#namjoon romcom

[mae-gi-writes]

It’s (just so) awkward | jungkook (bts) - part two

No way. We’re too different and he’s so—so black and white. A straight-up yes-or-no kind of guy. And I’m not.”

Genre: nerd! Jungkook x outspoken! Reader, university! Au, idiots to lovers au, kim changbin cameo (skz)

Part One | Part Two | Next Part >>>

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"It's just you and me, and the song on repeat in my head." — Fall Into Me, Forest Blakk

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“Do you think that there are people out there looking at the sky and wondering what we are?”

Jungkook tore his gaze off from his phone long enough to raise a brow at you, the kind of look he gave you whenever you asked something out of the blue. You sat there, head tilted back and legs dangling from the edge as your eyes trailed through eh throng of stars dotting the sky.

“Scientifically speaking, no planet can inhabit human life like earth does,” he answered as he went back to his phone, fingers flying away on the keyboard, “so your point is invalid.”

You sighed, then looked at him, “do you have to keep looking at your phone? I thought you were the one who told me phones weren’t allowed when we’re talking.”

He had the decency to look guilty as he gently pushed his phone back into his pocket, “sorry,” he mumbled, “but I stand by my theory. Your assumptions are too far fetched to be reality. There’s no oxygen up there, so it’d be pretty much impossible for planets to have any signs of life—“

“But what if they adapted to something else? What if they didn’t need oxygen to live?”

“They wouldn’t be called humans then.”

“Exactly my point.” You looked back up to the starry night, admired the glittering stars filled with the entirety of humanity’s wishes, “you really like her, huh?”

the question threw him off guard. He blinked at you like a deer in the headlights, “who?”

“Sara,” you tried to smile, though it felt as though your face was cracking in two, “you like her, don’t you? Isn’t that who you were texting up to this point?”

“Yes, because she takes good notes and I would benefit from them,” he pulled his knees up to his chest before leaning upon your shoulder, hair tickling the side of your face as he did so, “why are you asking so many questions about Sara? You keep bringing her up every time.”

In the darkness that surrounded your figures, your lips trembled with the desire to spill out the thoughts that had been roaming in your head rent-free for the past few weeks. As you’d watched him and the said girl get closer with each passing day, you couldn’t help but feel as though you were being left behind, which was absurd, considering that you were always the one dragging Jungkook along to all kinds of parties or events because he was just so awkward and blunt that no one dared to approach him.

Yet, this situation seemed to be reversed now, and you wondered briefly whether Jungkook could feel your absence as much as you felt his.

“Sorry, I guess I was just curious,” you finally said to break the silence buzzing with growing awkwardness, “would that be such a bad thing though? To spend more time with her?”

“Is that what you want me to do?”

“It depends whether that’s what you want to do.”

“Why would I want to spend more time with her?”

“Because you—I don’t know,” you tried to chuckle, “because maybe you might like her?”

Jungkook went silent at that and something in your heart punctured in two. Jesus Christ, Y/N! You screamed at your brain, get a hold of yourself! What was wrong with you? You didn’t own him, nor did you care about who he fell in love with!

Right?

….right?

“You’re not going crazy,” Yoona spoke when you finally decided to spill the beans the day after. It was clear from your face that very morning that you were up all night tossing and turning about whether you actually held feelings for the said young man, “I think you’re jealous because he’s spending more time with Sara than he is with you.”

“I’m not jealous,” you snapped despite the flaming red heating up your cheeks, “I’m just…worried.”

“Sure, and you’re in denial.”

Denial? We’re you in denial? You kept on thinking about what that meant to you, which did not go unnoticed by Changbin a few days afterwards when he strolled into the art lab to find you pulling out strands of your hair in frustration.

He nudged your shoulder with his arm as he took a seat next to you, flashing you a charming yet mischievous grin as he took in your face, “what’s got your panties in a twist?”

“Nothing,” you grumbled. But it was clearly not nothing, and as he pushed at you to confess, you did reluctantly, hating the fact that you were weak enough to crumble under his hard stare. When you were done talking, Changbin merely threw his head back in laughter and caused a few people from the lab to glance his way in half curiosity and concern.

You swatted at his arm, “stop laughing!” You hissed with narrowed eyes, “it’s not funny—stop Changbin!”

“Sorry sorry,” he wiped at the stray tears dotting the corner of his eyes, “I just—I knew it. You fucking like him, huh? And now you’re being a jealous little bitch about it.”

“I’m not—“ anger flared through you, “—I’m not a jealous little bitch!”

“And I’m not an asshole,” he rolled his eyes, “get over it. You’re jealous. It’s crystal clear why. Loser boy stops paying attention to you and suddenly there’s a new girl in his life. Coincidence? I don’t think so.”

You hated the fact that he was right, “I hate you.”

“I know,” his grin widened, “but you know what? At least I’m honest. Why don’t you try it sometime with loser boy? I’m sure he’ll find it pretty fucking amusing.”

“I don’t—I don’t like him, and I’m not jealous.”

“Then would you accept to go on a date with me?”

“What?” Your mind went blank. You stared at him, wondering whether he was being serious.

“I’m asking you to go on a date with me, idiot.”

“But—But—Why?”

You felt your neck flush with embarrassment. Was he being serious right now?

“Because for one; you can make him jealous. And two; because you’re kinda cute and I think I’ll have a good time,” he winked at you then, causing you to flush even redder.

“Uhm—“ this was too much information to take in at once and you excused yourself in haste, surprised that Changbin let you go freely without expecting any response. You managed to get out of the lab and into the right bus, and it was only then that you tried to mull over everything that had just happened. Changbin asking you out was the most shocking turn of events, but maybe he was right. Maybe you needed to know whether Jungkook would react just as you did. Maybe you needed to give Jungkook a taste of his own medicine.

Which was why you agreed to the date.

———

“With who?”

Jungkook was looking at you with wide eyes behind his spectacles. He’d been working on his architecture assignment while keeping you company in a nearby campus cafe when you dropped the bomb.

“Changbin,” even the words sounded forced coming from your mouth, but you keep going, “I thought it’d be fun to give it a try…I’m single, anyway. So why not?”

“Changbin.” Jungkook’s eyes were darting right, left and center, “you’re going to go on a date with Changbin,” he repeated.

“Yeah.”

“Do you like him?”

“Hm, kinda. Yeah.”

“What do you like about him?”

“I—“ you pressed your lips together, “—he’s funny. And…kind. When you get to know him,” you hurriedly add when confusion breaks across his face, “we get along well.”

Jungkook didn’t look convinced, “but he doesn’t like me.”

“Don’t say that,” you huffed, “and plus, does it matter?”

“Yes. Because I’m your friend,” he paused, “your good friend.”

“Well does Sara like me?” You shot back.

“Yes.”

“Have you asked her?”

“…No.”

“Then that doesn’t count,” you shook your head before leaning back against the library couch.

He finally stopped typing to look at you, a frown furrowing his eyebrows, “why wouldn’t she like you?”

“Because girls don’t like it when other girls are around their potential boyfriends.”

“But I’m not her boyfriend.”

“Do you want to be?”

He shrugged, “what does that mean?”

“Well…kinda like, you know, doing stuff together. Holding hands, spending time together, hugging each other on your bad days—“

“Then doesn’t that make you my girlfriend?”

You almost choked on your own spit, “uhm—“

He paused for a second, “we already do all these things.”

“Well yeah, but you do other stuff too. Like, kissing and making out and going on dates and stuff…” you trailed off without knowing how to continue the conversation so that it wouldn’t turn awkward.

Jungkook’s wide eyes turned to give you a look filled with both shock and worry, “Is that what you’re going to be doing with Changbin?”

“Wha—no! It’s just a date! A friendly one, we’re getting to know each other,” you were quick to swat away his accusations.

“Well I do not approve,” Jungkook stated, “but it seems you’ve already made up your mind.”

“I have, and I’m going to have fun.”

In all honesty, Changbin’s suggestion was a welcome distraction for you to push back all those weird thoughts you’d been having about Jungkook lately. It happened sometimes, right? You were friends, so of course you would feel a little weird and awkward about his newly piqued interest in other girls.

Right?

And plus, Changbin was kind of cute. In that rugged, dishevelled manner. As cute as a sulky dog.

Which was why you were more than a little surprised to find Jungkook beside Changbin when you arrived to your desired destination. Your jaw dropped, eyes going wide as they flitted between one and the other.

“What are you doing here?” You screeched, wanting to bang your head against something. You had agrees to this to make you forget all about Jungkook. So what were you supposed to do now?!

“Changbin thought it would be fun to invite Sara and I,” Jungkook said, “I thought you would be happy.”

Your eyes narrowed into slits, “what is wrong with you?” You hissed at him, “that wasn’t part of the plan.”

“Hey, the more the merrier right?” Changbin grinned mischievously, the kind of grin that made you want to slap it right off.

In a desperate attempt to set things straight, you turned back to Jungkook, “I thought you didn’t like arcades—“

“Oh relax Y/N, why are you so stiff?” Changbin cut you off, “it’s a double date. I’m sure Jungkook will love it just as much as you will.”

You opened your mouth to protest only to find none other than Sara bounding up to tour group with the biggest smile on her face, “I’m so ready for this!” She squealed, “I haven’t been to the arcade in so long!”

If you were feeling bad about yourself initially, it was nothing compared to how you felt now seeing her all dressed up in a cute outfit while you had just opted for jeans and a simple t-shirt. This feeling merely grew like a weed spreading through your body as the group decided to tackle the racing games first.

“Y/N hates racing games,” Jungkook said as they approached the arena already filled with people. It seemed as though there was already an ongoing race, with two boys neck to neck for the first place, “maybe we should start with something else.”

“But I like racing games,” Sara whined with a pout, causing you to roll your eyes inwardly. There was a whoop as the winner jumped up and ran out, followed by the loser grumbling under his breath.

“It’s fine,” you said to Jungkook before gesturing towards the now vacant seat, “I’ll sit out on this one.”

On and on it went, the torture of having to restrain yourself from pulling Sara’s hair out despite the fact that she wasn’t even all that bad to begin with. Actually, she was quite a nice girl and you could even enjoy her presence, if not for the fact that it was clear as day she was smitten with your best friend.

And it didn’t seem like your best friend minded either, from the looks of it. They spent the entire afternoon glued to each other’s side and it took everything in you not to smash something when you spotted a plushie cradled under Sara’s arm when they found their way back to you and Changbin who were currently indulging in a zombie fight. Or rather, you were indulging and he was making fun of you for it.

“Well, seems like you two had some fun,” Changbin said cheerfully.

“Shut up Changbin,” you muttered before turning away. This whole afternoon was starting to make your head hurt, “I’m going home.“

“Y/N—“ you ignored Jungkook’s call in favour of walking away as something snapped off between your heartstrings. You bit down onto your lower lip, restraining it from trembling as you focused on getting as far away as fast as you possibly could.

But a voice pierced through the cacophony of sounds to call your name and though you wished to ignore it, you had no other choice but to turn around when it seemed to get closer to you— to be faced with none other than a dishevelled Jungkook.

“Why are you upset?”

You almost laughed at his question. Indeed, no one was more blunt than Jungkook. The back of your throat tightened.

“I’m not upset.” You managed to answer.

“Then why are you looking at me like that? Like you’re angry at me or something. It’s scaring me a little.”

“I—“ you pressed your lips together, “can’t you just drop it this one time? I’m tired and I want to go home.”

“I’ll come with you—“

“No,” you cut him off more firmly than was necessary, “you stay with Sara. She needs you.”

“But—“

“See you around, Jungkook.”

And before he could say anything else, you were walking down the pavement like there was fire at your heels, glad that you didn’t turn back to watch Jungkoo gaze at you until you disappeared around the block.

———

I don’t like him.

I don’t like him, you kept chanting. I don’t like him.

what was there to like? Not his stuck-up fashion sense that made as if he’d stepped out of a 90’s movie, not the unflattering way his hair was glued to the sides of his face, and definitely not the way he chortled whenever he found something really funny, an ungrateful act at its best, surely.

But dear god you would’ve been lying to say that you hadn’t been thinking of Jungkook for this past week.

Midterms were coming up and winter was making its arrival known, the smell of pumpkin spice lattes and hot cocoa drifting through the food hall campus as groups of students scattered around with textbooks perched precariously atop tables to cram everything they could last minute.

To distract yourself from those weird, alienating thoughts about your best friend, you decided to do the same. Unfortunately for you, Yoona and Jimin thought you were being utterly and unbelievably stupid.

“Why can’t you two just make up and then everyone can be happy?” Jimin asked in exasperation one day when he stumbled in on you and Jungkook exchanging stiff greetings (mostly you though) before parting ways.

You glared at him, “he’s the one hanging out with Lee Sara, not me.”

“Well he says that you seeing Sara makes you mad, so obviously he’s going to try to steer her away from you,” Jimin explained as he flipped open his computer science textbook, “you know how his brain works, Y/N. Don’t tell me you didn’t realize his intentions.”

You grumbled out an agreement between sips of your too-strong coffee and had to admit to yourself that Jimin was right. Jungkook had been doing it with all the right intentions. He never did understand the concept of jealousy and envy and the horrible desire to have someone to yourself. And that was exactly what you felt.

So it didn’t take you by surprise when the said young man turned up Friday night with a bag of donuts in hand and some hot chocolate in the other, claiming that you two had made plans for the evening. Something about a study session that you yourself had forgotten about until you checked your phone calendar.

“You didn’t have to,” was what you grumbled out as you let him in and flopping down onto your couch as he proceeded to pull off his shoes by your doorway, “that was a long time ago. It’s not like I was prepared to expect you.”

“That’s quite alright. I’ve seen your place in worse shape,” Jungkook replied. He placed the food on your coffee table before pulling out his textbook and you watched him, wondering why in the world did he make your heart twist and turn and snap with endless turns of emotions when there were so many other men out there who at least understood the concepts of relationships.

No. I don’t like him, you chanted, I’m just being jealous. A jealous best friend.

“Why did you come?” The words blurted out of your mouth before you could stop them. You quickly averted your eyes when his flickered up in curiosity.

“Because we agreed to have a study session at your house,” he said simply, as logical as ever, “we agreed on it a few weeks ago.”

“Right, forgive me for not remembering,” you said through clenched teeth, “but you didn’t have to ditch Sara for me—“

“Do you not like Sara?”

“What?”

“Do you not like her? You keep mentioning her every time we’re together. And then Jimin said something weird to me last week,” Jungkook shifted to face you better and that made you notice that for the first time, he was in sweatpants and a normal hoodie, and his hair —his hair was down and freshly washed, hanging over his face.

Cute.

You were so distracted by his appearance that you almost missed his little speech, “what did Jimin say?”

“That I wasn’t giving you enough of my time and attention, which is why you keep being mad.”

That little fucker. You were going to kill this man. You swallowed and leaned back against the couch, “that’s not true.”

“Then you’re not mad at me?”

You didn’t know how to answer his question without lying and knowing Jungkook, he was good at sniffing that out. So you changed the subject instead, “hey, I think we should order some chicken. Do you want some?”

Jungkook’s eyebrows dipped into a frown, but he didn’t push it and agreed on ordering some takeout before you both settled into comfortable silence. Snow drifted down outside your window pane as the night wore on and the more you focused on anything that wasn’t Jungkook, the easier it was to fill the sudden awkward silence that prevailed, merely broken by the shuffling of papers and the scrape of pen marks.

“You’re not in your Jungkook clothes,” you suddenly asked out of the blue, almost regretting it when Jungkook’s curious gaze searched your face.

From the corner of your eye, you noticed his eyebrows furrowing together, “Jungkook clothes?”

“Yeah, clothes that you always wear. Aka your shirt tucked into pants. And what’s up with your hair? It’s all like—casual.”

He touched his tuft of hair self-consciously, “I just took a shower. I can’t put gel in it right after showering.”

You crossed your arms over your chest before you leaned back against the edge of the couch, your knee brushing his as you crossed your legs, “so you do know how to dress like a normal human being.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Jungkook flipped through his physics workbook as he spoke, “I don’t think t-shirts are appropriate to attend lectures. They’re not flattering at all and show lack of respect.”

“Oh because you think tucking your shirt into your pants shows respect?” You snickered impulsively, causing Jungkook to scowl at you as he said, “well I never complained about your lack of clothes.”

“Sorry sorry,” you tried toning down on the laughter, “it’s just—my bad Jungkook. I didn’t mean to offend you and your…casual clothes.” Your voice broke into another round of laughter at that and Jungkook’s ears reddened before he flung a pillow at your face.

“Ouch,” you groaned, rubbing your nose from where it had bounced off, “that was a bit brutal.”

“I don’t recall you deserving any type of gentle treatment,” he retorted, “now let me finish my physics assignment otherwise we’ll be here all night.”

Truth to be told, you both finished around midnight and agreed on going out for some late midnight snack, quickly zipping up your coat and boots before shoving a beanie on your head.

“Wait,” Jungkook said just as you were about to open the door, and you felt his hand — it was warm and big, bigger than you thought it was — at your cheek, pushing a few strands of hair under your beanie.

The action caught you off-guard and you blinked, noticing just how close Jungkook was. So close that if you moved, your nose would brush against the nape of his neck.

“There,” Jungkook leaned back and all the warmth was gone, leaving only your reddened cheeks in its place.

No ice cream parlor seemed to be open at this time, forcing you to settle on some ice cream sticks from the convenience store. You sat outside on the freezing steps, butts going numb as you indulged in the sweet treat.

“That’s so good,” you mumbled through a mouthful of chocolate ice, “it’s been a while since I’ve had ice cream.”

“I’m not particularly a fan,” Jungkook ate his own stick of vanilla cone, “but this one is not bad.”

“Not bad, but you’re still eating it.”

“Mostly to accompany you.”

“Oh I’m touched,” your tone dripped with sarcasm, “you do that a lot with Sara too? Accompany her because she likes doing things that you necessarily don’t?”

“Y/N,” the way Jungkook said your name had you pause, eyes flickering over to his face only to see that he was already watching you, dark orbs swirling with something you couldn’t quite place.

When he spoke next, his voice was soft, yet firm:

“I don’t really appreciate you talking about Sara this way.”

Your throat went dry, “i—I didn’t—“

“You might be a little envious that I spend time with her, but she is my friend. As you are. You do not have to feel the need to bring her down just because you are a bit envious—“

“I am not envious,” you snapped back automatically, anger curling though your stomach like a rising flame, “I just—I’m just trying to say that people aren’t necessarily who you think they are, Jungkook. You should know that.”

Jungkook looked at you for a long, drawn-out moment, “I appreciate your concern, but not this way Y/N.”

It broke something inside your heart, the way he kept on tugging down your pride and your walls like he’s having the time of his life ripping it apart at the seams, and you couldn’t help feeling the sudden clog of emotion at the base of your throat at how serious he was being about this. He’d never spoken this way to you before, this was a first.

And it hurt.

“Fine then,” you murmured out. You had finished the ice cream by then and wrapped it back up in its package before tossing it into the trash with more force than necessary, “I won’t do that anymore. And I’m sorry if that upset you.”

“Y/N,” Jungkook called as you turned your back on him, “what is it that you’re not telling me? You have that face again.”

“What face?” You play dumb. Since when was Jungkook so invested in knowing every facial expression you possessed?

He pointed at you, “that. You look mad at me, but not quite mad. There’s something else that you’re not telling me.”

“I’ve already told you everything,” you tried to laugh, “it’s just how my face is—“

Jungkook suddenly leaned in close. Too close. So close you saw the sparkles in his doe eyes and a yelp died in the back of your throat, “that’s not true and you know it.” He murmured, sounding so much more like a man rather than himself that it caused goosebumps to rise along the back of your arms.

“Fine,” you quickly scrambled for some space, hating the way your heart seemed to beat out of your chest and you wondered briefly whether he could hear it too, “I just feel like you’re not the same anymore. We barely hang out and—and I just don’t like sharing you. I’m a jealous bitch, alright? That’s it. Are we done now?”

“So you were angry at me for spending too much time with Sara.”

“Well—yes, but—“

“Why?” He cut you off, dark eyes so intense on your face that it made you want to squirm. You held your ground though, biting down on your lower lip and curling your fingers into your sweater sleeves.

“Why…what?” Again, you played dumb even though something in your heart resonated at that. Realization washed over you like a tidal wave the more Jungkook kept on gazing at you, and you back at him.

There was something. Of course there was something. You were an idiot all along to not have listened to Changbin in the first place.

You were an idiot. In love.

Shit.

“I need to go,” you scrambled back too quickly for him to grasp your arm and said without looking at him, “I’ll see you around Jungkook. No need to walk me back.”

You didn’t wait to hear Jungkook’s protest as your feet took off on the pavement, legs pumping with adrenaline and panic until you reached the confines of your flat. Only then did you slide down to the floor and lean your head back against the door, wondering when you had signed up for such an ordeal.

And why, out of all people, was it Jungkook?

[loveyourself007]

THIS CHRISTMAS

Author: @loveyourself007

Pairing: BTS x O. C. (Original Character)

Genre: Holiday!! AU, rom-com, fluff, magic, magical powers, Small Town!! AU

Ratings: 13+

Status: Ongoing

Synopsis : Maria Snow, an aspiring writer with a life long reputation of being called a Grinch was living her life as the way she always wanted, but what she always lacked was the spark of magic that kept her from celebrating the most wonderful time of the year, The Holidays.

She always thought that she will hate Christmas till the end of time, until This Christmas comes to her with a wonderful gift in hand. What will she do when this unexpected gift starts changing the course of what she thought was right. Will she still be able to uphold her Grinch reputation this year or will they come shattering down as she starts enjoying these gifts.

Seven Days, Seven Strangers and lots of Christmas Magic, with an advice:

" Do not get attached; Just enjoy the ride."

Prologue

Chapter 1: I

Chapter 2: Wish

Chapter 3: That

[namuwithhoneybee]

I am wondering if there are people in BTS or multi-stan fanfic community who read fluff or romcom.

My J-hope fanfic won the 2023 Ambys Awards on Wattpad, yet i have been wondering why isn't it getting enough attention. Is it because of the algorithm or the lacking in my writing?

If you are interested in letting me know your thoughts or interested in sharing me your feedback on my fanfic, lmk in the comments.

I don't want to post the links too early or else I'll look like promoting my fanfic instead of asking for help.

[kingofbodyrolls]

Omg this is really amazing! I'm going to warn you that it ends on a cliffhanger and there's no other part to it, but it's so amazing and it's worth a read even though you'll 100% be left wanting more 🥹😂

Their chemistry is so off the charts and the foreplay is soo good 👏🏾

Show Me How

Summary: You swiped right on a nerd, instead you got a Greek God. Or tired of your virginity, you decide to throw caution to the wind and find a hook up on tinder.

— PAIRING: Namjoon x f!reader

— GENRE: smut. 18+ minors dni.

— WARNINGS: fingering, thigh riding, possible hair kink (? like Joon loves touching the reader’s hair), biting, dry humping, dirty talk (?), Namjoon is such a simp, the reader is naive.

—————————————————————————————————–

Kim Namjoon looked nothing like the picture you swiped right on one drunken night. The original Kim Namjoon who you found on Tinder was a nerdy looking guy wearing glasses so big Harry Potter would be jealous; this man in front of you wasn’t anything less than a god. Those round disk glasses were gone allowing you to see his pretty brown eyes. The tamed golden-brown hair in the photos also vanished in favor of the tousled mop on his head, but perhaps most alarming was his tall athletic form. Call it headshots, bad angles, or lighting, but whoever took your hookup’s photo should never touch a camera again.

   “You must be (Y/N). You look nothing like your pictures.” Namjoon smiled. He moved away from the door, gesturing you to come in.

    Vaguely you wondered if he was disappointed. The pictures you posted on tinder were a good year old, however you rarely took pictures of yourself-especially not ones dressed up. “I can say the same. You are much more handsome than your pictures make you to be.” You complimented. 

Internally you cringe at your words. Talking to guys was definitely not your forte. In fact, anything dealing with romance, boys or sex was not your thing according to Bazaar Publishers. Your gut twisted at the reminder of the rejection letter sitting in your purse. Eight months ago, you sent in a copy of your novel’s manuscript to the publishing company only to receive a letter stating that while the editors loved the concept, setting, plot and everything else; the romance and sexuality in it sucked thus they were rejecting it. They also stated that if/when you fixed these problems, they would happily reconsider your novel.

   Which was how you ended up here in a potential serial killer’s apartment looking for a quick lay. “Thanks. Most people say the opposite.” Namjoon chuckled.

    Heat rose to your cheeks at the dimpled smile he gave. Nervous, you looked away, looking at his living room. For a bachelor, his place appeared very clean, something you wouldn’t have guessed given the stereotype of bachelor pads. You expected strewn laundry and dirty dishes not alphabetically ordered bookshelves, decorative pillows, and Febreze. “You have a nice place…” 

   “Thanks, I try to keep it clean especially if a pretty girl visits.”  

      You rolled your eyes at the compliment. Pretty girl…you were already here. Did he really feel the need to butter you up with lies? “So…..” Namjoon drawled, rubbing his neck. “Do you want to sit down?”

    You blinked. Sit down? Is this how one night stands usually went? Did people sit down, have coffee, and talk before fucking each other or what it just this guy?  “No?”

    “O-oh…” Namjoon stuttered. “Okay, umm….”

“Sex? I-I mean we agreed to let you’d bang my brains out, right?” You suggested, biting your lip. Just the mere idea of having sex brought butterflies to your stomach. Tonight, would be the first night you had sex ever, marking the end to your virginity and hopefully the end to your shitty sex scenes. It would be like ripping off the Band-Aid- quick, slightly painful, but for the best.

   Namjoon’s face turned a light shade of pink. Suddenly he appeared more like the dorky boy from the photos than the stud who let you in. “Um…sure. No problem-I mean why waste time getting to know each other?”

    “Right. No point in pretending like we are ever going to see each other after tonight.” You forced a laugh.

   Namjoon laughed, “Exactly.”

The dimpled smile returned along with a lusty twinkle in his eyes. It will never cease to surprise you how quick guys can switch their moods. Then again you shouldn’t complain given the circumstances. 

   “Well, shall we go M’lady?” he asked, wiggling his eyebrows.

  You nodded. “Lead the way my prince. ”

     Namjoon laughed, taking your hand in his. The warmth of his touch sent shivers down your spine. It wasn’t like you never held a guy’s hand before but there was something different about the way his fingers wrapped around yours. Your heart stuttered in both fear and excitement. Silently you reminded yourself to write this feeling down in your notepad later. 

    "Well, here we are, my lavish bedroom.“ Namjoon said. His ears turned a twinge red. 

    You took in the bedroom noting how similar to the living room it was. Bookshelves lined the walls yet again, leaving only a small opening for a desk and dresser.  His bed was a single with neatly tucked white sheets and a thick blue comforter. It was small but it looked large enough for two people. 

    "So…. What now? I’m new to this whole thing. ” You confessed. The double meaning of your words went unsaid. 

   Namjoon gave a sheepish look. “I’m actually rather new at this too. Tinder-I mean not sex. ”

   "I would hope so.“ You giggled. 

God you fucking hoped so. You were screwed-figuratively speaking if this guy was as green behind the ears as you. 

    "Well since we’re both new to this, why don’t we start slow.” Namjoon suggested sitting on the bed. A big goofy grin spread across his face as he patted the spot next to him. 

    The sight shouldn’t attract you. Such a goofy grin was anything but sexy, yet something jolted within, and you soon felt an unfamiliar throbbing between your legs. He looked like the sun shined on him right then. Your legs shook as you made your way over to him. Silently you tried to squash the butterflies suddenly in your stomach. 

    This was all research. You were doing this for your book. No reason to be nervous… you sat down hyper aware of how close you two were. “You have such beautiful hair. ” Namjoon said. “Can I touch it?”

  You nodded suddenly speechless. Slowly his hand reached out gently caressing your hair. A shiver ran up your spine. Hair caressing should not be this erotic. “It’s so soft- like silk.” Namjoon marveled. 

    You laughed causing him to blush. "Sorry…I tend to talk too much. I’ve been told it ruins the mood. " 

   "No, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to laugh- it’s just that it’s really not. I mean my hair is many things but silky isn’t one of them. ” You explained.

    "I disagree. It’s beautiful.“ He said, stroking it. "Though I shouldn’t be surprised given that you’re a pretty girl. ”

  Again, your heart leaped. Pretty words shouldn’t mean so much. As a writer you utilized pretty words to craft beautiful poetry and elegant stories; you knew easily used they were. However, what you couldn’t ignore was the way Namjoon stared at you through half-lidded eyes, pupils fully dilated. 

    "Namjoon…kiss me.“ You whispered. 

"Was hoping you’d ask."  He leaned in, fulfilling your request.  

    His lips were softer and plusher than you ever imagined a guy’s to be. The kiss was awkward at first, starting out as a peck before evolving into an open mouth kiss. Your naivety to kissing didn’t help either. You didn’t know how to move or what to do with your tongue. Every movement you made seemed like a mess. Embarrassment burned through you as Namjoon pulled away. This was just an experiment, no need to feel lacking. Yet you couldn’t stop worrying. Were you that bad? Could he tell you were a virgin?

 As if reading your thoughts Namjoon smiled, dimples shining brightly. "Just follow me, okay? I’ll lead. ”

     "Okay.“ You nodded.

“Okay.” Namjoon thumbed your bottom lip, dorky smile still bright. 

A strange comforting feeling washed over you at the sight. Suddenly it didn’t feel like two strangers rushing for a quick fuck, but two friends exploring themselves together.  The emotion brought up a platitude of questions for you. However, before you could even begin to ponder them, Namjoon pressed his lips to yours. Another peck, but this kiss was more planned-more precise. He lingered for a second only to pull away. A pang of longing filled you, however it was quickly swallowed by his lips meeting yours once more. Again and again, he dipped down peppering you in small, tiny kisses.

“You’re so cute. I can’t help but kiss you like this.” He teased, placing another butterfly kiss on your mouth. “But I suppose you want more huh? Not just pecks.”

“I do.” You shamelessly admitted. “I want you to kiss me like they do in the movies. The whole opened mouth, bottom lip sucking, passionate tongue -”

Namjoon swallowed your words in a kiss. His tongue glided effortlessly across yours and you moaned into the kiss. He tasted good but not in the sweet sugary or bitter coffee way books often described. Instead, he tasted like how you pictured a hot meal after a long day: mouthwatering, delicious and leaving you wanting more. 

Your hands found their way to his shoulders. The flimsy material of his shirt bunched under your fingers’ grip. His hands moved to your lower back pressing you against his chest. Another thing the pictures got wrong about Kim Namjoon; he had muscles. Hidden behind those baggy shirts, and loose button ups was the body of a god. Fuck. How did you get so lucky?

“This. Can I take this off?” Namjoon asked, in between kisses. 

You blinked realizing he meant your top. His fingers traced the hem of your shirt, occasionally caressing naked skin. Your heart did a flip. It would be the first time someone ever saw you without a shirt.  “Are you okay? We don’t have to if you don’t want to.” Namjoon said.

“No. I’m fine.” You insisted. “I was just trying to remember if I wore a matching set.”

  You were. You fished out a simple pair of black cotton panties and bra the minute Namjoon agreed to meet. He didn’t need to know that though. “You know despite what the media portrays. Sexy underwear isn’t as big of a deal as you might think, especially not when the woman’s already beautiful like you.” Namjoon chortled.

    You rolled your eyes. “I bet you say that to all the girls.”

 Yet again he gave you that gorgeous smile of his. “You think too highly of me. I don’t sleep around that often.”

   “Maybe not, but I bet you have pretty girls when you do.”

   Namjoon shook his head. “I get the feeling no matter what I say, you’re going to deny it. I’ll just have to show you how pretty you are-starting with your shirt downwards.”

     You shivered. Once again you thanked your lucky stars for Namjoon. Any other tinder hook up would probably result in a quick one, two, not soft reassurance and romantic words. God, your readers would eat this up when you implemented it into your book- he kissed your neck blurring your thoughts into one low moan as he bit down on it. The mixture of pain and pleasure caused you to buck forward, pushing yourself against his knee. ‘Biting…’ you barely thought. ‘Biting is definitely getting jotted down.’

  You felt Namjoon smirk into your neck, clearly pleased by your reaction. Gently he sucked on the now bruised spot, tonguing where his teeth marks were. Fingers dipped underneath your jeans teasing right above the hem of your underwear. Slowly they moved down as Namjoon nibbled farther up your neck. It was not until he licked the shell of your ear that his fingers brushed against your clit.

  “Fuck!” you cried, jerking upwards. “I thought you were starting with my shirt-shit why is this so good? You’re not doing anything I don’t do.”

    He laughed drawing lazy circles on your clit as his knee rocked against your core. “Sorry, I couldn’t help it. I normally don’t get this good of a reaction.”

   “I find that hard to believe.” You pressed yourself closer trying to mold your bodies together.

His hot breath kissed your ear as Namjoon continued his ministrations. “Fuck. Forget me, why are you so wet already? I’ve barely touched you yet you’re soaking. Do you know how hot that is?”

     “Don’t know, don’t care, just keep going.” 

“Trust me, pretty girl. I have no intention of stopping.” he said, flipping you onto your back. “In fact, it’s the opposite, I going to fuck you until the image of you cumming is burnt into my brain.”

    Another moan escaped you. Why was that so hot? Just the thought of you seared into his brain was enough to drive you wild. Would he think of you later when he masturbated? You could just see it now: his beautiful face coming undone at the thought of you. The thought caused a delicious shiver to run up your spine. God, you wanted to see him undone.

"Do it. ” You gasped, feeling his fingers sink into your core. It was an odd sensation. Someone else’s fingers buried in you, but not an unwelcome one. Strangely it was more filling, hitting spots you didn’t know existed with each curl of his fingers. Subconsciously your own fingers made their way to his shoulders gripping them hard. Thankfully Namjoon said nothing, either not minding the bruising force or completely unaware of it. “Fuck. It feels so good.”

      "Yeah? Should I go faster, pretty girl? Make you feel more than good? Would you like that?“ He teased, thumb gliding over your clit. You merely moaned clenching around him. Apparently, that was the right answer, because Namjoon picked up the pace. "That’s it. That’s the reaction I want to see. You going to cum for me, pretty girl? Can you do that for me?”

  Before you could respond, his fingers touched a spot within you. A feeling unlike anything unless washed over you as you clamped down on him. Somewhere in the room, you heard yourself cry out; your voice barely recognizable to you. Then everything went blank for one blissful second. You officially had your first orgasm.

   When you came to Namjoon was on top of you hungrily kissing your neck. His body grinded itself hard against yours desperate for friction. Instinctively you wrapped your legs around his waist drawing him closer. He let out a moan of approval. His face pinched in pleasure and need. “Fuck, why do you feel so good? I’m not even in you yet…” his words stuttered as you rocked back against him. “I’m going to- I need to be in you now or I won’t make it-”

    In a bold move you bit the tip of his earlobe. Another low groan sounded from Namjoon as his hips rocketed forward suddenly before he stilled, eliciting a low guttural groan.  Your own moans escaped you at the feeling of another orgasm approaching. Was this normal? Two orgasms in such little time? Did you stumble upon some sex god on tinder?

  Fuck…maybe Namjoon was too good? Your readers would have unrealistic expectations if you used him as inspiration. 

     “Shit. I haven’t done that since I was a teen.“ Namjoon breathed, rolling over beside you. Even sweaty with deflated hair Namjoon still looked handsome. It kind of made you wonder why he swiped right on you. Especially when tinder undoubtedly had hotter women on it than you. 

    "Is that a bad thing?” You questioned, feeling a bit insecure. 

    Namjoon grinned like the cat who caught the canary. “Not all. Usually, I get the girl undressed though, before I cum. ”

    You looked down at yourself realizing that he was right. Other than the sliver of skin between your unbuckled pants and slightly raised shirt you were completely dressed. “I guess we got a little carried away huh?”

    "It’s your fault for making such cute faces at me. I couldn’t help but want to see you cum for me. “ Namjoon sighed dramatically. "Totally worth it by the way.”

     Heat rose to your cheeks at his words. Seriously, what was with this boy? Not only did he shower you with false compliments after the fact, but he was abnormally confident in himself.  “So now what?” You asked, avoiding the strange compliment. 

   Namjoon hummed thoughtfully, propping himself up beside you. “Well, if you give me a moment, we can do it all over again. This time with me inside you. ”

   “Okay.” You said, feeling shy suddenly.  Casually you looked around his room trying to ignore the beating of your heart or the increasing nervousness you felt. A more experienced/ charming woman would know how to make conversation, perhaps even flirt her way to the next round. You however barely managed to make it pass the first act. 

   Act sexy… your mind whispered to you. Instantly your thoughts turned to flashbacks of characters from romance series. As belittling as it may seem for an English major, those dollar romance books were a guilty pleasure of yours. Especially the Jessica Monrose series which featured a sexy bounty huntress on the ride of a lifetime fighting werewolves, and demons alike. Her character never feared men or sex. She was sexy, confident, capable and- “I can suck you off if you want.” the words fell out of your mouth before you could ever ponder them.

  Suck you off. Out of all the romantic enticing sexy things you could say, you chose the most literal and porno like line. You nearly facepalmed yourself. Undoubtedly your face was a disturbing shade of red right now. With no other option, you bit your lip staring patiently at Namjoon. It was too late to take it back after all, so you might as well pretend confident in this situation. Imitate Jessica Monrose, she would never back down from what she said, even if it was as stupid as your offer.

     Namjoon simply kissed you. His lips moved simultaneously with yours; all previous awkwardness vanished. Looks like you learned something within this half hour here. You opened your mouth allowing him to slip his tongue in. It glided against yours. Some daring part of you closed your mouth around his tongue, gently sucking it. Surprisingly it wasn’t as disgusting as you thought it would be. Your one previous kiss in high school involved tongue and it felt you uninterested in kissing for years. This, though… was nothing like high school.

 Namjoon groaned, sending a thrill down your spine. Your thighs pressed together at its sound. He had pretty groans. You wanted to hear more of them. Not just that, you wanted to see him lose control again. The idea of sucking him off appeared in your head once more, however just as your hand made its way down to his zipper, Namjoon regained control. Pushing you into the mattress his hands make busy work of your shirt. Cool air touched your naked skin. Goosebump pricked your skin but whether it was for the temperature or Namjoon’s longing stare at your clothed breast, you couldn’t say.

  A moment of silence passed before he expertly unclasped your bra. It fell halfway between your shoulders and elbows, showing just the peak of your nipples. The hunger in Namjoon’s eyes grew.

   Your heart beat rapidly against your chest as butterflies reappeared in your stomach. Nerves grew inside of you as worries came back alongside your longing and excitement. No one has seen your breasts before. This was the first time. What if they looked weird and you never knew it? Or perhaps they weren’t the right shape or size- you knew they didn’t match Cosmopolitan’s interpretation of “the perfect breasts” by a long shot, but you thought they looked decent enough. 

  Time slowed down as he stared at them without a word. Hesitantly you moved to shrug the bra back on when Namjoon suddenly reached out tenderly cupping one of your breasts. A shiver ran down your spine at his warm touch, and the straps to slide down more. Your face bloomed a bright red Thankfully it went unnoticed by Namjoon, who seemed fully entranced by your body. Looked like you didn’t need to worry about Namjoon’s opinion of your breasts. At least if his darkened eyes had anything to say. 

    Gaining a bit of confidence, you slipped the bra completely off. “Better?” You asked in a teasing tone. 

  “Much. ” Namjoon replied, breathy. His hands fully palmed your breast as he engulfed you into another kiss. Long fingers teased your nipples until they perked and darkened, causing the ache between your legs to worsen. Something tells you; Namjoon’s fingers won’t be enough this time. 

   He shifted placing more weight onto your body. His hands desperatly clutch at your breasts as the neediness in his kiss increase. The kiss was now a sloppy (yet not unpleasurable) mess, sporadically switching from tongue play to kitten licks and bites on your bottom lip to Namjoon pulling away slightly only to continue his assault on your lips. “You are so beautiful, you know that? I don’t think I’ve seen such perfect breasts.”

   You give a small moan bucking your hips upwards. Seriously, what was it about Namjoon that reduced you into a needy slut. Was it simply because you were a virgin? A classmate once told you that people who lost their virginity after the age of twenty- three either turned into a slut or an old maid. At the time you laughed it off but how you felt now with Namjoon…but they weren’t so far off. If things continue how they are, you don’t know if you’ll be able to let Namjoon go that easily-

   “Thoughts on me, pretty girl. Nothing else matters.” Namjoon teased. His hips pressed down on yours, stopping any movement from them. A small smirk formed on his lip as you whine in protest. Something wicked gleamed in his dark brown eyes as he drew circles into your hip with his finger. "Sorry, pretty girl but I don’t make the same mistake twice. This time I’m going to make you cum on my cock.”

     "Hurry up then. I’m already wet, you don’t need to flatter me anymore. “ you pouted.  You can’t help but feel annoy at how Namjoon’s sudden dominance affected you so much.

    Your tinder date merely smiled outlining your bottom lip with his thumb. "Now, now pretty girl, it’s a man’s job to let his partner know how beautiful she is. And you are especially beautiful….”

   His lips hovered over yours. One inch more and they would touch yours, however he hovered denying you the pleasure of his touch. Something told you that Namjoon enjoyed teasing his partners. Otherwise, the damn bastard would be in you, rocking your world. “It’s not fair you know. Me being half-naked and you having all your clothes on.” you murmured.

   “You’re right. I suppose I should take this off.” he grinned, peeling off the baggy shirt.

  Your mouth watered at the sight of his athletic build. Sure, you felt the muscles on his shirt, but seeing them was another story. Namjoon reminded you of a soccer player or maybe a basketball player; lean, muscular but not too bulky. Really just the right amount of muscle, where he could easily carry you without accidentally crushing you to death. “You okay there, pretty girl?” 

     “Yeah…sorry, I just wasn’t expecting this.” you gesture to his body. “You are real right? Not some drunk hallucination from the shot of tequila I took earlier.”

   “That’s a first.” He snorted. Humiliation washed over you. Okay, stupid question, but really this was not what you expected your first time to be like. Seeing your discomfort, Namjoon placed your hand on his chest. The warmth of his smooth skin radiated off of him. It made you giddy in an inexplicable way. Slowly he guided your hand downward sliding it across his abs, before raising it to his lips for a kiss. “Real enough for you? Or do you need more proof?”

[kingofbodyrolls]

Sprouting Love (m) | knj

As snowflakes dance in the crisp winter air, you and Namjoon find yourselves wrapped in the warmth of each other’s company. The holiday season brings the aroma of freshly baked cookies, the magic of twinkling lights strung through the house, and laughter echoing in your greenhouse where you tend to flourishing plants, lovingly nurtured together. Amid the glow of Christmas cheer and shared moments filled with wonder, perhaps this season will sprinkle a touch of courage and clarity to finally define the blossoming connection between you. Will the magic of Christmas help turn what’s unspoken into something beautifully real?

→ Pairing: namjoon x reader (female) → AUs: non-idol!au, gardening!au, neighbors!au, christmas!au, holiday!au → Trope: (enemies to lovers) / neighbors to lovers / friends with benefits to lovers → Genres: fluff / smut / romcom / comedy (+ a little angst) → Rating: mature/explicit/R18  (this is mature/explicit content, so minors, please do not interact.) → Word count: 13.7k → Warnings + triggers: unprotected sex (please be safe), degrading name calling, hair pulling, sexual tension, oral (male receiving), rough but also tender, a lot of kissing, a lot of tension, dirty talk, stupid innuendos, multiple orgasms, praise kink, begging, exhibitionism (unintentionally), impregnation kink, begging, big dick Joonie 👀 + glasses and turtlenecks.  → Author’s note: ahhhh. I know a lot of you love this couple (and I do too!). So here’s another part to it, that’s almost as long as the whole mini series 😂 I hope you like it and happy holidays! 🎄 → Read the spoiler? [text messages]  → Read on AO3? [link] 

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You make the short walk to Namjoon’s house, each step tingling with the thrill of anticipation that never quite fades, no matter how many times you’ve walked to his house. The winter air whispers secrets against your skin, and when you reach his door, your knuckles barely touch the wood before it swings open as if he had been waiting on the other side, sensing your arrival like some instinctual force. 

“Hi, Joonie—” you start, but your words catch in your throat, swept away by the vision standing before you. Namjoon leans casually in the doorway, barefoot on the cool floor, his loose gray sweatpants slung low on his hips. A black wooly turtleneck, soft and perfectly snug, accentuates his lean big frame, the sleeves gathered around his strong forearms. He shifts slightly, and you spot caramel-brown suede patches on the elbows, details that shouldn’t be alluring but are, somehow, because they are his. 

Dear god, send help, you think, as you try to steady the wild flutter in your chest. How does a man make something so simple look so impossibly captivating? His hair is still that soft silver shade, a gentle stormcloud you’ve come to love, its unruly strands tempting you to reach out and run your fingers through them. Over the past few months, he has become more than just a fleeting presence in your life, even if you both refuse to define what you are to each other. You still remember the moment that changed everything—when you gathered the courage to apologize for your reckless behavior, and he, with the ease of someone who understood you more than he should, forgave you. That night at his housewarming party had led to your lips on his, your inhibitions crumbling, and his laughter echoing in your ears long after you both lost yourselves in each other’s warmth.

Namjoon has always had this uncanny ability to stir chaos within you, then anchor you with just a look or a word. No one has ever made you feel this way—unpredictable yet somehow perfectly at peace, like a storm that finally finds its calm. Yet, despite the countless nights tangled in his sheets and countless moments where his presence felt like home, neither of you has dared to put a name to what you share. It’s undefined, beautifully so, even if it gnaws at the corners of your heart sometimes. But for now, this is enough. It has to be.

His voice pulls you back to the present, warm and teasing, his eyes lighting up with mischief. “Hi, Y/N. Do you need help with something? Or,” he adds, a smirk tugging at his lips, “do you have an itch that needs scratching?” His eyebrows lift, suggestive and playful.

Your cheeks warm at his flirtation, but you recover quickly, slipping into the playful defiance that has always been your defense. “Well,” you say with a smirk and a giggle, leaning in just a touch, “I am ovulating.” The words hang between you, bold and taunting.

Namjoon’s mouth falls open, and he stares at you, wide-eyed, his hand coming up to rub the back of his neck in that adorably nervous way of his. “You know I’m not ready for kids, and we’re not even… together,” he stammers, his voice faltering. His statement is like a tiny fissure in the moment, and it stings, the reminder of what you are—or aren’t—but you cover the hurt with a laugh.

“Relax,” you reply, eyes sparkling with mischief. “You know I’m on birth control, and it was just a joke.” 

You step closer, so close now that his breath mingles with yours, warm and sweet, the space between you charged and electric. “But,” you whisper, your voice low and wicked, “we could roleplay. I know how much the idea of impregnation turns you on, Joonie.” Your smile is devilish, delighting in the way his cheeks flush a deep crimson, the way you’ve come to know his secrets and use them to unravel him.

“It does not,” he protests, crossing his arms with a mock pout, the hint of a stammer betraying his feigned offense. You can’t help but smile at the way his brows knit together, his sulky act so endearing that it almost pulls a real laugh from your lips.

“Relax, that’s not why I dropped by,” you tease, a playful shrug rolling off your shoulders as your hand reaches out to rest against his chest. Beneath your fingers, you feel the familiar contradiction of his body: the softness of his black wooly turtleneck giving way to the solid, unyielding muscle beneath. God, you think, so soft, yet so perfectly taut, those sculpted pecs.

“It isn’t?” he questions, his eyes narrowing with a glint of something unsaid, a spark of curiosity mingled with heat. But this time, you’ve got more to offer than just teasing banter.

“No,” you say with a warm smile, the sexual tension melting away and leaving something more tender in its place. “I actually wanted to see if you’d come over and help me bake cookies for the local orphanage.” Your voice softens, sincerity peeking through, and a touch of vulnerability brightens your eyes.

You watch how his expression shifts, his features melting from playful disbelief into something far more gentle. First, his eyes narrow knowingly, but then his entire face softens, the warmth in his gaze like sunlight breaking through a heavy cloud. “Yeah, sure,” he says, his voice steady, sincere. “I’d love to.”

A rush of relief blooms in your chest, and you exhale with a beaming smile. “Thank you! Usually, Kookie helps me, but he’s busy today,” you add, lips pursing into an exaggerated pout. “It’s kind of a tradition for me to make cookies and bring them to the orphanage every Christmas,” you explain, your smile growing at the thought.

“Nice,” he replies, his eyes lighting up with a touch of amusement as he gestures at the festive Christmas apron tied snugly around your waist. “Are you going to make them now?”

You nod, your breath leaving in a small cloud in the cold air. “Yeah.”

“I can help now,” he offers, and with that, he steps back into his house, slipping on some cozy slippers before joining you. The snow crunches underfoot as you both walk the short, chilly distance to your house, where warmth and holiday spirit await. The driveways have been cleared, the path to your front door inviting, and when Namjoon closes the door behind him, the cold is immediately banished.

Inside, your kitchen looks like a Christmas explosion. Mixing bowls of various sizes clutter the counter, flour dusted liberally across every surface, with rogue sprinkles even trailing onto the floor. Bars of chocolate lie waiting to be chopped, and the oven hums contentedly, filling the space with soothing warmth. The chaos makes it clear: you’ve already begun the festivities.

“Wow,” Namjoon murmurs, eyes wide as he takes in the scene. “I can see why you needed help.” His voice is a mix of awe and playful judgment, and you can’t help but let out a small, sheepish laugh.

You scratch your head, an embarrassed giggle escaping. “Yeah, I always bite off more than I can chew,” you admit, your laughter brightening the room even more. You step toward the counter, already thinking of ways to channel Namjoon’s energy into something useful. “Do you want to chop the chocolate?” you offer.

He freezes, his eyes widening with mock terror, and his deep laugh rumbles through the kitchen. “I better not,” he says, a grin spreading across his face. “You know how clumsy I am.” You think back to his infamous accidents: the greenhouse he demolished, the garden beds he obliterated—all unfortunate mishaps that had somehow led to these shared moments, bringing you closer.

“True,” you chuckle, the memory making you squeeze his bicep as you pass behind him. The muscle beneath your touch is solid, reassuring. “Okay, then,” you say, gently guiding him toward the mixing bowls. “If you mix the batter, I’ll handle the chocolate,” you suggest, and he nods, his laughter still dancing in the air between you.

You find your rhythm with Namjoon: a steady, unspoken dance of movements. He mixes the batter with those powerful biceps of his, muscles flexing beneath his sweater as he works the spoon through the thick dough. You try not to stare, but god, how can you not? The sight is distracting, dangerously so, and you have to remind yourself to keep your focus on chopping chocolate, the sharp knife clinking rhythmically against the cutting board. Your hands work swiftly, but your gaze can’t help but drift, lingering over the way his arms tense and move. Damn, you think, heat blooming in your cheeks. You shouldn’t be ogling him like this… but resisting feels impossible.

The kitchen grows warm and sweet, scented with chocolate and flour, the air heavy with anticipation. Namjoon finishes mixing the dough, and together you shape it into perfect, palm-sized portions, setting them onto baking trays. He’s meticulous, and you can’t help but feel a small swell of pride as you watch him carefully pat each ball of dough into place. You slide the first tray into the oven, only one at a time—your old, temperamental oven too unpredictable for more. Patience will have to pay off if it means the cookies will be perfectly golden.

The two of you stand side by side, the silence suddenly thick, almost suffocating. The tension wraps around you like a taut string, ready to snap at the smallest movement. To break it, you grab a couple of glasses, filling them with cold water, hoping the simple action might soothe whatever current crackles between you. But even as you drink, neither of you speaks, the electricity palpable.

Before you can find something to say, a new presence cuts through the tension as Jungkook stumbles into the kitchen, descending from the staircase with the heavy-lidded look of someone freshly woken. His hair is a tousled, endearing mess, dark strands sticking out at odd angles as he drags a hand through them, yawning wide. “Hey, what are you guys doing?” he mumbles, voice thick with sleep, still rubbing the remnants of his dreams from his eyes.

“Baking cookies,” you reply, smiling at the sight of him, though you can’t help but wonder why he’s only just now waking up when it’s the middle of the day. He looks entirely too soft and adorable, making you feel a small pang of fondness.

Jungkook’s nose twitches, catching the scent of baking chocolate. “Smells good,” he says, eyes lighting up as he takes a few sleepy steps closer to the kitchen counter where you and Namjoon stand—close, but not touching. “Can I have some in my room?” he asks, hopeful, his voice still gravelly with sleep. He looks at you with wide, pleading eyes, a pout forming on his lips.

“No,” you say firmly, fixing him with a stern look. “These are for the orphanage.”

“Just one?” he tries again, his expression a perfect picture of adorable desperation. But you hold your ground, shaking your head.

“No,” you repeat, more resolutely this time. Yet Jungkook, mischievous as ever, slides over to the bowls of dough, his eyes gleaming with determination. He reaches out, fingers poised to swipe a handful of unbaked cookie dough. 

Before he can steal his prize, Namjoon’s reflexes kick in. With a swift, almost effortless movement, he intercepts Jungkook’s hand, swatting it away before it can come anywhere near contaminating your carefully prepared batter. You’re grateful for Namjoon’s intervention, and for a moment, the amusement makes the tension between you dissolve just a little.

Jungkook rubs his hand, feigning injury with a dramatic pout, his eyes darting back and forth between you and Namjoon. Something flashes in his gaze—curiosity, awareness—an unspoken question lingering in the air as he watches the two of you. The corners of his mouth twitch, as if he’s caught on to something unsaid, something charged. The look he gives you is knowing, but he doesn’t say a word.

“What are you doing, anyway?” Jungkook asks, his lips curling into a smirk that suggests mischief brewing beneath his sleepy demeanor. His eyes glint with a teasing challenge, the kind only someone who knows how to poke at your soft spots can deliver.

You tilt your head, brows knitting together, confusion settling over you like a mist. “What do you mean?” you ask, your voice curious but cautious, already sensing that whatever he’s about to say will unsettle the fragile balance you’ve created here.

Jungkook’s smirk deepens, the troublemaker’s spark lighting up his gaze. He takes his time, savoring the pause, drawing it out like a slow intake of breath before the storm. “I mean,” he drawls, letting the anticipation build before delivering his question, “are you two official now, or what?” His voice cuts through the air, as sharp and casual as a knife slipped between armor.

The question pierces through you, freezing you for a heartbeat. You scramble for words, but they don’t come. Your chest tightens, because the truth is you don’t know. You’re not official with Namjoon, and the ambiguity gnaws at you in quiet moments, whispering doubts you try so hard to ignore. All you’ve shared is laughter, nights tangled together, and moments that feel like home—but nothing labeled, nothing secure. 

Namjoon clears his throat, breaking the tension. “We’re just having a good time,” he says, his voice even, calm, as if those words don’t twist at something vulnerable inside you. “Why should we need to label things?” His question hangs in the air, breezy yet barbed, and it stings more than you care to admit.

Your heart gives a small, involuntary ache, but you swallow it down, as you’ve done so many times before. You’d love nothing more than to put a name to what this is, to solidify the feelings that swim in the spaces between you. But Namjoon’s words remind you where you stand, and you try to tuck those fragile hopes away, out of sight.

Instead, you plaster on a smirk, masking the sting, and turn to Jungkook. “Shouldn’t you be focusing on Jimin instead of meddling in our business, huh?” you tease, your voice light but with an edge of deflection.

Jungkook flinches, his face draining of color for a moment before flushing with a bright, mortified blush. He looks at you like you’ve unearthed a well-guarded secret, and his eyes widen in a way that makes you feel a small triumph.

“Yeah, we know,” you muse, the corners of your mouth lifting with satisfaction. Before the tension can thicken further, the oven timer beeps, and Namjoon turns to carefully pull the tray of cookies from the heat, the warm aroma of melted chocolate spilling into the air. He sets the tray aside to let the cookies cool, and you slide a new batch into the oven, trying to ground yourself in the familiar rhythm.

You grab a warm cookie and wrap it in a paper towel, turning back to Jungkook, who’s still blushing furiously. “Just because I like Jimin,” you quip, “I’ll give you a cookie for him—none for you.” You press the cookie into his hand, a grin curling at your lips. “Make sure to say hi from us. We know he’s up there in your bedroom.”

Jungkook’s blush deepens, his face blooming beet-red as he takes the cookie with reluctant, embarrassed hands. He mumbles something incoherent, then spins on his heel, hurrying back toward the stairs, too flustered to form a coherent protest. You watch him go, his retreat filling the room with a burst of humor that almost—but not quite—eases the ache still lingering in your heart.

You spend the rest of the afternoon in a flurry of flour and laughter, baking batch after batch of cookies. You try to push thoughts of your undefined relationship with Namjoon into the recesses of your mind, focusing instead on the gentle rhythm of your work. The cookies cool on wire racks, their chocolate-sweet aroma filling the kitchen and settling over you like a comforting blanket. Carefully, you pack them into glass jars adorned with festive ribbons, each one sparkling with the warm, nostalgic spirit of Christmas.

“Do you want to come with me to the orphanage to deliver the cookies?” you ask, your voice soft yet hopeful. Namjoon glances at you, a gentle smile tugging at his lips. He agrees, and together you load the jars into your car. The scent of freshly baked cookies lingers, weaving itself through the crisp, frosty air as you drive down snow-dusted roads. The landscape is a winter wonderland with treetops crowned with snow, branches shimmering with icy lace, and the streets lined with drifts that sparkle under the pale afternoon light.

When you arrive at the orphanage, the children’s laughter and wide-eyed smiles fill you with a deep, quiet joy. Their faces light up as they receive the cookies, little hands clutching the sweet gifts, and you can’t help but feel your heart swell. Namjoon stands beside you, watching you interact with the kids. There’s something tender in his gaze, something he doesn’t put into words, but it wraps around you all the same.

On the drive back, the silence between you feels serene, softened by the shared experience. Snowflakes begin to drift lazily from the sky, catching in the beams of the headlights. Namjoon turns to you, his voice curious yet gentle. “So you do this every Christmas?” he asks, breaking the comfortable quiet.

You smile, your hands steady on the wheel as you flick the blinker to signal a turn. “Yeah,” you reply, your voice tinged with the sweet ache of memory. “Always. It’s something my mom used to do. When she passed, I wanted to carry on her tradition, to keep her spirit alive in this small way.” The words come out soft, but they hold the weight of years, love, and loss.

“I’m sorry about your mom,” Namjoon says, his tone low and sincere. You glance over at him, offering a gentle smile, the kind that carries acceptance and peace. “It’s okay,” you say, your voice a quiet reassurance. “It happened a long time ago.”

He exhales, the breath almost visible in the chill of the car, and he clears his throat, nervous but determined. “Do you want to help me decorate my place?” he asks, his words a gentle offering. “And I’ll help get yours ready for Christmas too.”

A genuine smile breaks across your face, a warmth sparking in your chest. “Yeah, that sounds perfect,” you reply. “I’ll need to pick up some new ornaments, though. I know just the place we can go.” The idea of shopping for holiday decorations together, of filling both your spaces with light and laughter, feels like a small but significant promise.

Namjoon’s hand drifts down to rest on your thigh, a quiet gesture of connection that makes your heart flutter. His touch stays there for the rest of the ride, grounding you, warming you, as snowflakes twirl and dance outside the windows.

“Hi, babe,” Namjoon says, and just with that one simple word, he manages to unravel you. The casual endearment sends a shiver of longing through your heart, a tiny thrill that sparks questions you never quite manage to silence—the ones about what you really mean to each other. Your heart flutters like the wings of a restless bird, and even though a part of you wishes he didn’t have this power over you, there’s no denying it. Deep down, you love that he does. You crave the comfort and warmth he brings, even if you sometimes wish it came with the certainty of a label.

“Hi, Joonie,” you reply, your voice soft but bright, as if it alone can welcome him out of the winter cold. A rush of freezing air follows him inside, nipping at your cheeks, and you gesture hurriedly for him to come in and shut the chill away. 

He steps across the threshold, the scent of fresh snow clinging to his coat, and a smile unfurls on his lips, dimples deepening. “I was wondering if you’d show me your greenhouse again,” he says, and there’s a childlike wonder in his eyes, a curiosity that never fails to enchant you. “I’m curious to see what plants you have out there braving the winter. And maybe we could start some seeds for next season?”

His voice is filled with genuine interest, and the way he looks at you—wide-eyed and eager—melts something inside your chest. You can’t help but smile back. Those damn dimples of his, so disarming, so inexplicably endearing. “Oh, definitely,” you say, your eyes lighting up. “I’ve been meaning to sow some new seeds, actually. Peas, chilies, Asian greens—they thrive even in this frozen weather.”

“Can I help you?” he asks, his voice soft and sincere, a gentle offering that wraps around you like a warm scarf. The idea of working side by side with him, hands deep in the soil, fills you with quiet joy.

“Do you have time now?” he asks, his words tender, like he’s afraid of shattering the moment.

“Yeah,” you respond, feeling a surge of anticipation as you reach for something warm to wear. You pull on an extra-thick pair of wool socks, a cozy sweater, and then layer yourself in a heavy parka and boots. Namjoon is already dressed for the bitter cold, bundled up but still managing to look effortlessly handsome. Even though you’ll be spending time in the greenhouse, the air there is only a degree or two warmer than outside—it’s a space that holds more promise than heat during the winter.

Together, you make your way outside, your footsteps crunching in the snow. You lead the way, the cold biting at your cheeks, but the warmth of his presence close behind keeps you from feeling the chill too deeply. Sliding the glass door of the greenhouse open, you step inside and usher him in, closing the door behind you. The stillness of the space wraps around you both, the smell of damp earth mingling with the crisp scent of winter.

“Have you thought about getting a greenhouse of your own?” you ask, a playful lilt in your voice. It’s a conversation you’ve shared before, a running joke ever since he accidentally wrecked yours with that wild ball throw months ago. You watch his face for a reaction, and he laughs, a deep, rich sound that seems to warm the chilly air around you.

“Yeah, I think I’d like to get one for the summer season,” Namjoon muses, his voice thoughtful, warm as a patch of sunlight breaking through clouds. “But I’m still not sure. That’s part of why I’m so curious about what you’ve managed to grow in the dead of winter. If I’m going to invest in one, I want to make the most of it, you know?” He pauses, a playful grin curving his lips as he glances at you. “But honestly, maybe I should just keep helping you with yours. It’s more fun together, don’t you think?” 

He tucks his hands into his jeans pockets, wandering deeper into the greenhouse, his gaze sweeping over the lush, vibrant greens defying the frost outside. Even in the shelter of the greenhouse, the air is tinged with the crispness of winter, but Namjoon’s presence feels like a hearth fire—steady, comforting, and a little too warm when you think of how easily he fits into these shared moments.

“I understand,” you say, your voice as tender as the soft leaves unfurling in your garden beds. “And you’re always welcome in my greenhouse, you know that.” You follow close behind him, pointing out the resilient Asian salads thriving in their earthy homes: delicate mibuna, sturdy bok choy, crisp cabbage, and even the spicy thrill of wasabi salad. There’s purple kale, vibrant and defiant against the cold, and winter carrots, their secrets buried until it’s time to harvest.

Namjoon’s eyes twinkle with a hint of mischief. “Oh, so you did manage to grow something after I, uh, accidentally destroyed your greenhouse?” He gestures toward the patch of winter carrots, a sheepish look stealing across his face.

You chuckle, the memory of his well-meaning chaos warming you. “Yeah, I did,” you reply, a smile dancing on your lips. “You can even try one if you want.”

With that, Namjoon kneels gracefully by the garden bed. Even through the bulky layers of his coat, the contours of his body are undeniable, and your traitorous mind takes note of the way his dark jeans hug him in all the right places. He reaches for a carrot, pulling at the green stem with gentle strength until a large, brilliantly orange carrot emerges from the soil. As he brushes the dirt away, he raises it to his lips, and there’s something distractingly captivating about the way he bites into it. The crisp snap of the carrot echoes in the stillness, a sound that somehow makes your breath hitch.

“It’s good,” he says, his voice reverent, like he’s savoring more than just a vegetable. “Crisp and sweet.” His words are innocent enough, but heat blooms on your cheeks as your mind wanders to other things that are, admittedly, very sweet.

“So, what are we going to sow?” he asks, watching as you gather trays and soil. There’s an excitement in his gaze, an eagerness that makes your own heart quicken.

“Like I said earlier,” you reply, grinning as you lay out the seedling trays in a neat row on the workbench. “Peas first. They’re hardy, even in this cold, and planting them early means we’ll have a head start on the harvest. We can sow extra so you’ll have some to take home and plant in your garden. They’re amazing because they climb and flourish wherever they’re given even a little support.” 

“And then, chilies,” you continue, your eyes sparkling. “We’ll start them here, but they’ll need to come inside to sprout, where it’s warmer. It’s always good to start them early so they can be transferred outside when spring rolls in. Later in the new year, we can put them in the greenhouse or straight into the garden beds.” You take a breath and continue, “And of course, more greens and salads. They’re slower to sprout in this cold, but they’ll make it, strong and resilient, like little winter warriors.”

Namjoon listens intently, his gaze never leaving you. There’s a peacefulness in the moment, as if the greenhouse holds its breath, cocooning you both in a world of shared ambitions and quiet dreams.

You suddenly realize you’ve forgotten the seeds. “Ah, I left the seeds inside,” you say, a small laugh escaping your lips. “Wait here while I grab them.” Namjoon nods, his eyes following you as you hurry back to the house, the cold nipping at your heels, urgency making you quick on your feet. 

Inside, you snatch up the old tin where you keep your seeds—its surface worn and familiar, full of whispered promises of new life waiting to burst forth from the soil. When you return to the greenhouse, you pause for a moment, caught by the sight of Namjoon. He’s crouched low, his focus completely absorbed by a small bok choy plant, tracing the way its tender, jade-hued leaves meld into deep shadows where the veins run dark. There’s a quiet reverence in his expression, as though he’s marveling at the tiny miracle of survival in the cold. 

“We can get started,” you say, a soft smile warming your face. Namjoon rises, his dimples peeking out as he grins back, and joins you in front of the workbench. You pour soil into a wide basin, mixing in perlite and vermiculite, the earthy aroma mingling with the crisp air. Your hands work with practiced grace, kneading the soil to loosen its texture, giving it life and breath.

“I’ve never added perlite or vermiculite to soil before,” Namjoon admits, wonder flickering in his voice as he watches the small white and gold specks sift through your fingers. You giggle, a sound as light and unburdened as petals drifting on a breeze. Most people don’t bother, but you’ve always been particular about these things.

“Try it sometime,” you encourage. “It makes for the best potting mix—less dense, better drainage, and the roots love it. And always use seed-starting soil. It has less fertilizer, so it’s gentler on seedlings.” Your hands press through the soil, feeling every grain and clump, savoring the dirt wedging beneath your nails. You’ve never cared for gloves; the raw, honest texture of the earth grounds you, as if reminding you that growth is always a little messy.

Namjoon tilts his head, curiosity glinting in his eyes. “I thought fertilizer was good?” he asks, and for a moment, you can’t help but wonder if his passion for plants runs as deep as he claims. But then again, you know that not everyone shares your level of obsession.

“It is—once the plant has grown a bit,” you explain, meeting his gaze with a patient smile. “Too much, too soon, and it can harm the seedling. Gentle care first, then nourishment.” You gesture for him to step closer, feeling the way the greenhouse seems to shrink around you, warm and cocooned.

He reaches for a packet of seeds—peas, full of promise—and you prepare the seedling tray, filling each cell with your custom soil mix. Using your dibber, you create neat holes for planting. Namjoon leans closer, and together you work in quiet tandem, dropping each tiny seed into its place, the rhythm of it comforting, like a shared heartbeat.

When you finish the tray, you dust your dirt-stained hands together. “Great. Now onto the next seeds,” you declare, and Namjoon dives in to help. His hands move alongside yours, scooping soil, pressing it down gently, but not too tight, and it feels strangely intimate, this act of creating life together.

Namjoon watches you, a hint of mischief curling at the edges of his thoughts. You’re skilled at this, at working with your hands—deliberate, sure, and endlessly fascinating. His mind drifts, unbidden, to the times your hands have moved over him, how your touch has lit up his world in ways that make him blush now, here among tender greens and the scent of new soil. Damn it, he chides himself, this isn’t the time to be thinking such thoughts.

But it’s hard not to, with the memory of your touch and the taste of your laughter tangled together in his mind, like vines climbing toward the light.

He flashes a mischievous grin. “You know, I love getting a little dirty with you in the garden,” he teases, his voice playful and warm as he gives you a gentle nudge with his shoulder. You laugh, the sound bright and ringing through the greenhouse, and a rosy blush colors your cheeks as the double meaning sinks in. It’s a shared, private joke, laced with an intimacy that makes your heart skip.

Together, you keep working, your hands growing numb from the cold, yet neither of you want to stop. The chill is creeping into your bones, but the way you work side by side, sowing seeds and exchanging glances, brings a certain kind of warmth all on its own. When the final seed is nestled in the soil and the last tray prepared, you finally shiver. “We should take the chili seedlings inside,” you say, your breath visible in the icy air. “And… do you want to come in for a bit? I could bake a cake and make some hot cocoa.”

Namjoon’s eyes light up, and he smiles wide, the kind that shows his dimples. “I couldn’t say no to that,” he replies, a hint of excitement in his voice. He grabs the glass door, holding it open for you as you step out, and he follows, closing it behind with a satisfying click.

Inside the house, warmth greets you like an embrace. You shed your heavy parka and boots, and Namjoon mirrors your actions, his movements unhurried, as if savoring this transition from the cold to the cozy. You carry the seedling tray over to the kitchen window, where a grow light waits to nurture the tiny plants. The sun has set, painting the world outside in hues of blue and shadow, but the light inside feels like hope.

Gathering ingredients, you set to work making hot cocoa, the rich scent of chocolate already beginning to fill the air. Namjoon pulls a stool from the dining area and drags it closer, settling down to watch you. He doesn’t say a word, but his gaze is intent, as though he’s entranced by the rhythm of your hands as they move. Your fingers skim over a packet of flour, measure brown sugar with precision, and whisk together the batter for a carrot cake with the greenhouse carrots you stored in the fridge. 

Namjoon is captivated. He always is during moments like this—when you’re fully in your element, focused and graceful, your movements as fluid and sure as a melody. His eyes trace your hands, trailing from the way your fingers curl around a spoon to how you tilt your head slightly, concentrating. There’s something magnetic about it, the way you pour yourself into the simplest tasks, as if even the act of baking holds an unspoken promise of care.

But as he watches, the heat in his gaze deepens, a flush creeping up the back of his neck. His body betrays him, a familiar stirring between his thighs. It shouldn’t surprise him anymore—how easily you have this effect on him, even when you’re not trying. But he can’t help it, can’t control how the sight of your hands moving so deftly, so sensuously over everyday things, ignites thoughts he knows he shouldn’t entertain right now. 

He shifts subtly on the stool, grateful for the kitchen counter that hides the evidence of his arousal, while you remain blissfully unaware, pouring the batter into a baking mold with a contented hum. Namjoon bites his lip and takes a steadying breath, trying to refocus on the warmth of this moment, even as temptation tugs at the edges of his mind.

When you slide the cake batter into the oven, the warm scent of spices already beginning to fill the air, you turn your attention back to Namjoon. Something in his expression seems off—or perhaps, not quite off, but different. There’s a tension in the way he sits, his body radiating heat, his eyes darkened with an intensity that makes your pulse quicken. 

Curious, you move past the kitchen counter, your footsteps soft against the wooden floor. As soon as you round the corner and see him clearly, you stop in your tracks, your breath catching in a startled, husky “oh.” Your voice wavers, that simple exclamation filled with an undeniable hunger.

Namjoon lets out a low, teasing chuckle, the sound rumbling deep in his chest. Realizing there’s no use in hiding his desire, he shifts, spreading his legs wider in the chair. The movement makes the strain in his jeans even more obvious, the hard outline pressing against the denim, leaving nothing to the imagination. Heat rushes through your veins, your gaze flickering between his smoldering brown eyes and the undeniable evidence of his arousal.

“You’re so good with your hands, babe,” he murmurs, his voice dropping into a sultry, resonant purr that drips with need. “Why don’t you put them to good use and help me with this problem?” His words are thick with desire, and he gestures toward the bulge, which seems to pulse with a life of its own, the denim stretched taut and unforgiving. You can’t help but wonder if the fabric is torturously tight, if he’s even comfortable in those form-fitting jeans.

You step closer, your movements slow, languid, like a feline circling her prey. Your eyes glitter with a mix of playful defiance and unrestrained want. A knowing smile tugs at your lips as you draw nearer, deliberately dragging out each moment to make him squirm. “Hmm,” you hum, batting your lashes provocatively, savoring the power in your hands. You trail your fingers lightly across his chest, tracing the hard lines of muscle through his gray turtleneck, and he shudders under your touch.

Circling him, you let your gaze wander over his flushed face, loving how he stares at you like you’re the only thing he needs in this moment. “Jungkook isn’t home,” you muse, your voice a low, teasing whisper, “and the cake won’t be done for a while…” Your finger traces down his torso, each touch featherlight, leaving a trail of anticipation in its wake. “Which gives us plenty of time to deal with this very big problem.”

You finish with a suggestive wink, your hand curling into the soft collar of his turtleneck, drawing him forward. His eyes burn with the kind of desire that makes your knees weak, and you can’t help but marvel at how turtlenecks have never looked so delicious until now. His lips part, and you know you’ve got him right where you want him, your bratty side flaring up, eager to take control of the moment.

“Take off those offending skinny jeans, and maybe I’ll help you out,” you purr, your voice a delicious blend of tease and command. You lean in to press a swift, hungry kiss to his lips, the taste of him lingering as you pull back, and in a fluid motion, you’re down on the cool floor. Namjoon’s fingers are fumbling with urgency, unbuttoning and dragging his jeans and boxers down, setting himself free. His cock springs out, flushed a deep, angry red, heavy and aching for your touch. The sight of him makes your mouth water, anticipation crackling in the air between you.

He lets out a mock pout, breathless yet endearing. “But I thought you liked me in skinny jeans,” he mumbles, a half-smile curving his lips.

You can’t help but laugh, your voice warm and laced with desire. “I do,” you reply, your eyes dancing with mischief, “but they look so damn tight. Besides, I’d much rather see you in loose sweatpants—so shameless, the way they cling to you, showing off that big cock of yours.”

His cheeks flush a deeper pink, but the blush is short-lived. The moment your hand wraps around his thick length, he’s groaning, a low, unrestrained sound that sends heat pooling low in your belly. His head tips back, and you pull your hand away for a moment to spit in your palm, the motion slow and tantalizing. His breath catches, and then your hand is back on him, gliding over his cock with a slick, practiced rhythm.

You start slow, your touch light, your strokes deep and deliberate, savoring the way he shudders under your hands. Namjoon stumbles backward, his back meeting the counter for support, his knuckles whitening as he grips the edges. You follow him, still on your knees, looking up at him through your lashes, loving the way his brows knit together, his jaw slack with pleasure.

“So good with your hands,” he praises, his voice raw and wrecked, and you preen under the compliment, your lips curving into a wicked smile. His words fuel you, and you tighten your grip, picking up speed, letting your hand work over him with a skill that has his hips stuttering.

“Yeah, I know,” you muse, a playful lilt to your tone, eyes wide and feigning innocence though your actions are anything but. “You’ve told me before, but that doesn’t mean I don’t like hearing it.”

He lets out a breathless chuckle, his chest heaving. “Ah, yeah,” he pants, his voice a beautiful, strained melody. “I know how much you love praise.”

You shrug, your expression one of nonchalance, though your heart is racing. “Guilty as charged,” you admit, your voice softer, but no less mischievous. His praise drives you, makes you work harder to draw out every bit of pleasure, reveling in the way his body reacts, knowing that your hands—and your lust—are the only things holding him together.

He begins to make those sounds—oh, those sweet, broken sounds that send a thrill dancing down your spine and make you preen with pride. The husky groans slipping from his lips are like music, raw and intoxicating, and you drink them in, feeling the power in every shudder of his body.

“Shit, if you keep that up, I’m going to come soon,” he pants, his voice strained and desperate.

A playful smile curves your lips as you chuckle, the sound dripping with mischief. “That was my plan all along,” you tease, your strokes never faltering. “But maybe,” you whisper, your voice honeyed and inviting, “you’d like to fuck my throat a little. My hands are good, sure, but my mouth…” You let the words trail off, your intentions clear in the way your eyes glint with lust.

He groans again, and he swears his heart must be doing wild backflips as he watches you kneel between his legs, looking up at him with those wicked, innocent eyes. “Fuck,” he chokes out, his breath hitching, and you know you’ve got him. 

“Is that a yes?” you ask, batting your eyelashes, the very picture of innocence that you most certainly are not.

He nods, his voice nearly a whisper, “Yes, yes it is, babe.”

That’s all the invitation you need. Your mouth opens, and you slowly ease his cock past your lips, wet heat enveloping him inch by inch. He shivers at the sensation, and you relish the tiny, desperate noise that escapes him when you take him all the way to the back of your throat. You hum, sending vibrations along his length, and saliva spills from the corners of your mouth, glistening as it drips down your chin.

Namjoon looks down at you, eyes blown wide, and you can feel the way his cock pulses at the sight—how the vision of you, mouth full of him, drives him wild and hurtles him closer to the edge. His hands clutch at the countertop behind him, knuckles white, his chest heaving with ragged breaths.

You work him with a fervor, sucking like you’re drawing the very life from him, your hands pressing into his thighs for balance. Your nails dig into his skin, and the sharp pleasure-pain makes him hiss, a shudder rippling through his frame.

“Oh, babe,” he groans, the sound rumbling deep and sinful, making your core clench around nothing, heat pooling low in your belly. His words are rough, a plea and a praise all at once, and you moan in response, the vibrations making him jolt.

Saliva spills from your lips, pooling beneath you, and you feel the way his cock twitches and throbs against your tongue. Namjoon’s breathing is ragged, each pant a testament to how close he is, how you’ve unraveled him. He’s hanging on by a thread, and you revel in knowing you’ve brought him to this point, trembling and undone.

“Babe,” he gasps, his voice raw, teetering on the edge of pain and pleasure, like he’s unravelling from the inside out. His whole body is taut with need, and you feel a thrill course through you, knowing how deeply you affect him.

You pull away, your lips leaving his cock with a wet, teasing pop, and you look up at him, eyes glittering with mischief. “Come on my face,” you whisper, the invitation dripping from your lips like honey, sultry and certain.

He bites down hard on his lower lip, a deep, guttural groan escaping him. One of his hands releases its white-knuckled grip on the kitchen counter, and he wraps his long fingers around his cock, stroking himself to his climax. You watch, utterly mesmerized, as he comes undone. His release is spectacular—thick ropes of hot, pearlescent white paint your skin, catching on your cheeks, lips, and eyelashes. You gasp, tongue darting out in a futile attempt to catch some of his warmth on your lips. The rest splatters messily across your face, dripping down your chin and streaking across your closed eyelids. The whole moment feels heady, unrestrained, and you can’t help but savor it.

Namjoon’s chest rises and falls heavily, his breath coming in short, ragged bursts, like he’s run a marathon just to reach this peak. A satisfied chuckle spills from his mouth, and he drags a trembling hand through his sweat-dampened hair. “You,” he says, his voice filled with a mixture of awe and lingering desire, “are a dangerous woman.”

A wicked grin blooms on your lips as you giggle, sticking your tongue out to lick the semen you can reach. Your fingers swipe up the rest, and you suck them clean, savoring him like sticky, decadent BBQ sauce on tender ribs. Delicious. The sight makes Namjoon shiver, another groan rumbling from his chest, his eyes never leaving your face.

Just then, the oven chimes, the sound almost absurdly cheerful, signaling that the cake is ready. You rise to your feet, wiping your face with a towel, and make your way over to the oven to retrieve it. Namjoon watches, dazed, as he tugs his jeans back into place, still trying to catch his breath.

Once the cake has cooled, you sit together at the kitchen table, sharing warm slices of carrot cake and steaming mugs of rich hot cocoa. The two of you laugh and talk, savoring the warmth and sweetness of the moment, reminiscing about your favorite Christmas traditions, as the world outside shivers in a cold winter’s embrace.

Namjoon doesn’t often find himself behind the wheel, but today, you’ve let him take charge of his SUV, navigating snowy roads en route to the superstore for Christmas ornaments. It’s not your usual go-to place for holiday decorations, but he’d been so eager, so insistent, that you couldn’t resist. Now here you are, braving the cold with an unusual sense of adventure.

Though Namjoon handles the SUV with a tentative grip, you can’t help but question, as you have many times before, why he even bothered to get a driver’s license in the first place. He never seems fully at ease, and his response—“Everyone has one, and I need it”—always strikes you as a half-hearted excuse. But still, you get it. Out here, where the stores sprawl far and wide, the independence a car brings is a necessity, not a luxury.

He finally pulls into the parking lot, choosing a spot absurdly far from the store’s entrance, the car a lonely island surrounded by an ocean of untouched snow. You laugh, breath misting into the winter air. It’s such a Namjoon thing to do: a cautious maneuver, the kind either born from nervousness about navigating tight parking spaces or, perhaps, the desire to protect his vehicle from rogue shopping carts and careless door dings. But you know him too well—he’s not someone obsessed with material possessions.

Bundled up in your thick coat and scarf, you trudge across the frigid parking lot, boots crunching on the ice-slicked pavement, silently cursing Namjoon’s overcautious choice. The cold gnaws at your cheeks, and you can’t hide the frown forming on your face.

Namjoon notices, and his expression softens with apology. “I’m sorry,” he says, his breath forming tiny clouds in the frosty air.

“It’s fine,” you grumble, though there’s no real heat behind your words. “But I’m driving back.” Your voice holds a note of mock seriousness, and he breaks into a chuckle, the sound light and airy, dissipating into the wintry sky like a whispered secret.

Inside the superstore, the air feels warm and festive, the smell of pine and cinnamon drifting faintly from somewhere. A dazzling aisle dedicated entirely to Christmas ornaments stretches before you, shimmering with glitter and tinsel. You watch in mild disbelief as Namjoon gleefully fills his cart with gingerbread house kits, plush stockings, strings of tinsel, garlands, and ornaments that glitter like captured starlight.

“Don’t you have decorations from last year?” you ask, raising an eyebrow as the cart reaches a borderline ridiculous state, nearly overflowing with festive cheer.

He scratches the back of his head, a sheepish grin spreading across his face. “Well,” he starts, laughter bubbling up, “I did.”

You cross your arms and turn to him, your eyes narrowing with mock suspicion, silently demanding the story behind this sudden lack of decorations. Namjoon’s laughter grows, filling the space around you, and you can’t help but smile despite yourself, bracing for whatever endearingly clumsy tale he’s about to share.

“I dropped all the boxes with the Christmas decorations while moving,” Namjoon mumbles, his voice soft as a snowfall, almost swallowed by the warm air. His embarrassment paints his cheeks with a blush that’s sweeter than mulled wine, and you can’t help but burst into laughter. Without a second thought, you wrap your arm around his broad frame, a warm, playful gesture that feels as natural as breathing.

“Thought so,” you tease, laughter spilling from your lips, echoing like bells ringing through the icy parking lot.

Namjoon’s blush deepens, a rosy warmth that makes him look endearingly boyish. Still, he continues with his mission, selecting ornaments with the earnest focus of someone determined to reclaim lost holiday cheer. Once the cart is brimming with festive treasures, he pushes it outside, the wheels wobbling and skidding over the snow-dappled asphalt.

“I can’t believe they haven’t cleared the snow yet,” you scoff, tugging open the hatch and helping to load up his haul. Each ornament feels like a little promise of magic, waiting to light up the winter nights.

“Yeah, not the easiest thing to push through,” he chuckles, his laughter a quiet rumble, like distant thunder softened by clouds.

He returns the cart, clumsily navigating the slippery ground, and then hands you the keys with a smile. Sliding into the driver’s seat, you take the wheel and guide the SUV back to his place, where the real magic begins.

Inside his warm home, Namjoon hauls the bags and boxes indoors, and you peel off your thick coat, the heat wrapping around you like a familiar embrace. His house feels almost like your own now, a second heart beating in rhythm with your own. You move easily into his kitchen, making tea with the practiced comfort of someone who belongs there. The kettle sings as you pour hot amber liquid into cups, steam curling like ghostly ribbons.

Namjoon, meanwhile, sifts through his purchases, creating little piles of tinsel, baubles, and gingerbread house kits, organizing the chaos with a delighted gleam in his eye. You join him in the living room, stringing up fairy lights that twinkle like fallen stars, draping garlands of tinsel over every surface. He paints his windows with swirling snow scenes and delicate winter landscapes, and you marvel at his handiwork, secretly wishing he’d come and transform your windows, too.

Christmas music fills the room, and the two of you sing along, voices blending together in a harmony of laughter and half-remembered lyrics. You dance around the room, giggling until your cheeks ache, joy blooming warm and bright against the winter outside. When the final ornament is hung on the tree and the garlands rest perfectly in place, you both collapse onto the couch, still breathless with laughter. Your playful energy lingers, bubbling over into gentle touches and mischievous smiles, and you find yourselves tangled together on the sofa, the festive glow softening every shadow. Time slips away until it’s late, the kind of late that feels heavy with dreams, and you realize it’s time to go home. But even as you leave, Namjoon’s warmth and the laughter you’ve shared linger, lighting up the cold night like the twinkling stars outside.

You take a step back, your eyes wide and brimming with a sense of wonder, marveling at the world you’ve created within the cozy walls of your home. The decorations glow softly, string lights shimmering like constellations, and every garland and ornament seems to dance in the warm embrace of the holiday spirit. Namjoon’s snowy landscapes even grace your windows, delicate swirls of frosted white transforming your view into a winter fairy tale. It feels so perfectly Christmas—Hygge, as the Danish call it, a word that holds all the warmth and comfort of shared moments and quiet joy.

In the corner stands your plastic tree, tall and proud, adorned with an eclectic mix of ornaments and lights. Its colors catch the twinkle of the lights strung around the room, a joyful echo of Namjoon’s more organic tree. You think back to the way he had explained, with that earnest passion of his, why he chooses to get a real tree each year—to support local farmers and give back to the environment in his own way. You remember laughing and teasing him about the effort, happy with your fuss-free tree, but secretly admiring the way he cares so deeply for the world around him.

“Do you want to come with me to the plant store today?” you ask, your voice soft, floating like the steam curling up from your cup of hot cocoa. Namjoon smiles wide, his dimples deepening, and the warmth of that grin feels like a little burst of sunlight on a winter day. He’s wearing glasses today—big, bold black frames, because he lost his contacts—and with his cozy wool turtleneck, he looks every bit the sexy professor you’ve always daydreamed about. You have to stop yourself from staring, but God, the man is a vision, and he’s right here beside you, yours. Well, hopefully he’s yours—there’s always that tiny flicker of uncertainty, but for now, it feels enough.

“Yeah, let’s go,” he says, his voice rich with warmth.

You drain the last of your cocoa, savoring the sweetness, and soon the two of you are bundled up, making your way across the icy path to his SUV. You take the driver’s seat without hesitation, your hands confident on the wheel. The snow-laden roads have always felt thrilling to navigate, and the car hums softly with the gentle croon of Christmas music drifting from the radio.

The silence between you is comfortable, wrapped in the magic of the season, until Namjoon turns to you, breaking the quiet with a question. “What are you doing this Christmas?” he asks, his voice tinged with genuine curiosity.

You flick the windshield wipers on, watching the snow melt away in streaks. “Just spending it with Kookie,” you say, your smile bittersweet. “Without my mom, and with my dad’s Alzheimer’s… well, I just stay home now.” Your voice carries the weight of old memories, the ones that sting a little but still feel precious. You can’t help but think of past Christmases, filled with laughter and warmth, and the ache of their absence lingers, but so does the gratitude for what you still have.

Namjoon shifts, his concern evident. “You’re not going to visit your dad?” he asks, his curiosity mingling with worry, and he quickly realizes it might be a painful subject.

“I do visit him,” you explain softly, your voice gentle, like a snowflake drifting down. “But… he doesn’t remember me as his daughter anymore. It’s hard, sitting there and watching him struggle to place me. But I still go, even if he doesn’t know who I am. Because, well, it matters.” The sorrow is there, but it’s wrapped in acceptance, a quiet strength you’ve carried for years. You catch the sadness in Namjoon’s eyes and smile, a small reassurance. “It’s alright. Really. I’ve made peace with it. And Kookie makes Christmas feel like family again.”

Namjoon’s frown lingers, but there’s something tender in his expression, an unspoken promise that he understands, or at least wants to. And in that shared moment, with snow whispering against the windows and the world cocooned in winter’s embrace, it feels like you’re exactly where you’re meant to be.

“What about you?” you ask, your voice warm with curiosity as you guide the car onto the road leading to your favorite sanctuary—the plant store, a haven of greenery and seasonal enchantment, where Christmas decor shimmers among leafy life.

Namjoon’s eyes light up, a smile spreading across his face. “I’m spending Christmas with my sister, nephew, and my parents. They’re all coming to my place because, you know, I’ve got that big house now,” he says with a laugh that dances in the air. You recall the image of him from months ago, holding that little boy’s hand. You’d once mistaken the child for his own, only to learn he was the devoted uncle, always stepping in to help his sister.

“That sounds really lovely,” you muse, your voice softening with a wistful undertone, like the ghost of a melody from a long-lost song. The ache is familiar: a yearning for the warmth and chaotic joy of Christmases past, for the easy laughter and the irreplaceable comfort of family. A tear slips, unbidden, down your cheek, and you quickly brush it away with the back of your hand, hoping he won’t notice. But Namjoon’s gaze, gentle and perceptive, catches everything.

He reaches out, his hand warm on your thigh, a grounding touch. “Maybe… we could have a Christmas dinner?” he suggests, his voice hopeful. “Just for our friends. Maybe the day before Christmas Eve, since that’s when my family arrives.”

You sniffle, pulling the car into the bustling parking lot, where cars glisten under a light dusting of snow. Unlike Namjoon, who prefers the solitude of the far-off spaces, you park right up front, as close as you can get. “That sounds really nice,” you admit, though your words carry a hint of guardedness. “But, please, don’t turn it into a pity party for me.”

Namjoon nods, understanding shining in his dark eyes. “That wasn’t my intention,” he promises. “I just think it’d be nice for all of us. No pity, just good company and holiday cheer.” His smile is genuine, disarming, and he unbuckles his seatbelt as you cut the engine, the car falling silent save for the occasional thud of snow hitting the windshield.

Stepping out, the cold air nips at your skin, each breath a puff of white mist. The snow falls steadily, blanketing the world in a quiet, crystalline beauty. You hurry to grab a cart, already anticipating the treasures you’ll load into it.

Inside, the store is an odd middle ground between brisk and balmy, chilled enough to keep the plants thriving but not as bone-numbing as the winter outside. The first thing to catch your eye is the dazzling array of string lights, tinsel, and an extravagant display featuring Santa’s sleigh, his reindeer poised mid-flight over faux snow, glistening like diamond dust. Namjoon’s eyes widen with childlike wonder as he drifts toward the scene, marveling out loud at every intricate detail. His awe is contagious, and you find yourself grinning as he disappears into a life-sized gingerbread house, its candy-cane pillars twinkling.

Together, you weave through aisles of holiday magic. You pick up a snow globe with a penguin bundled in a sky-blue scarf, the world inside it swirling with glittering snow. It makes you smile, so into the cart it goes. Purple ornaments catch your eye—rare and radiant, the perfect find for your collection. You toss them in with a feeling of quiet triumph. Your hand lingers on a wooden reindeer, beautifully carved and rich with detail, a rustic piece that seems to carry the very spirit of the forest. You trace its elegant antlers with your fingertips, then place it carefully in the cart.

Namjoon catches your eye, his glasses slightly fogged from the store’s temperature shift, and your heart does a little flip. 

Namjoon stands in the store, eyes wide with wonder, looking at everything like a child waking up to magic on Christmas morning. His excitement radiates, pure and joyful, igniting the air around you with an energy that is impossible to resist. Yes, the store might resemble a festive explosion—every aisle drenched in holiday cheer as though Santa himself had painted the place with his overflowing bag of marvels—but watching Namjoon, awe-struck and glowing, is everything. A smile blooms on your face, gentle yet irrepressible, as your heart picks up speed. It flutters wildly, as if it holds a kaleidoscope of butterflies desperate to take flight. Warmth rises to your cheeks, a blush deepening and spreading, while your mind surrenders to thoughts of him and only him.

A quiet realization unfolds, maybe you should finally have that “where is this going?” talk with Namjoon. Because, damn, you know you’ve fallen hard, hopelessly and beautifully.

Your eyes catch sight of an aisle bursting with rolls of gift wrap, and you drift over, searching for the minimalist designs that you love. Just as you reach out for a roll in understated gold, Namjoon clears his throat, drawing your gaze back to him. There’s that smile, the one that makes your heart skip and your knees feel like jelly. He points upward, and you follow his gesture to the ceiling. String lights twinkle in every hue, casting a soft, whimsical glow. Hanging there, nestled amidst the colorful illumination, is a sprig of mistletoe; vivid green with playful red berries, promising a bit of holiday mischief.

A laugh escapes you, light and melodic. “Oh, so you want a kiss?” you tease, your voice brimming with warmth.

Namjoon chuckles, and the sound feels like a spark lighting up something inside you. “You know,” you murmur, leaning in just a touch, “you don’t need mistletoe to kiss me. I always want to kiss you.”

He doesn’t need any more prompting. Both of you move at once, lips meeting in a rush that’s tender yet hungry. The world falls away as your mouths meld together, and his hands find their way around your waist, pulling you into his embrace. You melt into him, a soft moan slipping from your lips, echoing the need that simmers between you. When you finally break apart, a breathless laugh leaves your mouth, the air between you charged and electric. Namjoon’s gaze is dark and glassy, his desire plain to see, and you know yours must mirror the same intensity.

“Are you done with your shopping?” he asks, his voice husky and threaded with want. His words make you bite your lip, heat pooling low in your belly as you nod, barely able to think straight.

“Great,” he replies, his tone velvet and commanding. He takes the cart from your grasp, his fingers brushing yours with a touch that leaves you reeling, and he pushes it toward the checkout. His assertiveness makes your pulse race, a delicious thrill running through you. Somehow, you manage to pay for the Christmas treasures and help load everything into his car, though your mind spins with anticipation. Namjoon returns the cart, his long strides carrying him back to you as snow continues to fall, whispering secrets to the earth.

You climb into the car, turning it on. The heat slowly creeps in, but the temperature between you and Namjoon is already scorching. The air feels thick, heavy with unspoken desires, the kind of tension that crackles and leaves you breathless. He hums along to the Christmas song playing softly on the radio, but your thoughts wander, fixating on his voice, his lips, the memory of the way he kisses you, the way his mouth explores your pussy. You shift uncomfortably, desire making you restless, and you catch yourself before you lose focus on the snow-laden road.

Namjoon chuckles, a low, knowing sound, but he doesn’t move to touch you, though his presence is intoxicating. A part of you craves his hands, his warmth, his everything, but you’re grateful for his restraint. Not while you’re driving, you think, exhaling in a blend of frustration and exhilaration. It would be dangerous, especially on these slick, icy streets. Yet even without his touch, the tension coils tightly, promising a night that will be anything but cold.

You pull into your driveway, snowflakes swirling and dissolving in the twilight air, and as soon as the car engine cuts off, anticipation buzzes through your veins. With a swift click of your seatbelt, you’re out of your restraints and leaning over. You grab the thick collar of Namjoon’s jacket, tugging him closer, your mouths colliding in a heated, desperate kiss. Your lips part, breaths mingling, and a low growl escapes you, primal and hungry, as if you’ve been starving for this moment. You don’t know how long you devour each other like that, your hands fisting his jacket, your heart racing as he groans into your kiss.

When you finally break apart, Namjoon’s chuckle rumbles between you, warm and infectious. “Shouldn’t we… maybe… take this inside?” he teases, his voice husky, eyes glittering with barely restrained desire.

You bite your lip, a playful grin spreading across your face. “Yeah, we should.” Without a second thought, you scramble out of the car, forgetting the mound of Christmas decorations packed in the back. You only have one thing on your mind. Grabbing Namjoon’s hand, you lead him through the cold afternoon, hurrying to escape the winter air and into the sanctuary of warmth inside.

Once you’re in, both of you shed your coats and kick off your boots in a frenzy, laughter echoing in the foyer. His eyes are dark, stormy with arousal, and your pulse quickens, a delicious anticipation settling in your core. “I don’t think Jungkook’s home,” you say, your voice breathy as you nibble your lip, taking his hand again. He lets you drag him up the stairs, his grip firm, electrifying.

Inside your room, you don’t waste a second. You pull him close, your hands cradling his face as you kiss him with a ferocity that makes your knees weak. His hands slide to your waist, guiding you back until your legs hit the bed, and you can’t suppress the shudder that rolls through you.

“Namjoon,” you pant, lips brushing his, “I want you. I need you.”

His eyes burn with intensity as he rasps, “I know. I need you too, baby.” The low, gravelly timbre of his voice sends a wave of heat coursing through you, but frustration boils over. 

“I want your cock,” you admit, desire raw in your voice, making no room for subtlety.

He pauses, then breaks into a chuckle that’s rich and rough, slicing through the tension with ease. “My cock, huh?” he teases, eyebrows arching. “Is that all I’m good for?”

You pull back slightly, heart lurching at the implication, and your eyes widen in disbelief. “What? No,” you insist, voice softening, sincerity bleeding through. You turn your gaze to him, your expression fierce but tender. “Your cock is nice and very good, but it’s you that I love,” you confess, the words tumbling out, bare and vulnerable.

For a beat, there’s a silence that seems to suspend the universe. Your heart stops, bracing for his reaction, hoping you haven’t ruined this, that you haven’t scared him off. But then his lips curve into a smirk, one so full of warmth it melts your doubts.

“Good thing I love you too,” he murmurs, pulling you close again.

You don’t get the chance to respond; his mouth is on yours, urgent and consuming. He presses you down onto the bed, his lips trailing from your cheek to your ear, where his breath ghosts over your skin, sending shivers of delight racing down your spine. You moan, your eyes fluttering shut, breath hitching as he whispers in your ear, voice low and dangerous.

“I’m going to fuck you so good, babe,” he promises, his words sending a molten thrill straight through you. “So good that no one else will ever compare.”

The sheer need in his voice makes you pant, heat pooling between your thighs. “I don’t want anyone else,” you whisper, your hands splaying over his chest, feeling the frantic beat of his heart.

“Me neither,” he murmurs, before dipping down to suck a mark into the curve of your neck. The sensation makes you moan, your pussy clenching with anticipation. God, you’re already soaked, desire pulsing through every nerve, and as he lays claim to your skin, you know you’ll never want anyone but him.

He pauses, lips still flushed from the kiss, and pulls back with a soft, playful sigh. “These glasses are in the way,” he mutters, sliding them off and setting them aside. Your immediate frown makes him laugh, a deep, resonant sound that you feel in your chest. 

“What?” he asks, eyes dancing with amusement. “Do you actually like my glasses?”

You bite your lip and nod, a smirk curving your mouth. “Yeah. You look stupidly hot with them on—like some impossibly sexy professor,” you giggle, the words spilling out like a secret you’ve been holding in.

His eyebrows lift, a teasing smile spreading across his face. “Oh?” he murmurs, leaning in to kiss you again, lips brushing yours with renewed heat.

You giggle, the lightness of the moment threading through your desire. “But can you even see me?” you tease, your voice lilting.

He chuckles, a warm rumble against your skin. “Not very well. You’re just a blurry outline.”

“A sexy blur,” you correct with a laugh, playfulness and arousal weaving together.

He hums in agreement, nuzzling your neck, his lips leaving a trail of fire. “My sexy blur,” he whispers, sending shivers racing down your spine. But you gently push him back, your eyes gleaming with mischief.

“I want you to really see me,” you say, your fingers searching the bed until they find his glasses. You carefully slip them back onto his face, adjusting them so they sit just right. “There,” you whisper. “Now you can see me again. My sexy Joon.”

Namjoon grins, the lenses framing his eyes in a way that makes your pulse race, and he slowly straightens, standing at the edge of your bed. His hands move with purpose as he undresses, each piece of clothing falling away to reveal hard planes of muscle and soft, warm skin. When he’s down to his black boxers, his arousal straining visibly against the fabric, you can’t help but draw in a sharp breath, desire crackling in the air between you.

He watches as you sit up, your gaze locked on him, and you lift your shirt over your head, casting it aside. Your bra follows as does your pants and panties, and the sound Namjoon makes—a low, guttural moan—sends a flush spreading over your skin. His gaze drinks you in, dark and reverent.

He leans toward your pussy, his intentions clear, but you stop him with a playful chuckle, pushing lightly at his chest. “Please,” you say, your voice husky, “just fuck me already. I’m ready, and I want you so bad.”

Namjoon’s eyes widen, and he lets out a choked, breathless laugh, shedding his boxers in one swift motion. He wraps a hand around his cock, giving himself a few firm strokes to steady himself, and you lie back, spreading your legs in invitation. Your body trembles with anticipation, your need palpable.

“Hm,” you tease, wiggling your hips with a grin. “I’m ready to open my petals wide for you. Come and claim me.”

He laughs, a delighted sound, his hands warm as they grasp your thighs. “Cute,” he says, but his smile is laced with desire as he lines himself up with your entrance. Just as he begins to push into you, a wicked gleam sparks in his eyes. “I’ve got a pun too,” he pants, his voice thick as he stretches you open, inch by inch. 

“I think it’s time to fertilize this relationship.”

You hold your breath, feeling him fill you, your body arching in response to the exquisite pressure. His words finally register as he settles fully inside, and you gasp, a laugh bubbling up through the haze of pleasure. “Wait—did you just say you want to fertilize me?” you tease, wiggling your eyebrows, your voice breathless and amused.

Namjoon groans, his laugh turning into a deep grunt as he moves, your bodies pressed together, the playful intimacy of the moment making everything feel impossibly right. “Maybe I did,” he whispers, his breath hot on your skin, his hips beginning to move in a rhythm that leaves you breathless.

His breath catches in his throat, a strangled groan spilling out, thick with pleasure. “God, you’re so tight, babe,” he murmurs, voice rough, a velvet rasp that sends shivers down your spine. His fingers grip you with a fervent need, and his hips meet yours in a dance of primal rhythm. His lips brush your ear, whispering sin into the dark. “Yes,” he growls, each word laced with yearning, “I want you to take all my cum.”

A heat unfurls within you, wild and untamed, and a fevered cry breaks from your lips, back arching, body yearning for more. “Fuck yes,” you gasp, your voice trembling, a symphony of need and desire, “fill me, stretch me, make me yours.” He pulls back, a tease of agony, before plunging in again, deeper this time, and a wave of sensation washes over you, stealing your breath, making your world fracture into shards of pleasure. Toes curl, your heartbeat roaring in your ears, and you claw at his biceps, desperate to hold onto something solid.

“Please,” you beg, voice cracking with urgency, “Fill me up. I want to feel you everywhere, for you to watch your cum drip from my pussy—” A shudder courses through you, and you add, breathless and trembling, “And then fuck it back inside, and give me more.”

A groan rumbles in his chest, and you feel his body tense, the delicious twitch inside you betraying how your words unravel him. “Fuck,” he gasps, the curse a melody wrapped in desperation, his thrusts becoming brutal and consuming. His eyes darken, a storm threatening to drown you both. “My perfect little cockslut,” he grits out, voice threaded with awe and possession, “always so needy for my big cock.”

You wrap your legs around him, pressing your heels into his lower back, desperate to pull him deeper. His thrusts find that secret spot inside you, and the world around you shatters. Your cries echo in the room, a crescendo of ecstasy. “Joon-ah!” you cry, voice a broken plea, and he responds, hips driving harder, chasing your unraveling.

“My beautiful little slut,” he pants, voice cracked and shattered, “made to take me. Made to come for me.” His rhythm is relentless, and the coil in your belly winds tight, snapping like a bolt of lightning. Pleasure blooms through you, so vivid it turns your vision to a white, a brilliant blur. Breathless, undone, you tremble, his name falling from your lips like a prayer.

He catches your mouth in a searing kiss, swallowing your moans, and he drives into you, each thrust deeper, leaving you raw and oversensitive. Your fingers tangle in his hair, pulling, clutching as your body convulses, waves of bliss surging through you. You feel yourself unravel completely, and he moves with you, relentless, sending you spiraling further into the pleasure you never want to escape. 

“So good, my love,” he murmurs, a reverent hymn of praise, and your body responds instantly, your core clenching, a desperate, needy flutter. His eyes darken, desire a tangible force between you. “You ready for me to fill you up?” he asks, his voice a teasing growl, and before you can answer, his strong hands grip your thighs, pulling you open wider, pinning you beneath him as he begins to thrust harder, deeper.

“Yes!” you cry, your voice raw, your need laid bare in that single, breathless scream. His hips snap against yours, each movement carrying a delicious, reckless abandon. One hand drifts between your bodies, and his fingers find your clit, drawing tight, wicked circles that send electricity racing through you. The buildup is sudden, overwhelming—a storm surging through you with a force that steals your breath. You’re undone, surprised by your own body’s eager surrender.

“Oh, shit,” you gasp, every nerve alight, toes curling from the rush of pleasure. “I’m going to come again,” you moan, and your head falls back, exposing the vulnerable line of your throat, every inch of you arched, straining, craving.

“That’s it, babe,” he coaxes, voice raw and full of awe as he watches you come undone. His gaze never leaves you, and he drives into you with relentless precision, chasing his own high as he feels you pulse around him. “Fuck, you’re so tight,” he rasps, his voice cracking with the strain, his own pleasure just out of reach. He’s relentless, a man driven by your shared ecstasy.

“Such a good girl,” he praises, and the words unravel you further. Your head tosses back and forth on the sheets, body a trembling, heaving wreck of sensation. His eyes meet yours, a connection sparking between you, and your breath comes in frantic pants. “Namjoon,” you plead, and his mouth softens, the intensity in his eyes tempered by tenderness.

“I know,” he breathes, his voice a soothing whisper, “I’ve got you.” His thrusts quicken, become erratic, and his grip on your hips tightens, fingers digging in as he hovers at the precipice. “I’m almost there, babe,” he promises, and with a few more deep, punishing thrusts, you feel him shudder, a guttural groan escaping his lips. His release pulses into you, warmth spilling inside as he cries your name, his face twisting in a perfect symphony of pleasure.

You watch him, utterly captivated—his glasses slipping slightly, his jaw slack with bliss—and the sight alone threatens to push you to the brink again. His movements slow, hips stuttering, his body collapsing gently into yours as the high fades. Still trembling, he leans down, his lips brushing yours in a kiss that’s as soft as it is reverent, and you can’t help but giggle, delight spilling over.

He slips out of you, eyes darkening once more as he watches his release trickle from you, and your pussy clench around the emptiness, a final echo of your desire. With a satisfied groan, he flops down beside you, laughter bubbling up between you both. His hand rakes through his tousled hair, chest heaving as he tries to catch his breath. 

You turn your head toward him, the world around you spinning with a dizzying, intoxicating mix of something sweet and wild. Your heart pounds in your chest, a cocktail of longing and reckless abandon. You know you have to ask him, and you have to ask now. The words spill from your lips before you can stop them, raw and urgent. “Do you want to be my boyfriend?” you breathe out in a rush, like you’ve been holding your breath for far too long. 

His eyes catch yours, a grin spreading across his face like sunlight breaking through clouds. “Of course,” he replies, his voice warm and steady, like he’s known all along. 

You smile back at him, and in that instant, the weight you’ve been carrying seems to lift from your shoulders. Your heart feels lighter, like it’s fluttering in your chest, freed from the gravity of uncertainty. He leans in, his hand brushing a stray lock of hair from your face, tucking it gently behind your ear. His voice is soft, but there’s a sincerity to it that makes your heart ache in the best way. “You’ve got me blooming in ways I’ve never felt before.” 

A laugh bursts from your lips, spontaneous and full of joy. “You’re corny,” you tease, the warmth between you igniting the spark of something real, something tender. 

He chuckles, a low, rich sound that makes your pulse race. “Good thing I love you, you nerd,” you add, his eyes gleaming with affection, the kind of love that feels both easy and electric. 

You bite your lip, feeling a rush of warmth crawl up your neck. “Ouch. Just be happy that I love your bitchy and bratty mouth,” he smirks playfully, his hands moving to pull you closer. 

The air shifts as he sits up on the bed, eyes twinkling with mischief. “Speaking of,” he says, voice dropping low with a teasing edge. “Should I clean you off, or give it some time to let my seed settle inside you?” 

Heat rises in your cheeks, the words hanging heavy between you, and you nearly choke on the air. “Please fuck me again, Joonie,” you whisper, the rawness of your need almost too much to take. 

His lips curl into a slow smile as he lowers his mouth to your stomach, kissing you with a reverence that steals your breath away. His lips trail upward, brushing across your breasts, your neck, and finally landing on your mouth in a kiss that leaves you breathless. “Then give me a moment,” he murmurs against your lips, “and I’ll be ready to go again.” 

But before you can lose yourself completely in the heat of the moment, your phone vibrates multiple times on the nightstand, the interruption sharp and unwelcome. You glance at the screen, curiosity piquing in your chest, and your stomach sinks when you see the flood of messages. They’re all from Jungkook.

You groan in embarrassment, cringing at the thought of what might be waiting for you in those texts. 

“What is it, babe?” Namjoon asks, his voice laced with concern as he notices the change in your expression. 

“I guess Jungkook was home all along…” you mumble, heat spreading across your face like wildfire. The realization hangs heavy in the air between you, and both of you understand what it means. Namjoon bursts out laughing, the sound full of warmth and affection. He pulls you into his embrace, his lips trailing soft kisses along your neck, inhaling your scent as if he can’t get enough. 

Your laughter bubbles up, the embarrassment melting away in the comfort of his arms, and for a moment, it’s just the two of you, lost in your own world of joy and tenderness. 

→ Requested taglist: @callmenoona25 @svnbangtansworld @nora12379 @joonsmagicshop @kamilamb @joonlover1207

→ Permanent taglist: @nora12379 @jeonsbabygirlsworld @fancypeacepersona @ktownshizzle @pjmxxjm @ajoonniice @kookiewithluv @mikrokookiex

→ Author’s endnote: I hope enjoyed this one, and please let me know what you liked; you’re always welcome to leave me a comment, a reblog or an ask 🥰 Thank you so much for reading, love you 💜 © @/kingofbodyrolls 2024 // Please don’t copy or repost! You are more than welcome to reblog it, leave a comment or ask me anything about the story 🥰

[eleni-cherie]

agents' secrets ✨ || bts • jjk [ONE-SHOT]

"please, don't shoot me for this."

about two interpol agents assigned to catch a pack of thieves. and a dicey secret to share.

© 2024 | eleni_cherie

[one-shot in 'the thieves collection' series - can be read independently!!]

»»»

— word count: 10k

— genre: interpol agent au, gangster comedy, adventure, romcom, humour, angst, fluff, sexual tensiON, slowburning, mutual pining, co-workers to friends to lover cw2f2l

— song recommendations/inspirations:

luca vasta - imperial (i don't wanna dance)

hozier - too sweet

alexandra savior - bones

claire - friendly fire

ezi - take my breath away

jungkook - standing next to you

»»»

COPYRIGHT. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

IDEA/STORY/CHARACTERS BASED ON MY PREVIOUS STORIES: "A THIEF'S ORIGIN" , "AMONG THIEVES" AND "A THIEF'S END".

this one-shot aims to give additional backstory to some incidents from the three main stories from jungkook and skylar's perspective while focusing and adding details to their friend- and relationship.

if you want the full context and also more of the two, check out the other stories as well!

PROTAGONISTS:

JEON JUNGKOOK AS HIMSELF; YOUNG INTERPOL AGENT / FRISKY COLLEAGUE

KIERNAN SHIPKA AS SKYLAR BLAKE; YOUNG INTERPOL AGENT / AMBITIOUS NEWBIE

ALTERNATIVE UNIVERSE. CHARACTERS NOT NECESSARILY LIKE THE REAL PERSONS. ALSO VERY UNREALISTIC PLOT LOL - JUST PRETEND READING A MANGA/COMIC OR WATCHING A FILM, REALLY.

SUGGESTIVE THEMES. MENTIONS OF VIOLENCE & BLOOD (BUT NOTHING TOO GRAPHIC, IT'S STILL A COMEDY!)

NOT FREE FROM LINGUISTIC ERRORS - ENGLISH IS NOT MY NATIVE LANGUAGE.

DON’T BE A GHOST READER. LIKE, COMMENT & SHARE THIS STORY IF YOU LIKE IT :))

DEDICATED TO EVERYONE WHO’S READING THIS FANFIC!

CHECK OUT MY OTHER BTS STORIES AS WELL: HERE

-Elenixx

»»»

[set between the prequel and main story]

Interpol branch office

Seoul, South Korea

Jungkook had never been someone struggling with mornings. Considering they'd spend the previous days in Shanghai, arresting a counterfeiter they'd been after for months, however, the lack of sleep started getting the best of him.

If he could, he'd have more than twenty-four hours a day. A day alone wasn't enough to fully rest.

With a yawn, he sat behind his desk and switched his pc on. Slight disappointment washing over his features as there weren't any news about their favourite pack of thieves. Perhaps Seokjin would inform them about any hints regarding Park Jimin and his gang in the team meeting later.

His eyes wandered around then, realising Namjoon wasn't at the desk across from his. And he sighed. It was a view he should probably get used to considering his older collegue was leaving the robbery department soon to become the lead at special victims.

Of course Jungkook was happy for Namjoon, but he simply wasn't a big fan of changes, even if they were inevitable. It always took him awhile getting used to new circumstances.

Suddenly a tall figure entered his peripheral view and he saw his supervisor walking towards him with an ambigious smirk. "Jungkook-ah! Good morning!"

"'morning, Sir."

"What are these bags under your eyes? They're deeper than my soul," Seokjin laughed out and gave him a pat on the shoulder, coaxing a tired chuckle from the young agent.

"I know, I know," he mumbled in embarrassment, which his supervisor missed while looking for something in his pockets. Eventually pulling out a USB drive.

"Remember the list of suspects we requested from the bootleg case? We got it here. Make sure to cross-check with the other case."

He nodded firmly. "Sure."

Only when Seokjin left, he let himself sink into his seat again. He definitely needed coffee before the team meeting in less than an hour. So he got up, making his way towards the elevator. As he rounded the corner, he saw Namjoon entering through the glass doors with the sleeves of his blazer rolled up and a pair of glasses on the bridge of his nose. An air of refined nonchalance surrounding him.

He was holding one of the double doors open and only then Jungkook noticed he was talking to someone. Catching a glimpse of a person behind his broad shoulders.

"This is our floor and where you're gonna work at next week. It's pretty much the sa- oh! JK!" Namjoon's cheery voice when noticing him made Jungkook pause in his tracks. With a shy smile, he waved and walked up to him. Seeing the person Namjoon was talking to appear beside him.

A young woman, probably not older than him but not much younger either, stood there. Compared to Namjoon's tall stature she looked tiny and when standing in front of her he realised that she was indeed quite short, probably not more than 1.6 metres in height. Her shoulder-length blond hair was falling in soft waves, pushed back by a hairband. There was a sharpness in her brown eyes and a reserved curve on her lips as she locked gazes with him.

Only when one of her thick brows arched, he realised he'd been staring and with a quick blink of his eyes, he redirected them to Namjoon who'd been talking this whole time. "Huh?"

Namjoon gave him a puzzled frown before laughing out. "Say, haven't you fully woken up yet? I said this is your new colleague."

"Starting on monday, so not yet," the young woman corrected with a charming smile, earning a nod from Namjoon.

"Oh," Jungkook finally spoke up, his eyes going round like a child's as soon as he processed the information. And his gaze returned to her. "So you're his successor?"

"Y-yeah, I guess so," she answered tentatively.

"She's gonna be your new partner."

And his lips curled up. "Nice to meet you, then. I'm agent Jeon Jungkook."

He offered her his hand, which she accepted with a coy smile, giving it a quick squeeze before letting go again. 

"Agent Skylar Blake, nice to meet you."

The senior agent motioned with his chin for them to continue down the corridor. "I was about to show her around the department before the meeting. You wanna join us?"

"Maybe later, gotta grab some coffee first."

Namjoon gave him an understanding look and chuckled. "Yeah, you look like you could use one."

He eventually met Skylar and Namjoon again in the conference room half an hour later. The two already sitting and chatting at a corner while people started gathering. Jungkook was sipping at his by now lukewarm coffee, occasionally peeking at them from a few seats away as they were all intently listening to Seokjin and the other teamleaders' updates.

The meeting went by rather quickly. There were news regarding some cases but nothing regarding Jimin, Taehyung and Yoongi. The general census being that they were currently laying low and preparing for a new coup after the failed one in Thailand months ago.

It was nearing noon when Jungkook sat back in his desk chair and stretched his neck. Finally having finished going through the list Seokjin had given him and some other evidence. He hadn't looked up from his screens in hours and when he did, his irises caught sight of Skylar sitting at the desk opposite to his. Namjoon's desk.

Her dark eyes concentrating on something in front of her, scribbling down on the paper.

For a moment, he observed her quietly as she tucked a streak of blond hair behind her ear. Tongue slightly sticking out between her red-painted lips. And he got curious of what she was so focused on.

Surely, he hadn't talked much to her yet but she seemed nice. And considering the two would be working closely from now on, he should probably get to know her better.

Skylar scribbled something again on what he eventually saw was a crosswords, too immersed in it to notice him approaching. Only a few blanks were left on the quiz and he raised an impressed brow when standing beside her.

"'Jackass'."

The young woman jumped up in her seat, looking startled at Jungkook above her.

"W-what?"

"'Jackass'," he repeated matter-of-factly, motioning with his eyes to the squares on the paper and tapping his finger on it. "Nine horizontal, 'equid – stupid person': jackass."

Finally understanding, she looked down and indeed, it fit. "T-thanks."

"You bored?" he asked then, meeting her friendly smile.

"Kinda. Agent Kim told me to wait here as he got called in by the other agent Kim and you seemed so emerged in your task, I didn't want to disturb."

He hummed, his eyes briefly falling into a sad scowl. He knew he should get used to seeing someone else, particularly her, sitting behind that desk from now on, however, it was still hard to grasp or accept that fact.

Shaking off that thought, he grabbed the unoccupied desk chair of another colleague then, rolling next to her. "Mind if I join you?" he asked, taking a seat beside her. A whiff of an unfamiliar smell filling his nostrils. It was her, he realised, she smelled nice. Of flowers.

She shook her head then, scooting further away to make space for him. "I didn't want to distract you from your task, though. You don't have to keep me company."

"Nah, don't worry, I finished and besides.." he offered her a smile, "..we'll be partners from now on. I should probably get to know you better since we're gonna spend so much time together."

Her lips folded and she nodded. "Makes sense.."

"So you like crosswords?"

"Mh. And reading. Keeps my mind busy."

"I see. I prefer video games."

"I suck in them," she deadpanned, earning a chuckle from him. At least she was honest.

"And I suck in reading anything with more than twenty pages of text."

"Oh, so you can still read children's books at least."

He huffed a laugh seeing her biting back one herself. He wasn't used to anyone being this witty with him besides Seokjin and occasionally Namjoon and it amused him. Made it easier to get used to her.

"Yeah, but I'd much rather read manga."

He managed getting a small laugh out of her after all and he grinned, satisfied.

They grew quiet, reading over the remaining blanks when Skylar peeked at him with prying eyes.

"Since we're getting to know each other right now.." she began slowly, earning a questioning look from him, "May I ask you something?"

"Go ahead."

"Why do you seem so sad when looking at me?"

His brows rose briefly, before looking away with a sigh. So she had noticed. "Is it that obvious?"

"Oh, sorry, was it supposed to be a poker-face?" she giggled then, pointing her pen at him, "If so, I must inform you, you failed miserably."

He scoffed, laughing again and she joined him. 

It was interesting. When she'd first met him a few hours ago he seemed aloof. However, seeing him laugh now had much the opposite effect on her. He looked quite innocent and childlike as his round eyes crinkled and turned into crescents while laughing carelessly. 

"Please don't take it personally," he said then, "It has nothing to do with you. It's just.. I'm kinda sad Namjoon's leaving. That's all. He.. he is my role model here. Obviously Seokjin, too, they both are. But Namjoon was the reason I joined this department in the first place."

Memories from four years ago when he'd first joined after graduating from the academy swept through his mind. How nervous and dewy-eyed he'd once been and determinded to prove himself. Looking back at it now, he had to laugh at his past self.

Skylar, however, didn't seem nervous or gullible at all. At least from what he'd seen that day. And he quickly noticed the surprise on the younger agent's face at his confession, feeling himself blushing. "I know it must sound ridiculous and - "

"No, actually.. I get it," she interrupted him, "It was the same for me."

His eyes grew round. "What?"

She only nodded vigorously. "Yeah, I applied for narcotics first but he somehow got my application and convinced me to come here instead. He.. he surely has a way with words. I couldn't refuse." Frankly, she was still amazed by Namjoon's eloquent way of speaking.

Jungkook laughed to himself, nodding in agreement. "He definitely does."

They exchanged a small smile when suddenly their names were heard from the other side of the office. Both their heads turned in the direction of Seokjin's voice, seeing their supervisor standing all the way back at the open door of the conference room, waving at them to come.

"Just got some news from our favourite thieves. Blake, you might wanna join since you'll have to deal with them from now on, too."

They nodded and immediately got up to hurry to the conference room when Skylar accidentally bumped into him. Their gazes locked as she smiled up at him. And in that short moment her cherry lips moved to apologize, his breath hitched and he swallowed hard. His ears began ringing out of nowhere then, as if they'd clogged up and he shook his head in a poor attempt to get rid of it. 

He noticed Skylar's puzzled expression, dark brows knitted together and his irises widened, taken aback.

"You two coming?"

"Y-yeah, yes," Jungkook quickly yelled and brushed past her towards the conference room.

And Skylar stood there, eyes resting on his tall figure.

What an odd guy.

»»»

[6 months later, during main story]

Mexico City, Mexico

"I can't believe I let her trick me like that," Skylar huffed, doing her best to fight against the urge of burying her face in her hands. Instead, she only shook her head, disappointment washing over her.

Jungkook gave her an empathetic look. "You're too hard on yourself," he said and settled for the seat across from her. "Seriously, don't let that get to you. Arabella Valentine is a sly one. She'd have tricked anyone and this was the first time you came face-to-face with her."

Despite her appreciating his attempt of cheering her up, her sulky expression only persisted. "I know. But considering I studied these criminals so well the past months and knew how mesmerising she can be to the point even Park Jimin constantly gets wrapped around her finger, I should've been better prepared. She caught me out completely and I know it's unprofessional but I.. I-" Skylar grew quiet before throwing her head back with a groan. "- but I quite profoundly and wholeheartedly dislike her."

Jungkook only bursted out laughing, quite amused by the usual level-headed Skylar losing her composure. "Because she handcuffed you onto the cabinet."

"Because she handcuffed me onto the cabinet," she confirmed.

It was the first time she had encountered the female thief and Jimin's 'frenemy' and love interest, and despite the stories and warnings, she wouldn't have guessed to get so easily fooled by her, too.

Quite frankly, Skylar felt her pride was hurt but more importantly she'd embarrassed herself. In front of Jungkook and worse, in front of their supervisor Seokjin. Despite him laughing it off and even joking about the situation.

"Ah, Sky, told you already. You're too uptight, loosen up! No one's judging you for that. I used to be like that, too, you know. I took everything too serious, I was so eager to prove myself.. But there's nothing to prove. You're good, otherwise you wouldn't be here."

In the past months and during long flights all across the globe and endless nights going over evidence and connecting the dots, he'd said the same. In the beginning she was indifferent and simply waved it off, then she got almost comically offended by his advices. By now it only made her exhale deeply, knowing he was right. Yet, it was hard to accept it.

"But she got away.." mumbled and propped her chin onto her hand as she looked out into the sunlit buildings outside the police precinct. 

Sometimes, she still felt like the outsider. The rookie. The newbie.

Everyone but her team colleagues looking down at her. Perhaps she was being paranoid, but sometimes it seemed like agents from the other teams and departments were talking about her behind her back. Like when she entered a room and everyone coincidentally stopped talking, people looking away when she caught them staring or hushed whispers around the corners.

It was surely all in her imagination, all these insecurities she'd felt while growing up and later in school, university and the academy, piling up. As if being half-korean and not looking like it at all wasn't bad enough, but with her mother being a diplomat and sending her to private tutors and lessons, it surely hadn't made it easier.

She wondered if any of her colleagues knew about it, wondered if they believed she only got so far because of her mother, despite her always being strictly against her daughter persuing that career and even joining Interpol.

The sound of typing interrupted her train for thoughts then and she saw Jungkook had begun looking over the security footage in the meantime, trying locating Jimin and Arabella's escape route after slipping away in the traffic.

"She'd have anyway," he eventually shrugged a gentle smile crossing his lips when glancing at her, "But you were the only one thinking about checking the archive. You were smarter than the rest of us."

That was true, she thought and it lightened her mood a tiny bit. A genuine smile tucking on her red lips. At least Jungkook never treated her differently, despite knowing about her background.

He was way more positive than her. Not that she was a pessimist, but when it came to herself she was certainly her biggest critic.

Her eyes wandered over the curve of his cheek, and the wave of his hair, and the way his shirt draped over his shoulders.

Shaking her head, she pulled her laptop closer to help him in his search.

"Cheer up, here." His sudden enthusiasm made her perk up from her screen and he turned his laptop to her. "Found where they went to. It's this café."

She arched a brow. "But do you really think they'll still be there? As if."

"Maybe not, but it's at least a clue and besides.." He rubbed his belly with an innocent smile. He got up then and flipped the device shut, gesturing for her to follow. "Come, I'll treat you to lunch. To make up for your hard day."

She huffed out a laugh. "I know you're making fun of me again. But I surely won't decline the offer."

And she gave him a wink before brushing past him.

The floral scent of her perfume staying a second more.

»»»

[a week later]

Jungkook couldn't help but giggle in childish amusement when seeing Skylar struggling matching his speed. They were doing laps to warm up and he'd decided to tease her a little more by speeding up.

"Jung-" she wheezed "-kook! You meanie!"

Another fit of chuckles errupted from his cheeky grin until stopping abruptly and looking behind him.

Her blond waves were in a high ponytail, swaying left and right as she jogged towards him. Nearing him with a scowl. 

They were both wearing the same standard field training attire, olive-green cargo pants and black shirts, almost looking like children whose parents' decided to give them matching couple outfits just for fun.

"Did you say anything?" he asked with a shit-eating grin, earning a roll of her eyes.

"We said we'd do a relaxed warm-up!"

He faked innocence at her adorable pout. "Oh sorry, must've forgotten."

Skylar could tell he hadn't but decided she didn't have the energy or will to continue arguing, being too exhausted after running like a maniac for five laps to try catching him.

"Are you two enough warmed up now?" the instructor at the training centre interrupted their bickering, both following him to the actual gym area.

Some would consider it a perk being able to exercise during work hours as field agents had to stay physically fit. Others again might consider it almost a punishment having to constantly work out.

Jungkook belonged to the first kind while Skylar was rather seeing herself in the second category. That day, however, she saw herself in the first one with him.

Defence training was on the schedule which she enjoyed as it was the only time she didn't feel totally inferior to Jungkook's muscular built which was quite the opposite to his sweet and juvenile face. And especially after Arabella having so skillfully fooled her last time, she felt she needed to freshen her skills.

An hour passed, grunts and small yells filling the area as both went through the exercises, either with the instructor or the training dummies. The air got stuffy after some, making the two eventually pause in need for a water break and to catch their breaths.

The instructor suggested for them to repeat the last couple of figures together the . One acting as the attacker and the other as the defender. So they positioned themselves on the training mat opposite of each other. Arms in front of them in a starting position.

"I'm apologising in advance, in case I'll hurt you," she said, causing Jungkook to scoff. He couldn't believe that smug smile on her gentle features.

"That's rich coming from the one always asking me to open her water bottles," he simply countered. Skylar's jaw dropped, about to retort something, when he began moving and she quickly composed herself.

Their movements were quick, she stepped in close to his body so when she turned, her right shoulder brushed his chest. Using the edges of her opened hands, she struck his upper and lower arm. Obviously she didn't do it too hard, it was more about doing the correct movements than using force. After all, she didn't want to actually hurt him.

Grabbing his arm, she twisted it until the heel of his hand pointed toward the ceiling. But then he pivoted, placing his right shoulder under her elbow and freeing himself. He walked backwards, facing her with a smug grin on his full lips. He brushed away the dyed strands that had fallen in front of his eyes with his tattooed hand as he took in the initial position. 

Skylar puffed out a breath, blowing off a strand that had loosened from her ponytail. There was determination written behind her long-eyelashes and her fingers gave him a daring wave, gesturing him that she was ready for his move.

Without saying a word, his body spun in an fast movement. Left hand pulled back into a fist, the other arm stretched out for a pretend-punch aimed at the spot beside her. But Skylar grabbed his wrist in time and forced it to stop mid-air while her other hand grasped the collar of his shirt.

And both came to an abrupt halt, staring at each other with heavy breaths. Sweat beads were rolling down their foreheads, hair sticking to their flushed skin. There was a sudden shift in the air between them, it felt tense, electrified even. And for a moment, Jungkook forgot where he was, the wave emerging from her eyes deep and dark, threatening to envelop him as he sunk in deeper in them. Almost swallowing him up. And there it was again, that faint ringing penetrating his ears. Until the instructor's loud clap yanked him back to reality. 

"Good! Back to the initial position and repeat!"

Skylar let out a shaky breath and loosened her fist from his shirt. Retreating slowly. Her brown irises fell to the bigger becoming space between them.

And she wondered if he also felt a short pain shooting through every fibre of his body when their faces were only centimetres apart from each other.

»»»

[a month later, set during the main story]

Skylar was laying in her hospital bed. Wide awake.

Hours had passed since Jungkook's visit - after a nurse had lost her patience and pressed him to leave as visiting hours had long ended and Skylar was supposed to rest. Yet, she couldn't just do that. Of course not. Laying there instead with eyes wide open, staring into the darkness.

Waking up there after three days of coma due to exhaustion should have had her shaken up. However, the main cause of her troubled thoughts was rather the situation that had brought this upon her to begin with. The memory of it replaying in her mind's eye in an endless loop.

Just a pinch between her shoulder, nothing more was needed from Jimin for her to succumb after catching him on his escape from the interpol building. 

It should've never come this far considering her self-defense skills, then how did it?

Certainly, she wasn't the only interpol agent these thieves kept outwitting, even her own supervisor getting fooled by them and yet, she felt humiliated it happened to her again.

Was Jungkook right? Did she overdo it and overwork herself?

Jungkook.. She should probably consider herself lucky to have such a sweet and caring person as her partner. He was always so considerate of everyone.

She wondered if he percieved her like that as well. As he himself always said, they had to look out for each other and that was what she always tried when they were out in the field. But somehow she felt like she failed. How was she supposed to look after Jungkook when she let herself get tricked by thieves so easily?

She sighed, her eyelids growing heavy eventually. 

"Let me guess," Jimin chuckled from behind, "You're into your little colleague, agent Jeon, right?"

Her eyes shot open at the sudden memory creeping up from the depth of her mind.

Jimin's teasing words while disarming her days ago still rang loud in her ears. And she frowned all over again about this random and profoundly wrong conclusion.

Sure, he was known for having excessive psychological skills and the ability to read through everyone, exposing them to his advantage, but even he could be wrong at least once. Right?

"T-that'd be highly unprofessional," she had defended herself back then and she stood by that. But now she regretted not simply denying it.

Yes, he was attractive and cute. Yes, he had a charming smile. Yes, he had a great personality.

No, she didn't have feelings for him. Not because it would've been unprofessional but because she simply didn't.

Right?

Jimin surely wouldn't have persisted calling it a crush if she had just denied it.

She was good in self-defence, she'd trained for this kind of situations. And yet, when he'd brought up Jungkook, it'd thrown her off completely. Distracting her. Of course, that was most likely the reason he had done it in the first place. He had only tried messing with her by bringing up Jungkook and she'd let him succeed. 

That was what bothered her the most, the fact she'd failed in freeing herself from Jimin's clasp in time before he'd began distracting her.

And that was also the only reason why he'd called Jungkook to pick up her unconscious self afterwards. He probably thought he'd do her a favour by not leaving her on the cold ground for too long, as amends for making her unconscious.

That was it. Anything else wouldn't make sense because Skylar did not have a crush or any romantic feelings towards her partner. 

She couldn't.

And still, she couldn't deny the warmth she'd felt when seeing him there. When waking up in that unknown environment, dazed and confused, meeting Jungkook's excited eyes and bunny smile gave her a wave of serenity.

He always made her feel safe. That was something no one else could.

»»»

Jungkook's gaze kept unconsciously returning to the empty desk in front of him.

It was funny in a way. Seven months ago he had struggled getting used to seeing her occupying the space instead of Namjoon and now, now he couldn't imagine anyone but her sitting there. And seeing it all empty gave him a restlessness he couldn't quite understand.

Truth was, when he'd seen Skylar lying unconscious against the wall, his heart had dropped to the pits of his stomach, filled with panic and fear. The mere possibility of anything happening to her, made his mind cloud with a dark fog.

Lost in thoughts, he kept nervously tapping the pen in his hands against the tabletop.

He secretly worried, he constantly worried for her and he didn't know why.

It wasn't because he considered her weak or incapable. He knew she was more than capable. Her scores at the gun training were always 90% or more. And she was able to defend herself, which she always proved whenever the two trained together. And she was intelligent, the smartest person he knew save for Namjoon, she wouldn't get herself in danger.

Then why was he constantly concerned over her well-being?

Probably because he wasn't blind, he saw her staying up on the plane while everyone was dozing off, going over the case files. Or staying in office after everyone was gone, to finish the paper work. Or how she constantly beat herself up whenever she believed she'd screwed up. Just like now, despite an hospital stay.

His eyes fell on the empty desk across from him again.

The relief he'd felt when she'd finally regained consciousness after three days was beyond description.

It was logical for him to worry, though. Of course it was.

Skylar was his partner. She was his friend.

»»»

[set after the final chapter of the main story but before its epilogue]

A knock on the car window disrupted the peaceful silence. Much to Jungkook's surprise, he saw none other than his partner waving at him from the other side of the glass before opening the door and sliding into the passenger seat. She immedietally took off her gloves to rub her cold hands in the warmness inside. The heating blasting from the dashboard in full mode

"Sky, what -" Cough, cough. "Are -"

"Save yourself from another coughing fit," she giggled and revealed a paper bag. Rummaging inside it before taking out a cup. "Here, drink."

Jungkook blinked, accepting the warm beverage. The steamy aroma of tea filling the car.

He opened the lid and blew on it before taking a sip. "What are you doing here? I thought -" Cough. "- Don was supposed to scope out with me tonight."

The blonde only shrugged, taking out another cup for herself. "I switched. Convinced him that he'd rather want to sit in a warm and cozy office and file the warrant requests than being out all night in the cold."

Her answer only puzzled him more as it rose more questions. "Didn't you prefer being in a warm and cozy office, too, though?"

"Of course," she nodded. 

"Then why did you do it?"

She smiled into the dark liquid between her hands. Taking a sip herself and letting it warm her her frozen body. "Because. You know, it's quite boring if you aren't around to keep me company," she admitted casually. Despite feeling her already pink cheeks blushing more. His lips parted, but before he could response anything, she cleared her throat and continued. "And besides, I know it ain't fun doing an observation. Especially not when you got a cold and the other person talks non-stop about themselves."

He chuckled under his breath and took another sip from the tea, soothing his itchy throat. "Guess that's true."

"It's you who should've been in the warm office, your nose is all red," Skylar pointed out then with a raised brow but he only waved her off.

"S'okay."

"You sure?" He wanted to roll his eyes but Skylar's delicate hand suddenly pressed against his forehead. A concentrating look on her soft edges. His breath hinched. His eyes flickering to her lips.

"You're warm, you must have temperature." She sat back, glaring at him with concern. "Jungkook, are you sure you're okay?"

And he smiled. "I am, don't worry."

To that Skylar only huffed and crossed her arms. "You're such a hypocrite, always telling me I shouldn't strain myself but here you are, sitting in a car in the middle of January for an observation while being sick."

"'am not," the round-eyed guy mumbled when an anew cough emerged and he quickly tried suffocating it with the warm tea.

"Fine, be stubborn and worsen your cold," she mumbled then, "But don't expect me to come and bring you soup or something." She shoved the paper bag into his lap then and he saw there were his favourite cup noodles, banana milk and a pack of antipyretic pills.

His lips formed a small grin. He wouldn't mind getting worse if that meant she'd take care of him really. Nonetheless, he swallowed one of the pills along with his tea.

For the next ten minutes they oberved the building in silence. Skylar felt her eyes closing on their own, having to constantly blink to keep them open. She wasn't the best in simply sitting there for hours without doing anything, hence why she despised observations. And Jungkook knew it. Of course he did after two years of knowing and working with her now.

And yet she chose to do an observation just to keep him company.

Most people thought of Skylar of the perfect balance of wit and charm. Fascinating and inaccessible, distant because of her demonstrated intelligence, and possessing such strength of character that she was dismaying and at the same time utterly attractive in an enticing and 'out-of-your-league' way. But to Jungkook she was more than that, more than simply smart, capable and beautiful. She was lovely, she was caring, she was adorable when upset and a real tease when competing with him.

But one thing he had to agree with, she was surely way out of his league.

"You know," he broke the silence, his voice quiter than he intended, "I read that classic novel you recommended."

At that any evidence of sleep washed away from her. "When?"

He frowned. "Why are you acting so surprised?" He sounded genuinely offended by her dumbfounded look and she quickly folded her lips.

"S-sorry, it's just that you yourself said you aren't much of a reader. That's why I've never expected you.." Her voice trailed off as she watched the cute pout on his lips grow. "And how did you find it? Did you like it?"

Jungkook made a thinking expression, biting his lips. "Honestly, I was confused in the beginning, but once I finally got the hang of it and used to the writing style, it was quite good. Less dramatic than I expected though."

She laughed. The lights of the dashboard giving her clear skin a faint blueish hue. "You expected it more dramatic? I found it quite dramatic as it was."

He shrugged with a lopsided grin, lingering on her dazzling large eyes a bit longer before averting his gaze back to the building he was supposed to observe all night long. "Perhaps I'm used to Hollywood-movie-drama. For the people back then it must've been quite dramatic."

Skylar couldn't help but give him a fond look. The fact he read one of her favourite books despite not being into reading, meant a lot. Especially as it wasn't a light read either, she knew.

"If I knew you'd read one of my recommendations I'd have suggested a classic romance novel, knowing you have a weak spot for such stories," she said, not teasing this time but with a nothing but affectionate smile.

"Name me one and I might read it if I find the time and will again."

"Let me think of one, after all I don't wanna be cliché and recommend Pride and Prejudice - although admittedly, it's brilliant."

"Oh, I've heard of the film  - can I just watch that instead?" His boyish grin made her laugh out.

"Sure, do whatever you want," she giggled, looking out at the dark streets again. The fluffy snow blanket covering all their dirty secrets. No one had entered or left the building of interest and no one was out at this hour unless they had some dubious business anyway.

"You know," she spoke up after awhile, "I also tried watching the movie you mentioned."

He perked up at this. "'Tried'?" he repeated chuckling, "So you didn't."

"I did!" she defended herself, "But.."

"But?"

She pursed her lips. "I cried."

"Huh?" He looked at her, dumbfounded.

A pout crossed her features and she looked out again. "I cried, okay? A bit. It made me cry."

His lips folded, contemplating whether his memory failed to remember the sad scenes or if there really weren't any. "But.. it's not a sad film," he smiled then.

"Not necessarily sad, but touching for sure," she mumbled bashfully, avoiding his glance so he wouldn't see her eyes tearing up again. She was good in keeping herself from sudden emotional outbursts, but she had a weak spot for plots like this. Although she rarely watched anime films, this one would surely go to the top of her list.

"You're cute."

Jungkook's sudden words made her turn slowly, looking at his smile with utter astonishment. No one had ever called her cute, save for when she was a child. She didn't find her face to be one that would commonly be considered 'cute' nor did she think her personality matched that description. And yet, she felt herself blushing.

Her lips parted, fiddling with her words when he looked ahead again and took another sip of his tea. Clearly missing her lack of words. "Okay, no films that may make you cry then. What about horror films?"

"Horror films?" Skylar asked surprised, glad for the change of topics. "I love horror films! I thought you were only into chickflicks and anime though."

He frowned, faking offence. "Not 'chickflicks' - romance and dramas. There's a difference!"

She giggled, rolling her eyes. "Alright, sorry. But why have you never told me you like horror films in all these years we know each other?"

He shrugged. In all honesty, he didn't expect her to actually be into this genre and was a little astonished over that. "Hm, why have you never mentioned it either?"

And the two shared a short laugh before going back to observing the building in silence. His eyes occasionally side-tracking and watching her instead.

Skylar wasn't just his partner. Neither was she just his friend.

She was the closest person to him.

»»»

[a few months later]

national treasury

Sejong, South Korea

"Team alpha, our man has been seen in the basement, near the left corridor."

"Roger that," Jungkook answered into the transmitter before pointing to their left with two fingers. Skylar gave him a nod and proceeded through the metal door with her gun aiming in front of her. Him following, eyes trained on every corner.

The basement of the national treasury was dim-lit, only security lights being switched. Bathing the corridors in wine-red and creating an eery atmosphere.

Skylar made a handsign, indicating she saw something suspicious. Shining the flashlights which were held right under their guns at the direction. And indeed, the massive door at the end of the corridor, was left a jar. Both exchanged a glance. It could've been a trap but they had to check it out nonetheless. 

Carefully, Junkook pushed it open and entered, shining into the darkness. He went further inside, Skylar illuminating the other side of the room. Cabinets, safe deposits but nothing more visible. Reaching its end, they realised the area was empty and lowered their arms with a disappointed sigh. 

His partner was about to propose to leave and check other places, only for a heavy noise behind them to catch their attention. They tensed and looked behind their shoulders. Against the red lights, the lean sillhuette of a man appeared and he waved at them. Jimin's laugh echoing through the dark then. "Don't worry! I'm sure the adults will find you soon."

Before they could react properly, he disappeared behind the massive safe door. Letting it click shut and leaving them both with a perplexed look in the light of their flashlights.

"No, no, no. No way," she muttered and shoved her gun into its holster before rushing to the metall door and desperately trying to push or pull it open, in vain. It didn't bulge even a little. Jungkook joined her, both grunting while taking turns in throwing their bodyweight onto it and pulling at the handles in a desperate attempt.

"It's really locked, huh?" he exhaled watching his partner retreat from it with a deep crease set between her brows.

"Seems like it.." She groaned, throwing her head back. "Great. That damn thief.. and what are we doing now?"

"Well," Jungkook shrugged after tapping his in-ear and not receiving any signal, just as expected considering that was one of the main security precautions of that safe. No reception. "I'm pretty sure agent Kim will look for us soon. He must notice we're missing."

Skylar only huffed though, taken aback by how relaxed he seemed. She observed him taking a seat on the ground, propping one arm on his angled knee while letting his flashlight wander around the room. The countless deposit lockers lined up on the walls covering everything in a cold silver.

"What do you think is inside there?" he asked. Brown eyes round from curiosity.

She sighed and walked up to him. Sliding down the wall and taking a seat beside him. She hated having to just sit and wait, not being able to do anything. She felt helpless and that was what they essentially were in that moment. All they could do was sit and wait for their colleagues or any security guards to find them. 

Tricked by those thieves once again. She had to laugh at how ridiculous it was.

With a dragged breath, she stared up to the ceiling. Her eyes peeked at Jungkook who was still looking around their surroundings with child-like awe. If it wasn't for the situation they were in, she'd have found it adorable. 

Quickly, she shook her head and coughed. She had to stay calm and focus. "I have no clue, Kook."

He hummed and began walking around. Lighting at the walls in search for any well or crack, but unable to make out anything like that. His gaze then went to the ceiling and the glass squares covering the lamps.

"Sky, would you come here for a second?"

"Why?" she asked but still got up, walking up him. Her eyes following his when he faced her with a mischievious smirk.

"I'll give you a leg-up and you try see if you can push in any of the squares. Maybe there's an intermediate ceiling."

She looked at him in disbelief. "Seriously?"

He simply nodded with certainty so she sighed, eventually nodding. 

Jungkook was glad that no matter how ridiculous Skylar found his ideas, she'd always agree to follow them. He didn't know whether it was because she trusted him or because she didn't want to put up with his persistence, but he was glad nonetheless.

He crouched down, folding his hands on the ground for her to put her foot on. She grabbed onto his sturdy shoulders as he hoisted her and she climbed onto them. Frankly, she got a fuzzy feeling being all up high on an a wobbly surface but he held her ankles firmly, so she dared an attempt to stretch. Barely touching the built-in lamps. 

With light grunts, she stretched more. Eventually managing pushing one of the lamps but with no success. It didn't bulge. "Dammit," she muttered and tried again by subconsciously raising her heels and slipping.

She shrieked out of shock, hands letting go of the flashlight and instinctively reaching out to hold onto nothing but air. In the split second she fell, she saw sporadic memories appear in her mind's eye when feeling strong arms enveloping her.

Jungkook had caught her fall in time, slowly setting her down. Her feet touching the ground of whose acquaintance she'd almost made.

Skylar's heart was racing, chest raising and falling rapidly as she breathed irregularly. And she stared at the soft ages of his dimly-lit face with a bewildered glare.

He was so close, he was so close and she couldn't feel her legs anymore. She couldn't feel her fingers or the cold or the emptiness of this room because all she felt was the warmth his body was radiating, everywhere, filling everything while his arms were still securely wrapped around her smaller frame.

And she couldn't help but recall the memory pieces she'd seen when falling. They all consisted of him. Pieces of them together. Of his sparkling eyes, crinkling when laughing, of his sweet smile, turning mischievious when teasing her and his gentle voice, calling her name.

"Sky, are you alright?"

She blinked, realising he was actually calling her. Concern engraved on his partly illuminated features due to her silence. "Y-yes." However, her fingers curled more around his biceps. Ensuring he wasn't an illusion of her imagination from hitting the ground after all. "Please," she whispered then, "Please, don't shoot me for this."

And before he had the chance to ask what she meant, she let go of all her self-control and instead, kissed him.

She kissed him like it was her only chance to ever do something so reckless and bold again, because it most likely was, and she had to make the most out of it.

His lips were softer than anything she'd ever known, soft like a first snowfall, like biting into cotton candy, like melting and floating and being weightless in water. It was so effortlessly sweet. But perhaps the best part of all that was that she, guilty of constantly analysing the world around her, stopped thinking. And it was amazing.

At least, until she started thinking again.

"You.. wow.." he breathed against her flushed lips then. If his pupils weren't already wide from the darkness, they'd surely been after that unexpected move.

"S-sorry," she stuttered, feeling silly and awkward when realising what she'd just done in the brief moment her logic was switched off. "I shouldn't - I mean, we're colleagues. Partners! We should not.. it was unproffessional. Let's forget about it." Her feet moved to step back, when she felt his hands holding her forearms firm in their place.

"Sky," he simply said and she immediately stopped in her tracks. "If you regret it because it happened in the heat of the moment, without any meaning to you, I'll forget and never mention it again." He paused. Her soft skin shining faintly in the light of the flashlights on the ground. His hands moved from her arms, to her shoulders and eventually came to a halt on her neck. And Skylar held her breath, unable to move her gaze away. "However," his voice deeper now, "If the only reason you regret it is out of fear what anyone at work might think, I'll remind you that no one's around."

Skylar swallowed. Unable to suppress the rush in her chest. "And.. and what about you?"

"Me?"

"Y-yeah, what do you.. think about it?"

He smiled before pulling her in. His lips finding hers again. She didn't even try to fight it, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and pulling Jungkook closer. His hands wounded her hair, as he'd wanted to do since the first time he'd seen her. It curled around his fingers, silky and fine. Her lovely scent filled his nostrils. His heart was pounding hard, creating a rushing sound in his ears. It wasn't a ringing this time, though, it was like beating wings.

Until it was replaced with the jarring noise of the opening door, catching them off-guard. 

They practically pushed each other away, taking several steps back when multiple sillhouettes appeared at the frame of the opened door and they recognised Seokjin with security guards standing there. Bliding them with their flashlights and the two flinched.

"There you are! Jimin only left a note to look after 'the kids'," their supervisor laughed, seemingly highly amused by the situation. He turned around then, gesturing for them to follow. "Come, you two, there's no time to waste. He's still around the building."

"Y-yes, sir!" Both exclaimed in unison, peeking at each other before rushing out. Almost bumping at each other when trying getting through the door at the same time.

She nudged him then when the others were several steps ahead.

"You got lipstick around your lips," she said in a rushed whisper before picking up her pace and joining Seokjin, who was giving them new instructions.

And Jungkook smirked, wiping his mouth with his sleeve.

It was good the security lights were still switched on and no one could see their flustered faces and excited smiles. Or her own smudged lipstick.

They surely had a long night in front of them.

»»»

[two months later]

Interpol branch office

Seoul, South Korea

"I'll do it - should I do it? I'll do it. No -"

Skylar turned around, ready to head back to her desk when she bumped into something hard. Stumbling back, she came face to face with her boyfriend who was arching a brow at her.

"What are you doing?"

"I- nothing," she said firmly, "Going back to my desk." She was about to brush past him when Jungkook grabbed her arm, pulling her back.

"Why aren't you going inside?" he asked. His voice was calm and it sounded like a genuine question, yet there was a judging tone in it. "You should go in and talk to him, just like we practiced."

A sulky expression crossed her face and she looked away. "I- I forgot what we practiced. I mean, I got a blackout okay? I can't, let's just-" Her anew attempt of leaving once again prevented by him.

"Sky, why are you so nervous? You'd be perfect for the position. Just give agent Kim your official application and explain why you want it."

She sighed, peeking at him with a meek smile. "You know.. I don't like when people have such high expectations of me.. I usually like to crush them." It was one of her personality flaws, she supposed. Just like she had done by not following the plans her mother had made for her life.

"Is it expectations if I'm certain that you'll succeed though?"

"That's so cheesy of you," she whispered with a giggle, "But if we weren't at work I'd kiss you for that."

"You can kiss me later at home," he chuckled, tucking a stray streak of hair behind her ear and cupping her cheek briefly before letting go. Knowing she didn't want to risk anyone there finding out and hence always reminding him to keep any display of affection at bay.

With Jimin's gang suddenly retiring in Taiwan, one of the few countries Interpol had no jurisdiction at and agent Seokjin deciding to get married to an agent from the organised crime department and stepping down from a field agent and the supervisor position in favour for an office one, a supervisor position in the robbery department would soon be vacant.

And Skylar wanted it.

After four years there she'd quite many success stories to list, from leading a joined unit with the narcotics department to discovering several hideouts of bootleggers. But still. "They won't consider me for the position anyway," she said, bitterness lingering in her words, "I'm only thirty and too young, it'd be against the usual custom for an agent this young to become a lead. And I know some are side-eyeing me for my family background. If I really ended up getting the position, people would probably say mother pulled some strings. And besides.." She briefly glanced up at him, before her eyes wandered around the area for any unwanted ears. "..what about us?"

A crease formed between his furrowed brows. "What do you mean?" he whispered, matching her hushed tone.

"I mean," she said, wiggling her index finger between them, "It's already bad enough we're secretly dating despite being partners. But dating while me being your supervisor? That'd be ten times worse."

His lips parted, exhaling deeply. "Oh," he slowly began then, affliction evident in his eyes, "I don't wanna be the reason for you not getting your dream position."

"No, no, you wouldn't, Kook," she quickly objected, shaking her head as she touched his hand. Giving it a soothing squeeze, "As I told you, they wouldn't consider me anyway."

"I'm sure they will," he smiled, "As far as I know, agent Kim was even younger when becoming the team lead. He'll surely put in a good word for you to the higher ups. And I'll also do so, if asked. So?" he nudged her then, "Will you stop being a coward and go to his office now? Otherwise I'd feel forced to carry you inside there. And you surely don't want people talking, right?"

She groaned at his bright grin, knowing he would absolutely do as threatened if needed. It should annoy her, but she knew it was only for her own good. So she eventually sighed. "Fine, no need for your dramatics." 

"Good girl," he nodded and turned her around by the shoulders, giving her a light push towards the door. "Good luck, although I know you won't need it."

"You're way too certain about this and I don't like it. You'll get more disappointed than me if I don't get it."

Jungkook straightened himself, staring at her with firmness.

"I know you will though."

»»»

[six months later, set during the sequel]

"Sorry for making you wait."

Skylar smiled when seeing her boyfriend nearing her with hasty steps. Pushing herself off the wall of the underground parking lot to greet him when he pecked her lips as soon as he reached her.

"Iew!" she scrunched her nose with a giggle, hitting his chest playfully, "You're all sweaty! Didn't you take a shower after work out?"

"Ah, no. Since it took more time, I didn't want to make you wait any longer than necessary," he explained, throwing his gym bag over his shoulder and pushing back the raven strands that were stuck on his forehead. "I'll just shower at home."

The blonde hummed, brown eyes shifting towards the ground. "Besides, we said not at work.." she mumbled with a light scowl, causing him to roll his eyes.

"It's literally past office hours and no one's around." He let out an overly dramatic sigh, pretending being disappointed. "And here I thought I finally rubbed off on you.." He held his hand out for her which she accepted with no hesitation and he tucked her towards their cars. 

He never took her concerns personally, he knew where they came from after all, especially these past months. However, sometimes she exaggarrated and was a tad too paranoid. At least in his eyes.

"Mine or yours?" he asked then with a raised brow, seeing her shrug.

"Let's go to yours. I don't have any food left in the fridge."

His brows wiggled at her. "Who says there's any in mine?"

Her lips parted, laughing as well. "Didn't you go grocery shopping two days ago?"

"Yeah, and I already ate it all," he grinned, "I burn lots of calories after all."

Frankly, she should've learned in all the years knowing him that this man could eat three full plates of food on his own and yet she still got surprised every time over his metabolism. "Fine, let's order something then."

"Did you finish off all the paper work by the wax?" He unlocked his car and slid inside. Skylar following him by taking the passenger seat.

"Yeah, I did. Wasn't too much after all." She dragged a breath while putting on her seat belt. Propping her cheek on her fist. He started the engine and drove the car out of the underground parking area. Taking a turn, heading west to his apartment. The sun hadn't set completely yet, tinting the sparsely spread clouds in warm evening colours. "She really didn't seem to have any clue about where all the stolen goods might be hid at.."

Musing over her words for a moment, Jungkook eventually nodded to himself. "I'll do a background check on eventual hidden bank accounts and rented places tomorrow."

She hummed, biting down her lips as they curled into a soft smile. "What a diligent subordinate."

Without averting his eyes from the road, he reached for her hand and gave it a light squeeze before leading it to his warm lips. "Gotta impress the boss after all."

Jungkook watched her blush from the corner of his eyes and chuckled under his breath.

It had been four months now since she'd got promoted and he never tried hiding how proud he was of her. Sometimes she pretended getting annoyed, but he knew that she secretly enjoyed it very much and simply wasn't used to it. Especially considering she wouldn't hear these words from her family. At least not her mother who Jungkook had the displeasure to meet, way before they'd started dating. It was only once but it had been enough for him to determine her personality, since Skylar herself wouldn't talk much about her - let alone speak ill of her.

He'd never admit it to her, not wanting to hurt her pride, but he pitied her a lot for that. He couldn't imagine not having both his parents' support hence why he made sure to be the one giving her lots of affirmation instead.

Particularly now with Jimin and his gang suddenly making a comeback in thievery after only half a year of retirement and everyone in the team, especially Skylar as the team lead now, being in a tizzy because of it. Even Seokjin having returned for extra support for this occasion. Not that they minded, they had missed their senior colleague's cheeriness and bad humour.

They eventually reached Jungkook's apartment and ordered food, him ordering a double portion obviously, before settling in front of his big flat-screen. Watching a survival show Skylar didn't really care about, but it was Jungkook's favourite so she didn't mind. It was too warm for her to concentrate on anything anyway. She was at her second scoop of ice cream, unable to cool herself. Not even a shower having helped.

She was sitting beside him, cross-legged and focused on her dessert. Her damp hair was flowing over her shoulders, slightly wetting the collar of her tanktop. A few small streaks framing her high cheekbones. He observed her dark brows knitting together then, struggling with a brain freeze before recovering and going back to digging into her ice cream. And he breathed out a smile. 

He was helplessly and irrecoverably in love with her. Probably was from the very first day, even if he'd ignored the signs back then.

"Sky, say.."

She looked up from her caramel ice-cream, leading the spoon into her mouth with a frown as he'd stopped mid-sentence, making him huff out a chuckle. His arm stretched and he wiped away a bit of the cold sweet from her chin. A dragged sigh leaving his lips then, he shifted uncomfortable in his seat.

Uncertain of whether to repeat himself or simply letting go of the knowingly difficult topic, his eyes focused back on the show they were watching.

"Nothing.. just forget about it."

Maybe it was easier to pretend that he didn't want more out of this, always wanted. From the very beginning eight months ago, Skylar had been very clear and he had promised to respect her wishes. And yet, his heart couldn't help but crumble each time they worked on cases together and had to suppress even the smallest display of affection in fear anyone would sense there was more between them than just being team members.

However, despite him playing it off, as he usually did for her sake, Skylar couldn't help but notice the affliction in his eyes. She always did. 

It wasn't like she didn't sympathise with him. It wasn't like she never got just as frustrated as him. It wasn't like she didn't feel the same. However, she was scared of losing everything at once if she dared saying anything.

She was one of the youngest team leaders in the history of the South Korean branch office. And a woman and half-foreigner on top of it all. She couldn't risk having her colleagues discrediting her or their work and scrutinise every little decision she made when knowing she dated her former partner and now subordinate.

And yet. there were also times when she thought none of that mattered anyway, because it was him. Because it was Jungkook. The sweet goofball who always had her back and had saved her ass more times that she could count.

Slowly, she put the bowl aside onto the coffee table where his legs were spread onto. Untangling her own legs, she knelt next to him on the couch.

"Hey," she poked his cheek with a pout, tilting her head. "Don't ignore me."

"'Am not," he chuckled and caught her wrist before she could poke him anew. "Just watching the show."

"I know you ain't actually paying attention."

Rolling his eyes, he held her gaze. Unable to dismiss the sorrowful sparkle in her big eyes. "Sky, it's.. it's okay." He forced himself to smile with his lips pressed together. Redirecting his gaze back on the flatscreen before he even had the chance to say something absurd and irrational like suggesting to make their relationship public.

The screen suddenly turned black and his brows arched at her.

"Let's talk about it."

"Is there anything to talk about though?" His voice holding genuine confusion. "I get your reasons and you know I'm supporting you no matter what. I just.." His voice trailed off. Shy eyes found hers again as she was intently listening to him. A faint smile on his face as he cupped her rosy cheek. "I'd love if this thing between us was real."

"It is real to me," she frowned, covering his hand with hers. "Just 'cause we keep it a secret from our colleagues doesn't mean it isn't." 

Skylar knew she wasn't as good in showing her affection or romantic nature as he was, but she thought that by now he'd know her feelings for him and that their relationship was more than just a fling or a little after-work affair to her.

The crush she once had - and which that thief had perfectly deducted years ago even if she hadn't acknowledged it - having developed into way more by now. She knew she loved him.

The corners of his lips tucked into a wider smile. Hearing that made his heart-flutter, the validation that this meant more to her as well. "Alright, let me replace 'real' with 'official' then," he said, making her smile as well. And she drew closer to him.

"Alright."

His grin faded, taken aback. "Alright?" he repeated, unsure.

"Yeah, alright. Let's do it. Let's make it official. No secrecy anymore."

"I didn't say that to pressure you. I wouldn't want us to get in trouble at work a-"

"Honestly, screw them!" she cut him off, sitting back with folded arms. "I'm sick of having to fear losing my position just because I love you. It's not like we'd be making out in front of everyone or bicker while interrogating a criminal. We wouldn't even have to tell everyone."

"We wouldn't?"

"No, I checked that."

His grin returned. "You.. you did?"

"Yeah, we'd only have to tell my higher-up and sign some papers. Son from the other team told me a week ago. He had to do it once when dating an agent from division 3. Did you know that? And agent Kim literally married Yongsun from organised crime, so.." Adry laugh left her lips. "I better not catch anyone talking about us."

Jungkook remained silent for a moment, humming as he let her words sink in.

"Why didn't you tell me?" he spoke up then. He didn't sound mad, just curious. And Skylar exhaled deeply, peeking at him before her gaze drifted into the warm night.

"I wasn't sure if it'd be as easy for us, you know.." she admitted truthfully, not being as riled up anymore. "We're not just co-workers and we don't work in different departments or teams. I'm your supervisor. And a woman, so I have to prove myself and all that bullshit." She frowned at her words. "But I'm tired of it all. And it isn't fair to you nor me. We shouldn't have to hide. We're not the criminals here."

Another deep hum followed from him and he glanced at her. She was still turned away, her waves flowing in the night breeze as she was staring out the window. A pensive expression on her features.

"Sky?"

"Hm."

A beaming smile found its way on his lips then.

"You said you love me."

"And?"

"That's the first time you did."

He watched her freeze. In her upsetness she hadn't realised those words slipping out of her lips. She turned around with shocked eyes and he couldn't help but burst out laughing. Her expression instantly softening at the sight. She wasn't regretting saying it, she only regretted the way she had.

"Stop making fun of me!" she whined then, grabbing his tattoed arm and pulling at it in an attempt to make him stop, but it only worsened it. "Jungkook!"

"I'm- I'm not!" he breathed in between of laughing. It was always a hilarious thing to him whenever his collected girlfriend slipped like that.

"I'll take it back if you don't stop."

"Oh yeah, make me?" he challenged her with a smug grin. Seeing her huff, crossing her arms again.

"You're so childish."

"And yet you love me."

Her lips parted, about to defend herself when instead, she got silenced by his kiss. He knew it was the only way to end their bickering.

He pulled back then, brushing a streak of hair away that smelled after his shampoo before placing both palms on her cheeks, squishing them lightly. He was beaming from ear to ear and it was a breathtaking sight.

"Don't worry, if anyone tries messing with you, I'll talk to them. You know how convincing I can be."

Skylar giggled. Yeah, good looks and an easy-going personality made him 'Mr Popular' and he knew when to use it. "I can defend myself," she pouted, "But thank you."

He nodded and was about to lean in again for another peck, when he abruptly paused. Staring at her with a firm yet tender look. 

"I love you, too, by the way. In case it wasn't obvious all these years."

THE END

»»»

- hope you enjoyed the one-shot, giving more insight to Skylar and Jungkook and to some events during the three full fanfics

💜check out the whole "thieves collection" series or my main bts masterlist for other members' stories in this universe or in general💜

And don't forget to like, reblog & leave feedback!♡ It motivates me to keep writing :)

[loveyourself007]

THIS CHRISTMAS

Author: @loveyourself007

Pairing: BTS x O. C. (Original Character)

Genre: Holiday!! AU, rom-com, fluff, magic, magical powers, Small Town!! AU

Ratings: 13+

Status: Ongoing

Synopsis: Maria Snow, an aspiring writer with a life long reputation of being called a Grinch was living her life as the way she always wanted, but what she always lacked was the spark of magic that kept her from celebrating the most wonderful time of the year, The Holidays.

She always thought that she will hate Christmas till the end of time, until This Christmas comes to her with a wonderful gift in hand. What will she do when this unexpected gift starts changing the course of what she thought was right. Will she still be able to uphold her Grinch reputation this year or will they come shattering down as she starts enjoying these gifts.

Seven Days, Seven Strangers and lots of Christmas Magic, with an advice:

"Do not get attached; Just enjoy the ride."

Chapter 1: I

..................................................................................

~18th December: 6 days to Christmas 🎄🎁~

Nothing better than a morning where you don't have to think about going to work and just have to relax. Since it's the holiday season you thought of giving yourself a holiday too, doing nothing till the end of the whole week leading to Christmas Eve.

Now that you were on a much needed vacation you thought it would be a good idea to treat yourself this morning. Which is the reason why you stood infront of the door of a coffee shop so early. Actually you were a little surprised that this place was even open, you were an early bird and it was pure luck that this cosy looking café was open at seven in the morning.

The exterior was all wooden like one of those bars in the Harry Potter movies, overall the place looked really inviting so without giving it much thought you went inside.

If you thought the exterior was cosy looking then the interior of the café actually gave you a homey feel, everything was wooden like the old shops or bars in the country with all the Christmas decorations.

Being inside the café you immediately spotted the barista, his back facing you, maybe he was getting ready for the day ahead. There was no one in the café apart from you and the man working behind the counter.

You took off your coat and hung it on the coat rack and then went towards the counter to order.

As you went closer, you noticed that the man was humming to himself while swaying along with the melody. He had a nice voice. As soon as he sensed your presence he turned towards you with a cheerful smile on his face, and boy were you flustered. The man looked like a Greek god, he was so handsome, you couldn't help but stare. His rosy cheeks probably due to the cold weather, his plump lips and those broad shoulders with a lean yet muscular body, he was perfect. He was wearing a white button up shirt with black slacks and an apron tied around his back.

You felt enchanted just by looking at him, as soon as your eyes landed on him you felt like you were in a daze.

You didn't realise you had been staring him with your mouth wide open this whole time until he snapped his fingers infront of you.

"Yes." You asked quickly closing your mouth and avoiding eye contact as much as possible, you were so embarrassed you felt like burying yourself in the ground. Your ears started warming up and your heart it went crazy beating inside your chest.

"You know I always get these types of reactions you don't have to feel embarrassed, I'm quite used to it now." He said, his voice sweet as honey, with a hint of cockiness.

"How can I not I was practically drooling while looking at you." You replied, dying from the embarassment.

"There is nothing wrong in admiring what you like." He said, winking at you.

You knew you were a goner now.

"So what can I get you." He asked politely.

"A caramel machhiato, please." You replied with a big smile on your face, you wondered how much long it will take for your cheeks to start hurting from the way you were smiling. It was your first time behaving and feeling like this in front of a stranger, you yourself couldn't understand why or how this was happening to you.

"A caramel machhiato coming right up." He said with the same enthusiasm as before.

You paid the bill and sat at one of the coffee tables. While he was working on your order you couldn't help but stare at his figure, but when he caught your eye you immediately turned your head and started looking at the decorations, since the whole café was empty you couldn't help but feel awkward, should you start a conversation with him or just leave him alone, following thoughts were invading your mind.

"So, you work here alone?" You asked, unable to take the silence any longer.

"You can say so. I own this place." He replied, still working.

"Must be tough then, managing everything yourself."

"Not really, only a few special people know about this place so there is no work load." He replied turning towards you with a smile. He brought your drink at your table which wasn't too far away from his counter.

"One minute." He said as he kept the cup infront of you and rushed back towards the counter.

He came back with a croissant in hand.

"It's on the house." He said placing the croissant in front of you.

" Thank you so much. You didn't have to."

"I had to. Can't let a pretty girl like yourself leave this place without tasting my special." He replied giving you a wink again with a playful smile.

"Do you mind if I sit with you." He asked already pulling the chair for himself.

"Not at all." You couldn't believe you were flirting with a stranger. Your cheeks started hurting from how long you were smiling. What was happening to you?

"I'm Kim Seokjin." He said while offering his hand.

"Maria Snow." You shook his hand and it was like sparks filled inside your body. You then immediately took a sip of your caramel machhiato to hide your flustered expression. It felt like you were a drunk teenager who felt flustered everytime she did or said anything around her crush.

"Beautiful name, reminds me of Christmas."

"Yeah my parents loved Christmas so they came up with a name that would remind them of it." You replied.

"And you?" He said

"What?" You asked, a little confused.

"Don't you like Christmas?" He asked with genuine curiosity.

"Not really."

"What? You don't like Christmas?" He said raising his voice which was filled with disbelief.

"It's not like everyone has to like it." You replied, shrugging your shoulders.

"Why don't you like it?" He inquired.

"Well it's a little hard to explain." You replied hesitantly.

"Try me." He said

"Well firstly because I think that Christmas is overrated. If people want they can be cheerful and happy throughout the year why need a specific time to feel happiness. Secondly, people talk shit about their families and friends for the whole year and then suddenly on Christmas they want to spend it with their loved ones, again you could've done this at anytime of the year why on Christmas day?" You replied, with pure annoyance.

However the look on Seokjin's face was entirely different, something you couldn't understand.

"Are you sure these are the only reasons why you don't like Christmas?"

"What else would there be?" You replied, avoiding eye contact with him.

"Maria I've met a lot of people in my life and I can tell when someone is in pain and trying to hide it behind a mask." He said with a look of sympathy.

It felt like he struck a chord in you with his words and everything that you had tried to hide came pouring back to you. You have always tried to hide your vulnerable side from everyone but you couldn't understand how can a stranger make you feel all these things with just his words.

Again you wondered why were you being like this.

"It's not. I'm not, trying to hide any pain." You replied with the last bit of strength you had to hide your vulnerability from him.

"Is it not? Is it not true that you don't like Christmas because you're always alone? Seeing everyone with their loved ones you feel jealous, you envy their happiness. Tell me is it not true."

He said. To which you were about to defend yourself but he interrupted you.

"I'm not trying to accuse you of anything, love. I just want you to understand that you should never be ashamed of what you are feeling." He said, his voice sweet and soft as a feather.

You couldn't control your tears at his words it was like a dam broke. You couldn't stop your tears . Has this man casted a spell on you why couldn't you stop yourself, you couldn't help but wonder.

"It's ok darling. Everyone feels like this, everyone has felt loneliness more than once in their lives. It doesn't matter why you are lonely, what matters is how and what you do to get rid of it." He said while taking your hand in his, as a gesture to comfort you. He then took out his handkerchief and offered it to you. You quickly took it from him and wiped your tears. You then took a sip of your drink which was surprisingly still hot to calm yourself.

"You're right. God this is so embarrassing. I don't even know why I'm telling you this." You said, your face heating up because of your outburst, just a moment ago.

"Probably because you don't know me and it feels better to open up to a stranger you don't know than talking to a close one, with whom you feel that you'll be judged." He replied.

"And to your good luck this stranger is not only a good looking barista but also a very good listener." He said playfully, probably to lighten up the mood. You gave him a smile and continued your story.

"My parents loved Christmas. It was so nice, spending the whole holiday season with them, until that accident occurred and they died. It just felt so wrong, celebrating Christmas after that." You stopped to take a sip of your coffee.

" But I did try to get over it and move on. I met a man, fell in love and then on Christmas Eve when I went to his place to surprise him, I found what heartbreak felt like, he cheated on me and that too with my best friend. After that I just gave trying to feel happy, especially in this season." You answered letting your tears fall down your face.

Seokjin shifted his chair towards yours so he can be closer to you. He held your hand in his.  You felt his warmth radiating off of him and onto you, it felt really comforting. He met your eyes and gestured for you to continue.

"I just felt like I don't deserve to feel happy and seeing everyone around me happy and enjoying the love of their loved ones I just felt more miserable." You replied, closing your eyes while the tears flowed down your cheeks.

You felt Seokjin's hand on your cheeks wiping away your tears, the warmth of his hand and his touch igniting a strange type of spark in you.

"Everyone deserves to be happy Maria, especially you. After everything you have been through, happiness is not something you have to envy or long for. It will come to you on its own." He said, his thumb grazing the apple of your cheek.

His voice, his close proximity was driving you crazy. You knew what will happen if you opened your eyes right now. You were trying so hard to resist it, but then Seokjin's words came to your mind and every second thoughts, every bit of resistance went out of the windows. You opened your eyes and looked at him, his eyes mirroring the same look as yours, of desire, need and want. At that moment you knew, you were caught up in whatever spell Kim Seokjin has casted on you and there was no going back from it.

"How? How can I be happy? If I don't have a reason to be." You asked, voice as soft as a feather.

"Do you want me to give you that reason." He asked, his eyes turning dark probably the same as yours. Without even hesitating, you nodded your head and it was like he had been holding himself back this whole time.

As soon as you gave him your consent he intertwined his fingers with yours and traced your jaw with his other hand that was earlier on your cheek and settled it on your chin tilting your face so that your lips were at level with his. Your heart skipped a beat and you felt butterflies dancing in your stomach, you closed your eyes shut as he started leaning closer, painfully slow. As soon as he closed the gap, tingles went down your heart. His lips soft and plump took control of yours. You traced his shoulder blades with your free hand, you have been wanting to do that since the moment you had laid your eyes on him. Then you went to his hair, tangling your hands in those soft ebony locks. He left your chin and wondered his hand down your waist and let it settle their. Then he licked your bottom lip and you opened your mouth for him to let his tongue inside, the two of you got lost in the sparks of your own desire.

When you parted from the intense make out, his face made you want to pull him again but the need to catch your breath was much more. His face was  flushed red, hair dishevelled, he looked marvelous and to think that you were the reason behind, made you feel proud and happy after such a long time.

"I have a present for you." He said, as he took out a small box, gift wrapped in pink and a red ribbon tied.

"Did you just get that box from out of thin air." You asked, surprised from the box appearing out of nowhere.

"No silly, I had it with me all this time maybe you would've noticed it if you looked around instead of only focusing on my face." He said and chuckled. On any other day you would have argued more and wouldn't stop questioning until you were proven right but today it was as if you have lost your reasoning all of a sudden.

"You have to open this on Christmas morning. Promise me." He said, handing you your present and holding up his pinky finger, you laughed at his cuteness but interlocked yours with his.

"Wow, time went away so fast. I didn't noticed it's already time to bid you farewell."

"What?"

"Maria I wish you start believing in Christmas." He said with an expectant smile on his face, what he was expecting you didn't knew but you felt as if you were drifting away from him. And then suddenly felt everything turn black.

..................

You opened your eyes as the sunlight from your window fell on your face. You immediately sat up and noticed your surroundings. You were in your appartment sitting on your bed.

So that means you were dreaming everything?

How could that be a dream though? You actually felt everything as if it was really happening with you. It wasn't making any sense, you checked the date on the calendar and it was another day. You had slept for a whole day? You couldn't believe it but what other explanation you had.

........................

"Happiness is not something one has to ask for. Everyone deserves to be happy in their lives."

[btscontentenjoyer]

BTS Summer Fic Recs

Here are some summer fanfic recommendations if you need something to read on the beach, by the pool, or just in your room while you're trying to escape the heat! If you enjoy any of these stories, please don't forget to let the author know by reblogging and leaving feedback. Most of these stories contain smut or other mature themes so MINORS DNI!

kim namjoon

solace by @m-yg93 (13.5k) fluff/smut

[roommates to lovers]

summary: Namjoon thought getting used to a new roommate would take time and adaptation but you fit yourself into his apartment with ease. He swears he only landed in your bed to keep you safe in his arms when you get spooked by the storm. Surely he can blame the eventual lack of clothing on the summer’s heat stroke.

kim seokjin

all you’re giving me is friction by @hot-soop (28.3k) angst/smut/fluff

[surfer!seokjin x lifeguard!f.reader, lovers to enemies (lite) to lovers]

summary: You’ve graduated! Congratulations - you’ve got one thing checked off your parents ten year plan! Now all that’s left to do is start your dreary office job, drag yourself up the ladder to CEO, marry your (as yet unknown) dream guy, and carve out some time to pop out a few kids before your ovaries shrivel up… Except all of that sounds horrendous, and you’d much rather spend the next three months at Hoseok’s beach house with your closest friends - relaxing, partying, and sleeping late while you still can. And it would be your last perfect summer break, if it weren’t for the most irritating man on the planet (and his chickens) living next door.

min yoongi

the landlord by @ppersonna (4.3k) smut/light crack/pwp

[landlord!yoongi]

summary: your air conditioner breaks right at the height of a recordbreaking heat wave.  good thing your hot landlord, yoongi, knows how to attend to any needs you may have.

watermelon sugar by @yoonjinkooked (23k) smut/romcom

[strangers to lovers, vacation au]

summary: Travelling alone to your dream destination had sounded like a good idea at the time. And you don’t regret doing it, of course not - you’re in Greece! The food! The sun! The smell of the sea! The white walls and blue chairs, the hills, the warm days and colder nights. A little company wouldn’t hurt, though. That’s how you end up talking to Min Yoongi, your next door neighbour with whom you practically share a balcony. He’s quiet, he barely leaves his room but when you reach out, he doesn’t push you away. That’s how your Greek adventure begins.

jung hoseok

strawberry sundae by @youtifulhobi (6k) fluff

[lifeguard!hoseok x olympian swimmer!reader, meet cute]

summary: A few years after you begin dating Jung Hoseok, the two of you reminisce about how you met when he was a lifeguard and saved you from drowning, when in reality you had just fell off your strawberry floatie and he just wanted to talk to you.

a taste of paradise by @theharrowing (8k) light angst/smut

[strangers to lovers, chance encounters]

summary: A handsome stranger helps take your mind off of all of the drama that awaits you back home. It is bittersweet, isn’t it, how a chance encounter that makes you feel so good can also just leave you craving more.

park jimin

i need you tonight by @minisugakoobies (1.5k) smut/slight angst?

[pool boy!jimin]

summary: You’re tired of watching your evil stepmom waste your father’s money. So you steal one of her toys.

you dtf? by @sailoryooons (10.2k) smut/pwp

[strangers to one-night stand]

summary:  You’ve never had a one night stand. Jimin has had countless. You’re trying to experience new things. Jimin loves doing the same old shit. So when you meet the man going around the club inviting people to touch his ripped abs, you think perhaps this is the perfect opportunity to try new things. It’s Labor Day weekend at the shore - what can go wrong?

into the wilderness by @gukyi (27k) angst/fluff/comedy

[friends to lovers, camp counsellor au, unrequited love]

summary: alright, so last summer’s camp was… disastrous. from the murky green showers to the wasps nests, it was all-around a bad time. but none of those things could be quite as catastrophic as the end-of-camp counselor campfire, when you told park jimin that you were in love with him. and if telling him was terrible, then seeing him again this summer, one year after your fruitless confession, just might be the death of you.

kim taehyung

summer feelings by @jjkeverlast (558) fluff/crack

[childhood best friends to lovers]

summary: taehyung catches you off guard during your first trip to the beach.

himbo hours by @gimmethatagustd (7k) pwp/smut/humor

[himbo!taehyung x reader, strangers to lovers]

summary: Trouble always seems to follow Taehyung. An innocent night of finding new friends to share his alcohol, drugs, and boxy smiles quickly turns into a mess when he accidentally punches you, a poor, unsuspecting clubgoer, right in the face. Whoops!

trip by @daechwitatamic (22k) fluff

[friends to lovers, camping au]

summary: Your gigantic crush on Kim Taehyung is so bad that you drop whatever you’re holding every time he speaks to you. Your dirty liar of a best friend SWORE to you he wouldn’t be on this camping trip, but he is. Luckily, the trip gives Taehyung the chance to see you in a new light, admittedly with some help from his best friend (and definitely hired spy) Park Jimin.

jeon jungkook

in which sour and salt could be so sweet when jungkook’s existence reminds you that there is still good in the world. by @onlyswan (3.1k) fluff/a pinch of angst/suggestive

[established relationship]

baecation by @1kook (5.9k) smut

[richboy!jungkook, vacation au]

summary: “Lose the top, or lose the right to present yourself in any low back gown for the next three months.” He truly knew the way to your heart.

heartless by @here2bbtstrash (7.4k) pwp/smut

[exes hooking up]

summary: after a wild summer at the shore where he made more than a few mistakes, jungkook is ready to remind you why you always take him back.

no longer strangers by @soft4gguk (9.4k) fluff/smut

[jungkook x inexperienced!reader, strangers to lovers, summer love au]

at the end of the day by @starshapedkookie (13.3k) fluff/smut/a little angst

[ex-baseball player!jungkook, high school friends to lovers, beach/vacation au]

summary: You and Jungkook have been best friends for 8 years, going through absolute hell and back together. After senior year of high school, you and Jungkook began a tradition of taking annual vacations together during the summer months. This summer is no different, with you and Jungkook celebrating graduating college just a couple months prior. You're set to move to NYC after the summer, with you and Jungkook soaking in the sun and as many moments as you can together. You'd think nothing could ever tear your friendship apart with him, but when you've sat on the beach for too many days in a row watching him surf, you can't help but wonder - when did your best friend get so hot?

lemon sherbet by @extravaguk (15k) fluff/smut/angst

[tattoo artist!&piercing artist!jungkook x popular!reader, ex high school classmates, kinda frenemies to lovers, summer au]

summary: But above all things, the last thing you expected to happen when you came back was to show your tits and get pierced by none other than motherfucking Jeon Jungkook. Jeon Jungkook. Guk. Gukkie. Jeongukkie.

concrete king by @bratkook (16.7k) fluff/smut

[skaterboy!jungkook x reader, himbo energy]

summary: when a cute boy in a tacky hawaiian shirt lands a trick in your honor there’s no way you could ever say no to him

ex on the beach by @beahae (mini-series, 18.2k) fluff/light angst/smut

[exes to lovers]

summary: You and Jungkook broke up. But it would be very silly of you to let the fancy beach vacation you both won go to waste, right?

stars behind waves by @taegularities (22.7k) angst/fluff/smut

[estranged childhood best friends to lovers, beach/vacation au]

summary: With a decade’s distance between Jungkook and you, your paths cross on the same island you deemed your second home years ago. And you realise once again – the ocean can never compare to the twinkle in his starry eyes.

paddle with me by @yoongsgguktae (two-shot, 30k) angst/smut

[enemies to lovers, camp counsellor au]

summary: when your camp leader forces you and jeongguk as partners in a team building activity. with frustrations and anger flaring during your journey down the river, how will all this pent-up emotion get released?

Thank you so much for taking the time to check out my list! I read some of these stories while on vacation this year, and some have stayed with me for a while since I read them last summer. If anyone has more summery recommendations, I'd love to hear them, so don't be afraid to put them in the comments or send me an ask <3

[livingformintyoongi]

Romcoms night | A BTS Series

The movie theater lights begin to dim as the curtains that lightly cover the large screen are pulled aside to leave it completely uncovered. It is only then, when there is no trace of light or fabric to block the view, that the countdown to the start of the film begins. 10… 9… 8… 7… 6… 5… 4… 3… 2… 1… 0...

| Kim Seokjin

Tired of waiting for a marriage proposal from your boyfriend, you decide to travel to Ireland to try out an old Irish tradition celebrated on February 29th. The problem? A severe storm stops your flight and forces you to stop on the Emerald Isle, miles away from your destination and your fiancé.

With time against you, you decide to ask for help to the handsome -but extremely irritating- innkeeper of a small hotel near the area, willing to do anything to reach your boyfriend and ask for his hand in marriage.

| Min Yoongi

Your life, in a nutshell, was perfect; you had a dream house, with an amazing husband and a good paying job. Things were finally starting to go uphill in your life - after the failed love affair you had before you met Yoongi -.

However, not all things are rosy, and that, to your misfortune, you found out in the worst possible way; arriving at your house -now in pieces- and finding your perfect husband holding a gun to his best friend's head.

| Jung Hoseok

Working as a ticket seller on the subway was not your idea of an ideal job, not even close. Your goals in life were far from being fulfilled with the minimum wage you were offered, but none of that mattered, not when you had Mingyu coming and going through the cars every morning and evening.

He was your dream man; handsome, tall, charismatic… you were completely in love with him, you would do anything to help him, even if it meant pretending to be his girlfriend to his family after he lost his memory in an accident at the station where you worked.

| Kim Namjoon

You were always an organized person, your life was planned from start to finish, every detail perfectly polished. Absolutely nothing could disarm that order that you had tried so hard to put in your life.

Until a little girl and an obnoxious co-worker come into your life, turning everything you believed in upside down, and messing up your idea of a perfect life.

| Park Jimin

Since you were a child you had had an impeccable taste for fashion, you loved touching those fine fabrics that covered people's bodies with beauty and elegance, how a single garment could make you feel like the queen of the world, just by the way you could wear it.

It was that same obsessive love you had for fashion that you ended up in this situation; working for a stupid finance entrepreneur, in a boring and horrible magazine you had never even heard of, going to great lengths to get to your dream job as a writer at the most famous fashion magazine in town.

| Kim Taehyung

Your job as a "night companion" had always been difficult for you, from the discomfort of flirting with complete strangers to the fact that you had to take them to bed. But there wasn’t much you could do; you didn’t earn enough money to afford a decent life. You could barely pay for a shared apartment, let alone a college education.

You had lost all hope of living a peaceful life, far from the dangerous streets and one-night stands—or at least that was the case until Kim Taehyung came into your life.

| Jeon Jungkook

Saying that the people at your workplace hated you was an understatement. You were quite a... strict boss. You liked efficient people, those who acted instead of talked; your life was far too busy to worry about such insignificant details, and you expected everyone to act—or at least pretend—that they shared the same mindset as you.

It was precisely that kind of thinking that led you to ask—beg—your secretary, Jeon Jungkook, to marry you. It was a simple business deal, no love involved; he wanted you to help him become a writer, and you needed to stay in the country without being deported. No feelings, no complications, easy and straightforward.

Masterlist.

Dividers by @silkholland <3

[kingofbodyrolls]

Omg 💯😭 This was so fucking cute, sweet, dirty and filthy 🥵 I loved it so much!!!! 

I loved how Yoongi called Jin and Namjoon ‘Biceps and Shoulders’ 🤣 So hilarious!

This was truly just— *chef’s kiss* 😘

Solace

Pairing: KNJ x Reader

WC: 13.5k

Genre: Roommates2L

Rating: M (minors dni)

Warnings: Brief blood mention from a cut, mention of minor character death (sickness), fingering, hand job, big dick joon, belly bulge, unprotected sex, mentions of choking, creampie, dirty talk, inconsistent POV

Banner by @sugarwithtea​

Beta’d by @yoongiobsessed​ and Sara (twitter link)

Summary: Namjoon thought getting used to a new roommate would take time and adaptation but you fit yourself into his apartment with ease. He swears he only landed in your bed to keep you safe in his arms when you get spooked by the storm. Surely he can blame the eventual lack of clothing on the summer’s heat stroke.

Author’s Note: This should have been written months ago. I don’t have an excuse. Oh well, it’s here now! 

Part of the Room For Rent collab

Keep reading

[bts-hyperfixation]

Outside of the Fox

Chapter 25 of 30

2350 words

Y/N longs for a new life when the one she’d been living comes to an abrupt stop. Without much thought to those she is leaving behind, the little fox packs a backpack and disappears. She stumbles across the shelter and makes an interim home for herself while she works out exactly what she wants from her second chance.

Last

Airports are weird places. That's the only thing you can conclude as you try to navigate your way through the crowd. They never looked this way in the films. 

You'd watched countless romcoms where people had just run freely all the way through the vast empty spaces. The reality is something much closer to one of the seven circles of hell.  There are people everywhere, some sitting in seats, others on the floor, many just walking around getting in the way. It seems like a truly lawless environment, with many of society's rules abandoned in favour of self-preservation. 

Poor Kookie looks like he is about to faint. The youngest member was hanging from Namjoon's back, having decided a piggyback would be the easiest way for him to get through this. Jimin checked in with him regularly, pulling faces and making jokes to try and keep him distracted. You can't help but feel overwhelmed by the atmosphere yourself. 

Hoseok holds tightly onto your hand as he bobs and weaves through the crowd following after Jin and Taehyung as they lead your group to your departure gate. You had been promised that the gate would be much calmer than the main areas as they dragged you through as quickly as possible. 

And they were right. With more than an hour to go until your flight, there were only a few other passengers milling around so you were all able to grab seats together in the corner. Jungkook physically decompresses as Namjoon sets him on the ground, although his eyes stay wide and vigilant as he appraises his surroundings. Yoongi pulls out his switch from his backpack and hands it across to Jungkook before cuddling into the chair next to him, looking about ready to take a nap. 

You contemplate sitting on Jungkook's other side but Taehyung pulls you to him instead. 

"Let me take you shopping in duty-free,"  He says

"I think Jungkook used your card to buy enough stuff this week." You point out.

"But I didn't buy you those things, not really." He pouts. 

You roll your eyes and he takes this as an acceptance, linking his arm through yours and taking you off back in the direction of the crowds.

You peruse through the make-up sections, taking the brightest blushes you can find and dotting them onto his cheeks leaving him a mismatched mosaic of pinks. In return, he swatches random eyeshadows and wipes them onto your forearms. The attendants give you both dirty looks when neither of you actually select any products to buy, but none of them seem brave enough to actually interject.

Eventually, Tae takes pity on them, picking up some expensive skincare and makeup wipes to purchase. He ensures he has enough face masks and steam masks for the entire group and convinces you to pick out something extra for yourself. Even though you want to protest, you settle on a cute headband to make him happy. 

He takes the bag of goodies from the saleswoman once he has paid and fishes the headband out in order to place it in your hair. His fingers brush tenderly through your hair as he places the little trinket carefully above your ear. His eyes lock with yours and he leans in like he is going to kiss you, but as his eyes close you can't help but giggle. 

"I'm trying to charm you and you are giggling at me?" He asks, mock offended.

"Sorry... I couldn't help it, that patchy blush looks even worse close up." You shrug. 

He swipes at his face with the back of his hand, succeeding only in making it much worse as the colours intermingle. 

"Well if you closed your eyes to kiss like a normal person you wouldn't have seen it." He grumbles.

"Well, if I'd known you were about to kiss me maybe I would've." You say

"Well then, close your eyes," He tries again reaching out to tuck your hair as he had before. 

Unfortunately, this time he is cut off by the tannoy system calling out for your boarding numbers. You take his hand in yours and hurry away from the store back to where you left the others. 

"I'm never going to get my kiss." He pouts.

________

The others have gathered all the hand luggage and are waiting for you when you arrive. Turns out Taehyung had taken all of the tickets with you so they couldn't board. However, it seems to be by design when Taehyung reveals that you are all sitting in first class. The eight of you fill-up the double centre isle 

Namjoon sits at the back, harrumphing to himself about how Taehyung has spent far too much money on this trip. Yoongi sits next to him to try and shut him up (He ends up just raising the centre wall to give himself some peace and quiet). 

Hoseok parks himself in front of Yoongi, often kneeling up on his seat to talk with Yoongi over the top. Taehyung sits next to him, mostly because Jimin insisted he needed to spend the flight with Jungkook but also because they wanted to watch the same movies and they could talk about them. 

And so you sat with Jin, working out nicely in your favour as both of you really just wanted to nap. You settled in quickly for the long flight, unravelling the provided blanket and draping it over your and Jin's laps. When Taehyung had suggested going to the beach you had thought he meant somewhere nearby, not a long-haul flight to the other hemisphere.

"You realise they give each of us our own blankets right?" He points out. 

"Yeah, but this thing is massive." You say shaking the fabric. "Unless you want to put up the divider?" 

"No, no this is fine. Once we've taken off the stewardesses can turn our two seats into one bed if you like, give us a more comfortable space?" He suggests.

It's clear he doesn't mean anything by it, but a blush creeps up your cheeks anyway. You don't get a chance to reply before the stewards are handing you a mimosa each and directing your attention towards a safety briefing. You watch intently as they go through the motions of showing you emergency procedures. 

The aeroplane roars to life around you as it comes to the end of the taxi, you can hear the turbines wiring and your heart speeds up at the same pace. Jungkook whimpers behind you and Jimin tries to whisper words of encouragement to the man. You want to turn around and help but the seat backs are too high and you fear your face looks too concerned to provide any comfort anyway. 

Jin glances over at you and takes in the way your knuckles are turning white from clasping onto the arms of your chair. He places his hand on top of yours, curling his fingers underneath your palm so you can hold onto him instead. He offers you a reassuring smile and you try to reciprocate. 

"First flight?" He asks.

You nod in response, unable to speak as you feel the wheels lift from the floor.

"This is the worst part, after this you can barely feel that you're moving," He assures you. "Here, take this, it'll stop your ears from popping." 

He fishes out a packet of gum and offers you a piece then takes one himself. 

Eventually, the plane levels out as he promises and it is smooth sailing for a while. The stewardesses are quick to deliver meals to each of you and even quicker to take them away when you've finished. You are lying down in a nicely sized bed within an hour of take-off ready to sleep through as much of the flight as possible. Jin has himself propped up a little to read his book as you snuggle down and close your eyes. 

"Sleep well Y/N," He says as you drift off. 

You are rudely awoken a few hours later to the violent shaking of the plane. You try to shoot up straight into a sitting position but find yourself restricted by an arm across your waist. Jin pulls you closer to him.

"Don't panic, it's just turbulence," He whispers into your ear sleepily "It'll be over in a couple of minutes."

"Are you sure?" You ask.

"Of course I'm sure."

The plane dips dramatically and you find yourself clinging to Jin. He folds both arms around you and holds you as close as he can. Your stomach flips with each judder of the plane around you but Jin's arms remain firmly in place and his lips press to your forehead as he whispers nonsense to you as a distraction. 

He is right of course, the turbulence is over as quickly as it began and the Pilots voice sounds over the P.A

"Sorry about that folks, it looks like we could be in for a few bumpy rides throughout the journey as we hit some particularly rough patches of weather. We should be over the worst of it for now though so please relax and we will let you know if we expect any further issues throughout the flight." 

You lean back and look up at Jin finding his face mere centimetres from your own.

"Are you okay?" He asks,

"I think so."

"I'm glad, but know that you can cling to me any time turbulence or not," He winks.

"Good to know." You swallow thickly. 

He holds you close for a moment longer and then releases you back to your side of the bed. You sit up and peer over the back of your chair to check on the others. Namjoon is standing up looking over everyone in the same way you are.  Yoongi is watching him carefully. Taehyung and Hobi don't seem to have even paused their movies. And most surprisingly Jungkook doesn't seem to have even stirred as he holds Jimin close in their own little bed.

Namjoon catches your eye and you reassure him you are okay. He nods and settles back into his own chair and picks his book up where he left off. You lie back down and turn onto your side looking at Jin, his eyes already reclosed as he drifts off once more. You realise as your eyes drift towards the plumpness of his lips that your mind is drifting towards how they might feel against your skin. 

It's been such a long time since you've been intimate with anyone and the kisses you'd been going a little stir-crazy with impure thoughts of late, so who could blame you for looking at any of the attractive men around you? Although some might call you greedy for staring at the only one not actively openly courting you.

"Can I help you?" He asks cracking one eye open when he feels your gaze.

"I was wondering..." He opens both eyes and waits for you to ask what's on your mind.

"I was wondering if you planned on pursuing a relationship with more than just Namjoon within the group." 

He smiles in a way that suggests he knows what you are getting at but the answer he gives doesn't reflect that.

"Well I think it's obvious I have my eye on Kookie, or should I say he has his eye on me."

"Is that all?" You ask.

You move a little bit closer to him, hoping to get a much more pleasing answer.

"Well... I suppose I quite enjoy looking at Hoseok, and Taehyung is so charming. And I guess you aren't terrible to spend time with." He teases.

A hand reaches up to cup your cheek and he leans in towards you. 

"Is this what you wanted," His breath ghosts against your lips.

 Then the minuscule gap is closed. His kisses are lazy, although that could be the lingering edge of sleep. He sucks your lower lip between his, nibbling a little before releasing it and kissing you properly again. He repeats this over again until your lips feel bruised. 

"That is exactly what I wanted." You say as he finally pulls away.

"Well, now do you want more? Because I think I want more." 

He leans across you and presses a button you hadn't seen before. It raises a barrier between you and the aisle, just high enough for those passing not to look in and lights a do not disturb sign above you. He then presses the same control on his own side. 

"Well that doesn't look at all suspicious to the outside," You comment.

"They'll just think we are sleeping,"

He doesn't give you a chance to reconsider before he starts mouthing at your neck, his body hovering over yours as bites tiny little bruises into your delicate skin. You place your hands on his shoulders feeling the way his muscles tense through his thin T-shirt. He rolls his hips against your side, his sweatpants seeming even thinner than the shirt, leaving very little to the imagination. 

His lips find their way back to yours and your mind goes completely blank. One of his hands lifts the bottom of your shirt and begins to explore the bare expanse of skin until he reaches just underneath your breast. He cups your bare chest, his thumb running gently over your nipple making you shiver. You whine against his touch. 

"If you can't be quiet we can't go any further." He chuckles.

"We probably shouldn't get any further than this anyway..." You point out.

"You're right, I haven't even gotten much further than this with Joonie yet... But this just feels so nice," He says, making a point of flicking your nipple with his thumb again. 

"Maybe we should go back to sleeping,"

"If that's what you really want," He shrugs. "But I'm not removing my hand." 

"I'm not asking you to." 

He smiles contently and settles back onto his pillow, you wriggle in close and true to his word, and his hand remains firmly under your shirt for the remainder of the sleeping portion of the flight.

Next

Masterlist

Send me asks - doesn’t have to be fic related. Can be smutty, thirsty, fluffy, angsty, whatever you’re feeling regarding BTS. Can be literally anything doesn’t have to be BTS

[floralseokjin]

⤑ 9 months to fall in love 20.

It seems like everyone around you is either already in love, or in the process of falling, and while normally you couldn’t give a damn, finding out the co-worker you’ve had a teensy crush on is dating someone else at the office seems to sucker punch you right in the gut. It’s stupid, and you’re irritated at yourself, but you can’t seem to shake out of the funk you’ve fallen face first in.

Feeling lonely and heartsore, and mad for no reason, during drinks with your best friend you spot a man at the bar. Tequila confident, you make your way over to the stranger, and successfully one thing leads to another. The next morning you leave before he’s woken up, feeling satisfied in one way, but still as discontented as ever. Telling yourself it was an inebriated mistake, you quickly try to forget about it.

Only, three weeks later that night comes back to haunt you – in a very unescapable way…

pairing; kim seokjin x f reader au/genre; unplanned pregnancy, strangers to lovers, slow burn, romance (dare I say romcom in places), smut, angst, (melo)drama, dual pov words; 5,821

warnings/includes (!) characters getting their hea, mild sexual content, crocs, and now for the serious: this chapter features a MINOR car accident. It does end on a little bit of a cliff hanger, but I want to reassure everyone that everything is fine, and Oc and the baby are okay! (I feel evil for this one…) I’m reiterating: EVERYTHING IS FINE. OC AND THE BABY ARE OKAY! 

⟶ ao3 link

*inspired by the manhwa ‘Positively Yours.’

↪︎ series index

SEASON THREE ⇤ previous | next ⇥

While you were still trying to process what you’d just seen, you heard the door to the office beep, signalling another person’s early arrival. Your head snapped up, spotting Yoongi entering and already removing his messenger bag to hook his jacket on the stand. 

“Hey,” he greeted as you rushed towards him, a little confused. “I have an early meeting so I’m here to set up. What about you—?” He cut off when you grabbed him by the wrist and started dragging him to the break room. “What’s going on? Everything okay?” When you didn’t reply, he chuckled awkwardly. “____?”

Break room door closed, you dropped his wrist and took a deep breath. “Yeah. Everything’s fine. I just…” You just what? You’d already burst in on Namjoon and Yeeun, you couldn’t have Yoongi doing the same. 

“Don’t go in Namjoon’s office,” you blurted. 

“Okaaay,” he said slowly, eyeing you strangely. “Any reason?” 

At a loss at what to say, you settled for a touch of honesty. “He’s in there with someone.” 

“Oh.” 

The way he said the monosyllable made you instantly suspicious. You narrowed your eyes. “You know?” 

“It depends,” Yoongi replied haltingly. “Who’s he in there with?” When you didn’t respond, he added carefully, “Does her name start with a ‘Y’ too?” 

“Oh, my God. You do know!” you yell-whispered. Your mind was in the process of blowing. “When? How? What?” 

Yoongi chuckled, turning away to grab a mug from the shelf. “It’s not really my place to explain the details.” 

You opened your mouth, wondering how you could coax said details out of him, when the door opened and in came a sheepish looking Yeeun. 

“____—” She stopped when she saw Yoongi, eyes wide. “Oh. Yoongi. I didn’t know you were here too.” 

“Hey, Yee,” he grinned, abandoning his coffee in favour of running away. “I’m gonna go set up in the conference room. Later.” 

As the door clicked shut, Yeeun took a shaky breath, a guilty look in her eyes as she turned them to you. “____. I’m so sorry you had to see that. I’m sure it was surprise.” 

You laughed, confused as to why she felt the need to apologise. “Yeeun, don’t be sorry. I burst in unannounced.”  

“Yes but—we don’t usually—the office is usually empty when—argh, what am I trying to say?” She brought her hands up to her face, frustrated and obviously embarrassed, her cheeks flushed. She gave her head a tiny shake and composed herself. “I wanted to tell you. I mean, we both did. We want to tell everyone, but…” She hesitated, then added: “The last office romance didn’t really work out very well—or so I’m told.” 

You ignored that, not wanting to give Sera another thought ever again. “It’s serious between you guys?” 

“Very.” 

She looked so certain, it warmed your heart. You could definitely coax the details out of her. “How long as it been going on for?” 

She winced. “Since the first week.” 

“The first week you started here?” you repeated, gaping in disbelief. 

“Soobin’s birthday party,” she confirmed. “I wanted to say something for so long. Yoongi knows, my friends know. They’ve met him and love him. I just—We’re friends, too. And you’re so close to Namjoon.” That guilty look spread across her face again. “I wanted you to know. Tara too. Mari! I hate it being a secret. It feels like we’re doing something wrong.” 

You smiled, touched that she saw you as a friend. You really liked Yeeun. She was kind and funny and had been there for you while at work. When you were running on practically no sleep. When your emotions felt so erratic you didn’t know whether to laugh or cry—or both. When Glob—Sarang—was bruising your insides… The list went on. To be honest, thinking about it now, her and Namjoon made a perfect match. 

“How does Joon feel about it all? Where is he, by the way?” Only now you realised he was nowhere to be seen. 

Yeeun looked awkward. “I asked him to stay in his office. I wanted to explain everything first. I don’t know why. You and him are much closer—” 

“Don’t be silly,” you reassured kindly, cutting in. 

She smiled.  “He hates it being a secret too. So it’s great you beat us to it.” 

“I’m so happy for you, Yeeun,” you told her, surprising yourself when you hugged her. 

“Really?” she laughed, squeezing you and your bump carefully. 

“Yes! And Namjoon!” you cried. “Get him in here!” 

At that, you heard the handle of the door turn and the door slowly floated open, revealing Namjoon stood outside it. “He’s here,” he said quietly. 

“Were you eavesdropping?” Yeeun demanded. 

“Maybe.” He grinned, putting his arm around her shoulders. “Let’s celebrate!” 

“Joon, it’s 8am.”  

“We’ll celebrate appropriately,” he corrected. “Coffee? Toast?” As Yeeun and you laughed, Namjoon stuck his head around the door and yelled towards the conference room. “YOONGI! Get in here, we’re celebrating!” 

.

.

“I’m sorry,” Namjoon apologised to you ten minutes later. Yeeun and Yoongi were busy buttering toast. 

“What for,” you laughed, batting his arm. He seemed just as sheepish as Yeeun had. “I’m happy for you, you giant goof.” 

“I thought maybe Seokjin would have said something already…” 

“Seokjin knew?!” 

Namjoon’s eyes went wide with panic. “In his defence, he found out a really long time ago and I never gave him an update, so…” He took a breath and continued to babble guiltily. “He barely knew anything. He doesn’t even know it’s Yee. I just told him I was secretly seeing someone. I asked him to keep it quiet.” 

“He’s a man of his word,” you smiled, knowing Seokjin could keep a secret well. He’d kept your pregnancy from his parents for months, had he not? 

You batted Namjoon’s arm again, making him jump. “Since Soobin’s party though? Really?!” 

“It just sort of happened,” he grinned bashfully, dimples showing. 

“I bet,” you teased. “No wonder you warned Yoongi away.” 

“I warned him away before that night,” he made sure to insist, but laughed with you. 

“What are you all doing in here so early?” 

All four of you turned to the door and saw Mari standing there, visibly bemused. 

“We’re celebrating,” Yoongi explained, holding up the plate of toast. 

“Celebrating what?” 

Namjoon walked over to Yeeun and they both wrapped their arms around one another, smiling happily. “Yeeun and I are together.” 

“Oh,” Mari blinked, then beamed with delight. “That’s lovely. Do your parents know?” 

Namjoon nodded proudly. “They’ve met her and love her. Obviously.” 

“Joon,” Yeeun whined, obviously embarrassed. 

Mari rushed over to give them both a cuddle, and as you watched with a smile on your face, you felt Yoongi arrive at your side. “Some very buttery toast?” Turning your head, he smiled at you, proffering a plate stacked tall. 

Sarang jabbed you in anticipation. 

“This is bad,” you muttered while putting an eye-wateringly expensive wicker bassinet into your online basket. 

“What’s bad?” Seokjin asked, moving away from the stove to look over your shoulder at the laptop. 

While he made a late dinner, you were browsing for baby furniture at the breakfast bar. You were mostly done, but you were sure nesting had set in because you were making excessive amounts of lists and buying things you were pretty positive you didn’t need. Your father was almost done with the crib to end all cribs, but you’d need something smaller for your bedroom… Maybe downstairs too… Sarang was going to spend a lot of her time sleeping (hopefully), she needed to do that somewhere comfy. She might also need an extra dresser for the mountain of clothes you’d already collected… 

Her room was almost done, Jungkook’s breath-taking mural complete – incredible-looking whales flying through a starry night sky. You loved it, couldn’t stop awing at it whatever chance you got. He’d also started coming over in the evenings to help Seokjin put together all the furniture. The man could blast through an Ikea flatpack, you’d give him that! But you could do without hearing Seokjin and him bicker until well past 10pm every night. Not that you weren’t thankful for his generosity. You two had the best friends there could be – and yes, that was a flex. 

“I’m really getting used to spending your money,” you answered, admiring the image of the bassinet again. It really was so beautiful. And it was made by a very talented and small company. It was worth the price. When it came to your baby, money didn’t seem to matter, and that could potentially become a problem in the future. You needed to rein it in…but not just yet. 

“Well, that’s what it’s there for.” 

“I just think this will be really nice for our bedroom.” You didn’t know why you were trying to justify it, Seokjin was already on board – as he was with anything for Sarang. Just like you. You were probably trying to justify it to yourself. 

“It will,” he agreed. 

“Sarang will have to sleep with us for a while.” You glanced over your shoulder at him. “Or maybe we could use it for downstairs. It has wheels.” 

“I like it,” Seokjin said, giving your shoulder a squeeze before moving back to the cooking. “Buy two.” 

“Seokjin, I’m not buying two,” you burst out, incredulous. Then quieter, “but maybe I’ll look for another one…” As if you hadn’t decided that already. 

“It turns me on seeing you spend my money,” Seokjin told you over loud clanking, head in the corner cupboard searching for a pot. 

You pulled a face. “You’re weird. Your dick won’t be hard when you check your account and I’ve run off with all your money!” 

He simply laughed – loudly, and not forgetting fondly. You smiled happily to yourself as you continued to browse before wincing when you felt Sarang moving. You readjusted your butt on the stool, willing yourself to get comfy again, and trying not to think of how much she was pressing on your bladder. It was all in your head, you told yourself, you’d peed half hour ago. 

To be frank, you were over being pregnant. You now laughed at past you who wanted a baby bump so badly. Past you who wanted to feel your daughter move every second of the day. She didn’t know the horrors of what being heavily pregnant involved. Then again, present you now knew the horrors of what was to come next month. Future you would know for definite. 

The birthing and baby preparation classes you’d been attending were great. You’d made a couple of new parent friends and you felt a lot more confident for when Glob—Sarang finally got here, but with the classes came the knowledge of what happened while giving birth. You’d successfully avoided it all up until a few weeks ago. Seokjin usually attended them with you, a real hit with the other dads. The guy was a DILF magnet. But just last weekend he hadn’t been able to make it, a work emergency, so Yuna had become your unexpected birthing partner for an hour. Not that she lasted the whole sixty minutes. 

During a showing of an (extremely graphic) birthing video, she had to run out to be sick when the brave woman getting filmed split her perineum. 

She was still gagging on the drive home, while you held her emergency toothbrush, toothpaste and bottle of water she’d bought to get the taste of vomit out of her mouth. I think I’m going to be one of those moms, you know, the ones too posh to push, she’d decided defiantly, taking a break from viewing you with pity. Or, on second thoughts, I might just scrap kids all together. 

Not that a caesarean was any better, you wanted to remind her, having a stranger dig around in your organs, but being the great friend you were, you kept your mouth shut, silently freaking out about torn perineums and pooing yourself. Was it too late to be getting second thoughts? 

The day after, Seokjin called you at lunch to explain he wouldn’t be done at work by half 5. You didn’t mind. He’d gone above and beyond lately to make sure you both drove home together every evening. He was already working himself stupid in order to take a month off when Sarang was born. He didn’t want to miss a thing during her first few weeks on this planet, but that meant for now he was tired and stressed as he prepared his absence. You hated seeing him so worn-out, even if he tried his best to still joke around and make the mood light. 

Not particularly wanting to ride the subway home – especially now that the distance was further, you took him up on his offer to hang out at his office until he was done. You wouldn’t be a distraction, you promised him teasingly. On your way there, barely down the road from Artkive, a car slowed down beside you on the road. 

“Need a ride?” Yoongi asked out the window. He saw you hesitate. “____, come on. It’s cold and you’re pregnant.” 

You didn’t know when being pregnant had become a reason for you to be unable to do basic tasks, but you didn’t take it to heart anymore, knowing Yoongi, just like everyone else who said similar things – including Seokjin – didn’t mean anything by it. They were just looking out for you. And while non-pregnant you usually walked a mile a minute, this baby bump was really weighing you down as of late. Instead of your usual brisk walk, you now shuffled.  

“Thanks,” you smiled when you got inside and started doing up your belt. The autumn weather had started to kick in, and your nose felt tingly with cold. You rubbed it absentmindedly as Yoongi pulled off. 

“Where you heading? Seokjin’s?” 

“Yes. He’s working late, so I said I’d wait with him.” After a moment, you realised something. “You don’t usually go this direction.” 

“Yeah.” Yoongi briefly glanced at you – and was that? —Was he looking slightly uncomfortable? Bashful? “I’m meeting someone.” 

Your eyebrows darted up. “Like a date?” Yoongi didn’t reply, but he was smiling to himself, breaking for a red light. “Yoongi,” you urged, excitement bubbling up in your chest. 

He finally relented, grinning now. “Not exactly a date tonight, but yeah, I’m dating someone.” 

“That’s great news!” you burst, grinning widely too. After everything he’d been through with Sera, with you, he deserved this. He deserved to look this happy and to smile the way he was right now. 

The light turned green as Yoongi started talking. “It’s been a few weeks but we’ve known one another longer. She works at the grocery store near my place.” He glanced at you again, snorting with laughter when he saw you nodding eagerly, desperate for more info. “She has a three-year-old son. He’s fucking adorable.” 

“Awwh. She sounds lovely.” 

Yoongi shot you an amused look. “You haven’t even met her.” Then he sighed happily. “But yeah. Yeah, she is.” 

“What’s her name?” 

“Areum.” He noticed the way you were looking at him and chuckled unsurely. “What?” 

“I’m so happy for you, Yoongi.” 

He obviously didn’t realise how smitten he looked. But he did seem to catch the undertone in your words. He dropped his chin, tapping the steering wheel. “Thanks.” 

“There’s something going around our office,” you announced dramatically. 

Head shooting up, he looked mildly concerned. “Flu?” 

“No!” you laughed, shaking your head. “Love! Mari told me today she’s thinking of renewing her wedding vows.” 

Namjoon and Yeeun, Mari, and now Yoongi! 

“Well then,” he chuckled, “I better get an invite.” 

When you arrived at the AGS parking lot, it took you a moment to begin heaving yourself from Yoongi’s car. 

“Need a hand?” he asked. 

“I’ve got it.” You were breathing hard with exertion, but you had it. Possibly. “I really can’t wait for this to be over,” you heard yourself admitting, a hand on your lower back. If only you could skip the next five weeks and the tearing of your vagina to have Sarang here, that would be wonderful. You didn’t say that part out loud though. 

“I bet,” Yoongi winced sympathetically. “I can’t even imagine how uncomfortable you are.” 

“I haven’t had a proper night’s sleep in weeks.” It was all right to have a little moan now and again. Yoongi could be your sympathetic ear for a brief moment. Yuna was still stuck on the horrors that birthing video and bestowed upon her, and you didn’t want to worry Seokjin. 

“I don’t think that’s going to remedy itself after the birth.” 

Well then. Sympathetic ear, Yoongi was not. 

“I don’t know, at least I won’t be getting slowly kicked to death. Glob’s going to be a martial artist when she’s older, I swear.” 

The office knew all about how active Glob was and had all felt her move – including Yoongi. At this point, you were sure she just liked putting on a show. 

“Sarang,” Yoongi teasingly corrected. 

“Sarang,” you repeated, smiling. Your daughter had two names. She’d been Glob for so long, it was impossible to shift. 

“Suits her. A pretty name for a pretty baby.” 

“You don’t know that yet,” you laughed. 

Yuna had been sending you TikTok’s of ‘ugly’ newborns, which truthfully, you found quite mean, but maybe that was because you were weeks away from giving birth and very sensitive. Or maybe you were just quietly hoping your baby didn’t come out squished, wrinkled and angry looking. Not that you wouldn’t love her all the same. 

“I know both her parents,” Yoongi replied knowingly. “She’s blessed with good genes.” 

With a laugh, you finally hurled yourself out of the car. “I’ll let Jin know you think he’s pretty,” you said as you turned back to grab your bag. 

.

.

Walking into the AGS building, you spotted Haram at her desk logging off the computer and waved. She smiled and waved back as you headed for the elevator. Seokjin’s conversation with Jungkook had enlightened absolutely nothing, so their situation was still just as baffling as it had been a few nights ago during the dinner party from hell. Still, if being passive aggressive was what they were into, who were you to judge. They obviously liked something about their relationship to be still in it. Cough cough, the sex. Had to be! 

You found Seokjin hunched over his desk not long after Hoseok had practically run into you as you’d exited the elevator. Seokjin had told him he could go home, and Hoseok wasn’t giving him so much as a second to change his mind. Giving Seokjin a kiss on the cheek, and telling him about the ride here with Yoongi, his new relationship and making Seokjin laugh with the pretty comment, you quickly moved over to the sofa by the large window and took out your laptop, doing your own thing and not wanting to interrupt him. 

“Just because you’re here doesn’t mean you still need to be working too,” he said not twenty minutes later. 

Something about your face must have given it away. Less searching-for-extra-baby-things-concentration and more writing-last-minute-emails-concentration. 

“I’m just sending off this one email,” you replied, hitting send. 

A client had thanked you for all the hard work you’d done this week and you wanted to respond. Your last client – for now. You started your maternity leave next week. To be honest, you wished you’d started it sooner, but going on for as long as you could seemed a good idea at the time. Come the weekend you would have six months away from Artkive. The thought was a strange one. No work for half a year. Well, of the graphic design nature. A baby was going to be plenty of work. 

“Put the laptop away, ____.” 

You closed the screen, smirking over at him. “I like it when you’re bossy.” 

He gave you a smile, but there was something tired about it. “How about stressed?” 

Your own smile fell as you watched him run a hand over his face, making his glasses go wonky. His shoulders were sagged, and his shirt was wrinkled. He looked absolutely exhausted and you hated it. He was in need of a great big hug. 

“That not so much,” you replied, managing to stand up. He welcomed your embrace, and welcomed your hands against his shoulders even more when you moved behind him to give them a massage. 

“That feels good,” he grunted, the tension slowly leaving him as his muscles relaxed under your palms. “You shouldn’t be doing that, though. You need to be sitting down.” 

“I’ve been sat on my ass all day.” 

“You’ve been working hard all week,” he argued. 

“So have you.” 

“Yes, but I’m not preg—” 

“Don’t say it,” you cut him off, digging your fingers into his shoulders. He chuckled, swivelling in his chair to face you. You stared him down. “You’re forgetting I’m also free for the next six months come tomorrow at five thirty.” 

“Define free,” he questioned sceptically. 

You chose to ignore that, stroking your hands down his chest, admiring him even though he was a smartass. “I like you in glasses. You should wear them at home.” 

“Yeah?” His hands reached for your hips, giving them a gentle squeeze. 

You felt the sudden urge to kiss him, leaning in and pressing your lips against his. After a moment, his mouth parted, pulling you closer to deepen the kiss. You brushed your tongue against his, eager to feel it moving against yours. Seokjin moaned softly and it sent a shiver up your spine. 

“What’s happening right now?” he asked, breaking away slightly breathless. 

“What do you mean?” 

“You haven’t kissed me like this in a while.” 

“I kiss you all the time,” you argued. 

“I meant with…tongue.” 

You drew back, noticing the mix of confusion and hope on his face. The poor man. You suddenly remembered when you’d turned him down a few nights ago. While a few months ago you’d had the highest sex drive of your life, now was a completely different story. Sex, in any form, was the last thing on your mind, but maybe kissing with tongue had unwittingly been added to the list too. He was right, you couldn’t remember the last time you’d done this. 

The way Seokjin’s eyes flitted over your face now, dark and filled with need tugged at your gut, and you realised you were breathing heavier, the skin where his thumb stroked circles against your hip tingly. Even above a layer of clothing. Were you actually turned on? It was a miracle! Without a second thought, you got into his lap. He groaned, wrapping his arms around your middle and capturing your mouth with his. Your bump was in the way and you were mildly uncomfortable in this chair, but it didn’t matter. 

“It’s the glasses. I can’t resist,” you muttered against his mouth, tugging his bottom lip. 

His hands moved up and down your back, squeezed your ass. “The glasses aren’t really practical when it comes to this,” he said throatily. “I’m steaming up.” 

You giggled, noticing how they had indeed fogged up, but immediately whined when he went to yank them off. He relented with a staged sigh, kissing you again, harder, and then you heard his feet scrambling against the floor as he spun the chair around. You laughed into his mouth, followed by a squeal when he lifted you up as if you weighed nothing, sitting you on the edge of his desk. It might have been sexy if you weren’t fit to burst and weren’t wearing papaya-coloured Crocs. 

You were thankful for them, don’t get you wrong. (Crocs had been a Godsend during your final trimester. However, Seokjin had taken things to the next level and had bought you a pair in practically every single colour. You could open up your own Crocs store, that’s how ridiculous things had gotten.) But they didn’t exactly scream sex appeal. With that thought, you felt one slip off and hit the floor. 

As his mouth skimmed your jaw, you reached for the zipper of his pants, feeling him hard and desperate for you already. The realisation that you’d been neglecting him sent you almost uncontrollable. You worked his erection over the fabric of his boxers, feeling every vein and ridge. 

“Are we really doing this?” he panted against your neck. 

“Is there a rule against it?” 

“I own this company. I make the rules.” 

You pulled back, raising an impressed eyebrow. “Panties metaphorically dropped.” 

“I can make them drop quite literally,” he rushed, fingers digging into the waist of your leggings ready to tug them down. 

You didn’t know how long you continued to fumble on his desk. All you knew was that when you heard someone knocking at Seokjin’s door, you had his bare cock in your hand, wrist mid-flick, just as his fingers were slipping under the side of your damp underwear. 

You both froze, mouths still attached. 

“Mr. Kim?” 

Quietly cursing, Seokjin jerked his head back, a string of saliva snapping in half and landing down your chin. That had been a very wet kiss. You cocked your head, silently demanding questions from him. Who the hell was at the door?!

“Janitor,” he explained in a whisper. 

Oh fuck. 

“H-hang on one minute, Mr. Lee,” Seokjin stammered. 

You quickly wiped your chin as Seokjin backed away, attempting to fold himself back into his boxers and pants. Meanwhile, you were wriggling on your back like a flipped woodlouse, attempting to get your leggings back up. 

“One minute,” Seokjin repeated, sounding completely panicked. 

“Are you busy? I can come back later,” the janitor asked as Seokjin rushed over to help you up. 

“No. Not busy. Just—nearly—done—” Seokjin bent to pick up your Croc, sliding it on. “Okay, you can come in now.” 

You attempted to straighten your cardigan as quickly as possible, your eyes widening as they caught sight of Seokjin’s very obvious boner down his pant leg. He followed your gaze and spun around just as the door opened and in came a very short, very adorable looking elderly man with a cleaning trolley. 

As Seokjin concealed himself, probably tucking it into the waistband of his underwear, you simply beamed at the man, aware you were out of breath and hot in the face. 

“Ahhh.” His face lit up, wrinkling even more with his grin. Should he still even be working? He must have been at least 75. 

Seokjin turned back to you both, winding his arm loosely around your waist. You discreetly glanced down, finding his erection nowhere to be seen, and gave a sigh of relief. “Mr. Lee, how are you today?” he asked, voice a little strangled. He was panting quietly. 

“You know me,” the man continued to grin. “Full of energy.” He motioned to you then. “Is this your pregnant wife?” 

“Well,” Seokjin began, unsure how to correct that, but Mr. Lee was still talking. 

“—Just as pretty as the photo.” He gestured to the picture frame on Seokjin’s desk, but it was face down. You must have knocked it over. 

You cleared your throat. “Oh. Thank you.” 

“Mr. Kim tells me lots about you on the evenings he works late.” 

You smiled at Seokjin, noticing him grow a little flustered – or extra flustered. His face was a comical shade of red. “Where’s my manners? ____, this is Mr. Lee. Our janitor.” 

“It’s nice to meet you.” You directed your smile his way. 

“You look ready to drop,” Mr. Lee remarked. 

You tapped your bump. “Not long left now.” Thank God. 

“Mr. Kim showed me a video on his smartphone. She’s very active.” 

You shot a look at Seokjin, then laughed. “Especially during the night.” 

“Are you nearly done for the night, Mr. Kim?” 

“Not yet,” Seokjin replied apologetically. 

“No need to worry.” Mr. Lee was very cheery. You liked it. “I can come back last. I didn’t mean to interrupt.” 

“You didn’t—I mean, you didn’t interrupt anything,” Seokjin stumbled. 

Mr. Lee shook his head. “You work too hard. You need some fun.” He looked at you with a gentle smile. “It was lovely to meet you, ____. Have a nice weekend.” 

“You too, Mr. Lee. Goodnight.”

As soon as he’d rolled his trolley out and closed the door, you couldn’t hold it in any longer. Laughter burst out of you. “Do you think he knew?!” 

Seokjin ran a distressed hand through his hair, scratching his scalp. “I don’t think so.” 

“Seokjin, you were panting like a dog.” Plus, he’d told Seokjin he needed ‘some fun.’  

“You can talk,” Seokjin shot. 

“Sarang squashes my lungs,” you informed him primly, rubbing the top of your bump back and forth. 

“Oh, that’s your excuse,” he grinned. “Nothing to do with me then?” 

Leaning into kiss you, you brought your thumb and forefinger together, not quite touching. “Maybe just a little bit.” 

Seokjin ran a hand down your side and groaned weakly, taking a step back. “You should go home. It’s getting late.” 

“It’s not even 7pm.” 

But yes, getting interrupted by a janitor did sort of ruin the mood a little. 

“I probably won’t be done for another couple of hours,” he reasoned, sounding displeased. 

You felt for him, you really did. “I get it, I’m a distraction,” you teased, wanting to cheer him up. It wasn’t a lie. The mess of his desk was proof of that. 

One side of his mouth quirked. “A terrible one.” He reached for his phone. “I’ll call for a taxi.” 

While you waited for it to get here, you helped Seokjin reorder his desk, questioning how a man Mr. Lee’s age should still be working. Apparently, he just really loved his job and was adamant to keep going for as long as he could. He was already retired, but he liked having something to do in the evenings. It made sense. Keeping active kept you going, and sometimes life was lonely, especially when you’d been living it for so long. 

“I’ll see you back at home,” Seokjin said, walking you to the door and kissing your cheek. He would have walked you all the way down to the exit, but you told him there was no need. 

“Wake we up if I’m asleep?” you asked, your eyes giving away the meaning of your words. 

His darkened fractionally, and as you left he squeezed your ass, making you giggle with delight. 

You greeted the driver outside, a smiley middle-aged man with rosy cheeks, and sat in the back. You always felt awkward getting up front. Was it something people did when they were only one person? You didn’t know and you weren’t about to make that faux pas now. You hadn’t got far into the journey when your phone pinged with a text. It was your dad, who had gotten considerably better at texting these days. Unless he was asking Yeonja for help – which you were expecting he was. 

Dad (7:23pm) It’s done 👍 (Image attached) Is it okay? Do you like it?

You gasped audibly when you saw the finished crib. It was breath-taking. You’d seen bits of it already, but nothing could prepare you for the whole thing. It was made from dark, sturdy wood, intricate engravings decorating the back portion of the crib, which was higher than the rest of it. The three other sides had beautifully carved slats. It had obviously been made with lots of love, care and patience. 

Grinning from ear to ear you started to reply, unsure you even had the words to articulate how much you loved it. You had the first word down – Dad – rather ineffective, when there a loud screeching pierced your ears, followed by a heavy thud. Thrown into the window, your phone jerked from your hands, which flew up uncontrollably when your head hit the glass with a dull thump.

.

.

Seokjin realised he was chewing the end of his pen and stopped abruptly, grossed out by himself. It had been on the floor not five minutes ago, hidden beneath the desk, lost. He hadn’t even noticed it rolling off when you two were, well, you know… Whew. That had come out of nowhere. Not that he was complaining. However now he had to deal with the mortification of being caught by Mr. Lee. He’d obviously had an inkling as to what you and Seokjin were doing in here. He’d been on this planet for nearly eighty years. He wasn’t stupid. 

Instead of focusing on the embarrassment, he let his mind wonder to what would have happened if you hadn’t been interrupted. He’d never had sex in his office before, which now seemed ridiculous. Thinking of all the times you’d been here with him, he’d wasted each and every opportunity. Fool. 

Fuck, he was chewing his pen again. 

He really needed to start concentrating if he wanted to be home soon. You’d told him to wake you up if you were already asleep, but he knew he wouldn’t do that, no matter how much he wanted the chance to have sex. You hadn’t been sleeping very well lately, and he wasn’t about to interrupt the little you were getting. So the only option was to speed through this and get home before you found yourself in bed. 

His phone started ringing. A private number he noticed as he glanced at the screen. It wasn’t his work phone, so he immediately found himself a little confused, but picked up anyway. It was probably some kind of call centre. 

“Am I speaking to Mr. Kim Seokjin?” A woman’s voice asked, professional but polite. Maybe something else too, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it.  

“Yes, you are,” he replied unsurely. “What’s this regarding?” 

There was a pause on the other end. “I’m calling from the hospital.” 

Seokjin’s stomach swooped for no obvious reason. Then again, a call from a hospital could never be a good thing. Especially when you hadn’t been expecting it. He opened his mouth to begin asking questions, but nothing came out. 

“There’s no need to panic, Mr. Kim,” the woman prefaced, but too late. He could already feel a lump in his throat, the coil in his stomach tightening. “Everything is all right, but your wife was admitted to us about twenty minutes ago.” 

Absently, somewhere in the back of his mind, he registered that this was the second time tonight someone had called you his wife. 

“The taxi she was riding in was involved in a minor collision.” 

His heart plummeted, then started to pound heavily. The pen he was still holding fell to the desk, where it bounced once and rolled off the edge. Again, for the second time tonight. 

Written 2022 - 2023. Please refrain from posting my work elsewhere. No translations allowed. © floralseokjin 2023

[kingofbodyrolls]

Omg this was just so fucking amazing 🥰 I love everything about it and the plot was so fluffy 🥺 Namjoon was just so fluffy and I love his kid ✨

Such a sweet holiday fic, and even if it isn't read around Christmas time it will bring a smile to your face. It's truly amazing 💯💜

real magic (explicit)

genre: smut, fluff, bangin’ your boss, m attempts kidfic - part of a hyung holiday collab !

pairing: namjoon x reader

summary: the holiday season has never meant anything to you beyond suffering long hours for minimum wage and awaiting the collapse of capitalism— but this year, you’d be willing to add making out with your dilf coffee shop boss to the list.

word count: 16.7k 😩

contains: ~*~explicit sexual content (after kind of a slow burn sorry lol)~*~ the "moving back to your hometown" hallmark trope, a nick jonas poster (yes that's a warning), some taekook slander in the beginning because i thought it was funny, namjoon is so buff and so dumb but so wise and so hot, moni is a little shit, namjoon is a dad!, namjoon's kid uses they/them pronouns but it's not like A Focus of the story it's just flavor, reader thinks joon has a dead wife for like one second 💀 mentions of teenage pregnancy and co-parenting, one incredibly stupid asshole customer lmao, mint choco slander (it's what namjoon would want 😌), obviously there is an employee/boss power dynamic but they talk about it and figure it out because this is namjoon and he overthinks everything, namjoon driving (he's a dad i have to assume he would get his license if he had a literal child!!!!!!!!) and a lotta sentimental holiday and life talk. here are ur sex specific warnings: making out/going to second base in a car in a parking lot (what is it with my namjoons and cars in parking lots yo), fingering, semi-drunk sex, and fuckin' rawwwww with a smidge of size and breeding kink lmao (but she's on the pill!!! no more kids!!!!!!)

A/N: hello hello hi merry crisis this damn fic is finally here lmao~ as i have been babbling on about for days i really really (REALLY) love how this namjoon turned out he's just hesjkrgdhtgk such a fucking himbo but a good dad and wise and did i mention hot aaaaaa 🫠 all the love in my gay little heart to @goodsoop for their barista wisdom and real life experiences that went into this one (the cookie story will never not make me laugh) ! and to @sailoryooons for beta reading this 50 million times and encouraging me when i was convinced it sucked ass, and also for making all the gorgeous banners for this collab 😭

which btw - be sure to go check out @gimmethatagustd & @sailoryooons & @nabiolive 's fics tooooo !!! i've loved collabing with them so very much even when we were all hashtag Going Through It, we got the whole damn hyung line you hear meeeeee 🎁🎁🎁🎁

read on AO3!

Rudely awoken by the incessant beep of your alarm, you open your eyes to find Nick Jonas staring back at you, and you sit up with a scream.

Realization washes over your sleep-addled brain in waves: first, that you aren’t actually staring at a real person. He’s just smizing on a hot pink poster, held up by some remarkably durable masking tape you stuck to the wall fifteen years ago. Second, it comes back to you that you are staring at said poster because you’ve woken up in your childhood bedroom. It’s been left untouched since you were a teenager, like a weird time capsule of all your high school obsessions.

After reaching for your phone to silence the alarm, you kick your way out from under the blankets, trying not to make eye contact with Nick, or Justin, or Zayn as you stumble to the bathroom. The circumstances of your grand return to living in your goddamn parents’ house linger like a bad taste in your mouth, one that all the tongue brushing in the world can’t remove.

It still doesn’t feel real. Taehyung, your best friend in the world since freshman year of college, kicked you out. Sure, it may have been phrased more like a gentle request, but as far as your ego is concerned, it still feels like exile. Banishment, even. The person you thought you could never be parted from made his choice, and he chose his fucking boyfriend over you.

Jungkook. You think the name with all the venom your cold, dead heart can manage as you spit toothpaste into the sink.

Jungkook, the weird, bug-eyed kid who put his toe-socked feet on your couch, drank his banana milk out of your favorite mug, and ate up all of your Samyang ramyeon because he ‘thought it was communal’. 

Jungkook, who ruined your sleep schedule nightly, either by fucking Taehyung senseless on the other side of your paper-thin apartment wall, or by blasting the same four Ariana Grande songs over and over on his bluetooth speaker and singing along in an annoyingly good voice. Either activity would go on well into the early hours of the morning, until you had to bang on the wall so hard you nearly put your fist through it.

Jungkook, whose dog once took a shit right on the floor in the middle of the kitchen.

Bam was cute enough to forgive, of course. But you can never forgive Taehyung for his betrayal. Especially when he knew you’d just been fired from your shitty coffee shop job for the stupidest reason ever, and he didn’t let that derail or even delay him. He still went ahead and delivered the killing blow.

Et tu, Taehyung? you think angrily to yourself as you stand in front of the suitcase containing as much of your closet as you could possibly fit. You still need to go back for your bigger furniture, and little things like your plates and your mugs and your silverware, which Jungkook is probably putting his grimy little fingers all over at this very moment. But until you’ve checked out of your indefinite vacation at the Nightmare Parental Hotel, there doesn’t really seem a point.

If you were less upset, you might take consolation in the fact that your parents aren’t actually here, that they’ve jaunted off to their timeshare until the new year, but you’re busy being too swallowed whole by your misery to find an ounce of joy in any piece of your current reality.

You dig through the pile of clothes until you manage to pull out something halfway decent. The first order of business now that you’ve moved back in is simple: acquire another stupid coffee shop job. You have no plans to stick around long, you just need something seasonal that will give you some meager income while you start looking for a real gig, one that is ideally not in your hometown.

Watching yourself in the mirror as you pull on a simple black blouse and your least-stained pair of jeans, you attempt to mentally dust off your interview skills. You conjure up your best fake smile and customer service voice, both of which are second-nature at this point.

Why do you want this job? “I’m just so passionate about coming home sticky and verbally abused by caffeine-addicted assholes every night.”

What’s your biggest weakness? “Clearly it’s the fact that I’m a ray of fucking sunshine.”

Why were you terminated from your last job? “Oh, well, I attempted to get my previous employer to improve their standards of worker treatment. You see, I selfishly requested that they raise the bar a single notch above hell. Certainly won’t happen again!”

This should go well, you tell yourself, and your reflection grimaces back.

With several hours to kill before your job interview and a growing desire to avoid the weird nostalgia of your childhood that seems to lurk in every corner of your parents’ house, you decide to take a walk.

The sky is bright blue and cloudless, and though the air is brisk, it isn’t terribly windy. You tuck in your earbuds as you shut the front door behind you and pick a direction, aimless, letting your mind wander to the soundtrack of your “seasonal depression” playlist.

A whole new crop of families must have moved into your parents’ neighborhood in the years since you moved out, because the streets are more alive with kids than you can ever remember them being, even when you were a kid yourself. Bikes and scooters lay abandoned on the sidewalks between homes, and you can hear the repeated echo of a basketball dribbling on a driveway, punctuated by distant, playful screaming.

Even in the daytime, you can tell these families have spared no expense when it comes to Christmas decor: some homes have every eave outlined in string lights, some have candy cane stakes dug into the perimeter of their perfectly manicured lawns, and some have been seemingly invaded by small armies of inflatable reindeer and snowmen. You can’t help but giggle a little at the inflatable decorations that have been set to turn off during the day, the way the airless material lays limp in the grass, giving the impression of a yard strewn with dead bodies.

But you remember what it looked like when you drove in last night, everything lit up and brought to life.

Your parents definitely didn’t have inflatable lawn decorations when you were a kid, but you’d get so excited every year when your dad would drag the ladder out and spend the day stringing up the simple rainbow lights you did have. You still remember the little spark of joy you’d feel in your chest when the colors would click on after dark, the way you would run outside every night just to see them twinkle, your breath puffing steam clouds in the air, your bare feet freezing on the ice-cold driveway.

It felt like magic then. But somewhere along the way you grew up. And now that feeling’s gone. Even at night, the lights just look like… lights.

Distracted as you are by the music in your ears and thoughts of your childhood that have brought you to a standstill on the sidewalk, you don’t notice what’s happening until it’s too late. 

A blur of red and white is suddenly circling around and between your legs, and you feel something twining over your ankles, then tugging with a force that threatens to knock you off balance. As you lean forward in an attempt to right yourself, the chaos in question slows enough for you to realize it’s a fluffy white dog in a red sweater, who has excitedly tangled you up in his leash.

You manage to find the looped end of the leash and slowly get yourself unwrapped while the dog continues to pant and jump and occasionally yap at you. With your legs freed, you squat down for a proper greeting, laughing to yourself as he lifts up on his hind legs, balancing his paws on your knee to lick an enthusiastic greeting across your cheek.

“Hi, puppy,” you murmur, trying to get him to hold still long enough to read the name on his tag. A voice beats you to it.

“Moni!”

When you glance up to find Moni’s owner jogging up the sidewalk, you have to make a conscious effort to keep your own tongue in your mouth, because good lord, he is fine.

He’s tall, towering over you even once you bring yourself back up to standing, and the black workout tank and athletic shorts he’s wearing do absolutely nothing to hide the thick, well-defined muscles of his arms, chest, and thighs.

Despite his lack of clothing in the cool winter air, you can see his face and neck are slick with sweat, his white-blonde hair damp with it too. There’s even a dark patch that’s soaked his shirt at his sternum, making the firm swell of his pecs that much more apparent. It takes you an extra second to break eye contact with them, but when you do finally manage to drag your gaze up to meet his, you realize his face is just as nice of a view: honey-tan skin, full lips, and cute dimples that pop as he gives a sheepish, appreciative laugh.

“Thank you,” he says, a little breathless; his voice is deep and slightly husky in a way that makes your face grow hot. You blink stupidly at him for a few moments, your mind reeling, and then it occurs to you that you still have his dog’s leash in your hand.

“No problem,” you manage, handing the looped end back over and double-checking to make sure your ankles are still free from their entanglement. Though now that this man is holding the leash, you kind of wish they weren’t.

“Moni’s usually good about not taking off when I stop to do a circuit,” he explains, like you’re the dog owner police. It makes you wonder what kind of Karens must have moved into this neighborhood since you left it. “I don’t know why he ran, maybe he saw a squirrel or something.”

“It’s okay,” you reassure him with a smile, admiring Moni as he stretches and settles into a polite seated pose. “I like his sweater.”

“Thanks,” he laughs again. “C’mon Mon.”

You can’t help focusing on how big this guy’s hands are as he slips his fingers through the end of Moni’s leash, tugging slightly as if to encourage the dog back in the direction he came from.

Moni blinks and stays right where he is.

“You little shit,” his owner huffs under his breath, and you have to bite down on your bottom lip to keep from laughing. You distantly realize you should probably leave them to it and continue on your walk, but this is too entertaining to turn away from now. Your hot neighbor tries one more futile attempt to get Moni to move, then seems to give up entirely.

He stoops down with a low grunt of effort that makes your core flutter as he grabs the fluffy dog and hoists him up in his arms. You try to force yourself to stop noticing the way his biceps flex, the fact that the muscles of his arms are nearly bigger than your head.

“Thanks again,” he says with a final grateful smile, and your only response is to swallow hard and stand there like an idiot as he turns and carries his spoiled dog back home.

When you arrive for your interview, you’re delighted to discover that Indigo Coffee is nothing like your last job. It’s warm and bright, with large picture windows that flood the space in sunlight, and there’s a cozy personal touch to it, the likes of which you’d certainly never see in your former corporate shell of a workplace. The sitting area is dotted with live edge wood tables and mismatched chairs. There are an array of framed paintings on the walls that look handmade in a good way, simple yet bold brush-stroke lines in a deep blue color scheme. And, you realize as your eyes linger, the shop is absolutely overflowing with plants: in simple clay pots lined up along the windows, free-standing between tables, and tucked into bookshelves placed artfully throughout the space. 

You step closer to inspect one as you wait on your interviewer and are pleased to see that it’s real, that they all are— no waxy fake leaves jammed into a thick block of cement, but real greenery sprouted in real dirt, deep brown soil gone soft from what must have been a recent watering. These are plants someone cares for, coaxed and kept alive by someone’s time and patience and love. The thought makes you smile a little despite yourself.

There’s still fucking Christmas music playing, but you figure that’s inescapable this time of year.

“Are you here for the interview?” someone asks over your shoulder. As you turn away from the plant, you wonder if you’re imagining that the voice in question sounds slightly familiar, and then you find yourself once again staring up at a fine-ass man with white-blonde hair and a sweet pair of dimples.

He’s clearly showered since your last encounter, and is now slightly more covered up in a pair of faded jeans and a gray-green flannel thrown over a black shirt emblazoned with bold white lettering: Protect Trans Kids.

“Oh.” Moni’s owner blinks back at you, and the shock on his face is so apparent that a giggle escapes your lips before you can stop it. “Uh, hi again.”

“Hi,” you echo, equally flustered, before realizing you failed to answer his initial question. “Oh, yeah. Yes. I am. The interview. I’m— that’s me.” So well-spoken, you mentally kick yourself.

One dimple deepens slightly as he extends a hand. “Kim Namjoon. Owner of Indigo Coffee. And the world’s least obedient dog, as you saw earlier.”

You offer your best handshake in return and a smile that you surprisingly don’t have to force as you give Namjoon your name. He gestures to a table in the corner, and you each pull back a chair to have a seat. You try to banish any potential horny thoughts from your brain, but shifting into interview mode proves difficult as he rests his large hands on the table in front of him, drumming idly along to the horribly cheery music.

You manage to tear your gaze away from Namjoon’s fingers when he speaks again. “If it’s cool with you, we can just chat a little? I’m not so good at conducting formal interviews. Too inauthentic.”

It’s like you can feel some of the tension release from your shoulders. “I— yeah. That sounds great.”

“Cool,” he nods, and you try to ignore the rush of heat up your neck at the intensity of his stare. Professional, be professional. “So I saw on your resume that it looks like your last few jobs were out of town. Did you just move here?”

“Moved back,” you say quickly. “Yeah. I grew up here, actually.”

Namjoon’s eyes widen a little in clear interest. “Really? What brings you back?”

You purse your lips as you consider how to phrase it. “My life… kind of fell apart. So. I moved in with my parents for a bit. Like a winner.” His dimples pop when he smiles at your joke, and you drop your gaze to the table. “Just trying to figure out what’s next, and find something seasonal in the meantime.”

“Well, we could certainly use the help,” Namjoon admits. When you chance a glance up, there’s a look on his face like he’s choosing his next words carefully. “I saw in your application that you were terminated from your last position.” He leans in, lowering his voice slightly as he continues. “I’m gonna be honest, I hate that we even ask that question. But can you tell me a bit about what happened?”

You keep your stare fixed on the wood grain in front of you as you try to stay calm. “Well, if I can be honest too...” Squeezing your eyes shut, you tell yourself to just say it. “I was fired for trying to unionize.”

“Oh.” Namjoon sounds surprised, but you can’t manage to look at him. “Really?” You nod slowly, biting down on your bottom lip. “That’s— fucking illegal.”

That makes your gaze snap back up to meet his. His brow is furrowed slightly, a muscle in his jaw pulled tight.

“Yeah,” you say belatedly. “Yeah, I know. They made up a bunch of fake excuses as to why I was fired, but I knew what it really was. It was because I wanted them to actually pay us what we were worth, and hire more workers so we weren’t being scheduled to death. And I was getting everyone else riled up too, and I guess it scared them.”

Namjoon sits back in his chair, folding his arms over his chest. “Huh. Man. Well, I’m sorry that happened to you.”

It takes you a second to process what you’re hearing. Union has always been a scary word for any person in upper management you’ve previously encountered. You hadn’t expected this to be so… easy. For him to understand, or sympathize. “I— yeah. I am too.”

“If it makes you feel any better,” Namjoon continues quickly, “I think it’s great, what you tried to do. I’m very pro-union.” He pauses for a moment, his face twisting slightly in thought. “I mean, admittedly, we don’t have one here. Granted, there are only five of us. I should probably ask, though, if they want one.”

You can’t quite hide your smile. “I’m gonna take a guess that you probably treat your employees pretty well as-is.”

“I try,” he says with a shake of his head. His eyes meet yours again. “So, here’s the deal. You have a ton of experience, and with holiday time off and a few people out sick, I’m super understaffed right now. You seem like you have a good head on your shoulders, and hopefully you feel like you can come to me if you have any issues, without fearing retaliation.”

You blink slowly, and he must be able to read the disbelief on your face. “What I’m saying is I’m offering you the seasonal position,” he clarifies. “Is that— do you, uh, accept?”

“Yes.” The word is chased by a dazed laugh, and Namjoon’s dimples resurface around a small smile.

“Cool. I told you I’m bad at interviews,” he huffs, rubbing a hand at the back of his neck. You try to ignore the swell of his bicep, clearly visible even beneath his bulky flannel. “I know this is a lot to ask, but. Is there any chance you can start, like, right now? Because Jimin’s shift ends in…” He tilts a little, fishing his phone from the front pocket of his jeans, and his mouth drops open in surprise when he gets a glimpse at the time.

“Oh, shit,” Namjoon murmurs, and then he raises his voice to call across the mostly empty store. “Jimin-ah! I’m so sorry!”

You turn around, your gaze landing on the barista leaned up against the counter next to the register. His dyed-gray hair dusts over his eyes, which pull into crescent moons as he laughs. “It’s cool. I knew you were almost done. But I’m gonna clock out now, if she’s good?”

“Yeah,” you answer, turning back to Namjoon. “Yeah, I can start now.”

The two of you move behind the counter, and you sweep your hair up out of your face while Namjoon starts to go through a basic run-down of where everything is located. The overhead bell tinkles as Jimin shoulders the front door open, and he lifts a hand over his head in parting.

“See you after the holidays!”

“Alright,” Namjoon says as he waves to Jimin, a little breathless from having rambled on for the better part of several minutes. “That was a lot. Do you want to just start on register? I feel like that should be easy enough, and I can train you on everything as people come in, since it’s pretty dead right now.”

You shrug. “Works for me.”

Within half an hour, there’s a line out the door, and Namjoon has managed to spill espresso grounds all over his shoes for a second time.

“Ah, shit,” he groans, taking a step back. “Sorry. Been a minute since I’ve had to be back here.”

“It’s okay,” you try to reassure him, but you can see from the faces of the customers who have been waiting on their drinks for several minutes— including one who’s had hers remade three times, all of them incorrect— that it is very much not okay. You certainly lack the people skills to smooth over any of Namjoon’s mistakes, and you can feel a stress-induced eye twitch starting to flare up, brought on by Kelly Clarkson’s incessant yuletide belting.

You give your boss five more minutes, wherein he scalds his hand on the milk steamer, forgets about a cookie in the warmer until it’s burnt entirely black, and nearly turns the blender on with the lid off, before you finally intervene.

“Hey, Namjoon?” You do your best to keep your expression pleasant when he glances over at you, wiping at his brow with the back of his hand. “Maybe we should switch?”

“A-are you sure?” he stammers, apparently torn between wanting to be a good boss and a clear desire to just take the L. “I feel bad, this is literally your first shift.”

“I think I can handle it,” you reassure him, lowering your voice a little. “Let me take care of the drinks, and you can do your… endearing golden retriever thing. Keep the people entertained.”

Color blooms in the apples of his cheeks as his dimples make a brief appearance. “Oh, okay. Can do. Just let me know if you need help.”

You can’t imagine a universe where his clumsiness could in any way be considered helpful, but you keep that thought to yourself as you smile at him. At least he’s cute.

Things improve dramatically once your roles are reversed: as you expected, Namjoon is far more charismatic than he is coordinated, and he chats endlessly with the people waiting on their drinks, hardly pausing long enough to take a breath, while you scramble around trying to get your bearings in a new environment. The steady stream of customers doesn’t let up for the rest of the evening, until the last few finally trickle out of the store a few minutes after close, and you waste no time locking the door behind them with a sigh of relief.

You spin around, letting your back thud against the door for a moment as you watch Namjoon fight with a broom and dustpan in a futile attempt to get espresso dust out of the grout between the tiles. There’s a dull ache starting to thud in your skull, and it’s only deepened by the shrill opening notes of another fucking a cappella song.

“Namjoon?” you ask as you cross toward the counter, and his head instantly snaps up. “Do you think we could maybe turn off the Christmas music?”

“Oh, sure.” He’s already fumbling to grab his phone, and he taps a few buttons until the music suddenly switches, a soft voice starting to croon over an old school beat.

“Thanks,” you say, and you can’t help the pity smile that pulls up your mouth when he returns to his useless task. “I think the grout might be a lost cause, but I can go ahead and mop whenever you’re ready.”

He rights himself with a defeated sigh, nodding his head to the storage closet in the back. You follow his lead to retrieve the mop, then set about filling up the bucket with water and cleaning solution. Namjoon’s voice floats in from the front of the shop as he busies himself with his own closing tasks.

“Imagine smokin’ weed in the street without cops harassin’ / Imagine goin’ to court with no trial / Lifestyle cruisin’ blue Bahama waters / No welfare supporters, more conscious of the way we raise our daughters...”

You’re laughing a little as you roll the bucket out, starting at the door to work your way back. “Is this… Nas?”

He glances up, like he’s just remembered other people exist in the world. “Yeah, sorry. I can turn it off.”

“No, no,” you say quickly when he starts to reach for his phone again. “This is good. Much better than Pentatonix. I’m just… you really know every word.”

Namjoon shrugs, clearly embarrassed. “He’s my favorite.”

The revelation surprises you, and you pause to think as you pull the mop back and forth over the tile floor. It didn’t even occur to you that Namjoon would have a favorite kind of music, apart from the soft elevator muzak you imagine must play on a steady loop in his brain, given the way he fumbles through life.

“I actually wanted to be a rapper,” his voice comes back, and you look up again, your interest piqued. “When I was younger. But you know. Life had other plans.”

“Ah yes, the rapper to coffee shop owner pipeline,” you muse, and he barks a laugh that you wish you didn’t find so hot. Shaking your head, you force yourself to look back down at the espresso-studded tile, doing your best to shove your attraction aside and not think about it. He’s your boss, dumbass.

Still, it’s hard to ignore, particularly as he continues to rap along to each song that comes on, his voice deeper and huskier than you’ve heard it thus far in casual conversation. He doesn’t miss a word, and you can’t deny that it’s impressive. And sexy. Fuck.

Once the floor has been successfully mopped and everything else is put back together, you hop up onto the counter to wait for the tile to dry, and your gaze lingers over Namjoon’s large hands as he cashes out the register. He flips through the bills in time to the music, still humming under his breath as he goes, and you do your best to hold in your laugh when he inevitably loses count and has to start over from the beginning. Thankfully the second attempt sticks, and he smiles proudly to himself as he zips everything up into the deposit bag.

“First shift down,” he announces, as if you might have forgotten, and then his eyes find yours and you swear your breath gets stuck in your throat. “How do you feel?”

It only occurs to you now how close he’s standing to you, and with the way your legs are casually dangling over the edge of the counter, it wouldn’t take much for him to step between them. And god, he’s so damn tall, you’re practically eye-to-eye.

“Uh,” you manage, your mouth suddenly gone dry. “Good. I feel good.”

“That’s good,” he answers, his voice dipping into that throaty tone again. You find yourself wondering absentmindedly if maybe Namjoon has a customer service voice, too, and then for the briefest flash of a moment, his gaze flits from your eyes to your lips and back again. It’s so quick, you can’t be sure it even really happened.

You tell yourself it’s just your exhausted post-shift brain seeing things that aren’t there, wanting this fine-ass man to be into you, too.

A sudden bang on the front door makes you flinch so hard, you come dangerously close to kneeing Namjoon in the crotch. He takes a large step back as you whip around to look over your shoulder, only to see a kid’s face pressed to the glass, framed by two small hands. You’ve never been great at telling the age of children on sight, but this one looks like… maybe a middle schooler?

“Whose fucking kid is that?” you say automatically, blinking, dumbfounded. Namjoon’s laugh is a low rumble behind you.

“That would be mine.”

It takes several days for the shock to wear off. Your boss has a kid. Kim “could’ve burnt the building down with a single cookie” Namjoon is at least partially responsible for keeping another human being alive. Which means you have a crush… on a father.

A father who also happens to be your boss.

You try not to think about any of it.

There’d been brief introductions when you left the shop that first night, but all you’d really managed to glean was the kid’s name, Sol, and their pronouns. As someone who is historically terrible with children, you’d excused yourself the minute Namjoon locked the front door, after what felt like an eternity spent watching him pat each of his pockets twice before he finally managed to find his keys.

“I hope it wasn’t weird,” your boss says out of nowhere in the middle of your next shift, during a much-needed moment of peace after the morning rush. “For you to meet Sol like that. It’s just been hard, since their mom, uh…”

Namjoon trails off, leaving the sentence unfinished. You glance up, eyes widening as you put the pieces together.

“Oh my god,” you breathe. “I’m so sorry.”

His gaze meets yours, and it’s like you can see the wheels in his head turning before he catches up. “No, no,” he says quickly, and then he starts to laugh. “Wow, I really did not start that sentence well. She’s not dead. She just got married, and she’s on her honeymoon for most of December. The logistics have been hard, is what I meant.”

An embarrassed heat creeps up your neck, and your elbows thud against the countertop as you press your face into your hands, attempting to muffle your own laughter. “In my defense,” you groan, “you really made it sound like you had a dead wife.”

“Not dead! She’s fine!” Namjoon’s dimples are as prominent as you’ve ever seen them when you peek up at him from your full-body cringe. “Very much alive, very much not my wife.” The muscles in his arms flex as he crosses them over his chest, leaning up against the counter next to the register. “Never was, actually.”

“Really?” you answer automatically, your damned curiosity getting the better of you.

He nods, his voice a little more serious when he continues, rambling on in the way that you’ve already started to suspect is his default setting, talking as if to fill empty space. “We were seventeen when we got pregnant. I knew we were young then, but I don’t think I really realized. Now that I’m almost thirty, I know: seventeen is fucking young.”

The line of his jaw tightens, thoughtful, as his gaze sweeps over the floor. “I thought I wanted to marry her, or at least felt obligated to. Like it was the right thing to do, but. We didn’t have any money, and then it all got so hectic after Sol was born. Didn’t even take a year for us to realize it wasn’t gonna work, not for us.”

You blink, trying to take in all the new information. “That sounds really hard.”

“It was,” Namjoon admits. “But we were both on the same page about it. That no matter what, Sol had to come first.” He glances up with a shrug. “It’s all good now. She’s a great co-parent, and her new husband is really good for her. And… well, I have Indigo.”

The tinkling of the bell at the front door snaps you out of a daze, makes you realize you’ve been staring at him, dumbfounded. You do your best to shoot Namjoon a soft smile, and to ignore the pang in your chest as he turns to greet the customer that’s just wandered in, already starting to babble on about the weather.

You find yourself more grateful for Namjoon’s presence with each passing shift, in a way that you try to convince yourself is thoroughly platonic. Between fairly steady work and his very steady chatter, your time spent in the warm, sunny space of Indigo turns out to be a good distraction from your own miserable excuse for a life. The repetitive motions of making drink after drink are oddly comforting, and you have to admit, Namjoon really is good with the customers.

“Peppermint mocha to go.”

You do your best to follow up the sentence with a polite smile as you set a drink down for the customer who has done nothing but scowl at you the whole time you were making it. The silent prayer you’ve sent out to the universe that he’ll take whatever personal problem he has elsewhere and leave you alone has clearly gone unanswered.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” he snaps, and you can feel your shoulders creep up towards your ears in anticipation of nothing good. Here we fucking go.

You blink twice, trying to keep your service persona engaged. “I’m sorry, is that not what you ordered?” It is, you know it is, you heard him say it.

“No, that’s mine,” the man quickly responds, reaching out to snatch the cup in a motion that makes you flinch. “But do you hear this fucking song?”

The honest answer is no: at this point the ever-present Christmas music might as well be white noise, so you have to make a conscious effort to tune back in and listen. It’s a few seconds, and then you pick up on the melody. “…Last Christmas?”

“Uh, yeah,” he continues, explaining like you’re stupid. “The original. Last Christmas by Wham!” When it’s clear you still aren’t putting the pieces together, he scoffs in pure frustration. “You just made me lose Whamageddon! I’ve won every year for the last five years, I can’t believe you would even put this on your fucking playlist!”

Your face pulls into an incredulous grimace before you can think to control it. “Uh, I’m sorry, but I didn’t make the—”

He cuts you off. “First off, I don’t need the fucking attitude. And surely you’re at least capable of checking what songs are on there, right? That’s not too advanced for you to handle?”

You didn’t even hear Namjoon walk up from the back office, but he’s suddenly stepping in front of you, and you’re more than glad to move back and let him handle this dude before you end up in jail. “Woah, woah, alright,” Namjoon interjects, his voice loud enough to carry. “What’s going on?”

The man beats you to it. “I’m trying to file a legitimate complaint and she’s rolling her fucking eyes and getting an attitude with me!”

“It’s the song,” you explain briefly, trying to keep everything about your expression neutral. “He’s mad that we’re… playing Wham.”

Namjoon’s face twists in an expression that you would find funny if you weren’t so fucking livid, one that you’re pretty sure is the mirror image of your own reaction minutes earlier. “The song? Seriously?”

You can see the guy scrambling, clearly starting to get embarrassed at his own dramatics. “Alright, I don’t have time for this. I guess I just need to take my business elsewhere, because this is ridiculous. What ever happened to the customer is always right?”

Namjoon goes silent for a minute, and you try to ignore the way the look on his face makes your pulse quicken, thudding brightly in the hollow of your neck. His voice is deadly serious when he speaks again. “I appreciate that you’re upset, but if you’re going to look my employee in the face, after she just performed a service for you, and disrespect her like that? Over a fucking song? Nah, I’m not gonna tolerate it. Maybe the next time you want someone to make you a toothpaste drink, you should take your ass to Starbucks.”

It takes every ounce of strength you have to keep the reaction off your face until the asshole has stormed out the front door, nasty drink in hand. As the bell finally tinkles to signal his departure, you collapse forward, just barely catching yourself on the counter so you don’t crumple straight down to the floor.

“Oh my god.” Your laugh of disbelief comes out more like a groan, at the ridiculous complaint and your boss’ insanely attractive comeback alike. “I fucking hate this time of year.”

“Hey.” The word is punctuated by Namjoon’s shoulder bumping into yours, and you look back up at him, still laughing a little at your own misery. His eyes search yours, sincere. “Assholes are assholes no matter what season it is. I’m sure that guy finds plenty of things to complain about the other eleven months of the year, too. Don’t let him ruin it for you.”

You can’t help rolling your eyes, if only because you can do it freely now, without a man standing over you and yelling about your ‘bad attitude’. “I guess,” you huff. “And thank you.”

Namjoon shakes his head, like it’s nothing. “Chin up, okay?”

The two of you breeze through closing that night, familiar enough to fall into a steady routine now. You’re wiping everything down behind the counter and humming along to Tupac when Namjoon’s voice drags you back out of your thoughts in a way you’ve already grown accustomed to.

“You know…”

You glance up, only to realize that he’s started to flip chairs on top of tables to clear the floor, and is grabbing them two at a time, one in each hand. The image makes you a little dizzy, and you tell yourself to focus on his words, not his biceps.

“I think we make a pretty good team,” he concludes.

“Yeah,” you breathe, trying to keep your composure at the unexpected compliment. “I was thinking the same thing. And thanks again for, you know. Handling that guy.”

Namjoon shrugs, like it’s nothing. “Hey, you’re doing me a favor, taking this seasonal job. I’m not about to let anyone fuck with you.”

You bite down on a smile as you head towards the back to grab the mop, and then you hear a loud bang on the front door— it’s another sound you’ve gotten used to in your brief time at Indigo. There’s the click of the deadbolt, chased by the tinkling overhead bell and Namjoon’s chiding voice. “Homie, if you break my door I’m gonna make you get a job to pay me back for it.”

“You think I don’t know about child labor laws?” you hear Sol retort, clearly not intimidated, and the attitude in their voice has you biting back a laugh.

Wheeling the mop bucket out of the storage closet, you glance up to see Namjoon jut his chin toward the large front window, indicating Sol to take a seat on the ledge. “Feet off the floor, she’s tryna clean.”

Sol complies, plopping down in the window with their eyes glued to their phone as Namjoon disappears back toward the office to grab his things. You watch as Sol pulls their knees into their chest so their chunky black boots clear the tile, and you can’t help noticing that said boots are adorned with oversized silver bat-shaped buckles, reflecting the amber streetlight gleam that leaks through the window.

“I like your boots,” you say, more to yourself than Sol, half expecting them to be so engrossed in TikTok that they don’t even hear you.

But to your surprise, Sol looks up.

“Thanks,” they say, glancing at their feet. “I just got them. I’m in my post-hardcore era right now.”

The statement is delivered without a trace of irony, and you do your best to hold in another amused giggle as you respond. “Wow, you are… so much cooler than I was when I was your age.”

Sol seems to consider this for a moment, then shrugs. “I mean, you didn’t have the internet back then, right?”

The question hits you like a train, and you have to pause and press a hand over your heart at the impact. “Okay, ouch, I’m not that old.” They grimace apologetically, and you lean up against the mop handle in thought. “But the internet definitely wasn’t like it is now. The only social media that really existed was Myspace, and my parents wouldn’t let me make one. I mostly just used the internet to, like, play RuneScape.”

“Oh shit,” Sol remarks, sounding remarkably like Namjoon in the process. “You played old school?!”

It’s like you can feel your bones crumbling to dust inside your body, and you wince as you resume dragging the mop over the tile. “Hey, back then it was the only kind of RuneScape we had. But yes, you can consider me a… founding father of that game.”

“That’s cool!” they exclaim, sounding so genuine it makes your head spin. When did RuneScape become cool again? “My friends and I play old school all the time. It’s the best, for real.”

You shake your head in disbelief as you continue to mop, and a long pause settles between you, with Sol’s interest clearly returning to their phone.

Fuck, you think to yourself, what else do kids even talk about? Marvel movies? It’s like your mind has gone totally blank, unable to conjure up a single topic of conversation, and you practically huff out an audible sigh of relief when their voice breaks the silence again.

“I think my dad has been happier since you started working here.”

The mop nearly slips out of your hands entirely, and you glance up, eyes wide. “I— really?”

Sol nods, playing absentmindedly with the strings of their black hoodie, then bringing the end of one up to their mouth to gently chew on. “It’s a theory I have. A game theory. I plan to ask additional follow-up questions tonight.”

At this, you can’t help but laugh. “Well, I’m sure your investigation will be very thorough.”

There’s a flash of a dimple in Sol’s cheek, like the mirror image of their dad. “I can tell you what he says, if you want.”

You wonder how telling your own smile is. “I mean… I can’t say I’m not curious.” You’re distantly aware of the sound of the office door closing, chased by Joon whistling to himself, and you lower your voice conspiratorially as you drop the mop back into the bucket. “I look forward to hearing what you find out.”

Monday morning, when you wake up to the omnipresent smize of Nick Jonas, you can’t help smiling back. 

You made it through your first week of work, and it wasn’t even that torturous. And best of all, Namjoon reminded you the night before that Indigo is closed on Mondays, which gives you an entire day to spend as you please. A real day off, which was truly unheard of at your last job, where you’d spend your non-scheduled days still anticipating an incoming emergency text asking you to cover a shift last-minute. More often than not, you’d end up working after all.

“But not today,” you announce to Nick.

A grand plan has already started to form in your head, one that involves a party size bag of Hot Cheetos and all eight episodes of The Fabulous, and yet. There’s a lingering urge at the back of your brain that you can’t quite ignore. With all the day-off energy you can muster, you drag yourself out of bed and tug on a pair of leggings and a sweatshirt, then shuffle into the bathroom to at least make yourself halfway decent.

You’re just going for a quick walk around the block to get some fresh air, you tell yourself. That’s all. Certainly no other reason.

It’s only a few minutes after you step out your front door that a fluffy white blur nearly collides with your shins, and when you stoop down to lift Moni into your arms, you once again can’t keep the smile off your face. Huh, who could’ve seen this coming?

But when you glance up, there’s no hot buff man jogging up the sidewalk after his dog. In fact, you realize as you look back at the ball of fluff in your arms, he isn’t wearing a leash or harness at all, just another cute sweater.

“Are you even supposed to be out here?” you ask Moni. His only answer is to drag his tongue up the side of your face.

You shift him a little in your arms so you can fumble for the tag attached to his collar, and thankfully, there’s an address listed. It takes you a second to get your bearings in the neighborhood, having not lived here for close to a decade, but it eventually comes back to you where the listed street is, and you start to walk. Moni is already blinking sleepily in your arms, clearly enjoying his preferred mode of transportation.

A laugh bubbles up in your chest as you approach the house in question— even if you hadn’t had Moni’s tag to guide you, finding his home would’ve been easy enough as soon as you passed this street, because you can hear old school hip-hop bumping through a speaker despite still being several houses down the block. You suppose Namjoon can get away with it during the day, when all the neighborhood kids are still in school.

As you make your way up the driveway, you realize the music is actually coming from behind the house, and when you follow the path that leads around back, you spot the culprit: a simple wooden-slat fence surrounds the yard, and the gate has been left wide open.

Before you can even make it over the threshold, a familiar voice reaches your ears, sounding much closer than the music. “Ah, shit.”

Namjoon comes barreling through the open gate so fast he practically runs you over, and Moni yaps, like he’s annoyed at being jostled as you quickly try to stumble out of his owner’s path.

“Oh. Uh, hi.”

You wonder if you’ll ever be able to take in how shock looks on Namjoon’s features without giggling a little. Today is certainly not that day. It’s just so endearing, the way his eyes widen and his mouth pulls into a perfect o-shape.

“Hi,” you breathe out around your laughter, trying to ignore the heat that flushes into your face when his dimples appear in return. “I think I found something that belongs to you.”

With a wave of his hand and several profuse thank yous, you follow Namjoon back through the gate, and wait until he firmly shuts it behind you before letting Moni down to trot off across the yard. It’s only now that you take Namjoon in properly: he’s in a gray hoodie under a pair of denim overalls, both of which are splattered artfully with paint in a variety of colors.

“I was just in my studio,” he explains, tipping his head toward the small shed in the yard, which you quickly realize is also the source of the music that led you here. “Doin’ some art. Do you, uh… wanna see?”

“Yeah, okay,” you answer with a nod.

“Fair warning, I’m really bad at it,” he calls over his shoulder as he leads you in the open studio door, raising his voice to be heard over the music. He reaches for his phone, propped up in the windowsill, to turn the volume down a few notches.

There’s an easel up against the far wall holding what must be his current project, a half-finished scene that you realize upon closer inspection is thousands of tiny dots of color, painstakingly blotted onto the canvas to form a mountain landscape at a distance. A few more pieces that he’s already completed have been leaned up against another wall to dry, one featuring an abstract array of featherlight brushstrokes, and another where the paint’s been globbed on in thick layers.

Namjoon is talking a mile a minute as you inspect the canvases. “I thought maybe I’d do cyanotypes today, but it’s not sunny enough, and I’ve made that mistake before. I’m really into texture right now, so I’m trying out some different techniques with paint. I want to get better at pointillism, but it’s a lot harder than you’d think it would be. ‘Cause it’s just dots, right? But you have to be able to see the forest for the trees, too.”

“These are amazing,” you finally manage to murmur, and to your surprise, the compliment actually renders him silent. When you turn back over your shoulder to look at him, he’s glancing down, almost like he’s embarrassed.

“Thanks. But I just do it for fun. ‘Cause I love art.”

“I can tell,” you say, and when he looks up, you offer him a smile you hope reads as encouraging. “Did you make the art at work, too?”

He nods, still sheepish, and that answer also surprises you. You recall thinking on your first day that the paintings hung on the walls looked handmade, but it never crossed your mind that they might have been made by Namjoon’s hands. Maybe because you’ve grown so accustomed to seeing him drop and break things, you haven’t ever considered him as also capable of… creation.

And yet, here he is. Proving you wrong.

“Sorry,” Namjoon’s voice makes you refocus on him, and your brow furrows in confusion at the unexpected apology. “This is literally your one day away from me and here I am, taking up your time. Thanks again for bringing Moni back.”

“It’s okay.” You shrug. “Don’t have much going on today, honestly. I never really know what to do with myself when I’m not working. Which I’m aware is very sad.”

“Well, uh,” Namjoon starts, and when he takes a single step closer, you swear you feel something flutter in your stomach— or maybe lower. “Sol’s got a half-day today, since it’s the last day before break, so I’m picking them up in a bit. And we were gonna go on a hike, probably take Moni too. You’re welcome to join us, if you’d like?”

Your eyes widen at the invitation. “Oh. That sounds great. I mean, if you’re sure I wouldn’t be intruding?”

He shakes his head, the corner of his mouth pulling up just so. “Nah. I actually think Sol really likes you. At least, they wouldn’t stop asking questions about you at dinner last night.”

“Is that right?” You do your best to keep your expression neutral.

Namjoon drives far enough north that there’s actually snow on the ground when you climb out of his front seat. You shove your hands into the pockets of your jacket as you follow him across the gravel parking lot towards the trailhead, a few paces behind Sol and Moni.

Sol shoots an expression of pure mischief at you over their shoulder, and then immediately starts to sprint up the marked path through the woods, Moni easily keeping up.

“Bye, nerds!” you hear them call before they disappear between the trees.

“Stay on the trail!” Namjoon shouts back, sounding as dad-like as you’ve ever heard him, and you can’t help but laugh. The two of you quicken your steps slightly to not fall too far behind, tracking the set of boot and paw-prints they’ve left to mark their trail.

For a moment, it’s silent between you, save the crunching of snow underfoot. It’s nice, being out in nature like this, time spent with Namjoon where you aren’t suffering through Christmas music and ungrateful customers. Where you can just… breathe. It makes you feel a little less sorry for yourself, a little less fixated on your own miserable life.

You glance over at him as that strange seasonal melancholy starts to settle into your bones again. “Are the holidays… better? With a kid?”

Namjoon makes a face, like he’s surprised by the question. “I mean, they’re definitely different. Then again, it’s been a long time since I did the holidays without a kid— not since I was a kid myself. What do you mean by better?”

Self-consciousness washes over you, your gaze drifting down to the path beneath your feet. “I don’t know, there’s just… I can’t shake this weird feeling now that I’m back home. This time of year used to be so exciting for me when I was Sol’s age. Everything felt special. Magical. But now I’m back here, and nothing’s really changed, except me. But I just keep feeling like the magic is gone. It’s… sad.”

He nods, taking a moment before he responds, and he’s chuckling softly to himself when he finally does. “You know, it’s kinda funny. When Sol was younger I actually felt a lot of stress this time of year. I couldn’t really enjoy it, because I was too busy trying to make sure that they had the best holiday I could possibly give them. That they didn’t feel like they were getting any less, since, you know. Their mom and I aren’t together. It’s funny that you bring up the magic, because I put a lot of pressure on myself to make that magic happen. But now that they’re a little older, I don’t know, it’s different.”

“Different how?” you prompt.

A dimple deepens as he hesitates. “It’s gonna sound corny. But really, I realized that the holidays aren’t about the gifts, or the decorations, or every little thing going perfect. You can make yourself sick over that shit, and I did, but kids don’t really care about it.” He pauses, and for a second you think that might be it, but then he keeps going, eyes fixed on the towering pine trees ahead of you.

“The year I opened Indigo, I had sank so much fucking money into it that I was broke. Broke broke. I couldn’t afford a single gift, a tree, not even a turkey. Sol and I sat on the floor of my shitty apartment and ate Chapagetti and watched Friends. And I felt like the biggest fucking failure imaginable. And then you know what happened?”

“What?”

“Sol turned to me, and they said, ‘This is the best Christmas ever, because we get to hang out, just the two of us.’” He blinks a few times, like he’s trying to ward off tears, and his voice comes back slightly less steady than before. “I still don’t know if they said that because they really meant it, or if they could just tell that I needed to hear it. But either way, I thought to myself: how fucking lucky am I, to have such a great kid? Like what did I ever do to deserve them? I still feel that way.”

Namjoon shrugs, as if to shake off the emotion. “I don’t know. Maybe that’s not helpful to you, but. I just see it differently now. It’s not about the what, or the how. It’s about the who. Spending this time of year with the people you care about, and making sure they know you do. That’s the real magic.”

You realize the trail has carried you up the sloping hillside, and is now flattening out at the edge of a clearing, where you can see Moni chasing Sol through the snow, can hear their high-pitched laughter ringing out in the wide-open air.

When you turn back to Namjoon, he’s already looking at you.

“I’m sorry you don’t feel the magic right now. I didn’t either, for a long time. But it does come back, I believe that. It’ll come back for you, too.”

You blink up at him, overwhelmed by his willingness to be so honest, and by the wisdom of his words. “I— thank you,” you finally manage to say.

Namjoon doesn’t answer, just glances up to where Sol and Moni are still playing, and your gaze follows his out over the snow-covered field. Sol is dusting off a sizable stick, and they call out for Moni to fetch before launching it into a dramatic arc, high up in the air.

Moni watches it go, entirely disinterested, then settles onto his haunches in the snow with a yawn.

“You’re so bad at being a dog!” Sol shouts, and that’s enough to make you and Namjoon both dissolve into laughter. They look up at the sound, hands-on-hips, before yelling again, this time in your direction. “My dad said he has a crush on you!”

Your jaw drops open, and Namjoon’s eyes are wide as you’ve ever seen them when you look up at him.

“Damn, dude, you said you were gonna be chill about it!” he exclaims, and you press a hand to your mouth as a fresh wave of giggles overtakes you. Given how long Namjoon’s legs are, it only takes him a few strides to catch up to Sol. You stay a tentative distance behind him, but still close enough to be able to make out their conversation.

“Uncle Hobi says you need to be bolder with women,” Sol chides, matter-of-fact.

“Uncle Hobi says a lot of shit,” Namjoon mutters under his breath.

“He painted my nails,” Sol raises their voice, clearly talking more to you than to their dad, and holds up a hand for you to see, waggling their fingers proudly.

“They look great,” you call out in response.

Namjoon turns back to you as you step in closer, then juts his chin to a bench at the other side of the clearing. “Sit with me for a sec?”

With a nod, you follow him over, and he wipes the metal surface free of snow with his sleeve before gesturing for you to have a seat. For a moment, the two of you sit silently and watch Sol, who is already busying themself with building a snowperson while Moni slow-blinks encouragingly from a distance.

Namjoon’s words chase a heavy sigh. “I’m gonna be real with you, despite the fact that my child just stole my thunder. I like you a lot.”

Your heart swells in your chest, threatening to burst. “I-I like you too,” you stammer back immediately. “Have definitely been harboring my own crush… basically since I started working at Indigo.”

When you turn to look at him, it surprises you a little that he isn’t smiling. You can see a muscle working in his jaw, like he’s nervous.

“That’s the thing,” he finally relents. “Work. I don’t— I hadn’t really planned to tell you how I was feeling, or act on it. Because I’m your boss, and that means, you know. There’s a power dynamic there. And it would be… unethical of me to blur the lines like that, by getting involved with my employee. I wanted you to come out with us today because it was a chance for you and I to be equals, outside of work, but it’s not like that dynamic just goes away, you know? And I feel a little guilty about it now. Because I really like being around you so much, but I just. We can’t. It wouldn’t be right. Not while you’re working for me.”

You stare down at the snow under your boots as you take in his words, and you can’t help it. Try as you might to sit there and take his worries seriously, laughter flutters out of you before you can hold it in.

“What?” Namjoon asks, and you shake your head, trying to compose yourself.

“I really, really appreciate that you gave it so much thought,” you say, willing your voice to stay even. “I mean it.”

“It’s weighed really heavy on me, if I’m honest,” he says solemnly, and you glance over to see him staring into the middle distance, like he’s deep in contemplation.

Before you can stop yourself, you’re reaching out to where his hand rests on the bench between you and covering it with your own.

“Namjoon?” you ask softly, and it seems to snap him out of his trance enough to look back at you.

“Please don’t take this the wrong way,” you preface. “But if I have to choose between you and my stupid seasonal coffee shop job?” The smile starts to flicker over your face again. “Then I quit. I quit right now.”

“Oh thank god,” Namjoon breathes, and you can only make a soft noise of surprise when all at once, he takes your face in his hands and kisses you. You need a split second for the shock to wear off, and then you’re moving your mouth against his, one hand fisting tight in the fabric of his jacket. His lips are full and warm, and it feels like far too soon that he’s pulling back again, his cheeks flushed with color.

“Will you, uh—” he pauses, like he’s remembering how to form a sentence. “Will you still work tomorrow though? Jimin’s back after Christmas, but I really don’t think I can survive a shift on my own.”

“Yeah,” you murmur, still a little breathless from his kiss. “Yeah, I think you’d burn the place down.”

Unable to deny the claim, he laughs brightly as you untangle from each other, then gets to his feet before offering a hand to help you up. “We should head out, it’s gonna get dark soon.”

It’s true: across the wide clearing you can already see the sun threatening to sink back down between the trees, casting a golden-pink light that gleams off the snow and paints the world in warmth.

Sol leads the way back through the woods to the car, tugging Moni along by their leash, while you and Namjoon bring up the rear. You glance over at him a few times to catch him staring, and you scrape your teeth across your bottom lip, unable to keep the smile off your face, unable to stop yourself from mentally replaying the moment when he kissed you, over and over.

Just as you step under the shadow of a large tree, snow-covered branches stretching up toward the clear sky above you, Namjoon stops in the path. It’s so abrupt that you continue a few more paces before you even realize, and then you stop, too, glancing back towards him.

“Hey Sol,” Namjoon calls. “Think you and Moni can make it all the way back to the car in ten seconds?”

“I know what you’re doing,” comes Sol’s cheeky reply, but when Namjoon starts counting backwards from ten, you can hear the crunch of their boots taking off down the path.

“Eight, seven, six…” You watch as Namjoon cranes his neck until he deems Sol far enough out of sight, taking a step toward you as his counting trails off, and you find yourself pulled into him like a magnet. “Come here,” he murmurs, and then his hands are slipping up your waist and guiding you backwards until your back hits the trunk of the tree.

In true Namjoon fashion, he uses way more strength than is necessary for the task, and though your winter jacket cushions you from the impact, you’re smacked against the bark so hard that it knocks a dusting of snow off the branches above you, covering you both in flakes that stick to your hair and eyelashes. The sudden rush of cold makes you gasp into Namjoon’s mouth, but then he’s rolling his tongue over yours and you can’t think about anything else. A heavy pulse has started to thud between your legs at the heat of his breath in your mouth, the way his hips have you pinned to the tree, his body big enough to cover yours entirely.

“Joon,” you find the air to breathe as his lips trail hungrily down the slope of your neck. You rake a hand through his hair, white-blonde strands studded with snow, to try and pull his attention back, despite very much not wanting him to stop. “Joon, we should go. Before someone steals your kid.”

“Yeah,” he murmurs against your skin, and then his mouth is on yours again for one more kiss, like he can’t get enough. “Okay,” he finally grunts as he pulls away, sounding as begrudgingly responsible as you feel. Your head is still spinning; you want nothing more than to stay here and let him kiss you dizzy.

“Let’s go.”

He takes a step back so you can right yourself, reaching out to dust some snow off your jacket, and then the two of you resume walking up the path, sharing a breathless laugh like confidantes. You assume it’s just his standard clumsiness when Namjoon’s hand knocks into yours, but then his fingers are twining through yours purposefully, until you’re pressed palm to palm.

The rush of heat that blooms in your chest at his touch keeps you warm the rest of the way to the car.

Your last shift at Indigo somehow manages to feel exactly like every shift that’s come before it and completely new at the same time.

The work is the same, the steady stream of customers unchanged, the Christmas music still an aggravating soundtrack. But you no longer feel like you have to ignore the butterflies that flutter in your stomach when Namjoon asks you a question, or meets your gaze across the shop.

The only urges you have to suppress are indecent ones, made worse by Namjoon seemingly taking advantage of every opportunity to touch you: hip-checking you when you’re both standing at the front counter, pressing a hand to the small of your back whenever he has to squeeze behind you, leaning in a little closer than necessary to be heard over the noise of the milk steamer. It’s enough to make your breath hitch each time, and you can’t help but wonder if he feels the same relief at not having to hold back anymore.

Towards the end of the night, it surprises you when the typically consistent flow of customers starts to slow down, until it seems to have ceased entirely. You still have two hours to go, but you find yourself staring at the walls, every table empty, having done all the side work you can think of to distract yourself from boredom.

The sound of the front door’s lock clicking shut makes you glance up, only to see Namjoon flipping the open sign over.

“What are you doing?” you ask, blinking dumbfounded, and he looks over his shoulder at you with a shrug.

“It’s Christmas Eve Eve, and I’m the owner, so. We’re closing early. Effective immediately.” The decree makes you laugh a little, and his dimples wink back. “Let’s finish cleaning, I wanna show you something.”

In record time, you find yourself standing outside the front door of Indigo as Namjoon locks up, only tonight your hands are kept warm by the hot chocolates he’d made for the two of you as you closed. He takes his cup back once his hands are free, and you try a tentative sip from yours, now cool enough to drink without burning your mouth. Given what you witnessed of his barista abilities on your first day, you brace yourself for the worst, but your eyes widen in pleasant surprise when the liquid hits your tongue.

“Being a dad means getting really good at a few specific things,” he says by way of explanation as he unlocks his car doors, and you smile as you slip into the passenger seat.

It occurs to you as Namjoon starts to drive that you don’t actually know where he’s taking you, but when you open your mouth to ask at the next red light, he leans over you to fumble open the glovebox and you lose your train of thought. He fishes inside for a few seconds before retrieving a CD case, then makes quick work of prying it open and sliding the disc into the slot on the dash. You attempt to hide your giggle behind the rim of your cup.

“No wonder you like ‘90s music so much. You’re still living there,” you say, nodding to his antiquated stereo, and he smirks as he turns up the volume. 

“This is A Tribe Called Quest,” he remarks, quirking an eyebrow when he looks back at you. “You better show some respect.”

“Yes, sir,” you tease in response, and you don’t miss the color that flushes his cheeks.

The light turns green and he accelerates through the intersection, one hand on the steering wheel, the other reaching across the center console to grip playfully at your leg, a few inches above your knee. You can see his tongue pressed to the inside of his cheek, like he’s considering saying something, but when he finally opens his mouth, it’s just to rap along to the music.

It’s only a few songs later that he’s turning off the main road and following a barely-lit gravel path up to a large grassy parking lot, where he pulls into a space and kills the engine. You squint through the windshield, tucking your now-empty drink into the cupholder, but you can’t make out much except dusk and some vague lights over a hill in the distance.

“Was this crush thing just a ploy to murder me?” you quip, and Namjoon looks a little nervous when you glance over, like he took the question to heart. “I’m kidding,” you clarify quickly.

His voice comes out surprisingly soft. “This is one of my favorite things to do during the holidays. Thought it might help with, you know. The magic.”

Something cracks open inside you as you look back at him. “That’s… really sweet.”

“Ah,” he says, as if to dismiss the compliment. “You haven’t seen it yet. Maybe you’ll hate it. Come on.”

The two of you climb out of his car to start your trek to whatever he has in store, heading in the direction of the lights, and Namjoon’s hand slips into yours, like it’s already second nature. Easy and sweet. You grip tight to him, the night air colder now than it was when you left work, but then you finally crest over the hill, and the temperature is suddenly the furthest thing from your mind.

It takes you a moment to even understand what you’re looking at. The place is clearly some kind of arboretum, as the path ahead of you snakes through a perfectly manicured garden of various plants, but the only thing you can focus on are the lights. Every tree, bush, shrub, and other kind of greenery that lines the walkway has been intricately strung up with lights, each one boasting a different hue. The end result is nothing short of dazzling— a veritable rainbow of light and life and color, glittering diamond-bright against the deep-set night around you.

“Namjoon,” you breathe. “This is beautiful.”

There’s a dimple flickering at the corner of his mouth when you look up at him. “Thought you might like it.”

“I can’t believe I never knew this was here,” you remark, your eyes wide and blinking as you try to take it all in.

“Hey,” he answers with a shrug. “Maybe your hometown still has a few good surprises left in it.” You exhale a laugh as you lean into his side and he squeezes your joined hands; you can’t help feeling like you’ve already found the greatest surprise of them all.

After an hour spent wandering through the displays, each one more breathtaking than the last, Namjoon diverts you toward a small food stand. He comes away from the counter with a paper carton filled to the brim with long ropes of twisted, fried dough, warm enough to release steam into the air when you tear one apart to share, and dusted with cinnamon sugar that sticks to your fingertips.

The two of you take a few steps back down the path until you’re under an archway of glowing golden lights, then eventually come to a standstill, too hungry to do anything except devour your food.

Namjoon speaks first, mid-chew. “Can I ask you a question?”

“What’s up?” you answer as you reach for another piece.

He swallows, swiping the back of his hand over his mouth before he continues. “At your interview, you said your life fell apart. What happened?”

“Oh.” You smirk as you rip the braided dough in two, then in two again, before popping it into your mouth. “It seems a little silly now, but. I got fired from that last job, like I told you. And the same day, my roommate pretty much kicked me out of the apartment, because he wanted his boyfriend to move in. He was also my best friend, so. It stung a little. A lot. Moving back in with your parents at this age is humbling, to say the least. Feels a lot like starting over.”

Namjoon hums, like he understands. “I’m sorry about your friend.”

“Eh,” you respond noncommittally. “I should probably be happy for him. The timing just… wasn’t amazing.”

“You know,” he murmurs, thoughtful. “I thought my life was over when my ex and I got pregnant. Not even eighteen and about to be a dad. I really felt like… I don’t know, like that was it for me.” You nod slowly, unable to even fathom what that must’ve been like.

“But, here I am. Still alive.” Namjoon flashes you a grin, and you find yourself smiling back. “Still figuring it out. I actually feel like I’ve learned a lot from watching Sol grow up. They’re like—” He shakes his head, as if at a momentary loss for words. “They’re like a different person every month, I swear. What they’re into, how they dress. Who they wanna be. It makes me feel, I don’t know. Like it’s okay. Like I can change too.” He shrugs. “That’s the thing about life. It’s long. And even when you feel like it’s ended… it keeps going anyway.”

His words wash over you, and you’re so in awe that you can’t help but laugh.

“Ah, sorry.” He grimaces, suddenly self-conscious. “I know that was corny.”

“No, no,” you interject, trying to keep your composure. “I just think you are like, literally the wisest person I’ve ever met.”

The lights glimmering overhead aren’t enough to hide the way Namjoon blushes at the compliment, and then he pauses, as if recalling something. “Didn’t I nearly run the blender with the lid off on your first day?”

You double-over at the memory, and he’s laughing now, too. “Okay, okay. Fair point.” 

The thought keeps circling around in your brain as you dust cinnamon sugar from each other’s jackets and continue your way around the rest of the gardens, occasionally pausing to trade sticky-sweet kisses in the twinkling glow: you don’t want the night to end. You keep glancing over at Namjoon, wondering if he’s feeling the same way as he drives you back into town, the heat in his car on full blast, the CD player still underscoring your conversation.

“So, what do your Christmas plans look like?” he asks, eyes flitting briefly from the road to meet your gaze.

You fiddle with a button on your coat, wishing you had a less depressing answer. “I was just gonna spend it by myself. My parents already had a vacation in Hawaii planned, so I’m gonna do what I always do: hole up with booze and snacks and wait for it all to be over.”

He chuckles, tapping his fingertips absentmindedly against the steering wheel. “Well, I have about a hundred presents to wrap tomorrow night while Sol’s at their mom’s. Why don’t you come over and help? I can even provide the booze.” There’s a pause, and his voice comes back softer before you can respond. “You shouldn’t be alone.”

The corner of your mouth tugs up at his sincerity, the way he gently cares for you, has since day one. “Yeah, okay. I mean, you had me at free alcohol.”

Just like that, Namjoon is already turning back into the Indigo parking lot, where your car sits waiting for you. The two of you shrug off your seatbelts once he’s pulled into a space and parked, and he reaches to turn down the music before shifting in his seat to get a better look at you.

“So,” he starts, clearing his throat a little. “You are officially no longer my employee.”

“And you are no longer my boss,” you answer back, and a thrill buzzes in your chest at the statement.

“Which means,” he continues, doing his best to lean over the center console, “I can do this.” He barely finishes getting the words out before his mouth is on yours, your eyes fluttering closed, his kisses far less chaste than the ones you shared earlier. They’re open-mouthed and urgent this time, with Namjoon slipping his tongue into the heat of your mouth like he’s been waiting all night for it.

“Uh-huh,” you murmur between kisses, and then he dips his head lower, until his lips find the join of your neck and shoulder.

“And this,” he purrs before kissing you just as hungrily there, tongue-first. You can’t hold back the soft noise his mouth pulls out of you.

“Fuck,” you breathe as he sucks gently over the same spot, with just enough pressure to make you writhe in your seat. A shiver rolls up your spine when he hums against your skin, clearly pleased at your reaction.

“And, uh…” You slowly blink your eyes open when you feel the warmth of his breath dissipate, and he’s looking at you with his brow furrowed, as if attempting some difficult mental math. “Actually—” He reaches down for the lever to adjust his seat, and it drops all the way back with a graceless thud that makes a laugh flutter out of you. “Maybe you could take your jacket off and come over here?”

You don’t need him to ask you twice, and you’re moving quickly as you peel out of the thick material and scramble across the console to straddle him. You both groan a little when you duck down to press your mouth to his again, all of this suddenly feeling much more real now that you’re basically horizontal. His hands alight on your hips, tentative, like he isn’t quite sure what to do with them, and you smile against his lips.

“Touch me, Joon,” you instruct, and he does as he’s told.

His hands are warm as he slips them beneath the hem of your shirt, trailing over your skin until he reaches the band of your bra. When you hum encouragingly into his mouth, he keeps going, pushing the fabric up your chest so your tits spill free from their confinement. He cups one in each hand, and though you might’ve expected him to be clumsy or rough, given everything you’ve seen of him thus far, you’re surprised to instead find that he’s gentle, thumbs circling your nipples with just the right amount of pressure to tighten them into stiff peaks.

Unable to bite back your whimper at the heat that blossoms through you at his touch, at how much more of him you need, you pull away just enough to break your kiss, glancing up through the back window of his car to confirm the parking lot is still empty.

Namjoon groans low in his throat when you reach down to tug up the hem of your shirt, shifting a little on top of him to give him better access. He doesn’t hesitate, thumb still working at one nipple while he takes the other into his mouth, and your sigh of relief comes edged with a soft moan when he swirls his tongue over the bud of your breast.

“Shit,” you gasp. “Feels so fucking good.”

He pulls off with a wet pop to switch sides, and the slick heat of his mouth sends bolt after bolt of arousal through you until there’s a dull ache of need thudding between your legs. As you roll your hips in desperate search of friction, you can feel him beneath you, straining hard against the fabric of his jeans.

Namjoon pulls his mouth off your breast, letting out a hoarse laugh when you shift to drop your forehead against his collarbone with a groan, horny enough to practically be delirious. “I hate that I’m even saying this,” he rasps, “but I really can’t have sex in a car. I’m too—”

“Big?” you offer, and there’s a smile on his lips as he presses a kiss to your temple.

“I was going to say old.”

You can’t help giggling as you lean up to find his mouth with yours again. Namjoon kisses you a little while longer, lazily, his hands still kneading gently at your tits, until he finally tips his head back, heaving a sigh up to the roof of his car. “Okay, okay. You should go.” His tone is reluctant, like it’s the last thing he wants. “It’s late. And my jeans fucking hurt.”

There’s a self-satisfied smirk toying at your mouth as you sit up, tugging your bra and shirt back into place and not missing the bulge in Namjoon’s pants where your hips meet his. “I will take the blame for that one.”

He folds his hands behind his head, biceps and dimples on full display. “Damn straight.”

You lean down for one more kiss, letting it linger before you make your way back over the center console to retrieve your jacket. “Have a good night, Joon,” you murmur as you reach for the door handle, and when you glance back, his eyes are fixed on you, still heavy-lidded with lust.

“Get home safe. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“I have booze, as promised.” Namjoon’s voice echoes in from the kitchen as you kick off your boots and hang your coat up at his front door come Christmas Eve. The aroma hits your nose as your socked feet pad down the hall to follow him: the spice of cinnamon and clove, paired with a hint of citrus. It smells like the holidays, like home.

“Mulled wine?” you wager a guess, and he nods, turning away from the stove to retrieve two mugs from a cabinet.

“I halved the recipe, since it’s just us,” he explains, mouth pulling down at the corners as he starts to ladle out servings from the pot full of deep red liquid. “Still made a lot, though.”

Your eyes drift across the kitchen until they land on the two empty bottles of red sitting next to the sink, and that makes you pause for a moment to consider. “So the original recipe called for four bottles?”

Namjoon’s brow is furrowed when he glances up, and then he follows your gaze, and a look of delayed understanding washes over him. “Oh, fuck.”

Your elbows dig into the kitchen island as you press your hands to your mouth, as if to physically hold in your laughter. “Did you… halve everything in the recipe except the wine?”

His eyes drop closed as he nods, his answer a resigned sigh. “Yeah. Yes, I did.”

You can’t help yourself: all at once, you’re circling around to join Namjoon behind the stove, so you can take his face in your hands and pull his mouth down to yours. He makes a soft noise of surprise, but then his lips fall into rhythm, kissing you hard enough to knock the air out of your lungs. Even through the fabric of your shirt, his large hands are warm when they slide over the small of your back, and then they keep going, until you finally break the kiss with another laugh when he reaches his final target and outright grabs your ass.

“Not the reaction I anticipated,” Namjoon admits, paired with a teasing squeeze. “But I’ll take it.”

You look up at him through your lashes, pressing your palms flat to the firm plane of his chest. “A very wise friend of mine once told me that the holidays aren’t about every little thing going perfect. I thought maybe you needed a reminder.”

His dimples deepen as his eyes search yours, and his voice is lower in his throat when he responds. “I think that fool was just sayin’ words because a pretty girl asked him a question.”

Heat flushes your face as you smile back. “Well, they were very good words.” You drop your gaze to the pot on the stove. “Come on, I bet we can salvage this.”

Determined to save Christmas, you throw in another handful of spices, chased with a few glugs from a bottle of orange juice Namjoon heroically digs out of the back of the fridge. After a few more minutes of simmering, you take a tentative sip of the mixture to find it perfectly adequate.

“I guess we just have to drink twice as much now,” Namjoon quips, filling up two fresh mugs with the remedied wine. You raise an eyebrow back at him, as if to accept the challenge, while you tap your drinks together in a cheers.

By the time you realize that a double-batch of mulled wine and gift-wrapping don’t exactly go together, it’s already too late. The booze makes Namjoon’s big hands go even clumsier, the few presents he attempts an absolute disaster, and you can’t stop laughing long enough to be of any help. At one point he reaches up to cup your jaw for a kiss, but completely misjudges the distance, deftly knocking into his half-drunk mug and spilling the contents all over a tube of wrapping paper and the crotch of your jeans.

You dissolve into giggles until you can scarcely breathe, scooting your chair a few inches back from the table as he jumps up to grab something to soak up the mess. “It’s okay, it’s okay,” you manage to gasp when he returns, immediately focused on cleaning you up first. You wave him away as you get to your feet. “Seriously, it’s not that bad, it’s mostly the table.”

“Jesus,” Namjoon groans as he drops the kitchen towels in his hands onto the wooden surface, doing his best to soak up the puddle, though there’s no saving the ruined gift-wrap.

“It’s not a big deal,” you murmur as he turns back, once again examining the extent of the damage done to your clothes. A shiver rolls through you as his thumb brushes over the waistband of your jeans, and he grimaces a little.

“This is probably gonna stain.”

“I mean…” Your pulse starts to quicken as his fingertips linger where they are, and Namjoon’s gaze flits up to meet yours when you speak, clearly hearing a shift in your tone of voice. “I could just… take them off.”

A smile teases at the corner of your mouth when his eyes widen. “Yeah,” he breathes, then seems to self-correct. “I mean, uh. If-if that’s something you would feel comfortable doing.”

You’re already reaching to undo the button, and then Namjoon takes over to tug open the zipper and push the fabric down your legs, and your nipples tighten beneath your bra at the reminder of how gentle his large hands can be. His lips find yours again and you don’t hesitate to lick into his mouth, jostling slightly as you try to make out with him and kick your pants the rest of the way off at the same time. It’s graceless, but you manage to make it work, and then he pulls away from you to glance back down.

“It looks like a little got on your shirt, too.”

He’s right, you realize: there are faint purple marks splattered just above the hem of your long-sleeve, and you smirk as you look up at him.

“If I didn’t know you better, I’d think you did this on purpose,” you tease, and then in one swift move you pull your shirt over your head, letting it drop to the kitchen floor next to your discarded jeans.

Namjoon’s hands are instantly on your bare skin, trailing heat as they trace the curve from your hip to your waist, and your breath hitches as he ducks down to brush his lips over your collarbone. The low tone of his voice reverberates through you when he speaks against your skin. “I like to think I could’ve gotten you naked tonight even without being an accident-prone idiot.”

You run a hand along the line of his jaw, tipping his head up to seek a kiss, before leaning back to murmur, “I guess we’ll never know.”

He kisses you again, and the two of you stumble across the threshold into the living room, pausing along the way to peel off his sweater and then his jeans, laughing into each other’s mouths, just drunk enough to lack any semblance of coordination you might have otherwise had.

When you drop down to lay back on his sofa, you’re both stripped to your underwear, and you can feel the thick bulge of him, pressing firm-heavy heat into your thigh as he settles his hips between your spread legs.

Namjoon’s eyes roam over your body beneath him, and then he’s tugging the lace of your panties to the side to slip a finger into your drenched center, beckoning it up to rub you just right. Your mouth drops open as he traces slow circles against your front wall, and when he adds a second digit, you can’t help but whimper softly at the stretch. It thrums through you like your lingering red wine buzz, hot and thick and good enough to get lost in, your head dropping back on the couch cushions as your hips rock up into his touch.

“Goddamn,” Namjoon groans, and your eyes flutter open again to take him in, his gaze heavy-lidded as he watches his fingers disappear up into you, coaxing slick sounds out with each pump of his hand. “I had a whole plan,” he rasps. “To take my time. But, fuck, I really want to fuck you.”

“It’s okay, Joon,” you breathe, not sure how much longer you could stand the torturous feeling of his clothed cock grinding into your thigh, so close to where you want him. An ache throbs in your cunt, needy, plugged up with two fingers but still begging for more. “Just fuck me.”

Realization flashes over his face, and then he suddenly heaves a sigh, looking defeated. You have to bite back a noise at the loss as he withdraws his fingers. “I— there’s an obvious joke here, but. I don’t have any condoms. Or if I do, they’re definitely expired.”

It takes you a second to process the revelation, and then you reach up to pull him down to you, smiling when he hums surprise into your mouth at the unexpected response. Your lips linger on his, and then you tip your head to press a kiss to the slope of his neck, not quite able to maintain eye contact as you murmur, “I mean. I’m on the pill, and I’m clean. So.”

“Yeah?” he replies, and your nose bumps against his shoulder as you nod. “Me too. Well, I-I’m clean, I mean. I’m not on the pill.”

You can’t help the giggle that slips out as you look up at him. “Right, no, I get it.”

“Sorry,” Namjoon huffs a laugh in return, his face flushing a little. “I talk a lot, when I’m nervous.”

“I just thought it was an all-the-time thing,” you admit, and the color in his cheeks deepens.

“I’m just always nervous around you.”

Your mouth seeks his out for a kiss sweeter than the last, slower for his shy honesty and the hummingbird thrum of your heartbeat behind your ribs. The heat of his breath ghosts over your lips when you tip back to answer, “You don’t have to be.”

“So, you’re okay?” he asks, almost reverent with his question. “If we—if I don’t—”

“Please,” you insist, and it’s all the encouragement he needs.

With remarkably little fumbling, he drags the lace of your panties down your legs, letting you kick them the rest of the way off while he moves up to unclasp your bra. You slip the straps off your shoulders and drop it over the edge of the couch, then watch as he shifts to strip out of his boxers, freeing his cock with enough force that it smacks against his abdomen with a hefty thud.

You swallow hard as you take him in: long and thick, flushed dark. Big, and fuck, you want all of him; you can feel how drenched you already are between your legs at the thought of all that cock filling you up.

When you tear your gaze away to meet his, Namjoon is staring at you just as hungrily, and he brings a hand to pump himself a few times, to coat his shaft in the wetness that’s started to drool from the head of his dick.

“Come here,” he grunts, his voice rough-edged, and you waste no time straddling yourself over his hips.

Given his considerable size, you figured it might take you a second to adjust, but you want him so bad, the feeling of his cock stretching you open is all white-hot pleasure. Your fingertips dig into his shoulders as you slowly lower yourself down on him, inch by overwhelming inch, until your ass is flush with thighs.

Namjoon’s head drops back against the couch as you slowly grind your hips into him, his hands gripping at your waist to guide the movement. You can’t help the soft sound that flutters out of you: he just looks so good like this, white-blonde hair swept off his forehead, beads of sweat trailing down his temples and glistening at his collarbones, his parted lips full and kiss-bitten.

“Baby,” he groans as you start to move a little more intentionally. “Fuck, I’m not gonna last long. Tell me what to do.”

“Touch me,” you breathe, and you close a hand over one of his, guiding him down to your clit. 

Just like the night before in his car, his touch is so gentle when he begins to trace circles into the sensitive nub with his thumb. You can feel the slow-hum build of an orgasm in your core, drawn up by the steady rub of his hand, and you lean back to allow him better access, bracing yourself on his thighs as you rock along his length.

A moan rips through you as the new angle drags the head of his dick just right against your front wall, and it’s good enough to make your eyes roll back. Chasing the feeling, you shove your hips down harder, driving his cock into that spot over and over until your thighs have started to tremble.

“That’s it,” Namjoon grunts encouragingly, his voice husky. “Use me, baby. Look so good when you bounce on my cock like that.”

The words set every last one of your nerve endings alight, and you dig your nails into his skin as your spine arches from the pleasure. His thumb is still working steadily at your clit, and the heavy stretch of his cock has you so wet, you can feel arousal starting to leak down your thighs. Your pussy clings to him like a vice, a throbbing-tight heat, taking him to the hilt every time.

“Oh my god, Joon,” you groan, “I’m gonna come.”

His touch doesn’t let up, and you can feel yourself teetering right on the precipice of it, only able to manage little gasps as you drop yourself down onto his cock again and again and again, with enough force that there’s an audible sound of your skin slapping against his.

Your legs are outright shaking from the effort now, from how close you are, and then Namjoon ducks his head, using his free hand to guide your tit into his mouth. The swirl of his tongue laved across the tight bud of your nipple is just what you need to push you over the edge.

With a moan that’s more like a sob, you drop forward against Namjoon’s chest, sinking all the way down to bury him in your pulsing cunt as you come. He continues to rub you through the waves of your orgasm, breathing ragged in your ear while your pussy gushes around him, until you grab his wrist with a soft whimper of overstimulation, and he relents.

Too gone to get any words out, all you can do is take his face in your hands and kiss him. He rolls his tongue over yours, decadent, as his palms slip down to cup your ass. You groan a little into his mouth when he begins to shift you, your cunt still fluttering-sensitive at every little motion, but he manages to maneuver you onto your back while still keeping himself sheathed in you.

His hands move to your thighs, encouraging your legs to hook over his hips, and his mouth trails kisses down the valley between your breasts before he breathes against your skin, “Can I keep going?”

“Please,” you murmur, and it’s chased with a moan when he starts to rock his hips into you. You feel so full, so swollen from your climax that it’s like your walls were molded to take him, the crown of his cock stroking deep-deep over the place that lights you up inside, shooting sparks of pleasure all the way down to your toes.

Namjoon’s breath stutters on a laugh. “Shit, I’m already close.”

You tilt up to brush your lips against his, humming encouragingly into his mouth, and then he pulls back again, one dimple teasing at the corner of his smile. “God, I— wanna hear you say it.”

Somehow, you know exactly what he means. “Come in me, Joon,” you beg, fucked so good that you’re shameless for it, and you gasp when he bottoms out in you with his next thrust. “Fill me up. Fuck me full of your cum, baby, please.”

It’s like the words send him into overdrive, and he practically growls as he starts to fuck his cock into you forcefully, hard enough to make your tits bounce. Each snap of his hips punches a heady groan from your lungs, and you reach up to drag your nails across the skin of his back as he chases his own end.

“Gonna fucking— give it to you,” he hisses, rolling his hips one, two, three more times, and then you feel his cock twitching, shoved in as deep as you can take him. He heaves a final strangled groan as he comes, rope after rope of his release pumping into you to paint your walls, until you can feel it beginning to spill back down your thighs.

You kiss through the comedown, inhaling shaky breaths into each other’s mouths, your bodies still fitted together like puzzle pieces, sweat starting to cool in the places where skin is pressed to skin. Namjoon finally moves first, giving a grunt of effort as he rolls off the couch, and you throw an arm over your face while the world slowly settles into focus around you.

When he returns, it’s with a towel in hand, and you can’t help smiling as he cleans you up, trailing soft kisses along your collarbone in tandem.

His voice is soft, too, when he finally speaks. “Will you stay here tonight?”

You prop yourself up on your forearms to look at him, and a little glimmer of something lights up in your chest that you can’t ignore. The first spark of an ember, just enough to reignite a flame you’d long since believed to be entirely extinguished. But now he’s shown you: it doesn’t have to be. You don’t have to be alone.

“Of course. We still have presents to wrap,” you say simply, and he huffs a laugh as he leans in to press a kiss to your forehead.

“Joon?” you murmur into the crook of his neck, unable to keep your voice entirely steady.

“Yeah?”

“Thank you,” you breathe. “For the magic.”

[kiestrokes]

goodsoop's couch and ramen recs: BTS

🗝️note: oh look, it's the list I started before manic deactivating back in march. rip to my og rec tag and all those lovely fics. Sadly, this is only new fics from my tbr and not my full collection 🥲 BUT this is for the fluff, slice of life and sfw readers! personally for the acespec babes who sometimes get icked out by smut.

SEOKJIN

my plus one by @btsgotjams27 🍜This is kicking the blankets, cuddled up on the couch, eating snacks with your girlfriends watching a new elite romcom worthy. I love this Jin so very much.

the one with seokjin, soju, and all the stars in the sky by @eoieopda 🍜 "Sojin has entered the chat," - when I tell you I screamed in laughter at this cuteness. You really nailed how a Sagittarius remembers the little things too.

YOONGI

the one with yoongi, netflix and zero chill by @eoieopda 🍜 “cum over?” - JADE 😂 omg, why is the embodiment of every casual relationship I have been in. The way that I felt every awkward and soft moment, deep in the crevice of my bones.

Just Between Us by @herecomesjoon 🍜 “I figured he would be safe with the bookshelf.” - Saturn nooo! You should have seen my look of alarm. We cannot trust Joon to build anything. The gathering of little moments in this is my favorite thing ever!

HOSEOK

And on the seventh day... by @moni-logues 🍜 it’s giving lazy Sundays, cuddled up with our own personal sunshine.

We'll Never Have Sex by @eoieopda 🍜 You were already melting into a puddle under that sunshine in his eyes - how this entire fic and your writing made me feel.

NAMJOON

Hungry (For Your Love) by @minisugakoobies 🍜The way that this gives me reversed Spike x Buffy roles, the setting immediately putting me in Sunnydale and with Namjoon of all people 🫠

just like riding a bike by @effortandmore 🍜 Listen...this is like walking through an OST music video, so colorful and whimsical.

JIMIN

pork belly by @yoongiphoria 🍜I love love love this, it's so realistic and Jimin's personality traits were captured beautifully. Have thought about this many times while I was away.

adonis by @xjoonchildx 🍜 if you love Ana’s provocative humor this is a must read, obviously I came for Jimin but I stayed for Mrs. Yun.

TAEHYUNG

Swoon by @minisugakoobies 🍜I'm pretty sure I blacked out after that description of THE Park Jimin dressed as Harley Quinn, and my jaw on the desk at Tony Stark JJK. Please this is every army x comic nerds wet dream.

Maybe by @leviackermanscleaningbuddy 🍜 Elite F2L, unrealized mutual pining and a little angsty, just how I like it.

JUNGKOOK

T-Shirt by @still-with-koo

🍜 “You trying to make me throw up or something?” - LO I laughed so hard at this that my eyes hurt from them crinkling. Oh, I adore this couple and their witty teasing.

[bangtanwritershq]

BangtanWritersHQ Presents: “A Gift From Me To You" Masterlist

For December 2023, we assembled a masterlist collection of fics to celebrate gift-giving. Whether that’s an actual present wrapped up nicely or a decadent orgasm delivered with care (or not)! There are many different AUs, genres, and pairings featured! So, if you're in the mood for all things gift-giving, this is the right place for you!

Browse at your leisure and ENJOY!

KEY:

🔞 - nsfw (mature themes) ✅ - sfw (no warnings) 💖 - smut ⚠️ - other warnings

SET UP - emojis: Title (if link is to another platform) | Author [parts] pairings, genre/aus, rating, word count

🔞💖 A Christmas Favor | @moonleeai [1/1] Pairing: Seokjin x f.Reader x Taehyung AU Type: Cabin Getaway, Holiday Traditions | smut Rating: MA WC: 3,395

✅ The Perfect Gift | @moonleeai [1/1] Pairing: Park Jimin x Named Reader Taylynn AU Type: Fake Dating, F2L, Romcom | fluff Rating: PG WC: 6,346

🔞💖⚠️ Till Death Do Us Part | @colormepurplex2 [4/4] Pairing: Hitman Yoongi x Kidnapped f.Reader AU Type: Mafia/Arranged Marriage, E2L | angst,smut, fluff Rating: MA WC: 41,132

🔞💖⚠️ Play With Fire | @colormepurplex2 [2/2] Pairing: Arsonist!Hoseok x Criminal!f.Reader AU Type: Crime, Infatuated Lovers | angst, smut, fluff Rating: MA WC: 8,170

🔞💖⚠️ Flowers of Fate | @colormepurplex2 [4/4] Pairing: UnseeliePrince!Yoongi x Human!f.Reader (ft. x UnseelieGuard!Jungkook x SeeliePrince!Jimin x WoodNymph!Namjoon) AU Type: Fantasy/Magick, Strangers to Bonded Mates | angst, smut, fluff Rating: MA WC: 56,072

All stories copywritten of the specified author. The authors provided consent for their stories to the network to be shared by submitting their stories. Stories posted in the order of submission to the event.

[kingofbodyrolls]

The Library of BTS fic recs - Vibes & pairings

I love to read, and I love making lists and putting this into order/systems, so here comes my list of all my readings (does include fics of my own in there too). 

These detailed sorted lists are all the BTS fics that I have recommended/reblogged— I hope you find something that you like in there, and please, if you do, don’t hesitate to let the author know, okay? 🥹🥰

Navigation → By AU (pt1 & pt 2) | By theme/vibe/pairing/reader (thank you tumblr for being a inline links limit dick)

By member

Kim Namjoon

Kim Seokjin

Min Yoongi

Jung Hoseok

Park Jimin 

Kim Taehyung

Jeon Jungkook

By Pairings/Reader

Female reader

Male reader

Gender neutral reader

Member x member

OT7 // polyam

Threesome // Foursome

By Theme or vibes

Winter // Christmas // Summer // Valentine

Cute // Fluffy // Soft // Dark

Angst // Comfort // Grief // Sad

Romcom // Comedy

Horror // Thriller // Halloween

Smutty

Slowburn

Key: SFW 😘

For all my lovely readers who enjoy stories without smut (you’re valid and I see you!), I’ve created a special tag just for you! 💖 This tag will make it super easy to sort through all the fanfics I read and write that are strictly SFW-approved.

Now, full disclosure: I’m still wading through the mountain of my library (picture me like a bookish archaeologist, dusting off old treasures), so there aren’t too many stories under the tag yet. BUT! Don’t panic—it’s a work in progress, and I’ll keep updating it regularly! 📚✨

Tiny Disclaimer: Some of these stories might still have a sprinkle of suggestiveness here and there (blame the tension, not me!), but there will be no explicit smut, pinky promise!

I hope this makes your reading adventures easier, cozier, and just as enjoyable as ever. Let me know what you think, and keep an eye out for updates! 💫

SFW library

Interested in my own personal favorites? Find them in my Hall of Fame 🥰 Interested in reading my own fics? Find them in my Masterlist ✨

*I’ll add more as I read, so you can save this and always come back to it, use it like you would a regular library!

Borahae— You nice, keep going ✨