#merry&bright2021

[justasparkwritings]

Merry & Bright {21}: Everything You Want

Previous: Your Love is All I Need 

Pairing: Park Jimin x Reader

Genre: SMUT

Rating: NC17

Warnings: Oral Sex! Vaginal Fingering! P-in-V Sex! Swearing! Unprotected Sex! Slight Dom/Sub but like barely!

Word Count: 1.4k

Summary: The rhythm of your heart is all Jimin needs to set the pace.

Notes: Okay so maybe Jimin got 4 chapters .... don’t blame me ... love made me crazy.

Master List: Merry & Bright 2021

Listening: Fa La La (A Capella), Justin Bieber feat. Boyz II Men

Tag List 

Tag List: @knjkitten​ @mochikeyds​

           The quiet music wafts through your living room, piano and strings pliantly giving and taking to create an aroma and atmosphere of holiday cheer. Jimin prefers instrumental Christmas songs, the lyrics and voices and variations of classics make it difficult for him to focus on the task at hand: you.

           “Jimin,” You whisper, back pressed firmly to the carpet in the middle of your living room. He’d moved the ottomans out of the way so you could dance, arms around each other, swaying quietly while he sang the words to whatever song was being played. He held you close, close enough to feel your breath against his neck, close enough that the heat radiated from your body to his. So close, only the clothing covering your forms, separating you from each other.

It had been sweet, so romantic, a candlelit dinner, barefoot dancing in the living room, your lips pressing into his exposed neck, teeth tugging the flesh as he began to lose composure. How could he dance while you were trying to fuck him right then and there?

           Jimin had pulled away, hands reaching to unzip your dress, pulling it down, along with is pants, as lowered himself to the floor. He guided your legs out of your dress, then out of your tights and underwear. His lips all the while trailing a path full of kisses, his hands toying with the fat of your ass. He wanted to take his time, to give you everything you could want.

           What he hadn’t factored in was how his ministrations on your thighs, moving closer to your heart, would be too much and you would crumble to the floor. You had nothing to support yourself, only his shoulders and they were no match to the tantalizing pleasure he was starting to press upon your body. After a round of laughter, bellies aching, you remain laying back, back still pressed into the carpet.

           “Jimin,” You repeat, his gaze already blown, staring at you with deep focus.

           “Hm?”

           “What are you doing?” You ask.

           “Anything - everything you want. It’s your night baby,” He winks, his smirk tugging your dominant side out of you. You are in charge tonight and it’s obvious how deeply he wants to ruin you.

           “I want your face between my legs and your tongue making me dizzy,” You say. “And I don’t want to see that smirk until I’ve come at least twice.”

           Jimin gulps, his smirk disappearing. “Anything for you.”

           His lips press to the soft skin of your abdomen, wet kisses over the traces of your stretch marks, his tongue painting loving strokes across them. His hands rest on your upper thighs, slowly pulling them apart, allowing him to slot himself between them. As he lowers himself, lips and nose nuzzling where your thigh meets your groin, you utter a satisfied sigh.

           “Jimin? None of that grinding against the carpet. If you come anywhere but inside me, you’re going to pay for it.”

           He doesn’t pull his head up, or still his motions as your words make their way to the place between his ears. He hears you. You’re the present, his release is the fucking bow and he will make sure it is tied to perfection.

           Your back arches gently as you adjust to his new position, shoulders pressing gently into your legs, his arms hooked around your legs, keeping them open and wide enough for his head to nuzzle right where you want him. He takes it slow, tongue separating your lips, once, twice, three times before he allows himself to taste you. Fuck him, your wetness is already intoxicating. He laps it up, tongue tending to every part of your lips but your sensitive bud, which is already engorged and throbbing. You could tell him to pick up the pace, to tend to you, but why disrupt a master at work?

           Jimin’s tongue circles your lips, up one side, down the other, barely grazing your clit.

           “Jimin,” You moan, the pleasure steadily building.

           He repeats his motion, tongue moving slower, forcing your hips to push into him, your body squirming for more. More contact, more pressure, more of him. He brings his tongue up one side before circling, finally, teasingly, slowly, passionately, around your bud.

           “Yes!” You call, back arching at the small release of pleasure. “Jimin, please.”

           He swirls again, taking the bud into his mouth and suckling it harsshly. He lets your sounds and continual wetness guide his actions. You tense momentarily as he swirls his tongue again around your clit, before letting out a loud moan as his plush lips suck on it harder.

           “Don’t stop,” You mutter, eyes screwed tight, hands fiddling frantically with your breasts. You’ve tossed your bra off - somewhere near the tree - freeing your chest to the rising air, freeing your nipples to be toyed with.

           Jimin doesn’t stop, following your directions and reactions, he suckles your clit harder and more frequently, increasing the pressure and then - he starts humming again. He can hear your heartbeat, pulsating around him, feels it, and he quickens his pace to match it.  

           “Fuck, I’m gonna come,” You declare, hands reaching for his black locks, tugging them harshly. “Fuck, Jimin.”

           He increases the vibrations, humming harder, sucking firmly, until you can’t hold it in, your voice loud and echoing through the living room.

           “Jimin,” You moan, his name the only thing you can remember. Pulling himself from between your thighs, you’re almost too blissed out to recognize a digit making its way between your walls. First, it’s one. Easy, simple, then it’s two. His lips and teeth make their way to your breasts, giving your nipples a similar pattern and rhythm that he’d exhibited on your clit. Replacing the humming with draws of his teeth against you, your body can’t help but moan and lean into him.

           “Can you take more?”

           “I said at least two,” Your eyes stare into his, the sweat matting his hair to his forehead, determination in his eyes.

           “Yeah, how close are we?”

           “I don’t know, add another finger and we’ll find out,” You don’t have to smirk. His third digit adds a stretch you only know from having his cock nestled between your walls. “Fuck!”

           “You like that?”

           “I like your cock more.”

           He laughs, lips finding yours. His fingers curl, always having this eerily scary ability to find your g-spot. Not that he needs it, his thumb is busy working your clit again, this is an added bonus. A flourish, a shiny golden ribbon against the red paper of your pleasure.

           “Jimin,” You chant, over and over again. “I’m gonna come.”

           “Come on my fingers baby,” He whispers, lips marking your neck.

           You let go, and he pulls off of you, allowing your senses to focus on the pleasure of his hands and not the sensation of his teeth. Your mind goes haywire, orgasm so intense after your first, wetness flowing freely from you onto Jimin’s digits.

           “More?” He asks.

           You nod, mouth open, mind still fuzzy, body weak and needy. You want him, all of him, hard and fast and perfectly fit to you. Jimin. You just want Jimin.

           His hand pulls from inside you, going directly to his hard and dripping cock. He strokes himself once, twice in your wetness before he positions himself at your entrance. Your hands reach up to him, unbuttoning his shirt and attempting to push it off his shoulders as he slowly, deliberately, sheaths himself in you.

           “Oh fuck,” He groans, head resting immediately on your shoulder.

           “Can you handle it?” You ask.

           “You’re such a fucking tease,” Jimin laughs. He kisses you once more, his smirk returning as his hips begin to thrust into you.

      ��    “Fuck,” You mutter. You both know you won’t last long, already overstimulated and overwhelmed by him, the weight of his body against yours is too much. You will crumble, and it will be worth it.

           Jimin’s incredibly focused, his lips on your pulse point, he times each movement with each beat of your heart. Your voice in his ear, breath inconsistent and filled with moans of satisfaction, he sets his pace. God - you’re a fucking melody in this state. No inhibitions, no judgments, whatever sounds your bodies make, whatever pleasure you both share, sings to him.          

           He won’t last long - he can’t possibly when you’re so tantalizing wet, pulling him in with a death grip, pulsing around him when he stills momentarily inside you.

           “I love you,” He whispers.

           “I know,” You answer. “Love you more.” 

Next: Naughty or Nice

[justasparkwritings]

Almost used these for Jimin’s Merry & Bright banner

a baby ♡ for @hyunsung (cr. namuspromised)

[justasparkwritings]

Merry & Bright {9}: Decorate My Heart

Previous: Bad Perfume 

Pairing: Kim Namjoon x Reader

Genre: Fluff, Smut Light

Rating: R

Warnings: Making Out! Swearing!

Word Count: 1.5K

Summary: It’s early in your relationship, but it’s clear that Namjoon makes you feel absolutely… glittery.

Listening: Glittery, Kacey Musgraves

Master List: Merry & Bright 2021

Tag List 

Tag List: @knjkitten​ @mochikeyds​

        Namjoon stares at you with what can only be described as heart eyes. Big, pounding, radiating mushy feelings, red hearts. He only knows how to see you through them, only knows how to articulate his feelings towards you with those damn hearts guiding him. It’s all mushy and romantic, falling in love under the guise of winter. Chilly night air, a Christmas movie playing softly in the bathroom as Namjoon giggles in your ear. Monie, having been brought from his parents’ house, lounges nearby, head pointing towards you both, a watchful eye on his beloved owner.

        You snuggle into Joon’s side, your laughter shimmering from you, mixing with his. He can’t stop laughing, and neither can you. You can’t remember what he said, what triggered this never-ending fit that has you both red in the cheeks. Namjoon makes everything so… sparkly. The way he speaks, the way he stares at you, how tender and gentle he is when you’re around.

        “Stop laughing!” You request.

        “You stop!”

        “I can’t, it’s your fault!” Your head turns into the crook of your neck – and suddenly, whatever was so funny isn’t anymore, because you’re sniffing his neck, and he’s smelling your hair. His hands are on your hips, your leg tossed over his, pulling him close. And suddenly – it isn’t cute anymore. It isn’t flirtatious giggles and heart eyes. This is more.

        “Why do you smell so good?” You whisper, noose tracing an imaginary line up and down his neck. Your lips trail too, following the line you’ve traced.

        “You do to,” Namjoon is keenly aware of the placement of his hips and how gently he’s guiding yours towards his.

        “It’s subtle though,” You continue. You pull your nose free, opting to drag your fingers through his hair, scratching his scalp.

        Joon’s eyes have fluttered closed, head tilting back into your touch. “Ah,” He moans softly.

        You take him in, the perfect curve of his jaw, the dip of the bridge of his nose. The spots on his cheek where his dimples reside. You’ve only kissed once, last time you saw each other. He pulled you close, clumsy hand cupping your cheek, his nervous lips meeting yours. It was hesitant, brief, no tongues dancing, no lust pouring from him to you… tentative, gentle, nothing more than a whisper of hope that they’d be more.

        “Joon?” You whisper.

        “Hm?” He asks, eyes snapping open.

        “Can I kiss you?”

        Namjoon thinks he’s heard you wrong. Why else would confusion be in his eyes?

        “What?” He asks.

        “C-can I kiss you?” Your voice is smaller, shine diminishing.

        “Oh!” His grip tightens as it creeps down to your ass, holding it in the palms of his hands, pulling you closer to him. “Please do.”

        Your smile is back, that twinkle in your eye shining before you lean in. Your lips first land on his forehead, then trail down to nose. His entire body shivers under your touch, starting at his toes, rippling all the way to his heart that’s beating so quickly he knows you can feel it. You continue kissing down his features. It’s tantalizing, each kiss a little gift attempting to prepare either of you for the next step, should you take it.

        Namjoon tries to focus on your lips, on the softness and warmth they bring to his features. The blush you kiss kindly, the uneven pattern of his breath across your face. He’s so happy to be laid out on the couch, his insides shaken up like a snow globe.

        “Y/N,” He whispers.

        “Hm?” Your lips vibrate against his, not quite a kiss, but so close it could be.

        It’s quick – the dip of his head, his lips pressing to yours, your breath lost in the heat of the moment. Joon’s not gentle and patient, he’s hungry and wanting. His lips move in time with yours, pulling you in, separating to allow his tongue to finally taste you. god he’s been wanting to taste you for weeks, devour you whole after unwrapping you perfectly. No rips or tears, no bows destroyed in the process.

       You’re falling into him, hips tipping and grinding against him, hands trying desperately to sneak between his shirt and his flesh, burrowing you deep in his warmth. His short hair only posed little problems, it was finally at the point where you could tug it, securing him to you. His earrings, plentiful, dangle against your hand, a cool reminder that this man has his own shimmering bling. A little tinsel on the built tree that is Namjoon.

       Your heart is pounding, the air outside absolutely chilly, turning what little precipitation is in the sky into delicate snowflakes drifting softly onto whatever surface they land on. Inside this apartment, it’s heating up. Your body temperatures mixing and rising with the friction. Joon pulls way first, needing a breath and a glance at you, taking in your flushed state, bruised lips the color of Santa’s suit, his cheeks the same shade. He’s glad you helped him set up the little tree in the corner, it’s lights casting a holiday glow over you. Monie’s fallen asleep, body positioned to watch both you and the door. Namjoon gulps, your eyes twinkling in the dim light.

       “Can I,” He pauses. A wordsmith, a fucking Hermes in the body of a gentle giant, why can’t he ask the simple question he’s stuck on?

       “Take your time,” You whisper.

       “Can I take your sweater off?”

       “Please,” You nod enthusiastically, sitting up to let him pull it over your head. Your flesh is sticky, sweat having begun to arise on your skin. “Can I take yours off?”

       Joon doesn’t wait, optioning to pull the knit sweatshirt off. His t-shirt comes with, leaving his toned and taut muscles for you to take in.

       You groan, pulling his lips back to you once more.

       “What?”

“You’re incredibly sexy, and beautiful,” Your fingers trace his chest, gently circling his areola, barely ghosting over the sensitive skin before outlining the muscles of his pecks and abs.

       “Yeah?” He whispers.

       “You’re fucking hot, okay?”

       Already blushing, Joon kisses you again. “You are too, most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”

       “I don’t mean to objectify you,” You say, pulling away again, his praise lost on your ears.

       “I know,” He agrees.

       “I just, damn.”

       He pauses, trying to decipher the expression on your face. Had he done something wrong? Not praised you equally, or fast enough? Had he miss spoke or said too much? Or – had he not said enough?

       “Namjoon?” You whisper.

       “Hm?”

       “What are you thinking about?”

       He glances towards Monie. “Did I say something wrong?”

       “No! No, you didn’t, I just,” You pause. “I got in my head.”

       “Like I am now?”

       “I just, you’re you, and I’m me. And I want to be enough for you, but I’m scared I’m not.”

       Namjoon’s rarely been the object of desire – well, that’s inaccurate. Thousands of people lust after him, comment on his body, objectify him. But it’s different when the person he’s got a huge crush on, who he’s enjoying getting to know, who he wants to have around in his life as his girlfriend maybe, is shirtless in his arms… staring at him like he’s going to tell her she’s got coal in her stocking.

       “I,” Namjoon starts. “I, no.”

       “No?”

       “No, I,” He exhales, quickly thinking through his next words carefully. “Why wouldn’t you be?”

       You both recognize where this could go, dive into an intense conversation, Beebee Bluff falling through the ice only for Porkchop to rescue her, breaking her ankle in the process. You don’t want that, you want to skate around a while longer, gliding on the fresh powder.

       You’re purposefully dismissive, tinged with a hint of honesty. “I’m just, you know, base level insecure.”

       “Me too,” Namjoon confides. His eyes are earnest and warm, melting any fears and trepidations that’ve woven into this perfect winter moment. “But I really like spending time with you, and I really like kissing you.”

       You laugh, the glittering sound twinkling as it descends and swarms the space between his ears. He commits it too memory, the bruised lips, the beaming grin, the warmth of you against him.

       “Me too,” You bring your own heart eyes to his.

       “Can I kiss you?” Joon asks once more.

       It’s your turn to pull him in, lips connecting, his kindness and burgeoning crush decorating your heart.

       His hands palm your exposed skin, touching every crevice, every line, every nook and cranny. He memorizes the dips and crests of your breasts, plotting and planning how he’s going to worship them later. You trace your fingers over his collarbones, tracing the defined dip of his pecks, letting your lips tend to the earrings in his earlobes, pressing his warm torso against yours if only to bring your hips against one another’s. Joon’s moans are gentle and bold, a pitch in harmony with your own.

       Your body, arching into his, pulls away. You try to catch your breath, his lips somewhere near the top of your bra cups, your hands tangled in his hair.

       “Namjoon-ah,” You coo. He stills, bringing himself up to you.

       “Y/N?”

       “Just wanted to look at you,” You smile. He smiles too. “You make me feel so…”

       “So?”

       Your smile doesn’t falter, only widens. “Glittery.”  

Next: More Than You Could Ever Know Pt. 2

[justasparkwritings]

Merry & Bright {13}: Not Another Christmas Movie

Previous: Blue Memories

Pairing: Kim Namjoon x Reader

Genre: Fluff

Rating: PG13

Warnings: Swearing!

Word Count: 1.7k

Summary: Namjoon wants you to watch 25 days of Christmas movies with him – with the hopes of maybe moving your relationship from friendship to something more. But he’s unsure if he’ll ever succeed.

Tag List 

Tag List: @knjkitten​ @mochikeyds​

         Namjoon sits next to you, like usual, sipping his mulled wine ever so cautiously. He��s been burned twice this week. “So, you know the 25 days of Christmas?”

        “The movie watching thing?” You ask, not looking up from the notes in front of you to stare at his stupidly handsome and manly face.

        “Yeah, I’ve been working my way through and wondered if you had any favorites I could add to my list,” He says. He’s been trying to pull you from your work for at least fifteen minutes.

        You finally glance up at him. “I - why didn’t you ask me before now?”

        “Well, I was kind of hoping you’d watch them with me, too?” His dimples pop, staring at you like shooting stars. Bright and sparkly and alluring.

        “A movie a day until Christmas? For the next 12 days?” You say, watching as he nods along. “I don’t even like you that much.”

        A look of outrage crosses his Hershey irises, and his chest puffs in indignation. “That’s not true.”

        “Oh really?” You snort, how would he know?

        “I know you have a crush on me,” Namjoon winks, it’s clumsy and endearing.

        “You’re the cockiest man I know, and Seokjin is dating my best friend,” you turn back to your notes, jotting a few comments in the margins of the papers before returning them to their rightful place in your binder.

        “Please?”

        “I can’t commit to that.”

        This time, he laughs. Your pathetic attempt at getting out of spending time with him humorous and outrageous. “We see each other -

        “We work together, that’s different.”

        “So, what’s this?” He asks, hand motioning between you.

        “What do you mean?”

        “You’re in my apartment, on my couch, eating dinner I made for both of us, doing work that you could easily do tomorrow. Come on, you like being with me,” His shoulder gently nudges yours, and you don’t pull away or glare at him.  

        “I tolerate you,” you correct.

        “No, I see that twinkle in your eye, that sly smile. You’ve had a crush on me for a while now.”

        You huff loudly as you stuff your work materials back into your bag. “You’re not gonna stop until I agree, are you?”

        “That’s correct,” his smile somehow widens.  

        “Fine.”

        “Great, we’ll start tonight!”

        There’s no more fighting, you’ve committed and you already regret it. “What’s the next movie?”

        “Would you believe it if I told you, it’s Elf?”

        “Fuck Elf!” Your voice reverberates throughout his apartment, crisp and clear and music to his ears.

        “What?” His jaw drops, eyes widening as he stares at you.

        “I hate that movie.”

        “Why?”

        “It’s so fucking annoying,” You know your rant could last an hour, but you’ll keep it brief. “And in the end he gets a fucking book deal? Predictable.”

        “You can’t tell me that when this film came out, you knew the ending,”

        “No, I was a child,” Your hard cider is long finished, which, in its cold state, runs no risk of burning your muscle.

        “Well, that’s not true,” Namjoon is younger than you by a year, and knows perfectly well you both saw that movie with no idea Buddy would find his father.

        “Still.”

        “Well it’s next on my list so, watch it with me, yeah?”

        “Is there more alcohol?”

        “It’s a Monday evening”

        “And?”

        He laughs, standing to retrieve the open bottle of Chardonnay you’d insisted on popping a few days ago. Returning to the couch, he set the glasses in front of you and leans back. You don’t miss the way his body opens to yours, eyes watching you lean forward to sip your drink, shirt rising up just enough to show the bare skin of your lower back. He inhales slowly, watching the space stretch and contort as you lean back, shoulder and body snuggling into his open arms.

        “Do you cuddle all your friends?” He whispers.

        “Only ones who stare at me like they wanna fuck me,” You answer.

        He doesn’t have a response, instead reaching for the remote and changing the streaming service.

        “Let’s make a bet,” Namjoon suggests.

        “Not a sex bet,” you warns.

        He rolls his eyes. “If, after we watch these Christmas movies, you still don’t like me -

        You’re quick to correct him. “I never said I didn’t like you.”

        “Oh?”

        “You assumed I meant platonically or romantically, but neither of us confirmed which we were referring.”

        “It’s semantics!”  

        “You haven’t heard it both ways.”

        “If you have one ounce of fun watching these movies, will you be my date New Year’s Eve?” Namjoon suggests.

        You pause, weighing the pros and cons of this deal.

        “And if I hate every minute of it?”

        “I’ll stop openly flirting with you.”  

        You blink, not looking at him, but staring straight ahead. What a stupid suggestion. “Why would you do that?”

        “You don’t like it?”

        “You’re so stupid. Play the fucking movie,” you say back against him, a little harder than necessary. He does as directed, starting the film.

        “When did we agree to switch houses?” You ask, letting him into your apartment the following evening.  

        “Unspoken rule,” Namjoon slips his shoes off, leaving his coat hanging in the closet.

        You roll your eyes. “What’s tonight’s movie?”

        “Christmas with the Kranks.”  

        “I fucking hate you!”

        “You agreed to this!”

        “Whatever,” you move to the living room, him close on your heels. He stops abruptly, taking in the set up you’ve created. Popcorn, a plate of Christmas cookies, and two mugs of what he assumes is perfect temperature hot apple cider.

        “You’re a softy,” he coos. Sitting down, he pulls you to him and kisses your cheek.

        “I’m multi-faceted.”

        “Yeah, you are,” he mutters through his smirk. If only he couldn’t see how deeply you are blushing.

        By the fifth evening, you are exhausted. A shitty day coupled with a shitty week, and not sleeping nearly enough… which for the record, isn’t your fault entirely. It was also Namjoon’s, because he was the one who kept talking to you well passed your bedtime. You haven’t minded, and he knows that if you really wanted him to go, you would’ve kick him out in the middle of a movie with no reservations.

        “Tonight,” Namjoon starts.

        “If it’s Four Christmases I quit. Or that really sad one with Henry Golding where Emilia Clarke gets his heart. Fuck that movie,” You huff. Namjoon can sense your tone, you’ve been slightly on edge all day.  

        “The Polar Express!”

        “Fuck off!” You snap. “That one’s equally as bad!”

        He stares at you, concerned and frustrated. “Never have I met a person who hates that movie.”

        “Well now you have.”  

        You plop onto the couch first, and he follows. You don’t even ask, not anymore, before you lay horizontal on the couch, ear pressed to his chest, arms around his torso. He doesn’t dare ask, or question it, but wraps his arm around you to hold you close.

        Somewhere between the first 10 minutes and the kid realizing a hole is in his pocket, you’ve fallen asleep. Namjoon can hear your steady breath, feel it inhaling and exhaling through his shirt. It’s peaceful and cozy, the light of the Christmas tree bringing warmth to the dark night.

        Namjoon doesn’t know when it happened - but he knows he started crushing on you way before the 25 days of Christmas. Months before actually. But he didn’t think he’d be here, cradling you on his couch, heart swelling to make room for you, eyes drifting shut as he too falls asleep.

        When Namjoon awakens, he’s under a blanket, a note waiting for him on the coffee table.

        “Went to get donuts. Used your toothbrush. JK – found a spare.”

        He smiles, of course you’ve made yourself at home in his place. He gets up and brushes his own teeth, changing from his slept in clothing to a fresh outfit. He riffles through for the sweatshirt you’ve often borrowed and finds a pair of your leggings that must’ve gotten left after the Thanksgiving Spill debacle of 2019.

        “Joon?” your voice echoes as you come back from the bakery. “You up?”

        “Yeah,” He calls, stepping out of his bedroom. “I found clothes if you want to change.”

        “Oh, thank you,” You smile. Setting your haul on the counter, you step into his bedroom to look at the clothes he’s found for you. Picking up the sweatshirt, you decide to be brave. “Hey Joon?”

        “Yes, Y/N?” He answers.

        “Can we talk about this week?”

        Namjoon stares at you, expression momentarily blank. “What about it?”

        You and I have been, well, we slept together,” You set the sweatshirt back on the bed. “And, well,”

        “You don’t know what it means?” He finishes your sentence.

        “Yeah, do you?”

        Namjoon shrugs and sits on his bed. He places his large hands on your wrist and pulls you to stand between his legs. Your downcast gaze stares directly into his, giving him pause and a twinkle of hope.

        “I know I’ve been projecting,” Namjoon smiles. “Projecting my crush on you, well onto you. Flirting like you’re the one head over heels for me, not the other way around.”

        The focused creases in your brow relaxes with realization. “Is that what you’ve been doing?”

        “Yeah, for a while now.”

        “Is that why you’ve been kissing me? And cuddling me, and wanting me close?” You ask. The feeling of giddiness starts moving up your spine, spreading through your limbs and twitching your muscles into a smile.

        “Is that why you’ve started kissing me too?”

        “You know I like you as more than a friend, Joon.”

        “I mean, I’ve speculated, but I don’t know if I’ve ever really known … until now.”

        “So, it wasn’t your plan all along?”

        “It was my hope, but you’re unpredictable,”

        “Yeah, I suppose I am. And you’re a little slow on the uptake.”

        Namjoon opens his mouth to argue, his brows rising at your chiding, but he’s stopped by your lips on his, kissing him soundly. In his shock, and the force of your gentle motion, he leans to far back, toppling over.

        “You’re really turning this into another Christmas movie, aren’t you?” You laugh.

        “Maybe, but only if you’ll be mine?” His voice is hopeful, his hands strong on your thighs.

        “I think I can commit to that,” You lean down again, lips finding his once more.

Next: A Single Christmas

[justasparkwritings]

Merry & Bright {6}: Twice Bitten, Once Shy

Previous: Sweet Rendezvous 

Pairing: Park Jimin x Reader

Genre: Fluff

Rating: PG13

Warnings: Swearing, Legal Alcohol Consumption

Word Count: 1.5k

Summary: You’re pulled into a mock meet cute and kinda hope it turns out to be true.

Notes: Yes, yes, this is the opposite of last years Once Bitten, Twice Shy

Listening: Last Christmas, Wham!

Master List: Merry & Bright 2021

Tag List 

Tag List: @knjkitten​ @mochikeyds​

        Ye-Jun sits crossed legged on your couch, eyes staring at you, pleading with you to calm down.

        “I’m sorry – I’ll stop. But I just –

        “Whatever you wear will be perfect. Just pick it out and pack your make up so we can go to mine.”

        “Why would I bring make up?” You ask, staring her down. You’ve narrowed it down to two options, both of which you’ll take with you to her apartment.

        “So that you can put it on?” Jun’s a little slow on the uptake today.

        You lay it out for her. “No, I mean why would I bring my make up when you’re doing it?”

        Ye-Jun rolls her eyes, she should’ve known better. Of course, you are planning on utilizing her skills as a trained and awarded makeup artist to do yours before this party.

        “Keep your expectations in check, too,” She reminds you.

        “What are my expectations? I want to have fun, dance a little, drink a little. If I bump into one of them, so be it. But I’m not going to seek them out.”

        “You sure?”

        “Jun, you work with them. I’m not going to ruin your employment because I’m excited to be in the same airspace as BTS.”

        “I know. I’m nervous.”

        “Why?” You ask, sitting down next to her.

        “It’s going to be a party with a shit ton of famous people!”

        “It’s not a ton of-

        “That’s how it starts, doesn’t it? It’s only the guys, that’s 7. Then their other friends, which is infinitely more than that. It’s a part of famous people, Y/N, you can’t deny it!” Jun lets her nerves take the better of her, her voice rising with the end of her sentence.

        “Okay, take a breath. I’ll be there, by your side the entire time, okay?”

        “Okay, promise?”

        “Of course!” Your smile abides her nerves, pushing them down and away until you are stepping foot in Hoseok’s apartment, a space packed with people you’d never met. You glance around, Christmas lights strung every which way, a tree decorated haphazardly in tinsel and ornaments that had been gifted and bought. A luxurious apartment it is, but filled with people, it seems less and less like the home of an Idol. Wham! Plays loudly in the background, bleeding into Mariah Carey which inevitably fills the dance floor.

        Ye-Jun, hand in yours, pulls you to the hall closet to safely tuck your jackets away, before Hoseok himself laid eyes on her.

        “Jun! You came!” He calls, lean arms wrapping around her. “Is this your friend?”

        “Yeah, Hoseok, this is Y/N,” She introduces you and you bow politely. You don’t understand how Ye-Jun stands in the glory of Hoseok every day and doesn’t drool. Though, you rationalize that if you stared at him long enough, he might just become a face and a person and not an idol.

        “Nice to meet you! Thank you for letting me come!”

        “Any friend of Jun’s is welcome. Drinks are in the kitchen, dancing is everywhere, have fun!” Hoseok smiles again before disappearing, mingling with his other guests.

        You aren’t phased, the celebrities all around, if anything it makes you excited. Who would you see making out in a corner? Who would be holding hands, unperturbed by the people around? It’s amazing, and you’re thrilled to be a part of it.

        You spot Jungkook first – tattooed arm raising, smile on display as he laughs at something someone’s saying. You don’t recognize them, probably a civilian like you. Your eyes continue scanning, finding Yoongi in a corner, a few members of TXT and other Hybe artists around. No one pays any mind to you, or to them.

        “Drinks?” Ye-Jun asks.

        “Yes!” You follow her towards the kitchen, where you each mix a small drink before heading towards the dance floor. Jun drinks hers quickly, too quickly.

        “I’m going to find the bathroom, okay?” Ye-Jun tells you. She isn’t yelling, but she’s loud. Her drink was stronger than yours, two shots at least.  

        “Yeah, go for it!” You answer.

        She isn’t gone more than two minutes when you take a step towards the kitchen. You would’ve been successful if someone hadn’t grabbed your wrist.

        “Hi, sorry, can you just, talk to me for a minute?” He questions.

        “Um, sure?” You hear yourself agree, unsure why Jimin of BTS wants you to be his conversation partner. You realize his hand is still on your wrist, and you watch in real time as it dawns on him too.

        “Sorry, Jimin,” He says extending his hand. You take it apprehensively.

        “Y/N,” You can’t hide your smile. You don’t know what it is – the Christmas atmosphere, the ruby red lip Ye-Jun put on you, the glittering gold of your eyeshadow. But you’re feeling this moment in time. Committing it to memory.

        “How do you know Hoseok?” He asks.

        “My best friend is Ye-Jun, one of his make up artists!” You sip your drink. “And you?”

        He laughs, and you’re glad the music isn’t so loud that you can’t hear it.

        “Hoseok and I go way back,” He assures you, still smiling.

        “So, who are you avoiding?” You take in his darting gaze, moving from you to around the room, but always starting in one specific location, and always ending back on you.

        “Avoiding?” His eyes widen – he couldn’t have possibly thought you wouldn’t notice. “How did you?”

        You don’t want to make him feel bad, embarrass him for clearly avoiding you. “You grabbed the wrist of a stranger, at a party where one of the hottest actors in Korea just showed up, and your boys are nowhere in sight.”

        You rattle off your reasons, each true, each sidestepping the most obvious, you keep looking at her. “It’s her, isn’t it?”

        “I, yeah, it is,” Jimin scratches the back of his neck.

        “That’s a fucked up way to spend Christmas,” Your sympathetic voice fills his ears, prickling the hairs on the back of his neck.

        “It’s not so bad anymore,” He smiles again.

        “How many drinks deep are you?” You ask, eyeing his mostly full glass.

        “This is three,” He counts, recalling each as the night has progressed.

        “Hmm,” You hum, looking into your glass before tossing the rest of it back. “I better catch up.”

        You take Jimin’s hand in your own, not imagining the feel of his fingers intertwining with yours. Knowing where the kitchen is, you lead him to it. you’re sure he’s been here a thousand times, millions even, and you don’t dismiss the fact that he’s not trying to mansplain the blueprint of this apartment.

        “What’s your poison?” You stand at the counter, taking in the stash of booze

        “Anything clear,” Jimin answers. You don’t make a quip about how Ron Swanson thinks clear liquids is for housewives, but you think it as a person who drinks clear liquid.

        “Wanna do shots?”

        “I thought you were the one who has to catch up?” Jimin’s smirk dances across his lips. It’s so enticing, the slope of his brow, the playfulness dancing in his eyes. Why he wears cllored contacts is beyond you, he’s so beautiful without them.

        “Fair, I’ll do a few shots, say two?” You suggest.

        “Okay,” He laughs. You smile, you like his laugh. You pour a double shot and toss it back.

        “Fuck!” You yell, the alcohol burning your throat and stinging your eyes as it goes down. “You’d think he’d supply higher quality liquor.”

        You hope your comment isn’t unseemly, ao, tarnish on this budding friendship.

        “No, Hoseok cares more about the DJ and the dancing,” Jimin tells you.

        “Oo, do you wanna dance?” You ask. “There won’t be any choreography, and I can’t promise I can lift you, but I can promise you that it’ll be a shit ton of fun.”

        “Who are you?” Jimin hasn’t stopped smiling, and it’s causing your heart so stutter ever so slightly. He’s enticing and scary and overwhelming, his touch still burning, his gaze flustering…

        “Y/N, and you’re Jungkook, right?” You laugh as you pour another shot and hand it to him. “Bottom’s up.”

        Set your glass down, and in a swift movement, you’ve interwoven your fingers with Jimin’s. Smiling stupidly, you drag him towards the dance floor. You don’t know if it’s the alcohol, or the feeling of his touch, but you’re in a state of total bliss. You glance around, finding Ye-Jun eating a snack and talking with her co-make-up artist, Hana something… Someone you’ve met countless times but have never committed her surname to memory.

        Someone’s queued Wham! again, but you don’t care. You fucking love this song.

        “Last Christmas, I gave you my heart! But the very next day / You gave it away / this year, to save me from tears / I’ll give to someone special!” You scream with the crowd, dancing and swaying your hips, hands finding Jimin’s shoulders. His hands find your waist and pull him close, chest to chest, eyes smiling at each other.

        You don’t know what it is – holiday spirit, a favorite song, a gorgeous man who is looking at you like you’re the star atop the prettiest tree. It isn’t the heartache of the last two years, the times you’ve offered yourself and been bitten in the worst ways.

        It’s something different, it’s something new. And maybe, if he keeps smiling at you like that, and your heart keeps beating in time with his, maybe this Christmas, you’re going to really understand what love is.

Next: The One You Love

[justasparkwritings]

Merry & Bright {5}: Sweet Rendezvous

Previous: Holly, Jolly Christmas 

Pairing: Min Yoongi x Reader

Genre: Smut, Non-Idol AU

Rating: NC17

Warnings: SEX! Kissing! Fingering! Mentions of Oral Sex! Swearing!

Word Count: 1.9K

Summary: You and Yoongi have a semi-regular Christmas tradition… but can you make it permanent?

Listening: Under My Tree, NSYNC

Master List: Merry & Bright 2021

Tag List 

Tag List: @knjkitten​ @mochikeyds​

        Yoongi remembers the first time he kissed you: 7th grade, Seokjin’s annual Christmas Party, playing Spin the Bottle. It’d been his first kiss, and yours. Shared in front of friends, it was awkward and uncomfortable and magical. Yoongi only found out later that his friends had purposefully arranged it so that you two would kiss. Because, when you’re 13, of course your friends plotted to get you to kiss the girl you liked.

        The second time Yoongi kissed you, was at the same party, three years later. You’d upgraded from Spin the Bottle to 7 Minutes in Heaven, a particular hell you were beyond livid you had to engage it. Hoseok had made an off handed comment about how it would be a Christmas miracle if you proved everyone wrong and played the game… A ploy to get your competitive side involved. And it worked. It annoyingly worked.

        This time, you pulled names out of a hat, and of course, when it was your turn, who’d you get? Yoongi.

        He’d learned a thing or two since you were thirteen, and frankly so had you. It was easy, his hands cupping your ass, your tongue slipping between his lips. Every sugarplum sweet kiss eliciting dulcet tones of pleasure, you both wanted nothing more than to tear your surprisingly coordinating sweaters off your bodies.

        But you didn’t. You had 7 minutes, and in those 7 minutes you made sure to bruise the spot just below his collarbone.

        The third time you kissed, age 24, had been so much more than that… well… there hadn’t been any kissing at all, at least not on your lips. Somehow, in some twist of fate or desire or want, you’d blown him, and he’d eaten you out. A wild twist and escalation of your usual activities, it had been incredible.

        The fourth time you and Yoongi kissed, well hooked up… Well, that’s tonight.

        “You didn’t have to stay and help,” Yoongi hadn’t stopped smiling drunkenly at you.

        “You offered to host Seokjin’s party, and then let Jungkook pour peppermint vodka and chocolate sauce down your throat. You need help.” You cast a sideways glance at him, his stupid gummy smile, and his hair that he’d slicked back but oover the course of the evening has fallen and become disheveled. He runs a hand through it, and it’s incredibly sexy how the jingle bells on his sweater jingle at the gesture.

        “You were drinking too,” He argues.  

        “We’re both the same level of sober.”

       “I wasn’t going to let you drive home,” Yoongi stands up from the couch, stepping around the few presents under his tree. A gift from Hoseok, and Jin, an oddly shaped and meticulously wrapped present from Jungkook. Surprisingly, yours isn’t there. “Also, you’re folding that wrong.”

        “Then come over here and show me, asshole,” You mutter the end of your sentence, his presence already felt behind you.

        Yoongi’s chest presses against your back, strong and sturdy, he’s only a few inches taller than you, but damn you feel it in the placement of his pecks against your shoulders. He guides his fingers, nimble and daft, gently onto yours.

        “See, it’s not that hard.”

        “You’re so annoying,” You whisper. “I can fold a tablecloth. You’re just anal and a pain in the ass.”

        “Tell me something,” Yoongi hasn’t moved from behind you, hands drifting up your arms before settling on your hips, the tablecloth set against the bare table.

        “What?” You ask.

        “We didn’t kiss this year.”

        “It’s not like you put mistletoe up anywhere,” You snort. “And as I recall, we didn’t kiss last year either.”

        “I’d say we’re due in for another –

        “7 minutes?” You want to laugh – you’re adults with jobs and a career. Why would you need a childish game to finally get what you want?

        “Maybe more,” Yoongi’s nose brushes at the skin your ponytail has exposed, just enough to knock your balance, body melting into him.

        Your breath hitches. “More?”

        “Yeah, more,” His lips press onto your skin, once, twice…

        “What are you getting at Yoongi?”

        “Can I kiss you?”

        “Aren’t you already?”

        “Y/N,” His lips are at the hull of your ear, moving against them as he whispers your name.

        “Yoongi,”

        “Can I kiss you?”

        “On one condition,” You turn in his tight grasp, chest to chest, breath to breath.

        “Anything,” He whispers.

        “Don’t stop, unless I tell you to, okay?” You ask.

        “Are you sure?” Yoongi knows what this means – he’s always known what could happen if the two of you stopped sending flirty glances, spending Christmas parties, new years, Juneteenth, every fucking federal holiday, dancing around each other. You didn’t kiss last Christmas because you were in a relationship, and the year before that he was, and the year before that you had been away with family. There were reasons keeping you apart, but this year? This was the first time in years that you were both available… and the first time in years you were ready to explore what it would mean if you went a few steps further… a few steps past friendship… stop teetering on the edge and dive in.

        “I’m positive. Are you?”

        “Fuck yes, Y/N.”

        “This can’t ruin our friendship, okay?” You ask.

        “Promise,” Yoongi’s heart is racing. He’s praying you can’t feel how hard he already is, cock stirring under how tightly you are pressed to him.

        “Kiss me,” You request again.

        Yoongi, having exercised all patience and self control, doesn’t hesitate. His lips press to yours, bruising in their first contact. You whimper under him, desire articulating itself in the octaves of your voice. You kiss him equally as hard, letting your lips share the feelings in your heart. His hands slip from your waist to grip your ass, squeezing it in his expansive palms. You can’t help the giggle that leaves you.

        “What?” He asks, pulling way to mark your neck.

        “Remember the first time we made out?”

        “Yeah, 7 Minutes in Heaven,”

        “You gripped my ass like that then, to.”

        “I’ve learned a lot since then, Y/N.”

        “I believe you,” Your hands, tangled in his hair, pulled him to you once more. Your tongue slips into his mouth, past his plush lips and into his mouth, exploring the warm cavern. His meets yours, moving with it, taking turns exploring the warmth you have to offer. He leans you back, testing the water of the table as you cling to him harder. The desire pools between your legs, a stickiness your lace underwear isn’t prepared for.

        “Couch? Bed?”

        “Couch,” You mutter.

        Yoongi guides you to him, kissing your skin until you push him down on the couch. Straddling his lap, you stand and take your tights off, underwear seemingly adhering to them. You shrug it off, looking up to catch Yoongi palming himself through his trousers.

        “As much as I’d love foreplay, I really fucking need you in me, okay?” You say.

        “Yes, fuck I need you,” Yoongi unbuttons his pants, unzipping them and pulling them down. His cock springs free, god it’s glorious. You’ve fucked a fair share of men, maybe some women, and it’s dizzying how no one compares.

        Straddling his lap, you lower your cunt onto him, slowly moving your hips back and forth, wetness coating his cock.

        “Fuck how are you so wet?”

        “You’ve been flirting with me so fucking much, staring at me, brushing against me,” Your lips trail his neck, suckling his pale flesh tending to the marks you’ve begun making. Yoongi uses one hand to guide your hips back and forth against him, the other slips a finger between your lips, allowing pressure to build on your clit.

        “Yoongi,” You moan at the added sensation, mind clouding as you continue to grind over him.

        “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” He mutters over and over, fingers circling in tandem with your hips. You grind harder against him, seeking the release that’s building swiftly in your abdomen. You open your eyes, watching Yoongi’s expression of primal joy as loud moans and calls of your name leave his lips. You commit to memory, much like you committed to memory the feeling of his hands against your ass when you were a teenager, how he lingered over every inch of your skin three years ago, his own form of worship as he pleasured you. How long had you been waiting for this moment?

        “Y/N,” Yoongi growls, hands stopping their ministrations.

        “What?” You whisper.

       “I need to be inside you, otherwise I’m going to come on your leg like a fucking teenager,” His growl is more pronounced, frustration building in his vocal register.

       “Yeah, yeah, condom?”

       “Fuck, up,” He taps your ass and you move off of him.

       He’s gone in a flash, running the ten feet from his couch to his bedroom, where you can clearly hear him trip over a pair of pants before opening and closing a drawer.

        Yoongi tears the package as he walks back out, cock free and dripping both your arousal and his precum.

        “Do you know how to or –

        “Shut up!” He rolls his eyes, rolling it tenderly over himself. You’ve stripped, all clothes gone, tossed in the chair.

        “Turn off the lights,” You request. He does, letting the light from the tree cascade across the room. “Sit.

        He listens to directions and sits on the couch, where you resume your place hovering over him. It’s a swift movement, not delicate and gentle, but rushed and aggressive. You sink onto him, voice completely lost as your jaw drops, Yoongi’s cock stretching and filling you completely. Your chest heaves, giving Yoongi the opportunity to suckle your nipples into his mouth.

        Yoongi’s wanted to sleep with you for years – decades maybe. Someone who did the research and analytics would say that ever since Yoongi’s been attracted to people, and had sexual desires, his lust and love for you has known no bounds. But somehow, you’ve never been on the same page at the same time.

        “Fuck, don’t stop,” You moan loudly, somehow drowning the sounds of your sex with your pure desire for Yoongi.

        “Fuck, Y/N, fuck,” His hips thrust into yours, meeting the swivels, stretching you and tightening coil inside you. he holds you close, lips meeting to passionately and sloppily kiss yours. The Christmas music still plays, Nat King Cole crooning softly and somehow loudly at the same time. Your spine tingles, walls clenching and releasing with the swivel of your hips.

        “I’m close,” You moan, foreheads pressed together in sweat. Mouths dropped open, moans mixing with your breath.

        “Fuck, me too.”

        Yoongi hopes, as you both reach your highs, that this isn’t the end of your friendship, but the beginning of something else. Isn’t that what a decade of random Christmas hookups have been leading to? You, girlfriend, him, boyfriend?

        “You know,” You start, forehead on his shoulder, his cock softening between your walls.

        He trails his fingers up and down your spine. “Hm?”

        “I think round two should be under the tree,” You kiss his collar bone before meeting his searing gaze.

        “I heard it’s beautiful there. I’ll hold you close, show you how good it could be, yeah?”

        “How good it could be?” You ask.

        Yoongi takes his shot. “Yeah, you and me, could be our tree next year.”

        “Can’t it be our tree this year?” You counter. That damn gummy smile returns, and somewhere, in some twisted way, you fucking hope that this sweet rendezvous continues again next year… and the year after that… and the year after that. 

Next: Twice Bitten, Once Shy

[justasparkwritings]

Merry & Bright {4}: Holly, Jolly Christmas

Previous: More Than You Could Ever Know Pt. 1 

Pairing: Kim Seokjin x Reader

Genre: Fluff! Jewelry Store Owner AU

Rating: PG13

Warnings: Swearing!

Word Count: 2.3K

Summary: A mystery man keeps coming to your jewelry shop in search of Christmas presents.

Listening: Holly Jolly Christmas

Master List: Merry & Bright 2021

Tag List 

Tag List: @knjkitten​ @mochikeyds​

Monday

        The sales signs are hung by the jewelry with care, with hopes of being purchased twinkling in their carats. You adjust the few items that are out of place, delicate pearl and 24k gold earrings, platinum wedding bands and a few engagement rings that have been polished since you organized the cases last night. The garland is hung perfectly, red, green and white poms interwoven with twinkling lights and holly are tapered around the perimeter of the boutique. Faint Christmas music – instrumental – plays softly in the background.

        The jingle bells on the front door chime, and in walks your first customer of the day. You love the first customer of the day, there the minute the custom Christmas OPEN sign flicks on, ready to either ask you a thousand questions, or drop some serious cash on a piece. No one comes here without an idea of what they want or need, and it’s your joy to help them find the perfect piece. Often, the first person in the shop gets the most attention, aside from your robust list of clients that schedule individual showings with you. They get the freshly popped champagne turned into a mimosa, or at this point in the season, a poinsettia – champagne and cranberry juice.

        “Good morning, sir, how can I help you?” You ask, smile stretching to squish your cheeks.

        He stops in his tracks and turns to face you, suddenly startled by your presence. His hair is slightly disheveled but largely pushed back probably from the wind, his suit absolutely crisp and pristine underneath his long plaid overcoat. He definitely could’ve sent his assistant to do this, whatever it is.

        He nods. “I need a Christmas gift.”

        “Okay, who are you shopping for?” You move towards him, keeping your distance behind the jewelry cases.

        “My brother,” His eyes drift to the display in front of him, he frowns.

        “Great. Do you have an idea of what you’re looking for?”

        He sighs loudly, blocking out the bustling piano of Holly Jolly Christmas. “No, I suppose not.”

        “Do you want my help, or do you want to look around and come to me when –

        “What do you get for a brother?” He interjects, onyx eyes staring into yours. “A watch? I suppose I’d just go to Rolex or what, Cartier?”

        “We sell watches, and money clips. We also have a gorgeous array of cuff links and singlet rings,” You list.

        “Cuff links would be good,” He nods.

        “Okay!” You smile again, your chipper demeaner an attempt at raising his sour mood.

        He watches you closely, for someone managing millions of dollars in jewels, the fact that you’re wearing lace tights is confusing to him. Do you know you’re supposed to be professional and well, in business attire? Not business casual or in an outfit fit for a substitute teacher of ninth grade English lit? Or perhaps, he finds it all distracting. The chandelier-like pattern exposing your skin in peaks and snippets.

        “I’m Y/N, I own this boutique,” You extend your hand to him, which he takes suspiciously. The plump rosiness of his lips tweak into a polite smile, but he isn’t amused by your friendliness.

        “Seokjin,” He lets go of your hand immediately and averts his gaze into the case of cufflinks.

        “We can do monogramed, or etched cufflinks. Otherwise, this is our classic collection, and these are our few seasonal options.”

        Seokjin stares at the cuff links before him. Varying sizes, in varying metals. Gold, platinum, silver… Knots, full onyx disks, watch gears encased in gold, hollow circles in silver… He stares at them all, unsure what to make of what’s in front of him.

        “See anything you like?” You ask.

        “I’m not sure.” His gaze drifts to the seasonal options, a few presents, a stocking, little Christmas trees. “What, no reindeer?”

        You ignore his condescension. “All sold out in gold and silver, as well as diamond and Rudolph.”

        “You had Rudolph cuff links?” His smile is genuine this time – how cute would Rudolph cufflinks be?

        “I did, sold out in presale.”

        “You have good business?”

        “Yes, exceptionally.” You don’t have to prove to him you’re successful or prove that your little shop is booming. Your quarterly sales report proves it. “Can I get you coffee or champagne?”

        “Isn’t a little early for champagne?”

        “Mimosa or Poinsettia?”  

        He shakes his head. “No, thank you. Are these on your website too?”

        “They are – can I make a suggestion?” You ask.

        “Sure.”

        “If you can’t think of five situations where the person you’re buying for will wear the piece, don’t buy it,” You say.  

        “Do you give that advice to everyone?”

        “Absolutely,” Your smile softens.

        “Okay, thank you.” He nods his head and is out the door.

Tuesday

        You come in late that morning, not your usual 8:45AM, but by 10AM you’re strutting into your shop. Jonah having opened for you, stares at you with holiday cheer in his eyes. The diamond encrusted Rudolph earrings poised in his ears. He wanted them for Christmas, his one piece a year you gift him.  

        “Morning, Jonah!” You smile.

        “Morning Y/N, hey, a guy stopped by for you?”

        “A guy?”

        He nods, eyebrows wagging. “Yeah, a new boyfriend?”

        “I don’t have a boyfriend,” You remind him.

        “Ah,” Jonah closes the case he’s just polished.

        “Who was it?”

        “Check the tapes. He was a little, cold? And really annoyed I was here and not you. Asked when you’d be back, I said later today.”

        You pause, staring at him. “Was he really tall, broad shoulders, insanely pouty red lips?”

        “Yay!”

        “Seokjin,” You say. “He came in yesterday looking for a gift for his brother but left with nothing. I didn’t think he would be back.”

        “What did he look at?”

        “Cufflinks.”

        “Not watches?”

        Sitting on the stool next to him, you glance out at the street in front of your shop. The snow stuck from yesterday’s fall, not a lot, but enough to be a bit of a hassle. You don’t mind too much, Jonah always clears the path, and the city is on top of clearing the sidewalks and roads. You lucked out with this spot – main street, a ton of foot traffic and next to the main stage during the Christmas parade and tree lighting.

       “No, he mentioned going to Rolex or Cartier,”

        “Hm, we sell those,” Jonah’s confused.

        “I know.”

        Jonah leaves it at that, not wanting to cross a boundary into your personal life, but also wanting you to tell him exactly what happened. He knows you will, in time.

Wednesday

        You open the shop right on schedule, sipping your coffee as you glance through your schedule for the day. Back-to-back clients, a few looking at engagement rings, one at earrings, and another looking for a set of necklaces for her granddaughters. Hopefully it’ll be an excellent sales day. You finish jotting down the few items you want to make sure you show each of your clients.

        The bell chimes, and you glance up from your phone. Your eyebrows raise, a look of shock etching onto your features.

        “You came back!” You say, a bit astonished and a bit confused.

        Seokjin nods, wiping his feet on the mat before squaring his shoulders with yours. “I did, I came by yesterday too, but you weren’t here.”

        “I come in late on Tuesdays; Jonah opens up.”

        He wastes no time. “I was thinking: a watch. Something streamline, analog, no bells and whistles. Leather band, cream face. Silver.”

        You smile softly, your eyes twinkling. He’s been looking online, perfectly describing the signature watch you designed and sell exclusively during the holiday season. Seokjin’s been looking, and it’s really endearing that he’s paid so much attention.

        “I know exactly the watch,” You guide him to the case and take out the few options. “We have a few ready, unless you want to engrave it, which I highly encourage.”

        “Will it be ready for Christmas?”

        “Yes, you’re early enough. It’ll be ready by the 20th.”

        “Perfect. Which do you like more, cream face or white?”

        “I like cream. Honestly, I’m a big fan of cream and gold, the cream and white gold is a huge seller, but so are silver and cream. You can’t go wrong with either.”

        He takes the few options in his hands, placing them delicately on his wrist.

        “I love the cream with gold,” Seokjin decides.

        “Excellent choice,” You watch him play with them as you take out your order pad and copy down all the details. “You can pick it up here to ensure it’s correct, or we can have it sent directly to your house.”

Seokjin does a poor job of pretending he’s listening to you, but he already knows what he wants.

        “I can pick it up here,” He answers.  

        “Okay, sounds good.”

Thursday

        Your favorite product to sell are engagement rings. The bliss attached to them, the hope and joy and love… particularly a Christmas proposal, with the seasons greetings, twinkling lights and the never ending Christmas music flowing as a relationship is taken from serious to eternal.

        Having sold two engagement rings for the day and sending in an order to resize one and sent a few necklaces off to be engraved, you find yourself singing along to Pentatonix, dancing around the boutique as you wipe down the glass.

       “Oh, ho, the mistletoe / Is hung where you can see / Somebody waits for you / Kiss her once for me / Have a holly jolly Christmas, it’s the best times of the year! And in case you didn't hear –

       “Oh by golly, have a holly / Jolly Christmas this year!” A voice comes from behind you. You stop and turn, cheeks immediately red and eyes widening immediately.

       “Oh fuck!” You let slip.

       “Hi, so uh, I need earrings for my niece. She’s seven, but I want to get her something sturdy and delicate. Something that will last?” He isn’t confident, a bit unsteady and unsure, so unlike every other time he’s stepped into your shop.

       “We have gold hearts that are really popular, unless you want Christmas themed, then we have candy canes, reindeer, Christmas trees,” You list. You walk swiftly to the jewelry case and take the varying earrings out, your embarrassment dying down as your work hat slips back onto your head.

       “What do you think, Y/N?” Seokjin asks.

       “I uh, I think it’s really nice to have a set of Christmas earrings for the holiday, specific ones. I have several, not that you need to know that,” You ramble. You do have quite a few, you’re even wearing the holly wreaths you sell. “But a classic sterling silver ball, or gold heart, will last as she grows up.”

       He contemplates, not wanting to make eye contact. “Maybe I do both?”

       “Yeah, you could do both,” You smile.

       “Is that what you’d do?”

       “When’s her birthday?”

       “February,” Seokjin answers.

       “Give her the gold hearts for her birthday,”

       “Are you just trying to get me to come back?” He flirts.

       “I don’t think I really have to try; you’ve come in everyday this week,” You flirt back.  

       “I suppose I have. I don’t, Christmas isn’t really my thing,”

       “That’s a shame, it’s a beautiful time of year.”

       “I suppose,” He shrugs. “There’s something about this store, though, that keeps me coming back.”

       “Hm, wonder what that is. How will you cope on Sunday, when we’re closed?” You tease.

       “I don’t know, I guess I’ll be waiting for Monday.”

       You don’t have an answer, only a blush the color of Rudolph’s nose.

Friday

        You’re positively buzzing. Who is this handsome, broad-shouldered man who comes to your store, every day, looking for a gift, or rather, pretending to look for a gift? What does he want from you?

        Jonah finishes with another client, upgrading her wedding band after her golden anniversary. She’s optioned for a gold band, but instead of several small diamonds in the band and a central one, she’s going with an emerald cut and two smaller begets. Stunning – gorgeous, a shit ton of money.

        “You think he’s coming?” Jonah asks.

        “I don’t know, we close soon, so, maybe not?”

        “I think he likes you,” He coos.

        “He’s a customer, J. He needs presents, I sell them.”

        “You’re awfully levelheaded about this, which seems well, out of character.”

        “Oh, fuck off,” You push his shoulder lightly.  

        “I’m just saying!” He laughs. “You’re closing up, so if he stops by… don’t fuck on the jewelry cases. They’ll break.”

        “Go home, Jonah!” You step into the backroom to grab your water bottle and turn up the music. Evenings are for balancing the books, double checking sales receipts and tracking shipments. Not a lot of people shop around for expensive pieces after 3PM, which leaves the 3-5PM slot for you to work on all aspects of your business that need managing.

        The bells above the door jingle, and you speak without looking up.

        “I thought you went home?”

        “I – uh, you did?”

        Your head snaps up, staring at him. You immediately turn the music down.

        “Shit – I thought you were Jonah coming back to get something.”

        “No, sorry. I could find him?”

        “No, no, he’s gone for he night. How can I help you Seokjin?”

        “Yeah, I’ve been thinking about it, and if I keep coming in here every time I want to see you, or talk to you, I’m going to be bankrupt before I’m 35,” Seokjin steps off the threshold and moves closer towards your desk.

        “Oh?”

        “I figured it would probably be better if I just came out and said, Y/N, would you like to go on a date with me?”

        You smile, the faint sounds of Holly Jolly Christmas crooning through the speakers.

        “Seokjin, I’d love to.”

Next: Sweet Rendezvous 

[justasparkwritings]

Merry & Bright {22}: Naughty or Nice

Previous: Everything You Want

Pairing: OT7 x Respective Partners

Genre: Kid Fic/Fluff

Rating: PG13

Warnings: Swearing! Talk of Sex!

Word Count: 1.8k

Summary: The families of Bangtan gather for annual Santa photos… and a few confessions.

Notes: This is one of my FAVE chapters… I love OT7, I love OT7 drama. I love OT7 jokes on jokes. They’re a mess and I love them.

Master List: Merry & Bright 2021

Listening: Santa Claus is Coming to Town

Tag List 

Tag List: @knjkitten​ @mochikeyds​

         "You've done a damn good job convincing him he's been naughty this year," Jimin comments, eyes staring through the kitchen to the backyard where a gaggle of kids with mops of black hair play, laughter and giggles and shouts floating through the air.

        “I have not,” Yoongi huffs. “He’s convinced himself of that. I’m trying to tell him he hasn’t.”

        “That’s the problem though,” Jin starts. “He’s stubborn like you.”

        “I’m not stubborn!” Yoongi nearly shouts. “I’m just… particular.”

        “But he’s your kid. He’s growing into a mini you,” Namjoon says. “You want them to take in your wisdom and kindness. Not how grumpy you are.”

        “I love that you’re fighting over this,” Jungkook laughs. “As if any of us can say anything to change how Yoongi parents.”

        “Jin raised you, you can’t say anything,” Yoongi grumbles.

        There’s a shuffle as a few spouses come through, taking a couple of kids upstairs to change for Santa photos. Jimin disappears outside to collect his toddler, hoisting him over his shoulder while his wife comes downstairs from putting their infant down post change and feed.

        “I love that you’re trying to fight it.”

        “My girls are angels, they’re definitely on the nice list,” Hoseok sits on the counter, fingers picking nimbly at the dead skin on his finger, eyes homed in on his oldest, 5, who is far too busy dancing to Wham! with Namjoon’s kid to notice her cousins playing around them. His other daughter, a mere six months, is sleeping in the same crib as Jimin’s infant.

        “We know,” Jimin and Jungkook exclaim in unison.

        “Hoseok’s little angels,” Jimin chides before disappearing upstairs.

        “Your baby is six months old,” Namjoon reminds him. “Calm down.”

        “Do you know how patronizing you sound?” Jimin snaps – mid step, his son laughing as he pokes his cheeks.

        Jungkook giggles at the outburst, his trill sounds egging Yoongi on. Soon, the group of them are in hysterics over Jimin’s exhausted outburst.

        “Okay, I hate BTS,” Jimin declares, continuing to step upwards towards the second floor.

        “No, you don’t,” Taehyung reproves, finally stepping into the kitchen. He sets his baby monitor down and glances at his brothers.

        “Down alright?”

        “Yeah, took two songs instead of one, but asleep.”

        “Is he on the naughty list, or nice?” Jin’s gaze stays on Taehyung’s monitor, the little baby bear sleeping soundly in Jin’s daughter’s room.

        “He’s on the nice list, obviously,” Taehyung says.

        “What if he wasn’t?” Yoongi asks.

        Taehyung senses the tension between them. “If my son wasn’t on the nice list? Who gets to decide?”

        “Exactly!” Yoongi agrees.

        “What’s your point Yoongi-ah?” Seokjin asks. “Your son thinks he’s on the naughty list. Why? What did he do?”

        Yoongi opens and closes his mouth multiple times. “I’d prefer not to say.”

        “See!” Jin points an accusatory finger at him.

        “He might be playing devil’s advocate,” Namjoon says.

        “Oh, because this is the great moral quandary Socrates was discussing,” Jin says.

        “The overall morality of humankind… good versus evil, nature and nurture,”

        Yoongi shakes his head. “I can’t believe you right now,”

        “Can’t you though?” Hoseok asks. “Of course, Namjoon is going to bring out philosophers and the question of morality. Have you forgotten who he is?”

        Namjoon laughs as his daughter comes running into the kitchen.

        “Appa,” She says, stopping at his feet.

        “Yes love?”

        “Is it time for me to get dressed?”

        Namjoon checks the time. “Yeah, let’s get you in your dress.”

        Namjoon takes his daughter’s hand and leads her upstairs where he knows his wife has placed her dress. His wife, having gone to the store to get matching ribbon for all the girls hair with Jin’s wife, told him exactly when their children needed to be ready. If all of Bangtan could follow the schedule…. All of the kids would be ready for Santa photos at 4PM. With that came the never-ending discussion of what they’ve all taught their kids about Santa, and of course the preverbal naughty and nice list.

Does Santa check it twice?

Does he really know when you’re sleeping?

How could he keep track, there are too many people!

What if I ask for something and he doesn’t bring it, is he a liar?

How do I know if I’m on the nice list?

Can I be mean to my brother today but nice tomorrow and be on the nice list?

        It drove Yoongi insane, every fucking year, to sit around and discuss where everyone’s kids were at in regards to the fat man in a red suit. Yoongi could wear red, he looks decent in it… Couldn’t he be Santa? It just pushes his buttons that his kid, his 6-year-old, is near tears wondering if whatever drama he got into at school, in self-defense, is going to ruin his chance of getting whatever he wants for Christmas. As if Yoongi isn’t richer than Santa and could buy him anything he fucking wants.

        “Let’s be clear – Namjoon was always on the nice list, and his kids will follow suit,” Yoongi says.

        “He gets so self-righteous about it,” Hoseok interjects. He’s hopped off the counter and decided standing next to Jungkook’s broad shoulders is a better position for him. This way he can watch and listen to his daughter play.

        Out of the seven of them, Hoseok is the most anxious parent out of all of them. Which, his neurotic perfectionist tendencies have always been on full display, but with a child… He’s far more anal and retentive than Namjoon… who did maybe once or twice almost burn his children’s mouths by overheating both milk and formula. And who has, for the record, stepped on numerous toys, absolutely destroying them. If he had stock in Fischer Price, he could buy and sell a small island with the amount of shit he’s had to replace.

        “He does, like he hasn’t fucked up or been worried about judgment,” Yoongi huffs.

        “Hyung,” Taehyung starts. “Why are you getting so upset about it? What does it matter what Namjoon-hyung says?”

        “He’s upset that Namjoon’s kids don’t question the list they’re on,” Seokjin explains.

        “What does it matter? We make the lists, don’t we?” Taehyung asks.

        “You’re so new,” Hoseok laughs.

        “Ya, you haven’t even gotten to the hardest part,” Jin agrees.

        “He can’t even talk yet,” Yoongi says. “Wait until he starts asking questions.”

        “You know he’s gonna be like Taehyungie-hyung,” Jungkook says.

        Seokjin starts laughing. “He’s going to be thinking about it for days before he peddles his little cub feet to him and ask.”

        “It’s going to be so cute; you’re all going to wish you could witness it,” Taehyung defends.

        “Oh, you’ll video tape it, and then we’ll all get it,” Yoongi says.

        “It’s funny because it’s true,” Jimin says. His oldest is dressed for photos, hair brushed, and sweater perfectly draped over his little frame.

        Yoongi takes a look at the remaining kids, half of which aren’t ready for photos.

        “Are we on schedule?” He asks.

        “Uh, unlikely,” Jungkook shrugs.

        “We should fix that.”

        After an hour and a half, largely spent in varying stages of undress and meltdown, the children are dressed, matching bows in their hair. The Kim’s, rather Kim Seokjin’s go first, followed by the Mins, Jung’s and finally Kim Namjoon’s. When not creating music or doing press, Namjoon’s gotten used to being relegated to his place as the youngest hyung, instead of group leader.

        Once all the individual family photos have been taken, the children line up, youngest to oldest, to have their individual portraits with Santa and make their wish for the year. Yoongi waits patiently for his son’s turn, worried he’s going to shit the bed and ask if he’s been naughty or nice. It’s ridiculous, and deeply concerning, how his son has spent the last two months stressed over an imposter Santa.

        Once individual portraits are done, the hired Santa Claus sits and talks to all the children, answering whatever questions they have. They, Bangtan, have not debriefed him on thee lies and twists and turns they’ve told their kids over the years. It doesn’t matter, the eldest BTS children have their beliefs, and the youngest barely care. The littlest babes have found purchase in their parents’ arms, few asleep, a couple nursing and eating bottles.

        “Let’s be clear, though,” Yoongi starts. His insecurity has melted, but he wants to really fuck with Jin, and Namjoon, and their pious attitudes.

        A groan leaves both Jungkook and Seokjin’s lips, annoyance in their eyes as they stare at him. His arm is wrapped around his wife’s waist, holding her close.

        “What?” Jin asks.

        “We’re all on the naughty list.”

        “Meaning?” Namjoon asks.

        “We’ve all done the deed in this house.”

        All the adults stare at Yoongi, whose admission puts the guilt and blame on all of them. They’re all culpable, blameworthy of the crime they did in fact commit.

        “What?” Jin yells, catching all the children and Santa off guard.

        Yoongi shrugs. “Tell me it’s a lie.”

        No one speaks, no one argues, no one has anything to repudiate the claim.

        “You’ve all had … in my house?”

        “You know the saying – christen every room?” Namjoon’s laughter cuts through his query.

        “We maybe took it too far,” Taehyung laughs, his son drifting gently to sleep in his arms.

        “But it should also be known, Namjoon started it,” Yoongi smirks, proud of his ability to undermine and bring out the truth amongst his family.

        Jin’s fuming, ears red, voice low in his throat and full of anger. “I hate BTS.” 

        “That’s not very nice,” Jin’s eldest says. “You can’t hate people.”

        “I don’t hate them, I’m just morally repulsed and think we should move,” Seokjin answers.

        “We’re not moving,” His wife says, shaking her head over the ridiculousness that has ensued.

        “But we’re definitely tenting the place.”

        Yoongi, having completed his mission, and having sent his friends into a frenzy explaining the various times and situations they have all fucked in Seokjin’s house, is greeted by his smiling son. “Hey buddy.”

        “Appa, Santa says I’m on the nice list!” He cheers, eyes warm and exciting, smile matching his fathers perfectly.

        “Of course, you are,” Yoongi says. “You’ve got the sweetest heart and you treat everyone with respect and kindness. You’re the best boy.”

        His little arms wrap around Yoongi’s legs, and in the stillness of the gesture, Yoongi’s heart melts again. Fuck Santa’s list, he’ll prove to his kid that his thoughtfulness and how he treats others is all he needs to measure himself by.  

        “The more you talk about it, the more I hate you,” Jin says again.

        “Okay, you hate BTS,” Hoseok laughs.

        “Put us all on the naughty list,” Jungkook says.

        Yoongi and Jimin agree. “It’s not like we haven’t been there before.”

Next: Last Year’s Broken Toys

[justasparkwritings]

Merry & Bright {24}: Happy Christmas to All

Previous: Last Years Broken Toys

Pairing: Min Yoongi x Reader

Genre: Fluff / Kid Fic

Rating: PG13

Warnings: Cuteness

Word Count: 1.6K

Summary: It’s the night before Christmas and all through the house… the three Min children are stirring and bouncing about. 

Notes: Penultimate Chapter of Merry & Bright 2021!!!! Comment on the Master List your fave chapter! 

Master List: Merry & Bright 2021

Tag List 

Tag List: @knjkitten​ @mochikeyds​

        Min Yoongi is many things. A patient man. A creative man. A loving man. An excellent father. A doting husband. An incredible musician. He is all these things.

        But in this moment, arms crossed over his chest, eyes stern, voice low and gravely, he is none of those things.

        “If you do not get your butts in bed, and stay in bed, we will not be celebrating Christmas tomorrow,” He declares, for what feels like the tenth time tonight, and most certainly is the third time.

        “Appa,” His middle child, Hyun Woo, whines. “We want to catch Santa!”

        “Santa only comes when you’re sleeping. Are you sleeping?”

        “No,”

        “Then Santa isn’t coming.”

        “Appa!” Hyun Seok has emerged from his room, sleep in his eyes, confusion in his voice. “Why is everyone up?”

        “I want to wait for Santa!” Hyun Woo explains.

        “Santa only comes when you’re sleeping,” Hyun Seok says.

        “But I want to try!” Woo says, adamant about his decision. There’s a reason middle children get a bad rep, and this is a prime example.

        “Yoongi,” You say, your youngest holding tight to your neck, trying to fend off sleep. She’s only sixteen months, still so little and yet so willing to go along with her brothers schemes. “Why don’t we all go sit on the couch, I’ll heat up some warm milk and you can read us another story?”

        Yoongi opens his mouth to protest, but your eyes are tired and pleading. Neither of you want to keep fighting and threatening with the emptiest of threats. Of course, there’d be Christmas, and then a few days later a Christmas with Bangtan and Taehyung’s birthday. Not to mention the anger you’d shoot at him over cancelling Christmas, a cheap ploy that undermines everything you’ve agreed to as parents. And, taking away Christmas from the kids means taking it away from you too, and if you can’t open your stocking and find that pair of earrings you told Yoongi you wanted six months ago, you’re going to sleep in the guest room.

        “Great idea,” Yoongi uncrossed his arms and stepped aside to allow you and your children to come down the stairs.

        “Appa, catch me!” Hyun-woo yelled, teetering down the stairs and jumping into Yoongi’s now open arms. It was a blessing he’d fixed his shoulder years before he had kids.

        “What book should we read?” Yoongi’s softened tone was met with eyes that stared eerily into his, the same shape as yours, he loved looking at his children and seeing bits and pieces of you.

        “You pick!”

        “Will you grab The Night Before Christmas off the shelf?” Yoongi sets Hyun Woo down and watches as he walks over to the bookshelf to grab the book. You’ve already read it once tonight, but for whatever reason, they aren’t sick f it.

        “Appa, will Eomma read too?” Hyun Seok asks. He’s burrowed into the corner of the couch, his designated spot, and draped a blanket over him.

        “If you ask nicely, I’m sure she will.”

        “Yoongi?” You call from the kitchen. “Come take Eun please.”

        Yoongi leaves his sons and retreats to the kitchen, where Eun-Ji is all but asleep in your amrs.

        “Come here baby,” He coos, taking his daughter from you. “You good?”

        “I’m tired,” You continue to stir the milk on the stove, ensuring it’s heated thoroughly.

        “Me too,” He says, his free arm wrapping around your waist and pulling you close enough that he can kiss your temple.

        “I love you, grumpy or not,” You tell him.

        “Thank you, I love you too.”

        “I know you do,” You smile at him. “She’s been muttering about Hyun Seok, will you give her to him?”

        “Oh, Eun wants her big brother?” He coos, walking out of the kitchen and to the couch.

        “Seokie,” She mutters, toddler fingers reaching out for her oldest brother.

        He adjusts on the couch, allowing Yoongi to set her down next to him. She crawls into his lap and snuggles in, eyes drifting shut.

        Yoongi isn’t quite sure how you’ve managed to have three children, with distinctly different personalities, all of which blend together, sharing and receiving love from each other. And he’s not sure what they say to each other, inside jokes and funny games, that have bonded them. But on any given day, the three can be found curled around each other, talking, laughing, and yes... fighting.

       Hyun Seok has taken the role of eldest deeply to heart, preferring to lead by example and use his kind eyes and gummy smile to encourage Hyun Woo to behave. Because Woo, the resident middle child, has inhabited all forms of both you and Yoongi’s personality that can only be described as ... wild. Brazen and commanding, he could rule the world if he thought things through just a little more. And then There’s Eun Ji, gentle, curious, personable Ji. The easiest baby of the three, only frustrated when she can’t keep up with her brothers, she never hesitates to share cuddles with everyone.

       Yoongi knows he’s a lucky man, the luckiest, to have you as a partner, to have your kids, to live this life.

       “Appa?” Hyun Seok asks.

       “Hm?”

       “Did you used to wait for Santa?”

       Yoongi thinks about it for a moment. “I don’t know that I did.”

       “Do you still believe in him?”

       “Do I believe in Santa?”

       “Yeah,” Seok burrows deeper into the couch, Eun Ji sound asleep against his little body. Her warmth and soft snores are making him tired too.

       “I don’t know, Santa is something that you stop believing in as you grow up,”

       “I’m never going to stop!” Hyun Woo declares, voice decibels louder than everyone else.

       “Woo, too loud,” carrying a tray of Christmas mugs, you scold your youngest son. “Inside voice please.”

       Setting the tray on the ottoman, you hand a mug to Woo, who blows on it before drinking.

       “Seokie do you want me to take her?” You ask.

       “No, it’s okay,” he says. Yoongi picks up his mug and holds it to Seok’s lips so he can have a little sip.

       “Eomma will you read?” Hyun Woo requests, his eyes wide and innocent. He wants to drink his milk, snuggle into your side, and wait all night for Santa to come. If he can keep everyone awake, he just might achieve his goal.

       “Sure honey,” you tell him. 

       Picking up the book, you listen to the gentle crack of the spine. It’s been in your family since Hyun Seok was born, a Christmas book for his burgeoning library, a tale that you loved sharing with your kids. Yoongi was, indifferent, to the story itself, not particularly feeling any sentimentality towards it. It wasn’t until Hyun Seok started picking it every Christmas that he realized the hold it had on his kid, and then Hyun Woo had been born and Seok wanted to share it with his little brother. It was really cute, watching both boys ready themselves for sharing the story with their baby sister. Their sentimentality surely coming from you, with tinges of hope from him.

       “Eomma,” Hyun Seok spoke.

       “Yes love?”

       “Did you wait up for Santa?” He asks.

       Hyun Woo has curled into your side, little legs sticking out in front of him, mug of milk in his little hands.

       “I didn’t, no. But my sister used to sneak downstairs to see what Santa brought,” You wiggle into Woo, who giggles and stares at you.

       “I’m going to spill my milk!” He laughs.

       “Please don’t,” Yoongi smiles softly, taking the mug from him.

       “Didn’t seeing what Santa brought ruin Christmas?” Seok questions. He’s no longer falling asleep under the weight and warmth of his sister but is alert and inquisitive.

       “I don’t want to know! I want to tear off all the –

       Hyun Woo is caught mid-sentence by a deep yawn, followed by the rubbing of his eyes and a satisfied sigh. “I want it to be a surprise.”

       “It will be, if you go to sleep and not wait for Santa,” Yoongi reminds him, his own agenda of getting the three Mins in bed still looming.

       “After Eomma reads, okay Appa?” Woo stares at his father expectantly, hoping he’ll catch the pleading and hope that Yoongi will catch his drift and not believe the tired yawns coming from his mouth.  

       “Okay Woo, okay,” Yoongi picks him up and sets him on his lap. Woo rests his head on Yoongi’s chest, his favorite place to be.

       “Eomma, will you sit by me?” Hyun Seok asks and you do, standing and moving to the side of Yoongi, between him and Seok.

       “Are you ready?” You ask him, hand reaching to move his black locks out of his eyes.

       “Yeah.”

       “Woo?”

       “Yeah!” He says, again mid yawn, this on bigger than the last. He won’t make it past the third page, and at this point, Hyun Seok will maybe make it to page five. He’s fighting the drooping eyelids that come from warmth and stillness, but his alert questioning is disappearing faster than it came on. That’s okay, your kids can fall asleep on the couch, waiting for Santa.

       Opening the book again, you steal a wink and a warm smile from Yoongi. This is happiness, isn’t it? His eyes say, before he leans down and kisses the top of Hyun Woo’s head.

        You softly clear your throat and begin reading. “T’was the night before Christmas / and all through the house / not a creature was stirring / not even a mouse.”   

Next: Stars At Night

[justasparkwritings]

Merry & Bright {14}: A Single Christmas

Previous: Not Another Christmas Move

Pairing: Jung Hseok x Reader

Genre: Fluff

Rating: PG13

Warnings: Swearing!

Word Count: 1.6K

Summary: After being stood up on a blind date, Hoseok finds himself sipping his sorrows away and flirting with the one person he hadn’t intended to: you, the bartender.

Tag List  

Tag List: @knjkitten​ @mochikeyds​

           Sitting at the bar of Clementine, in his ripped jeans and long camel wool coat, Hoseok waits impatiently. A blind date, the creation of Seokjin and Taehyung, at the request of Jimin who said “Hoseok’s lonely”, is the last thing he wants to do.

          Today, tomorrow, ever.

          It’s tinged with desperation and a needy wanting that absolutely no man, or person, ever needs to admit to. And yet, here he is, the Christmas music playing loudly, bright colored lights crookedly hung, sticky tables and floor caked with crumbs and alcohol. If he was with his friends, this wouldn’t be so bad… but alone, it’s his hell.

           But alas, he’s here, waiting patiently for someone named… shit, what’s her name? He picks up his phone to glance at the text exchange. Brief sentences were exchanged, him telling her what he’d wear so she could find him, her saying the same. Saoirse, that’s her name.

           Which, as he’s sitting at the bar, twenty minutes after their date was supposed to start, he realizes is a wild name for Seokjin to have not created out of thin air. If Seokjin knew a Saoirse, he would’ve said something or tried to date her based on how similar their names sound, or how similar his ears made them sound. He wouldn’t have let it go until one of them either forced him to ask her out, or he discovered she had a girlfriend. Brazen and stubborn, that’s Seokjin.

           “Can I get you something?” You ask, hands resting on the bar, black t-shirt leaving little to the imagination. Hoseok clears his throat as he stares at you, his frustration disappearing. You weren’t here when he sat down. “What?”

           “Where’d you come from?”

           “Seattle, actually. But my shift started five minutes ago,” You laugh. “What’s your poison?”        

           “Uh, whiskey neat,” Hoseok answers. He’s been learning, with Yoongi’s guidance, how to sip and consume the brown poison.

           “You want Jameson or something a little smoother?”

           “Smoother.”

           “Okay,” You wink and reach for the bottle, pouring him a generous amount of what he thinks is Lagavulin. “Card open or closed?”

           “Uh,” He pauses. There’s no way Saoirse is coming. “Closed.”

           You take his card and ring him up. Passing him the receipt, he’s shocked by the low price point.

           “Won’t you get in trouble?” He asks.

           “When you own the place, you get to decide who gets a discount and who doesn’t,” You whisper the end of your sentence to him, concealing it in the air between you two.

           “You own the place?” He asks.

           “I do, Y/N,” You extend your hand, and he takes it.

           “Hoseok.”

           “Hoseok,” You repeat, lips forming the same shape his had. “What is that?”

           “Korean.”

           “Ah, very cool.”

           “I suppose,” He shrugs and sips his whiskey. Damn, it’s so much better than whatever cheap shit he was going to go for to save face, and so much better than whatever he put on his bar cart. No wonder Yoongi always brings something.  

           “You a whiskey connoisseur?”

           “Uh, beginner. How’d you know?”

           “The way you sip,” You shrug. “You can always tell, based not totally on what a customer orders, but how they drink it."

          “And I drink it?”

          “To taste, to experience, to enjoy it, hopefully.”

          “What do you drink like that?”

          “Champagne, always.”

          “Wow,”

          You stop polishing the glass in your hand, smirking at this mysterious man. “Say it.”

          “Say what?” Hoseok asks.

          “What you’re thinking.”

          “It’s completely embarrassing that my immediate thought was you’re a baller, shot caller, and I am nowhere near cool enough to talk to you,” Hoseok sets his glass down, spinning it between his hands.  

          “No, that’s a perfect response,” You smile and turn to tending bar, putting glasses away and fulfilling a variety of orders as the space around Hoseok fills up.

          He’s trying not to seem enthralled in your carefully crafted smile, large and open for regulars and return customers, critical and concerned for jerks, giddy and almost shy when turned back to him. He picked Clementine because, actually Yoongi had picked it. Said it was near DanBam, their favorite coffee shop, and it had a great atmosphere. He did warn that in the winters the floor is both slippery and sticky, a combination of alcohol and melting water from the snow and ice outside. In the summer, with its open windows and vast natural light, Clementine is beautiful. Better than The Ruby Poppy they often went to for afternoon drinks or late mid-morning coffee.  

          Yoongi had been wanting Hoseok to come through for months… but why?

          “Tell me Hoseok, what do you do for a living?”

          “I’m a clothing designer.”

          “What do you design?”

          “Children’s clothing,” He says.

          “Wow, that’s incredible! What kind of clothes? Every day? Swimsuit?”

          “Everyday clothes, t-shirts, jeans, all the things.”

          “That’s incredible. What was your favorite book as a kid?”

          “I loved Peter Pan! It’s a bit nostalgic, but I’ve always loved it.”

          “I loved Nana.”

          “The family dog?”

          “Yes, I loved her, and John and Michael. They were my favorites. I really hated Captain Hook and the rest of them, though,” You shrug. “Why do you love it?”

          “My dad’s an English lit professor and did his dissertation on classic British children’s literature and what it means for the psyche of modern kids.”

          “I love that.”

          “I’ve always liked the notion of Peter Pan, and the idea of keeping your inner child alive no matter your age.”

          You’ve stopped cleaning and refreshing the ice and lime slices, instead you’re watching Hoseok craft this story of his childhood. His eyes light up, his features enchanted by the tale. He stares back at you, waiting for you to say something.

          “Wow, I was really into Madeline and lining up everything in two little lines, the littlest one was Madeline,” You rattled off.

          His smile brightens, and for the first time you notice the heart shape of his lips, which allow a light chuckle to pass through. “I never got around to reading those.”

          “You missed out. Nothing but good-hearted Parisian fun.”

          You’re animated, eyebrows fluctuating, tone charming, leaving little hints and crumbs oof what your personality is like when you’re not HBIC – head boss in charge.

          “Do you only tend bar?”

          “Uh,” You hesitate. “This place makes a pretty penny, and I have a few real estate holdings that pay the bills. Not that it’s any business of yours.”

          He knew he shouldn’t have commented. “You’re a mogul?”

          “I’m an entrepreneur, a businesswoman.”

          “I see that,” Hoseok says it more to himself than you. He doesn’t believe in Christmas miracles or manifesting or anything really other than what’s real and tangible and in front of him. But you’re in front of him, so maybe he can believe in you?

          “So, Hoseok, who stood you up tonight?” You ask. You’re back in front of him, smiling shyly, eyes twinkling in the Christmas lights.

          “My friends were setting me up,” Hoseok takes another measured sip. “I hadn’t met her, so I guess there are really two options.”

          “She saw you and left, or she’s completely fictitious?”

          “Yeah, or I suppose a third option, she never intended to come out anyway.”

          “I don’t claim to know her, but I’m guessing she’s either a figment of your imagination, or she never intended to come out in the first plays.”

          Hoseok chuckles again. “You don’t think she saw me and ran?”

          “Why would you ever think anyone would do that to you?” You pause, watching the heart shaped smile slip over his lips, eyes turning to crescents, his cheeks a little redder with the expression.

          He shrugs. “I don’t know, I don’t see what she potentially did.”

          “That’s profound.”

          Feeling emboldened by the whiskey, Hoseok takes a leap. “What do you see?”

          The color drops from your cheeks. “When I look at you?”

          “Yeah, me, a stranger at your bar.”

          You rest your hands back on the wooden top of your sacred space, your favorite place to be, your vantage point, your seat of power. Allowing your eyes to stare into his, you decide, too, to jump.

          “I see a man who doesn’t want to be here, who probably hates everything about this place, from the floor to the patrons. You work a lot, and your friends are worried, otherwise they wouldn’t have set you up. You prefer to drink in the company of a few other people, sharing intellect, and you’ve got great fashion. You want a lot, you love quietly and fiercely, and your smile is… perfect.”

          “Are you friends with Yoongi?” Hoseok asks. He doesn’t dare address the soul reading you’ve just given him.

          “Yoongi?”

          “Yeah,”

          “No, I don’t know a Yoongi,” You start to feel self-conscious, had you gone too far? You take a few steps away, eyes averting his – this is why you don’t talk to customers. Or at least, not cute ones with warm smiles.

          “Hey,” He calls, leaning a little over the bar to reach for you.

          “Can I get you anything else?” You ask.

          “Yeah, can I get your number? I’d like to call and ask you out, on a date outside of the bar you own.”

          “Do you like Christmas lights?” You ask.

          “Yeah, I do.”

          “Okay, pick me up tomorrow at 8pm, right outside. I know the best place for Christmas lights,” You tell him.

          “It’s a date.”

          “So much for a single Christmas,” You wink, and Hoseok, for whatever it’s worth, believes that maybe Yoongi and Seokjin and Taehyung were right. A drink at Clementine was exactly what he needed. 

Next: Me Without You

[justasparkwritings]

Merry & Bright {11}: Like I Do

Previous: More Than You Could Ever Know Pt. 2 

Pairing: Kim Taehyung x Reader

Genre: Kid Fic, Angst

Rating: PG-13

Warnings: Swearing! Parenthood is hard! Being a single parent is really fucking tough!

Word Count: 1.7K

Summary: Taehyung is ready and eager to meet your daughter. The question remains: is she?

Master List: Merry & Bright 2021

Tag List 

Tag List: @knjkitten​ @mochikeyds​

        Taehyung tightens the bow on the small present sitting in his passenger seat. He’s been waiting for this day for well… months. More than that. The first moment you met, a year and a half ago at Hybe. It had all started out casually, friends, friends who exchange numbers. Friends who text. Friends who sneak away from meetings to say hi. Friends who get coffee and tea instead of working… It was months before Taehyung asked you out, knowing full well you had a kid from a relationship with a man who was absolute garbage. Aside from his financial obligations to your daughter, he made damn sure he wasn’t involved in any other aspect of Nari’s life.

       The point is, Taehyung has been waiting for a year to meet your timid child. Five years old, shy and hesitant about any new person in her life or yours… Nari is still coming to terms with mommy having a new male friend all while trying to process that this friend is coming round for Christmas cookies.

        Taehyung’s gone over this a thousand times, all the information you’ve told him, all the details about her disposition, her likes and dislikes… all of it playing in his mind like lyrics to BTS’s latest single.

       This is a serious situation.

       If Nari hates him… it’s over.

       O.V.E.R.

       You don’t date the guy your kid doesn’t like. He’s not stupid. He knows this, you know this… which is why you told him to bring her a Christmas outfit for her favorite doll and be prepared to ask questions she won’t respond to. The outfit will go far - Nari takes her doll with her to play group on Tuesdays, a topic Taehyung is not supposed to ask about.

        The list isn’t long: don’t ask about her dad, don’t ask about play group, tread lightly over kindergarten.

        Reciting the list as he pulls into your driveway, he parks as you open the front door. Nari is nestled in your arms. She looks so much like you, with the fierce eyes of her father. Her thumb in her mouth, she bats her long lashes before burrowing her head in the crook of your neck. Her white sweater matches her Christmas tree leggings, a festive set of barrettes holding her hair back.

        Taehyung admires the immaculately hung lights decorating your house, the wreath hung on your door and the “Happy Holidays” doormat on your porch. Stepping inside your home, he takes in the tall Christmas tree in the living room, the throw pillows and pictures covering your walls. Your deep love for the holiday radiates in the scent of frosted berries and fir trees, a hint of sugar cookies lingering from your baking.

        “Hey,” Your smile is tinted with dread, you’re distressed but he doesn’t know why or why you haven’t told him.

        Following you in, Taehyung slips off his shoes. He too opted for the Christmas socks you gave him last year in Secret Santa. You’d both traded around the office to get each other… A budding romance everyone had seen coming.

        “Nari, love, will you say hi?”

        She refuses to take her head from you, eyes screwed shut. In some other situation, Taehyung would like to remark that he too likes to have his head burrowed in the crook of your neck, smelling your perfume.

You knew this was going to be stressful, you knew she would have a breakdown over it. which is why you talked to her therapist and pediatrician. It’s why you started introducing the idea of Taehyung three months ago.

        It began with you mentioning him inadvertently. Your friend who is a singer, your friend who dances, your friend with a kind smile and a dog a little smaller than her. It progressed slowly from there. You started assigning a name to him, then nicknames. You told her stories about him, dropping little hints about him, telling Nari more about his work. She had no interest and never asked questions. Once that phase was underway, you made it clear when you were going to see him, leaving her with her favorite sitter. You started calling them dates, not hanging out. Again, assigning specific vocabulary and terms to your relationship. He wasn’t your boyfriend, not that she really understood the difference.

       All of it, every calculated move done in the hopes of avoiding this, your worst nightmare.

       Nari had woken up, around 1 AM, sobbing. Nari was so angry that Taehyung, Tae-Tae as she prefers to call him, was coming over and invading her house. He was continually taking time with her mommy away, how dare he.

       Three weeks ago, when you began talking about Tae-Tae meeting her, you sat down with Nari and her therapist to talk about what she wanted to do when he came over. The plan was for him to stay for an hour or two, then leave. Hopefully you’d do this a few times over the course of the next three months, slowly increasing the amount of time he spent with you both.

       At first, Nari made it clear she wanted to decorate cookies. Or eat cookies… anything around Christmas cookies. Great! Together you made the sugar cookies, Nari picking out all the shapes, and with little assistant from your permanent helper, you mixed the icing yesterday. She picked the shapes…

       The thing about hope, is that sometimes it falls short or disappears completely. You had hoped these calculated gestures, guided by Nari’s support team would allow her to be somewhat communicative with Taehyung and maybe, just maybe, welcome him.

       You wanted her to feel safe and secure, having some sort of control in this new and chaotic situation. But Nari isn’t in control, and she’s incredibly upset Taehyung is taking his shoes off and coming into your life at all. The betrayal she’d feel if she knew he’s been in your life for almost two years, that he loves you, that you love him… you’re not sure her five-year-old heart could take it.

        “Baby, will you use your manners and say hello?” You ask gently, hand tucking her pin straight black hair behind her ear.

        “No!” She exclaims.

        “Nari, please?” You whisper. “You were so excited yesterday, we made cookies, we got the icing ready. Remember?”

        “No!”

        “Do you need to go to your room and calm down for a few minutes?” Your patience is all but gone. You had thought of cancelling, but what would that’ve said to her? If she throws a fit, you will cave?

        “No!” She starts to wiggle in your arms, the anger in her small body coursing through and pouring out in large, alligator tears. Setting her down, you stare at her, and she watches, waiting for your next move.

        “To your room, please,” Your voice is stern. Nari doesn’t fight. She wipes her tears while she stamps up the steps to her room. You wait for the click of her door. Nari doesn’t slam the door. Having nearly knocked a finger off in a door jamb when she was 3, she’s pretty aware that doors, when played with, can hurt. And if she slams the door, she knows Christmas movies and cookies are not going to happen.

        “Honey,” Taehyung steps to you, catching you as you tumble into him. He kisses your temple repeatedly, swaying you gently as you too, cry.

        “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I should’ve texted, but it was the first time she’s stopped crying since she passed out at 5AM. And she just finished lunch, I didn’t have time to-

        “It’s okay,” He coos.

        “We did everything right, we took the steps, we got her input, we did everything we were supposed to,” Your shoulders shake ever so slightly. “I don’t know what else I could’ve done!”

        “Hey, hey,” Taehyung’s lips press to you once more. His arms, still holding you tight, are a welcome support. “Nari’s her own person. Maybe she isn’t ready.”

        “I know, I just wish she was.”

        “Do you want me to go?” He offers.

        “No,” Your exhausted eyes stare into his, the dark circles from your sleepless night unmistakable. “Will you stay?” Is what you asked, but he heard your plea: I need you to stay.

        “Of course,” His voice says yes, his eyes say anything for you.  

        Your hands take his, staring down at his. “Can we sit on the couch?”

        “Absolutely.”

        Taehyung follows you to the living room and sits on the couch, opening his arms for you to snuggle into. You do, head finding the crook of his neck, inhaling his comforting scent.

        “You’re a great mom,” Taehyung tells you. “Nari loves you.”

        “Yeah, but she doesn’t like me,” You mutter.  

        “Does she like you all the time?”

        “Normally, I’m the only one she likes.”

        “She’ll come around.”

        “You know this isn’t about you, right?” You pull yourself out of your comforting position to confirm that he gets it. “She’s just, she’s so attached to this security of the two of us, the familiarity... I’ve been introducing you so cautiously and intentionally. I even put a picture of us on the fridge to get her used to your face!”

        Taehyung beams. “You did?”

        “Yeah, but she’s still not okay… I want her to love you, like I do.”

        “Give her time, love,” Taehyung kisses your forehead once more.

        “I want us to be,” Your words trail off, but he already understands.  

        “I know.”

        “I wanted you to spend part of Christmas with us.”

        “You did?”

        You nod, suddenly shy and sheepish in his grasp. “I know you’re busy, I just thought… maybe you’d come see lights with us?”

        “I’d love to.”

        “Now that seems impossible,” You grumble.

        “Something to work towards.”

        Your head cocks to the side. “How are you being so levelheaded about this?”

        “There’s nothing I can do, except keep showing up, and showing Nari that I’m not going to flake out or disappear,” Taehyung has done a massive amount of reading in preparation. He’s met Nari’s therapist, he’s listened to your queries and questions. He’s done so much work to prepare himself for this. One set back won’t derail it all. “I have it easy, I’ll leave and it’s just you two… I hope you know that I love you, and I want to be with you. we’ll get through this, Y/N.”

        “I really love you,”

        Taehyung blushes, his grin warming your heart. He doesn’t respond, his words caught in his throat. Instead, he leans in, gentle lips finding yours.

        Maybe this Christmas will be just you and Nari, but next year… Next year you’re hoping it’ll be you three.

Next: Blue Memories

[justasparkwritings]

Merry & Bright {20}: Your Love is All I Need

Previous: More Than You Could Ever Know Pt. 3

Pairing: Kim Seokjin x Reader

Genre: SMUT

Rating: NC17

Warnings: Swearing! Sex! Consensual Sex! P-in-V Sex!

Word Count: 1.4k

Summary: A surprise after Seokjin’s Bachelor Party brings him all the love he needs.

Master List: Merry & Bright 2021

Listening: Bring Me Love, John Legend

Tag List 

Tag List: @knjkitten​ @mochikeyds​

           Seokjin recognizes there are plenty of aspects of his current predicament that make him seem…. Pathetic.

          It could be the silk boxers, pushed hastily down to his ankles.

          Or the champagne coursing through his veins.

          It could be the vaguely phallic Christmas cookies sitting on his counter, remnants from his bachelor party.

          Or him sitting on his kitchen floor, back against the cupboard, sweat forming and sticking to the polished wood.

          Or it could be the state of undress he’s in, his cock out and throbbing, his lips parted, and hand clamped dangerously into a fist, nails digging into his palms. He won’t touch your delicately braided hair or grip your skin to stabilize himself – though feeling your pulse against his would certainly aid him in finding release.

          But really – is he pathetic, or completely lost to the pleasure of your mouth?

          “Baby,” He groans, eyes screwed shut, head back, taking in the warmth of your throat.

          “Fuck, baby,” He moans again.

          “Hmm?” You hum around him, the vibrations rippling through his body.

          You had been a surprise – not in his life, though he realizes running into you and falling in love with your kind eyes poking out above your N-90 mask was chance – but you here tonight. You were supposed to be in New York celebrating your bachelorette with your group of friends and Namjoon’s girlfriend, and he was meant to have a party here with the rest of BTS. But Seokjin didn’t know that when his friends blindfolded him and sat him on the floor of his elaborate kitchen, that when he was finally released from the darkness he’d be staring at you in the most scantily clad Christmas lingerie imaginable. Red with faux fur, little jingle bells ringing with every movement of your body, he wants to tear it off your curves. But instead, he’s being subjected to easily the messiest, hottest blow job of his life.

          “Fuck,” He whispers again.

          Jin was under strict directions to listen to you, to obey, to follow the course you were charting. Damn it if he was finding it hard to listen.  

          “Baby,” Seokjin groans. His cock, thick and pulsing in your throat, is searching for release, for more pressure, for more wetness from you. He wants to push into you, to give up all control and fuck your throat raw… but he won’t. He’ll be good.

          Sensing his growing frustration, his release impending, you swallow around him, humming in satisfaction as the precum slides down your throat.

          “Baby I’m gonna,” A chest rattling moan echoes through your ears as you pull up off him.

          “What?” You ask, wiping your spit from your lips.

           “Baby no!” Jin groans, head snapping back to stare at you. “Why?”

           “You asked me a question!”

           “No, I factually didn’t. I said I was going to come, and you stopped.”

           “Oh, sorry, it sounded like you were confused about what was happening to your body,” You laugh, teasing him blatantly.

           “Don’t, please, I’m wounded and so fucking horny.”

           You rise and outstretch your hand, which he takes. Standing, he pulls you to him, his cock finding little release in the pressure of having you pressed against him. His lips press hungrily to yours, sloppy and wet, you hum at his pressure, your want growing with each flick of his tongue.

           “Bedroom,” You tell him, and he guides you, arms around your waist, eyes partially opened, to the foot of your bed. Pulling off of him, yet again, Seokjin groans.

           “Stop doing that! I want you, I need you,” He whines.

           “You get so whiney when you’re horny.”

           “I get horny when you surprise me like that,” Jin says, nuzzling his nose into the crook of your neck. His lips press like a ghosts kiss, feather light but full of heat. Taking this moment of Jin being off his game, you push him down, hard.

           “Aye!” He calls, laughing in surprise as he bounces on the bed before settling in the middle of it.

           “On or off?”

           “On, please, on.”

           Nodding your head, you scurry up his body, the anticipation building with each inch of skin you cover.

           “I love you,” Seokjin says. “So much.”

           “I love you too,” You smile. “I’m so glad I get to marry you.”

           “You know, the most pathetic –

           “Jin?”

           “Hm?”

           “Can we have pillow talk after I fuck you?”

           “Absolutely,” He nods. Your hand reaches between your leg, stroking him to attention before lowering yourself on him.

           “Oh my god,” You moan, walls constricting around him, holding him tight between you.

           “Baby, Y/N, fuck,” He moans, eyes wide open, watching your body begin to move. The costume is sexy, but h’s wishing he’d taken it off.

           “Take it off,” You say, reading his mind. “Tear it, I don’t care.”

           Jin’s hands get to work, untying the ribbons on the side, and pulling the fabric over your head. Breasts springing free, he pulls you down to latch his lips onto your breast.

           “Oh god,” You mutter, hand gripping the headboard. Your hips know what to do, they’ve done this dance before, dominated and controlled Jin below you. You’re studied in practiced in bringing you both to your climax, but tonight, Jin’s neediness is clouding your vision. It’s fogging your mind, it’s pulling and constricting and sucking the air out of your thought process.

           “Jin,” You moan loudly. His teeth pull at the skin of your breast, nipple suckled in his mouth. “Jin.”

           He hums, his turn to bring you close to your release.

           You pull back, slowly taking your chest out of his grasp and speeding up the rocking of your hips.

           “Baby, I’m not gonna last,” Jin declares, teeth biting into his bottom lip, eyes watching yours.

           “Okay,” You agree, leaning to one side of your bed, allowing him to lay over you. There’s an advantage to being on top – to setting the pace, to controlling the tempo. There’s also an advantage to letting Jin fuck into you, seeking his high at a pace you can’t set, feeling all of him within you.

           Seokjin, sweat dripping down his forehead, mind so cloudy with want he can only process the bliss occurring between you.

           “Fuck, Jin,” You moan, hands scratching his broad shoulders. “Jin.”

           “I’m close,” He groans, teeth sinking into the skin of your shoulder. He adjusts his angle, allowing a little space for you to slip a hand between you, fingers rubbing your clit with a fury. He pushes harder and harder, feeling you tighten around him, and he knows you’re going to lose it and he is too.

           “Come with me,” He requests, and it’s a silent nod, jaw dropping as your voice ascends to something you don’t recognize. But Seokjin does, having committed every noise you make to memory.

           His thrusts get sloppy, his release streaming into you, hips stuttering as you both somehow see through time and space together. Or maybe you see to the North Pole, and this is Santa’s gift to both of you: great sex with your fiancé. It doesn’t matter – he’s all you ever need.

           “What were you going to say?” You ask, head resting on Jin’s chest, hand tracing random patterns on his stomach.

           “When?”

           “The most pathetic thing?”

           “Oh,” Jin laughs. “It was a silly admission.”

           You kiss his chest. “Tell me.”

           “I was going to say, the most pathetic thing about me is that I wished, every Christmas for Santa to bring me love. To perform for ARMY, to see them… to bring me a partner, a soulmate, a lover… I don’t know why I thought Santa would bring you to me… but he did.”

           “That’s very romantic-comedy of you.”

           Seokjin’s bashful, his ears red, his voice quiet in a whisper. “It’s all I wished for. I didn’t know if it’d ever happen.”

           “That’s hope, though, isn’t it?” You aks.

           “I think so.” Jin breathes you in, lips pressed to your hair, before asking a question that’s been bugging him all evening. “Was this their whole plan, get me tipsy and turned on, then send me home to you?”

           “Yes, we planned it a few weeks ago, when I got my tickets. I wanted to surprise you.”

           “It was the best surprise,” He agrees.

           “A perfect surprise.”

           “I knew you’d be missing me, so I figured why not? Plus, I saw that little number in a little shop in Green Point and knew I had to have it. I’m glad I convinced you to wear your silk boxers.”

           “Ya, they were comfortable.”

           “But better off,” You kiss his chest again.

           “You’re going to get me all hot and bothered,” He warns.

           “You know Seokjin,” You sit up, eyes gazing lovingly into his. “Your love is all I need.”

           Seokjin smiles, broad and joyfully. “Me too love, me too.” 

Next: Everything You Want

[justasparkwritings]

Merry & Bright {8}: Bad Perfume

Previous: The One You Love

Pairing: Jung Hoseok x Reader

Genre: Angst/Smut, Exes to Lovers to Exes, Non-Idol AU

Rating: NC17

Warnings: Swearing! Legal Alcohol Consumption! Car Sex! Unprotected Sex (oops)!

Word Count: 1.7K

Summary: Returning home for the holidays always leads you to him and the secret you’ve kept, and regretted, for far too long.

Listening: tis the damn season, Taylor Swift

Master List: Merry & Bright 2021

Tag List 

Tag List: @knjkitten​ @mochikeyds​

        Shuffling through the door of the bar in town, you take off your snow sprinkled coat and reluctantly take your beanie off your head. Your boots, scuffing along the plastic mats, pool in the water you’re sure someone’s supposed to have mopped up. It’s a safety hazard and a nuisance to you and whomever else walks in after you.

        “Y/N! Over here!” Beatrix calls from a booth dead center on the wall of overstuffed, torn leather seats. The bar is crowded, and you recognize more than your fair share of faces. People you haven’t seen since middle school, some since high school, others who stabbed you in the back or made your life hell. The first wave home for the holidays, or those who never left.

       “Y/N here!” Davis cheers, raising his half empty pint in your direction.

       “Drunk already?” You ask. He’s the first one out of the booth to hug you, followed by Beatrix, and then Jimin and Yoongi.

       “Nearly, can I get you something? A cider?” Yoongi offers.

       “I’d love that, thanks Yoongs.”

       Yoongi makes his way to the bar, and you’re ushered into his former spot next to Jimin. Jimin doesn’t hesitate to wrap his arm around your shoulders, pulling you in.

       “How was your flight?” He asks.

       “Really fucking long. I forgot how much I hate flying from San Francisco back here.”

       “Which is why you never come visit?” Davis asks.

       “Which is why I only come back in the summer and at Christmas. But this fucking pandemic has really put a damper on that,” You shrug. “I’m glad they check everyone’s vaccination status before coming in.”

       “Oh, they’re doing it everywhere in town, except the grocery store,” Beatrix informs you. “I knew we were liberal, but this is shocking.”

       “When did you all get in?” You ask.

       “Jiminie and I came in yesterday,” Yoongi answers. He sets your cider down before sitting next to you.

       “I only live an hour away, so I drove in this afternoon,” Beatrix smiles. You haven’t seen her in… nearly two years? But your Facetime calls remain a weekly staple in your lives.

       “Did you bring Buster?” Yoongi asks.

       “I did, Buster Baxter is sleeping in front of the fire at my parents,” Beatrix answers. Her cheeks are tinted rosy- either from the heat or the alcohol or the way Jimin is staring at her. Their relationship, a secret to everyone but you, is getting harder and harder to hide.

       Somehow, in the hubbub of catching up an hour passes, then two, and by the time Davis finally gets around to telling you what he decided he’d confide in the first five minutes of your arrival, he’s perhaps too late.

       “Did you hear?” Davis asks. His open-ended question is directed at you, though you’re not quite sure why.

       “Me?” You ask.

       “Yeah, did you hear?”

       “Hear what you hear?” You laugh, your obvious pun making you chuckle.

       “Hoseok’s in town,” Yoongi stops the back and forth quickly. “He’s in town until Christmas.”

       The color drains from your face. “What?”

       “He came in early to help with the rush at his parent’s shop and work remotely.”

       “Why are you telling me this?” You ask.

       “Well he just walked in, so,” Beatrix points towards the door, and you turn, without thinking, to stare at him. Jet black hair slicked back to reveal just enough of his forehead, chestnut overcoat giving way to skintight black moto jeans and what you assume is a black crewneck cashmere sweater. He’s got a pendant necklace on, and a bracelet or two. You can take the man out of Soho, but you can’t take Soho out of the man.

       “Why is he here?” You whisper.

       “Look around,” Yoongi says. “Everyone’s here tonight. It’s one of those weird waves of all the people who came home early. Give it a few weeks and you won’t be able to step foot in here it’ll be so busy.”

       You avert your gaze as Hoseok heads straight towards your group, smiling brightly at his former group of friends.

       “Hey!” Hoseok says, voice loud and bubbly.

       “Seokie!” Davis calls – a bit of an overcorrection if he’d asked you.

       The cursory hellos are said, and as he sits down, you stare at Yoongi, eyes pleading.

       “I’m gonna go,” You say, leg nudging Yoongi’s. He takes the hint and lets you out.

       “Don’t go on my account,” Hoseok requests, but he sees it in your eyes.

       You roll your eyes, slipping your coat back on. “I’ll see all of you later.”

       Turning quickly on your heels, you make it out of the bar before a hand lands on your shoulder.

       “Y/N, wait,” Hoseok says.

       “What Hoseok?” You turn around, shaking his hand off your shoulder.

       “I – don’t go.”

       “Why not?”

       “Because I wanna talk to you.”

       “Why?”

       “Why?”

       “Yeah Hoseok, why?”

       “I miss you.”

       “Not this again.”

       “It’s not again!”

       “It is though! You didn’t ask me to wait!” You yell, your old argument picking up where it’s always ended.

       “You didn’t ask me to stay!” He argues back.

       “I don’t want to fight with you or spend time with this ache in my chest that happens whenever I pass you. We live on opposite sides of the country, but if you wanted to fucking know what was going on with me, you could’ve fucking asked! And what’s more, if you wanted to be fucking normal around our friends you wouldn’t have dated me in secret for years.”

       He shakes his head, of course you don’t know. Of course, you aren’t paying any attention to him and his life’s trajectory. “We don’t live on opposite sides of the country!”

       “Last I checked, we did.”

       “I moved to Oakland six months ago,” His eyes are so sad – hadn’t you loved him once?

       “So, I can run from you, but only so far?”

       “I –

       “No, what do you want from me? What do you want from this? To call me babe for the weekend? To pretend you didn’t shatter my heart? That I wasn’t your secret for years?”

       “I just, I want you again.”

       “You watched me leave.”

       “And we called it even. We both agreed to keep our relationship a secret. Fuck, that was over a decade ago! But none of this has been even, it isn’t, it’s not,” He shakes his head. “It fucking haunts me like bad perfume.”

       “I’m sorry the memory of our time together has tainted your existence.”

       “Y/N,” He groans.

       “I’m going home.”

       “Home?”

       You nod. “I’m staying at my parent’s house.”

       “Let me drive you.”

       “I’ll walk –

       “Please, it’s cold and dark. Let me take you home.”

       Disgruntled and frustrated, you oblige. He’s borrowed his dad’s old Ford Explorer, permanently stuck in 2010, it’s big and loud and ruining the planet. It’s an argument you’ve had for years, and one you don’t really want to repeat now.

       Hoseok, staring at you periodically, turns down a road you haven’t taken in years. A short cut, which really is the same distance and takes the same time as going the normal route, you used to take it in high school. It was really just an excuse for you to stop and make out in the back seat.

       You stare ahead, trying not to let your mind rush through all the moments in time you spent on this stretch of cement.

       “Remember winter of senior year, after the recital?” Hoseok’s hand rests on the center console, itching to place it high on your thigh.

       “What about it?” You snap.

       “I told you I loved you, right about, here,” He pulls over and puts the car in park, before getting out and sitting in the back seat.

       “Hoseok,” You warn, knowing exactly what he’s hinting at.

       “Please, just, sit by me, hold my hand, talk to me,” He pleads.  

       You oblige, shuffling out the door and sitting next to him. He takes your hand in his, thumb rubbing gentle circles.

       “You know, the road not taken doesn’t look better, you just feel guilty,” You finally stare into his eyes, which have been attempting to bore holes in you the entire time.

       “I’ve always felt guilty. We shouldn’t have kept it a secret, even if it would’ve hurt our friends… we hurt them anyway.”

       “I’m sorry,” You concede.

       It doesn’t take much, the intensity of his gaze, the slight lean of his shoulders towards you, his free hand moving up and down your thigh. It doesn’t take much before you’re leaning in, lips meeting, hands moving to take off coats and palming him over his jeans. His slip under your sweater to toy with your breasts, tweaking your nipples and eliciting moans of satisfaction from you.

       It isn’t long before you’re both whining, desperately wanting more. Hoseok pulls his lips from your neck to raise his hips just enough to wiggle out of his jeans and boxers. Finally relieving his throbbing cock from the tight constraints, he hisses as the frigid air hits him. You aggressively toss your boots in the front seat and pull your jeans all the way off your body. he watches you as you become bare, staring at your womanhood with a hunger he hasn’t felt since the last time you hooked up three Christmases ago. He strokes himself a few times while he waits for you to disrobe. Tossing a leg over his waist, you straddle him tightly.

       “What?” He asks, his hands moving up and down the expanse of your bare thighs.

       “Tis the damn season,” You answer, your lips hungrily attaching to his. His hands, strong and nimble, guide your hips over his cock, and you take the hint to lower your hips onto him. Moaning into his mouth, your breath hitches at how familiar it all is. His hips meeting your pace, lips searing yours, the darkness of the night engulfing his car as you fog up the windows.

       Every Christmas leads to him and this town, and that road not traveled always looks so much better than the one you’re both on, where you ignore each other, hate each other, never resolve the conflicts of decades passed… but somehow without fail, end up in this car, your hips rocking into his, burning the sensation of him under you into your mind, downloading sound files of his moans into your hard drive, all of it bad perfume lingering in both your minds for the next twelve months.

Next: Decorate My Heart

[justasparkwritings]

Merry & Bright {7}: The One You Love

Previous: Twice Bitten, Once Shy 

Pairing: Kim Taehyung x Reader

Genre: Fluffy Angst

Rating: PG13

Warnings: Swearing! Legal Alcohol Consumption!

Word Count: 1.5K

Summary: Taehyung is completing his mandatory service, leaving you to celebrate the holidays without him.

Listening: Please Come Home for Christmas, Leslie Odom Jr

Master List: Merry & Bright 2021

Tag List 

Tag List: @knjkitten​ @mochikeyds​

        Taehyung left clear instructions for you: celebrate Christmas as if he’s there. A request that was far easier said than done. He’d gone so far as to buy your plane ticket, shipping you out of Korea and back to the States in first class. He’d also procured new pajamas and sent gifts for your entire family to your mom’s house, where they sat in wait to be opened Christmas day. He’d done more than his share, even planning ahead for next year’s festivities. He was sure, when he went into service, that they’d take his status as Idol and give him, Jimin and Jungkook the most time possible to prove a point. Idols aren’t above their duty to their country. Despite the economic toll it was sure to have. The plans were in place, the decisions made – and he had done an exquisite job of planning for your first Taehyung-Free-Christmas.

        “You look so sad,” Your sister, Abby comments. “Like so sad. Who shot your puppy?”

        She didn’t mean to make it worse but mentioning dogs at all around you was like tossing a grenade. You broke down, tears streaming down your face and luckily not pulling your nonexistent makeup down your cheeks.

        “Oh my god,” Abby rushes to your side, pulling you into her arms.

        “I couldn’t bring Tannie with me,” You cry. What felt like the last relic of your relationship, Yeontan, had to stay in Korea with Taehyung’s parents. The flight to the US was too long and taking him away from his home for the two weeks you’d be gone felt crazy. Or at least, that was the argument Mr. & Mrs. Kim had made, though you knew full well Taehyung would’ve suggested you take Tannie with you. It wasn’t that Yeontan wouldn’t be content, in fact you assumed he’d be happy and completely fine staying with his “grandparents” like he’s done many dozens of time before. But it hurt you to leave him and made everything so much worse.

        Though Yeontan is surely living his best life, or a version of it, you feel empty without him and without Taehyung. How are you supposed to spend the first Christmas of his deployment, and his birthday, without him or Tannie?

        “You know, you could get another dog,” Abby suggests.

        “What?” You stare at her, both shocked and confused.

        Abby ignores your expression, having been the recipient of it many, many, times in the past. “Get a buddy for Yeontan, and then when you travel you take that one with you.”

        “That’s absurd. I’m not going to get a new dog while Taehyung is away. That’s insane,” You snap.  

        “Is it though?”

        “I’m not a military wife filling my time with dogs and babies to somehow fill the void of my boyfriend being gone.”

        Abby rolls her eyes, her patience for your melancholy gone with your bitchy attitude. “I’m not saying you are.”

        “But you are suggesting it!”

        “What did he want you to do for Christmas?” She responds, defiance replacing her annoyance.

        “To act like he’s here. To be full of cheer and hope and love while he’s… doing whatever the fuck the South Korean military does.”

        “What does the South Korean military do?” Abby asks.

        “If I knew, I might feel better about the fact that my boyfriend is spending two years, against his wishes, in it.”

        Abby pauses, not really knowing how to make you feel better. “You wanna drink?”

        “Fuck, yes.”

        Which is how you end up, completely sloshed in the little dive bar in town, ranting to your sister over two separate, and nearly finished bottles of prosecco. And four empty shot glasses, that at one point held vodka.

        “And fucking Namjoon, Namjoon who like, I get why he’s the leader and the hotshot and the lyricist. But fuck him! He’s all come to mine for Christmas! Why would I go to yours for Christmas? I don’t know you like that!” You’re ranting. And you have been for at least 20 minutes.

        “Did Yoongi offer?” Abby’s always had a soft spot for Yoongi, or Lil Meow Meow as you endearingly call him.

        “They all did! And they’re sending me messages, I fucking swear to you, sure as the stars that they are all messaging me telling me how strong I am and how they hope I’m having a great Christmas. Like Christmas isn’t supposed to be with the one you love. But instead, I’m finding myself at home, full of sorrow and grief and pain.”

        “Sis,”

        “No, I’m supposed to be happy. But my baby, my love, is gone. I have like, no friends, and I’m sitting at home near tears every damn day because I just want him back.”

        “He’s going to come back.”

        Your glass lands on the table a little louder than intended, rattling gently on the faux wood top. “In another year!”

        “You’ve spent –

        “No, no we haven’t spent time apart like this. It’s like he’s fucking died and all I see are reminders of him. His favorite Christmas songs, or treats he likes… and then I’m stuck in Seoul alone.”

        “You have friends there,” She reminds you.

        “Yeah, a few, but they don’t do Christmas like here. And it’s lonely always.”

        “Move home!”  

        You shake your head, your scowl far gentler and sadder than it was before. “I can’t move home.”

        “You can work –

        “On KST while on PST?”

        “And then we’d all have PTSD from the time changes,” Abby laughs.

        “I’m supposed to be with the one I love, and I’m not. I don’t even have the damn dog!”

        “I find it perplexing that you didn’t bring the damn dog.”

        “I love him,” You mutter into your empty glass.

        “I know,”

        “We should go before mom sends the cavalry looking for us.”

        Taking a Lyft home, you stare out at the town that passes you by. It’s fine – being here. there’s not a lot of snow, but you don’t have to pretend to be anything you aren’t. you don’t have to put on a façade or speak bad Korean or try not to cry when all you want is to singing Vanessa Williams and hang stockings ono the faux mantle Taehyung painstakingly puts up every year… anything to help cut the edge of spending Christmas away from your family. It is beautiful, having your traditions with him and his family. But it isn’t home. For as many years as you’ve lived in Seoul, worked in it, it’s never quite felt like your town.

        “Oh good, you’re home!” Your mom says answering the door. “Are you drunk?”

        “Positively,” Abby answers.

        “Y/N, there’s a gift from Taehyung on the counter that you’re supposed to open,” She says.

        “Okay,” You shuffle your feet to the kitchen, taking off your thick winter coat and scarf and gloves to toss on the stairs. Abby makes it her job to hang them up for you.

        You step into the Lifetime Movie kitchen and stop dead in your tracks. Abby, having expected you to scream or let out any audible recognition of the item, is concerned by your non-reaction.

        “What is it?” She calls from the closet.

        “I don’t know,” You answer. “Do I have to open it?”

        “Uh, yes?”

        “I don’t want to.”

        “You should,” Your mother advises.

        “How do you know?”

        “It was in my detailed email about all your gifts.”

        “Of course, there’s an email,” You laugh. “I’ll open it.”

        You take the package in your hands. It’s light but makes a lot of noise in your hands.

       Abby stares at the box, taking in the shape and sound it’s making. “Is it a puzzle?”

       “Maybe?” Tearing off the paper, you find a box containing a 2000-piece puzzle.

       You quickly rush through three different statements.

       First, “Oh my god!”

       Second, “I can’t believe him.”

       Finally, “I’m going to cry.”

       Taehyung has had a custom puzzle made for you and your family. It’s 2000 pieces, and the image? Well, a collage of Christmas photos dating back to your first Christmas, all through last years. There are photos of you and Taehyung and Yeontan in matching pajamas, pictures of Bangtan together eating Christmas dinner, photos of Abby in braces and you with wild hair… all curated and designed by him.

       “What does the note say?” Abby asks.

       You’re already crying and find it difficult to even see the words on the little paper, let alone read them in English or the Korean they’re also scribbled in.

       “Can you read it?” You request.

       “Of course,” Your mom says. “Aein, how do you say it?”

       “It doesn’t matter,”

       “Aein, hoping these pieces will put together a beautiful Christmas. I love you more than you know. Your Love, Tete.”

       “Is he always perfect?” Abby asks.

       “Yeah, he kind of is.”

       “Well, should we get started?” Your mom asks, taking the box from you and heading to the table that’s been conveniently left clear for this particular occasion.

       “Yeah, we should.” You smile, finally finding a little relief and joy and hope in the form of a puzzle, from the one you love.

Next: Bad Perfume

[justasparkwritings]

Merry & Bright {12}: Blue Memories

Previous: Like I Do 

Pairing: Kim Seokjin x Reader

Genre: Angst!!!!!

Rating: PG13

Warnings: Swearing! Heartache! 

Word Count: 1.9k

Summary: Seokjin recounts the 2.5 Christmases you spent together.

Listening: Blue Christmas, Michael Buble 

Master List: Merry & Bright 2021

Tag List 

Tag List: @knjkitten​ @mochikeyds​

        “What’s a man like you doing in a bar, twelve days from Christmas?” The bartender asked. He filled Jin’s glass for the second time, a generous pour, definitely more than a solid refill.

        “Trying to forget.”

        “Who was she?” He asked. He was new – new to the restaurant. Jin’s brother, Seokjung, had taken over daily operations of their shared restaurant. He fully knows the manager hired this bartender, who he supposes does his job well.

        Seokjin shook his head in a pathetic answer – he can’t help it, the pain is still fresh and aching in his body.

        When his words finally found their way out of his vocal cords, it’s in a short phrase. “My ex.”

        “Oh no – recent breakup?”

        Jin didn’t give an immediate answer, instead he sat on it. Who or what determined what recent meant? Recent in his mind? Recent in his bones? Recent in terms of weeks or days or months since it happened? Who was to say – times a construct, especially in a pandemic.

       “Define recent?” Jin asked.

        “Your wounds are still fresh, yeah?”

        “Yeah.”

        “Tell me about her,” The bartender poured two shots, one for Jin, one for himself. They said their cheers before tossing it back. Somehow, this show of solidarity pushed his hazed mind to commit to telling this stranger, who most certainly recognized him, the following story.

3 Years Ago

        The happen stance for how you and Jin met isn’t important – what is important is that on a December night quite like this, sometime after his birthday, they sat in a bar not unlike this one. Dim lighting, candles on each table, boughs of holly and Christmas lights tastefully placed throughout the establishment. He was smiling – you always made him smile.

“Liking sad Christmas songs doesn’t mean I don’t like Christmas,” You said, laughing over your very hot cup of mulled wine. Seokjin, his black hair growing long, smiled devilishly and absolutely unconvincingly at you.

        “I’m not sure that’s true,” He teased.

        “Blue Christmas is a classic, an American classic, a standard in the genre of sad heartbroken Christmas bops. I won’t apologize for loving it,” You smiled sheepishly.

        Seokjin nodded in agreement. “Good, I wouldn’t want you to.”

        “But if we ever do Christmas Karaoke, we’re definitely singing it.”

        “Yay, why?” He uncrossed his arms, setting his large hands against the table with a loud smack. “We could duet something sweet like –

        “Last Christmas?” You laughed.

        “No!”

        You calmed yourself, knowing exactly what he was hinting at. “All I Want for Christmas Is You?”

        “Exactly!”

        “Maybe, but I’m telling you, Blue Christmas is a jam,” You shrugged.

        “What other sad Christmas songs do you like?”

        “Last Christmas, Yule Shot Your Eye Out, Christmas Makes Me Cry, um,” You stopped, how many truly sad Christmas songs did you know?

        “If you can only think of three, I’m not sure you’re really a sad Christmas song aficionado,” He was jesting, teasing lightly in that flirty, I’m so into you, are you so into me, way that felt natural at the beginning of a relationship.

        “I never claimed to be!”

        “I’m not sure about that,” Jin winked, his slight turn of phrase not going unnoticed by you. He didn’t have to hide it, he liked you – had been liking you for a while now. Well, three months exactly.

        “Why are you staring at me like that?” You had asked, the gold in your eyeshadow reflecting the light, your heartwarming and gut wrenching smile tugging at his heart.

        He cocked an eyebrow, his smirk spreading deftly across his lips. “Like what?”

        “Like I’m a secret you’re promising to keep.”

        “Will you be my girlfriend?” Seokjin asked, leaning forward until his chest pressed against the table, extending his hands for you to take.

        “You want to be my boyfriend?” You asked.

        “Yes, if you’ll have me.”

        “I – yes, but that means we get to still date other people, right?” You were kidding, he knew it, you knew it, but it was still funny watching his ears turn red.

        Suspiciously, he took in the kindness of your eyes and the glint of humor reflecting in the candlelight. “I’d prefer if we didn’t.”

        “Me too. Hm, Seokjin my boyfriend,” You cooed.

        “Y/N, my girlfriend,” He responded.

        “You gonna take me home and make good on it?” You asked.

        “Aish, we’re still in public!” Seokjin covered his face with his hands while you giggled.

        Jin was impressed he remembered it in so much detail. He continued his tale after requesting the largest glass of water the bartender could find. It had been so simple then, so simple and fun and loving. He fell so swiftly he nearly got whiplash, only to be reassured that you had easily fallen at the same rate as him, landing on your feet, your hand open for his.

2.5 Years Ago

        “Why are you listening to that?” Jin asked, stepping into your apartment, and taking his shoes off.

        “What do you mean?” You called, lowering the volume to better hear him.

        Jin chuckled, his telltale, you know perfectly why, laugh that was usually accompanied by a question where you inevitably ended up in his arms, laughing hysterically. “It’s July, love. Why are you listening to that awful Christmas song in July?”

        “It’s Christmas in July!” Your tone and the roll of your gentle brown eyes exaggerated your statement, a loud duh in his face.

        “Is that some American thing you’re trying to bring over here?” He snorted, arms reaching for you. You pulled him down onto the couch, and he obliged.

        “Maybe,” He leaned in, a kiss gently meeting your lips. You held him to you, fingers tugging the hair at the name of his neck. “It’s fun though, isn’t it?”

        “I don’t think so,” He shook his head.

        “Jinnie,”

        “Yes love?”

        You stared up at him, eyes scanning his features, committing them to memory in the event that he disappeared or worse… was plastered across Seoul mocking you when this eventually ended.

        “What are you thinking?” He whispered, hands finding purchase on your waist.

        “That I want to savor every moment with you,” You answered honestly.

        “Why?”

        He knew the look in your eyes, the melancholy prophetic gaze you took on whenever you were feeling particularly in touch with your emotions. “People are people and sometimes it doesn’t work out.”

        “Who said that?” Jin had heard it before.

        “Taylor Swift.”

        “Why do you think we won’t work out?”

        “Just, statistics.”

        Jin kissed your forehead, lips lingering on your skin a moment longer than was maybe necessary. “Is this because I won’t watch a Christmas movie with you?”

        “I haven’t asked.”

        “I will you know, if you want to cuddle on the couch and pretend to watch but really make out under a blanket,” Jin kissed you again. “We can.”

        “That’s one reason I lov-

        You stopped.

        “Go on,” He encouraged. You hated the sudden rush of hope in his eyes, because he could be hopeful you were going to say it, but you were dreading him not returning the sentiment.

        “No,” You snapped.

        “No?”

        “No – I’m not. No.”

        “I love you,” Jin said clearly. “And you’re ridiculous.”

        “You love me?” You asked.

        “Mm, I thought you already knew.”

        “That’s the half?” The bartender asks.

        “Yep, the half in the 2.5,” Jin is sobering up, the water helping him adjust and find clarity in the narrative he’s retelling.

        The bartender refilled another patron’s glass and prepped two drinks for a table in the corner before returning back to Jin. “Why not birthdays?”

        “What do you mean?”

        “Why not count birthday’s you spent together, instead of Christmases?”

        “I don’t know,” Jin pauses, he supposes it wouldn’t be easier. You spent the same number of birthdays together as Christmases. “She really loved Christmas. Always wanted to spend it with our friends.”  

        Jin, having sobered enough, calls his driver and spends the too quiet ride home finishing his tale to himself.

2 Years Ago

        “Jin – come on! It’s our first real Christmas together!” You tried to argue.

        “What about last year? Wasn’t that real?”

        “I had just become your girlfriend! I didn’t even know what to get you for Christmas, or your birthday, so I painted you a mug and bought you a book you’ve never once opened!”

        “I love that mug,” Jin said.

        “I know, but please?”

        “I have performances.”

        Your sadness was beginning to take over, hurt in your sorrowful eyes, tears already threatening to drown you. “New Years?”

        “I perform on New Years.”

        “Jinnie,”

        “I have to work.”

        “But, Bangtan loves a good party! Can’t we just host the seven of you and everyone’s partners? A Christmas party one evening. I’ll cook, or we can have it catered.” You offered suggestion after suggestion, all plausible and possible. And yet…

        “I don’t know, I’ll ask.”

        You took the little disappointment in stride. “Have you told them?”

        “Told them?” Jin cocked his brow, uncertain which thing you were referring to. The topic of unprotected sex? The naughty things you’ve recently done in bed? The conversation about your future together?

        “Jin!”

        “Oh!” It clicked. “That we’re moving in together?”

        “Yes, have you told them?”

        “No.”

One Year Ago

        “I can’t believe you!” You snapped, hands tugging at your hair swiftly as you tucked it into a tight ponytail. “I can’t!”

        “Y/N,” Jin scolded. “It’s not a big deal.”

        “It is Jin! Have you not noticed how little we see each other?”

        “I, I know.”

        “We fucking live together and I don’t see you at all. We’re in the middle of a damn pandemic Jin, and I see you less than when we weren’t. I haven’t seen my family in almost a year and you’re supposed to be my rock. You’re supposed to be there for me.”

        “I’m trying!”

        “Are you?”

        “Please, don’t. I don’t want to fight.”

        It was a weak argument, but not a total lie. He didn’t want to fight, but he also didn’t want to acknowledge his failings.  

        “No, Jin. Tell me you’re really fucking trying to make this work and I’ll back down.”

        “I am, trying.”

        “So, why haven’t I seen you in five days?”

        Jin hung his head, frustration blooming, his anger rising and rising, the pressure stifling.

        “Because! Because I’m fucking busy! I work endlessly and it’s never enough! The pressure is consuming me and I’m sorry that after a day spent working my body and my mind to the max I don’t come home and fall at your feet! I’m exhausted. I don’t have the energy to listen to you go on about your coworkers or –

        He stopped, his words faltering and slipping from his mind so quickly, it’s like they never existed.

        “I can’t do this, Jin.” You said, eyes dead set on him.

        “Do what?”

        “This relationship. I can’t be the last item on your list of priorities. I can’t do this anymore. I don’t know who you’ve become, but it’s clear I’m not a part of your growth or journey anymore,” Your voice had been so calm, so steady, it scared the shit out of him.  

                The driver fiddles with the dial, and soon Jin is being pulled from his reverie to the present moment.

        “Turn it up, please,” He requests.

        The music swells, and he’ll be damned if it isn’t a cover of one of the saddest Christmas songs in existence.

You'll be doing alright with your Christmas of white And I'll, I'll, have a blue, blue, blue, blue Christmas Yes, I'll have a blue Christmas

        And for the first time in a year… he let his blues out in a downpour of salty tears. 

Next: Not Another Christmas Movie

[justasparkwritings]

Merry & Bright {18}: You Gotta Believe Me!

Previous: XI. The Worst Guys

Pairing: Kim Namjoon x Reader

Genre: Fluff, Kid Fic

Rating: PG

Warnings: None!

Word Count: 800

Summary: It’s either a case of mistaken identity, or a secret between siblings. At this point, it could be either.

Listening: I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus

Tag List 

Tag List: @knjkitten​ @mochikeyds​

           Before I tell you this story, which I swear is true, I guess I should introduce myself.

           My name is Kim Ha-Kun, and I am 12. But this story takes place when I was 7, and my older sister, Kim Eun-Ari, was 10, and my little brother, Kim Tae-Hyun was four. We went to America to stay with my Eomma’s family for Christmas. It was crazy! Have you ever been to America? Everything is huge! The cars are big, the houses are big, I guess our house here is really big. It’s not even a house, it’s just a really big apartment. Eomma says it’s the whole floor, but I think we also own the building too? I don’t know, ask her or Appa.

           Anyway.

          We were in America celebrating Christmas which is this holiday about the birth of Jesus, this brown dude who challenged Rome and tried to get people to love each other. Eomma says he was a prophet, kind of like Appa, saying things to people to get them to treat everyone better. Appa says he was this man who brough social and societal change. Eomma says we should try to be like Jesus, but Appa says Jesus isn’t real. I don’t know what I think.

           Tae-Hyun was really worried Santa wouldn’t find us in America. He cried a lot and wrote a lot of letters to Santa telling him where we’d be. I won’t lie, because lying is bad, but I sent a few too.

           We stayed at the house Eomma grew up in with all her old books and toys and pictures and stuff. Eomma was happy we were there. It wasn’t our first trip to America but it was our first Christmas trip. We would go to America when Appa was on tour, and that was fun. But this was a holiday, Eomma’s favorite holiday. When we have Christmas in Korea, we go to jobumonim’s house, and we spend Christmas with them. Appa always has Musters and we don’t always get to see him a lot until after Christmas, but it’s nice being with family. Eomma calls her family every day, and it’s fun to see my cousins in America. We have our traditions, the foods we make and eat, the music, the celebrations. But in America, it’s all different.

           In America, we eat a lot of American cookies and treats, like homemade Chex Mix and these things called caramel bars. We eat caramel rolls and egg bakes. It’s all so delicious! We have special stockings and listen to Eomma’s favorite music. We go to a lot of church, too.

           On Christmas Eve, after Eomma and Appa had kissed us good night and tucked us in, and Ha-Kun and me were almost asleep, Tae-Hyun came running to the room, eyes really wide.

           “Eomma! Eomma!” He tried to whisper, but he was 4. He kind of shouted.

           “Is she hurt?” Eun-Ari asked.

           “Where’s Appa?” I almost yelled.

           “Eomma! Santa Claus! Kiss!” He said. His vocabulary wasn’t that great, but we knew what he was saying.

           “What?” Ha-Kun didn’t get it.

           “Let’s go!” I said and we all rushed to the stairs to catch Eomma and Santa Claus. We were maybe too loud and startled them away, but when we looked into the living room, wee didn’t’ see anyone. There were no new presents, no sign of Eomma or Appa or Santa Claus. What had Tae-Hyun saw?

           “You’re lying,” Eun-Ari was mad.

           “Am not!” Tae said. He was really angry, so mad she didn’t believe them.

           “You said you saw Eomma kissing Santa Claus, but she isn’t there,” Eun-Ari crossed her arms and stared at him.

           That’s the thing about older sisters, they can be kind of scary.

           “You gotta believe me!” Tae huffed, tears in his eyes, but Eun-Ari wouldn’t budge. She rolled her eyes, something Appa says she gets from Eomma, and went back to our room.

           “I’ll stay up and see if I catch them, okay?”

           I had to promise Tae-Hyun, if Eun-Ari didn’t believe him, someone had to. He was too little to lose hope, and I guess I was too. But as his big brother, it’s my job to watch out for him.

           I sat on the stairs, low enough that I could stare into the living room and see the fireplace, but still hidden.

           I waited.

           And waited.

           And later, after I had fallen asleep and woken up again, I heard noises. Laughing? I crept down the stairs and saw Eomma – tickling Santa Claus! I could hardly believe what I saw. I ran up the stairs and went to Ha-Kun. I shook her shoulder until she woke up and told her what I saw. We went t the stairs, but no one was in the living room, and the whole house was quiet.

           “You and Tae-Hyun need help. Maybe glasses,” She said.

           “You gotta believe me!”

           Is this what Tae-Hyun felt like? I didn’t dare wake him but went back to sleep.

           The next Christmas we spent in Seoul, and we didn’t see Eomma and Santa Claus.

           I’ve always thought I was crazy. If Santa isn’t real, who was with Eomma? And does Appa know?

           I don’t know, but Tae-Hyun still talks about how he saw Eomma kissing Santa Claus. 

Next: More Than You Could Ever Know Pt. 3