan, pushing your hips back in the attempt to slide him into you.

“You want me, baby?” he asks one last time.

“Yes, Hobi, yes, just fuck me-” you whine, cut off when he takes his first stroke into your quivering walls, going slow so you feel every inch of him.

He thrusts gently a few times into your heat until he finally bottoms out inside you. 

Eager for more, you push your hips back against him to fuck yourself on his cock. “I like it rough,” you urge him.

Growling, Hoseok sets a brutal pace, desperately drilling his cock in and out of you.

You whimper in pleasure at his handling. Hoseok caresses at your back and hips and ass as if attempting to memorize the feel of your skin as he sinks into you over and over. Curling his fingers around your hips, he pulls you onto his length as he surges forwards, your breasts bouncing with the force of his trusts.  

Eyes clamped shut in pleasure, you feel your legs shake with your impending release.

“Hobi, I’m getting close,” you whimper. 

He grunts in approval, suddenly hoisting you up onto the counter so that your toes barely skim the floor. 

You squeal in surprise. In this position with your legs dangling, you wildly grasp at the smooth marble in the attempt to hold onto something. Hoseok pounds into you and you are unable to do anything but accept the pleasure he gives you. 

“Cum on my cock,” Hoseok urges. “I need to feel you cum first”

“So deep, ah- fuck! You feel so good, Hobi” you gasp as he continues to thrust into you. 

Your toes curl as his pace increases, desperate to get you off before he blows.

“Touch me, please, I’m so close,” you beg.

Sending his fingers between your legs, he rubs quick circles as you showed him earlier around your throbbing clit.

Your walls flutter wildly around him as you begin to unravel. 

“That’s my girl,” Hoseok grunts as he feels your walls tighten around him. 

You cum with a strangled moan of his name, puffing against the marbled surface as you clench rhythmically around his turgid length. 

Ears ringing in post orgasm haze, you feel Hoseok continue to thrust desperately into your wet heat. 

Panting he asks urgently, “Can I cum inside?”

“Fill me up,” you whimper, nodding enthusiastically. 

With your permission, Hoseok lets go. Draping his front against your back, he buries deep into your cunt and releases into your velvet heat with a loud, drawn out groan. 

Lying prone over the marble and still speared on his cock, Hoseok peppers sweet kisses along your nape and shoulders, gently suckling against your skin as you both revel in post-coital bliss.

“Mmm,” you keen at his attention as he presses one last lingering kiss behind your ear.

“You were serious earlier, right?” he asks softly. “You really want more, too?”

Craning to look back at him, you see a line of worry between his brows as he waits for your confirmation.

“I just wanna be yours, Hoseok,” you affirm with a shy smile.

He beams down at you, and like a flower to a sun, you can’t help but smile back.

[xmint-conditionx]

tongue tied | myg

pairing: yoongi x reader, f2l

w/c: 3.5k

summary: you've been best friends with yoongi for almost a decade, and you're hopelessly in love with him. he's the most important person in your life, and you don't want to mess that up, so you can never be anything more... right?

written as a response to a request from the old blog -- the requestor was @yoongi--enthusiast; thanks again for your request, i loved doing it!!! "I had an idea... something based off of the song “tongue tied” with yoongi. I feel like it would be super soft with soft smut... I just think it would be nice to read so can you please wright it 🥺👉👈"

tags/cw: 18+ please, smut, outdoor sex, overall a little angsty but super cute too

a/n: i did not know that there was a song called tongue tied by marshmello before i wrote this so... i hope the person who requested this didn’t mean that song because I wrote this drabble over the grouplove song lmaooo but anyway, here goes! thanks luv, enjoy! also reposted from the old blog!!

Yoongi’s laugh is so beautiful. It’s rare, so when you see it, you soak up everything you can about it. The way his eyes crinkle up into crescent moons, the way his lips curl back putting his gummy smile on bright display. You can swear you see his eyes sparkle.

You are in love with him. You are in love with your best friend.

He makes loving him such an easy thing to do; bringing you into his inner world, showing you the sweet and warm center he conceals from everyone else. The way he looks at you, the way he says your name, the way he pouts when he wants a back scratch, all of those little things that make him who he is only deepen your infatuation with him.

You’re with him again this Friday night, making the drive to Bom’s house. It’s been a long week for the both of you; he’s been wrapped up in producing a track and you’ve been nose deep in college textbooks. His track is completed, and your exams are over. It’s safe to say that you both could use a good break.

It’s the end of the spring semester and the weather is going to be gorgeous tonight. The racing summer breeze coming through the open car windows is exhilarating. The sun is setting, and the warm evening light on Yoongi’s dewy skin makes him appear absolutely radiant as he navigates the highway.

You’re just listening to fun little summer jams as you speed off toward the city’s suburbs. Ones with funky little basslines that are easy to groove and sing along to. Ones that make you shout and laugh into the rushing wind. Ones that make you drink in the moment you’re having with Yoongi; ones that make you soak up all of his joy.

And when he steals a sly look your way, one hand still on the top of the steering wheel, you can swear your heart stops.

You’ve loved him as long as you can remember really knowing him. Since you were both 12, bonding over games of tag and basketball and the spilling of secrets to each other. You’d sit beneath the big tree in his backyard and share the snacks you’d bought at the corner store. He’d always let you have the last chocolate.

The only secret you’ve ever kept from Yoongi is the matter of your infatuation, and you are pretty resolute in keeping it that way.

He is the single most important person in your life. He had been there with you through it all; when your parents split up at 13, when your dad got you your first car at 15, when your long time boyfriend cheated on you at 16, when your dream college denied you at 17, when you got a full ride scholarship to a smaller university outside of the city right after that, when you were drugged at a house party at 20, when you were diagnosed with depression at 21, and when you were accepted into your masters program at 22.

You needed him, and because of that, you could never tell him.

You pull into the gates that surround Bom’s neighborhood. Her parents are pretty wealthy, so they live on a golf course. As you pull up into the driveway, you see some other students milling about, catching Frisbee. There’s Eunha, Ireum, Ji-Ah, and Miyeun that you recognize from some of your classes, but there are a few more that you’ve never met.

After a few rounds of drinks and a few lost games of flip cup, you all head outside to the back patio with all of your schoolwork from the year. Bom turns on the bluetooth speaker and sets it on the railing. You take in the night air and gaze up at the sky, wishing there was a shooting star to wish upon.

“Alright, everyone,” Bom begins, “essays and lab reports first, then tests, then miscellaneous homework.” Yoongi helps you dig through your stack to fish out the cursed papers. You all toss the stapled packages into the fire pit, one by one, each hitting with a soft thud. Once everyone has thrown their woes into the pit, Bom tops it with actual firewood and unceremoniously sets the whole lot of it on fire. You gaze into the center of the flame, watching your entire year catch fire. All the hours you spent doing that research project, all the disappointment when your group members wouldn’t follow through. Gone, like it never existed.

Yoongi’s holding your hand in his, and he’s busy drawing little circles with his thumb on your palm. Your head rests soundly on his shoulder, and you sigh into him, comfortable in where you are. The whole group piles in more papers, as you lament about the shitty professors and the shitty group projects and the shitty caf’ food and the shitty grades. Yoongi turns into you and nuzzles gently on your forehead. You feel his soft lips graze your temple, breath warm on your skin, tingles rising through your body, and you’re right where you want to be. Under the moon’s gaze with the person you love.

Before long, the breeze sends a chill through you that even the fire won’t remedy. Yoongi feels your shiver and unceremoniously removes his hoodie and puts it on over you, pulling up the hood and kissing your forehead. You always love when you wear his jackets; they surround you in his warmth, his smell. A smile plays across your lips until you notice Yoongi’s goosebumps.

“Hey,” you pout, “I don't wanna wear this if you’re gonna be cold.”

“I don’t wanna wear it if you’re gonna be cold,” he snaps back, smiling.

“Here,” you say, standing up from your deck chair. You take the step to get you to Yoongi’s chair, and sit in his lap. “This way we can both be warm, yeah?”

It takes him a second, but he wraps his arms firmly around you again, mumbling a “yeah, that’s fine” when you glance at him over your shoulder.

Your attention is called back to the group with Bom asks if you’re going to the Summer Romance Festival by the river next weekend. She’s been pushing you to get yourself out there more. The last time you were in a real relationship was high school, after all.

“I’d love to go; I hear they have the most beautiful fireworks display,” you start, “but I don’t think I will this year.”

“Well,” Bom says, “Why not?!”

“Because I don’t have a date, Bom!” you say, covering your face in the sweater paws you’ve made from Yoongi’s hoodie. “I don’t think I could find one in enough time.”

“Ya, just get Yoongi to go with you! You already do everything together anyway,” Eunha quips.

You notice that the steady rise and fall of Yoongi’s chest has stopped.

“Hey, you know we’re just friends, right Yoongi?” you look to him for backup.

The man nods, looking down and to the left.

“Okay,” Ireum speaks up, “In that case, do you want to go with me?”

“Wait, what?” you say.

“Do you want to go to the Summer Romance Festival with me? As a date?”

Yoongi tenses beneath you.

“Oh, I don’t know…” you breathe, “Are you sure?”

“One hundred percent. We can even get dinner before we go. Not too much, though. I’ll want to get us a treat from one of the dessert stalls.” Ireum says with a soft smile.

“Yeah,” you say, smiling back at him, “Okay. We’ll go together.”

Yoongi stirs beneath you. “Hey, can you get off of me?”

“What, why?” you pout.

“I said get off.”

“Yoongi, wh--”

He doesn’t wait for you to finish before he abruptly stands up, forcing you to catch yourself. When you look back at him, he’s walking toward the French doors that lead back into the house.

“Ya! What was that about?”

He keeps walking. You storm after him and slam the door, trapping you both inside.

“Yoongi, I’m talking to you! What’s your fucking problem?”

He whirs around.

“Oh, I have a problem?”

“Well, it sure seems like it.” you spit back, hands on your hips.

“Why don’t you go talk about it with your date, huh?” he says, gesturing out the window to Ireum. “Don’t you have some details to work out? He gonna pick you up? You gonna let him hold your hand? On your nice little extra special romantic date? I guess I’ll just fuck right off and leave you two alone, yeah? That’s what you want, cause we’re just friends and all.”

“Yoongi, we… are friends! You’re my best friend!”

“Did you ever for a second think that I could want more?”

“What?!”

“I fucking love you, Y/N! Isn’t it obvious?! I’ve loved you since the 7th grade. You remember when we played spin the bottle at Ha-joon’s house? Do you remember when you kissed me?”

“Yoongi…”

“No, let me finish. Do you remember the frat party we crashed junior year? Remember when we got up onto the roof and made out until we fell asleep? And then you weren't there when I woke up so I walked back to my dorm and then we just pretended it never happened? What the fuck was that, Y/N?!”

You reach for his arm, but he backs up, flinching away from you.

“I am so in love with you it hurts!”

“Yoongi.”

“But I guess if that guy can make you happy, then whatever,” he sighs.

“Yoongi.”

“Go on your little date and have fun and I’ll just go write some more goddamn songs about you--”

“Yoongi!”

He stills, pain flashing through his eyes.

“Yoongi,” you say quietly, easing toward him, “I had no idea. I left the roof to go inside and get you some water. When I came back, you were gone. You had been drinking a lot that night… and I felt really bad because… I thought I had taken advantage of you… Ever since I first kissed you at Ha-joon’s house, I wanted to do it again. And again. And, you looked so good that night and up on the roof when you were laughing about the quarterback I just… I couldn't hold myself back anymore. I thought surely you didn’t want to actually be kissing me.”

“Why the fuck would I have kissed you back, then?”

“You were drunk, and I--” you’re cut off when he grabs your wrist.“I have wanted to kiss you every time I’ve seen you since you first kissed me,” he says, glancing down at your lips. ”I want to kiss you right now.”

You take no time in closing the distance between the two of you, your lips crashing desperately. You’ve tasted his kiss before, but this time feels different. His hands are winding through your hair, pulling you deeper into his kiss. You moan against his mouth, and he responds with his tongue teasing your lips, asking for entry. You grant it, and he explores. One of his hands holds your jaw, the other still intertwined with your hair. His tongue runs along your bottom lip before he sucks it in, drawing out a small whimper from you. Taking his hand from your jaw, he runs it down your neck and décolleté and then down over your stomach and latches it on your hip, sinking his fingers into your skin. He gives your hair a small tug, just enough to break the kiss and expose your neck. He breaks off and trails kisses up your jawline and then onto your neck, speaking in between kisses.

“You have… no idea how… much I’ve… wanted to tell… you everything,” he breathes onto your neck, and you feel a heat pooling in your panties.

“Please, Yoongi…” you say as you begin to run one hand under his shirt. He stops kissing and looks up at you with the softest expression.

“What is it?” he asks as he grabs both of your hands in his, bringing one of them up to his mouth to sprinkle kisses along your fingers.

“You…” you begin and sigh, “you have no idea how much I want you.”

He stills.

“Are you sure? We don’t have to, I’m sorry, I just…” he trails off, eyes getting lost in the way his jacket is draped on your figure.

Him eyeing you up doesn’t make it any better.

“I’ve wanted you for so long,” you say, eyes pleading up at him. “I’m tired of waiting.”

After a beat, he sighs.

“Neither of us are waiting another minute,” he says, landing a quick peck on your lips and going across the room to the couch, grabbing the throw blanket that rests on the arm.

“Come on, I have an idea,” he says, grabbing your arm and leading you out of the front door, across the street, through someone’s back yard until you reach the top of a hill on the side of a fairway. You watch as he scans the area, holding the blanket tight. His gaze lingers on two hills near the green of whatever hole this is, where there are a few more trees and hills to block you from the sightline of those second story windows. He looks at you, eyes asking the question. You smile and nod, and that’s all he needs.

He tugs your hand and you both go running down the fairway, laughing along the way. Once you reach your spot, he quickly puts down the blanket and lays on it. You’re still standing at his feet, hands fiddling with the ends of the jacket sleeves.

He smiles up at you and holds his arms up in your direction and says, “come here, beautiful,” while doing little grabby hands.

You slowly walk up to where he’s laying and sit on top of his hips, feeling how hard he already is. His hand rests on your hip underneath the fabric of his jacket, the other holding the side of your face.

“Let me see you,” he says with a tinge of whine in his voice, and that gives you an idea.

You reach under the still zipped jacket and fiddle around. Yoongi looks up at you befuddled, the corners of his lips turning down slightly as he tries to figure out what’s going on. When your hands emerge, one is holding your strapless bra and the other is holding the halter top you had been wearing. You can’t believe you managed to unzip the back by yourself.

You throw the garments to the side, and watch as understanding hits his face. His eyes glaze over and he licks his lips, clearly shaken up by your little trick.

He carefully dips his fingers below the waistband of your shorts and eases them down. You put your weight on him and give him a few kisses as he continues to move them down your legs. Once they too have been tossed to the side, you sit back up, lips red and swollen from the kiss.

He gently reaches up to the zipper of the jacket and begins to slowly pull it down, letting the cool night air in. You feel your nipples harden at the exposure to both the night air and Yoongi’s hungry eyes. He swallows and licks his lips as he runs his eyes over every new inch of you that is revealed. Memorizing your form, your perked nipples, the way your chest rises with each anxious breath.

He reaches back up to the collar and eases one shoulder of fabric off. You move to take the rest off despite the cold, but he stills your hand with his.

“Keep it on, please. I love seeing you wear my clothes,” Yoongi says, intertwining his fingers with yours.

You bring his hand up to your lips, pressing them against his knuckles as you slowly grind your still covered core on his length. He groans in frustration, his pants getting tighter. You let go of his hand and run your fingers up beneath his white cotton v-neck, his ab muscles flinching under your touch. You help him remove his shirt, taking in the way his pale skin shines under the moonlight.

Seeing you look at him makes his cock twitch in his pants, and you think it’s time to provide him some relief.

You scoot back and start to undo his belt, getting low and staring up at him through your lashes. His breath hitches when you make eye contact with him, and then it starts to pick up as you undo the button and zipper. You shimmy down the denim, but leave his black boxer-briefs where they are.

You come back up to the waistband after releasing his jeans, and you take the elastic in between your teeth. You tug them down with your teeth while your hands pull them on the sides. His erection springs free, and he sucks in a fast breath when his cock meets the cool air. You take the opportunity to let your warm breath ghost over his throbbing cock, coaxing a deep groan from Yoongi. He puts his hand to your cheek, and you look up to meet his gaze.

“I don’t think I can last if you put me in your mouth, baby girl. We can do head next time,” Yoongi says, and your heart soars at the pet name. You ease back up so that you’re straddling him once more, and reflexively start to grind on him again.

“Please let me take care of you. Look how wet you are,” he says, running his fingers over your clothed slit, dipping one finger in to collect a bit of slick. He tastes his finger and says. “Yeah, we’re definitely going to need to do head next time.”

You blush at the thought of him buried between your thighs, vulgarly slurping up everything you have to give him. You clench just thinking about it, and Yoongi notices. He pulls your panties to the side, takes the head of his cock and presses it to your clit, teasing your entrance. His precum mixes with your wetness, and you can’t resist him any more. You’ve resisted him for years, and you’re done.

You slowly ease yourself down on his cock, only making it halfway down before you have to wait for you to adjust. You both look at each other; Yoongi’s jaw is set and his eyebrows are furrowed together. Your mouth drops open as you raise and lower yourself again, feeling the delicious stretch that accompanies it. You bottom out and begin setting a slow and gentle pace.

Your body is rolling steadily, moonlight creating beautiful shadows on your body as you take him in over and over. As many times as you’ve dreamed of this, you still didn’t fathom it being this good or it feeling this right.

Yoongi is everything you had imagined he would be and then some. The way he is looking up at you, the way his soft little moans escape every time you bottom out, the way his eyebrows furrow together at the sight of your dripping heat enveloping him. Perfection.

He takes his hands and trails them up the curve of your waist, stopping just below your breasts. He runs his thumbs over your nipples, making you shudder and arch your back, pushing your chest into his hands. He palms them, kneading little circles around your areolas.

You lean forward, putting your weight on him again, and he meets you eagerly with another kiss. He wraps his arms around your back, keeping himself under the jacket, and you pick up the rhythm. Yoongi scratches his nails all the way down your back. Once he gets to your ass, he cups it, squeezing gently. You place your forehead against his, and your eyes meet.

“Y/N,” he whispers, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear, “you look so beautiful on top of me like this. Please let me see this sight for the rest of my life.” You whimper at the praise, and pick up the pace.

“Please,” he continues, small grunts mixing in with his words, “Don’t wake up tomorrow and pretend like this never happened. Please... don’t break my heart,” he pleads.

“Not a chance, Yoon. I can never let you go. You’re everything to me. You’ve always been.”

“Baby, I am so close. Can I--”

“Come with me, Yoongi. Let’s do it together,” you say. Yoongi’s hands are on your hips and he’s thrusting up into you with an unrelenting pace. At this angle, you can feel his head graze against your cervix with each thrust, sending white spots in your vision.

You both reach your end at the same time, breaths mingling as you come down from your highs. You lay your head on his chest and listen to his heartbeat gradually slow. He presses a soft, lingering kiss to the top of your head and sighs into your hair.

“So…” he begins, “do you wanna go to the festival with me?” Yoongi asks.

“Are you gonna pick me up? Let me hold your hand? Have a nice little special romantic date?” you fire back, trying your best to sound like him. You sit up on your arm, letting your hair hang over to one side, and watch the light dance in his eyes as he laughs.

“Yeah,” he laughs, “I might even get us a little snack from one of the desert vendors.”

[untaemedqueen]

Third Wheeling

CEO!Yoongi x Reader

Genre: Strangers to Lovers!AU, Angst, Fluff, Smut

Chapter 8.

Warnings (Updating Still): Smut, Cheating, Unexpected Pregnancy, Unfaithful, Emotional Damage

Warnings In This Chapter: Angst

A/N: Always the most gigantic, humongous shoutout to my loves @xjoonchildx​, @ladyartemesia​, @ppersonna​ for rooting me on and making it so easy to write these characters who I have come to adore!

The house was quiet when you first woke up. There's an overwhelming sense of comfort in the air as you step out of your bedroom.

You've been getting into a daily routine here, without it you'd probably feel lost or without a purpose.

You really adored the small waterfall alcove beside your room. The sounds are so peaceful and the koi that swim beneath the glass floor are absolutely gorgeous. Entering here was always the beginning of your daily routine.

You weren't fond of wearing heels and for the first time in a long time you had on sneakers. After feeling sick for a few days you decided on a comfortable hoodie, albeit still expensive but you like it. The leggings you wear hug you closely and it brings you ease.

"Little dove?" you hear from behind as you stare down at the koi fish.

"Morning," you say, turning your head to the CEO as he leans against the doorframe of his bedroom.

His eyes are bleary, his forehead creased from the bright light that bleeds through the stained glass windows.

"Why do you always get up so fucking early? You should be sleeping, the baby needs rest. Does it not?" he asks, scratching at his neck with a yawn.

"I'm used to getting up this early, I did have a job not too long ago," you reply, looking over the waterfall walls.

He puts his head back against the door frame, his fingers combing through his sleepy bed head.

"I shouldn't be speaking to you anyway. It's before your morning coffee," you jeer, sitting down on the marble bench.

"Shut up," he retorts but you can hear the humor in his voice. You notice the corners of his lips flickering upward as he shoves off of the doorway.

"Madam?" you hear from the end of the hall.

Your attention turns to Maya as she bows.

Yoongi watches your face light up, he sees the true joy in you and he snorts gently in response. You're really a blessing to this house.

"Good morning Maya!" you say, standing up from the bench quickly.

"Easy does it, little dove." Yoongi murmurs, folding his arms.

"The neighbor Kim Yoona is here to see you." Tilting your head, you can't begin to register the name.

Yoongi laughs gently as he enters the hallway.

"Get me an Irish coffee, please Maya. I'm going to need it if Yoona is here," you turn to him as he speaks, watching as he rubs hand fists over his eyes.

"Who's Yoona?" you ask softly.

"Namjoon's wife. She's actually really sweet. Which is against my religion... so," he says before putting his hand on your lower back to escort you to the staircase.

You don't pull away from him oddly enough. You let him guide you, it's easier than fighting so early in the morning.

"She went to Sairmount Academy like us, too." he notifies you as you descend the stairs together.

"Huh." you mumble thoughtfully.

There were very few memories of Sairmount Academy you remembered. It's kind of bizarre knowing that Yoongi was around all throughout your schooling.

You didn't care to remember many things from school. It was always the same, you were poor and people were rich. You were bullied, Leena and Jin were the only ones who cared for you.

"Morning Yoona," Yoongi says as you reach the bottom floor.

Turning to you, you take in the woman who stands by the couch. She has light brown hair with dirty blonde highlights. Her body is slim and proportionate adorning light ripped jeans and a cashmere turtleneck. The thing that stands out the most though, is her paddock boots. She must really love her horses. She's clean cut and absolutely gorgeous.

But, as she smiles something seems familiar to you.

"Morning, Yoongles," he grimaces at her nickname, accepting the coffee that is rushed over to him.

"Why are you here?" he asks, leaning against the marble stairwell banister.

"Came to see an old friend." Yoona replies.

Tilting your head, your eyes begin to widen.

If she had black, long hair with small polka dot bows and if she was years younger, she would look exactly like an old friend.

"Bang Yoona?" You ask softly and she points to herself with a comical wink.

"That's me," she cheers happily.

"Oh my God!" you cry out, rushing over to hug her.

Yoongi raises an eyebrow as he watches you both hug. His heart warms at the sight of your pure excitement.

"Small world," he murmurs above the lip of his coffee cup.

"I changed my last name when I got married," she tells you, placing both hands on either side of your face as she pulls away.

You can remember when you were little. Yoona welcomed you quite like Leena. You were happy to spend time with her when you were seven. But, after time went on, she left to Germany with her parents when they accepted different jobs.

You were sad back then having only Leena but then it became a distant memory as you got older.

"You look amazing!" you compliment her as she brushes some hair behind your ear.

"As do you! Once Joon told me that it's you that got pregnant with Yoongi's baby I had to see you!" Yoongi smirks gently as you pull away from one another.

"This is such a pleasant surprise!" you cheer as she slings her arm over your shoulders.

"Come spend the day at my house. Leave Yoongi to his sad self," she winks at you and you giggle in reply.

"Fuck you." Yoongi mumbles. Yoona sticks her tongue out at him before pulling you towards the door.

"I'll show you my horses! They're so beautiful!" she tells you enthusiastically.

"Hey." Yoongi calls to you, whistling loudly for your attention.

You turn to him, a wide smile on your face which makes him smirk.

"Be careful and no riding the horses with the baby inside of you," he says pointedly.

You nod happily before hooking your arm around Yoona's waist.

"Watch out for her!" Yoongi calls to her and she snorts gently as you both walk up the entryway steps.

"Always. I probably know her better than you do," she retorts with a laugh.

Yoongi grimaces at the thought before rolling his eyes.

"Yeah well she's having my baby," he retorts softly.

He watches the front door close as he sips his coffee.

"Maya!" he calls to the empty house as he pushes himself off the stairwell.

"Sir?" he hears in the distance.

"Bring me my yearbooks!" he calls as he begins to ascend the stairs.

You better be careful or he'll raise hell with the Kims.

The walk to Namjoon's house is absolutely breathtaking. You've always stuck around the house, taking walks around the long stoned paths by the garden. But now, walking towards the large mansion in the distance, you can only be in awe of the sights before you.

"I cannot believe what a small world we live in." Yoona says, ripping you out of your trance.

You giggle as she hugs you tightly to her side.

"I know," you reply as you both move out of the way as a car passes by.

The limousine begins to slow down, the window sliding down as well.

Very unfortunate for you, the face of Sera is right in your sights.

"Good morning Yoona! You look ravishing today!" Sera's voice is filled with overly sweet tones.

Your stomach begins to roll at how fake she is.

"Hi." Yoona says briskly, hand gripping beneath your arm tighter.

"See you've taken on a pet project. How gracious of you." Sera says, leaning her body out the window and grimacing in your direction.

Your friend from childhood stops in her tracks. "I think Y/N is delightfully where she should be in life. Unlike you, Sera. If anyone needs a pet project, I'll be sure to have them reach out to you."

You can hear Sera scoff loudly as Yoona tugs you down the road.

"Oh, and Sera?" Yoona calls Yoongi's wife.

You watch the pretty woman angle her head out of the car as if she would be expecting an apology.

"It's 2020, no one drives around in a limousine anymore. It's an embarrassing way to flaunt your money. You should get a Rolls Royce or an Astin Martin. No one wants to see you in a rickety old limo. That shit is for the birds," you put your hand over your mouth, gasping with a laugh as Yoona tugs you down toward her mansion.

"I cannot believe you!" you squeal as she laughs loudly.

Entering Namjoon and Yoona's house you're astounded at how different yet gorgeous it is to where you live now.

The house has an English feel to it, limestone and wooden hardware really bring it all together. The house screams Victorian Gothic and you find it all so wonderful.

"What do you think?" Yoona asks as she passes through the sitting room

"This is beautiful, Yoona. I can't even believe it!" you say in awe. Your eyes glance up, looking at the chandelier before she's tugging you into the next room.

"Namjoon and I are a bit obsessed with old English history. Like this, this is my most prized possession in the whole house," she says stopping in front of a large glass case.

Looking down, your eyes widen so big they could almost fall out of your head.

Gorgeous jewels and diamonds sit nestled in silver and gold. There are crowns, necklaces, earrings and all sorts of other baubles.

"Holy shit!" you whisper out.

Your hands situate behind your back as if you're in a museum.

"All of these belonged to King Henry the Eighth and his many wives! My favorite is Anne Boleyns." Yoona says pointing at a crown that is more grandiose than all of the others.

"Yoona, these are really beautiful," you breathe out.

She wrinkles her nose gently, leaning against the varnished hardwood table.

"Ready to go see my horses?" she asks as her maid brings you both glasses of water.

You nod to her happily as you move away from the royal jewelry.

Stepping out into the backyard of her house, you can't seem to see where the line is drawn between her house and Yoongis. The grass is perfectly cut and a luscious green that makes you feel at peace.

"Just over here." Yoona calls to you as she takes off toward the horse barn.

"Whoa." It feels as if you're almost in a movie.

You can see men walking to and fro with metal buckets filled with water and different foods. They all have on the same uniforms, something akin to what jockeys would wear before a big race.

The horse barn, as you approach, looks just like a home. Something comfortable and clean that could very well have people living inside of it.

"My pride and joy is Rapture. He's won five awards since he's been born and he is the biggest sweetheart," your heart warms at how enthusiastic your childhood friend sounds.

The barn doors open and you feel as if you've been thrust into a fairytale.

There are six horses, all beautifully kept with various colors and sizes on their coats.  Whinies and neighs enrapture your ears as the animals spot Yoona.

"It's like you're the Snow White of horses," you whisper to her as she picks up some carrots by the front door.

"Well, they're my babies," she replies, a motherly smile plastered on her face.

"Jooheon," she calls out.

You watch a man around your age appear. His hair is a light shade of blue and his eyes are soft and doe-like. His cheeks are high and his jaw is sharp like it has been carved by the gods.

He's incredibly tall and muscular, his thick thighs quiver and flex as he walks towards you both.

"Madams," he says, bowing down to you both.

His eyes lock with yours as he stands back up, a smirk on his features as he winks at you.

Finally, Yoongi had brought home his laptop for work. He hasn't really given much thought to why he feels the need to stay home so much these days. He doesn't want to think about it, he just lets things be.

Throwing his feet up on his desk, his eyes falter to the stack of yearbooks that Maya has so kindly brought him.

Seeing Yoona this morning, someone he's always known suddenly knowing you, it made him curious.

How could he have gone throughout all of his Sairmount schooling AND college to never know you?

Sipping his coffee, he opens up the first yearbook.

His eyes narrow at the pages, looking over all the small kids with the same uniforms.

"Y/N. Y/N." he mumbles as his index finger glazes over the children's faces.

His eyebrows crease as he leans back in his desk chair.

You were in none of these pictures, not that he could see anyway.

Flipping through the pages of the book, he passes the newspaper club, the computer club, the chess club before finding solo pictures of each student.

His lips puff out as he skims along the pictures.

"Holy shit," he whispers, setting down his coffee cup.

There you were. Small and cute in front of his eyes.

But, there's something familiar about you as he continues to stare at the picture. You with your small tie and blazer, he feels like he's always known you.

Then it hits him, you were in his class. He fucking remembers you, sitting three seats behind him in History.

Purchasing his hand beneath his chin, he stares at the small pictures in his history textbook. He couldn't be bothered to study for the pop quiz and he knows that he probably failed.

His father was going to be disappointed, as always. His father is never proud of anything he does so why should this matter.

"Sir Min," the teacher, Mrs. Park, calls to him.

With the roll of his eyes, he looks up at his teacher.

"Yeah," he mumbles as Hoseok slides a note beneath the lip of his book.

"Do you realize that I've been calling your name for the past three minutes?" Mrs. Park asks as she leans down on her desk.

Running his fingers through his hair, the tip of his tongue grazes over his teeth. He leans back in his own chair, eyes glazing over the teacher with a bored expression.

"No. I was too busy looking at what underwear people used to wear," he mutters aloud.

He can hear other kids snickering and murmuring at his joke. A sly smirk begins to spread over his face while he fixes his tie.

"You think this is funny? You think failing is funny?" she quips as she holds up the quiz.

He can feel his neck heating up out of embarrassment.

"The future heir of Kisung can't even pass a history quiz? Maybe your parents should get a phone call," she asks him, her legs wading through the multitude of desks before plopping the sheet down on his table.

He takes in all the red lines that are scoured over the paper.

"I bet you can't even tell me when the Mongols invaded the Goryeo dynasty," she says earning a multitude of hushed voices.

He turns his head to the others behind him, his eyes dancing over the kids that sit with their eyes on their desks.

Then they falter to you as you stare at him shamelessly. Your small hands form fists as you look from him to Mrs. Park.

Secretly, you begin to raise your fingers.

One.

Two.

One.

Six.

He clears his throat as your eyes falter to your desk and he turns back to the teacher as she raises her eyebrow.

"The Mongols invade Goryeo in 1216," Yoongi says as he swings his arm over the lip of his chair.

She purses her lips at his answer, eyes narrowing at him.

Maybe your information was wrong.

"Well, if you knew that then why did you fail the quiz?" she asks softly, retreating to her desk at the front of the class.

He breathes a gentle sigh of relief, turning his head to you. He nods to you as Leena pinches your arm. Nodding back, the corner of your lips flicker upwards before pinching your best friend.

Yoongi chuckles to himself as he recalls the memory.

You saved his sorry ass that day, if it wasn't for you he would have had to kneel on rice in a corner for God knows how long.

"Interesting," he whispers to himself as he continues to flicker through the yearbook.

"You have a phone call, Mrs. Kim," someone announces from the entrance to the horse barn.

She hums in reply, running her hand over the soft mane of Rapture.

"I'll just be a minute, why don't you spend time with the horses. They seem to love you," she suggests and you nod happily as Rapture rubs his large face against yours.

Giggling, you hold out an apple slice for him and he takes it without complaint.

"You're so pretty," you tell the horse as he munches happily on the slice.

"Do you know anything about horses?" you hear from behind you.

Turning to the owner of the voice, you smile gently as Jooheon wipes a rag over his sweaty face.

"Unfortunately not. But, they're very beautiful," you reply as Rapture nuzzles the back of your head.

The stableman chuckles as the horse rests his head on your shoulder.

"Rapture always finds it easy to feel comfortable around gorgeous women," you can feel the apples of your cheeks blushing as Jooheon tosses the rag he holds up in the air.

"I'm sure you really like this job," you say, running your hand over the horse's neck.

He nods to your statement, leaning back against one of the wooden doors. "I've always liked animals more than people. When you look into a horse's eyes, you can see so much emotion. You can practically see their souls bare in front of you."

His admission makes you think. You can understand people that love and respect animals more than people.

"That's really sweet," you tell him as he fixes his uniform.

He gives you a smile, one that's enchanting showing off his perfectly white teeth.

"It's just the truth," he replies as Rocket, an all white horse, nuzzles his face.

"I know, girl. Don't get jealous cause I'm talking to a pretty woman," he whispers and this time your ears heat up.

"The Madam was telling everyone that you're an old school friend," he says, patting the horse's face.

You nod, a reminiscent smile on your features. "Yeah. Yoona was a good friend when we were younger."

He takes delight in how you smile, how perfectly shy you are.

"Did you move in around here?"

"Yeah. I'm living with the Min's," you answer as Rapture snorts gently onto your cheek.

"Must be nice to have money," he quips.

You shake your hands quickly. "Oh. I'm not rich."

He hums playfully, looking over your expensive attire with an unsure eye.

"I thought Min Yoongi was married," he counters as he slides his right foot up onto the stable door behind him.

You watch his thighs flex once more before clearing your throat. "He is. I'm just... I'm pregnant with his... y'know... his baby."

Jooheon whistles loudly at the admission. "Interesting. But, you're not dating him, are you?"

The question makes you laugh, feeding another apple slice to Rapture while shaking your head. "No. I am not."

Jooheon nods slowly as he stands up and you can hear the horse barn door opening to your right. "Can I ask you out on a date then?"

Puffing from his cigar, Yoongi leans back into the armchair he sits in. His fingers pull and push at his cards on the green felt.

"I call." Jeongguk mumbles and the CEO tosses some extra chips into the center of the poker table.

Although Jimin was invited to tonight's poker game, Yoongi thought it wise that he didn't accept. The shorter man was hanging on by a hair, the last time he was in this house.

Guk was more than happy to sit in his seat beside Taehyung for the evening.

The classical music swells throughout the room and Yoongi stares down at the chips in hand. Once that memory of you from childhood came flooding back, he can remember smaller ones too.

Ones like when you were being bullied or when the girls tried to steal your lunch. He can remember all the times he heard Leena screaming to protect you, and he finds himself feeling more accepting of her.

"Yoona had a great time with Y/N today. She loves her," Namjoon says, earning everyone's attention.

"Well I think they used to be friends, no? I don't remember much about Y/N but I remember that she was friends with Leena, Yoona and of course Jin," Hoseok says.

"What do you mean 'of course Jin?'" Yoongi finds himself asking, something inside of him growing terse and annoyed.

"Well he was always with them. He was Leena's boyfriend when we were younger too. He was the only boy that used to hang around with them."

He starts to simmer down at his admission. "Oh," Yoongi whispers.

"Read 'em and weep, hyungs," Jeongguk says with a smug grin, flipping over his cards.

Taehyung groans long and low, his hands carding through his hair as Guk shows them a straight flush.

"Goddamn. This kid wins in everything! Whether it's boxing, car racing or cards!" Tae complains as Guk collects his chips.

Yoongi chuckles to himself, lifting his whisky glass to his lips.

"I'm really glad Y/N has a friend around here." Namjoon says and to this the Kisung CEO nods.

He wants you to thrive. He can say this until his face turns blue.

As Maya begins to deal the cards once more, the library door slowly begins to open. The sound draws everyone's attention and they stay silent as you enter.

Your face is buried in a book, your feet slowly shuffling into the big room. The sight of you makes Yoongi smirk, your hand is pressed on your flat stomach as you continue farther into the room.

You look precious. Your hair is slightly wet from a shower not too long ago and your eyes are enraptured with the words you read.

"Beautiful," he whispers under his breath but the sound is swallowed by Namjoon clearing his throat.

You look up quickly, clearly startled by the noise.

"Oh my God, it's Thursday! I'm so sorry!" you cry out as you slam the large book in hand shut.

"No worries, little dove. Come. Get a book," Yoongi calls to you as you try to leave.

"Hey Y/N." Namjoon says with a comforting smile.

Your eyes meet his and the friendly face makes you smile widely. "Hi Joon. Good evening!"

You wink at Maya, scurrying behind her to find a new book to read.

Oh, Joon is it?

Yoongi rolls his eyes as he burns out his cigar. He wafts the smoke away from your direction, picking up his whisky glass.

You had changed your clothes. Now wearing a purple free flowing sundress.

Might be better to not have tight clothes on, if they make you uncomfortable. The father of your child finds himself thinking.

"Y/N. Can you tell Leena to call me, please?" Taehyung whines.

Turning to him, you narrow your eyes playfully.

Why can't Yoongi see you like this? Is it because he's too big of a dick?

He wishes you would be so free with him…

"Tae. I'm told that you're in the dog house," you jeer as you grab a book.

Tae, is it?

Yoongi gulps down the rest of his drink, his throat burning as his gut explodes with alcoholic fire.

"Tell her I'll book the penthouse. I promise," he says, holding out his pinky.

Humming cutely, you step onto the platform beside Maya. Grabbing his pinky, he gives you a wink and it almost sends Yoongi onto the fucking floor.

"Don't you have some reading to do, little dove?" he asks quickly, watching how tightly Taehyung grips at your pinky.

You look over at the CEO before nodding. He gives you a small smile and your heart stutters as you return it.

"I'm Jeongguk! But, you can just call me Guk or Gukkie," the youngest calls to you.

You bow your head to him with a smile. "Nice to meet you."

"That's Hoseok," Namjoon says, pointing his thumb to the left of him.

You give a small wave before looking down at the book you hold.

"Well I'll let you get back to it. I'll just be reading," you say, mostly to Yoongi.

He nods above the lips of his glass, watching you press the book to your flat womb.

You're fucking endearing as all hell.

"Or, you can join us," Joon suggests.

Yoongi grimaces at the idea. Why would he fucking ask you to stay? In a room with all these handsome men? No.

"No. She said she wants to rea-" the father of your child begins to say before you cut him off.

"I might destroy you," you quip and his mouth hangs open at your banter.

Yoongi watches as Maya begins to smile, a proud smirk gracing her features already.

"Poker is about luck," Hoseok jeers.

"Well I did get knocked up on a pass by. Seems like I'm pretty lucky," you joke, making the others laugh.

Yoongi snorts to himself as you share camaraderie with his friends.

"That's my baby you're talking about," he says, pointing his index finger over the lip of his glass to you.

You give him a warm smile, the apples of your cheeks raising as you giggle.

"Here, noona. You can sit in my seat," Guk says and it rubs Yoongi the wrong way almost immediately.

"She can have my seat, you're a guest," he says quickly.

"Oh no, it's fine. Noon-"

"Y/N, come." Yoongi's voice is strict and you roll your eyes at his commanding demeanor.

Setting down the book on the lip of the table, you take his seat. He stands behind you, handing the burnt out cigar and ashtray to Maya.

The smell might make you feel sickly.

"Jeongguk always wins," Hoseok notifies you and you hum curiously.

"We'll see," you reply as you begin to stack Yoongi's poker chips. He can smell your shampoo, violets and vanilla--it smells amazing.

"You know how to play?" He whispers softly in your ear, you shiver at his warm breath, smelling the alcohol on his pallet.

It reminds you of your first night together and you press your thighs into one another at the memory.

"Oh, I know how to play," you reply.

He places his hand on your shoulder as Maya begins to deal.

"Don't spend all of my money, we play with real bucks here," Yoongi says, his thumb grazing over the softness of your skin.

You feel yourself relax as his skin grazes yours. It feels comfortable, it feels kind of right.

Lifting your cards, your thumb skims over the tops and Yoongi holds his breath waiting for what you're going to do.

A diamond ace and a ten of diamonds sits in your hand. Yoongi presses down on your shoulder, almost as if he's proud of you.

"Raise," you mumble as Yoongi slides his thumb over the column of your neck.

You can see all the other billionaires staring at you and you calmly grab three poker chips before throwing them into the middle of the table.

"She's got a good poker face," Hoseok quips as he lifts his glass of brandy.

You feel your heart pick up speed as Yoongi slides his free hand over your other shoulder.

"Good girl." He whispers softly in your ear and your eyes flutter shut at his praise.

What the fuck is going on?

This Yoongi, the one behind you feels so different than the man who you moved in with just a week or so ago.

"Who are you and what have you done with Yoongi?" you quip into his ear softly.

You watch as Maya begins to flip three cards, you snort gently as a king, a queen and a four, of the same suit appear.

"He's gone." Yoongi murmurs, earning widened eyes from you as you focus on your cards.

You watch as the others toss chips into the middle and you throw a few more as Yoongi sips his whisky.

Your stomach begins to coil as he presses his thumbs down into your shoulders with soothing circles. He's fucking massaging you.

You find your body relaxing into his chest and stomach.

Yoongi watches the way your thighs quiver as you cross your legs. He can see the back of your neck flushing and his tongue licks over his bottom lip slowly.

"So, Y/N," Joon says, elbowing Hoseok with a wink. You shy away from the CEO's touch and he feels like he's being rejected all in a quick second.

Yoongi sighs gently, his eyes flutter shut and he loosens his grip on you.

"Yoona tells me you got a date today," you clear your throat uncomfortably as the men look pointedly at you.

Yoongi's eyes widen at the new information. He pulls away from you, making up the excuse in his mind to grab another grab of whisky.

He can feel the rage beginning to burn through him, as if someone has lit the end of a stick of dynamite. His eyes flutter shut and he steadies himself on the lip of the bar.

How fucking dare someone try to ask you out. How dare they?

"Oh well, Jooheon is really kind," he hears how soft your tone is and he can't help the way his hand shakes as he picks up the whisky bottle.

Why does the prospect of you dating drive him almost to the brink of insanity?

"You told him no, right?" he finds himself asking, he stares at his reflection through the mirrored wall. His face is pink with anger, the veins in his neck protruding as he grips tightly onto his glass.

You can't see him, but you can hear how livid he is.

"Well, I-" before you can even reply, he's charging across the room.

His hand grips at your arm and without a second thought he's tugging you to the library door.

You swallow thickly as he kicks the door open with his foot in a moment of blind rage.

"Yoongi!" you complain as he pulls you into the game room next door.

He slams the door shut behind him, his back presses into the cherry wood. Narrowing his eyes at you, he sneers.

"You told him no, right?! You do remember the contract, correct? Or, are your childish feminine hormones making you blind?" he barks out.

Your face begins to set into a scowl as you continue to stare at him. Why not be a brat? It's something you're quite good at when you're upset with him.

"Well if I can't get cock from you, then I'll have to get it elsewhere," your statement drops like a bomb and in a second he's pushing you up against the wall.

"Don't you fucking dare get snarky with me, like that. No cocks are going in this tight little cunt, do you understand me?" he seethes through his teeth.

Your eyes meet his, both sets are glaring and determined.

"Well then, guess you should have accepted my offer to fuck me," you quip.

He chuckles darkly, the sound shaking you to the core. And, for the first time he places his hand over your stomach.

"You couldn't handle this cock in your pregnant pussy, believe me. If I even see you with another man, I'll fuck him up."

"Why, jealous?" you ask as his thumb swipes over your stomach.

The feeling of his hand over your child can only compare to the sun. It feels wonderful.

"What do I have to be jealous of? I have it all. And that includes you. You're mine," he barks out and you hum unsurely, turning your face away from him as his forehead presses to yours.

"Just because I'm having your baby, that doesn't make me yours," you reply, your eyes focus on the pinball machines at the far end of the room.

"Yeah. It really does, little dove," you can hear the agitation in his voice, the annoyance he feels can match yours.

The tip of his nose grazes over your cheekbone as he presses his face closer.

The burning anger in him subsiding as he continues to drift his hand over your stomach.

"Just... don't." It's practically a plea falling from his lips.

Your eyes flutter shut at his now soft tone.

"I told him no," you whisper and you can feel his breath of relief as it rushes over your lips and neck.

"Then why are you pissing me off?" he asks gruffly.

"Because you made me mad," you retort as his hands grip at your sides.

He stays silent for a second before responding.

"I know. I'm getting way too good at that. I'm sorry," he whispers.

You swallow thickly, he's apologizing? He's really not himself today.

"Did you get a concussion?" you ask as he pulls away from you.

He raises an eyebrow as he keeps you at arms length. His fingers comb through his hair, a few odd strands falling back into his eyes.

"A concussion? What?" he replies, confused.

"You're acting weird," you comment as he fixes his blazer.

He begins to smirk as he leans back against the pool table. "I told you, old Yoongi is gone."

Humming unsurely, you intertwine your fingers.

"I'd really like it if you could not give me whiplash every few minutes. Makes it a lot bearable on my neck," you say as you fix your dress.

His eyes falter to your swollen breasts, his tongue licks over his lips while he does his best to calm his breathing.

"I'll be more thoughtful," he whispers and you bite your bottom lip, nodding carefully.

"We should get back," you tell him as you push off of the wall.

He nods gently and he grips at your wrist as you try to walk away from him. You turn to him as his eyes become softer. "No boyfriends, no dates."

You smirk as you look him over. "No boyfriends. No dates," you promise and he cups your cheek gently without even thinking.

"I like the fierce you. Makes my heart feel warm," he comments, leaving you in the game room on your own.

When he touches you, it makes your heart feel warm as well.

Next Chapter --->

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[hyungieyoongi]

History: “Run Away to You” Part 2

How could you have protected me?

When the world I needed protecting from didn’t even know about us?

Pairing: Min Yoongi x Former Actress!Reader

Word Count: 2.3K

Genre: Angst (Not gonna lie, this part is pretty angsty. Please don’t hate me, we have to set up the angst to get to the fluff later, okay??)

Warnings: Reader has a panic attack, mentions of anxiety, arguing, crying – there are a lot of emotions Reader and Yoongi have to process

Series Masterlist: Run Away to You 

Premise: You ran away from your acting career one year ago, disappearing from the spotlight without a trace. No one from your past life knew where to find you. On the anniversary of your disappearance, your carefully constructed reality is shattered.

Part 1 // Part 3

---

Your hands shook as you tried to fit the key into the lock of your apartment door. You missed the keyhole twice, finally succeeding in twisting the lock open with a satisfying click on your third attempt. Swinging the door open with a sigh, you gestured for Yoongi to head in first. You hadn’t spoken a single word to each other since you left the corner store. The silence created a thick tension for the duration of your short, one-block walk.

He walked into your apartment without a glance in your direction, slipping his shoes off by the front door. As he stepped further into your apartment, you closed the door, taking a few deep breaths to try and calm yourself down.

Flashback

The first time Yoongi came to your apartment, you had been a nervous wreck. You anxiously kept glancing at the clock on the wall–he was supposed to be there at 8:00 p.m. It was currently 8:03 p.m., and you were already thinking he wasn’t going to show.

A costar on the K-drama you were cast in had introduced the two of you at an awards show you were invited to attend three months ago. Yoongi seemed nice, but quiet, shaking your hand politely and asking if you enjoyed your work. The conversation lasted maybe two minutes. Fleeting, meaningless.

Then you ran into him again two months later at an album launch party for another popular K-pop group. The conversation was longer this time, Yoongi slipping away from his bandmates to talk to you. The champagne you were drinking that night made you giggly, your cheeks pink from the alcohol. He asked for your number, a gummy smile appearing when you said “yes” a little too enthusiastically.  

After texting casually, you progressed to phone calls, then video calls. This was the first time you were going to hang out together. Movies and takeout had never felt so intimidating. There was a knock at your door, and you sprang up to answer it. You took a deep breath, counted to five, and then opened the door, Yoongi standing there with a sheepish smile, donning a black hoodie.

“Hi, Y/N.”

End of Flashback

You spun around when you heard Yoongi cough, finally breaking the silence.

“Your apartment is different than I thought it would be,” Yoongi observed. He took off his hat and his mask, placing them on your coffee table in front of the couch. He shook out his hair, running his right hand through the dark locks. You swallowed hard, blaming the slight flush to your cheeks on nerves rather than how attractive Yoongi looked messing with his hair.

Your old apartment had been large and glamorous, outfitted with state-of-the-art appliances and expensive furniture. This one was a third of the size and infinitely cozier and more comfortable.

“Well, my old apartment was paid for by the production company. When I moved, I figured I’d get something a little more ‘me,’” you explained.  

“Right. When you moved,” Yoongi emphasized, bitterness lacing his words. “You mean ran away, right?”

“Listen, Yoongi, I know you probably want an explanation–”

“I think I deserve an explanation, don’t you?” He crossed his arms in front of his chest, eyebrow quirking up slightly. You had seen that incredulous look on his face before when you two had gotten into arguments.

Flashback

“Come on, Yoongs, you have to be better about taking care of yourself. This pace is unsustainable, and you know it,” you said to him angrily. You were sat on the couch in the Genius Lab, the man in question glaring at you from the chair at his desk.

“Oh, that’s rich coming from you. Y/N, you were filming until 3:00 a.m. yesterday because you wanted the shot to be perfect. Don’t start with me on this,” Yoongi countered.

“But you’re here until 3:00 or 4:00 a.m. every night, Yoongi. Just because I do it once or twice a month does not give you an excuse to overwork yourself.”

He grumbled something you couldn’t hear under his breath, turning back to his computer. You got up from the couch, standing behind him and placing your hands on his shoulders. Your fingers dug gently into the tense muscles of his back. Yoongi relaxed, slouching forward slightly at your touch. You brushed your nose against his neck, placing a gentle kiss there. You heard a tired sigh leave his lips, and you knew the argument was over.

End of Flashback

You figured you wouldn’t win this argument so easily.

Yoongi looked at you expectantly, waiting for you to start an impossible conversation.

“Yes, you’re right. You do deserve an explanation. And I did try to give you one in that letter, Yoongi.” He scoffed at the mention of the letter.

“Don’t even go there, Y/N. A letter telling me to let you go. Really? I wasn’t even worth an in-person goodbye? Let alone the fact that you could have just told me where you were going,” Yoongi started pacing, frustration evident in his voice.

You went to the kitchen, filling a glass with water before taking a long gulp. Your throat suddenly felt extremely dry. You knew he was going to be angry with you if he ever saw you again, but you weren’t prepared for the onslaught of emotions–anger, frustration, helplessness–that you were feeling in this moment.

You placed your hands on the counter to steady yourself, and Yoongi stopped pacing, waiting for you to say something.

“If I told you where I was going, I would never have been able to stop seeing you. And if I didn’t stop seeing you, then I couldn’t get a normal life back. There was nothing I could do but try to move on,” you said, exasperated.

Yoongi took two steps closer to the counter that separated the two of you. It felt like a chasm.

“We were together for six months, I lov–I cared about you. I could have protected you,” Yoongi said quietly, voice cracking.

You looked down, staring down at your knuckles gripping the counter so hard they were turning white. Your eyes started to burn with the effort to hold back tears.

“You, better than anyone, know what it’s like to feel like you’re suffocating. Constantly being watched and picked apart and prodded and asked for more. I was on the verge of breaking down. If I didn’t get out when I did, I would have lost myself. I didn’t have a choice. I had to leave. I didn’t…I didn’t want to leave you. But I had to.”

The tears were starting to fall, one by one, down your cheeks. You let them, still staring at your hands. As soon as the words started tumbling out of your mouth, you couldn’t seem to stop them.

“The entire time we were together, we were a secret. We were always at one of our apartments or your studio, sneaking in and out in the dark. So, how? How could you have protected me? When the world I needed protecting from didn’t even know about us?”

You wiped angrily at your tears, face burning at your vulnerability. Finally looking at Yoongi, you saw tears brimming his own eyes. He refused to look away.

“I ran because I didn’t know what else to do. I know I hurt you, and I’m sorry. But you couldn’t protect me. I had to protect myself.”

Yoongi quickly blinked a few times, trying to rid himself of the tears threatening to spill. 

“You never even answered your phone. I left you dozens of voicemails. I didn’t know if you were okay. You put me through hell. You could have at least just told me you hated me and that you wanted nothing to do with me,” Yoongi rebutted.

“Don’t you get it? I don’t hate you. If I had tried to say goodbye, to end things in-person, I never would have gone through with it. I would have stayed,” you admitted with a sob. “I would have stayed to be with you.”

“Would that have been so bad?” Yoongi asked, his voice rising slightly. “Would it have really been that bad to be with me?”

“It wasn’t about that! I felt like I was already sacrificing my sanity. What was I going to do? Hide away with you forever? I couldn’t even handle my own life, let alone if I became the public girlfriend of a BTS member.”

Yoongi’s lips fell into a flat line.

“That’s not fair. You can’t blame this on me and my career just because you couldn’t stand your own,” Yoongi’s voice was suddenly calm, but his eyes flashed with anger and hurt. “This was your choice. I would have made it work. I would have tried to figure it out with you and this new life you wanted. You didn’t even give me a chance.”

You opened your mouth to respond and defend yourself, but nothing came out. It felt like you had gotten punched in the stomach. You started to breathe heavily, panic quickly engulfing you.

You practically sprinted to the couch past a confused and startled Yoongi, sitting down on the couch and putting your head in your lap, counting backwards from ten and then starting over, again and again, trying to slow your heart rate.

You registered a body next to yours on the couch. A tentative hand reached out, rubbing soothing circles onto your back. He didn’t say anything, waiting patiently for your breathing to return to normal.

You lifted your head slowly, not knowing how long had passed. You didn’t dare look at Yoongi yet.

“When did you start having panic attacks?” he asked gently.

“Over a year ago,” your voice was scratchy from your heavy breathing. Yoongi tensed at the mention of the time spent apart, now seeing one of the repercussions of the stress that you had alluded to while you both were arguing about your mutual history. He didn’t move his hand from where it rested on your back. “I’m really…I really am sorry, Yoongi.”

“I know,” his voice held a level of understanding in it that it didn’t before. He paused, his hand lifting from your back. “I think I should go.”  

You remember what it felt like a year ago to write the letter that would end things with Yoongi for good. It was like your heart was set aflame, burning in pain at your choice to walk away. A year later, Yoongi was the one holding the match.

He stood from the couch, grabbing his hat and his mask. You watched him put on his shoes from your spot on the couch, unmoving.

“I meant it, you know,” Yoongi said, his hand on the doorknob, ready to walk out of your life like you had his. “I would have tried.”

“I know,” you repeated his words, a sad, tight-lipped smile painting your lips. He walked out the door.

---

Once Yoongi left, you raced to your bedroom, pulling open the last drawer of your dresser and throwing the sweatshirts that lined the bottom onto your carpet. There it was, in the back right corner–the phone that you stashed away a year ago, the phone number still active just in case.

You grabbed it, trying the power button hastily, but it didn’t turn on.

“Ugh, come ON!” you yelled to your empty apartment in frustration. You plugged it into the charger on your nightstand, waiting for it to charge.

You picked off your nail polish, your nails bare by the time you tried to turn it on a second time. This time the screen flashed white. You ignored the pit in your stomach, sinking to the floor with the phone grasped tightly in your hand. You sat with your back to your bed, the phone cord stretching to reach you.  

Ignoring the red icons alerting you of the dozens of missed calls and texts, you went straight to voicemail, scrolling rapidly with your thumb until you reached a voicemail from this date last year. 

You pressed play.

Hey, babe, why aren’t you answering your texts? Marianne dropped some paper off for me today, apparently, but I haven’t had a chance to swing by the studio to grab it yet. Call me when you get this, okay?

Your fingers moved on their own to play the next one.

Y/N. You need to answer your phone. This letter I…I’m worried about you. Please, you can’t do this. Don’t leave me. Not like this.

Tears began to stain your cheeks as you listened to Yoongi’s voice go from fearful, to angry, to desperate, all within a span of a few hours, then days, then weeks. With each voicemail, you started to feel worse, but you couldn’t stop yourself. You needed to keep going.

Just tell me where you are. You don’t have to talk to me, but I need to know that you’re okay.

The last message from his number was from seven months ago.

I get it. You don’t want to see me. Probably ever again. So, I’ll do what you told me to do. I’ll let you go. But just know, Y/N, that I loved you. And I think I might always love you. I hope this new life you have makes you happy. I wish I could have made you happy enough to stay.

You let out a quiet sob as your fingers dialed one of the only numbers you had memorized.

“Hello? Y/N, is that you? Why are you using this number?” Marianne answered on the second ring, immediately alarmed.

“Marianne, can you come over? Something’s happened.”

---

“Y/N? Where are you?” Marianne called into your apartment. She had used her copy of your apartment key to get in the door when you didn’t answer her persistent knocks.

You sniffled in response.

Marianne looked into your bedroom, seeing you curled into yourself on the floor. You hadn’t moved since you listened to Yoongi’s voicemails.

She sat beside you and wrapped her arms around you, pulling you close. You couldn’t help but wish it was him here comforting you instead.

You had suppressed your love and feelings for him for so many months. Today, you had to confront them, confront the power Yoongi still had over you.

The pain and hurt splashed across Yoongi’s face was fresh on your mind as you cried into your friend’s arms.

Part 1 // Part 3

---

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