#president namjoon | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

hoseoksluna · 8 months ago

Text

TIME | knj

pairing: fiancé!namjoon x oc

genre: smut

word count: 13.0k

summary: namjoon makes your dream come true in a much better way than you ever wanted.

pinterest board: divine | playlist: time | taglist: join

warnings: basic relationship fears, oc is heartbroken in the beginning, fight, minor violence, oc has daddy issues (like the writer), namjoon and oc smoke (like the writer as well <3), family sickness, punishment, spanking, choking, hair pulling, a mention of throat fucking and squirting, namjoon has an obsession with oc's boobies, dirty talk, use of a blindfold during intercourse, oral sex (f. receiving), fingering, handjob, multiple orgasms, raw sex, namjoon talks her through it, praise kink

note: i will cherish this work until the day i die. i will carry it in my heart and never, ever forget it. this might be my best piece and i don't think i'll ever write anything as good as this. i love namjoon with all my heart and i want to thank him for inspiring me to write this. if he weren't such an amazing person, such a dear person to me and if he never released cbtm, this work wouldn't be here and i wouldn't brim with so many warm emotions. i gotta tell you guys—while writing the smut, this was the first time i wasn't affected by it in a way that i normally am because i found so much beauty in their relationship. enjoy this, my loves. let me know what you think. i love you. <3

The orange light in the hotel room causes bile to rise in your throat. It exudes a zephyr of mockery, such profound air of scorn, and you feel it thumping upon its reflection on the bare skin of your arms. You want to pinch it—make it hurt somehow, cause it the same agony that’s poisoning your system through and through because in all truth, that’s all you’re left to do.

The Eiffel tower out beyond your window, blanketed in a soft layer of snow, has begun to twinkle. The perception of how long you’ve waited for your fiancé to come back that even such a monumental structure, your dream, has descended to its sleep full of blinding light beckons gooseflesh to mar your skin and it doesn’t go away. Not when your sight blurs, unfocuses, and the stars that have latched themselves to the tower enlarge into bulbs with softened edges, a myriad of bokeh that seem to have a slither of pity for you, lessening their grandness as the falling snow thickens. Not when both of your waterlines become rivulets of tears that heat your cold cheeks, despite the burning bushes of fury that incinerate your lungs.

Just one more hour and the twigs of flames will perforate the chambers of your heart and sweep it clean of any emotions, any feelings, any understanding for the man that took you to Paris and left you all alone in the hotel room he paid for. You thought he took you here to give you the experience of seeing something new as you’ve never been to Europe and you’ve shared with him on several occasions that it’s always been your dream to see the Eiffel tower. Especially at night when it glimmers with such pretty, pretty stars. But considering he brought you here under the pretense of doing business, you carry nothing but contempt for the strange iron structure. So much for dreaming, so much for putting trust in a man.

There will always be the other woman. It doesn’t matter if it’s in the form of a female, of alcohol, of ignorance. In this case, the mistress is Namjoon’s company and you should’ve known you’ll have her haunting your back for the rest of the trajectory of your secret relationship with him, with Mr. President.

You should’ve seen it coming the moment she created a realm for you to soften, privately, in and fall in love with him until your ears turned red, the petals of roses. A realm between an ordinary employee and her boss. Between the walls of unknowing people—the way he would lean in to hear you talk because in comparison to his large stature and broad proportions, made even more prominent by his short hair, you were a mere stone on the ground, an ametrine—split in half with a tendril of yellow—but a stone regardless, fearing the tip of his lacquered dress shoes stomping on you until you’re left crumbled in the dying grass, the jagged pieces of you consoled by the ruthless wind.

You were terribly afraid of him. Briefly, but ardently. A true personification of desire, whenever you had to look up into his eyes. Whenever a whiff of his oriental cologne tickled your nostrils. Whenever the allure of secrecy between you two heightened. All because he was a powerful man, on the cusp of saving you from the lowest of the dirt. Saving you and digging you back inside, left to your own decay.

Left to. That’s the wisp of tendency in your relationship. The wisp of force that drove you to give your yes to him. The wisp of the engagement ring encased around the fourth finger on your left hand. Left to—because you’d been single for so long and your mother pined after grandchildren and Namjoon was there, a knight in shining armor, dressed in suit and tie underneath, at the very age and position to settle down. Left to—because the special attention he gave you grazed your fear of him, gently, and helped it blossom into a bush of hyacinths growing in your lungs.

It’s how you found out you were in a severe destitute of a fatherly figure in your life.

Because Namjoon paid your bills. Put food on your mother’s table. In the form of a generous paycheck, overtime pay—even though you always clocked out at five, and odd bonuses that rose in monetary value the more he spent time with you. You’ve told him to stop, asked for fairness among his employees, even though nobody liked you there and would do quite the opposite if they ever happened to be in your shoes. But Namjoon never agreed to your offer. No, he stroked your hair and told you to save that money for your mother. And because you never heard that come out of man’s mouth, you nodded, meekly. Listened. The fear of him stroking the violet petals of hyacinths in you because as of now, he owned you. Owned your life. Owned the comfort of your mother.

All because you made the faux pas and took off your heels when you thought your presentation was done and nobody answered when you asked if anyone had any questions left. Except for that one employee who didn’t have, evidently, a sense of decency and suddenly remembered he had a groundbreaking question to ask you in regards to the matter of your presentation, when everyone else, including Namjoon, was gathering their possessions and rising to their feet.

He had noticed your nylon-clad feet, your swollen little toes, the way you rolled the ball of your foot on the carpet to alleviate yourself of the pain. And he changed the decades-old policy of dress code the next day. Forbade all women to wear high heels. Flat shoes only—loafers, ballet shoes. Incorporated bonuses that appeared in their bank accounts that very day, demanding an instant payment.

He paid for every woman’s shoes in his company, including you.

You never had to go through the torment of wearing heels again, no matter how pretty they seemed to you.

And then it was easy—languid and smooth, the innocent eye contact from across the room, the constant attention, the brushing of hands when walking past each other. And then you ran into him everywhere. He was always alone, which caused you to suspect he was single, so you smiled a little more and found it the easiest thing in the world, conversing with him about everything and nothing. Put a lot more care into the clothes you wore and the daily choice of your perfumes. Not forcing yourself and not being in control of it at the same time, something in the very middle. Something so natural that allowed you to turn your brain off for a moment and let yourself be led by your instincts.

Then, your mother got sick and you lost your smile. Spent all your free time with her, taking care of her and you never ran into Namjoon again.

Which is why he began to call you into his office behind the pretense that he needs something from you. And perhaps he did. He needed to be a friend for you. And you needed it just the same.

He helped you cope with the gravity of a burden regarding a sickly parent and you became his.

And you gave more of yourself to him with every fleeting touch, every secret invitation to his office in broad daylight when he had meetings to attend to but wanted to get to know you instead, get to know your dreams because he has the money and the power to make them come true. Tenderly, despite the potency, the violence of his instrument. And tenderly, he always treated you. Tenderly, he held you steady as you made it a regular thing between you and him to sit on his lap. Not straddling him, but sideways—like a little girl sitting on the lap of her father. Tenderly, he led you through new parts of your life with poetic advice and viewpoints, meeting you outside of work, intertwining his fingers with yours and reassuring you. And tenderly, he became the stable male figure you invariably needed and never knew you did.

And tenderness is what you need right now. In this shadowed hotel room, with only your arms to wrap around your torso and a ring on your left fourth finger, a ghost of his presence, ever so lingering, but not quite here. And you clutch at your dress, scrape your fingernails along the side of your ribs, etching the words that he said to your slowly awakening form in the late afternoon before he left.

“I won’t be long. I just have some business to attend to. I’ll be back in an hour.”

It has been more than an hour and you wonder if he’s going to miss the twinkling of the tower. It’s your first night here. You had dinner after you landed, napped, didn’t even walk around the poetry-woven city and Namjoon chose his work. You showered for him, wore the long black dress you saved up the little of your last two paychecks for and he’s not here to see it.

You feel so betrayed. He found work in your spare time, the time saved only for you both, the time that should’ve been saved for the romance part of your relationship. All he knows is work and so do you—as the entirety of your hours spent together have been solely work-related. This vacation should have been anything but.

You sigh, hand ready at the zipper at the back of your dress. Once he comes home, he’ll be tired. Too tired to take a walk and immerse himself in the European beauty, so you should save this dress for a better occasion, one which he’s present for. Whenever that is. If that ever comes, at all.

The squeak of the zipper going down is interrupted when you hear the lock make a sing-song melody, a signal that someone is coming in. Your breath quivers. A twist of events you didn’t expect, but you don’t get your hopes up. You know your fiancé well enough not to expect him to be full of life and elation after a work meeting. This isn’t the first time it’s happened, but you let it slide past every time, aware that if he didn’t work so hard, your mother wouldn’t have the comfort she has. And neither would you.

That doesn’t mean you’ll let it slide past this time. Not when he reserved his special time for you, for you both.

Namjoon emerges out of the soft-toned yellow hall with a hand behind his back. You rise from the bed, facing him. Notice his sagged, broad shoulders, the sweat that lines his forehead and the narrow thin line that his lips are pursed in. A petulant, gray aura swathes him, despite the vibrancy of the colors of the hotel room and when he comes in, it’s almost like he absorbs them. His brows quirk at the sight of you, nearly relieved to see you dressed and waiting for him, but that expression falters once he takes in the mirror of you. The same wrinkle on your forehead stamps itself onto his and the sag of his coat-clad shoulders deepens. He stops at the edge of the bed, in front of you. Remains silent. And when you give him a few more seconds to speak and he doesn’t, your fists clench at your sides, against the linen puffiness of your dress.

“An hour, huh?”

He sighs and lowers his gaze. But not onto the ground. No, he lowers it onto your dress, swallowing dryly at the accentuation of your waist and the bunched up fabric at the hips cascading down, clothing you in the prosaic night of Paris, not the poetic, not the lively. He missed it.

“You look so beautiful in this dress,” Namjoon comments and you scoff. If that’s his way of apologizing for leaving you for almost four hours, you don’t really understand it. It merely adds fuel to the flames of the indignation underneath that fucking dress.

“Do you know what time it is?” you bite, your fingers instinctively grabbing onto the fabric of your garment for some kind of stability as your blood boils. Abruptly, his eyes flick to the window and when you follow his gaze, you discover the tower dressed similarly as you. Shrouded, entirely, in the night, clouds drifting past in place of the twinkles. Your blood is scorching hot and even though you didn’t expect him to take you to it, your stomach still drops at the disappointment that you missed the thing you looked forward to for weeks, knowing it won’t be the same tomorrow or the day after that. Your eyes prick with tears and you hate them. Don’t want to cry. Don’t want to be a spoiled brat, in fact. Not when you grew up the way you did—dreamless, poor and independent. But you can’t stop the words from rushing out. “I can see you wearing that watch that costs more than the house I grew up in and I know your habit of checking the time often, so tell me. Why didn’t you text me? Why didn’t you pick up my calls? Why did you bring me here in the first place if you knew you had business?”

Mouth ends rounding ever so slightly, at last he shows what he’s been hiding behind his back. A bouquet of fresh, violet chrysanthemums and baby’s breath of the same muted tones. A symbol of thoughtfulness and care. The oxymoron makes you seethe and you grit your teeth.

“I ran around the city trying to find one flower shop that was still open. I bought the first flowers that reminded me of you.” He pushes them your way, trying to get you to take them and you do, the wrapper rustling as your hands touch and electricity zaps you. Damn it. “Purple, your favorite color.”

The audacity this man has, walking over that one word of apology, avoiding it. He takes your anger to another level and the fact that it seems to be endless makes you even angrier. Enough to want to hit him with the flowers.

And you do.

The flowers hover in the air in slow motion before their petals scatter around his troubled shoulders and the ruffled bed, where you sat so restlessly. Namjoon raises his arms in defense and you don’t stop, not until he grabs your arms and stills you.

He calls you by your name, his hold on you deathly, and he shakes you, just once, in effort to bring some sense into you. “Calm down.”

The stems from the chrysanthemums lay crooked on the floor between your bare feet and his black dress shoes. Ruined, devastated. Just like your dream. Some snapped in half, never to be whole again. Just like your heart.

“You think some flowers are gonna bring my dream back, huh?” you snap, raising your voice, quivering in his grasp. You push at his chest, trying to get out of his clutches, but to no avail. You remain firm and unmoving in his hold. He doesn’t even budge. And once again you feel like a stone—an amethyst this time. Bigger, stronger, yet it still pales in comparison to the mountain that Namjoon is. You give very little fuck about that, however. “You knew it was my dream to see the Eiffel Tower at night. You brought me here knowing that, so I’m asking you once again why. Why did you bring me here when you knew you weren’t gonna make that dream come true for me?”

He sucks in a breath and it looks as though he’s hanging by the edge of his composure. A thick vein bulges on his forehead and he clenches his jaw, his mouth a small button on his face. Anger. A mirror of you. But it’s not directed towards you—not at all.

Namjoon withdraws and steps away, taking off his coat and his jacket, slinging his outerwear onto the edge of the bed. And as you simmer in the middle of the tense silence, he casually rolls his sleeves upwards, focusing his gaze, momentarily, on the action before he bores it into yours. The other sleeve gets the same treatment meanwhile he keeps the boiling temperature of your fury at a fixed degree with that stare. You want to boil over and so does he, but he doesn’t let that happen.

The tiniest wisp of lust curls in your bloodstream, steamed by the heat, creating something dangerous. Oh, he’s playing with fire and he shouldn’t.

All forest fires end catastrophically. The ruined flowers are enough proof of that, and yet it’s just the beginning.

Namjoon loosens his tie a little bit, tipping his chin, and you can’t help but to ogle the slender material, his long fingers as they hook over the knot and pull it down. They way he’s asserting his dominance—the way he’s making you wait, making you tremble all fucking over by the silence and the slowness of his motions, by his stance and the clenched jaw. You hate the way it’s working; hate, with all your crumbling, stony being the pressure of your craving to get on your knees.

Your tremor causes your fallen strap to tickle your arm and it snaps you out of the indecent daze, head swiveling to it, hand fixing it right away. You tug your dress down so it doesn’t slip down again, your plunging sweetheart neckline exposing your full breasts.

“Why don’t you ask me what the business was about?” Namjoon challenges and it causes your head to swivel back to him, facing him. He’s sunk his hands into the pockets of his black dress pants, anticipation and tension hanging heavily in the stuffed air.

You raise your brows. Fuck if you care about it. “Do I look like I give a fuck? I don’t wanna hear it.”

Namjoon drops his gaze onto the ground, the clench of his jaw tightening enough that a dimple appears on the side of his cheek. For some reason you can’t really explain it aches and you don’t want to look at him anymore. You edge around him, the soles of your feet stepping on the violet petals and when you’re side by side, he stops you with one hand.

“You’re gonna want to hear this,” he murmurs, his hold on you softening once your movement is halted.

You roll your eyes, untangling your arm from it. “Too bad I don’t.”

Namjoon sighs, deeply. “I’m telling you this one last time. You’re gonna sit on this fucking bed like the nice girl I know you are and you’re gonna listen to me.”

A pulse sneaks to your sensitive parts and you furrow your brows, not liking the words he chose, not liking the way they made you feel. A half of you is torn, though. A half of you forces your body to do as he says, liking it very much. Too fucking much. “You don’t get to talk to me like this. It’s unfair.”

“Sit.”

That half of you wins. That easily.

You sit on the bed and cross your leg over the knee, obnoxiously dangling your shin back and forth. The hem of your dress flutters, gains momentum when Namjoon opens the balcony door, letting the winter air in. Then, he moves over to stand a foot away from you, the stems crunching beneath his feet, his hand fishing out his pack of cigarettes and pulling one out, popping it into his mouth. Yellow, almost brownish butt. Golden Marlboros. Typical.

Your own parts in dismay. “You’re gonna set the fire alarm off.”

“You’re gonna get rained on, then. Look pretty in that soaking dress with the petals and all.” He lights up his addiction and the flow of your fire changes its course. Burns differently now. Burns lustfully. “You think I didn’t tell them to turn it off when we arrived? You were too sleepy. Barely knew where we were.”

Flying while drifting through dreamland does that to you. Why it is a surprise to you that Mr. President made such a demand is beyond you. What’s more, it annoys you. His power, his influence. While it once sparked fear, you’re glad it’s lukewarm to you now.

Sucking deeply, he puffs out the smoke, its tendrils curling around his eyes that he narrows to protect them from the sting. Your fingers, instinctively, play with your engagement ring. You’ve always loved the way he smoked. Especially in his office. Especially the way it never smelled. His attention to detail, his thoughtfulness perpetually mesmerized you. You wonder where it’s gone at the cusp of the realization of your dream.

“I fought tooth and nail to get a deal. To make a connection. For you.”

You scowl at him, pull your wandering fingers away from your engagement ring. What the fuck does he mean by that?

“For me?”

“Yes, for you. For your mother.”

You grip the edge of the mattress at the mention of your mother, left behind on her sick bed while you’re fussy about your mindless dream. A jolt of guilt runs down your body and your scowl smoothens. You don’t think the madness disappears from your eyes. Not entirely.

“I risked having some very powerful people knowing about us because I wanted you to have a stable place here. There’s a five star hotel that has shares in Korea. I wanted to become their partner. Get you in there. Get you another source of income. Get you a house here. For your mother. For our children. Have you commute here whenever you’d like,” Namjoon breathes out, moving his busy hand with each word, the smoke clouding the air. He takes a drag, holding the cigarette. “Come to think of it, you’d get to see this.” He points behind himself at the Eiffel Tower with his thumb. “For a week straight if you’d like. Splurge on dresses, shoes and croissants and whatnot. Have not one care in the world. You make the call and we fly.”

From Korea to Paris. Whenever you’d like. Namjoon is the CEO of a five star hotel he built with his own hands. You’re the marketing manager, but you oversee almost everything you find time for. From banquets to room beddings, only because you enjoy it. It’s the main reason why you’re so disliked. You’re favored. And if there’s conflict of interest, there’s only one person who wins in the eyes and the final say of the CEO.

Namjoon’s hidden thoughtfulness opens in the shadows of the room and you’re stupefied.

He wanted to partner with another five star hotel in Paris.

For you. For your mother. For your future. For your comfort.

For your dream.

For your children.

Your mouth opens and closes, but no words come out.

How would you possibly handle having your job times two? You already have enough on your plate. Have wished, multiple times, that there was more of you cloned, who could do each job that you have to do each day. Doing that twice would be difficult, agonizingly so, but knowing your own work ethic, you’d make it manageable. You’d make do. Not for yourself, per say—but for your mother and your future children.

Your heart constricts. Constricts so tightly that you let out a pained breath, overcome by his plan for the future, by the actions he’s willing to do for it. By the very raw fact that he spent three hours trying to make that happen—make that come true for you.

“Namjoon, I—”

“They said no, though. No matter how hard I pushed, no matter what I was willing to risk, to sacrifice. They said no. So I made a quick phone call and forbade them from ever entering our hotel.”

Our hotel.

You almost sob, touched by him, but a gust of the icy breath of winter seizes you and you visibly shudder. Namjoon takes a last drag of his addiction and, putting it out on the ashtray on the confined balcony, he closes its door. But the freshness grazes you still, grazes you with the allure of this too-good-to-be-true fantasy and while it feels nice momentarily—the futile, brand new dream—you settle on the contentment that it will never come true.

And that’s okay. You were brought up having nothing. Having someone like Namjoon intertwined with your future doesn’t change it. You don’t need to have everything. It’s enough that you’re in Paris just for the prolonged weekend, even though you didn’t get to see the sparkling Eiffel Tower up close on your first night here. That was the only dream you ever had and you can die peacefully now. Knowing the reason behind his late arrival, it doesn’t disappoint you anymore that your dream was altered. As a matter of fact, you don’t consider it ruined any longer. Not when Namjoon tried his hardest to create a beautiful future for you and your closest. You regret being mad at him, regret hitting him with the flowers and you brim with the wish to gather them, fix them, and put the little what’s left of them in a vase. Cherish them like he cherishes you. Cherish him.

Namjoon crouches at your feet, cradling your ankle. “Your mom would’ve had a house right next to ours. Our kids would visit her everyday and vice versa. The air would’ve done her good here. The change of scenery. It would’ve prolonged her life. She’d be happy.”

You nod, believing him, your heart untouched by the weakening fire, tender, squeezing. A mist of liquid emotion pools at your eyes. “You spent three hours trying to make that become a reality.”

It’s not a question, but rather an expression of your procession of his goodness. Of his selflessness. And all over again, you’re reminded of the way you grew close in your relation because of your poor mother, of the way you bonded. And in place of the fire, it’s love that blooms those hyacinths in your lungs back to life.

Your mother would’ve loved Paris. Because you know how much she loved listening to you talk about your dream when she was healthy and you were a young schoolgirl, you’re certain she would’ve fallen in love with the stark difference that lines these history-wrought streets.

Namjoon focuses his gaze on your bare foot, fondling his thumbs over your silky skin. Your declaration of his actions loosened the heft on his shoulders and he relaxes, leaning his temple against your knee, fleetingly. When he speaks, he looks up at you. A certain light, covered in pity, flickers in his eyes. “I didn’t do it on purpose. It just took that long and I had no idea. And when I checked the time once it was over, I googled when they turn off the lights. Knew I had some time to spare, so to fix my mistake for taking so long, I ran through these streets, trying to make it up to you. I thought I’d make it in time, but you let out your frustration on me, which is understandable. I was in such a hurry that I forgot to text you. I’m sorry.”

The coolness of the growing flower buds in you fills you with such gentleness that it’s not relief that you feel upon hearing his explanation and apology. It’s love. A profound, sinking capacity of love for the man beneath you taking on the likeness of the stone that certain energies and events of life invariably minimalized you into.

He’s the stone and you’re the mountain.

And when you bolster his face in your hands, Namjoon releases a breath at the touch and you find that relief streaming in him, seeping color back into his cheeks. You’ll paint them redder. Feel obligated to do so.

“I’m sorry for hitting you. You left me alone for so long and I had so many bad thoughts,” you say, internally cringing at your neediness and you would regret uttering your admission had he not rubbed your legs in such a reassuring manner that it revitalizes your body, guiding briskness into your veins.

“I’m sorry that I missed it,” Namjoon says, subduedly, his hands warm like the fire that burned in you, giving you back your heat that you’re lacking. He kisses the top of your knee and your breath is but a vine of poison ivy inside your throat. Such tenderness, such healing gentleness, such pity that permeates your skin. He truly is regretful that he messed up and you want to weep. He doesn’t have to be, not anymore. “What kinda bad thoughts?”

You feel your heart rotate on its axis and you stifle back your tears, taking a deep breath to be able to talk. “I thought you chose work over me. Thought your business had nothing to do with me. Thought you left me here all alone for selfish reasons.”

Namjoon coos, a softened emotion screwing his face—eyes enlarging and a slight pout forming on his face. A leeway for your tears to spurt onto your cheeks, unabashedly, with nothing holding them back any longer. He cups your face, like you did, and he sweeps back that rivulet with his thumb. “I didn’t, baby. I didn’t. And I’m here. I’m here with you.”

You nod and it’s all that you’re left to do because it’s the truth. He’s here. He’s come back. And he’s sorrowful that he let those thoughts plague your brain with such a small mistake.

“Don’t go anywhere again,” you beg, hushedly, your voice breaking. “I’m sorry you worked so hard for nothing.”

It’s the last straw for Namjoon because he straightens his form, guides you to stand up and he sets you down on his lap, pushing your legs onto the bed—holding you as if he were holding a child.

And that’s precisely what you need at the moment.

“It’s not over. Pick a place and we’ll go there. Start over. With you present this time. What are you dreaming of these days?”

Your heart swells. Nothing has been flooding your dreamland as much as Paris was. Even that seemed unrealistic, let alone a much different place. It overcomes you and, peculiarly, stops you from crying. You feel like a spoiled girl getting what she wanted after she had a meltdown and, internally, you blame Namjoon for it. He spoils you. Exudes such overtones of fatherliness that makes a way for it to happen. Most naturally.

“Paris has always been my dream. No other city,” you say and Namjoon clicks his tongue. A smile widens your mouth, liking the way he senses your custom of modesty, liking the way he dislikes it. You laugh, softly, through your nose. “I’ll think of something.”

“That’s my nice girl.”

Taken aback, you clutch the side of his neck. Namjoon is bathed in the orange light and it no longer causes bile to lodge in your esophagus. No, it sparks up something else. Something very rapid, spreading throughout your body. The energy shifts and it’s you who clicks their tongue. “What did I tell you about talking to me like that?”

You move your hand to the middle of his throat, tightening your hold around his Adam’s apple, tipping his chin. Namjoon grins, hums, wraps his fingers around your wrist.

“What did I tell you about choking me, hm?”

A flashback flickers across your vision. One of the last time you were intimate in bed and he was rocking your shit in missionary, using your throat as a leverage. You mirrored him, as you usually do in these endeavors, and choked the air out of him, making him come prematurely. Namjoon scolded you until your ears turned red and refused to make you come. You had to bring yourself over that edge and you managed to squirt your love and your enjoyment of fucking with him all over his body. Namjoon made sure to feed you your elated essence, but he also made it very hard for you to swallow, telling you to hold it as he drilled your throat, making it trickle down the corners of your mouth.

The memory effortlessly brings back the pulse in your sensitive parts and you begin to crave the repetition of that filthy rendezvous. Badly.

And so you squeeze his throat.

Namjoon squeaks your name. You laugh, ferally.

That is until he pins you down. Hand on your throat this time, the other holding down both of your wrist, the petals sticking to the silk of his pants-clad knees on either side of you. You didn’t even catch the movement as he did it, his strength overbearing and so incomparable to yours. But you don’t feel like the amethyst. No, you feel like a mountain connected to another, to him. Two peaks staring at each other, grinning, your laughter unfaltering, even though it’s you who’s squeaking now.

Elated, giddy, aroused, equal, your tears sunk deeply within your skin, giving life to your rhapsody, giving it the body it needs in order to come out.

You love it when he’s like this. And you love that he’s come back to you.

Of course you have the means to prolong it, to tease it out of him.

“I don’t really care when it turns me on this much,” you rasp, your smile glinting in the dimmed light, arching your back until your chest kisses his. Just once. “When it turns you on this much.”

Truth, the epitome of pleasure. The corners of your mouth widen, all over again.

You can’t help it.

Namjoon cocks a brow, his mouth ends following the same directions, dimples poking holes in his cheeks. “Oh, so you don’t need to be reminded?” He mimics your intonation, angling his head.

You shake yours, eyes dipping to his clefts, teeth instinctively finding your bottom lip, biting down. You feel the heaviness of his stare and it urges you to bite down harder, the tension quickening your blood circulation. And it isn’t until you meet his adoring gaze that it stops, for a mere second, scattering tingles down every vein. And Namjoon resumes the flow by pressing a chaste kiss down onto your lips, lingering there.

“I know you’re a nice girl and that you didn’t mean it, but I have to spank you for it, anyway. Do you understand?” He whispers against those pillows, each movement of his mouth brushing against yours, making you needy for more.

You make a face. “But I did mean it. Meant it with everything in me.”

Namjoon laughs, endearingly. “No, you didn’t, baby. Not when you know what I’m capable of doing to you. Or not doing to you.”

You smirk, catching onto his game. He’ll disagree until you grow so frustrated that you burst, disobeying him to the point that he has to tame you. He wants to get you to the lowest point, because the lower you dig, the bigger treasure you find—the more you stimulate the brain, the chemistry, the bigger the pleasure. Namjoon is an intelligent man; knows what the fuck he’s doing and you’re so transfixed by it that you’ll let yourself be led into his little trap that he watches over. Just to please him because ultimately, you’ll be pleased beyond measure.

You tip your chin and trace his lips with your own. “No, I did, because I love how whiny you get. Makes me wanna bruise my knees for you, take all of you down my throat until it hurts to speak.”

Namjoon is so awestruck by your words that his mouth parts as he gawks down at you and he moans. There it is. That’s precisely what you wanted.

“You know,” he starts, pausing to swallow. “I had different plans with you in terms of this. Good fucking plans. But you just ruined them.”

The precipice of what that could be hangs over your clavicles and suddenly you brim with the need to know what it was. What his smart, business brain came up with. And not only that—you want it to happen, your curiosity piqued, blaming the choice of words he used, the work-tinged colors he splattered them with.

“What plans?”

He straightens, setting your hands free. “Take off your dress.”

You’re taken aback. “Namjoon.” You stress his name. “What plans?”

“No, I’m not telling you. You’re gonna take off this dress and you’re gonna take what I give you.”

You frown. Your curiosity won’t let up. “Namjoon, please.”

The pretty word curls his mouth. Perhaps, you’ve softened his stubbornness. You surely hope so, but to no avail.

He gets on his feet and swivels you onto your stomach, fingers finding your zipper and dragging it down. Being manhandled like this causes butterflies to swarm not just in your tummy, but over your arms and legs as well, fluttering all over, making your head spin and again, you can’t help the smile blossoming. In the middle of winter, spring opens in you at the touch of his dominance.

Spreading his hands over your back, sinking his warmth beneath the skin, he leans in, mouth at your ear. “What word do you use when you say please?”

You know what he wants you to say, but, peculiarly, you’re in such a good mood that you crave to disobey. Just for the fun of it. Just for the pain of it.

“Pretty please?” you chirp, pursing your lips to hide the slyness of your smile. Delighted, excited.

Namjoon pulls your hair, causing your head to tip, harshly, pain shooting up your scalp. Your tongue runs over your bottom lip, moaning almost soundlessly, only to realize that he can see you. Your pleasure wasn’t private. Not at all. Never is when he’s involved.

You flick your eyes up at him, meeting his darkened stare, and you flutter your lashes at him, playing the stupid girl when you’re well educated by him in reality.

Maybe you do need to be reminded, after all. Again, for the fun of it. For the pain of it.

To distract him from his failure. Help him forget. You know how it gets to him. Deem he deserves it; deem it’s a duty of your fiancée privileges.

“Pretty please is an addition. Something to help me have a sliver of pity for you. You seem to have forgotten who I am to you.”

Oh, he’s a myriad of things.

Mountain. Stability. Dependability. A most grand picture of beauty. Of intelligence. The sun and the moon, his brain cells the planets in the universe. The second heart you’ve grown over the trajectory of your relationship. The pulse of your emotions, especially the one between your legs.

He’s everything in your life while you remain your own person.

And only Namjoon would have achieved something like that.

“No, I haven’t. You’re my husband,” you say, allure dripping in your tone, wiggling your hips, causing the fabric of your dress to ripple over your bum.

Namjoon coos, quite pleased with the title, and he pats your behind before he grabs you by your waist and pulls you to your feet—flush against his body and the rock solid situation in his pants. You sway your hips, the gasp that slips out of your mouth goes almost unnoticed by you as you’re entirely focused on his hardness. You look down to follow the movement of his hands like a cat. They drift upwards—from your ribs, over the swell of your breasts until his long fingers reach the straps of your dress and drag them down, exposing you, exposing your arousal evident on your stiffened nipples. You could blame the cool temperature hanging in the room for it, but both of you know that would be a lie. A fat lie that your husband doesn’t deserve, not when he’s so dominant, so strict and so fucking provocative, spreading tendrils of heated life in you with each subtle touch.

Subtle? Oh, Namjoon gropes your tits, rolling your nubs between his slender fingers, softly moaning behind you. And then he pinches them, coaxing your squeaks out and you feel that familiar, wet warmth pooling in your core, mingling with the throbbing sensation that intoxicates you. Enough for you to clasp your hands over his and tighten his hold, squirming against him, loving—loving terribly the sparks of pleasure coursing down your figure. Loving the feeling of dampness against your panties that’s nothing but evidence of the way your body savors his special attention.

“Husband, that’s right. Your fucking husband,” Namjoon murmurs, pressing a kiss just beneath your ear, causing your head to knock back against his chest and make space for him, inviting him to continue—and he does. Places tiny little kisses down to your shoulder, where he licks the skin before he sucks it into his mouth. “But there’s something else you call me when I treat you this good. What is it? Think.”

Those kisses and his command for the wheels in your mind to quicken alone make you give in, make you submit to his craving to call you by that filthy, rightful title. Even more so when he pinches your nipples again. You whine, feeling your neediness for more taking greater highs in your system, feeling your own body yearning to scream out that name.

“Daddy,” you cry out, desperately, awfully. How well it fits him, how well he deserves to be called by something like that—how gratified you sense your body to be right now. No poetic string of verses could ever manage to do it justice.

Namjoon hums, his pleasure deepening. “That’s it. That’s a good girl. I love it when you use that brain of yours.”

You blush. A tableau unseen by Namjoon yet, for he busies himself with undressing you. Your garment gets plopped onto the mattress, your underwear along with it. A silky strip that hardly covers anything. You’re bare while he remains fully dressed and something about that turns you wild. The silkiness of his slacks, the cotton of his white shirt against your skin—such softness, such balminess, such caress for the undomesticated freedom that you profoundly feel within. You sigh at the sensation, your lingering curiosity bubbling in you, slowly rising to the tip of your tongue.

“Will you tell me now? What you planned?”

Namjoon chuckles, humorlessly. “You think you’ve earned it? No, baby.” He runs his hand down your ribs and your tummy, halting at your mound. His middle finger can nearly reach your swollenness and you quiver in response. “You’ve got spanks to take first. Maybe then I’ll tell you.”

You whine, softly, and Namjoon grabs your chin and turns your head so you can look at him. A mad, mad smile adorns his shadowed, taut face and you realize there’s pent-up frustration still swirling in him. One you will do anything to help him steam off.

Anything.

Anything for your husband.

And so, by your own whim, you lay down onto the bed, anticipating the pleasure of pain. Namjoon lets out a sound of approval and you sense the vibrations of his nearness as he props a knee on the bedding, flattening down a violet petal. He fixes your position, lifts your bum in the air, and he kisses your bare cheek with all the world’s affection, sucking the skin, nibbling on it before smoothing the pain with a swipe of his tongue.

“You’re my nice girl, aren’t you?” Namjoon questions and you nod, but that��s not good enough of an answer for him. He spanks you, harshly, coaxing a hiss out of you before the pleasure draws in and you let out a breath, turning your head, so you can have a perfect view of him. Namjoon gives you another chance to fix your mistake. “Aren’t you?”

Licking your lips, you make it your focal point to be good for him. “I’m your nice girl.”

Humming, he caresses your back to praise you. Spanks you with the same tenderness, rubbing the flesh to alleviate the faint sting. The love you carry for him grows with each brush of his calloused hand and you stifle back your needy sounds, your little whines and sobs of a small girl very seldom loved by an even smaller number of male figures in her life.

Most strangely, it heightens the experience.

“You’re my wife, aren’t you?” Namjoon purrs, his fingers sneaking to the place that yearns for him more than anywhere else, finding you bedewed, dripping as he rubs your folds—just touching you there without giving you any friction.

The touch is so nice that you can’t help but mewl most happily.

“Yes, I’m your wife, Daddy.”

Namjoon moans, the pads of his fingers sneaking over to your clit and stroking it. You arch your back, your noises rising in volume—the wetness, the pleasure in tandem. Your body begins to shudder in reaction, mimicking his motions, the pressure coiling in the lowest of your tummy.

“Good, good. That’s exactly what I wanted to hear. You’re my good little wife, but you were bad, weren’t you? You were a bad little wife?”

He quickens his speed, testing your focus and your mind spins again as the pressure deepens. From his words, from the very gravity of the title ‘wife’, from the very pleasure stemming from the principle of being bad, and you stutter a few times before you’re able to get out the full sentence in a perfect flow.

“I was your bad little wife.”

Namjoon growls, liking it just the same. “And what did you do?”

He slows down, stalling your climax, keeping you halfway from the edge, right where he wants—the pressure of his touch light and gentle. Letting you work your brain.

You smile up at him, from the clouds of shadows and petals you’re surrounded by. Namjoon deepens the eye contact, returning the smile. Your heart thuds in your chest.

“I choked you.”

Clefts of dimples—you, yourself, choke out a breath. Another one, too, when Namjoon spanks you hard, his fingers wet and sticky on your skin, the pain tingling all over your body, beckoning out more of your slick for him.

“That’s right, you choked me, even though I punished you for it quite severely the last time,” he rasps and spanks you again, again and again. You hiss and flatten your lips to stifle it back, grasping the bed sheets to overcome that burn—and overcome your craving for more.

You’re at a crossroad. You find yourself wanting to be bad in order to get spanked again, but at the same time you want to be good, so he tells you what he planned for you. Your fucked out brain can’t decide which side is better, but when Namjoon spanks you again—he reminds you that it doesn’t matter at all. You’re getting punished either way while the goal is to tell you.

Such a good, intelligent husband. And you tell him.

“You’re so good to me, baby,” you whisper, your knuckles white as you’re grasping the sheets with all your might. “I’m sorry for being bad. I’m sorry for choking you, but I love it when you spank me.”

Namjoon chuckles, warmly, spanking your clit once in affection, drawing out your squeaks.

Truth, the epitome of pleasure. All over again.

Close to your ear now, he kisses your cheek, his body heat enveloping you in an embrace. “My naughty little wifey loves it when Daddy punishes her. Loves to do the bad things Daddy doesn’t like just so he spanks her. That’s it, isn’t it?”

You moan out, puckering your lips against the sheets and Namjoon half-kisses your pout, humming against you. He lifts you up onto your knees with your torso upright and he cradles your face. Waits for your answer.

You’re more than happy to douse yourself in that truth.

“Yeah, I love it. I love being bad for you.”

He descends one hand to your bum while the other wraps around your waist and pulls you flush to the hardness of his body. And as he expresses to you how much he liked your words with guttural moans, he spanks you. Again and again, your head tipped back, eyes wandering in the darkened maze of his, where you lose count of how many you’ve taken.

“But you do realize that’s a big no-no, don’t you?”

You nod. “I do, Daddy.”

A hum. “Will you do it again?”

You whisk your irises up, thinking about it while already knowing the answer in your heart. “Probably.”

Namjoon laughs and kisses you, feverishly. Moves his mouth against yours, parts it, so he can slip his tongue inside. Plays a game of chase while both of your noises and his interlock and create a music that echoes around the hotel room. He adds a high-pitched tone into the song, yours, as he spanks you again, playfully this time, grabbing the flesh of your bum with both of his hands now, kneading it, drawing it closer until you feel his aroused length against your tummy.

Moans, squeaks, skin slapping and lip smacking. A song of beauty that will resonate within your body, mind and soul for days to come.

And another thing.

“God, I love you so much,” Namjoon whispers, bringing his hands to your ribs until his thumbs brush across your nipples.

That, too, will ring in your veins.

You melt. Become nothing but liquid devotion in his hands. And as he begins to focus on your neck, you roll your eyes back and resound your love back to him.

“I love you, Namjoon.”

He sighs against your collarbone, mutedly. “You love me?”

You sink your fingers into his short hair, kissing his temple. “I love you so fucking much.”

When he emerges with puffy, reddened lips, you can see it on his face that he did it again. Made you say the words he wanted to hear. And so you say it again, again and again. Each time with more intensity, with more verve, embedding it into his lips, his cheeks, jawline, his chin and his neck. All skin you can reach until you stumble upon the cotton of his shirt, at which you frown.

“Take this off. Now.”

And he listens. Loosens his tie, places it upon the petals on the bedding. Begins to unbutton his shirt. All while staring you down. And all you can do is watch him in awe, licking your lips, hungry for him, hungry for the intelligent plan he’s keeping from you.

Once he bends at the waist to get his arms out of the sleeves, you press on the matter.

“Tell me,” you say, softly, despite the tension of your curiosity. “Tell me what you planned.”

Namjoon tilts his head and light flickers across his eyes, fires of stars—the ones that twinkled on the Eiffel Tower before his arrival. You spent your entire life dreaming about seeing it when it stands right in front of you, half naked. Has been standing before your eyes for years.

Your mouth parts at the tenderness of it all and emotion bubbles within you.

Sizzles, ferociously, when Namjoon reveals his secret.

“Speeding down the road to this hotel, I saw it before my eyes. What I was going to do to you,” he starts, unbuckling his belt and sliding it off the loops. Your heart thumps, violently, against your ribcage, longing to jump onto his big palms. He pauses his motions to concentrate on his words. “I was going to apologize. Tell you what happened. And then I was going to make it up to you. Undress you, keep only the shoes on you were going to wear.” He looks over to the side, where your black YSL heels have been waiting for hours to be worn. Before he even asks if those were the ones, you nod your head and Namjoon fetches them and puts them on your feet. “I was going to have these digging into my back while I ate you out. While I would transfer us to the park before the Eiffel Tower with my words.” Securing the straps, he straightens, knees on either side of yours, and grabs his tie, smoothing it out with his thumbs. “I was going to blindfold you. Make you imagine you were there with me. No one else but us. On a blanket. Describe to you in great detail what we were doing as I’d be balls deep in you. Here but there at the same time.”

Your throat dries as you take in his words and there’s only a few words you’re capable of saying. Your eyes flick to the tie, then back up to his dark chocolate irises, wet with a glint of deep arousal, one that you feel pulsing in you just as well. You hook your arms on his hips and nod at the slender fabric in his grasp.

A man of the world’s intelligence. How attractive, how alluring. Your shadowed cloud swathes you tighter and you spill with the need to be fucked. Fucked with that smartness. That capability. All wrapped around that big cock of his.

You need it. Won’t live if he doesn’t ruin you with it.

“Do it,” you choke out, swallowing with great difficulty. “Please.”

Fingers curling around his belt loops, it doesn’t go unnoticed the way his manhood twitches in the tight confines of his slacks and the sound you let out at the sight would be embarrassing if he wasn’t so endeared by it, caressing your face with his thumb, lifting it so you pay attention to what he wants to say to you.

“Are you comfortable with me blindfolding you? We’ve never done that before.”

Even though your trust wavered merely an hour ago, it happened so it would get strengthened at this very moment. You don’t detect any no’s echoing within you, any worries or fears, anything that would cause you to stand in the way of this endeavor unfolding. It excites you, the newness, the principle of placing not just your trust, but your control, your senses and your safety in his hands. Allowing him to proceed with his would solely mean that you deepen what you already practice in your sex life, take it to another level. And these things are of great importance to Namjoon. He never disappointed you—never failed, never missed.

He takes care of you. Through and through. From the beginning to the end. Until you close your eyes, only to take it from the top the following morning.

Your trust in terms of that could never waver. It’s impossible. It’s so strong, so held steadily that it would never come across your mind, even.

And so you give him your consent.

“Yes, I am. I’m excited to do this. I want this.”

Namjoon strokes your hair, pressing a kiss onto your forehead. “All right, my love, but remember that we can stop anytime. I’ll take it off as soon as you say the word. Tell me you understand.”

And along with your consent, you give him a big smile. “I understand, baby.”

He kisses you, stealing a thousand tiny kisses more in the same lip lock. “That’s a good girl. So smart. Are you thirsty?”

You fold your hands on your lap and nod your head. The tie slung over his broad shoulder, Namjoon walks over to the mini bar, fishes out a bottle of ice cold water and opens it for you, tipping it to your mouth, encouraging you to drink.

The coldness streaming down your stomach only enlivens your arousal and it seems as though the matter is naked to the eye as Namjoon bites his lip at the sight of you, screwing the bottle shut and placing it on the bedside table. You tug at the tie, your eyes crinkling as your smile simply can’t leave your mouth alone and Namjoon hums out a laugh at your excitement.

“Ready?”

Your whole figure is fluttering, of course you’re ready—and you tell him. “Born ready.”

It prolongs his expression of lighthearted endearment. “Good. Remember to stop me when it gets too much. Close your eyes.” Obeying, the softness of the silk grazes, fondly, your eyelids as pitch-blackness encompasses you. Namjoon ties the thick wisp at the back of your head, careful not to intermingle any strands of your hair into the knot, attentive enough not to pull it too tight and not too loose either, causing you to ache for him so badly that you almost want to scream. “How does it feel?”

Uncanny. You hear his voice and, peculiarly, it’s louder in your ears, although he’s speaking in the same volume as he was before he blindfolded you. You sense something missing from you—and it’s a feeling that you detect in the pit of your stomach and at the ends of your abruptly numb fingertips.

You clench those digits, but the sensation remains. It is only when you raise them and bump into the sturdiness of his chest that you perceive what it truly is.

Groundedness is what you’re missing.

The softness of his skin brings back a sense of realness back to you. When you drift your palms up to his shoulders and hold onto them, you feel real; you feel like a person that has limbs, that has someone right there with them to look out for them because aloneness is what comes with the darkness of the sight and that is absolutely terrifying.

You cling to his neck, causing him to stumble into you, and you sigh in relief at the feeling of his weight. He goes to lift himself up, but you stop him—tightening your headlock, pressing the side of your face against his, eating that realness as you trace your lips against his cheek, run your hand across the back of his head.

He’s here with you and he’s not going anywhere. With that stability, you can walk further in this rendezvous because you’re not alone at all, despite the fact it’s what your eyesight is telling you.

“It feels really strange. I need you close. I need to feel you. To know I’m not by myself,” you whisper, sensing your chest to become lighter once the truth is out. Your naivety and excitement didn’t expect this to happen, but you’re comfortable with trying this out and feel where it takes you.

“Do you want to stop?” Namjoon asks and you can identify where he roots that question on your body. Right there upon your left collarbone, where his breath seems warmer than ever before and where he begins to scatter tiny kisses.

That thrills you—the identification of where he is, the loudness of his voice, the depth of his touch and the unusually scorching body heat he radiates as all of your other senses are heightened and you want more of it. You crave to know what it would feel like to have his tongue on your sensitive parts like this. What it would feel like to have him drilling you.

That alone makes you shiver with something beyond excitement. With something feral and undomesticated, again.

Another thing for him to tame.

Your body sings to him. To the stars. To the tower. And Namjoon can hear it, incorporating his tongue into his not so chaste kisses in response.

“No, I don’t want to stop. I want you to keep going,” you say at last, caressing the wholeness of his back, reveling in the discovery of his muscles, his shoulder blades. It feels so new, so different. You quake all over.

Namjoon pulls himself upwards, nudges his nose against yours and you smile. “Okay, baby. I’m right here.” He kisses both of your eyelids, the right one first before the left one. You feel at one with your heart as it palpitates; feel as though you were inside your body. “Fuck, your eyelashes are so long that I can see them curled around the tie. You’re so fucking beautiful.”

You blush, the heat of your cheeks akin to a blanket pulled to your nose. Such coziness. You hum and try to find his lips, but he’s out of reach. You crane your neck until it hurts, giving up with a huff.

“God, don’t do that to me. That was so cute,” Namjoon husks and moans when you pull him down and kiss him at last.

It’s at this moment that you thank the God that he mentioned for writing into the Book of Life that Namjoon was to be late and miss your dream because this kiss does more than make up for it. This kiss creates new dreams that begin to swirl within you. Dreams of the Mediterranean sea, the sand and sun rays so hot that they bronze your skin. Dreams of sultry nights, black dresses and flats for all the roads you shall walk upon while following the starlight, hand in hand with Namjoon dressed in linen of the same color.

Dreams of Asia, but not where you first opened your eyes in as a newborn. The western side of Asia, the one you’ve never seen and never dreamed of until now.

Your heart enlarges and you overspill with so many emotions that they trickle out of your hidden tear ducts. Newness, possibilities—for both you and Namjoon, but mainly for him. For his happiness.

He calls your name, fearfully, but you shake your head. “What’s wrong?”

You feel his fingers sneaking over to the knot of the tie, but you stop him. “I know where we’re going next time.”

His breath of relief becomes the new cloud you rest upon. “You scared me. Don’t cry, baby.”

You fondle his wrist. “Namjoon, we’re going to Turkey.”

Silence. Then, a kiss. “Is that where you want to go?”

A nod. That’s where your soul will escape to once you lay down to sleep. “That’s the place I’m dreaming of.”

A kiss on your neck. A hum. “Then, that’s where we’ll go.” A stripe of his tongue down to your collarbones—you feel your slick drip down onto the bedding. “Do you remember where we are right now?”

An inhale of breath. “Paris.”

Namjoon sucks the supple skin above your nipple. “That’s right. We’re at the park in front of the Eiffel Tower in the middle of summer. You’re sat on my lap like this.” He manhandles you to the position he describes and you gasp, not expecting it. “My back is facing it while you have a perfect view of the twinkling lights. Can you see them?” If your memory serves you well, he’s painting a picture of reality as well and you’re so touched by it that another, secret tear rolls down your cheek.

“Yes, they’re shining so brightly. They’re so pretty, too. You’re making my dream come true. Thank you.”

Wetness against your sternum. Namjoon must be crying as well and the realization makes you sob. Makes you find his lips again and kiss him.

“I love you,” Namjoon croaks out and you break, holding onto him so tightly that you clench all of your muscles.

“I love you, Namjoon.”

A final kiss before the continuation of his depiction of the dream.

“Nobody is around. They’ve all gone to sleep. It’s just us, the Tower and the moon. You’re so beautiful, so lost in the pleasure as I’m kissing you like this.” He shows you by resuming leaving kisses along your breasts. “And when I do this—” He licks over your nipple, sucking it into his mouth. You whimper, flexing your eyelids at the sensation swarming in your core. “You make pretty sounds just like that, but I tell you to be quiet. We don’t wanna wake up those people and ruin the fun. And you’re so good that you listen, taking the pleasure so well.”

He sets you down onto the bed, moves down to your tummy, placing the rest of his kisses there.

“Then, I lay you down on the blanket. You’re naked for my eyes only and I spread your legs.” His hands follow his words, lifting your thighs and pinning them down. “I blow on your needy little pussy and you shiver so beautifully for me. I can see you shining for me, shining brighter than the lights and I give it to you.”

There you feel it. The lick of his tongue on your clit and you shudder, moan so loudly that it reverberates down your body, the pleasure unlike any other you ever had the grace to experience. You roll your body into his mouth and Namjoon moans in tandem with you, even more so when your heel digs into his shoulder blade like he dreamed of.

“I lick your clit in circles and I feel you come alive on my tongue, so I pick up the pace.”

You chase the movement as he does, reveling in it to the point that you curl your body, rising yourself to your elbows and grasping the nape of his neck, knocking your head back once he prods a finger into your heat.

“I need more of it. I need to feel you around my fingers, so I stretch you out.”

He adds another digit, fucking you diligently, and you whine out his name, squeezing his neck, your thumb pressing the spot above his Adam’s apple.

“But my baby is doing something she knows is making my cock needy for her. She’s choking me, making me so fucking hard for her, so I pin her hands down.”

He rips your hand from his neck and pushes it down onto the bedding, holding it in place with his forearm as he rounds an arm around your tummy, fingers spreading your folds apart from this angle, leaning his weight on it, freeing up space for his other hand to fuck you harder.

You plop down onto the bedding, unable to resist him. And with your submission comes your orgasm, the rope uncoiling right at the place where the pulse on his wrist thumps.

And your dreams explode across the blackness of your vision.

“And you come like this. On my tongue. Around my fingers and I go fucking crazy for you, lick up everything you gave me. So fucking crazy that I turn you around and take you like this.”

You’re glad for the way he worded this part because you don’t jump when he does swivel you and licks over the red marks over your bum. He prepared you. The coolness of the petals on your skin causes you to whimper and you move your hand in effort to grab one of them. Namjoon settles between the sides of your thighs and when he sees what you’ve found, he chuckles, taking it from you, turning you halfway and brushing it against your cheek.

You gasp, liking the heightened softness, and you purr. Seeing your reaction, Namjoon drifts it down your neck, your collarbone until he reaches the peak of your breast. And when he circles that stiffened nub—an endeavor just between you, outside of the dream—your whimpers have so much tension and opulent seductiveness to them that you feel his bare manhood twitch against the line of your bum.

It drives you to thrash your hand until you find him, too, and you wrap your hand around his thick manhood, pumping him as he stimulates your nipple like this, your position—halfway on your side, with your leg crossed, propped on the bedding, brings friction to your clit as your body moves where the pleasure wants it.

Namjoon breathes hard, groaning gutturally, and you could almost come like this.

“Fuck, Daddy, it feels so good,” you whine and it causes Namjoon to turn you fully onto your back and take that petal down to your wet clit. “Oh, my God.”

Faint, yet so nice. You tremble, feeling the petal drifting over your folds, your lips, gathering your slick over your heat. And when Namjoon rubs circles on your clit with it, the membrane of the petal so fucking slippery now that it’s coated with your wetness, his title falls from your lips like the rain that keeps those flowers alive out there in Paris.

“Keep fucking me with your wrist,” Namjoon rasps and you moan, loving to be ordered around, loving being told what to do.

You fix your mistake of neglecting him while lost in the new delight, concentrating on his equally wet tip as you tighten your hold, pumping him swiftly, his foreskin closing around him in tandem with your movement coaxing his growls out that envelop you in firelight, hotter than anything you’ve ever felt.

Even gripping him you perceive to be different and as that firelight flickers vastly across the night you see, splattering it with makeshift stars that Namjoon calls to creation with each of his deep sounds, your orgasm comes as an explosion that brings color to his art.

Purples, yellows, reds and pinks. Stars that brim with colors. Such paintwork of beauty that Namjoon strums to life on your clit and your scream gets muffled by the sheets as he turns you back onto your tummy without withdrawing his hand.

He begins to kiss your shoulder, knowing you need a minute before he can fill you up.

“My pretty girl, my wife,” he moans against your skin, marking you there. “I’m gonna fuck you with that petal on your clit. With the rest of them clinging to your beautiful body like that. Gonna fuck you nice and hard against them.” You whimper your vulgarities, so out of it—so intoxicated by the picture, looking forward to it. “You came so well on my fingers. With the petal. Fuck, I’m gonna ruin you just for that. And for the way you made me forget where we were.”

You laugh and your stomach flips, love hormones coursing in your veins like the strongest drug. And you laugh even harder when it dawns on you that you’ve also forgotten.

“I don’t remember either,” you sputter between your giggles, contagious as Namjoon laughs as well, brushing your hair back to one side to kiss your cheek.

“How are you feeling? Has it gotten too much, hm?”

He takes the time to check up on you, instead of picking up where he left off and, fuck, you dissolve, becoming one with the petals—no edges to you, only liquid affection.

You’ve gotten used to the darkness. No traces of fear or uneasiness can be found trickling in your system—as a matter of fact, you can’t wait to be fucked, can’t wait to find out how it’ll feel once he’s inside you. The way he’s talking to you, constantly touching you and making it known to you that he’s present with you doesn’t let the previous disturbing feeling to sidle up to you and you’re terribly, terribly grateful.

“I feel great. I want you inside me, baby. I’m ready.”

Namjoon growls, biting into the skin of your shoulder until you whimper, kissing the pain away. Rubs his petal-clad fingers on your clit, prolonging your noises. The pleasure begins to build up, the colors you’ve seen stacking back on top of each other and you sigh, nuzzling your face into the sheets, most comfortable.

He cradles your jaw, though. Makes you look forward. Augments the dream, resuming.

“You’re looking at the Tower and I’m holding you like this so your neck doesn’t cramp up. I’m inside you, just like you wanted.”

Namjoon merges the reality into the retelling, creating something more expanse than this world can bear and you’re awestruck. He sinks himself into your wonder, knees on either side of you as you lay flat on your tummy, your bum lifted a little, heels dangling off of the bed.

Your eyes flutter beneath the tie as his girth stretches you and the colors you see are adjacent to the picture he paints. They blossom into shapes, swirly edges that grow into flowers and cling to the Tower like the violet petals cling to your body. Namjoon pulls out and gives you a long stroke and more flowers bloom, hanging by the lights. You lose your breath, the vibrancy of the pleasure so heavenly that you lose track of time, day and space as well, floating in that dream that the reality you thought about ripped away from you once he bottoms out.

You can’t even hear yourself. Can only hear him as your senses wrap around him.

“I’m not choking you. I’m not giving you a taste of your own delicious poison; I’m just holding you like this, helping you see your dream alive in front of your eyes. I look at you and I can’t help it. You’re illuminated by those lights, yet shining brighter. Kissed by the moon so much that I get jealous. Can you see that fucker up above?”

As if he drew the planet with his finger, it appears in your vision as soon as he pulls out again and fills you in all entirety in one swift, but hard motion. And it’s now that you hear yourself scream as your clit rubs against his fingers flat against it with that collision.

“Fuck, Namjoon, I—I can’t take it. It’s too good.”

“I didn’t ask you if you could take it. I asked you something else,” he husks, moving his mouth against your neck. You feel your eyes rolling back underneath your closed eyelids and you moan, his hips picking up the speed. “You can take it and you will. Tell me, baby. Can you imagine that moon in your vision?”

It’s right there, beaming at you, but you can’t focus, not when you can feel his cock in your throat. He huffs against you, overcome just the same, resuming his circles on your clit and you’re dead.

“You’re so deep, Daddy,” you utter in one breath. “So good, fuck.”

Soaked flowers. Stars flickering more quicker. White dots joining in, along with hot flashes. You’re face to face with your orgasm.

“Focus, baby,” Namjoon scolds, voice straining nearing you closer, falling in step with you the more you clench your walls against him.

“Can’t. Gonna come.”

“Come, then,” he encourages, drilling you harder into the mattress, your clit yet again rubbing against his flat fingers. “Let go and give it to me like the nice girl you are. Come for me, baby.”

Fireworks shoot through that picture and you cling to it as you come around him. Namjoon praises you through it all, darkening those flowers that surround it and your orgasm convulses through you, lasting as long as the flying colors bursting through the night-tinged sky. And white gushes in as he loses himself in your climax, his own triggered and he stuffs you with it, fucking you through it until the bed makes such terrible sounds that he stills, letting you milk it out of him.

Panting, Namjoon swivels you halfway around while still buried inside you. “I’m gonna take off the blindfold now. Keep your eyes closed, baby.”

You listen and he flings it off, kissing you, ravagedly, whimpering into your mouth. Exhaustion seeps so deeply inside you that you can barely reciprocate the energy of the movement of his mouth and with one last peck, he lets you breathe.

When you open your eyes, it’s not the light that stings your pupils, but the exhilarated, flushed and content sight of Namjoon, his chest heaving, glistening with sweat. You blink a few times to get used to the beauty, touching him all over, spreading your love for him everywhere you can.

“That was so perfect,” you whisper, sleepily. “Thank you. Thank you for making my dream come true. For making it better than I ever dreamed of. I love you, Joonie.”

He takes your hand and kisses your knuckles—with bruised, puffy, reddened lips that make you weak.

“I love you.”

You lay like this for quite some time, stroking each other’s skin, enjoying the rest and the silence. Namjoon takes off your heels then, massaging your feet as if they were in pain and you smile down at him, fondly.

“Like hell, I’d let you wear these to the park.”

You laugh through your nose, your love for him blooming, and he carries you in the shower.

You join him on the balcony later, sharing a cigarette with him, wearing matching, thick and warm hotel bathrobes to protect you from winter’s cold. You look up at the moon as you take a drag and send your thank you to God for the contended joy that clothes your heart. Namjoon pulls you in, kissing the top of your head.

“So, Turkey next time?” he asks, inhaling your vanilla scent from your body wash that you brought along.

You sigh and life overflows from you. “In the summer. No business, just vacation. Just us. And if business does find you there, it’ll find me, too. It’ll be different this time.”

Namjoon presses his mouth against your forehead, sinks his words there. “I’d marry you right now if I could.”

Tears prick at your waterline, your throat aching. “If I pray hard enough, she’ll get better by spring,” you say, voice wobbling, speaking of your poor mother. You couldn’t get married without her—it’s the sole reason why your wedding is left in the hands of fate.

“We’ll bring her to Turkey, then. I’ll make sure to tell her to pack her hanbok and I’ll marry you there. What do you say?”

Rivulets of tears stream down your face and you look up at him, catching the same liquid lining his eyes. You nod, your mouth rounding in a pout.

“Perfect,” you whisper.

Namjoon gives you the last kiss of the night, sealing that plan shut and you believe, with everything in you, that he will bring it into reality.

You trust him.

Forever.

𓂃 ౨ৎ LOVE-KISSED BABIES: @tkslovechild, @jjk7k, @parkinglot-nights, @bethvar, @Sexytholland, @yoongibaybee, @crystaleah.

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#namjoon smut #namjoon x reader #namjoon x y/n #namjoon x oc #namjoon x you #btscreatorscorner #bts smut #bts imagine #namjoon imagine #namjoon scenarios #namjoon fluff #kpop smut #knj x reader #knj #kim namjoon #namjoon

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urfriendlywriter · 2 years ago

Text

" oh, shit. I'm in love with you ?? " prompts:

(feel free to use <3 @urfriendlywriter | req by @president--namjoon yall 6th, 7th omg 17th, and 19th yall tag me when u write! )

absent-mindedly playing with their hair.

smiling a little too much around them

wanting to do things for them [ie. gifts, surprises, writing letters etc etc]

having them hug you tight

them running into your arms

catching them lost in your eyes. AAAAH.

glancing at them when they aren't looking at you. and thinking oh shit im screwed for life.

wanting to capture that smile of theirs.

accidental touches and then thinking about it for days.

platonic forehead kisses starting to give u the feels. LIKE ITS SOMETHING MAGICAL.

"is that really all 'A' is to you?"

trusting each other with your lives.

when they aren't hesitant to defend you in your absence

they laugh at your 'not-so-funny' jokes.

always wondering what the other will do in your situation

"your smile brings me so much joy." >>>

tight hugs where both/either of you feel super safe in.

having them give something of importance to them for you, as a gift (ie. "oh this is a necklace my late mum owned.. she always wanted me to gift this to someone i cherish.. have it. :)" )

the moment of eye-contact from across the room that magically blurs everyone out of the world. it's just u two.

a third person pointing out how beautiful they're and suddenly you're seeing them in a different light (shalalallalaaa)

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irishhorse-blog · 1 year ago

Photo

Namjoon... no words can explain what he means to me.

get to know me meme | bts edition

bias wreckers (3/5) ♡ namjoon

#Namjoon #RM #president #leader

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elusivecagedmockingbird · 10 months ago

Text

Untitled

[jungkook x reader]

"You wanna know about art? When the class president starts touching my face on darkened street corners, and talking about my eyes, there's a word for it. There's an entire movement in the 20's—it's called surreal."

Or THE popular fuckboy in your campus suddenly signs up as the figure model to one of your extracurricular activities and starts showing his interest in you.

A/N: I'm not sure where I went with this. Thus, untitled. I'm not even sure where this falls in the tags. But, enjoy!

Jungkook is at odds with himself.

Part of him wants to leave and forget about this stupid idea. He doesn't know what compelled him to listen to Jin. What exactly does the old man know about dating anyway? As far as he knows, he's never seen him with the same girl, so maybe he should have reached out to Namjoon instead. The other part is hyping himself up. In about a few minutes, you’ll be coming through those doors. It would be too late to back out now.

He chugs his bottled water as if he were thirsty. Jungkook thinks he'll pass out from anxiety. If not that, then from how warm it is inside this garage turned makeshift studio.

He feels the beads of sweat trickle down his back and pits.

This is not good.

The class is about to start and he'll be stripping down to his boxers and he's all sweaty. Thinking about that uneventful possibility makes him sweat more.

Fuck.

He notices someone walk towards the corner he has been hiding in. Judging by how good-looking his face is and the vintage clothing he wears, Jungkook surmises this must be the Senior organizing this art class. Taeyong? Taehyun?

Ah, Taehyung, he remembers just before the elder stands infront of him.

"You're Jungkook, right?"

Jungkook only nods as a response. His dry throat keeps him from speaking, afraid he squeaks out a reply and embarrasses himself more.

Thankfully, the other man is kind enough to not assume his silence as being standoffish.

"Nervous, huh?" Taehyung smirks, but Jungkook doesn't feel like he's being provoked. Rather, it actually calms him—at least the idea that it must be a common occurrence for models to exude this much anxiety that it's the first question people assume.

"That obvious?" He squeaks before clearing his throat. "Do all models get nervous on their first time?" Jungkook finally grounds his voice. Albeit, a bit meek for someone with a strong commanding aura and in a leather jacket.

Taehyung smiles and nods. "More than you expect. Which is understandable. Jin hyung told me you're doing this to learn more about art?"

No, he isn't, he internally protests. He doesn't know what Jin told Taehyung. The real reason he's here on a Sunday, as a supposed 'volunteer' model for a drawing class, is because of you.

The rest, he let Jin fill it out so Jungkook can secure the spot.

But of course, he wouldn't divulge those. So, Jungkook once again clears his throat before responding with a meek 'yes' as he shoots his empty water bottle in the can, making a clanging noise. He smiles sheepishly at the circled crowd whose attention he caught. He cringes at how much he's going out of his way to act cool. He's never this way, and yet, he wants to make sure you witness him with his best foot forward today.

Jungkook sways on the balls of his feet, taking in the space when he sees you—just as you were hooking your bag in your chair.

Goddamn, you're pretty. He's watching you laugh with another girl stationed near your table as you lay out your tools.

"Ready when you are." Taehyung breaks him out of his trance, and he replies with a sheepish nod—hoping he wasn't caught staring at you.

Jungkook starts by taking off his shoes, then his leather jacket. He unbuttons his pants with briefs in tow and the thought that you would be looking at his crotch makes him blush. He shamelessly imagines you and him as Jack and Rose in that sketching scene. But, before he can pull his jeans down, a booming baritone voice hollers at him.

Taehyung hurries towards him. "What the fuck are you doing?"

Jungkook freezes at the sudden aggression. His mouth puckers open and close like a fish coming up for air, as he struggles to come up with a reply.

Taehyung tilts his head and assesses the young man with a pout. "Did Seokjin not tell you this isn't a nude class? We just need you to strip to your shirt and jeans," Taehyung clarifies in a whisper.

Embarrassment floods Jungkook and he sputters out an apology. He silently curses himself between nervous laughs and incoherent words of what seemed to be apologies. Shy doe eyes peeps at you and the confused and scandalized look painted on your face makes him want to get swallowed by the ground and never reappear in front of you ever again.

You must think he’s some kind of a creep or worse, a flasher. With a big exhale, he tries to set aside the embarrassment and go through this. It's already bad enough that his nerves and recent embarrassment made a sweat stain on his shirt.

Not long after, Jungkook stands in the middle of the circle of easels. It actually isn't bad, he thinks. Most of the time, he's staring at wood stands and the occasional heads peeking out of the canvas.

You're on his side, so he can only see you through his peripheral vision. Even so, he can already visualize the vein popping on your forehead when you concentrate—just one of the things he adores on your face.

That afternoon, Jungkook finds out he likes the thought of you paying this much attention and focus on him, instead of the other way around.

He holds his growing smile at bay.

The hour-long class went quicker than Jungkook wanted. He takes his time picking up his jacket and pretends to search for something in his bag as he waits for you to pack up. However, you never rise from your seat.

It takes Taehyung tapping your shoulder to bring you out of your world. "You still get tomorrow, Y/N," he hears Taehyung remind you before walking around the room, checking progress.

Jungkook didn't mean to eavesdrop more, but when you stood up and followed Taehyung, he couldn't help but tune in to your conversation.

"I need a little more time to fix a few edges. Can I just extend for a while? I'll clean up the supplies room." You bargain, voice kept low as if you're making an illegal trade with Taehyung.

Jungkook hears the older man sigh and call your name softly. "You still have tomorrow to work on it, and the next few days. Plus, I can't suddenly ask the model to stay just for you."

You whine petulantly like a child and Jungkook wonders if he can make you whine under different situations. Perhaps, under hi—

"He can go. I just need—"

The moment he makes out your reply, Jungkook was quick to cut you off and offer his time. "I can stay for a while."

Both you and Taehyung turn your heads to face the man who looks like a deer caught in the headlights, but he might as well have been. Your glowered confused eyes stare into him. "I-if you want," he stutters, so he tries to salvage his image with an obviously feigned nonchalant shrug.

Taehyung holds back his laugh but the sudden expulsion of air from his nose wasn't amiss, earning a side eye from you.

"No need," you answer with finality. "You get paid by the hour, right? I can't pay you and—"

"You don't have to pay me. I'm offering for free." Jungkook internally winces at how quick he was in offering himself. But if he were being honest, he would stay in this shoddy garage all night, through the blazing summer heat, as long as it's time spent with you.

Is it a crime that he's quick to take an opportunity when it has presented itself?

He thinks abso-fucking-lutely not.

Your eyebrows furrow, the 'I wasn't done talking' death glare you directed at Jungkook has him shift awkwardly on his foot and look everywhere else but at you.

"Still, I'd get in trouble for requesting more time, anyway. Can't have other students think Taehyung here has favorites." You press and it chips a bit of his confidence. It was obvious you didn't want him to stay. If he keeps insisting, you might think he's creepy.

Jungkook didn't want to seem too pushy anyway, and so, lets out a defeated "Oh.." and nods. His round eyes making it easy to see his dismay as it curves downwards a little at the sides.

"I wouldn't worry about that," Taehyung intervenes. The older man was amused as he watched Jungkook flounder around you, he also knows how oblivious and dismissive you are of guys like Jungkook to a fault. And so, he helps.

Ah, young love, Taehyung muses. "Just make sure to clean up and lock up after, like you promised." He tosses the keys to you, but you make no movement of catching it, letting the keys hit your chest and fall to the ground.

Now your glare is directed towards your sunbaenim. "On second thought, I'm wrapping it up for tonight then." You head towards your easel to pack up your stuff.

Taehyung sighs.

He tells Jungkook to wait a bit and pick up the keys as he follows after you, calling your name.

“Just take the guy's offer to help. He’s trying to learn more about art, too,” he whispers, arms crossing across his chest. "Isn't this the piece you're submitting with your application? I know that head of yours will run nonstop if you don't finish what you intended to do tonight." Taehyung nudges you with a smile and softly jabs his pointer finger to your temple, making you chuckle with a pout. You shoo his hand away from your face and he knows he got you to stay.

This Jungkook kid owes him, Taehyung thinks.

However, from where Jungkook stands, he sees you breaking out the cutest smile at Taehyung. His eyes even going bigger at what he believes is an affectionate touch to your face when Taehyung boops your forehead.

Is that even ethical or something, he wonders irately. Taehyung isn't much older but given that he's your sunbaenim, Jungkook thinks he shouldn't be doing that. Or even be standing close to you. He's currently throwing imaginary lasers at Taehyung's back when you both turn to him and he immediately unsquints his eyes.

"Jungkook, do you still want to stay?" Taehyung shouts at the young man.

Yes.

A hundred times yes. He's a lovesick loyal puppy and if you ask him to bark, he'll bark for you.

Jungkook nods enthusiastically and rushes closer to where you stand, eager to wedge himself between you and Taehyung.

"Jungkook," you sigh his name tiredly. "I really need you to stop moving your head. Is there something more interesting behind me?" The question was rhetorical, but you're starting to wonder what he keeps on staring at behind you that you turn your head, only to be greeted with a wall filled with hanged canvases.

You hear him mumble out a you with a smirk, but was quick to cover it up with a sorry. This guy think he was slick.

Jungkook turns his head to assume his supposed pose. His eyes still filled with mirth. And he lasts about four minutes before his head starts turning towards you. Again.

You throw your head forward with an exhausted groan. This was a mistake. You're growing more frustrated by the minute. Maybe you should call it a night.

Looking back up at your model, you tell him he can leave.

Jungkook breaks his stance then quickly poses as he quickly persuades you. "No, I'll stay still. Look," he promises and follows through quickly by holding the pose.

"No, I'm just really too tired for tonight. Thank you for staying a bit longer." You busy yourself by grabbing at your stuff, cleaning pencil shards here and there to keep the lurking unease.

You can't have a breakdown here again, you admonish yourself. And it's going to feel worse after if Jungkook's here to see it happen. You keep your head down while your hands wipe the charcoal dust on the table.

You hear footsteps nearing you, and you pray to whoever listens that he's not actually coming closer. He calls your name, his voice close and soft. You hum in response, head still hung low, refusing to face him.

Jungkook sees you rubbing an eraser at a blank surface and purses his lips. He finally got the chance to spend time with you and he was hoping to break the ice and get closer to you, but he does this—he upset you and wasted your time. You're not gonna want to spend more time with him after this.

"I-I'm sorry. I really wanted to help. I can stay again tomorrow to make up for tonight," he offers. Everything about him screams eagerness and he must really be interested in art to be willing to stay in the garage-slash-studio during this Summer heat.

You feel the tingling pressure in your throat and your lips quiver. You clear your throat and will away the tears before it breaks through your paper wall.

"No. You did great, Jungkook. I'm just not feeling well tonight." Your voice was too soft, but at least it didn't break.

Jungkook walks around you and turns to face you, hands making contact with your shoulder. "Are you sick? I have some medicine in my bag," he offers. He retracts his hand and unzips his bag to take out whatever medicine he had stashed inside.

It's his genuine concern that does it for you. You suddenly sob and cover your face with your hands.

"Oh, Y/N, are you okay? Does something hurt?" He didn't expect this. Jungkook was taken aback and his worried eyes looked for signs of where you could have been hurt.

Your sobs turned to full-on bawling and Jungkook was quick to take you into his arms. He lets you cry and occasionally whispers assurances between your weeping despite not knowing why you suddenly burst into tears.

In that moment, you stood illuminated by harsh yellowish fluorescent lights like a Gustav Klimt painting on display. The A/C humming noise drowned out by your hiccups and his whispers.

You were the first to pull away. He didn't mean to, but the moment you separated from Jungkook and lowered your hands from your face, he laughed.

Offended at his reaction, you push him away and quickly gather your bag hanging on the chair.

"Wait," he calls for you as he fumbles to pick up the bag he let fall to the floor.

He calls your name but you decidedly ignore him, feet shuffling quickly to leave the garage.

Fucking ass, you think. You're mortified. You already dread tomorrow as your imagination runs wild. What if he tells his friends about your ugly crying? You think you don't care what frat guys think, but you still definitely don't want to be the talk of the campus. You've only transferred here last year and after being briefed by your friend on who to avoid, you made sure not to have a run in with guys like Jungkook.

This is exactly why you were holding everything in earlier. Every stereotype of frat guys being huge assholes behind the charming facade were true.

A flash of high school memories ambush you and you just want to get to your dorm and hide under your blankets. You'll just have to miss tomorrow's class, you plan.

You violently shrug when you feel a hand grip your wrist.

"Hey, will you wait," Jungkook pleads. You turn to face him and see him reach something in his pockets.

Fuck. He's not going to take a photo, isn't he?

You were ready to lunge at him, anything to prevent him from taking a snap at your post-bawl blotched face, when all of sudden, a soft cloth touched your face.

Jungkook chuckles at your startled face.

"You have charcoal smudged all over your face," he points out. His bunny teeth peeks through his curved lips and the sides of his eyes wrinkle from amusement.

"Oh." You visibly flinch when he uses his thumb to brush the apple of your cheeks.

"There," he smiles, eyes fixated on his finger caressing your skin.

"You know you really have pretty eyes."

If you were in a romantic movie, his line would have panned out well. But you're not, so cue the sound of glass breaking to signify a shattered moment.

To think, you bought his act. You thought, here's a deviant frat boy species. Maybe not all of them are only interested in girls and booze. You even thought this Jeon Jungkook isn't so bad.

Until he says that.

Breaking away and stepping back from him, you humorlessly laugh in disbelief.

"You're a fucking cliché, Jungkook. Does this babble usually work on chicks?" You take a look at him and he has the audacity to look unaware of how hokey the situation is.

"Wha—" Poor boy couldn't even finish his sentence, you thought.

"Y/N, I'm not following."

You were about to make a joke on flies flying straight to his agape mouth but you hold yourself back. Instead, you make a gesture of shaking your head as you force out another dry laugh. You look at him one last time and walk away from the frat boy once again.

You hear his footsteps follow you, along with calls of your name. "Did I say something wrong?"

You stop as you reach the threshold—you're almost out of the garage and out into the cold dark night, ready to rush into the safety of your dorm and away from sleazy college boys.

But something in you compels you to turn, and so you do. "Yes, Jungkook. You did." Your hands grip your bag tighter, feet taking a couple of steps back into the garage, to the shoddy light so he can see you.

"Did you really think this charming ‘oh-i’m-clueless act was going to drop panties? You wanna know about art?" You hurl the question; voice no longer shaky and unsure. "When the campus playboy starts touching my face on dimly lit spaces, and starts talking about my eyes, there's a word for it. There's an entire movement in the 20's—it's called surreal." You roll your eyes at him before making your exit.

It takes a minute for Jungkook to get his body to move. And when he does, you're already a distance away. Almost gone from his sight.

This is the second time today that you rendered him immobile and speechless. Just what the fuck did he do?

Meanwhile, you cursed at Jeon Jungkook on your entire walk home. Fuck him and his round innocent eyes for throwing the bees and butterflies in your stomach into chaos.

You tell yourself you dodged a bullet and that was just a ploy for him to get into your pants. You should actually congratulate yourself for turning away one of the notorious womanizers. Your roommate would be proud of you.

Still, you couldn't deny the jolt you felt in your chest when he touched your face and spewed those cheesy lines about your eyes.

You grunt as you slam the door to your dorm.

"Damn. Who pissed you off?" Jihyo, your roommate stares at you across her table.

You heave a sigh of exhaustion and plop yourself on the carpeted floor. "Had a run in with a frat guy," you spit with a scowl. "You remember the guy you were talking about last week? Jungkook? He's the model for this week."

"Seriously? That's..." Jihyo's head tilted sideways as she looked for the right word, brows furrowing. "Out of character for him."

You raise your head and prop your arms to face your roommate. "Right? That's what I thought, but Taehyung said he was interested in learning art."

At this, Jihyo pauses while eating and guffaws. "Is he for real?"

You roll your eyes at no one in particular and rest your head on your palms as your other hand plucks at the carpet. "Nah, I'm pretty sure he was just there to pick up girls."

Jihyo squints at you, suddenly alert as she senses something you haven't told her yet.

"He hit on me," you start. Already growing flustered at the recollection of the afternoon. "You know those cheesy lines from romcoms, he actually used them on me." You went on detail by detail about what happened and ended your story with a shudder. "This is the first time I might dread going to the class."

"Yep, I see why he thinks he could get away with the cheesiest line," Jihyo murmurs. Apparently, during your story, Jihyo picked up her phone and started to stalk Jungkook's profile. "I mean shame it wasn't nude because have you seen this body?" She flips her phone so you can see her screen.

"What? That's not Jungkook." You stand from your spot and walk closer to Jihyo and snatch the phone. "This isn't Jungkook."

"What are you talking about? That’s literally his profile,” Jihyo takes her phone back, wanting to take another look if you’re looking at the same thing. “See, Kim Jongkook. He’s the notorious fuck boy, probably in all departments. Good thing is, he’s graduating this year.”

Oh, fuck.

>> Still Untitled

#jungkook #bts #jungkook x reader #jungkook fic #bts fic

476 notes · View notes

i-am-baechu · 3 months ago

Text

ᡣ𐭩Summary: Yoongi is asked by his father to visit his grandmother. The only problem is, it's in the countryside. Going to the countryside is dreadful, doesn't matter if his grandmother's helper is cute.

ᡣ𐭩 Pairing: Party Boy! Yoongi x Small Town Girl! Reader

ᡣ𐭩 Rating: Explicit (18+)

ᡣ𐭩 Genre: Fluff, romance, angst, smut, slow burn, enemies to lovers (one side), hopeless romantic reader Sunshine reader and grumpy Yoongi and big city boy and small town girl

ᡣ𐭩 Part of The Legendary Seven

ᡣ𐭩 Warning: Alcoholism and a couple of mentions of a death in a family

ᡣ𐭩Playlist - All The Stars; Kendrick Lamar & SZA

ᡣ𐭩 Authors Note: worked late but this is the longest story in the series! I really like this story and I worked really hard on it. I hope you guys like it just as much as I do :). One of the characters in this story plays a big part in the next story!

The last time I saw you...you were crying because you tripped in mud. I rushed towards you and I grabbed the towel around my neck to help you. You stared at me and I stared right back at you. The bright brown eyes stared right into my soul and I couldn’t help but feel frozen and warm at the same time. Frozen because I never had this feeling before and warm because your eyes told me stories that only I could see. You went back to your mom after I helped you and I couldn’t help but stare at you...

L/N Y/N sat at the end of her patio and stared at the dark sky with a frown. Her fingernails etched away in the dark wood as her feet touched the grass underneath her. Every night she would stare up at the sky because it made her think of him. The way the stars twinkled away in darkness made her remember his dark brown eyes. She smiled when she saw a shooting star. She slowly closed her eyes and whispered her wish. Hoping someone heard it.

“Y/N!? It’s time for dinner!”Y/N glanced at the glass door with a frown, “Coming mama!” She looked back at the sky and put her hand out towards it, “One day...”

Min Yoongi leaned back on the couch and took another sip of his whiskey. Tonight he wanted to go to the club alone. He needed time to himself and this was the way to do it. His father lectured him about going out to a party recently and spending too much money on alcohol. It was tiresome. He was in college, college was meant to have fun. He had straight A’s so, his parents couldn’t really yell at him for that. He just wanted to have fun like everyone else. He saw nothing wrong with that.

He stared at everyone dancing but he felt nothing. The neon lights bounced off his pale skin as he lay there, soulless almost.

.*･｡ﾟ☆ﾟ.*･｡

“Three of the legendary seven are taken. I was correct, the world is ending. I’m not shocked that Kim Namjoon captured someone’s attention. He’s the most sensible one out of the group. The talented violinist and class president, now that’s something I didn’t see coming or maybe I did... I saw them dancing away in the garden and it’s clear they are in love. Out of the couples, this is the only couple I’m rooting for. The shy violinist who gives her one hundred percent to her partner is a story that Jane Austen would write herself. The couple is more private, unlike his friends. I’ve only sighted them once recently when Namjoon was getting a book for her from the top shelf in the Library. I suppose this is what a relationship is supposed to be...boring. Until then, Pen.”

Yoongi rolled his eyes at the article and put his phone back in his pocket. He walked through the loud crowd and played his music as loud as he could. Another Pen story out and it was annoying. It’s amazing how people waste their time to bring down others. Get a hobby. He cracked his neck as he made his way to the lunch court. He knew this was going to affect Jisoo and knowing Namjoon...he was probably using his power to find out who wrote the story.

Yoongi saw Bora and Lin comforting Jisoo at the table, making him frown. He walked towards the table and sat next to Hoseok, “I’m guessing she read the article.”

Hoseok nodded his head and leaned towards him, “Jungkook tried making her feel better by saying at least the article isn’t that bad.”

Yoongi rolled his eyes and shook his head, “Of course he did...”

Jisoo looked up and gave Yoongi a small smile, “Go-Good morning Yoongi.”

“Jisoo, are you alright?”

Jisoo sighed and shook her head, “I’m mad at myself more. I saw Pen at the party...when we were dancing in the garden. I saw her and I didn’t do anything about it. I feel so...helpless.”

Jin shook his head and placed his hand on top of hers, “It’s not your fault. It’s the person that is doing this.”

She sighed and looked at Bora and Lin, “I’m sorry for making you worry.”

Bora shook her head and rubbed her shoulder gently, “Nonsense, we’re always here for you.”

Lin nodded her head and smiled, “We’ll get through it together.”

Yoongi looked up to see a stressed Namjoon. He sat next to him and sighed, “The principal said there’s nothing he can really do. “Freedom of speech”.”

Jimin rolled his eyes at this and crossed his arms over his chest, “Freedom of speech my ass.”

Hoseok clapped his hands and gave everyone his signature smile, “Let’s talk about something else.”

Jisoo nodded her head and glanced down at her violin, “I-I have another concert...I-I was wondering-”

“We would love to come, Jisoo.”

Jisoo looked up and locked eyes with Namjoon with a frown, “You have your debate though. I don’t want you to miss it.”

Namjoon rolled his eyes and gave her a soft smile, “I can miss one. I don’t care, I’m going to support you.”

Yoongi rolled his eyes at the scene and went to stand up but was stopped. There was a group of girls in front of him with hopeful eyes, eyes that annoyed him, “Oppa-”

“The answer is no. Have a good day.”

The girls frowned at this and walked away from him. Yoongi rubbed the back of his neck with annoyance. He looked back to see Bora shaking her head at him, “What? They do this to me every day.”

“Yoongi, have you ever tried giving someone a chance?”

“Dating isn’t necessary. I don’t need a person in my life right now.”

Lin let out a small laugh and leaned her head against Taehyung who smiled at her, “That’s what Tae said and now look at us. We're happier than ever.”

“And I’m very happy for you guys. I just don’t want that. A relationship especially with the girls here on campus would be a waste of time. They only want me for my money, that’s it. It’s a waste of time to try to understand them when they don’t want to do the same with me.”

Hoseok sighed and shook his head, “My best friend is going to be single for the rest of his life.”

Jin let out a small chuckle, “Good luck at finding a girl that doesn’t care about that here.”

Bora gave a quick glare to Jin and a comforting smile to Yoongi, “There’s a girl out there for you, Yoongi. They will love you for you, nothing more and nothing less.”

“We’ll see if that happens any time soon.”

“Y/N, are you alright dear?”

Y/N wiped her nose and nodded her head, “Sorry, I just had to sneeze all of a sudden.”

Min Alda let out a small laugh and handed her a tissue, “You know when people sneeze that means someone is talking about you.”

Y/N blew her nose and tilted her head at Alda, “Who would talk about me?”

“You never know dear.”

Y/N let out a small laugh and collected the bowls from Alda's kitchen table. She went towards the sink and stared outside with a peaceful look. The day was sunny and everything was lush green from the rain last week. It was a beautiful day. She turned towards Alda and smiled, “How about we have a small walk around the neighborhood? Get you some fresh air.”

Alda smiled at this and slowly stood up with her cane, “You just want to see that Yunho boy.”

Y/N gave her a confused look and tilted her head, “Yunho? He’s my friend.”

Alda raised her eyebrow and let out a small laugh, “Does he know that?”

Y/N rolled her eyes and helped Alda put on her shoes, “Of course he does. Why wouldn’t he?”

“Dear, you have so much to learn.”

“Mama said the same thing...even Jiwon said that.”

Alda patted her back and shook her head, “Let’s take that walk.”

Y/N quickly put her shoes on and smiled, “Let’s go. I want to show you our garden, papa just put down roses for Mama.”

Alda smiled at this, “Your father truly loves your mother.”

Y/N smiled at this and opened the door for Alda, “He does...it makes me want someone to love me like that. Someone who would put down a bed of roses during the rain because he knows it’s her favorite flower. One day I’ll get that I’m sure of it.”

Y/N locked the door as Alda watched her with a small smile, “You will get that one day. You're a sweet girl, who wouldn’t fall for you.”

Y/N let out a nervous laugh and scratched her cheek, “I feel like a lot of people wouldn’t like me.”

“Nonsense, you sound like my grandson.”

Y/N placed her hand behind her back and raised her eyebrow, “What’s his name?”

“Yoongi! Did you hear me?”

Yoongi took off his headphones and stared at Jungkook, “What?”

“I was talking to you for five minutes and you didn’t notice?”

Yoongi shook his head and shrugged his shoulders, “I was thinking about something. What do you want?”

“Jimin is throwing a party and he wants to know if you would go.”

Yoongi raised his eyebrow at this, “Why is Jimin throwing a party?”

“He wants to see her.”

Yoongi sighed and shook his head, “He needs to stop. She’s never going back to him.”

“Don’t let him hear that or he will get more heartbroken.”

Yoongi ran his fingers through his hair and nodded his head, “I’ll go.”

Yoongi got up and left the lunch table to make his way to the theater room. During this time there was no one in there and that’s what he needed right now. Peace and quiet. He opened the doors and his eyes landed on the piano. He tossed his backpack in the front row and he let his fingers tell the empty room his feelings.

Y/N woke up the next morning to the birds chirping away by the window. She groaned at the sound and pulled her pillow to cover her face. It was one of those days that she didn’t want to get up and do something but life is never that easy. She got up from her bed and headed towards the kitchen with a tired look. Her mother and father were sitting at the table with their morning coffees. Talking away with the sunshine blazing their backs. She leaned against the doorframe and smiled at the scene before her. Her parents loved each other so much and she was so grateful that she had a childhood with a healthy home.

“Good morning, Y/N.”

She waved at her dad and went towards the table with her messy hair, “Are you going to help the Jeongs?”

Her dad wiped off his mouth and nodded his head, “Their cow is about to give birth. They were worried about her health.”

Y/N’s mom nodded her head at this, “We’re going to be spending more time over there. Are you going to be okay by yourself more?”

Y/N took a sip of her orange juice and she nodded her head, “I’ll be okay. What’s the worst thing that can happen?”

Her dad shook her head and took a sip of his coffee, “Y/N don’t say that.”

Y/N let out a laugh and took a bit of her eggs, “Is Yunho coming over?”

“Yeah, he’s bringing more eggs for us.”

Y/N smiled at this, “Can I walk him back to his farm? I want to see Daisy.”

Y/N’s mother smiled at her and nodded her head, “I know that cow means a lot to you.”

“Of course it does, I named it.”

Just then the door knocked and she looked up to see Yunho holding a basket of eggs. Y/N got up and quickly made her way to him, “You're early.”

Yunho smiled at her and shrugged his shoulders, “Wanted to surprise you. I also brought butter, my mom wanted to say thank you for taking care of the hens.”

Y/N shrugged her shoulders and gladly accepted the butter, “I will always take care of Helen.”

Yunho smiled at her and glanced at her hair, “Did you just wake up?”

Y/N rolled her eyes and walked away leaving an amused Yunho, “You already know the answer to that, don’t tease me.”

Yunho placed the eggs on the counter and watched Y/N putting the butter in the fridge. He smiled to himself, “It’s my job to tease you.”

“I have to get ready to take care of Alda but Mama said I can walk you back. I want to see Daisy.”

Yunho nodded his head and turned towards her parents, “Good morning, Mr and Mrs L/N.”

“Good morning Yunho. How’s Daisy?”

“Uncomfortable.”

Y/N frowned at this, “I have to see her before birth.”

“Y/N, honey, you should change before you go to the farm.”

Y/N glanced down at her pink pajamas and nodded her head, “Riigghhtt. I’ll be back.”

Yunho watched Y/N run up the stairs and he couldn’t help but laugh at her. He leaned against the counter as her parents smiled to themselves. Y/N’s mom leaned towards her husband in a hushed tone, “He’s in love with her.”

“I see that dear. Don’t spoil my breakfast please.”

“Dear, you have to grow up.”

“No...I don’t want to.”

Y/N came back downstairs in jeans and a simple t-shirt. She finished her outfit with a high ponytail and smiled at everyone, “I’m ready to see Daisy.”

Yunho nodded his head and headed towards the back door, “Let’s go before she falls asleep.”

The two walked down the dirt path talking about Yunho’s farm. Y/N’s played a big part at their farm. As the only Veterinarians in town, they take care of all the animals. Yunho’s family gets a special discount because of how close the two families are. Y/N knew Yunho since she was in diapers (well she was older than him by two months). They were always close but she was closer to Kim Jiwon.

Y/N entered the barn and her eyes landed on Daisy. She ran towards the white cow and smiled at her, “Daisy, my baby.”

The cow looked up at her and Y/N petted her head, “She looks so tired.”

Yunho frowned and nodded his head, “She does. I’m doing everything in my power to make sure she’s comfortable but it's hard when she's ready to pop.”

“I know. I hope she gets back to normal life soon.”

Yunho placed his hand on top of Y/N’s and gave her a smile, “She’ll be okay. Especially in your parents' care.”

“They do work hard.” Y/N glanced at her watch and smiled at Yunho, “I should get going. I have to help wash Alda’s hair. I’ll see you later.”

Yunho nodded his head and he watched her leave. He glanced down to see Daisy staring at him causing him to huff, “Don’t look at me like that.”

Y/N opened Alda’s door and smiled when she saw the older woman knitting on her couch. She took off her shoes and quickly slipped on the slippers that Alda bought her years ago, “Alda, what are you knitting there?”

Alda looked up and gave her a soft smile, “I’m knitting a blanket for my grandson.”

“For Yoongi?”

“Yes, I’m sure he’ll visit me soon.”

“I hope he visits soon...”

Yoongi walked into his house to be met with his father’s eyes. Yoongi sighed and tossed his bag on the couch with annoyance, “What?”

“Yoongi, why did you go to another party after your mother told you not to?”

Yoongi sighed and went towards the kitchen to get a water bottle, “I still showed up to class the next day. I also got the highest grade, why does it matter?”

Mr. Min sighed and shook his head as he made his way to the kitchen, “That doesn’t matter. We're worried about you, is something happening? You can tell us anything even if it’s hurtful towards us.”

“Nothing is wrong. I just want to go out and have fun, that’s it. It’s not affecting me-”

“But son it is. You go out to party every day and you drink every day. We want you to be happy in your life without relying on that dangerous liquid.”

Yoongi took a sip of his water and leaned against the fridge, “I’m fine...” Yoongi walked past his father and went straight to his bedroom. He locked his door and walked to his balcony. He leaned against the railings and looked up at the dark sky. He smiled to himself when he saw the star twinkle away in the darkness. He took another sip of water but this time he closed his eyes and made a silent wish. When he opened them he saw the same star twinkling away, as if it winked at him, “One day...”

Yoongi was in the bar all alone. It was another day that girls would throw themselves against him and all the guys asking him advice about their futures. No one wanted to talk to him about his day or how classes were. No one gave a fuck about him. Sure his parents care for him but that wasn’t something he craved for. He wanted something deeper, something real. He took a sip of his whiskey and looked up at the TV. The alcohol made him feel seen. He made him feel warmth and that’s all he wanted. Nothing more and nothing less. Just to feel something.

The bartender poured him another drink and he slouched back in his chair, his friends wouldn’t understand. They just saw him as someone that has a problem. They were right but fuck he just wanted someone to hear him say it. He was so tired of feeling lonely. Especially when he was in a room filled with people. His friends loved him but even with them he felt lonely... Maybe one day this feeling can escape. He tipped the bartender and he walked outside into the cold hair. He let the cold winds push his hair away from his face. He looked up to the night sky and he smiled when he saw the stars again.

He shook his head and made his way back to his house. He already made a wish last night, he can’t make the same wish again. He stopped walking and looked up at the sky, it was as if it was calling out for him. He looked up and his eyes landed on a star that was twinkling away. He let out a small huff and nodded his head. He closed his eyes and made a wish, the same wish he made last night. Let me feel warmth again.

.*･｡ﾟ☆ﾟ.*･

Yoongi was walking with Hoseok when he was stopped by Lin. He glanced at Hoseok who just shrugged his shoulders. He looked back at Lin with a raised eyebrow, “Yes?”

“My mom wanted to make sure you were okay today. She said something is going to happen to you but she doesn��t know when.”

Yoongi rolled his eyes, “You believe in your mom’s fortune now?”

Lin shook her head and crossed her arms over her chest with a worried look, “No but if it involves someone’s safety I become cautious.”

“Lin, I’m fine. What did she say?”

“She said the stars will always give you the answer...oh also something about a cow.”

Yoongi scoffed at this and walked past Lin, “I would never be near a cow.”

Y/N petted Daisy and smiled to herself, “Yunho, are you joining me and Jiwon today?”

Yunho stopped raking through the hay and let out a sad sigh, “Sadly, I won’t. Mom and Dad want me to help with the hen house.”

“What’s wrong with the hen house?”

Yunho put the rake back and looked at Y/N with a sad look, “It's coyote season. We have to make sure the house is secured.”

Y/N stood up from Daisy and pointed at Yunho, “You have to make sure Helen is safe.”

“What about Hector?”

“All the hens but...Helen is more important to me.”

Yunho rolled his eyes and shook his head, “Y/N it's just hens. You go have fun with Jiwon. I know it’s been a while since you had girl time.”

Y/N nodded her head and gave Daisy a kiss on the top of her head, “I’ll talk to you later!~”

Y/N walked down to the only cafe in town. It was small but it was perfect on any occasion. Blue Blood was owned by Jiwon’s family and it was very homely. It also helped that Y/N got a family discount whenever she went there. She opened the door and she waved to Jiwon who was already waiting for her. Jiwon lived in the city for half of her life but one day her parents suddenly wanted a change. Y/N was the first person to welcome her in the small town and Jiwon was so glad that her family moved here.

“Y/N, were you with Yunho?”

Y/N slid the chair out and sat down with a confused face, “Yeah? I already told you I was visiting Daisy.”

“Are you sure it was just because of Daisy?”

“Oh, I saw Helen too.”

Jiwon shook her head and took a sip of her tea, “Well, I wanted to ask you if you wanted to come with me to visit my friend?”

Y/N tilted her head at this, “Oh? Where?”

“Seoul University”

“Seoul University? Isn’t that a rich school?”

Jiwon laughed at this and nodded her head, “Yes it is, do you want to come?”

Y/N shook her head, “No, I don’t want to be singled out. They can smell the poor.”

Jiwon shook her head, “You could meet Mr. right there, you know.”

Y/N leaned against the table and pouted, “No, there’s only one person I want.”

“Yes I know, Mr. Brown eyes. Do you even know his name?”

Y/N shook her head and stared at the ceiling with a dreamy look, “He had the darkest brown eyes I have ever seen. There was this sparkle in them that called out to me. When I see those brown eyes again, I’ll be the luckiest girl in the world.”

Yoongi walked across campus after getting an urgent message from Hoseok. Usually, Hoseok is confident about his dancing but for some reason today was different. Yoongi knew that Hoseok could do anything but he wished Hoseok’s mind could see him the way he saw Hoseok. Talented and amazing. Yoongi opened the door to see Hoseok sitting on the floor. Yoongi frowned at this and closed the door, “What’s wrong?”

Hoseok looked up and sighed, “I saw this girl...”

Yoongi nodded his head and walked towards him. He tossed his bag to the corner and sat next to Hoseok, “What happened when you saw the girl?”

“I froze. She was doing ballet at the dance studio near my house. I didn’t really see her face but her dancing made me feel frozen. It made me feel something.”

“Like what?”

“It made me want to dance with her and understand her but...I don’t think I can.”

Yoongi shook his head at this, “You're an amazing dancer. You can do anything.”

“Yoongi, you didn’t see how she was dancing. It was like a movie.”

“You dance like a movie too, Step up 2.”

Hoseok chuckled at this and shook his head, “You're stupid...”

“I cheered you up and this is how you treat me?”

Hoseok let out a laugh and got up from the floor, “You want to get dinner?”

Yoongi nodded his head and grabbed his bag, “You paying?”

Hoseok shook his head, “Jin is. He wants to talk about Jimin’s party with us.”

“I forgot about that. Are you going?”

“Not sure but knowing Jimin, he’s going to invite her.”

Yoongi closed the door and rolled his eyes, “I keep telling him to let her go. It’s not healthy.” They walked down the empty dance building and Yoongi couldn’t help but scoff at the idea of trying to get attention from someone who clearly wanted nothing to do with you. Yoongi opened the door and they walked into the parking lot as he stopped himself from rolling his eyes at Hoseok.

“He loves her Yoongi, he can’t let her go that easily.”

“Hoseok, it's been a year.”

Hoseok opened his car door and gave him a pointed look, “Don’t make Jimin feel bad for being in love.”

“I won’t make him feel bad for being in love. He just needs to let her go, it’s not healthy.”

Hoseok climbed into his car as Yoongi did the same, “You're just saying that because you've never been in a relationship before.”

“I was with Hanni for two years, remember.”

“You were in middle school, that doesn’t count. That only happened because you didn’t want to say no to her.”

Yoongi shrugged his shoulders, “It counts as a relationship still.”

They walked into the restaurant and their eyes landed on Jin who was looking at the menu. They made their way to the table and sat down. Yoongi hated eating here, he always felt like he was never good enough to sit there (even though his father helped fund the place), it felt unwelcoming. Yoongi picked up the menu and glanced at Jin, “Why-”

“I don’t think Jimin should have this party.”

Yoongi glanced at Hoseok and then back at Jin, “Why?”

Jin put down the menu and sighed, “For starters, it’s not healthy for him and Yoongi, you should stop going to parties. Your dad called my dad and I got yelled at for something I didn’t do.”

Yoongi groaned at this and leaned back in his chair, “Sorry that you got yelled at. Stupid old man.”

Jin frowned at this and shook his head, “Yoongi, he just cares for you.”

“I know he does but I’m not doing anything wrong.”

Hoseok took a sip of his water and sighed at his friend, “They’re just worried. You can’t blame them for being worried about their son who drinks every day.”

“Why am I getting a lecture? We were talking about Jimin.”

Jin rolled his eyes at this, “I think we should tell Jimin no more parties.”

“Let him have this one and then we’ll talk to him. You know why he’s doing it on that day.”

“I know it’s their anniversary but we can’t let him do this to himself. Were his brothers.”

Yoongi nodded his head and glanced at Hoseok, “You talk to him. You live with him, he’ll listen to you.”

“Hopefully he does. Fine, this is the last party.”

Jin nodded his head and turned towards Yoongi, “This should be the last party for you too Yoongi.”

“Why?”

“Just do it before something bad happens.”

“Nothing bad will happen.”

The waiter came to the table and smiled at them, “Drinks?”

“I’ll take the whiskey.”

Jin and Hoseok glanced at each other with worried eyes but Yoongi ignored it. He just wanted to feel the warmth before going home. Now with Jimin’s party being his last party for a while, he needed the warmth. What’s the problem with that?

“Yoongi, how could you land in the hospital?”

Scratch that there is a problem with that. Yoongi groaned in bed as his mother stared at him with shocked eyes, “Mom, I don’t need a lecture right now. Please.”

She shook her head and turned towards her husband, “I can’t believe this.”

If Yoongi was being honest, he doesn’t remember much at Jimin’s party. This was the first time he got drunk like this. Sure he’s been drunk before but nothing like this. He never had to go to the hospital to get his stomach pump but here he is. Of course, Jin called his parents as soon as he was admitted. Yoongi had twenty minutes of peace until the door opened to angry faces, great.

“Yoongi, I told you no more, why did you do it?”

“You wouldn’t understand....no one does.”

Yoongi’s father sighed at this and shook his head, “Son, why can’t you see that we’re worried about you.”

“Dad, this was the first time that it happened. It’s not going to happen again.”

His father sighed and he glanced at his mother before meeting Yoongi’s eyes once more, “Son, I want you to do something for me.”

Yoongi raised his eyebrow and looked at his father, “What? I’m kind of in a hospital bed.”

“I want you to visit your grandmother for the rest of the month.”

Yoongi's mouth dropped at this, “Wh-What all of a sudden? It’s in the countryside away from-”

Yoongi’s mother grabbed his hand and gave him a desperate look, “We just want you to be better. Please go to her and stop drinking for the rest of the month, please.”

Yoongi's eyes widened and when he saw his mother crying he knew what he had to do, “I’ll go.”

Y/N walked to her patio and sat at the end with her feet touching the grass. It was the same routine she did every night. Looking up at the sky to make a wish for him to come back to her. Her mother joked with her saying she was Snow White singing Someday My Prince Will Come every time she looked at the dark sky. She couldn’t help but agree. She knows one day her wish will be heard and when it happens, her world will be complete.

She closed her eyes and then made the simple wish, Let me see him, please. She opened her eyes again and she let the chill air engulf her in a hug as she sat there. She knows it’s silly but she knew it was going to happen to her. He was going to come back to her and everything will make sense, she just knows it. That’s how things were supposed to be.

.*･｡ﾟ☆ﾟ.*･｡

Yoongi doesn’t remember the last time he was in this neighborhood. It’s probably been about fourteen years (maybe more) since he stepped foot in the small town. It’s hard to imagine that his father grew up here, especially now since he has multiple penthouses under his belt. Yoongi leaned his against the bus window as he stared at the fog with an emotionless look. He hasn’t seen his grandma in years, he still talks to her through letters but that's about it. He loves his grandmother but he is much closer to his grandfather. When he passed away, Yoongi couldn’t spend time in the neighborhood anymore. It was hard for him to understand what happened but he’s older now and it was different.

The bus stopped and Yoongi got off with a small thank you to the driver. He was expecting to be alone but he was met with warm smiles. There was a girl standing next to his grandmother and he glared at how close she was with her, “Oi, who are you and why are you holding my grandmother?”

Y/N tilted her head at him and let out a small laugh, “I’m her helper. I’m not grandmanapper.”

Yoongi's eyes twitched at the gentle tone but his eyes landed on his grandmother. She looked good for her age if he was being honest. Even though she had a cane and a helper, considering she was going to turn one hundred this year, she looked young. Alda smiled at Yoongi and the smile made Yoongi’s heart melt, “My grandson, I missed you so much.”

Y/N helped Alda walk closer to Yoongi and Yoongi couldn’t help but feel jealous. They were really close and he knew he had no right to feel this way but he couldn’t help it. He glared at the girl and let out a small scoff, “What’s your name?”

“My name is L/N Y/N. No need to be hostile.”

Yoongi really hated how kind her voice was because it was making him feel like a dick at the moment. Yoongi nodded his head and then back at his grandmother, “You look really good, gran.”

Alda smiled at this and glanced at Y/N, “It’s all thanks to my Y/N. She takes good care of me.”

Y/N felt her face flush and pushed some of her hair back from Alda’s forehead, “Thank you, Alda.”

“How much is my father paying you?”

“I don’t get paid to do this...I just naturally became Alda’s helper. I have a degree if you're worried about my qualifications.”

Yoongi raised his eyebrow at this and crossed his arms over his chest, “You do this for free? Why?”

“I love your grandmother, that’s why.”

Alda glanced at Y/N and smiled, “You can go to Jiwon. I’ll be fine with my grandson. Don’t worry.”

“Are you sure-”

“You don’t think I can take care of her?”

Y/N glanced at Yoongi and swallowed her spit in pure nervousness. She shook her head as she felt a drop of sweat going down her back, “N-No that’s not what I meant. I just want Alda-”

“Y/N, don’t explain yourself to him. He’s just being annoying. Go to Jiwon and have fun.”

Y/N sighed and nodded her head. She leaned down and kissed the top of Alda’s head, “I’ll see you for dinner.” She turned towards Yoongi and gave him a nervous smile, “It was nice meeting you.” Y/N walked away and tried to ignore the stare on her back. She felt the burning sensation of his stare and it was actually making her feel like she was going to die from embarrassment.

Alda smacked Yoongi with her cane and he rubbed his knee, “Don’t make her feel uncomfortable. Also, I know that look.”

“What look?”

“You think my Y/N is cute.”

Yoongi looked up at his grandma and rolled his eyes, “Let’s go have lunch.”

“You didn’t deny that.”

Y/N walked to Jiwon’s house and she smiled when she saw her in the driveway. She ran towards her and hugged her from behind. Jiwon let out a laugh and shook her head, “You're here early. I thought you were meeting Alda’s grandson.”

Y/N huffed at this as she let go of Jiwon, “I did meet him. He’s intense.”

“Was he cute?”

Y/N shrugged her shoulders and leaned against Jiwon’s car, “He was handsome but not-”

“Not for me because brown eyes will come to me.”

Y/N happily smiled at this and nodded her head, “See, you knew.”

“What happened with Yoongi?”

“I don’t think he likes me. I get it, if I saw someone that close with my grandmother...I would feel jealous.”

Jiwon laid down on her hood and stared up at the grayish sky, “I guess that’s wholesome. If you think about it.”

“It is...I’m not going to hold it against him. I hope he doesn’t act the same when we meet again.”

Oh, Y/N hates being wrong. She sat at Alda’s dinner table with Yoongi ignoring her completely. She sighed and glanced at the window, what was she supposed to do? It was clear Yoongi didn’t like her and she barely even talked to him. She turned back and ate some of Alda’s famous kimchi as she ignored the eyes.

“Y/N, how was Jiwon?”

She sat up straight and turned her whole attention to Alda with a soft smile. Yoongi saw how she reacted to his grandmother and he couldn’t help but smile to himself. It was clear Y/N cared deeply for her but he was still wary of her.

“I was helping her pack for a small vacation. She’s excited to go to Seoul.”

Alda turned towards Yoongi and smiled at him, “Jiwon is going to Seoul university. Isn’t that the school you go to?”

“Yes it is.”

Alda turned towards Y/N and her smile became wider, “Yoongi is doing a dual degree.”

Y/N’s eyes widened and she looked at Yoongi, “What are you studying?”

“Law and music.”

Y/N placed her chopsticks down and turned her body towards Yoongi. Yoongi felt his body get warm at the attention but he shook it off, “Music? Do you play? I assume you do but...”

“I play piano and violin.”

“Wow! My mom tried having me play Violin but I kept failing. I can play the triangle well.”

Yoongi snickered at this, “You can play the triangle? That's it?”

Y/N nodded her head, “If you ever need a triangle for your song, call me. I’ll play my heart out~.”

Yoongi rolled his eyes and took a sip of his water, “Are you going to school?”

Y/N shook her head and put another piece of kimchi into her mouth, “No, I graduated last year. I did a simple program to become a caregiver.”

“Why don't you go to a senior citizen's home then?”

Y/N raised her eyebrow at this and shook her head, “Because I’m happy here. Who wouldn’t be happy here? Ohh, I have to introduce you to Daisy. I have to ask Yunho but you have to meet her. She’s going to have a baby.”

Yoongi went to glance at his grandma but he didn’t even realize that she got up from the table to do the dishes. How could he not notice her move? He sighed and looked at Y/N, “I have to unpack.”

“Please, I'll make it fun. I promise.”

He saw her pleading eyes and he sighed, don’t look at me like that fucking hell, “I’ll go. Stop looking at me like that.”

Y/N's face turned to confusion and she pouted at this, “Like what?”

Yoongi felt his face turn red at her look and he looked away from her, “I-I’m going to the bathroom.”

Y/N watched him leave and she turned towards Alda, who was making her way back to the table, “Did I do something?”

Alda let out a small laugh as she sat down, “Nothing dear. Nothing at all.”

“Why are we on a farm?”

Y/N hummed to herself as she opened Yunho’s gate. She turned towards Yoongi and put her index finger to her lips, “It’s a surprise. Don’t ruin my surprise for you.”

Yoongi sighed and nodded his head, “Fine.”

They walked deeper on the farm and Y/N stopped, “Yoongi, this is Daisy!”

Yoongi glanced down at the cow and then back at her, “Daisy is a cow?”

Y/N nodded her head and sat down to hug Daisy, “Isn’t she cute.”

“I’m meeting a cow?”

“I thought I already established that. Don’t be rude and say hello.”

“oh also something about a cow.” No fucking way was Lin’s mom right about this. Yoongi got down on his knees and the cow turned towards him. He felt her hot breath against his skin. He glanced at Y/N who was encouraging him to say his hello. He sighed and waved at the animal, “Hi Daisy, I’m Yoongi. Pleasure to meet you.”

“You sound sarcastic.”

Yoongi turned towards Y/N with an annoyed look, “I’m talking to a fucking cow. How else should I sound?”

Y/N pouted at this and shook her head, “Be nicer to her. She has feelings too.”

Yoongi ran his fingers through his hair, “Hi Daisy, my name is Yoongi.”

Y/N nodded her head with approval, “That’s better. Was that so hard?”

“Apparently...”

“Y/N, you're here early.”

Y/N stood up and wiped off the hay off her knees. She turned around and waved at Yunho, “You're here late.”

Yunho scoffed at her and let out a small yawn, “Mom let me sleep in.”

“Oh? That’s rare for you.”

“I know I was surprised when I woke up. It’s weird to be up with the sun and not when the sun is rising.”

Y/N turned towards Yoongi who was getting cuddled by Daisy, “Yunho this is Alda’s grandson, Yoongi.”

Yoongi stopped trying to push Daisy away and accepted his fate. He turned towards Yunho and nodded his head, “Hey.”

Yunho raised his eyebrow and looked back at Y/N, “The rich boy?”

Y/N shook her head and sigh, “No, he’s Alda’s grandson.”

“He’s still a rich boy.”

“You will refer him to Alda’s grandson. Regardless of his fortune, he’s her family.”

Yoongi felt warmth again but he shook it off. He let out a small cough and he glared at Yunho, “You do know I can hear you.”

Yunho smirked at him and put his hands in his pocket, “Mmm? I didn’t mean for that to happen. Sorry.”

Yoongi could tell by the look that he didn’t give a shit what Yoongi had to say. He didn’t want to add fuel to the fire so he played along, “It’s fine.”

Y/N could feel the tension building and she didn’t know why there was tension to begin with. She put her hand out towards Yoongi, “Let me introduce you to Helen.”

Yoongi raised his eyebrow at her hand and then his eyes moved to her face. Her face was always so warm to look at. It was as if she was the sun and it made everyone around warm. It made him sick to meet someone who was more positive than Hoseok. He didn’t think it was possible but here he was. On a farm. Min Yoongi on a damn farm, who would’ve thought.

Yoongi fought back, his eyes being rolled into the back of his head. This was the fourth time Y/N was going over his grandma’s nighttime routine. He put his hand up and Y/N glanced at it and then at him, “Yes?”

“Y/N, I can take care of it. Don’t worry.”

“I just want to make things easier for you.”

“It’s getting late. Go home.”

She pouted and nodded her head, “You can call me, Alda has my phone number.”

His eye twitched at this but he nodded his head, “I got it.”

Y/N waved at Alda and bowed, “Have a good night, Alda. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“I’ll see you dear. Be careful.”

“I will. No worries. Goodnight.”

When the door closed, Alda sighed. She turned towards Yoongi with a frown, “Stop giving her a hard time.”

“She thinks I can’t take care of you.”

Alda shook her head and rubbed his arm gently, “She doesn’t think that. Haven’t you been noticing that she’s been stepping back and letting you help me more?”

Yoongi thought to himself and looked towards his grandma, “Has she?”

Alda nodded her head and ran her fingers through his hair, “She knows how much I missed you. She wants to give me all the time in the world to be with you.”

Yoongi glanced outside the window and saw Y/N talking to the neighbors. He smiled to himself, maybe he was being too hard on her.

.*･｡ﾟ☆ﾟ.*･

It’s been two weeks and Yoongi has finally become used to Y/N. He accepted that she was going to be around because his grandma might as well be friendly. She was always so kind to him and it made him wonder why she was so kind. It brought up more questions. Questions that Yoongi wasn’t going to ask. There was no way he was getting this friendly with her. It was too soon.

“Yoongi, did you hear me?”

He shook his head and looked at Y/N, “What?”

She sighed and she pointed to her car, “I said get in. I have a surprise for you.”

“Another one? Is it another chicken?”

Y/N let out a laugh and shook her head, “No, I think you’ll like this one.”

“Do I have a choice?”

Y/N frowned at this, “You do...you don’t have to come with me. I’m sorry if I made you feel like you had to come with me.”

There's that look. The look that made him feel so weak. It was like a kicked puppy, how could you say no? He shook his head at her and opened the car door, “You didn’t make me feel like that. Don’t worry. Let’s go before Alda wakes up from her nap.”

Y/N’s smile came back and nodded her head, “Okay.”

The drive was peaceful. He didn’t even realize until last night that it’s been two weeks since he had a drink. He was so focused on his grandma and Y/N that he didn’t want a drink. He never felt that before, it was weird. He couldn’t explain it. He put his hand out of the window and felt the wind going through his fingers. He smiled to himself and he closed his eyes as he felt at peace. Y/N glanced at him and she couldn’t help but smile to herself at his peaceful look.

Yoongi looked at the building with a confused look, “Is this the hall?”

Y/N shut off her engine and nodded her head, “The surprise is in there.”

“Is it an election?”

Y/N let out a laugh and shook her head, “Just come with me.”

They walked through the empty halls but even if they were full, he knew everyone would say hi to Y/N. In the past two weeks, he learned that everyone loved Y/N. She helped everyone and it didn’t matter who they were, she would always help. She opened the door and she turned towards him, “I hope you like it. I tried my best.”

He raised his eyebrow and walked into the small auditorium. His eyes widened at the wooden piano that was polished to perfection. He turned towards Y/N who was shyly kicking her foot, “You-”

“I tried to fix it. I noticed that you’ve been tapping away with your pen and I thought you needed an outlet for music.”

“You fixed this for me?”

Y/N nodded her head, “I know you're going to be here for a while, I thought I would make it easier for you.”

Yoongi glanced at the piano and then back at her. He let out a small laugh, “You're full of surprises. Aren't you?”

“Do you like it? I never restored a piano but-”

“Y/N, it’s perfect.”

She smiled to herself and she looked away from his intense eyes. She couldn’t look into them because she would feel nervous. She couldn’t feel that way, “Will you play?”

“Right now?”

She looked back at him and nodded his head, “If you want...I don’t want to force you.”

He walked up to the piano and she watched with total focus. He glanced at her and the way her eyes were looking at him was making him want to throw up. It made him nervous to play even though he played it for his whole life. Right now at this moment, he was nervous. She walked towards the front and sat down at him. He looked away from her when he saw that permanent smile. He closed his eyes and instead of feeling alone in a room, he felt at home. He glanced at her mid-song and he saw how enchanted she looked. He wasn’t afraid to say it but at this moment, Y/N looked beautiful.

“Welcome to the annual winter’s dinner!”

Yoongi zipped up his jacket and watched everyone around act normal. He forgot how cold it got in the countryside. Hoseok finally texted him back last night and he was the whole lecture. Hoseok didn’t talk to him because he was disappointed in him. He honestly couldn’t blame him. Apparently all his friends are on strike towards him. They wanted him to learn his lesson but honestly not talking to them made him focus more on his grandma and someone else...

He felt someone poke at his back and he turned around to see Y/N looking at him with a smile, “You look bundled up.”

“Of course I am. It’s cold.”

She shrugged her shoulders at this, “I think it feels nice.”

“Of course you do. You're weird that’s why.”

“I think being weird is good. Yunho saved us seats, Alda is already there.”

Yoongi frowned at hearing that name. Yunho made it clear that he didn’t like Yoongi. Everytime he tried helping Y/N at the farm, Yunho would appear to do it. It was pissing Yoongi off because he wanted to help her...that’s the only reason he told himself. He also didn’t like how Yunho always gravitated towards her. It didn’t matter who was in the room, Yunho would always find himself next to her. He didn’t like that.

Yunho went to pull out the chair for Y/N but Yoongi beat him to it. Yoongi sent him a smirk as Y/N sat in the chair. Alda smiled to herself as she watched her plan unfold right before her. Y/N pushed some hair back and she turned towards Yoongi with a small smile, “Thank you.”

“Anytime.”

The mayor smiled at everyone and he let out a small cough. He gathered everyone’s attention and he clapped his hands, “Thank you for making this dinner successful once again. I want to say thank you to our community for setting this up every year. Let’s celebrate the year's harvest with a feast.”

Y/N stood up and walked to the other side of the table to help Alda with her plate. Yoongi watched and glanced at her empty plate. It was like second nature to him to fill up her plate. Y/N looked up from Alda’s plate and saw Yoongi filling her plate. She felt warmth go through her body and she never felt so cared for. Sure her parents would’ve done the same but this was different. It was Yoongi caring for her and it made her feel something that she has never felt before.

Yunho bought a whiskey bottle out of his jacket and poured some into his cup. He glanced at Yoongi and let out a small cough, “Do you want some?”

Yoongi looked at the bottle and shook his head, “No, I don’t want any.”

“Suit yourself.”

He glanced at YN and for once, he wanted to remember everything. He didn’t need whiskey to feel warmth because everytime he looked at Y/N, he felt that missing warmth.

“What do you mean Helen got out?”

Y/N was at Alda’s helping her cook dinner as Yoongi set the table. There was a knock at the door and Y/N rushed to get it. She was surprised to see Yunho standing there in his thick jacket and sad eyes. She felt a wave of sadness after he told her Helen got out.

Yunho sighed, “Don’t give me that look Y/N. I’m looking for her.”

“How long has she been missing?”

“Thirty mins.”

She turned towards Alda and then back at Yunho, “We have to find her.”

“I’m trying to find her but if I can’t then I can’t Y/N.”

“Don’t say that about her. We’ll find her.”

Yoongi placed his hand on Y/N’s shoulder causing her to look up at him, “I’ll go look for her.”

“But we need to help-”

“Y/N, dear, go help find Helen. I’ll be waiting for you guys here, okay.”

She glanced at Alda and then back at Yoongi. She gave him a shy smile and nodded her head, “Let’s go find Helen.”

It was really cold outside on this day, it was so cold that Y/N put a jacket on. This made her more worried for Helen. Yoongi glanced at her face and was determined to find the hen. He hated seeing her Y/N being sad, she didn’t deserve to be sad and Yunho was making it sound like it wasn’t a big deal. If it made Y/N sad then it was a big deal.

Yoongi continued to look but then he saw something in the distance. He didn’t know how Helen did it but she was stuck in a small hole in the ground. Yoongi moved fast and grabbed the Hen. Once Helen got situated in his arms he went to get out of the hole but he was having a hard time.

“Yoongi, are you okay?”

“Y/N, I’m stuck. I have Helen but I need you to pull me.”

“Yoongi, you should’ve asked me to do it.”

“There was no time! Pull!”

She pulled his leg and used all her strength to get him out. She pulled him out but she lost her footing and landed next to him. She opened her eyes and turned towards Yoongi to let out a small laugh, “Yoongi, your face is covered in mud.” She wiped the mud off with her jacket and her eyes widened. It was the same brown eyes that she remembered when she was younger. The dark brown eyes with the sparkle were looking into hers.

“Thanks, Helen feel’s cold.”

She quickly shook herself out of her daydream and nodded her head. She opened her jacket and Helen jumped right into it. She zipped it up and smiled at Yoongi, “You could’ve asked for help...”

“I wanted to act fast because I knew how devastated you would be if something bad happened to Helen.”

Her heart started beating faster and she looked at the ground, “You could’ve gotten hurt, Yoongi.”

“If it makes you happy then I’m okay with that.”

She looked up and saw the seriousness in his eyes, “Do you mean that?”

He smiled and nodded his head. He pushed some loose hair behind her ear and memorized her face, “Of course I do. I just want you to be happy.”

Someday my prince will come...I think that’s today.

.*･｡ﾟ☆ﾟ.*･｡

It was Yoongi’s last week and he didn’t want to go back home. Everything felt normal here, nothing forced. Just normal. He also didn’t tell Y/N that he was leaving soon. He knew he had to tell her but today wasn’t the day.

“Y/N, you don’t have to do this.”

Y/N rolled her eyes and continued to sew his pants. Yoongi was helping her feed the chickens when he slipped on the wet grass. He didn’t hurt himself (just his ego) but he ripped his pants. Y/N gladly told him she would sew it for him. Which led them back to her house. Thank god he wore an extra set of pants or this would be more humiliating.

“Yoongi, it wasn’t even that bad. Just a small tear.”

I tripped in front of you, that’s what makes this worse. “The chickens laughed at me.”

“Yoongi, their chickens, they can’t laugh. At least I don’t think so.”

“I don’t know, I feel like Helen was laughing.”

Y/N let out a small laugh and she looked at Yoongi to see him looking at her. She shyly glanced down when she saw those brown eyes, “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Like what?”

“Like I’ll disappear.”

Yoongi leaned towards her and she looked up at the sudden movement. The tip of his nose was touching hers and he gave her a smile, “I can’t look at you?”

She felt her face get warm and she shook her head, “You can look at me…”

“Does it make you uncomfortable?”

“No…I like it.”

Yoongi went to lean in closer but a knock at the door made him fly back, “Y/N Jiwon is back!”

Y/N eyes widen at this, “She’s back early.”

“And have horrible timing.”

“What did you say?”

“Nothing.”

Y/N got up and pulled Yoongi with her, “I don’t think you ever met Jiwon. She left as soon as you came.”

“Oh, was she the one that went to Seoul?”

Y/N nodded and went downstairs as Yoongi followed, “She texted me last night but I thought she was coming back next week.”

When they reached the kitchen, Yoongi felt frozen. He knew Jiwon, she was Jimin’s ex-girlfriend best friend. He met her a couple of times but not enough to say that he knew the girl. It was clear that she knew him because of the glare that she sent his way. Y/N waved at her and hugged her, “Jiwon, I missed you.”

“I missed you more. Who is this?”

Yoongi glanced at Y/N and then back at Jiwon, he knew she knew who he was. He rubbed the back of his neck and gave her the best fake family he could make, “I’m Min Yoongi. Alda is my grandmother.”

Jiwon nodded her head and patted Y/N’s back, “Y/N, I want to get to know Yoongi. Is that okay?”

Y/N glanced between Jiwon and Yoongi with a confused look. She slowly nodded her head and looked at her who was in the kitchen, “I’ll go help mama with dinner.”

Jiwon smiled at Y/N and once she was fully gone, she turned back to Yoongi. With a hard glare, “I didn’t think you would be Alda’s grandson.”

“Well...I am.”

Jiwon glanced at Y/N and then back at Yoongi, “What are you doing with her?”

Yoongi shrugged his shoulders and put his hands in his pockets, “I don’t think that’s your business.”

“It is my business when I know you told Jimin to break up with her. You don’t care about love so, why are you messing with Y/N.”

Yoongi scoffed at this, “I didn’t tell him to break up with her. I had nothing to do with that. If I’m being honest, I have no idea why they broke up. It wasn’t my business.”

“I know it's a fact that you kept telling Jimin that love goes away. You do know they loved each other and you could be the reason why they broke up.”

“Listen, I told Jimin that after he broke up with her. He was drinking away and I was trying to make him feel better. That’s what friends do.”

Jiwon scoffed at this and crossed her arms over her chest, “Is that why you used a lot of girls when you went out with Jimin? Because apparently that’s what friends are for.”

Yoongi ran his fingers through his hair out of frustration. He looked back at Jiwon with a hard stare, “What’s the point of this conversation?”

“I want you to stay away from Y/N. She doesn’t deserve to get hurt by you.”

“I’m not listening to you.”

“It doesn’t matter, you're leaving after this week.”

Yoongi’s eyebrows furrowed at this, “How do you know all of this?”

“It doesn’t matter how I know it-”

“No, how do you know?”

“Yunho told me everything.”

Yoongi ran his tongue against his cheek and took off. How the fuck does Yunho know so much about him? He slammed open the gate and made his way to Yunho unaware of Y/N running towards him with a worried look. Yoongi spotted Yunho feeding Daisy and he pushed him, “Why the fuck are you telling lies?”

Yunho looked Yoongi up and down and scoffed, “Lies? It seems to be the truth.”

“All that “factual” information was written by a gossiper on campus. None of that shit is true.”

“Oh so you visiting your grandma wasn’t because you're just a alcoholic and daddy wanted you to be taught a lesson.”

Yoongi threw a punch and Yunho held his check, “Don’t you fucking call me that.”

“You mess with girl’s hearts just because. You're not a man. Stay away from Y/N.”

“I don’t mess with girls' hearts, if anything I turn them down because I know they just want me for my money. That’s not messing with their hearts that's being truthful.”

Yunho spit out some blood and glared at him, “You just want to fuck a country girl and tell your-”

Yoongi tackled Yunho to the ground and he started throwing punches at him. Who was he to talk about Y/N like she was nothing. Y/N wasn’t any girl, she deserved respect. He kept punching Yunho until he felt a hand on his back. He slowly turned his head and saw Y/N looking at him with a sad look, “Y-Y/N.”

Yoongi got off of Yunho and grabbed Y/N’s hands. She looked away from his stare, “Jiwon told me-”

“Y/N it’s all lies.”

“I know some of it was lies...are you really leaving after this week? I thought you were staying for the season.”

Yoongi sighed and nodded his head, “My dad just wanted me here for the rest of the month.”

“So...you're going to be gone. I won’t see you anymore?”

“No, I'll come and visit. I’ll do anything to see you.”

She glanced down at Yunho and shook her head at him, “Yunho, you deserved to get punched.”

“Y/N, I didn’t mean to-”

“You should be saying sorry to Yoongi. You called him an alcoholic and even if he was, you shouldn’t bring people’s trouble in fights. If you have to do that then you already lost. Now say sorry to Yoongi.”

“Sorry Yoongi.”

Yoongi rolled his eyes and grabbed Y/N’s hand. He quickly made his way back to his grandmother’s house but instead of going in, he went through the garden. Y/N looked at his back with a confused look, “Where are we going?”

“I used to go here with my grandpa...it’s a secret place.”

They were by a cliff and Y/N eyes widened at the sight. It was so close to the night sky and she looked up at the stars. They sat on the grass and she stared up at the sky with a smile, “I made countless wishes to them...”

Yoongi slowly turned his head towards her and rubbed her knuckles with his thumb, “What did you wish for?”

“For my prince charming...”

He glanced down at her lips and then back to her eyes, “Did you get your wish?”

“I did.”

“You know I made wishes too.”

“You did?”

Yoongi pushed some hair behind her ears and nodded his head, “I wish to feel warmth in my life.”

“Did you get your wish?”

Yoongi didn’t say anything and leaned forward giving her a quick kiss. When they pulled apart, Yoongi nodded his head, “I did...Y/N...my dad sent me here because I had a drinking problem back at home.”

“What were you going through?”

Yoongi trached her jawline with his fingers and frowned, “No one cared about me...well my friends cared about me but everyone else saw me for my money. No one saw me as Yoongi. I started drinking because it made me feel warm. I was so desperate to feel something that wasn’t loneliness-”

“So you turned to alcohol...alcohol doesn’t have feelings and won’t judge you. I understand.”

“Y/N, I never messed with girl’s hearts or used them. I would never hurt you.”

Y/N glanced down at his fingers and a soft smile appeared, “I know...that’s not part of your character.”

“If I’m being honest, I never had a relationship before. I never felt this feeling...this warmth in my stomach when I saw your smile for the first time made me scared. The day I met you is when the whole world came alive. I felt alive for once.”

“I never had a relationship either...I was waiting for you.”

The next morning, Yoongi rushed to Y/N’s house with roses in his hands. She opened the door and she raised her eyebrow, “Yoongi? It’s nine in the morning.”

“That won’t stop me.”

Y/N glanced at the roses and she took them out of his hands. She brought them to her nose and looked up at him through the red petals, “How did you know?”

“Grandma told me. I would plant all the flowers in the world to make you smile.”

Y/N felt her face get hot and she let out a small laugh, “Yoongi, you should come in. Mama is making breakfast.”

This is how things were supposed to be. Life is full of laughter and warmth, no more questions that make you feel so small. Y/N grabbed his hand and brought him into the house. Y/N’s parents smiled at him and her dad was actually glad that Y/N picked Yoongi over Yunho. He sat at the dinner table and everything felt at peace. No more soul searching.

“Yoongi, dear, do you have everything?”

“Yes grandma.”

Yoongi had a few more bags because his grandmother packed him kimchi to bring home. He couldn’t say no to the kimchi. Alda smiled at her grandson but then it quickly turned into a frown, “When will you visit me again?”

“Next month.”

Alda’s eyes widened at this, “Really?

Yoongi nodded his head, “I need more kimchi and you make the best kimchi in Korea.”

Alda let out a small laugh and shook her head, “You just want to see Y/N.”

“Grandma.”

There was a knock on the door and Yoongi opened it. His smile appeared and he couldn’t help it, Y/N was wearing that smile that he became accustomed to, “Yoongi, I have a final surprise for you.”

“Oh?”

Y/N nodded her head and grabbed his hand, “Alda, we’ll be back!”

“Be safe!”

Y/N took Yoongi’s hand and he couldn’t help but laugh. They ran on the dirt path and everyone greeted them with a smile. Just a couple of weeks ago, no one smiled at him but now everyone knows him. It made him feel warm, “Close your eyes.”

He nodded his head and did what he was told to do. Y/N guided him through grass and he was really confused at where he was. He stopped and she rubbed his knuckles, “Open.” He opened his eyes and saw his grandfather's grave. The grave was all cleaned and it looked like a new gravestone. There were flowers all around and it was actually a beautiful sight. He turned towards Y/N who was looking at the grave, “I didn’t want you to forget to say goodbye to your grandfather.”

“Did you do this?”

“Yeah...I decorated it with his favorite flower-”

“You knew my grandpa?”

Y/N nodded her head and looked back at him, “You tripped in mud when I was helping him with his chickens back then...that was the first time I met you. I fell in love with you the moment I met you all those years ago. Your grandpa saw this and told me stories about you but he never told me your name. Your grandma talked about you but never said your name. I wasn’t sure when you came that you were the same boy back then but when I looked into your eyes...I knew. I saw the stars that I fell in love with...I guess your grandparents really wanted us to be together.”

“Y/N can I ask you something?”

“Yeah?”

“Can I kiss you?”

“Yes...you can kiss me.”

.*･｡ﾟ☆ﾟ.*･

It’s been a couple of hours since he came back and he sat in his house alone. His parents had a meeting and they would have a big breakfast to celebrate him coming back home. It was the first time he was actually by himself and usually he would just drink to fill in the void. If anything, he just missed Y/N. There was a knock on the door and he raised his eyebrow. He glanced at the window to see it pouring rain. Who the hell is here?

He walked towards the door and his eyes widened, “Y/N?”

She soaking wet and she looked up at him with a dazed look, “You can’t just leave me without my answer.”

Yoongi let out a small laugh and shook his head, “You could’ve texted me-”

“I wanted to see your face...I would love to be with you, Yoongi.” Y/N jumped into him with her arms around his neck and her giving him a passionate kiss. His eyes widened at the touch but he welcomed it. He wrapped his arms around her waist and brought her closer into his body. Yoongi always took pride in his composure but at this moment, he didn’t give a fuck.

He pulled her away and she was met with a shy and nervous Yoongi. His eyes told her what his heart wanted to say but his mouth just couldn’t move to tell her. He was so in love with her, it was crazy. Only knowing her for a couple of weeks but he was already on his knees for this woman. He would do anything for her. If she wanted the whole countryside to be filled with roses, he would do just that. Anything to keep that smile on her face.

He took her inside and locked the door before taking her into his room. He made sure that door was locked and he turned back to her. His fingertips went down her arm as they stared into each other's eyes. She cupped his cheek softly and her thumb gently his pale skin. He leaned his head against her hand and she couldn’t help but feel warm, “Yoongi, I’m all yours.”

“Don’t say that or I can’t control myself.”

“I want you.”

“God I love you...”

Her eyes widened at the confession, “You said it...”

“I’ll say it everyday, every minute of the day to you. I will always show you how devoted I am to you.”

She giggled softly and tugged him closer, her lips brushing against his, “I’ll do the same.” Y/N whispered back as her hands slid up to his hair pulling him into another kiss. She melted into his arms and he couldn’t help but feel the same. It was the type of kiss that made you fall to your knees because of how intense it was.

“You make me feel everything I was missing.”

“Yoongi, I'll always be here for you. No matter what.”

He didn’t even realize it but clothing was making its way to the ground. The rain against the window was the instruments that made the moment feel surreal. It was as if the rain was happy that he found his sunshine. His hands gripped at her waist a little tighter and lowered his head to her neck. He pressed a soft kiss along her neck until he hit her collarbone. He took a quick nip and looked up at her flushed face, “Y/N...”

His hands slid down to her sides and he couldn’t believe she was in his arms. He gently picked her up and laid her down into his bed. The only light he had was the light outside his window but it was enough to show him all the details of her body. The small mole on her knee and the stretch marks was the reason why people paint. It was beautiful. His kisses trailed down until his lips brushed against her sensitive nipples as his hand squeezed the other one.

“Yo-Yoongi~.”

He released her breast and made his way to her clit with his fingers touching her skin like he was playing the piano. She arched her back into him and he continued to kiss her neck. It wasn’t until she brought him back up to kiss her lips. He sat up and looked down at her, “Y-Y/N this is my first time. Are you sure you want this?”

“Yoongi, it’s my first time too. I wouldn’t want anyone else.” Yoongi leaned down and kissed her again. She couldn’t help but let out a small laugh against his lips, “You're the only person for me.”

“You’re my person too.”

He finally pushed into her and he felt so nervous. What if he hurt her? His breath caught in his throat as he watched her eyes flutter closed. He bit his lip and gently touched her jawline, “Are you okay?” His hands found hers and they laced them together as if they were going to be ripped apart from something. She nodded her head and with the way she tighten around him, he couldn’t help but let out a small groan.

“Yoongi, you can move. I’ll be okay.”

“Are you sure?”

She tightened her hand into his and nodded her head, “I trust you.”

He lowered his forehead to hers and he gave her a quick kiss before thrusting. Each movement was like a song, a song that only they could hear. His hand tightened around her as his hips rolled slowly, making her moan at the feeling. Her free hand made its way to Yoongi’s hair and brought him into a passionate kiss.

“You're everything to me, Y/N.”

She felt his body tremble and his hips stuttering. She looked up to see the wall behind his eyes, it was as if he was scared to give himself to her. Her heart knew why he felt like this and kissed the side of his face, “I’ll always be here for you, Yoongi.”

His breath catches his through and he lets out a groan. His hips moved a little faster and he couldn’t help but be in awe of the pleasure on her face. His body pressed close against her and his forehead touched hers, “I’ll never let you go.”

“Then don’t.”

They were so focused on each other that they didn’t even notice the stars twinkling away. They finally got their wishes.

.*･｡ﾟ☆ﾟ.*･

Yoongi sat at the lunch table as everyone around him talked about stuff. He pulled out his phone when he felt it vibrate in his pocket. He smiled at the lock screen, it was a picture of Y/N with Daisy. He clicked on the notification and his eyes widen, “Wow.”

Hoseok leaned towards him to see a picture of a baby calf, “Daisy finally gave birth?”

Yoongi nodded his head and smiled when he saw the name, “Y/N named her Byeol.”

Bora smiled at this and took a bite of her lunch, “You're very smitten by her. When will we meet her?”

“When she’s officially my girlfriend.”

Namjoon raised his eyebrow at this, “I thought you asked her to be yours.”

Yoongi put his phone back in his pocket and shrugged his shoulders, “I did but I want to court her. I want her to know that I’m being serious about her.”

Taehyung smirked at him and let out a small laugh, “Awww, Yoongi is being a simp.”

“Shut the fuck up before I shove my foot up your ass.”

Lin pinched Taehyung’s thigh and smiled at Yoongi, “I guess my mom’s fortune was right.”

Yoongi rolled his eyes and took a sip of water, “If that makes you sleep at night. I have to go.”

It’s been two months since everything and Yoongi has never felt better. In all, it's been three months since he touched alcohol and been to a party. He doesn’t even go to Jimin’s parties anymore, he didn’t have a reason to be there anymore. After that night with Y/N, he promised her that he would court her before they became a couple and she agreed. Every week he would send flowers to her and they would talk every night. They weren’t together but they were together.

He gathered his things and headed out of the lunch court. He was as if he was running towards something. He ignored all the eyes on him and made it to his destination. He opened the theater door and saw Y/N sitting on stage with her triangle. She looked up with a smile and hit her triangle, “I told you I would bring it.”

He let out a small laugh and shook his head. He walked up towards her until he was between her legs. She let out a small laugh and she wrapped her arms around his neck, “Are you going to show me how good you are at the triangle?”

“Don’t make fun of me.”

He kissed her cheek and traced her jawline with his fingers, “It’s my job to make fun of you.”

“Did you see Byeol? Sorry I sent it this morning and I was on the road.”

“I did...Byeol?”

Y/N nodded her head, “The stars brought you to me...it was the perfect name.”

“I love the name, Byeol. You're my favorite star though.”

“Don’t let Byeol hear that.”

.*･｡ﾟ☆ﾟ.*･

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