min-meowmeow

[min-meowmeow]

The Fairy Shirt

History Teacher Taehyung x English Teacher Reader

Fluff/Angst if you squint

Word Count:  9,514

Synopsis: Taehyung has been a massive flirt for as long as you've known him, but what happens when he finally drops the facade?

or

Reader is mad thirsty for Kim Taehyung and will deny it for the rest of their life.

---------------------------------------

"I don't understand," Taehyung muttered through a disgruntled swipe of his hand through the blue cardigan adorning his chest, "how students get glitter on everything!" He switched hands, left taking over for right while right fumbled under the sticky grip of the sparkly decoration. "We haven't even used glitter!" 

You scraped the contents of your T.V. dinner —now turned lunch— into your awaiting mouth that then pressed into an unsatisfied frown. "They're fifth graders. Their blood is made of glitter." 

"Well can they keep it to themselves." He rubbed exasperatedly against his sweater and yet, somehow, only more glitter stuck. The contained screech was just barely silenced by the grit of his perfectly white teeth. 

The only other teacher in the lounge, Mrs. Lee, peered over the district's newly issued community magazine with a sour pout directed at the irritated 5th grade History teacher, but if Taehyung knew, he didn't particularly care. Her eyes followed him until his sullen figure fell into the 80s deco couch positioned just behind the small break room table you had taken residence in when the glorious lunchtime bell had rung not fifteen minutes ago. She only dropped her gaze when he dropped his head along the back of the couch, face disgruntled and glasses askew. 

"This is the third sweater this week," he grumbled. 

You peered over your shoulder to find the despondent man pathetically pouting with eyes delicately closed against the filtering of the sun through the turn of the century blinds covering the windows. A shimmer fluttered along the blue of his sweater with every breath that passed through his ridiculously sturdy chest while the scent of barely contained crayon wafted from the dredges of his clothing masking his usual scent of pine and coffee. “Did you, by chance, have Katie color anything today with her glitter crayons?” 

One sullen eye popped open. 

“Goddamnit, Katie,” he cursed. 

Mrs. Lee’s head popped up again from her magazine, glare placed just above the rim of her glasses absolutely piercing into Taehyung who continued to ignore her. You, however, did catch her stare and decided to intervene before she tore through his precious blue sweater. Nonchalantly, you rose from your chair and dumped your leftover tray into the nearby trash bin before returning to extend a hand towards Taehyung. 

“Come on, I have a lint roller in my room,” you offered in place of an explanation for your outstretched hand. 

He eyed it then eyed you suspiciously, but not really. Taehyung had been glued to your side as diligently as unwanted glitter since the day you both started at the elementary school, so you knew any cantankerous reactions from him were simply for show. The gentle way his fingers delicately, almost fragile, wrapped around the expanse of your wrist proved this to be fact. It also accelerated your heart stupidly fast as if you were one of those love-struck kids you often shook your head at when they passed notes between them in class, but that was neither here nor there. 

You pulled him to a stand and begrudgingly released your hold from around his skin before Mrs. Lee caught you lingering. Tae said nothing, rather simply proceeded to follow you out of the lounge where Mrs. Lee sighed loudly. Tae’s chuckle quickly drowned her out. 

“She hates me,” he grinned beside you. 

“She hates anyone who wasn’t alive when the dinosaurs roamed,” you quipped in return. 

A loud chortle was this time forced from the confines of Taehyung’s chest that startled you only enough to jump slightly. Thankfully, no one else occupied the hallways that led back to your adjoining classrooms, the fifth grade hall empty save for the two of you and one stray janitor, so you were the only one surprised by his outburst. 

You turned to him and caught his own cheerful gaze peering ahead, no sign of the annoyed man you had rescued from being told off by Mrs. Lee. 

“Was it that funny?” you questioned. 

He chuckled lowly this time, his lips pulled into an amused boxy smile. “Tyrannosaurus Lee.” 

Your classroom door swung open easily when your key slid into the ancient lock revealing a mess of literature posters that you thought were hilarious, but your students begged to differ. Taehyung released a whistle of surprise at the bags of paper mache flowers and butterflies lying around your classroom in messy bundles of Spring Festival preparations. You ignored it all, stepping over a large flower stem your students were still in the process of finishing. Taehyung followed you inside but side-stepped over the decorations before stopping at your desk when you reached it with a sigh. 

“I never get tired of seeing Shakespeare in MC Hammer pants,” he joked with a point behind you where the bard sat laminated in poster form. 

“It’s what he would have wanted.” 

A low mumble of affirmation followed Tae as he turned to peer across your vacant yet messy classroom while you began the search for the lint roller in the most logical place: your purse. Pushing aside your make-up bag, your wallet, a year old granola bar, and other miscellaneous snacks, you returned nothing in the way of a bright blue lint roller. Your nose scrunched at the center, mouth pulling in a sour pout. 

“Please tell me you didn’t pay for all of this yourself?” Tae’s voice came as a distraction pulling your attention to where he stood next to the largest bag filled with miscellaneous spring bugs. His expression matched your disgruntled one. 

You gave a deep sigh with a roll of your eyes. “Yep.” 

“Why?”

“There wasn’t room in the budget this year for the Spring Festival, so we had to make due if we wanted to keep it,” you explained, turning to dig through your messy drawers for the sought after lint roller. 

He made a weird, confused noise from across the room. “I thought parents were donating?” 

“Wasn’t enough for decorations.” You closed one drawer a little harder than you intended before opening another. “We tried asking Principal Do for a little money, but he wouldn't budge. Said it wasn't a priority.”  

Taehyung released a bitter laugh, knowing exactly what you meant. Every excuse you had both received from the administration had something to do with the fabled budget. There was never enough money to replace Taehyung's ancient and faulty overhead projector, but Mr. Won down the hall could get a brand new smart board for his Math class that he never uses. You had to carry the burden of your school’s yearly Spring Festival while the boy’s basketball team could have an end of the year party on the school’s dime. You were almost certain “the budget” was code for “go fuck yourself.” 

“Ah, here it is!” You called triumphantly with the blue handle tucked securely in between your fingers. 

Tae smiled gratefully as you extended it to him, taking it gingerly in his hand. He struggled a little bit in between rolls of the sticky substance along the fabric of his sweater, especially when he had to rip off a new clean sheet to pick up the remaining specks of glitter, but by the time Tae was done, he looked as clean as ever. 

A sigh fluttered out from his rosy lips, expression at ease. “What would I do without you?” 

“Walk around all day looking like a fairy,” you snorted.  

“I’d accept looking like a fairy if I could commit to the aesthetic, but this,” he waved his hands over the cardigan once more, “ this is not suitable.” 

“That may not be, but I’ve seen the majority of your wardrobe. You definitely have pieces in there that’ll work.” 

He dropped the lint roller back on your desk. “Any suggestions?” 

Your gaze held his in contempt with an unamused frown pulling the corners of your lips low. Tae, on the other hand, beamed at you with a trickster’s glint in his brown eyes. “That white button up with the green collar” 

“The one with the flowers and butterflies?” 

“That’s the one.” 

“How is that appropriate for fairies?” 

“Throw some glitter on there, you’ll be golden.” 

“Nice to know you think about my clothes often.” He tilted his head to one side, brush of bangs sweeping across his tan forehead to deliver the most sultry stare you had ever received from him.  

You grabbed the lint roller off your desk, twisting the handle under fidgeting hands. “Don’t look at me like that.” 

“Whatever do you mean?” 

“You know what I mean.” 

Taehyung leaned against your desk, hip pressed to the edge drawing your attention to the sly slant of his grin. His eyes softened around the edges when your gaze held strong with his. “Do you need help with the Spring Festival?” 

“It’s almost done.” You shrugged. 

“At least let me help set up, then.” 

You tapped your foot against the edge of your desk opposite of Taehyung, your mouth twisted to one side in thought. On the one hand, you were touched that he offered to help when he didn’t have to, but on the other, you didn’t want to burden him with a project he didn’t sign up for just because you wanted an extra hand and maybe some eye candy to get through the grueling afternoon set up. Besides, you knew you wouldn’t be the only one ogling the vivacious redhead.  

“You’ll just distract the PTA moms.” 

The roll of his eyes was almost audible. 

“Don’t avoid this by making jokes,” he whined, “That’s my job.” 

“It’s fine.” You spun your swivel chair in a circle until it came to a stop facing him.  

“If you deny me, I’ll stay anyway and really distract the PTA moms.” 

“Why?” It was your turn to whine. 

Taehyung gave you a chuckle. “So at least you’ll have someone to walk you to your car at night.” 

A heat began to rise on the tips of your ears with the stutter of your heart at his words. Taehyung was an incredible flirt, but sometimes, when he dropped the flirtatious exterior and became genuine— even thoughtful—with you, it was just too much for your poor little heart. You felt that he sometimes acted that way to disarm you, perplex you, because he found it funny to see you stutter at his words or blush furiously at his small touches. At times you wished he would stop, but the majority of the time you wished he would go further than simple touches or the tame offer of walking you to your car. 

“Teacher Kim? What’re you doing in here?” Ten year old confusion startled the both of you to turn to the door where you found a student you both dealt with standing just outside the threshold of your classroom. She peered at the two of you, a small crease appearing under her straight bangs that dangled over her suspicious gaze. 

“Talking about fairies,” Taehyung winked conspiratorially at you. 

The ring of the bell tore your gaze from Taehyung back to the entrance of your classroom. Vivi, to her credit, looked as confused as you suspected anyone would, but she simply shrugged and proceeded to her seat. A chorus of excited voices proceeding down the hall finally forced Tae to give you one last smile before exiting the room with another deliciously delivered “thank you.” 

---------

Pastel colored streamers already dangled from constructed booths and systematically placed tables around the fake wood floor that creaked beneath your feet as you entered the school gymnasium with a huge chunk of wood balanced precariously along your toes. A small speaker somewhere among the mess played some generic pop song through the echoing walls, all of the committee members along with volunteers sorting and hanging the decorations that had been made by numerous classrooms and students. Your eyes scanned over the mess, a slippery anxiety slowly crawling it’s way up your esophagus. 

You hated being on the Festival committee. 

“Why is paper mache so heavy?” Taehyung complained from beside you, the three large bags of the decorations trailed behind him along with the legs of a step stool latched onto his shoulder until he came to a stop at your side, exhausted exhale passing through plump lips. 

“I think it’s the glue,” you muttered. 

He hummed as his eyes gave a cursory glance around the crowded floor with an indifferent expression. However, you could see that a lot more eyes were on you now that he stood beside you, a lot of thirsty, hungry eyes that were devouring him where he stood. Like with Mrs. Lee, you knew he was ignoring it, but you couldn’t. 

“Come on, you’re already distracting them,” you grumbled, leading Taehyung away from the door to a small corner of the gym where no decorations lay. 

At your last meeting, you had divided up the gym into game sections where everyone from the committee would set up their game and help run it during the event. You had gotten the bug toss, a run of the mill carnival ball toss game where participants had five chances to stack up as many points as they could by throwing a bug shaped ball into five openings on a board painted to look like a grassy field with a ladybug on the side. Your third period class had happily painted the board instead of learning the thrilling parts of speech, but you got to torture them with it another day anyway, so it didn’t really matter to you.

You propped the board up against the wall in a huff, your arms not long enough to properly carry such a large piece of wood, but you had been damned to let Taehyung do all of the heavy lifting. He had offered, oh how he offered, to carry literally everything from your room and had almost succeeded had it not been for his own hubris and a rather comical arm cramp. That’s when you had won and were allowed to carry at least one thing. You were sure he assumed you’d go for one of the bags, but you decided to challenge him instead. Your arms hated you for it, but your pride gloated. 

He dropped the bags next to you then stood back to look over everything now on the floor. It was going to be a long afternoon. 

“Where do we start, boss?” he asked, hands already ripping open the bag closest to him with glee. 

You opted to open another bag, the one with the giant flowers and fake grass, and shrugged. “We just gotta make it look nice. Coherent.” 

“Can do,” he grumbled. 

Pulling out the paper grass first, you laid it out on the floor in a heap of pieces before taking a seat facing the wall where you were planning on taping them. The pieces were numbered, something your second period class had decided to do since the color of grass apparently went in a sequence of dark green to slightly lighter green, but you didn’t complain once you started sorting it. You found it odd how meticulous they had been, their pride exuding from their little faces when they approached you with the pile of colored paper. At least they had something to be proud of, you thought, as you began taping section by section along the glossy paint of the gym wall.  

You noticed Taehyung take his position on the other side of the board with bug cut outs in hand, but no tape. You hadn’t thought far enough to grab two rolls of the gorilla tape, so you slid your only one over to him until it hit his foot quietly. He looked down, a goofy smile appearing across his face as he went to pick it up. 

“We’ll have to go get more eventually,” he remarked as he ripped off pieces of the sticky fastener, alternating between sticking one piece of it on the board by his side then handing another piece for you to use. 

You flattened your hand along the newly secured blades. “We’ll deal with that when we run out.” 

Taehyung hummed, one vibrantly colored butterfly being pressed into the wall with the help of four pieces of tape. You both worked in quiet unity as you dealt with the lower section while Taehyung went for the higher stuff. You had to admit, it was rather peaceful having Taehyung with you, his presence making you feel less overwhelmed than you would have been had he not insisted on helping you. 

As you worked, you continuously stole glances up at him as he moved back and forth between the bag of decorations and the wall. He had changed into sweats and a plain black t-shirt after the last of your wonderful students had left the building, the blue cardigan from earlier discarded into a gym bag he kept in his car for his work out days. 

The shirt was loose, but hung over his frame so exquisitely that you could make out the working muscles in his back, the bulge of his biceps when he raised a paper mache lady bug up to the wall, and every once in a while, the dip of his collar bones when he bent down to retrieve more decorations. His sweats, while laced at his hips, showcased the curve of his ass so much better than any of the other pants he owned. You suddenly could really relate with those sexually repressed PTA moms. 

“Like the view?” Taehyung asked without turning to you, but his voice was enough to snap you out of your reverie. 

You turned back down to your work, hands securing an already secure piece of grass. “I’m just checking to make sure you’re doing it right.” 

“Right.” Taehyung nodded, unconvinced. “Or maybe you’re cataloging this outfit since you’ve never seen it before, you know, because you always ignore my invitations to work out with me.” 

You pushed yourself to stand once the final piece of grass was on your side of the wall. Next was going past the board and over to Taehyung’s side. “The only exercise I do is chasing my cat when he tries to steal student homework.” 

You eyed the area by his legs, understanding that if he continued to work on the same side, you would end up being pressed between him and the wall. You decided to brush him away instead, ensuring that he was a few feet behind you before plopping back down on the floor. 

“Your cat eats their homework?” 

You pulled a few pieces of grass towards you. “I’ve had to write a few apology notes to parents.” 

“That must have gone over well.” 

“My cat’s an asshole.” 

Taehyung crouched down next to you, the remaining pieces of grass firmly held in his palm along with all of the tape you had saved for the job. You gave him a confused pout that made him laugh, his body so astronomically close you could feel the vibrations from the action. “I can do these. Start putting up decorations on your side of the wall.”

Your pout revealed itself unallowed, but you pushed yourself to stand even if it was just to give yourself some space from the gorgeous man. He immediately took the seat you vacated with a grin and a wink up to you. Chills found their way up your spine as they often did when Tae looked at you like that and you found yourself cowering in awkward attention. “Th...the colors are numbered. Students made sure of it.” 

The cocky grin fell to an endeared smile. “I know, fairy.” 

If you turned any redder, you were sure you would wind up looking like the streamers adorning the first grade booth in the corner of the gym. 

Your mouth set into a thin line that you attempted to turn into a smile, but thankfully Tae only winked and turned down to the task at hand instead of saying anything else. Without his attention, you felt it a little easier to breathe. 

Focusing on your own task, you began dragging out the large flowers and bug cut outs left in the plastic bag you had chosen as yours. Your students had the most fun making the flowers, especially when it came to construct the paper mache stem to attach to the large flower heads they made out of many, many pieces of construction paper. More than a few of them had stuck the gooey pieces of newspaper to their friends instead of the flowers, but no injuries were incurred so you didn’t really care that much as long as it got done. 

You settled the step stool firmly against the wall with one hand occupied with a bundle of cut out bugs. You then grabbed the tape and climbed up until you stood higher than the edge of the board settled between you and Taehyung. Your gaze fell down to him for half a second and that's when you noticed not so subtly that you stood at the perfect vantage point to gaze down Taehyung’s loose shirt like a pervy gawker at a Hooters. Cheeks sparked in rosy flames just in time for you to turn away before he noticed your reaction to the skin visible past the neckline of his shirt. It was his choice to wear such a loose shirt, you justified, unable to stop your mind from wondering what lay just beneath the dip of his collarbones. 

Butterflies soared in your stomach along with shame at the mental image your mind produced for you. Obviously, you thought Taehyung was handsome and, obviously, you had maybe fantasized about him once or twice, but you couldn't understand why you were so thirsty for him now of all days. Maybe the slimy energy from the PTA moms was rubbing off on you. 

Shaking your head of the thought, focus and attention turned back to the bug cut outs you were supposed to be taping to the wall. Quietly you cut off three pieces of tape then let the core slide down your arm until it settled against your elbow. Your fingers tentatively stuck two bugs haphazardly along the wall to give the appearance that they were flying with the other remaining cut outs flattened in the press of your thighs.

"Think I could get some more tape?" Taehyung pulled your attention from your work to find him with a hand extended up towards you. 

You were dazzled for a minute by the look of his deep, brown eyes gazing up at you expectantly, but you quickly came back to your senses when he began to get up. 

“Yeah sorry. Here--” 

The heel of your right foot met air on your way off the step-stool finding you toppling backwards unexpectedly. Your heart shot up into your throat as the same step stool screeched against the polished wood and you didn’t even have a chance to try to save yourself by the time you met a softer surface than the floor. One that smelled suspiciously like pine needles and coffee. 

Eyes grew wide when you realized who you were pressed against just in time for him to settle you on your own two feet, then turning you to face a very concerned expression on Taehyung's face.  

“Are you ok?” he questioned, hands roaming over your arms, waist, and back in search of an injury. 

The sensation of his hands on you jarred you enough to brush him off. “I’m fine.” 

He ignored your complaints, instead holding your head firmly between his two palms, his bright brown eyes boring holes into your own through the sheen of his round glasses. You were so enthralled with his intense gaze, you didn’t notice his fingers until they flicked you across the forehead. “Watch where you step next time.” 

Your response came in a grumbled “ow” that he only caught because he was still ridiculously close to you, but that was fixed when you pushed him away in retaliation, panicked eyes looking for the roll of sticky substance he had wanted only to find it a slight distance away. 

“Can you help me get the tape? Please?” 

He only shook his head, his hands brushing over your hair one more time before his footsteps squeaked their way along the wood floor to retrieve what you had accidentally dropped. You inhaled as many gulps of air as you could, heart jack hammering away in your frantic chest.

Taehyung returned a moment later, hand offering the roll of treacherous tape. “Here. I---” 

“Mr. Kim? What’re you doing here?” 

Both you and Taehyung turned to find the expensively beautiful mom of glitter enthusiast Katie Benton standing with hands perched on her hips and a Pan Am smile on her red painted lips. 

Taehyung scratched the back of his neck. “Just helping out, Mrs. Benton” 

“Oh, wonderful! If you don’t mind, I can’t seem to reach high enough to place this hook. Can you help me?” she asked with a perky grin. 

“Sure thing." He nodded then turned to you, the roll of tape being tossed to your unexpected form. “I’ll be right back.” 

You began scratching at the loose piece of tape, eyes focused heavily on his too charming smile. “Distraction.” 

You watched him walk away with one last wink in your direction before he was engulfed by a throng of overly peppy suburban moms. They crowded around him like bottom feeders to a carcass laughing and placing perfectly manicured hands all over his shoulders and arms. Taehyung, for his part, mostly laughed as she strategically shrugged off one claw for another, but he never told them no. You believed he secretly liked it and no matter how much he denied it, and you were certain you would never believe otherwise. 

Turning back to the pile of paper bugs and plants strewn around your feet, you gave a hefty huff of breath through your parted lips suddenly finding the work just a bit overwhelming without Taehyung by your side, but you knew it had to get done. You grumbled once more after Mrs. Benton and her hoard of middle aged Desperate Housewives before tucking in your resolve and getting to work. 

--------

You couldn’t say you were particularly proud of the way your booth turned out—paper bugs unevenly placed on the wall, board propped up against two buckets filled with miscellaneous gym supplies, flowers crumpled and one halfway broken from your inability to stop them from falling—but given the lack of help and your overly exhausted body, it would have to make due. 

Taehyung never returned to your booth after he got whisked away by Mrs. Benton, the poor man being passed around to many different booths depending on the lie the moms told to get him there. You watched it happen between your own tasks, begrudgingly muttering under your breath how nice it must be to be rich and shameless. However, you hadn't taken a look in quite a while and you weren't entirely sure if Taehyung was even still around. The thought hurt your heart a little bit, mostly because he had offered to walk you to your car at the end of the night, but you figured it was for the best.  

After cleaning up your area as best you could, you wiped sweat and residue from the paper mache off on your already dirtied jeans glad that you would now be able to go home. Sweat dribbled it's way from your hairline as you gathered your things and you went to wipe it off when you turned and found Taehyung sauntering over to you. You would be lying if you said your heart didn't skip many beats, but you sure as hell wouldn't admit it, either. 

"Finished already?" He asked and you only nodded, tucking the strap of your satchel bag across your chest. He threw a sturdy arm around your shoulders in response. "Let's get out of here, then. I'm tired of being their mule." 

You laughed despite yourself, already making your way to the entrance of the gym. "You can be an ass sometimes." 

"Are you saying that because I abandoned you?" 

"Maybe." 

"I'll make it up to you, fairy," he muttered. Unsure if you were supposed to respond, you ignored the statement. 

Walking together through the gym and out into the almost empty parking lot was a quiet affair that found neither of you really wanting to break the silence. Tae still had his arm around you, the weight of it more comforting than you would care to admit, and you found yourself wishing it could stay wrapped around you forever. 

You could imagine how secure you would feel lying under his arm at night snuggled deep into the blankets with Taehyung slotted behind you. His body perfectly fit against yours like two puzzle pieces meant to lay side by side with the delectable smell of his cologne mixed with the scent that was so undeniably Taehyung enveloping you. You could almost imagine how that warmth could change to a searing heat as he held himself above you, his same arms caging you in between his body and the mattress beneath you. 

The thought of being pressed against his naked skin came so quickly that it clashed with the real reality you faced making you want to squirm away from him, unsure why the image of you two together was suddenly rearing its ugly head when you had never let your emotions get the better of you around Taehyung. He wasn’t really doing anything different, either. Maybe you were hormonal. 

Your cars came into view at the end of the third row with your smaller silver Kia looking down right pathetic next to Tae’s bulky red camaro. You had joked once that it looked like a husky pitbull revving and rolling down the asphalt every morning at 7:30 AM. He didn’t appreciate it, but you got a good laugh out of it, so you considered the joke a win. 

Tae’s arm fell from your shoulder when you stopped next to your car, shimmering flecks of multicolored dots glinting off his clothes and hair from the street lamp high above you. You smiled stupidly to yourself, hand unconsciously brushing away at the annoying craft supply. “You’re full of glitter again” 

Tae gave one disgruntled look down, heavy sigh puffing against your face. “Seems Mrs. Benton likes it as much as her daughter.” 

You leaned away from him to press your back against your driver’s side door. “She also seems to like you quite a bit, too.”  

“Gross.” His nose scrunched in the middle. “She’s married.” 

“That’s not stopping her.” 

“Well, she can’t have me. I’m not that kind of man.” 

“That you’re not,” you grumbled, tense fingers digging into the taut muscles of your shoulder as you gave the stiff joint a roll. 

Taehyung’s head tilted, confused crinkle tucking his eyebrows closer together under the fringe of bangs. Soft hands ran up and down the length of your arms, sympathetic gaze and hushed baritone voice calling you to meet his eyes. “You ok?” 

“Yeah, just a long day.” Your heart stuttered. 

“I’m sorry.” He frowned, only to wipe it off with one of his best cocky grins. “Hopefully I made it a little more tolerable?” 

Your eyes rolled halfway to the back of their sockets. 

“Yes, Taehyung, your immense help this afternoon was great.” 

“I said I’m sorry!” He whined. 

“I’m kidding.” You grumbled, dropping your gaze from him to stare at your awkwardly shifting feet beneath you. “It was nice having you there. Being on committees like that freak me out. It was nice not dealing with all of that nonsense by myself.” 

Fingers pressed under the dip of your chin forcing your eyes back to his and you noticed that he wore a soft expression again. The change in his temperament nearly gave you whiplash this time around, but his deliciously sweet smile pulled you right into him despite the dizzy feeling overtaking you. 

“Well, I’m always of service. You know that. Just ask.” 

You fought the blush, but felt it rising onto your cheeks nonetheless. “Thanks, Tae.” 

His fingers kept a grip on your chin absolutely refusing to let you look down or away again. Your body jittered under the glow of the parking lot's hazy light with every pass of Taehyung’s brown eyes over your facial features, focus diligent as if he were trying to find a glitch in your code that would make you disappear as soon as he discovered it. Lungs felt tight making it almost difficult to breathe, but you didn’t move. You didn’t even try to look away. 

A fond grin spread over the stretch of his lips as his hands moved to encompass your cheeks comfortably between his large palms. Eyes flashed down to your lips quickly startling your lungs to a near halt. He began leaning closer, hope spiraled and warred with dread in your bloodstream.

Then gently, his eyes dusted closed just as the plush of his lips warmed the space on the edge of your lips far enough to be mistaken for a peck on the cheek but close enough to prove that wasn't the case. Your hands balled into fists, unsure if your natural instinct was to push him away or pull him closer. You settled on neither, keeping your hands, instead, close against your sides as your mind reeled. 

Shocked wouldn’t even begin to cover what you felt as Taehyung pulled away leaving the sensation of his satin lips pressed into the edge of your lips. Elated, yes; blindsided , most definitely, but above all else, you felt confused. Confused because Tae had never exhibited any form of physical touch before. At least not of the kissing variety. And it made you panic. Your face must have worn your feelings plain as day, because once Taehyung opened his eyes once more, the satiated expression disappeared leaving uncertainty in its wake. 

“I---” he began, but you quickly brushed his hands off of you and turned your head to look anywhere that wasn’t at him. 

“Don’t worry about it. Those PTA moms must have gotten you really riled up.” 

“That’s not---” 

“I’m gonna head out, Tae.” You pulled open your car door with more force than you intended, propelling your body into the seat before he could stop you. “See you tomorrow?” 

He stood there dumbfounded, andalusite eyes the size of the moon on his masculine face. He stuttered a few times before settling his anxious mouth down into a defeated pout. “Yeah, see you tomorrow. Drive safe.” 

You hummed in response and pulled the door away from him effectively locking you inside the safety of your moderately dirty Kia. He waved you off once you pulled away and you sped away from that parking lot as fast as you could, desperate to get home and bury the events of the night deep in your subconscious until you couldn’t reach them. 

------------

You usually refrained from drinking a glass of wine on school nights, much less three, but the heat you still felt from your interactions with Taehyung today left you exhausted. Your mind felt numb along the edges while your vision remained only a little fuzzy. The ludicrously narrated nature documentary that played on your TV garnered a half-hearted chuckle from you every time the whiny man complained to his TV producer, but you weren't sure whether you actually found it funny because of the alcohol or just clever. If you suddenly blacked out, you wouldn’t particularly mind. 

Tipping the lip of the glass into your mouth, you discovered that no wine remained in the cheap plastic. A frown presented itself on your pouty lips with a grumble following shortly after. You promised yourself only one glass, but you had broken that promise an hour ago. Now, you reached for the bottle nestled beside you on the floor, emptying the contents into the glass until the liquid almost reached the lip once more. It was the bottles turn to be empty, and you giggled as you dropped it on the ground. 

The two fast buzzes from your phone dropped your smile from your lopsided lips as your eyes fell upon the glowing screen perched on your coffee table. You almost decided to ignore it, your attention falling back to the swarm of jellyfish on your T.V. screen as the narrator compared them to his vacuous coworkers, but something told you to check and see who it was.

The drunk part of you, mostly, who really wanted it to be Taehyung. 

Struggling with the wine glass and your own imbalance, you reached over to the coffee table and snatched up the phone in unsteady fingers. You turned on the screen to find a text message awaiting you once you unlocked it, the name of the sender sending excited jitters down your spine. 

Mr. Kim. 

It was a picture. 

Your eyes scanned over the photo he sent you hungrily taking in every detail you could of the man posed in front of a mirror wearing a velvety navy blue shirt over nice fitting black slacks. His hair appeared slightly tousled and a little wet from what looked to be a shower. You couldn’t help the way your mouth watered, eyes only catching the words below the picture after scanning the whole image twice. 

[9:48 PM] Think I should wear this shirt tomorrow?

A crinkle formed on the bridge of your nose at the question.

[9:50 PM] You: Why are you asking me?

[9:51 PM] Mr. Kim: I was gonna wear the fairy shirt, but it’s dirty.

[9:51 PM] Mr. Kim: Help me pick out another one? 

[9:53 PM] You: Why? 

Suddenly your phone began buzzing in your palm with the same name of the man you did not want to speak to while inebriated flashing green across the glass screen. You hesitated in swiping to answer, but answered the call too quickly before he was sent to voicemail. 

“It’s the Spring Festival tomorrow. I gotta look sparkly!” he offered in place of a simple hello, his voice sounding far too awake for someone who had to be back at work in seven hours.  

“So Mrs. Benton can find you easier?” you grumbled.

“Jealous?” 

“How about the rose pink button up? That’ll look good with gold glitter.” 

“Nice change of subject.” You could hear the amusement in his voice being slightly rustled by what sounded like fabric being pulled over the speaker until it quieted and he gave a sigh. “I’m sorry I couldn’t help you more today. You were right. They’re vultures.” 

“You liked it.” 

“I would have liked being with you way more.” 

“Stop being a flirt.” You dropped your head into your available hand, his words making your drunken cheeks burn hotter than before.  

“I’m being honest! I like you so much more than all those PTA moms combined.” 

You wanted to ask if that’s why he kissed you, but lost the courage. “That’s just because we’re on the same team.” 

“That’s not the only reason.” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“Mmm, I’ll tell you tomorrow. Get some sleep. It’s gonna be another long day.” 

He hung up the call before you could pester him into giving you an actual answer, leaving you sat in silence with only the company of the whiny British man on T.V. to help you make sense of your muddled thoughts. 

-----

You hadn’t seen Tae all day. You weren’t avoiding him. Not necessarily. You just happened to be so busy with the Spring Festival preparation that had taken you out of your classroom before first period even began that bumping into Tae was almost impossible. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to see him. You just hadn’t had the chance. Your freakishly early arrival and blatant ducking every time Tae made an appearance had nothing to do with it, either. At least that’s what you proclaimed to an imaginary judge and jury that sat judgmentally in your brain. 

Heading into the afternoon portion of the Spring Festival, you yawned. It wasn’t a pretty yawn, a delicate yawn, something akin to a dainty fawn snuggled warm in a bed of roses. No, your yawn was ghastly, wide, and tumultuous as it fell from behind your pressed palm loud enough to call the attention of your two homeroom helpers, Vivi and Luisa. They giggled when you turned from them with a five minute signal, asking them to man the station while you took a small walk to the snack table by the stage on your right. Your first order of business: nabbing some sort of bread thing. 

You weren’t worried about leaving the two girls behind. After all, they were two of your favorite students, hard working and diligent, and they often made it a habit to linger by your room when they had free time. You trusted them without a doubt. And they liked you enough to stick with you for all six hours of the festival without complaint. It was a good little thing you had going. 

However, it was because of their favoritism towards you, no doubt, that they picked up on your downcast demeanor that morning when they showed up to help. They asked if you were sick, and you had to contend that, no, you weren’t you were just tired. They then proceeded to tease you, asking if you were tired because you had stayed up all night with Mr. Kim. You let them live with that lie, because even that was better than the truth. 

What you didn’t tell them was how viciously hungover you were from that bottle of wine the night before, the stench of the sugary liquor still stuck in your nostrils. All because of their second favorite teacher, Mr. Kim. 

Gingerly, you nibbled on a piece of Graham cracker you snuck from the donations box hidden under the snack table, hoping that it would stave off the nausea you so vehemently felt. This is why you didn't drink often, you kept telling yourself, present you chastising past you for putting you in this kind of predicament. And the day before the Spring Festival, come on really? You almost wanted to go back in time and slap the wine bottle out of your past selves hand. This was cruel and unusual punishment. You felt so bad that the very idea of crawling under the snack table to stop the world from spinning seemed like a viable option. 

But you didn't. Because you were an adult. And people were watching.  

Instead, you cast your eyes outward over the crowd of happy children and mildly annoyed parents taking inventory of those you had met before and those you’ve never seen in your life. You could make out the teachers in the room just by body language alone and the way they all kept to the edges of the commotion with watchful eyes trained on their group of homeroom rugrats. It was then that you spotted a familiar face, the one you weren't intentionally hiding from, strolling your way through the mess of people that were currently crowding up his gym. 

You noticed the handsome, young gym teacher before he noticed you, but when he did notice, a bright smile overtook his charming face as he approached you at the table, a hoard of small plastic cups filled with the sugary beverage provided by Mr. Park's homeroom nestled just behind you in your own treasure pile. Just like a magpie. 

“Hey Jungkook.” You waved happily at him as he arrived, your own smile mirroring his bright one.

“Hey, Teach. How’re you doing?” 

You hummed through a piece of graham cracker. “Hungover, but don’t tell anyone that.” 

“Secrets safe with me.” He motioned an x over his heart, ensuring you that he wouldn’t tell anyone. It made you giggle a little bit. 

Jungkook was one of your colleagues that you actually, genuinely liked as a person. He was funny in a dorky, charming way that often left you endeared to him after speaking with him for a handful of minutes. He also never took himself too seriously and was not afraid of being the butt of a joke if it meant others around him would be happy. His looks didn’t hurt either because, shit, was the man hot. That was neither here nor there though, as you actually saw him as a close friend, not a potential romantic interest. 

However, not everyone crowding in the gym felt the same as you did towards the younger gym teacher. If you thought the PTA moms were being vicious with Taehyung, you had another thing coming when they locked their sights on poor, defenseless Jeon Jungkook. 

“What’re you doing here?” You asked whilst you subtly eyed every thirsty mom who threw longing gazes Jungkook’s way. 

He awkwardly shrugged. “You know, checking stuff out.” 

“Hiding?” 

“Whatever do you mean?” 

You raised the half eaten Graham cracker to your mouth, nibbling on an edge like a gerbil. “Tae had the same problem last night.” 

Hearing this, Jungkook's expression opened like the floods unleashed on an unsuspecting biblical village. His eyes grew wide, mouth hung ajar in bewilderment as he groaned. “Dude, they’re vultures. Like can’t they buy vibrators or something?” 

“I’m sure they have plenty." 

“Oh, that’s a mental image I did not want." 

“You gave it to yourself,” you snickered. 

He only winced.

You continued to nibble on your sweet treat as you and Jungkook fell into silence once more. Well, as silent as you could be in a room full of kids and parents all pretending they didn't mind the nauseating Baby Shark playing over the speakers. You almost wanted to ask Jungkook if he could watch your booth for a minute while you suffered in true silence somewhere else, but a figure strolling into the gym made you pause. Body growing tense as eyes cast downward to avoid him seeing you staring at him. 

Jungkook, for all the good he was, bent down so his mouth was closer to your ear level. “Looks like I’m not the only one hiding.” 

You flashed him a glare. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

“Did something happen with you and Mr. Kim?” 

“I’m gonna feed you to the vultures.” 

It was his turn to snicker as he caught sight of Mr. Kim looking around the gym, no doubt looking for you. He wasn't sure what the situation was between you two at the moment, but he knew sexual tension when he saw it and fuck was it rolling off the two of you whenever he caught you guys talking.

Jungkook watched Mr. Kim, Taehyung, seemingly attract to you like a moth to a very enticing flame and he wasted no time in b-lining straight for the pair of you when he did catch sight of you gnawing on the graham cracker. You refused to lift your head to watch him make his way over and Jungkook had half a mind to stay quiet just to see how this would play out. For amusements sake, of course. 

He found it best to warn you before you punched him for not warning you. “He’s coming over. Give me a signal if you need to be rescued” 

You very nearly told him to fuck off. In front of the students. 

“Hey! There you are!" Taehyung's voice interrupted your angry thoughts calling your attention to him rather than the annoyingly mischievous gym teacher. 

“Hey,” you muttered, enthusiasm lost on the syllable. 

Taehyung didn't notice. Instead, he stretched one arm away from his body, the other tucked behind his back, as a shit eating grin plastered itself on his gorgeously tan face. “So what do you think? Fairy enough?” 

“Why’s your hand behind your back?” 

“Ah. See.” He cleared his throat, then swept his arm out to reveal a pretty red rose, freshly cut. “Some students felt generous enough to give me a rose they won, but with one caveat: I had to give it to you” 

You could blame your reddening cheeks on the hangover, but that would be a lie. Blaming the sudden wave of nausea on the hangover would be a lie too. “What? Tae, you don’t have to it’s fi---” 

“I really owe them for this, actually. Didn’t have the guts to just outright say it,” he grinned right through your stuttering response.  

“Say what?” 

Instead of answering, he extended a hand out to you-the hand without the rose-and shifted his grin into a charmingly shy smile you couldn’t exactly resist. 

“Come take a break with me. I’m sure Jeon won’t mind watching the booth for a few minutes.” 

“I---” you stammered, brain all but pudding in your cranial cavity so much so that you couldn’t even resist. All you could do was look back to a very pleased Jungkook who looked like the cat that caught the canary. “Kookie, do you mind?” 

“Remember you’re still at work, please?” he winked. 

“That’s not---we won’t---” 

“No promises, Jeon.” Taehyung waved him off as he grasped your hand in his. 

You swore you heard entertained snickering as you walked away from Jungkook, but it could also have been the beehive swarming in your ears that produced the noise. You weren’t sure. You also weren’t sure how you ended up in front of Taehyung’s classroom given that you didn’t even remember leaving the gym. You were quite surprised you made it out without any big issues, if you were being honest. 

Tae unlocked the class then swiftly pulled you inside before locking the door once again, probably so no one would bother you. Your confusion only grew when you came back to yourself fully and realized that you were alone. With Taehyung. In his classroom. And he looked amazing. As always, but still. Nerves began to grow despite you trying to stop them. 

“Tae, what’re we doing in here?” you turned to him in bewilderment, but he left no room for a verbal response. 

Eyes grew the size of cathedral windows when you felt the soft press of his honey mint lips against your very chapped ones. Your body froze in the moment as you took it all in, the absurdity of the situation unfolding before you. 

There you were, dressed in messy jeans and a rumpled t-shirt with a vicious hangover paling out your complexion. Your hair was, no doubt, a horrendous rat’s nest and your breath, no doubt, tasted of expired alcohol and graham crackers. And you were kissing Taehyung. Taehyung, the man who stole your heart slowly without you noticing. Taehyung, the man who you never would have guessed wanted you in the way you wanted him. Taehyung, the man you swore was going to be just your friend for the rest of your life. You were kissing Kim friggen Taehyung. Or rather he was kissing you. Because you couldn’t fucking move an inch with your body set to stone from anxiety alone. 

You wanted to fall into a deep hole of self loathing. That is until Tae’s large hand came to press against the back of your head, his tongue giving your bottom lip a bold swipe and you were lost. 

To hell with insecurities, the kiss felt damn amazing. 

You weren’t bold enough to dig your fingers into the loose shirt adorning his torso, but you did allow yourself the comfort of falling into his body with every inch of your chest pressed tightly against his own. The surroundings faded the longer the kiss went on until you both forgot where you were along with the even more pressing issue of what you two were doing being absurdly inappropriate. 

Because it was absurdly inappropriate. If the school principal caught you...

It seemed that thought, covered in images of the school principal firing both of you, added the cold dose of reality for you and you softly pushed Tae away until only your breaths mingled. He chased your lips desperately, yet you kept your steady palm resting along the flat plains of his chest until he was able to look at you with clear eyes.

You didn’t dare verbally ask the question that was raging in your mind, but you were shit at hiding your emotions, so you knew Tae was able to read every last word on your perplexed expression. He sighed after a few heartbeats, eyes falling for a second to the crumpled rose on the floor then rising back up to meet yours. 

“I like you. A lot. So much.” He gulped, unsteady lungs pumping unsteady breaths across the expanse of your face. “I’m sorry I’m being so forward about this. I’ve tried...so hard to show you how I feel, but I could never tell if you understood. You always look at me with those damn doe eyes...I didn’t want to take a chance anymore. I like you.” 

Utter sincerity dripped from his expression, yet you could do nothing but remain silent. So many emotions warred within you from elated to cautious then circled right around to fear and dread. You didn't know how to interpret all of them at once, so all you did was stare back at him like, well, a deer in the headlights. It made Taehying anxious, tongue running nervously over his bottom lip, hand clenching in a fist where it came to rest on the wall behind your head. “Please say something.” 

You gulped. “Tae...we work right next to each other” 

“I know.” 

“If this doesn’t work out…” 

“Trust me, I know.” he sighed, very nearly relieved as he rested his forehead against yours.  “But, last night...when I kissed you...I knew I couldn’t get around it anymore. Vivi and Luisa just helped push me along, I guess.” 

Hearing the name of your two students made you pause and pull away from him, mind working overtime to figure out when in the hell they had time to do that. “They gave you the rose?” 

“Told me to just tell you I loved you already.” His laugh turned into a bewildered expression when he caught the shocked stare you gave him. “Don’t freak out. I’m not saying I do--- but totally not saying I don't ...although that’s the natural progression right? If this works out and we---” 

His nervous chattering quieted with the layer of your lips against his, which was exactly what you wanted. You weren't worried of him loving you or not loving you, at least not yet. You just got him. You wanted to explore your relationship first. Just the way you never wanted to stop exploring his delicious mouth. But, when you started grinning at the thoughts of all the things you would get to do with each other, you knew you had to stop and set the record straight. 

A cheesy grin spread across your mouth when you noticed how pacified he looked. 

You couldn’t help but give him a single peck. “I like you too, dummy.” 

He hummed. “You do?” 

As an answer, you resumed where you left off absolutely living for the soft slide of your lips that worked in tandem while, unaware, somewhere out on the school grounds were scores of parents, teachers, and your boss who were all none the wiser of what was happening in the fifth grade History teacher’s classroom. It almost made you laugh with nervous excitement were it not for Taehyung's arms slipping around your waist. 

He pulled you flush against his body until you could feel every firm, toned muscle under his goddamn self proclaimed fairy shirt. He was radiating a comforting heat you couldn't get enough of. You wanted to run your hands over his warm skin, slip your greedy fingers under the offensive fabric and see how it feels to have Taehyung under your fingertips. How he would squirm under you, but you refrained. 

After all, you were still at work.   

He pulled away from you first with a look of nervous intent in his eyes you couldn’t quite read. After a confession like the one he just gave you, you weren’t sure why he would be unsure of himself now. Yet, there he was. You softly brushed your thumb over the glistening saliva surrounding his mouth, hoping to give him a little courage. 

“Wanna come over to my place tonight?” 

This time, you were the one unsure. “Tae--” 

“Not for that,” he laughed, then tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear, all tenderness in his smile. “I want to make you dinner. Have an actual date with you.”

You wouldn't be able to stop the jack hammering in your chest even if you tried. And you didn't try. Because those words, this feeling, were exactly what you always wanted with Taehyung. You couldn't deny yourself any more.  

“I would love to.” 

#taehyung scenarios #kim taehyung scenarios #bts scenarios #taehyung fluff #kim taehyung fluff #v fluff #bts v fluff #bts v scenarios #v scenarios #bts #kim taehyung #taehyung fic #kim taehyung fic #v fic #bts v fic #fluff #angst if you squint

[min-meowmeow]

Soft and Slow

Yoongi x Reader

Fluff/Fluff without Plot

Word Count: 972

Synopsis: You wake Yoongi up for his birthday at midnight

A/N: Little something I decided to write for Yoon’s birthday. There is literally no plot it’s all just fluff. Please like/reblog or leave an ask or comment if you liked it!

-----------------

Morning was far from breaking through the slit in your curtains while the dark sky outside remained painted with the black hues of twilight when you slowly rose from the bed. You did your best not to make any sudden movements as you reached over for your phone on the nightstand wanting to be absolutely sure it was the right time. You couldn't be too early. That would defeat the purpose of waiting this long. Luckily, you had timed it perfectly and the bright screen shoved under a corner of your blanket made you smile mischievously. Ten past midnight. March 9th. Your boyfriend's birthday. 

Said boyfriend lay beside you none the wiser to your intentions despite your suspicions that he totally knew what was coming. He had to know by this point; you'd been doing the same thing every year for the past five years. You liked to believe he just liked playing dumb, enjoyed the soft way you woke him (even though he wasn't asleep) just because he was a giant baby who liked being babied. After all, Min Yoongi did not go to bed before 1 am usually and even that was early by his standards. No, he only ever slipped into bed with you at the early hour of 10 pm when he knew that you would be waking him up two hours later. 

Again, not that he was actually asleep. 

Carefully, you dropped your phone back onto the nightstand then shuffled around under the covers until you came face to face with one beautifully pretend-sleeping Min Yoongi. Your heart gave a few extra tugs as you sat there admiring him like a love sick goon, eyes trailing over the delicate way his eyelashes brushed softly against his honey skin. The way you could only barely make out the gentle breaths that proved he totally wasn't sleeping. Yoon wasn't a loud sleeper, but only someone who was conscious could breathe so softly. It didn't matter. You would never call him out on it, anyway because the next part was your absolute favorite. 

Your body slithered closer to him under the covers. Hands coming out to gently brush his dyed hair out of his face. You could just barely make out the subtle smile he was trying so hard not to show. Then, almost in slow motion, you learned forward to press one tiny peck against the tip of his nose. 

Followed by another along one puffed out cheek. Then another on the other side. 

You peppered kisses all over his face and he did the diligent thing of making sure you had every available surface to kiss with his head subtly turning here and there. You avoided his lips though, saving that for the very end because you knew Yoongi would whine until you did it and you loved it when he whined. 

"What're you doing?" A quiet whisper slipped from his puckered lips, yet he had refrained from opening his eyes. 

No matter. You placed two soft kisses against his eyelids. "Wishing you a happy birthday."

"It's midnight."

"And how would you know that?" 

Another kiss down against his jaw. 

He hummed in delight. "Lucky guess."

You let your lips trail down the expanse of his neck, over his Adam's apple where you maybe gave a little nibble, then back up to his jaw until you were close enough to his ear. 

"Happy birthday, love," you murmured before you definitely nibbled gently against his ear lobe. 

He nudged your head with his, left hand sliding over to grip your waist pulling you closer against him. His nose brushed softly against yours. Pouty lips tempting you. 

"Where's my birthday kiss?" He whined. 

"Mmm," you hummed, "I've given you like a thousand." 

"I want a thousand and one." 

"And I want my boyfriend to open his eyes so I can wish him a proper happy birthday." 

He groaned, whiny and petulant. "You already told me happy birthday." 

"Yoongi!" It was your turn to whine. 

He huffed, sounded more like a laugh, then slowly his eyes opened to reveal the soft brown of his irises and you swear your heart stalled for all of a minute. You weren't sure why, but you promise you could spend all night just looking into those eyes, getting lost in them. There was just something so comforting, so familiar, in Yoongi's eyes. Something that felt like home.

The way he looked at you, all soft edges and tired gaze, told you he felt the same way. 

You brushed a thumb over his cheekbone, your own lips turning up in a dopey smile. "Happy birthday."

Then you kissed him. Pouty lips shaping happily to yours as they moved together far longer than you intended. But Yoongi wasn't letting you go and you weren't fighting him. Not when he felt this good against you. Eventually, many gasped breaths later, he gave you one final peck before sinking back into his pillow, eyes closed once again.  

"Thank you," he sighed, content. 

You refrained from saying you’re welcome because it obviously went without saying, but one phrase bubbled in your chest until you couldn’t help but let it loose, giddy excitement pulling up the corners of your well kissed lips. 

“I love you, Yoon.” 

A dopey smile could just be made out in the dim light of your bedroom and if you had proper lighting, you knew you would find a light dusting of pink across his puffed out cheeks. Yoongi loved hearing those words as much as you loved saying them. And you would say them until you ran out of breath, if you could. 

“I love you, too.” He buried his head into your neck, lips pecking love into the skin he could reach. "Can I go back to sleep now?"

"Min Yoongi, you were not asleep!" 

#min yoongi scenarios #min yoongi #yoongi scenarios #suga scenarios #bts suga scenarios #bts suga imagine #BTS suga #bts imagine #bts scenarios #yoongi fluff #suga fluff #happy min yoongi day

[min-meowmeow]

♡

#cuties

[min-meowmeow]

I wish you would write a fic where...

Send me an anymous (or not) summary of the fic you wish I would write. (maybe I will write a tidbit)

#this might be an attempt to see if its worth it to open up requests

[min-meowmeow]

yoongi selfies in 2019 💜

#i love all of these selfies

[min-meowmeow]

Never Left at All

Namjoon x Reader

Angst & Fluff

Word Count: 5,576

Warnings: Angsty times?

Synopsis: When Namjoon decides to take a new job offer in a different country, you’re not sure you can go with him.

-----------------

Namjoon’s voicemail came as no surprise to you perched on the couch of your supposedly shared apartment one late afternoon. The sun had quietly set below the pull of your curtains until only a sweet golden sliver of light slipped through the thin crack you left just to say you didn’t always have the blinds pulled, but not even that was enough to cheer up your downcast frown. You hung up the phone without doing what the prompt requested, sigh dejected as you let the small electronic fall onto the coffee table in front of you.

It was the third time this week you had been unable to reach Namjoon.

No phone call, no text, no late night Skype chats where you could see him curled into his hotel blankets ready to pass out from a long day of mitigating conflict between his company and their unwilling partners. You supposed it was something you should have gotten used to over the long while you had been together, but every time you fell into your own sheets only to feel the cold, empty space on his side, you just found yourself missing him more and more.

One final glance at the silent TV saw you looking miserably despondent in the shiny reflective surface. You were only 28, but you swore you could see wrinkle lines appearing across your forehead with the level of stress you had recently been feeling. The bottle of wine you had been nursing now sat empty, not a drop of the liquid left despite your inability to normally drink excessively.

You decided it was time for bed.

The emptiness of the apartment greeted your weary steps as you attempted to tidy up the mess you made over the last few hours. Typically, you tried to keep the apartment as neat as when Namjoon was home, but considering you seemed to be spending more time alone than with him, well, you didn’t particularly care that much about cleanliness.

You picked up the bottle of wine on your way out of the living room, swinging it from your fingertips then startled when you heard a light crash on the side table you were passing. Tipsy eyes followed the noise only to find a picture frame lying haphazardly on its side. You pouted, fingers fast in fixing the mistake, but frowned entirely at seeing the picture held in the golden frame.

Namjoon’s smile was gorgeous, his eyes sparkling from behind thick rimmed glasses he now routinely switched out for contacts. He was in his cap and gown with an equally excited you by his side. It was graduation. You had been dating for three years. Jin had taken the picture amidst a crowd of your friends and family. Great things waited for both you and Namjoon. Great things that always seemed to take him away from you.

Of course, you loved Namjoon and never regretted your relationship, you thought as you placed the picture frame back down with drunken tears slipping down your cheeks, but so many things had passed the two of you by in the time that you spent following him across half of South Korea. After your first move from your hometown, he missed your five year anniversary because he had to go to a networking party with his bosses. That same year he missed not just your birthday but his as well with very short notice leaving you in an empty apartment with decorations and cakes already set.

Then on the second move not two years later, he missed his sister’s wedding, sending you off by yourself with apologies and excuses. One year later, you found yourself in Daegu. This move was the most disappointing to you because the move had forced you to miss the graduation of your very first group of students. They had sent you a picture of them in their little cap and gowns and you cried. Daegu was different, however, in that it had been your longest stay in one city since you moved away from your hometown, but even that came to an end two years later when Namjoon proclaimed you would be going to Seoul.

A year later and you were still there, but Namjoon was noticeably absent.

Tired and downcast, you threw yourself into unmade sheets without bothering to even turn on the lights in the bedroom to get yourself situated. Your phone, the useless thing, lay loose in your open palm against Namjoon’s cold pillow. You stared at it with unblinking eyes willing it to light up and show you the name of the person you had been so desperate to reach.

Hope dashed against the rocks of your cynicism. You knew he was probably super busy in Tokyo with his company and the partners he had been contracted to negotiate with for this trip. This was his fourth time in Japan after his newest promotion, and you had a sneaking suspicion that he was going to be asked to move again, this time not only taking you from a comfortable city, but into a new country you had never even been to.

You weren't sure you'd be able to follow him this time.

The phone slipped uselessly onto the comforter, silent and dark. You turned away from it with a sigh, the blankets you pulled up to your chin rustling with your movements until you came to rest with your back to his side. You let a few more tears slip stupidly across rosy cheeks. Despite your best efforts, you knew this night would be one of the longest nights in a list of long nights that you would have to live through.

You kept your eyes closed. The image of Namjoon slipped into your mind giving you a moment of solace where you could tell him you loved him and missed him. A brilliant smile was returned before it, too, disappeared into the darkness.

----

The cacophony of noise made by two dozen raucous students drowned out the monotone voice of the mid-day announcement proclaiming the fundraiser for new schools desks a success. You sat at your own faculty desk tapping away an archaic tune you had once heard on one of the really old music stations playing from the classroom of the ancient Geography teacher down the hall, eyes cast outwards towards your class but not really seeing what was happening. You were too absorbed in your thoughts muddled by an aching hangover and sleepless night to silence the students. Your assistant, however, did mildly try to calm the skittish few, and with that you considered it a job well done.

Jung Hoseok, world class assistant and PTA heartthrob, gazed worriedly up at you every few minutes when you didn't so much as move your limp hand from resting against the keyboard mid email to the administration asking them to please consider your classroom to be a lucky candidate to receive the new desks promised on the static intercom. He knew something was up as soon as he saw you that morning, taking note of the dark bags under your eyes you didn't try to cover up along with the disheveled state of your usually well kept hair. You could tell he wanted to ask if everything was alright, but you avoided the topic by asking him questions about his post-grad research. It was almost the end of the day. If you could make it these last few hours without crying, you'd reward yourself with a trip to Baskin Robbins on the way home. All it would take was to avoid Hoseok.

Once the announcement ended with one final loud crackle of someone unfamiliar with how to work the intercom, your gaze focused in on your students. They were supposed to be underlining the use of imagery in this weeks selected poetry assignment, but you knew you would have to remind them now that the distraction was past.

Minimizing the window for your email, your palms pressed into the cheap wood of your desk allowing your body the strength to activate your legs for movement. You would start with the group of three entitled girls who were too busy giggling over Hoseok’s bent figure to care about the task at hand. You would never say you disliked a student, but the bullshit way they targeted other students in their perfect little pack didn't sit well with you. Neither did the fact that all three had family in the school's administration, rendering your ability to discipline them utterly useless.

Rounding the corner, you heard a familiar buzz emitting from the desk drawer by your hip. Eyebrows furrowed as you went to retrieve the device you hadn't looked at since last night, expression growing more perplexed when you saw the name of the caller.

"Mr. Jung, I'm gonna step out for a minute," you distractedly informed Hosoek unwilling to wait around to hear his response.

The silence of the hallway corridor juxtaposed the noise of your classroom as you quickly swiped your finger to call, eager to hear the voice on the other end.

“Hey baby! What’s going on? It’s the middle of the day.” You noted how your mood changed, no trace of the gloom you felt only moments prior in the cheer of your voice.

“I have some exciting news!” Namjoon proclaimed, not missing a beat before launching into his explanation. “Our partners offered me a job! Better benefits, higher pay, and I even get a company car! How cool is that?”

To say your heart sank farther than the slope of your down turned lips would be an understatement. “Baby, that’s great! What do you have to do?”

“Just relocate!” He cheered.

You wilted. “Just?”

“I know, I know, I promised no more crazy changes after the promotion, but I can’t let this offer just pass me up. It’s an amazing opportunity!” His hyper tone crackled through the thin phone connection from being a country away. “So, what do you think?”

“I think it’s great, Namjoon.” You tried to share in the excitement, at least in your tone, but the despondent feeling returned rendering you nearly numb.

A confused noise sounded from your phone speaker. “Why don’t you sound happy?”

Leaning back against the wall, you cast your gaze up to the water stained ceiling tiles you had grown used to over the year you had been working at the school. You could hear the laughter in your classroom with Hoseok’s voice trying desperately to shush the students with long drawn out rumbles of “quiet.” You felt like you were being ripped from your own life all over again, just like in Daegu. Within seconds of a conversation with Namjoon, you were floating, un-tethered. You desperately wanted to remain on the ground.

“I’m just gonna miss you.”

He clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth. “Why? You’re coming with me. They’re offering me an apartment and I already told them I have you. They said it’s not a problem.”

“You said yes already?”

“Well, yeah. Gotta move fast before they change their minds.”

You pressed the heel of your palm into your closed eye hoping to stem off the oncoming tears. “But, you didn’t even talk to me about it first.”

“Because I knew you’d come with me.”

“How are you so sure?” Your voice pitched in tone.

He almost sounded surprised. “You’ve always moved with me. Every time.”

You closed your eyes against the fluorescent lights, heart slowly moving to pound in the temple of your compressed head. You really didn’t want to have this discussion there, in the middle of your workplace’s hallway, but you feared if you didn’t get it out now, you never would.

“Maybe I don’t wanna move anymore.”

“What? Why? Is it your job? You know you can teach here, and I know you’ll love Tokyo. It’s everything we’ve dreamed of!”

“You said the same thing about Seoul!”

“I mean, Seoul’s great, but Tokyo’s even better. Come on, baby, why are you hesitating?” he whined like a petulant child.

Memories of relationships, moments of your life in Seoul, flashed before your eyes like an old movie reel spinning and stuttering on the rims of a deteriorated projector. Moments of Daegu followed, then every other city you’ve lived in since Namjoon started his career. Each one was now tainted a sepia yellow, chances destroyed before you even had a chance to experience them. Worse still, Namjoon was absent for more than half of those memories.

Bile rose along your throat. “It’s my life, too, Namjoon. Here, this place, it’s my home. Forgive me if I’m a little hesitant to leave it after I’ve started making a life here.”

“We can make a new life here. Just like we did after leaving Daegu.” He was so nonchalant.

“For how long? Until you get another offer?” You challenged.

Irritation released itself on the air of an exasperated breath. “I don’t see what the problem is. You’ve always supported me and my career.”

You clenched your free hand into a fist, the words you had been trying so hard to suppress now bubbling to the surface. “Maybe it’s time I support mine.”

A long, drawn out silence sat heavy over the phone line connecting you to him. If it weren’t for the noisy background of the office building he was no doubt standing in, you would have assumed he hung up. You weren’t sure if that was a better alternative to what was transpiring now. No subtle breaths passed, your own held in the cage of your chest until it was safe to make noise again.

“They’re giving me a trial period to see if I like it. I’ll be staying here for a month.” His tone was cold, far colder than you liked, and the last dredge of hope seeped out from your tear ducts.

“I guess we’ll see you later then.” You swallowed around the lump in your throat. “I’ve got to go, Namjoon. Stay safe.”

“Yeah, you too,” he grumbled.

You didn’t have the courage to hear him hang up first.

Keeping your back pressed against the wall, you let your phone slip into the shallow front pocket of your work trousers knowing that if you faced the picture of Namjoon set as your phone’s background, you wouldn’t be able to reign in the emotion that was over taking you. Being a teacher, you had mastered the act of not crying at work, specifically in front of your students, and you weren’t planning on changing that now. Hoseok’s emergence from around the door frame to your classroom, however, tested your resilience far greater than you were capable of handling.

“Hey are you ok?” his worried tone carried over to you along with the warmth of his body as he came to stand beside you. A soft hand was placed on your shoulder blade, long fingers and comforting palms gently stroking ease into the tension of your muscles.

You nodded half-heartedly. “Yeah, just ...drama at home.”

“Do you wanna talk about it?”

You only shook your head, unable to form the words needed to answer his inquiry. You would need to talk about it eventually, but for now, silence was your only solace.

Hoseok understood that, his soft features turning into a smile of sympathy. “Go to the bathroom to get yourself situated. I’ll watch the rugrats til you get back.”

Peering up at him through a water logged vision, you couldn’t help but be thankful that you had someone like Hoseok as your assistant. He was intuitive, if a little nosy, but he had a heart of gold that didn’t like seeing others hurt, regardless if they were complete strangers or dearly close friends. You patted his hand resting on your shoulder blade with a thin smile cracking the chapped skin on your lips.

“Thanks, Hoseok. I’ll be back soon.”

You left him to return to your class already demanding playfully that the students get in their seats or he would make sure they got extra hard homework for the day, despite the fact that you hadn’t planned any homework due to your troubled emotional state. You just needed to take a minute to collect yourself and then maybe you’d be able to return to the classroom and survive the next few hours with the promise of warm sheets that only solidified your loneliness waiting at home.

You supposed that trip to Baskin Robbins would have to wait another day.

----

That night, an entire sea away, Namjoon lay in the plush sheets of his hotel suite with eyes glued to the illuminated ceiling blinking neon from the city lights beneath him wishing he was somewhere else instead. He declined going out for drinks with the new partners and instead chose to spend his afternoon wistfully staring at his phone, alternating between the home screen and your last collection of exchanged text messages hoping that his obsessive staring would somehow prompt you to call. He supposed he could call, too, but then he replayed the way your voice cracked earlier when you were near tears and he let cowardice win out, instead.

He couldn’t comprehend how deeply he fucked up.

Usually pretty smart, Namjoon prided himself on being able to read people to figure out what they needed so he could swoop in and give it to them. He was actually pretty good at it, so much so that it had been a saving grace during the more bumpier times of your relationship. The wedding he couldn’t attend. The birthdays and anniversaries he missed. He knew when you were upset or frustrated and he always had the ability to intervene before it got too bad.

But now, he couldn’t help but wonder how long you had been feeling like that.

He thought back to the three missed calls he had never returned, each arriving in times of active negotiations either in the board room or at local bars. He had promised himself he would call you back when he had free time, but each night he returned to the hotel exhausted and more than a little drunk, so he just went to bed without so much as even charging his phone. Then the next morning he had completely forgotten that you had called, too engrossed in the world he lived in to remember that he had someone at home waiting for him.

Someone that had damn near followed him to the edge of the world without a complaint.

He wanted to see you. He wanted to go back home in that moment and replace these cold, unfamiliar sheets with ones warmed by the length of your body. He wanted to hold you in his arms as you slept, soft breaths puffing against his bare chest while your hair tickled the underside of his chin with your head nestled into the cradle of his throat. He wanted everything and more, but most importantly he just wanted to be welcomed back into your loving arms as if none of this had happened.

His phone rested clutched in his hand, his desperate and saddened mind hoping that you’d call and reassure him that your relationship wasn’t over, but the longer the night stretched, the less hope filled his veins.

Back on your side of the sea, you wanted the same thing. Your body absolutely missed every aspect of your boyfriend wanting him there with you under the covers so you could sleep soundly for once knowing that he wasn’t going anywhere. You wanted the reassurance from his own honey lips that your relationship wasn’t well and truly over and that he was coming home right now to be with you.

However, you also knew Namjoon and knew how he was about work. You imagined him sitting in some high end bar with other executives chatting and drinking until the very early hours of the morning, your smiling boyfriend completely carefree and unaware of the sadness that coursed through your veins. It would be so him to just waltz off as if nothing happened, then return to your apartment only to find...what? You, still wallowing? Or an empty apartment? You weren’t sure which one hurt you more.

Tears slipped past closed eyelids, heart hammering in your chest to a beat that begged the universe for this to be a bad dream despite knowing damn well that it wasn’t.

---

Morning blended into the hard night spent crying and wallowing over the state of your probably ruined relationship until the call of birdsong tempted you to rise. Saturday’s were usually spent grading and planning for next week’s classes, but Hoseok had insisted he take home all of the assignments and prep work, telling you not to worry about anything, that he got it covered. It was a kind gesture, but one that robbed you of your chance to absorb yourself into your work until the smudges of student’s pens crystalized into readable words. Now you had no idea what to do with yourself, so you merely settled on transplanting your weary body from one comfy surface to another.

Said body now hung halfway off the plush cushions of the couch Namjoon had insisted on buying because it was his favorite color, the deep hues of the purple couch actually quite pleasant now that the rest of the living room had been decorated to match. The only blemish, it seemed, came from your sulking figure dragging the red comforter of your bed to drape over your figure. The colors clashed. You didn’t particularly care.

You were at least glad that the crying stopped an hour and a half ago.

Flipping on the TV, you mindlessly scrolled through Netflix’s recent offerings with nary an interest in the thumbnails, let alone the plot. There was just something cathartic about the bright, blurry colors that blended into one another to create a rainbow of disinterest for your muddled mind. About ten cycles later, you finally settled on the newly added list, allowing the trailer for the first show on the list to run without an audience.

Your mind sat idle, numb, with no real thoughts passing through the weary synapses that had been working all night to paint you a picture of what your life would look like now that Namjoon was gone. You were sure you would have to move out of the apartment and find something more affordable on your teacher’s pay. Maybe move back home, but that would mean having to deal with not only your family, but his as well, asking questions about what happened. Why didn’t you move with him? How selfish. You couldn’t bear that thought, preferring to live in some ramshackled apartment on the bad side of town than go back and deal with family.

You supposed you could move back to Daegu, find the old apartment with the sweet landlady and settle back into your old school. The students wouldn’t be the same, and you would miss your new set very dearly, but would it be so bad to run away until you felt strong enough to face the situation? You knew the answer, but you elected to ignore it with honey colored dreams of your previous life in Daegu drawing you into a catatonic comfort until your phone began buzzing underneath your slumped body.

The name flashing across the screen caused a disgruntled pout to fall upon your lips. Of all the people you did not want to talk to, Kim Seokjin ranked around number four on the list.

“Hey Jin, what’s up?” You tried to sound normal, but he saw right through you, just as you knew he would.

He hummed. “You don’t sound good.”

“Just finished yawning.”

“Liar,” he scoffed. “Joon called me”

You sunk further in your chair, butt now fully hanging off the edge of the cushion with your suspicions all but confirmed. “He did?”

He hummed in confirmation. “Told me what happened.”

“And?”

“And, I told him off. Told him he was being a selfish asshole only thinking about himself and that you had always followed him wherever he went like a puppy, but that I was glad you were finally fighting back.”

You twisted chunks of the comforter in your anxious hands. “What’d he say?”

“Tried to deny it. You know how he is.” His voice held only mild contempt for his best friend. “But, even he eventually admitted that he was a bit of an ass.”

“That’s great, Jin, but he hasn’t tried to call me. Not even once. So how revolutionary was this revelation?” You huffed, half tempted to throw the blankets over your head and hang up on Seokjin, but you settled on burying your nose into the plush comforter, instead.

“Enough to get his ass on a flight back. He should be arriving soon, so maybe pick yourself up and try not to look so depressing. He might just leave you if you have snot dripping down your nose.”

“Shut up,” you grumbled, far too scared to believe anything your friend said.

A heavy knock rang out from the sturdy wood front door drawing your attention to stare at the white surface. Your heart simultaneously sank and soared in trepidation. There was no way.

Jin’s high pitched whistle only barely processed in your mind.

“Wow, he’s not even gonna let himself in. He must feel really ashamed.”

“Goodbye, Seokjin.”

“You’re welcome!” He cheered, words barely caught before the call disconnected.

Terrified, you rose hesitatingly from the couch allowing the red comforter to fall off your body into a crumpled heap on the floor. You could feel the disheveled strands of matted hair that had suffered the ill treatment of a fitful night standing haphazardly atop your head like some type of pathetic halo. This was the worst way you could have looked for your reunion with Namjoon, you thought as you slowly, tentatively, made your way to the door that stood silent now after his first few knocks.

You stopped in front of the mirror by the door, taking an inventory of your appearance. Sure, you had the dried streak of tears you hadn’t really bothered to wipe away and your hair was a mess, but you wore one his nice t-shirts over short shorts, so at least that was going in your favor. Quickly, you ran hurried fingers through the strands of your hair until you could get them just down enough to appear sort of put together. One final huff, you turned and placed shaky fingers around the door knob, struggling with every fiber of your being to keep you from throwing it open in your haste.

Peeling the door open with a creak, Namjoon’s sheepish dimpled smile appeared from behind the wooden door with a bouquet of roses huddled in his arms. He was dressed in a simple pressed navy blue button up shirt and plain black jeans with hair perfectly slicked off to one side. He was the perfect picture of the well dressed man you had desperately missed, but the dark bags in the crease of his smiling eyes told you he was struggling far more than he was letting on. Your heart fluttered in your anxious chest, but your expression remained stoic with trembling uncertainty.

You didn’t say anything as you stepped aside to let him in and he didn’t say anything as he brushed passed you to head to the kitchen. The wisp of his cologne nearly knocked you to your knees as he passed forcing you to grip the door handle much harder as you closed it with much more force than you intended. You caught Namjoon’s slight flinch when you turned around to face him, his back still towards you until he placed the flowers down on the counter. You waited, still in the entryway, until he finally found the strength to face you.

You weren’t prepared for the regretful look now painted across his features before he bowed his head, his fingers twisting together nervously.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered, eyes peeking up at you in shame.

You instantly deflated, heart heavy in your guilty chest now that he stood in front of you. Small steps drew you closer to his sullen form until you were close enough to smell his cologne once again. “No, I’m sorry. You were so excited for this offer and I just shot you down.”

“For a good reason.” He reached out to you, giving you the chance to grasp his hand in yours if you wanted to. You did. “I was being selfish, I’ve always been selfish, and I never really allowed myself to see how my life choices were affecting you. I was stubborn as all hell to keep going, to keep getting the highest possible position I could to make you proud and give us the life we’ve always dreamed of. I couldn’t see that we already had that life right here.”

Crying would only escalate the situation, but you desperately wanted to. Instead, however, you gripped his hand tighter in your smaller ones. Your cowardly head bowed to stare at your intertwined fingers.

“I am proud of you, Namjoon. I’ve always been proud of you and I am so thankful that I’ve had the chance to experience these things with you. But, we’ve moved so many times chasing your dream...it’s time for me to settle, start working towards dreams of my own. Start living my life for me.”

Suddenly and with great surprise to you, Namjoon pulled your hand until your body fell against him in a heap of unprepared mess. He didn’t care as his arms wrapped around your shoulders, one hand coming up to press your head against the hollow of his collarbones. His own head bowed to press kisses into the crook of your neck. You clung to him after the shock passed.

“I get it. Obviously, God, I get it. I’m so stupid,” he spoke warm breaths onto your skin.

“Don’t say that,” you huffed. “You are the most amazing, smartest man I’ve ever met. You’re gonna do great in Tokyo.”

“I turned them down.”

“What?” Your surprise was clear on your face when you pulled away from him just enough to see his expression. He was smiling wistfully, eyes soft around the edges.

“I turned them down.” His dimples creased. “I realized the only exciting thing about Tokyo was that I wanted you to experience it with me, but if you’re not there, it’s not worth it. I’m staying here.”

You stared at him, mouth hanging ajar with words lodged under the threat of tears. “Namjoon, don’t do things because of me.”

“Why not? You’ve sacrificed enough for me, it’s time I do something for you.”

“I don’t want you to resent me for it,” you choked, tucking your chin into your chest to suffocate your emotions before they had a chance to escape.

“Hey.” Namjoon tucked a finger under your chin coaxing your gaze to find his calm, caring one once more. “Do you resent me?”

“No.”

“Why?”

“Because I love you.”

“And I love you.” Hands slipped to cup your cheeks, soft thumbs stroking away the few tears that did manage to spill. “This is my choice. Trust me, I would’ve hated myself so much more if I let you go, especially for such a selfish reason. It’s me and you until the end, remember?"

This time the threatening tightness in your chest did lead to a free fall of tears from misty eyes that were unable to hold them back any longer. You clung to Namjoon’s perfectly straight shirt, face pressed into the hard ridge of his chest as fingers creased the cotton fabric so much that you were sure he was going to have to get it dry cleaned just to get the wrinkles out, but he didn’t care and neither did you. Instead, he held onto you just as tightly as you sniffled away the heavy emotions you had been dealing with for the past few days, whispered promises of “I love you’s” falling from his own watery voice.

“I thought I almost lost you,” you hiccupped into his chest.

He held you tighter. “I’ll never leave you like that, baby. Never. We talk things out, right? All the time. This is no different.”

Suddenly, you found yourself laughing through the tears and hiccups. You didn’t know why, perhaps giddy relief or delirious exhaustion, but Namjoon followed quickly with his own relieved laughter. Pulling away, you saw his own streak of tears covering his face and you found it only appropriate to wipe them away with your gentle touch. He keened under your adoration, eyes softly dusting to a close as his head leaned into your right palm.

“You look tired, baby,” you whispered your observation.

He hummed in confirmation. “Didn’t get much sleep. Bed was too cold without you.”

You found yourself agreeing as you tugged him along behind you on the trek to your bedroom. He didn’t resist and more than happily rid himself of the unnecessary clothing when you two made it to the bedroom. He slipped under the covers right beside you, pulling you close until your head was tucked under his chin, loose baby hairs tickling him in the best way possible. Nestled against Namjoon’s body, warm heat radiating off his skin, it almost felt like he had never left at all.

#namjoon imagine #namjoon fluff #namjoon angst #kim namjoon imagine #kim namjoon scenarios #namjoon scenarios #bts scenarios #bts #kim namjoon #angst and fluff #hurt comfort #long distance relationship #businessman namjoon #bangtan boys #bts imagines #my writing

[min-meowmeow]

Sitting here listening to Spanish love songs looking at pics of Yoon is some type of mood and I'm w r e c k e d

[min-meowmeow]

Yall imagine lying next to Yoongi as the soft pitter patter of rain hits the glass pane of your window, the day slowly fading into night behind the storm clouds that loomed over the city all day. Imagine how nice it must feel to have his arm wrapped around you tightly as your head rests on his chest, right above his heartbeat so the rhythmic thumps slowly pull you to sleep. Imagine taking in his cologne with every breath, his scent the first thing you think about when someone says 'comfort.' Imagine not having to say anything, knowing the silence is understood between you. Imagine how peaceful life would feel in that moment. Imagine.

[min-meowmeow]

Suncity

Hoseok x Reader

Fluff

Word Count: 1323

Warnings: None

Synopsis: Going on vacation with Hoseok was supposed to be fun, but he can’t stop obsessing over every little thing until you tempt him with something sweet. 

------------

You had never seen a place so bright. The golden rays of the summer sun reflected on the bleached white stone of the buildings lining the alleys and pathways you had walked since your arrival to the the quiet city. Cobblestone steps trailed along beneath the toes of your sneakers dipping and jutting out of mortar crevices in a disorganized pattern you couldn't quite comprehend. It seemed every building was constructed to evoke the feeling of the ever present quaint summer written about by novelists and poets on damn near every continent. It seemed you had stumbled into the embodiment of a city made of sun nestled into the French countryside hidden from the pressing noses of a demanding world. The peace was one you were desperate to keep, but one your husband was obliviously disturbing.

“Babe, did you grab the key card to the hotel before we left? I can’t find it…” Hoseok’s inquiry trailed in the determination of his hand hurriedly digging into the contents of his backpack.

“Front pocket. Under your external phone charger,” you hummed.

A low grumble of “I already looked there” emitted from the strong plains of his bronze chest that made itself obviously visible from under a half buttoned white collared shirt. He was correct, he had looked in that pocket, but at that time, he had been looking for the tube of sunscreen that was nestled comfortably in the left side pocket where he had sworn his sunglasses had been when he went looking for those not ten minutes ago. He had looked through every pocket of the backpack well over fifteen times, but each time he was searching for a new, surely forgotten, lost item.

You had stolen glances at his frantic search each and every time he asked for something else in between the moments you spent taking in the breathtaking architecture you had paid good money to see. The descent into the city from your hilltop villa hotel had awarded you with beautifully designed structures often with intricately laced ironwork and windows ornamented with delicately carved floral or lace patterns. You had so much of the city left to see in the week you would be spending there, but it seemed only one of you would be paying any attention.

A startled confirmation filtered through the air as you passed a small cafe brewing rich aromas of dark coffee along with the delectable scent of pastries you could only identify as something made up in your sweetest dreams. A couple sitting on bistro chairs just outside the cafe doors shared a piece of cake you enviously wanted along with the twin cups of espressos sitting just by their elbows. You were not keen to turn away from the enticing offerings when you heard the clank of the external phone charger, but allowed your husband to hold your attention for the two seconds it would take to confirm that you were right.

“When did you put it in here?” his pout protruded accusingly.

Your gaze fell to the slope of his lower lip tracing the dip to sun-tinted cheeks that led to the honey eyes of a man you had sold your heart to with the truest promise of forever.

“When you told me to before we left the hotel,” you smirked, taking the now liberated key card from his hand and placing it back into the pocket with a pointed capture of his gaze pinned to yours. Deft fingers also replaced the charger then tidied the mess with a rough tug of the zipper to secure the contents back inside. “Ok?”

Finger-brushed hair fell into the downcast turn of his bowed head. “I’m sorry. I must have forgotten.”

The swelling of your heart pressed into the tightly held bones of a rib cage that was used to this kind of pressure. Hoseok was always fretting over every little detail of your lives together down to the most minuscule things you would have never thought of were it not for him. He wanted you both to be as happy as you possibly could, almost to an unrealistic degree, and you knew he would only end up disappointed when things didn’t go according to his plan. Like now.

“Baby,” you cooed, fingers dancing through the mess of his silky, disheveled hair, “Stop worrying about everything. We have everything we need. We’ll be fine.”

He barely had the courage to meet your eye, finding it easier to scuff the toe of his balenciagas into a rather large crack of the road where you two stood. When you two had planned the special trip, he had promised the only thing he would pay attention to was you. It would be a week where you could spend every moment in each other’s company without distraction or interruption. This trip had been an apology, a way for him to make up for always being busy with work that often took him out of the country. The solemn expression he wore told you he felt he was doing a rather lousy job at apologizing and you couldn’t stand it.

“Hobi,” you mimicked his whiny pout, but went a step further to wrap your arms around his waist in order to duck your head low enough to see his face. You were glad there weren’t any shimmering tears in his beautiful eyes, but the look still wasn’t ideal. “Baby, should we drink a cup of coffee together? Hmm? What about sharing a pastry?” A slow smile began to grow on his face at the tone you only used when you wanted to be saccharine sweet. Triumph sparked in your veins. “Honey, let’s enjoy sweet things together. Please?”

A grin tugged at the corners of his mouth enticing you to press petal-soft kisses into the dip of his dimples, the ghost of his smile, along the high sweep of his cheekbones until your lips smoothed over the tip of his nose. He was giggling now, content with the loving affection you were never shy to give him.

“Ok, ok. Let’s go get something,” he conceded.

Giddily, you laced your fingers through his longer digits to give you the leverage you needed to tug him into the cafe you had been desperate to enter. The patrons and baristas inside greeted you with tender smiles that were no doubt in response to the attention you had paid to your husband just outside the tiny haven, but you felt no embarrassment from their knowing gazes. Instead, you found a quiet table nestled in the corner of the shop and ordered two espressos with a slice of cinnamon coffee cake in botched French all while Hoseok kept his loving stare trained on your every move. He didn’t turn away from you nor did he say anything until your order appeared between the two of you.

Cutting a small chunk of the cake with a fork, he extended it out to your awaiting mouth. You both laughed when a small dusting of cinnamon fell into the seams of your lips, but before you could clean it up, Hoseok leaned over the small table and laid his lips against yours allowing his tongue to wipe up the remaining confection. Rose painted across your cheeks at his actions.

“Mmm, just as sweet as always,” he grinned turning the rose on your cheeks the color of valentines.

“You’re such a cheese ball,” you grinned.

He chuckled, enjoying the weightlessness of the moment before allowing his features to fall into a more serious demeanor. “You know I love you, right?”

The question didn’t necessarily perplex you, but you didn’t like the underlying uncertainty.

“As much as I love you,” you confirmed.

Sheepishly, he smiled, and it was in that moment that the glowing city outside was unable to compete with the golden radiance of the man who carried the sun in his eyes.

#hoseok scenarios #jung hoseok scenario #jung hoseok fluff #jung hoseok imagine #hoseok imagines #hoseok fluff #bts fluff #bts imagines #bts scenarios #jung hoseok #Jhope scenario #jhope imagines #bts jhope imagine #bts jhope scenario #bts fanfic #jung hoseok fanfic #hoseok fanfic #jhope fanfic #domestic fluff #married life

[min-meowmeow]

Perfect

Hoseok x Reader

Fluff

Word Count: 1,348

Warnings: None

Synopsis: You find Hoseok passed out on your couch one day when you come home from work.

----------------

The sun barely bled in through half-closed window curtains lightly dusting over the tan wood floors of your shared apartment when you entered just past 4 pm. You were exhausted, your bones weighing down until your feet nearly dragged along the entrance where you struggled to even toe off your loafers. You loved your students, you did, but if you never saw another screaming ten year old again, you wouldn’t complain.

It had all started with a set of markers. Not their markers, mind you, but your markers that you kept for students who didn’t have anything more than a pencil or pen so they could color code the different parts of speech. One student had demanded a green marker that another student had already taken and a fight ensued over who got to keep it, despite the fact that you had at least five different green markers in the box. It was a tantrum, you knew that, but it still didn’t stop the headache that followed.

You deposited said green marker on the hallway table along with your keys and satchel bag as one foot went behind you to kick the front door closed. Enveloped in the silent air of your apartment, you released one hefty sigh of relief before noticing another noise joining you in the silence.

Snores barely audible directed your attention to the large navy sectional that took up a good portion of your living room. A blanket spilled over the edge along with a bare leg while tufts of disheveled brown hair poked over the armrest where your matching cream decorative pillow lay pressed between it and a tired head. It was then that you noticed another pair of sprawled shoes next to yours and another set of keys lying on the hall table.

Hoseok was home.

Giddy endearment rose up through your esophagus until it felt nearly suffocating to be away from him for much longer. You hummed happily with socked feet sliding over the sun specked tan wood floor until you came to stand over him, all the stress from the day slowly washing away in the dim light upon seeing your resting lover.

Your hungry eyes found Hoseok on his side with one arm tucked under the pillow below his head to cradle his cheek softly into the plush fabric, the push of his pliant skin forcing his heart shaped lips to dip into a small pout. The warm comforter that usually adorned your bed was pulled up to his shoulders covering almost all of him save for that one stray leg that hung off the edge of the couch, toes pressed into the coarse fabric of your rug.

He had said he was going to be out late.

You briefly wondered why he was home, taking note of the lack of makeup and the fresh smell of a shower wafting from his still body. There hadn’t been any texts alerting you to his arrival or that he would get out early, but none of that mattered when a soft groan left his broad chest as he dug his nose deeper into the pillow. You remained still above him, waiting for his beautiful eyes to open, but when nothing happened, you relaxed again.

Softly, your thimble fingers reached out, brushing the soft strands of chocolate brown away from his fluttering eyelashes. Everything about him made your quietly beating heart overflow with love you were so desperate to kiss into the smooth surface of his sunlit skin, but you didn’t, opting instead to fall on bended knees to rest your head gently against the comforter by his curled arm, fingertips lightly stroking the clothed inside of his bicep while your enamored gaze peered up to his resting face.

Nothing in the world could ever be as beautiful to you as Hoseok sound asleep in the safety of your home.

You could spend hours admiring just him from the slope of his hair covered forehead to the tips of his elegantly long fingers. In fact, you had many times admired him when he wasn’t looking or paying attention, often choosing the quiet moments between the two of you to let your love engulf you body and soul. He usually caught you, too, but it never stopped you. If anything, it encouraged you, especially when the bright red tint of bashfulness coated the very cheeks you often pressed your lips against.

Today, no red tint appeared as he remained within the throes of a peaceful slumber that was instead accompanied with just the smallest of snores. Hoseok wasn’t much of a snorer, but when he was really tired, just a small little rasp would pass through his nostrils letting you know that he was gone from the world, utterly checked out. Because of its rarity, you enjoyed his little snores when you heard them, often using them to lull yourself into a sleep that always left you feeling more rested the following day.

“I love you,” you whispered into the air between your face and his, carefully rising high enough to press the breath of a kiss against the tip of his nose.

He shuffled again, this time his head drooping lower down the pillow until it almost fell onto the couch cushions. You smirked, appreciative of his new proximity to you and you proceeded to press even more fluttering kisses along the expanse of his cheeks, the ridge of his jaw line, the crease of his brow, and finally the pucker of his lips. The snores had subtly stopped, but you didn’t mind enjoying the time you spent pressing petals of love into his skin.

You only stopped when the rasp of his voice startled your lips into a pause.

“What’re you doing?” he asked with barely a slit of an opening in his sealed eyelids

You pressed another fluttering kiss onto his scrunched nose. “Loving you.”

He scoffed as he stretched his limbs out, leg slipping back under the covers until his entire body covered the length of the couch in comfortable serenity. You remained in your spot, peering up at his blinking eyes that were slowly opening up to the world until his brain could process all that he saw. A loud yawn followed another stretch.

“When did you get home?” he asked, eyes finally finding you with a dreamy look in your rose tinted gaze.

“Few minutes ago. You?”

“A few hours ago.” His long fingers found yours absentmindedly. “Why didn’t you wake me?”

You shrugged. “Didn’t wanna disturb you.”

He snorted. “You did a great job at that, babe”

“In my defense, you usually sleep like a rock when you snore.”

“I wasn’t snoring.”

Instead of answering him, you mimicked his quiet snores until it brought the rise of a smile onto his heart lips. He conceded then, tugging at your digits to tempt you to rise. You did, and found yourself slipping under the covers with him until your exhausted body met his warmth inch for perfect inch. He wound one arm around your waist as the other slowly began rubbing mindless circles into your arm much like you had just been doing to his, and with your head pressed into the dip of his collarbone, you found yourself surrounded with the fresh scent of a newly awakened Hoseok.

“So to what do I owe the pleasure of having you home so early?” you asked, peering up at him with the press of your chin into his chest.

“Joon. His computer crashed.”

“Probably the porn.”

He rolled his still sleepy eyes in acknowledgement. “Whatever it was, I’m glad. I get to spend time with you.”

The love you could feel pouring out from his gaze made your heart stutter back to life until you found yourself pressing urgent kisses into his awaiting mouth. He pressed back most ardently, the hand previously on your waist now lacing through the loose strands of your useless bun to keep you from pulling away. Despite the way your day had turned out, you had to admit the ending was just perfect.

#hoseok scenarios #Jhope scenario #jhope fluff #hoseok fluff #bts fluff #bts scenarios #jhope #bts jhope #jung hoseok #jung hoseok fluff #jung hoseok scenario #jung hoseok imagine #jhope imagines #bts imagines #hoseok imagines #bts #kpop fanfiction #hoseok fanfic #jhope fanfic #jung hoseok fanfic #bts fanfic

[min-meowmeow]

Drive

Yoongi x Reader

Fluff, nothing but fluff. Pure Yoongi fluff.

Word Count: 1,168

Warnings: None

Synopsis: Night driving with Yoongi

-----------

Wisps of dazzling street lights passed quickly in shades of neon blues, greens and pinks just briefly enough to be caught by Yoongi’s wandering gaze staring out from the windshield speeding along an almost empty freeway. The night was chilled with the onset of an approaching winter that left his hands frostbitten as they gripped the leather of the steering wheel just where the blow of the heater didn’t reach. Beside him, you sat with hands tucked into the sleeves of your sweater as your legs pressed into the confines of your chest while your own gaze fixed itself on the city lights he could only barely see when he turned to face you.

A subtle smile graced over the pull of his lips at your nodding head that ducked and rose in time with a song only you could hear. He wanted to ask what song played along in your head, but the fear of disrupting the quiet atmosphere was just too much for him to bear. Besides, he liked being able to steal glances at you between paying attention to the road. It made him feel like a viewer observing a masterpiece, absolutely reverent.

To say Yoongi was enamored with you would be an understatement. He was absolutely enthralled, completely absorbed with you to such an extent that he felt a piece of him missing when you weren’t nearby. He craved your simple touches, your shy kisses pressed to his cheek or a poke along his rib cage when you wanted to annoy him. He couldn’t sleep without the slope of your cheek pressed into the dip of his collarbones, the brush of your hair tickling his chin. One time or another, Jungkook had described him as “absolutely fucked.” Seeing you there under the streetlights, Yoongi couldn’t agree more.

He caught the glow of the stereo clock in his peripherals when he turned back to face the road. Midnight. His favorite time to be out on a drive with the quiet hum of a late night DJ's selected tunes mixing with the quiet functions of a car in motion. Engine revving when gas was applied, the soft tick tick tick of a turn signal when he switched lanes. The sound the wind made as it rushed over the metal body of his Hyundai Sonata.

His body was at ease having just come from a concert that you had been desperate to attend. He hadn’t really paid much attention to the performing artists, they were some obscure pop punk band with a headliner he had been interested in back in his youth. If he was being honest, he only went because you had been so adorably determined, but then you grew tired half way through, so you two snuck out early to grab dinner before venturing back home. He couldn’t have asked for a better conclusion to the night.

Underneath the stars and the neon lights, peace filled the small space, the dazzling twinkle of blinking lights bidding you both goodnight when one freeway switched with another to take you in the direction of your suburban apartment leaving the glow of downtown in the rear view mirror.

In the quiet moments like this, Yoongi remembered the moment he realized just how much he loved you. It had been about five months after you had started dating. Your day had been rough, something about your boss being a total asshole during the entirety of your 8 hour shift at the bookstore you used to work in. He had been desperate to make you smile, so he found your favorite Studio Ghibli movie and ordered Chinese takeout from your favorite restaurant a block away from his apartment.

You had both settled onto his queen sized bed with your food, lights turned off so the glow of the T.V. was the only thing that illuminated your pouty face. A funny scene had occurred on screen, something you affectionately referred to as “Howl being a whiny wizard baby,” and you laughed, a little bit of rice spilling from your full mouth. You looked embarrassed as you wiped the food from your shirt, but all Yoongi could see was the light returning to your eyes, the weight of the day slowly lifting from your weary shoulders. He had spoken those three words then, to your surprise and his. You returned them almost immediately.

Yoongi’s gaze turned to face you again, this time under the guise of checking to see if it was safe to switch lanes. Your head had stopped bobbing, now resting against the headrest with closed lids while slow breaths passed through the rise of your chest. He had the sudden, deep urge to reach across the middle console and run his freezing fingers through the messy strands of your loose hair, push them out of your face so he could have a completely unobstructed view of your serene expression. He imagined your soft giggle filling the quiet space as you chastised him to keep his eyes on the road or else. His own response would be a quieted “I love you,” the three words already bubbling in his own chest just begging to be released. Instead, he only grinned secretly to himself.

Another bend in the familiar road approached with Yoongi’s hand guiding the car along the painted lane lines, but the car didn’t glide along the subtle turn of the road as he expected, instead catching the grooved pavement of the shoulder that jostled the two of you before Yoongi instinctively pulled the car back into it’s right position.

Your eyes opened in wide fear before they affixed themselves to the quickly blushing man sat beside you. "Are you trying to kill us?"

His eyes remained glued to the road ahead of you now, no stray glance even when he uttered, "It's your fault"

"How is it my fault?" you baulked.

"I was too busy looking at you to pay attention to the road," he sheepishly responded.

He couldn’t see the rise of crimson on your cheeks, but your expression gave it away when you ducked your head with a dumbfounded smile that melted into shy appreciation. “Why is it always my fault if we die?”

“Hey,” he cooed, hand reaching out to grip the smooth skin of your exposed thigh. “I’m kidding”

Your eyes rolled dramatically with your own hands prying his grip from you only to settle a small kiss along his knuckles. He almost crashed again because of this new affection, his heart damn near exploding through the cage his ribs created.

“Just try not to kill us anymore or I’m revoking your driving duties,” you scolded.

A giddy laugh passed through the amazed push of his grin into his inflamed cheeks.

“Got it, boss.”

You laced your fingers through his own crooked digits, rubbing warmth into the stiff joints. He silently thanked his lucky stars, knowing he must have done something amazing in his past life to deserve your love in this one.

#yoongi fluff #yoongi scenarios #min yoongi scenario #min yoongi imagines #bts yoongi #bts scenarios #bts imagines #fluff #suga fluff #bts suga scenarios #bts suga imagine #bts #bts fanfic #yoongi fanfic #min yoongi fanfic #min yoongi scenarios

[min-meowmeow]

Come Home

Hoseok x Reader

Fluff, Angst

Word Count: 1,801

Warnings: None

Synopsis: After a fight between you and Hoseok, you go find him in the dance studio.

----------

The ride up to the fifth floor of BigHit’s building was a slow moving one, your anxious fingers tapping away a rhythm you were familiar with on the handrail behind you. Hobi was still there working tirelessly at a dance you were sure he had mastered already and, though you had grown worried about him two hours ago, you weren’t urged into action until Namjoon had called telling you that Hobi was pushing himself too hard and, honestly, couldn’t you do something about it? You were glad to have received the call, primarily because you knew the cause for his blind determination, and briskly made your way over.

Joonie had told you to expect the worst. He said that Hobi hadn’t listened to any of them about eating or resting and instead remained determined to perfect every single intricate move to their newest dance. Joonie said he had been at it for hours and eventually the boys had to give up and go home. That was nearly an hour ago.

Finally, the elevator opened on the fifth floor illuminating a rather dim corridor in its minimal light. You heaved a breath, preparing yourself to walk another floor length to the practice room hoping that Hobi wouldn’t turn you away. 

You hated fighting with Hoseok, especially so close to a comeback because the chances of it getting resolved were nearly astronomical. Yes, he was overly busy during comeback time, but you knew he had a habit of using the comeback as an excuse sometimes, usually when he didn’t want to confront a rather unpleasant situation. The fight you two had had earlier was about as unpleasant as it could be. 

A few feet away, you could hear the music blaring from speakers. It was a song you hadn’t yet heard and the anticipation for its release rose in your chest along with the fluttering of nervous butterflies. The song had a phenomenal beat with high bass snares and thrilling guitar riffs. The fast pace of the music left you to assume that it was near the end of the song. You reached the door and pressed a palm against the frosted panel running the length of the barrier between you and Hoseok.

You pushed it open.

Hobi was moving in the middle of the dance floor, his body weaving in a fluid motion to the fast paced rhythm of the beat. You never did understand how he managed to look as if he were made of water; his limbs loosening around him as he guided them to the right positions. His feet carried him effortlessly from one spot to the next as if it were as easy as walking. You knew if you had to do something like that, you would resemble an injured bumblebee bouncing from spot to spot, utterly ungraceful. It just made you appreciate his raw talent that much more.

The song finally ended in one high crescendo to which Hobi pushed his body to the most extreme. Sweat dripped from the length of his hair coating his gorgeous face in dewy perspiration as he hit every sharp move with precise precision. He halted in the middle of the dance floor, arms thrown wide and head thrown back resembling an angel fallen. Your gaze devoured every intricate layer of his body in quiet reverence as the music cut off. 

He dropped the position as soon as the lull in sound hit, instead hunching his shoulders in a more relaxed posture. His chest rose high and ducked low, his mouth struggling to deliver his lungs enough air to sustain himself. He hadn’t looked up, probably hadn’t even realized you had entered the room. You wished you could stay there in anonymous observation, the fantasy of being unnoticed something cherished for you now that you two were fighting, but you knew he would notice you eventually. You knocked once on the door to get his attention.

His gaze flew to you. His expression first settled in obvious shock followed by even more confusion when he finally realized you who were. Your heart rested on moth wings in the hopes that maybe, just maybe, his angry temperament had passed before the look on his face finally changed into trained indifference as he turned back to face the ground in front of him with continuously heaving breaths.

“What’re you doing here?” he casually asked as if he wasn’t dripping on the wooden floor.

You looked around the room with furrowed eyebrows. “Is this not the fish market?”

The chuckle he attempted to conceal still spread the slip of his lips as he ran his long fingers through his slick hair. He wiped the sweat off on his jeans and sauntered over to the stereo that was already beginning to repeat the song that had just finished. Even taking simple steps, Hoseok had the lithe figure of a dancer. You always seemed forgot this fact until you saw it in action. It was the most incredible thing you were allowed to witness.

He clicked off the song drowning the two of you in a new silence that felt impermeable. You noticed his deliberate attempt to ignore your gaze as he messed with the device hooked up to the stereo’s speakers and you belatedly realized that it was his phone. There had been no attempts from you to text him, but you were sure he still had awaiting messages from other people.  

“Did Namjoon send you?” he asked from across the room. 

You scuffed the edge of the wooden door with your thumb nail, “What? I can’t just come visit my boyfriend without having to be sent?”

He peered through the curtain of his bangs just enough to catch your eye.

“Ok yes he did,” You conceded, awkwardly pulling away from the barricade of the door to fully enter the room. “But, I was getting worried about you. You’ve been gone all day and it’s midnight.”

“It is?” he asked with a cold stare that looked nothing like the surprise his words attempted to hold. “I’m not even close to finished.”

“You can work on it tomorrow?”

“I need to finish this tonight,” he said while active fingers continued to swipe through his phone. 

You watched him actively ignore you as he typed something away in his phone, no doubt responding to some correspondence that had been sent earlier in the day. Heart sinking, you wondered if showing up had been a bad idea, but you didn’t want to give up just yet. 

“Hobi, baby, you need rest.” You tried, your feet taking small steps towards your cold boyfriend. The plea in your voice enticed him to look up from his phone, the ice in his gaze slowly melting with every new step you took. He merely shook his head again when you got close enough to feel the heat from his body. “Come home?”

“Babe,” his voice sounded strained coming through his lungs.

The small amount of affection you caught in his stare afforded you the courage of pulling him by the waist into your arms. You held him tightly against you finally happy to feel him under you, despite the cool patch of sweat that was beginning to dry in his sweatshirt. Chin propped against his chest, you looked up at him with a vicious pout. “Please Hobi. I’ve missed you.”

He didn’t answer verbally. His mouth set in a strict line as his eyes narrowed in mock disdain, but you knew you had gotten to him when his arms wrapped around your shoulders ever so carefully. Gently, he rested your cheek against his chest so he could lay his own cheek against the fluff of your hair.

“You’re not mad?”

You pulled him closer against you. “Are you?”

He shook his head with a sad slope of his heart lips plastered on his face as he pulled away only far enough to look at you. The look in his eyes was pleading and defeated, a tired man ready to be welcomed home. “I hate fighting with you,” he murmured. 

Small fingers delicately brushed the rise of his cheekbones down to the plush softness of his cheeks before falling into the sweaty material along the neckline of his sweatshirt. Your grip tightened into the fabric, fingers clinging to him as if he would disappear if you let him go for even a second. 

“I’m sorry for the things that I said,” you whispered into the quiet space between the two of you. 

Hoseok’s sigh reminded you of the frustrated noise he had made just before leaving the apartment that morning, but now there was no fight in the wisps of his breath. “I’m sorry that I pushed you to say them.” 

“I shouldn’t have said them either way,” you nearly choked. 

Hoseok hushed you with a press of his lips against your forehead with closed, anguished eyes. He continued tracing his affection over the tip of your nose until it settled in the line of your lips where he sealed them comfortingly against yours over and over until he felt a settle in your trembling appendages. Pulling away, he rested his forehead against yours enjoying the calmed adoration in your expression that was no longer being plagued by the threat of tears. 

A few minutes passed in quiet reverence. His thumbs brushed gentle circles into the fabric around your waist while his deep breaths relaxed within his rib cage. Your fingers ran lightly along the plains of his chest in the way he loved, a tiny bit of tension escaping the taut ridges of his strained shoulders. You could read the exhaustion in his muscles under the pliant knead of your fingers. 

Pressing a soft kiss against his sternum, you looked up to him with a plea of your own. “Come home?” you asked again. 

His eyes devoured you in his stare as the decision was slowly being made in his mind. Despite how close the comeback was, he knew the only reason he had been working so late was because he was terrified of going home to find you angrily avoiding him. Now that you were in his arms, your warm heat setting into the tired joints in his body, he couldn’t imagine staying in the dance studio for another minute. 

“Let’s go home,” he finally agreed. 

Your smile dazzled him with the radiance of your love that you were so happy to give him. He didn’t want to let you go, but when you separated yourself from him only to grip his hand safely in yours, he gave no fight to your direction. Quietly, you both made your way out of the studio with Hoseok’s gym bag thrown over his shoulder, content and happy to finally be with each other again. 

#bts jhope #bts #jung hoseok #jhope #hoseok scenarios #hoseok imagines #jhope scenario #jhope scenarios #jhope imagines #bts imagines #hoseok fluff #hoseok angst #mine #bangtan boys

[min-meowmeow]

Somewhere in the Crowd

Yoongi x Reader

Fluff

Word count: 3,000

Warnings: None

Synopsis: Yoongi finds himself missing you while he's on tour, but one phone call gives him the surprise of his life.

----

Yoongi was two seconds away from losing his mind. Around him, the room spun in a cacophony of noises with Jungkook and Taehyung lip syncing to an overplayed pop song blaring from Jungkook’s phone speakers while the other members laughed at the stupid facial expressions they were making. Usually, Yoongi would be joining his other members in bewildered amusement at the younger men’s actions, or maybe even join in on the bad lip syncing by adding overly dramatic arm movements, but tonight, of all nights, Yoongi felt nothing but overwhelmed. 

Tonight, instead of joining in, he settled himself into the corner of the room flicking through social media feeds that were failing to hold his attention for longer than a few minutes. There was just a lack of something special across them all, something that he desperately sought out at this moment, but also desperately tried to avoid. He felt restless anxiety course through the bloodstream under his skin. 

Another half a second, he couldn’t take it. 

Plucking himself out of the chair that he had been perched in for the better part of the last two hours, Yoongi took languid steps towards the exit on the other side of the room. He hoped nobody would notice him or ask where he was going because he didn’t have a clear excuse in mind. He just knew that he had to get out and calm down before he allowed his mood to impact the other members. An hour before the first show of their European tour, Yoongi didn’t want to bring down the mood by making them worry about him. 

Especially because he knew exactly what he needed. 

He shouldered his way through the door with a hand already pulling his phone out of his pocket. The only eyes he had caught were Namjoon’s, who had given him a reassuring smile and a thumbs up that Yoongi half-heartedly attempted to return before disappearing around the door frame. 

He felt instant relief once he was outside the room, despite the chaos of the preshow preparation. A number of people brushed past him with equipment being rolled around in a frenzy of last minute stage checks. He knew everyone on his team that passed, but they thankfully mentioned nothing, not even his name. This made him feel a sense of privacy, an aloneness he only felt when he was on the fringes of a crowd that didn’t care about him. An aloneness that provided him the comforting courage to find your number in his contacts list and press “dial.” 

God, how much he missed you. Your delicate smile in the early mornings when you both had days off and were allowed to sleep late, your familiar hands brushing through his hair on quiet evenings while he rested his head just above the sound of your soft heartbeat, the slow kisses you would share when you both knew the world was slowing down just for you. He hadn't seen you in two months. 

It was killing him. 

He listened to the staccato of the call tone with bated breaths. He hadn’t an idea of what he would say when you picked up the line. Of course, he would apologize profusely for waking you up as it was, no doubt, the very early hours of the morning back home, but beyond that he wasn’t sure. He didn’t even know if he wanted to say anything or just sit on the line with you while you mumbled sleepily about your day or about how much you missed him. He just wanted to feel close with you somehow while he was a thousand worlds away. He just wanted to hear you say that you loved him. 

Your voicemail caught him off guard; the anxious movements of his mouth sloping down into a pout at the automated message informing him that you were not available. He cursed the device before removing the phone from his ear pushing the “end” button with a vicious stab of his finger before he left evidence of his annoyance in the form of a disgruntled message delivered from a noisy hallway in a Glasgow arena.

It is late, he justified, checking the time back home to try and rationalize why you didn’t answer. He didn’t like the rotting feeling in his chest at the denied contact. It wasn’t your fault, yet his sour mood worsened the longer he stared at the digital clock that read Seoul’s time. 4:15 am. At least you’d probably be awake after the show. 

He paused a breath in his throat for a single heartbeat, allowing it release when he turned his gaze downward to the tiled floor. The only hope that remained for him came in the solace that he’d get to see you again after the final leg of his tour. Just four more stops. One more month. He only hoped he could make it that long. 

Quietly, he turned to face the closed door of the waiting room with careful dread and a game plan already set. He’d sit back down in his chair, pop in his headphones and listen to the loudest track he knew of. He promised himself that he wouldn’t go through your social media feed or stare longingly at the couple pictures you were both so fond of taking. He promised he wouldn’t make it worse by making himself miss you more. 

Steps stalled just as he was about to push open the door to the dressing room when the device in his palm vibrated with a flash of your name scrawled out on the screen. Elation and relief washed over his body immediately. 

“Hey, babe. You called?” you sounded so sweetly nonchalant that Yoongi had to stop himself from ranting about how much he loved the beautiful timbre of your voice. 

He took several weighted breaths before responding, “Yeah, just wanted to talk.” 

“Oh?” the uptick in your tone made him smile. 

“Nothing bad,” he explained, “just missed you.”

The tremble in his voice at the confession was something Yoongi hoped you didn’t catch through the tiny speakers of your phone.

“Yoon, baby, I miss you too,” you returned knowingly indicating that you had, indeed, heard the tremor. 

Your words made his throat close around any other words he could possibly say in response leaving you both sitting on the line for a few beats without a thing passing between the two of you. Instead, he listened carefully to the noises around you that he could hear through the phone until the sound of your breaths began lulling him in a trance of warm familiarity making him wish he was by your side so much more. It tore his heart in half until you spoke again.

“How’s the show going?” You asked. 

Yoongi fell back into his existing body within the space of the concert stadium with a lousy pout. 

“Hasn’t started yet. We’re waiting another hour,” he sighed, propping his head against the wall when he heard a loud clamboring noise filter in through the speaker pressed firmly against his ear. Confusion etched its way into the crease of his brow only to further deepen when he realized that he could hear the same noise coming from down the busy hallway he was stood in. “Wait, why are you awake? Where are you?” 

You hummed into the receiver, “Give me a few more steps and you’ll find out.” 

Spiking trepidation warred with diligent hope as Yoongi took your words in. There was no way they were intended to mean what he thought they’d meant. There was no way. He swallowed the anxiety. “Babe, what do you mean?” 

“Turn to the left, Yoon.” 

His slow gaze wandered in the direction of your instructions already bracing himself to find no one there, but when his eyes caught yours, a feeling beyond happiness consumed his veins in an electric fire. 

There you were standing in the same hallway he had entered from hours earlier, your beautifully warm smile greeting his starved gaze. You were like a myth come to life from the pages of an archaic tome he had been desperate to decipher. Only now that you were standing in front of him did it all make sense. 

Yoongi didn’t even think to hang up the phone before launching his exhausted body towards your awaiting figure. Arms laced around your waist when he reached you, head pressed into the crook of your neck while your own arms encircled his hunched shoulders in a python hold. Your rose scented perfume engulfed his senses in such a strong feeling of belonging that Yoongi promised he’d never let you go again. 

“How are you here?” his reverent whisper blew across the dip of your collarbones. 

You cupped the back of his head to press him just a little closer to you. 

“Took some time off so I could surprise you. Joon helped me plan the best day,” you muttered into the expanse of his shoulder. 

Yoongi ever so gently untangled himself from your limbs to provide you with an unobstructed view of his exquisite features. It was then that you noticed the thin layer of shimmering tears sprinkling along his eyelashes. He turned his face down to avoid your scrutinizing gaze. 

“That sneaky asshole,” he grumbled with a quick swipe of his thumb across his eyes, “he could have said something.” 

Small fingers brushed against Yoongi's cheeks to swipe away the remaining residue of his spent tears, your smile sympathetic and warm, wholly understanding. “Babe, that's not how surprises work.” 

His hand cradled yours along his cheek. “Dont care.”

The twinkling lightness of your laugh soon became Yoongi's favorite sound. He admired the happy creasing of your eyelids around the curve of your smile with a reverent stare appreciating every little intricate quirk that made you so undoubtedly you. Hungry eyes devoured your features from the slope of your nose to the shimmering apple of your cheeks and when he couldn't take any more, he lowered his petal lips onto yours. 

He kissed roses onto your lips while his hands found purchase around the curve of your hips holding you so desperately close he felt as if  he might disappear if he let go. Your own hands wound into the neckline of his pressed button up more than likely wrinkling the fabric but the glide of Yoongi's cherry lips made it very hard to care. You were lost in each other so deeply it seemed the universe took a pause. 

“Have I told you how much I’ve missed you?” he whispered against the press of your lips. 

“Hmm,” you hummed, “Not in the last five seconds.” 

“Well,” he kissed you again. “I have.” His lips trekked across your cheek. “A lot.” They pressed against your forehead. “Just in case you didn’t know.” 

Your face broke out into a delighted giggle with each individual flutter of his puckered mouth finding purchase on the features of your face. He didn’t stop, not even when multiple people of the stage crew chuckled endearingly at his affection towards you as they passed. Your cheeks flushed, the red hue muddled under the length of his digits, but still visible to those wandering by.  

“Yoongi,” you whined, fighting back the urge to bury your face into the slippery fabric of his shirt. “People are watching.” 

He pressed a deliberate kiss onto the slope of your nose then along the edge of your jaw while repeated muttered words of “don’t care” slipped between each peck. Your own hands had to physically hold his face between two pressed palms inches away from you just to get him to focus, and when he did you could see the longing swirling in his eyes being devoured by uncontrollable happiness. 

Your heart thrummed in your chest, each vibrating beat finding a home with him. 

“Hyung!” an elated voice broke the silence between the two of you with your eyes searching to find the source while Yoongi’s remained trained on you, his hold ever tighter on your hips. To your excitement and Yoongi’s dismay, Jungkook stood with his head popped through the door, expression reflecting his surprise at seeing you there. “Oh! Noona? What’re you doing here?” 

“I quit my job to follow you guys on tours,” you joked. 

Jungkook’s eyes grew in surprise. “Noona! You wouldn’t.” 

“Of course she wouldn’t. She’s too proud to be a trophy wife,” Yoongi chimed in, removing his hands from around your waist only to have one tuck your own tiny palm securely into his. “Let’s go back inside.” 

Re-entering the room felt less troublesome for Yoongi with you by his side. No longer were the noises from the other people too loud and obnoxious, but instead just a part of the comforting atmosphere of pre-show jitters. 

Everyone was idling around. Hoseok and Jimin were practicing the choreo for the intro song while Taehyung mirrored them jokingly in the back. Jin sat with his eyes trained on the screen of his phone, but his movements gave away that he was not so secretly checking himself out with the camera. Then there was Namjoon, the clever man whom Yoongi admired, conversing with one of the make up artists as she touched up his foundation, a secretive smirk layered on his face when he spotted the three of you walk in. 

“Hey! Look who’s here!” Jungkook cheered with happily raised arms angled at the elbows to point behind him where you and Yoongi trailed. 

The majority of the movement ceased when the attention of the people in the room fell on you. The first to react was Hoseok, Yoongi’s best friend and your notorious partner in crime. 

“Dude! What’re you doing here?” he asked, feet automatically carrying him over to where you stood where he then wrapped you up in his welcomingly warm hug. You returned the sentiment as best you could, but found it difficult with Yoongi’s grip anchoring you to his side. 

“I came to visit you guys. It felt lonely back home,” you pouted. 

Hoseok patted your head affectionately when he finally released you, his gaze catching on Yoongi for a second to appreciate the subtle upturn of Yoongi’s expression.  

“Aw!” Jin’s derisive tone seeped into the sugar sweet pull of his lips. “Thank you for including us even though we all know you only came for Yoongi.” 

“Who else would she come for?” Yoongi asked, appalled. 

“Me, obviously,” Jin returned. 

To Yoongi’s surprise, you couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped passed your grinning lips. He didn’t think it was as funny, even though he knew Jin didn’t actually mean it. He assumed that he was still a bit emotional, a little bit too selfish, wanting your laugh only for himself. 

“You planned it perfectly, Noona,” Taehyung said with his boxy smile, “Yoongi’s been quieter than usual.” 

You flicked your gaze towards the man stood beside you. His own gaze was locked on the tiled floor that seemed so much more appealing to him than the conversation happening around him. You nudged his side with your joined hands, your warm smile pulling him into your incandescent light.  

“I have special girlfriend senses,” Yoongi’s heart nearly exploded in his chest with your adorable response to the red haired man. 

“Yeah, right.” Namjoon laughed, “She had help.” 

“Hyung, you knew?” Jungkook’s signature startled expression returned. “Why didn’t you say anything?” 

Namjoon only delivered a shrug, but Yoongi knew the true answer before the snide comment left your sweet lips, confirming his assumptions.. “That’s because none of you can keep a secret.” 

The remaining five men each called their own offended remark. Yoongi could tell that Hoseok, being the loudest and the closest, made you feel just a smidgen bad about not letting him know. But, overall, you could only find yourself laughing at their reactions because, no matter how hard they denied it, it was the truth.

“Twenty minute call,” the stage manager abruptly notified from the now fully open entrance to the dressing room, garnering the attention of everyone in the room. 

Yoongi’s eyes immediately fell to you where he found an encouraging smile devastating his heart. The thought of leaving so soon after barely being able to hold you in his arms gave Yoongi a mild panic. “Watch from backstage?” Yoongi’s hopeful gaze begged. 

“Actually, because of my super special connections,” You smiled while reaching into your back pocket for a little slip of barcoded paper, “I got front row tickets.”

The grin he wore at the reveal only conveyed a fraction of what he was feeling. For Yoongi, it was already special just having you in the same city let alone the same arena, but the knowledge that you would be amidst the glowing light sticks screaming your lungs out for him made this Yoongi’s new favorite experience. 

“I’ll see you after the show.” Yoongi’s digits held tightly onto yours until the very last second before he had to leave you standing in the room with a member of the security team ready to escort you out into the main floor of the stadium. Without a care in the world, he pressed one last kiss against the plump of your lips before grinning. “I love you.” 

Then he pulled farther away, eyes still on you until he turned the corner at the doorframe of the dressing room entrance. His heart was settled neatly in your hand while he walked the corridor that led to the backstage area where he could already hear the millions of fans cheering for the show to begin. He promised himself he would be listening for one specific cheer, no matter how impossible it was. With that in mind, Yoongi took his position in line waiting for the final call, an ecstatic thrum flowing in his veins with the knowledge that out there, somewhere in the crowd, was you.  

#bts suga #min yoongi #yoongi scenarios #yoongi imagine #min yoongi scenario #min yoongi imagines #suga scenarios #suga imagine #bts suga imagine #bts suga scenarios #suga #mine #bts #bangtan boys