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#min yoongi fanfic
underthejoon · a year ago
You Never Shop Alone
Series Summary: A look into the love lives of seven of the mall’s best and biggest fuck boys. With all of them housed in the same vicinity, nonsense is a guarantee, but romance? ... just you wait and see 😉
Status: Ongoing
Rating: M for Mature.
Inspired by this hilariously accurate post by @takarrah
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Pride and Fidget Spinners:
Seokjin has always prided himself on being the top mall kiosk salesman. His turf, the spot nearest to the fountain, is due to him being the undisputed best in the game. At least, until you arrive and throw his world into chaos.
A one shot by: @kpopfanfictrash​
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want a taste?:
pretzel pro. most skillful tongue in the food court world. allegedly. that’s what Yoongi keeps telling you, anyway. but if there’s one thing that motivates the notoriously-lethargic man, it’s proving skeptics wrong.
A one shot by: @suga-kookiemonster​
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Jung Hoseok: Foot Locker Team Member/Non-Driver
Hoseok’s gone from the hot, elevator stranger in the foot locker jersey to your carpool buddy since his car broke down... three months ago. As luck would have it, not only do you live in the same apartment complex, you also work most of the same shifts at the mall. It was all going so well too... Until last night when you groped each other in the parking garage.
A one shot by: @underthejoon
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Kim Namjoon: T-Mobile (Assistant) Store Manager
mobile master. hot (and obnoxious) as fuck. in your humble opinion, namjoon’s customer service skills need massive improvement—but maybe he can make you rethink your angry call to corporate.
A one shot by: @suga-kookiemonster​
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Park Jimin: Certified RN/Mall Frequenter
Park Jimin is a regular at the mall. His best friend, Taehyung, works there and each morning after the night shift, Jimin stops by for his coffee. At least, this is the reason he gives when asked. It has nothing to do with the super-cute lingerie salesgirl he cannot stop staring at. Nothing at all.
A one shot by: @kpopfanfictrash​
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Kim Taehyung: Part Time Barista, Full Time Flirt
mocha maestro. a shameless flirt who always has the tip jar bursting at the seams. whenever you share a shift, tae’s great for your pockets—but honestly, the same can’t be said for your sanity.
A one shot by: @suga-kookiemonster​
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Jeon Jungkook: Personal Trainer/Perpetual Pain in the Ass
Jungkook is determined, you’ll give him that. After every shift, you hit the new gym in the mall and every single time he’s there waiting to proposition you with free personal training sessions. He plays innocent, but you’re no fool. Free sessions are just a means to get you into bed and Jungkook’s ego is big enough as it is. But you’d be lying if you said seeing him work up a sweat doesn’t do things to you.
A one shot by: @underthejoon​
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mono-kookieficrecs · 2 years ago
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Updated: July 26th, 2021
-this masterlist is a continuous work in progress
-please let me know if any of the links don’t work or if authors change their urls ^-^
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One-shots (1/2)
One-shots (2/2)
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neonlights92 · 3 years ago
ENIGMA: Chapter II
After the death of your father leaves you in a lot of a debt to Bangtan - Seoul’s most nefarious crime syndicate - you are offered a way out:  marry Min Yoongi - Bangtan’s most elusive member-  and produce him an heir and your father’s debt will be forgotten.  Without a choice, you are soon tied to a man who you are absolutely terrified of.  But you cannot ignore the part of you that is thrilled by Yoongi.  And what scares you the most isn’t the blood on his hands, or the gun he always carries in his pocket.  It’s the things he’s capable of doing to your heart. 
WARNINGS: Violence and sex  
A/N: SooOOOooo i wanted to include a bit of Taehyung and his wife but OBVIOUSLY Monster was a reader fic which makes naming her in this fic a little bit awkward.  So for all intents and purposes, I am just going to write __ whenever referring to Taehyung’s wife’s name, and you can choose to name her whatever you like! ENJOY!!
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Once again thanks to @aestheticallydestruction for the fabulous moodboard!
It didn’t take you long to realise that being Min Yoongi’s wife came with certain responsibilities you are not quite prepared for.
Like, for example, attending events and functions where you expected to smile and act every part the doting wife.  
“It’s just an engagement party,” Your husband brushed past your anxiety, “Why are you making it such a big deal?”
It had been two long weeks since Yoongi had married you.  He hadn’t touched you since that very first time in the bathroom, and you had to admit you were worried that perhaps he was no longer attracted to you.
Yoongi spent a lot of time outside the house, and you got used to the long days without him, and falling asleep in an empty bed.  In reality, being married to him was lonelier than when your father passed away and you were left on your own.
Because your husband could spend time with you, it just seemed like he chose not to.
“It’s a big deal because this is my first public appearance as your wife,” You answered honestly, “I want to make a good impression.”
Yoongi rolled his eyes, “Why do you care what they think of you?” You didn’t understand why he couldn’t just leave you to it.  Why did he have to make you feel stupid for wanting to make an effort?
“Because I’m going to be seeing those people for the rest of my life,” You replied sharply, “And I don’t want them to think I’m some kind of walkover just because I wasn’t born into this world.”
There was a long pause, and your husband studied you from behind his thick-rimmed glasses.  You were standing in your bedroom, rifling through the clothing rack Yoongi had brought in for the special occasion.  There was every kind of dress at your disposal, and you just wanted to pick the right one.
“They will respect you because you are my wife,” Yoongi told you seriously, “Nobody would dare treat you badly.”
You sucked your bottom lip between your teeth.
You wanted to tell him that that wasn’t the way you wanted to earn anybody’s respect.  By belonging to somebody else.  Because that was the truth, whether you liked it or not you belonged to Min Yoongi.
“Can you just help me pick something?” You asked eventually, eyes pleading, “Please?” Your husband sighed heavily, shrugging out of the suit jacket he was wearing and sitting on the edge of your ridiculously sized bed, “Fine.  I’ll help you.”
You smiled at him softly, “Thank you.”
“Anything to get you to stop complaining,” He bit back and you had to stop yourself from rolling your eyes.
“Could you at least pretend to enjoy yourself?” Yoongi smirked then, “Come on Y/N.  Just try something on.” You exhaled slowly, and tried to ignore the way your veins were still fizzing from the way Yoongi’s gaze followed you carefully.
You picked up the first dress that had caught your eye; a beautiful emerald green gown that looked like it might just drape your body perfectly.  You held it up against your figure and fingered the material gently.
Yoongi quirked a brow, “Don’t you need to try it on for me to see whether I’ll like it or not?”
“Have you ever been shopping with somebody of the opposite sex, in your life Yoongi?”  You were surprised by the teasing warmth behind your tone, “This is what we do before we try anything on.  We contemplate.” Your husband’s eyes brightened and he laughed gently.
“I must admit, in all my years of experience, I have never been shopping with a woman,” He shrugged, “I usually just leave that to the help.”
You shook your head, “Well, I’m your wife.  And I want you to think I look good.” You had meant that last part to come out in a joking manner, but you couldn’t help the seriousness behind your tone.  And Yoongi cottoned on to that tone pretty quickly.  He stood sharply, moving towards you and quirking a brow.
“I think you would look good in a potato sack,” He told you, causing something strange to bubble in the pit of your stomach, “Really.” That same sexual tension from the bathroom all those weeks ago seemed to surface between the two of you once again.  You clutched the fabric of the dress as if your life depended on it.
“Do you think I would have asked Taehyung to marry me off to somebody plain?” He continued, ignoring the way you were so clearly trembling, “If I’m going to fuck you, I want to enjoy it.”
This time, you dropped the dress; unconsciously or consciously, you weren’t even sure anymore.  All you knew was that Yoongi was standing in front of you, that same arrogant air that seemed to draw you in closing around you tightly.
“So why haven’t you touched me?”  The question was quiet, but you still surprised yourself with your boldness.
Yoongi’s eyes widened a fraction, “You want me to touch you?”
You felt your body lean towards his embarrassingly.
“Please,” You breathed out, “Please do.”
Yoongi smirked, “Are you really that desperate baby girl?” Your skin prickled at his words, and you felt your body flush.  How did Yoongi have so much power over you?  Part of you was embarrassed of course, but you couldn’t deny the much larger part of you that was absolutely thrilled by the way he made you feel.
You nodded wordlessly, catching your bottom lip between your teeth.
Yoongi’s eyes darkened and he stepped towards you, crushing his chest against yours, and grabbing you by the wrists.  He brought your hands up to his face and kissed each one of your knuckles gently.
Your breath was taken aback by the gentle gesture, and your heart constricted in your chest.  
“You’re never at home,” You whined, “I’m always on my own.”
Yoongi quirked a dark brow, “You want me around?” His proximity was making it difficult for you to think straight.  At this point you weren’t even sure what you were saying.
“It’s better than being on my own all the time.”
The smirk dropped off your husband’s face, and he slipped a hand into your hair, pulling you towards him, “Well. You’re not alone right now.”
And then he pressed a hot kiss against your lips.  You suddenly felt very dizzy and light-headed, and everything around you closed in slowly, until the only thing you could see with Min Yoongi.
Your body filled with a heady rush, and you weren’t really sure of anything anymore.  
It was pathetic, really, the way he affected you, but the truth was that your husband’s presence was electric.  You had wanted to deny it, but since that very first day you’d met him, nothing had ever been the same for you.
Yoongi led you over to the bed smoothly, laying out down so your hair splayed out behind you.  The dress, as well as the engagement party, were long forgotten and he smirked down at you, a devilish glint in his eyes.
You couldn’t deny that you were attracted to him; that there was something about Yoongi that thrilled you.  
“I’m going to make you feel good,” He whispered, dropping kisses across your collarbone, “But it might hurt at first.”
You nodded because you knew what that meant.
Yoongi was planning on taking your virginity, and you were more than willing to give it to him.
He slid the straps of the dress you were currently wearing off your shoulders, kissing the skin lightly, and causing you to arch your back.  You knew somewhere at the back of your mind that you should be embarrassed by your reaction to him, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care.
The dress slid down your torso and legs, and soon you were left in just your underwear.  Yoongi’s eyes scanned your body hotly and you blushed.
“Don’t be embarrassed princess,” He cooed, “I think you look perfect.”
His hands slid up to your bra, and he cupped your breasts through the material.  Another shot of warmth bled through you, and you moaned loudly.
Yoongi grinned, leaning down to suckle on the skin of your clavicle, “So sensitive,” He breathed, nudging his nose against the column of you throat.
He was still very much clothed, and you wanted to run your hands across his chest.  
“Take your shirt off,” You whispered, surprising yourself with your boldness.
Yoongi paused his actions, leaning away slightly and chuckling at your request.
“If you insist,” He answered, shooting you a gummy smile that did dangerous things to your heart.  He slid out of the t-shirt he was wearing and your heart jumped almost angrily in your chest.
He was so beautiful.
His chest was littered with scars of course, and you ran your fingers across the raised skin, watching as goosebumps followed the movement of your hands.  
“How’d you get all these?” You mused aloud, and Yoongi licked his bottom lip.
“I picked a few things up working for Bangtan,” He shrugged slowly, “Scars included.” Your eyes met his and for a moment you were taken aback by the man in front of you.  There was something so dazzling about Yoongi, something that try as you might to avoid it, pulled you in like a magnet.
“I guess I’m one of those things too,” You whispered, “Another thing you picked up along the way.” Your husband smirked, “No.  I definitely chose you.”
And without leaving you room to question his words, he leaned in towards you, pressing a kiss to your mouth that silenced you immediately.  You relaxed against his mouth, and he slid his hands into your hair, tugging slightly and causing a groan to escape.
“I like the noises you make,” He told you, unclipping your bra and flicking his thumb across your nipple, “You’re so responsive.”
All thoughts left your body when Yoongi’s fingers slid between your legs, working past the band of your panties, and slipping into your core.  He played with you carefully, with the constrained strength of a fighter who knew exactly what he was doing.
The coil that had been building at the bottom of your stomach was slowly reaching it’s snapping point, and you knew what would happen after that.
You would have another mind-blowing orgasm.
When you climaxed under Yoongi’s touch, he smirked arrogantly, and God help the way your heart turned almost violently in your chest.
There was a brief pause, as Yoongi slid his pants and boxers down, leaving him naked.  
“This is probably going to hurt,” He told you, and you didn’t miss the flash of concern in his eyes, “Tell me if it’s too much, okay?” You nodded carefully, still spent from your climax.
He wasn’t lying.
When Yoongi slipped inside you, it almost felt like you were ripping apart at the seams.   “Hey,” He breathed, “Look at me.  C’mon Y/N.”
You latched onto his gaze and he smiled softly, “Just breath okay?  It’s going to be fine,” He grunted slightly and you could tell how difficult it was for him to be so gentle, “Tell me when it’s okay to move.”
When the burning subsided slightly, you nodded you head, and Yoongi began to slowly thrust inside you.  
He lowered himself onto his elbows, and you were surprised by the intimacy of his actions.  You’d always imagined that Yoongi would have wanted to be as far away as possible from you during sex, but he seemed to really want to ensure you were okay.
The thought sent your heart fluttering, and you had to remind yourself who it was you married.
“I don’t know how much longer I can take,” He grunted, his hips snapping up into yours painfully.  You bit back against the tears and shook your head.
“It’s alright,” You told him, “Don’t hold back.”
And he didn’t; with a few more thrusts Yoongi was finishing off inside of you and you felt his body shudder against your own.  He froze over you when he climaxed, and you cottoned on to the beautiful expression on his face.
Perhaps it was creepy, but you couldn’t help but think that he looked beautiful no matter what he did.
When he was spent, Yoongi pulled himself out of you and rolled to the side, pausing for a moment and basking in the afterglow of his orgasm.
After a moment, he cocked his head to face you.
“How was it?”  
You bit your bottom lip, “It didn’t hurt that much.”
He pulled a face, “It looked like I was ripping you apart,” He answered and you winced.
You didn’t want him to feel bad.
“Well maybe next time it will be better.”
“No maybe,” He told you firmly, “It will be.”
There was a beat of silence, and the truth was you wanted to curl into his side.  You’d just lost your virginity, and it was strange that you were both speaking about it so nonchalantly just moments after.
“Wear the green dress,” He said eventually, “And put your hair up.”
“Oh,” The comment took you by surprise, “Okay.”
He stood then, rolling out of bed and slipping on some boxers, “I’m going to have a shower and get ready.”
You nodded, “Sure.”
And as he walked into the bathroom and left you alone with your thoughts, you were confronted by the harsh sting of your reality once more.
When Min Yoongi had promised you a loveless marriage, he hadn’t been lying.
The engagement party was not a quiet affair, as your husband had promised you,
In fact there were a lot of people there, and many of them high ranking members of Bangtan.  You spotted Taehyung and the other man that had been with him the day you’d be given away to Yoongi.
“That’s Namjoon,” Yoongi told you when you asked who he was, “He’s the smartest person I’ve ever known.”
You nodded, noticing the beautiful woman Taehyung had his arm wrapped around.
“Is that Mrs Kim?”
This time it was Yoongi’s turn to nod, “Yeah that’s Taehyung’s wife.  She’s made from the stuff of legends.”
When you gave your husband a questioning look he laughed.
“She tamed the great Kim Taehyung,” Yoongi added, “Nobody saw it coming.” Your eyes scanned her figure and you couldn’t help but notice how absolutely beautiful she was.  She wasn’t as tall as Taehyung, the top of her head just grazing his chin.  She was wearing a floor length blue dress, and you remembered reading somewhere that that was Taehyung’s favourite colour on her.
You watched as Taehyung leaned towards her, dropping a soft kiss on her lips and laughing at something she said.  It prickled something in your chest.
Perhaps if Taehyung could fall in love this way, maybe all hope was not lost for Yoongi…
You turned to your husband and sighed.
Wishful thinking.  Your husband had made it clear how attractive he found you.  How happy he was to  have you inside his bed.
But you knew that was all he was offering.  And even though deep down inside, you wished things were different, you’d had your heart broken too many times to really hope for things to change.
“Come on,” Yoongi nudged you out of your reverie, “Let’s go greet Taehyung and his wife.”
Your heart shuddered uncomfortably in your chest.  You weren’t used to being Yoongi’s wife in public.  The two of you barely knew one another, and now you were expected to convince everyone at this party that you were… What?  That you were in love?
Yoongi led you towards the small group of people on the other side of the room, and you tried to fix a bright smile on your face.  It wouldn’t do to look scared, or uncomfortable.
You needed them to think you were confident.  You needed them to believe that you knew exactly what you were doing.
“Ah!  Y/N,”  Taehyung’s eyes lit up when you reached him, “Lovely to see you again.”  His eyes moved to Yoogni and he nodded, “Hello to you too, Yoongi.”
Your smile faltered under the gaze of one of Seoul’s most dangerous criminals.
“Hello Taehyung,” You bowed slightly, “Nice to see you too.”
Taehyung tightened the grip he had around the woman beside him, “This is my wife, ___.”
“Nice to meet you,” You replied, taking the outstretched hand she offered you, “I’m Y/N.”
She smiled softly, and you were dazzled by how truly beautiful she was.  There was a kind warmth behind her eyes and you held onto that with dear life.
“Min Yoongi is a lucky man,” She answered, “You look stunning, Y/N.”
You blushed hotly, wondering if you had an ally now that you’d met her.
“Thank you.  You look beautiful too.” She smiled, “This was Taehyung’s choice, he likes me in blue.”  She pulled away from her husband and looped her arm through yours, “Come with me, Y/N.  Let’s go have a girl chat.”
Yoongi quirked a brow at you as she dragged you away from him and you shrugged.
You weren’t about to reject her advances, and if this was an olive branch you were more than happy to take it.
“I’ll make sure to bring her back in one piece,” Taehyung’s wife said, smirking slightly at your husband, “Don’t worry.”
She led you over to a refreshment table, and you ripped your gaze away from Yoongi, trying to calm the fluttering butterflies in your stomach.  You were still incredibly nervous, but this budding friendship seemed to be calming you a little.
“These men,” __ said eventually, pouring you both a glass of wine, “They like to think they’re in charge.  But you can wrap Min Yoongi around your little finger, Y/N.” You arched a brow at her words, “Have you met my husband?” She chuckled and shook her head, taking a long gulp from her glass of wine.
“Taehyung was like that once,” She mused, leaving conspiratorially towards you, “And it took a long while, but look at us now.”
You nodded, blushing, “He really seems to love you.”  You took a gulp from your own glass.
“He does love me,” She confirmed confidently, “And I love him.  But he was as cold as the North Pole when we first married.  And he was so much more worldly and experienced than I am.  I was sure he could never love me the way I wanted him to.  But eventually, it happened.”
“I don’t think love in the future for me and Yoongi,” You answered honestly, “The most I can hope for is that he will stay faithful and be as kind to as he possibly can.” __ rolled her eyes, “You sound so much like me, it’s ridiculous.”  She shook her head slowly, “Honestly Y/N.  Yoongi might seem impenetrable, but there is always softness underneath.  You just have to try and find it.”
Your heart thundered loudly against your chest at his words.
You really, really, really wanted what she was saying to be true.  It was crazy and pathetic and perhaps even a little sad, but you would be fooling yourself if you said you couldn’t see your heart falling for Yoongi.
But you had resigned yourself to a quiet, unreciprocated love.
“Just don’t give up,” She told you carefully, “Even when it seems like all hope is lost don’t give up.”
You smiled softly, “Why are you telling me this?” “Because I was you once upon a time,” She answered shrugging slightly, “And I know how scary it can be.”
“Thank you.”
She reached out and squeezed your hand, “It will be alright, Y/N.  Really.”
You wondered if her words were true, and you realised with apprehension how badly you wanted her to be right.
“Excuse me ladies,” You turned and watched as Taehyung placed a hand on his wife’s back, “May I ask you for a dance, jagi?”
She giggled and blushed, looping her arms around his neck and turning to give you a smile over her shoulder, “We’ll keep in touch, Y/N!”
And then Taehyung was twirling her away, and your eyes followed them almost longingly.  You watched as other couples graced the dance floor and you realised with a dull ache in your heart how jealous you were of Taehyung and his wife.
How did they both live in such a cruel, vicious world, and manage to love each other so deeply?
You spun quickly, meeting the enigmatic gaze of your  husband Yoongi.  He smiled carefully at you and held out a hand, “Shall we?”
The question caused a thousand hummingbirds to fly across your stomach, but you nodded dizzily, taking his hand and allowing him to wrap his arms around you.
The both of you swayed gently to the music and Yoongi leaned down towards you, his mouth brushing your ear.
“So what did Mrs Kim want to talk to you about?” You shook your head and shrugged, “Nothing important.  Just girl talk.” Yoongi pulled away from you a little, and you noticed the heart stopping smile on his face.  How could he do such treacherous things to your heart without even trying?
“Somehow I don’t believe that,” He chuckled, “If I know Taehyung’s wife, then I know that she’s plotting something.”
On instinct- perhaps to try and change the subject, or perhaps because you’d been wanting to do this for a while now- you smoothed down the hair at the nape of Yoongi’s neck and sighed.
“I think you’re just paranoid.”
“It’s part of the package,” He smiled lazily, “Get used to it.”
Suddenly, you were very aware of Yoongi’s hands, and how they were tracing circles on the small of your back.  His touch burned through the material of your dress and you flushed.
“You really do look beautiful, Y/N,” He told you quietly, “And that green dress was the right choice.  Even if it did take us a little… extra time to choose it.” He smirked and you felt yourself burn at the insinuation behind his words.
“Thank you.”
“You’ve done well tonight,” He complimented you again, “I know it’s not easy being thrust into this world.  But I don’t think anybody will think twice about disrespecting you.  Not with the way I’m holding you, now.”
You felt your hands tremble, “I like being in your arms,” You told him quietly, and the small truth seemed to darken his eyes.
“I like having you here.”  He replied simply.
When the music changed, the atmosphere between you both cracked.  Yoongi stepped away from you and you worried for a moment that you might faint from how dizzy his proximity had left you.
It was silly, and you knew that you shouldn’t be feeling that way but you couldn’t help it.  Min Yoongi was a mystery, but the things he did to you were indescribable.
“I’m going to go get a drink,” He told you, that cold mask replacing the softness that had been on his face only moments ago, “Do you want anything?”
You shook your head, watching him mutely as he walked away from you.
Why was your husband so complicated?
And why couldn’t you just stay away?
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underthejoon · 2 years ago
the draft where your fuck buddy tries to do something nice and you’re too blind to pick up on it.
Yoongi is the weirdest fuck buddy ever – if you can even call him that anymore. He hasn’t fucked you in like, two weeks now which is saying a lot because he used to give it to you good and hard pretty much every other day.
The arrangement was already different to start with. You never officially asked him if he wanted to make it a regular thing and he didn’t either. You didn’t lay out any “rules” about not catching feelings or hooking up with other people either. It just sort of happened. The sex was good, Yoongi was fun and he felt the same way about you. It only made sense to keep shit going while it was enjoyable for you both.
But then things, changed? It was after the last time you slept together. You had gone out with friends and might have been a little tipsy when you texted Yoongi during the wee hours of the morning, asking if he had cum already that day. He laughed and told you it felt like a trick question and everything felt normal! The flirty yet casual dynamic was the same and when he finally caved and told you he had jerked it earlier to that picture you let him take – the one with his cum all over your pretty tits, you made a beeline straight to his apartment. 
Again, shit was all good. Yoongi’s dick coaxed the soul right out of you and life was peachy fucking keen. But then then there was the pillow talk and with it came what you’re now referring to as the shift. It was stupid really. He had asked you to tell him about your best and worst dates and you, the fool, had admitted you’d never been on one. 
He, of course, didn’t believe you and when you insisted that no one had ever deemed you worthy enough to be wined and dined, he got quiet. It was all small talk from then on and sure, you spent the night but something was definitely different. 
And now it’s been two whole weeks of Yoongi treating you like any other friend! No sex, no kissing, no sloppy blowjobs in the backseat of his car when he literally can’t make it from the parking lot to his apartment without feeling your wet mouth on him. Just stupid fucking friend stuff.
Like last night! You got burgers and went to see a dumb horror movie and then he drove you home right after. He even rejected your advances at your door, which he insisted on walking you to. You asked him to come inside, begged even, and he just chuckled and said ‘not tonight’ like the horrible little monster that he is. 
And you suppose maybe it’s your fault, for talking about the date thing. Even though he was the one that asked! Maybe Yoongi took that as you wanting something more. Maybe he felt you were trying to pressure him and he decided he was going to let you down easy by transitioning your physical relationship into a platonic one. 
But that’s bullshit! Because sure, as much as you would totally be open to taking things to another level with Yoongi, you were perfectly happy with the way things were. You had a friend who made you cum and laugh and honestly, besides food, did you really need anything else? You’re not high maintenance!
You just wish he would fucking tell you that he’s not into you anymore rather than continue to go through this. Rather than sit through another random dinner when all you can think about is crawling underneath the table and reminding him how much he used to love your mouth. 
And tonight, tonight is the last straw! You tell him as much when he shows up unannounced with take away boxes and another fucking movie. When he grabs your hand that tries to snake its way down his pants and holds it in his own. When he tells you to pay attention to the movie and throws his other arm over your shoulder like he’s restraining you from his sweet, sweet dick. 
You shake yourself out of his grasp and tell him to grow some balls already. He just looks at you, confused as you continue to berate him – letting him know that if he didn’t want to fuck you anymore he didn’t have to be a coward about it. He could have just said so. You tell him he’s really fucking full of himself if he took that last conversation as you needing someone to take you on a date, because you definitely don’t. Not like you’d mind but shit was good like it was.
And Yoongi just stares at you until you’re done fuming. He just waits until he’s processed all your rambling before breaking out into a fit of hysteria. That only pisses you off more, by the way, and Yoongi quickly picks up on that. 
He tells you that you’re lucky you’re so cute because you’re really fucking stupid if you can’t see that he’s taken you out on five dates over the past few weeks. That he’s paid for literally everything you’ve done, opened doors for you, pulled out your chairs and walked you to your door each and every time. 
Because it made him sad to know that no one had ever done that for you. And he didn’t expect them all to go as well as they had because it’s been a long time since he’s dated but he realized he just how much he likes you. Like a lot. He wanted to show you it was for more than just sex and that’s why he hadn’t tried anything. He wanted to show you that you deserve 100 dates. As many as you want. He wanted to ask you to be his girlfriend too. 
And you feel kind of like a dumbass, having let all of this go so far over your head. Having misread everything Yoongi had done to show you he liked you and crafted it in to something else. Because of course you see it now – he had paid for dinners, for movie tickets, brought over take out and tried to show you he could be sweet too.
Yoongi just laughs when you openly admit your idiocy. He laughs and laughs until you’re hitting his chest and telling him he’s a jerk. And it’s then that he holds your wrist. It’s then that he calls you cute, again. It’s then that his smooth ass leans in for a kiss. And holy fuck did this kiss feel different. Good different. Soft. Sweet. With just a little bit of an edge to it.
He doesn’t stop there either. He doesn’t forget how hard up you were acting for a good fucking and he definitely doesn’t let you off easy. He makes you beg for his cock. Makes you tell him how much you missed it before he’s stripping you bare and bending you over the coffee table. 
Yoongi fucks you with a loving roughness that leaves you breathless. He plays with your pussy like he’s got all the time in the world and delays your orgasms like the sadistic shit that he is. He doesn’t let up until you tell him you like him too. Until you say you’ll be his girlfriend and promise to talk to him next time you’re feeling neglected.
Only then does he give it to you just the way he knows you like it. Hard, fast and with a few solid smacks to your ass. He tells you he missed your sweet little cunt more than you could possibly imagine and promises not to hold out on you again. He fucks you until you’re sputtering incoherencies and grabbing for his hand to hold through the pulsing bliss that makes your legs shake. 
When he cums, it’s with your name on his lips. When he falls asleep, it’s next to you. When he wakes up the next day, he kisses your forehead and reminds you that you agreed to be his girlfriend a total of eleven times before you’re able to ingest your first cup of coffee. 
And as much as you want to be annoyed by his shockingly soft but definitely obnoxious ass, you find that the only emotion you’re able to conjure up is happiness. A stupid amount of it too.
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smaubts · a year ago
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“me? In love with you? maybe. don't you dare tell anyone”
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genre: sm au; crack au; enemies to lovers au; slight angst
pairing: min yoongi x reader
summary: yoongi and y/n hate each other, at least that's what they tell everyone. when unexpected events occur they begin to realise that maybe the real cause for all the hate is because it's a way to hide the feelings they won't admit.
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— m a s t e r l i s t
part one. unlimited clown
part two. min yoongi??
part three. hateful behaviour
part four. don't know her
part five. ugly facts
part six. no head no thoughts
part seven. forced friendship
part eight. enemies only
part nine. spiders can grow
part ten. run fast
part eleven. poison me
part twelve. jealous min
part thirteen. no one knOWS
part fourteen. don't tell
part fifteen. fake laugh
part sixteen. HE KISSED HER??
part seventeen. playing games
part eighteen. obviously jealous
part nineteen. big sized child
part twenty. fake dating
part twenty one. big lie
part twenty two. small brain
part twenty three. together??
part twenty four. drunk confession
part twenty five. MY bed
part twenty six. defend yourself
part twenty seven. obvious lie
part twenty eight. VOMIT
part twenty nine. speechless
part thirty. cried a bit
part thirty one. god im in lovE
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thank you for reading!
1K notes · View notes
neonlights92 · 3 years ago
ENGIMA: Chapter IV
After the death of your father leaves you in a lot of a debt to Bangtan - Seoul’s most nefarious crime syndicate - you are offered a way out:  marry Min Yoongi - Bangtan’s most elusive member-  and produce him an heir and your father’s debt will be forgotten.  Without a choice, you are soon tied to a man who you are absolutely terrified of.  But you cannot ignore the part of you that is thrilled by Yoongi.  And what scares you the most isn’t the blood on his hands, or the gun he always carries in his pocket.  It’s the things he’s capable of doing to your heart.
WARNINGS: Violence and sex.  Mentions of rape.
A/N: Ahhh I’m not that great with angst lol.  But I tried.  ENJOY! Also this is pretty sexy smut for me lol... I hope this is to everyone’s satisfaction... (Also also ps I know EXO are like really shitty and bad in this, but in real life I love them and Chanyeol is a pure beautiful flower <3)
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You woke to the sight of your husband, sat very straight at the edge of your bed.  He was facing away from you, and the muscles in his back were drawn tight.
You bit your bottom lip, “Yoongi?”
He didn’t respond.
“Yoongi?” You tried again a little louder.
Still your husband stayed silent.
You sighed heavily.  Sitting up, you placed a hand on his shoulder, and felt his skin tense at the action.
“Don’t touch me.”
There was a long, long silence that seemed to stretch between the two of you forever.  You flinched your hand away from his shoulders, tears burning your eyes at your husband’s sudden coldness.
Why was he being like this? Hadn’t he held you in his arms last night?  And kissed you like- almost like he might love you? Hadn’t he trusted you with his life? Watched you sew him back up again, when it killed you inside to cause him pain? Your breath stuttered in your throat.
“What’s going on?”  You asked quietly, afraid of the answer you would receive.
Slowly, Yoongi turned to face you.
You felt the blood drain from your face because of the look in his eyes.
He was furious.  Furious and colder than anything you’d ever seen.
“Did you think I wouldn’t find out?”
The question knocked the breath straight out of you.  You watched him carefully, a thin eyebrow raised.
“Find out what, Yoongi?” You hated the way your voice was trembling, “What are you talking about?”
“That you’re in love with me.”
Your heart thundered against your chest, and blood pulsed in your ears uncomfortably.  Everything around you was fuzzy and hazy and you were scared you might faint.
“What are you talking about?”  Your eyes searched Yoongi’s face wildly, “Why would you say that?”
Your husband rolled his eyes, “Is it true or not, Y/N?  Are you in love with me?”
You sucked your bottom lip between your teeth.  It was a very long time before you built up the courage to answer him.  Eventually you nodded.
“Yes.  I love you.  Why are you so angry about that?”
“I told you,” He tugged a hand through his dark hair violently, “I told you from the very beginning, Y/N.  Fuck.” “But why can’t it be different?”  You crawled towards him and grabbed his hand, ignoring the way his skin jumped at the contact, “Why can’t we be like Taehyung and his wife?” “Because I don’t love you!” He shouted, standing up and running a hand over his face angrily, “Because I don’t want to love you, Y/N.  I’ve given you so much.  I’ve been as kind as I possibly can.  I’ve respected you, I’ve fucked you, and I’ve treated you better than most men in my position would have.  Why isn’t that enough for you?”
You felt tears cascading down your cheeks.  It didn’t really matter to you at this point.  He knew everything.  He knew that your heart belonged to him, whether he wanted it or not.
He knew that you loved him more than you’d possibly loved anyone in your entire life.
He knew, he knew, he knew.
And he didn’t want it.  He didn’t want you.
“I can’t help how I feel,” You answered, sobbing violently, “I tried, Yoongi.  I fucking tried to keep myself away from you.  I did everything I possibly could to stop myself from loving you.  But it wasn’t enough.  I couldn’t stop it.”
Your husband’s eyes were darker than anything you’d ever seen before.
He shook his head, “It’s not good enough.”
You froze.  What was he going to do? “What do you mean?” Your mouth trembled, “What am I supposed to do, Yoongi?”
“I don’t want love.  I don’t want you.”  He looked like he was ready to fall apart, “I want a divorce.”
Your heart shattered into a thousand little pieces.
You gasped, “Yoongi.  Stop it.  Please.  Don’t say that.”
“Y/N I don’t love you okay?  I never will!  Why can’t you understand that?”
Each word was like another knife to your heart, clawing away at all the love you wanted to shower him with.  This Yoongi in front of you, it was frightening.
He was so cold and distant.
“Why did you come to me for help last night then?” You asked, “Why didn’t you ask someone else?  There were plenty of other staff who were probably better equipped to deal with your wound.”
“Because you’re my wife.”
You shook your head, “No.  It’s because I’m the first person that came to mind when you stepped through the front door.”
Yoongi’s eyes turned into molten lava.
“You don’t know me, Y/N.” He growled lowly, “Stop pretending like you’re in love with anything other than the idea of me.”
You narrowed your eyes, “Don’t tell me what I know, Yoongi.  I know you, your my husband.  I know that you’re fiercely loyal.  That you care about the few people you let into your life.  I know that you pretend you don’t love me because it’s easier for you that way.  That loving someone is scarier than anything you’ve ever done before, even though you’re a part of the mafia and you’ve probably killed more people than you can count.  I know that Bangtan is your family, and that you would die for them.  And I know that when you kiss me, you’re telling me you want me.  You’re telling me you love me.  Yoongi, I know you.”
Your husband paused.  For one fraction of a moment, you wondered if perhaps he was going to let you in.  If he was going to forget all of the stupid things he’d said and hold you in your arms and tell you that he loved you, that he wanted you, that he cared.
You held out hope - you held your breath.
Because you wanted him so badly, it was pathetic.
But Yoongi did not open that door.  Instead he closed it.
“I want a divorce,” He said eventually, “This discussion is over.”
And he stood then, trailing over to the door of your bedroom and walking out without a glance back at you.
You spent the rest of the day crying.  Your throat was raw from your tears, and even though you’d tried to keep quiet at the very beginning, by this point you didn’t care anymore.
Damn Yoongi.  If he heard you then, good.
He knew what he was doing.
The word circled your head again and again and again.
Yoongi wanted a divorce.
You scoffed at the irony of your situation.  
How was it that only three months ago, you were terrified of marrying Yoongi, and now you were scared to death of letting him go?
For three nights, Yoongi didn’t come to bed.
And during that time, you avoided the outside of your bedroom as best you could.  Ara was sympathetic- perhaps she knew about her brother’s request, perhaps she didn’t- either way she brought your food to you, and checked up on your constantly.
On the fourth night, your bedroom door clicked open just as you were preparing for bed.
“I’m going to go to sleep, Ara,” You said, assuming it was the young girl who’d come to visit you, “If Yoongi does turn up can you-”
“Y/N.” The sound of your husband’s voice froze you all over.
You turned quickly, dropping the brush you had been running through your hair.
“Yoongi,” You breathed, “Hi.”
Immediately, you knew he was drunk. Having an alcoholic father gave you a sixth sense about things like this.
He stumbled towards you, eyes glazed over.
“Hi babygirl,” He mumbled, lips pressing gently against your exposed shoulder when he reached you, “I missed you.”
“Yoongi,” Your voice trembled, “Your drunk.” He pulled away from you, smiling sadly, “I can face a man who wants to kill me, but can’t talk to my own wife without the help of whiskey,” He touched your face gently, “I am stupid, huh?”
You trembled beneath his fingers, “Stop it Yoongi.  I don’t want you like this.” He pressed his forehead to yours, closing his eyes and sighing deeply.
“I don’t want a divorce,” He whispered quietly, lips nudging your own as he spoke, “I don’t want a divorce, Y/N.  I want to be with you.  I want you to teach me how to love you.”
A tear slid down your cheek, “Yoongi..”
“It’s true.”  He pulled away carefully, “I know I’m stupid and stubborn, and I’ll probably take this all back when I’m sober, Y/N.  Even if it’s just for tonight.  Even if it’s the last time. I want you.”
His hands fingered the buttons on your night dress and you knew what he wanted.
As silly as it made you, you didn’t care.  You wanted Yoongi to touch you.
You nodded gently at his actions, “Alright,” You breathed, “You can have me.”
With that, Yoongi pressed his mouth against yours, pushing you back against the mattress of your bed, and caging his arms around you.  You could taste the whiskey on his tongue but you pushed that to the very back of your mind, groaning when he brought a hand to cup your breast over your clothes.
“Are you wet for me, babygirl?” He asked as he pulled away, peppering kisses across your face, “Do you want me the way I want you?”
You nodded, breathless and scared and excited.  Your tummy was warm, as Yoongi lifted your nightdress over your head and left you bare.
Your skin prickled.
“This is my favourite place to be,” He admitted, hands smoothing down your naked body, resting at the apex of your thighs, “Did you know that sweetheart?  I love being on top of you like this.  Watching your warm body react to me.  Watching you squeeze your thighs together because you want me to touch you that badly.”
His words rushed over you, and you felt your skin flush.
“Come on babygirl, open your legs for me.” You did as you were told, and Yoongi moaned when he traced a finger across your slit gently, “Oh my God.  I knew you’d be wet.” He shook his head slowly, as if he couldn’t believe it, and brought a hand to circle your nipple carefully.
“I act all big and tough,” He muttered, pressing his clothed erection into your thigh, “Like I don’t give a shit about anything.  But it’s not true, baby.  It isn’t true.” He brought his lips to your nipple and kissed it gently, eliciting a groan from you.  You arched your back and wove your hands into his jet black hair.
“These nipples are so beautiful,” He blew against them, hardening the tips, “From the first time I saw them all I wanted to do was play with them forever.”
This side to Yoongi was fascinating.  The alcohol had brought down all his defences, he was more honest than he’d ever been.
But his teasing was driving you insane.
“Please do something,” You choked out, “I need you to do something.  Anything.”
“Alright princess,” He whispered eventually, standing up to remove his clothes and watching you the entire time.  You smiled at him and he grinned back, and you were taken aback by the way he looked at you.
Like you mattered.
“C’mere,” He said as he bent down against discarding his boxers and teasing your entrance with his dick, “I’m going to make you feel so good jagi.  Alright?  Make sure you let me know how good I make you feel.”
You blushed at his dirty words, and felt him push into you softly.
Having him like this was perfect.  You felt tears rush to your eyes because you were quite sure that this might be the last time Yoongi ever had sex with you.
Your husband frowned at the tears, leaning down to press kisses against your cheeks, and catch the tears with his fingers.
“What’s wrong, sweetheart?”
He stilled inside of you and you shook your head, circling his hips with your legs and encouraging him to move, “It doesn’t matter,” You told him, “Just don’t stop.”
Yoongi nodded, eyes still worried as he watched you.
Sex with him was slow this time.  Different to every other time.
He seemed to want to imprint this moment to his memory, and you knew why.
This was goodbye sex.
Your heart constricted in your chest and Yoongi whispered to you how well you were doing, how he fit you just perfectly, how he always found what he needed with you.
But all you could hear was I love you, I love you, I love you…
It tore you into a million different pieces.  This wasn’t sex.
This was making love, and the both of you knew that.
When Yoongi finished inside of you the atmosphere crackled.
“I’m a fool Y/N,” He whispered as the two of you lay naked, facing each other, “Remember that, always.  I’m a fool.”
You nodded, “So am I Yoongi.”
When you woke the next morning Yoongi was gone, as expected.
You rolled over and wiped at the fresh tears nudging past your eyelashes.  This was it.
It was over now.  Well and truly over.
You grabbed a night robe and pulled it over your naked body, sighing deeply as you stood.  It was time to stop being a coward, and face the reality of your situation.
As you made your way to the bedroom door, something caught your eye.
A note sat next to official looking papers and a pen.  They hadn’t been on your vanity table last night, so you knew they were placed there this morning.
You knew what they were instantly.
Making your way towards them you picked up the note first, heart crashing against your ribcage furiously.
You immediately recognised Yoongi’s handwriting.
These are the divorce papers.  I have spoken to Taehyung and he has found you an apartment to live at and a job working at a florists.  When you sign, please hand them over to Ara and she will bring them to me.  I will be staying away from the house until the end of the week, to give you enough time to move your things out.
Your apartment is at number 13 Hyehwa Street, but the driver knows where to take you and your things.
And that was it.
No goodbye, no final words of affection.
Not even a thank you for stitching him up.
This was it.  The end.
You sighed heavily, and felt your throat burn from your sadness.
You threw the note down and scoffed at the divorce paper, settling to ignore it all for now.  
Your husband was so cruel.
So cruel for making you believe things could be different.
So cruel for finally finally making love to you last night, and then serving you divorce papers.
Your husband was cruel.
Damn.  You needed a fucking drink.
The bar was empty when you sat down, you were sure of it.
Eventually, as the hours ticked on and you drank pina colada after pina colada, you were suddenly surrounded by people.  Young professionals all trying to get in an after word drink.
University students looking to let their hair loose on a night out.
It didn’t matter.  All you knew was that there were so many people, and still you felt so lonely.
Eventually, somebody sat beside you.
You turned carefully, and met two kind brown eyes.
“Hi,” He smiled, “You alright there?”
You grinned, “I’m fine.”
The stranger cocked his head to one side and sighed.
“Yoongi’s going to be pissed,” He muttered, “I should take you home.”
“Yoongi can go fucking himself,” You seethed, finally understanding that this was one of your soon to be ex-husband’s friends, “He doesn’t own me.”
“Y/N,” He shook his head, “Come on.  It’s not safe for you to be out here by yourself.”
“Who the hell are you, anyway?” You grumbled, “I’ve never seen you before.”
“I’m Chanyeol,” He answered, shaking his head, “We’ve never been formerly introduced.  C’mon Y/N.  I think I need to take you home.”
You frowned, “I don’t think I’ve ever heard Yoongi mention a Chanyeol..”
The man’s eyes darkened and your heart swam up to your throat.
“Come on.  I’m not in the mood for games.” You felt your throat go dry.  With a gentle nod, you stood up slowly, your legs wobbling uncontrollably.  This man-whoever he was- wasn’t a friend of your husband’s, you were certain of it.
But you were also certain of one other thing.
The cold gun pressed quite firmly against your hip.
“You’re going to come with me,” He whispered, “And you’re not going to say a single thing to your husband, okay?  I don’t want to hurt you.  Yet.”
You nodded shakily, following the man outside and into the cool evening air.
“My boss wants me to kill you,” He stated bluntly when you were outside, “He wants me to shoot you in the head and dump your body in an alleyway.”
Your heart dropped to the very bottom of your feet.
You winced at his words.
“But I want to do something else first,” His eyes darkened with lust, and you felt the sudden urge to vomit, “Come here.”
You wanted to scream, to run, to do something, but instead all you could do was watch as Chanyeol grabbed your arm and pushed you up”Ple against the hood of what you assumed was his car.
“Don’t scream, bitch,” He spat, the gun still very much pressed against your hip.  You watched as he started to rip the material of your trousers almost angrily.
You started sobbing as you realised what was happening, your chest constricting and your entire body shaking, “Please don’t…” You whispered and Chanyeol glared at you.
“Don’t talk,” He slapped you, hard, “It’ll only make things worse.”
Your throat burned and tears streamed down your cheeks, “Please, please, please don’t do this.  Please-”
“I said shut up,” He growled, lifting his hand to hit you again.
But the smack never came.  Instead his body was thrown off of yours and you scrambled up, watching as Yoongi pinned Chanyeol to the floor.  He took the gun from your assailant’s hand and pressed it against his temple.
“What the fuck were you about to do to my wife, Chanyeol?”  Yoongi growled, his eyes narrowed into dangerous slits.
“Fuck you,” Chanyeol spat, “Fuck you and Bangtan and-”
With one swift shot that caused your insides to curl, Chanyeol’s body went limp and lifeless.
Your husband stood, taking one look at Chanyeol and rolling his eyes.  He held the body by it’s wrists, pulling him away from the bar and into the dark alleyway beside.  After a moment, he walked towards you with purpose grabbing your hand without even looking at you, and bringing his phone out of his pocket, dialling a number as he led you away from the bar.
“Jungkook.  I’m going to need you to help me make something disappear,” Your husband spoke into the phone, “I killed Park Chanyeol from EXO.” There was a pause.
“He tried to rape my wife.”
Another pause.
“Outside Neon Lights Bar,” He replied, “I’m going to take Y/N home and I’ll meet you there in twenty.” Another brief silence.
“No I left it right outside the bar.  I’m not a fucking idiot.  It’s dealt with for now.”
Yoongi hung up the phone without saying goodbye (typical) and tucked his phone back into his pocket.
“What the fuck were you thinking Y/N coming out-”
You flinched away from his touch, “Let go of me.”
Your husband froze, hand falling limply to his side.
“What?” You crossed your arms, “Don’t touch me.  Leave me alone.”
Yoongi’s eyes narrowed again, and you were reminded of the way he’d glared at Chanyeol just before shooting him.
“Y/N I swear to God-”
“I don’t want to talk to you, Yoongi.”
“I just saved your life.”
“Thank you for that,” You nodded pointedly, “But I don’t want anything else from you.”
“I’m your husband-”
“You served me divorce papers this morning,” Your voice was clipped and you felt yourself waver with emotion.  
“Chanyeol just tried to-” “I know what he tried to do,” This time your voice caught angrily, and you cleared your throat, “I know he tried to rape me.  I know he was going to kill me.  And I’m thankful that you came here in time to stop it.” Your husband sighed heavily, “Let me take you home, Y/N.” “That’s not my home anymore,” Your eyes were blurring with tears, “You made that very clear.”
There was a moment of thick silence.
Yoongi stepped towards you and you stepped away.
It was the same dangerous game you’d always played, except now the roles were reversed.
“Y/N…It’s not safe for you out here okay?  EXO want blood.”
Your heartbeat pulsed in your ear, “I don’t want you to protect me.  It’s over.”
You turned to walk away from him, but Yoongi unsurprisingly caught your wrist and pulled you back.  He caught you in his arms, and pressed the heaviest kiss on the top of your head.
“Stop it,” He whispered breathily, “Stop that.  Stop being like this.  Please.  You don’t know what I felt like seeing you like that.”
You tried to push away from him but it was no use.
“Yoongi,” You said pathetically, “Let me go.”
“No.” “Yoongi-” “No, Y/N.”
Eventually, you relaxed in his hold.  You felt yourself fall into the familiar pattern of allowing Yoongi to control your emotions, and you didn’t have it in you to fight against it.
“I don’t want the divorce,” You said weakly.
Yoongi nodded, “I know.  Let me take you home.”
And so you did.
Because you loved Yoongi.
And as stupid and seemingly deranged as that was, it was also enough.
1K notes · View notes
underthejoon · a year ago
A Very, Merry Fic-Mas!
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‘Tis the season to collaborate! Join @lamourche​ @kpopfanfictrash​ @kittae​ @underthejoon​ @hobidreams​ @floralseokjin​ & @winetae​ as we deck your dash with seven festive fics. We ho-ho-hope you enjoy!
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Christmas Is Waiting For You
Author: @lamourche​
Pairing: Jeon Jungkook x Reader
Summary: Being home for the holidays surrounded by your well-meaning family isn’t that bad. All you have to do is (1) survive the Andersons' annual Christmas Eve party, (2) avoid all questions about your job, and (3) avoid your high school nemesis and crush, Jeon Jungkook. Posting: December 16th
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The Holi-Date
Author: @kpopfanfictrash​
Pairing: Kim Taehyung x Reader
Summary: When your ex-boyfriend becomes engaged to his new girlfriend at your annual Holiday party, you admittedly are not in the best place. Which explains why you down six shots of alcohol, enthusiastically drop it low on the dance floor and – oh, yeah – tell everyone you are also dating someone. The only problem? You are obviously not. Good thing your neighbor happens to be cute and in need of a ride to work every morning. Posting: December 17th
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A Midnight Miracle
Author: @kittae​
Pairing: Park Jimin x Reader
Summary: The night before Christmas is said to hold a certain kind of magic. Old dreams become new, lost hopes reemerge and even the most wooden amongst us can be breathed into new life. You have never been one to believe in magic but this is precisely the reason it chooses you. Posting: TBD
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Not Your Average Holiday Hookup
Author: @underthejoon​
Pairing: Kim Namjoon x Reader
Summary: Fresh off a big campaign, your schedule allows for you to spend a few weeks visiting home before the holidays. Sure, you could have gone on vacation somewhere a little more exciting. You could have stayed in a nice hotel rather than your childhood bedroom but quality time with family is just the thing you need. And no, it has absolutely nothing to do with the secret your best friend just told you about her older brother, Namjoon. Posting: TBD
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Matters of the Heart
Author: @hobidreams​
Pairing: Jung Hoseok x Reader
Summary: It seems not even the passage of half a decade can diminish the hold of Mr. Jung’s charms on your heart. But the rumors that welcome you home speak of his imminent marriage to an heiress, one who bests you in every infuriating, ‘ladylike’ fashion. Just how, then, are you meant to interpret the undeniable sparks of desire in his eyes? Posting: December 20th
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First and Last and Always
Author: @floralseokjin​
Pairing: Min Yoongi x Reader
Summary: You and Yoongi broke up two months ago. It was mutual, you’re positive, but there’s one teeny tiny issue... You never told your parents, and now they’ve invited you back home for Christmas. Both of you. You can’t say no, but you also can’t bear to go alone, so you do the only thing you can think of, plead with Yoongi to come with you and pretend like everything’s okay... Posting: December 21st
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The Age of Romance
Author: @winetae​
Pairing: Kim Seokjin x Reader
Summary: It was a terrible idea. Your worst one yet. No sane person would go through with it. Everything about it promised heartache and unsolicited flashbacks to a better, happier time - yet here you were, sat across your ex-boyfriend, waiting to board the 2 pm flight to Paris on what you had once imagined to be the most romantic trip of your life. Posting: TBD
2K notes · View notes
bangtannguk-au · 3 years ago
Home Masterlist
in which min Yoongi was rejected by Yn back in their first year of high school. when Yn returns to Daegu, after studying abroad (for dance) during summer break, Yn and Yoongi reunite.
part one - introductions
part two - cuddles
part three - secrets
part four - athletic queens
part five - nuclear bombs
part six - mcdonald's
part seven - awkwardest
part eight - chip ahoys
part nine - trains
part ten - matter
part eleven - MIA
part twelve - independent woman
part thirteen - bothersome
part fourteen - fuck your honey boy
part fifteen - five steps back
part sixteen - crackheads
part seventeen - yoonkook household
part eighteen - date crashers
part nineteen - girlfriend
part twenty - by me
part twenty one - best friend instinct
part twenty two - explanation
part twenty three - proposal
part twenty four - hearts
part twenty five - wedding
1K notes · View notes
hollyhomburg · a year ago
Close to you
(Gangster! Yoongi x Goodgirl! Reader) (Rags to Riches Au) 
Summary: Nobody likes Yoongi, not your older brother or your friends. But with him, you feel more protected than possessed. And though he might be a gangster and more than a little dangerous himself- that makes all the difference. From drug dealer to producer, from rags to riches, you’re Yoongi’s person- his muse- his soulmate.
Tags: good girl x bad boy au, blood, drugs, Yoongi with tattoo's, references to making good ol’ sweet love, Rags to riches! au, brief mentions of drunk sex, Yoongi is soft and squishy and just loves the reader a lot.
A/n: This is more a story than a fic- with a little bit of an open ending to it- legit when I was editing this it tripled in length. 
W/c: 9.8k
Song rec: Lover by Taylor Swift 
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You and Yoongi play basketball together, late at night in the park near your college. You don’t know how you started meeting up, but now you do nearly every day. You gather with the others at the edge of the court when the street lights turn on. Maybe it’s just to let off some steam from your busy college schedules, less than ideal lives, or just plain because you like the game. 
It’s a mish-mash of different people from different backgrounds, misfits and goody-two-shoes alike, pros and newbies at different skill levels, but everyone is pretty good. 
The games are never serious and no one really ever keeps score. The teams change depending on who tells what joke who gives what jibe. Lines are drawn in the minutes before you start, sides taken based off inside jokes and playful feuds. 
One night when a regular named Wonho wears a crop top and calls it ‘fashion’- teams are drawn based on who thinks it’s ridiculous or not. (You and Yoongi are on the same team that night- because of course boys should be allowed to wear crop tops).
You’re always the last two to leave the court at night, sometimes just before the lights shut off at midnight, sometimes you have to hop the fence if the security guard has already come around to lock up. You joke that he might have a vendetta against your group- you always say until the very last moment the court closes and he grumbles about leaving early. 
And on the nights where strangers lean in- when the streets don’t feel so safe and shadowy figures that seem recognizable at a distance linger longer than they should. When there’s another stabbing or a rumor of a girl getting taken off the street, Yoongi is the first to ask if you want him to walk you home.
You try reserving your impression until you know him better. But the tattoos on his arms and on his chest, peaking out over the low collar of his tanktops lead you to make conclusions that you’re not proud of. 
Your first interactions with him are brief at best and you know just from how he looks that you should be careful around him. The others might play at being rugged and dangerous but Yoongi doesn't have to pretend. 
You realize this when he stats to walk you home. No one messes with him, the other gangbangers on the street don’t catcall you when yoongi walks you home. Shop keepers seem to Nodd at him if they feel brave and close their doors the second they see him if they don’t. 
Yoongi seems pretty abnormal for a typical gangbanger, He doesn't fit the trigger happy sadistic stereotype that the media paints others of his ilk in. 
When he first asks to walk you home, You blush and let him because Yoongi is cute, charming even, and he’s nice company, even if he does look a little threatening sometimes. 
You wouldn’t let him walk you home for any other reason then just...needing the safety he provides, not at first, not when your overprotective older brother doesn't let you date at all. You have a dating ban until you graduate college and as long as you sleep under his Roof. 
He’d even tried to squash your interest in the pick-up basketball games when you first started going- but you needed an outlet, justified it by saying you weren't apart of any sports teams and needed to exercise. it isn’t safe on the streets so late at night, he says (and he’s not wrong- it isn’t.) he tries to get you to stay home each night or tries to guilt you into only playing on the weekends during the daytime.
But try as you might, every time he says it isn’t safe or brings up a carefully worded story by the news on the infestation of gangs in the city, you can’t help but picture Yoongi’s face. And maybe it isn’t safe for everyone. but the way he looks at you- guarded but curious and with a hint of mirth over the edge of a ball during a pass, makes you think that it’s safe for you. 
You weren't exactly sheltered here, in your nice apartment on the edge of where town turns from seedy to bougie. You straddle the edge of gentrification Unable to fit in perfectly with either side. You’ve already had to move your apartment twice since you moved in with him after rent hikes and new policies made your past apartments just too expensive. 
The first time your brother catches sight of Yoongi, on the stoop of your apartment building just as your brother gets home from work- perfectly mistimed, he goes apeshit when he realizes that Yoongi’s just dropped you off. Your older brother takes one look at him and says that you shouldn’t date gangsters- that Yoongi will just bring your trouble one day. 
“Jesus Christ- he was just walking me home it's not like it's a big deal” and you remind him that you’re not dating- that you’re just friends and Yoongi is just being nice- and that your brother should be glad you have friends that want you to get home safe. 
He tries to keep you from going out the next night and threatens you with few words not to keep seeing him. You’re late to the game because of it sucking off your pink sweatshirt and growling out that you need to work off some steam. “join my team” Yoongi says, making the others pause with a wave of his hands. 
 They reach for water bottles while you get your shoes on, Yoongi tucks the ball under his arm and stands while you finish lacing up your shoes. “you good?” he asks, “yeah just my brother being a dick and making me late.” 
You know he says it’s all for you so that you’ll do well and school and get a good job later in life and have it easy, unlike either or your parents. but sometimes it feels like he just wants to control you needlessly. Yoongi nods and you see something- the mention of older brothers darken his gaze, you wonder why.  “He pitch a fit after he saw me last night?”
 “Oh you know it,” you say with false positivity. “But don’t worry you can still like- walk me home if you want, I liked talking to you yesterday,” you say, Shooting him a smile that makes his cheeks turn a little pink, he clears his throat “if it makes you feel safer of course” He reassures, ever the gentleman, and goes to shoot some free throws while you finish getting settled. 
The blush doesn't fall really, especially when you meet his eyes over a pass a few seconds into the pell-mell start of the game. And you start to think that Yoongi with  his tattoo’s and his roguish exterior might be the perfect amount of rebellion to get out from underneath your brother's thumb
Of course, Yoongi ends up being a lot more than that. 
When you walk home together you talk about everything, sometimes stopping to get some food from a street stall, or passing a bottle of soju back and forth if it's a Saturday or a Melona ice pop if it's hot enough. you learn a surprising amount about him- you had no idea that Yoongi attended the same college as you, though he’s a few years older than you, in the year above, and only part-time because of his ‘job’. 
He says this kind of cryptically he’s never come out and said what he does for a living to you before but you know, even if he doesn't say so at first. there have been times where other people pause at the gate to the court and gesture for Yoongi and you can see little packets of things being handed off, or he has to leave early. A curly red-haired guy that pops up often enough to drag Yoongi away who is equally as tattooed and threatening. 
but whatever these mysterious people are, you know it’s secondary to Yoongi. after all one of the first conversations you ever have with him on the way home is about music. He confides in you and tells you of his big dreams of being a music producer one day after you urge him.  He already knows your dreams of being a screenwriter- and the struggles you’ve had balancing your dream with your family. 
Thought you both definitely went different directions with that, you just decided to double major in something more ‘practical’ in your brother's words, whereas Yoongi left home. “I’m gonna make it one day- I just know it, it’s the only thing I've ever wanted.” 
And really anyone else would tell him that he’s stupid for having high hopes- his parents and older brother did after all- and he hasn’t talked to them in years after they disowned him for following his dream. But you just smile at him and tell him, “I believe you can do anything if you work hard enough for it.” Yoongi hides his blush by pulling up his hoodie.  
Yoongi is a gangster of course, but the drugs he sells to put himself through college aren’t anything dangerous, even if he and his corner partner Hoseok, end up running from the police or another gang most nights and has been shot at twice in the last year. Hoseok has a scar from that night just above his shoulder- barely a graze. 
People come and go for the nightly basketball games, but somehow- you and Yoongi are always the ones who linger the longest no matter how cold it is. If someone cared to ask, you might say you’re Already half in love with each other from ever smirk thrown over a shoulder during a game. Every “good shot” when you make a three-pointer sends you spiraling further down. 
What started out as an easy way to piss your brother off, has turned into the kind of friendship that you would swear on. The day you roll your ankle Yoongi won’t take no for an answer and gives you a piggyback ride home. 
“You need to eat any more this is hardly even a work out,” he teases, bending down so that you can reach the button for the streetlight. “You tip your nose against the nape of his neck and inhale a deep breath, he smells nice, he has the kind of scent that you could just wrap yourself in and cozy down. The action makes pleasant shivers erupt down Yoongi’s spine. The weight of you so gladly held that he almost misses it when he was to let you off. And he makes you promise to wrap it as soon as you get up the stairs. 
The next day, the pink bandage sticks out from over your ankle socks and you bring Yoongi a brown paper bag from the fried food stall on the street. Smiling as you hand it over, “as a thank you” you justify, teasing him for his blush that starts up when he realizes you’ve remembered his favorites. 
Yoongi’s secret is that he might be in a gang, but he’s also fucking soft as shit. He loves dramas and romance movies and he has a sonnet of Shakespeare tattooed under his arm and carefully stylized roses above his heart. Yoongi is a total hopeless romantic. He loves everything to do with romance. Even if all of the people he’s ever loved have broken his heart. 
He doesn't sleep around a lot, doesn't let himself get close to people that often because people leave so much more often than they stay. And it’s almost like you’ve always been able to see through him- those times that you’ve talked about the dramas you both happen to like on the walk home, 
And he lets you talk as much as you want about the different minute details of the dialogue and the stage directions, asks you why you like a certain love story or don’t and leans in- and you can tell he actually cares what you like and enjoy, is actually listening to you. 
The same care that you return, when you share one of Yoongi’s shitty earbuds and listen to all of Yoongi’s favorite love songs. And steal the napkins he writes sappy lyrics on when you go out for hot chocolate after the game. The care that you show when you pretend that you don’t know that most of the lines of simple prose he writes are about you.
The first time you snag one and keep it away from him, you catch a look at the line of lyrics and find them- startlingly tender and honest. it’s hard to believe that walking you home is my favorite time of day when at the end of it I have to say goodbye to you, my secret is that I never want too.
You’re so shocked that he snags it out of your hand easily and he shoves the napkin in deep in his pocket. But the damage is done, you're wide-eyed and looking, his face bright red, cheeks round as he nibbles on his lower lip and shyly looks away, “don’t- don’t like- freak out or anything I just like writing about you is all- it’s not like, a big deal or anything.” 
But the next day, you just smile up at him, wiping away the sweat at your temples proffering “walk me home?” like you have no idea what it means to him. So easily giving him the quiet acceptance of a part of him that he doesn't show anyone. 
You goofily get too close when you guard him sometimes tackling and holding around his neck or wrap your arms around his waist during the warm-up games you play sometimes, giggling at his shout of “yah-”. When you manage to steal the ball from him- your specialty- you might not be able to make every three-pointer but you can always get the ball away from him or any of the others. Yoongi doesn't get angry or too competitive, just shakes his head and smiles. 
You rarely ever see Yoongi around campus, even less rarely interact with him, though he will return your wave when you give him one. You see him one day when you’re walking between classes with one of your friends, Jaebaum who was your lab partner for chemistry last semester but had become your friend after joint commiseration over how terrible chemistry was. 
“How do you know that guy?” the accusation is low and a little startled, his eyebrows pulling together into a glare that makes your hand fall from your wave. “We both go to the same pickup basketball games, why?”
Jaebaums jaw tightens as he looks back, but Yoongi’s already disappeared into the music building. “that guy deals drugs for half the sororities and fraternities at this school- just surprised me is all, I didn’t think that you would know him. You said you play basketball with him?”
You tell him more about them- not that you’ve ever hidden your secret. And he pushes until you agree to let him come with you. Maybe he’s just curious, but you’re just trying to be nice is all- Jaebaum is a friend even if his overprotective friend thing gets a little annoying. 
You swear- what is it with guys and trying to protect you, Yoongi is the only one whose never made you feel inferior for it. 
You’ve never brought someone to the games before but others have in the past, and Jaebum is introduced with little fanfare, though Yoongi goes eye him over the edge of a basketball and raise an eyebrow in your direction, you can hear his voice “really?”
maybe the night would have gone better if Jaebaum didn’t literally check Yoongi onto the concrete halfway through the game. The other players literally stop to a standstill, because no one is ever that aggressive. The ball bounces away unattended as Yoongi is quick to get up and shove Jaebaum back.
 You’re quick to step between the two of them a hand on either of their chests as Yoongi growls out “what the fuck is your problem?” Even if Jaebaum is a bit taller, Yoongi doesn’t back down. Of course, the second Yoongi makes eye contact with you he backs off, though you do see his jaw roll in annoyance. And that’s more than you can say for Jaebaum, Who takes a few more words before he gets back to the game. 
He lingers when the game finishes and usually, you’d stay for another, but no one else seems to be in the mood for it. You and Yoongi still pass a ball back and forth and Yoongi shoots a jab his way when pauses by the chainlink gate. 
“Get lost asshole- and just for the record, acting all high and mighty around me doesn’t change the fact that your frat buys coke from me on the weekends and I know for a fact one of you brothers was looking for GHB last week,” Yoongi is merciless though putting all their dirty drug habits that he is only too privy too as their dealer out in the open. 
Jaebum pales as you send him a shocked glance because you really didn’t know his fraternity did shit like that. GHB is like- serious stuff, and its reputation isn’t great. And fuck- Jaebaums even invited you to parties at his fraternity, who knows what was in the drinks of those other girls. 
A glance at him tells you that Jaebaum really had no idea what his fraternity brothers were getting up to in their spare time but the damage is already done. Jaebaum turns to you pleading “Y/n please believe me- I didn’t know they where-”
“Jae” you cut him off, suddenly more shakey than you’d like, “I think you should go,” he doesn’t listen stepping closer, “Nah come on- let me take you home,” he pleads palms open. 
Before he can get close Yoongi steps Infront of you subtly keeping a hand on your arm to reassure you. “I’ll walk her home- don’t worry Jae,” he adds mockingly. “She’s safer with me anyway.”
You and Yoongi pass a ball back and forth, the last to leave as usual after that but he’s unusually silent. Until the streets go quiet and he finally lets his feelings spill onto the asphalt. “Wow, you really know how to pick them huh,” 
You check the ball back to him, a little harder than Nessicary “You know that’s what my brother said about you when he first met you right?” 
“What?” Yoongi dribbles the ball as he shakes his head, you can see him actually getting angry as he makes a three-pointer and misses by a longshot, you catch the rebound and pass it back. “your brother doesn't even know me- not really.” 
“I know that Yoongi and believe me- I never would have let him come if I knew he was gonna like” you trail off, struggling to find the right words. Yoongi concentrates enough to make the shot finally and takes a step back to see if he can make the next one. You return the rebound again.
“If you knew he was gonna try to intimidate me? Try to stake a claim on you or something like you’re a fucking thing when you’re-” Yoongi breaks off, swallowing back his anger and shaking his head like he’s ridding himself of his fury, even though you can see it boiling in his dark eyes when he turns them on you. 
“Don’t you know how frat boys treat pretty girls? or where you just naive enough to think that one could be different when they all silently allow their brothers to do what they want,” 
You pass it back hard, and it hits Yoongi’s chest hard. stinging a little- “Don’t you dare call me nieve Yoongi, not when you’re being hypocritical as fuck” you argue- you know Yoongi isn’t really meaning to be mean, not at all. 
And Yoongi just- givens a particularly hard pass to you the same way you just did to him and your arms don’t come up quick enough and it hits your face. It’s not the first time that you’ve ever been hit in the face by a basketball, you’ve had your fair share of bloody noses. And anyone who plays knows the particular not-quite-painfull- stinging sensation that makes shocked tears spark in your eyes.  
Yoongi immediately rushes over to hold your head and apologize profusely and he Dabbs at your nose to get rid of the little bit of blood that's dripping out of your nose with the sleeve of his sweatshirt. Apologize tumbling out of his lips,
“Oh my god I’m so so sorry- please believe I didn’t mean to- fuck- I'm sorry” and you’re not angry- you know he didn’t mean it at all- that it was an accident you just weren't paying attention. And Yoongi is panicked looking down at you and cradling your face in his hands, brushing your baby hairs back away from your face and it’s not even really like that bad or hurts or everything, your face is just mostly numb.
You can't help it- you start laughing, and he looks down at you wide-eyed “oh my god you should have seen your face- you look like you just accidentally stepped on a pets tail or something- holy fuck Yoongi I'm fine-” 
But then Yoongi leans in, his forehead against yours in the lit basketball court, closing his eyes and looking like he hates himself for hurting you even a little bit- even accidentally. He looks so upset with himself and that he’s hurt you. For all of your close moments, your almost relationship-esce tender moments you and Yoongi aren’t so physically close so often. Even though your laughing, he sighs all the tension going out of him. “not my fault you follow me around like a puppy or something- you're just so- you’ve got this-” he makes a frustrated noise, “god you’ve always got me so tongue-tied” 
And you still for a moment, standing in the middle of the court, a little blush paints his cheeks as he realizes how close you are. 
On the basketball court, with your nose bleeding and Yoongi looking at you with all that love he’s hidden on display, you realize that there shouldn’t be anything stopping you from nurturing that affection that he’s so blatantly showing right now, that he always does whether you acknowledge it or not. 
And maybe he’s always shown you that, maybe it was always there in the way he walked you home, the way he checks to see that you’re alright whenever you take an elbow or fall during a game. 
Tender and protective almost like Yoongi is your bodyguard or something. But unlike others, Yoongi knows you can handle yourself and he’s only there so you don't have to deal with it alone. He might be protective, but he’s never claimed ownership of you like others have.  
For a moment the lights flicker and go out plunging the two of you into muted darkness, especially here, where the streetlights barely bleed. It’s not an unusual occurrence, the court is kind of old and shitty and it’s probably just the security guard being passive-aggressive to you and try to get you to leave early again. 
In the darkness you tilt your head forward and kiss him, your lips slotting together. After he manages to overcome his shock his hand fists in your hair underneath the hood of your hoodie. His tongue briefly licks out to paint heat into your chest that blooms like the roses on his. Before you pull away and Yoongi’s so breathless from just the taste of you. 
And then the lights come back on and he’s just shocked standing there while you take the ball and try to make the shot Yoongi couldn’t make failing at first because your hands are shaking a little.
Yoongi runs his hand over his face and through his hair and tries to stop himself from grinning and quiet the rapid pounding of his heart. You shoot a three-pointer and make it- “holy shit Y/n you-” 
“You don’t have anything to worry about when it comes to other guys Yoongi” and he’s just standing there blushy and quiet. “if that's what that thing with Jaebaum was about,” you pass the ball back to him, and he huffs. 
“It was more about him treating you like a possession but okay- fixate on that I guess,” you don’t buy his ire at all. 
He walks you home and kisses you again on your stoop and quickly pulls the closure of your hoodie over your face and runs away. “You punk Yoongi!” you shout at him, waking up the neighbors- but he doesn’t care, his heart feels too light to be bogged down by anything like disapproving outsiders. 
later that night when they’re selling on the street corner, Hoseok levels Yoongi’s never falling smile with a raised eyebrow “what’s got you so happy tonight?” and Yoongi just tilts his head back against the brick building and smiles at the sky, unable to keep it off his mouth now. 
“Nothing man, nothing at all” and of course that's a lie- Yoongi’s whole body is light with how much of something this is, his thoughts tripping over with little snippets of you. God, he feels like a little kid, excited to see their crush the next day at school. 
You only kiss when the lights go out, in the shadows of alleyways, hands ghosting over places too intimate for public and for even the street lights. safe in the darkness where no one can see either of you and you can just be Yoongi and Y/n. The city melts away along with all of its problems and leaving both of you alone. 
You only kiss when he walks you home, or when you sneak him into your bedroom on the colder nights through the front door or up the fire escape. And he’ll press you into the sheets of your bed, his bare arms, and the black ink on his chest and his inky hair contrasting with the white sheets of your bed, and he touches you so softly, every second building to linger, to cherish, to love. 
You only kiss him when he surprises you, like the night after he goes out to dinner with your older brother to try and impress him. Yoongi’s white button-down barely hides all his tattoo’s but he does take all the piercings out of his ears. To both of your surprise, he manages to not make a horrible impression and actually earn your brothers approval (but only a little). 
He only kisses you when you steal his leather jacket- pulling you close by the lapels, or when you steal his thrasher hoodie and he doesn't even realize you have it until he sees you walking around campus with it on, and pulls you into the deserted bathroom on the third floor of the science building because for a quick make-out session. 
Who knows maybe Min Yoongi really likes kissing you, maybe he just really really likes you too, maybe when you text at night Min Yoongi finds himself burying his smile into his pillow, texting you back, “goodnight sweetheart, can’t wait to see you tomorrow,” 
For your first date, he takes you out to dinner and then to a bar that closes early but has a legit ball pit. Complete with disco balls, a bunch of fancy setups and Instagramable pastel pink floral walls, and serves it’s sangria in glass teapots. 
It’s pricer than usual bars, but it’s worth it- to get giggly and tipsy with you and bother the other patrons by starting a war throwing the clear plastic balls that look like bubbles back and forth. You use an inflatable heart- complete with bright silver glitter to block his attack and tackle him into the pit, shocking a giggle out of his chest that seems to shimmer into the open air. 
And he takes a photo of you laughing below him when he heaves you up and into a pile, giggling brightly too. You snap a photo of him too and he looks all harsh and grungy against the pastel background, lounged out like a jungle cat in his black ripped jeans and black teeshirt. his darkness juxtapositioned with all of the pink. 
You end up printing out the photo and hanging it up by your mirror in your bathroom where you eventually hang little tickets from late-night rap shows that Yoongi takes you too- or the tickets for the free day at the local zoo and a few romcoms. Little memories of your times together that you can wake up and see, and keep a piece of him close that way. 
He prints out your photo too and keeps it in his wallet. He doesn't take it out and look at it often, but sometimes when he knows you’re asleep and he’s still out on the chilly street, the fingerless gloves you got him for his birthday warming his hands. He’ll finger the edge of his wallet and the edge of the photo that sticks out a little, and smile to himself- imagining that you’re wrapped up warm in your bed, maybe curling up in one of his shirts that he’d lent you- you always say you sleep better in them.
And he thinks about maybe sneaking up to the fire escape that leads to your window when he’s done for the night, tapping out a hello on your window until you wake and let him into your warm embrace. Quiet and taking his shoes off by the window so that his heavy steps don’t alert your older brother in the room over. 
And maybe he could cuddle you a little before class, relax into your arms for a few hours. The lack of sleep would be hell to pay for later- and really, Yoongi also has papers due and assignments to complete not to mention exams to study for that need his time if he wants to even think about graduating anytime soon or keeping his scholarship until then. But he indulges in the idea of it, all the same, closing his eyes and imagining it just for a minute when he feels that photo, letting his memory’s drift back to your first date. 
Sometimes on the really cold evenings, you’ll take the train home instead of walking- even though it gives you less time than you usually have. you grab the last train home and sit close. He taps out a pattern on the back of your hand, your skin unmarked unlike his. Each of his knuckles is marked by a symbol for a royal flush.
A ten of clovers on his thumb, a jack of diamonds on his index, then a queen of spades, king of hearts, then the ace of spades on his pinky. The tattoos are newer, you’re pretty sure Yoongi didn’t have them when you first met. 
“How do you have so many tattoo’s?” you ask, you know by now that Yoongi only deals drugs to pay his many bills that aren’t covered by his scholarship. Because he has too to survive and not because he particularly likes being apart of a gang. His copious amount of inc seems like too an expensive habit for him to keep if he’s paying for it out of pocket. Yoongi watches you trace over the marks on his knuckles. 
“There’s this tattoo artist across town, he’s pretty good makes a half-decent living or would if his boyfriend didn’t have this like- rare disease or something. I’ve never really asked or looked it up- but anyway, their insurance doesn't cover it and it would be like thousands of dollars a month retail. But I get them a couple months supply at a time for like a quarter of that- and as long as I deliver it to them every few months, Namjoon lets me sit in his chair after hours as a thank you.” 
“Didn’t realize you-” “dealt in medical stuff as well?” Yoongi asks, raising an eyebrow, not judgementally but really, anything there is a market for Yoongi’s employers have him sell. but you don’t talk about Yoongi’s drug dealing. the less you know about the gang the safer you are. You nod, and Yoongi sits back, pulling you a little closer, your stop is nearing, and he knows that he’s going to have to say goodbye to you soon after that. 
“The first time I met him it was like- not great. He was so panicked didn’t look at all the type to be buying drugs either. But he stuck around and kept asking if I could get it until I could, and then I started delivering it to his place instead of having him come to me and like, you know how dangerous it is and like walking around with that amount of cash. It isn’t something you do if you’re smart or unprotected. And I think he just started giving me free ink because I cared enough to drop it off instead of having him come to me.” 
You lean over and press a kiss to his cheek- “Min Yoongi- friendly neighborhood drug dealer- who would have thought you’d be so kind,” Yoongi tilts away at your teasing because really, by now you know just how gummy soft Yoongi is and how true the statement is. 
He’s always checking in, and he’s kind of the older brother of sorts even to the others at the basketball court, always the first one to playfully shove the gangly limbed kid named Jungkook who's hung around the courts since forever (and has only recently sprouted up taller than him).
Or he’ll ask you and Jungkook’s grubby thin friend Taehyung (that sometimes comes to games sporting black eyes and leans into Jungkook like he’s the only thing keeping him up) if either of you wants something from the 7/11 across the street. 
He’s always soft to some of the younger high school kids that come by and play. The ones that obviously don’t have good role models at home. And you know by the way Yoongi sometimes gets self-critical that he doesn't think of himself as a good role model by any means- but he is a good person. 
The streets might have made him rough around the edges and fierce by necessity, but Min Yoongi has never and will never lose his kindness.
And maybe that's why you love him, why you feel so safe with him, why you smile every time you see him and why your heart beats quick whenever he looks at you like you’re the only people in the room. You know deep in your bones that Min Yoongi might not look it on the outside, that he carries the weight of what he does like a bulletproof vest and has more than a little baggage, but he’s a good man.  
The first night he takes you back to his apartment he’s a little shy about it because he knows it’s basically a closet. It’s in the bad part of town too, but it’s mostly clean and at least it doesn't smell too much like mold. There's only a single wall separating the kitchen from the half room where his single bed is tucked. But he does have nice windows, they’re the only thing that drew him to the apartment, a good view of some neon lights across the street and a full glass tilted roof where it used to be a covered balcony. 
The producing equipment that he’d saved up for and his school things pushed and piled on the desk in the opposite wall. his stacks and stacks of notebooks full of poetry turned lyrics that maybe he’ll never put a song to. You could probably reach them from the bed if you stretched out really far. Along with a keyboard that he’d won after he’d beat a DJ in a game of pool. His clothes sit in bins underneath his bed that he shoves and pulls his blanket over to try and hide the drabness of it. 
But you don’t judge at all, you don’t mark on the frayed edge of Yoongi’s duvet, or on the dust gathering on the sill of the windows. Or the bars that block the view. You smile at the band posters on the wall and the movie poster by his bathroom and giggle when he turns on the colorful Christmas lights he’s strung up over his bed and he asks why you’re smiling. 
“This room is so you Yoongi- like I don’t even know how to explain it but it’s like I just walked into you- you know?” Yoongi does know, and his chest warms with the thought of this, this place is his home and only his safe haven (besides the court). It’s the representation of his everything. Maybe a little grey, a little worn around the edges but still comfortable, still warm. 
You just stand there and look out the windows at the street corner below while Yoongi boils some milk for hot chocolate. And when it’s set he holds around your waist and hooks his chin over your shoulder, swaying slightly to the music that always lives in him while you look out the window, quiet and contemplative. 
“I know it’s not much but you could move in if you want after we graduate- or maybe get a bigger apartment together and pool our resources for something nicer- if you want too.” you’ve been together for about a year now- even if the beginning of your relationship was a little more loosely bound. 
“Really you’d want me to live with you?” Yoongi shrugs and blushes and you kiss his cheek sweetly making him flush a darker red. And Unlike how he would if he was with anyone else, he doesn't turn away or try to hide how he looks at you, so wanting and soft, almost hopeful.
He leans his cheek against your head and sways a little, tasting the lyrics and the beat on his tongue he would write about this moment- maybe they’re nothing- maybe there shitting and sentimental-  I showed you the drabby parts of me and you told me it was enough, we felt our love with simple feelings, simple people all the same, and I know I’ll love you forever if only you would stay. 
“Of course I want you to move in sweetheart.” 
You start to sleep over some nights- the nights when your brother has to go on trips for work or it gets too late for you to walk back. Yoongi doesn't live in the safest area and he never lets you walk home alone, but he does try to limit your exposure to his world. The drug dealers on the corners giving him nod as he passes, but he does catch them looking at you- their stares confused and lingering. 
It makes Yoongi worried. He starts picking you up from class too just in case. 
You still play basketball late at night, and sometimes, when your both sit on the sidelines, you trace his tattoos and he tugs at your ponytail out and at the end of the night so that your hair falls around your face, Yoongi always walks you home. And maybe you steal his hoodie every night so that you can sleep surrounded by the smell of him. 
But then, a few weeks after he finally graduates (you take him out to dinner to celebrate and get him the very very nice gift of soundproof headphones since he was still using the shitty earbuds that came with his phone)  Yoongi doesn’t come to basketball. 
Thoughts who know him well linger about for a few minutes after you’d usually start, but he doesn't show. You’re distracted the whole time, casting a glance to the gate to see if he’ll appear there, checking your phone when you take breaks until you give in and text him. 
He doesn’t answer his texts when you send him one or pick up your phone when you call. And you’re starting to get worried when you walk home. Of course, you know what Yoongi’s had to pick up more “hours” whatever that means in the wake of his graduation and therefore the expiration of his scholarship. 
You’ve thought about the possibility of him being arrested before, waking up in a cold sweat thinking about it. You try not to let Yoongi know how much it stresses you out. Your brother has told you more than once, “He’s going to get himself killed one day” or “he’s going to break your heart.” 
but you always reply, “You don’t know him at all, he’s not like that, and he’s safe when he’s out- he’s always cautious,” 
You walk the whole way home peering down every alleyway and knawing on your lip in worry. Wondering if maybe you should stop by his apartment and see if he’s there- after you drop off your books of course. Only to find Yoongi sitting on the stoop to your apartment building. He gets up with a pained groan when he sees you, knees cracking, his shattered phone dark and left on the stoop next to him. You drop your bag when Yoongi looks up and you catch a glimpse of his face underneath his hoody. Your school things spilling onto the sidewalk
“I swear I’m fine- It’s only cuz I was outnumbered that they got me so bad, my nose isn’t even broken.” he’s sitting on the toilet with you in between his legs dabbing at his split lip while he holds a bag of peas to his black eye and alternates laying on it his bruised collar bone. You’d been mostly silent since you saw him, but- when you see how gingerly he’s holding his battered body. And suddenly you’re crying, barely containing your sobs as they spill over your lips and you drink in him, thinking about the possibility of him landing himself in the hospital or an early grave. 
Yoongi wraps his arms around you and pulls you close, burying his face in his sweatshirt you’re wearing. It smells like a piece of you and a piece of him. “I’m okay baby girl really, please don’t cry over me” you smoothing your shaking hands up and through his hair. You pull away from him a little. It breaks Yoongi’s heart to see you crying because of him. 
“I can’t do this Yoongi, I’m always be worried if you’re going to be beaten up or arrested or shot at, I can’t be with you if I don’t know you’re safe.” 
He swallows, blinking through his own tears- but really the choice he makes is instinctual- he would never even think of doing anything else. “What if I quit then, what if I stopped and found another job somewhere else- somewhere safer.” 
You pull away looking at his face, seeing his brutal honesty the truth there. Yoongi has never been one to lie to you so if he’s saying it- he means it. “I’m serious about you, about us, I-” neither of you have dropped the L-word yet and all of a sudden Yoongi’s throat feels like he’s closing up because he’s never loved anyone who hasn’t left. But you’re worth it- you're worth the risk of shattering his heart. 
“I love you so much, and I want to be with you, and if this- this is your deal-breaker, then I’ll stop.” You nod, and Yoongi reaches up to wipe away your tears with both of his thumbs. His hands rough from basketball, and the little scrapes on his palms, but still comforting in the way you can feel his intention in every touch. And leans his forehead against yours, you stretch your hand back to shut off the lights and kiss him in the darkness. 
You’re glad your brother is saying late for work and leaving early because you can pull Yoongi through your dark apartment and into your room as long as you’re quiet. You kiss every bruise on his body from his cheekbone to his bruised knuckles, sitting over his lap in just a large white t-shirt. Your bareness pressed all to him and Yoongi touches you gently like he would a treasure. 
Yoongi makes love to you and every stuttering movement of his hips is a swan song to anyone else he might love- because you’re it for him. His gentle hands smooth over your hips as you lose yourself among the covers, and his careful but firm touches. 
 He lets himself taste your skin, and luxuriate in the softness plucked delicately between his lips like the strings of an instrument, to suck your blood to the surface in a melody of red and pink. Gentle and slow and lingering like he’s letting you know that there is no rush for this like he’s staying like he’ll do anything you ask. He wants to be with you until you don’t want him anymore.
And you let him know you’ll always want him with every sigh, every bitten back moan of his name, and every scratch down his back that you want to mark him and keep him as yours as well. You let him know you’ll stay with every kiss from your red mouth a brand, and every sigh and keen a promise for the endless time left. You’re marked as well- even if he can’t see it you’re his and he’s yours, as sure and as permanent as the tattoo’s on his skin.  
Yoongi cleans up his act. Talks to the gang and they let him quit as long as he agrees to still occasionally sell at college parties- and it’s enough for you. You move into Yoongi’s apartment much to the ire of your older brother, the semester after he graduates and a semester before you do.  
And though it might be small it becomes your place, the place where your love takes full form and is stitched into every inch. You get a few plants and hang them by the windows and a small two-person table set into the wall where you have your meals together- Yoongi teaches you how to cook in your pajamas, a freshly-minted pop song crackly from the old Bluetooth speaker. You hang hooks for your coffee mugs underneath the cabinets to save some space. 
Yoongi hasn’t had a family in years, his own parents and older brother disowned him when he left for Seoul to try his hand at music, and he only occasionally speaks to his brother on his birthday or Christmas. 
He’s only been able to go to college and get a degree because of his own pure stubbornness and having good enough grades in high school and on the entrance exam to get a scholarship. 
He’s only had himself to rely on for the last few years, and that changes almost overnight. He starts to build a family with you there, even if it’s just the two of you, you still are a family.
You’re the first person he sees when he wakes up in the morning, nestled into his chest all soft and delicate. You’re the first person he calls when he gets any sort of good news. The person he surprises with bulgogi on Friday afternoons just because. 
At your graduation, Yoongi shouts and cheers you on, louder than any parent would, your brother laughing next to him. He may not approve of Yoongi entirely- but he respects Yoongi for how much he cares about you and how much he tries. Though the approval there might be tenuous, Yoongi makes it clear that he isn’t going anywhere. 
You don’t mind the small bed in his apartment because you know you’d end up lying that close anyway. The large duvet spilling onto the floor as you curl up underneath it and pretend that you’re two bears in hibernation, chests and bones aligned all perfectly and comfortably, everything else outside of your little cave dangerous and frightening but it’s quiet and safe in each other's arms. 
He gets you special tickets to a behind the scenes tour of a new drama that's coming out as your graduation present. And he holds your hand the entire tour, drinking in your wide-eyed enthusiasm the same way you do when you hear his music. 
He gets a less dangerous job as a bartender at a club that the gang owns (because they’re still his friends even if they’re less close and see each other a little less. It’s not ideal but he’ll take what he can get until he manages to find a job where he can use his degree). 
You finally meet Hoseok just after Christmas when Yoongi lets it slip that he doesn't have anyone to spend the new year with. And though he might be surprisingly upbeat there is the same darkness there that you recognize from when you met Yoongi, The kind that has little faith in the world but a whole lot of hope for change. 
And Yoongi really thinks it's sweet- you treat Hoseok like you might a little brother even though he’s older than you by a few years. You make an effort to invite Hoseok out for dinner more often, and when Yoongi asks you say, “He seems a little too skinny, like no one’s taking care of him.” 
Eventually, you convince him to stop dealing drugs as well, and Yoongi gets him a job working as a bartender soon after he gets the hang of it himself. And Yoongi spends most nights cleaning glasses with Hoseok endlessly flirting with any pretty girl who walks in the door. And Hoseok just laughs any time they try to flirt with Yoongi- because yeah he has someone waiting for him at home. 
And then one random Tuesday he’s making jokes with a guy at the bar in an expensive suit jacket, and he realizes fate might just have it out for him- in a very good way. 
It’s kind of his job to chat with the patrons when it’s not a DJ night. The booth in the corner sits and taunts Yoongi with the promise of someday- and Yoongi swears to himself that he will work his way into that booth one day, with sheer stubbornness and hard work.  
He’s just joking around and kind of making fun of the guy when he gets on the topic of music and Yoongi says “You’re joking if you think that's a good song the kicks all wrong and the chorus has a wonky beat that just doesn't fit.” 
The guy laughs and looks at Yoongi with sharp appraising eyes and says “I’m the one that produced that song boy” and then laughs some more when Yoongi freezes, flushing hard and stuttering out an apology. And holy fuck- this guy is basically what Yoongi’s dreamed of being since he was a teenager and first discovered his love for Music they talk more about it, and Yoongi tries not to be excited or drop his mixed tape or anything- he plays it cool as he can. 
The next night he brings Yoongi the raw track on a drive and says, “I want to see how you’d alter it- try and impress me.” and Yoongi does, works on it day and night for a few weeks.
And you let him- come and stand by his desk and give him coffee when you get up to go to work just after he gets back (you’re only in between grad school and college now- but you’re working to save up money so that you don’t have to take out so many loans) and when you get back from your shift at a coffee shot you find him still hunched over his computer dead asleep, and sleepily tug him into bed for a few more hours sleep.
Yoongi hands over the finished track the next time he see’s the producer at the bar and he calls Yoongi the next day and offers him an internship.  Yoongi thanks him for the opportunity profusely and promises him that he won’t disappoint. And when he gets off the phone he calls you- bugs you until you pick up and when you get home you jump and scream and dance around his small apartment. You both go to the convenience store and get a bottle of cheap wine and some melon ice pops and stay up after his shift to watch the sunrise. 
And Yoongi can’t help but think that if you had never made him quit his job dealing drugs if he never started playing pick up games and met you- he never would have gotten the job and the bar and now he wouldn’t be here, on the precipice of everything he’d ever dreamed of. 
well almost everything, because when he looks over at you, tipsy sitting against the window with a pillow under your butt grinning and tipping your shoulder sweetly into his- he thinks that being a producer is only half of what he wanted. 
You make love on the floor of your bedroom- even though there’s the bed right next to you because your love is the kind that need not be confined to a single place (in Yoongi’s flowery words) even if he’s the one that ends up with rug burn on his knees later. 
There are other conversations that happen in front of those windows, with kisses pressed to your lips in total darkness if it weren't for the neon lights. “do you think we should move?” “give it a few more weeks love,” he says, pressed between a kiss on your shoulder.
 “you’ve been hired for over a year Yoongi- they’re gonna give you your own solo project any day now,”  you snort. “is it weird that I can’t help but worry I'll be fired or something?” he holds onto you tighter. 
You sooth him with a hand down his arm, your words velvet soft in the darkness, “no not at all- it’s just that the studio complained that a line of your sheet music got slipped into my rough draft last week, and maybe things like that wouldn't happen if we didn’t share the same desk.” a laugh shocks out of him “fuck we need a larger place.” 
And then months later, when you’re thinking about moving, and Yoongi has his heart set on this one bedroom with small office space and a killer view over the river- expensive but still kinda tight. And you can’t help but might need more than one room at one point in the future. 
“did you ever think about having kids?” you ask, nervously drumming your fingers on the counter his hair curling against the nape of his neck. He’s been growing it longer recently, no longer does he get it done in the jagged undercut that he used to.
His sleep shirt is one of his old ones, no matter how big his paycheck has gotten Yoongi will always sleep in his threadbare basketball shorts and a washed-out tee. It’s almost like when he falls asleep he goes back to that same boy you first met years ago. With too many tattoos and not enough hope that his dreams would ever come true.  
His eyes go wide over his cup of coffee, and he sets it down before he even takes a sip, mulling over your question for a moment before he answers “Only with you, why?” 
Years later, after your screenplay gets picked up by a popular channel. when you’ve long left behind your tiny box of an apartment and traded in for an upgraded space closer to where both of you work. Yoongi is nominated (and wins) an award for a song he produced for an idol group.
You accompany him to an award show with his same tattooed arms around your waits, though the ink has faded a little bit. He still goes back to the same shop he used to though he pays now that he has enough money. Yoongi has even steered enough people (rappers and other producers) towards the shop that the tattoo artist can charge more and actually afford legitimate prescriptions no longer has to live through shady backroom deals. 
 A few more tattoos have been added, the first line of the first song he ever produced that made into onto an album, a little lightbulb for you, and more roses added to his chest. Lacing their way up his neck ending just below the date inked onto his neck- your anniversary. 
And when he’s asked about you by reporters he introduces you as his muse. There is no small amount of fanfare for a well-known music producer and a screenwriter that's recently gained notoriety for her gang inspired drama. The bulbs of cameras flash, dizzying if it weren't for Yoongi’s steady arm around your waist. 
 “We’ve been together for years, and she’s always stood by me and encouraged me to be the best version of myself and follow my dreams. I know I wouldn’t be where I am if I didn’t have her which is why this award is as much for me as it is for her” 
And the reporters clamor over themselves to ask you questions too asking you about the open ending of your book, if there is any hope for a sequel of your drama, and what the open ending meant. “I think the best thing about stories is that you get to wait and see how they end, so I won’t let anything particularly telling go before it’s time for you to see it,” you say, teasing even though everyone knows that none of the actors that starred in your drama have schedules for the next season- and are likely slated for a continuation even if your company hasn’t announced the sequel yet. 
You and Yoongi take your seats to the side, but in the front row. During the award show, at the moment when the lights go low just before the idol group that Yoongi produces for starts to perform on stage, you and Yoongi tilt your faces together. And it feels like hello- like all of the time before that you’ve kissed in the dark when your lips meet. 
The moments when you’ve both found each other in the darkness, met in the middle, to be nothing other than what you are. Both you and Yoongi are brought down to your barest forms, just two people in love and better for it. Stronger together than you are apart. 
The lights go up, you and Yoongi clap harder than anyone in the stands as the starting notes fade in and the choreography starts as well, another song that Yoongi’s produced, one of many in the future
And maybe no one would know you’ve kissed if it weren't for your lipstick on his mouth. 
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underthejoon · 8 months ago
Once Upon A Holiday...
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‘Tis the season to be readin’ so join @fantasybangtan​ @hobidreams​ @lamourche​ @junghelioseok​ @kpopfanfictrash​ @suga-kookiemonster​ @underthejoon​ as we trim your timelines with seven seasonal stories! 
As an extra holiday treat, all of our one shots will incorporate the following phrase: “stop trying to sext me, I don’t need this right now.”
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Author: @underthejoon​
Pairing: Kim Seokjin x Reader
Summary: Christmas greets you with a proverbial lump of coal when you're forced to co-host the 'Holiday Hotline' with none other than Kim Seokjin. Newly appointed Resident Radio Hunk and the bane of both your professional and personal lives. Can the Holiday Spirit mend your wounds and make things merry and bright? Or will you find yourself compelled to deck his halls and make him pay for how he humiliated you? Tune in to find out!
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Author: @fantasybangtan​
Pairing: Min Yoongi x Reader
Summary: it’s not that you don’t like your job. on the contrary, reading bedtime stories to a certified little princess is something you still can’t believe you get paid to do. it’s just that between all the school runs, snow days and secret second hot chocolates before bed, you may fallen a little too hard for those dimpled cheeks and gummy smiles.... worse still, you’ve fallen for her father too.
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Author: @kpopfanfictrash​
Pairing: Jung Hoseok x Reader
Summary: At this time last year, you thought you had it all. A kick-ass screenwriting job for the hottest TV show in LA, an actor boyfriend whose career was taking off and an affordable apartment with not one, but two bathrooms. Fast-forward to now and you’re single, soon-to-be jobless and searching for a way to scrape together January rent. Everything seems to be falling apart, which was why you told your family you weren’t coming home for the holidays. Enter your little sister, Sara, who recently became engaged to her boyfriend, Yoongi and needs you home to celebrate. The biggest problem? Returning home means you’ll be forced to face everything and everyone you left behind, including Yoongi’s best man – and your ex-best friend, Hoseok.
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Author: @lamourche​
Pairing: Kim Namjoon x Reader
Summary: It was supposed to be perfect — the wedding, the groom, the little statues on top of the cake. Instead, you have a bill for an unused tent, a former fiancé who is home with his secretary for the holidays, and two small burnt lumps of plastic from a small fire that may have gotten out of control. (In your defense, the trashcan looked like it was made of metal.) You can still have a honeymoon, though, even if it is for one. Maybe it’s fate that seats you next to the man with the thighs of your dreams, or the airline employee tired of your sob story, but it’s certainly time for a new friend, a new perspective, and a new beginning.
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Author: @hobidreams​
Pairing: Park Jimin x Reader
Summary: For those of you who belong to the upper echelons of society, the holidays are synonymous with parties. Lavish and (in your opinion) excessive gatherings — opportunities to show off what you've accomplished and acquired over the year. Unfortunately for you, tonight’s particular celebration features two special guests: the man you thought you would be with for the rest of your life, and the man you married.
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Author: @suga-kookiemonster​
Pairing: Kim Taehyung x Reader
Summary: it all started by accident, but it continues by choice—even before you began sleeping together, things with your friend taehyung have always been comfortable and easy. simple, and this new arrangement between you is certainly no exception to that rule. well...that's definitely what you thought before a major snowstorm traps the two of you in his apartment over the holidays. now? now, it is quickly becoming apparent that things are a bit more complicated than you realized.
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Author: @junghelioseok​
Pairing: Jeon Jungkook x Reader
Summary: you don’t need retrospect to tell you that dating a coworker was a bad idea. two months after your breakup, he seems to have moved on to someone new—and quite happily, if his social media is to be believed. meanwhile, the only new thing in your life is your roommate, jungkook, who seems nice enough. just nice enough to coax into coming to your company’s annual holiday party, and more than handsome enough to show off a little bit. or, as it turns out, a lot.
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suga-kookiemonster · a year ago
want a taste? | myg
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part of the you never shop alone (ynsa) collab with @underthejoon and @kpopfanfictrash, based on this post!
summary⇢ pretzel pro. most skillful tongue in the food court world. allegedly. that’s what yoongi keeps telling you, anyway. of course, you’re reasonably skeptical of his claims—but if there’s one thing that motivates the notoriously-lethargic man, it’s proving skeptics wrong. pairing⇢ yoongi/reader word count⇢ 18.3k 😱😱😭😭😭 rating⇢ 18+ genre⇢ smut | humor | friends to lovers | shopping mall!au  warnings⇢ oral (female receiving), fingering, overstimulation, dirty talk, inappropriate and semi-public canoodling, very brief mention of suicide and depression (because this is a yoongific), taehyung is yoongi’s biggest fan but oc is coming for him lbrh 😌
a/n⇢ everybody thank @underthejoon for this gorgeous header 💖💖
THIS TOOK ME SO FUCKING LONG, i have NEVER written anything this long without splitting it up before in my entire life, omg. writing something this long in one go honestly made me wanna pull my hair out lmao. but we here!! we made it and it’s done and i hope you enjoy it 😩😭💕 mood for this fic is this song. HAPPY BIRTHDAY YOONGI, ILY 🤧💖
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A wave of exhaustion rolls over you as you stand in front of one of the mall’s many entrances. You are, in fact, exhausted, grad school and its many requirements taking a toll on your body, but what you feel now, now that you’ve made the conscious decision to pile even more on top of your heaping plate—what you feel now is a different type of tired. A kind of tired that promises to nestle deep in your bones, promises to linger.
It almost makes you want to turn around. Almost makes you walk right back to your car and fire up the engine, turning your radio all the way up so it’s easy to ignore the ominous rattling you’ve been hearing lately.
But unfortunately, no matter how loud you turn up the volume, the screaming of your bank account won’t be drowned out. So here you are.
It’s easy, your friend Mariah had promised you. I mean, it is retail, but. The hours are pretty flexible and the job itself is pretty relaxed. And so she put in a good word for you, and next thing you know, you’re here. Standing in front of your local mall.
You sigh, attempting to smooth out tension from your brow with your fingers. This would cut into what little free time you have in your schedule, but the tiny stipend you get from teaching doesn’t cover much, and extra income really would be nice for your peace of mind. So, resolve strengthened, you push through the doors.
It’s a strange thing, being here so early. You are one of the only people trudging your way over the gleaming tiles, most of the shops still dark and blocked by their chain-link gates. But you purposely arrived a little earlier than you needed to, mind set on finding more caffeine to inject into your bloodstream. That’s one thing that you refuse to bend on—if a ridiculously-priced coffee is what you need to physically and mentally get through the day, then you are going to pay for it. Besides, isn't that why you had agreed to this job in the first place? So something as small and necessary as a cup of coffee won’t break the bank?
Still, as you turn the corner, you quickly realize that the universe isn’t on your side—won’t allow you to have this single, reasonable mercy. The line to Java Joe’s, the mall’s resident cafe, is snaking out the door, and your heart sinks. There’s no way you will be able to wait for your order without being late for your first day on the job.
You groan, inwardly hoping that this isn’t a sign from the universe that you’re making a dumb ass life decision. Not a big deal, you tell yourself, turning on your heel and heading for the food court instead. Surely some other restaurant has coffee on their menu in a fruitless attempt to steal Java Joe’s business. Surely.
But today is apparently a day your luck is shit. To your continued irritation, the only things open at this time of day are the Auntie Anne’s, and, bizarrely, a rather sketchy gyro place. One look at the gyro place has your asshole clenching reflexively in fear.
Auntie Anne’s it is, then.
You walk up to the counter, rightfully grumpy because now you’ll have to get a fucking lemonade or something. Spend the next few hours jonesing for caffeine and pretending like the universe doesn’t hate you. But what you’re not expecting is for the cashier to be just as grumpy.
He’s clad in his Auntie Anne’s best—blue tshirt under a branded apron— and the way his bleached-blond hair is messily stuffed under the visor hides his eyes from you a bit. Still, there is nothing to disguise the clear way his mouth settles into a scowl as soon as you approach.
“I don’t know him,” he tells you flatly.
You blink. “Sorry, what?”
“The guy who sent you,” he deadpans, completely unamused. Frankly, so are you. “I don’t know him.”
“Neither do I,” you reply, brow furrowing in bafflement. What, is he expecting a hitman or something? Should you step to the side to give the sniper a clear shot? “No one sent me. I just wanted to purchase a questionable meal.”
He looks you over for a moment, weighing the validity of your claims. You must pass his scrutiny, because he visibly drops his guard, posture sinking into a bit more of a slouch, lips quirking into a small, apologetic smile. “Ah, sorry about that. What can I get you?” Gone is the irritated, slightly-intimidating edge to his tone, deep voice now laced with an obvious, falsely-friendly customer service lilt.
“Can I get a cinnamon sugar?”
“Sure. Pretzel or nuggets?”
You watch him as he reaches for your requested snack. You’re tired, but you find yourself intrigued by him anyway, your sleep-deprived brain reluctant to let your previous exchange pass so easily. “So. Who did you think had sent me?”
He looks mildly embarrassed at his mistake. “My roommate,” he acquiesces, putting your pretzel in a bag, handing it to you, and ringing it up at the register. “He does stupid shit sometimes. Lately he’s been using me for pretzel clout and telling pretty girls that I’ll give them free stuff.” Your body tingles at his implied remark that you’re pretty, but either he doesn’t notice he said it or he doesn’t care, as he keeps right on muttering to himself. “As if that’s going to get them to date him.”
“I don’t know,” you say, lips quirked in amusement. “A free pretzel sounds date-worthy in my book.”
“Yeah, well.” His lips quirk too. “Don’t tell him that—he’s irritating enough as it is. Any dips? A beverage?”
“No, just the pretzel is fine.”
You pay and thank him, choosing to take a seat at a table not too far away to eat your makeshift breakfast. You have a little bit of time before the start of your shift, so you spend it scrolling Twitter and licking sugar from your fingertips.
A few more people cycle through the food court, but it’s relatively quiet this early in the morning, and you finish up without being interrupted, balling up your trash and tossing it into the garbage. The Claire’s storefront faces directly out to the food court, so it’s an extremely short walk to your new job. You pass the cashier again on your way out, but this time, he’s further in the kitchen, using the lull to prep for the influx of customers that is sure to come. Your eyes linger a bit on the almost elegant way his surprisingly-large hands roll out and separate the dough, but you turn away without thinking much of it.
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“Thank god you’re here,” Raquel squeals. She’s visibly younger than you—and clearly a morning person. To be honest, she’s exactly who you would expect to work at Claire’s—chipper, bubbly, and genuinely excited to help you find the perfect glitter nail polish or flower crown. You muster up the energy to send her a small smile, unwilling to rain on her parade with the skepticism of someone who has been tainted by adulthood and forced responsibility. Her time will come soon enough. “My schedule this semester is a bit heavier on early classes, so I’m excited to have someone to cover morning shifts.” She pauses, as if she’s afraid of scaring you off. “Not that you’d only do mornings! It’d just be nice to spread them out, is all.”
“No problem,” you assure her. “Mornings tend to work better for me anyway.” That would give you enough time to complete some of your own assignments once you got home.
Raquel, your friend Mariah’s cousin, is actually your new manager. While most people cycle in and out of mall jobs, she’s worked at Claire’s since she was in high school, and her tenure has by default somehow moved her a little bit further up the totem pole than you. Mariah suggested the position to you because it's a chill job where more times than not, you’d be allowed to catch up on your reading whenever it’s a little slow. It seemed like the perfect solution for your little time, little cash problem.
So you bite your tongue as Raquel keeps chattering, and from what she's saying, your job seems relatively simple. She tells you about the current in-store deals (which you're pretty sure are always the "deals" three low-quality things and get a fourth low-quality thing of equal or lesser value sounds just like when you used to shop here, years and years ago). She shows you how to use the register, and she hands you a packet that details how to use the piercing gun ("There's a video I’ll have you watch that'll help, and then we'll whip out the foam ear for practice!"). But mostly, your first shift is filled with necessary clerical paperwork and shadowing your new boss.
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Your next few shifts at the mall are markedly unremarkable.
The first one is another early shift, and you're smart enough to pad in enough time to get a proper coffee this time. You almost regret it, coming face to face with one of the most attractive men you have ever seen in your life and rendered embarrassingly mute for a solid couple seconds before he smiles a knowing, boxy smile and asks for your order with a wink. (His coworker, unamused, rolls her eyes at his antics.)
The two shifts after that are both late shifts, which are a bit annoying schedule-wise, but you work around them.
It's another week and a half before you run into Pretzel Boy again.
By law, you’re entitled to a thirty-minute lunch break, and your first two shifts you spend it in the food court, too easily distracted by the bustling people around you to truly relax or pay attention to the assigned reading you brought with you. By the time the third one rolls around, you’ve learned your lesson. You roam the halls instead, easily blending in with the midday shoppers and familiarizing yourself with the floor plan. This is how you find the set of paid massage chairs, hidden in a corner that used to house a Carson’s and a Payless. A corner occupied by department stores that went bankrupt means there is little to no foot traffic—and that this, therefore, is the perfect place to sneak in a power nap.
It’s during your fourth shift, just as you’re closing your eyes in that deserted hallway, starting to melt into the leather seat, that the blond cashier makes a reappearance.
You jump a bit, weary body startled from its powering down at the sign of a potential threat. You open your eyes blearily, only to be met by who you immediately recognize as the dude who sold you a soft pretzel last week.
His Auntie Anne’s shirt is gray today, and now that he’s not behind a counter, nor wearing his apron, you can see that he’s wearing slim-fit jeans too. The two of you lock eyes, but you only observe him for a moment before you’re shutting your own again, deeming him relatively harmless and hoping he’ll go away.
“What are you doing here?”
“Sleeping,” you answer shortly.
“This is my spot,” he drawls, tone markedly reasonable. As if he harbors no ill will for you encroaching on his space, because you didn’t know better.
Except now you do, and you don’t give a shit.
“Oh, I’m sorry. I guess I missed the sign,” you deadpan, resisting the urge to let out a frustrated noise. You are too fucking tired for this. “There’s a whole other chair, my guy. You’re welcome to it.”
He doesn’t answer you, and, though your eyes are still closed, you find yourself focused entirely on him. Ears trained in his direction, curious what he’s going to do. For a few moments, you’re left in complete silence, and you wonder if he had simply turned around and left you to your own devices. But then you hear a heavy sigh. Rustling as the leather seat next to you is disturbed.
You peek from between your lashes to confirm your suspicions. Pretzel Boy is in the massage chair next to yours, mere feet away. Eyes closed, arms crossed over his chest.
“I thought you were sleeping,” he says, voice startling you. His eyes are still closed, but you dart yours away in surprise.
You consider not responding, pretending you are asleep already, but you know he’ll never buy it. Not many people can fall asleep that quickly. “I-I am.”
You turn away from him, squeezing your eyes shut again. But, though you are still as tired as you were when you sat down a few minutes ago, you find yourself unable to properly tip yourself over into dreamland, too aware of the body next to you. Pretzel Boy seems to have no such hangups, another peek at him minutes into your shared silence producing him, body relaxed, head rolled comfortably into the leather.
You sit there, essentially doing no more than resting your eyes, until the alarm on your phone signals the end of your break. Your companion stirs too, but you don’t feel too bad about disturbing him, as his break is surely up too.
Without giving him a passing glance, you slip from your seat and trudge back to Claire’s.
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A bizarre pattern is formed after that.
The two of you don’t always share a shift, but Pretzel Boy is often scheduled mornings, just like you, so you see him around at least once a week. And, after your first massage chair encounter, it becomes almost a sort of unspoken agreement between the two of you that your breaks will be spent, in relative silence, side by side.
During the break of your next morning shift, you find him already in his designated seat. He nods at you in greeting, and you give him a small smile back, settling into the chair beside him. Once again, neither of you says very much, and Pretzel Boy, just like last time, quickly falls asleep.
Despite the lethargy in your limbs, this time isn’t much different than last—you sit there, eyes closed, but unable to sleep. With no distractions, your mind roams as the minutes tick by, pondering why you are still awake. Is it the public location? The man asleep next to you? You peek at him, a small smile tugging at your lips from how his face is surprisingly round and cherubic in his slumber, his mouth slack. His hair is a bit tousled—likely disturbed originally by his uniform visor when he took it off—and blond bangs are mussed over dark eyebrows that pinch a little as he sleeps.
You wonder how he's able to fall asleep so easily when you can’t seem to do the same. You wonder what he dreams about. What his story is. Why he's so tired, like you.
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Weeks of this goes by before it occurs to you, one night while you’re catching up on reading and sprinkling shredded cheese into your mouth—because you’re kinda hungry but that’s the only thing in your fridge that currently speaks to you—that you don't even know his name.
Surely his birth certificate does not say that his given name is Pretzel. Surely. (Though, if it does, he’s certainly found the perfect career.)
But in your defense, neither of you has ever bothered to break the companionable silence too much—both of you too busy trying to get time away from rude customers and the constant hustle and bustle—so it has just never occurred to you to ask! Honestly, you haven't really felt the urge to know before now, but at this point, it seems extremely bizarre to spend a decent amount of time with someone without even getting their name, whether that time is mostly spent unconscious or not. Resolutely, you decide to bring it up the next time your breaks collide.
But it turns out, you don't even have to wait that long.
While you've been making sure to stop by each shift for your necessary coffee, one morning you find yourself also craving the sugary dough whose scent permanently permeates the air of the entire second floor of the mall. You’ve stopped by Auntie Anne’s a handful of times over the weeks, but with your shift varying—random times on random days—your newfound nap buddy is never there when you buy your pretzel. Today, however, you show up, intending to get a little snack before your early shift, and find him behind the register again.
He straightens a bit when he sees you approach, but you find yourself too bewildered by something else to notice.
Usually this early, the mall is quiet—the annoyingly-pleasant elevator music that often plays over the loudspeakers doesn’t usually get switched on until around 1:30 or so (even though, with all the people filling the hallways and chattering as they shopped, it was hard to hear). Today, however, there is distinct bass booming from Auntie Anne’s. You hear the person on the track threaten to turn your girl into a supersoaker, and your brows reach for your hairline as you approach the register. “...Are you guys really allowed to play this?” you ask in wonder, a surprised laugh slipping past your lips.
Pretzel Boy’s coworker, Lindsay, is busy Windexing the glass of the display. She was actually one of the first fellow employees to introduce themselves to you, sometimes popping into Claire’s to say hi because she’s good friends with Raquel. Now, she shakes her head, inclining it towards her coworker in explanation. “He somehow convinced our manager Sejin to let him play it. But only during the first few hours of the morning shift.” She rolls her eyes. “The only people here this early are the elderly speedwalkers, and they can’t hear it anyway.”
“Convinced Sejin to let him play what?” you ask, amused. Your eyes slide to the man in front of you. “What are we listening to?"
"Oh god, don't encourage him," Lindsay moans, but it's too late. He smirks, leans over the counter a little and further in your direction. “Yoongi, please no.”
The blond cashier—Yoongi, apparently—ignores her. “My mixtape,” he tells you with a straight face, and you’re only just able to swallow down your reflexive incredulous laughter when you realize that he’s serious.
“Your mixtape,” you repeat, quirking an eyebrow.
“Well, parts of it anyway. It’s still a work in progress.” Your befuddled stare only evokes an amused quirk of his lips. “What, did you think my passion was selling pretzel dogs? I’m only here to tide me over until my music takes off. In all honesty, I’m a little surprised you haven’t heard it yet. I’m kind of a big deal around these parts.”
Lindsay rolls her eyes so hard, you’re pretty sure you can actually hear them rotating in her skull. You can’t help the puff of laughter that escapes your lips now. “And by these parts,” you clarify, “you’re referring to our place of employment. The local mall.”
“I have a pretty decent online following too,” Yoongi mumbles. The shape of his mouth is almost reminiscent of a pout, and you’re openly smiling at him now. He reaches into his back pocket and produces his phone. “What’s your number?”
“Why?” you ask, amused.
“I’m going to send you the link.”
“…To your mixtape.”
He’s amused too. You can tell. “Why do you keep saying it like that?”
“No reason,” you reply airily, cocking your head in thought for a moment before giving him your number out of nothing but pure curiosity.
Lindsay shakes her head at you. “Oh, you’ve done it now.”
Yoongi pays her no attention—a dynamic you’re starting to realize is the usual for them. He types out a message, and you feel a responding vibration in your purse. “That’s the link to my Soundcloud. Let me know what you think.”
The Yoongi on the speakers is boasting about getting to lick up all the cream, and you’d bet money it’s not the kind you put in your coffee. What you think, indeed. “Are you sure the speedwalkers can’t hear this?” you ask incredulously.
“Positive,” he answers, and his smile would be kinda cute if you hadn’t just become recently aware of just how filthy his mouth can get.
…Who are you kidding? That doesn’t detract from his attractiveness at all. An attractiveness that you have always been too tired to properly pay attention to, but now is impossible to ignore. You clear your throat. “Anyway. Can I get a cinnamon sugar please?”
“Pretzel or nuggets?”
It’s not until you’re sitting down at a table feet away, scarfing down your makeshift breakfast that you bother to read his text.
[10:37am] Unknown Hey, _____, it’s Yoongi
[10:37am] Unknown Lmk what you think! 😉
You look up at him on reflex. He and Lindsay are chatting, Yoongi dumping more mix into the lemonade machine.
He is more observant than you, you realize then. Before this, you had barely exchanged more than two words with the man. And yet—
You wipe your mouth, hiding the way your lips inch into a smile behind a napkin.  
He’s somehow learned your name before you’ve learned his.
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The next week goes by quickly, school taking up so much of your attention that mixtapes are the last thing on your mind. It isn’t until one day, as you’re getting back into your car, that you happen to spot Yoongi across the parking lot and remember the link waiting patiently for you on your phone.
You forgot your headphones in the Claire’s backroom the day before, and were completely unwilling to wait the two days until your next shift to retrieve them. So, since the mall is on your way to campus anyway, you stop by. It’s simply intended to be an in and out situation—you don’t even give Momo, who is manning the store today, the proper opportunity to be her bubbly, talkative self. In and out, and you’re unlocking your car when you notice Yoongi.
He’s getting out of the passenger side of a car, in conversation with the tall, dark-haired driver. He doesn’t see you, too busy narrowing his eyes at his companion in irritation. He says something, too quietly for you to hear over the distance, before a sudden yell of “You’ll all be sorry!” startles you a bit. The other man just laughs, giving him a consoling pat on the back as the two of them trudge towards the building.
Huh. That was the most emotion you have ever seen him show. Well, except for when he had been telling you about his—
Shit, his mixtape! It’s not like he’s not going to follow up on it. You get in your car, turning the key in the ignition as you think. In theory, you can just lie and say that you listened to it, give him some bullshit answer. But to be’re curious. Curious about this man who talks big game and isn’t above rolling soft pretzels for his craft.
And that’s exactly why, that night, after you’re back home and huddled on your couch for the foreseeable future, you click on the link.
Agust D—whatever that means. Yoongi’s face stares back at you, and when you tap the icon to blow it up a bit more, you come to the conclusion that he somehow looks different than how you’re used to seeing him under the florescent mall lighting. Harder, more intimidating.
He had said it was a work in progress, but there are already a good four songs available to stream, the one entitled SuperSoaker making you shake your head in amused recognition. Still, you make sure to pop in your headphones so you will be able to make a proper judgment.
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You had been right in your assumption. Yoongi finds you almost immediately.
Today, you’re scheduled to close. You’re a little irritated by it, because closing means you have to show up in the middle of the afternoon and that you don’t get to leave until at least an hour after the mall doors are locked, because you have to get the store in order for the next day. But Raquel has been super generous and has kept to her word—most of your shifts are morning ones—so you can’t fault her too much for having you close occasionally.
You’re in the food court, chowing down on a pizza slice from Sbarro before your shift. This is where Yoongi finds you. He apparently had a morning shift today, as he’s already in his apron and was half-heartedly handing out samples to food court passersby when you first arrived. He’s still holding the tray of pretzel bites when he approaches your table, which is a bit too far from the pretzel shop for it to be happenstance.
“Want a taste?” he asks casually, holding the tray out to you. You take one, lips quirked in the knowledge of what you know is coming.
“So,” he drawls. “Did you listen to it?”
You think about teasing him—playing coy, asking him to clarify, dragging the whole thing out—but you decide instead to just give him a slow nod as you chew. Mmm, almond. “I did.”
“And?” His dark eyes study you, curious but relaxed. As if he’s used to getting one answer, and he’s comfortable that you will be giving him the same. “What’d you think? Be honest.”
“Honest, huh?” You look to the ceiling in thought, pondering your phrasing. “It was…it was fine. You’re talented—it’ll make you a lot of money.”
“Fine?” An eyebrow raises, incredulously, prompting you to elaborate.
“Yes, fine. If you’re trying to make music for Instagram thots to have on repeat, then you’ve definitely succeeded.”
He had asked you to be honest, though even as the words left your mouth, you were sure he would be offended. But Yoongi surprises you by cracking a smile. He sets the tray down on the table and reaches for the chair across from you, turning it around so he can sit down, arms crossed over the back. “Instagram thots?”
You shrug, taking another bite of pizza. “Or for all of Thotdom, if you want me to get technical. You know Thottimus Prime? That one dude from Foot Locker downstairs?”
“Hobi?” Yoongi huffs out what sounds suspiciously like a laugh. “Yeah.”
“He really likes it, doesn’t he?”
His lips quirk, and that is all the answer you need.
“I rest my case.” Yoongi laughs outright then, smile wide and gummy, and you realize that he might not be as sensitive to criticism as you had feared. “Like I said, there is a definite market for that, and it will make you a lot of money.”
“But?” he prods.
“But…it won’t hold anyone’s attention for very long. You’ll probably end up regurgitating variations of the same song over and over and none of them will leave a lasting impression.”
“Why do you say that?” When you shift in your seat at the question, Yoongi pins you with a focused stare that makes it expressly clear that he is genuinely interested in your answer.
So you decide to freely give it.
“You’re not really saying anything. People nowadays forget the roots, forget that rap is actually an artform. Rap is poetry, and rappers should be poets.” You take a sip from your drink, the liquid low enough that your straw makes an obnoxious noise as air passes through it.  “You definitely have the lyricism and flow down, without question. But you’re not really doing anything with it.”
Yoongi isn’t smiling anymore, face slowly smoothing out as he considers you. “Can you elaborate?”
For a moment, you worry again about how much criticism he’s willing to hear. But he doesn’t seem angry—merely seems to be weighing your words. So you choose not to hold back, using your fingers to count off rappers universally considered great. “Biggie, Tupac, Nas, Kendrick, Cole, Wayne. Em, Jay, Lupe—even Kanye before he got stuck in the Sunken Place. Do they all have songs about pussy? Yes, yes they do. But what sets them apart from other artists in the industry is that they can all be considered true poets. They are master storytellers, lyricists who wrote their own material and used their 16 bars to make us give a shit about what they were saying. Made us shake our asses for sure, but also actually think. Made us care. They told their hardships, led us on a journey through their truths. Through their families’ truths, their communities’ truths. Their ancestors’ truths. Hip hop is all about speaking your truth.” You shrug. “Who are you, Yoongi? What is your truth? What do you know? This tape tells me that you know pussy, but hopefully that’s not all you know. Because a lot of other people also know pussy, and a hot beat can only get you so far.” A pause. “Your beats are hot, by the way. Pure fire. Clappin’ Cheeks is gonna go hard in the club.”
Yoongi doesn’t say anything. Just sits there in his Auntie Anne’s visor and apron and stares at you. It makes you bite your lip, coming to the self-conscious realization that you had gone off on a rant. You clear your throat, if only to fill the silence. “So...yeah. I thought your mixtape was fine.”
He still doesn’t say anything, eyes widening slightly. As if seeing you for the first time. For a few moments, he merely observes you silently, tilting his head in thought. But then, a slow smile spreads across his face. “Huh. That was brutal.”
“I—I didn’t say what you had was bad!” you cut in, feeling kind of shitty for raining all over his parade. “Just that you might want to add in a few songs to round it out as a whole.”
“No, don’t try to soften it. You said what you meant and meant what you said. I asked for honesty and I got it—that’s kind of refreshing.”
“...I’m glad you think so.”
“Yeah.” He nods, and you feel like it’s more to himself than to you. He stands, turns the chair back the right way around. “Hey, I gotta get rid of everything on this tray or Brandon will narc on me to Sejin.”
You follow his line of sight to his coworker for the day, eyes darting to the two of you suspiciously as he rings up a customer.
“You wouldn’t happen to want twenty-seven samples, would you?”
A smile touches your lips. You shake your head.
“Then I gotta go. I just got morning speaker privileges, and I’d like to keep them.” He picks up his tray easily, and moves to walk away before pausing to look back over his shoulder at you. “See you around?”
Of course he will. The two of you work in the same mall, are stationed mere feet from each other. Often break around the same time, and spend it side by side. Still, the question makes something soft and small bloom in your stomach.
“Yeah. See you.”
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After that, something is different.
Now, you find yourself strangely no longer dreading coming to work. Instead, you’re starting to soften to your circumstance, not as guarded. More open to reciprocating when Momo goes on one of her chatty monologues as the two of you close up shop. To engaging in small talk with Taehyung, the friendly barista who has long since memorized your order and, if he’s not on register duty, starts making it as soon as he sees you.
To catching yourself looking for Yoongi, eyes automatically roving over the food court whenever you have a shift, in search of his familiar mop of blond hair and slow smile. To not thinking twice when he sometimes roams over to chat with you while you scarf down lunch before a shift.
No longer do you simply clock in and clock out; now, you’re present. And it’s not a quick change. No, it happens so gradually that you can’t really pinpoint the exact moment you stopped seeing this place as cruel and unusual punishment.
One day, to your surprise, the alarm on your phone jolts both of you awake from your nap, and you fumble for the device, completely disoriented. This is the first time that you’re actually able to do what you had intended weeks ago—fall asleep—and you’re baffled that you finally have. Confused as to why you’re all of a sudden able to. It’s almost as if your always-racing brain has finally calmed—has finally accepted Yoongi’s presence, has finally accepted that you’re no longer in danger—and can relax.
He blinks slowly for a few moments, but he’s much quicker to consciousness than you are, and he shoots you a gummy grin when he sees that you have to wipe at your mouth.
"Shut up," you grumble, reaching for your things.
"I didn't say anything," he replies, voice gravely with sleep.
Usually, one of you wakes before the other—and leaves before the other too. This time, Yoongi pauses while you gather your things, and the two of you walk back together. Still in companionable silence, but, unlike previous times, it's side by side. No longer simply strangers who are forced to share prime napping real estate, but instead acquaintances who are comfortable in doing so.
When you finally near the food court, you both hesitate—just slightly, just enough for your eyes to meet. You shift.
Yoongi turns left into the food court, away from you, and leaves you looking at his back. But to your surprise, he raises a hand in goodbye. "See you around."
"See you," you acknowledge. Claire’s is feet away. You turn right.
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You’re in the food court again. For some reason, today you had woken up early, but you suspected the culprit to be your slow-rising anxiety over an upcoming test. So, you figured, since your bed didn’t have the best track record of helping you study, you might as well just arrive to work a little early. Sip on your coffee and quiz yourself before your shift. You knew Yoongi might appear, and he does.
He’s raising a curious eyebrow at you at the number of books you have crowded on the table, but just as he opens his mouth again, an arm is thrown over his shoulder, and there’s someone behind him.
“Yoongi, who’s this?” asks the most beautiful man you have ever seen in your life. You’re trying really hard not to stare, but in all honesty, you’re baffled how the universe could have allowed one person to look so good.
Yoongi lets out a sigh, and the taller man only smiles wider in response. “This is _____,” the blond grumbles. “And _____, this is Seokjin, my—”
“Fishing buddy?” Seokjin supplies helpfully. “Emergency contact? Bestest friend?”
“…roommate,” Yoongi finishes, eyes rolling to the ceiling.
You purse your lips, trying not to laugh. “Nice to meet you, Seokjin.”
He gives you a small bow. “Likewise, milady.”
“For fuck’s sake.” Yoongi sends him a flat stare. “I thought you said you had to get back to Bertha.”
Seokjin waves a hand, unconcerned. “I will, in a minute. So.” He looks between the two of you, smirking. “How do you guys know each other?”
“We sleep together,” Yoongi says, and you immediately feel the heat creep up your neck at his boldness.
“We nap at the same time,” you correct quickly. “Occasionally. In adjacent, but separate massage chairs.”
The brunette looks like the cat who ate the canary. “Interestingggg.”
You blink. “Um—”
“Weren’t you going to brainstorm the details for that app idea you had?” Yoongi is as subtle as a sledgehammer, and you can’t help but snort at that. Still, your interest is piqued.
“App?” you ask curiously. “You make apps?”
Seokjin smiles a genuine smile, and your breath catches at the beautiful sight. “That’s definitely the endgoal. But right now I’m mulling over a couple ideas. Listen to this one! Came to me in the shower this morning. Most good ideas usually do, am I right?”
“Seokjin,” Yoongi huffs.
“Lights Out, an app that tells you exactly how much you need of whatever you’re drinking in order to get happily tipsy, casually drunk, or stupidly blackout. Without alcohol poisoning, of course.”
“That sounds…” you pause. “Like multiple lawsuits waiting to happen.”
“I know, I know, I still have to work out the kinks. But I really think that one could be a contender!”
“Whatever you say,” Yoongi deadpans.
The two of them share a long look, having some sort of silent conversation. You clear your throat awkwardly.
“Fine. I see where I’m not wanted. I’ll go,” Seokjin sniffs. “But only because I want to practice my routine one more time.”
You blink. “Routine?”
Seokjin opens his mouth again, but Yoongi sets a hand on your shoulder. You startle a bit, surprised at the contact. “Shhh...Just let him go.”
You both watch him leave, laughing obnoxiously as he goes. You turn to Yoongi slyly. “He seems nice.”
He rolls his eyes, choosing to ignore you. “What are you reading?”
“Just some research papers. I was trying to study for a test, but to be honest…now I’m a bit too afraid of what Seokjin’s gonna unleash onto society to focus.”
“He talks a lot, but he’s harmless,” he dismisses easily, much more interested in you. “You’re still in school?”
“Unfortunately,” you gripe. “I made the dumbass decision to go back. Getting a Master’s in sociology that I’m not really sure what I want to do with it yet. But I’m leaning towards social work.”
“Really?” He’s surprised, you can tell. Surprised and curious. And you don’t blame him—this is not a field in which you’ll be treated to sparkles or rainbows or even decent pay for what you’ll be subjecting yourself to. But it’s always been hard to explain that smothering feeling you get in your chest whenever you watch the news.
Still, you try.
“It’s just...this world is burning. It’s burning, and as a society, we’re the ones who lit the match, and we’re standing around idly and watching the fire spread. Watching other people suffer, watching them lose everything in that fire. And I just…I wanna do something. I wanna help. So I figured the best way to do that would be to understand why we struck the match in the first place. What caused all this, what really makes society tick. And then…then maybe I can help smother the flames. Help those who have been burned and protect those who haven’t yet.”
Yoongi tilts his head as he looks at you, lips quirking. “You just keep the surprises coming, huh.”
“Nothing.” He shakes his head. “So is that why you’re always so tired all the time? Just casually getting a Master’s degree?”
“Yeah, real casual.” A small smile touches your lips, flattered at his implied praise. “What’s your excuse? You look like you got four hours of sleep last night.”
“I only got two, so thanks for the compliment,” Yoongi replies. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out his phone, tapping on the screen as he roots around for his earbuds. He hands both to you. “I was working on this.”
Raising an eyebrow, you dutifully put the earbuds in your ears.
After you had been so brutally honest over the songs on his Soundcloud, Yoongi has been asking you listen to some of the beats he’s been working on, curious about your opinion. Trusting that you wouldn’t blow smoke up his ass, but that you would also freely tell him what was working. And you don’t mind at all, because you hadn’t been lying before—his beats are fire.
(“I can tell that you have great taste,” he had shrugged when you had asked him about it. “Here, listen to this one. I’m trying to decide if the triplets on the hi-hat at the end are too much.”)
Now, when you press play, you can’t help but let out a long exhale. “Those 808s,” you moan to yourself. But Yoongi, watching you carefully for any and all reactions, grins gummily in response. After a few moments, you see his lips moving, and reluctantly stop the track.
“That good, huh?”
“...Yes,” you admit, holding the phone out to him.
“I’ll put that in the yes pile then.” He reaches for the phone, glancing at it when the movement causes the screen to illuminate. He frowns. “I...My shift’s about to start, and I gotta go roll out the dough. See you later?”
“Yeah,” you reply, biting your lip to subdue the smile threatening to take over your face. “Yeah, see you later.”
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The rest of the day is a bit slow, only a handful of girls walking in, and even fewer actually buying anything. It’s a bit of a relief, as that means you have even more of an opportunity to study for your looming exam, the raised walls of the register desk obscuring your scattered papers. It isn’t until you hear footsteps much heavier than your usual clientele that you look up.
There’s a man here. Not unusual—sometimes dads are dragged inside by their daughters, or come in of their own volition in search of the perfect sparkly gift. This guy seems a bit on the young side, but it’s his tight tshirt branded with the logo of the gym on the mall’s lower level that cements your suspicions.
He’s tall, and when he approaches you, you’re forced to look up to meet his large, doe-like eyes.
“Can I help you?” you ask, sliding your assigned reading out of the way. He smiles at you, a friendly, boyish smile that masks his true intentions for a solid two seconds before he leans on the counter, closer to you.
“I heard they hired someone new.” His smile widens.
Oh lord, here we go. He’s hot, you’ll give him that. But he also doesn’t look like the sharpest tool in the shed, and you’re not particularly interested in getting hit on at your workplace—where you technically aren’t supposed to cuss him out, if need be.
“Yeah,” you reply, tone neutrally-friendly. Deciding to give him the benefit of the doubt. “I started a few weeks ago?”
“Cool! I just hadn’t seen you around, so I wanted to introduce myself. I’m Jungkook,” he tells you, pausing pointedly as if that means something to you. He leans closer, still at a distance that can be considered acceptable, though he’s certainly toeing the line. “I work at the gym downstairs.”
“You don’t say.” You never would have guessed, what with the branded tee and the way he looks one exhale away from hulking out of it.
Jungkook notices your accidental attention to his chest and pointedly flexes his pecs. His arms flex too. His shirt screams bloody murder.
You look back up at his face, raising an eyebrow. He’s smug, clearly used to that type of attention and more than happy to bask in it. Honestly, you can’t help but be amused by such a textbook, primitive display of machismo, and you bite down a smile.
“You know, you haven’t told me your name,” he flirts. “Since we’re getting to know each other.”
You tap your nametag pointedly. “Is there anything I can help you with, Jungkook? If not, I have to get back to work.”
He grins. “No one’s here but me, though.”
“You and that giant ego.”
“Ouch,” he laughs. He tilts his head in thought. “Hmm. Well, what if I want to get pierced? Could you help me with that?”
You blink, not expecting that. He’s got a good amount of jewelry trailing up his ears already, and he points to an untouched stretch of cartilage.
What the hell?
“...You heard me say that I literally just started a few weeks ago, right?” You eye him suspiciously, your confusion making you immediately throw everything your employee handbook taught you out the window.
“And you still want to do it? Even though I can see you have multiple piercings and I know you’re fully aware that you should really be getting pierced by a professional piercer with a needle, and not me and this gun.”
“Yeah.” God, his teeth are a touch too big for his mouth, and fuck if it isn’t endearing. “Can you help me?”
“...Sure,” you shrug. Hey, it's his body.
You pull out the binder of earrings, ready to show him all of the options, but he merely gives an uninterested tap to a blue butterfly stud on the first page. “Okay, then,” you blink. “Have a seat over there. Let me set up.”
Jungkook looks rather ridiculous in your opinion, his giant, muscly man body squishing on the small stool that is usually occupied by nine-year-olds. You can’t help but exhale laughter through your nose as you approach him, setting your tools on the counter beside you. What makes it funnier to you is that pretty much everyone can see what’s going on, because, in an effort to bring more foot traffic into the store, corporate felt it best to put piercing stations right by the window, so all passersby could get a front row seat. As it is, there aren’t that many people walking past today, though from here you can see Yoongi staring at you from his spot in the Auntie Anne’s kitchen.
God, you hope this situation looks as ridiculous as you think it does.
You give him a salute in greeting before turning your complete attention back to your customer. You pick up a marker and lean closer to Jungkook, carefully placing a small dot on the unmarked skin of his left ear that he had pointed out earlier. You feel him still at your proximity, but you’re backing away before he can get too used to it, handing him a mirror. “How’s the placement?”
He barely glances at it, eyes drifting back to your face. “Looks great.”
“Great.” You shake your head, but dutifully snap on gloves and reach for your gun, focused completely on getting an accurate shot. “Don’t move.”
“So. _____,” he murmurs, only partially attempting to heed your warning. “That’s a pretty name.”
You huff out a small laugh, amazed at his tenacity. “You’re really gonna get slick with me when I have a piercing gun in my hand?”
Jungkook smirks. “I love a woman in power.”
You roll your eyes, pulling the trigger. The earring pushes through the cartilage of his ear, and he only flinches a little. “Yeah, okay, Casanova,” you snort. “That’ll be forty bucks. Here’s your complimentary cleaning solution. Don’t fiddle with the piercing or it’ll get infected.”
He takes it from you, but he frowns, following you back to the register. “...You don’t really seem to be into this.”
“Into what?” you ask distractedly as you try to remember the correct code to punch into the register. “You, or the whole piercing thing? Because you’d be right on both accounts.”
“Fucking Hobi,” he mutters, and you look up at him, question unspoken. Now he looks a little embarrassed, ears red in areas you never touched. “He told me—never mind.”
You want to press him on it, but decide that by the way he’s now averting his eyes, he’s unlikely to elaborate. So you shrug, accepting his credit card and handing him the aftercare instructions. “Do you have any other questions? You know, ones related to the piercing you just got.”
The butterfly piercing which, by all definition, should have made him look silly, but instead somehow raises his hotness level by a noticeable amount. Life really is unfair, isn’t it.
“No.” He smiles again, but it is much smaller than the others. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome, Jungkook. Have a great day!”
He leaves, your bizarre encounter ending just as bizarrely as it had begun. But it seems the surprises keep coming, because not minutes after, Yoongi walks into your store next.
“What are you doing here?” you ask, pushing your reading aside again. “I thought we weren’t going on break for another fifteen minutes.” You still have to wait for Raquel to come in—though someone is always working in the backroom, shifts for the front of the store overlap so the store will never be left unattended.
Yoongi shrugs, his stride towards you the epitome of cool and nonchalance. Well, as cool as he can look while wearing an apron with a pretzel embroidered on it. He leans against the counter, avoiding your gaze. “I took it a little early. Who was that?”
You tilt your head, wondering where he’s going with this. “Who, the guy who just left? Jungkook. Apparently works at the gym downstairs.”
“Huh. Thought so.” His tongue pokes through his cheek, then disappears. “You should be careful around guys like him.”
What. Is that really what all this is about? Your eyebrows raise incredulously, a snort escaping you. “Like you’re any better, Mr. Tongue Technology. I think I’ll be just fine.”
He turns to you properly then, holds up placating hands. “Listen, I’m just speaking facts. Not trying to get into your pants. Unlike Jungkook.”
“You’re not trying to get into my pants,” you repeat disbelievingly, lips quirked in amusement.
Yoongi smirks. “I never try to get into anyone’s pants. I merely accept invitations.”
You can’t help but laugh at that, shaking your head. “Yeah, okay, whatever you say, hotshot. To what do I owe your presence in my lovely place of employment? Do you actually need anything? Or did you just come here to scare off the gym rats?”
“For your information,” he sniffs. “I’m here to make a purchase.”
“You wanna buy something.” You look around pointedly at all the pink, glittery merchandise stamped with variations of Girls Rule! “Here?”
“Is that judgment I hear in your tone?”
“Oh no. I just never pegged you for the type to buy a hat with an attached unicorn horn.” You pause, giving him a quick look-over. “But you know what? Now, I can kinda see it.”
“I don’t want a unicorn hat,” Yoongi deadpans. “I want friendship bracelets.”
“Friendship bracelets?” You slide off your stool, intrigued. “Well, our friendship jewelry is over here.”
He follows you to the display. There are bracelets, but also a nice variety of necklaces and keychains. Yoongi still seems dead set on bracelets though, fingering through some brightly-colored rubber ones before he pauses on a much classier-looking set (if you can call anything in Claire’s classy).
The bracelets each have a silver chain and half of the same heart charm, the words Best Friends Forever split between the halves. There’s also a disgustingly cute animal charm hanging from each bracelet, but that only seems to draw the blond man in more. He rifles through the whole stack before he slides out a pink set from the middle.
“I’ll take the cat and the llama.”
“Weirdly enough, that’s an alpaca,” you tell him. “Not that you can really tell, because it’s made of plastic. But that’s what comes up in the system when I ring it up.”
Yoongi grins at this bizarre fun fact. “I’ll take the cat and the alpaca then.”
“You just want the one? Just so you know, if you buy three, you get the fourth one free.”
“Why would I want three more sets?” he scoffs. “Who even has that many friends?”
“…A lot of people, believe it or not.”
“Why would I waste extra money trying to get a ‘free’ item that I likely just paid for twice over? Might as well just buy the damn unicorn hat.”
“Our hats are currently BOGO,” you inform him helpfully.
“I don’t want the unicorn hat,” he huffs rather irritably, and you try not to be endeared by the small pout of his lips.
“Suit yourself,” you say with a shrug, moving back to the register. You pause to look back at him over your shoulder. “Sure I can’t interest you in a sparkly rainbow scepter?”
He pretends to think about it. “You drive a hard bargain. But no.”
“Let me know if you change your mind,” you say as you start to ring up his purchase. You give him a conspiratorial wink. “I can give you my employee discount.”
“Can’t you give it to me now?”
“No. I’ll only do it for the scepter.” You pause. “Or the unicorn hat.”
“Why are you so focused on that hat?”
“I think it’ll look cute on you.”
The look he gives you is wholly unamused. You force down a laugh. “No.”
“Well,” you sniff, “since you clearly have zero regard for fashion, that’ll be full-price.”
“I thought we were friends,” he pouts, dutifully slipping his card out of his wallet.
Something warm blooms in your chest at the words, and you clear your throat. “Really?” you tease, tone deceptively innocent. “Is this bracelet for me?”
He pauses, considering his options. “ you want it to be?”
“God no,” you laugh. “But knowing you were willing to give it to me is enough. So I guess we’re friends.”
He offers you a slow smile, and you can’t help but return it.
“So that discount—”
“Not a chance, buddy.”
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Something shifts between you after that.
It’s barely noticeable—so minute that you wonder if you’re the only one who feels it. Yoongi doesn’t really act much differently towards you, still joining you at the massage chairs whenever you both have the morning shift. But at the same time, it is different.
There’s an unspoken assumption that you’ll spend your breaks together if you can, and though your nap sessions used to be more or less coincidental, now, you both somehow know each other’s work schedules. And you casually plan around them.
Even when you’re on different shifts, you somehow manage to seek each other out. Yoongi likes to pretend to buss relatively-clean tables in your vicinity when you’re studying in the food court just so he can give his two cents about whatever social construct you’re raging about that week. And you like to pretend you can actually study in a crowded food court, solely so he can come over and pretend to buss tables.
Because there’s no denying it at this point. You most definitely have a crush on him.
You’re not quite sure when your feelings bloomed, but you’re also not surprised that they did. You would think that him being a whole ass Soundcloud rapper who works at a pretzel stand and promotes his music to anyone who will listen would turn you off—and it would, on paper. But the kicker is that Yoongi is a relatively quiet and extremely chill person. You are well-aware that stress can make you rather intense at times, but Yoongi doesn’t seem put-off by this at all, often actively seeking you out. He is a great listener, and has calmly talked you down on multiple occasions from slowly-mounting, caffeine-and-anxiety-fueled meltdowns over your thesis. He is also the type to really consider his words carefully before he says them, a trait that you would never expect from someone whose mouth —according to his music—is absolutely filthy. But whenever he listens to your sleep-deprived rants, you can see the wheels turning behind his eyes, thoughts lining up properly before he voices them. And his dry humor always manages to make you smile, even on your shittiest of days.
Despite the fact that he often whines about how tired he is or how soft pretzels are stupid or how somebody forgot to include mustard on the list of supplies they were running low on, so now he’ll have to spend the next week constantly explaining to people that he is out of mustard—despite all that, you see him clearly. No amount of complaining on his part can disguise the fact that he’s an extremely hard-worker—a hustler—and you have no doubt that he’s going to succeed in whatever he puts his mind to. He’s a living, breathing example of always being sure to look beneath the surface.
And you have a crush.
For now, you see no reason to act on it. He hasn’t given off any solid vibes that he would be open to you acting on it, or even like you to. So for now, you are content with simply being fond.
You can’t help but be fond even when he pauses in handing you your pretzel to straight up cackle, attention solely on the sudden commotion happening just outside the food court. You follow his line of sight, and above the crowds of nosy onlookers, you can distinctly see a dark-haired man leaping into the air. Having some sort of contest with an equally-scrambling woman over who can catch an erratically-flying toy helicopter. There’s intelligible shouting, and then they both chase the drone out of view.
“What the...” you blink, baffled. “Yoongi, wasn’t that your best friend?”
He’s still chuckling lowly, even as he shakes his head. “I don’t claim that guy.”
“You are literally wearing one half of the friendship bracelets you bought for him a couple weeks ago.”
And? he challenges you with a quirk of an eyebrow. He makes no move to obscure the cat bracelet on his wrist as he hands you your pretzel. “Want any dips?”
“Yeah, mustard.”
He huffs out a laugh. “You got jokes, huh? Cute.”
You ignore the fluttering.
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You’re on break, scarfing down a Subway sandwich and scrolling Twitter, when he walks up to you. A noise of surprise leaves your throat as you take out your headphones, confused. “Hey. What are you doing here?” you ask, carefully swallowing. “You’re not scheduled today.”
Yoongi looks different when he’s not wearing his uniform. His bleached hair is still mussed, but the way his bangs messily fall seems more the distracted work of his hands than his visor. He’s dressed in head-to-toe black, simply in a zipup hoodie and jeans. He shifts his weight from foot to foot, hands deep in his pockets, and clears his throat.
“I know you’re off for the rest of the week. And I was in the area so...”
You raise an eyebrow at his mumbling, at the way he can’t quite meet your eye. Is that pink dusted across his cheeks? What can he possibly have to say that couldn’t wait until next week? He could have even simply texted you. “Is your phone broken?”
“No, I just…” He lets out a visible exhale. “I wanted you to listen to something.”
Oh, so that’s it. Yoongi gets like this sometimes when he’s working on something that he’s excited about. But his vibe’s a little off as he pulls out the chair next to yours and hands you his phone. It’s almost as if he’s…
Your eyes widen at this revelation. Yoongi has never been nervous to show you his work before. No, he has always been cocky, at times a little subdued if he wasn’t sure if a part was working. But he has always been sure in himself, in his abilities. This is new territory.
You glance down at the screen, interest piqued.
The Last.mp3
“Sure,” you murmur, more to yourself than to him. You put the earbuds in your ears and tap the play button.
The dragging beat pulls you in immediately, everything around you fading away as Yoongi’s raspy vocals swallow everything. At first your brows pinch a bit in thought as you listen—this is so completely different from everything else that he’s shown you that you’re trying to make sense of where the song is going. But it’s not long until the Yoongi on the track tells you.
The doctor asks me if I’ve ever tried to kill myself. I answer without any hesitation that I have.
Your eyes snap up to him in shock, taken completely off-guard. You find him already looking back at you. The restless way his fingers tap the tabletop tells you he’s wary of your reaction. But the determined look in his eye tells you he’s not the least bit ashamed.
Your lips part, but you’re quickly drawn further into the song as it continues.
As time goes by, I feel like I’m turning into a monster.
If my misfortune is your happiness, I’ll happily stay unfortunate.
You can’t help it—emotion builds, rising in your chest, getting caught in your throat. By the time the song hits its crescendo and cuts out, you’re struggling to blink tears from your eyes, willing them not to fall. You sit there in silence for an extra minute, trying to corral your emotions into something manageable, until finally, with a shuddery exhale, you slowly pull the earbuds out one by one.
Yoongi watches you carefully, shuffles in his seat while he waits for you to find words. His nervousness means he finds them before you do. “You asked me what my truth was.”
“What?” you say faintly, voice thick.
“Before. You said I needed to speak my truth. You asked who I was.” You must be making a worrying expression, because he immediately holds up reassuring hands. “It’s okay—I’m in a much better place now. But you asked who I was…that was me.”
You’re overwhelmed. The song is beautiful—so full of heart and pain and grit and raw honesty, and it knocks the breath clean out of you. It’s as if Yoongi has given you himself in song form, has just laid it all out there. And you feel honored and humbled that he has chosen to share this with you.
“It’s perfect,” you finally push out. “This’s perfect, Yoongi. And I know it doesn’t fit with your other songs, but it would seriously be a disservice to yourself to not include it on your mixtape. I”
Yoongi’s posture immediately relaxes. He smiles a shy smile at your praise, ducks his head a bit to hide it. “I’ve been working on some other songs too,” he informs you. “To help round out the project, like you suggested. But this is the first one that’s presentable.”
The two of you sit quietly for a few moments, not really looking at each other. Your thumb lightly trails along the edge of the phone. You exhale.
“Do you mind if I listen to it again?”
When Yoongi smiles at you this time, you can’t help but smile back.      
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One of the things you find interesting about working at the mall is that, despite being decently-sized and staffed almost entirely by part-time employees, everyone seems to know everyone else (or, at the very least, know of them). You expected to become familiar with the other Claire’s employees, to maybe branch out and be friendly with a few of the stores closest to you. Befriending Yoongi was a pleasant surprise, but seeing as everyone is essentially using these jobs as a necessary means to an end, you never expected anyone to actually socialize with anyone else outside of the building. Soon enough, you find out this apparently isn’t the case.
Kim Taehyung works at Java Joe’s, the mall’s resident café. Kim Taehyung is also one of the friendliest humans on the planet, the definition of a social butterfly. So, seeing as everyone and their mother has come into Java Joe’s at some point, it’s safe to say that Taehyung knows—and is on good terms with—pretty much everyone who works in the mall. This is probably why, when he decides to throw a party, he thinks nothing of inviting pretty much everyone.
He catches you one day, at Java Joe’s right on time to get some much-needed caffeine before a shift. He smiles at you when you enter, but his attention is quickly stolen by an exchange happening between his coworker and the girl you’ve heard works at Kay Jewelers. (From your one and only interaction with her, you’ve deduced that she’s a bitch.)
“A grande Pink Drink,” you hear the Kay’s Bitch say.
You can practically see a vein pop out of the poor cashier’s forehead. “For the last time,” she says through teeth clenched into a semblance of a smile. “This is not a Starbucks.”
“It’s okay,” Taehyung calls, sending the Kay’s Bitch a wink. “I can still make it. Just ring it up for a large latte with soy.”
The Kay’s Bitch looks at the female cashier smugly before turning to bat her eyelashes at Taehyung. “Thank you, Tae,” she says, voice sickeningly sweet.
“Anytime, gorgeous.”
The female cashier visibly fumes, but doesn’t say anything, just punches some buttons on the register and waits for the Kay’s Bitch to swipe her card and move down the counter. She still manages to put on her best customer-service face when you step up. “Hey, ____. What can I get you?”
“I actually want a large latte, please. But vanilla.”
“No problem.”
You notice Taehyung hand the Kay’s Bitch her drink, and she smiles coyly at him. “See you on Saturday, Tae.”
“Yeah, see you!”
You pay, scooting down closer to Taehyung, where you’ll be able to pick up your order. You were the last person in line, so the cashier scoots down too, livid.
“Taehyung. Why do you insist on continuing to undermine me!? We aren’t a fucking Starbucks!”
“You know I didn’t mean it like that,” he whines, turning away from the milk he’s steaming to send her a pleading look. “It’s just easier.”
“I don’t care if it’s easier,” she fumes. “If you would just stop making these drinks for people, they’d stop asking!”
“She wouldn’t,” he points out. “And this way, she goes away faster.”
She bites her lip at that, likely realizing the validity in his claim, but turns away from him, arms crossed. “Yeah, okay. Whatever.”
Taehyung pouts, sending her multiple glances even as he finishes up your drink. “If it makes you feel better,” he continues, “we don’t carry any of that strawberry acai mix you need for the drink, so I just squeeze in a Kool-Aid Jammer every time she orders it. Cherry.”
His coworker fights down a smile, clearly still trying to be mad. “Why do you have a usable supply of Kool-Aid Jammers?”
“They really hit the spot with Panda Express,” he informs her as she shakes her head. The little bell above the door that leads to the parking lot dings, and she moves back to the register to greet the new customers. Taehyung’s eyes trail after her, locked on her form for a second too long before he turns away.
“Dude.” You finally speak up, having silently watched the entire interaction. “You’ve got it bad.”
“I know,” Tae replies miserably, handing you your completed latte.  “I’m trying. But she won’t believe me. It’s like talking to a brick wall.” He pauses, suddenly remembering something. “Hey, are you off on Saturday?”
You mentally pull up your work schedule. “I have a morning shift, why?”
“There’s gonna be a party at my place Saturday night,” he says loudly. You gather that he wants his coworker to hear. You’re pretty sure even the middle-aged lady who works at that one weird store at the end of the hallway that exclusively sells robotic dogs hears him. “You should definitely stop by! Great tunes, free booze—everything you could want.”
The Kay’s Bitch is invited too, you realize. He must be inviting the whole mall. But the smile he sends you is genuine, so you can tell he hasn’t offered you a pity invite—though you’re not sure you can say the same for the girl to who he just sold an overpriced Kool-Aid Jammer.
“You know what? I’ve been kind of stressed lately,” you say. “I think I will.”
Taehyung grins, and his mouth is an endearing square. “Great! It starts at 9, but come whenever.”
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It’s a good thing that you ended up making your coffee a large today—work ends up being absolutely nonstop. Raquel had warned you ahead of time that today was going to be nuts—two birthday parties means both you and Momo had been scheduled for the register during the same time slot to accommodate. But for some reason, you hadn’t expected it to be this bad. Clearly, you were naive.
You barely have enough time to breathe, let alone take a break, and it’s an hour after you were supposed to meet Yoongi that you see him simply walking into your store, a bag and lemonade in hand.
You’re in the middle of ringing up a customer so he casually waits for you to finish. From her spot at the piercing station, you see Momo send you an astonished look, eyes darting between you.
The customer leaves, and Yoongi steps up to the register. “I’m sorry,” you tell him, frazzled. “Shit, did you text me? I haven’t been able to look at my phone—”
“It’s okay,” he interrupts, holding the bag towards you. The heavenly scent of cinnamony dough wafts out. “I figured you might be hungry. They’re really making you work for your fifty cents an hour, huh?”
There’s only one mom and daughter left in the store, and Momo has them covered, so you feel no shame in breaking a piece of pretzel off and stuffing it into your mouth, a little groan rumbling in your throat. Yoongi’s lips twitch in response. “We had two birthday parties today,” you tell him around the buttery dough. “Did you know that you can host your birthday party at Claire’s? Neither did I. But I damn sure learned today. When I had two. Two, Yoongi.”
Yoongi just lets you complain, though it goes without saying that your job is pretty chill 98% of the time and Auntie Anne’s undoubtedly gets more foot traffic than you do. But a one-minute exchange doesn’t compare to having to deal with large groups of preteens for hours on end. You are exhausted, and your cheeks hurt from all the fake smiling you’ve been forced to do to sell more overpriced jewelry.
“Hey.” You suddenly remember the conversation you had this morning. “Did you hear Taehyung’s having a party?”
He rolls his eyes. “He’s only told me about five times.”
“Huh.” You pull off another pretzel piece and pop it in your mouth, sucking the sugar from your fingertips. You don’t notice Yoongi’s eyes follow the motion. “He must like you more than me—he’s only told me once.” You chew in thought. “But I guess I technically haven’t seen him in a few days, so maybe that’s why...anyway, I think I’m gonna go.”
You see him open this mouth to respond, but your conversation is derailed by a sudden, high-pitched voice.
“Mommy! Is that DJ Flossy Gloss?”
Yoongi stiffens.
“DJ Flossy Gloss,” you repeat slowly, looking between the blond man and the little girl who has just finished getting her ears pierced. “…You know her?”
Yoongi blinks, refusing to turn around. “Who?”
The little girl tugs on her mother’s arm, trying to get her attention while her eyes stay firmly in your direction. You incline your head. “That little girl ten feet away and pointing at you.”
“What little girl,” he deadpans easily. You snort out a laugh, intrigued by his bizarre behavior, but he pays you no mind. “I should go—I told Lindsay I’d only be a few. But make sure you take your break, okay? Don’t let those bastards trick you into working for free. They legally owe you one.”
Your heart warms at his obvious concern over you. “Will do. Thanks for the pretzel.”
As he walks out, the little girl waves excitedly at him. He shyly waves back before, looking over his shoulder and realizing you’re still watching, ducking out of the store.
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(Later, when you pass Seokjin’s kiosk on your way to the bathroom, you decide to pause.
“Hey,” you say, making him look up from the notepad that he is presumably using to take inventory. He’s been kind of sulking around ever since that day he fell into the fountain, but lately he’s seemed to be getting back to his friendly self. “Quick question: who is DJ Flossy Gloss?”
For a second, you assume someone is washing windows nearby. But then you realize that the noise is coming from Seokjin and he’s laughing. Dear god is that bizarre.
“Yoongi’s second gig is deejaying,” he informs you, clearly delighted to be able to relay this information to you. “He goes by DJ Flossy Gloss. Mostly does Kidz Bop mixes for birthday parties and bat mitzvahs.”
That...was unexpected. Unexpected and wholesome, and a smile stretches across your face and mirrors Seokjin’s. He raises his hand to wave at someone over your shoulder, and when you turn your head to look, there’s Yoongi. Too far away to hear what the two of you are talking about, but able to glare at you suspiciously from where he’s rolling out dough.
“Good to know,” you smirk. Seokjin waggles his fingers at his roommate tauntingly.)
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When your Uber stops in front of the building, you can’t help but triple-check the address that Taehyung had given you. Because the apartment building is nice, and there’s no fucking way that Java Joe’s pays that much—and if they do, well, shit.
You might need to see if they’re hiring.
The sparkling tiles of the lobby (because yes, Taehyung’s building has a lobby with sparkling tiles. And a doorman. What.) lead you to the elevators, which you dutifully take to the 14th floor. The door to the apartment is unlocked, which is just as well, because even though you’ve shown up at 9:30, the party is clearly already in full-swing, the bass from the music thrumming through the hallway walls. When you swing the door open, the music only gets louder and clearer, mixed with the sounds of laughter and intelligible chattering.
As you expected from downstairs, the apartment is big, with an open floorplan that allows you to see from the living room to the kitchen to the balcony, and people are slowly starting to fill every inch. Just that easily, the mystery of how Taehyung was able to invite damn near the whole fucking mall has been solved. You hover a bit near the entrance, recognizing that one dude that you’re pretty sure works at The Gap as he passes by you but still feeling a bit out of place amongst all the people you don’t know.
Fuck, you should have pregamed before this.
While most people are too busy chatting and drinking to notice or care about you standing there like an idiot, your dawdling does end up attracting attention. A man sidles over, and in the back of your mind, you think you may have seen him hanging around Java Joe’s during your coffee runs before your morning shift.
“Hi,” he says, and his eyes turn into half-moons when he smiles at you. Yup. Definitely should have pregamed. “I’m Jimin! Tae’s roommate.”
“_____—nice to meet you.” Your eyes scan the room. “You guys have a really nice place.”
“Thanks,” he smiles. “You work in the mall, right? Where?”
“Whew. So you definitely can use a drink,” he says knowingly, placing a light hand on your shoulder to guide you further into the apartment. “Come on, I’ll show you where everything is.”
Jimin leads you through the clusters of people, and from over by the speakers, Taehyung waves at you excitedly. You send him a smile and a much more reserved wave back, continuing to follow his roommate straight into the kitchen, where bottles litter the countertop.
“What’s your poison?” he asks. “We have hard liquor and mixers here and beers in the fridge.”
“I’m kind of a ‘drinks whole bottles of cheap wine in one sitting’ type of girl,” you inform him, and he lets out a bubbly laugh that entices a laugh out of you, too. You wonder if you should keep it to yourself that you’re not joking, but the opportunity to fess up passes when Jimin bends down and opens a cabinet door, procuring a bottle of wine for you. When he waves it teasingly at you, you can see that it is not of the cheap variety.
“How’s this?” He saucily waggles his eyebrows, taking a few seconds to expertly uncork the bottle before pushing it into your hands before you can react. He pulls the proper glass from one of his cabinets. “There you go—you’re all set!”
“_____! You came!” a familiar voice says, and there is Momo, grinning happily at you. “I wasn’t sure you would!” She has clearly already had a drink or two, somehow even more giggly than usual. Still, in the spirit of all fun parties with free alcohol, she doesn’t hesitate to make a beeline for the Costco-sized vodka bottle next to you, starting to mix herself another one.
“Well, I was off today so.” You shrug easily. “Taehyung asked me and I figured why not.”
“I’m gonna keep being the gracious host,” Jimin tells you with a wink. “But there’s another bottle down there if you want one. Have fun, okay?” You nod, and he moves to mingle with the other guests now that you’re no longer alone and boozeless.
When her beverage is liquored up to her satisfaction, Momo moves a bit closer to you so you can hear her over the music. “This place is crazy, right? Do you think Tae is secretly a millionaire and only works at the mall for funsies?”
“If that’s the case, I think I need to start chatting him up more. Maybe he’ll find paying off my student loans just as fun.” You pour yourself a glass of wine, setting the bottle on the counter directly behind you. That was for you, and you were sure that if you dropped your guard, it would be emptied by other partygoers in an instant.
The two of you chat a bit more—or, at least, Momo does, and you nod your head to indicate that you’re listening. One thing about Momo is that she can talk your ear clean off, which is certainly helpful when she’s trying to make a sale, but not so much when you’re just trying to drink and vibe. She chatters on long enough for you to finish your glass of wine and pour another one.
“Hey, what’s the deal with you and that pretzel guy?” Momo asks suddenly, the keywords making you stop zoning out and snap to attention. She takes a noisy slurp from her cup. “You know, the blond one who’s always giving you eyes?”
You clear your throat, a bit startled at the unexpected question. Your insides are warm, and you’re not sure if it’s solely because of the wine. “We’re friends,” you concede. “And, for the record, Yoongi does not give me eyes.”
“Ehhh, he totally does. He’s even doing it right now.”
You blink in surprise, head whipping around to scan the room for familiar bleached hair. You don’t have to look very far—he’s near the doorway to the kitchen, coming towards you. Or the alcohol, and therefore you. His tshirt once again betrays his affinity for black, but this time, he pairs it with jeans that are ripped at the knees and an olive-green jacket.
Yoongi slows when he approaches you, casually stuffing his hands into the pockets of said jacket. “Hey.”
“Hey,” you reply, a bit breathily.
“Hi!” Momo cuts in cheerily, slurping loudly from her cup. You sigh internally, unconsciously taking a rather large swallow of your drink as Yoongi greets your mouthy coworker.
His eyes catch the action, lips twitching amusedly. “What you got there?”
“Some sort of fancy wine that Tae’s roommate gave me. It’s pretty good.” You pause. “Want some? We can share if you want.”
The gleam in his eye tells you his interest is piqued. But that doesn’t prepare you for the feeling of his fingers ghosting over yours as he guides your glass closer to him. The move is so unexpected that you don’t let go, don’t refuse the question in his gaze, so it’s both of you who tip the liquid into his mouth. Your eyes lock for a moment that feels much longer than it probably is, and when Yoongi finally lets go, his lips are stained a delectable berry.
The alcohol has already loosened you up, has knocked down a few mental barriers, so it is easy for the thought of licking the color off him to flit through your mind, uninhibited. You shake it away, clear your throat. “Good, right?”
“Yeah,” he says, smiling at you. “Good.” He doesn’t bother looking for a real glass, like yours—just reaches for one of the plastic ones on the counter next to you and tips it in your direction for you to fill. It’s only then that you remember that the two of you are not alone, but it appears Momo had wandered off while you were resisting the urge to jump the man in front of you. So now you are.
“Did you just get here?” you ask, giving him a healthy pour that empties the rest of the bottle.
”Yeah.” He takes a sip from his cup.
“I’m surprised to see you, to be honest. This doesn’t really feel like your scene.”
Yoongi huffs out a laugh. “Doesn’t feel like yours, either.”
“Hey, that’s not true!” You point a saucy finger at him. “Anywhere where there’s free wine is definitely my scene.”
“Mine too,” he counters. “Want me to show up to an event? Have alcohol and or puppies.”
The visual of Min Yoongi, self-proclaimed hardcore rapper, showing up somewhere with the hope of playing with puppies has you laughing out loud. But all the time you’ve spent with him has already alerted you to the fact that his hard persona is all a front. Beneath his rather stoic exterior is a soft-spoken man who gets sparkly-eyed at puppies and makes playlists for little kids and enjoys napping and a good merlot.
“Why are you laughing at me?” he whines, but he’s laughing too, despite his supposed irritation with you. “Everybody loves puppies! And if they don’t, they’re lying.”
“That’s true,” you concede.
A random dude approaches the two of you, stumbling towards the alcohol, and Yoongi steps out of the way, and therefore a bit closer to you. You look up at him, raising an amused eyebrow at the annoyed look on his face, but Yoongi waits until the guy makes his drink and leaves again to answer your unspoken question.
“Can’t fucking stand that guy,” he mutters. He hasn’t stepped back, and you’re fully aware of it.
“Why, what’d he do? I’ve literally never seen him before in my life.”
“Count yourself lucky. He works at Abercrombie downstairs, so that should give you a good sense of what he’s like.”
“You can’t judge people based on where they ended up working,” you point out with a laugh.
“Pretty sure in this case you definitely can.”
The two of you stay there a while, in your own little bubble, sipping on wine and lowkey gossiping about other mall employees, many of whom happen to be at the very same party. And that bubble is only broken by a familiar beat thumping through the speakers. You both turn to the living room in recognition, the excited shouts coming from the partygoers making you let out a put-upon sigh while Yoongi shoots you a cocky grin.
“What’s the matter?” he asks smugly. And he has every right to be smug—that’s his song Taehyung is currently and enthusiastically rapping along to from on top of the coffee table. “Really gonna act like you don’t like it?”
“I never said I didn’t like it,” you sniff. But your heart isn’t in upkeeping your disinterested facade, and the alcohol has you fighting the upturn of your lips. “I just don’t understand why everybody gets so hype over this track when Clappin’ Cheeks is clearly superior.”
Yoongi opens his mouth, but whatever he says is completely drowned out by Taehyung’s loud, echoing voice gleefully saying, “Turned your girl into a supersoaker, them panties now Niagara Falls!”
Dear lord, where in the hell did that man get a microphone?
You can’t help it—you burst out laughing at the ridiculousness of it all, and though he tries to fight it, Yoongi ultimately joins you, your hilarity contagious.
“Look at you! Big man on campus,” you tease. Your cheeks hurt from smiling so hard. “Causing impromptu karaoke sessions and making all the bitches wet.”
The blond doesn’t say anything right away, simply smirking at you. Then, his head tilts to the side, considering you. “You know, you always do that.”
“Do what?”
“Make some sly insinuation that I’m overhyping my skills.” His tongue rolls playfully in his cheek. “That’s slander.”
You huff out a laugh. “Is it now?”
“It is,” he insists. “You have no idea whether I’m lying or not. You’re hurting my brand.”
“I guess you’re right,” you agree with a shrug. “I don’t know.”
A beat passes. Two. Then, he moves imperceptibly closer to you. Imperceptible, but...
You notice.
“You could,” he says casually.
He’s not speaking particularly loudly, his tone the same as if he’s merely talking about the weather, but your body vibrates all the same. SuperSoaker has since morphed into some other song that neither of you pays any attention to, eyes locked solidly on each other.
Everything is technically the same between you. Everything is still light and friendly and teasing. But—
There is a difference, and you both feel it.  
Liquor has you bold, a challenging eyebrow raising. “Is that an offer?”
He’s just as bold. “It’s always been an offer.”
You shift towards him, and he takes it as the invitation it is, pushing more solidly into your space. You step backwards, allowing him to crowd you against the kitchen counter. Your cups have long been forgotten, leaving his hands free to lightly grip the countertop behind you, caging you in with his body. You look up at him expectantly, heart hammering in your ears.
This close, you can feel the heat radiating off him. You’re able to count each of his eyelashes, able to see the way his pupils expand as he regards you. The way his tongue dips out to wet his lips, drawing your gaze.
Those lips get closer and closer, the anticipation causing your breath to unconsciously still. And then they finally meet yours—softly at first, warm. Eager, but hesitant, as if expecting you to pull away. And, of course, you don’t. So they get more insistent, pressing against you more securely. And when Yoongi brings that infamous tongue into the mix, a slow swipe against your lips asking for entrance, you easily grant it.
His breath is hot when he exhales against you, and the flavor of the wine you’ve both been drinking lingers between you. When you introduce your tongue to his, it’s extremely easy to forget your surroundings, to forget that an apartment full of people can easily look over and see the two of you. Everything around you fades out, and all you can focus on is Yoongi Yoongi Yoongi, can only focus on the way the wet heat of his mouth makes you want to press yourself impossibly closer to him, the way it drags a quiet, but needy, moan from you.
The sound makes him freeze, pulling back. Your eyes flutter open at the loss of him—when they had closed, you have no idea—and, unthinkingly, your lips chase his. But even as he relents a bit, gifting you with additional, more chaste pecks, he is still determined to leave the comfort of your mouth.
You blink up at him, dazed and confused. He has not stepped back, has not restored the respectable distance between you. No, he still traps you with his body, with his burning gaze.
“Still think I’ve been lying?” he asks, and his voice is low and raspy. Your thighs squeeze together in response.
“I don’t know,” you say breathily. “I can’t quite tell. That could have been a fluke.”
His lips quirk. His eyes are blown. “A fluke?”
“Yeah.” You swallow, the liquid courage coursing through your veins coaxing your next words out. He’s bold, but so are you. “I think I’ll need more evidence.”
Yoongi doesn’t respond—not verbally, anyway. He merely looks at you, his gaze burning impossibly hotter, growing impossibly darker. His exhale is audible when he finally pulls away from you, and you’re not even given a moment to miss him before he’s reaching for your hand and tugging you away.
The wine has you properly tipsy but it’s him who has you drunk—the lingering ghost of his expert tongue, the easy way his fingers slot between yours making you float. More than happy to follow him wherever he may take you.
There are more people in the room than the last time you checked, but no one pays the two of you any attention as Yoongi snakes you through the crowd, everyone too intoxicated and in their own world. He leads you down a relatively-deserted hallway, the first two doors he attempts to open locked. Third time’s the charm—that handle turns obediently, allowing him to pull you into a small bathroom.
Yoongi kicks the door shut without looking, distractedly turns the lock. His eyes almost look completely black under the florescent lighting. Hungry. And a thrill shoots through you as he backs you up against the sink, long fingers sliding along your waist.
“Up,” he says huskily, and you blink dazedly at him for a second, only realizing what he means when his hands grasp you more securely and your feet leave the ground, your ass now resting on the countertop. Your knees part reflexively for him, and he pushes forward into the space, only having to lean down a bit to lick into your awaiting mouth.
This is different from when you were in the kitchen. Urgency blooms within you this time, eager hands scrabbling for his hair, trying to get as close as possible. Despite your clear impatience, Yoongi chooses not match your blazing flames, instead preferring a more languid slide, a more slow burn. An exasperated whine escapes you, and you can feel him smile against you in response.
“What’s the matter?” His thumbs rub slow circles into your waist, and you noticeably shudder. “Still not convinced?”
“Yoongi,” you groan, frustrated.
He shushes you, one of his hands moving to your thigh, and, when you make no move to stop him, up your skirt.
You inhale sharply at the feeling of him on your bare skin, body reflexively encouraging him with a jerk of your hips forward, his knuckles brushing the side of your core. Yoongi smirks, and you can’t even be too embarrassed by your purely instinctual actions when he looks at you like that. Like you’re slowly making him lose his cool, slowly making him succumb to his more primal instincts too.
His fingers touch you properly, then. Solidly pressing against you through your now-damp underwear, ghosting around your clit. You rut against him, whining into his mouth, and Yoongi inhales, clearly done teasing when he pulls away from you and drops to his knees.
You blink down at him, breathless at the sight of him. Blond strands in proper disarray, thanks to you. His hands move a determined, focused glide up your legs, starting at your knees and headed right for the prize, pushing your skirt out of the way, curving around your thighs. Lips swollen, thanks to you. You let out a surprised noise when he pulls you closer to the edge by your ass, gaze moving from between your legs, from what you know must be a visible dark patch on your panties, to your face.
Eyes blown, thanks to you.
“Yoongi,” you murmur, and he answers with a crooked finger, effectively pulling your panties to the side and properly revealing you to his feasting eyes. You resist the urge to squirm at his hot breath misting over you, right where you need him most, but you can’t help the way you grip the edge of the counter in anticipation.
Any humor fades from his face then, expression steeling over in lust and concentration. Yoongi leans forward, his nose brushing against you, and when you shiver, he follows it with a wide swipe of his tongue that has you shuttering out a moan. He hums in answer, shifting your legs over his shoulders so he can get as close as possible, hot tongue lapping at your slick folds before his mouth travels up to suckle on your clit.
“Shit,” you groan, the quiet exclamation extending several syllables as you start to grind down on his face. One of your hands moving to properly hold your panties out of the way for him, giving him better access. The other holding on to the countertop for dear life, keeping you somewhat balanced as you start to slump against the mirror behind you, ass sliding forward in an instinctual effort to get closer to his delicious stimulation.
He has not been lying. You know now—now that he’s nibbling and licking and sucking, now that he’s eating you like a starved man seeing his first meal in months—you know now that Yoongi has every right to be cocky, that he most certainly can back up his claims. Your thighs shake in evidence of this, your breath hollows, and you have to bite down on your lip to smother some of the noise threatening to escape you. The speed at which he’s unraveling you would be embarrassing if you weren’t so busy enjoying it.
It’s right as your eyes are starting to roll back that someone bangs on the door, startling you so much that you immediately try to sit up, arm partially stumbling into the sink in the process. Yoongi pauses, but otherwise doesn’t react. He keeps nipping at you, unbothered. Another bang has you most definitely bothered, and him mildly irritated.
“Occupied,” he says gruffly, moving to continue where he left off. But you push him away, scrambling to a more upright position. He looks at you in confusion. “What?”
Your slick is glistening across his mouth and chin, and you immediately clench at the sight. Still, you hurriedly push your skirt down, hopping off the counter. “Someone’s outside.”
“So?” Yoongi scoffs. “They can wait. I’m not finished. I won’t be remotely done with you until you cum on my face.”
Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. Your thighs squeeze together, arousal flashing through you like lightning. Still, you somehow manage to stick to your guns. “You can finish,” you say breathlessly. “Let’s just get out of here.”
Your suggestion appeases him, a pleased smile crossing his face before being obscured when he casually wipes away the remnants of you with the back of his hand. He opens the door, and a tall, peach-haired man is standing on the other side. You huddle a bit behind Yoongi, embarrassed.
“Hey Joon,” Yoongi says casually.
Joon is not amused. “Fucking really, man?”
“All yours,” the blond shrugs, a hand at the small of your back leading you through the doorway and around the intruder. You hear the taller man muttering to himself, but Yoongi continues to push further into the hallway until you’re alone again. “Don’t worry about him. He’s been kind of a piss baby lately,” he tells you, pulling out his phone and presumably checking whatever notification prompted him to do so. He looks back up at you. “Okay if we go to your place?”
“Yes, come on, let’s go.” You’re too worked up to think straight, not caring that he immediately shoots you a cocky grin at your flustered answer. All you can think about is how badly you need to cum on his face, like he wants you to.
Yoongi types on his phone for a few moments, and then he slides it back into his pocket. “Let’s go.”
Now that he’s had his hands on you, he can’t seem to keep them off. On your lower back, guiding you out of the party. Drifting teasingly lower in the elevator, curving over your ass as you wait for your Uber to pull up. Casually resting on your thigh the whole car ride, his thumb rubbing absent circles into the skin and sending jolts of electricity straight to your core.
This is his brand of foreplay, there’s no doubt in your mind. An extension of before. You had been dangerously close to orgasm in that bathroom, and though neither of you says it, you both are fully aware. Now, he’s actively edging you while pretending he’s not. Two seconds from ripping the clothes off you while pretending he’s not, making small talk with the driver with a tick in his jaw, unable to help repeatedly roving his dark, dark eyes over you.
You breathe out a sigh of relief when you finally reach your apartment, sure that you’re going to combust at any moment. In your opinion, it takes much too long for you to scramble out of the car and climb the two flights of stairs. You’re all too aware of the man shadowing you, body on high-alert. You fumble for your keys, so wired that you almost drop them multiple times while unlocking your door.
Yoongi waits until the two of you are inside and you’re tossing said keys onto your bedroom dresser to touch you again. His hands slide around your middle from behind, and this time, there is nothing teasing about him. No, instead, he makes his intentions expressly clear when a hand wanders down, breaching the waistband of your skirt.
You gasp, your legs almost giving out at the feeling of him firmly cupping you. Ass pressing solidly into him as he drags his fingers back up, one of them playfully tapping your clit. You let out a loud moan, jerking in his hold, and it makes you both pause. Surprised by the strength of your reaction.
Yoongi is the first to move, this time rubbing delicious circles that result in shuddering breaths from you. “You’re so responsive, baby,” he murmurs approvingly into your ear, nipping at the cartilage. His fingers glide over you, spreading your essence up and down your folds. Making everything nice and slick. “Are you always this sensitive? Or is it just me?”
“Y-You,” you exhale, hips swiveling restlessly. Grinding down hard into his hand, against the noticeable bulge in his pants. “Yoongi…shit.”
He cusses under his breath, his steady ministrations rapidly building the heat within you to a roaring flame ready to explode any second. But just when you’re about to start seeing stars, he’s gone from the heat of your underwear, gone from behind you. You whip around, frazzled.
“I told you,” he says thickly, shrugging out of his jacket and tossing it uncaringly to the floor. Impatiently pulling his shirt over his head and giving it the same treatment. “I need you to cum on my tongue. Think you can do that?”
You’re silent, momentarily distracted by the expanse of his newly-revealed skin, the dusk of his pebbled nipples. But your brain catches up to his question and you’re nodding, scrambling to remove your own clothes. Shirt pulled overhead, skirt pushed over your ass. Underwear hastily discarded.
Yoongi watches you with eyes blown out and lips slightly-parted. “Get on the bed,” he instructs huskily, already moving to join you as you hurriedly do what he says. You scoot back on the mattress to make room, and he crawls toward you, advancing almost as if he’s a predator and you’re set to be his dinner.
Which, you suppose, you are.
A thrill goes through you when his hands return to your knees, thumbs circling the skin before gentle pressure pulls them apart. He groans, zeroing in immediately on the mess he’s made of your cunt.
“Look at you,” he breathes. “All wet and swollen for me.”
“Yeah,” you reply with a huff, officially done with the games. You need to cum, and you need to cum now. “What are you going to do about it?”
Yoongi responds with an audible exhale, lifting your feet off the bed and subsequently causing you to fall on your back. You let out a yelp of surprise, but he ignores you, pushing on your knees again until they fold against your chest. “I’ve been telling you what I’m going to do,” he says gruffly, raising a dark eyebrow. “Haven’t you been paying attention?”
“Yoongi, come on—”
The introduction of a finger has you cutting yourself off with a gasp. The position he’s forced you into means the digit hits deep, pushing eye-rolling sparks into the softness of you.
Yoongi shoots you a cocky grin. “Hmm?”
“Ungh.” Unable to form proper words when one finger becomes two, stretching you deliciously and dragging against that usually-elusive spot. “Fuckkk…”
“Were you saying something?” he continues to goad, leaning down to suck on your clit, his fingers never stopping their pumping. Tongue flattening, whipping his head back and forth like a dog.
It’s too much. You’ve been edged for too long and it’s all fantastically too much, your hands flying down to tangle in his blond mane, not entirely sure whether to hold him to you or push him away. Settling instead for tightly gripping the strands as if they’re the only thing that can tether you to reality. Your walls pulse around his digits and Yoongi looks up at you in response, expression utterly feral.
“That’s it. Fucking drown me baby,” he growls. Wrist snapping against you as he doubles his efforts. Raising his voice to be heard over the obscene squelching and your increasingly-louder cries. “Come on, gonna be a good girl for me? Gonna soak through the sheets?”
You can only whine in answer, hips restlessly jutting further into his hand before you’re finally thrown off the precipice. Pussy clamping down, hard. Broken sobs erupting from your throat.
“There you go,” he moans, hand pounding you through it as you wail. “Ah, look at that. Guess I was wrong. You’re a creamer, not a squirter. Even better.” He leans back in to lap up the fruits of his efforts and you jolt, sensitive and delirious.
“Ba—by,” you gasp, hands scrabbling to push him away. But Yoongi pays you no mind, continuing to suckle on your clit and make you tremor. “No…no more,” you plead. “Cock.”
He pauses then, looks up from where he has made himself comfortable between your thighs.
“I want your cock,” you try again. Mentally proud of yourself for coming across more coherent. “Want your cock so fucking bad—”
Yoongi scoots away from you immediately. “And you’re gonna get it,” he hisses, hurried hands unbuttoning his jeans. “I can eat that pussy all fucking night, but if you want my cock, you’re gonna get it. Fuck.” Said cock springs free when he pushes his pants down his legs, the head already weeping and angry. He wraps a hand around himself, cussing under his breath through a couple pumps, and your pussy flutters in anticipation. “Don’t move, baby. Stay just like that for me.”
You eagerly do as he says, knees obediently pulled to your chest, dripping cunt on full display for his wild, feasting eyes. And feast he does, never looking away from you, even as he pulls his wallet out of his pants and roots around for a condom.  
You only have to wait a few moments for him to rip open the procured foil packet, a few more for him to slip the rubber over himself. He returns to you, eagerly crowding into your space. Fitting between your knees, hovering over you. His rock-hard member slips over you and you both groan at the feeling, a shiver going through you at the overstimulation.
“Don’t tease,” you breathe, enjoying it nonetheless as he slowly rocks into you, sliding himself through your slippery folds.
“I would never,” he smirks. Continuing to tease. But he captures your lips as he does, leisurely slipping his tongue inside. And on the next upstroke, he lines himself up properly with your clenching hole, slipping inside there too.
The intrusion makes you gasp into his mouth, eyes rolling at the divine stretch.
“Shit,” he exhales, gritting his teeth. Pushing further and further in until he’s fully-sheathed in you. Deep, deep. Shifting his hips a bit and starting a steady grind.
“Oh my god…”
“How are you still this fucking tight, shit, shit—”
He’s silenced when your tongue scrambles for his and he eagerly meets you halfway. He’s close—his chest knocks into your knees, arms on either side of your head, and your arms loop around his neck, ensuring that as much of his sweaty skin touches yours as possible.
The leisurely pumping of his hips steadily gets more and more rough the longer he goes on. Less and less controlled. It’s only after a particularly hard thrust knocks all breath out of you that it starts to dawn on you. Yoongi has been actively working you up all night, but as he pounds into you, his balls slapping against your ass, your kiss nothing more than the brushing of teeth at this point—
You realize that you have been unknowingly doing the same.
Just like with his fingers, this position ensures that he’s able to plunge into you, able to set the softest, most sensitive parts of you alight. But his cock is much bigger than fingers, much thicker, and therefore this way it is able to scrape against your spongy nerves with near-devastating accuracy.  
Yoongi notices your mounting distress, leans back to observe the twisted agony on your face. “Gonna cream again?” he demands. Voice deep, deep. Just like his cock. “Gonna cream all over this dick?”
“Yes,” you gasp, breath hollowing. “Yes, yesyesyes—”
Somehow, you cum even harder this time, which you hadn’t realized was even possible. It hits you like a freight train, a high-pitched noise ringing through your ears that you only belatedly realize is being made by you. You clamp down so hard on Yoongi that he has no choice but to follow you, giving you a few more ferocious strokes before he shudders, releasing into the condom with a long groan.
The two of you lie there, still joined and exhausted, forehead to forehead. It is with great effort that Yoongi pushes his weary body off of you, slips out and leaves you still hollow and wanting. Your stare at the ceiling, dazed. Spots dancing across your vision and sweat cooling against your skin.
You hear him toss the condom in the trash, and then he’s back. Yoongi crawls onto the bed next to you and guides you onto your side, an arm pulling you into his chest. The big spoon to your little spoon.
You have to clear your throat in order to speak. “Okay, you’ve convinced me,” you pretend to sigh, breaking the silence. “Carry on with your obnoxious but factual bragging, oh Master of the Tongue.”
He laughs, his arms tightening a bit more around you. A beat, two, and then you feel him exhale. “I like you,” he murmurs against the back of your neck.
You still, not quite sure you have heard him right. Convinced that your enamored and thoroughly-sexed brain has projected onto him. But when your silence causes him to shift nervously behind you, you decide to take that leap of faith. “I like you too,” you reply shyly.
You feel him smile against you, and you’re smiling too, elation bubbling up within you.
“I like you a lot,” Yoongi decides to clarify.
You turn in his hold so you can see him properly. For a few seconds, you merely study him. Try to memorize the soft way he’s looking at you, clear affection in his satiated eyes, his flushed cheeks. You sling a leg over his hip, card a hand through his sweaty blond bangs. “I like you a lot too, DJ Flossy Gloss.”
He can’t help but huff out a laugh at the unexpected jibe. “So damn disrespectful. You’re lucky I like you.”
“A lot,” you tag on helpfully.
Yoongi’s hand slowly ghosts down your back, your ass, then creeps up again. You hum. “A lot,” he easily agrees.
You’re both quiet then, content to breathe each other’s air and share each other’s balmy heat. His eyes flutter shut, and you burrow your face further into his neck.
“…Enough to wear the unicorn hat?”
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⇢collab masterlist | my masterlist
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blushoseoks · 3 years ago
GREY AREA. (M) | 13
“And just like that, your fate was sealed - because Min Yoongi was absolutely going to destroy you. But hell, if you weren’t going to let him, or bask happily in the flames as he did so.
And sadly, at the time, you didn’t think that your thoughts would become so literal.”
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:: pairing: min yoongi x reader :: word count: 11,152 :: chapter index
*warnings for this chapter: mentions of drunk sex, mentions of death.
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Your fingertips shake by your sides as they drift through the air. The strands of your ebony hair sway around you as you fall.
You’re floating through the air - body horizontal. You can feel the wind kiss the nape of your neck in a gentle yet painful touch. Your skin starts to cool from the bitterness of the weather, and you feel like you weigh absolutely nothing. You’re light - a feather.
You don't know from where you fall, you don't know from how high you've fallen, all that you can pinpoint clearly is that you are falling and judging by the panic setting inside of your being, you are about to hit the ground.
Your arms outstretch as your hands try to find something to grab onto, but it's to no avail because there is nothing to grasp. It's as if you're falling into nothing, the only thing you know for sure is that there is a ground.
Your mind wanders, you search for answers. What had you been doing previous to this incident? What had caused you to fall? Your lungs ache and your throat burns as you try to scream for help, but when your lips part and you go to yell - you find that you can't.
It feels as though the wind’s been knocked out of you. And suddenly, instead of looking upwards - you're watching yourself fall.
And there is a noise - a faint and incoherent yell, a shout. Somebody screaming for you, you can hear the hysteria in their voice, could probably see the panic on their face, if they were visible - and then, you watch yourself as you grow closer to the ground - the grass now coming into view.
You want to look away, but you can't.
It's as if you physically have to see what happens - like you're watching a movie that you've never seen before, or reading a story you don’t know the ending to. and then-
right before your body hits the ground, an impact that would surely kill you - you come to your senses.
First: it's your ears.
They twitch with wonder as your body slowly starts to creep outwards from unconsciousness. The first coherent noise you can recognize is the sound of a whirring fan, one that sounds like it’s about to fall off its hinges.
Your second body part to awaken is that of your nose, and the first thing you smell is something wet and metallic. It smells like it’s been raining blood.
The overwhelming amount of heat you feel causes your clothes to stick to your body, soaked in what could only be sweat. This prompts you -to finally let your obsidian hued eyes open.
The first thing they see is the one thing you guessed: a ceiling fan. And your mind seems to slowly catch up with your sight, because you realize then that your room does not contain a ceiling fan.
And it's as you sit up - slightly asleep and a little panicked at the fact that you do not know where you are, is when you finally feel it.
The pain in your head is absolutely excruciating. A plethora amount of hurt courses throughout your body, and if inner pain held a noise - you swear it would resemble something of cats fighting, or claws against a chalkboard.
Your hands fly up to hold your forehead, as if the touch of them will somehow magically dull the throb in your head. But it is to no avail. This. This right here, the pain of your hangover - would help persuade you to not drink as much as you had the previous night ever again. You’re sure that the next time you’re offered something alcoholic you’re going to have war flashbacks.
You blink a few more times, trying the best in your sleep induced state to knock back the exhaustion you feel in your bones
Your mouth is dry, and your tongue feels like sandpaper. You find yourself looking around, in search for something to wash away the god awful taste the night before left in your mouth, and when your eyes land on a bottle of medicine labeled: Aleve,  you almost piss yourself with glee.
There's an unopened bottle of water next to the pills - and whoever was at fault for leaving the two much needed supplies - you were sure, in that moment, you were going to marry.
With no worry, and your hangover blocking all inner arguments you'd have with yourself- "Do you know how dangerous this whole situation is? You don't know where you're at, and now you're going to take something that could've easily been tampered with?!" -  you toss three pills in your mouth, and down half the bottle of water in one go.
You wipe your wet mouth with the back of your hand, your eyes finally taking in your surroundings - if you weren't in your bedroom, then where the fuck were you?
The bed you had slept the night - and probably most of the day in, was pushed up against a brick wall, with a large window that was thankfully covered by blinds.
Across the bed, on the opposite wall were three shelves, and a keyboard in the corner of the room. You had not been expecting to find such an instrument in Jungkook’s room.
And this could only be Jungkook's room, right?
Because through your clouded and very much pain filled mind - you are able to remember one thing: Jungkook. You had spent the night hanging out with Jungkook, the last thing you could recollect was him smiling at you - so Jungkook - he must've been the one to bring you here - it only made sense, didn't it?
You let out a breath - an easy sigh of relief. Your heartbeat calms in your chest, and for the first time you allow yourself to properly breathe.
But if Jungkook had been the one to bring you here, where was he now? Shouldn't he be in the same amount of pain as you, shouldn't he be nursing a serious hangover as well?
And that’s when you realize that you absolutely had to pee.
And the more the thought sticks in your mind, the more urgent it became. You cross your legs as you quickly toss them over the edge of the bed. A loud thump! echoes throughout the  room, and when you peer over to see what you had accidentally knocked to the floor - you find a book and a pair of clothes that look unfamiliar. And most importantly, your cellphone, landing on top of a cream-colored sweater.
You jump from the bed and bend down to grab the things that had fallen. First you grab the discarded clothes, which had been folded neatly. As you turn to put the items back - you notice it. In piles surrounding the entire perimeter of the bed, not pushed up against the wall - were stacks of books.
You raise your eyebrows as you let your body crouch down to study the different titles, the tips of your fingers cascading across the different covers, the genre, rather than the amount - is what takes you by surprise.
These are romance books. And not just books - novels. These are romance novels.
Your eyes catch the different tiles - Pride and Prejudice sits atop one pile, the very familiar cover staring back up at you as you glance at it - Romeo and Juliet is buried between Wuthering Heights and Gone with the Wind.
And most of these books - don't look like brand new copies. These look old and outdated, something you'd find at a flea market, or a second hand bookstore. Maybe even first editions. Out of curiosity, you flip open the one that had fallen, which just so happens to be Sense and Sensibility. And you're amazed when you carefully open the cover - because the pages are yellowed and the tears are rare. This book seems to have been read quite a bit and treated with the utmost delicacy. You can only guess that the other books are in a familiar state.
Slowly and just as carefully as you had been grabbing it and looking through it, you set the book back down, and when you see The Great Gatsby staring up at you before it's covered by Sense and Sensibility - you find yourself smiling.
Because, Jungkook had taste.
You glance down at the remaining items in your grasp. When you go to move the clothes back onto the mattress where they had been folded and laid out neatly, is when you realize that they were more than likely placed there for you.
You can’t help but smile at the thought. But honestly you shouldn’t expect anything less coming from Jungkook. The kind gesture causes a strange flutter to start in your chest.
You grab your phone, fingers immediately moving to turn it on - only to be met with disappointment when the screen displays a battery picture, a thin red line near the end and the “needs to be charged,” symbol below.
You let out a breath before grabbing the clothes meant for you and rushing off to the bathroom. Luckily enough for you, even though your head was still pounding, you were able to focus enough to remember where the bathroom had been. The memories of Yoongi telling you where it was in his shared apartment flashed through your mind.
As you relieved yourself, you were absolutely convinced that there was not a better feeling than of peeing after holding it for awhile. When you finish you decide to change.
The sweater is something you could never see Jungkook wearing. It’s a warm cream color that drowns your body easily in size.  It ventures down past your torso and comes to an abrupt stop mid thigh. You attempt to roll up the sleeves a few times, but it fails and you’re left with sweater paws.
There’s a pair of light blue shorts staring back up at you from where they lay folded neatly on the surface of the sink’s bathroom counter. And for a moment you actually debate wearing them or not, because the sweater was long enough to cover your bottom half - but it was probably still a good idea to put them on. And so you do.  You have to roll the waistband down a few times to get them to fit tighter on your hips.
Tight enough to be able to walk in without having them slip to your feet. But still - they fit loosely. You had folded your clothes from last night with distaste. The top from the night before was drenched in sweat and you were actually utterly repulsed by yourself. How could a human being sweat that much?
You had pulled your short, pink tinted hair up into a ponytail, curls falling out of it easily to surround your face. Actually, you welcomed your hair to cover your face because your makeup was disastrous - smudged under your eyes. Knowing that there’s nothing you can do about it right now, you suck in a deep breath. You venture out of the bathroom - and instead of going back into Jungkook’s bedroom you find your feet taking you down the carpeted hallway.
On your way into the living room/kitchen you notice that the apartment is eerily quiet. There are no traces of noise anywhere. It’s not until you’ve reached the end of the hallway, not until your eyes roam around both empty rooms that you realize you were in the apartment all alone.
Which made you wonder - where were the inhabitants of the apartment?
How could Jungkook already be over his hangover when you’re positive he had more to drink than you last night - or had you? (That part, along with the other events of the night were still fuzzy, damn it!)
Suddenly, you turn on your heel, eyes focusing on the hallway that only moments ago you had walked down. Your shoes were missing - you needed your shoes so you could leave. And as your feet brushed into the comfortable carpet you find yourself smiling - at least Jungkook’s hospitality of leaving you a pair of clothes could help with you not looking like you were doing a walk of shame. Your fingers grip the doorknob belonging to Jungkook’s bedroom, you twist it and when you push it open - you find yourself confused.
Utterly, horribly, confused.
Because as your eyes roam around the room - you find yourself noticing that this was certainly not the one you had woken up in.
Although clean, it was messier than the one before. The bed was on the opposite side and the keyboard you had noticed was suddenly missing.
For some reason your heart falls into the pit of your stomach. And you swallow an abundant amount of nerves that had attempted to crawl up your throat. You turn your head to the right, eyes finding the other door on this wall in particular.
You had remembered the bathroom, but you had forgotten that Yoongi’s bedroom was closest to the bathroom.
You had woken up in Yoongi’s bedroom - which could only mean one thing..
Yoongi had brought you here.
But - why?
Why had Yoongi brought you to his apartment and not Jungkook when you had spent a majority of the night with the younger boy?
You find yourself grunting, focusing on your confusion to get rid of your nerves. You slowly pull Jungkook’s bedroom door shut, and swallowing the last bit of your nerves you start to creep ever so slowly down the hallway and back to Yoongi’s bedroom.
And when you’re standing in the threshold, you finally allow your eyes to focus on your soulmate's bedroom.
Prior to today, you had never been in his room before - and you weren’t entirely sure what you were expecting, but it definitely wasn’t what you had been met with.
In the back corner of the room, to the right laid his bed. A bed you had slept in for more than twelve hours. And once you study the bed - you realize that there’s a space left open, that in between the hoards of books, there was an opening. A space meant for climbing in and out of the bed. You find the entire sight quite cute.
And even though there are several books stacked into neat piles - he still has more, crammed into the three bookshelves you had seen when you had first awoken.
Yoongi was a reader, that was for sure.
Your eyes drift ever so slowly from the large space from the bookshelves, to the instrument you had looked over so thoughtlessly earlier. A trashcan next to it is littered with bunched up papers, you should have known this was Yoongi’s bedroom.
You take a few steps inside - and you feel like you are breaking a law. Your heart starts to hammer in your chest quickly.
Wordlessly, you find yourself approaching his bed again and once you sit down you try to make sense of everything. Your hands tighten into the feather blanket, knuckles turning white as you bunch the fabric.
He did something so caring - and it was still a little odd to you that Yoongi wasn't the cold-hearted bastard he often acted like. That there was something more to him.
Something that you were just beginning to see.
Everything feels different suddenly - the room seems much more interesting. Slowly you let yourself lean back into the mattress, eyes finding the ceiling as you bring the blankets back up to your nose. Out of reflex, you inhale the scent lingering on the bedspread- and Yoongi’s cologne stained the material with a demand to be remembered.
You should have known.
You find yourself looking back up to study the ceiling fan. You more than definitely were going to tell Yoongi that it needed to be fixed, but you had a feeling that he already knew.
It feels odd to stare at the piece of furniture Yoongi stared at every night. It felt even odder to feel the blankets he slept in cover your skin.
You don’t want to leave, but reluctantly you pull yourself back up into a sitting position. Fingers immediately moving to pick at the skin surrounding your nails.
Something deep inside nagged at you - screamed that you shouldn't start to get used to seeing this side of Yoongi, and as hard as you try, you couldn't shake the thought away.
You move your hands to run through the top of your messy ponytail, you didn't want to overstay your welcome, nor did you want to take advantage of Yoongi's hospitality.
You were alone in Min Yoongi's bedroom, this was the only opportunity you'd get - you were sure, that would allow you to learn about him. You knew that Yoongi wasn't going to open up anytime soon, and you were desperate for answers - this was your chance to take advantage of it.
You could either leave, or you could stay. Stay and try to learn about him through the things he obtained.
Your head moves as you try to soak up each and every detail of your soulmate’s room before you were going to force yourself to leave.
Because - you were betraying him in a way.
And though he wouldn't know, you would.
The thought is enough to make you stand upwards, you walk a few steps forward before once again stopping. Because if you weren't going to stay, you were going to take your time on leaving the bedroom you would probably never be able to see again.
That's when you notice a desk you hadn't seen before - hidden between two chunks of wall, and without thinking you start to walk towards it - suddenly curious of the objects you see sitting atop the surface. There seemed to be a jar full of...candy?
And when you are close enough to realize - that you were in fact correct, that there was a glass full of yellow lollipops sitting on his desk - you find yourself smiling. Letting out a small laugh at the thought of Yoongi sucking on or liking anything sweet.
And - it wasn't just a few lollipops. There were a ton. All the same flavor. All bunched up together. And judging by the number count, it wouldn't surprise you to find out that Yoongi probably had several cavities.
You turn back around then, smiling to yourself as you start to head back towards the door - feet suddenly coming in contact with a rug that sits in the middle of the room, and when you glance down you notice the color - olive green.
You feel uneasy suddenly, and it takes a moment but your smile suddenly falls, eyes then travel from the rug to the brown tile covering the floor.
You raise your head slowly, eyes fluttering around the various sights surrounding you. What had caused this sudden uneasiness to occur?
You turn around to absorb the entire room from the exit -  and you are met with just how vague looking Yoongi's bedroom actually is.
The rug, and perhaps the lollipops too - were the only source of color.
And you wonder if the colors were just there to bring a sense of life to his bedroom.
And even though it surely was a bedroom, even though it more than likely held a lot of personal possessions, you could feel a sort of detachment. Like it’s owner had refused to make an emotional connection with it.
And if Yoongi couldn’t even find it within himself to decorate his bedroom - let some of him show, would he ever be able to find it within himself to open up to you, to allow you to see sides of him?
You decide then that you should probably get going, you knew that you  absolutely couldn't stay in that bedroom a moment longer, so absentmindedly you slip on the shoes you had worn the night before, which were left by his bedroom door, and venture inside of the hallway.
You’ve just made it to the kitchen when the doorknob to the front door twists and is pulled open. Revealing the person who had brought you here: Yoongi.
“Honestly--” Seokjin’s voice says, grabbing Yoongi’s attention once again. “What’s going on with you?” Yoongi watches as Seokjin’s eyebrows pull together, something he does when he’s- “You don’t seem to be very well and it’s worrying me--” worried.
Yoongi clears his throat, eyes studying Seokjin’s and by the gleam of interest and fear in Seokjin’s eyes - Yoongi can tell that Seokjin is going to push.
“I’ve just not been feeling - myself, lately.”
“Noticeable.” Seokjin says the moment Yoongi’s lips fall closed.
“Do you want to talk about it? You know I’m all ears, no judgment here.”
Yoongi pauses, as if to consider the option. Seokjin’s knowledge about the predicament was limited - Yoongi had only shared what he had with his friend on a whim, on accident. He was drunk, and he was crying, and when he’s drunk and emotional he tends to let things slip from his mouth - which is why he doesn’t get drunk.
Not anymore.
He couldn’t afford to, especially since you had waltzed into his life.
It doesn’t happen often, but there are times that Jimin’s memory comes rushing to the surface of Yoongi’s brain. There are times when his repressed thoughts of his first love climb up from the darkest parts of his head - out from the chest that Yoongi’s buried everything Jimin in, and comes barreling to the front of his mind.
Yoongi calls them his slip-ups. His moments of weakness.
Yoongi often finds himself wondering what it would be like if the roles were reversed - if Jimin was the one here, and he was not.
He’s curious about how the outcome would have played out, the differences between you meeting Jimin and not him.
Because Jimin - well, he had always been different than Yoongi, doesn’t matter how many experiences he had with him, nor the years. He was always a smooth talker, where Yoongi choked on words and swallowed the ones that refused to come out. Jimin always knew what to say or how to act. Yoongi - on the other hand, did not. Had lost what knowledge he held on the two topics the day he lost Jimin. The progress he had made had disappeared and again he had been pushed back to the beginning.
He only remembers that Seokjin has asked him a question, when he looks up and is met with a pointed look.
“You started getting bad again only recently when-” Seokjin hesitates, hands wrapping more protectively around the cup of coffee his fingers are wrapped securely around. He’s leaning against the bookshelf Yoongi is currently unloading books at. “--when Namjoon’s friend’s came into the picture. And I know that - that, accepting new people into your life is difficult, but-”
Yoongi cuts his friend off with a snort.
Did Seokjin really think that he was acting so off because of some new faces? As silly as the thought itself, was, he couldn’t blame him - it’s not like he was very open with his friend anyway. He pushes Of Mice and Men back into its place before his hands curl around the handle of the cart that carries all of the returned books.
“Seokjin.” Yoongi says, “My recent moodswings are not because of some new faces, alright?” he watches the tension deflate from Seokjin’s shoulders, hears as his friend lets out a sigh of relief.
Only half a lie, that should count for something, shouldn’t it?
“I’m just- just-” Yoongi looks off to the side then, chin moving to set on his shoulder, eyes fixating on the titles that the library he works at has to offer. And before he has the chance to even think about lying further - the words are tumbling from his mouth without permission.
“It’s Y/n.”
His hands immediately move from the handle bars and up to cover his lips. He could not believe he had just let that slip out - his eyes widen, he waits a few silent moments before turning back to Seokjin - only to find his friend giving him a very warm smile in return.
There’s something unreadable in Seokjin’s eyes, but Yoongi can tell that his friend is almost as shocked at his sudden outburst as he is.
“I know.”
Seokjin says, and for some reason the corners of Yoongi’s lips uplift the tiniest amount. It hadn’t been that obvious had it, that you had been the sudden cause in his odd behavior? His lips then quickly fall back to a neutral line altogether, suddenly he’s reminded- he remembers just why he can’t -
“Seokjin. You-”
His shoulders tense upwards as he gathers himself, head shaking once as if to shake the mushy behavior off his shoulders. His hands move back to the cart as he starts to roll it down the aisle. He clears his throat, back turned to his hyung. “Seokjin-”
He’s interrupted.
“You’re afraid that you’ll fall in love with her.”
The cart comes to a sudden stop before Yoongi’s own body can, and he rams right into it. His breath catches in his throat.
Seokjin pauses and then he says, “I know.” Deep voice invigorating and hanging heavy in the small aisle, the proximity between the two boys closing as Seokjin takes a step forward.
There’s suddenly a hand on Yoongi’s shoulders, and he’s tempted to shrug it off. But he doesn’t.
Yoongi can’t bring himself to turn back towards Seokjin. He knows he wouldn’t be able to maintain eye contact, he refuses to see the way Seokjin stares at him - like he pities the younger, like he feels for him. And this is the reason he sometimes regrets telling Seokjin about Jimin.
Or anything personal about him in general. He found that the more you let someone in, the worse it hurt when they left.
Fact of the matter is, Yoongi was convinced Seokjin pitied him, and Yoongi doesn’t want to be pitied, he wants to be understood without explaining.
It’s a conundrum - he’s a conundrum.
In attempt to deny Seokjin’s claims, he lets out a laugh, head shaking a few times as he rolls the cart downwards, letting Seokjin’s hand fall from where it had been sitting.  “Don’t be silly, it’s too early for any of that. I hardly know her.” The words leave a bitter aftertaste on his tongue. He knew you. He did.
He rounds the corner, venturing down the next aisle. Seokjin’s right on his tail. He’s barely grabbed the next book before Seokjin is speaking, arguing his words.
“But you want to know her.” He says. “And she may be new to your life, but you care for her, it’s evident in your actions.” Yoongi tries to focus on his task, but he finds that it’s becoming more difficult as his friend continues. “You cared about her the moment your eyes landed on her in the club. Don’t act like you didn’t - I saw it in your eyes, and I saw it in hers.”
Yoongi lets out a shuddering breath, heart suddenly beginning to beat rapidly against his ribcage.
“Whether you like it or not there’s a connection between you two.”
He feels like he can’t breathe.
“Seokjin-“ He turns towards his friend.
“No. Listen to me. Alright? Just listen.” The older demands, hands curling tighter around his coffee cup, eyebrows uprising in a manner meant to get Yoongi to submit. It works, Yoongi grows quiet.
“I know you’re afraid to let your heart fall, because of what happened last time - losing someone, especially a soulmate-“ Seokjin pauses for a moment and Yoongi can see the sudden sadness that falls over Seokjin’s features. Even though Seokjin’s soulmate is still very much alive - Yoongi knows that he can understand his feelings, to an extent at least. He can understand more than anyone else could.
He continues after a moment spent recollecting his thoughts.
“Is a hard thing to cope with. I know- it hurts. But you can’t let this one horrible - terrific thing hold you back. You can’t let this one experience -“ Yoongi bites back a bitter laugh. “determine your future.”
“I didn’t let what happened with Ken hold me back, did I? And look - I have Namjoon. And we may not be the ideal pair-” Yoongi knows he means to say, “we may not be paired by fate.” “But, we’re happy. And I know a future with your soulmate, a future with Jimin-”
He sucks in a loud breath.
“Is no longer available. But it doesn’t mean that you can’t be happy again.” He smiles a sad smile. “I know you’re scared to fall in love again, anyone would be - but what if there’s a real opportunity there, with her, Yoongi? What if - what if it’s meant to be?”
Yoongi’s silent for a moment, refrains from biting out a, “It is, god you have no idea how much it is.” He lets his eyes falter to the shelves he’s supposed to be working on.
He told himself he wouldn’t do this again. That he refused to fall in love only to have you ripped away from him.
In his heart, deep down, he knew it was inevitable. Great loves don’t last, it’s been proven to him in the amount of years he’s lived. All loves didn’t last. Especially the greatest ones.
And he knows that if he opened his heart again, and fell for you - if you both fell in love, it would be a great one.
But he couldn’t bear through the pain again.
That is why he convinced himself that he wouldn’t find you, that he didn’t want to - but you had come tumbling into his life, and caused a sudden rift to his well thought out plans.
You had shown up.
You had found him too soon.
Too early on.
Before he was ready.
Before he had the proper amount of time to grieve, before he could get better - or let his heart heal. The wound of Jimin’s death was still too fresh.
And it wasn’t your fault, he knows. The universe has everything set up in a complex sort of way, always working against Yoongi. Seeming to work against you too.
But with time, came experiences. And he had had enough of them to last lifetimes. As much as he wanted - he couldn’t. Not again.
“Seokjin. I can’t. You- you don’t understand. But I can’t - I can’t do this. I can’t do it again.” He shakes his head, practically shoving the book into its place before walking ahead of his friend.
“If you run from it, it’ll only chase you and you know I’m right.”
Yoongi shakes his head, steps abruptly stopping as he turns to Seokjin again. “You don’t understand.” He tries.
“I do.” Seokjin replies. “Better than anyone else you know, I do.” There’s a brief pause, and Seokjin tries to be gentle with his next sentence. “Yoongi, not everyone you love is going to die.” It sounds like a plea.
Yoongi shuts his eyes, lips pursing together as he tries to get his mind to silence. He can hear Seokjin’s screams, Jimin’s pleads in his head. He shakes his head, eyes shutting tighter as he tries to mute them.
“Everyone dies.” He says, coldly. “The people I love will someday die, and maybe it’s inevitable.” He opens his eyes, instantly moving them to Seokjin’s. “But I’m going to do my best to weaken the list of whose death will break my heart-”
He turns back around. A clear indication that the conversation is over, that Seokjin should leave.
“Yoongi, you’re not being fair to her.” Seokjin says.  “What if you both are destined to fall in love? What if you’re the one for her? She may not have your name on her wrist, and you may not have hers, but you have to admit that there’s something there. Don’t be too afraid to explore it.” He lets out a breath. “Anyone being loved by you is lucky, give her the opportunity. You’re not being fair to her if you don’t give her a chance-” He’s cut off with a cold response.
“Life isn’t fair, Seokjin. Proved it when Jimin was taken from me.”
Yoongi turns the corner then, wheels squeaking against the linoleum floor as he tries to get away from Seokjin and the impending conversation.
Behind him, an aisle down - Seokjin watches his friend leave.
Seokjin knows that Yoongi isn’t allowing himself to live. To feel all that life has to offer, and yes Yoongi may own an old soul, but he’s missing out on so many experiences.
Often, he’ll say this to his friend, and Yoongi will reply with, “Trust me, Seokjin. I’ve experienced a lot more than you.”
Seokjin doesn’t know what to make of it, he supposes it has something to do with loving and losing Jimin, or perhaps that Yoongi was granted with a soulmate that had his name, and Seokjin wasn’t.
He’s afraid for Yoongi.
Because Yoongi isn’t letting himself feel. And one day - when he’s had enough, those floodgates will snap from pressure, and his emotions - all of them, will be unleashed at the same time.
Seokjin can only hope that nobody, especially you, will be in the path of his flood’s destruction.
He doesn’t know why it was you of all people that captured Yoongi’s attention, but for some reason you had. He had noticed it in the club, and had kept noticing it the more you all hung out as a group. Yoongi could barely keep his eyes off of you at the party and when you had kissed your friend, Yoongi had almost stormed off in anger.
He saw Yoongi carry your almost lifeless like body out of that room, down those flight of stairs and out of that house.
It was clear that Yoongi cared about you.
If only he would fucking act upon it.
And with one sad sigh, followed by the shake of his head he starts to walk towards the exit.
Yoongi likes the feather blankets because they keep the cold out.
Yoongi’s never been fond of the cold.
He shivers from the cool air as he sucks on a lollipop. He doesn’t want to smoke anymore. At least not for now.
He’s just returned from work at the library, has stumbled absentmindedly into his apartment when he sees you standing in the corridor that connects the kitchen and living room. Your feet are planted onto the tiles of the kitchen floor. You’re dressed in a long sleeved sweater and a pair of shorts Yoongi recognizes as Jimin’s and his own - and it shouldn’t knock the wind out of him the way it does, because afterall, he is the one who had laid the clothes out for you to change into whenever you had awoken.
Only, he had thought you would have left by now.
And as he stares at the attire you’re wearing - Jimin sneaks back up to the front of his head.
That was Jimin’s favorite sweater, one he wore time and time again. Yoongi had hesitated laying it out for you - but he knew it would be the best fitting item of his you could wear. He wanted you to have something of Jimin’s, getting to hold a piece of him, for a short while anyway. He knew he had to get it back from you - no matter what.
He wonders how long you’ve been awake.
Your hair is pulled up into a lower bun, pink strands strewn in different directions, heels crossed at the bottom of your feet, and arms wrapped around your body.
The beige sweater is much too big on you, the arm lengths cascading way past your hands mimicking that of sweater paws - and his heart almosts stops, because the same thing used to happen to Jimin.
It amazes him at times - how similar the two of you are. He knows that he’ll look at you and see Jimin at times, and he’s not prepared for it.
The beige color is a nice contrast to your dyed locks, complimenting in a way that causes the smallest amount of pride to overcome Yoongi’s senses.
And then you’re speaking, all pink lips parting, tired eyes staring directly into his - and sometimes he wish you wouldn’t be so bold when it comes to this, because the effects of your gaze had always caught Yoongi off guard, since the first time he had seen you - rushing about in the parking lot of the University.
“Yoongi?” You question outloud rhetorically, causing his train of thought to come to a standstill. He had been staring.
“Hm?” He asks, it’s a soft hum, eyes blinking to bring him back to the current situation.
“Do you know why I’m here?”
Your voice is ruffled with sleep, meaning you had awoken not too long ago - concluding that you had slept more than half the day away and with a dead phone - he was sure you were going to get an ear full when you arrived home later that night.
His teeth come down to press into his bottom lip, hand moving to scratch at the back of his neck in hesitance. “I brought you here.”
“Yes.” You say, eyebrows cocking upwards. “That much I pieced together, but why?”
His teeth resume their place into his bottom lip as he tiptoes around what thoughts to voice, what words to articulate. Should he be the one to tell you?
Or should he leave that to Jungkook? The fucker he hadn’t seen or heard from all day.
He isn’t sure, so instead he settles for:
“Are you hungry?”
You curse your stomach the moment it growls, clearly you were starving, you couldn’t be for sure but you were positive it was late afternoon or early evening - and you hadn’t eaten anything the entirety of the day, which is hard to do when you’ve been in a deep slumber for a majority of it.
“Let’s eat something.”
He’s dragging the tail end of his silver spoon around the liquid of the cup of tea he’s ordered, his eyes and head are downcast and if you didn’t know that Min Yoongi didn’t like maintaining eye contact - with you especially, then you’d think that something fascinating was occurring in that cup of tea he’s neglected to drink.
The ride over in that little car of his was quiet - what else could you expect? Min Yoongi was quiet, you were beginning to think that quiet was apart of the man himself. And how on Earth did he expect the two of you to converse when either of you really knew what to say to each other?
Whatever was going on in his mind, it had caused both of you to end up in a little eatery,  he had dragged you to a wafflehouse of all places.
You hadn’t been too hungry, you were afraid that if you were to eat, it would only come back up, but you remember that Hoseok had told you once - during one of Taehyung’s bad hangovers - to make sure that he ate, because it would help him feel better.
You didn’t know if it applied to all those who were suffering from a migraine, but you figured that it wouldn’t hurt to try. Afterall, if you hurled all over Yoongi you wouldn’t feel obligated to apologize - you suppose the newly found friendship wasn’t quite set into movement yet. And if you did puke on him - he more than well deserved it. (Even if he was at fault for your safety)
(Okay, so maybe you were being a bit of a bitch)
Your eyes skim the twenty four hour diner, it’s not one that you recognize, meaning you hadn’t ever been to it. Adopted into Korea just recently, it was your first time - but you had heard several rumors about the restaurant.
It’s small to say the least, there are only five booths aligning the wall, and a few barstools sat at the counter. You bet that if you had actually tried you could hear the conversation occurring two booths away from your own.
Your skin starts to prickle as you study the waitress that had already taken both of your guys’ order, and the familiar burn has you fidgeting where you sit, the fabric of the sweater that adorns your skin suddenly too itchy to be considered comfortable.
Your hand flys to the collar as you attempt to stretch it out a little bit, you needed to breathe. And as if on cue - to prove your suspicions correct, he talks to you for the first time since you both had been at the small table.
His voice is soft yet deep, and if you hadn’t been paying attention you’re sure you would have missed it. (You know you wouldn’t, you could pick his whispering out  in a sea of people) You don’t want to focus your attention on him, but the tugging you feel when you’re around him is much stronger than your wants.
You look to him, eyes immediately flickering to his own. He seems to cower at that, just a little bit but you notice.
You raise your eyebrows in a silent question.
“Is everything alright?” He asks, and the question catches you off guard.
After a few moments spent of you trying to keep your head from spinning, you find yourself shrugging, shoulders lifting up as you redirect your eyes down to the tall glass of water you had ordered, tracking the way a water tear starts to fall down the length of the glass. You take in a slow breath, before letting it out.
“Just - confused, my memory is hazy.” You shrug again. “I- I don’t remember much of last night and I’m embarrassed to say so. Especially since I’m always scolding Taehyung for getting blackout drunk.” You move a hand from your lap to rush through the top of your messy hair, strands had somehow loosened from your ponytail and they fell into a lazy sort of style  around your face.
Out of the corner of your eye, you see Yoongi shrug nonchalantly at your response, with his eyes staying focused on you he responds quietly. “We all have our nights.”
Your shoulders seem to involuntarily untense at his words and you take a moment, teeth moving to glide across the surface of your bottom lip. Was this his attempt at comforting you? Even so, you were still ashamed and embarrassed, but the act will not go forgotten, that much is clear.
Your eyes move from the side of your glass as they flicker up to his incredibly dark ones. You somehow find the courage to ask: “Do you know what happened last night? Like, my whereabouts when you found me?”
Your hand falters from your hair and moves to cup your cheek, elbow sitting atop the surface of the table. You were starting to think that drinking to get drunk wasn’t such a bright idea after all.
You watch as Yoongi hesitates - how his mouth opens, you think you can hear the echo of the beginning syllable to whatever he was about to say, but you can’t be for sure. You do however hear the intake of air he sucks through his teeth.
Now was not the time for Yoongi to be picky about what to say, you had a lingering headache and a burning desire to know the events of last night. If he knew, then why on Earth would he keep them from you?
“So?” You ask a moment after he fails to say anything, your eyebrow cocking upwards for emphasis that your patience was beginning to wear thin.
His lips part again, and his eyes stay staring into yours.
After another silent moment he seems to finally decide to want to answer.
“The only thing I know is that I found you in one of the frat boy’s bedrooms. I saw you go up there with Jungkook and two of his friends.”
Your nose scrunches up - the bedroom seemed familiar, and although what he described seemed truthful you couldn’t be for sure.
You look down again, eyes now focused on the patterns of the surface of the table as you try to think back to the events prior to the bedroom.
Where had you been? You remember arriving, getting something to drink in the kitchen, or well - stealing Jungkook’s cup of vodka and Yoona shoving Tequila into your chest - and you were never ever going to drink fucking Tequila again.
You remember the squeal she had let out when she had dragged you from the kitchen and to the living room where a throng of people had gathered to play spin the bottle, you remember laughing as Jungkook and Taehyung had shared an awkward peck - the way Yoona’s lips felt against yours - and oh.
That’s right. You had kissed Yoona.
Your eyebrows uplift at the recollection, a tint of pink moving to stain your cheeks at the sudden memory. You move a finger to your lips, the pad of your pointer finger caressing the skin as you try to determine whether you had kissed anyone else that night.
And suddenly you remember - the kitchen incident, one of Jungkook’s friend’s entering and flirting with you. You manage to go from a pink to a light shade of red,  cheeks heating up when you remember just how indecent you had behaved last night.
Yoongi watches from across the booth, eyebrows shifting upwards as he witnesses you piece things together, his teeth worrying into his bottom lip as he notices the pink color your cheeks.
He doesn’t ask - it’s not his business.
If you recalled correctly you hadn’t kissed him - whoever this clouded figure was, because before you could - someone was interrupting.
And then you remember Jungkook entering and looking - well to put it lightly - upset.
And suddenly, like someone had pushed fast forward on a movie a bunch of scenes flash through your mind. Creeping up the stairs, someone pushing a blanket underneath the door to help guard the smell of -
You let out a soft gasp.
You let the tip of you finger pull down your bottom lip as you remember being offered and graciously accepting the blunt.
Oh fuck, what had you done last night?
The memory causes the corners of your lips to uplift into a small smile, at least that’s something you could definitely check off your impromptu to-do bucket list.
If you knew one thing it was that you were never going to mix alcohol and marijuana together. Ever again.
You squint a little bit, as if the motion will help your brain remember pieces- but you draw a blank. Everything after hitting the blunt is foggy. You look back up to Yoongi, finding that he had still been studying you. The thought causes your stomach to flutter a little bit.
Or was that just the urge to throw up?
“Was I alone in the bedroom? I mean- when you found me? Everything’s a little fuzzy.”
He hesitates again, as if he’s trying to be careful with his words.
“No- you weren’t alone.”
Your gut flips. You immediately think the worst.
You didn’t wake up with any soreness, so you hadn’t assumed that drunk sex had occurred. But- had it?
You swallow the bile as it climbs up your throat.
“Oh?” You voice comes out high pitched. “Then who-”
Yoongi must sense your panic, or maybe he can read it clearly on your face because he jumps to answer.
“Jungkook. It was Jungkook. You both were asleep on the bed in the room.”
You let out a little breath, somewhat relieved. You knew Jungkook would never do anything with you while you were intoxicated, but the uneasiness doesn’t settle, you need to hear it vocally.
You gulp, nodding slowly.
“And we were..” You move a hand to wave at your body, indicating the clothes hugging your skin. “We were dressed, right?” Your voice lowers at the tail end of your sentence, eyes moving from his and to the surface of the table.
“Jungkook wouldn’t be alive if you hadn’t had been.” Yoongi says slowly, and you let out a deep breath.  “And - Jungkook wouldn’t do that. So uh- yes. You both were clothed.”
You look back up, having not expected the beginning of that sentence, and before you have the chance to filter your words, they are spilling out.
“Why’d you take me to your place?” You ask.
Yoongi uplifts an eyebrow as if he didn’t understand the question. You continue on.
“I was safe, wasn’t I? Asleep next to Jungkook. So - why’d you take me to your apartment?”
He pauses for what seems to be the umpteenth time, eyes staying settled on yours as he answers. And it’s not that you were ungrateful - you were eternally grateful that he had taken care of you while you were out of it, but - if you were safe with Jungkook, why? Why had he gone out of his way to help you?
You don’t expect what he says next.
He clears his throat, hands moving to fold into each other as his fingers intertwine on opposite hands. “I had to make sure you were safe.”
The room slows.
“I saw the other two come down, and I wasn’t sure what was going on - but I had to make sure you were safe.” He shrugs. “And when I saw you asleep or passed out - I just.” He pauses, as he breaks eye contact. Head tilting down. When you follow his gaze, you can see that he’s starting to pick at his fingers. “You would have been safer at your apartment but I couldn’t find your keys, and I wasn’t going to leave you there. I just-” He stops again, eyes flickering from his fingers and back up to find yours. “Just needed to make sure you were safe.”
The room starts to beat with life again.
You suck in a breath.
A pause.
“Yeah.” He responds.
Silence falls between the two of you after that. You are not sure what to make up of that piece of information. His words - his actions, what he did for you, it makes you feel cared for. Makes you feel important, light - like you may mean something to him.
“That’s what friends do, right?” He asks, and any lingering doubt you have starts to fade. “They take care of each other?”
And even though it stings a little when he clearly says the word friends, you find yourself nodding. As you had concluded a while ago - if you couldn’t have Min Yoongi as a lover, you were going to have him in any way you could: meaning the next best thing:  as a friend.
“They take care of each other, yeah?”
You don’t know if he’s genuinely asking because he doesn’t know or if he just needs the reassurance. Either way you continue to nod. Your lips starting to curve upwards into a small smile again, eyes focused on his. “Yeah.” You pause, “That’s what friends do.”
A shadow of a smile starts to form on his own lips - and it’s still something that happens on such a rare occurrence, that it takes you by surprise.
You had never expected that you’d see something like that - in a genuine sort of way, from him ever again.
It feels so warm to stare at him, it feels so good to smile at him - you hardly notice the breeze sweeping across the quaint restaurant when the door opens.
And - the way he’s so openly reciprocating your stare - has you feeling giddy. Like you’ve finally won something that you had to fight so hard for. You feel the urge to giggle, but refrain, not wanting to ruin the moment that's occurring between the two of you.
You sit in silence for a few moments, no one saying a thing. Nothing is muttered as your waitress returns with both of your orders nor a few moments after she leaves. It's a comfortable silence, one where you don't feel obligated to say something to break the tension, or the awkwardness.
Just as you're about to break the ice - wanting to speak to him again, his phone rings. You watch with curiosity as he pulls it out from his back pocket, checks it, and dismisses whomever it was on the other line.
"Oh god, Taehyung is going to kill me." You say, when the realization dawns on you that you hadn't been in contact with him in more than twelve hours. "When I woke up my phone was dead so I haven't been able to speak to him yet and oh fuck."
Your anxiety returns as you move a hand to cover your face.
"I texted him last night, actually."
You look to Yoongi, astonished.
"Or well - technically it was this morning but I didn't want him to worry about-" he shrugs. "Your whereabouts."
You let out a deep breath, hand moving to fall over your heart. "Oh god Yoongi, you just saved my life."
You fail to see the amused smile Yoongi had been wearing slowly start to fade away. He clears his throat, nose twitching a little as he starts to speak again.
"You mentioned before that you've known Taehyung since high school?" He asks as you stab a piece of your waffle with your fork.
You nod, eyes focused on the food in front of you. "Yeah - we met during... I think it was my sophomore year." You smile at the thought, "He actually prevented me from falling during class when I-"
You trail off, suddenly remembering why you had been about to fall in the first place.
"Uh. I - hadn't been feeling well and was about to faint in class but he caught me. After that we've been stuck together." You lift your shoulders. "Like glue."
"And your relationship hasn't changed?" He asks, capturing your attention. "You guys live together, I heard that living with a friend can cause a relationship to deteriorate."
You shake your head. "No - Taehyung's and mine's relationship is still just as strong. I mean, he's sort of adopted the role of an older brother, even more so on the protective part than usual - but overall everything's pretty much the same."
You shrug as he cuts his chocolate chip pancakes into small pieces. "And how do you like living with them?"
You smile at the thought, eyes focused on the way his utensils move together against his food.
"Hoseok and Taehyung are great roommates, apart from the fact that they seem to always forget their keys. They're well though, couldn't ask for anyone better." You smile, eyes flickering to his face. "What about you? Do you enjoy living with Jungkook?”
You chew the bite you’ve forced into your mouth, and immediately your cheeks ache due to the sweetness leaking from your syrup drowned food.
Yoongi nods, keeping his eyes focused on the task at hand as you chew. "Actually yeah, I do. At first, when Seokjin suggested it I was against the idea, but he keeps me grounded, he isn't like anyone else his age. I enjoy it so much, that I think I may actually miss him when I move."
Your eyes widen a little, heart beat picking up, before you can stop yourself you're blurting out, "Moving?" You swallow your food, and almost choke as you feel hysteria start to overtake your body.
He must not sense your fear because he continues cutting his food into tiny pieces. "Yeah, there's a studio apartment not far from here, maybe like ten minutes away from the apartment we're currently at-"
Your heartbeat slows, as you let out a soft breath.
"and I've always sort of wanted to try living alone."
You nod your head in understanding, your stomach settling.
"How does Jungkook feel about that?"
He grabs the syrup that sits in between the salt and pepper shakers, eyes uplifting as he once again shrugs. "Indifferent I suppose. He's known from the start." He looks back down at his place as he starts to pour the liquid over his food. "He'll miss me, he won't admit it but he will."
You smile at that.
"What about you?" He looks up again. "Do you plan on sticking with Taehyung and Hoseok?”
You think over his question for a moment, lips pursing together as you take a moment.
"I've never thought about it. I've- actually never liked being alone. It's... I don't like the feeling." You hesitate, as your eyes move back down to his plate, "Plus even if I wanted to, I don't think I could bring myself to leave Taehyung." You let out a soft chuckle at the thought of even trying to tell him you were leaving. "Or in actuality, I don't think he'd let me. He could barely leave for college."
You smile as you remember the fond memory - Taehyung's older brother forcefully removing Taehyung from your arms.
You start to nudge the tongs of your fork against your food, not really interested in what you've ordered.
"You really like him." Yoongi says causing you to look back up towards him. It isn't a question, a factual statement more than anything. "It's-"  he moves a hand to wave over his face. "It's obvious in your face when you speak about him."
You nod your head.
"He knows it all. He's my best friend."
Suddenly - Yoongi pales.
Physically you watch as the color drains from his face. Your eyebrows pull together as your smile starts to wear off. You're about to ask him what's wrong - what had caused him to react in such a manner - but you backtrack, and you know.
He knows it all.
Your eyes widen upon the realization, your head beginning to shake.
"Oh, nonononono." Your drop the fork as you begin to wave your hands in an x. "No, no, he doesn't know."
The tension suddenly leaves Yoongi's body, he lets out a breath.
"Sorry." You say, feeling the need to apologize for your mistake. "Sometimes I forget to think before speaking. But no - he doesn't. I haven't told- and a-and I wouldn't." You pause. "For me, that.." You find your eyes glancing down to your covered wrist. "That's always been personal. Something that's my own - even if it's a secret shared between two-" you stop yourself, head tilting, "or in our case, three-" you don't notice him still again. "I still feel like it's something personal."
Silence ensues.
And it feels like it stays for awhile.
"I can understand that."
You don't look up at him as he says it, not knowing how to proceed with the conversation, you change the topic.
"So." You pick your fork back up. "Romance novels?" There's a smirk staining your lips as your eyes find his again.
You watch his smile return, your heart starts to ease and - you hadn't even noticed when it became uneasy and hurt. You watch with the utmost of curiosity as his nose scrunches and a light shade of pink dusts his cheeks.
"I- they're-"
"Uh huh." You say, grinning as you wave around your fork.
He looks to the side, letting out a soft huff.
Min Yoongi.. embarrassed? You'd have never expected to see such a thing.
"I just like them. Okay?" He says a moment later, his smile evident in his tone of voice.
You nod. "I get it. In most novels - everyone gets a happy ending. Everything works out in the end, you know. Different from life, so I can see the interest." You tilt your head around as you speak.
"I enjoy happy endings." He looks back to you.
"That's weird." You chuckle, "I always pictured a cold hard cynic as yourself liking the open-ending books, or preferring tragedy over happiness." You say teasingly.
"Nope." He shakes his head, eyes staring directly into your own. "I've always been about the happy endings." He speaks the words with such a genuine tone, that you feel tempted to believe him.
But - how could you when he denied you of yours so easily?
You take in a deep breath, head tilting downwards a little as you run over that thought. A sudden sadness so cold that the warmth of his stare rivals it.
He must sense the change in your mood because he doesn't say anything else regarding the matter.
How was your relationship going to grow with Yoongi when you were still holding onto what hurt?
Most importantly, how were you going to let go of something that meant so much to you?
You didn't know.
All you know, is that you want to go home.
As if he can read your mind - he slides out of the booth a moment later, wallet in hand - you want to tell him that you'll pay, that it's the least you can do, but before you can he's sauntering up to the counter to pay for the meal that you've both hardly even eaten, but have clearly lost interest in.
You've rehearsed what you want to say to him in the seven minute car ride spent trekking from the Waffle House and to your shared apartment. The ride itself has been brutally silent, and though it's evident - neither of you choose to acknowledge it.
  After all, some things are better left unsaid. If there's one thing you share in common with Yoongi, it's that you both are cowards when it comes to awkward conversations or unwanted predicaments.
  A moment after his car pulls to a stop in front of your brownstone, you turn towards him, finding it hard to find his face in the dark.
  You stare at where you think his eyes are.
  "I wanted to thank you." You say, imagine your horror when you had discovered that you hadn't thanked him yet. "Your, uh, hospitality was - I just probably didn't deserve it. And you have no idea how much I appreciate it." You nod your head a few times. "I promise I will return these clothes after I wash them."
  Your lips form a slow smile as you then unbuckle your seatbelt and turn towards the handle of the door.
  "Hopefully Taehyung will choose to spare me the impending argument until morning." You say, letting out a soft chuckle as the door opens and the cool night air bites at your bare legs.
  Yoongi clears his throat, and you stop in your tracks, knowing he's about to speak.
  “You know, the friendship you have between you two - I can tell it’s strong. The kind of friendship that lasts through lifetimes. He'll probably give you an earful, but it's because he cares. Don't take him for granted, and don't let him take you for granted."
  You wait a moment, letting his words resonate within you. You nod slowly as you turn your head a little over your shoulder, not enough to completely stare at him. "I won't." You smile.
  "Thanks Yoongi."
When you walk through the threshold, Taehyung jumps up from the couch, body spinning around. He looked like a predator - about to jump on you: his prey.
  "I'm sorry." You say before he has the chance to speak, feet kicking the door shut. "I'm so incredibly sorry." You mean every word you speak, and your heart feels light upon seeing him again.
  "My phone died, and I've been asleep all day. Nursing this goddamn hangover." You let out a soft laugh. "I'm so sorry. It won't happen again."
  You don't expect him to draw a blank, you don't expect him to stay silent, and you don't expect it when he comes over, wraps you into his arms and hugs you further into his chest.
  "Don't you ever fucking do that to me again." He whispers as he holds you tightly.
  "I promise. I won't."
  “You know - drinking won’t heal your heart.” Taehyung says after the hug is broken, after he announces he's going to bed.
    “Trust me, I’ve tried.” He says as he rounds the corner, he disappears down the hallway. The click of his door into his threshold tells you that he is going to bed.
  You don’t call after him, you don’t question his sudden statement - because you know what he’s referring to.
  Drinking will not fill the void that Min Yoongi has unintentionally created.
  He must notice that you've been drinking more recently too.
  You stand there in the living room, your eyes watching the number on the digital clock change.
  You’ll just have to learn to move on another way.
Later, after you've showered, changed your clothes, and are settling in your bed. After you've checked your notifications - which involved various messages from your worried friend's and the occasional drunk selfie of you and Yoona, you pull up your messaging thread and immediately go to the one shared between you and Jungkook.
  [10:39 PM] You: Hey, sorry for not messaging you sooner I've been asleep all day, but what the hell happened last night?
    You hesitate for a moment, silently debating whether you should text Yoongi or not, and like always, the pull (or at least, that’s what you’re blaming) is what causes you to do just that.
    [10:41 PM] You: Thank you for today, I enjoyed it. :)
    You go back to your previous message thread, and your heart skips a beat. The time stamp has popped up, indicating that Jungkook has received and read your text message. But there is no reply.
    You’re taken aback.
  You were not expecting him to completely and outright ignore you.
  That's when you realize that something happened between you two that night. Something you don't remember. And whatever it was, it was drastic enough to cause your friendship with Jungkook to arrive at a sudden halt.
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next part: coming soon! a/n: what do you think happened between her and Jungkook that night? there’s a small hint in the previous chapter, haha. what do you think about her interaction with Yoongi? was this chapter enjoyable? I’m sorry for such a long wait, I hope to have the next part out sooner. as always, thank you for following this story and for being patient. I love you, feedback is always welcomed.
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underthejoon · a year ago
recent & indecent.
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Pairing: Jung Hoseok x Reader x Min Yoongi
A/N: just something short that’s been in my head for a while now.
Warnings: slight objectification kink. slight humiliation kink. slight submissive kink? please don’t read if these things bother you. they are purposefully using language to humiliate the reader for everyone’s sexual gratification. a reminder to please discuss boundaries with your sexual partners beforehand.
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You’re being paranoid. Completely, irrationally paranoid as you stare wearily at the two of them from across the room. Your heart is pounding all the way in your fucking ears but for what reason exactly? They’re friends. Yoongi and Hoseok are friends. Hell, you're all friends! Friends at the same get together and they definitely are not talking about you, you vain ego monster.
It’s just that you fucked Hoseok two days ago.
You didn’t plan to. But he’s been flirting with you the better part of the semester and he brought you food and coffee when he heard from Namjoon that you hadn’t left your apartment in literal days. He remembered what his first year of grad school was like trying to keep up with his course load, TA bullshit AND holding down a job. He just wanted to make sure you were taking care of yourself. That's all.
And it would have been sweet – it was sweet – but the way he insisted you shower while he cleaned up your hell hole of a living space made a shiver run down your spine.
“Go,” he motioned towards the bathroom. His tone was firm like he knew how best to take care of you. Better than you even knew yourself. His smile was sincere like your well being actually mattered to him. 
It was more than a little overwhelming. A deadly combination of conflicting traits that made you wet right where you wanted him most.
It’s just that maybe you kind of, really like him... a little. It’s just that maybe you have for a while now and the opportunity to make a move couldn’t have been more perfect. 
Maybe, you knew exactly what you were doing when you “forgot” to bring a towel into the bathroom with you. Maybe you knew just how excited he would be to get one for you. Tingling with the knowledge that only a flimsy door stood between him and a wet, naked you.
It was easy from there. A quick brush of fingers when he presented it to you. A slip of the hand that swung the door open a little too wide. A lack of covering yourself with the towel he’d just handed over.
It was exhilarating the way he stared. The way he pushed the door open further and then you against it. The way he touched your body like he’d been waiting ages to do so.
Hoseok took great pleasure in pleasing you that night. In the soft way you mouthed at his neck. In the sweet sounds he coaxed from your kiss bitten lips. In the wet way you received him time and time again.
He made sure you knew it too, just how much he loved it. How long he’s wanted you. How much this lived up to his fantasies and then some. Perhaps he admitted just how taken he was with you well before the night’s happenings.
Perhaps he even asked you to meet him at tonight’s gathering. Like a date, sort of. A chance to spend some time together before he took you out on a real date the following week.
And maybe that’s why you’re so on edge tonight, seeing Hoseok talking to Yoongi. You like Hoseok. A lot. You don’t need him finding out about your bi-weekly dick appointments with your mutual friend.
Because that’s what Yoongi is – a friend. A good one. And while he is no stranger to your pussy’s warm hospitality, the arrangement is anything but romantic. It’s a necessity, rather, for your sanity. An escape from your hectic schedule and a great way to blow off steam.
Or it was, until two days ago. Now that you know that Hoseok likes you. Now that there’s promise for the two of you to have something good, something real – this thing with Yoongi is done.
He knows it too. You told him after the other night. He knew you liked Hoseok before any of this started and he knew this day might come. He said there were no hard feelings and you believed him but now? Now there’s a knot the size of your fist sitting heavy in your stomach.
You haven’t done anything wrong, you know. You weren't dating Hoseok before and you sure as hell don’t want to be with him if he’d look at you differently because of this. You don’t think he would. It’s just that, well, fuck – the possibility is still frightening.
Have you mentioned that you really like Hoseok?
And Yoongi’s not a prick either but mischievous? Mischievous is definitely a word you’d use to describe him. He’s being it now, staring at you so brazenly. Biting his lip at you with Hoseok so close. It’s like he’s baiting you. Playing on your paranoia and wordlessly willing you over to find out just what he and your lover boy are discussing.
You might have been able to ignore him. You might have been able to talk yourself out of your own irrational thinking were it not for Hoseok. Really it’s him and the way he too turns his attention towards you. The way he locks eyes with you and nods like he knows what you look like naked.
He does. But that’s not the point. The point is, you are now even more convinced that they’re talking about you and you just can’t take the not knowing another second longer.
As casually as you can manage, you move through the clusters of people that stand between you and your peace of mind. It isn’t weird that you’re going to talk to them, you assure yourself. Yoongi is your friend. Hoseok asked you to come with him tonight. It’s fine. This is all fine.
Except that it’s not. Except that as soon as you’re within ear shot, you hear what you feared most. Your name along with a litany of lewd confessions spilling out of your fuck buddy’s mouth.
Yes it’s Yoongi, regaling Hoseok with tales of lascivious encounters past. It’s Yoongi who talks about you and your body the same way he does when he’s got his dick inside of you – Filthy, nasty praising with just a hint of condescension to his tone. That same teasing lilt that gets you good and ruined every single time.
The better part of your judgement says you should turn and run. That you should tuck your tail between your legs and book it towards the door. But again, it’s Hoseok that beckons you forward with the surprising groan that slips from his lips.
You recognize the sound. The sultry, toe curling sound that made you hot all over just the other night. It’s the same one he made when he finally got to get his dick inside of you. He likes this. Whatever the hell this is. He fucking likes it.
“Fuck,” Hoseok mutters. “And that thing with her tongue? I think I felt my soul leave my body.”
“You’re telling me,” Yoongi responds in kind. “That mouth is a sin. And it’s still not even my favorite hole to fuck.”
“Shit. Holy shit she’s such a sweet fuck. I bet she’s a good little slut too. Always does as she’s told.”
Yoongi just just chuckles, humorless. Snide.
“You don’t know the half of it. She’ll do anything for cock. Anything you fucking want.”
Floored. You’re absolutely floored. Frozen and now standing just inches from the pair of them. But they haven’t stopped talking. Neither of them have turned your way and all you can focus on is the heat creeping over each and every inch of your skin.
It’s humiliating, to be quite frank. Horrifying that not only have they both realized you’ve slept with each of them in the very recent past, but more so that they’re openly talking about it. IN FRONT OF YOU.
That beyond their initial engagement with you from across the room, they have yet to acknowledge that you are existing in the same space as them. That you’re fully capable of hearing every word they’re saying about how much they each enjoyed fucking your lights out.
It’s humiliating just how wet you are because of it. Horrifying that it is not anger that’s made your temperature spike but rather red hot lust searing sweet under your skin.
You’ve mentioned to Yoongi before that there were things you wanted to try. Avenues you’d wanted to explore and fuck, he’s a better listener than you realized.
What you also didn’t realize is just how much you’d like this. How much the humiliation would make you feel so needy. Aching, wet and eager to please. You didn’t realize how much it would melt you, to be spoken about in such an obscene way. Talked about like you aren’t even there. To submit to the whims and desires of your partner entirely. But it does. It has and you absolutely need more.
Hoseok seems to sense this. That you’re near the point of pulsing and in desperate need for something – anything to get your feet back on the ground. He reaches out to wrap and arm around your waist, pulling you close to the warmth of his body.
He speaks low in your ear. Quiet like it’s a secret  but loud enough that Yoongi can hear. He takes pleasure in how you shiver in his arms. “She’d probably let us take turns with her sweet little cunt. Wouldn’t she? Bet she’s already soaked through her cute little panties thinking about it.”
He’s asking your permission. Squeezes you tight to remind you that though he’s not addressing you directly, you’re still the one in charge here. Anything you say goes. He’s reminding you that he wants whatever you do.
You could kiss him.
“Would she like that?”
This time it’s Yoongi, that devious little fuck. He just couldn’t help himself. Couldn’t let you walk away without indulging himself one last time. But he’s really out done himself this time. Really wanted to give your arrangement the send off it deserves.
You could kiss him too. And you will. Because this – this is absolutely happening.
“She would,” you whimper, barely stable enough to form a coherent string of words. “She wants it.”
It’s Hoseok who shivers now. Who presses a tender kiss to your temple and twines his fingers with yours.
You heat from the inside out. Warm with longing and lust alike.
Fuck, you like him. You really really like him.
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underthejoon · 2 years ago
Spectator Sport: Intro
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Pairing: Yoongi x Reader x Hoseok feat. Boyfriend!Namjoon
Summary: Hoseok inserts himself in the situation when he thinks you’re cheating on his best friend Namjoon while he’s out of town. With his other best friend Yoongi, of all people! And he’s right, in a way, but also very very wrong.
Rating: M for Mature. Mentions of sexually explicit content. Cursing.
Word Count: 1.4k
A/N: Here’s a little foreward for what’s to come. The fic that follows this will be in the reader’s POV but I really wanted you to get a sense of Hoseok’s shock because it’ll help with the longer piece to come! 
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Hoseok knows a few things for certain.
One: You and Namjoon are in love. And not just like regular love. You’re stupidly, grossly, head over heels, get married, have 15 children and die in each other’s arms kind of love. The kind where you sometimes feed each other and makeout like no one else is in the room.
Two: You would never do anything to hurt Namjoon. Seriously, never. Refer to point one.
And three: Namjoon is out of town right now. You told Hoseok so. Namjoon told Hoseok so. Namjoon just sent Hoseok a snapchat from his hotel room not two hours ago. He was in a robe, talking about how soft it was and everything. Namjoon is out of town for sure.
See the problem isn’t what Hoseok knows. The problem is knowing all these things, he can’t help but wonder what in the hell is going on right now. Because while it isn’t abnormal for you to be over at his and Yoongi’s apartment, it’s weird that you’re here this late. Alone, he might add. Well not so much alone as alone with Yoongi in his room. But it didn’t start out like that.
First, you came over around 8, said you hated eating alone and brought food to share. That was normal. You’re all friends after all. You and Namjoon have been together so long, it was only natural that they take you in as one of their own.
Next, you all watched a movie together. Again, normal. You sat on the recliner, spending most of the time on your phone. Hoseok figured you were texting Namjoon and while he didn’t mind having you here, he couldn’t help but wish his friend were with you to put you in a better mood. You looked off. Like you were keeping something in. Probably just missing the guy you’ve be SO in love with the past three years and Hoseok didn’t press the matter.
But things got weird somewhere between the first and second movie. Yoongi got up to clear the plates while you flipped through Netflix to pick what was up next. Hoseok offered Yoongi a hand but was told not to worry about it. So Hoseok figured then was a good a time as any to change into something a little more comfortable and grab a blanket from his room on the off chance he fell asleep on the couch during. He wasn’t gone long, maybe five minutes? But when he got back not only were you nowhere to be found, Yoongi was gone too.
At first he thought you’d left without telling him goodbye. A little strange, definitely not like you to leave without a hug but he’d get over it. It was late after all and you still had to drive back home.
But then he saw your purse and keys on the table. You were definitely still here.
And he’s been waiting patiently for about ten minutes now. Getting more and more suspicious by the minute. First he thought Yoongi had the same idea as him and went to change. He thought maybe you’d gone to the bathroom in the meantime. But no. Ten minutes and neither of you have returned.
A thought crosses his mind, accompanied by a sinking feeling in his stomach. But he remembers the two most important things. You love Namjoon and you would never do anything to hurt him. Still, this all feels awfully weird and if Hoseok’s learned anything in his twenties, it’s to trust his gut.
You can’t be that stupid can you? To cheat on Namjoon with his very best friend. While Hoseok, his other best friend, is just down the hall. You have your own apartment for that. Yes, it’s the one you share with Namjoon but as he’s already stated, Namjoon is out of town right now. He is sure of it.
Still, he can’t shake this uneasiness and rather than be a potential party to the ruining of his friend’s life, he decides he needs to be sure for himself. Perhaps he can even stop you and Yoongi from being so fucking stupid. Or at the very least, put his paranoia to bed.
Hoseok’s heart beats a little faster when he moves silently through the apartment. Yoongi’s room is on the opposite side of the floorplan than his. The living room and kitchen separate their respective beds and bathrooms so Hoseok has no real reason to be over here – except to spy.
His stomach twists when he hears the music. Soft, yet just loud enough to be heard from right outside the door. The door that is very much shut, by the way. Another strike against both of you. And when Hoseok thinks he hears more than one voice, he knows he has to do something. It’s the right thing to do, right?
Still, that doesn’t make him any less anxious. It doesn’t make his palms any less sweaty or his heart rate anymore controlled. It doesn’t contain all the gut wrenching thoughts of him having to tell Namjoon what he’s definitely about to see. Or what it’s going to do all the relationships involved. His and Yoongi’s. Yoongi and Namjoon’s. Yours and Namjoon’s.
Are you in love with Yoongi? Honestly, he really wants to know. What other reason would there be for you to do this? When would the two of you even had time to start something between you? And why for the love of all things good, did the two of you have to do this when Hoseok was around?
“Fuck,” Hoseok swears under his breath.
He reaches for the door knob and takes a deep breath. He has to know. He has to do what’s right and so without anymore hesitation, he twists it and pushes the door open.
And fucking hell does his heart stop when he sees what he feared most.
You’re naked.  Like really fucking naked. All the way naked. Tits out, legs spread wide open with Yoongi’s head right between them, naked.
He didn’t miss the way you were moaning. How you were gripping his best friend’s hair, calling his name like it belonged in your mouth. He didn’t miss how Yoongi grunted. How he pulled your squirming body closer to his waiting mouth.
And he certainly doesn’t miss the way both your heads snap up when you realize you aren’t alone.
“Hoseok, what the fuck!” Yoongi yells. He whips his head around so fast, it’s a wonder it his neck doesn’t break. And his lips are shining. Wet with the smoking gun that is his betrayal.
Hoseok wants to respond. Wants to retaliate and tell Yoongi what a piece of shit he is. He wants to hit him for Namjoon. Wants to ask why, out of all the people in the world he had to do this with you.
He wants to do the same to you. He wants to tell you that Namjoon’s going to be fucking crushed. But you probably already know that. The guilt is probably setting in for you now and it should be.
Fuck, he is livid right now! Livid and a little of something else. Something darker. Something he won’t dare admit because then he’d be just as bad as Yoongi. But he is human after all and you, well you’re fucking naked! Not to mention stupid hot. Not that any of that matters because this is wrong.
It’s too calm though, despite Yoongi’s initial reaction. Neither of you have opened your mouths to speak or moved to cover yourselves and Hoseok again feels like there’s something he’s missing.
And then he hears it.
“Well,” a familiar voice rings from beside the bed, “shit just got interesting.”
He laughs like he’s happy for Hoseok’s intrusion and Hoseok for the life of him can’t figure out what the fuck is going on. See he knows that voice. He knows it’s Namjoon but Namjoon is nowhere in this room. At least not physically.
And when he sees it, it hits him. It makes all the pieces fall together. Makes him breathe a breath of relief while simultaneously filling his head with twenty more questions.
He now only knows one thing for certain: his friends are a bunch of fucking freaks.
The good kind, though – the best kind.
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holdinbacksecrets · 2 years ago
UPDATED: July 28, 2021
• holding hands • college edition • gardening
💕 personal favorites
✨ popular
🦋 special as hell
Thank you for finding your way to my masterlist! I hope you enjoy my stories. Feedback is always appreciated! 
petals from my heart bouquet:
“#mediocre stanzas” for poetry and prose
Kim Namjoon
what’s that saying? - you just know when you know (short and sweet. doesn’t even mention namjoon, but it’s inspired by him)
Min Yoongi
Baked With Love - When the missing hurts enough to bake banana bread. 💕
melt like sunlight - this is love, and it’s all around you. his love surrounds you.
Jung Hoseok
A Piece Of Your Sun - “You don’t have to ignore your doubts, love. It’s ok to say it hurts.” 🦋
Kim Taehyung
Best Of Me - You weren’t the only one that’s been feeling the weight of people’s opinions, but the idea of your boyfriend blaming himself broke your heart.
Jeon Jungkook
All Flowers - Jungkook stays, you’re smitten, and he’s fond of more than just the novels on your bookshelf. 💕
don’t sleep; fill the night with dreams - jungkook misses performing 💕
Euphoria -  When a party, your love for photography, and seasonal muffins, bring you right back home. 
I feel safe with you - “You look good in my living room.”
In case you were wondering, I love you - In case you were wondering, my dreams can’t touch reality with you. 💕
just like raindrops - there are always pieces of him around. 🦋
knowing jungkook - moonlit moment
night drive - springtime love
slipping away - you thought you were holding on tight enough, but the strength of your grip didn’t matter once he let go.
so damn extraordinary - jungkook’s the love you thought you didn’t deserve
6:42am - comfort
BTS ot7
boyfriend things ✨
bts as: vampires
bts blurbs:
⤷ take all your time
⤷ some kind of gravity
⤷ sunrise in the bedroom window
captured daydreams
⤷ gardening
⤷ nobody else; effortlessly;
Shawn Mendes  
⤷ Shawn & other miscellaneous fics can be found here!
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luxekook · a year ago
intimidation | myg
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⇥ pairing: yoongi x reader
⇥ genre: fluff, a lil touch of smut, college AU
⇥ summary: in which you think Yoongi is intimidating bc of his dark clothing and his quiet ‘don’t give a fuck’ attitude… but then someone makes him laugh and you watch as his face lights up in the cutest gummy smile complete with shining eyes and blushing cheeks and BOOM you’re whipped for that boy
⇥ word count: 2.3k
⇥ warnings: dirty talk, light smut, cursing
⇥ sequel: intensity
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Thursday, September 28th – 11:16am
Min Yoongi intimidated the living hell out of you.
While the boy in question was not all that tall or all that muscular, there was admittedly something in his aura that just screamed ‘big dick energy’... Not that you’d ever get the chance to confirm that hypothesis. You weren’t even sure you wanted to.
Shoulders slumping, you shifted your peripheral gaze off of Yoongi and back onto your professor as she droned on about evolution. Your shared Introduction to Biology class inspired an odd mix of dread and excitement every Tuesday/Thursday morning as a consequence of Min Yoongi’s sheer presence.
Your mind drifted back to the first class of the semester about a month ago...
Arriving in the lecture hall indicated on your class schedule, you took a seat in the middle of the room. You were spoiled for choice given that you had arrived fifteen minutes early for lecture. The first day of classes was always stressful for you, given your tendency to get lost within the many buildings on campus as well as your hatred for lateness.
As the room filled with more and more students, you shuffled through your backpack. “Where the hell is it?” you muttered, searching for your planner where you would jot down important notes.
Finally, you spotted it wedged in between two of your folders. Grasping it in triumph, you tugged it out of your backpack and placed it on your desk. Glancing back up, you found the coldest pair of brown eyes staring back at you.
“Is anyone sitting there?” The question came in a slow drawl, all rough and lazy. Long fingers adorned in rings shifted as the boy pointed towards the empty seat next to you. God, he was offensively good-looking.
You blinked and shook your head, “No, have at it.” His gaze pinned you in place for a few more brief seconds before his chin lifted in acknowledgment and he slumped into place beside you.
You had learned absolutely nothing that first class. Or any subsequent class that Min Yoongi deigned with his presence. The odds were about 50/50 on any given day.
Today, his presence was wreaking havoc on your nervous system. Since the initial encounter on your first day of class, the amount of words exchanged between the two of you could be counted on one hand. Last week he had asked you for your notes from a previous class he had missed, and you almost burned from the inside out with embarrassment as he took in your impeccably organized and color-coded notes with raised eyebrows and a slight smirk.
“Were you planning on framing these?” he had asked while snapping a quick series of photos of your notebook pages. In response, you had scowled, pulling your notebook out of his reach.
You were a nerd. You knew that. But you didn’t like being made fun of for it. Especially by a boy as arrogantly apathetic as Min fucking Yoongi.
Therefore, you were doing your absolute best to ignore him today. The hour and a half of class dragged by so slowly you thought you might have grown a couple gray hairs by the time your professor dismissed everyone.
Rushing to pack up your belongings and multitude of colored pens, a small slip of paper dropped onto your desk. Confused, you immediately glanced up to find the source and found Yoongi sauntering away from you, black backpack hitched over one shoulder carelessly.
Fingers shaking, you opened the hastily folded paper: “(y/n) – Sorry if I made you upset last class. I only meant to extend my compliments to the artist... – MYG.”
Compliments to the—Min Yoongi was so full of shit. But you couldn’t fight the small smile that spread across your face.
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“(y/n) ... (y/n) ... (y/n)!”
The sound of your name shook you from your thoughts. Your roommate Nia decided that wasn’t enough and she shoved you in the arm.
“Ow, what the hell, Nia?” you grumbled, rubbing your left bicep dramatically.
Nia scoffed, “You’re staring into your bland salad like it holds the key to the universe. What’s up with you?”
Stabbing said salad with your fork, you waved your well-lettuced utensil in your roommate’s face, “What’s up is that I cannot stand Min Yoongi! He walks around looking like god’s gift to anyone attracted to men. Then, he has the audacity to critique my notes and give me a half-assed apology with further ridicule? The nerve! The gall!”
“I’m going to stop you right there,” Nia cut off your rampage succinctly, “Min Yoongi apologized to you? We are talking about the same Min Yoongi, right? Bleached hair? Piercings? General hatred for life?”
You nodded. Nia’s eyebrows rose to new heights, “We must contact the historians. This is one for the books.”
Rifling through your planner, you pulled out the note Yoongi left you and thrust it in Nia’s direction, “Look!”
Unfolding the small torn paper, you watched as Nia’s eyes darted back and forth... and back and forth... and back and forth.
Nia’s wide eyes lifted to yours, “(y/n) ... Min Yoongi is flirting with you.”
You choked on your lettuce, “What? Where on earth are you getting that? He’s clearly roasting me.”
“Nope,” Nia threw the note back at you, “Clearly flirting. Damn, Min Yoongi is into my best friend? This is wild! Okay, you first need to get on that, and then you need introduce me to Park Jimin.”
“Are you insane?” Your outburst gained annoyed looks from the surrounding students in the dining hall and you lowered your voice, “I am not ‘getting on’ anyone!”
Rolling her eyes, Nia stared pointedly to the right, “So if I'm hearing you correctly, you’re saying that you don’t find him attractive?”
Your eyes followed her line of vision and landed on none other than your topic of conversation. 
God, he looked good. Even surrounded by his group of attractive friends, Yoongi stood out to you. You were just about to glance away when it happened.
Kim Seokjin’s windshield wiper laugh burst through the cacophony of conversations, following what must have been one of his famously so-bad-they’re-good jokes.
And then Min Yoongi smiled.
Your heart stuttered in your chest as you watched his eyes crinkle, his cheeks turn a pretty pink and, his smile to widen into the cutest, most devastating gummy smile you had ever seen in your entire life.
“Holy fuck.” You exhaled. It was official. You were fucking whipped.
“Yup, that’s what I thought,” Nia’s smug tone pulled your focus away from this new version of Yoongi you were desperate to know, “Still going to deny that you want to jump his bones?”
You were scared shitless by Nia’s maniacal grin in response to your admission.
“Excellent,” she smirked, her palms rubbing together like a plotting villain, “Here’s what we’re going to do...”
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Friday, September 29th – 10:34pm
Your hands tugged at the hem of the short leather miniskirt Nia loaned you for the night as your stomach flipped more times than Simone Biles’ floor routine.
Damn, you were nervous.
When Nia talked you into attending Kim Taehyung’s party, you had agreed pretty easily. You both had reasoned that Yoongi might not even be there; and, if he was, you would just see if he would approach you.
It had seemed so simple in the moment, but now as you grasped your beer you realized that nothing regarding Min Yoongi was simple. Since arriving about twenty minutes ago, you and Nia had immediately been recruited for beer pong by Park Jimin and Jeon Jungkook. Unable to crush Nia’s dreams of hooking up with Jimin, you had agreed immediately even though you were both absolutely terrible at the game.
Jimin and Jungkook now only had one cup left to make, while you and Nia had five. You dipped the pong ball into the designated cup of water to clean it, took aim and watched in glee as the ball sailed into the front cup.
“Oh, fuck yes!” You and Nia high-fived, taking in the rare victory. Opening her mouth to respond, Nia’s words died in her throat as she looked over your shoulder.
“What is it?” you began to turn to see what was so alarming to your friend.
“No!” Nia hissed, “Don’t you dare turn around. Min Yoongi is staring at you like you’re a five-course meal and he’s starving.”
Your soul left your body, only to be snapped back into place with the interrupting cheers from Jimin and Jungkook as they sunk their last cup.
“Good game!” Jungkook’s arm wrapped around you in a half-hug. You shoot Nia a look, but she’s completely occupied in conversation with Jimin. Jungkook’s arm fell to encircle your waist when you felt it – the weight of a certain someone’s gaze.
You barely registered Jimin and Nia’s exit from the pong table and onto the makeshift dancefloor in Taehyung’s living room. And when Jungkook suggested getting another drink from the kitchen you almost shouted in agreement. Anything to escape the eyes you knew were glued to you.
He’s just a boy, you tried to remind yourself, you could handle Min Yoongi.
You followed Jungkook into the cramped kitchen, nodding along to whatever story he’s rambling on about. Locating the vast array of alcohol scattered along the kitchen island, you grabbed a solo cup and fixed yourself a rum and coke.
“...and then Jin-hyung said ‘It’s burgundy!’” You tuned back in to Jungkook’s story just in time to laugh in the appropriate place. You felt bad. Jungkook was cute and sweet, but just not your type.
“Jungkook,” a low voice broke through your shared laughter.
Jungkook’s eyes widened in alarm as he turned to face the intruder, “Yoongi-hyung! Wh-what’s up?”
Yoongi’s gaze narrowed; Jungkook gulped, “Bye, (y/n)-noona.”
You watched in horror as Jungkook literally scrambled out of the room to get away from you and Yoongi.
“Why’d you do that?” You looked up at Yoongi.
Damn, he looked good. His blonde locks were tousled like he had been running his hands through it and his cheeks were slightly flushed – probably from drinking.
Yoongi ignored your question, shooting a look at the group of boys occupying the kitchen counter space next to you and they immediately made themselves scarce.
His dark gaze turned back to you, “Why Jungkook?”
Your eyebrows furrowed, “What?”
“Why were you talking to Jungkook, (y/n)?” Yoongi moved closer to you, backing you into the counter behind you, “That boy couldn’t handle you.”
Your eyebrows quirked up, “And why’s that?”
“Because, baby, all that hair, all that ass, and all that attitude needs a man to give you what you want and what you need.”
You struggled to formulate an answer as you watched as he took a long sip of his beer, his eyes continuing to burn into yours.
“Are you drunk, Min Yoongi?”
“Lil’ bit,” he muttered and shot you a devastating half-smile, “But still sober enough to appreciate how goddamn good you look right now.”
Your mouth opened and closed several times before you choked out, “I thought you hated me?”
His hand darted through his hair as his jaw flexed once… twice, “Not even close.”
“But you don’t talk to me... you made fun of my notes!”
“I don’t talk to you because I think you’re so fucking cute with your colored pens and your oversized sweatshirts and your overused planner. I don’t talk to you because I want to ruin you and worship you all at once.”
All air had escaped your lungs at this point. You let out a jagged breath as Yoongi suddenly slid his hands around your waist.
He scooped you off the floor and placed you on the edge of the counter. Your arms circled his shoulders instinctually and his grip tightened on your hips. When he glanced down at you, he let out a rough breath, sounding like you were torturing him.
Turning to the side, you tried to hide from his intensity behind the curtain of your hair, but he just pushed it back behind your ear.
“Yoongi, please…” Your desperate words left your mouth subconsciously, the feeling of his lips so close to yours made your pulse race and your head spin.
“What do you want, baby?” he asked, his voice hoarse and his pupils dilated, “I’ll give you anything. Just ask.”
“Kiss me?” You barely finished asking your question before Yoongi’s lips slammed onto your own.
He kissed you like he wanted to own you – and to have you own him. Gravity tried to drag you down off the counter and your mouths separated in a gasp. Yoongi hoisted you up higher with a firm hand on the back of your thigh.
Hooking your leg around his slim waist, you tugged him into you, feeling every inch of his body respond to your touch. He breathed heavily as you dragged your nails down his back slowly, provokingly. You felt his responding groan rumble deep from within his chest.
His free hand latched into your hair and tugged your lips back to his. You both moaned as his tongue circled yours, twining around it, enticing yours to follow.
You swore the way Min Yoongi kissed could be felt all the way down to your bones.  
His kisses got greedier, more desperate as he seemed to be trying to memorize the taste of your mouth on his. “God-fucking-damn," he panted, pulling back slightly and resting his forehead on yours.
You smiled, completely fucked out. His fingertips dragged down your skin slowly until he reached your waist. His hands slid up under your shirt, and he rested his palms against your skin, fingers splayed down over your hips. His hold was undeniably possessive.
Shifting his head into the crevice of your neck, Yoongi muttered, “Go out with me, (y/n).”
The only answer your last few braincells could formulate was a garbled “Mkay”. But judging from the smile you felt against your pulse point, it was good enough for him.
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a/n: originally was going to make this fic about jungkook (inspired by this post), but I decided I needed to write it about Yoongi bc he is baby
© luxekook. please do not repost, modify, edit or translate.
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taeguks · a year ago
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I’m a king I’m a boss
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underthejoon · 8 months ago
Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tropes
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@ladyartemesia​​ @ppersonna​​ @snackhobi​​ @underthejoon​​ @untaemedqueen​​ @xjoonchildx​​ @yeojaa​​ are bringing you the classics this holiday season! These tried and true tropes are sure to add some holly, jolly cheer to your timeline. We hope you enjoy!
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Author: @xjoonchildx​​
Pairing: Kim Seokjin x Reader
Summary: it was bound to happen, eventually. after months of near misses at barbecues and birthdays, there's no avoiding your ex-husband at hoseok's annual christmas bash. but it's fine, totally fine, because you're both adults -- and you've both brought dates and booze. what could go wrong?
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Author: @snackhobi​​
Pairing: Min Yoongi x Reader
Summary: yoongi is your favourite regular. he’s patient, polite, and predictable, a-large-black-coffee-to-go-please, no cream, no sugar, thank you. rinse and repeat. the seasons might change, but yoongi’s order stays the same. and then one fateful day in winter, yoongi asks about the weekly specials, orders a cup of christmas and sugary sweetness, and everything starts changing.
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Author: @untaemedqueen​​
Pairing: Jung Hoseok x Reader
Summary: Being your friend, Hoseok has always been there for you. When things go sideways, he's a shoulder to lean on. He's accepted your cold heart, your abrasiveness.  And when your holiday plans go south, he invites you to his home with his family for Christmas. Will you continue to be cold? Or will he make warmth bloom in the recesses of your chest?
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Author: @ppersonna​​
Pairing: Kim Namjoon x Reader
Summary: There are few things you hate most in this world. Hornets, unnecessary fruit pieces in otherwise perfectly good jello, certain shades of orange… But nothing takes the cake more than two simple things. Christmas. And Kim Namjoon. So why did you agree to pretend to be Kim Namjoon’s fiancé at the annual workplace Christmas party? Bah-Humbug.
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Author: @underthejoon​​
Pairing: Park Jimin x Reader
Summary: Jimin is dreamy, to put it frankly. He’s gorgeous and warm and yours in almost every way you could ever want. And while boundaries are rare between you (if the sharing of your roof, friends, beds and bodies is anything to go off of) there is one thing he keeps tucked away from you. A part of himself he only ever lets you see once a year. 
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Author: @ladyartemesia​​
Pairing: Kim Taehyung x Reader
Summary: When Park Jimin is unable to escort his precious sister through the gauntlet of corporate holiday galas, he blackmails his best friend Taehyung into being her chaperone. After all, who better to safeguard his headstrong sibling than a man who would never want her for himself? (She and Tae have spent the better part of a decade mutually disliking each other - and that’s putting it mildly.) Yet, even the best laid plans may go awry at Christmas and Kim Taehyung is about to discover that the girl he never wanted has become a temptation he cannot resist.
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Author: @yeojaa​
Pairing: Jeon Jungkook x Reader
Summary: In life, there are certain things that go together, two parts that make up a whole.  The sun in the sky, grandmothers and cheek kisses, chocolate when you're sad—and you and Jeon Jungkook.  Best friends since childhood, there's never been one without the other.  You've always existed this way, caught in each other's orbit.  Parallel lines that run side by side. But what happens when those lines finally collide?
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