#why must i be hopelessly enamoured with something that died out years ago

[themothsnest]

Curse me and my neurodivergent little braincells...

I haven't touched Ao3 AT ALL for at minimum 12 hours because I don't wanna make things worse for the lovely volunteers (who absolutely deserve to get lovebombed by everyone)

But then at the same time I'm suffering a bit because while I'm not totally addicted to Ao3 (that award goes to a game on my phone I've played since March 2016) I genuinely don't have any other reading material that's as specific as what I have in my Ao3 history...

I have checked and there's not really much material for what I prefer to read on other sites which kinda sucks but it is understandable since the stuff I read is stuff that hasn't seen many content booms for 5 years now

Really does go to show how much we can take something for granted and then lose our minds when it's taken away from us indefinitely...

Might consider seeing if I can haul my socially inept arse out of my nest and approach some writers for help relearning how to write fanfics though so that I can fuel my need for DarkParadise content myself

[vankoya]

All I Want...

➢ A Christmas drabble series based on this list!

Genre | An Oath for Sinners AU.

Pairing | Min Yoongi / Feminine Reader.

Conspectus | Christmas is not a holiday that Min Yoongi deems overly important. Since his friends and family passed on centuries ago, he has quite simply treated that day in December like any other day. 

But this year, things are different. This year, he would not mind celebrating if it meant he could spend the entire day with her. A concept that he upholds, even after she has gifted him with the torture of Mariah Carey in a single CD.

I don’t want a lot for Christmas…

Yoongi heaves a deep, and frankly, unnecessary sigh, as he is quite literally not required to expel or inhale air in the first place. The perks of having a heart that ceased beating more than three centuries ago, he supposes. Nonetheless, the sigh gusts out of him and sits in the still, stale atmosphere of his office; mingling with Mariah Carey’s voice that drifts out of the speakers upon the coffee table, singing All I Want for Christmas is You.

For the sixth time in a row.

Yoongi is not entirely sure why he is still listening to the repetitive Christmas playlist, curated by none other than his favourite lady. The CD case cover was similarly handmade by her; an array of Christmas stickers positioned neatly on a square piece of stiff paper, with gold lettering spelling out ‘Yoongi’s Christmas Playlist’ on the plastic. A silky red ribbon had tied the whole gift together. When she had left it in his hands with a quick peck upon the cheek before leaving their recent meeting together, Yoongi had felt cascades of fondness come crashing down on his pathetic, immortal being. For such a glamorous, lavish, and modestly materialistic woman as her, a present as personal as this was oddly refreshing, thoughtful, and adorable, all at once.

The vampire thought this, at least, until All I Want for Christmas is You played its third consecutive run, and he perked to attention in his leather desk chair like a hound on a scent. No track list was provided on the CD package, and thus, Yoongi, completely unsuspecting, was lured into the torturous clutches that is Mariah Carey singing the same Christmas song over and over, seemingly never-ending. Yet, despite that by the third repeat, Yoongi had caught onto the dreadful trend in song selection, he found that he could not will himself to turn off the stereo and cease Mariah’s high notes once and for all.

Was he feebly clutching to a thread of hope that a different song would appear on the track list? Was he so hopelessly enamoured by this girl, who he has known for little under a year now, that he could not destroy one of the most precious gifts she has given him?

No. Definitely scratch that last thought.

There is just one thing I need…

Amidst Yoongi’s inner turmoil, his phone starts to ring while Mariah belts out the chorus again. The number that appears on the glass screen draws a smile upon his lips, despite that it belongs to the current reason behind his suffering. He answers the call with a quick swipe of his thumb.

“I must ask,” he says before she can get a word in, “is this a confession of love, or is it the worst kind of joke you could think of?”

Her delighted laughter filters through the receiver, and Yoongi feels a thousand things that he should not. “I’ll leave that one up to you,” she teases through the giggles. “Hey, so. I wanted to, um, ask you about– Well, something.”

“Go on, sweets,” he encourages, leaning back in his chair with a warm smile at the way she fumbles on her words. Over their time together, he has come to learn that it is an unbearably endearing nervous habit.

“Okay, well– Okay,” She stops, and then starts again. Yoongi remains silent all the while, corners of his lips patiently tilted, letting her get her thoughts together at her own pace. “It’s Christmas in two days. On Friday.”

Yoongi chuckles; notices how the ever-growing weight on his chest budges, almost imperceptibly, with something akin to hope. “Is it, now?”

“Oh, shush you. Due to sudden circumstances, I can’t go visit my family anymore,” she hums quietly, and Yoongi can hear the repetitive scratch of a nib on paper through the device. Another nervous habit; bleeding a pen dry of its ink by doodling nonsensical things, and then tracing over the lines again and again until they appear more black than blue. “Heeyeon is going to be out of town with her family, and I’m going to be kind of, well, alone. So I was just, y’know, perhaps wondering–“

“Would you like to spend Christmas together?” Yoongi interrupts, a smidgen too eager. He internally prays that she does not catch it, but her sudden silence, the way he can hear her lips stickily part in a surprised gape through the receiver, implies otherwise. Quickly, he composes himself, running a hand through his tousled black hair and saying, “I mean, I don’t think I’ve spent Christmas with anyone for years. Not that I place much importance in such a holiday. But it would be lovely to have your company. I wouldn’t mind, sweets. Stay the night.”

“I’m– Oh, that would be splendid!” She says without a single attempt to conceal the utter glee in her voice. Yoongi can imagine her elated grin right now. Rosy lips curved like a sickle, glimmering with an expensive gloss. He feels as though he has died again. “And stay the night?” She continues, dropping her tone a notch, sounding like liquid sex. “Does that call for festive lingerie?”

While the allusion causes knots to tighten in Yoongi’s abdomen, he finds that he could not care for turning this into such a business-like occasion. Certainly, he adores making her sob while he is inside of her, he truly does. But, in spite of his complete inhumanness, Yoongi yearns for mundanity. He wants to take her out for a roast dinner at some low-key restaurant, where the golden lights glow on her skin like honey. He wants to not let her step foot inside of his home until she has had some kind of sweet dessert, whether it be sugar-coated gingerbread that makes her lashes flutter with pleasure, or sticky date pudding drizzled with warm caramel sauce that he has to wipe from her chin. He wants her bundled in a thick, woollen rug on the end of his leather couch, a wine glass balanced precariously between her fingertips, pinot noir staining her lips and turning her eyes into molasses, looking all tempting and cosy. He wants simple, he wants normal, he wants–

“How… How about we get something nice to eat, light the fire at home, and get stupid drunk on red wine instead?” Yoongi suggests, his free hand covering his squeezed shut eyes as though he needs to hide his embarrassment from the empty office. “Wait, unless you want to have–“

“No no, that sounds perfect,” she swiftly cuts in. Yoongi is not one to take having his speech severed without a hefty helping of aggravation, but damn it all, he would let that girl hack his sentences to pieces and he would hardly blink an eye. He only realises that he has kept to his silence when she prompts, “Ah, I’m sure you’re busy right now, so if that’s that, I’ll see you on Friday for wining and dining?”

Yoongi’s hand slides away from his face to limply dangle over the edge of the wooden armrest. He stares up at the white ceiling, slightly dumbfounded at how effortless asking her was. How easily she accepted. “Of course. I’ll message you the details. I can’t wait.”

“Me too,” she whispers, that gorgeous smile still evident in her tone, before ending the call.

Something overwhelms Yoongi, after that. Something monstrous. Something that makes him back the CD to the first track, twist the volume knob all the way up, and spend the next three hours in his office signing off on documents while Mariah belts out that same song, the persistent jingle reverberating off the walls in an agony that Yoongi willingly suffers through. Even when Namjoon comes storming into the office, begging him to turn off the godawful music, Yoongi ignores him and continues to sign, and sign. A particular smile stuck on his mind, as repetitive as the track list as it flashes on the backs of his eyelids with every blink, in the thousand and one forms that he has witnessed its glory over the past year.

All I want for Christmas is you…

Note | If it was not hinted properly throughout the story, this takes place roughly ten months after the pair have met!

All Rights Reserved © Vankoya. No translations, reposting and/or modifying of the material is allowed without my direct permission.