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#yoongi fic
taetaespeaches · 5 hours ago
74 with yoongi? I could melt just fantasizing to this prompt list
“Are you calling me bitter, Kid?”
(request for: "We can share.")
yoongi x reader (oc) genre: fluff word count: 900+
a/n: So I had the idea a while back that even though Yoongi only drinks decaf now, he would still make Kid her regular coffee every morning. So that's basically what this is but with a good amount of Min/Kid antics. Honestly, I feel like the dialogue is a bit weird and random but we'll just say they're tired lol. I hope you all enjoy and thanks for reading! :))
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Stepping into the kitchen, you pouted fondly at Yoongi as he handed you a mug of hot coffee, prepared just the way you like it. Despite the man believing it was practically a sin to add any variation of milk and sweetener to a cup of coffee, he never failed to add just the right amounts of both to your mug.
“Thank you, honey boy,” you cooed, Yoongi flashing you a gummy smile as he shook his head. His messy hair from sleeping on it made him look extra soft and cute.
Leaning your hip against the island and standing so you faced your boyfriend, you glanced around at the stone top. “Where’s yours?” You asked, noticing the absence of his own cup. A few months ago, Yoongi had quit drinking his regular coffee and switched it out for decaf, and you, of course, had thought the world was ending. But he was without even his decaffeinated beverage, making you pull your eyebrows together curiously. “Don’t tell me you quit coffee altogether now,” you sighed dramatically, Yoongi chuckling.
“No, I just didn’t realize I was almost out,” he told you nonchalantly, his indifference emphasizing how much he totally didn’t care.
“So you’re out?” You asked, reaching out to pat down some of his strands that were wildly standing upright.
“Just about. There’s not really enough for a cup,” he shrugged as you pouted at him, bringing your hand back around your cup. Smiling at you, he assured you, “it’s ok, I’ll live.”
“Will you?” You teased. “You know, you don’t have to make yourself decaf anyway. We can share,” you said with a grin, giggling when Yoongi rolled his eyes at you. “Just take a sip,” you enticed him.
“You make me do this every morning,” he groaned. However, he entertained your request, as he always did, placing his hands over yours on the mug. You both carefully lifted the mug to his lips so he could take the smallest of drinks, the man immediately scrunching his features at the taste.
“I have to keep reminding you of what you’re missing,” you joked, ignoring his expression. “Decaf,” you rolled your eyes.
“It’s not just that it’s caffeinated, you like too much sugar,” he continued to wince.
“You need a little bit of sugar to sweeten you up,” you sassed back, taking another drink for yourself, humming as it hit your taste buds.
Making your way around the island, you felt Yoongi’s eyes follow you. Taking a seat, you looked up at him, smiling at the sight.
“I like it black,” he pointed out quietly, a slight pout on his lips.
“Bitter," you corrected. "And yeah, yeah, we know,” you told him playfully.
“Who’s we?” He asked, his eyebrows raised.
Biting back a grin, though his lips couldn't help but curve upward, he sighed. “Are you calling me bitter, Kid?”
Shaking your head, you pouted innocently. “No, but you want everyone to think you’re a grumpy old man when you’re actually a honey boy with a grumpy old man’s attitude but with a honey boy's heart,” you rambled, fully aware the sentence barely made any sense. It was still early, maybe, just maybe, he’d let it slide.
“Are you drunk?” He asked, a smile lingering on his lips as he teased you. Ok, so he wouldn’t let it slide.
“No.” Taking another drink, you held back your own grin.
“Are you sure?”
“It’s 7 am,” you retorted. He shrugged as though it could be possible. “Do you want to fight me?” You playfully asked.
“Maybe,” he replied simply. A warmth settled in your tummy as butterflies erupted throughout your body. You loved this banter, loved starting your day with it.
“I love you,” you said suddenly, nonchalantly.
“I love you, too. Now, shh," he silenced you, bringing his finger to his lips. "You'll say something else that makes zero sense and I'll have to call you on it again,” he said with a teasing grin.
Pulling a look of offense, you glared at him once again. “First of all, rude. Second of all, this attitude is exactly why you need to start your day off with some sweetness.”
He sighed, resting his forearms on the countertop. “Love you.”
“Love you more,” you grinned at him.
“Stop,” he protested, a forced scowl and a natural pout meeting on his face.
Giggling, you suddenly reached for your bag that sat atop the counter. He watched you in silence, awaiting your explanation or to see what you were grabbing. When you pulled your hand out, you held a bag of decaffeinated coffee beans.
“I noticed you were running low so I ran by the store and got you some on my way home yesterday,” you smiled. “Just wanted to mess with you before I gave them to you,” you told him, gloating about your successful teasing as you wiggled your shoulders at him.
Scoffing at you, he reached across the island and took the coffee beans from you. “You’re the best.”
Smiling at him, you reached for your coffee and brought it towards your mouth. “Told you I love you more,” you smiled behind the mug.
“Stop,” he whined through a barely there smile, the man fighting it from blossoming into that gummy grin you adored so much.
As you watched him shuffle from the island to the coffee grinder, you couldn’t help but follow his every sleepy and gentle move with an adoring gaze. He was just too cute, and you were just too in love.
“I love you most,” he suddenly spoke with his back to you, and you just knew the gummy grin had curved on his lips. Too cute.
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joheunsaram · 20 hours ago
No Rebounds (myg) - 8
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Summary- You and Yoongi go on your first real date and Yoongi finally opens up
word count- 2.4k
pairing- husband!Yoongi x Reader
rating- PG-13
genre- fluff, angst marriedau
warnings- talks of infertility and depression. a big idea is floated.
a.n- omg we’re almost till the end. only two more chapters to go!!
A huge thank you to my bae @oftenderweapons for helping me map this series and beta reading this!
As always feedback appreciated, a reblog and a like goes a far way. Send me an ask if you want to be on the taglist! 💌
Stress rolled off your body as you typed away on your laptop, periodically groaning at the unending emails that seemed to keep popping up. An organization restructuring was not in the plan this quarter but somehow the higher-ups at your company had decided to not only mandate one but put you in charge of it. With the whole company shaken at the possibility of a mass firing, your fellow coworkers had taken it upon themselves to email you proving their worth. Your inbox was flooded with everything from simple emails detailing the impact certain departments had had to stories about how important the livelihood was to them and their families. Even though you had no plans of firing anyone, you were sure that it would be inevitable given the goals the CEO had provided you. 
Saturday evenings were not meant to be spent working. They were meant to be spent with your husband and friends, yet here you were sitting on your dining table, sticky notes scattered around you as you drew a new roadmap on the large poster board. When your pen tip snapped from the pressure you were putting on it, you decided to give yourself a break and make some coffee. 
In the kitchen, Yoongi sat on the breakfast island, his frame buried under a large black sweater as he played some video game on his laptop, the clicking of his mouse grating your nerves for no reason whatsoever. Reaching to the top cabinet, you noticed there were no clean mugs. Frustrated, you turned to the sink to find a pile of dirty dishes — dishes that Yoongi was supposed to wash up hours ago. 
“Yoongi,” you called out, only for him to give you a distracted hum in response. You repeated his name, a little louder only for him to ask for a minute. Patience wearing thin, you waited, counting the seconds in your head till you reached 300, yet he was still consumed in his game. 
With a loud groan, you turned around and started to wash the dishes, making sure to be extra loud just to be petty. The clanging of plates seemed to have broken Yoongi out of his zone, and he sighed, walking over to you to help. 
“Go game,” you said, pulling the plate from his hand and starting to soak it with the soapy water. “It’s not like I have work to do. It’s not like we had an agreement where whoever doesn’t cook cleans; but no, I can cook you lunch, and wash the dishes since you’re oh so busy,” you ranted, words firing out of your lips like bullets. 
“Sorry. I’ll do them,” he apologized only to get a shove in return. 
“No. I’m doing them now. Go game.”
Yoongi ignored you, starting to wash the dishes despite your obstinence. It resulted in you once again stealing the pot from his hands and pushing him aside, continuing to nag at him. 
“I’ve been so stressed and you can’t even do this simple thing. It’s so hard, isn’t it? Oh my god however can Yoongi, a grown-ass man, ever put soap on a dish and scrub it clean! What a daunting task!”
He called your name softly, pulling you away from the dishes to turn you around and engulf you in a hug. You pushed against him but he refused to let go till you had no choice but to relax into him, your soapy hands between you, soaking into both your clothes. 
“Tell me what’s really wrong,” he demanded quietly, his fingers slowly massaging your scalp as his other hand rubbed your back. “I’ve seen you stressed and you’ve never taken it out on me. So tell me, why are you mad? What did I do?”
His words made you panic. You knew you should be honest with him but you felt a little pathetic that he had read you so easily. Sure the stress from work did play a part in your outburst but the underlying cause made you embarrassed. Your therapist had practically ordered the two of you to be bluntly honest with each other, to not play guessing games so you decided to heed her advice. 
“It’s been two months,” you mumbled into his sweater, face heating up at how oddly vulnerable you felt. It was like you were thrown to the beginning of your relationship when you were constantly hinting at an oblivious Yoongi to ask you to be his girlfriend. 
He pulled away from you, cupping your face to look at you, confusion scrunching his features. When you looked away, he moved your head side to side, something he always did to get your attention. Yet today, all it did was annoy you as you grabbed his wrists to get away from him. He didn’t relent, his hands staying on your face as you huffed in annoyance. 
“Two months, Yoongi,” you continued quietly, his eyes boring into you and making you feel stupid for bringing it up — and a little sad that he didn’t seem to have any idea of what you were talking about. “You said we’d date.”
His mouth fell open in realization and before you knew it he was pulling you back into his chest, his arms wrapping around you tightly. 
“Oh baby, I’m so sorry.” He kissed the top of your head and you couldn’t help but hold him too, letting him sway the two of you gently. It wasn’t his fault. Time seemed to be like sand slipping between your fingers these days. However, he was quick to rectify it. “Get dressed. We’re leaving in thirty minutes.”
All your protests were hushed as he rushed you to your bedroom, urging you to change quickly. For someone who didn’t remember taking you on a date, it seemed that your mini breakdown had spurred him to make the date happen as soon as possible. When you begrudgingly changed into an unimpressive pair of jeans and a sweater, he showered you with compliments.
“You look beautiful,” he said, reaching out his hand for you and tugging you into a kiss as soon as you took it. “Burgers?”
Your earlier anger and stress seemed to have vanished at his soft touch, making you melt into him easily. It made your heart pound when he opened the door to the passenger side of your truck, helping you up the tall step. He kissed you again when he climbed into the driver’s seat, before pulling away and driving to your favourite diner. 
The burgers were warm, a perfect medium rare with sharp cheese that melted onto your tongue in a burst of flavour. Yoongi fed you the fries, their crunch mimicking the pitter-patter of your content heart, the ketchup they were dipped in mirroring your blush. You had forgotten how easy it was to be charmed by your husband, how much you missed his undulated company, his soft smiles and gentle touches. It wasn’t the date that was special, it was the act of setting apart to get to know each other again, to share all the thoughts that get lost in the monotony of routine. 
You were sad after the dinner ended, the two of you driving back to your house. There was a finality to the lights zooming past you through the glass, lighting Yoongi’s face in slated intervals. It made you nervous, drowning in melancholy of nostalgia when you both didn’t know everything about each other, when you both had time to spend together, and when the need for a child hadn’t yet superseded your relationship. 
Lost in your thoughts, you had missed that Yoongi wasn’t driving the regular route, instead going away from the city, up the nearby peak you used to visit in college. 
“We’re here,” he said, pulling into the empty parking lot that overlooked the city. It was a venue embedded in your memories, a place where the two of you would escape from upcoming exams and deadlines, where you could get lost in the stars that pierced the skies in a haphazard pattern. 
Climbing out of the truck and into the cargo bed at the back was almost an instinct, as much as it was for him to cheekily pull your bra off from under your sweater and lie down on your chest, his arms around you as his face cozied up to your softness. You wrapped your arms around his head, stroking his hair as he hummed, watching the stars. The night was cool, a light breeze that carried the scent of an upcoming winter chilling your skin and you were glad that Yoongi had thought ahead to bring a blanket to snuggle under. It was quiet, the sounds of cicadas reverberating through the clear night. 
The two of you laid there for a while, silently enjoying being in each other’s arms. It was different from every night when you slept next to one another, and somehow the blanket of the night sky made the moment more serene, more worthwhile. 
“I’m sorry,” he whispered, holding you tight, his nose lightly grazing your jaw as he looked up at you before turning away to watch the lights of the city, seeming so far away. “I’m not a good husband, am I?”
His question broke your heart because if anyone was a weak link in your relationship, it was you, not the steadfast and loyal Yoongi. You told him so but he just shook his head, his hand reaching yours to clasp it, his thumb running circles on your palm. 
“I wasn’t honest I think,” he continued, ignoring your praise. “I love you so much, but I think you deserve better than me. Someone who isn’t so sad all the time. Someone who can build you up. Someone who doesn’t forget the dates he’d promised.”
“You’re sad?” you asked, forgetting all his other sentiments in favour of the most heart-wrenching one. He chuckled in response, his laugh missing its usual spark, instead painted with melancholy. 
“I’m depressed, Hurricane.” His confession was followed by a nonchalant shrug, one that made you slide downwards, holding his face in your hands so you were at eye level. He swallowed loudly when he saw the anguish in your eyes and all you wanted was to make him feel better, to do something to help. 
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“You were literally injecting yourself… I didn’t … didn’t want to make it about me. Didn’t want to hold you back.”
“You know you’ve never held me back, right? You’re the reason I’ve survived this long,” you said, adamant not to let his negative thoughts cement into something more permanent. It made you tear up, your eyes betraying your sudden helplessness. “I love you. I’m so sorry.”
“I love you too,” he replied, the word spilling out of him easily, almost as if it was a reflex. His lips met yours and like always, they were gentle, undemanding and carefully pulling you under the spell he had cast on you years ago, a spell that seemed unwavering even through everything the two of you had been through. 
Yoongi wasn’t one to share his feelings with you or anyone for that matter. He usually hid behind his work and his hobbies, keeping you at a slight distance. The fact that he had even alluded to how he was feeling, shared his thoughts with you made your tears trail down your cheeks. 
“I made you cry again,” he murmured, pulling away from you a little to wipe your face. The frown on his face made you kiss him again, littering his cheeks with little pecks. 
“I’m so proud of you,” you replied, ignoring the blame he seemed to put on himself. “Thank you for telling me and being with me.”
It seemed as if that was what broke him, his frown deepening into a sob as he buried his face into your neck, fingers clawing at your back as if to tether himself to reality. All you could do was hold him close, remind him that you were never leaving, that he was enough, more than enough. Amidst the tears, he admitted hating himself, feeling insecure and scared. Admitted seeing a therapist. You wondered how he had hidden it for so long, how you had somehow missed all the signs. Were you too busy keeping him away, too busy distracting yourself from him to notice him suffering silently?
“Let’s have a baby,” he said all of a sudden, leaning upon his elbow, a crazed look on his face. When you reminded him of your predicament, he kissed you, long and deep before pulling away. “Let’s adopt.”
“Really really. I mean if you want to?” His excitement faded into trepidation when you didn’t respond but soon you were kissing him again, deep and languid. 
In the time you had spent with doctors and prescription medications, somehow you hadn’t thought about this option. Somehow the thought of your child not being genetically linked to either of you had scared you enough to never acknowledge it. It made you nervous but, most of all, it made you think that you’d disappoint him and his more conservative family by coming to the obvious solution to your problems. 
You thought about his mother, imagining the disappointment on her face when you would finally admit to her that you were barren, unable to produce a grandchild she longed for. A tear escaped at the thought. Because you knew it was an excuse. You were scared, terrified that you wouldn’t love a child that wasn’t a perfect mix of you and Yoongi. And you were sad that you would never carry an offspring, never feel the weight of motherhood, never experience pregnancy. 
“Do you not want to?” Yoongi asked, his thumbs stroking your cheeks as your lip wobbled despite your efforts to not cry. You didn’t want to take away from the rare moment of him opening up, but you couldn’t help it, your skin crawling with sudden anxiety. 
“I’m scared,” you confessed and he held you, listening to your fears. He didn’t offer reassurances nor affirmations, but empathy, mourning with you. 
“We don’t have to decide now,” he said, the two of you staring at the stars as if they held the answers to your problems. “Let’s wait till we’re better.”
“Till we’re better,” you confirmed, your lips meeting his again. 
That night you decided to enjoy the cool night in each other’s arms, laying in the back of your truck till the stars faded into the soft magenta of dawn.
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I hope you enjoyed this! For more fics of mine check out my masterlist
taglist: @cheesecakes-randomshitz, @aroseforyoongi, @awhnamjoon, @agustdjoon, @codeinebelle, @joonights, @notsooperfect, @iwishselena, @jkiddingjeon, @parkdatjimin, @xjordynary,  @suzietaekookie, @jalexad, @bambuzlee , @sunskook, @yoonglesbae, @elyte, @mrsparknamjoon​​, @moonshooter​
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bts-hyperfixation · 2 days ago
How Y/N Met Bangtan - Part 2
Kinktober Day 16- Hyung Line/Various
Warnings: Blow job, Hand job, Orgasm denial. Sorry it’s late .
Last Time…..
You don’t know when the other two had left, but you’d awoken to only Jimin in bed with you. He was full of sleepy smiles and cuddles when he found you laying with him. Sadly the sleepy moment didn’t last long before the man had to rush off to pee. You considered finding a shirt to wear, but not knowing where anything was it had seemed safer to cuddle back under the covers and await his return.
“Hey Chim, can you take care of this for me?” A new man flaunted his morning wood as he walked into the room, not expecting your head to pop up from under the duvet.
“Jimin’s not here right now?” You responded, openly admiring the tall man in front of you. “But I’m sure I could help you out?”
“Fuck I am so sorry!” The heat had rushed to his cheeks in the cutest way as he reached for something to cover himself up.
“Joonie you’re up!” Jimin said as he walked through the door, standing on his tiptoes to kiss the intruder. “You really should take her up on that offer, she is very good.” He winked.
Namjoon looked horrified at the tease. He averted his eyes to the floor as Jimin pulled the covers away from you, exposing your bare chest to the troubled rapper. You’d playfully slapped the vocalist and pulled the blanket back.
“What? I plan on keeping you around a while, which means he is going to see it all eventually.” He kissed you, pulling you into his lap.
“Right… well I’m just going to go and die now, I… um… it was nice to meet you” The poor man nearly walked into the doorframe on the way out trying to avoid looking up again. You’d never forget the first time you saw Namjoon’s glorious backside walking away. You’d never wanted to sink your teeth into anything more.
Jimin had gripped onto your bum, dragging your naked pussy against the bulge in his sweats to regain your attention.
“Don’t worry about him, he gets off on the embarrassment, he has probably gone to find Kookie instead.”
“It’s a shame, after getting a taste of the three of you I was kind of hoping to collect the set because if your other partners are half as good as you three I don’t want to miss out.” You bit at his bottom lip, sucking on it before kissing properly.
“Oh it’s going to be so hot watching you chase around the big boys all day.” He said thrusting upwards.
“All boys?” You hadn’t thought to question that had only said seven after they pulled you, you had just assumed it’d be a mix.
“Yeah our Hyung line. Jin, Yoongi, Hoseok, and of course you just met Namjoon…” He’d smirked remembering the blush on the elder's face. “He will probably be your easiest target. But we should probably have some breakfast first, get your energy up.”
He slid you back off of him and reached for a t-shirt, heading for the door. He’d looked at you expectantly thinking you’d follow him. You’d rolled your eyes and stood gesturing to your lack of clothing. He slapped himself on the forehead and reached for another set of clothes for you to wear, choosing s t-shirt that was oversized on him so you would be comfortable. With that, he had taken your hand and lead you to the kitchen to start the first day of the rest of your life.
You met the remaining three at breakfast. Yoongi had cooked enough for seven and then chastised the youngest three for not telling him about the guest. He’d given his portion to you, making more for himself as he muttered under his breath about not being in the loop.
In between helping Yoongi, Jin took every opportunity he could to make you laugh, poking fun at the way that Kookie wouldn’t leave you alone, or the way Taehyung was clearly trying to fuck you with his eyes across the table.
Hoseok spent the start of the meal asking you about yourself. Any question he could think of flew from his mouth: Any siblings? Favourite song? Elephants or giraffes? What would you do first if you were suddenly omniscient? He finally calmed down when Yoongi draped an arm around his shoulder. He instantly cuddled into the other man and quieted down.
Namjoon couldn’t quite make eye contact yet.
“Y/N’s gonna be hanging around today,” Jimin announced between mouthfuls. Jungkook’s face had lit up as Taehyung smirked. “She already signed an NDA so no need to worry about anything, just go about your normal days.”
“I’m glad you’re sticking around. Means I might actually get a chance to play with you later.” Taehyung’s foot rubbed against your leg as he spoke.
“Sorry Tae, haven’t you and Kookie got vocal training today?” Jimin reminded him.
“She will just have to wait long enough for me to come back for her.”
The rest of the meal was filled with friendly chatter about schedules. Namjoon excused himself first, he’d gone back to his room to hide. Then Taehyung and Jungkook left for the Big-hit building across town. Yoongi retreated to his studio, not before extending an invitation to you for later, an outside set of ears he’d said. Seokjin went into the office to game the day away. That left Hoseok and Jimin at the table.
“I’m just going to run to the bathroom.” You excused.
“Down the hall on the left,” Hobi said pointing towards the corridor you’d come from. However, instead of looking for the bathroom, you went on the hunt for Namjoon, determined to apologise for this morning, as well as get in on his good side.
You opened a couple of the doors (including the bathroom) before stumbling into his room. He’d been sat reading on his bed, some Korean rap song playing softly from a speaker on the wall. He didn’t notice you at first, so you’d stopped to admire him a little more. His jaw ticked as he focused, head-bopping slightly in time to the beat. All the nervous energy from this morning seemed to dissipate. You clear your throat and immediately he goes shy again. He closes the book and refuses to meet your eyes.
“Hey, can I… um, help you find something?” He asked.
“I was just looking for the bathroom.” You lied.
“Oh! You are about one door too far” A fact you had already worked out.
“Great thanks, about this morning by the way… I’m sorry for making you uncomfortable I assumed the boys would have a sock on the door policy or something.” You hovered just inside the door, hoping he would see the way you lingered and invite you in properly. You saw Jimin smirking through the gap in the door as he worked out what you were up to.
“That’s on me. Seriously who just walks into a room like?” he out his head in his hands.
“It’s not that weird, you guys have been together for a long time right? It’s weirder that you have separate spaces at all.” That’s how you managed to pull him into a longer conversation. He loved talking about the others. He told you how usually they do share rooms, that that should’ve actually been his first red flag that someone else was around. Jin and he slept together every night, more comfortable when together and the others swapped and changed nightly. After about five minutes he invited you to sit with him, completely forgetting about your excuse for walking in on him.
You looked around the space from his bed, noticing the little touches that you assumed might be his like plants and books, and things that you thought matched Jin more like gaming figurines and comfy sweaters. Namjoon continued to talk about their partnership. You talked for over an hour until you could work him back around to this morning.
“You’re really easy to talk to.” He’d admitted.
“I’m glad you think that.” His eyes wouldn’t leave yours now.
“I’m glad they brought you home with them.”
“Me too.” You smiled at him, and he leaned in closer to you, so close to kissing you.
“Did you manage to find anyone to resolve your problem this morning?” You’d looked down pointedly and he stuttered, immediately embarrassed again.
“No, no I didn’t.” He looked sheepishly away; his shyness exceedingly cute (But very deceptive when compared to the man you knew now).
“Will you let me help you then?” You reached out to pull his face back to yours, “Please?”
“Yes.” He whispered. You closed the gap between your lips. It was a short kiss; you were too eager to get started on the second part of your collection. Your moth trailed from his, to his cheek, to his jaw, to his neck. You marked the skin there, your first claim on the man. He helped you pull his shorts down enough to free him, already at half-mast. You pumped him dry, the slight tug only turning him on more.
You’d already seen the size of him that morning, but feeling the weight drove you over the edge. You left his neck alone, opting for taking as much of his cock into your mouth as fast as you could. The poor guy thrust into your throat at your unexpected speed making you gag around him.
“Fuck, sorry.” He tugged your hair to pull you back.
“Do it again.” You rasped.
“What?” He’s so cute when he is confused. That wasn’t really the time for cute though.
“Ram your dick down my throat, as far as you can get it.” His eyes rolled into his head when you spoke. He had hesitated only for a moment before you pulled against the grip he had on your hair. He took that to mean you were serious, fucking into your throat roughly until the sensation was too much for him. He’d released your hair in favour of the bedsheets and his toes curled, just in time for the door to open on you.
You pulled off his dick with a pop. The precipice of his orgasm fading as he panted underneath you.
“Are we going to make a habit of others walking in on you having sex with their boyfriends Y/N?” Jin asked from the doorway.
“I wasn’t having sex this morning; I was just naked.” You countered “I’m also not having sex now… just helping him out.” Your hand kept pumping Namjoon as you talked. You glanced down at the tent growing in the eldest own trousers. “Do you need help too?”
“I never turn down help when it’s offered.” He shut the door behind him and sat next to Joon on the bed, kissing him as if this were the most normal thing in the world. Namjoon had whined into his mouth as you returned to licking his tip. You were determined to finish the rapper off, making Jin wait to be seen to. He seemed perfectly happy to wait.
He kissed Joon deeper, hand slipping inside the younger man’s shirt to play with his nipples. He’d used his free hand to play with himself, small teasing touches, not enough to get himself off just to tease as he watched you ruin the man he loved from the corner of his eye. You sucked Namjoon deeper, swallowing just as Jin twisted his nipple. The man came into your mouth with barely any warning, shivering as Jin kissed along his jaw so you could both hear the pretty sound she was making.
“Shit, sorry.” He panted.
“You need to stop apologising babe, that was great.” You wiped the cum from the side of your mouth, with the intention of licking it from your thumb to finish the last bit. You both watched Jin lick the remainder from your thumb.
“I hate waste.” He shrugged.
“In that case…” You sat yourself on his lap, hard cock pressed between your stomachs as you kissed him. He licked around your mouth, tasting the last remnants of Joon from your tongue. You thought Joon’s eyes were going to pop out of his eyes as he looked at you. You ground against Jin, sneaking your hand in between to play with his slit. Each time you rocked forward you applied friction to his balls, it didn’t take long to have him wriggling beneath you.
You’d tried to pull away so you could take him in your mouth like you had Namjoon, but he wouldn’t let you. He kept you in place with a hand on the back of your neck as the other snaked to join yours on his cock making you squeeze tighter as you rubbed him dry. You watched his face crumple as he got off on the pain. He let you pull away just as he came so it landed on him and not you making you whine.
“I thought you hated waste.” You pouted.
“Jimin doesn’t like stains on his clothes.” He shrugged.
“Fine, but just for that I’m leaving.” He pulled you in to kiss him once more before releasing you completely. You’d tried to clamber of the bed but had been met with complaints from Joon until you turned back to kiss him too.
You found Yoongi’s studio easily, the ‘Maknaes stay out’ sign a dead giveaway.
“Yoongi? Can I come in?” You asked pressing the intercom button on the outside. He didn’t respond, just buzzed you in. He didn’t speak when you entered either, too in the zone. All he did was shuffle up the piano bench he was sat on so you could watch him work on the melody of his newest creation. He scribbled music notes on paper. Every so often he would get frustrated and throw something in the trash.
Each time you let it happen until he crumpled up one you thought could work. You’d pick it up from where it landed near the trash and smoothed it out for him to look at again.
“I didn’t like that one.” He grumbled not really looking at it.
“Make it higher at the start.” You suggested pointing to the part he had been working on. He did as you said and played it on the next octave up. Then he played it through a second time. And a third. The fourth time his gummy smile lit up his face as he changed occasional notes and rapped his lyrics along to check the rhythm. Finally happy with the chords he turned to you.
“How did you know?”
“I didn’t, I just thought it sounded pretty before but it was too close to your voice if that makes sense?” You shrugged it off. “What’s it for anyway?”
“Something I’m working on with Halsey.” You watched him play for a little longer. His hands ghosted expertly over each key, flexing as he pressed down.
“I always wanted to learn an instrument.” You’d said more to yourself than him.
“Want me to teach you?” He showed you some basics, hands moving with yours as he instructed you to press down. “Here, sit on my lap it’ll be easier to see.” You did as you were told, and it did make it easier to see, it did not make it easier to focus though.
You could feel him through his jeans. It was too tempting to just sway back into him, so that’s what you did. Under the pretence of getting comfortable, you ground against the producer to test his reaction. There hadn’t been one to start with, he focused on running you through chords but eventually he snapped growling in your ear.
“Don’t start something you can’t finish Y/N”
“I can finish it.” You’d said pushing back harder.
“Maybe I don’t want you sixth?”
“How do you know your sixth?” You asked genuinely surprised.
“You think I can’t smell my own boyfriends on you? You reek of Namjoon’s cologne, and if you’ve had Joon I’m willing to put money on Jin being involved… Am I right?” You’d turned sideways in his lap to look at him.
“They needed my help, and it was my fault poor Joonie couldn’t get his release earlier… I couldn’t just leave him like that.” You batted your eyelashes at the man hoping he would go for the shitty explanation.
“Well aren’t you just an angel, helping everyone out like that… Maybe you need a reward.” He kissed you slowly as the hand that was in your lap crept up your thigh, his fingernails dug in as he reached the top. “Would you like a reward?”
“Yes please.” You mumbled into the kiss. His hand pressed against your clit through your trousers. You arched into the touch. You hadn’t realised how turned on you’d been, but the limited friction available didn’t feel like enough. You whined under his touch, soaking through the fabric. Every time you had tried to direct the motions, his other hand dug into your side.
“If you can’t sit still, I’ll stop.” He warned, but you couldn’t help yourself. The seam had been just left of where you needed it and you thought maybe he wouldn’t notice your slight course correction, but of course, he did. He’d spank your hip with one hand as he ripped the pleasure away with the other.
You nearly cried as he pushed you from his lap, only just holding you steady. He pointed to the door and sent you on your way.
Still, you counted Yoongi as ‘collected’ and went in search of your final conquest. The dance studio wasn’t far from Yoongi’s. You’d entered quietly and watched him practice. Trivia: Just Dance played over the sound system as he worked out the fluidity of his routine. He smiled wide and signalled for you to take a seat in the corner until he was done.
But his focus never managed to fully return to his dance. He turned to face you instead.
“You’ve got a little wet patch there on your sweats babe…” Hoseok said pointing to the spot of betrayal on your Jimin’s grey sweats.
“Well, what do you expect, a day surrounded by the most attractive men on the planet?” He inched closer to you; you could see individual drops of sweat beading on his forehead now.
“Have they been teasing you all day baby?” He had a dark demeanour now, foreboding, so different form the man you’d met that morning. For the first time, you started to think you’d bitten off more than you could chew. You nodded in response to his question, words had failed you miserably.
He closed the gap completely, pulling you from your seat. His arm hooked around your back just as his song faded into the next one. Singularity played over the speakers. He swayed the two of you to the beat, never letting you stray from him for more than a few seconds as he twirled you elegantly in time.
“Want me to fix that aching for you?” He said caressing your face. Again you nodded, mesmerised by the man he had become. “Words please angel, I want your words.” His pointer finger tucked under your chin. Forcing you to meet his gaze.
“Make it better… please.” He turned you around, so your back was to him. More importantly, so he could watch you in the mirrors around the practice room.
“That’s a good girl.” He pushed your hair away and kissed from your earlobe along your shoulder, the arm around your waist had adventured lower, slipping into your sweatpants. It felt so good to finally have someone’s hands on your naked folds. He dipped his middle finger in shallowly before dragging it upwards collecting slick to circle around your clit.
He made you yelp as he pressed hard against the delicate nerves. He bit into your shoulder; eyes trained on the mirror so he could watch the pain paint across your features. He began to rub his fingers back and forth as he marked you. The fact you were so worked up and a product of his speed, you came faster than ever before. The sweatpants were completely destroyed by now.
He pushed you up against the barre for support. You grasped hold as he pulled the ruined trousers away. He threw all of your clothes and then his own into a pile on the other side of the practice room. He’d then squeezed your cheeks between his fingers and made you look at yourself in the mirror, your body heat had started to fog up the glass.
“Put your leg up on the barre.” You’d done as instructed, having to push your chest against the cool glass in order to assume the position he asked of you. He barely prepped you, pumping two fingers in and out a handful of times before he was lining himself up.
He dragged his initial thrust out, pushing into you slowly so you could feel every curve. Then, much like the way he’d gotten you off before, everything was happening very quickly. At the weird angle he had put you in it felt deeper. You’d arched your back as much as possible to make it easier for him and he took it as an invitation to go harder. The shape of your sweaty body was imprinted in the mirror. He reached around to your clit, this time the motions were sloppy, both moving too much for precision at this point, but it did the job.
You came hard around him and slumped against the glass as he finished himself off deep inside of you.
You hung around for days after that, mostly just spending time with whoever was around. Sometimes having sex, sometimes just chilling. Six days later, as the movie night you were having come to an end, Jungkook was on his knees in front of the others begging.
“Can we keep her?” Jungkook had asked eyes as wide as he could possibly make them, lip jutted out pleading with his Hyungs.
“She is a person Jungkook, not a pet.” Yoongi rolled his eyes.
“I can be a pet…. If that’s what you want…” You’d joined Jungkook on the floor, begging with him. “I can and will be anything you want me to be: Your pet, your baby, your mistress? I’m very flexible.” You’d winked at Hobi on the last part making him laugh.
“I don’t know about you guys, but I’ve definitely enjoyed her… company… the last few days,” Jin said looking at the others
“I’m already in love with her.” Jungkook had chimed in.
“We know Jungkook” Jimin rolled his eyes struggling to hide his smile.
“I want her to be the future Mrs Jeon.”
“We know Jungkook” The other Maknaes chorused. He’d grinned at you, so sure in his words you had no reason to doubt them.
“Okay, okay. Before Jungkook explodes, all in favour of a new partner?” The room resounded with ‘I’s’ and that was it. That had been three years ago. Three years that you wouldn’t trade in for anything… Three years that lead you to a game of pregnancy roulette.
Kinktober Masterlist 2021
(OT7 Pregnancy Roulette, coming October 31st [Hopefully])
70 notes · View notes
likeastarstar · 22 hours ago
My Little Monster Pt. 2
Summary: One year later- You're a demon but an angel for your boyfriend, which includes giving him the best head he's ever had :) Part One here!
(A:N: I was gonna wait to post this BUT I DON'T WANT TO OK??? IT IS TOO HOT TO KEEP HIDDEN.)
"Sleepy?" Yoongi laughed, watching you shuffle out from the bedroom, trailing behind him lamely.
It was too early to be out of bed, the sun wasn't even up. Yoongi normally slept more than you- so why did you wake up to an empty bed?
You nodded sleepily, "Why'd you leave me?"
"Coffee," He said simply, smiling as you lifted the back of his shirt and stuffed yourself underneath, flattening yourself against the warm skin of his back.
Even being against him like this gave you energy, love seeping through his skin and into yours. You pulled his shirt over you so that he was stuck with you like this, wrapping your arms around his small waist securely. You let him tow you around the kitchen like that, waddling behind him.
"Are you hungry?" He asked, resting his hand over yours through his shirt. You shook your head, one hand snaking down to the waistband of his pants and dipping underneath it. You knew what he meant- were you hungry enough to sap energy from your boyfriend, as one did as a demon who fed off of energy?
He jumped slightly when your hand wrapped around the base of his soft cock, palm pressing into him as your fingertips fondled his balls lightly. His hips bucked back, pushing into your hips as he slammed a hand down on the kitchen countertop to steady himself, back hunching over. You could almost see his facial expression, eyes screwed closed in concentration, mouth hanging open slightly as he let out a shaky breath.
"Just horny," you smiled against his skin, laughing at how funny this must look from the distance, you still tucked under his shirt.
"W-We're in the kitchen, where we humans eat food- not our boyfriends, you know." He grunted, "Usually, normal people save horniness for the bedro- baby, oh my god. Yeah, k-keep going."
You smirked, continuing to work his cock as it plumped up under your touch, pressing a feathery kiss to his back.
"Well, I'm not human and you're not exactly normal for being in love with a demon," You said lightly, running your thumb over the head of his dick before curling your fist around it, squeezing with just enough pressure to make Yoongi whine. You liked him like this, desperate. "I wanna do nasty shit with you everywhere, all the time. Is that okay?"
Yoongi grunted, laughing softly at your own neediness, "How do you want my dick more when you're not hungry?"
That was you. Constantly wanting to be next to Yoongi, to talk to Yoongi, to make Yoongi laugh, to touch Yoongi. You weren't kidding when you said you'd get addicted to him. You even let other humans see you now, wanting him to be able to introduce you to his friends instead of constantly making excuses for why his girlfriend was so elusive.
You had been dating for over a year now and hadn't done anything vaguely demonic since that first night you slept with Yoongi, although Yoongi would claim that you did plenty of other things that were perfectly evil.
"Baby- I wanna see your face." He mumbled, reaching behind his back to touch your side softly.
"Oh, okay, sorry." You said sheepishly, slipping your hands out of his pants and detangling yourself from under his shirt. Yoongi spun around, grinning at the sight of your messy hair and sleepy eyes, clad in only an oversized shirt with a surprisingly innocent look on your face.
Yoongi liked you like this, sweet and sleepy. He did a good job of taking care of you, his sex drive high enough to feed you and then some. You rarely ever felt hungry anymore, able to focus on other things rather than constantly feeding yourself. You had learned more about yourself in the past year than you had in your entire life- turns out you really liked video games and baking.
Sure, you didn't really eat any of the stuff you made- but Yoongi's face when you brought him a cupcake was enough to make you satisfied. You looked up at him now, a small smile on your lips.
"Here's my face, " You offered lamely, looking up at him blankly. He laughed cupping your face in his hands and squishing your cheeks together. Your face felt warm where he touched you and you purred, letting him kiss you chastely before dragging his hands down your body.
"Cute face, pretty body." He mumbled, stopping his hands when they were at your hips and pulling you against him sharply, kissing you passionately. You keened into the kiss, moving your lips against his lazily. He tasted like coffee and you liked the slow drag of his tongue against yours, his movements almost predicting yours out of sheer practice.
You stood on yours toes to reach him easier, hands balled into fists and pinned against his chest, leaning into his body. Yoongi was good at everything but he was the best at loving you, knowing what you needed and giving you exactly that. You rocked your body against his, letting him slip his knee between your thighs and push up onto your cunt. Clit rubbing against the soft fabric of his pajama pants, you anchored yourself to Yoongi with a hand on each bicep, nails digging into the thick muscle there.
"Take what you need," He offered, voice soft and gentle. His sultry tone made you shiver, a hand on your hip pushing you back and forth against his toned thigh. You sighed contently, letting him guide your movements until you found your rhythm and he decided to release you in favor of leaning back to watch you, hooded eyes fixating on you.
He kept you there for a moment, letting you ride his thigh with complete focus on the short breaths leaving your lips and the blush on your cheeks. He loved you, so much. Your blunt honesty, your nativity when it came to most matters human. He didn't care that the hands gripping him had killed countless of people- not when they were equally as capable of loving him which the level of devotion you showed him endlessly. Your head spun quickly, spinning you out of control so rapidly you had to pull back from him, catching your breath for a moment.
"You okay?" He mumbled, brow furrowed.
"Yeah," You nodded softly, leaning your head against his chest. "Just- lots of feelings."
"Sorry," He blushed, knowing it was him pushing his love onto you that could overwhelm your system at times. You frowned and shook your head, angling your head back up to him to kiss him reassuringly. Yoongi breathed in slowly and dipped his head down, kissing the side of your neck slowly. You felt his tongue snake between his lips, teasing you before sinking his teeth down into your skin.
You swallowed harshly and dragged a hand to his arching erection, pushing your hand against him, "I want you in my mouth- want you to fuck my mouth."
"Yeah?" He mumbled against your skin, "Think you can handle it?"
"I can handle it." You urged, looking up at him with an eager face, "I swear, I can!"
He tilted his head towards you, smiling dubiously, "I dunno, remember what happened last time you had too much of me? You passed out."
You rolled your eyes and stomped your foot down on the ground, frowning at him petulantly, "It was only for a couple of seconds- I'll be fine. You don't wanna fuck my mouth?"
"Oh, I want to fuck your mouth," He assured, laughing softly. "But you were definitely out for like...a lot longer than a couple of seconds. I thought you died, lowkey."
"Don't be so full of yourself," You snapped, "I can't be killed that easily."
He looked resigned and you hummed in victorious satisfaction, sinking to your knees in front of him. You watched him back up so that his hips were resting on the edge of the kitchen countertop before making a noise of annoyance and pulled his hips forwards slightly by the waistband of his pants, pushing the elastic band along with his boxers down quickly with dark eyes. Soft, pale skin glows in the dimly lit dawn light, rubbed pink where your hands massaged soft circles. He spread his legs slightly to accommodate your figure before him, hands supporting his weight behind him, "Take it sl-Oh, my god."
His cocky smile disappeared as soon as you wrapped your lips around the head of his dick, running your tongue over it and pushing the tip of it into the slit there, wiggling slightly. You gripped the base of his shaft firmly in one hand and sunk down halfway before pulling off completely, running your tongue along the underside. You focused on all parts of him, wanting your boyfriend to be completely wet before you returned to sucking on the weeping head, aroused by the taste of him, by the slight thrusting of his hips. You could feel his cock pulse against your tongue, sinking down on his dick completely after a moment. You maintained a slow, deliberate pace before pulling off, breathing ragged. You stroke the base of his length that won't fit in your mouth, hollowing out your cheeks as you twisted the hand wrapped around with him in time.
"You like sucking my cock, don't you, pet?" Yoongi gritted out in a gravely tone. His voice was barely audible, pitch so low you almost missed it. Your eyes flicked up at him, relaxing your jaw to fully sink down at him, gagging slightly in the form of an answer- yes, you did like sucking his cock. Something about the taste of him, salty and creamy, the feeling of his silky skin thrusting into your mouth. The messiness, the filthy words Yoongi would say to you while you went down on him. You loved everything about it.
You dropped your body slightly, sitting on your heel more tightly to relieve your need for friction against your pussy. Yoongi threw his head back as your lips closed around one of his testicles, running your tongue over the velvety skin before sucking harshly. You waited until he looked like he was skirting the line between pleasure and pain, letting up for a moment before doing the same to the other ball. You released him with a 'pop', cock and balls shiny with your saliva- a job well done. You smiled with pride, knowing he liked things a little sloppy.
You replaced your mouth with your hand for a moment, flicking your eyes up to Yoongi. He looked gone already, hair a mess with one hand pushing it up uselessly, a distressed look on his face.
"You're such a fucking tease," He groaned, looking at you with a panicked expression.
You batted your eyes at him and tipped your head to the side, maintaining eye contact as your lips wrapped around the tip of his cock and sunk down completely. He groaned, hands shaking as you deepthroated him. When could felt his cock hit the back of your throat, you swallowed around him, relishing in the way Yoongi cried out, every surge of his hips letting off wet sounds, filling the air deliciously. You could feel your eyes water and ignored it like you did the way your vision was starting to black out slightly. It didn't matter, nothing else mattered except for Yoongi. Pushing through the haziness, you held your head down against his cock, massaging his shaft with your throat before pulling off completely, choking slightly as Yoongi pet the top of your head soothingly.
"Well, it's mine, isn't it?" You mumbled, after you had caught your breath, rubbing your lips against his dick. You smeared his precum against your plush lips, salty cream leaking freely from his cock. "I can do what I want with your cock, because it's mine to play with, right?"
"A-All yours, yeah." He groaned, throwing his head back. "Do what you want, I guess- as long as you let me skull fuck you right now."
You smiled happily and let him sink his hands into your hair, fisting it roughly before angling himself towards your mouth. You loosened your jaw and he thrust in sharply, keeping you in place as he fucked your mouth how he wanted. You shut your eyes and let him control you for a moment, relaxing completely. He let out a low growl and you flattened your tongue against his cock, humming so that the vibrations would stimulate him further.
He let out a satisfied moan and you chased after his high, hollowing your cheeks to accommodate him further. You reached between his legs to caress his balls, heavy and warm. You liked the sounds Yoongi made, the soft whines and pants signalling he was close. Your jaw was beginning to ache but you didn't give a shit, wanting Yoongi to cum down your throat more than anything.
You felt your cunt pulse around nothing, wishing there was two of Yoongi- one down your throat and one railing you from behind. You stared at him with wide eyes as he thrusts his cock into your mouth, flexing his fingers in your hair at the same pace as his hips pushed against your face. His large shaft dragged against your throat, pain spreading through your esophagus, warmth from his touch soothing it quickly. You still wanted more, tongue sliding against the underside of his cock. You jumped a little when he leaned back, angling his hips up and snapped them against your lips, restricting your airflow, pushing into your wet mouth particularly roughly.
"Jesus fuck- that tongue of yours is gonna kill me," Yoongi groaned, hands tangling into the strands of your hair, borderline painfully. "I'm gonna cum- are you swallowing? Please swallow."
You nodded shallowly, stopping his thrusts with a hand at his hips and resuming your own pace, sucking hard and squeezing his balls all at once. He jerked forwards, feeling sticky cum pour into your mouth and down your throat. Above you, Yoongi hissed in ecstasy, gripping your head roughly as he pins you against him, grinding up against you animalistically. It was salty and warm and you stilled for a moment to not waste a drop, swallowing around his cock. You flattened your tongue against his member in your mouth and wiggled, wanting as much cum as you could give him. The thick substance poured down your throat, sticky seed bathing your tongue. His cock pulsates uncontrollably, the slightly bitter taste anchoring you as you moan out in pleasure. Yoongi winced and tapped your shoulder lightly before he pulled out quickly, feeling overstimulated.
"Holy fuck," Yoongi breathed out, chest heaving as he caught his breath.
You sat back on your heels, swallowing again as you looked up at your boyfriend happily. "Satiated?" You asked, mirroring the words he had said to you the first time you slept together.
"Very," He nodded, panting slightly as he pulled up his pants. "Best way to start the day- are you okay?"
Yoongi helped you to your feet and lifted you onto the countertop, grabbing you a glass of water before coming to stand in between your knees, hands on either side of your hips. The cold surface of the countertop felt good against your hot skin, feeling like a cold compress to cool your fever. You chugged it happily, handing it back to him before letting Yoongi press his face into your chest, breathing in your scent.
"I didn't pass out," You cheered lightly, pulling your lips into a tight smile.
He laughed against your skin, sending warm vibrations through your body, "Don't fly too close to the sun there, Icarus."
You wrapped your arms around him and squeezed, breathing in the scent of the soap on his skin. He smelled so..human. It was a smell you hadn't gotten tired of yet. He smelled how sunshine felt, bright and clean. "Who cares," You mumbled to him, "You'll catch me even if I get too close, right?"
"Of course," He said immediately, "Forever."
It was a promise he hadn't made the first night but instead waited until he was sure, until he could look you in the eyes and tell you directly- he wanted you and only you and he didn't care what problems came with loving a sinister being like yourself. He said he loved every part of you, including the demented parts, and asked nothing of you except for the sentiment to be returned. Which you agreed to- obviously.
"Forever," You mumbled against his lips, the room spinning faster. You were definitely about to pass out, definitely had overexerted yourself. There was only so much energy your body could handle before sending you into overdrive, usually resulting in you passing out until your system calmed down like you were a stupid little iPhone overheating in the sun.
You hated it, not being able to control yourself. Thankfully, Yoongi knew where to draw the line to protect you from your own greediness.
"Time for the little monster to relax," He mumbled, "We can do more later. Talk more later."
"I don't want to be away from you," You argued.
Yoongi smiled and helped you off the counter top, drifting away from you slightly, putting physical distance between you two intentionally to help you calm down.
"I'll be here," He assured, taking a sip of his coffee, "Forever, remember?"
66 notes · View notes
minyfic · 3 hours ago
hypnotic - MYG
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↣ your sister asked you to take care of your niece for a day, what better place to take her than the zoo? The pretty kitties seem to be her only interest and you’re not mad.
𓃮part of the zookeeper bangtan series𓃠
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pairing — zookeeper!yoongi x reader
genre/rating — R | smut, fluff, slight angst, s2l
word count — 6.1K
warnings/tags — strong language, yoongi has that scar, yoongi handles them big cats, explicit smut- dirty talk, fingering, multiple orgasms, slight overstimulation, strength kink, forest public sex, biting/scratching, hickeys, hair pulling, protected sex
a/n — oof yoongi with that scar wearing all black, *cries*
Drawing in a deep breath, you scrunch your eyes shut, a feeble attempt at taming your annoyance.
Your name is squealed in a tone you wish you could ignore, however, with the way she keeps hitting her foot against the edge of the couch, you’re forced to pause the series you’ve been dying to finish. There are spoilers all over the internet and your co-workers have no mercy. You hate spoilers. Especially when it’s been ages since you’ve watched a series that has kept you this invested.
She rolls onto her back, glossy beads in her hair matching her eyes while she continues with the incessant movement of her foot.
“I’m bored.”
You sigh, “where’s your coloring book?”
She glances around before shaking her head.
“I’m done with all of them. Even the ones at the back.”
Scrubbing a hand down your cheek, you wonder why you suggested looking after your sister’s gremlin of a daughter while she’s taking a well-deserved break with your brother-in-law. Well, maybe she isn’t as bad as other kids, but she’s still a kid.
“Well, what do you want to do?”
She jumps closer to you on the couch as if she’s been waiting for you to ask her that question.
“Can I watch Netflix with you?”
You slam your laptop shut, moving away from her with wide eyes.
“You can’t watch with me! It’s too gruesome!”
She pouts, “groosum?”
“You know blood and knives and gu—” you clamp your mouth shut when she cocks her head to the side, in interest it seems “—you can’t watch with me.”
She folds her legs under her bum to rest her head on your shoulder, speaking around a whine.
“Mummy said you were fun!”
You gasp, “I am fun!”
“No! You’re not fun!”
Knowing that it’s pointless to argue with a six-year-old, you push your laptop to the side and take her chubby hands in yours.
“What do you want to do then?”
Her face twists into a mischievous smile, reminiscent of the smile your sister has whenever she’s up to no good.
“Let’s watch Netflix. The thing you were watching,” she grins, “about the blood and the knives and and—”
“Aisha! Your mother wouldn’t allow it! I won’t allow it,” you yell, internally scolding yourself for watching when she was sitting right next to you, when she could’ve easily seen all that gore.
“I’m bored,” she repeats, dragging out the words this time which annoys you even further.
Her puffed out cheeks urge you to rack your brain for something to do on a Saturday afternoon with a six-year-old, something fun.
“Why don’t we go for a walk?”
She smashes her face into your sage throw cushion, “no. That’s so boring.”
“Mmmm,” your mouth quirks to the side, “how about ice-cream?”
That seems to catch her attention but she’s still wearing a scowl.
“What will we do after we eat the ice-cream?”
You pinch her cheeks and spring up from the couch to fetch her jacket.
“Let’s get the ice-cream first then we’ll decide.”
A part of you is glad that she spent almost half an hour choosing a flavor and ended up settling for a mix of watermelon and strawberry with extra sprinkles, but it doesn’t take her much time to finish it because now you’re sitting on a bench near the parlor and she’s still banging her foot, cheeks bouncing with the movement.
“So…where are we going?”
“Why don’t we go to the aquarium?”
Her lips sag into a frown, tiny fists being formed, “I just went there last week!”
Your ears ring at her squeal, “okay, okay. Chillax!”
“You chillax!”
Gritting your teeth, you’re going through the options in your head while mentally striking out the places she might turn down when a truck driving past catches your attention. A large image of a brown board centered around images of various animals and greens splashed on the side.
“Hey! Why don’t we go to the zoo?!”
You’re excited yourself because you’ve been wanting to visit the zoo for years now but never had the right company. Your friends aren’t too fond of either slimy critters or powerful creatures who could probably kill you in one swipe if given the freedom.
“Yes! We can see all different kinds of animals like giraffes and ostriches and cute penguins and lions!”
Light fills her eyes, “lions? And what else?”
You take her hand in yours and shuffle down the street to your car, “tigers, maybe? But I’m sure there’ll be tons of animals for us to see.”
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“You’re five, okay?”
Her head lifts, an obviously offended look on her face, “I am six!”
You crouch down to her height, gripping her shoulders to help her understand.
“Children under six go in for free, so you’re five, just for today.”
She blinks, silent for a beat before she passes you a disgusted frown, “because you don’t wanna pay for me?”
“I mean,” you shrug, adjusting your handbag on your shoulder, “we gotta be thrifty and you’re short so you look five anyway.”
“You look like a grandma,” she taunts, earning a glare from you which is soon wiped off because it’s your turn next.
The tubby man in the booth says nothing as he points to the prices on the right side of his head.
“Okay, wait,” you narrow your eyes, the vast amount of ticket options puzzling you for a moment, “what’s the difference between all these?”
“We have the packages that start from Epiphany which is—”
“No, not the packages,” you exclaim, predicting that he had thoroughly rehearsed the seven different packages with the way he sighs, “I just want the wildlife tour for one adult and a kid under six?”
He blinks, typing away for a few seconds before sliding two tickets under the glass.
“For your convenience, you pay per exhibit. Please take one of our maps from the box before you enter. Enjoy.”
And just like that, his attention is drawn to the couple behind you, and you’re forced to move along to the left just outside the large bamboo gates.
The tickets have blocks with symbols of different animals on them. Interesting.
“Can I hold my ticket?”
You hand her the brown paper just as you enter the gates, not before plucking the laminated map and squinting at it.
“There’s a lion here! Can we go there first? Please please please!”
She jumps, taking your hand with her while you chuckle at her hysterics because she resembles how you feel on the inside.
“Okay okay! First, I need to check out the map,” you giggle, propping the map up on your knee to slide your finger across the winding paths, the same symbol from your ticket catches your eye.
She presses her cheek to yours then pulls it out of your hand, “let’s go see the pretty kitties!”
“Aisha! You’re being rude, I was still reading that,” you grumble, a slight breeze causing your hair to whip in front of your face.
“We need to go here,” she informs, pointing at the lion symbol.
You bend over her shoulder, “yes, we need to head to Road Y. Right now…” you trail off, rising to your full height to scan your surroundings.
“We’re here! At start,” she exasperates, her tiny fingers skating down the map.
You bonk her head with your fist, “you know you’re really smart.”
She sways, gap-toothed smile stretching her lips, “everyone says I’m like my mummy.”
You grin, “definitely.”
After a few more minutes of familiarizing yourself with the map, you trek down the sandy path which should lead you to Road Y, and it’s only when your legs begin to ache do you take in the size of this place.
“Hey,” you call your niece, concerned, “you okay? Want me to carry you the rest of the way?”
She shakes her head, skipping around the stones, “it’s okay.”
Slightly envious of her energy, you place your hands on your knees when you take a step over a small slope, more trees and shrubs lining the path. Head upturned, you absorb the sunlight peeping through the trees, the crisp air filling your lungs with a slightly floral hint. It’s been years since you took some time for yourself, work has been stressful lately and you’re sort of grateful for your little companion.
Your head snaps forward when you hear a deep voice from behind you.
“Hi,” Aisha greets with a wave, obviously spotting the man before you did.
“H—” you spin around to see a man with black hair parted in the middle, a scar going straight through his right eye and when he looks at you, the words dissolve on your tongue. You did expect to see beautiful animals but beautiful human? You weren’t ready. Not at all.
Aisha tugs on your hand and your head whips down in her direction, “what?”
Her face scrunches up in confusion, “he wants your ticket.”
And it’s after she says that do you notice his outstretched arm, holding her ticket.
“Oh,” you snort, placing the ticket in his hand before busying yourself with fixing the beads on her hair to avoid drooling over this man’s muscular, toned, fleshy arms that flex as he stamps your tickets.
“I’m Yoongi,” he begins, walking toward the wooden gate and unlocking it with a few more tantalizing flexes of his arm, tone smoky, “and I’m in charge of the wild cats exhibit.”
He smiles at your niece who squeals while you’re thinking about how fitting it is for someone like him to oversee felines, because his eyes are…something else.
“What’s your name?”
You blurt out your name just as your niece says hers, eyes going large.
“He asked me!”
Your cheeks flush.
“Hi, Aisha,” he takes a step toward her, “I have to ask you a question before we go in.”
She cocks her head to the side, cutely, while you’re still recovering from your embarrassment.
His lips pucker as he speaks. You haven’t seen not one feline yet but you’re already amazed.
“Are you afraid?”
“No,” she says bravely, “I’m not afraid of lions.”
He chuckles, a sound you want to burn into your brain.
“You’re gonna see much more than lions.”
“Really?” She shrieks, wonder filling her voice.
“Yep,” he pops the ‘p,’ and rises to his full height, chest stretching out the fabric of his black shirt with a small white outline of a cat on the left. “C’mon.”
As soon as he pushes open the gate, a large wooden frame wrapped with strong metal greets you, the path becoming narrower.
“We have over twenty-five different species of wild cats,” he says proudly, tucking his hands into his jeans pockets, very attractive.
“Wow,” you and Aisha say in unison.
“Mhm,” he points to the enclosure on your left, “let’s look here.”
Inside, there’s more greenery and large planks connecting one side to the next. Tt’s silent save the rustling of the leaves above you and the sounds of your footsteps, not a meow is heard.
“What’s in here?”
“If he wasn’t so good at hiding, we’d be able to see the Caracal,” he nods, head swivelling just as yours does to spot the animal.
“Where are you hiding kitty?” Aisha whispers, ducking her head to peep under the plank, “I see him!”
Yoongi comes behind you, just as his scent blocks out the fresh smell of leaves.
“You do? Do you see those tufts on his ears?”
“Yes! It looks like feathers!”
He shoots your niece a fond look and you feel needless jealousy at the sight.
“I didn’t see him,” you pout, peeking under the same wood, darkness present.
Yoongi turns around, lips in a thin line, “he moved from under there. Caracals are great at camouflage, if you look really closely behind that branch you’ll be able to see his ears.”
After squinting here and there, you do spot the large cat, sandy fur, large brown eyes.
“He’s so pretty.”
Yoongi grins, “very. He can leap high in the air to catch birds. C’mon, we have lots more to see.”
You acknowledge how lucky you are to see some of these magnificent felines, and it’s heart-breaking to hear that most of them are endangered and there’s just a few of them left in the world.
Yoongi continues to spew stories and facts about the exquisite animals as you pass them, and each one has you more intrigued, intrigued in them or him…or both? You can’t blame yourself! The way he speaks is so hot and from the passion in his voice as he provides the slightest detail about the animals, you can tell how much he loves each one of them and his job.
You knew it wouldn’t be long until your curious niece asked the question that’s been dancing on the tip of your tongue, but the way he brushes it off indicates that it’s a sensitive topic for him.
“And when we have her with the other big cats, it’s amazing to see how they interact. She prefers the company of Hyun, our black panther, who you’ll meet in a bit,” he gushes, beaming at the jaguar who paces in her enclosure.
“What happened to your eye?”
The spotted jaguar nudges her head against the enclosure, a sound which reminds you of a sneeze being heard.
“Ah, don’t worry. I’ll come back later to see you,” he soothes, voice above a whisper.
Knowing that your niece wouldn’t drop it, you rush to ask another question.
“Can you like, cuddle with them?”
He spins around, a small smile lifting his pink lips, “yeah. All the time,” he bobs his head, laughing when he notices your reaction.
Your mouth hangs open, “really?”
“Yeah,” he grins, wiping the side of his nose with his knuckle, “all the time. Well, not all the time, some need more love than others. Like with the lions, their mothers provide enough TLC because they were born here, but with the cheetah we have, she was hand-reared. So I visit her often.”
“That’s so sweet,” you coo, mirroring the flush on his cheeks when you notice the gummy smile that stretches his lips.
The sun begins to dip beneath the horizon which reminds you of the child in your care who keeps dragging you from one enclosure to the next.
“Aisha, you need to get home soon before your mother chops my head off.”
She stomps her foot, eyebrows furrowed, “but we didn’t get to see all the kitties!”
“She’s your niece?” Yoongi asks, stuffing his hands in his pockets, “I thought she was your kid.”
“Oh no no no,” you wave the idea off, giggling a bit, feeling the need to say, “I’m single.”
“Me too,” he mentions, the one fact you will surely remember from today, “you guys can come back another time to see the rest of them.”
You turn to Aisha who’s just as enthusiastic as you, nodding frantically.
“Okay, I’ll see you guys next time then.”
“Bye~” Aisha waves, grabbing your hand once again.
You offer him one last smile before he’s speaking again.
“You should…give me your number so I can hook you up with discounts,” he mumbles, scratching the back of his head in a way you find endearing.
“Yeah,” you pull out your phone, temporarily removing your hand from Aisha’s grip, “that’d be great.”
He licks his lips, “I’ll see you soon then.”
You smile, heart leaping to your throat at the slight show of gums, “yeah.”
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“Did you know that leopards are loners?”
You tilt your head to look at Yoongi who sits on the other side of the bench, hand swung over the backrest while you’re trying to keep your gaze on the feline ahead of you and not the man who resembles one next to you.
“Yeah, they have their own territories and mark that area to keep other leopards away. But sometimes the females leave their territories to search for a mate and constantly mark areas to attract other leopards,” Yoongi adds, eyes set on the leopard who’s crawling down one of the trees in his enclosure.
“Are you a loner?” The question spills from your lips before you can think twice.
He turns to face you, features relaxed, “me?”
He rests his cheek on his fist, staring into the dull clouds, “kind of, I prefer to be on my own, but I like company sometimes.”
You nod, staring at your lap, “I guess I’m also like a leopard.”
“Oh so you’re only out when you’re actively searching for a mate,” he jokes, shoulders shaking as he laughs.
Pink coats your cheeks, “no! I mean—”
“What’s a mate?”
You jolt, eyes lifting heavenward upon realizing that your niece has been sitting there this whole time. Your regular visits to the zoo have been nice, but with your niece around, you and Yoongi can’t speak about anything except the cats. You considered leaving her behind, but then you wouldn’t be able to use the excuse of “she wanted to see the kitties,” when it’s just you who wants to see the very sweet and intelligent zookeeper who sucks at texting but is great at holding a conversation in person.
Yoongi clears his throat, “well, animals also need partners like humans, but some of them only need one when it’s time for—”
“LOVE! They need a partner to love!” You cut Yoongi off, shooting him a berating look while he shrugs.
“Does he have a mate?” Aisha asks, pointing at the leopard whose tail flicks behind him menacingly.
“He doesn’t,” Yoongi responds, “but we’re working on it.”
It’s somewhat quiet at the zoo today, there are a few visitors pacing around but Yoongi, who’s supposed to be attending to them, tails you and Aisha during the continuation of your tour.
“You’re gonna love the next one. She’s one of the smallest in the big cat species. This is Luna, the clouded leopard,” Yoongi clasps his hands together, walking backward as he guides you in the direction of another large enclosure.
“Wow…she’s beautiful.”
Her head whips in your direction as she watches you approach the enclosure with big, hazel eyes, lazing high up on a tree, thick tail dangling.
“If I could get her to come here, you’d be able to see how big her paws are. She’s one of the cuddliest,” Yoongi cackles, patting the ground near the fence.
“I want to cuddle her!” Your impulsive niece yells, gawking at the feline whose eyes seem to hold so many tales and so much emotion. Just from the way she doesn’t even bother to climb down from her tree, you can tell she’s sassy.
“Wait till you see her teeth,” Yoongi warns, “for the size of her skull, she has the longest canines and is the only large cat that purr.”
“Awww,” both you and Aisha croon, unable to tear your gaze away from Luna.
Yoongi pats your shoulder, “come on, I want to show you guys something.”
You and Aisha follow him with hurried strides, anticipation building with each step toward the first door you’re seeing in this zoo.
“I’m not supposed to do this when we have visitors, but…,” he mumbles, “just wait out here.”
From the smile he can’t seem to suppress, you can tell that he’s thrilled for whatever he’s about to show you.
He opens the door and yells over his shoulder, “stay out here okay!”
“Okay!” You giggle, tugging your cardigan closer to your body once he disappears behind the door.
You turn to your niece, eyebrow jumping, “what do you think he’s gonna show us?”
She holds up her palms, “dunno.”
After a few minutes, you hear your name being called from the opposite side of the enclosure.
“Look who I got!”
Yoongi emerges with the most striking cat you have seen so far, yellow eyes wide with just as much curiosity as yours.
“This is the girl I’ve been telling you about! Her name’s Yoojung,” he chirps, she sits in his lap as he crosses his legs and rakes his hands down the slope of her back then up over her head, “she’s a cheetah.”
Her eyes slip shut with each head scratch, almost like she’s lulling off to sleep when he drags a finger under her chin, while Aisha is losing her mind next to you.
“I want to do that! She’s so so so so cute! Please let me touch her! Why does it look like she was crying black tears?”
You and Yoongi laugh.
“She only lets me do this because I practically knew her since she was a baby,” Yoongi shouts, both hands sliding between her shoulders, “she’s the fastest animal on Earth!”
Somehow, your mind went from admiring her spots to salivating over Yoongi’s veiny hands, how gently he strokes down her body, his knuckly fingers caressing her head and chin, dexterous, nimble digits. And the fact that she’s relaxed in his hold is sexy. But what’s even sexier is how calm he is, holding a predator. An animal that has the potential to tear him apart. Which drifts your attention back to his eye.
He kisses the top of her head, muttering lowly, too soft for you to hear.
When he’s out again, you say your goodbyes and promise yourself to ask about it the next time you see him, hoping that he’s comfortable enough to tell you.
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Without using your excuse, you visit the zoo for the fifth time that month and make your way to Road Y, eyebrows pinching together when you don’t see Yoongi standing at his usual station outside the gates.
You’re about to text him when a waft of minty breath fills your nostrils.
“Looking for me?”
Your phone clatters to the ground, relief washing down the length of your body when you see Yoongi who bends down to pick up your phone, laughing at your antics.
“It’s not funny,” you pout, shoving his shoulder.
“Why did you get such a fright?”
You hold your arms up exasperatedly, gesturing to the trees around you. “this is a literal forest and there is a possibility of that tiger escaping and creeping up on me!”
He shakes his head, smile crinkling his eyes, “Azura won’t do that to you.”
You scoff, “yeah yeah. Anyway,” your gaze travels to the bucket in his hand, “what you got there?”
He makes a circular motion with his hand, holding a pair of tongs, “you caught me during feeding time. I have the lions left to do.”
You freeze, thrusting your thumb in the direction of the exit, “should I come back later?”
He clicks his tongue, raven hair poking into his eyes, “you can tag along.”
Your heart stutters in your chest, “alright.”
Glancing at the bucket filled with meat again, like every other time you see him, you find questions arising, “what’s that white stuff in the meat?”
“Supplements. Because they live longer here in the zoo than they usually do out in the wild, we need to give them those to strengthen their bones.”
Your lips part, a soft ‘ahh’ sound filling the brisk air.
“Here we are,” he announces, picking up a piece and holding it through the gaps of the fence which is chowed down by the golden lion whose hair is more fabulous than yours.
You had asked Yoongi if he shampoos his mane during your second visit.
Standing to the side, you laud how patient Yoongi is. It’s a tough job to be a zookeeper, you don’t think you’d last a day caring for these animals, not because of fear but because you know that it’s a wearisome job.
“Didn’t bring the cub today?”
When he turns around, you realize that he’s talking about Aisha.
“…She was tired,” a lie obviously. You didn’t tell your sister that you were visiting the zoo again today. Afraid that she might judge you.
One of the lionesses come up to the fence and holds her paw up to which Yoongi places his gloved hand against.
“You’re so sweet with them.”
He doesn’t respond, just keeps his hand up against the fence even as she moves away, back turned to you.
His head sags between his shoulders as you’re returning to the gate.
“I’m gonna clean this up. This is the kitchen,” he ushers you through a small opening in the bushes, a small truck parked off behind the gate.
“Can’t believe I didn’t see this,” you chuckle, following him into the truck, gaze flying to the knives shelved up on the wall.
He rinses the bucket in the sink and scrubs his hands while you’re surveying the small space. There’s a few drawers and a refrigerator, and a large freezer acting as a table to the side. It smells like a butchery.
“Do you prepare the meat yourself?”
He dries his hands, nodding.
The fact that you haven’t heard his voice since you entered this truck is a little unnerving and the twenty knives lining the walls don’t help.
“I…I don’t like talking about my scar,” he begins, hands curled around the sink behind him while you’re hugging yourself for comfort, eyes glued to his face.
He chews on the corner of his mouth, licking his lips before he speaks which you’ve written as a habit you find…enticing. But he’s about to tell you a sad story so you shouldn’t be having those thoughts!
“When I first started working at the zoo, all we had from the big cats section were the lions, one tiger, the jaguars and the ocelot. And obviously, I didn’t think I’d be working at the zoo years later, I just thought it would be this job I had until I could save up to move away and find a proper job or even get a degree,” he continues, eyes downcast which hurts your heart because this is the first time you’re seeing him in this state, “but when Seokjin told me that they were looking to expand, I started to become more invested in the animals and even grew attached to a few.”
His eyes flicker up to yours, checking if you’re still listening which you affirm with a nod.
“There was one lioness…The first cat I named, Heejin,” he props his chin on his shoulder, a wistful smile playing on his lips, “and we were trying out different things to increase the popularity of the zoo, so we opened the zoo to a few people and at the time, we didn’t have the caged enclosure. It was this huge open space that was sectioned off. So, since I had developed a strong bond with Heejin, we decided that I would bring her out and feed her and stuff like that. But that day, she was slightly agitated, like I could sense it, and it was as if she could sense that there were new people around. So after I fed her, and she had somehow seen that the meat was finished, she started to back me into the wall and at this point I’m panicking, because I’m thinking about the zoo, like I didn’t want to show them that I wasn’t in control.”
You can hear your heart pounding in your ears, throat going dry as you envision the scene.
“But I really wasn’t in control,” he shakes his head, rubbing his bottom lip with his thumb, “and you can probably guess what happened next.”
“At the time, I was pissed and all I thought about was how I am never going back to that zoo. The lioness I spent my days with, became the wild animal she truly is in the blink of an eye. And I still don’t know what triggered her. But the next day…after everything died down and my eye was untouched, Seokjin phoned me, while I was still in the hospital, to say that Heejin had fallen from the ledge because I didn’t close the chamber and she landed on the palisade.”
You gasp, pain brimming your eyes.
“Only I knew how to close it properly because Heejin was a sneaky girl,” he chuckles despite himself.
You walk toward him and do the one thing you can think of in a moment like this; wrapping your arms around him in a tight hug.
His palm slides up and down your back as if you needed the comforting.
“I vowed to never get attached again,” he speaks into your hair.
You pull away, ignoring the proximity to joke.
“But the chemistry between you and that cheetah though…”
He laughs, fingers settling on your waist, “we rescued her, I just give her the love she needs.”
“You’re great at your job, Yoongi.”
“Thank you,” he murmurs your name, sharp eyes connecting with yours which has your breath hitching. “Do you wanna grab something to eat?”
You scrunch up your nose, “not sure if I have an appetite after the stench in here.”
He chuckles, slotting his hand in yours as he enters the security code to lock the truck.
“Trust me, you will have an appetite after I’m done with you.”
You’re rooted to the spot when he tightens his hold on your hand and presses you flush against the truck, cold meeting your back through your dress.
It’s as if the Yoongi from earlier is a different man, bottom lip snagged between his teeth as his gaze rakes down your figure in a way you would describe as predatory.
“You think I don’t see the way you look at me?”
You splutter, “what?”
He noses down your chin, a heavy breath filling his lungs, “you always smell so good.”
“Tha—Yoongi,” you gasp when his teeth catch on your ear, his own chilled earrings sliding against your face when he dips lower to lick at the skin below your ear.
“Hmm?” He grins, lips a breath away from yours, “do you know what you do to me when I catch you looking at me like that?”
“Yoongi…I’m sorry.”
A crease forms between his brows, “you’re sorry? Why?”
Heat travels to your cheeks but more between your legs with his body pressed up against yours, fingers gripping your shoulders while his other palm sits heavy on your chest.
“I don’t know…For looking at you.”
His palms slides up your neck to cup your jaw, tilting his head so his eyes are set on yours.
“Don’t apologize. I love it when you look at me like that.”
You gulp, want building as each second ticks by, “I think you’re sexy.”
“Oh,” he cocks an eyebrow, gaze falling to your lips, “I think you’re really fucking sexy too. Since day one, when I first saw you giving me those eyes.”
You feign ignorance, loving this side of him.
“Which eyes?”
“The ones you’re giving me right now, like you want me to fuck you senseless,” he growls, grip tightening on your jaw.
You moan at his words, panties dampening with each flutter of his lashes against your cheeks.
“Then fuck me.”
His fingers slide up the skirt of your dress to hook your thigh around his waist while the other hand skims up your inner thigh.
Your eyes shift from one tree to the next, fear that someone might catch you prevents you from enjoying the way he begins to kiss down your neck.
He nips your chin, “hmm?”
“We’re doing this here?”
His head lifts, lips raised in a smirk, “then where else?”
“We could…in my car.”
As if the idea is much more ridiculous then fucking out in the golden hour when anyone could spot you if they were to poke their heads through the trees, he laughs, deep and throaty while you’re shivering as he presses his thumb against your clit, the sodden fabric sticking to your folds.
All your inhibitions fade away once he pushes your panties to the side and slides two fingers down your folds, precise, urgent swipes.
“I would love to taste you, but I’d leave that for next time,” he promises, no time wasted once he sinks his middle finger into your dripping cunt, drawing moans from your parted lips when he adds another, purposeful drags in and out of your hole.
“Yoongi,” you mewl, gripping his biceps and jutting your hips out for more of his access, relying on one foot to keep you up.
He takes your bottom lip between his teeth, the lewd squelching sound of his digits pressing into your pussy reaches your ears, along with his soft grunts, enjoying having his fingers inside just as much as you.
“So fucking wet for me, can’t wait to have you on my cock.”
Your nails pierce his skin, chasing his lips just as your hips work against his hand, crying out against his hot mouth when he starts to grind the heel of his palm into your throbbing clit, the delicious pressure has you crumbling in his arms.
He covers your mouth with his, all tongue and teeth, sloppy and warm.
“Come on, cum for me,” he wiggles his fingers inside your quivering hole, eyes glazing over when he brushes that spot with deep presses into your cunt.
You’re rolling your hips, head clanking against the truck behind you while stars dot the back of your lids as you burst onto his hand, slick dripping down his fingers to coat his wrist.
Chest heaving, you grip the back of his head to pull him in for a searing kiss, heart soaring from the light peck he gives your cheek as he undoes his belt and shoves his hand in his back pocket to produce a condom.
Your eyes widen, breaths coming out in soft pants, “we’re really doing this here.”
He grins, lips slick with saliva, “need to fuck you right now.”
Body still thrumming with your first orgasm, you yelp when he lifts up both your thighs and wraps your legs around his torso, long and girthy cock digging into your thigh.
Your hands slide down his shoulders in amazement, pussy clenching at his strong arms that hold you up against the truck, veins popping on the back of his hand as he grips his length and guides the tip to your leaking cunt. He keeps your weight up with one hand, head thrown back once he sinks into your heat, mouth parted, eyes shut. You spasm with the slight burn, still sensitive from your first high.
His head lolls forward once he’s sheathed by your walls, swallowing up every moan that puffs out of your lips when he draws his hips back and snaps forward, cock brushing that spot just as good as the way his sinewy arms feel supporting your body.
“Fuck Yoongi, faster,” you pant, teeth dragging down the slope of his shoulder, sweat building at the back of his neck.
He grips your ass, lifting you up while fucking you on his twitching length, groaning when you sink your teeth into his skin, walls fluttering around his cock.
“So fucking good, so fucking wet,” he husks, slamming you into the truck once again to pound into you, the loud smacks of skin on skin echoing in the space, not loud enough for you too care however, because you’re chanting out his name when he digs circles against your clit with his index finger, tongue thrusting into your mouth.
Your fingers twist in his hair, pleasurable drags of his cock ensuing a string of curses from both your lips, consumed by the sensation of having his buried inside you.
“I’m gonna…” you shudder, goosebumps prickling your skin when the familiar heat begins to creep up on you impossibly fast, Yoongi’s sweat mixing with yours when he presses his head into your shoulder and tugs on your pebbled nipple through the material of your dress.
“Cum for me,” he grits, nearing his end with shallow thrusts into your tightening pussy, eyes rolling to the back of your head as he continues to stretch you out, blunt nails digging into your ass cheeks.
With a few more grazes against your sweet spot, nipple snagged between his thumb and forefinger, you cum with a tremble, a drawn-out moan of his name penetrating the thick air.
“Fuck fuck fuck,” he stills his hips, growling as he empties his load into the condom, your name slipping from his lips in low moans.
You’re giggling, you literally just fucked against a truck in the forest.
His stuttered breaths mingle with yours when he kisses you again, languid and heated, palm sliding down your cheek to brush your sweaty strands of hair behind your ear, eyes sizzling with emotion.
“So…where’s your car?”
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a/n — sorry it’s taking me so long to finish this series, I just get so many ideas & can’t work on something else unless I get the other idea down. if you liked this, please drop a comment or an ask if you’re shy, it would mean a lot to me.
talk to my characters
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taglist — @ggukkieland @moonchild1 @mwitsmejk @fancycollectormoon @bex-92br @taeslarityy @helenazbmrskai @deliciouslydisturbed365 @sweetonkookieandtae @thisisn0tal0vest0ry @hopeonysus @nglmrk @weasleyswizarding-wheezes @xxsunny-side-upxx @yealikethejelly @parkdatjimin @xjordynary @aajames217 @deliciouslydisturbed365 @sugapiie @dprssdgal @little7bitchh @chimchoom @sevenpersona @tradleystrash
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mingoyeob · 21 hours ago
rhyme and rhythm (m) | myg - teaser
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pairing ⇾ min yoongi x reader
genre(s) ⇾ smut, hint of angst, slam poetry au, harlem renassiance
ratings/warning ⇾ 18+ | nsfw content
teaser word count ⇾ 350
summary ⇾ the year is 1921; you stroll into a bar and you see him. the best part about it is, he’s the first one to truly see you too.
authors note ⇾ i have come out of my brief writing slump! pls let me know if you guys like this and if i should continue otherwise it will stay in the wips folder along with the countless others lol 😅
it’s late september when your paths first cross.
the first winds of fall are just starting to blow through town as you walk down the loud streets of harlem new york, shuddering from the chill. the sound of your favorite pair of heels sound against the concrete pavement.
click click click click
occasionally your head looks back, eyes raking your surroundings for any sign of your mother, who’d have a fit if she caught you out here past curfew. the thought has your hands squeezing even tighter arounds your arms, as if trying to protect yourself from the punishment you most certainly would receive if she found out.
ahead of you, you finally catch sight of a small neon arrow blinking red and blue, mounted against the brick wall atop a flight of stairs that seemingly points to nowhere. a relieved sigh escapes you and you silently cheer to yourself.
oh thank the lord i found it!
your heel clicks pick up speed as you scuttle towards the steps, hand grabbing onto the railing as you descend. the only light in the stairwell is provided by the blinking sign now above your head, barely illuminating enough for you to be able to see your feet and simply casting shadows across your face. you reach the all black door at the bottom with a sigh and tentatively, you knock.
the door swings open and instantly a puff of smoke wafts out enveloping your senses and making you cough. a tall man with broad suspender covered shoulders and a striped boater hat greets you. his face is stone cold and he fixes you with a stare as if expecting something. your breath catches and you hesitate, gaze straying back behind you from once you came and briefly you consider turning around and heading home. you’d be back before sunrise and you’d pretend you never came, your mother wouldn’t even know.
but, still in front of you, the doorman clears his throat and your head snaps back. you’ve made your decision before you even think about it, words finally managing to claw their way out of your throat, “oh, are you late too?!”
his eyes are unwavering, staring down at you as he leans cockily against the doorframe. for a second you think you’ve gotten the password wrong, you could’ve sworn that was exactly how sylvie had repeated it to you. but then suddenly his blush red lips break out into a smile, eyes crinkling. “you’re never too late for the most beautiful moment in life!”
the man's arm gestures inside the speakeasy in welcome and his back straightens as he steps to the side. you let out the breath you didn’t even know you were holding as you finally enter, squeaking out a small thank you as you squeeze past him. you notice the nametag pinned to his chest, seokjin, it reads.
immediately it’s like the smell of smoke is ten times stronger, only now it's accompanied by the heady scent of alcohol and the loud eclectic sounds of jazz. around you people are moving in every corner - some dancing, some making out and some drinking themselves into a stupor. the space is filled with round wooden tables and danky metal chairs. booths line the walls and stools surround the small bar up against the far corner, next to the stage, and its packed with people shouting for a drink. above it, another flashing neon sits, this one bigger and has the words ‘house of cards’ scrawled across it in the sultriest cursive writing. it’s like you’ve entered another world.
when the second person bumps into you, you realize that it would be best if you move, feet taking you across to the place that seemed like the only natural option. “a gin rickey...please” you say. the end of your sentence is a mumble and by the way the man behind the bar raises his eyebrows at you, you already know he can tell you’re not as confident as you’re trying to seem.
“why, you got some manners on you, don’t you toots?” his tone is mocking but you can see in his eyes that there’s no ill will behind it. you just gulp and your eyes nervously flick back and forth between him and the rest of the joint, watching as a few men set up something on the stage. he just laughs at your lack of response, drink already made in that short span of time before he slides it over to you. some of the alcohol splashes over the side. “only cause you said please.”
your hand grasps around the circular glass, lips pursing in an effort to refrain yourself from saying thank you as you leave him with a tilt of the head, he just smiles and sends you a wink. you wait till your back is turned before you take a sip of your drink, not wanting him to see the cringe on your face as soon as the liquid hits your tongue, burning all the way down to your stomach.
finding a seat wasn’t difficult since most people were up dancing to the music being pushed out by the jazz band that sounded so crazy different but amazing all the same. it has your foot tapping to the beat under the table as you sit and watch the partners on the dancefloor move and jive along. a couple of guys come up to you now and then but you turn them down with an apology and a look of guilt, much more content to just sit and think to yourself.
you take an hour to finally finish your drink and when the beat starts to slow and the lights flick off as people suddenly start moving to their seats, you think the place is probably wrapping up for the night. but before you can high tail it back home, a spotlight shoots out down onto the stage, illuminating the microphone that stands alone in the middle. the jazz band has dwindled off by now, only the rhythmic sound of the bass playing, plucked strings creating a steady beat and your eyebrows furrow in confusion. the man at the table next to you must notice the lost look in your eyes and he leans over, “it’s poetry night, doll face.” he whispers.
your mouth forms a silent oh as you finally realize what’s going on, eyes straying from the stranger back towards the stage as you settle in your seat. the bassman continues to play for a couple more seconds before a man steps out into the spotlight. he's dressed from head to toe in black; a black buret tilted on his head, black turtleneck and jeans tight on his figure, and heavy black leather boots tied tight on his feet. it’s no wonder you didn’t see him standing off to the side, the man practically blended into the dark room.
there’s a stark contrast between the way his black attire is offset by the paleness of his skin as your eyes rake over his form and once they get to his face they fix on it. his features are simultaneously round and sharp, cheeks full but jawline still easily discernible, and his eyes are feline-like. they captivate you.
you see him sigh into the mic and you lean forward in anticipation,
“those precarious leaves seemed just like us
because it felt ready to crumble at the slightest touch
all I did was watch, like the autumn wind
the expressions and voice that had turned cold
i can see our relationship wilting
relationship that is empty like the autumn sky
the subtle difference from the way it was before
this night that seems especially quiet
the one leaf that is left hanging on the branch
it’s breaking, i can see the end, the drying up of the dead leaf
the silence in the heart that’s accepted it-”
the entire room is hanging onto his every word, including you who listens with bated breath so as not to miss a single word spill from his lips. despite his bored expression as he speaks into the mic with his eyes closed, you can hear the feeling he pours into each syllable as if pulling it straight from somewhere deep inside his chest. you are completely enamoured with him with his honey like voice, low and sultry but still raw with emotion that gives it a slight scratchy sound. you wish you could bottle it and listen to it forever.
“-just like all leaves eventually fall
just like everything that seemed eternal eventually fall apart
you’re my fifth season
even though i try to see you, i can’t.
see, you’re still green to me
feelings, without being gathered back, end up hanging
regrets, like laundry, end up being hung in pieces
only crimson memories are rationed out on my dirty self
even without shaking my branch, they keep falling
yes. my love, in order to rise, falls
even when we’re close, my eyes are becoming blind, becoming distant
being discarded like this
in the memories, i become young again.”
the room sits still, as he finishes and no one makes a sound. his eyes open as he steps away from the mic and as soon as he does, the room begins a symphony of snaps, customary of proper poetry etiquette. still his face doesn’t waver and remains unfazed as his gaze sweeps the room. when dark irises find yours, your breath catches. they linger for only a second, but it feels like eternity as the two of you connect eyes. the way his stare bores into yours makes you almost feel naked and briefly you wonder if he can even see you from your place in the dark crowd.
when his attention moves elsewhere you don’t ponder it for much longer as he doesn’t spare you another glance before he walks off the stage. immediately you feel like you can breathe again and you’re reminded of exactly where you are, the loud music and electric atmosphere starting back up again as if it had never stopped. you sigh and glance down at your empty glass, debating if you want another one but decide that one was enough for the night. when your mind strays back to the idea of home you’re abruptly reminded of the fact that you’re not supposed to be here and you worry that you might’ve been here longer than you intended.
you look to the man next to you from earlier, “excuse me sir, do you have the time?” you say in a rush. he pulls the lit cigar from his mouth and lets out a puff a smoke as he looks down at his watch, “yeah its uhhh- about 2 am?” he says with a shrug.
the information has your eyes widening in panic and you can’t get up from your chair fast enough, shooting the man a hasty thank you as you frantically push in your chair. you try not to stumble when you begin to rush out the place, heels making the task difficult. but you manage to find your way to the exit, squeezing past the broad shoulders of the doorman without sparing the room behind you glance. perhaps if you had taken a second to turn around, catch one last glimpse of the place, you would’ve caught the glint of sharp feline eyes trailing after you with interest and a hint of curiosity.
43 notes · View notes
joonscroll · a day ago
the last | one
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genre: angst, fluff, bts zombie!au
summary: your entire world flips over when a strange series of events sets a zombie apocalypse into place. every day is a struggle to survive, and you’re gonna need all the help you can get.
warnings: gun violence, description of gun wounds
word count: 4.3K
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Dying was not something you had ever given much thought to. You were freshly eighteen. The most important things in your life were school, cheerleading, and your boyfriend, in that order. You spent all your time studying and training and texting. You worried about whether your hair looked flat. Where you’d go to university. How many calories were in a slice of chocolate cake.
Yet in the past six months of your eighteenth year, you had been drowning in death, barely floating above its murky surface. Life as you knew it could never be the same. Both high school and your childhood were well and truly over.
six months earlier
“Y/N, have you studied for the bio test yet?” Josie Snell charged up to you in the busy corridor, her curly crimson ringlets springing up and down as she speed-walked. Ugh. You cast her an irritated look, vaguely recoiling away from her sphere of hyperactivity. She was always so keyed up before tests, and it did nothing to help your own delicate nerves. Some people just couldn’t read the room, could they?
“Yeah, I did.” You forced a cheery smile, and to your relief, Josie returned the gesture. You watched as she skipped away, the tension in your face dissipating. God, you detested small talk.
Sighing, you continued down the hall, weaving your way the sluggish Monday morning crowds until a long, familiar arm found its way around your shoulders.
“Kook.” Your spirits were immediately lifted. Tilting your head upwards, you were met with the tawny brown eyes of your boyfriend, whose mouth curved into its signature crooked smile at once.
Jungkook touched your hair affectionately, his large hand almost entirely covering the top of your head. You grinned, looping your arms around his narrow waist, and squeezing him as you walked. You’d been dating Jungkook for over a year now; it was indisputable that you were the most popular couple in school. The star quarterback and the cheer captain. It was an incredibly well-worn trope, but you’d knew it worked for a reason. You and Jungkook understood each other better than anyone else, and neither had to sacrifice social standing by dating someone less popular than themselves. Perfectly matched.
“What do you say we ditch today?” Jungkook suggested, his tone breezy as he took your hand and began to walk with you, swinging your arm up and down. You smiled apologetically.
“Sorry, babe. I have a test today, remember?”
Jungkook grinned impishly, his eyes glittering. “So? All the more reason to ditch, right?”
You hesitated, weighing it up in your head. Jungkook tugged on your arm again – an impatient toddler. “Come on, babe. You and I both know you have a perfect grade point average, and your record of unexplained absences is, let me guess…zero.”
You rolled your eyes at him, but a smile was already breaking across your face. “Ugh, fine! What’s the point of being in high school if I don’t skip it at least once?”
Clinging to the sleeve of your boyfriend’s letterman jacket, you squealed with delight as the two of you sprinted the wrong way down the hall, your sneakers squeaking against the shiny lino. A perfect moment.
“Wait, did you hear something?” You pulled away from Jungkook’s tight embrace, glancing around the storage closet alertly. He ignored you, planting a trail of scorching kisses along your neck.
“Jungkook, stop!” You wriggled out from beneath his huge, warm body and jumped to your feet, and he looked at you in confusion.
“I heard something, someone screamed.” You explained, smoothing your mussed hair and readjusting your varsity top.
“I didn’t hear anything.” He grumbled, retrieving his jacket from where it lay on the floor of the tiny, dark room. As you rushed to press your ear against the door, a group of people ran down the hall – the footfall was certainly too quick for them to be simply walking. Then, more layered screams, much louder this time.
“They’re behind us, run!”
You glanced nervously back at Jungkook, who shrugged as he put his jacket back on. “It’s probably just first-years messing around.”
“I don’t think so…” You frowned. Your stomach was twisting with adrenaline. Your body was trying to warn you of something…but what?
Heavier footsteps resounded along the hall. Then, a single, sharp popping sound. It was a gunshot, clear as day.
You froze, feeling only Jungkook’s trembling breath as it danced onto the nape of your neck in the staticky air. Another shot followed, and you heard something – no, someone – fall to the ground.
“Oh, my god. Some psycho’s brought a fucking gun to-”
Jungkook clamped his hand over your mouth. “Shh.” He gently knocked you out of the way, standing in front of the door.
The heavy footsteps were getting closer. Why hadn’t you locked the door? If you did it now, they would surely hear you. If they tried the door, it would obviously open. So either way, you faced almost certain death. You couldn’t survive being shot at point-blank range, could you? Maybe if Jungkook covered you with his body. You pressed your face into his back and wrapped your arms around his waist. Jungkook’s here, Jungkook’s here. He won’t let them hurt you. You held his hand so hard you thought you might have drawn blood.
The steps paused in front of the door, and you could hear the person’s shallow breaths. They sounded laboured, foggy as though from behind a mask. Your own breathing felt amplified, like blazing beacons alerting the shooter, We’re here! Come on in and shoot us, why don’t you?
All you could do was wait to see if you would die. You thought about the people you loved; your boyfriend, your parents, your sister. Your sister! Where was she? If she hadn’t gotten out… Your stomach lurched.
The footsteps were moving away. Whatever relief you felt was tainted with the knowledge that whoever they met next would not be so lucky. Several more gunshots echoed across the halls, followed by the thudding of bodies. You reeled backward as shallow, uneven breaths escaped from between your lips.
“Jungkook, we need to find Elkie.” You whispered, struggling to remain upright. Adrenaline was coursing through you, rippling through your veins.
“It’s not safe outside,” Jungkook said with his back to you, his voice hard and unfeeling. Your eyes bulged.
“I don’t care, we have to go!” You hissed. “It’s Elkie!’
He turned around suddenly and looked down at you, an angry expression on his face. “People are dying out there. You’ll be shot the moment you step out of the door.”
You faltered, but only for a moment. “I have to go. You can come or not.” You ducked under his arm and grabbed the door handle before he could stop you.
The corridors were littered with the bodies of your classmates. You blanched as the toe of your sneaker brushed against a mop of curly orange hair, disturbingly lucid against the white floor. A wave of nausea rippled through your stomach.
There was a strong, cloying smell in the air, and you covered your mouth and nose with one hand to fend off as much of it as you could. Staying low, you approached the door of the girl’s locker rooms. Thank God they were on the ground floor; the odds of your escape seemed pitifully low if it involved staircases and elevators.
Your voice trailed off as the door swung open to reveal the same awful scene. Bodies slumped over each other, filmy, glazed over eyes, slack mouths, hands grasping at nothing. Except it was worse, because they were not your teenage classmates, they were little girls.
“Elkie.” You mumbled incoherently, dropping to your knees, You began to crawl along the floor, your movements almost robotic. You forced yourself to look at each face, each lifeless girl, and work your way around the room until you got to her. Your sister was face down, her torso covered by the limp legs of another girl. Grunting with the effort, you wrapped your arms around her narrow shoulders and pulled her onto your body.
Elkie’s face was greyish, and her small, pink lips were parted in a look of surprise. Her eyes were half-open, but still. You shook her gently. “Elkie.” She merely flopped around in your arms, her head swaying awkwardly on her neck. You stuck your finger under her nose and waited for breath. It was very faint, but you could feel it. She was still alive.
Reinvigorated with a new determination, you pulled both of Elkie’s arms around your shoulders and hoisted her legs onto your back, straining to get on your feet. A text buzzed into your phone, and you pulled it out, straining with the weight on your shoulders. Jungkook was waiting for you by the gym entrance! You needed to get to him, now.
Stepping over several of the bodies, you hauled Elkie to the door and listened intently for movements in the hallways. It was a straight line to get to the exit, but you have to would run through an intersection – the perfect opportunity for ambush. It was totally quiet all around you, eerily quiet. What if they were camped out waiting for you, their guns all lined up? But what if you left it too long, and they found Jungkook exposed, unable to defend himself? Once again, you had no choice but to go. You leaned forward slightly, so that Elkie wouldn’t slide off your back, and tightened your grip around her ankles.
Your heart was thundering as you bolted down the corridor, your eyes trained on the door ahead of you. With Elkie’s added weight, your footsteps were unmistakable in the otherwise silent building. If you were ever going to escape, it had to be now. You forced yourself to speed up, ignoring the dull ache in your shoulders and arms.
Jungkook slipped out from behind a locker and swung open the exit door ahead of you. It backed into the thick woodland that bordered the school. Even the maze-like forests were safer than being inside right now.
A shooter. They had a tall, hulking figure, clad entirely in black with only two piercing eyes exposed. They were looking right at you.
“Run, Y/N!” Jungkook yelled, beckoning frantically with his arm. A bullet whipped past your ear and buried itself into the wall. You stumbled but kept running. You were almost there. Another bullet hit the glass panel of the door, shattering it instantly.
“Come on!” Jungkook reached out, grabbed your arm, and you flailed in the air as you all came tumbling down into a ditch. You groaned. There was a new throbbing pain in the side of your head – you’d hit it when you fell.
“Get up!” Jungkook had already brushed himself off and was hauling Elkie’s body onto his broad shoulders. “I’ll carry her, let’s go!”
You took off sprinting into the undergrowth, still a few paces behind Jungkook despite his load. You concentrated on dodging the haphazard scattering of trees, but every now and then you tripped over a thick root, slowing yourself down. Behind you, the crackling sound of branches splintering with bullets became more and more distant.
“They’re gone.” You yelled ahead, panting with breathlessness. Jungkook slowed to a stop, and you shuffled towards him, bent over at the waist. You reached for Elkie, but he stepped away.
“Let me.” Jungkook easily placed her on the floor, and you knelt by her side at once, holding onto her hand. It was perfectly warm. “Do you think she…?”
“No.” You stroked Elkie’s ashen cheek with your finger. “She’s breathing, look.” You pointed to her ribcage.
Jungkook watched the rise and fall of her chest, his eyebrows furrowing. “Where was she shot?”
“I don’t know.” You looked carefully over her body for the wound, examining her chest, arms, and then legs. Just above her knee, the fabric of her jeans was torn. Gently, you rolled the denim up past the tear, and let out a little gasp. Perhaps the size of a fingernail, a piece of glinting metal was embedded into her flesh. Fanning out from it were several writhing, tail-like projections, also anchored to her. The skin that surrounded the bullet was an odd shade of greyish-yellow, and you could see each pulsing vein beneath it. Worst of all was the smell. It was the same smell from the corridor, and you identified it now with odd accuracy. Rotting flesh. You’d smelt it the time your dad left a fish on the counter on a summer’s day. You’d smelt it the time you came across a dead deer while walking your dog two years ago. And you were smelling it now.
“What is that?” Jungkook asked his expression a combination of bewilderment and nausea. In another circumstance, you might’ve laughed.
“God knows,” You whispered, softly brushing the wounded area with a tentative forefinger. In less than a second, the blue tails flung themselves at you from within the wound, driving their wriggling heads into the skin of your arm. You screamed as a painful surge of energy passed through you, the force sending you reeling to the floor.
“Y/N!” Jungkook rushed to your side, his voice high with panic.
“I’m fine,” You mumbled, clambering to your feet, wobbling as you did so. He took your hands, helping you along. On the forest floor, Elkie twitched oddly as the blue threads retracted themselves back into her skin, and your eyes bulged.
Jungkook shuddered beside you. “That is not a bullet.”
“No shit.” You rubbed the stinging spot on your arm, wincing. You’d never been electrocuted before, but you imagined it felt something like that.
“What the hell is going on?” Jungkook pulled at the roots of his hair, pacing around in the dark clearing. Dry branches and leaves rustled under his angry feet.
“Our phones! We need to call the police and our parents.” You caught up to him and snatched your phone out of his jacket while he paced up and down. “Sit by her, please.”
Jungkook nodded, walking to crouch beside Elkie’s limp figure.
You dialed the emergency number quickly, your hands trembling as you waited for the voice of the dispatcher. There was a crackly static noise, and then you could hear a woman’s voice.
“Hello?” You almost yelled down the phone. You were mostly getting white noise, but the panic in the woman’s tone was still evident.
“I’m sorry - there’s been a shooting – I’m sorry! I can’t help you-” The dispatcher’s voice trailed off, and then the line cut out.
Blinking in disbelief, you went to your contact list and pressed the most recent number.
“Dad? Dad, there was a shooting at school, and I don’t know where I am, and Elkie…”
You pulled the phone from your ear and looked at its screen in horror. It was his voicemail - he wasn’t there. You tried your mum’s number, and it was the same result. Your arms flopped limply to your sides, and you stared blankly ahead. What?
“What happened?” Jungkook asked.
You turned around stiffly, your face towards the dirt floor.
“No one answered.” You dropped into his outstretched arms, and the both of you fell clumsily to the floor.
“What do you mean, no one answered?”
“Nobody picked up the phone! Not even the 911 dispatcher! Well, she did, but then… what’s happening, Jungkook? All of our friends are in the halls, just – just lying there, and Elkie, I don’t know what that thing is doing to her-”
“Shh, Y/N. It’s gonna be okay. Maybe we should call again?” Jungkook rubbed your back as you hyperventilated, your mind racing a mile a minute.
“No, I know something’s wrong. Something happened to them, all of them. Something huge. I can feel it, I just know.”
Jungkook looked warily at you, scanning your face with his wide umber eyes. Looking into them usually called you, but right now you couldn’t be more agitated.
“What do you think happened?” He asked, furrowing his brow. You shrugged weakly.
“Maybe they’re terrorists…attacking schools, shutting down the emergency phone lines?”
He nodded slowly at your idea. “Could be.”
You pulled out your phone again. “I’ll check the news, see what it’s saying.” Your phone screen was black and unresponsive. You smacked it angrily. “It’s not working. let me try yours.”
Jungkook handed you his cell, and you found it the same, too. “Nothing.” You mumbled, passing it back and burying your head in your hands. “What should we do?” You looked over at Elkie, who was still breathing steadily.
Jungkook took your hand. “We can’t go back – they might still be looking for us. I say we continue through the woods and try and get into the town. I think I can get us there, my dad used to take me fishing near here.”
“Okay. We need to get Elkie to the hospital, soon.”
You both got up, and you brushed the dry leaves and twigs off your cheer skirt as Jungkook began to carry Elkie again. Far in the distance, you could hear the rushing of water. You let it drown out your thoughts as you walked, zombie-like.
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You were completely and utterly lost. The sun was beginning to droop in the sky, and you were pretty sure you’d seem the same fallen tree on about three separate occasions.
“Guk.” You muttered. “We’ve been walking all day. I can’t go much further.”
Jungkook slowed his pace so that you were shoulder to shoulder. “You can lean on me a little.” He offered, showing no sign of fatigue.
You frowned. “You’re already holding Elkie.”
Jungkook snorted incredulously. “She’s twelve years old - she weighs like eighty pounds. I think I can handle it.”
He put one arm around you, somehow shouldering most of your body weight. You walked in silence, both still trying to make some sense of the bizarre situation you were in. After another half hour or so, you could clearly make out the river nearby; glistening slivers of moonlit water began to emerge through interruptions in the lush, ivy-laden overgrowth.
Suddenly appreciating just how thirsty you were, you rushed down the bank and knelt by the rushing water. Cupping your hands, you drank fervently, sighing as the cool liquid glided past your lips. You splashed water onto your face when you had quenched your thirst, blinking it out of your eyes.
You then turned to call Jungkook and found him nowhere to be seen. You stood up and squinted across the sandy riverbank, your eyebrows knitting together in confusion. “Guk?”
You shook the water from your hands as you headed back into the covering of the trees. A few feet away, Elkie was laying beside some bushes, as though she had just been dropped there. You swallowed. “Jungkook?”
There was a rustling behind you, and you turned around, adopting a defensive stance in front of Elkie’s body. The rustling continued, and then something – or someone – emerged from the trees.
It looked kind of like a person, and moved kind of like one, but it was most certainly not. The non-person's face was almost falling apart – the little skin it had was limp and rotten. A large, bloody gouge in the side of their cheek exposed two rows of yellowing teeth, and their eyes rolled frantically in their sockets, the whites a muddied shade of beige. Jaundice, you mumbled, remnants of the first aid class you’d taken last year bubbling to the surface of your mind. But none of the preliminary life-saving measures you’d been taught in school could help the grotesque creature in front of you.
The not-person slowly trudged towards you, making low, guttural noises with each lumbering step.
You abruptly realised what it was. Something you’d only ever seen in films and the pages of cartoons, something you did not believe existed in this world…until now.
“Zombie.” You breathed, shuddering in disbelief and disgust.
The creature took another step towards you, groaning loudly and reaching for you with its arm.
“Go away!” You shrieked, your heart rate picking up. You were backed into a corner, surrounded by bushes and trees. The space was too tight for you to run without the thing grabbing onto you. Keeping eye contact with the creature, you picked up a fallen branch from the forest floor and brandished it over your head.
“Get back! I’ll hit you with it!” You knew zombies could die from simple blunt force trauma. You just had to give one good strike hit to the head, and then this nightmare would be over.
Just do it! You told yourself, trying to muster up the courage. Your whole body was vibrating with fear and adrenaline. The zombie was only getting closer, and you moved backward, tree branches jutting into your back. It raised its arm again, and you balked; the branch slipped from your grasp, and you cowered into the bushes. You waited for the attack, but it never came.
Peeking between your fingers, you saw the zombie lying on its back, motionless. Was dead? You stepped out, spun around, and immediately walked into something solid. Stumbling away, you managed to get a better look. Someone – definitely human this time – gripped your wrist, steadying you.
It was a young man, maybe three or four years older than you. He wore dark, baggy clothes: black combat trousers and boots, a grey hoodie, a charcoal-toned windbreaker. His hair was bright green. The man let go of your wrist and tucked a pistol into the waistband of his trousers, paying no attention to you. You glanced back at the zombie on the ground. There was a fresh, circular wound right between its eyes, which were directed lifelessly upwards.
“T-thankyou, sir.” You skirted around the corpse – if that’s what a dead zombie was called – and rushed over to your sister, who was still unconscious on the floor. The sound of footsteps came from your left. To your relief, it was Jungkook – but he wasn’t alone.
Two men, dressed similarly to the one who’d saved you, had hold of either of his arms and were dragging him towards you. They dumped him at your feet, and you immediately ran to his side. “Are you okay?” You hissed, scanning his body for injury.
Jungkook nodded but said nothing. The man who’d saved you joined the others, and you realised that they must be affiliated with one another.
“What do you want?” You asked, slowly pulling Elkie’s body into your lap. One of the others pointed at her with a gloved hand.
“Her. She’s infected.” His voice was low and hard.
You blinked. “Infected?”
He rolled his eyes. The one who’d saved you stepped forward. “You’re from the high school, aren’t you?” He appraised Jungkook’s letterman and your skimpy cheer uniform. You suddenly felt self-conscious and tugged down at the hem of your short skirt.
“Yeah,” Jungkook answered.
“The shooting at your high school. They weren’t shooting to kill. They were shooting to turn you all into-” He turned around and gestured at the dead zombie on the floor. “those.”
Jungkook gawked at the creature, as though he couldn’t quite believe what his own eyes were seeing. You felt the same way. Staring at the odd device embedded in your sister’s leg, your eyes widened. It would…turn her into a zombie? How? Why? So many questions were racing through your head.
“Can you help her?” You asked, looking at all three men with pleading eyes.
The one who saved you gave a single, solemn shake of his head. “There’s nothing you can do. She’ll become one of them. The ‘bullet’ can’t be removed.”
“I know, I tried.” You muttered. They all grimaced, clearly aware of the nature of the device. Looking at Elkie with tears in your eyes. you forced yourself to ask, “How long? How long until she…”
“It could be any moment now.” The one with the deep voice spoke. “She’ll wake up, and then in a few hours, the decaying will have taken place. She won’t know anything but hunger.”
You choked on nothing, your face aghast. There had to be some way to save her. Your only sibling.
Jungkook put his hand over yours. “It’s okay.” He whispered to you. How could he say that? It wasn’t okay in the slightest. You were losing her, and you couldn’t do anything about it. You were beginning to fall apart. Like the zombie’s face.
“How do you know this?” Jungkook asked them. “Who are you? You’re dressed like the shooters.”
The one who’d saved you held up his hand as if to demand silence. “No questions. Give me the kid.”
“No!” You clung to Elkie tighter. “She’s my sister. She stays with me.”
He sighed impatiently. “She’s not your sister – not anymore. Her brain is dying as we speak. Give her to me, I’ll make it quick.”
“No!” You screamed, stumbling to your feet with Elkie still in your arms. The smell of her rotting flesh was making you gag. The green-haired man gestured to the others, who immediately seized Jungkook again. You’d barely even tried to run before the man caught you, grabbing your shoulder.
“Don’t touch me!” You spat in his face. He smacked your head with the butt of his gun, and you fell.
“Ah!” You scrambled on the floor, your vision blurring a little. You could hear Jungkook grappling with them behind you. Then, the sound of a gun cocking. Then, everything was cool and white, and you were pulled further and further down into a long, feathery silence.
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moonchild1 · 2 months ago
min yoongi fic rec list (Ⅱ)
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hello everyone here's a list of all my favourite yoongi fics, please show lots of love and support to these wonderful authors and their blogs 🥺🖤 some of these fics contain smut so no minors allowed, happy reading everyone ♡
a- angst s- smut f- fluff ❣- ultimate favourite
set me free by @myooniverse f s a (arranged marriage au) ❣
noise complaints by @sugasbabiie s a (neighbour au bad boy yoongi)
earn it by @sugasbabiie f s a (college professor yoongi) ❣
you, among the others by @inkofyoongi f s a (enemies to lovers au college au) ❣
all the room in the world by @inkofyoongi f a (friends to lovers au)
the singularity theory by @dovechim s (college au) ft. Taehyung
catharsis by @dovechim s (roommate au)
does that make sense? by @floralseokjin s a (college au) ❣
aquiver by @floralseokjin f s a (idol au) ❣
undo by @yoonia s a (past lovers au post break au yoongi's pov) ❣
little do you know by @yoonia f s a (established relationship au possessive yoongi)
carousel by @yoonia s a (arranged marriage au) ❣
quirofilia by @minyfic f s (producer yoongi tutor reader)
snafu by @minyfic f (enemies to lovers au)
need to know by @minyfic f s a (sugar daddy yoongi) ❣
love roulette by @whatifyoulivelikethat f s (friends to lovers au)
backstage by @wwilloww s (idol au) ❣
noise complaints by @jkstompers s (neighbour au)
the raindrop prelude by @inktae f a (pianist au)
taxi by @honeyedhoseok s (friends to lovers au)
playing with fire by @houseofdemi-blog f s a (fake dating au) ❣
bonseong breakfast by @honeymoonjin f s a
strike a chord by @snackhobi s ❣
kiss it better by @jeojahari f a (enemies to lovers au college au)
tesselation by @grinnieyoongi f s (idol au)
somebody else by @jeonqukie s a (unrequited love au friends with benefits au) ft. Taehyung ❣
la douleur exquise by @junqkook s a (soulmate au unrequited love au ) ft. Seokjin ❣
playing with fire by @hollyxqx s a (idol au enemies to lovers au) ❣
scary love by @lysjeon s a
the equation of love by @kookingtae f s a (college au professor yoongi student reader) ❣
when the power goes out by @inkjam-moon f s (established relationship au) ❣
what am I to you? by @tayegi
all too well by @cupofteaguk s a (idol au exes au make up artist au) ❣
bad boys bring it to you by @yuengi s (tattoo artist yoongi)
Till I Met You Again by @streetlight11​ f a (soulmate au university au enemies to lovers au) ❣
let me love you by @meanyoongi f s a (enemies to lovers au) ❣
MicroWave by @btsmakesmehappy f s a (neighbour au agent yoongi)
First love by @clouditae f s a (college au tattoo artist au) ❣
americano kisses by @sunshinejunghoseokie f a (friends to lovers au coffee shop au)
34+35 by @hobiandsprite s (friends to lovers au friends with benefits au)
love language by @gukslut f s a (couple au) ❣
easy rebound by @ditzymax s a (college au) ❣
the back of your car by @joheun-saram f s (college au friends to lovers au)
miss dial by @versigny f s a (fratboy au) ❣
sugar and spice by @agustdjoon f s a (sugar daddy yoongi student reader)
love like that by @mintseesaw f (doctor au established relationship au)
stuck by @joonscypher a (arranged marriage au chaebol au) ❣
matchmaker by @suhdays f a (wedding au christmas au it's told through jungkook's pov)
heart haunting by @jamaisjoons f s a (angst okay you will probably cry but other than that it's a really good read) ❣
anyone but the groom by @yoonjinkooked f s a (based on the movie the wedding planner) ❣
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yoonpobs · 2 months ago
back-burner | myg
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sometimes you felt like you were the back-burner of a two-decade-long friendship. how could you ever compete?
PAIRING. min yoongi x reader
GENRE. sister's best friend!au, best friend to lovers!au, sorta frenemies?to lovers!au, angst, *slow burn*, smut, fluff
WARNINGS. one-sided pining (?), longing, sibling jealousy, insecurities, miscommunication, family trauma (it's not as bad as it sounds!!!), explicit language, eventual smut, eventual fluff, MAJOR ANGST [warnings to be added!!!]
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01: drunk words can get you in trouble
02: some shine brighter than the rest but it gets dark sometimes
03: use your words
04: just for tonight, you'll try to forget
05: you give and you give until you have nothing left for people to take
06: you were a fire, and you burnt anything that came in your way
07: what you know, isn't always the truth
08: hidden conversations and truths
09: how much would you let yourself go?
10: two broken hearts
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1K notes · View notes
lavienjin · 3 days ago
first love | myg
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synopsis: After an incredibly long day, Yoongi found you crying in the copy room. Though he doesn't talk much, you've always found his presence comforting, and it didn't surprise you when he stayed and listen to you vent. However, while you sought comfort in his embrace, he proposed a special offer to reduce your stress with the magic of his hands. The only catch to your arrangement? You couldn't fall in love.
But wouldn't you know it, just as your friendship deepens into something more, you find an old notebook sitting on his bookshelf, and in it, a collection of poems. The last entry has you reeling because it's addressed to you. And in that page, a single line is written: Without you, I am nothing.
→ part of the virtue, vice, and everything nice collab.
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pairing: yoongi x reader
wc: 11.3k
genre/rating/au: 18+ | fwb, coworkers, f2l au | smut, angst
warnings: unprotected sex, fingering, semi public sex, multiple smut scenes, multiple orgasms, oral (m. & f. receiving), masturbation, exhibition, lots of feelings. like a lot of feelings :(
author's note: i'm fully aware that this song is about a piano but i don't want to write angsty musician yoongi since it hits a little close to home, so i put my own spin into it. thank you to the lovely @ddaechwita for the banner! this is part of @missgeniality's wings collab so please make sure to check out the rest of the authors! ♥
i wanna give a shoutout to one of my favourite authors out there! @yoonia happy heckin birthday, my love!! i tried to channel your energy when i was writing this. truly, your fics give me a lot of inspiration!!!
m.list | ao3
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You first entered Helion Game Company together as interns, assigned to comb through thousands of customer complaints while sitting across from each other.
Yoongi didn’t speak much; opting to tilt his head every time you greeted him good morning, but the way his eyes twinkled as he listened to you talk about your weekend caused a confusing array of feelings to emerge quietly in your heart. And the feelings continue to blossom whenever you return to find the occasional tangerine next to your computer after you’ve had a long day.
To you, Yoongi would always be that seemingly aloof coworker with a tight rein on his emotions, but one whose voice can command the entire room with just the simplest of words. It wasn’t surprising that he rose quickly through the ranks and you watched with quiet pride when he was inducted into the Senior Sound Engineers circle for the next version launch of the company’s hit mobile game.
Though it took you a few more months, you soon joined him in the ranks to work alongside the project with a team of Creative Directors. Introducing yourself to a room of ambitious souls was a nerve-wracking experience, but it was only made bearable when you caught Yoongi’s eyes in the back of the room as his warm presence continued to provide a quiet flow of support that strengthened your nerve. Ever since that day, you held his gaze steadfastly whenever you presented a new concept to the team, and if you’re lucky, you’d find a tangerine sitting prettily on your desk the next morning.
With the highly anticipated one-year anniversary launch coming up soon, you’re swamped with endless meetings to finalize the details that would be included, so much so that you’d find yourself reminiscing about the early days. Though combing through a never-ending list of demands from players was tedious, you relished in the quiet that surrounded you and Yoongi, the two of you lost in your own worlds with only the clicks of keyboards accompanying your routines.
As time and busyness enveloped your lives, they robbed you from seeing one another and it didn’t surprise you to learn that the sprouting feelings you once had for the ebony-haired man were eventually absorbed by the cacophony of noise around you. However, not all is lost, because you’ve gathered the scattered petals on the ground and chose to call it a different name: friendship.
And though it felt like months since you last talked or even been in the same room with each other, you couldn’t help but smile at the rare moments when you’re greeted in the morning with the comforting scent from the small, citrus fruit.
The day started out rather pleasant, the stifling summer air made way for a gentle breeze, cooling down the normal heatwave that lurks in the alleys of the city. You hadn’t even slept that terribly, even waking up before your alarm clock to enjoy the morning air as you sipped coffee from your favourite mug. As you smiled at the chirping birds in a nearby tree, you just can’t shake the feeling that today was going to be great.
Or so you thought.
As soon as you arrive at the office, your lifted spirits deflate as your assistant frantically calls your name in near tears.
“Dowon leaked the character concept,” she informs you in a high-pitch shriek as you shouldered your way through a sea of panicking bodies. “Namjoon wants to see you.”
From what you can gather in the few minutes you had with your assistant as you turned around to walk in the other direction towards Namjoon’s office, the newest artist in your team, Dowon, had posted a selfie of himself on Twitter that contained the early sketches of the not-yet-released Yuna in the background. He hadn’t realized his mistake until he checked his ever-buzzing phone, and upon looking at the encroaching thousands of retweets and likes, his panic was evident in his pallor. Although he deleted the tweet immediately after his discovery, the news had already spread like wildfire – with users reposting the tweets on multiple platforms outside of just Twitter.
When you enter Namjoon’s office, his back is turned towards you. He’s talking to someone on the phone in harsh whispers, though your deafening heart rate makes it hard for you to piece together the words.
“G-Good morning,” comes a timid voice from your side.
You blink in surprise at Dowon’s trembling figure. Of course, he’d be here, but your mind had been so preoccupied with the disaster that you hadn’t noticed his presence. With his shoulders raised to the skies, he sinks into himself, unable to meet your gaze. You’re suddenly parched, throat constricting around your reply, unable to push the words out, so you offered him a half-hearted smile instead.
Your attention is stolen when Namjoon clears his throat. The blue tie on his neck is slightly loose, and the way he sighs as he slumps on his dark leather chair causes a stone to drop in your stomach. When Namjoon regards you with his steel gaze, his mouth is pulled into a grim line.
“I assume you’ve been informed about what happened?”
Dowon squeaks from beside you and you steal a quick glance at the pitiful man, your heart clenching at the unshed tears in his eyes. He isn’t the best artist in your team, but he does work the hardest. If Namjoon decides to terminate his contract, it will be hard for you to hire another artist so late into the development.
You nod. “Minju told me what happened on our walk to your office, yes.”
Namjoon’s face is unreadable, a stone mask that doesn’t betray what he’s thinking. The only indication that this situation may be worse than what you’d imagine is the way Namjoon’s tongue prods the inside of his cheek, a rare expression you’ve only seen a handful of times in your employment.
You’re unable to breathe with the thick, palpable tension in the air. Namjoon studies both your figures in the silence, and you wonder if he’s quietly enjoying this.
“Dowon,” he says calmly. “What do you have to say for yourself?”
“I’m—I’m sorry, sir. It w-won’t happen again,” Dowon stammers. He bows as he balls his slacks into his fists.
Namjoon nods and returns his attention to you. “Tell me, how’s his performance as of late?”
You feel a prickling sensation as Dowon’s pleading gaze snaps to you. “His work is consistent.” You maintain the intense eye contact with Namjoon, resolute in defending your employee. “You won’t find another artist like him this late in the game, sir.”
Tension releases your body from its hold when Namjoon shifts his gaze away from you. The breath of relief you let out seems to reassure Dowon, and from the corner of your eye, you can see the way his shoulders begin to relax.
“Dowon, you may go,” Namjoon announces.
You offer a congratulatory smile at the man beside you, one he returns with a deep bow before he scurries out of Namjoon’s office. The unsettling feeling returns to your stomach when the door shuts behind you.
“Unfortunately,” Namjoon mutters, his expression turning grim once more. “I have some bad news for you.”
You can’t stop the hot tears from making their way down your cheeks as you barricade yourself in the copy room. Your team, possibly sensing your ire after you left Namjoon’s office without so much as a hint of a smile, has left you alone to wallow until it was time for them to go, where they quietly slip away without so much as a wave.
“Stupid thing!” you grumble, kicking the wheel of the copier in frustration.
For the past hour or so, you’ve been trying to print the incident report you’ve painstakingly typed out all afternoon. Your meeting with Namjoon has left a nasty mark on your otherwise pristine office life. You can’t blame him, knowing that the decision has been made prior to you stepping foot on the ugly navy carpet of your office, but you can’t help the anger that rises steadily towards the man either.
After Dowon left, having been dismissed by Namjoon, your boss informed you that you’ve been written up for your negligence, which, as you spat out to him that morning, was complete and utter bullshit. Namjoon patiently listened to you rant as you plead your case, but your passionate words didn’t make a dent in his armour.
“I’m sorry,” Namjoon murmured as he handed you a yellow slip. “Please have this signed along with the incident report. I expect it on my desk first thing in the morning.”
The beeping from the printer breaks you of your thoughts and you cast your gaze down to the LCD screen flashing red and yellow, signifying yet another paper jam on the side of the printer.
Defeat pulls you down on to the floor, where you bring your knees close to your chest as you bury your face into your hands.
“Hey, are you okay?”
You lift your face to meet Yoongi’s worried gaze. Great.
“Yeah,” you sniffle, wiping your tears away with the back of your hand. “Yeah, I’m okay. Just been a really long day.” You let out a half-hearted chuckle, one that Yoongi returns with a sad smile.
He makes his way to your crouched figure before sitting down next to you, both your backs leaning against the printer. “Why don’t you tell me about it?”
Though you’re touched by his sincerity, a part of you hesitates to tell him what’s wrong, especially since your interactions thus far have been minute due to your busy schedules.
Sensing your reluctance, Yoongi nudges you lightly with his shoulders, a growing smile on his face. “Come on,” he urges. “I’ve heard you talk about your weekend since we were interns. You were never shy about discussing your thoughts before, why are you hiding them from me now?”
With a shuddering sigh, you smile gratefully at Yoongi before highlighting the unfortunate moments from this morning. True to his nature, Yoongi listens closely as you speak, chiming in once or twice with a few hums. Though as you begin to retell what happened in Namjoon’s office, Yoongi tenses beside you, his once worried expression morphing into fury.
“What the fuck?” Yoongi slams his fist to the copier behind you. “That’s bullshit!”
“Yeah? Well, tell that to Namjoon,” you snicker. In all the time you’ve known Yoongi, you have never seen him so upset. “It’s fine, really. I’ve never been written up before, so it’s not the end of the world. Plus, Namjoon said that it was out of his hands,” you sigh. “I just hope it doesn’t look bad on my performance review.”
Yoongi releases his bottom lip from his teeth, but not after he tortures it to a point where you see little pricks of red peeking through the soft tissue. Your hand moves on its own as you wipe his bottom lip with your thumb, tutting at the small injury. When you realize what you’ve done, you snatch your hand away quickly, your cheeks aflame when Yoongi looks at you with wide eyes.
“I’m so sorry, force of habit!” you stammer. “I have cousins and they’re a messy bunch, always wrestling with each other and getting cuts all over.”
God! What was wrong with you? With a silent prayer for the ground to open up, you bury your face into your hands, trying to hide away the embarrassment colouring your face.
“Thank you.”
With an amused chuckle, Yoongi gingerly removes your palms from your face to force your gaze back to his. “I mean it,” he whispers as he lets go of your hands. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome,” you utter just as quietly. “Really, I should be thanking you for listening to me; not just about this fiasco, but for all the times I bugged you during our intern days.”
Yoongi tilts his head, his smile faltering slightly. “That’s assuming that you’re a bother.” At your protests, he begins to laugh, shaking his head. “Nah, I like listening to you talk,” he beams. “If I hated your voice, I wouldn’t have listened to you drone on and on about the countless awful blind dates your friends set you up with.”
“Oh my god! Why would you bring that up?” you laugh, smacking him lightly on the shoulder. “Anyway, I should probably get on with this,” you pat the printer a few times, “I still have an incident report to print out.”
Yoongi rolls his eyes at the mention of your task. “Leave it until the morning. It’s all formality anyway.”
“I would never have guessed that one of the greatest sound engineers in our company is a troublemaker.”
He chuckles at your teasing grin. Maybe it’s just your imagination, but there’s an amused glint in his eyes as he murmurs, with a voice so low that goosebumps appear on your skin, “There’s a lot you don’t know about me.”
Your thoughts slow to a crawl as he pins you with his gaze. Was his face always this close to you? Breathing becomes secondary as your heart hammers in its cage. What was he thinking behind those rich irises?
“Yoongi, I…” you begin, but you’re not sure what you wanted to say next.
The spell breaks when his lips curl up into an easygoing smile. “Come on.” Yoongi stands and offers you a hand. “I’ll help you with the printer, only if you promise to get a drink with me.”
Bewildered at his sudden offer, you can only muster a nod as he helps you stand.
“Okay, let’s see what’s going on with this thing…”
You watch Yoongi work on the printer for a few minutes, though really, your mind is drifting further away as the feelings you thought had disappeared seem to resurface back into reality. After opening two separate compartments in the printer, Yoongi’s able to find the source of the jam and removed it, instructing you to press a few buttons on the small LCD screen. Like magic, the flashing red warning sign stops and a little jingle resounds instead before the machine begins to spit out your documents into the tray.
“How did you…” you begin, staring in awe as the printer staples your report together.
“Well, the IT guys were taking a long time to appear this one time and our team really needed to print some reports. Since no one seemed to know what to do, I just rolled up my sleeves and opened it to find the issue,” he explains as he hands you the stack of paper. “Ever since then, every time this printer acts up, my team usually comes to me for help.”
Yoongi flashes an amused smirk in your direction as he wipes his toner-covered hands with a handkerchief. “So, ready for that drink?”
The walk to the trendy bar just a little way outside of your office is filled with a round of 20 questions. It’s strange to see Yoongi in this light, so animated and full of life. He talked about college; how he switched majors from business despite his parents’ disapproval. In return, you talk about your favourite musicians before learning that you listen to similar genres.
When you enter the mostly full bar and squeeze yourselves into the booth, the conversation never ceases, only stopping briefly when a waiter comes to take your order. Not wanting to drink on an empty stomach, you ordered a plate of appetizers – wings and nachos – to accompany your liquor.
“Good choice. They have the best nachos here,” Yoongi comments just as the waiter takes your menu and leaves.
“Oh? Do you come here often?”
“Yeah. They have live music a few times a month and my friend recently got a gig here, so I showed up to support him.” Yoongi points to the dim stage area where a microphone and a singular chair stand.
“That’s sweet of you! Okay, what else don’t I know about you, Yoongi… Do you have a secret identity? Office worker by day, criminal mastermind by night?” you tease.
Yoongi laughs into his hand, shaking his head. “Oh, if I was a criminal mastermind, I wouldn’t be stuck working at an office job. I’d just steal a bunch of money so I can live in peace.”
Just as you begin to ask about his plans for conquering the world, your food and drinks arrive, holding off the conversation for a later time. You’re too busy munching on your nachos and sipping your liquor of choice that it takes you a moment to realize that Yoongi stopped eating.
“What’s up?” you ask.
Yoongi studies you as he brings the glass of beer to his lips. “Nothing, I’m just glad you’re finally yourself again.”
“It helps that I have a friend to talk to,” you beam. “Thanks for taking me out tonight too.”
“Don’t mention it,” he smiles. “Sorry, I got a bit in my head there because I felt like I was pushing you to go when you didn’t want to.”
“Honestly? I’m glad you did. If not, I would’ve been at home alone to just drink myself under. That can’t be healthy.”
“Oh, and drinking in a relatively crowded bar is?” he fires back before bursting into laughter.
“That’s not what I meant!” you protest with a pout, stuffing your face full of nachos.
You continue to eat until only the platter empties. Through the night, the empty glasses beside you increase in quantity as you let yourself go with the flow of conversation and music. Once, Yoongi made you try something called a ‘Blue Moon’, his favourite beer imported from the Midwestern area of the United States that is served with a slice of orange.
“That reminds me, I never thanked you for the tangerines you leave on my desk,” you muse, drinking the last of the beer. The citrusy taste lingers on your tongue even as you switch over to chug a glass full of water.
Yoongi grins as he raises his glass. “Of course. A good job always deserves a reward.”
“Oh, and what kind of reward are you looking for?” You couldn’t help but snort when Yoongi chokes on his drink.
“You’ll pay for this one day,” he pouts as he cleans up his mess with a napkin.
Sure, your day was less than stellar, but after the Yoongi’s presence, you couldn’t help the smile that found its way into your face as you crawled into bed.
The next couple of days after the incident was just as you expected. The office is abuzz with gossip when you enter, with some brave folks asking if what transpired during Namjoon’s office was true. You confirmed what little you could, preferring to keep the details of your write up a secret, away from loose lips.
Though the energy surrounding your team has shifted, some are wary of working with Dowon in the event that another leak, your spirits lift slightly when you spy a familiar round orange fruit on top of your files this morning. Unlike all the other instances however, this one has a note attached to it.
“Drinks are on me tonight.”
And maybe… just maybe, things aren’t so bad after all.
“Fuck!” You slam the empty glass to the table, causing a few patrons to look over in your direction.
“Whoa, settle down there.” Yoongi’s comforting presence has not placated your anger the way it normally would.
Despite the launch happening within less than a month, your team is behind on some of the last-minute touches for the characters, making you work overtime for the past few days now. Speaking of the devil, your phone chimes and you spy the email that one of your employees sent you, asking for approval on a last-minute design change.
You type your confirmation with a low grumble under your breath, upset that even with the weekend within sight, your team is still hard at work.
“I’m sorry, Yoongi,” you mutter as you lock your phone and stash it back in your purse. “I’m sure it’s hellish on your end too and I’m taking this out on you.”
“I guess I should feel honoured?” he snickers, raising his glass to you. “When you were written up, you barely opened up to me and now look at us, drinking away our stress in the same booth every other day.”
You tap the bottom of his beer with your glass before taking a sip, grimacing as the liquor burns its way down your throat. “Well, it beats drinking alone,” you sigh.
Over the past month now, ever since the incident, you and Yoongi have made a point to meet at the bar every now and again, mostly to complain about work.
“Your blood pressure is off the charts, huh?”
“I feel like I’ll probably die before I reach 40 if this is how my team handles every launch,” you grumble, not affected by his joviality.
“Relax, tomorrow’s Friday! And then we have a long weekend ahead of us. Just bear with it for one more day, okay?”
You grumble an unintelligible response as you sip on your drink. Numb from the drinks, you’re not as perceptive as you usually are, completely missing the way he’s currently staring at you. His lips are downturned as he absentmindedly drums his fingers on the side of his beer before he finally pipes up.
“You know… I can help you with that. Your stress, I mean. I know that this was pretty much my idea – to get drunk and forget the stress” – you can’t help but raise your glass and chug as he continues to speak – “but I may have a healthier alternative.”
“Okay, spill. What do you have in mind?”
“I can always make you cum.”
As though he didn’t just drop the biggest bomb in your time together, Yoongi continues to drink his beer nonchalantly, while your mind struggles to comprehend what he just said.
“I’m sorry… what? Are you serious?”
“Of course, I am,” he shrugs. “I mean, I heard an orgasm is the best way to get over your stress and I’m pretty confident in my abilities.”
Your brain is unable to form the correct syllables to convey your thoughts.
The fact that Yoongi finds you attractive is a miracle in itself, especially when he walks around charming everyone in the office with his swoopy black hair and easy smile. Maybe your crush on him is slowly rearing its head again after all these years, but you aren’t sure if you’re willing to risk changing the relationship you currently have. Being Yoongi’s friend has been easy; he’s a great listener and you’re only scratching the surface behind the quiet exterior he presents.
However, somewhere deep inside, you must’ve wanted to change the dynamic to something more, or else why would you be questioning his proposal so intently?
While you’re busy staring into the amber liquid in your glass, Yoongi reaches out to cover the back of your hand with his, breaking you from the internal struggle in your mind. “Hey, if you’re not into it, don’t worry,” he chuckles, with a shrug of his shoulders. “I’m just offering my services. No strings attached, kind of deal.”
The question stands: why? As you stare into the hand that’s currently enveloping yours, you can’t fathom why someone like Yoongi would give you the time of day. It didn’t seem real – his proposal. But then, your gaze drifts to his face and after spending so much time with him, you know that Yoongi isn’t one to joke around.
“Don’t think about it too hard, okay?” He speaks just as he spies the waiter coming towards you with your check. “Looks like the bar’s going to close pretty soon. So, how about we get out of here and call it a night?”
That night, you toss and turn in your sheets, feeling a sense of emptiness. You can’t help but replay the scene from the bar – specifically Yoongi's nonchalant proposal.
Unable to sleep, you think. And then you think some more. Until your head is swimming with alcohol and something else.
And that’s when you call Yoongi at 3:22 in the morning, slightly surprised that he’s still awake.
"On the topic of what we talked about in the bar tonight…” you begin, biting your bottom lip nervously.
Yoongi groans on the other line. “I’m serious when I said you shouldn’t worry about it. We’re cool. If you’re not into the idea, I get—”
You cut him off before he could ramble further, smirking into the phone. “How confident are you?”
Instead of answering, Yoongi chuckles. “Wear a skirt and you’ll find out tomorrow, hm?”
It isn’t strange for you to be seated next to Yoongi during the manager’s meeting, especially since how closely you have to work with the sound department, but you can’t help but squirm in your seat as you attempt to listen to Namjoon summarizing the development reports he received in preparation for the launch.
Your seat is pushed almost flushed against the table, with the edge digging into your abdomen, to hide Yoongi’s fingers that are currently trailing ambiguous shapes into your skin. Coupled with the fact that he’s currently holding your panties hostage in the pockets of his slacks, every time you feel the cold bite of his metal rings when he travels higher, you clench around nothing while trying not to whine in front of the twenty-something people gathered in the room.
Taking a chance to look around the room, you’re only met with bored faces and yawning mouths, and there’s a subtle groan when Namjoon moves the PowerPoint slides to talk about last season’s numbers. However, whatever brilliant revelation he’s about to impart on you is drowned out by the roaring desire when Yoongi’s fingertips brush against your folds.
He whistles low while staring at the pie chart, and the few chuckles floating from the back of the room assume that he’s talking about the high numbers last season brought in, when in actuality, Yoongi’s pleasantly surprised at how wet you already are; your pussy sucking his fingers in down to the second knuckle.
The breath leaves your lungs when Namjoon raises an eyebrow when his gaze floats over to the two of you.
“Tell me about it. You really knocked it out of the park with the background music for the new area,” he chuckles, nodding his praise to Yoongi.
The corner of Yoongi’s lips twitch, a smirk threatening to take over his features. Oh, if only your coworkers knew.
Your poor bottom lip is bruised and swollen from your constant need to swallow down your moans. Sweat slicks all over your arms and back as you sit rigid, your legs pushed apart, and Yoongi’s unhurried fingers traverse your sopping cunt, taking care not to make too much noise in the otherwise quiet meeting room.
“All right, that’s pretty much all I have for you today. Thanks for letting me drone on for an hour,” he winces when he looks at the clock, “…and a half. Enjoy the rest of the day,” Namjoon chuckles as he adjourns the meeting.
You exhale gradually when Yoongi leaves your cunt as the others begin to stand. On one hand, you’re relieved, grateful that you weren’t caught because you were definitely breaking a slew of code violations while you’re getting handsy on the table. On the other, the strong need to orgasm only surges in your veins, wanting nothing more than to have Yoongi fuck you right then and there; consequences be damned.
“Aren’t you getting up?” Yoongi quips, an amused grin on his face.
You glower at his smirk, unable to form a sensible comeback with your heartbeat still steadfast on a thundering rhythm. When you do get out of your chair, the grip you hold on to the back is strong, your legs feeling like jelly after being teased for so long.
“I’m fine,” you grumble as Yoongi extends a hand – the one that was inside of you just mere moments ago.
With your shaky legs, you walk stiffly out of the meeting room, but not after stealing a glance around the remaining crowd to see if anyone noticed anything strange. Everyone, including Namjoon, seemed indifferent.
“And how was that?” Yoongi questions once you’re out of earshot.
“Unbelievably hot. I think I could’ve cum if Namjoon kept on talking,” you admit with a grin.
“Interesting,” he hums. “Do you have any meetings after this?”
Before answering his question, you look through your phone calendar. “Nope, I don’t have anything until 2pm.” That’s a lie – you meant to check in with your artists all day today, but the curiosity got the better of you and you wonder what it was he has planned.
“Come to my office in half an hour? I’ll make sure we’re undisturbed.”
Though he posed it as a question, you know it’s anything but.
Yoongi walks away with a smirk and you have to bring your legs together as you anticipate what he has planned next.
This is nothing like the meeting this morning.
Yoongi has you pressed up against the copier, holding your leg up as his fingers return to their rightful place inside you. The metal bits dig into your shoulders as you shift your hips, allowing him access into your deepest parts.
The whine you let out is nothing short of pathetic as you rut in time with his thrusts. The sleeves of his dress shirt are seeped with your arousal, yet Yoongi doesn’t care, too focused on your pussy swallowing his fingers whole.
“Look at you,” he breathes, marvelling at the way your chest rises and falls rapidly. “So needy and wet. Keep your voice down, hm? We don’t want the whole office to hear us, do we?”
You inhale sharply before busying yourself with your bottom lip as he slams his hand repeatedly inside, his fingertips stroking the patch of nerves that has your body jerking in his grip. The coil has been building for some time now – your head is already swimming with desire. When his thumb presses circles on your clit, you know it’s only a matter of minutes before you come undone.
“S-So close,” you whimper. You’re arching your back as you’re practically sprawled all over the copy machine.
“Just let go, cum all over my hands,” he rasps before dipping lower to graze his teeth along your pulse point. “Cum for me.”
With a strangled moan, your body obeys his command. “Yoongi—fuck.”
While your team is out there, perfecting the project that’s due in a matter of weeks, you’re pulled apart at the seams – the orgasm slamming into you like waves as it cascades down your spine, making you shudder.
“Good girl, so good to me,” Yoongi mumbles absentmindedly into your hair. “So pretty when you cum.”
Your vision is blurry, filled with dancing lights as you attempt to calm your breathing. When Yoongi slips his fingers out of your cunt, you hiss, aching at the sensitivity. He massages your thighs with a hum, paying attention to the leg that was propped up for the entire duration of the… events.
“How’d I do?” he teases as he helps you smooth out the wrinkles from your skirt.
You’re honestly still reeling. Though your heart isn’t traveling a thousand miles an hour, it’s still clocking in the upper hundreds. Yet, your body did feel lighter, your mind also clearer somehow. You must admit, Yoongi orchestrated your body like an expert conductor – as though he’s known you all your life. No one has made you cum that quickly before.
Perhaps you should’ve kept those thoughts to yourself because you can see the way Yoongi seems to glow at your compliment: pride filling his chest along with a confident smirk on his face.
“Now, can I have my panties back, please?” you whisper as you hold out your hand.
Yoongi seemed to think for a moment, his lips turned upwards to the side. At your amusement and horror, he shakes his head. “I think I’ll hold on to these for the rest of the day.”
“Yoongi,” you state flatly, nervousness clawing up your belly, but you can’t deny the thrill either, so you don’t push it.
After he makes sure that no one seems to be paying attention to the copy room, Yoongi helps you sneak away, but not before filling your thoughts with some of his other ideas.
Your day passes like a blur, and you find yourself locking your legs more often as your distracted brain thinks about the events that happen this morning. The idea of Yoongi walking around the office with your lace underwear stuffed in his slacks makes poor company when you’re trying to work.
Too engrossed in your thoughts, you hadn’t realized that your assistant had let herself in until she called your name again with a cough.
“Sorry,” you smile sheepishly. “I’m a bit distracted right now.”
Your assistant merely smiled demurely as she hands you a stack of reports you requested. “Here’s the information on the developments we’ve made over the past few months and the breakdown of the new region from the programmers for next year’s launch. We can start meeting with them to talk about what they want the art team to start working on.”
You skim through the details, humming along as your assistant explains the finer points of what is written. “Thank you, Suha. This looks good,” you praise.
Suha bows to you with a proud smile, but instead of leaving, she shifts her weight as she stands. “Actually, I was wondering if I could leave in half an hour?” she requests.
A mischievous idea pops in your head and you have to thread your hands together to avoid immediately texting a certain dark-haired man. “Sure,” you chirp in a voice too high as you fail to hide your excitement. Clearing your throat, you try again. “Yes, Suha. You’ve done a good job. Please feel free to leave now if you’d like.”
Suha claps her hands together and bows. “Thank you!” she calls out before disappearing.
When the door to your office closes shut, you fire out a text and hum, fingers drumming impatiently on the oak table as you wait for Yoongi to arrive.
“Took you long enough,” you smirk when he opens the door.
“Well, unlike some people, I was busy managing my team.”
Poking his head one more time to make sure that no one’s noticed his arrival, Yoongi closes the door firmly behind him, locking it in place.
“Now, why have you brought me into your office, hm?” he asks rhetorically before stuffing his hands in his pockets and pulling out the familiar garment. “Could it be because of this?”
You laugh quietly with a shake of your head. “Maybe it has something to do with that,” you muse, watching him approach with your bottom lip tucked between your teeth. “Or maybe it’s because I’m just so stressed, you know?”
Yoongi chuckles at your insinuation before leaning forward until your faces are inches apart. “And,” he husks, wetting his lips with his tongue, “How can I help you?”
You hum as you grab him by the collar, crashing your lips against his as an answer to his question. In a spectacular feat, Yoongi’s strong arms lift you up from across the table, pulling you flush against his chest as he sits you down in front of him. Your legs wrap around his torso, causing your skirt to rise to display your bare pussy towards him.
Yoongi’s rough hands dig into the meat of your thighs as he grinds into your core. “Tell me. How did it feel walking around the office with no panties all day, hm?”
“Exhilarating,” you admit in a breathless moan, body aflame with desire as you feel his erection drag against your clit.
“And look at you now, so needy and ready for more. What do you think your team would say if they saw you like this?” Every few words are punctuated with Yoongi’s fingers undoing the buttons to your blouse.
“God, don’t ask me that,” you pout, arching your chest forward. “I don’t want to think about work right now.”
At this, he laughs. “Have you been thinking about work at all during the day? Some might say you’re a little distracted.”
Yoongi cuts off whatever retort you had prepared when he kisses along your jawline and down your neck, nipping the skin just harsh enough to send shivers down your spine, as he continues his mission to free your tits from their cage.
“Pretty,” he mumbles into your skin while palming your breasts.
The combined stimulation is almost too much for you to handle. With his hard cock dragging against your bare cunt and his lips attacking your neck, it doesn’t take long before your skin is riddled with goosebumps as you clamp your lips shut to stop yourself from moaning too loudly.
You find a moment of clarity when Yoongi unbuttons his pants, but just as you reach out to help him, a knock resounds at the door.
The two of you looked at each other in a momentary state of panic as you buttoned up your blouse in haste. Your hands tremble, making it hard for the plastic beads to slip into place, but somehow you managed to not wrinkle your clothes too much, though your heart thunders in your ears when you hear Namjoon, of all people, call your name from the other side of the door.
Making sure you’re both half decent, you unlock the door and yank it open, revealing a startled Namjoon in front of you.
“Uh… hey. Are you okay? Why was your door locked?”
You’re sweating and shaking, almost getting caught by your boss will do that to a person, but somehow you manage a curt nod, and when you lie, your voice actually sounded believable. “Yeah, just got a call about some interesting news from my family. How can I help you?”
Namjoon narrows his eyes in suspicion before shaking his head. “How about we talk inside?”
“That… um…” Your brain stalls for an excuse but fails. With a dejected heart, thinking that you’re probably going to get fired at this rate, you seal your fate and let your boss in… only to find yourself staring into an empty office.
Where had Yoongi gone?
Namjoon closes the door behind you and makes his way to your desk. You trail after him but before glancing around the room again. You find your answer when you sit down in your chair. Hunched under the desk is Yoongi, who has both his feet tucked under his chin as he grins at you. If Namjoon catches the way your eyes widen in surprise, he says nothing as you sit down.
“I’m just here to see how you’re doing, especially with the launch happening so soon. Is there anything I can help you with?”
You shift uncomfortably in your chair, especially when you accidentally brush against Yoongi’s leg. “I really appreciate the offer, but you really don’t have to check in on me every single time we have a launch. This isn’t my first time, sir.”
Your boss only sighs, sinking into the chair. “I know, truth be told, I wanted to tell you that I’m in the process of getting your write up to disappear from the HR records since it’s really not your fault.”
“Wait… huh?” You blink at Namjoon slowly, genuinely surprised that he’d go through such lengths.
Namjoon only shrugs. “Yeah, I mean. I feel pretty awful about it. So, I pulled some strings and you have been granted your clean record back. That’s all I wanted to say, really. It just didn’t seem right if I brought it up in the hallway,” he grins, showing off his dimpled cheeks as he finished his explanation.
“Thanks, boss,” you mumble gratefully. “It means a lot to me that you’d do that.”
“Don’t mention it.” Namjoon chuckles. “Anyway, what’s with the interesting call? Is your family okay?”
“Yeah,” you squeak, unprepared for him to call out your lie. “They’re okay, I swear. Just some trouble with my cousins…”
Namjoon seems satisfied with your response, nodding after you trailed off. The silence feels suffocating. After a few more heartbeats, Namjoon stands to leave, calling out behind his shoulder as he opens the door, “Well, if you need anything else, you know where to find me.”
The instant the door clicks shut, you jump away from your chair as you help Yoongi stand.
“You all right?” you ask, looking him up and down before deeming that he’s fine.
The easy-going smile returns to his face almost immediately, giving you a full view of his gums. “That could’ve been bad.” Yoongi checks his watch and smiles, pointing at the time. “But, it’s now technically the weekend. So, how about we pack our things and get the hell out of here, huh?”
Yoongi’s apartment is everything like you’d imagine, clean and monochromatic with hints of blue popping here and there. Lining the walls of his bedroom are framed jerseys from a few athletes you recognize, all of them signed and probably costing a good fortune. Besides the decoration, there’s really only one other piece of furniture aside from the bed. Standing on the wall closest to the window is a black floor-to-ceiling bookcase, filled with all sorts of books and a few random photographs of his younger years.
But you have no time to observe fully, not when Yoongi pushes you on the bed with a quiet chuckle, demanding your attention once more as he kisses the length of your throat.
“Now, where were we?” he teases into your skin.
You can only giggle before the sound turns into a groan when his hand digs into the skin of your ass. “I have no idea, but I say, let’s just fuck.”
“Good answer.”
Yoongi doesn’t care to discard your clothing, choosing to simply ruck your skirt to your waist before his hands fit between your legs.
“Yoongi—ah! Stop teasing!” you whine, pressing your back into the mattress as you writhe under his touch.
“Not until I get a taste of you first.”
With a final peck to your lips, Yoongi drops to the edge of the bed before pulling you towards him until you feel his hot breath against your pussy. He takes his time with eating you out – alternating between licking your folds and sucking on your clit – as you moan and gasp around him. Your arousal seeps out of you in a steady trickle, a puddle forming on his sheets.
“Shit…” you grunt. “Do I taste that good?”
“You do,” he mumbles, the deep vibrations from his voice causing you to arch your back. “God, I can taste you all day.”
True to his word, he drowns himself with your pussy, paying more attention to your clit as you feel the orgasm slowly spreading through your body.
“Yoongi, wait,” you breathe, tugging at his dark locks so he’d look at you.
And what a sight he is to behold.
The bottom half of his face is wet with your arousal as he smirks up at you with pupils so blown out, they’re almost black.
“I wanna cum with your cock inside of me,” you confess, sitting up to pull him into a deep kiss. “Haven’t you teased me enough today?”
Yoongi hums into the kiss, wrapping his arms around your body before pushing you back down to the mattress. “I guess that can be arranged,” he chuckles.
With your help, his slacks and underwear are thrown haphazardly on the floor. His cock stands proudly for you to admire; with a leaking reddish tip and a prominent vein running down one side of the shaft. Unable to help yourself, your hand wraps around his length, causing Yoongi to groan as his eyes flutter shut.
“I thought you wanted my cock?” he teases breathlessly.
“Not before I get a taste,” you counter.
Chuckling, he props his pillows along the headboard before settling back, making it easier for you to crawl over and swallow his length. Intent on keeping eye contact, you make short licks around the head before travelling lower, sucking on the tender skin of his balls before moving back up.
“Oh, fuck—” he grunts, hips jumping up when you wrap your lips around the tender head.
While still staring at him through your lashes, you lower yourself until about halfway, the weeping head knocking against the back of your throat making it hard for you to breathe. You hollow your cheekbones as you exit, earning a lovely, guttural groan from the dark-haired man below. Yoongi places a hand on your head as you continue, pumping him in tandem with the movements of your head as you bob up and down his length.
Your remaining hand digs into the skin of his thigh as you take him deeper down your throat, until you manage to sheathe all of him down to the base. Tears spring in your eyes as you whimper around his length, but despite this, you refuse to stop, not when you spy the satisfied smirk on his face that only aids the desire that’s already strong in your veins.
The grip around your scalp tightens as he attempts to pull you off. “I can’t… I’m going to cum if you keep this up.”
His words only add fuel to the fire and you speed up your ministrations despite Yoongi’s attempts to make you stop. Saliva collects into a wet, messy pool on the sheets as you swallow him into your throat. The tears cascade down your face, yet you can’t help but smirk proudly, especially when his lovely eyes flutter shut and his mouth hangs open as he chants your name.
“Fuuuck, I’m going to c-cum—shit!”
You inhale sharply as you push your head down, until his soft curls tickles your nose. A second later, your mouth fills with the salty, bitter taste of cum as Yoongi jerks under your touch, digging his nails into the sheets. You help Yoongi ride out his orgasm with a few pumps of your hand, making sure to collect all the excess without leaving a drop behind. When you’re sure there’s nothing left, you open your mouth to show him your reward before gulping it down with a smile.
With ragged breaths, he watches you swallow with a quirk of his lips; one of the corners pulled up into a half-smirk. “God, that was so fucking hot.”
“It’s your reward for making me feel good this morning,” you wink.
“Are you ready for round 2?” Yoongi asks with a grin.
“I should be asking you that…” But your words trail off when you notice that his dick is still very much hard. “Talk about stamina,” you mumble.
Yoongi chortles as he studies your shell-shocked face. “You look like you’ve never been properly satisfied,” he hums.
“After tonight? I have a feeling that may be the case.”
The two of you burst into laughter before he pulls you closer, kissing you unhurriedly as his hands explore your body to discard your clothes until you lay bare before him.
“You really are gorgeous,” he mumbles as he draws abstract shapes into the small of your back. Catching your eye roll, he chuckles. “I mean it.”
When he sits up to capture your lips, it’s all soft and filled with an emotion you’ve yet to name, and you wished your blood wasn't roaring in your ears because it’s making it incredibly difficult for you to hear what he’s whispering into your skin.
“What were you saying?” you ask when you part. “I think I missed it.”
Yoongi only smiles, but it’s not the brilliant grin that shows the pink of his gums, no, this one is more subdued – delicate – as he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear.
“Nothing,” he replies, voice low and airy. “I didn’t say anything you don’t already know.”
It’s a strange response, but you really can’t push it further, because in the swirling abyss that exists in the dark pool of his eyes, lies an answer that you’re uncertain you want to know just yet.
Instead, you kiss him again, gliding your lips to get his to open, so your tongues can meet and have the conversation you’re too afraid to voice – for the sake of preserving the moment. You kiss him with ferocity, pushing him back onto the pillows as your hips grind against his hard length.
And when you lower yourself onto his cock, you forget the vow you made, because in this moment, with the moonlight filtering past the sheer curtains in his room, Yoongi is breath-taking. With his soft, dark hair splaying all over the pillows and his slightly swollen lips parted open in a quiet moan; you know you’ve fallen in love. Yoongi’s sincerity is your undoing, ever since the two of you met and sat next to each other when you were interns, and now? As you learn more about him and manage to breach through the quiet exterior? You’re a goner.
And maybe you’re delusional, but you swear, when your lips find his as you begin to move, you can taste the faintest trace of oranges.
Your nails drag down his chest as you roll your hips with his thrusts. “Please,” you beg, but you’re not sure what for. “Please, Yoongi.”
Despite your lack of instructions, Yoongi seems to know exactly what you need. “I got you,” he murmurs as he holds you before flipping you over, letting your chest rest on the mattress below.
Yoongi kisses your spine as he bottoms out again, making you moan into his pillows as he begins to move. “You’re so tight, shit,” he rasps as his fingers find your clit between your legs.
He keeps a steady pace, rocking you back and forth against the bed as you writhe with every drag of his cock and fingers. The only word that exists in your vocabulary at this moment is his name and without shame, you call out to him in a series of pathetic whines. You need him to know how good you feel, but without the ability to form coherent sentences, this is all you can do.
Though just like before, it doesn’t take him long to decipher your tells and he increases his speed, driving his cock deep into your pussy.
Finally, your tongue seems to want to move again. “Feels good… Yoongi…” you manage.
“Yeah? Me too. God, me too.”
He turns you over again then, so that you’re facing him once more. Yoongi crashes his lips to yours as he begins to thrust in earnest, pushing himself deeper than before. Your vision is filled with stars as you grab hold of his neck, rutting in tandem with his drive. What little hold you have left on your sanity wanes as the pressure builds – release so close that it leaves you gasping.
“Gonna-ah c-cum,” you moan, digging your nails into his back.
“Let go,” he commands, and again, he repeats, “I got you.”
The coil snaps at the sound of his promise. “Yoongi!” you shriek, tumbling down the chasm of pleasure. Your walls tightening around his length triggers a second orgasm from him, and with a groan of your name, he floods your insides with his seed.
“Shit… I didn’t—fuck—you felt so good, that I, uhm,” he stutters. Yoongi’s body shudders with pleasure even as he comes down from his high. With a heaving gasp, he collapses next to you, arms too tired to hold himself back up.
You pull him into an embrace while shushing his mumbled speech. “It’s okay, you’re okay. I’m on the pill, so don’t worry,” you assure him. “And if you’re worried if I came, didn’t you hear me scream? My throat is so sore now, holy shit.”
The both of you chuckle, the airy sounds mingling together. In the silence that follows, you don’t think about the feelings that surged in the midst of your coupling; refusing to acknowledge that he’s the reason that has your heart running a thousand miles a second. It isn’t just because of the nature of your relationship, but you’re genuinely worried of the possibility of losing a friend… and yet… Yoongi feels so perfect in your arms like this, with his smiling face smushed slightly to your chest. In the singular day since you’ve started this relationship, he’s made a habit of trailing shapes on the small of your back while humming quietly to a song you don’t know.
The soothing action pulls you away from your overbearing thoughts for a second. While planting a kiss into his hair, you ask him, “What’s the name of this song?”
“You like it?” Yoongi nuzzles further into your skin, breathing you in. “It’s my own original piece. It’s called ‘First Love’ and I wrote it about my piano back in my mother’s house.”
In your time together, Yoongi’s never mentioned his family or much of his childhood really, though you never thought to ask about them either.
“Music will forever be my first love,” he hums, dark eyes turning glassy as he recalls the memories. “I remembered slaving so hard over the keys that by the time I managed to master my first classical piece without making any mistakes, it drove me to tears,” Yoongi chuckles. “Ever since then, I practiced like a mad man, every single day after school. Just to play one piece after the next. My mother was mad; not because I was making too much noise, but because my studies suffered a lot.”
Your silence allows him to continue, but not before he peeks at you to make sure you haven’t fallen asleep. When your eyes meet his, the two of you smile, but his is much wider, a perfect showcase displaying his pearly teeth. He rolls over so your head lies on his chest, and his hand moves to trace shapes on your shoulder instead.
“My mother threatened to take the piano away, so I ended up working extra hard, on both music and my grades, but somehow it still wasn’t enough. There’s a time when she came into my room and ripped a bunch of the music sheets that I’ve painstakingly collected,” he sighs sadly, casting a faraway look towards the ceiling.
Your heart bleeds as he recites some of the words to the song. The lyrics personifies music as though it truly was his first love, but one line leaves your heart aching and shattered: Without you, I’m nothing.
It’s the decisive and almost unhealthy, nature of the words that cuts you deep. You’re not sure if it’s intentional, but it sounded like he’s shackled to his muse; needing it solely to live.
However, Yoongi isn’t seeking validation, nor is he looking for you to disagree, so you keep your mouth shut as he continues to talk about his life – about having to work two to three jobs while going through college and once he graduated, unable to find a suitable job in his field that lead him to work with Helion today.
“And that’s when I met you,” he chuckles as he tightens his embrace. “Something about you reminds me of the day I learned Chopin for the first time.”
“Why? Because I make you want to be a better person?” you tease, poking him lightly on the cheek.
Yoongi looks down at you with a cocky smirk. “That’s for me to know and for you to find out.”
When you wake up the next day, the sun is peeking into the otherwise dark room through the crack in the blackout curtains. The bed next to you is empty, though the lingering warmth from its previous occupant tells you that he left not too long ago. Sure enough, you find a note on the nightstand tucked under the glass of water.
Gone out for bagels. Text me your order.
You’re smiling as you down the glass, reading the swoops of letters repeatedly before reaching for your phone.
You: just a plain bagel with cream cheese. Strong coffee. Please and thank you. Yoongi: yep.
That one simple text turns you into a giggling mess as you shove the screen close to your face.
Setting your phone aside, your thoughts are too deeply intertwined with yesterday’s events that you can’t help the burning desire that flows through you once more. You’re satisfied; of course, you are, but the thought of spending another day with him, without having to worry about work for another day, especially with the launch being so soon, has you melting into his sheets.
Your breathing hitches as you close your eyes and lay back on the bed, caressing your own skin like Yoongi did the night before. Your fingers pale in comparison to his, yet you let the memories guide you as you tremble with every drag of touch against your clit.
“Yoongi—” you mumble into the quiet morning air.
You press your face closer to his side of the bed and the familiar scent of his cologne has you careen closer to the edge. The whine you let out is nothing short of pathetic as you rut desperately into your hand while your mind conjures up an image of Yoongi leaning against the doorway, bagels abandoned in the kitchen while he studies your actions with amusement.
“Jesus, wetting the bed so early in the morning?” He’d tut, arms crossed in front of his chest. “Guess you can’t get enough of my cock, huh?”
“N-No… need you,” you whisper, hips raised from the bed as your fingers work quicker – wetness dripping down the inside of your thighs to make their mark on the sheets below. “Fuck—need you so badly.”
You press your head into the pillow while you crowd your pussy with another finger. It isn’t enough – nothing compares to the sheer girth of his cock and how effectively it stretches you out to make a mess out of you.
It requires three of your fingers for you to feel full as you replace your hand with the veiny arms belonging to Yoongi in your mind. You imagine him leaning over you with his signature, ever-present smirk on his face as you writhe under his touch. He’d provoke you to be louder, punctuating his words with every drag of his fingers against the patch of nerves in your cunt so that everyone could hear who this pussy belongs to.
It’s sudden – how the forest fire eclipses your whole body that snaps the coil in half. All because your filthy mind conjures up a final image of Yoongi commanding you to let go.
“Shitshitshit—Fuck! Yoongi!” You cum with an embarrassingly broken whine of his name, your fingers plunging deep into your pulsing hole that causes your arousal to squirt on the bed below.
You crash back to the reality of the bed with ragged breaths. The room spins slightly when you open your eyes and you have to blink several times to get the squiggly lines to float away from your vision.
When your breath evens out, you survey the room you’ve neglected in the heat of the moment. You didn’t get a chance to see very much of it last night and with your brain so occupied this morning, this was the perfect time to snoop into your coworker’s life.
Like the vague recollections of his living room, his bedroom is mostly devoid of furniture aside from the bed and the large floor to ceiling bookshelf on the further end of the wall. With nothing else to do, you hop from the bed to take a look at the books, smiling to yourself as you survey the rare photographs in each shelf of a younger Min Yoongi.
As your fingers trail the large tomes of stories, dictionaries, and magazines, you stop when you notice a gap between the end of the shelf and a copy of Don Quixote. Curious, your finger reaches into the gap to produce a small, yellow notebook the size of your palm. The title on the front is illegible, scrawled on by a small child, so you decide to delve through the pages to see what lurks behind.
You chuckle into the book as you read through entries dating as far back as the early 2000s. It’s a collection of poems – written by the one and only Min Yoongi. The earlier pages contain stories of playing outside and ice cream along with brief glimpses of his intelligence as he laments about the fleeting nature of summer.
You’re pleasantly surprised to find that he’s continued the tradition as you study the entries, his once messy handwriting morphing into the swoop of cursive you’re familiar with. It’s interesting to see his life in small glimpses: his teenage self agonizes over his future while the Yoongi in his early twenties begin to explore topics of dreams and goals.
You read each sentence carefully in an attempt to retain all the emotions he’s spilled on the page. Who knew that Yoongi has such an artistic mind?
When you reach the more recent entries, you hesitate, wondering if it’s all right for you to read through them. Unfortunately, your curiosity outweighs the small voice of conscience, so you pressed on.
The thought of Yoongi hunched over his bed scribbling into the tiny notebook makes you smile. You imagine the way his shoulders would curve inwardly while he balances the pages on his lap and that devilish tongue of his would wet his lips occasionally as he thinks.
You suppress a groan as your treacherous mind recalls what that tongue did to you the night before.
Shaking the dirty thoughts away, you return your attention to the last entry on the page. Unlike its predecessors, this one is short, containing only a title and a single line. However, the title itself is confusing - a seemingly random mix of consonants and vowels forming a word you know for sure does not exist in the English language. You figure it’s some sort of code, but your sluggish mind refuses to piece together the anagram, still dipped in sleep and the aftereffects of your orgasm. You grab your phone with a sigh, employing trusty, old Google to do its job. When you input the title into the search bar, for once, autocorrect comes to your rescue… but at what cost?
Disbelief exists in the knot of your eyebrows until you reread the page in its entirety. Realization kicks in slowly, but when it does, you gasp, throwing the notebook and the device away to the floor as if they burned you.
Because the anagram spells out your full name. This entry was written for you.
And the disquiet in your stomach is due to the emotion so easily evoked by a single line, one that you’re all too familiar with:
Without you, I’m nothing.
“I’m back. I got a bunch of bagels because I wasn’t sure which one you liked,” Yoongi calls out as he enters the apartment.
The silence that greets him makes him smile as he assumes that you’re still tired after last night, but when Yoongi walks into the bedroom, your name dies on his lips as he looks on in horror: at the yellow notebook – his yellow notebook – lying face down in front of your feet. Your shell-shocked expression tells him all he needs to know. You’ve read the latest entry.
This all feels like déjà vu; just like the first time he caught you weeping in the copy room. His own bedroom feels foreign to him as he takes a hesitant step inside. Yoongi wants nothing more than to laugh it off as a joke, but he knows you won’t buy the lie.
His attention snaps from the swirling patterns on the carpet to your face. Instead of fear, you seem curious, could he take it as a good sign?
“How much did you read?”
The voice that comes out of his mouth sounds foreign even to his own ears.
Your eyes drift lower then, to the notebook on the floor. “All of it,” you admit in a quiet voice. “I read all of it.”
The room fills with a blanket of tension. With a heavy sigh, you stand and brush past him, heading to the living room.
Yoongi’s eyes trail after you as you sit on the cushions of his couch. With an indescribable smile, you look straight into his eyes.
“Let’s talk.”
Despite your invitation, it’s you that sits mum on the couch next to him, refusing to meet his eyes.
“I saw it, you know.” Yoongi begins with a humourless smile. “The discomfort you felt was written all over your face when I recited that one line.”
You wait for a bit, holding a space for him to talk should he feel the need to elaborate. “You know, I feel like I do the talking in our relationship, but I’m going to need you to listen to me again, okay?” you say as you mirror his solemn grin. After taking a shuddering breath, you explain, “I don’t want to be the sole reason you live, because without me, you should still be something. I mean, you’re so… you,” you gesture at his figure. “Funny, and kind, and sincere. Someone I can trust and even lean on after all these years.”
His face doesn’t betray his thoughts as he refuses to meet your eyes.
“Yoongi,” you reach out to envelope both his hands into your own. “I love you.”
You can tell he hadn’t expected the confession, but his surprise quickly disappears as he laughs bitterly.
“Why do I feel like there’s a ‘but’ in this confession?” Yoongi asks sarcastically and his lips twitch into a faint hint of a smile.
“But… I don’t want to be in a relationship where I feel like you’re not being true to yourself,” you advice as you squeeze his hands with your own. “That doesn’t mean that I don’t want to be with you, but I just need you to know that you are your own person first.”
Yoongi nods as he digests your words. When he finally returns his gaze to you, he seems more relaxed, a genuine smile on his face. “Thank you,” he murmurs as he squeezes your hands in return. “I think I really needed to hear that.”
“So… what happens now?” you ask meekly, despite being the cause of this whole mess.
His tongue darts out to wet his lips before he speaks, and when he does, there’s a quiet surge of confidence that you hadn’t heard from him before. “I want to be with you,” Yoongi admits. “But I think I’d also like to take things slow.”
“We can do that,” you grin.
And the following week, it’s you that leaves a tangerine on his desk; a signaling promise for tomorrow.
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moon’s notes: ah! don’t we love a semi-ambiguous ending? i didn’t have the heart to end it sadly, so i hope it still makes sense!! thank you so much for reading through this lovely little piece. i appreciate all your love!
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taetaespeaches · 29 days ago
“Don’t ever write a cypher about me, I’ll cry.”
yoongi x reader (oc) genre: angst; fluff word count: 3.6K
a/n: Hi lovelies! Here’s part 2 to “I’m not walking out on you” in which Yoongi and reader/Kid get into a pretty major fight. This takes place that same night and the next day. I hope you all enjoy and thanks for reading! :)) 
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Sleep doesn’t come too easy for those with the weight of two aching hearts inside their chest. The throbbing of your own heart, you could handle. But knowing you were the cause of your lover’s pain sat heavy in your mind. The look of regret, hurt, defeat that was etched across Yoongi’s features was impossible to shake, hovering over you like a sleep paralysis demon of your own creation.
Your tears had stopped since you shut yourself away in your bedroom, but the regret was all the more deep and unsettling. At the sound of the washing machine beeping on the other side of the door, you rolled onto your side, facing the wooden barrier that kept you from Yoongi. You were so sick of walls, but it was all that you knew.
Lifting yourself from the mattress, you began tiptoeing across the room to move the bedding to the dryer. You couldn’t sleep anyway. However, when you carefully pulled the door open, not wanting to alert your boyfriend of your activity, you were stopped in your tracks, the air leaving your lungs as you remained completely still. Peeking through the slightly ajar door, you watched as Yoongi transferred the sheets from the washing machine to the dryer.
He didn’t hear the door open, appearing oblivious to your presence. And perhaps that was why he wasn’t more careful in concealing the sniffle that sounded in the hallway, the small fragile sound stabbing your heart. When he raised his arm to his face, using the sleeve of his hoodie to wipe across his cheek, there was no mistaking the emotional state of the man. Yoongi was crying, and it was your fault.
Feeling as though you were going to be sick, you quickly but quietly shut the door, hiding away behind the barrier once again. You should have stepped into the hallway and faced the man you loved, but your cowardice always seemed to win. Instead, you stood frozen, your back pressed against the wood, your jaw clenched, and your eyes filling with tears once again.
If only you had known that the click of the latch registered in Yoongi’s ears, the man turning to see the door closed. However, he knew you were just on the other side, he could feel your presence. Yoongi had stepped toward the door, raising his arm and nearly knocking before deciding against it. Maybe you wanted space, maybe you didn’t want to see him. Sighing, he started the dryer before returning to the couch, all while you leaned against the door wishing you had the courage to step outside.
As you remained restless in bed, you couldn’t help but think about how you had ambushed Yoongi. You could tell that as far as he knew, you and him didn’t have any issues. Replaying the fight in your head, the interaction with him earlier in his studio, the past couple weeks, you realized he was completely oblivious to how you had been feeling. How could the fight ever be fair if he had no indication of any problems? And to bring up his mistake from nearly a year ago that you knew he regretted, whether it still hurt you or not, was cruel.
You left him defenseless; the man who always lowered his defenses when it came to you.
Curiosity and your undeniable pull to Yoongi getting the best of you, you found yourself in the hallway, headed toward the living room where he was sleeping for the night. With how still everything in the apartment was, you worried for just a moment that maybe he had actually left, despite his promise not to walk out on you. You wouldn’t even blame him if he did. However, you caught a glimpse of the messy hair that sat atop his head where he rested against the arm of the sofa, once again reminding you of how foolish your misguided accusations were. Of course he didn’t leave.
Stepping closer to him, you carefully peeked over the top of the sofa to see him lying on his back, his mouth slightly ajar as he slept, his arms folded across his body as though he was trying to secure as much warmth as he could. More than ever you were regretting the fight, wishing you could wrap your arms around him and let him use up all the body warmth you had to offer.
You were surprised to find him sleeping so soundly, as he usually couldn’t find slumber when his mind was busy processing stress or conflict. His exhausted state made you feel even more guilty as you realized how little you took his current workload into consideration when targeting your attacks at him. And that’s when you realized that even more than you expected him to be late for your date that night, you wanted him to be. Because then it would validate your anger without you having to discuss how you had been feeling. It was a fix all, a get out of jail free card; finally release the anger that had been building up over the past two weeks and then move on. What you didn’t consider was the casualty you turned your boyfriend into. Nor did you expect the insecurity you still felt from the start of your relationship to surface. There was a time, one single time, when you didn’t find Yoongi asleep on your couch after a fight.
But he was there now. And you needed to find a way to let go of the past, forgive, and move forward together.
Lost in your thoughts and revelations, you were suddenly pulled back into the present moment when the dryer beeped to signal it had completed its cycle. Jumping in start, your eyes widened as you stared at Yoongi, hoping he wouldn’t wake up and catch you watching him. Frozen for just a few seconds, you waited for any sign of consciousness before quickly backing away and heading for the dryer.
Reaching into the machine, your arms were shrouded with the warmth of freshly dried blankets. Glancing over your shoulder at the sofa, you pouted, remembering how cold Yoongi looked. Without a second thought, you found yourself approaching Yoongi once more, comforter in hand. Stopping in front of the couch, you peered down at him and prepared to drape the warm blanket over him.
However, you spotted one of his yellow notepads stuck between his arm and abdomen, full of words that he must have scribbled down before falling asleep. It was lyrics, no doubt, and normally you would have read over the words with great curiosity and appreciation for Yoongi’s lyrical talent. But with the previous events of your evening with Yoongi, you felt as though that would be an invasion of privacy. Or maybe you were worried you would find harsh words about yourself, though realistically you doubted it. Whatever the reason, you gently tugged on the notepad, freeing it of his grasp before setting it aside on the coffee table, along with the pen that rolled onto his stomach.
As carefully as you could, you set the blanket over his frame, tucking it in just slightly around him, not wanting to wake the man. Satisfied with your work, you stepped back and glanced at his features, ensuring his eyes were still shut, his mouth still open signaling a deep sleep.
His cheeks were so soft and plush, his facial structure so delicate. You could stare at him for ages but you worried the unspoken love and regret that was screaming within your heart and mind would wake him. But for just a moment longer, you inspected his features, appreciating the soft gentleness that was always so present within them. If only you could be more like him. You were certain the world would be so much kinder, considerate, and serene if more people could embody the stunning nature that was your boyfriend. Yoongi had never once lashed out against you in the way that came so naturally to you. You wondered if he knew how much you appreciated that about him. Even when angry, he was always so gentle.
Sighing, you forced yourself to leave him to sleep, returning to your room where you would continue to ruminate on the mistakes that you wish you could take back.
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You didn’t know at what point you had finally succumbed to sleep but you did know that Yoongi was the only thing on your mind when you slipped into a state of slumber. Consciousness came slow at first, your mind hazy as you took your time piecing together the elements of the new morning. And then it came fast, anxiety crashing through you as you recalled the events of the previous night and realized you’d have to face Yoongi.
The sound of rummaging from outside the room alerted you that your boyfriend was awake and moving around. A part of you wanted to stay locked away, safe within the walls of your bedroom. But a larger part knew you had to emerge and try to fix the damage you had caused. Instinct and habit were battling it out with growth and trust, and you knew which you had to choose.
Emerging from your self-made cell, you sheepishly made your way toward the kitchen where the sounds of action were coming from. The smell of food cooking suddenly flooded your nostrils and when you turned into the kitchen, you found Yoongi standing at the stove as he prepared breakfast, two awaiting plates set to the side. Why was he cooking for you?
As you entered his peripheral, he turned to you, his eyes wide, his features as gentle as ever. The tension was palpable, but the slight upturn of Yoongi’s mouth helped to cut it just slightly.
“Thanks for the blanket,” he spoke to you, your heart racing at the minor interaction. Nodding at him, he returned his gaze back down to the contents within the frying pan. “Did you sleep ok?”
Scrutinizing him slightly, you stared at him as he tossed around the egg mixture, his eyes not lifting as he patiently waited for your response. “Not really,” you admitted quietly, Yoongi’s sweet orbs meeting yours once again. How could he look at you with so much understanding after last night? He should be angry and bitter, lecturing you on your behavior.
The man silently turned to the coffee pot, filling one of your mugs before adding some milk and sugar, fixing it just how you liked it. The simple gesture had tears pricking your eyes because after everything, he was still caring for you. Because he wanted to.
Walking toward you, he held the steaming ceramic cup out to you, forcing a small smile of gratitude from you. “Thanks,” you whispered as you took the coffee from him, holding back tears that Yoongi immediately noticed.
“Kid,” he whispered with a frown just as you directed your misty eyes to the contents of the mug, suddenly finding the tan coloring of the liquid fascinating. “Hey,” he called for your attention.
“I’m sorry,” you mumbled childishly. “I don’t know how to do this, I don’t know how to-” you cut yourself off as a tear fell to your thumb, your hand wrapped around the warm mug. “Why are you being so nice to me?”
“What do you mean?” Yoongi asked, stepping toward you and placing a hand to the back of your head. He dipped his face into your eye line, forcing you to meet his gaze. “I love you.”
The three words served as a reminder and an explanation, as if his love for you meant he wouldn’t want to treat you with anything but kindness. And that was new. Foreign. And overwhelming.
When he leaned forward to press his lips to your forehead, it all felt even more confusing but you were grateful. Grateful for the respect and compassion he dedicated to you, even when you didn’t feel deserving.
“You don’t know how to do what?” He asked softly, his lips ghosting over your skin.
Pulling away from you, he looked into your eyes. Yoongi was someone who was always a bit awkward with eye contact, struggling to maintain it for too long even with you, and that’s when you realized how hard he was trying to break through your walls. The man was pushing himself outside of his comfort zone in hopes of pulling you out of yours, so you could fall into him like a safety net. He wanted to be that for you.
“You’re supposed to be mad at me or giving me the silent treatment or something and I just-” you shrugged as Yoongi’s eyebrows pulled together as though he was studying you. “It feels like you’ve already forgiven me and I don’t know how to do this without the anger or feeling like I have to grovel for your love.”
The man shook his head instantly, a pout forming on his pretty lips. “You never have to grovel for my love, who taught you that, Kid?” He asked sadly, his empathy washing over you and your past. “I just love you,” he told you for the second time that morning. And as your heart pounded against your chest, Yoongi’s hand found your lower back. “We do this by talking about it. With understanding and accountability. So will you sit at the island and talk to me while I finish cooking us breakfast?”
You had never had a safe place to land, making you believe you were meant to fly, never staying in one place for too long. But Yoongi was giving you that place to land, to rest, to find shelter. Nodding at him, he gave you a small close mouthed smile, one of those ones that pushed his soft cheeks up in just the way you loved. His hand slowly dragged around to your side before sliding off your hip as he headed back to the stove. And you followed, taking a place on one of the stools, setting your mug on the island as you watched Yoongi appreciatively.
“I’m sorry for leaving in the past,” he started, your eyes popping wide open, not expecting for him to initiate the conversation there. “I’m sorry for not fighting for you, and I’m sorry that still looms over you. I had hoped that you were able to move past it but I understand the impact it made and the precedent it set.”
“I wasn’t holding it over you,” you interjected, not wanting him to think that you were hanging onto his mistakes to use against him. “I didn’t even know it still hur-” you cut yourself off, feeling guilty for bringing the word hurt into the discussion.
“It hurts you, Kid,” he looked up from the pan as he spoke. “You can say that.”
“It’s just when that happened it reaffirmed at the time everything I knew to be true about love, you know? Like, it’s fleeting and within an instant it can be removed,” you explained.
“I understand,” he nodded. “And you shouldn’t feel guilty for being affected by my actions.”
“The same can be said for you,” you pointed out, a small smile curving on Yoongi’s lips.
“Touché ,” he lightheartedly commented, making you smile in return. “But you were feeling rejected, Kid. That is on me.”
“No, because I never vocalized anything,” you disagreed.
“I should have known,” he mumbled, expressing disappointment in himself.
“Are you a mind reader?” You asked him, making him stop his inward spiral as he stared at you. “I should have told you so much sooner how I was feeling. I didn’t. That was immature of me.”
Taking a moment to think, the man shook his head at himself. “I still should have never made you feel rejected,” he said, defeat evident in his tone.
“Yoongi,” you sighed. “Baby, sometimes I worry that you make so few mistakes in our relationship that you get this standard of perfection thrown on you, and that’s not realistic. You’re going to fuck up, I’m going to fuck up, I don’t want it to be the end of the world when that happens.”
Stunned by your words, he stared at you with widened eyes, his jaw slightly opened, appearing almost frozen in place. Closing his mouth, he cleared his throat before wetting his lips just slightly, his tongue lingering in the corner of his mouth as he sorted through his thoughts.
“I just don’t want to hurt you,” he admitted softly, your lips forming into a pout as tears formed in your eyes.
“I know that,” you assured him. “Yoon, we had one of our biggest fights last night where I gave you my worst and since then I’ve caught you finishing my laundry and cooking me fucking breakfast, and you’ve been nothing but sweet to me, and- do you know how incredible that is? How much that means to me?”
Yoongi blinked quickly, an attempt to conceal the tears that had bubbled in his own eyes. You were certain that a conflict as big as the one you and Yoongi had found yourselves in should be harder to fix. There should be more conversation, more pleading, more tears, more fighting. But he presented you with a safety net, and you found yourself breaking through your own walls and falling into it.
“I love you,” you told him, wanting to assure him the way he did you.
Sighing, he stared at you, gratitude shimmering in his orbs. “Can you forgive me for the past?”
“I already did,” you told him sincerely. And you had. “It’s just a process, you know, unlearning what I thought love was and relearning it as, this,” you gestured between yourself and Yoongi. “I have to accept that this is how you love me and that you’re not going anywhere.” Shrugging at him, you huffed. “Insecurities work their way in but I trust you, Yoongi.”
“I’m still sorry. For the past, and for making you feel rejected,” he told you, making you glare at the man.
“I accept your apology, and it’s ok. But I don’t want you living in a constant state of apology, I won’t allow it,” you told him sternly.
The comment drew a breathy chuckle out of the man, Yoongi’s small gummy smile pushing out the remaining tension, and effectively filling your lungs with air.
“I’m sorry for being immature and blowing up,” you told him. “And for bringing up past shit and being mean and not vocalizing my concerns and-”
“Hey,” he smiled sweetly. “It’s all ok. Really, Kid, we’re ok.”
Nodding at him, you sighed in relief. You were still left with some remaining guilt over the fight, which you’d be making up for whether he wanted you to or not. But you felt a sense of closure to last night, the past two weeks, and the fight that nearly ended your relationship before it could truly start almost a year ago.
As Yoongi broke away from the conversation to place the finished food onto the plates, you glanced to the side of the island, noticing the yellow notepad that sat with the first page folded over the top binding. More words were scribbled than last night, indicating that Yoongi had woken up and finished jotting down lyrics before you emerged from your room.
“Did you read them?” Yoongi’s voice cut through your thoughts as he appeared beside you, setting a plate in front of you. Looking up from the notepad to meet his gaze, you shook your head.
“I didn’t feel like I had the right,” you told him, Yoongi pulling his eyebrows together in scrutiny. “Plus it was dark in there, my eyes aren’t that good,” you joked.
“Yeah you’re blind,” he humorously deadpanned.
“I am,” you easily agreed.  
“You could have read them,” he returned to the original topic as he gently dug his fingers through your slept-on hair, massaging the roots sweetly. “It’s about you.”
“A new cypher verse?” You teased, eliciting a chuckle from the man as his shoulders shook adorably.
“You’ll have to do a lot more to earn yourself a cypher verse, Kid.”
Shooting him a glare with your eyebrow raised, you smirked. “Is that a challenge?”
“No,” he shook his head, leaning down toward you. “It’s not,” he whispered just before his lips met yours, kissing you softly. Your hand found his waist, wanting to hold some piece of him as you kissed him back, pouring forgiveness and love into the act.
When he pulled away, a stupidly cute gummy grin directed to you, you couldn’t help but return the smile, a small giggle slipping from your lips. “Don’t ever write a cypher about me, I’ll cry,” you told him jokingly. “Even when I’m mean,” you added with a forced pout, Yoongi smiling just before placing a peck to your mouth once more.
“You call that mean?” He asked as he pulled away and sat down in the stool next to you. “You’re gonna have to do much better than that, I’m Min Yoongi.”
“He says Min Yoongi as if that’s not synonymous with a honey boy,” you teased as you took a bite of your food, immediately moaning at the taste. Yoongi pulled a disgusted expression at your dramatized reaction to the food, making you giggle.
“I’m your honey boy. That hasn’t changed,” he pointed out just as he took a bite himself.
And as you stared at him with a dumb smile, your eyes holding all of the love in the world, you felt excitement and gratitude that you’d get to shower him in all that love and affection for as long as he’d let you. And if that morning was any indication, he’d be letting you for your entire lives.
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taesinferno · 4 days ago
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⍣ SUMMARY Yoongi whisks you away to vacation, and you find out a secret about him.
⍣ PAIRING dad's best friend!yoongi × reader (× hoseok)
⍣ WARNINGS 18+, legal age gap, predatory, exhibitionism!!, public sex, manhandling, mentions of fingering, threesome, spit-roasting, unprotected penetrative sex, oral m!receiving, deep throating, facial
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♡ prev
"Yoongi-baby-please," You giggled, barely trying to push him off and ward off his attack on your neck. He had you leaning against the railing of your suite's balcony, in full view of the public eye.
“Now who told you to wear that out of the house?” He quipped back, "That was on you."
He was right, you had to admit. The skimpy two-piece bathing suit you had on could barely be called that, just holding on by two pieces of thin string. Yoongi’s hands fiddling with the straps on your bottoms didn’t help it, either.
“Yoongi,” you tried again, tugging his hair to grab his attention. “It’s gonna get too late for the beach.”
He pulled away for a second, lips swollen from the blossoming bruises now growing on your neck. “You wanted to actually go out in this?”
You pouted. “How is the view of you marking me up on the balcony any better than me sitting on the beach in this?”
His answer came in the form of turning you around abruptly, leaning you over the railing and crowding up behind you. “Because baby,” his hands played with the knot holding your bikini bottoms together, threatening to untie them. “They all get to see how well you take me out here.”
You let out a gasp as he pushed your bottoms to the side, giving him easy access to your fluttering hole. You shouldn’t be at all surprised anymore, Yoongi’s exhibitionism making itself more than known during this trip. But it still caught you off guard, the shock quickly wearing off into butterflies in your stomach at the thought of people seeing what he’d do to you.
You never thought you’d enjoy how it felt. The stares, the whispers. The jilting of their eyes away, just to wander back and try to discreetly watch you, acting nonchalant about it. Watch as Yoongi took you, with no regards for anyone else around. You didn’t think you’d be into it—that is, until you both joined the mile high club on the way here, of course.
Yoongi had whisked you away from your little neighborhood and college life for your spring break, excusing his absence as a “business trip” to your father. You, on the other hand, had told your dear old dad you were traveling with a friend for the week. If that friend happened to bend you over and fuck you raw an innumerable amount of times, well. That wasn’t important.
It was interesting to see Yoongi on vacation. He frequented the same types of country clubs and exclusive amenities that your family did. But where he took you wasn’t somewhere you’d ever been before—it was somewhere his coworkers frequented, and he’d visited often on his actual business trips. You spent your days lying on the beach, drinking daiquiris, getting some much-needed vitamin D, and pretending to ward off Yoongi’s salacious touches and enticing smiles. Pretending because who were you kidding? You gave in and let his roaming hands tuck themselves in between your legs, no matter who was around. You were a little conscious about it at first, surprised at his obscene intentions. But the more you did it, the more you started to love the attention. You prided yourself on showing at least some restraint, making yourself feel better about the innocent passersby who surely knew what you two were doing under the beach towel by whining, ‘Yoongi—people—.” But that was the end of your civic duty, a simple, ‘don’t worry about them, baby. Focus on me,” convincing you to become a public menace. Yes, it’s true.
Your nights were devoted to hanging off Yoongi’s arm as you attended dinners and events with his old friends, blinking prettily and smiling big. And by old friends, you do mean old. Most of the people you interacted with here were your parents’ ages. As to be expected, of course. It was cute to see the way the college boys your age would oogle and stare, gassing each other up to come talk to you. Only to deflate and look in wonderment and respect at the older man who’d brought you a drink and managed to bag a pretty young thing like you. Even more so when you’d climb into his lap with a giddy grin, beach towel doing little to hide your activities. All of their aspirations, or whatever.
You had gotten acquainted with some of his friends by now. One couple that he’d known from his job, with a snooty wife who always threw backhanded compliments at you about your age. Not like it bothered you. You were the one in Yoongi’s bed at night while she was holding on to a man who looked at golf with more adoration than her. There was another, Jung Hoseok. Someone Yoongi had known since high school, apparently. He was a bachelor with a smile that would light up every room he walked in. He was kind to you, always tried to put you at ease with jokes and banter. It was visible how out of place you were in a crowd of the middle-aged elite, but Hoseok never let you feel that way.
It was sweet of him, to say the least. But a bit moot, considering all you ever paid attention to was Yoongi, the gossip rolling off your back like rainwater down a storm drain. You watched him talk, newly tanned skin glowing, paired with tight t-shirts to show off his muscles. He looked so relaxed and at ease. You sat with your chin in your palm, stars in your eyes. Enjoying this new side of Yoongi he gave you a glimpse of.
“Oh—okay we’re doing this now—Yoongi!” Your whine made him chuckle, holding on to your waist tight and nuzzling into your neck. He pushed in, burying himself in your tight, wet heat to the hilt. Your walls sucked him in greedily, stretching to accommodate his size with no prep. “You never warn me.” You sniff.
“I’m sorry, baby. I thought you liked surprises.” He consoled you with a few targeted pecks on your skin, the mini fit you were throwing making it hard for him to hold back from the rough pace his dick was twitching for.
You both knew your whining was all for show. Because he was right. The way your eyes screwed shut, your head falling back as he stretched your tight hole and pushed his cock in. The way you arched your back, pressing your ass further into his hips in an effort to have him go deeper.
If this had been your first day here, you would’ve protested in shame if he suggested fucking out on the balcony. Yes, your suite faced a private beach, and onlookers were scattered miles away from you. But, there were still suites around you who had the perfect view of the events taking place. Once glance out the window was all they needed—hell, if someone walked out onto their balcony, you were done for.
But for some reason, that only excited you more.
“You like that, baby?” Yoongi rasped in your ear, his own grunt interrupting him as he pulled your hips back onto his cock rhythmically. His shorts were shimmied down the slightest, just enough to get his cock out. He was wearing a button-up shirt, too, which was now flapping freely in the wind as they clung to his shoulders for dear life, his chest out in clear view. His pecs, already defined and muscular, had only gotten more so since the new tan he’d gotten. And you were sure, if his shorts were fully discarded and his well-crafted buttocks were on display, the people would be getting a knockout show of his ass muscles rippling with each thrust. But something like that wasn’t a free show.
“Yoongi…” You trailed off, suddenly getting shy at the sudden attention you were getting. It was a group of college-aged boys, pointing up at your balcony. One of them started to wave. “They’re watching us.”
“That’s because you look so good taking my cock.” He soothed you easily, smooth words falling from his mouth erasing all your worries. “They’ll jack off in the shower, while I get your pretty asscheeks to cum on.” Grabbing them as he spoke, he nipped a few solaces into your skin.
He was right. You looked over and waved back. Though, one hard thrust from Yoongi had you moaning out and gripping his arm for support. They sheepishly turned right back around after that, only sneaking glances now as they lay out on their beach towels in what looked like purposeful silence.
“Good girl.” Yoongi tugged the rest of your bottoms to the side, giving him a nice view of his cock burying into your cunt. Your arousal made the slide so easy, dripping down his cock and creating a nice slide. Tangling his hand in your hair, he pulled you back, making you arch your back and moan like a little bitch. His pace was steady, controlled. He held you in the palm of his hand, your entire being right dependent on him and his dick.
His large palm connected with the skin of your ass, letting you know as much, too. He smoothed it over gently, before groping it and kneading it in his hand. The whimpers falling from your lips were like music to his ears.
You were convinced the neighbors could hear, the repeated spanks clapping loudly through the ear. They were deafening to you, as were the lewd slop sounds that came from your squelching pussy as he rammed into you. Your hands tightened around the railing, holding on for dear life.
“Fuck,” you felt yourself getting turned, Yoongi spinning you with one arm to face him. Heat rushed to your face at the sight of the man who was giving you your reckoning in the public eye. Your eyes fell to the floor, momentarily embarrassed at how good you felt about it. But Yoongi wasn’t having it.
“None of that,” he lifted your chin up with one hand, a consoling smile on his face as he landed a sweet peck to your lips. Right before wrapping your right leg around his waist, and thrusting back into your sloppy heat. “So fucking wet…”
He had you bouncing on his cock like a whore. If anyone caught a glimpse from below, they were certain to know what you were up to. And if they didn’t, your obscene moans and calls of his name as you buried yourself in his chest would surely tip them off.
You were so caught up in your own world, so distracted with Yoongi’s low voice whispering filthy things in your ear, you hadn’t noticed you had company until it was too late.
“Hey, I knocked, but the door was op—whoa! What the fuck?!”
Your eyes grew wide as he met yours, his defining platinum hair and vibrant colored swimwear clued you in to who was interrupting your public menacing.
Yoongi didn’t seem to notice, nor care much. He lazily nodded to the man over his shoulder, his thrusts never relenting. If anything, the steady pace got even faster. He drove his hips into you harder, making you call out with every deep plunge.
“Uh.. I’ll come back later.” Hoseok scrambled for the door, tearing his eyes away from the sight with much difficulty. But he was stopped.
“No, stay.”
You and Hoseok both looked at Yoongi with incredulous looks on your faces. “Min… what?” Hoseok broke the deafening silence following Yoongi’s words, making sure he heard correctly. You were too busy being plowed to say a word, but you shared his sentiment. Was Yoongi serious?!
“You wanted to go out in this earlier, didn’t you baby?” Yoongi’s words were spoken to you softly, but there was nothing soft about the situation. “Wanted to parade in front of all of my friends. In front of Hoseok....”
Shame burned your ears as you remembered your words. The exact phrasing you had used last night. “I’ll bet Hoseok would like it if I wore this. He loves this color.” Followed by Yoongi tackling you onto the bed and showing you just how much he liked your skimpy little nightgown…Yeah, you didn’t sleep.
In your defense, you were only teasing! You didn’t think he would take you seriously. Let alone, invite Hoseok in to do… wherever this was going.
“She was being a real brat.” Yoongi explained. His eyes were on you, but he was no longer addressing you.
Hoseok’s loud guffaw caught you off guard, slightly jumping. “Well, what did you expect fucking with a girl half your age, Yoongi?” He ran his eyes over your body, your wobbly legs quivering in anticipation. “She looks the type, too.”
Yoongi shook his head. “Had to teach her a lesson today. She was talking about some whoring herself out to another man.” He landed a slap to your ass and you jumped, looking up at him with a whimper and big eyes. “Isn’t that right princess?”
His hand came up to grip your face, making you nod along to his words. You tried to clench your thighs together, embarrassment reeking from you as your arousal dripped down your cunt. You caught the slight smile on his face, the smirk that told you he knew how his actions affected you. He pulled you close, landing a sloppy kiss on your lips, before turning back to his friend. “You want Hoseok to fuck you too?”
He pulled you into his chest, turning you around to face the man in question as his arm wrapped around your waist to keep you steady, his other hand still tilting your face where he wanted you to look. “My baby’s greedy today. She wants two cocks to fill her up. Isn’t that right?”
Your big eyes met Hoseok’s, shame burning your face as Yoongi kissed up the side of your neck, awaiting your response. He looked taken aback by his elder’s suggestion at first, a bit bewildered at the turn of events. Bewildered didn’t even cover how you felt. The throbbing ache in your core told you as much.
Hoseok cocked his head, taking his time to examine you, his eyes trailing down your body. This was the first good look he’d gotten without worrying about Yoongi’s gaze warding him off. He respected his old friend, as much as to keep his eyes off you. Yoongi’s unspoken property. Everyone knew who you belonged to. Hell, you made it even clearer with the way your heart eyes were glued to him.
But now, here you were, with Yoongi whispering sweet nothings in your ear about how well you’d take them both, whimpering and moaning as you nodded your head along. “I can do it. Please.”
Yoongi shot Hoseok a wide grin at your words, “You heard the girl, ‘Seok. And baby’s used to getting what she wants.”
Hoseok jumped into action at Yoongi’s permission, unzipping his pants at record speed. He stepped out onto the balcony with a salacious grin, approaching you. “Can’t deny the spoiled brat, am I right?” He fished his cock out of his briefs with one hand, the other coming up to tap your cheek affectionately. “Otherwise you’d throw a fit, wouldn’t you yn?”
You nodded, leaning in to his touch. Your mouth started to water with the view of his long, veiny cock, grasped in his hand as he stroked it lazily. With one last glance at Yoongi, earning his approval, Hoseok led your head down towards the bulbous red head, precum slightly dripping out. He swiped his thumb over the head, smearing the precum onto his finger, and pushing it into your mouth once you got close enough. You moaned at the familiar creamy texture on your tongue, yearning for more. You wrapped your lips around his cock, feeling it protrude your mouth as he eased in.
Behind you, Yoongi was himself up, tapping against your messy folds before pushing back in. You squeaked, both your holes filling up simultaneously. They had you bent over on a balcony, with you offering up your entrances as they needed. And you wouldn’t have it any other way.
Hoseok’s hand wrapped in your hair as he hissed, lightly thrusting into your mouth. “She feels so good.” Tapping your cheek as praise. You looked up at him with big eyes and were greeting with his pretty smile looking down at you.
“She’s got quite a mouth. Gotta stuff it with cock, otherwise she throws a tantrum. Right baby?” You let out a muffled squeal at Yoongi’s slap to your ass and your legs spread wider instantly.
You wrapped your hand around Hoseok, bobbing your head up and down to find a rhythm. He was leaning against the railing, head thrown back as you tried to take his cock into your mouth. His grunts were loud, and so pretty. The gutteral sound sent sparks down your spine, your core tingling with every groan he let out.
Once he started thrusting into your mouth, though. You were completely at their mercy. He held your hands behind your back, giving you a semblance of balance as Yoongi gripped your hips. They thrust into you ruthlessly, escalating quickly from the brief warmup they’d given you. Back and forth, they found a brutal pace. One that left tears brimming in your eyes from pleasure.
“Fuck, yn, you wanna cum baby?” Yoongi panted, quick to wrap his hand around your waist and find your clit. All you could do was moan pitifully in response as Hoseok’s cock filled your mouth. They were getting close, you could feel it.
“Go on, princess. Ah, fuck—” Yoongi’s hips stuttered as he reached his peak. “Cum.”
After Yoongi worked you through yours, you got on your knees like a good girl, waiting for their loads with an open mouth and hands pumping their cocks. And you got what you wanted, splattered all over your face and lips, tongue peeking out to get a taste of what you could.
Yoongi and Hoseok must’ve not noticed the wide eyes staring at you from a balcony over. At least, not until they’d emptied their balls. Hoseok cursed under his breath with a laugh as he nodded to Yoongi. They didn’t turn around to see the neighboring structure, but you sure did, curious about what all the fuss was about.
As they headed back inside, you caught the onlooker’s eyes. The snooty wife, a cigarette frozen in her hands as she stared, open-mouthed. There was a glint of rage in her eyes, something you wouldn’t have recognized if it wasn’t so obvious how she felt about you and Yoongi’s relationship. She must’ve thought the devil of you now, your face still covered in the evidence of what you just did. You sent her a sweet smile. She almost fell off the balcony in the fit she had.
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fantasybangtan · 9 months ago
something to hold on to (myg)
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❦ word count. 17.7k ❦ genre. parent fic, fluff, angst, a bit of boob action ❦ warnings. illness, mention of hospitalisation, mention of minor character death, yoongi is kind of a dick sometimes, accidental(?) flashing ❦ 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.  ❦ a/n. merry christmas everyone!! this fic is a collaboration with the wonderful @underthejoon​ @kpopfanfictrash​ @suga-kookiemonster​ @junghelioseok​ @bendthekneetobangtan​ @lamourche​ and @hobidreams​. it’s late, lame and cheesy (and probably under-edited) but I like it that way. I hope you’re all having a fantastic holiday, wherever you may be <3 
“...Can we talk?”
For the first time since blustering in through the front door, Yoongi actually stops to spare you a glance.
You’re standing in the entryway in a pair of high waisted jeans and a peach coloured blouse, hands clasped behind your back and a nervous expression on your face. If he notices your outfit is new, he doesn’t pass comment on it. He doesn’t mention the fact that you’re wearing makeup today either, nor that you seem to have taken a little more time with your hair than usual. Not that you’d expected him to. Your employer isn’t well known for giving compliments, much less understanding when a woman is trying to impress him. Yoongi probably wouldn’t recognise flirting if it hit him in the face with a brick. 
His face is impassive as ever when he drops his keys into the bowl with a shrug. “Sure. There’s actually something I wanted to discuss with you too.”
You nod, fiddling anxiously with his hands as he slips off the snow-smattered trench coat to reveal the suit jacket beneath. He looks tired this evening; more so than usual if the dark bags under his eyes are anything to go by. Even on his days off Yoongi works like a tank, often letting himself get so wrapped up in getting everything done he forgets to eat meals. It’s a coping strategy, of course - one that always tends to get a little out of hand when this time of year rolls around. 
Yoongi turns back to you, loosening the knot of his tie with a ringed finger. He raises his eyebrows.
You follow him through into the heart of the penthouse: a masterpiece of white granite and gold strip lights. The room is utterly spotless save for the mug of freshly-brewed tea that sits waiting on the island, steam spiralling upwards towards the vaulted ceiling. 
“Here,” you say, nudging it towards him. It’s a comfortable ritual between you at this point. Yoongi needs a hit of caffeine if he’s going to make it to dinner without taking his work stress out on whoever’s unfortunate enough to be in the room with him, but following a series of chest pains a few months ago, his doctor put a strict ban on drinking coffee past 7pm. Replacing the habit with a cup of white tea in the evening was your compromise. 
Yoongi takes it with a small nod of gratitude, lowering himself onto the bar stool. His eyes flutter closed for a moment when he takes a sip, and your chest feels warm inside when the tension visibly starts to drain from his shoulders. The man is always so tightly wound. It’s really no wonder he suffers from back pain, what with all the stress he carries around with him. You’ve been trying to convince him to see an osteopath, but Yoongi insists there’s only so much ‘voodoo medicine’ he can bring himself to splash out on per month, and the December quota was already filled by the VapoRub you made him buy for his blocked sinuses. 
He places the mug down with a quiet sigh. 
“How was she today?”
You snap out of your reverie, meeting his expectant gaze. 
“She was wonderful,” you say honestly. “Coach said he’s really proud of how hard she’s been practicing. Her toe double toe loop has come on leaps and bounds these past few weeks.”
Yoongi raises his eyebrows questioningly.
“The jumpy spinny thing,” you clarify.
“Ahh. So that’s what it’s called.”
A fond smile tugs at your lips. Though Yoongi never misses an opportunity to support his daughter on the ice, the ins-and-outs of the sport are often lost on him. Surprisingly, he’s far more adept at the hair and costume side of things than he is at giving his little girl feedback on her actual performances. Ever since the day her first ever coach had pulled him aside to tell him Dee had ‘a god given gift’ that needed to be nurtured, he’s much preferred to leave such things to the professionals. 
“So.” Yoongi laces his fingers atop the table. Though you remain standing, you can’t help but feel that you’ve entered in on one of his business meetings. He looks you up and down. “Do you want to go first or shall I?”
“Oh -” All at once the nerves return full-force, fluttering away in your stomach like a flock of migrating birds. You instinctively drop your gaze to the floor when you feel your neck heating up. “Y-you can start.”
Unsurprisingly, Yoongi doesn’t so much as bat an eyelid at your odd behaviour, and you wonder how on earth Mina thought you could do this. You wonder how you -believed- her. Holding a conversation with your employer without taking offense to his social tactlessness was hard enough, especially before you understood Yoongi’s deadpan honesty is something he genuinely doesn’t know how to reign in. But admitting you have feelings for him? 
That was a whole other kettle of fish.
“I got a call from Dee’s grandmother today,” he says, drawing your attention back to him once again.
You raise your eyebrows. “Oh?”
“Her grandpa’s been taken into hospital with a shattered hip.”
Your eyes go wide. “Oh my god, is he alright?!”
Yoongi waves off your concern, cringing slightly at the shrillness of your tone. “He’s totally fine. He underwent surgery last night and he’s stable,” he eyes you across the island. “...It does mean they won’t be able to have Dee for the run-up to Christmas though.”
As your panic ebbs, you think you catch a glimpse of something softer beneath Yoongi’s default unmoved expression. He’s not only tired, you realise, but exhausted, worn thin by the constant pressure he keeps himself under. It takes everything in you not to close the space between you and wrap your arms around him. You know he’ll only burn himself out if he carries on like this, and the thought makes your heart ache. 
“I know it’s a big ask,” he continues with a weary exhale, scrubbing a hand down his face, “but it’s too late to cancel on this work trip. Flights to Berlin are fully booked up until late January, and the company we’re doing business with has made it abundantly clear they plan to proceed with or without our input. I’d pay you overtime of course. Whatever works best for you. I just need someone to sit here for a few days and make sure my daughter doesn’t burn the apartment down while I’m gone.”
“Yoongi,” you say quietly, shushing him with a gentle hand atop his wrist. He stares down at the point of contact, and you hope to god he can’t hear the way your pulse is going crazy. “You know I’d be happy to do it.”
Tentatively, he meets your eyes. “Are you sure? Your family -”
“Can manage a few more days without me. Looking after Dee is never a burden. She’s…” you cut yourself off, unable to hold his gaze. “She’s the best thing in my life.”
It’s not a lie. But perhaps it’s only a half-truth. The other best thing is sitting right opposite you, after all. 
Yoongi has never been the type to smile much. He’s stoic and blunt, and doesn’t know when to loosen up when the time calls for it - but he never says anything he doesn’t mean. That’s why it makes your heart feel so full when he says a soft, “Thank you, Y/N. You’re really helping me out here.”
You extract your fingers from his wrist, suddenly too shy to maintain the proximity between you. 
“Don’t mention it,” you cough.
Completely oblivious, Yoongi picks up his mug again. “You wanted to talk to me about something too?”
“Oh, uh… well. I was just -” You scramble for the right words, your mind drawing a complete blank beneath the weight of his gaze. 
It wasn’t like you’d come unprepared. You’d planned this whole thing out with Mina over the weekend, even going so far as to roleplay the possible outcomes of your confession (a necessity when it comes to Yoongi, because the man has absolutely zero concept of letting someone down gently). You’d practiced exactly what you wanted to say several times over in the car before heading over to pick up Dee, and all the whole way back to the penthouse you were convinced you had it down pat. 
Right up until Yoongi walked through the door, that is.
With the air stolen from your lungs just looking at him, your confidence crumbles, and the fact that he’s clearly had a shit day doesn’t help any. The harder you will yourself to form a coherent sentence, the more your tongue refuses to do so. 
“I-It’s not important,” you manage eventually.
Yoongi quirks a sceptical eyebrow at you. “Are you sure?”
You pause, then jerk your chin in a nod. 
“I’m sure.”
Yoongi doesn’t push it. 
“Okay then.” He finishes off the last dregs of his tea and rises to a stand. “I’ll walk you to your car.”
“Oh, you really don’t have to -”
“I know I don’t.” He crosses over to the clothing hooks and grabs your jacket, holding it out to you. “Put this on. I need to check in on Dee first.”
Dazedly, there’s little else you can do but follow his instructions. It’s not an uncommon occurrence for Yoongi to see you through the parking lot outside his place, especially during the winter months when it’s dark out, but the gesture still never fails to make you giddy.
Next time, you say to yourself firmly when he returns, holding open the front door for you to slip out first. Next time, I’ll tell him.
Last Year
You slide your feet into your heeled boots, wincing at the way your toes pinch together inside. 
It’s a Saturday evening - one you’d normally spend watching curled up on the couch with a takeaway in your lap or running yourself a nice hot bath, had Mina not spent the better half of the week trying to convince you to go on a date with the IT guy from her office - and between running slightly late and the shot of Dutch courage you definitely shouldn’t have taken ten minutes ago, your stomach feels like it’s tying itself up in knots. 
“You need to get out more,” your friend insists. “It’s been literal years since you last had fun.”
You open your mouth to correct her but she fixes you with a warning glare before you can say anything. 
“Fun in the form of Hula Fit and pottery class don’t count, Y/N. And you should probably save the conversation about your weird hobbies until at least the third date. Preferably after sex too, or your chances of getting any will be slim to none.”
You sink down in your chair, scowling at her over the top of your ice cream cup. 
“I still have fun,” you mutter. “I just have a lot on my plate right now. This new job is taking up a lot of my time, and I’m really not interested in getting fired before the trial period is up.”
“Y/N, you pick a rich couple’s kid up from skate club five times a week, make her pasta and watch cartoons until bedtime,” Mina snorts. “What the hell could go wrong?”
“First of all Mr Min is a single father,” you say, pointing your plastic spoon at her accusingly, “and second of all, you haven’t met the guy. If you had, you’d understand why I’m so on edge.”
“Why? What’s wrong with him?”
“He’s freaking terrifying, Mi!” You throw your hands up in the air to emphasise your point. “He barely spoke in my interview, just sat there giving me the dead eyes while his assistant asked all the questions! And he did exactly the same thing the first time I met his daughter. Just stood in the corner of the living room and watched, like he was assessing my ability to play with her or something.” 
“Well he must have liked what he saw, right? You got the job.”
“Barely. Apparently when he called the agency to let them know I was hired, he made a point of saying it was only because the other girl he’d been speaking with came down with pneumonia and he needed someone ASAP.” You pout sullenly, stabbing at your ice cream. “And since then he’s taken every opportunity to point out when I’m doing something wrong.”
“Maybe you’re just taking it too personally? That’s his little girl after all. He probably just wants to make sure she’s in safe hands.”
“I guess… I just wish he wasn’t so blunt about it,” you sigh. “Mostly I just feel sorry for Dee. I don’t get the chance to see them interact often because he usually gets home after her bedtime, but he doesn’t strike me like the type of dad who’s particularly involved, you know? She must only see him a couple of days a week.” You take another spoonful of ice cream, your gaze turning contemplative. “She must have one hell of a mother, wherever she is. I can’t think of any other way she could’ve turned out to be such a good egg, given that her father’s so emotionally constipated.”
“Okay, that’s it.” Mina lifts a hand to stop you from going on. “You think way too much about other people’s problems, you know that? It’s depressing. You need to stop getting stressed about the things you can’t change, and start focussing on the stuff you can.”
“Such as?”
“Such as your non-existent dating life.” She pulls her phone out and starts typing. “I’m sending you Jungkook’s number, and you will text him this week. Understood?”
Your phone vibrates in your back pocket.
“Mina -”
“Nope.” She holds up a finger. “I’m not backing down this time. Not until you agree to put yourself first for once.”
“...Fine,” you sigh eventually, pulling your phone from your back pocket. “I’ll text him. But I’m not promising anything more, okay?”
Though it physically pains you to admit it, Mina was right to an extent. You haven’t so much as given a guy your number in the past year, let alone one as hot as in the picture she’d showed you. Zipping up the tiny black skirt you’d borrowed from her closet, you realise with a sense of looming dread that the odds of making a fool of yourself tonight are decidedly not in your favour.
“Jungkook is a gentleman,” you recall her telling you, sipping daintily at her bubble tea. “He definitely doesn’t put out on the first date. Buuut -” she’d lifted a finger before you could chime in. “that does not mean you get the green light to wear your granny panties.”
“I don’t see why not. They’re comfortable and non-restrictive.”
“A girl should always wear her best lingerie when it counts, Y/N.”
“Says who?”
“Oscar de La Renta.”
“Ha, right. And what would he know about women’s underwear?”
She fixes you with a deadpan look. “Are you literally kidding me right now.”
“Mina, if Jungkook’s not going to see it then what’s even the point?” you mumble through a mouthful of ice cream, pointing the spoon at her to emphasise your point. “I’m not just gonna slice myself in half for nothing.”
If it were possible, you’re fairly certain Mina’s eyes roll all the way back into the back of her skull.
“It’s not for him, you loser, it’s for you. Sexy underwear is a confidence booster!” 
“It’s also expensive and a pain in the ass to move around in. Quite literally.” You tilt your plastic cup in an effort to dig out the last of the chocolate chips, but Mina reaches across to pluck the spoon from your fingers. “Wha-? Hey!”
“If you think I’m letting you pull a Bridget Jones on your first date in twelve months, you are sorely mistaken,” she says resolutely, ignoring your sullen expression. She raises a hand to flag down the server, muttering under her breath, “Clearly we have more work to do than I anticipated.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I’m taking you to Silky Fit, and we’re not leaving until you’ve picked something out,” she clarifies, pulling her purse out when the waiter came over with the bill. 
After sparing you a second glance, her expression softens somewhat. She tilts her head and sighs fondly at you, the same way someone might sigh at a helpless child, or a puppy covered from head to toe in mud after playing in the garden. 
“You have ice cream on your chin, babe,” she says, tossing a balled up napkin your way.
And thus, here you are a week later, teetering around your apartment in an outfit that’s two sizes smaller than anything you’d usually opt to wear, the string of your new thong pulling uncomfortably tight between your ass cheeks. 
Admittedly, glancing at yourself in the mirror before slipping your blouse on had left you feeling pleasantly flushed. Even despite the minor physical discomfort, Mina hadn’t been lying about the confidence boost. Your body looked good. The colour of the set you’d picked out provided a pretty contrast against your skin, and the bra had just the right amount of upward push to make your breasts look full and perky in their cups. Though ‘sexy’ was never typically a word you’d thought to associate with yourself, turning from side to side in the mirror almost had you reconsidering. 
Makeup done and hair styled into a loose updo, you snap a quick picture of yourself in the bathroom mirror, feeling surprisingly content with the end result.
Y/N: [image.png]
Y/N: all good ???
Despite being at a formal dinner with her boss and some company associates, it takes less than a minute for your friend to respond. You snort when an image of her disgruntled face comes through, clearly shot from beneath the restaurant table. 
Mina: stop trying to sext me ?? I don’t have time for this right now
Y/N: desperate times. need validation :(
Mina: you look so good I could eat you
Mina: ...are you wearing them?👀
You smile at your phone. Feeling emboldened by her praise, you pull up your camera again, this time shooting a quick video in which you turn slowly so she could see the full effect of your outfit. At the very end you tug your blouse to the side a little, flashing just the top of your lace bra with a comically over-exaggerated wink. 
Y/N: video.mp4 🤫
Y/N: enjoy your night baby x
Your taxi calls shortly afterwards to let you know they’re downstairs. 
Despite how busy the restaurant is tonight, it isn’t hard to spot your date. 
Jungkook is big. Far bigger than you’d imagined the stereotypical nerdy tech guy to be. He practically dwarfs you when he stands up to shake your hand, and you feel positively giddy when he rounds the table to pull your chair out for you. He even has the presence of mind to catch you when you inevitably stumbled over your heels on the way down, a gentle hand on your elbow stopping you from face planting in front of the entire establishment. 
“Careful there,” he murmurs, the amused smile on his face causing your neck to prickle with welcome heat. “You almost fell for me.”
When you let out a loud snort in response, clapping a hand over your mouth as a second too late to catch the unattractive sound, Jungkook doesn’t even bat an eyelid - just proceeds to tuck your chair in behind you and call the waiter over to take your drinks orders. You can’t help but wonder if Mina warned him about you beforehand. 
All in all, the date gets off to a good start. You’re relieved to learn that Jungkook is smooth enough for the both of you, seamlessly filling any lulls in the conversation before things have a chance to turn awkward. What’s more, he seems genuinely interested in learning more about you, listening attentively when you explain how you’re currently studying part time for your masters in education whilst nannying on the side. You flush with warmth when he praises your ambition. 
“It must be hard, juggling work with your studies,” he remarks. “It’s awesome that you’re so committed.”
“It’s not that impressive really,” you say, though your whole body is practically aglow from all the compliments. “Truth be known, the agency I work with deals primarily with parents from wealthy areas of the city, so most of us get paid a bit more than your average sitter would. It almost feels like cheating, really.”
“Oh?” Jungkook quirks an eyebrow, raising his wine glass to his lips. “Any celebrities on your contact list so far?”
“Sadly not. I’m only two weeks into my first job so far, and my current employer flies a little lower under the radar than most rich people.”
“A businessman then,” Jungkook nods.
“Precisely. He used to run a tech company, which I think is how he made the majority of his wealth. Nowadays he just does marketing stuff though.”
“A tech company, huh?” Jungkook presses. “Would I have heard of him?” 
To your alarm, he almost spits out his wine when the name Min Yoongi comes out your mouth.  
“Min? As in Min Enterprises?!” he sputters. 
You’re quick to fill him a glass of water, which he accepts gratefully. “That’s the one. You know him?”
“Sure I do,” he says between gulps. “We use literally all of his anti-virus software at work. The guy’s a genius.”
You raise your eyebrows curiously. “Really? The woman from my agency told me his tech company closed years ago. I don’t know much about this stuff, but I would have thought any software they produced would be a little outdated by now...”
Jungkook snorts in amusement. “Closed down is one way of putting it.”
“What do you mean?”
“His programme was good. So good that none of the other tech giants compete with it,” Jungkook explains once his eyes have stopped watering. “Come 2010, Microsoft bit the bullet and bought him out for around fifteen million. They’ve been developing and expanding on his work ever since.”
“Fifteen million?” Your eyebrows shot up towards your hairline. “Christ! No wonder his apartment looks like the Louvre.” 
“I bet it does,” Jungkook laughs. “I’d kill to see what your Christmas bonus looks like.”
It certainly explains a lot, you think to yourself. Particularly Yoongi’s attitude. You’ve seen The Social Network, after all, as painstakingly boring as it may have been. Those matrix-minded, Zuckerberg type kids always grow up to be emotionally stunted. It’s like a trade-off they make with God for getting to be smarter than ninety-nine per cent of the human population. 
When the waiter comes back to whisk away your starter plates, you momentarily excuse yourself to go to the bathroom to check your teeth for wayward broccoli. After giving yourself the all clear, you fix your lipstick and pull your phone out to let Mina know everything’s going well. 
You’re surprised to discover you already have three new messages from her.
Mina: helloooooo ??
Mina: man. she goes on ONE date and already I’ve been dropped
Mina: after all I’ve done for you 😭
You furrow your brows in confusion, scrolling up in the chat. Your bewilderment only increases when you discover Mina’s previous texts have, indeed, gone unanswered. Your video clip is nowhere to be found, and you wonder absently if the Wi-Fi back at your apartment is screwing you over again.
No sooner have you exited the chat that another text comes through, this time from a different number.
We need to talk.
Your heart abruptly flatlines. 
Several things click at once after that, the first being that clearly, it was not Mina’s name you had clicked on to send that video to. 
With shaking hands you open up the chat with your employer, utterly horrified when all your worst nightmares are confirmed at once. 
There, staring back up at you from beneath a message asking if Dee is allergic to band aids, is your cleavage. 
Enjoy your night baby, is what you’d said to Mr Min afterwards. 
Mr Min, who could slice a grown man’s confidence to ribbons with little more than a look. 
Mr Min, your boss of merely two weeks. 
“Fuck!” you hiss, pressing the call button and bringing the phone to your ear. “Oh fucking, fucking fuck…”
Your employer picks up on the second ring. You suck in a shaky breath before speaking. 
“Sir, I -”
“Miss L/N.” 
His voice is ice cold. So cold that the sound alone sound has your apology catching in your throat. 
Not for the first time since you met him, you’re reminded of exactly why Yoongi is so revered and respected among those in the business world. You can’t imagine what it would be like to have him speak your name like that in a boardroom full of men in suits, but you’re pretty sure any shred of self-confidence you had would be all but crushed beneath the toe of his designer oxfords if he so desired. In all honesty, you’d probably prefer it if he were yelling at you. At least if he raised his voice, you wouldn’t be gripping the faucet right now for fear your knees might buckle beneath you.
Somewhere on the other end of the line, a door slams shut like Yoongi is just getting in after a long day. Or perhaps he’s taking this conversation somewhere more private. Either possibility has your stomach churning with anxiety. 
“What is wrong with you?” he hisses under his breath.
You swear you’ve never wanted the floor to swallow you up so badly as you do in this moment.
Screwing your eyes shut, you force yourself to respond. 
“Sir, I can’t tell you how completely sorry I am… th-the video was meant for someone else. I would never be so bold as to -”
“You do realise I’m entrusting my child to you?”
Immediately, your mouth snaps shut. The sensation that you’ve just been slapped across the face takes you by complete surprise.
It takes a few seconds for your brain to play catch up with what Yoongi just said, but when the words finally compute, you feel -hurt-. The suggestion that your personal life might impact on your ability to take care of Yoongi’s daughter stings like hell, and for all his lacking interpersonal skills, your employer didn’t strike you as the type to draw such conclusions until now. The notion doesn’t sit well with you at all. 
Swallowing tightly, you place a hand over your abdomen to ground yourself.
“I really am sorry, Mr Min,” you repeat quietly. “It was an accident. I never intended to put you in an uncomfortable position, and I promise it won’t happen again.”
On the other end of the line, Yoongi is quiet for a moment. 
You wonder if he could hear the slight tremble in your voice. If he can sense the fact that he just squashed your self-confidence beneath his thumb like it was nothing. 
“Make sure it doesn’t,” he mutters eventually. Then, after another short pause, “I’ll see you on Monday.” 
Before you can so much as thank him for not threatening to report you to the agency, you’re met with the tell-tale click of your employer placing the phone down on you, leaving you with an embarrassed lump in your throat and bottom lip wobbling with the threat of tears. 
As could probably be predicted, your date with Jungkook goes rapidly downhill from there. Apparently unable to enjoy a good thing without utterly humiliating yourself along the way, you feel sick to your stomach with anxiety for the remainder of the evening. You barely even touch your dessert, and when Jungkook walks you to your cab half an hour later, you brush him off with a forced smile and a handshake, already having accepted the fact that he wouldn’t want to see you again.
Only when you’re in the back of the cab and heading home do you allow the first quiet tears to fall.
Showing up to work the following Monday is one of the toughest things you’ve ever done.
Even Dee seems to notice something is off when you pick her up from practice. Shrewd as she is, she eventually settles for humming along to the radio when she realises you’re in no mood to talk. Try as you might, you can’t stop replaying her father’s words to you on the phone, and despite Mina’s insistence that he’s an unforgiving prick, a small part of you still wonders if he’s right… Are you even fit to look after a kid? Are you fit to do -anything- besides making a fool of yourself?
To make things worse, Yoongi arrives home early that evening. 
As nervous as you are to see him again, you can’t help but be momentarily distracted by the way he hoists Dee up onto his hip to greet her. It’s not that he’s smiling or anything - such an expression would probably look wrong on him, anyway - but the way he cradles the back of her head seems strangely affectionate for a man like him.
“You’re getting heavy,” he murmurs, pausing to sniff her damp curls. His eyebrows furrow slightly. “And you smell different.”
“Y/N put lime jelly in my bath,” his daughter responds in a sleepy voice, her voice muffled against his lapel. “The water turned green like a skeptic tank.”
“Septic tank,” Yoongi corrects quietly. Though his face remains as expressionless as ever, you don’t miss the way his aura grows soft around her - a detail he himself probably doesn’t even recognise. “Sounds like you two had fun.”
His eyes lock with yours across the living room and you drop your gaze immediately, your body flushing with heat like you’ve been caught out doing something you shouldn’t. 
“S-sorry,” you blurt reflexively, already moving to grab your satchel. “I didn’t realise you were coming home early. Let me just pack up my stuff -”
“Y/N.” Yoongi’s voice stops you in your tracks. “Can I speak with you for a second?”
Standing stock still like a deer in the headlights, a sense of impending doom floods through you. This is it. Clearly Yoongi’s thought it over and decided to fire you after all. And the worst thing is you couldn’t even blame him! How could he possibly see you as a professional again after witnessing you running your tongue over your top teeth like a hungry carnivore? You haven’t even had the chance to explain it was -ironic.-
“Sure,” you squeak, torn between accepting your fate and grovelling on your knees for forgiveness. Who the hell was going to hire the babysitter who got fired from her first job during the trial period? For sending -provocative images- no less!
Carefully, Yoongi sets Dee down on the floor again, nodding in the direction of her room. 
“Why don’t you go pick out a bedtime story?” he says.
His daughter peers up at him like he’s just sprouted a second head. 
“You’re going to read to me?”
“No, I’m going to hit you over the head with it.” Yoongi rolls his eyes. “Obviously I’m going to read to you.”
Dee doesn’t look convinced. She folds her arms over her chest. 
“Alice in Wonderland?”
“That book is long as hell, Dee. I’ll read two chapters.”
“With the voices?”
“What am I, a performing monkey? Get out of here before I change my mind, kid.”
Dee huffs, clearly dissatisfied. Nonetheless, she trudges off to her room, her ringlets bouncing as she goes.
The living room falls uncomfortably quiet again once it’s just you and Yoongi. 
You fiddle idly with your hands, unsure of where to look. The embarrassment of the situation hits you all over again when you accidentally replay the video in your mind, and despite the fact that you’re wearing two layers already, you can’t help but cross your arms protectively over your chest. 
As if sensing your discomfort, Yoongi clears his throat.
“May I offer you a drink?”
You pause. It’s not quite what you’d expected, but then again, rich people are weird. Maybe it’s customary to send your incompetent employees on their way with a glass of Chateau Petrus. Having skipped out on the whole making-millions-of-dollars-in-your-early-twenties thing, you probably wouldn’t know.
“I’m fine,” you manage weakly, shaking your head. “Thank you, sir.”
Yoongi gestures towards the couches. “Shall we sit then?”
You gnaw at your lip anxiously. “... I think that depends.”
“Whether you’re going to fire me.” You force yourself to look up. “With all due respect, Mr Min, I’d rather just shake hands and go. I’m finding it hard enough to look you in the eye right now as it is.”
Yoongi blinks. Your words hang heavy in the air between you. 
“Miss L/N,” he says slowly, clearly taken aback by your forwardness. “If I wanted to fire you, I would have done so already.”
You open your mouth, then abruptly close it again. Your eyebrows tug together in confusion. 
“So you... aren’t?”
“Of course I’m not.” Yoongi shakes his head as if the notion alone is utterly ridiculous to him. “I only held you back tonight because I wanted to -” 
He cuts himself off suddenly, like there’s a physical barrier stopping the words from coming out. Then with a tired sigh, he leans back against the sideboard, carding his ringed fingers back through his hair. 
“Because I wanted to apologise,” he finishes.
If possible, your eyes grow even wider than before.
“...Huh?” is all you can manage.
“I shouldn’t have been so hard on you,” Yoongi clarifies simply. “I was out of line. I had no business speaking to you how I did.”
“Oh, n-no Mr Min,” you scramble for words, already raising your hands to stop him from going on. “Please don’t say that. What happened on Saturday was totally my fault. That message was -”
“A harmless accident,” he cuts in gently, and you pause at the unfamiliarity in his tone. “Please rest assured that I was the asshole in that situation, Y/N, not you.”
Lips parted softly, you gape at him from across the dimly lit living room. It’s beyond strange hearing such a formidable man issue such a humble apology, and you had absolutely no idea how to respond. 
Seeming to mistake your silence as a prompt for further explanation, Yoongi exhales heavily through his nose, his gaze momentarily dropping to his feet.
“I tend to get a little… short-fused around this time of year,” he says. “I lost Dee’s mother in early December. Yesterday was the four-year anniversary of her death.”
Your heart stutters in your chest. 
Of course, you knew there was a woman involved at some point. And in more than just an oven-for-the-bun kind of way, if the drawings on the fridge were anything to go by. But up until now, you’d assumed the two of them had simply parted ways - that she lived a few neighbourhoods away, and Dee visited her every other weekend. To learn that her absence is something far more permanent than that - to witness that purple stick-woman transform into a real, vibrant image in your mind’s eye - is something else entirely, and a thousand possibilities flash through your imagination at shutter speed. You see someone who took care of Dee when she was sick. Someone who encouraged her husband to pursue his goals and start up his own company. A mother and a wife, with hobbies and dreams and a presence that probably bled itself into every cranny of the apartment before Yoongi had stripped it bare in her wake. 
Someone who probably would have been utterly furious at you for all the bold assumptions you’ve made about him so far.
You wonder who the man standing before you might have been, had he not had the person he loved most in the world torn from him just as they were starting a life together. All at once, your gut burns with shame.
“Mr Min...” you say, your voice barely loud enough to make the distance between you. “I’m so sorry.”
Yoongi is quick to shake his head. “Don’t be,” he says, his tone kind but firm. “I’m a grown man. My grief is no excuse to treat people poorly. If I could take back what I said that night I would, but when your message came through it -”  He abruptly stops talking. 
If you didn’t know better, you’d think there was a hint of a blush on his cheeks. 
“It caught me off guard,” he finishes eventually, inclining his head in a small bow. “Please accept my apologies.” 
Feeling a little winded by the whole ordeal, there’s little else you can do but return his gesture, stooping low with your hands on your thighs. “Of course,” you manage. “Please, consider it forgotten, sir.”
Yoongi straightens up with a nod. His dark eyes skim over you with an unreadable expression.
“Just for the record,” he adds tentatively, “I never would have fired you for something like that. I’m afraid my daughter is already far too attached to you.”
You flushed at the sentiment, embarrassed for reasons you couldn’t quite place. “I highly doubt that’s true,” you mumble, glancing downward. “I’ve only been here two weeks.”
“On the contrary, there’s a bag of Christmas peppermint creams in the fridge that she made you at after school club,” says Yoongi. “I asked where mine were and she pulled my wallet out of my pocket, handed it back to me and told me to stop sponging off other people’s hard work.”
For the first time during a conversation with your employer, you let out a genuine laugh. 
Yoongi doesn’t laugh along, of course. He doesn’t even smile. You’re starting to figure at this point that his blank expression might actually be his happy one.
“Hey - will Dee be okay?” you ask a few moments later, when the room lapses back into a comfortable quiet. “I wasn’t aware that she might be going through a tough time...”
“I think she’s normalised it now,” Yoongi explains, sliding his hands into the pockets of his slacks. “She was too young back then. Her memories of her mother are abstract at best. The drawings she brings home from school, they’re just copies of photographs really. The stuff she knows from home videos or stories I’ve told her.” He pauses. “I think she can sense it though. How I get a bit funny around Christmastime. I think it upsets her.”
“You can’t help it,” you insist gently, the guilt of judging Yoongi too harshly causing your stomach to clench up once again. “Dee’s a smart girl. I’m sure she’ll come to understand it one day.”
Yoongi watches you from across the room, his head slightly tilted like he was trying to figure something out. 
“Thank you,” he says eventually. “For taking care of Dee. Things before… they were hard on her. I wish I could be there for her more.” He glances away momentarily. “I think you being here has made things easier.” 
Something warm and fuzzy unfurls in your chest at his words. 
“I’m happy I could help,” you say honestly. “She really is a great kid.”
“She is.” Yoongi nods.
“And she thinks the world of you,” you can’t help but add, because despite your previous assumptions about Yoongi’s parenting, it hadn’t taken long to cotton on to the fact that Dee never shuts up about him. 
“Right,” Yoongi snorts. He pushes away from the sideboard. “Tell me that again when the teenage years roll around.”
You grin, and he hesitates a moment for gesturing towards your raincoat.
“It’s dark out, and the light in the parking lot keeps flickering out,” he says. “I’ll walk you to your car.”
The offer takes you by surprise. You’re not used to seeing the kind side of your employer. Hell, you’re not used to much more than thinly-veiled criticism and blunt remarks.
Nonetheless, after saying a final goodnight to Dee, you let Min Yoongi walk you downstairs that day.
(You let him do it every day after that, too).
You’re sweating buckets by the time you reach the front door, your hair a wild mess from the unexpected bout of snow that had caught you on the way over. Panting like an animal, you raise your elbow to press the doorbell, taking about three tries before you actually manage to accomplish such a feat. 
It’s barely even finished ringing before Yoongi is standing before you, a disgruntled look on his face and cheeks pink from exertion. 
He’s dressed down - or as dressed down as one can be in a Ralph Lauren sweatshirt and comfy slacks, which in reality is about as close to loungewear as he’s likely to get. Up until now you were convinced the man slept in a full suit. 
Standing in the doorway with one hand on the frame, he gives you an unimpressed once over.
“You’re late.”
You roll your eyes. “Hello to you too.”
“What’s with the bags?” 
“Just a few things to get us through the week. Can I come in, or...?”
Begrudgingly, Yoongi moves out the way, though he’s still eyeing you warily.
“Exactly how much sugar are you planning to stuff my kid with while I’m gone?” 
You place your shopping bags down in the entryway with a sigh. “It’s Christmas, for heaven’s sake, what else are we supposed to do if not overeat until we pass out in front of the TV?”
Yoongi hums, his lips pursed. “Right. Just remember no sweet treats after eight. And no milk either for that matter, we’re trying her on -” 
“A lactose free diet to see if it helps with the stomach cramps,” you drone. “I’ve been here every weekday for a whole year, Yoongi. There’s no need to reiterate the rules every time I walk in.” 
“You might know the rules, but I know my daughter. She despises oat milk with a passion, and she’ll try every which way to get you to cave when it comes to hot chocolate.” He pulls out his wallet with a sigh, and your expression morphs into one of confusion. “How much do I owe you?” 
“O-oh! You don’t have to pay me back,” You hold your hands out in front of you, shaking your head. “These are a gift, and they barely cost anything anyway. It’s just gingerbread men and.. and colouring books and stuff.” 
Yoongi quirks an eyebrow. 
“Really,” he drawls. “So you’re telling me I won’t find the new Super Smash Bros game buried underneath all that junk food if I take a look?” 
“Shh!” You clap a hand over his mouth, eyes darting towards the living room. “Don’t spoil it!” 
Yoongi sighs, taking your wrist gently so he can speak again. “Snacks are fine, but that game is at least forty dollars. I can’t have you spending that much money on us.” 
“But I want to,” you insist, giving him the puppy-dog eyes. “Dee’s wanted it for months, and she’s been working so hard recently. I want to show her I’m proud of her.” You stick your bottom lip out. “Please let me.” 
Yoongi narrows his eyes at you. “Don’t look at me like that.” 
“Like what?” 
“You know what.”
You grin wickedly. You already know you’ve won.
With a reluctant grumble, Yoongi slides his wallet back into his pocket. “I’m only letting this slide because I’m running late,” he says, even though you’re both aware he’s not. He nods towards your grocery bags. “You need help getting those to the kitchen?” 
“I’ll be fine,” you wave him off. “You finish packing, boss. I’ll go say hi to the little monster.” 
Unsurprisingly, Dee is still in her pyjamas when you find her. She’s curled up on her side at the foot of the Christmas tree, Home Alone playing on the TV for the umpteenth time. You know it’s her favourite. She and Kevin have a lot in common when left to their own devices.
“Hey, bug,” you say in passing. “You getting into the Christmas spirit?”
Dee barely even lifts her head to look at you. “How can I?” she mumbles into the carpet. “I’m being abandoned. Again.”
You tut, opening the fridge so you can unload the goods into it. “Hey now, it’s not all bad. You have me, remember. And I have gingerbread men.”
You hold up the box and shake it, but Dee merely blinks at your efforts to raise her spirits. 
She sighs forlornly, her gaze sliding back to the TV.
Your eyes soften as you watch her. She looks so small like this, rolled over on one side with her knees tucked up against her chest. It’s hard to believe this is the same little girl whose performances explode like dynamite when she hits the ice, the energy she exudes reaching every corner of the rink. 
In these smaller, quieter moments, you see more of her father in her than ever.
“Dee,” you say, your voice gentle but firm. “Look at me, bug.” 
Reluctantly, she peels her eyes away from the TV screen to meet yours.
“You know your dad doesn’t want to go any more than you want him to, right?” you say. “If it were up to him, he’d be staying right here.”
“I know...” Dee mumbles, playing with her fingers. “I just don’t like it when he’s gone.”
“I know you don’t, bug.” You smile sadly. “And that’s totally okay. But we need to make sure we don’t make this any harder on him than it needs to be, right? That means no tears this time.”
Dee rolls her eyes, her cheeks flushing. 
Yoongi had been called away on a weekend business trip in Paris a few months ago, and for whatever reason, the kid had had a meltdown like nothing you’d ever seen before when it came time for him to leave. It had taken all your strength to pry her arms from around his leg, and at the time it had been heart-breaking to witness. 
Her separation anxiety always tends to show its face at some point when Yoongi goes overseas, but never before to that extent. You don’t think you’ve ever seen a man look quite so torn as Yoongi had in that moment. If you hadn’t been there, you’re convinced he would have cancelled the trip altogether. 
Thankfully, the farewell goes a lot smoother this time. When Yoongi returns from his bedroom with suitcase in tow, Dee stands up and hugs him with little fanfare, burying her face in his stomach. He lifts a hand to smooth over her hair. 
“Be good, okay?” he says. “I’ll be back before you know it.”
“Love you,” Dee mumbles when she pulls back, and you send her an encouraging nod Yoongi’s shoulder. 
“Love you too, kid.” Yoongi bends to kiss the crown of her head, and you observe the exchange with the familiar ache of longing in your bones.
You see him to the door afterwards, the two of you loitering in the threshold as you go through the usual routine of checking he has everything.
“Boarding pass?” you say.
“In my bag.”
“Phone? Wallet?”
He pulls both out to show you. You smile fondly, leaning up against the doorframe with your arms crossed. 
“Text us when you land, okay?” you say softly.
“Yeah.” Yoongi nods. “If you have an emergency while I’m gone -”
“Call Namjoon, his number’s on the fridge under the banana magnet.” You roll your eyes, absentmindedly reaching out to fix his collar. “Again, been here a whole year, Yoongi. I know the drill.”
Your brain catches up a few seconds too late, and by the time you’ve realised your error Yoongi is already blinking down at your fingers, frozen in the process of smoothing down the hem of his sweater. 
Your eyes go wide in panic.
“Um-!” You retract your hands as if you’ve been burned. “H-have a safe flight, okay? I’ll see you soon!”
Yoongi merely hums, staring at you from beneath hooded lids with an unreadable expression.
You all but slam the door in his face, leaning your back up against it and pinching the bridge of your nose in frustration.
“...fuck!” Yoongi hears you curse on the other side.
Last year
The first time you realised you’re in love with your employer, it’s the evening of Dee’s first regional skate competition.
At the request of the little princess herself, you wander into the changing rooms fifteen minutes before the show to give her a good luck hug, finding her perched on a bench in a sparkly blue costume. Her skates are already done up, feet swinging back and forth and her entire body seeming to buzz with energy. Smiling, you begin to make your way over. 
Then you spot him.
Perched on one knee, his hair swept back off his forehead and the sleeves of his work shirt rolled up to his elbows, Yoongi wields a makeup palette in his left hand and a brush in his right. When he murmurs something soft under his breath, Dee responds by closing her eyes. You watch on in quiet awe as Yoongi leans up to brush the glittery powder over her right lid with feather-light strokes. 
When he’s satisfied with the blending, he swaps out the eyeshadow palette for a pack of rhinestones, even going so far as to use a pair of tweezers to apply them seamlessly to her lash line one by one. You can’t help but wonder how many times he’s done this before. He must be the only father in the room right now, and something about the way he owns that fact makes your chest swell with something warm and unidentifiable. You wonder if the braids on her head are his handiwork too. If it was his idea that she wear her mother’s necklace over her costume tonight.
In this moment, you know with certainty there was no one in the world Min Yoongi cared about more than his little girl. 
When he just so happens to glance your way a moment later, Yoongi’s expression barely shifts from his default glower.
“Oh, good,” he remarks drily, tossing you a can of hairspray. You barely managed to catch it without fumbling. “She’s got some flyaways round the back. There’s a comb in the front pocket of her gym bag.”
He goes straight back to work without sparing you a second glance after that, firmly instructing Dee to stop wriggling lest he poke her eye out by accident. 
You swore your heart has never felt so full. 
Biting back a smile, you wordlessly locate the comb and start smoothing out her hair. 
“Hold it… hooold it…”
“Dee, babe. I really don’t think -”
“Hold it, Y/N!”
You exhale heavily through your nose, arms trembling as you struggle to maintain the downward dog position you’ve been forced into. Dee isn’t having nearly so much trouble, her forehead lightly touching her yoga mat when she arches her spine. She wiggles her bottom playfully in the air.
“That’s, guys. You look great!” chirps the annoyingly perky young woman on your iPad screen. “Now we take our right leg and extend upwards, pushing down hard into our heel so we can really feel that stretch in our hamstrings.”
“Trust me, I’m feeling it,” you grunt, barely managing to raise your right leg thirty centimetres off the ground. 
Dee giggles, her leg already extended to its full height as if her body were made of elastic. 
Your core contracts with the effort of keeping you upright, knees threatening to buckle beneath you.
“How is this fair? You’ve been skating since before you could walk and I haven’t moved this much since high school.”
“Tina says each new day is an opportunity to improve yourself.”
You roll your eyes. “Tina sounds like a hoot.” 
“That’s the spirit, ladies! Other leg, let’s go!”
You groan, switching sides. It’s the third day in a row that Dee’s had you do stretches with her, and you’re starting to feel more like you’ve signed up for a week of boot camp than a week of babysitting. 
Dee squints at you from beneath her armpit. 
“Y/N,” she sighs.
“You’re dropping your hips.”
“My apologies, Drill Sergeant Min. Won’t happen again.”
She returns to her position, shaking her head like a disappointed school teacher. “You’re worse than dad, you know.”
You do a double take. “I’m sorry - Yoongi does this with you?”
“Sometimes.” Dee moves gracefully into a side plank, facing away from you. “When he doesn’t have work.”
“And you’re telling me I’m worse?”
“It’s considera-bly,” you correct her with a huff, more out of indignation than anything else. 
“Po-tay-to, po-tah-to,” Dee shrugs.
You let out an amused snort, though your mind is still reeling at the thought of Yoongi willingly assuming the lotus position and breathing out for eight counts. Scratch that, your mind is reeling at the thought of Yoongi wearing anything other than slacks. What kind of power does this kid wield that she can get the human robot himself to break a sweat? 
You continue on with the routine until you can’t any longer, at which point you collapse onto your back with little ceremony. 
“That’s it,” you pant, waving the metaphorical white flag in the air. “I’m done. No more.”
“But we haven’t even got to the headstand part yet!”
“Go on without me, bug. I’ll only hold you back at this point.” You manage to sit up despite the dull ache in your abs, glancing over at the wall clock. “Man, it’s getting late. I should get started on dinner.”
No sooner have you spoken it that Tina’s bouncing breasts disappear from your screen, replaced by Yoongi’s caller ID. 
“Dad!” Dee gasps, already lunging forward to press accept before you can think to stop her.
When Yoongi’s expressionless face appears, he is confronted with the image of you kneeling on your yoga mat in a ratty pink sports bra and leggings, frozen like a deer in the headlights with your brow glistening with sweat and an eight-year-old’s halloween headband holding your hair back from your face. 
You freeze. Yoongi blinks at the velvet cat ears sticking up from atop your head.
“Good morning,” he says in a low rumble.
In the next second you’re diving off-screen with a muttered curse, grappling for your T-shirt where it sits bundled up on the floor. 
None the wiser to your panic, Dee scrunches her nose up. 
“Morning?” she says, settling on her stomach with her chin in her hands. “It’s like five p.m.”
“Different time zones, kid. It’s almost lunchtime here.” Yoongi reclines in his fancy armchair, which is presumably in his hotel suite. “You two have been working hard I see.”
“No pain, no gain,” Dee tells him matter-of-factly, even going so far as to flex her bicep for the camera.
Yoongi hums. “Just don’t go pushing yourself too hard, hm? One of these days you’re going to twist yourself up into a pretzel position you can’t get yourself out of, and when that happens -I’m- the one who’s going to end up carrying you around.”
“Tell that to Y/N,” Dee snorts. “She looked like a drowning octopus when we got to the backbends.”
“I was not that bad,” you hiss, your face heating up with embarrassment despite being off-camera. Then, as an afterthought, “And how the hell does an octopus drown?”
Nobody is listening to you. It might just be a trick of the light, but you’re convinced you spot the corner of Yoongi’s mouth give a slight twitch of amusement.
“Be nice, Dee,” he says, though he doesn’t sound particularly worried for you. “The only bad workout is the one that didn’t happen, right?”
You pause, giving Dee the side-eye. “...Did he just quote Tina?”
She fixes you with a serious gaze. “Careful. Dad is a big Tina fan.”
“Ugh, I bet he is,” you mutter under your breath, pulling a face as you recall the way Tina’s cute little glute muscles had contracted during the standing pigeon. 
“Feel free to let me know when you’re done talking about me like I’m not here,” Yoongi drawls dispassionately, taking a sip of his coffee. “I need to speak with Y/N.”
You can’t help the way your stomach flutters at that. Hesitantly (and having disposed of Dee’s cat ears), you lean back into frame. 
“What’s up?” you say with an awkward wave, already cringing at yourself internally.
Yoongi blinks languidly, passing no comment on your previous state of undress. 
“I’m expecting a delivery to arrive at some point this week,” he says. “I need you to sign for me and put it somewhere safe. Preferably out of reach for anyone below four-foot-two, if you catch my drift.”
“Ohh,” you nod slowly, giving him the thumbs up. Clearly this delivery was Christmas-oriented. “Gotcha. Don’t worry, boss, I’ll make sure no prying eyes see anything they shouldn’t.” 
You shoot him an exaggerated wink behind Dee’s head.
The smallest of smiles works its way onto Yoongi’s lips, and the sight is nothing short of stunning. Just like clockwork, the sight has your chest aching for him to be home. You open your mouth to speak again - perhaps to ask how Berlin is treating him, or some equally lame attempt to keep him on call for a little longer - but before the words can form there’s a sharp knock on the door of Yoongi’s hotel suite.
“Come in,” he calls gruffly.
Fortunately (or perhaps not so fortunately) the angle of the camera is just right that you can see the reflection of the door in the mirror behind, swinging open to reveal his guest. 
“Aha! There he is,” a sultry female voice sounds through the screen. “I’ve been looking all over for you, mister.”
Your heart sinks right to the pit of your stomach. Lower, if it were possible. 
There’s no doubt in your mind that the woman standing in Yoongi’s doorway is anything short of a goddess in a pinstriped skirt. You’d have to be blind not to see how gorgeous she is, all long limbs and softly curled red hair that falls in waves about her shoulders. She leans up against the doorframe with her hip cocked, a playful smirk on her face as she looks at your employer.
“Sofie,” Yoongi acknowledges with a polite nod. True to form, his expression betrays precisely nothing of what’s going on in his head. “Did you need something?”
“I just wanted to ask if you’re coming to lunch. We’ve made reservations at the restaurant downstairs if you’d like to join us.”
Your eyes skirt away, seeking out something better to look at. Anything really, so long as it’s not the obscenely beautiful woman who's hitting on the man you love in a swanky hotel eight thousand kilometres away.
“That’s very kind of you,” says Yoongi, and you wish for once that his voice was anything other than a monotone drawl. There’s absolutely no way of deciphering whether he's into this woman when he talks to her the same way he talks to you, and Dee, and noodles on the damn stove when he wants them to hurry up and boil. “I just need to finish up this call. I’ll be down in a minute.”
“Perfect.” Sofie pushes away from the door with a coy smile. “I’ll see you there.”
She turns on her heel, hips swaying like a pendulum as she slinks out of the room. When the door closes behind her, Yoongi returns his focus to the camera, totally nonchalant. 
“Looks like I’m out of time,” he says.
Dee props her chin on her hand, pouting sullenly. “Are you gonna be home soon?”
“Four days, kid, then I’m all yours.” His gaze flickers over to you. “You two take care, okay?”
“You too,” you nod quickly, determined not to let the internal battle you’re having right now show up on your face.
“I’ll see you later.”
“Bye, Dad.” Dee waves.
“Enjoy your-”
The call ends abruptly, cutting you off.
“... Night,” you finish lamely.
The lovely Miss Tina returns to your screen, and Dee blows a gust of hair from between her lips. The sound startles you somewhat.
“Man,” she says, flopping down onto her stomach. “I hate that B-word.”
“Dee!” you shriek, your eyes almost bugging right out of your head.
She blinks up you innocently. “What? I didn’t curse.”
“I - God, who even taught you that?”
“Family Guy,” she shrugs.
“Right, that’s it. I’m revoking your TV privileges for the rest of the week.” You stand up, waving your finger at her so she knows you’re serious. “Just because it’s a cartoon does not mean it’s suitable for kids.”
“Fine. I’m sorry,” she mutters. “But Sofie really -is- annoying. She’s a froo-trarian, so we had to eat this really weird meal with papaya and stuff when she came over. And she said figure skating is basically just a style of dance!”
You freeze halfway to the kitchen.
“A froo-trarian,” Dee repeated, with extra emphasis on the ‘froo’. “It’s this religion where you don’t eat anything with a face, or anything that came out of something with a face, or anything green unless it’s a kiwi.” 
“No,” you shake your head jerkily. “No, I mean - Sofie came here? To the apartment?”
“Yuh-huh.” Dee’s already distracted, rewinding the workout video to where you left off. “She was doing some work thing with Dad. They were in his office for hours.”
Immediately, your stomach tightens with anxiety. Something about that doesn’t sit right with you at all. Yoongi hardly ever has people from work around, much less for a meal. The man can barely even feed himself when the recipe calls for more than a microwave.
A selfish part of you wants to press the matter with Dee. To ask her more questions about Sofie, and what was said over this illusive dinner they had together. How Yoongi had acted with her. But you know it’s not your place to pry. 
Yoongi deserves his privacy, and you refuse to let your paranoia infringe on that.
“I’ll get started on dinner,” you murmur, continuing on your way to the kitchen.
The feeling of unease stays with you for the remainder of the evening.
Last year
You’re filling in for a friend at the university library when the call comes through. Not on your mobile, because that’s been off all morning, but via the landline you didn’t even know the place had. Your supervisor hands you the phone with raised eyebrows, looking slightly rattled by whoever’s on the other line. 
“It’s for you. They say it’s urgent.”
‘They’ turns out to be an uncharacteristically flustered Yoongi. You’ve barely managed to greet him before he’s rushing to speak over you in a garbled voice, his tone simultaneously exhausted and frantic. 
“Dee’s sick,” he blurts, followed by the distinct sound of rooting through his cabinets. “The doctor said it was just a cold but - I don’t know, Y/N, her face is so hot and she can’t keep anything down, not even plain toast -”
“Okay, deep breaths.” You hold a hand up as if he were standing in front of you, doing your best to placate him. “Panicking won’t solve anything. What’s her temperature like? Is she drinking okay?”
“She was at a hundred last time I checked. I managed to get her to drink a little water, but she could barely even finish the glass.” He pauses to suck in a sharp breath. “Fuck, I think I’m having a heart palpitation. Should I give her a whole painkiller or half?”
You blink, taken aback by this new side to your employer. Eternally unmoved, it’s strange to hear his stress manifest itself in anything other than reclusiveness and a sharp tongue. You have to remind yourself how scary it must be to have your child fall sick - especially when you don’t have anyone to support you in taking care of them. 
“Hey,” you say, assuming a more gentle tone, “try to calm down a little, yeah? She’s only just pushing a fever. Her taste buds are out of whack right now, but you can put a dash of fruit syrup in her water to make the taste more bearable. One painkiller should be fine if you can get her to eat a snack with it.” You reach for your coat, shoving your free hand through the sleeve. “I’m heading to my car now, okay? I’ll be with you in twenty minutes. Just hang tight until I get there.”
Yoongi releases a shaky breath on the other end of the line.
“Shit,” he breathes. “I’m sorry, Y/N. Thank you.”
“Don’t mention it,” you say, signing yourself out. 
Things come to a head two days later, when the delivery guy shows up with enough parcels to fill Santa’s sled. 
You’ve managed to wrangle Dee into the living room while you find a spot to hide them all, but it’s no easy feat. You know she’ll sniff them out if you’re not careful enough. Thus, you find yourself in Yoongi’s home office, shoving the final few boxes under his desk. Due to the electrical work he’s in the middle of having done, there’s a strict policy on Dee entering this particular room unsupervised. 
“Finally,” you huff, the last package jammed tightly into the limited space beneath the desk like the final piece in a game of Tetris. You stand up and brush yourself off, feeling pretty pleased with yourself. 
The feeling is quick to dissipate, however, when you turn around to find you’ve somehow managed to miss one of the gifts. 
“Oh for goodness sake,” you mutter, glaring at the unassuming white shoebox atop the filing cabinets. “How many pairs of skates does one kid need?”
There’s no room left under the desk, so you figure one of the larger drawers will have to suffice. Crouching down, you root around in search of one empty enough to store it. 
Later, you’ll muse that it’s funny how something so small can flip your entire world on its head. You probably wouldn’t even have noticed the palm-sized box in Yoongi’s bottom drawer had your sleeve not got caught in the slide mechanism. You yank at it unceremoniously, somehow managing to dislodge the entire drawer in the process. 
“Fucking hell,” you mutter under your breath, the miscellaneous contents strewn all over the floor. 
Setting aside Dee’s gift, you start putting things to rights with a heavy sigh. Only then do your eyes fall to the dainty turquoise box that’s fallen between an old roadmap of Busan. Topped with a pearlescent white ribbon, the branding is unmistakable. 
You pause for a moment, blinking down at it like it might disappear if you stare long enough. When it doesn’t, you pick it up with shaky fingers.
You’re not sure what possesses you to do what you do next. Perhaps you need to see it with your own eyes. With your heart in your mouth, you flip the box open to peek inside.
There’s no denying that the necklace inside was designed for a woman. It’s custom made; dainty and romantic, everything about it practically screaming with intention. It’s almost comical, in fact, how very Yoongi it is. Who else could pull off a courting gift in this day and age if not him?
You laugh at the thought, ignoring the lone tear that slips down your face as you slide back onto your ass with a thump. The realisation that you’re actually crying over something like this makes you feel beyond stupid, but once you’ve started, you can’t seem to stop.
Nonetheless, you can’t bring yourself to peel your eyes away from the necklace either. You imagine Yoongi wandering into the shop during his lunch break and browsing the options - discussing her tastes with the clerk. Despite its beauty, you don’t have the stomach to take it out of the box. To open up the pendant and look at the photo. You think you might be sick if you read whatever beautifully intimate inscription he’s picked out to go inside.
You press your free hand down against your chest with a soft grunt. 
It hurts so much more than you thought it would. It hurts like a bitch.
“As if you thought he’d want you back,” you whisper, your voice thick. You bark a sharp laugh at your own idiocy. “Fuck. I’m such a loser.”
“Y/N?” Dee yells from the living room, and you almost drop the box to the floor in surprise. “The gingerbread men are burning! We gotta take them out!”
“C-coming!” you shout back, your throat tight.
You set the drawer to rights, shoving both the shoebox and the necklace back inside before slamming it shut. 
Last Year
“She really scared you, huh?”
Yoongi’s slumped over on the sofa, his head resting in his hands. With Dee finally asleep in bed having vomited, cried her eyes out, and clung to him like a limpet all through bath time, it’s no wonder he’s feeling worn out by this point. A quick glance at the clock tells you it’s almost midnight.
“Mm,” he groans into his palms, lacking the energy to even lift his head.
“Can I get you anything?” you offer, your voice soft. “Coffee? Something stronger, perhaps?”
He waves a hand vaguely. “Tea will do. I’ll be with you in a minute.” 
You round the corner into the kitchen area, flicking the kettle on before moving over to the fridge. As per usual, it’s covered in Dee’s drawings - more so now, given her recent interest in sea creatures. In between the rough sketches of sharks and jellyfish, there’s countless portraits too - you and Yoongi. ‘Uncle Joon’. Their car Freddy, who sadly found a new home before you could meet him. A self portrait. Yoongi again... ‘Mommy.’
You pause, looking over the picture for the umpteenth time. It’s the only depiction of Dee’s mother you’ve been given - a wobbly purple stick figure in a ruby red dress, with curly black hair that stops at her shoulders. She’s smiling. Her little stick hand is attached to Dee’s on one side, and Yoongi’s on the other. Much to your amusement, Yoongi’s mouth has been drawn as a characteristic straight line.
Apparently some things never change.
You’re so busy examining it that you don’t catch him padding in behind you.
“She’s quite the artist,” he remarks, leaning back against the counter.
You turn around, offering him a soft smile. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to pry.”
Yoongi shrugs. “They’re up there for a reason.”
The kettle reaches boil, and Yoongi observes quietly as you set about making the tea. He accepts his mug with a nod of thanks, but doesn’t drink it immediately. Instead he slides his finger contemplatively over the rim, catching a lone drip before it can roll down the side.
“Thank you for coming over tonight,” he murmurs, staring down into the dark liquid. “I really appreciate your help.”
“It’s no bother,” you say honestly. “You barely needed me at all, by the looks of things.”
Yoongi huffs a small laugh, but the sound falls just short of genuine. “It’s okay. I know I’m shit at this stuff. Elle always took care of the coughs and colds when Dee was small.”
You feel your heart skip a beat, only just stopping your tea from going down the wrong way.
He’s never said her name before.
Yoongi is watching you carefully, like he’s trying to gage your reaction. His dark hair shrouds his eyes. 
“It’s okay,” he confirms quietly. “You can ask.”
“What happened to her?” you breathe, like it’s something you’ve been holding in all this time. You didn’t even realise you wanted to know until he said it, but for some reason it feels like there’s so much hinging on his answer. 
You realise belatedly it’s because you want to know Yoongi. You want to understand the little intricacies that make him the man he is, and the woman who played such a big part of it. 
You want to earn his trust. 
“It was four years ago now,” he says, bringing a hand up to work the kinks out of his neck. “She fell ill out of the blue, and the doctors told us it was a lung infection. A rare one, especially given her age, but not incurable. Unfortunately, her body didn’t respond well to the treatment.”
You shake your head. “Oh, Yoongi...”
He nods. Places his glass down with a small sigh. Despite the fact he doesn’t open up often, it’s clear to see he’s made peace with his story now. There’s no anguish in his words; only the fleeting sadness of someone who’s known more loss than they should. 
“She spent her last six months in hospital, and during those last few weeks when she was sick… I’ve never felt so helpless in my life. I think that’s why it was hard today. With Dee.” He seeks out your gaze hesitantly. “I get scared seeing her like that.”
“Anyone would,” you say assuredly, secretly wanting nothing more than to close the distance between you and comfort him. You hold yourself back on principal. “But I promise you, Dee is going to be just fine. It’s just a stomach bug. Some kids are more prone to them than others.”
“I know.” He nods, sweeping his hair back. “I know, I just... get caught up in my head sometimes. Especially this time of year.”
“Totally understandable,” you nod. “You don’t need to explain yourself to me, Yoongi.”
Slowly, as if part of him is still waiting for you to press for more information, Yoongi picks up his tea again and takes a tentative sip.
“...Thank you,” he says after a long pause. 
You raise your eyebrows at him. “For what?”
“For loving Dee,” he clarifies. 
You smile at him softly in the dim kitchen light.
“Thank you for letting me,” you say, raising the mug to your lips.
Yoongi arrives home on Saturday evening, just as the second smattering of snow meets the ground. You hesitate when you hear him come through the door, staying behind in the kitchen as Dee skids into the entryway in her socks. You can hear the surprised grunt she forces from his throat as she flings her little arms around his midsection. 
“Oof. Hi there, kid,” he says, and you can hear the exhaustion in his voice after a long night of travelling. You imagine him lowering himself down into a squat so she can hug him properly. “Isn’t it past your bedtime?”
“Y/N said I could wait up for you.”
“Is that so?” he hums. “And where is Y/N?”
You sigh quietly, understanding that this is your cue. Steeling your nerves, you hike your duffel bag up higher on your shoulder and head out into the hall, your boots heavy against the hardwood floor.
Yoongi’s eyes sweep upwards when you round the corner, trailing all the way from your shoes to the hem of your coat, already buttoned to the top. You pause somewhat awkwardly in the doorway, and he rises to a slow stand. Despite having practiced three times in the bathroom mirror prior to his arrival, your attempt at a casual smile falls miserably short of hitting the mark. 
“Hey,” you say softly, wondering if you look as drained as you feel. You had next to no rest last night, woken at 2 am when Dee had knocked on your bedroom door claiming she’d had a nightmare.
“I can’t sleep now,” she’d said tearfully, clutching her stuffed rabbit to her chest. It was a gift from Yoongi when she was small - something she’s always kept extra close whenever he’s away.
“You and and me both, bug,” you sighed, picking her up gently to take her back to bed.
Yoongi’s coat is still on as he watches you. He eyes the bag on your shoulder warily.
“Hi,” he says, his tone somewhat tentative. 
He knows something’s up.
“How was your flight?” you ask, your gaze skirting all over the place in an embarrassed bid to do anything but meet his eyes.
“Tiring,” Yoongi nods. “It’s good to be home.”
“I’m sure,” you hum.
It’s uncomfortable. Even Dee seems to sense it, burying her face in Yoongi’s stomach again. He settles a hand on the back of her head, but his eyes never once leave you.
“You aren’t staying,” he says slowly, and it falls just short of a question.
You shift your weight from one foot to the other, your fingers tightening around the strap of your duffel.
“I can’t. My family... they’re expecting me.”
“I thought you said you weren’t headed home until Monday now.”
Finally, your gaze shifts upwards to collide with his. It’s not like Yoongi to call you out, but he can sense there’s something awry here. You’ve never been so quick to head out before, always sticking around to put Dee to bed or discuss how she’d been while he was away. Yet here you are - practically two seconds away from shoulder-checking him against the doorframe in your haste to leave.
When you speak again your voice is quiet, but there’s something in your tone that implies you won’t be taking further questions.
“Thing’s change.”
Yoongi blinks. Unable to formulate a response fast enough, all he can do is watch as you lower yourself down to kiss Dee’s head, murmuring that you’ll see her soon. When you straighten up, the small, closed-lip smile you offer him is tinged with sadness. 
“Enjoy your Christmas, Yoongi,” you say before moving towards the open door.
“Y/N, wait -”
“I really have to go,” you sigh, pausing with your back to him.
“Evidently,” Yoongi nods. “But I need to talk to you first.”
“Can’t it wait?” you grit out.
“I’m afraid not.”
You’re at war with yourself when he tells Dee to go sit in the living room for a minute; too distracted to be surprised that she goes without a fuss. Clearly, your weird behaviour is more obvious than you thought. 
Yoongi ushers you wordlessly into the hallway, pulling the door closed behind you both. 
“Y/N,” he says in a low voice, fixing you with a look.
You raise your eyebrows at him.
“What?” you say, crossing your arms defensively. You wince internally at how stand-offish you sound, but Yoongi does little more than quirk a brow. He slides his hands into his pockets.
“Explain,” he says levelly. 
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“You do.”
“Yoongi -”
“You know exactly what I mean, and you’re taking advantage of the fact that I’m shit at reading people’s emotions,” he cuts across you, an underlying note of warning in his tone. “Talk to me, or I can assure you we won’t be ironing this out any time soon - whatever this is.”
You blink, momentarily taken aback that he managed to work that out so easily. Then again, maybe you shouldn’t be. Yoongi’s always made a habit of observing more than he speaks.
“Is it Dee?” he presses, raising his eyebrows expectantly.
“What?” You shake your head. “Why would it be Dee?”
“I’m just throwing out options here,” Yoongi raises his shoulders in a shrug. “Is it me?”
“Yoongi, please…”
“Okay, so it is me,” Yoongi nods. “Good. Now we’re getting somewhere. Tell me what I’ve done, and I’ll fix it.”
“Christ,” you mutter, raising a hand to massage your temples. 
Ever the businessman, Yoongi’s answer to everything is cut and dry. He locates the problem and he fixes it. He despises leaving things up in the air like this, and if you didn’t feel so sorry for yourself over the fact that he’s screwing his work colleague (or at the very least, will be in the near future), you’d almost feel guilty for doing it to him. 
It’s better this way, you remind yourself. This way, no one else gets hurt.
Unfortunately, your employer has a knack for throwing salt in the wound without even realising he’s doing it. 
“Is it the money?” he asks out of nowhere, ticking his head to the side to look at you. “If you feel I’m underpaying you for your time, all you have to do is say so, Y/N. I can’t read minds.”
You open your mouth, then close it again without saying anything. 
For the second time since meeting Yoongi, the force of his words make you feel like you’ve been physically slapped. You glance away as the familiar lump starts to form in your throat.
“You know what?” you choke out. “Forget it.” 
Yoongi’s eyebrows furrow slowly. “Y/N -”
“Tell Dee I said merry Christmas.”
With that, you turn on your heel and make for the elevator, your eyes blurry with tears as you punch desperately at the dial.
Yoongi doesn’t call after you. 
Last year
“I’m really not in the mood for this, Mina...” 
“Just one more round!” your friend begs, clasping her gloved hands together with a pout. “It’s unfair of you to waste your god given talents like this. I need that plushie, Y/N!”
You narrow your eyes at her, your expression largely hidden behind the chunky knit scarf which obscures half of your face. Christmas Pikachu smiles at you mockingly through the glass.
“Fine,” you cave eventually. “One round. And you’re paying.”
Mina claps her hands in delight before pulling her purse out, shoving her coins merrily into the slot.
Around you, the Christmas Eve fair is in full swing. It’s an annual event, complete with ice rink and arcade games, the food stalls crammed with families and friends who are practically rolling in the festive spirit - something you can’t quite bring yourself to get into the swing of this year. 
You haven’t spoken to Yoongi since you left his apartment a week ago, though admittedly, this was not for lack of trying on his end. He’s texted you twice so far - once to ask if you’d made it to your parents’ house okay, and a second time to let you know your overtime payment had been transferred to you. Which, in hindsight, might not sound like much if you didn’t know Min Yoongi like the back of your hand. Getting him to respond to his messages, let alone send one -first-, was nigh impossible if it wasn’t a matter of business.
“So…” says Mina, leaning her shoulder up against the glass as the claw machine whirrs to life. “You’re really just gonna keep ignoring him?”
“Are we still talking about this?” you hum, fiddling with the levers. 
“I just want to know where we’re going from here, babe. You were in bits when you called me the other night.”
You sigh heavily. “There’s nothing to discuss, Mi. He likes another woman. He’ll be dating her by the new year, if he’s not already. The only thing I can do is suck it up and move on.”
Mina nods slowly, watching your side profile. “And what about your job?”
You gnaw the inside of your cheek, hesitating for a moment. Your voice is tentative when you say, “I’ve been in touch with the agency.”
Mina straightens up. “Y/N…”
“Don’t,” you murmur, your eyes remaining fixed on the claw as it descends. “Please don’t lecture me. I know it’s not ideal, but they said there’s a couple of girls on book who can take my place on short notice. They also said they get an influx of requests for sitters around new year, so I shouldn’t be out of a job too long if I play my cards right.”
Your friend’s expression softens. She reaches out to touch a gloved hand to your forearm.
“You know I only want you to be happy, right?”
You nod stiffly. “I know.”
“And if resigning is going to make you happy, then I’ll be right behind you the whole way. It’s just…” she pauses, biting her lip gently. “I know how much you love that kid, Y/N. And I can only imagine how much she loves you. I don’t want to see you hurt.”
“I think it’s a bit late for that, Mi,” you mutter, just as the claw drops Christmas Pikachu an inch from the chute. “And I’m pretty sure this shit is rigged. Let’s move on.”
“Giving up so easily?” says a familiar voice behind you.
You freeze. 
Turning slowly, your stomach sinks at the sight of Yoongi hovering a few feet away. He stands with one hand in his pocket, the other clutched tightly around Dee’s mitted fingers. The dark feathers of his fringe stick out from beneath the woollen beanie on his head, and you can’t help the way your heart clenches up painfully at the sight.
“Y/N!” Dee exclaims, breaking away from her father to close the distance between you. 
You open your arms to her on autopilot, your breath catching in your throat when she wraps her arms around your middle. She rests her chin on your stomach, cheeks flushed and rosy from the cold as she looks up at you with imploring eyes. 
“Where have you been?” she says, showcasing the gap in her front teeth. “Uncle Joon’s had to pick me up from practice three times now, and he’s so much worse at it than you. He doesn’t even let me listen to the radio,” she adds sullenly. 
“I’m sorry, bug,” you say softly, placing a hand on her hat. It’s shaped like a panda head, complete with button eyes and two fluffy black ears. “I’ve been... busy.”
“Y/N,” Mina prompts, not unkindly. Her eyes flicker warily over to Yoongi. “Are you going to introduce us?”
“Uh - right. Sorry.” You clear your throat, gesturing vaguely between them. “Yoongi, this is Mina, my friend from college. Mina, this is Min Yoongi, my -” You cut yourself off, embarrassment coiling in your stomach. “Dee’s father,” you settle for in the end. 
Yoongi steps forward to shake Mina’s hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
“Likewise,” Mina hums, though her tone is sceptical at best. “I’ve heard so much about you.”
Yoongi nods. He steps back with hands in his pockets, and you fear another awkward silence might be coming on until he glances sideways at the grab machine. 
“Anything I can help with?” he says, raising his eyebrows.
If Mina is taken aback by the proposal, she doesn’t show it. She’s the complete opposite of you when it comes to social situations. (Meaning she’s actually good at them for the most part).
“Only if you’re better at this stupid game than Y/N,” she sighs forlornly, pressing her finger to the glass. “Christmas Pikachu won’t stop staring at me. Fancy taking a stab at it?”
Panicked by the prospect of being around Yoongi any longer than you have to be, you’re quick to wave her off. “Yeah, I really don’t think -”
“Sure,” Yoongi cuts across you with a shrug, already pulling his wallet out. “How much is it for a spin?”
Dumbfounded, you find yourself standing awkwardly on the sidelines as the three of them crowd around the claw machine. While Mina leans up against the glass with her arms folded, Dee jumps up and down on her toes, cheering her father on as he works the controls. Yoongi barely spares you a glance, already far too absorbed in beating the machine before his time runs out.
Not twenty seconds later, Dee is squealing with delight as Christmas Pikachu dives down the chute with three seconds to spare. 
“Woah!” Mina exclaims, dusting the plushie off as she examines him. “Nice skills. You learn that in business school?”
“Of course,” Yoongi blinks. “They’re big on the fundamentals.”
Mina snorts, but you know she’s not won over just yet. She holds Christmas Pikachu out to Dee.
 “There you go, kiddo. Consider it an early Christmas present, hm?”
Dee’s eyes go wide, her lips forming a surprised ‘o’ shape. 
“Really?” she says in a small voice.
Mina shrugs. “He’s all yours. I don’t really rate guys who play hard to get anyway.” 
She shoots a pointed smile at Yoongi, and you elbow her hard in the back.
None the wiser, Dee accepts the gift with a happy little noise, hugging it hard to her chest. “Cool!”
Yoongi places a gentle hand on her shoulder.
“What do we say?” he prompts.
You can feel your heart thawing when the little girl blushes, realising her error.
“Thank you,” she says shyly, looking down at her pink snow boots.
Mina pats her affectionately between the panda ears. “No problem, kiddo.”
“Right. Well.” You clap your hands together. “It was wonderful seeing you both, but we should be heading back now. Mina and I have a thing.”
Your friend quirks an eyebrow. “Do we?”
“Yes, we do,” you hiss through your teeth, and the message seems to go through. Turning back around, you open your arms to Dee. “Got a goodbye hug for me, bug?”
To your surprise, Dee doesn’t indulge you. Instead she shrinks back behind Pikachu until only her eyes are showing, big and round and hopeful. 
“Aren’t you going to watch me skate?” she says in a small voice, the question muffled by his fur.
Your heart sinks. -Of course,- you think. There’s an ice rink at the fair, and Dee never misses an opportunity to get on the ice. She also never forgets a pinkie promise, and you’ve sworn to her on several occasions that you’d always be there to support her if you could. 
Not about to break your word like that, you sigh inwardly before forcing a smile. 
“Of course I am, bug,” you breathe, straightening up. “But just one round, okay? Mina and I will be watching from over here -”
“Y/N,” Yoongi cuts across you softly. 
Startled, you meet his eyes. It’s the first time he’s addressed you properly since his arrival, and there’s an expression on his face that you’ve never seen before. He peers at you tentatively from beneath his bangs.
“I was actually hoping we could watch from over there,” he says, nodding to a cluster of secluded benches over by the hot chocolate stand. Clearly he’s trying not to make things weird in front of Dee, but you have no trouble picking up what he’s putting down. 
Yoongi wants to speak to you. Alone.
You open and close your mouth a few times as you try to come up with a subtle way to reject him but (as she seems to be so fond of doing these days) Mina beats you to the punch.
“What an excellent idea,” she says, a firm hand on your lower back. “Y/N and Yoongi can go be boring grown ups over there, and in the meantime -” she holds her hand out to Dee with a smile, “- us two will hit the ice and have some real fun.”
Dee flashes her gummy grin, her tongue poking out through the gap her missing tooth left behind as she accepts Mina’s hand. Your friend glances at Yoongi with raised eyebrows, waiting for permission. 
“Fine by me,” he shrugs. He flips his wallet open again, but Mina waves him off.
“Ah, ah, ah. You’re not the only one with money, Mr Marketing guy. This one’s on me.”
Yoongi snorts at that, but he doesn’t protest when Dee tugs both Mina and Christmas Pikachu off towards the ice rink. As he slots his wallet back into his pocket, your friend tosses you a supportive smile over her shoulder.
“Sorry about her,” you mutter, wrapping your arms around yourself. You stare at the frozen ground beneath your feet. “She can be a little… hard to please at first.”
“Don’t be,” Yoongi shrugs, like it’s the easiest thing in the world. “I’m actually glad I ran into you both.” 
“You are?”
He hums lowly in affirmation. “It’s been a while.”
You bite your lip in embarrassment, suddenly unsure of what to say. There’s not much point in trying to defend yourself. Both of you know you’ve been ignoring him, and the fact that Yoongi’s acting otherwise right now is a professional courtesy you definitely don’t deserve.
“Come.” He says, jerking his chin in the direction of the benches. “I’ll buy you a drink.” 
He’s already walking away when you look up, and you have little option but to follow. 
Yoongi gently insists that you take a seat while he queues for your drinks, and returns five minutes later with two mugs of mulled wine. You accept with a quiet thank you, raising your eyes at the saran-wrapped cookie he slips into his coat pocket.
“For Dee,” he explains. 
The two of you lapse into an extended quiet as the new skaters take to the rink. Dee and Mina appear together, laughing as Mina nearly stumbles over right off the bat. They appear to have pawned Christmas Pikachu off to a good-natured attendant, who lifts the plushie’s paw in a wave every time Dee passes by. 
You can’t pretend the sight doesn’t hurt your heart a little. Dee is easily one of the best things that’s ever happened to you, and the thought of not seeing her as much come the new year feels just as painful as the alternative. 
You sip your drink, keeping your eyes glued to her even when Yoongi clears his throat. 
“So,” he says.
“Did I do something wrong, or?”
“N-no? Why would you think that?” you try.
Yoongi pins you with a look.
“Seriously?” he says, though his tone is not unkind. “You’ve been ignoring my texts for a week now. Dee said she emailed you an invite to her New Year's showcase and you still haven’t got back to her. She got Juliet by the way.”
You smile ruefully at your lap, thumbing at the rim of your mug. “I knew she would,” you say quietly.
Yoongi watches your side profile carefully. 
“Y/N,” he says, and you know there’s no wriggling out of it when he takes that tone. “Whatever it was I did, I can’t make it better unless you tell me what’s wrong. You know I’m not good at this stuff.”
You sigh, your breath spiralling upwards in a cloud of white. At this point, you feel utterly defeated. 
“Would it be cliche to say it’s not you, it’s me?”
“Then I’m sorry,” you shrug. “It’s the best I’ve got right now.”
Yoongi stares at you a while longer, his expression carefully blank. Then he turns back to the ice rink.
The pair of you sit in loaded silence for a few moments.
“So that’s it?” 
You shrug. “That’s it.”
Yoongi leans back in his seat. He says nothing.
You’re acutely aware that anyone passing by right now would think you’re a couple. You certainly look the part - sitting side by side in comfortable silence, watching your daughter having fun on the rink. And maybe in another life, in some alternate dimension, that’s exactly what you are. Just the three of you, with no hang-ups or baggage or strings attached. No complications. Just happy.
You almost jump out of your skin when Yoongi speaks again.
“You remember when you sent me that nude by accident?”
You choke a little on your mulled wine, your hand flying to your mouth.
“I - it wasn’t a nude!” you exclaim.
You stare over at him with wide eyes, but Yoongi keeps his gaze firmly on the ice rink.
“I blew up at you over the phone afterwards because I felt guilty,” he goes on, his voice a low murmur. “I don’t think I ever told you that.”
Your eyebrows pull together in confusion. “Why would you feel guilty?” you mutter. “I sent it, not you.”
Yoongi shakes his head minutely, still not looking at you. “The timing was all wrong. It was the anniversary of my wife’s death, and I was… I was confused.” His Adam’s apple bobs when he swallows. “I felt like I was disrespecting both of you at once. It fucked with my head.”
“I’m sorry, Yoongi,” you murmur.
“How many times are you going to apologise for my misgivings?” he says forcefully, and you shut up immediately at his tone. “You’ve done more for Dee in the past year than any school teacher or single parent support service has managed to achieve in five. You cook meals for her, watch every single one of her practices even though you don’t have to, and read to her in those stupid voices she’s always begging me to do.” You chuckle wetly at that. “Not to mention her confidence has shot up from having a woman around the house. She misses you like crazy now that you’re not around.”
“I miss you like crazy.”
You freeze. He’s looking at you dead in the eyes now, and his gaze is burning.
You flinch when something touches your hand, your throat constricting when you glance down to find Yoongi’s fingers wrapping tightly around yours.
“Come back to us,” he implores softly.
“I don’t think I can,” you whisper, your voice thick with unshed tears.
“Because I love you.”
The silence seems to stretch on forever. Your heart beats in your throat. 
When Yoongi retracts his hand, your heart shatters into a million pieces all over again.
“I love you, and you’re in love with someone else,” you say, cursing yourself when your bottom lip starts to tremble. You turn your face away, unable to meet his eyes as you continue. “I’m sorry. I know I shouldn’t have been snooping, but I was looking for a hiding spot for Dee’s presents, and then the necklace fell out and… and when we called you Sofie was there, and Dee let slip that she’d been at the apartment to see you so I put two and two together, and I felt so awful, Yoongi... I felt awful that you’re trying to start this thing with someone new, and here I am wishing it was me instead. It’s not fair. It’s not fair to you, and it’s not fair to Dee.” You scrub the sleeve of your jacket under your eye. “You deserve to be happy. Dee deserves to see you happy.”
For a man known for being chronically unreadable, every emotion under the sun seemes to flicker over Yoongi’s face in that moment. Eventually, he settles on utterly bewildered.
“Shit,” he breathes. 
You laugh sardonically. “Yeah.”
“You... love me,” he says flatly.
“Please don’t make me repeat all that.”
He swallows. “And you found the necklace.”
“That’s what I said, yes.”
“The necklace for Sofie.”
You glare at him. “Are you trying to rub it in? Yes the necklace for Sofie.”
“Right.” Yoongi nods. “Just to clarify -”
“- Oh for god’s sake.-”
“- You mean this necklace, right?”
You pause mid-sentence when he pulls the box from his pocket, before narrowing your tearful eyes at him.
“I - Why on earth are you carrying it around with you?”
He thumbs over the ribbon gently, resting the box in his lap as he peers down at it.
“Dee and I are headed to her grandparents’ after the fair,” he hums. “I shoved it in my pocket because I was planning on returning it tomorrow.”
Your eyes flicker up to meet his face. 
“Why?” you dare to ask.
“Because last time I saw the girl I intended to give it to, it was as if she couldn’t even stand to look at me. How could I think I stood a chance after that?”
“Yoongi... what are you talking about?”
He passes you the box. “Open it.”
“I’ve already seen -”
Yoongi pins you with a deadpan look. “I won’t ask twice, Y/N.”
You open the box, and the necklace stares back at you. Even though you’ve seen it before, it’s delicate beauty still steals your breath away. 
“Look inside,” he prompts.
Tentatively, you do as you’re told, snapping open the silver locket with gentle care. It takes a few seconds for your brain to compute the image inside, but when you do, you’re clapping a hand over your mouth to muffle the pathetic sound you make. 
There, in the left hand side of the locket, is a picture of you, Yoongi and Dee, snapped by Taehyung shortly after that first skating competition you ever attended. You’re crouching at the side of the rink with your hands on Dee’s shoulders as she holds up her medal, the two of you grinning like idiots. A little further back in the shot Yoongi leans against the railings, his eyes fixated on the pair of you with an uncharacteristically soft expression on his face.
Your heart thuds dully when you realise he’s smiling. 
Your gaze shifts over to the inscription on the other side of the locket, written in simplistic cursive.
Because of you, I have something to hold on to.
Abruptly, your vision blurs with fresh tears.
“I don’t understand,” you croak.
Yoongi shrugs, leaning back against the bench. “What is there to understand?” 
“I… When did you even -?”
You look at him through wet eyes. 
“Paris was three months ago,” you whisper. 
He nods once, decisively. “I figured if I could make it to December without losing my nerve, then the timing would be right.”
You hold each other’s gaze. 
“You want... me?”
“Do you see anyone else here?” 
“But Sofie -”
“Is happily engaged, and came over to the apartment a grand total of once because she was phenomenally behind in her reports and needed the help. I have no interest in her,” he says frankly. “You on, the other hand, are pretty much all I’ve been able to think about for the past year.”
You sniff thickly, shaking your head. “I’m sorry, but I think you’re going to have to spell it out for me. I tend to read these things completely wrong, and I don’t want -”
“I’m in love with you, and you’re in love with me,” Yoongi states plainly. He nods towards the necklace. “Are you going to put that on at any point or just sit there blubbering over it?”
“Can’t we just have a moment for once?” you sob.
“I’m sorry, what else have we been doing for the past five minutes? All these emotions are exhausting me now. Please just put the necklace on so I can kiss you.”
Your eyebrows tug together pathetically. 
“You want to kiss me?”  
He rolls his eyes. “No not really, I just said that for dramatic effect.”
“Yoongi- mmph!”
You’re cut off when he slides his hands around your waist, tugging you forward to meet his lips. His mouth moves over yours softly, as if you’re something precious, and you practically melt into him. Placing a shy hand on his chest, you shudder as a languid heat seeps through every fibre of your being.
Your mind seems to still as the two of you kiss amidst the frigid night-time, and when you break apart a fraction your mingled breath is warm between you. Then Yoongi’s lips are at the corner of your mouth, and on your cheek, and your jaw, and finally hovering gently by the shell of your ear, causing shivers of anticipation to run through you.
“Listen closely, because I’m only going to say this once,” he whispers. “There is never a time when I don’t want to kiss you. I drive myself crazy just looking at you. You’re simultaneously the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen and the stupidest woman I’ve ever known because you have absolutely no idea what you do to me.” You bite down hard on your lip, eyes fluttering closed as he presses you closer against his chest. “You’re all I want, every second of the day. You’re it for me, Y/N.”
You feel overcome. The tears have barely ceased, but already you feel like you might start choking on sobs again. 
Unsure of how else to express how much his words mean to you, you wrap your arms around his neck and hug him.
“Say you love me again,” you whisper.
“Do I have to?” he murmurs back, holding you close.
“I love you.” 
“I love you.”
You hold him tighter, turning your face into his neck. “I love you too.”
“Mm. I think we established that earlier when you were -”
“Don’t think I won’t still throttle you,” you whisper softly against his pulse.
You can’t see it, but this time can practically feel him smiling.
You’re not sure how long you stay like that, wrapped up in one another’s embrace as the Heavens open up and a light snow begins to fall, but you can only assume it’s been a while. By the time Dee returns with Mina and Christmas Pikachu, she’s somehow acquired a tub of cotton candy. 
“Why are you crying?” she says through a mouthful of finely-spun sugar, totally nonplussed. 
“Hay fever,” you and Yoongi respond at the same time, quick to extricate yourselves from one another when you realise you’re no longer alone. Yoongi clears his throat awkwardly, his cheeks visibly pink beneath the overhead lights. 
“It’s December,” Dee hums.
Her father pins her with the look. “No one likes a smartass, kid.”
Mina smirks, her eyes flitting shrewdly between the pair of you. 
“All good?” she says.
You and Yoongi steal a shy glance at one another. 
“I think so,” he hums, the corner of his lips curving upwards slightly. 
When he slips his gloved fingers between yours two minutes later, with Dee skipping a few feet ahead of you belting Christmas carols and the cool touch of his locket against your heart, you know without a shadow of a doubt that he was right. This winter miracle - this strange new family you’ve built for yourselves - has finally given you something worth holding on to.
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minyfic · 16 days ago
bloom - MYG | M
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↣ you’ve been crushing on your brother’s best friend for years now, and after you overcame your diffidence, your feelings escalate which could only cause more agony because he would never return your feelings.
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pairing: yoongi x reader
genre/rating: R | fluff, smut, angst
word count: 14.5K
play: bloom by troye sivan
warnings/tags: brother’s best friend au, brother!Namjoon, strong language, Y/N is really shy, psychologist!Yoongi (ahem), age gap, virgin!reader, pining, these fits at the wedding, Respect (from MOTS7), cigarette smoking, explicit smut- food play, biting, hickey, breath play, fingering, size kink, nipple play, oral (f), dirty talk, protected sex, thigh riding, brief handjob, slight exhibitionism, multiple orgasms, post-sex cuddles
a/n: man, I hate writing Yoongi angst 😭🥺
eomma - mom appa - dad
Nudging the car door with your hip, you attempt to get your bag back on your shoulder as you walk down the narrow pathway to the front door. You hook the other hanger, holding another heavy suit, onto your fingers, palm straining as you push the key into the lock, muttering under your breath.
Breathing a sigh of relief, the door swings open to reveal your mother a few feet away, kneading a huge chunk of dough, flour dusted across her apron.
You throw both large garment bags over the couch, unzipping your bag to retrieve your phone, brushing a few strands of hair away from your face, grimacing when you feel the sweat collected on the sides of your neck.
Your mother points to the rolling pin that’s hanging really close to the edge of the counter. With a push, it rolls into her awaiting palm, a smile gracing her delicate features.
“Your brother will be here in a bit.”
Plopping down on the barstool, you scoff, shaking your head in disbelief.
“He’s not here yet and he already started bossing me around.”
From your periphery, you see your mother hold both her fists on her hips, an eyebrow cocked in admonishment.
“You haven’t seen him in months and—”
“I know,” you glance at her, attention drawn to your phone screen when it vibrates, “I missed him, you know that.”
She returns to her aggressive rolling, wiping her forehead with the back of her hand, “is that Jimin?”
You nod, laughing at the meme he had just sent.
“We have plans tonight.”
Your mother huffs out your name, “can’t you postpone your sleepover, Namjoon would want to spend time with you before he leaves.”
Your mouth quirks to the side, knowing that you prefer hanging out with your best friend than having to deal with your preppy older brother.
“I’ll be back Saturday morning, before the wedding.”
You spin around, pointing to the garment bags, “why does he need two suits?”
Your mother smiles, but her response is cut off when you hear the familiar crunch of tires on the driveway. Whipping your head around, a smile splits your face when you spot your brother’s van through the window.
Sprinting out the door, you feel tears prickle the corners of your eyes when your brother charges toward you, lifting you up off the ground in a bone-crushing hug. He strokes the back of your head as you bury your face in his neck, breathing in his comforting scent. This is the only time you’d accept his affections before he begins with his biannual dissection of your life and its aspects.
“Missed me so much?”
His thumb brushes your cheek, the lopsided smile you’ve found yourself forgetting pasted on his face.
Embarrassed, you shove his shoulder, wiping your tears with the heels of your palms.
“How have you been? How’s work?”
As if you haven’t been speaking every single night, when you’re both knackered and seek comfort in each other’s voices. Although you’d never admit it to each other.
He shoves his hands in his pockets, “good good. How’s college?”
You laugh, arms swinging at your sides, unable to wipe the goofy grin off your face.
“Yeah…It’s good, I guess.”
You hear the car door close behind him and you peer around his shoulder, breath catching in your throat when you spot the familiar man walking toward you.
The pale man mumbles your name, “hey,” eyes are set on his shoes.
He extends his hand in your direction, small smile puffing out his cheeks. It takes you a while before you fit your palm into his, shaking frantically. You feel like you’ve been caught off guard. No one had informed you that Yoongi, your brother’s best friend, who so happens to be your crush for two years now, would be arriving with him for the wedding.
“Hey,” you squeak, tip of your boot circling around a rock in the sand.
Your mother holds her arms wide open for her beloved son, enveloping him in her tight embrace while you’re left to ogle Yoongi…Yoongi. Min Yoongi. The guy you see almost every holiday and on Namjoon’s blurry Instagram stories. Curse him for being so terrible at taking pictures because Yoongi is handsome. Your gaze drifts back to him, scanning every inch of his attractive features. The guys at your college have no sense of style, but Yoongi is dressed well. And you’re stunned when you notice how much he bulked up since you last saw him.
He’s wearing a black dress shirt tucked into his black slacks, bulky watch glinting in the vanishing sunlight, raven hair sticking up as if he ran his hands through it way too much, tousled, and shiny in the golden hour. Silver earrings swinging as his shoulders shake with his raspy chuckle. You scan his figure just as he does the same, pausing on his veiny, ring-clad hands. My God.
He looks as if he’s already dressed for the wedding.
Namjoon’s shout of Yoongi’s name forces you to divert your attention back to your mother who clings onto your brother like a koala, smiling at Yoongi as he bows.
You shut the door behind them, carting one of Namjoon’s bags into the lounge, catching a glimpse of Yoongi’s smile. It makes you do a double take, lips stretching over his gums, pearly whites on display. His smile.
“Everything in your room is untouched, just the way you left it,” your mother says proudly, shooting a furtive glance in your direction, “but Y/N might’ve slept in your bed a few times.”
Your cheeks heat.
“She misses you too much!”
The house rumbles with rich, masculine laughter with your cheeks flashing an even brighter shade of red.
“I know,” Namjoon sidles up to your side, pulling you into his warmth as you shuffle into the kitchen.
“So Yoongi, you’re staying with us for these three weeks?”
He clears his throat, “just these two weeks and then I’ll book in at a hotel. If that’s fine with you? And Mr. Kim.”
Your gaze darts to your mother, having predicted her response of ‘just stay with us for the three weeks! We don’t mind.’
He takes the barstool on the other side of Namjoon, and you must look around your brother’s chest to see him, gaze flitting straight ahead when your eyes lock for a millisecond.
“I tried to convince your sister,” your mother begins, switching on the oven, “but she won’t listen.”
Your brother smiles, narrowing his eyes in your direction, “why won’t you listen?”
“Let me get you settled in,” your mother ushers Yoongi down the hallway, you watch them disappear into the guest room before you turn to your brother.
“I’m gonna stay over at Jimin’s house until the wedding. Appa said it’s—”
“Park Jimin?!”
Grimacing at your brother’s tone, you nod, rushing to finish what you had been saying, already seeing a flash of anger in his eyes.
“Yes. He’s my best friend now and we literally go to college together.”
It annoys you that even though you’re a grown woman, you still find yourself fearing your brother’s vexed clench of his jaw, hoping he doesn’t fill your father’s ears and manages to change his mind.
“Isn’t he your ex-boyfriend? The guy who broke your heart a year ago?”
The booming voice echoing in the kitchen has you glimpsing down the hallway to ensure that Yoongi can’t hear your tiny disagreement.
“Yes. But we’re best friends now. It was meant to be that way. Please, Joon,” you breathe, jumping off the stool to retreat down the hallway, “you just got here, and I don’t want to ruin your trip.”
You close your room door, not before hearing the whispers that most probably comes from your over-protective, older brother.
A blessing and a curse.
Your best moments in high school were kept hidden from the vigilant eyes of your brother. It annoyed you, most of the time. A guy wasn’t allowed to even look at you the wrong way and your parents were big advocates of his behavior. You don’t know how you managed to keep four relationships away from his curious ears, but the one he did find out about had to be the worst.
But it was all forgotten when you and Jimin came to an agreement; it would be better if you stayed best friends.
You got over it pretty quickly, but Namjoon didn’t. Obviously.
He wanted to bash his face in. Luckily, your parents had caught him in time, saving Jimin’s pretty face from a black eye.
Despite his constant judgement and lack of enthusiasm in your love life, you still love him, and you also had your fair share of over-protective sister moments when a handful of girls had taken advantage of his good nature.
Knowing exactly how he would react if he ever found out that you have a crush on his best friend, you kept it to yourself.
You hope that he doesn’t ruin your summer.
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Fingers typing furiously, you stuff a handful of caramel popcorn into your mouth as you scroll down the screen.
Jimin hovers behind you, crunching in your ear. Your face scrunches up, glaring at him.
“Can you not? You know I have misophonia.”
He holds his palms up placatingly, pulling out the storage basket from under his desk and flipping it over, choosing to sit next to you as you continue with your investigation.
“Did you find him yet?”
You shake your head, still browsing through your brother’s following list.
Jimin points to the screen, “you know there’s a search function. And why do you need my computer for this?”
“It doesn’t work sometimes and my phone is charging.”
Jimin hums, licking his thumb then reaches for the mug to your left.
“Damn. Why does he follow so many science accounts.”
“Well, that’d make sense since he’s some mad scientist.”
“He isn’t” you sigh, almost giving up when a username catches your eye, rather, a profile photo. “Found him!”
Jimin scoots closer to the screen, shoulders sagging when you see that Yoongi has a private account.
“That’s him?”
“Yeah,” you grin, squinting at the minute image in the corner, “oh my God. There he is. When he went blond!”
Jimin gives you a confused look before he’s moving even closer to the screen.
There’s not much you can make out in the picture, but you see his cat-like eyes, pale skin glowing in the lighting and blond hair. He has twelve posts and over seven hundred followers.
“He’s a psychologist?”
“Yep,” you pop the ‘p’, wondering how you can see the other images without you actually following him and making things weird. Because…you’re his best friend’s sister. And you refrained from searching him up on any social media platform these past few years for fear that you might give in to temptation.
But tonight, you gave in. After you saw him today, after all your pathetic feelings sprouted, even worse this time.
“Wait. How old is he? His username is min yoongi 93.”
“He’s twenty-eight,” you whisper, sensing the judgement from Jimin as he gasps.
“I thought he was like, twenty-four or something. He doesn’t look twenty-eight at all!”
When you said you would keep your crush to yourself, that also meant keeping it from your best friend. The last time Yoongi came over, you were so distracted by the situation with Jimin. But this time, you built up the courage to tell him. However, you’re regretting it after noticing his shifty eyes.
Jimin laughs, patting his knees before he returns to his spot on the carpet, taking the bowl of caramel popcorn with him, which has you following him to the floor.
“Well, it’s just a stupid crush, right? It’s not like you planned to date him or anything.”
“He’s hot.”
Jimin’s eyebrows furrow, “so? I’m hot and blond.”
You groan, resting your back against the edge of the bed.
“What? Did you plan on having a summer romance with him or something?” Jimin snorts, smile dropping when he sees the serious look you give him.
“That doesn’t sound so bad, since my love life is basically non-existent at this point.”
Jimin nudges you with his shoulder, playful lilt to his voice, “well, it doesn’t have to be like that.”
You turn your head to look at him, perplexed, “what do you mean?”
“Nothing,” sandy blond hair flopping into his eyes, fingers running through the strands to push it away, “will he be at Seokjin’s wedding?”
“Yeah,” you bring your knees to your chest, wrapping your arms around them, “that’s why he came with Namjoon. They were in college together. Something like that.”
“Then I get to see what’s all the fuss about.”
You pout, “what fuss?”
He pokes your cheek then brings the bowl up to your face, “you’re sulking.”
“Am not,” you stuff your cheeks with the caramel sweetness, sighing dejectedly, “I just…think he’s handsome.”
“Don’t tell me you’re all shy in front of him?”
The way you immediately avert your gaze to the TV has Jimin doubling over with laughter, which earns him a few hits to the back of his head.
“That means,” he sucks in a deep breath, eyes disappearing into slits, “that means—”
“Oh shut up Jimin! I know what it means, okay? It’s been a while since I actually found someone hot.”
Your personality depends on who’s around. If it’s Jimin, you’re yourself, no inhibitions. If it’s your family, yourself but toned down a bit. If you’re in the company of people you haven’t met before, you’re quiet as a mouse and won’t even bother to become acquainted with them, for the sole reason that you’re shy. And if it’s hot guy who might just be your type, you’re a blubbering mess.
Jimin wipes the corner of his eyes with his knuckle, “that’s because you refuse to attend any parties with me.”
“What’s the use? Everyone in college assumes that we’re a couple since we were, at one stage, and then I’m stuck with you the entire night.”
He slings an arm over your shoulder, voice above a whisper, “what’s so bad about being stuck with me?”
You gag, palms pressing into his chest to push him away, “are you drunk?”
He opens his mouth wide, hot puffs of air wafting over your face, you crawl away from him, the stale scent of caramel and milk filling your nostrils.
“Smell my breath! I am not drunk!”
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With an impatient tap of your foot, you glance at your watch to notice that Namjoon is ten minutes late. He was supposed to pick you up from Jimin’s house at 2PM so you could head home and get dressed for the wedding, if he doesn’t arrive within the next five minutes, you might not have enough time for your makeup routine.
When you pull out your phone from your hoodie pocket and call your tardy brother, waiting for him to answer, his white van rolls around the corner and parks near Jimin’s driveway.
Huffing, you lift your overnight bag and pad along the grassy path, about to yell at Namjoon for making you wait, but your words die on your tongue when the door flies open to reveal Yoongi in the driver’s seat.
Your mouth hangs open, brows pinched together in slight confusion before they shoot up to your hairline upon seeing his muscular arms flexing as he grips the wheel.
“Namjoon took your mother to the grocery store and asked me to fetch you,” he informs, staring out the windscreen.
His words only register in your brain when he mumbles your name. The way he pronounces each syllable has a shiver running down the length of your spine.
Hoisting yourself into the van, you place your overnight bag on your lap and click in the seatbelt, fingers knotting together as he speeds off.
Silence falls over you, and with your diffidence, you think that the ride home will only be filled with the sound of the engine whirring until he speaks.
“Your brother missed you a lot, you’re all he talks about,” he chuckles, while you’re debating whether you should ask him if he’s heard the good or bad. You settle on a little snort that has you shrinking in the seat.
The scent surrounding you isn’t the usual smell of your brother’s perfume, but rather Yoongi’s own woody fragrance, drifting over to you in waves with his slight movements.
From the corner of your eye, you see him glance at you a few times before he turns onto your street and before you know it, you’re parking off in the garage.
You mumble a small thanks and rush out of the car to help your mother with the groceries that she’s unpacking from her trunk.
“I got it,” Namjoon grins, taking the bags both you and your mother are struggling with in one of his.
“Show off,” you scoff, watching him carry the sack of potatoes on his shoulder.
“Let me help you,” Yoongi says politely, taking the last grocery bag from your mother who shoots him a crinkled simper, patting his shoulder in thanks.
“You’re our guest, you shouldn’t be doing all this.”
The small scrunch of his nose and chin has your heart skipping a beat, even as he smiles at your mother shyly.
“Ah. It’s nothing,” he blushes, eyes darting to yours for a split second before he sprints past you.
With a dreamy sigh, your gaze sticks to his retreating figure until your mother places her hand on your wrist.
“So helpful.”
You hum, unaware of your mother’s watchful gaze.
“Maybe this time you can talk to him about—"
“What are we squealing about?”
“Nothing,” you and your mother say in unison, the sudden change in atmosphere urges you to rush into the house with your mother following close behind.
When you get to your room, the first thing you do is hang up the dress you bought for the wedding. But the thought that your mother thinks Yoongi is a good guy, enough for you to date, makes you pause for a moment.
There’s nothing you can hide from her and she’s probably the only one who knows about your crush on Yoongi and its depth. However, your mother is the type of parent who drops hints here, there and everywhere, yet she knows how quick-witted her son is.
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Twirling around in your coral dress, you scan the crowd, eyes widening when you spot a familiar face, one you hoped to never see again.
“What the fuck is Jungkook doing here?” You whisper-shout into Jimin’s ear, grip tightening on your champagne glass.
Jimin gives the man, who had been passing by and managed to hear your little outburst, a perfunctory smile, mumbling your name in exasperation.
“Did you forget that he’s Seokjin’s brother?”
“I didn’t,” you grit, slotting your arm in his as you walk the short distance to Namjoon, “I just didn’t want to see him again.”
“Well, I’m sorry princess, it’s not my fault that he tried to finger you in front of your parents.”
You’re about to retort that you never said it was his fault, before you feel Namjoon yanking you to his side, pulling you out of Jimin’s grip.
“Enjoying yourself? Jimin?”
Choosing to ignore your passive-aggressive brother, you take in the hushed laughter and jubilant atmosphere, it’s been years since you attended a wedding, the fresh scent of baby’s breath sitting on the display table drifts over to you, calming your senses. Seokjin and his wife wear effulgent smiles, just as dazzling as the décor.
“Yeah,” Jimin clears his throat, eyeing your brother who towers over him, “this is nice.”
You poke Namjoon’s ribs when you catch Seokjin’s wife wiping a blob of fresh cream off Seokjin’s face, snickering at the sight.
“You look…dashing,” Jimin compliments, gesturing to Namjoon’s black suit as he adjusts his red dress shirt, “but why sunglasses? Indoors?”
Namjoon taps the edge of his tinted glasses, “it’s my best friend’s wedding. I can do whatever the fuck I want.”
Jimin’s nervousness spoils the air, and you lunge toward him, breaking out of Namjoon’s hold.
Namjoon points toward the exit, behind the gigantic pillars, “he’s outside somewhere. He doesn’t like crowds.”
Oh. How could you forget?
Before Namjoon enquires about your curiosity, you’re dragging Jimin to the other side of the hall, surveying the hors d’oeuvres.
You’re impatient to see Yoongi, mostly because you know he would look even more attractive in a suit and also because you haven’t seen him all weekend, since their arrival.
You’re about to yell at Jimin for his incessant shoulder taps when he yanks your arm to twist you around, breath catching in your throat when you see Yoongi entering the hall, tugging on the lapels of his grey suit jacket.
Mouth hanging open, you’re rendered speechless as Yoongi pads along the hallway, hair held back by a headband, yellow sunglasses, confident stride. Your palms feel sweaty, mouth dry, the air around you feels thick, as if the dress you’re wearing suddenly got tighter.
You feel someone press their hand on your back, realizing that it’s your mother when she places you in front of a short, bald man, broken out of your reverie.
“This is Mr. Kang, CEO of Rain Inc,” your mother chirps, jutting her elbow into your side until you bow, “he said that he’ll be happy to provide you with a job once you’re qualified.”
The stout man’s gaze flits from your face down to your heels, rotating the drink in his hand.
“Eomma,” Namjoon wears a smile you know is forced as he comes to your mother’s side, Yoongi stops behind him, scanning the food sprawled out on the table.
“Oh,” your mother exhales, gesturing to Mr. Kang, “remember what I said about him and his generous offer.”
Namjoon glances at you, then the man, then back at his mother, fingers curling around your mother’s arm.
“Would you excuse us for a second?”
Namjoon pulls your mother to the other side of the table with you tailing them, seeing the furious look in his eyes.
“What did I tell you about Mr. Kang?”
Your mother giggles, oblivious to Namjoon’s frustration, “I was just introducing your sister to her new boss. Well, he’ll be her boss after she graduates.”
Namjoon pinches the bridge of his nose, speaking plainly, “you want your daughter to work for that pervert?”
Her eyebrows furrow, “he is not a pervert and she’ll be working under his son.”
Namjoon exhales a dry laugh, one that has your own anger bubbling to the surface.
“Even worse! Do you have any idea what—”
“Namjoon,” you grit, uncaring of Jimin and Yoongi who are no doubt listening to your little tiff, “don’t ruin this for me, you’re being paranoid again.”
“I’m not ruining this for you,” he seethes, placing a hand on your shoulder to squeeze lightly, “I’m just protec—”
“Protecting me,” you chuckle humorlessly, “you did the exact same thing the last time I was offered a small job at the gas station.”
You hear your mother call out your name as you jog toward the exit and head out into the crisp, night air, hugging yourself while you come to a stop near the railing.
This isn’t the first time Namjoon will ruin a good job opportunity for you. Or ruin anything at all.
Just when you thought that you’d get the job security you need so you can focus more on graduating rather than what follows, Namjoon would sink his enormous foot into your hopes. Fingers twisting around the railing, you tilt your head, eyes boring into the expanse above you. Twinkling with stars that seems to tip off a short scream, you scrunch your eyes shut when you hear the footsteps behind you increase in volume.
“Fucking Namjoon. He makes me so fucking angry!”
Expecting Jimin to wrap his arm around your shoulder to calm your annoyance any minute now, your head sags between your shoulders, a recognizable smoky voice causing your head to snap up in surprise.
“You should listen to your brother,” Yoongi advises, standing a few feet away from you, overlooking the fountain lighting up the parking lot, water trickling down into the pond.
After processing his presence, you bite down the bitter words threatening to spill from your lips, choosing to stew and tighten your hold around the innocent metal, caught in your anger.
From the corner of your eye, you see him pull out a white box, propping the stick between his lips before a flame kisses the tip, a puff of smoke cutting through the air.
The knowledge that Yoongi smokes causes you to face him fully, arms folded.
“Since when?”
His eyebrows shoot up, the same expression which has you readjusting your dress, his glow a little overpowering under the golden lighting.
“Only when I’m stressed,” he shrugs, lips curling into a smirk, which has you shifting from foot to foot, exposed under his gaze, “since when?”
“Since when what?” You pout in confusion.
“Since when do you talk to me?”
His question has you stuttering, hand returning to its torturous hold on the railing.
You search for a plausible answer, each one seeming a little too naïve.
“Since you turned twenty-two?”
Gaze shifting to his face, you watch the cigarette glow red, mesmerized by the slight part of his pouty lips.
“Guess so,” you answer, choosing to lean against the railing now, a full view of the obstreperous guests through the elongated windows.
“How’s college?”
“Kay…How’s w-work?”
Namjoon leaps out of the hall, searching the balcony frantically before his eyes zero in on you. Yoongi jolts away from the railing and puts out his cigarette, receiving a pat from Namjoon as he passes him on his way back inside.
Your brother sports the familiar lugubrious expression, one that indicates his guilt.
With a sigh of your name, he steps around you to stand uncomfortably close, no doubt his tactic of getting you to forgive him.
“I’m sorry,” he nudges your shoulder while your chin is hooked onto your shoulder, refusing to look at him.
“I’m sorry. Look, I just…don’t want anyone to hurt you and I know you’re older and wiser now. I just feel like I should step in sometimes, eomma’s judgement proved to be obscured on multiple occasions.”
You cave, tilting your head to blink at your brother.
“You’re talking about the time she tried to set you up with that woman from the antique store?”
He rolls his eyes, “yes! Exactly! She assumed that I liked older woman because I mentioned that Kim Taehee is my celebrity crush.”
Giggling at Namjoon’s exasperated tone, your argument from a few minutes ago seems to be forgotten.
“When you’re fifty-years-old, you’ll still be my little sister,” he begins, eyes unwavering and stern, “and I would never step down from my duty.”
“Your duty as what? A maddening older brother?”
He shoves your shoulder, no doubt taking advantage of his power, as you step into the raucous hall.
Reunited with Jimin, you fill him in on the events during your short time apart. Ensuring that you include the small conversation you had with Yoongi.
“I saw him disappear just now…with a girl.”
Your smile falls, fisting Jimin’s sleeve for him to spill the details.
“I don’t know! I just saw him—”
“The buffet will be open soon,” Yoongi passes you with a small nod, a tall girl with burgundy hair following him toward the front of the hall, near the stage.
“Was that the girl?”
Jimin nods, eyes squinted in her direction.
You laugh, “that’s the caterer.”
“Oh…So? He can still smash.”
With Jimin’s words, you observe their interactions for the rest of the evening. Noting the way she constantly touches his arm and how he leans in close to whisper in her ear. Feigning disinterest but with a little investigation, you had discovered that she’s one of the youngest caterers in your town. Successful and nearing her thirties.
It’s just a crush but it does dim your mood for the rest of the evening, even through Seokjin’s boisterous speech and Namjoon’s slip of what gift he had gotten for the newlyweds.
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“And we tried to dance on the bridge! I know Yoongi was pretending to be brave,” Namjoon cackles, recounting the events of the time they had visited the sky bridge which was 541 meters above ground level. Even the thought causes a wave of goosebumps to rise on your skin.
Yoongi props his elbow on the couch, staring at his lap, cheeks a rosy pink.
“I wasn’t scared,” he grins, “maybe a little, but you were shivering!”
This is the first time you’re seeing Yoongi all whiny and you find it endearing, head resting on the pillow while you watch him dreamily.
“I wasn’t!”
Your brother shouts from his place on the armchair, reaching for the marshmallows kept on the coffee table.
“Keep it down,” your mother emerges from the hallway, hair unkempt, squinting at the lamp that seems a little too bright for her liking, “your father and I are trying to sleep.”
“Sorry,” you all say in chorus, giggling once she’s out of sight.
Your eyes feel heavy, slipping shut before you feel a hand on your head.
“Are you tired? You should go to bed.”
Eyes flying open, you fix your posture, proving to your brother that you aren’t tired at all. Mostly because you want to spend more time listening to Yoongi’s entertaining stories, but his soporific voice makes it difficult for you.
“I’m not.”
Namjoon lets out a noisy yawn before springing up to his feet and taking the bowl of marshmallows with him.
“I’m tired. See you guys tomorrow.”
“I was actually gonna head out for a walk,” Yoongi informs, rising to his feet which piques your interest.
“Oh? Want me to join you?”
Yoongi shakes his head, “it’s okay, you’re tired.”
“I want to come,” you confess, voice tiny for fear of being rejected.
Namjoon’s already padding down the hallway, “goodnight.”
Yoongi glances at you, rubbing the back of his nape, “coming?”
“Yeah,” you respond, trying to sound nonchalant while you tie up your laces.
“Might wanna wear jacket. It’s cold outside,” he informs, pointing at your short-sleeved pajama shirt.
You unhook your fuzzy beige peacoat from the coat stand, mouth in a small ‘o’ when you see him open the door and step outside.
“Where’s your jacket?”
He shrugs, veiny forearms twitching with the movement.
“This shirt is warm.”
He’s still wearing his outfit from the wedding, sans blazer, headband, and glasses. The vest hugs his torso perfectly and you think about how much you want to hug him.
“You coming?”
Shifting back to reality, you shut the door behind you and trail after him to the driveway, attempting to keep your steps in his pace, tucking your hands in your jacket pockets.
Your neighborhood is deathly quiet at night, save for the few barks and cars rolling down the street, but other than that, it’s serene.
If there’s one thing you love, it’s night drives. But walking through the sleeping homes is even better, absorbing your surroundings fully, the orange hue from the streetlights accompanying the moon for your view.
“How’s work?”
You pick up from your abandoned conversation, kicking a pebble as you step onto the road next to him.
He sighs, “you think your life is fucked up until you hear other people’s issues.”
You’re about to laugh before apologies come tumbling from his lips.
“Why are you apologizing?” You ask, staring at the side of his face a little puzzled.
“I shouldn’t be speaking like that in front of you.”
A wry laugh echoes throughout the street, filling the dull air with life.
“What gave you that idea?”
His eyes widen a fraction, refusing to meet your gaze in a way that makes you wonder if that’s how you appear to him, flustered.
“Your brother…I just noticed that the way he speaks around you is different, compared to other times.”
Your eyebrows pinch together at the new discovery, “really?”
“Yeah,” he exhales, shoving his hands into his pockets.
He quickens his pace a bit and you have the perfect view of his cute ass, even cuter when his hands slot deep into his pockets, stretching out the material.
“Do you hear that?”
Straight after your question, the rumbling sound of music permeates the air, coming from Yoongi’s supposed destination as he strides forward and gestures for you to follow him.
“Do you know where it’s coming from?”
“No,” he pants, steps hurried while your legs struggle to keep up with him, “let’s find out.”
The further you jog, the louder the music gets, and it isn’t long before an ornate house comes into view, rollicking laughter filtering out onto the yard where more people cluster and chatter.
You glance at Yoongi who’s just as wide-eyed as you before a smile splits his face upon recognizing the girl who steps out onto the pavement.
The way they seem to communicate with their eyes leaves you with an unsettling twist in the pit of your stomach, feeling a little out of place.
He blinks, chuckling to himself before pointing at Ria who suddenly notices that Yoongi has a companion.
He says your name before Ria introduces herself with a polite smile.
“What’s going on here?”
Yoongi enquires, gums exposed, the girl dressed in a gaudy outfit, dripping in jewelry.
“My uncle and cousins just came back from my hometown, so we’re having a little party,” she informs with a giggle, eyes set on Yoongi.
“Oh,” he smiles, “that’s nice.”
“You should join us!” She yells, “that way we can catch up! It’s been years since we last spoke.”
“Yeah, years,” he snorts, a hint of nervousness in his voice that has your stomach flipping in on itself.
He turns to you, “up for another party?”
You direct his gaze to your clothing, “I’m in pajamas.”
He laughs, and you’re slightly afraid that he might tell you to walk home by yourself so he can catch up with an old friend or whoever she is.
Her blue eyes, which you can tell are contacts, dart between you and Yoongi as he informs that you need to head back home.
“Alright,” she smiles, “maybe some other time. How long are you staying?”
“Three weeks,” his answer is immediate, sucking his lower lip into his mouth.
“We’re bound to run into each other,” she winks, the sight making your bile rise, especially when Yoongi throws a wink of his own over his shoulder.
Once the house is out of view, you can’t help the million and one questions that are planted in your mind, but only a few leave your mouth.
“Who is she?”
“We used to date in high school.”
You can’t help but notice that there’s more distance between the two of you compared to when you were walking in the opposite direction, sadness rising when you realize that your walk will come to an end soon as you’re nearing your house.
“I’m guessing there’s a lot of history between you two,” you try to sound nonchalant, side eyeing him.
“Yeah,” he replies wistfully, as if a thousand memories flood his mind just as you asked.
When you enter the warm reprieve of your home, he mumbles a goodnight and trudges into the guest room. Leaving you with your acidic thoughts.
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Chewing on your lower lip, you toss around the berries in the bowl, while Jimin notices that you’ve been playing with your food for the past hour.
“Okay,” he says finally, setting down his chopsticks, “I say you can skip real food and have dessert and then you don’t want to eat it? Is the yogurt sour?”
You sigh, knowing that it would be redundant if you tell your best friend what’s actually wrong.
He reaches for your hand across the table, “I know it’s not nothing. Talk to me.”
“Well,” you sigh, scanning the scarcely populated restaurant which is unusual for a Saturday night and holiday season, “Yoongi.”
Jimin blinks twice before licking his lips and urging you to continue.
“So, remember how I told you that we met his ex the other night?”
He nods.
“After that night, for the past week now, he’s been going out for walks every night. He doesn’t even ask if I want to go with. And sometimes, when we’re all asleep, I still see him from my window.”
“So, you think he’s going out to see his ex?”
“Yeah,” you breathe, spooning a few blueberries into your mouth.
“Maybe they’re catching up? Like you said the other night.”
“Look at me.”
Gulping down your milkshake, you meet Jimin’s gaze, flipping your hand over to squeeze his heated palm.
“This might be hard to hear, but as your best friend, it would be cruel if I didn’t tell you this.”
You blink, heart leaping to your throat.
“You and Yoongi…There’s nothing stopping him from going back to his ex. There’s also no reason for you to feel disheartened because nothing is going on between you. Like you said before, it’s a harmless crush.”
“You’re right,” you admit, but that doesn’t stop your heart from clenching in your chest, a slight doubt that it might’ve escalated from a harmless crush to you developing feelings for him.
The chatter during every meal, late nights spent arguing over the rules of Uno with your brother, until he says he’s going for a walk.
“Why now?”
Your eyes flit up to Jimin’s, brows creasing, “what do you mean?”
“I mean, you see him often. Well, not as often as before but this time around, it’s like you’re different. You seem to…care more.”
“I don’t know,” you whine, resuming the twists and turns of your spoon, “it’s just that, after we actually started having conversations, conversations that last longer than a few seconds, I’ve just realized how much he appeals to me. He’s intelligent, thoughtful and polite, good with kids, from what I’ve seen, has a nice job, lives on his own yet still manages to make time for his family.”
“You mean, you realized that he might just be your dream guy?”
“Yeah,” you chuckle half-heartedly, propping your elbows on the table as if you’ve only found that out now.
“He’s not like the guys I dated before. No offense,” you snort, while Jimin’s eyes remain void of emotion, lips in a thin line.
“But he’s your brother’s best friend.”
When Jimin says it, it doesn’t sound all that bad. But you understand the weight of those words. Yoongi is your brother’s best friend. Your over-protective bigger brother who would literally kill someone with his bare hands when pushed over a certain edge.
“What?” You follow Jimin’s sight which is directed to the side of your head.
When you place your hands on the armrests to turn around and find out what has him stupefied, he stops you.
“Don’t turn around.”
Even more intrigued, you wiggle his hand around the table, “what is it?”
Blood rushes to your ears, “you’re fucking kidding.”
“Not. And he’s with a woman.”
“Does she have long hair? Slightly tanned?”
“You’ll see for yourself,” he says, dipping his head, “they’re walking past.”
You sit ramrod straight, eyes in your bowl until Yoongi passes you, cupping your hand around your cheek. Praying he doesn’t see you.
What would he be doing in a swanky restaurant like this with his ex? Are they on a date? Are they planning to get back together?
Your mind overheats just as much as your face, even more after you hear the deep voice shout out your name as if to say ‘whata lovely surprise.’
Jimin clears his throat, squeezing your hand a bit until you look up to see Yoongi standing a foot away, Ria hovering behind him.
“What are you doing here?”
“Eating,” the corner of your mouth quirks up, recalling that you haven’t seen him at breakfast this morning, so he must’ve left early to spend the day with her. Your throat seems to constrict.
He chuckles, wiping the side of his nose with his knuckle then jutting his thumb to the slim woman behind him.
“You remember Ria?”
“Yeah,” you offer a tight-lipped smile, returning her wave.
For a second, you see his amiable gaze dart to Jimin’s hand which is still in your grasp.
“Oh,” you giggle, “you remember Jimin? My best friend.”
The corners of his lips lift before his orbs set on yours, an indecipherable expression on his face.
“Have fun kids.”
Anger courses through you as he bids farewell and directs Ria to the back of the restaurant with a hand on the small of her back, which burns into your eyelids, heart twitching in a feeling you don’t want to address.
Not now. Or ever.
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“We’re going to the beach later. Wanna come?”
Namjoon calls from the lounge. You’re busy blending a concoction of fruits, adding a splash of almond milk before whizzing it once more.
“I don’t know,” you reply, even though you really would love to witness Yoongi laying in the sun, well not in the sun but under an umbrella, lathered up in sunscreen, hiding away from waves.
“It’ll be fun! You can invite…Jimin,” the way Namjoon spits out his name makes you chortle, transferring the sludge into two glasses and heading toward the lounge, not before bumping into Yoongi on your way there, keeping your gaze on the carpet as he beats you to the lounge.
“Where’s mine?”
The slight pout in his voice makes your heart soar. You give Yoongi yours which has Namjoon offering you half of his smoothie to which you refuse, relishing in the way Yoongi’s face lights up in praise.
“Come with us. You’re gonna miss us when we’re gone,” Namjoon prods, classic Namjoon to use that on you.
“Yeah,” Yoongi’s eyebrows wiggle, “we’ll have fun.”
Just for a second, you wonder if he actually wants you to go or he’s just being nice to his best friend’s sister. If everything he ever did, his affability, his small favors, were because of the link to your older brother.
He’s just being nice.
“Coming or not?”
You sink a finger into Namjoon’s dimple, “I’ll come because I’m gonna miss you.”
He pats your thigh, “great! Now go get dressed.”
“We’re going now?”
“Yeah! Go on.”
“And you said I can invite Jimin?”
“Yeah, invite all your college friends,” he peals, slurping up the last bits of the smoothie.
With all your beach-friendly clothing heaped on your bed, you shuffle through each costume to find one that fits. Why do you still have the ones you wore at your eighth birthday party? But after some consultation, Jimin had advised that you wear your bikini under your shorts and a loose shirt in case ‘big bro Joon’ goes apeshit.
Throwing your white T-shirt with a small doodle of Pocoyo on the left side of your chest, you toss some beach essentials into a woven bag and fit a snug baseball cap over your hair.
“Is Ria coming?”
You stop in the hallway just out of view, knowing that it’s wrong to eavesdrop but glad that you have good timing.
“She has the flu.”
“Oh,” you hear your brother say, popping into the kitchen wearing an unsuspecting smile.
“Great,” Namjoon grins, waving you toward the door.
You’re about to walk out the kitchen when Yoongi steps in front of you, his chest brushing your hands that are held up and balled into fists, stomach lurching at the sight of his tongue darting out as his gaze cascades down your figure.
Donning a black cap, shorts and T-shirt to match, he holds the door open for you while you’re still figuring out what that look was, even as you’re sitting in the backseat of your brother’s van, lip tucked between your teeth.
“Is Jimin coming?”
“Huh? Oh yeah. And Taehyung.”
“Okay. I invited Seokjin and his wife.”
Your eyebrows furrow, “shouldn’t they be on honeymoon?”
“He had some work stuff to attend to before they leave,” Yoongi answers.
When you arrive at the beach, Jimin and gang are already waiting with the perfect spot picked out for you to relax, but your smile falls when you spot the devilish grin you wish you would stop seeing so often.
“What is he doing here?”
Jungkook and Taehyung throw sand at each other, laughing like buffoons while Seokjin and his wife stroll down the shore, in their own world.
“I invited Taehyung, which is kind of a package deal. And he came with his brother. Plus,” he whispers, slinging an arm around your shoulder, “he isn’t half as bad as before. You know, four years ago when we were first year students.”
“Heyyy,” Jungkook and Taehyung chime, shoving each other around.
“Hi,” you reply timidly, hair whipping around with the unrelenting wind.
“Where’s your brother and—”
A shout of your name makes you sprint in the opposite direction toward Namjoon who asks for the beach towels while Yoongi plugs the umbrella in the sand.
“I’m gonna catch a quick swim,” Namjoon exclaims, swimming trunks on as he pulls his shirt over his head and asks you to lather his back.
“It’ll just come off with the water,” Yoongi laughs, calling after Namjoon as he waddles down the small bank into the water.
You’re about to shove the sunscreen back inside your bag when Yoongi pipes up from his place under the umbrella, already getting cosy.
“Will you put some on for me too?”
Mouth a little dry at the prospect of touching Yoongi’s body, you shake your head and try to conceal your flustered state with your own snarky remark.
“What’s the use if you’re gonna lay under the umbrella?”
“Yeah, like a grandpa!” Jungkook yells, earning a glare from Yoongi which sends a shiver down the length of your spine, still trying to envision the smooth expanse of his back. Silky skin trembling under your touch. What if he was putting on sunscreen for you? His huge, broad palms sliding down your thighs, across your neck…
Jimin yells your name into your ear, causing the bottle of sunscreen to slip and land next to Yoongi’s head.
Scrambling to pick it up, you lean down and give Yoongi a full display of your breasts unintentionally, he gobbles up the sight, piercing eyes travelling down your chest before his eyes flicker up to yours.
Cheeks heating, you stand up to your full height, which isn’t much next to Jungkook, and ask him to put on some sunscreen for you before pulling off your top and cap, unaware of the way three out of four males gawk at your skin.
“I can do it,” you hear Jimin say, but his hand dangles at his side when you shake your head, pulling your hair over your left shoulder while spinning around.
Jungkook’s hands feel great on your skin but Yoongi’s burning stare feels even better, sunglasses pulled down the slope of his nose as he unabashedly eyes you down while you do the same. You chew on your bottom lip, gaze unfaltering while moaning slightly when Jungkook’s thumbs smooth a knot in your neck, seeing Yoongi’s lips part ever so slightly.
Too caught up in the way Yoongi licks his lips while his gaze trails to your boobs, Namjoon jogs toward you with a towel wrapped around his shoulders, hair and body soaked.
“Where’s your top?”
He asks, a little wide-eyed, which you expected.
You point to the white fabric which was thrown next to Yoongi’s towel.
“Okay,” your brother picks it up from the sand and lays down his towel, “when you’re done swimming it’ll be here.”
You, Jimin and Yoongi whip your heads in Namjoon’s direction, obviously shocked after remembering your last experience at the beach.
Taking advantage of the situation, you thank Jungkook and unbutton your shorts, pulling it down your legs to then run toward the shore, giggling and jumping into the water.
Jimin follows, splashing around you while showing off a bit which prompts an unspoken swimming contest between the four of you.
After successfully getting Taehyung’s and Jimin’s heads under the water, Jungkook returns to teasing Yoongi. Yelling about what a grandpa he is while you all guffaw and add to his teases which has Yoongi flinging his sunglasses to the side and charging toward you.
They manage to fight the waves while you struggle, before quickly regaining your balance and forming an evil plan.
“Help! Help!”
You shout loud enough only for Yoongi to hear.
Catching his frantic expression, he walks into the water, muttering curses under his breath before wrapping his arms around you while still trying to prevent the water from getting onto his face.
With a twist of your arm, you emerge from the water and place your hands on the top of his head to dunk him under, cheers and shouts of your name filling the air while Yoongi splutters.
He wipes his eyes and nose while you draw back from him, a little frightened when a vengeful tilt appears in his eyes.
“You’re gonna pay for that,” he warns, leaping toward you. Your efforts to swim away from him are useless because he’s wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you down, laughing breathlessly while your cheeks ache from smiling so much, pretending to fight in his grip which is just as strong as you thought. You’re weak in his arms.
Eventually, he lets you swim away from him while still holding your hand, bobbing with the waves, saltwater clogging your ears.
He brings your intertwined fingers in front of his face and if you weren’t submerged in the icy ocean, your whole face would’ve been bright red.
“Your hands are so small,” he remarks, pulling you closer and bringing your other hand up to join his fist, his bony hand holding both of yours, you’re trembling under his scrutiny, “both your hands can fit in one of mine.”
You manage a small smile with your thunderous heartbeat, waves forcing you closer to him with your hands still in his hold. Lips pouty and wet, beady orbs searching yours. For a moment, it’s as if his emotions mirror yours, so trapped in his heated gaze which renders the cold water around you a little helpless compared to the fire ensnaring your heart, lips parting in slight shock when his mouth brushes your knuckles.
With a sharp intake of breath, your hands plop into the water and he’s spinning around, leaving you to float in your sea of feelings which seem much deeper than what you’ve allowed yourself to acknowledge.
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Jimin offers to give you a ride home while you’re left to ruminate as you watch the trees zoom by. Yoongi’s name echoing in your mind. When he parks in front of your house, he stops you with a hand encircling your wrist.
“There’s something I have to tell you,” he confesses, voice urgent, eyes glued to yours.
“Okay,” you smile, waiting for him to continue.
“I…Where was Ria today?”
Your face scrunches up in confusion, “Ria? I heard Yoongi say she was sick. Why?”
He sighs, head bobbing in understanding, “do you know that…if Ria was there today, at the beach, Yoongi wouldn’t even care about you.”
Jaw dropping, you squint at your best friend who struggles with his words.
“I mean…You think he would even care about you if someone else was there to entertain him? The only reason why he showed you a bit of attention today was because there was no on else there for him to passhis time with while he’s here…on holiday.”
“Jimin,” you mumble, “where is this coming from?”
He scrunches his eyes shut before rambling on.
“You’re just his best friend’s sister. That’s all you’ll ever be to him.”
A tiny puncture to your heart causes the corner of your eyes to dampen, “what?”
“I love you. You deserve to be with me. Not some guy who chooses to talk to you when he’s bored and has nothing better to do.”
“Jimin,” your lips wobble, voice small, “we tried and you broke my heart and…and I forgave you.”
He takes your hand in his, “yes, but I’ve changed now. That was a long time ago. All my gifts and…our dates. You have my heart. Please, give me another chance,” he pleads, thumb rubbing over your knuckles.
“Jimin…I need time.”
“Of course,” he lets go of your hand, leaning over to unclick your seatbelt.
“But you didn’t deserve to say all those things to me about Yoongi.”
“It was the truth,” he states matter-of-factly, switching on the ignition.
“You don’t know that!”
“Anyone can see it! Especially me!”
A sobs wracks your body as you open the car door and run into the house, ignoring the calls of your name.
Locking your room door, you flop down on your bed with tears streaming down your cheeks, grabbing your pillow to muffle the cries that you can’t bite down.
If what Jimin said was true, then your feelings are nothing but a curse. And the hurt will be something that’ll live with you for a long, long time because it’s too late. A crush that blossomed not with petals, but with thorns, scraping down your throat.
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Chopping the orange in half furiously, you wipe a strand of hair away from your face, squeezing the juice and depositing it into the large bowl brimming with a variety of fruits.
Jimin’s words refused to give you a modicum of sleep, constantly making you question reality as if you don’t do that enough. All along, his advice was influenced by his feelings for you, and it has you doubting your entire relationship. How unaware you were. You gave him a chance, and he cheated on you. You had the heart to forgive him and resume with your friendship since it was too precious to give up. And the fact that he might’ve sabotaged your thoughts and steered you away from dating other guys after him, is something you refuse to ignore.
Yoongi. As if you weren’t at war with yourself, was another bird twittering in your ear, reminding you of his clandestine looks and touches, his demeanor that changes drastically around your brother. Is he actually using you as past time? He wouldn’t do something like that. You’re his best friend’s sister. He wouldn’t. But why now? Why is he displaying a change of character toward you?
As if materializing from your thoughts, Yoongi walks out of the hallway, humming to himself before spotting you.
Slightly surprised, you adjust your apron and rinse your hands.
“I thought you went out with Namjoon.”
“Nope,” he responds with a shake of his head, raven hair dusting his collar as he places his palms on the counter and leans forward to peer into the enormous bowl to your left.
“It smells so fucking good in here. What is it?”
“Fruit salad,” you blush, stirring the mix like a witch’s brew, “want some?”
You expected him to refuse but he comes around to the other side of the counter, firm chest a breath away from your back.
Ignoring the slight tingle, you grab a spoon and scoop up some of the juice, a slice of banana being thrown in, and hand it to him, except he doesn’t take it, just opens his mouth, tongue out for you to feed him like a toddler.
Gulping, you ignore the way his arm grazes your side when you reach up and push the spoon between his lips. He moans around the utensil, eyes closing before releasing it.
Heat gathering in your abdomen, you refocus on mixing the salad when he reaches into the drawer and pulls out a similar spoon.
“Let me return the favor,” he chirps, dipping into the bowl then holding the spoon up to your mouth, his left hand held under to prevent it from dripping on you.
With a deep breath, you part your lips and take the spoon into your mouth, all while holding eye contact. When he draws it away, some spills from the corner of your mouth.
“Oops,” he husks, eyes tracking the juice that drips down the side of your mouth, down your chin to collect at your collarbone.
When you reach up to wipe it away, cheeks flushing, he grips your wrist, heart stuttering in your chest when he leans forward and dips his head, warm breath wafting over your skin.
A soft gasp escapes your lips when he drags his pout from your collarbone up to your chin, stopping at the corner of your mouth.
“Tastes better,” he rasps. Your pussy clenches, your own juices leaking into your panties.
The open-mouthed smirk he has on feels like a figment of your imagination, as if he isn’t a few inches away from your face.
A little disappointed when he moves away, you reach into the bowl with his spoon, uncaring that the rest of your family will be eating from this very dish, and hold it up to his lips.
He takes it greedily but you don’t let it fall into his mouth, instead, you let it pour down his chin, staining his white shirt.
“Oops,” you grin, leaning up on your tippy toes in a sudden bout of confidence to place your hand on his shoulder and mouth up his Adam’s apple, tongue darting out when you slide up the curve of his hot chin.
He quickly reaches for the other spoon and scoops up a hefty amount of juice, letting it drip down the side of your neck then wrapping an arm around your waist.
You can hear your heart pounding in your ears when he begins to lave at your skin, teeth dragging up the sensitive area while you throw your head back for his easy access, enraptured by his scent.
That seems to ignite something in him because his lips graze yours, and you think you might drown in his pupils.
“Can I ki—”
Like a hot potato, Yoongi drops his hold on you and steps away from the counter while you suck your lips in, the stentorian voice of your brother has you staring into the orange juice with a hint of shame, cut up fruits floating in the tainted juices.
“Get the fuck out,” Namjoon growls, your head snaps up, tears welling your eyes when Yoongi walks out of the kitchen without any protest.
Heart feeling like its about to burst out of your chest, you follow Yoongi into the guest room, vision blurred as you watch him pack his bag, wearing a stolid expression.
“Yoongi,” you sob, “don’t go.”
“I have to,” he grits, “what I did was wrong?”
“No it wasn’t. I wanted it too! And I will tell Namjoon.”
He zips up his bag and storms out of the room, putting on his shoes hurriedly with you tailing him through the driveway, grabbing his arm.
“I’ll tell Namjoon how I feel about you! It’ll be ok—”
“What don’t you understand?!”
Yoongi yells, his eyes a solid contrast of the gentleness you saw in them earlier.
“It was fucking wrong! You’re just a fucking child!”
“Are you fucking kidding me? You are literally six years older than me!”
“Yeah well, in my eyes you’re a kid, okay? And it was wrong of me to take advantage of you like that,” he breathes, nostrils flaring before yanking his hand out of your hold and walking down the street.
“You didn’t take advantage of me,” you wail, breaths quickening as you run after him.
“You’re my best friend’s little sister,” he shouts, eyebrows furrowed, fringe poking into his eyes, “do you have any idea what Namjoon would do if he knew about—” he takes a shuddering breath then comes to a stop, turning to you with sorrow in his eyes “—it’s best if I just leave. I don’t want to ruin our friendship.”
“So you would choose to hide your feelings because of your friendship?”
“No,” his jaw clenches, staring at the gravel beneath his shoes, “I don’t even think anything would work out between us.”
“Why?” You cry, arms wrapped around your body for comfort.
“Because you’re too immature.”
It feels like someone lodged a dagger into your heart then twisted for good measure.
“I respect your brother a lot. It’s better if you’re with someone your own age. Someone like Jimin,” he exclaims, slowly backing away from you.
Tears flow down your cheeks, neck even stickier.
“Yeah,” he yells, turning down the street which will lead him to Ria’s house.
Eyes stinging, you walk the short distance back home, unwilling to deal with your brother and the lecture he has prepared for you.
“Hey, are you okay?”
“Leave me alone.”
Namjoon sing-songs your name, walking behind you down the narrow hallway.
“Don’t be like that. Talk to me.”
You slam the door in his face, back pressed against the door as you sink to your knees.
Your brother’s voice is muffled through the door as he begs for you to ‘open up’ ‘talk to me’ ‘I love you’ ‘I’m only trying to protect you.’ The same bullshit which has you draining your tear ducts until all that’s left is your anguish and the moon, shining through your sheer curtains that billow out with the wind.
Whatever Jimin said was true.
And for a second, you think that it’s good that Namjoon had found out. What if things escalated? What if you kissed only to find out later that he would give up his feelings for his bromance?
If Yoongi thinks that nothing will work out between you, then why did he touch you like that? Why did he look at you like that? The ephemeral thought that he might feel the same way, enough to put everything aside, makes your heart burn. You’re too immature.
With dreary limbs, after a few hours, stomach empty and begging for food, you unlock your room door, stopping just outside to see your brother sitting against the wall, mouth open, fast asleep.
Lachrymose at the sight, you plant yourself next to him and lean your head on his shoulder, which has him bolting upright, blinking a few times to take in his surroundings.
“Hey,” you whisper, clinging onto his arm.
“Are you okay?”
“No,” you admit, cheek rubbing against the soft material of his sweater.
“If you think about it,” he begins, rubbing his chin, “it’s not that big of a deal.”
You tilt your head to stare at your brother, “what?”
“You like Yoongi?”
You hesitate before deciding that it’s too late, Namjoon already saw you a second away from kissing Yoongi, “yeah.”
“Does he like you back? Because I have no idea.”
You sniffle, burying your face in your brother’s shoulder, speaking with a slight wobble, “I don’t know. I don’t think so.”
“Hey, hey,” he hushes, bringing you into his arms, before sighing and resting his cheek on the top of your head, “you’ll always be my little sister.”
“But someday,” he adds, “you would need to grow up and find love somewhere. In someone. Anyone.”
“Where are you going with this?” You speak into his arm, cherishing his cuddly chest.
“What I’m trying to say is that…If you found love in your brother’s best friend. There’s nothing I can do about it except be the obstacle.”
“Wait,” you sit up, eyes shooting up to your hairline, “you’re saying that you’re okay with me and Yoongi?”
“I’m saying that you’re all grown up—”
“Have been for a while now.”
“—And,” he holds up a finger, silencing you, “you can make your own decisions. But I’m not saying that I won’t be there to guide you.”
“Who are you and what have you done with my brother?”
He laughs, dimples making an appearance.
“No, seriously. What made you change this whole big bro persona?”
He glances at his hands, twiddling his thumbs, “I heard you…crying and I don’t want you to cry. I hate when you cry.”
Sliding against the wall, you hug your knees, “what’s the use? Yoongi thinks I’m immature.”
“He called you immature?! I’m gonna fucking—” Namjoon rises to his feet before you’re yanking him back down, patting his calf.
“It’s okay. He’s kind of right.”
“No, he’s not. He doesn’t know you at all if he thinks you’re immature,” he affirms, rubbing your arm, “you are one of the wisest women I know. Who do I come to first when I need advice? Who?”
“Me,” you answer, voice hushed.
“Whose judgement do I trust the most?”
“You have fantastic insight that sometimes blows my mind, and your ability to discern someone’s character from just a short meeting amazes me.”
Blushing from your brother’s barrage of compliments, you trace your nail down the lines on your pants, smiling shyly.
“He doesn’t know you, just as you don’t know him. But as someone, who knows both of you well enough, I think you might…”
“We might?”
“Might be…”
He scratches behind his head, while you shake his arm for him to continue.
“Might be what?”
“Good for each other,” he says in one breath, rolling his eyes.
“Like I said. He doesn’t think that and if he’s given up, so have I…He also thinks I’m a kid. And it’d be wrong for us to date.”
Namjoon throws his head back in laughter, smacking his thigh.
“That guy behaves like a grandpa. Of course he’ll think you’re a kid.”
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After dithering about calling Jimin, you decided to do the opposite of what you would usually do after a small fight, and call him, chewing on your nail as you wait for him to answer.
“You haven’t been answering my texts. Got kinda worried.” You hear his nervous laugh.
“It’s okay. I wanted to tell you that you were right about Yoongi,” you say defeatedly.
You relay the entire situation with you almost kissing and Namjoon catching you, then how he ran out and chose his friendship over feelings, even though Namjoon said that he doesn’t mind. And how he called you immature.
“Do you think he said that just so you would stop following him?”
“I don’t know,” you sigh, exhausted after over-analyzing the situation.
“So, now that Namjoon knows. I can tell you?”
“Tell me what?”
“That day at the beach, Namjoon cornered me. He kind of…put me on the spot.”
“What are you saying?”
“He said that he notices the way your mother eyes Yoongi and tries to get you to sit next to each other. Then he asked if there was something he needed to know because your mother wouldn’t tell him.”
“And what did you say?” Your eyes widen.
“That guy threatened me!”
“Oh my God Jimin…So that fucker knew all along!”
“Who knows? But hey, at least he’s cool with it, not what I expected.”
Just then, someone knocks on your room door, interrupting your conversation.
“We’ll finish this later, I think they’re home.”
“And Jimin?”
“I hope you understand that I don’t have feelings for you.”
The line is silent for a while before he breathes out a small ‘yeah.’
You can’t help the short gasp that leaves your mouth when you see Yoongi standing on the other side of your door. Mouth drooping, a sullen look in his eyes.
“Hey. Can we talk?”
You pop your head out of your room to look down the hallway, “how did you get in?”
“I used the key Namjoon gave me for emergencies.”
“Oh,” your heart picks up the pace when your eyes meet, you step aside for him to enter, wondering what he could possibly want from you.
He sits on the edge of your bed, scanning your room, which you’re glad looks tidy after you had the sudden urge for a deep cleanse. You choose to sit at your desk, interlocking your fingers and placing them on your lap, waiting for him to speak but also admiring the way he fills out his black T-shirt, black tufts of hair reaching the collar.
“I wanted to talk about us,” he says finally, earning a bitter scoff from you.
“Us? There is no us. You’ve made it perfectly clear.”
He rises from the bed, stopping a few feet away from his desk to shove his hands into his jeans pockets, “don’t be like that.”
“Like what?” You bite, riding on the anger that resurfaced, “I’m too immature, right? Why waste your time having a conversation with me?”
He sighs, taking a step closer which has you standing up from your chair, arms folded, eyes locked on his.
“I didn’t mean that, but with the way you’re behaving now,” he trails off.
You come toe to toe with him, rancor in your voice, “then why come here? If you think I’m so immature? Just go be with people your own age,” you throw his own words back at him, ignoring the way your heart seems to split at the light chuckle he lets out, flawless skin illuminated by your lamp.
“Can you stop behaving like a fucking—”
“Like a fucking what? A child?”
You let your arms hang at your sides, head tilted up so you don’t break your gaze. He stares at you with half-lidded eyes, teeth piercing into his lower lip.
“Why don’t you run after your ex instead? I can assure you that you won’t get what you’re looking for here.”
Confusion paints his features, “what are you saying?”
You laugh, poking his chest, “that’s what you wanted right? Just to have fun, fuck around until you have to get back to your boring life after the holiday is over.”
“Where the fuck did you get that idea?”
“If it isn’t obvious.”
“Ria is engaged,” he chuckles, gripping your finger that prods into his chest.
You freeze, blinking a few times to process his words.
“Yes,” he smiles, “you think that I was trying to get back together with her?”
You say nothing, feeling blood rush to your face in embarrassment, but you can’t hide away with his hold on your hand.
“Wow,” he snorts, “so you were jealous? What about you and Jimin? Namjoon told me how he cheated on you. Didn’t think you would go back to him after how heartbroken you were.”
Your head snaps up, offended by his words.
“So, if Jimin and I get back together? You said it yourself and he changed.”
You see his Adam’s apple jump before he leans forward, speaking through gritted teeth.
“Why don’t you go back to him then?”
“Fine,” you breathe, matching his ruthless stare, “I will!”
He spins around and leaps out of your room, slamming your door shut which has you jumping at the force.
After a few seconds, you take in what just happened, sitting down on your bed to calm your breathing. You feel like you’re about to combust, as if you swallowed a rock and it’s now lodged in your throat, refusing to let air fill your lungs, blood turning to poison.
Suddenly, your door is yanked open, eyes going wide when Yoongi steps in and locks the door, lunging toward you and taking your face in his hands, not giving you time to breathe before he’s crashing his lips on yours.
Startled, heart thumping erratically, you place your hands on his back, parting your lips when his tongue slides across your mouth, transferring heat with each caress of his soft petals over yours, eliciting a tumble of emotions which strike through your heart, bursting for him.
His kisses are urgent, tasting like cigarettes, trickling down your neck until you lose balance and fall onto the bed with a yelp, panting with his tantalizing weight which glues you to the mattress, moaning softly when his teeth catch on your earlobe, sliding down to pull your sensitive skin between his lips.
His hands are ravenous, travelling down the slope of your breasts to then slip between your thighs under your dress.
“Yoongi,” you pant, fingers weaving into his hair, “Yoongi.”
He kisses up your chin to pause on your mouth, eyes cracking open. His pupils are blown out and it almost takes your breath away with how dark they appear, boring into the depths of your soul.
“I…” You glance down, to where his hand is still lodged between your thighs.
“Oh,” he husks, about to remove his hand before you clench your thighs around it, trapping it there.
His gaze returns to yours, slight crease forming between his brows.
You bring your hand up to cup his cheek, thumb smoothing over his glazed bottom lip.
“I haven’t done this before.”
Another emotion seems to overtake him, he smiles at you tenderly, fingers smoothing the meat of your thighs.
“I can tell that you,” his eyes flicker to your legs, “don’t want me to stop?”
You shake your head, fingers wrapping around his neck to hide in his chest, feeling bashful.
“It’s okay,” he soothes, pecking your forehead.
He hooks a finger under your chin, forcing you to look up at him, “tell me something.”
“Have you been eaten out before?”
You almost shiver at the question. Almost. But his pacifying hands keep you relaxed, along with his warm gaze, shrouded with something else. Something that causes heat to collect between your legs, a few inches away from where his other hand sticks.
He chews on the corner of his mouth, eyes laced with wonder and excitement.
“Okay,” he replies with a kiss to your cheek, mouth trailing down your neck to peer up at you from between your collarbones, “can I take off your dress?”
You open your mouth to answer before he’s kneeling between your legs and pulling his shirt over his head. Even your imagination couldn’t conjure up the mouth-watering sight of Yoongi’s broad chest with dusty pink nipples, drooling at the light hair under his arms and collected above the band of his Calvin Klein underwear.
“If that makes you more comfortable,” he mumbles, before you’re grinning at him, an overly innocent tone in your voice.
“But you’ll be seeing my legs too.”
He chuckles, combing his hair back then undoing the button of his jeans and pulling down the zipper, not before cocking an eyebrow and shooting you a mischievous smile.
Hands twitching at your sides, you think you might be dreaming. To test that theory, you let your fingers trail up his abdomen, pausing between his pecs when he trembles and holds your hand to his chest, reminding you of earlier, when you were in each other’s faces with anger.
He takes your hand and brings it up to his lips, kissing each knuckle. When he pulls down his pants, you try not to stare at his bulge, breath quickening with the prospect of having him inside you.
Before he tosses his pants across your room, he pulls out a condom and sets it on your nightstand.
“For later,” he promises, rolling up your dress and helping you out of it, “if you want.”
You throw your arms around his neck, pressing your heated skin to his, kissing him fervently.
“I want to. I want everything with you Yoongi.”
His lips curl into the gummy smile that filled your dreams for years, now so close and warm, pressed to your own grin.
“I want that too,” he murmurs, kissing between the valley of your breasts.
A soft whimper bubbles from your lips when he pulls the cups of your bra under your breasts and twists your nipples between his fingers, palm kneading the flesh.
Your eyes fly shut when he snaps the band of your panties against your skin, not wanting to see his face when you’re fully exposed to him for the first time.
“Can we- can we go under the covers?” You ask, eyes still closed.
He whispers your name, “look at me.”
You peel your eyes open, looking at the cute mole on his nose instead of his eyes.
“Don’t be shy,” he grins, kissing your inner thigh which causes you to shiver. It’s been a long time since anyone touched you like this.
“That doesn’t help,” you pout.
He hovers over you and pinches your cheek, bare breasts pressed to his chest.
“I think you’re beautiful,” he confesses, sincerity pouring from his voice, “and I want to make you feel good. Will you let me?”
“Good,” he moves down the length of your body and settles between your thighs once again, fingers returning to their assault on your nipples, “watch me.”
He slowly pulls down your panties, while your pussy clenches uncontrollably, fisting the sheets once the material joins your dress on the floor.
With a palm on your thigh, he opens your legs and lets his gaze wander between them, breath brushing your swollen folds until your hips lift off the bed involuntarily, skin erupting in a wave of goosebumps when he blows on your swollen clit.
“Such a pretty pussy,” he growls, fingers parting your folds for him to dive into, tongue setting a torturous pace.
“Ah Yoongi,” you moan, head pressing into the sheets as you feel his hot mouth close around your clit, sucking the bud into his mouth.
His tongue darts out against your clit and your back arches, fingers threading in his hair as you get lost in the pleasure, grinding into his face when he starts to lap up your juices, humming into your throbbing pussy.
“Fuck,” you moan, hips jerking when you feel his middle finger slide up your sopping cunt, eyes prickling with tears from how good his tongue feels, slowly building up the heat with each stroke of his tongue around your clit.
Your mouth hangs open, head lolling to the side when he sinks a finger into you, jerking when he pulls his digit out then pushes back in, massaging your walls.
“So tight,” he grunts into your pussy, lips pursing around your clit as he wiggles his face into your pussy, chin and cheeks being drenched with your juices.
Your mind is filled with nothing but the need for release, knees sliding up the bed to expose more of yourself to him, hips working faster, pushing him further into your throbbing pussy.
His left hand creeps up your stomach, fingers splayed across your abdomen to hold you down just as he adds his ring finger, a choked moan breaking from your chest.
Your fingers are nothing compared to his thick digits scissoring you open, reaching deep inside your ridged walls until he finds that sweet spot. You cry out, pussy quivering around his fingers, clit pulsating, indicating that you’re so close to the edge.
He doubles his efforts, tongue flicking out erratically, fingers hooking inside you until tears slip from the corners of your eyes with the intensity of your orgasm, cumming on his tongue with pleasurable jolts up your spine. You spasm under his hold, drooling onto your sheets when he withdraws his fingers.
Your eyes slide open just in time to see him slip his fingers into his mouth, moaning at your taste.
“I could eat you out all day,” he groans, thumb and forefinger tweaking your nipple while the other gets covered by his pout, skilled tongue curling around the perked bud.
Your hands slide down his back, pulling him up until your mouth latches onto his, tasting your essence on his tongue.
“I want you,” you sigh, reaching down to cover his rock-hard cock with your palm, lust clouding your mind until it surges down to sit between your thighs once again.
He leans into your touch, throwing his head back when you slip your hand into his underwear and stroke his girthy cock, wondering how this length will fit inside of you.
Your eyes scrunch shut when he presses his thigh into your pussy, hand flying to your hip when you start to spread your slick all over the toned muscle, panting in his ear.
“Fuck, you’re so fucking sexy. Want me to stuff your tiny pussy with my cock?”
He flexes his thigh, cock twitching in your palm.
“Yes,” you mewl, the only thought being Yoongi and his muscular body rubbing against yours.
He sits up and kicks off his boxers, reaching for the condom. Your thoughts are hazy, hand still working up and down his pretty length with his knee rubbing against your core, precum dripping down your fist until he swats your hands away.
As if you’re some rag doll, he drags you up the bed so your head rests on your pillow, reaching for another to place under your ass.
“This might hurt at first,” he informs, lining himself up with your entrance. You brace yourself, only now noticing how veiny his cock is as he rolls down the condom, pussy clenching when you think about each vein rubbing against your ridges, dragging you to your second high under Yoongi’s attention.
“But you’re nice and wet for me,” he winks, tapping your clit with the head of his cock, reaching for your hand.
Your lips curl into a small smile, trying to psych yourself up with even breaths through your nose, appreciating the way Yoongi intertwines your fingers and keeps his lips on your ear.
With a snap of his hips, he drives into you a few inches. Your nails dig into his back, biting down on his shoulder once he’s fully sheathed by your walls, pinching slightly.
“You okay?”
“Yes,” voice strained, muffled by his shoulder, you tell him that he can move, breath being drawn out of your lungs similar to the way his cock leaves your pussy, pausing for a second before sinking back in.
You hold onto his back for dear life, kissing and nibbling his supple skin once he starts to flex his hips at a steady pace, groaning into your ear.
“Fuck you feel so fucking good.”
“So fucking tight.”
“Always knew you would feel this good.”
“Shit I love you.”
Breath catching in your throat, you ignore his words because you know that some things are said in the heat of the moment, focusing on the way his cock lodges deep inside your pussy, grazing your sweet spot with the pain morphing into pleasure, teeth puncturing his skin until his thrusts become shallow and you’re trembling under him, moans heightening in pitch.
So close.
A call of your name causes Yoongi to halt mid-thrust, meeting your gaze with panic.
Namjoon knocks on your door, “you in there?”
Yoongi buries his head in the crook of your neck, sweaty forehead meeting your chin as he laughs.
“Y-Yeah,” you call out, smacking Yoongi’s shoulder when he laughs again, “I’m busy…cleaning my drawers.”
Both you and Yoongi wait for his answer but you’re unable to ignore the way his cock twitches inside you when you smile at him apologetically, still holding him close.
“Okay, we’re gonna have dinner soon and I got you those peach gummies.”
The sound of receding footsteps makes you breath a sigh of relief and Yoongi wastes no time to drill his cock into your quivering pussy, placing his hand over your mouth when a moan slips into the balmy air.
“Fuck, your pussy is so fucking tight,” he whispers, “you gonna cum for me?”
You nod frantically, feeling a bit light-headed with his palm slotted on your mouth until the knot twists and twists and you bloom beneath him, convulsing with him stilling his hips and emptying into the condom, your name being spoken against the back of his hand along with the phrase you heard earlier.
“Fuck, love you,” he grunts, rolling over, chest heaving as he throws his arm over his eyes.
Swallowing down the questions, you scoot closer to him and place your cheek on his soaked chest, closing your eyes and etching the sound of his labored breaths into your memory.
“Wait,” he pats your back and gets off the bed to tie the condom and throw it into your bin under your desk.
You slip under the blanket, wanting to conceal your body despite being naked and exposed for him a few minutes ago.
The slight fear that he might put his clothes on and leave enters your mind when you hear shuffling, but soon, the cool air hits your back when he lifts the blanket and settles in behind you, lips touching the shell of your ear.
“We should go have dinner,” you say, fingers skimming the hair on his arm when he pulls you into him, sighing contentedly.
“In a bit,” he mumbles groggily, “let’s stay like this for a while.”
‘I love you.’ That’s what you heard him say and with you acknowledging that you’ve fallen for him, that you just had your first time with him, you’re unable to ignore it for a moment longer.
You spin around in his hold, shaking his shoulder lightly after you trace his cupid’s bow with your pinky finger.
“Do you remember what you said?”
“What?” He grumbles, eyes still closed, pulling you impossibly close to him.
You gulp, “I love you.”
His eyes open and you want to slip under the sheets. You obviously didn’t think that this could go sour.
But he shocks you, gaze somewhere behind your head as he says, “yes.”
“Really? Why?”
He laughs, “why do I love you?”
“Yeah,” you try to smile, the slight twitch of your mouth revealing how nervous you are.
“Because you’re you.”
“You’re sweet, and intelligent, and you’re always so supportive of Namjoon. Maybe it was love at first sight, who knows. But I hid my feelings for so long because you were still so young and I…didn’t know what you would think.”
“And maybe it’s because you possess the traits I find desirable in a partner, but I think that I can be good to you. After I told Namjoon, he said that too which is ironic.”
“Yoongi,” you smile, noticing the distant look in his eyes.
“And maybe I thought you might find me weird since I’m your brother’s best friend. Like I’m some kind of pervert. But you know, you didn’t make it easy for me!”
You cup his cheeks, shaking his head lightly, “Yoongi!”
“I love you too!”
He makes a small noise of surprise before you’re burying your face in his chest and giving him one of the tightest hugs you can manage, rubbing your cheek into his skin. He hugs you even tighter, almost draining the blood from you with how hard he’s pressing you into him.
“I love you too.”
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a/n: please don’t feel shy to send in feedback, hearing your thoughts serve as motivation :)
talk to my characters
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taglist: @ggukkieland @moonchild1 @mwitsmejk @fancycollectormoon @nglmrk @bex-92br @taeslarityy @helenazbmrskai @deliciouslydisturbed365 @sweetonkookieandtae
677 notes · View notes
jxngh · a month ago
yoongi as your boyfriend
if you enjoy my work please consider buying me a coffee in here💌
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he's so caring
always knows what you're up to
he's so understanding and sweet, knows how to read you
ppl say he's not that cuddly and stuff
no babe he's just picky about people
he'd love to be close with his favorite person
secret romantic
not tells it often but makes you remember everytime he does something little to you
he'd text you in the morning ' dress warmly it's cold today '
i wanna hug him rn fck
we know that he feels bad when he says ' no ' to his fav people
would have extra trouble telling you no
he tries his best to make sure he spares enough time to you
it's always a warm feeling when you're around him
i'm feeling like he'd be into do small activities more than big ones
like going shopping together, teaching you how to cook some meals, showing you his drawing skills etc.
he'd be interested in what you're interested
and if you'd be curious about his lyrics, idk it can be a simple question too
he'd love to tell you more about it
would think about you all the time
random texts at midnight, he's producing and dreaming about coming and taking you in his arms
sometimes kisses you like he's afraid to break you, makes your heart flutter
he gets grumpy when you're leaving early
kiss him i m m e d i a t e l y
you probably can't resist that cutie kitten face he shows
you'd go visit him at his studio
showing you stuff while you sit on his lap and asking questions
he would play piano, guitar maybe drums to u, teach a few things
he'd be patient and tell you everything, loving that you're interested on his stuff
has a folder of the songs he made for you
and about the fights... if you'd ever fight he'd be silent
i mean silent asf
till you say that you want him to say something
he'd be so calm
but if the fight is big you'd probably yell at each other
you may say ' lav u sure? ' yup i am i can see him yelling
long story short he's a secret - he thinks so - romantic part has came, be careful my childs
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he'd be so into lovemaking
shows his love with making you cum w his tongue till you can't take anymore
would enjoy you riding him a lot
i mean a l o t
those fingers... he'd be into fingering
maybe some slight choking if things get so heated
during sex he'd curse under his breath, groans, sometimes higher moans bc of pleasure
he has a lazy vibe as we all know
not in bed everyone
he'd be fucking you all night
sometimes just a quick session, revealing stress
maybe some degradation when you act needy
loves your body, and if you wear something pretty he'd be so turned on
434 notes · View notes
jiminrings · 2 months ago
take five
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pairing: yoongi x reader
wordcount: 10k
glimpse: dr. min yoongi’s a board-certified dermatologist; skilled, renowned, and in-demand — oh and also, he’s divorced.
alternatively, you’re yoongi’s nurse and you have a crush on him, and he gives you five chances to ask him out — he never said anything about accepting though.
[ angst, fluff, unrequited love, so much pining ]
notes: inspired by yang seok-hyeong and choo min-ha’s dynamic from hospital playlist!! you don’t necessarily have to watch it in order to read this :D this idea has been sitting in my notes for like a year now (yikes) and i’ve only found the wILL to do it now!! took a short break because i’ve been mostly just pumping out stem koo for the past months, but here’s a yoongi piece to cleanse everyone’s palate!! this has got to be one of my favorite pieces ever hee-hee
as always, lmk what you think <3 send in feedback/requests/love to my askbox anytime!!
[ part two ]
“Now where the hell did you hear that?”
Yoongi looks at you incredulously and for a moment, you think you’ve actually hit homerun with your stupid myth of the day because not only does he roll his eyes at you, he also scoffs and stops in his tracks.
“Just somewhere,” you mumble under your breath and hope that Yoongi doesn’t ask you for the exact source and citation because he already looks irked with what he just heard. “But they say it’s true though! If you don’t immediately drink water when you start having hiccups, you would have a breakout the next day or hours later, even.”
There is bliss in ignorance.
There is bliss and beauty in ignorance and it comes in the form of knitted brows and an agape mouth on Dr. Min, his eyes trained on you as if you asked him the stupidest question he's ever heard (you probably did) in his career and perhaps his lifetime.
Every week, from Monday to Saturday, Yoongi comes to his own clinic between the window of 8 to 8:15 in the morning wearing a bucket hat and his choice of clothing to wear under his white coat. Only his right hand would be occupied by the Louis Vuitton Keepall Bandoulière 45 bag, which he later tosses as soon as he enters the clinic and see his employees scramble to catch and save it, just to give himself a little chuckle every morning. He really couldn't care less if none of them manage to catch it, but it's kind of nice having a pointless yet joyful routine.
Additionally, every week, from Monday to Saturday, you come to Serendipity Aesthetics at 7:00 AM to drop off your things so you could walk to the expensive coffee shop to buy equally overrated coffee because after all, your place of work is in the heart of the luxury district. Between the window of 8 to 8:15, Dr. Min walks in and throws his designer bag into the air, to which every employee tries to catch so there wouldn't be a single scratch (but everyone knows that he literally wouldn't care if nobody could save it), and every single time, you're the one who catches his bag.
Also, every week, from Monday to Saturday, you make sure that you're Dr. Min's first interaction of the day.
It always starts with a pathetic skincare myth that you ask him to verify while he either confirms or denies it for you while walking to his office, giving him his coffee that you buy with your own money. It originally started with you searching compilations online and eventually, they got so boring and repetitive that you started making up your own.
The more ridiculous it is, the more reaction you get from Yoongi.
You quickly learned that by now and every morning, you get to see the way he furrows his eyebrows and you're convinced that if you say your myth in a defensive and completely-swayed tone, Dr. Min would actually look at you to deadpan.
This time, however, you probably struck gold.
"I would actually fire you if you even thought for a second that it would be true."
Granted, maybe the gold you thought you've struck is just plated and would turn green overnight.
"Very funny, Dr. Min. No explanation today?" you try to coax one from him because the door to his office is looking especially near and he doesn't allow you to enter anyway.
"I think it's pretty self-explanatory that I studied to be a doctor for more than a decade, have my own clinic, and threatened to fire you for your useless myth of the day, don't you think?" he hums lowly, wiping his finger to press his code onto his door.
"You do have a point," you sheepishly mumble at being outed more harshly for your tactics, "can I ask you something else though?"
Yoongi's eyes are glued on his phone as he just waves you off to both shoo and acknowledge you at the same time, leaning his weight to the door so he could both watch the highlight reel of a show he watched just last week and carry his bag.
"Later. I'm busy."
"No problem!" you stammer because you're not sure if you're ready to ask him anyway, wordlessly pushing the door open for him because he's deeply immersed on his phone. "Can I ask you over lunch? I-..."
... know a place.
Yoongi's door already closes on your face as the result of him kicking it backwards as he enters, making you take a step back to gather yourself.
You are not ready at all to ask him.
It's no secret that you have a crush on Dr. Min. Not at all. Practically everyone knows how head-over-heels you are for him; even the man himself actually.
It was embarrassing at first when it sinked into you that everyone collectively knows how you trail after him like a stray kitten whose gotten their first feed of the day, but later on, it’s something you actively and unnecessarily took pride in.
That way, you could ward off any other people in the clinic who has an eye on him! Dr. Park says that it’s the equivalent of a dog peeing on a fire hydrant within a street that nobody likes to walk in, but you just dismiss his comment as per usual. You’re sure that it’s impossible that no one likes him a little more than usual as an employee would, but perhaps they’re just not as showy as you are.
You can't pinpoint exactly why you have a crush on him because truth be told, you liked him in entirety. It was gradual, sure, but you liked him as a whole even from the start. Something about him’s so pulling that you find yourself complaining silently sometimes.
Liking him is easy. The variables aren't.
It just so happens that Dr. Min doesn't like you in that way, or in any way at all, but that’s okay. There’s nothing wrong with that. Everybody starts from zero at one point.
"Not to burst your bubble, buttercup, but you do know that Yoongi used to have a wife, right?"
Jimin, the cosmetic surgeon of Serendipity Aesthetics and Yoongi's business partner, asks you. He has no ill intent — he actually finds it adorable to see you pining after his best friend who's done nothing but turn you down.
It’s harsh, entertaining, but not laughable. Even the secondhand embarrassment and heartbreak makes Jimin look away whenever you ask Yoongi about his weekend. It’s a game of cat and mouse, but the only difference is that the mouse is unfazed and untouchable, and the cat's scared yet determined.
Coincidentally, Jimin's your childhood friend. Both his and your parents would assign him to watch over you even if he's just some years ahead of you. It even strengthened the bond of you treating him as an older brother and him fulfilling the role well, just as annoyingly.
Your communication hasn't been consistent especially when he entered medical school, which is why you've rarely ever heard about Yoongi before you even worked here. None of it matters though because it feels that you’ve been with Jimin for a lifetime in a literal sense, feeling a stroke of fate because somehow, he’s the common string that bridged you and Dr. Min unknowingly.
You like him a healthy amount. In a very respectful, healthy, almost pitiful amount.
"Yeah. I knew that," you sigh dejectedly, stirring your iced coffee that’s already gotten too watered-down for your taste. “She’s the model, right?"
How could you not?
How could you not know who Dr. Min’s ex-wife is because even before you worked in his and Jimin’s clinic, you’ve already heard of her?
You once saw her in an LED billboard once at a prime spot in a busy street. You saw her face on a promotional liquor poster in a convenience store without knowing that she was the wife of your then-crush (who you didn’t know yet) at the time. You see her large signature on the wall at a restaurant you regularly eat at but don’t have the appetite for nowadays.
"Mhmm, Jihye."
Jimin hums in agreement, spooning a portion from your plate and into his mouth because you’re too preoccupied to swat his hand away.
"Is she your best friend?"
Jimin rolls his eyes playful at the tone of your voice who’s suddenly gotten meek. "No, that's you, buttercup.”
You atleast feel comforted that Dr. Min’s ex-wife, whom you barely know, hasn’t managed to snatch perhaps your favorite person in the whole world. She once had Yoongi and that’s something you can stomach because it’s their life you’re not a part of, but something tells you that you’d be a little more bummed to know that Jimin and her are close just like the two of you.
“We were friends at best because I'm close to Yoongi and well... y'know..." He coughs awkwardly, eyes hesitantly looking up at you before he buries his face to the noodles to the point he could feel the steam rise to his face. "I was the best man at their wedding."
Jimin notices the way your mouth is just fixed on your dumpling, unmoving. It's only rare that you ask him about Dr. Min because there's always the guilt that you're just using your friendship with Jimin as leverage to know more about his colleague, but in the few times that you do ask about him, it always has something to do with major facts you can't immediately grasp your head around.
"Don't worry! They were in a relationship for three years, and only married for one. They knew each other even before Yoongi became a resident."
"That does not help me, Jimin. At all."
He only sheepishly scratches the back of his head, going back to his words which he now realizes did nothing to make you feel better.
"Relax. If you say something superlatively dumb enough for your skincare myths, he'll probably take the hint and date you out of pity."
You unclench your mouth on the dumpling, finding no will to chew it now that Jimin, once again, opened his mouth. "Made it even worse, actually."
He's no stranger to you feeling bummed but he knows that he's somehow in a bind because he's in a point of conflict between you and Yoongi, both his best friends. He can't exactly give you false hope in order to cheer you up, but he can't lie either and say that you don't have a solid fighting chance with Yoongi.
You're frowning but he knows you understand, well-aware that you'd recuperate soon enough.
"Cheer up. Just ask him out and if he denies you, then be it! I had a hand in designing this clinic, remember? It's big enough for you to avoid him."
"Not sure if I should feel inspired or discouraged," you tut under your breath, pressing your forehead down the table so you could ignore him while he leaves you alone. "Thanks, Dr. Park."
Jimin rolls his eyes at the nickname you use to spite him and only call him when the other employees are around, in which case there aren't, just because he did the equivalent of making you gulp orange juice after brushing your teeth like his sudden "I was the best man at Yoongi's wedding" revelation.
You don't know how long your forehead's been pressed to the table but it feels long enough to the point you hear a familiar set of footsteps you didn't anticipate to come this soon, immediately straightening your posture.
"Dr. Min! You're here!"
Yoongi looks up from his phone and nods, completely unsurprised that you're here in the breakroom at the exact moment that he comes in.
"Dr. Park bought everyone lunch today, yours is in this bag," you gesture to the meal you've separated and took the initiative of writing his name on so no one would "accidentally" claim it for themselves because it's always the one with the extra sauce and napkins.
He only hums as he plops down to the seat parallel to the paper bag, not registering it at all that you did it on purpose so he'd be sitting beside you. You didn't actually think he'd fall for it, but it's one of the times you feel indebted to his eager attention to his phone because he doesn't notice.
Yoongi sets his phone down on the table as it's held up by his convenient popsocket, immersed in slurping his own noodles to be oblivious of you who's close to losing your shit right beside him.
The opportunity is sitting right next to you and you didn't expect it to come this soon because if you knew that Dr. Min would be setting off your tentative plans unknowingly with how everything's coming to place, you probably would've rehearsed endlessly in front of a mirror.
"Can I ask my question now?"
Dr. Min's in the middle of chewing when you ask but he doesn't flinch, already aware that you ask him so much questions within a day that he feels like he's working with a nosey toddler.
"Go. You're gonna ask it anyway," he replies monotonously and continues chewing, bringing more noodles to his mouth even if his cheeks haven't deflated yet.
His nonchalance is what simultaneously intimidates and eggs you on, finding the words leaving your mouth with no filter at all.
"Can I ask you to go out with me? I'll only ask you five times and after that, I'm gonna get off your tail."
There's no beat of silence because Yoongi keeps chewing and you're sure you heard a chuckle in-between, looking at his side profile while holding your breath. You're just about to apologize for crossing a line you've been toeing for the better portion of a year when he looks at you once, briefly and lazily.
The word doesn't immediately click in your mind as you stumble with spelling out the letters in your head. Are you hearing it right? Is this just a side-effect of Jimin randomly clapping his hands beside your ears when you're getting groggy?
"O-okay? As in, yes?"
"Okay as in yes, you can ask me to go out with you," Dr. Min clarifies calmly, a ghost of a smile appearing on his lips when he sees the favorite part of his show appear on-screen. "Asking me to go out with you is different from going out with you."
You're shell-shocked because that's exactly what you asked of him and you're even more surprised that he interpreted it as such, the weight of his approval now dawning on you.
"Of course."
Yoongi only hums but he can't bring himself to get another bite because you don't let a second go to waste, seeing your face plead closer to his peripheral vision that he only manages to give you a side-eye.
“Can we go out later, Dr. Min? I actually checked your schedule and you have nothing booked past 4 PM!”
You try to tone down your excitement and you're glad that the expectation of him answering you in the first try is only an afterthought, because he shoots you down twice as quick as you asked.
“Do you have plans tonight then?” you prod with a gentle smile, trying to see if you can sway him even in the slightest.
“Then why don't you wanna go out with me?” there's a light-hearted frown on your face and as much as you know that it won't elicit a reaction from Dr. Min, it's only playful. There's no real accusation nor anger behind your tone.
“Because I don’t, Y/N," Yoongi actually chuckles and he looks at you as if you're the silliest goose he's ever come across a pond. "You’re on closing duty later, bye!”
( ♡ )
“Good morning to my favorite dermatologist in this whole wide world!”
Yoongi hears you greet him cheerily and it almost makes him flinch because you materialized out of nowhere. He's about to scold you for doing that because who knows if you get mistaken and accidentally give a faint-hearted client with the shock of their lifetime, he really was about to — but he sees his cinnamon bun on your hand (courtesy of Jimin telling you his favorite dessert for the price of one cheek kiss), and all the words melt from his mouth.
“Good morning.”
Dr. Min almost snatches what you're holding and you almost huff, trailing beside him as his fingers quickly undo the familiar teal box packaging of his favorite pastry.
“You forgot 'Y/N, my favorite nurse in this whole wide world'.”
“No, I’m pretty sure I didn’t forget anything," he adds for good measure but something doesn't quite fit because as much as his hand is holding a box that houses his favorite type of sweet, his other hand doesn't feel warm. There's no cylindrical cup on his hand that makes his palm just the right amount of toasty and he realizes it the hard way because he raises his hand, ready to take a sip of a whole lot of nothing.
"Where's my-"
“Here’s your coffee.”
"Thanks," Yoongi feels the familiar warmth in his hand in a second and he sighs in relief inwardly, but there's just something off. Feels that there's something actively off because it's definitely more warm than what he'd feel in his regular cup. "Huh? Why is it in a mug?"
He wonders out loud and the sight of the ceramic mug is enough culture shock from the usual lidded paper cup he sees almost every morning, looking at you as if you've told him the worst insult known to man.
You didn't exactly think that Dr. Min would react as differently as this because Jimin said that coffee is still coffee to him, but in the process, you've directly forgotten that your friend told you right after Yoongi's coffee preferences — is that he tends to be a creature of habit.
“From the shop. I-I also bought the mug from the coffee shop so I can present it as this.”
You thought Dr. Min would be pleasantly surprised as he holds the too-expensive ceramic excuse for a coffee mug, but you don't know what to anticipate as he casts his eyes down.
GO OUT WITH ME? :), written in cocoa powder amongst the white froth, a product of going to the coffee shop extra early and having to fend off the red-haired barista with the bunny smile because he thought you were asking him out.
"Mhmm," Yoongi spends a second longer looking at the foam art before he takes a big gulp and effectively washes away what you significantly paid higher for than his usual coffee, trapping your wince at the back of your throat. You're looking at his Adam's apple and he looks just one gulp away from finishing it all, and he does right in front of you. "Can't. I'm taking my mom to go shopping."
You awe unconsciously as it's a known fact within the clinic that Yoongi adores his mom a lot and you see her quite often, having extra snacks being delivered personally to the employees each time because she's a nice and sincere woman.
“I can carry the bags?" you're only half-joking, a cheesy grin on your face, but Dr. Min only shakes his head at you and disappears into his office.
That's your second chance gone as quick as the latte disappeared into Yoongi's throat, but atleast you know that he doesn't hate the beverage and he can reuse the mug.
There's still some merit in your attempt somewhere.
There's never an empty instance in the clinic. It's always full. It's a little more high-end than most clinics and you could see it in the design and layout of the clinic itself, but it doesn't mean it's fully-exclusive. You see celebrities and socialites every other day and with the hands-on nature of your work, you're not as starstruck and bothered as you used to be.
There would always be more than a handful of VIP clients but that doesn't mean they're the only clientele. Serendipity Aesthetics isn't that snooty, and it's something you can manage with.
Your work's just as tiring as the doctors' and not a lot of people credit you for it, but it's something you shove to the back of your mind at the end of the day. You only scrunch your nose under your mask when you see the 73rd trustfund baby come into the clinic for the day, unfocus your eyes so you couldn't roll them when they manage to bring in their wealth that wasn't questioned into the conversation, and move on to your next patient.
You've just finished giving a diamond peel to a breadwinner mother (whom you've had a nice chat and laugh with throughout the process) when your eyes immediately lock in to the figure that knows no queues nor other clients as she walks past, walking straight to Dr. Min's procedure room.
And of course, you don't know whether fate is on your side or not, but you're the only assistant available to assist so naturally, Hoseok, the secretary, looks at you with a knowing nod.
You don't know what to expect when you come inside the procedure room, making yourself as small as possible when you knock twice briefly and enter, standing in the corner with your eyes trained on your clipboard.
Yoongi nods at you once in acknowledgement as his attending assistant, and you can barely acknowledge him back because the Jihye, who was Mrs. Min at one point, is in your direct line of sight.
She's sitting down but you can still see her graceful posture then with her shoulders pulled back and her hair framing her face perfectly. The casual sweater ensemble she wears is probably more expensive than your whole closet could be, but the gray of it doesn't dull her out at all. There's creases on the material since she's sitting down and is therefore not taut, but the wrinkles look poised on her figure nonetheless.
Her manicured hands sit prim and proper on Dr. Min's desk and you can't help but think how they used to look with a wedding band on her ring finger, your thought process making you look at his hands that are clasped right in front of him.
She smells expensive and important, just like how Dr. Min does. Not only do they have a figurative scent of gravitas surrounding them, but they also carry it literally. When they shared a home, have they started smelling like each other at one point? Does the intoxicating smell of daisies on Jihye become Yoongi's scent on his white coat at one point?
"What do you want, Jihye?"
You find yourself holding your breath in anticipation of hearing her voice in-person, and it's everything you've ever expected.
"Undereye fillers, please. I have campaigns and Fashion Week back to back so I need a touch-up."
Expensive, important, elegant, sweet.
Yoongi sighs under his breath, standing up from his seat to examine closer. You almost move to stand beside him to assist but you forget that of course, Dr. Min has his own penlight. You're paralyzed at your corner but you can't help but watch.
You watch him press Jihye's undereyes lightly with the pad of his thumb and then with his ring finger, assessing intensively but holding her lightly as if she's made of glass.
"They're not that sunken-in like usual. You still want a touch-up?"
Jihye laughs sweetly, putting a hand on her chest as she tilts her head up at Yoongi.
"Ah. You're still so sweet to me."
Yoongi doesn't indulge her with a laugh but instead just rolls his eyes, going back to his seat as he types into his chart. "Would that be all?"
"That's it for now," Jihye grins, clutching her purse to her chest as she rocks back and forth on her heels even if she's sat down. "Always down for a facial from you though."
Yoongi clicks his tongue and gives his ex-wife a warning gaze, and just for the slightest fraction, you feel him turning his gaze to you. His gaze that's not for the purpose of feeling sorry you had to hear that, but rather for the purpose of telling his ex-wife that the two of them aren't alone.
She drawls sweetly and you could only look away because this banter of theirs doesn't concern you at all.
Dr. Min ignores her and looks at you, a firm line on his lips.
"Get me the materials, Y/N."
"Extra ice too! I wanna munch on some," Jihye adds as you're on your way out and you make the note of getting more ice from the freezer because she asked so, filling up a champagne glass neatly.
You wheel in your cart and you could only reply with a stiff nod when she thanks you eagerly, already plopping an ice cube to her mouth.
You wait as you see Yoongi become gentle, all from the way he injects the filler to massaging the skin underneath Jihye's eyes.
They're divorced and yet they look casual as they've always done this. They probably did and still continue to. They look like they still belong to each other.
You can't deny that Jihye's pretty and although you're not privy to details if she has work done or not, it doesn't change the fact that she's pretty. She must and is the prettiest girl in the world for Yoongi because obviously, he married her. Loved her. Maybe even currently love her even.
You feel silly. A little more silly than usual like what Yoongi points you out to be because after all, you're an assistant at work who's holding the tissues and the icepack, feeling as if you have the right to intrude or even be jealous of the fact that your boss, the one you have a pathetically huge crush on, is laughing with his ex-wife over an inside joke like what all couples have.
Like what all couples, divorced or not, have.
( ♡ )
Yoongi thinks he's actually managed to escape you.
He's in his procedure room simply because the airconditioner blows colder and not because he has a patient to meet at the moment. It's his favorite kind of quiet; no one's daring to knock on his door, no shoes squeaking, no you who keeps asking him questions at every waking moment you could find.
Come to think of it, not only did he barely see you today, but he also barely saw everyone in the clinic. It's unusual to say the least because for the hundred times that he passes by Hoseok, he now realizes that he barely occupies his position at the front desk. He's heard nothing from Jimin either whose office is just right next to his, unaccustomed to not having someone knock on his door until he budges and lets him in because the guy just wanted to hang out even in silence.
Actually, he doesn't know anyone's whereabouts at the moment. The clinic's full even at lunchbreak but it oddly feels quiet, making him put his phone down and debate to whether or not he should check up on everyone.
“Give me a facial, please.”
Yoongi practically jumps out of his seat when he hears someone pipe up from right behind him, goosebumps forming at the back of his neck as he automatically flinches.
He knows it's you but he didn't know it would be you who's sneaked up on him out of nowhere. Sometime in his whole thought process, you've already opened the door to his room without him noticing and he's badly reaping the consequence of not being perceptible enough.
"Holy fuck," he clutches at his chest from the shock upon seeing you that's slowly simmering down, throwing his head back, only to see you smiling at him gently as if you didn't age him atleast two years faster. "A facial?"
Yoongi grimaces at your crude plead, snickering to himself, but when he registers the weirded-out look on your face, he immediately remembers his profession and what you're actually asking from him.
“Yup! A facial.”
You seem to have no qualms about repeating your request and that's because you don't have any, feeling fully confident in yourself because you're certain that he can't deny such a trivial request at the time.
“Do you have a schedule with me? Have you paid to the front desk already?” Dr. Min asks you in succession and tilts his head at you, making his newly-dyed blonde hair bounce from side to side intentionally.
It's cute, really, but you didn't come here unprepared. After all, you believe that it's Dr. Min this time who owes you something.
“But it’s my birthday — you didn’t know?“
That throws him off the loop for a second and he doesn't even actually believe that it's your birthday at first, especially coming from you whom he believes is a big fan of bogus skincare myths and probably eats them for dinner.
He's about to ask you for some ID but the dots connect in his mind before he polices his employee over their own birthday; why everyone's been missing, why Jimin couldn't stay still the whole morning, why he's been seeing random balloons being held by patients in the waiting area, and why there's some bit of frosting left on the side of your jaw.
“Why would I know when your birthday is?”
“You hired me.”
You blink owlishly at what’s supposed to be an obvious answer but Yoongi reads it as being a smart-ass.
“I hired you for your credentials, not your birthday,” he rolls his eyes and you already know he’s fully recovered from the unintentional spook you’ve given him. "Actually, scratch that — Jimin told me to hire you."
You'd like to think that you'd get hired nonetheless if not for Jimin, but the thought lingers heavily on you. It leaves a bad taste on your tongue and you’re unaware that it shows on your face because for a second, Yoongi feels as if he should apologize because he may have took it too far. In full honesty, the whole concept of it only struck you now and you don’t know what to think of it, especially in a day you swore you’d only be self-indulgent.
You miss a single beat and the needier part of Yoongi’s guilt feels compelled.
“Nevermind. It’s okay! But it’s my birthday, and you told me that you give your employees a free facial as a birthday gift!”
Yoongi feels saved with your smooth transitioning but his eyes narrow once he recognizes the gist of what you’re saying, deeming it to be a little too demanding because all he wanted to do this afternoon was to lay back in between appointments.
"I can just give you a gift card,” he offers and he thinks you’re gonna accept the upgrade which is why he’s about to stand up and retrieve it from his office right this instant, being stopped abruptly when you block his way out of his chair.
“No. I want a facial.”
He hasn’t even started telling you that he has some designer gift cards in his drawer as well but you already shake your head no to what he was about to say, unrelenting when he tries to walk past you that only prompts you to hold your arms out horizontally.
“Fine. It’ll just be a quick one after the last patient and-...”
“Actually, your patient for this hour just cancelled because she has to appear in court for evading taxes or something.”
He blinks once, clearly unnerved. “Oh. Naeun? Again?”
Dr. Min hums to himself about taxes and turns his back on you silently, making you stammer in place because you don’t know if you’d accept rejection at your birthday this early into your attempt. You want to ask one more time if he’s still giving you a facial or not because you’re just standing there as still as an idle video game character, waiting for a prompt that would directly address you.
“What are you doing?” he asks you and you look straight to the mirror that’s in front of him, wide-eyed at being guilty for simply just standing in his presence. “Lie down already. I thought you wanted your birthday present?”
You realize belatedly that Dr. Min’s standing by his employee benefit because while he had his back turned on you because it turns out he was just preparing the tools and equipment he needed for your facial, not because he was annoyed at you and wanted you to take a hint by making you look at his back.
You've never been in this position, actually — the one where you're lying on the patient's bed and Dr. Min's looking down on you, the mix of a scowl and a small smile on his face just to appease you.
He's gentle. Much more gentle that you thought now that you're on the receiving end of his hands. Puts the least amount of pressure in holding up your head to put on a headband before setting you back down, his hands close enough to your face that you could smell the familiar scent of the clinic's hand soap.
You surprisingly melt when Dr. Min dots the cold cleanser to your face and rubs gently in small circles, expecting to flinch because of the overwhelmingly new experience, but there's just something in the way he caresses your face that puts you into ease.
“Jimin and the others prepared me a cake in the breakroom awhile ago.”
Your eyes are closed and you're relaxed and you don't entirely know if it's still a good look on you because Dr. Min's still rubbing in the cleanser, not entirely lying when he says that he's considering on rubbing in the lather to your mouth because he expected you not to talk this much considering he's already in the midst of giving you a facial.
“I pay all of you and you didn’t offer me any,” he mumbles in faux dejection, but the thought of having cake with the chocolate icing he's swiped from your jaw does sound appetizing.
“You were out on lunchbreak.”
You were out on lunchbreak with your ex-wife.
You withhold the last bit that you came to know because of Jimin, since he was on the way to Yoongi's office to invite him for your impromptu birthday lunch but couldn't even finish his invitation because Yoongi already uttered urgent lunch and Jihyo in the same sentence.
“Do you know what my wish was?” you speak meekly but Dr. Min doesn't notice the dimming hope behind it, one that's about to wear off sooner or later.
“Humor me,” he murmurs and that's when you hear the familiar beep of the steamer in your side, knowing that it would grant him 20 minutes of separation from you which he probably craves.
You've memorized it by now — steaming your face doesn't actually open your pores, and neither does washing your face with cold water close them. Steaming just loosens the pores which therefore allows products to seep in deeper and further.
Apart from that, there's one thing you've also come to memorize.
“That you’ll go on a date with me.”
Dr. Min chuckles and atleast you know that it'll soften the blow you expect by now.
“Nope. I’m watching a movie in the cinema with my friends tonight.”
You open your eyes and he closes them right back because it'll hurt to open with the hot steam, unconsciously doing it with a tut on his lips.
“It’s my birthday," you weakly offer with a pout on your mouth and you're oblivious to the half-smile Dr. Min has on his face because of course, your eyes are closed and have been threatened once again to be fired if you don't keep them closed.
“It’s my movie time.”
( ♡ )
Nothing’s going right.
You watched a movie last night with Jimin and it ended up having a cameo of Jihye, making the remaining thirty minutes in the cinema become a darkroom for all of your doubts and insecurities, while Jimin chews your remaining popcorn as silently as he could (because it would be a waste) while rubbing circles on your forearm.
You drank with him all night but he's counting his shots because he obviously has some clients to attend to the next day. It's not exactly a good look of being hung-over with his eye twitching as he completes a rhinoplasty at 1 in the afternoon.
Your car wouldn't be fixed for another week and when you hitched a ride with Jimin and passed by the shop, it's because your car's in the corner and everyone's working on a flashy blue Maserati, in which he made the off-hand comment that it looks like Jihye's but he isn't entirely sure.
Everything from last night until today makes you feel like you don't have control over anything at all. It's deflating and pitying and it adds to the ever-growing con list of what it's like to have a crush on your divorced boss.
So while Dr. Min's standing in his gown since he's assisting Jimin, and in turn you're assisting them and the two of you are alone because Jimin's still washing his hands outside, you ask.
“Go out with me?”
Yoongi's eyes widen at your straightforward reply, cutting to the chase. There's no pleas, no rebuttals and most of all, there's no underlying curiosity. No sneak-handed question that inquires what exactly were his plans.
It's just a plain okay that he can't wrap his head around, making him look at you whose gaze is set on the patient's gown.
“It’s Jihye’s grandmother’s birthday today. She’s old-old — you get the point. Still thinks we’re together and we don’t wanna break her heart.”
He feels compelled to explain even if you haven't asked him remotely, preparing himself for any added questions you might have.
“M’kay. Have fun tonight.”
The question marks visibly float on top of his head and he doesn't know what he's missing, the opening of the door to the surgery suite signifying Jimin's entrance furthermore making his head cloudy.
“Yup. Gonna have a blast with my ex’s family," he says it either as a snide remark or a half-attempt in getting a reaction from you; either way, it dissipates into the air and he gets nothing.
You accept that nothing's going your way and it rarely does otherwise.
Yoongi keeps looking at you like he's never met you before.
( ♡ )
Yoongi enters the clinic, throws his bag into the air, and his eyes practically pop out of his head when he sees that it's Hoseok who's holding it.
Where are you?
It's emptying, almost. He's not hearing a skincare myth first thing in the morning and he doesn't have a warm cup of coffee on his hand, be it in a regular cup or a mug.
In fact, he's walking alone to his office and he feels the need to keep darting his head around because you must be hiding in one of the many vantage points you could spring out of.
There's a shadow set on the large couch, and he feigns his surprise that it's you who's gonna jump beside him any moment now, but it turns out to be the fake plant in the corner.
It's the big green fake plant they bought for accessories in the event that a patient of theirs would be allergic to a real one, and Yoongi's never felt this much annoyance towards an overpriced leafy hunk of plastic.
Jimin hasn't arrived yet but he assumes that it's because you're with him. You've got to be.
Jimin arrives sooner than anticipated as if to calm the curiosity in Yoongi's mind but immediately furrows his brows at him because he actually looks disappointed that he's here.
Yoongi peers at the empty spot beside his friend, even trying to peer his head further for the familiar package deal named you that he carried in mornings.
"Is Y/N with you?"
"No...?" Jimin tilts his head, genuinely confused that he's asking him about you, but is even more confused to learn that you're not here. "Is she with you?"
"No," Yoongi shakes his head no somberly, awkwardly standing as he tries to look behind him to see if you've already creeped your way there. "Weird."
He exits himself from the situation even before Jimin can question him and they both think it's the logical thing to do, especially since it's concerning you and they've been dancing around the topic of you for some time now — from the perspective of the one being crushed on and a potential love interest, the other being your best friend.
You come in some time later, still early before opening but Yoongi's not used to it at all. This is perhaps the first time he's seen you arrive later than he does, but he's conflicted if he ever wants that to happen again.
He's looking at his schedule for the day yet he can't help but peek at his window, anticipating a you who's trying to steal a glance but there's no attempts made, just walking straight past his office and into Jimin's next door.
His whole day started off weird and his first interaction is basically omitted from his book because it doesn't start with his usual habit of fact-checking your myth, leaving a bitter taste on his mouth.
He has his own stash of his favorite snacks in his office but he plans to drop by the breakroom nonetheless after flying through all of his appointments before noon, instead accidentally (but thankfully) walking out to the whiff of your perfume because you just walked in front of him, entertaining a client that must be a walk-in.
You walk to the familiar face you probably last saw just a few weeks ago, seeing his face register you belatedly in warmth and relief.
"Y/N, there you are! I was about to start knocking on every door to look for you," he sighs and you know he sincerely means it, thankful you've showed up just in time because he probably would've caused a ruckus by doing that.
"What do you need? I fell asleep early last night so I didn't get to answer your call."
Yoongi thinks that if he stands still enough, he could be mistaken for a fake plant with a white coat. He tries his best to fix his eyes and not be caught eavesdropping and looking, but that doesn't necessarily mean he's the best at it.
This guy calls you? At night too?
"Just my lobes. I need you to stitch them up back to normal. Tried the rubbing oil method for like a month but it barely did anything."
"Ah," you hum in recognition, gently taking Taehyung's earlobe into your fingers that makes him tilt his head to you in obedience so you could examine it closely. "You only had small gauges. 10G, right? 2.5mm is something I can work on alone."
Yoongi manages to conclude that you're somehow familiar and acquainted with this Taehyung guy, easily taking him under your wing and into an empty procedure room as if the two of you do this everyday.
It's a minor procedure. Local anesthesia and some stitches and Taehyung could walk out in less than an hour. Normally, if the gauges are bigger and therefore the earlobe's more stretched out, Jimin's called in to operate but 10G is something you can do without supervision, meaning that you and said guy would be alone together in the procedure room.
“Need help?”
As a doctor, Yoongi's just offering his supervision and guidance — that's all.
Taehyung's already well-acquainted in his position and so are you, the past fifteen minutes he's spent talking and hyping himself up to stroll in as casually as he could already meant giving you much leeway in between.
“No need doc," surprisingly, it's Taehyung who answers, a warm smile on his face which makes his shoulders vibrate in the slightest to which you tut at him. "Y/N’s used to this already.”
Yoongi's surprised but he doesn't let it show, clicking in his mind that the guy seems like a familiar face he's seen before but he can't place it exactly.
“Oh. Are you a regular in my clinic?”
“Hmm? Oh, no! I’m a first-timer here. I just meant that Y/N’s-“ he gets cut off and it's because you bump your knee into his to stop talking and moving, your voice finishing up his small explanation. "Used to stitching him up."
Tae's kind of scared to talk even more because after all, you're the one who's holding the needle to his ear, not wanting to unintentionally test you further so he just whispers to Yoongi instead.
“Exactly what she said.”
Yoongi feels like he's barging into a couple's business whom he's not a part of. He's seeing you in action as you reconstruct Taehyung's earlobes and that's where the familiarity hits him, quietly awing to himself.
Isn't this Taehyung guy famous?
You didn't take his offer up for help but he still shadows you, maneuvering himself behind you instead of standing by the door alone, not even pretending to give you pointers to fill up the uncomfortable silence (for him) because you both know you're doing a great job.
“Hey, remember when I thought that guy was flirting with you in the bakery?”
Taehyung suddenly pipes up and you have to hold still with the needle in your hand, shoulders shaking in a slight laugh.
“Of course. You ended up punching my brother.”
The two of you fondly laugh and it feels extra humorous because the two of you are trying not to move your bodies to the best of your abilities, seeing his cheeks turn red from trying to stifle his laughs as much as he could.
“He didn’t know whether he’d feel mad or proud of me that time.”
Yoongi turns up the light brighter that focuses on his earlobes that makes Taehyung squint. Normally, that's his non-verbal way of saying that the two of you should not be a having a moment right now, especially with him in the room.
He quips his lips to the side but stays quiet, his once-stable breaths dragging out extra slow.
“You free tonight? Minhyung’s staying with me for a week," he complies when you ask him to turn his head slightly, getting a response to his offer just as quick.
“Yeah, sure! Missed him anyway. He’s how old now?”
“Seven. He pokes fun at me now.”
The reminder of meeting Minhyung when he was barely a toddler versus the comparison of bullying his older brother now makes you laugh, remembering all the fond interactions you've had and continue to have with him. Just last month, Tae called you in the middle of the afternoon because Minhyung was suddenly looking for you.
You wrap up quickly and you wouldn't realize if not for Dr. Min who's been standing behind you almost the entire time, a barely-audible bite to his words. "He's finished."
Dr. Min beats you into relaying the aftercare instructions and follow-up check-up, the lax nature of how he usually explains being a stark contrast to how he sounds quick right now.
Taehyung's oblivious to the difference you could notice but he listens nonetheless, bidding you with a sweet warm smile as he exits the room.
“Thanks Y/N, see you later!”
Dr. Min shuts the door behind him and proceeds to clean up the station you've worked on, getting you into work because you don't quite understand why he even came in here in the first place.
“You didn’t tell me you had Kim Taehyung the model for a boyfriend.”
He passive-aggressively murmurs but you catch it, thinking nothing of the unusual nature your superior is exhibiting.
“You know him? He’s that famous now, huh?”
Yoongi, however, freezes. It's far from your easy chuckle and way further from the territory of peace because his face morphs into confusion. “What? I was kidding with you. He is your boyfriend?”
"What?" your eyes glaze at the odd joke you wouldn't have bothered correcting in the first place because you didn't think he'd ask, much less assume, in the first place anyway. “Oh no, he’s my ex-boyfriend.”
Yoongi genuinely doesn't know what to feel about that.
Is he frustrated over the fact that Taehyung isn't your boyfriend at the moment, or is it over the fact that you're exes and therefore share history together in a way he can't decipher?
He doesn't meet your gaze, the pettiness running through his bones before he could register it as such.
“I don’t believe that. Pretty sure no one would go to their ex’s place especially at night.”
The words he's just uttered basically tells you that he's eavesdropped well and even added his own analysis to it, feeling offended because as what you can recall, you didn't even ask him for his own take.
“I’m hanging out with him and his little brother.”
“Still. No one does that.”
You play off the offense you feel into nonchalance, gritting your teeth as you disinfect the area for the next patient.
“You can be friends with an ex, it’s possible, Dr. Min,” you wipe extra hard at the bed, not even knowing why you feel defensive for a situation that doesn't even involve him. “We didn’t break up in bad terms anyways so it was more than plausible that we would be friends.”
He looks up inhumanely fast, eyes trained on you as if you've grown two heads within a second.
“That’s impossible.”
You humorlessly chuckle and that's the end of it, choosing to tune him out while you clean up as quick as you could because you don't even know if you could stay in a space with him any longer.
Yoongi finds it odd that you're not searching for his gaze, stopping right in front of you when you retrieve the remaining sanitary equipment.
“Have you even checked the schedule? You agreed to him so quick. Who knows, we’d probably do overtime.”
“Then I’m reminding you that I’ve never been absent ever since I started working here, and if we need to do overtime, I’m using my leave.
Dr. Min hardens his glare at you. “That’s against the law, I’m pretty sure.”
“I can ask Tae later, his mom’s a lawyer.”
You add harmlessly as it's the truth and it does make you curious if it's just his unknown pettiness or the law that's talking, seeing his eyes roll at your quip.
“Heh," he narrows his eyes and turns his back on you, quick hands moving into a blur while he goes on his way out. “The gauze’s contaminated now. Get a new one.”
Yoongi can't explain it but he feels like something's changed in his routine and in some way, it has something to do with you.
His entrance every morning feels weird and his arm wants to give out every time he throws his bag into the air because it's not your familiar face that squeezes in so close beside him even if there's plenty of space for you to walk on.
He finds himself looking through windows and wandering through hallways just to look for a trace of you, even if it's the little chocolate nibs you snack throughout the whole day or if it's your extra handkerchief that Jimin uses because he forgets his all the time.
You’re supposed to ask him anytime now, aren't you?
You've used four of your chances in four different occasions with no exact pattern to it, but Yoongi knows. He knows and feels that it's been too long ever since the last time you asked him out (that was two weeks ago) in the procedure room and he doesn't know when the next would be.
He's sure it's a tactic of yours. It must be. You must've been doing it in a certain method that trains him to miss you and look for you unconsciously, even if he's at home and not in the clinic.
Yoongi finds himself lingering around you and he doesn't know if he could just continue hovering and hovering in this way; in a way that's unlike yours because you're unafraid to stand so close to him, talk to him whenever you please, and trail around him like a lost puppy.
He thinks he's had enough when he sees you enter the clinic, just thirty minutes away from opening and goes straight to Jimin's office, walking out later in your scrubs that makes him audibly gasp in surprise.
You enter the breakroom and he finds himself tailing after you unceremoniously, not being able to wait atleast five minutes to enter.
You're just now eating your breakfast because you've had a late start to your morning, also waiting a little later for you to retrieve your car from the shop that took longer than what you initially expected.
You're mid-bite into your cereal when you see a shadow cast onto the table, looking up to see Dr. Min who avoids your gaze as soon as you catch him.
You chew slowly and cover your mouth when he turns to you, arms across his chest while you try to swallow. “I’m not following...?”
He sighs heavily, not knowing he had to spell it out for you.
Yoongi sits beside you and scoots his chair closer to yours, leaning his face onto his hand that makes you confused even more on how he's willingly sitting this close beside you.
“Yes, I’m going on a date with you.”
You swallow your cereal without a fuss as it registers in your head collectively, a curious and inquisitive quirk to your lips that throws him off.
“I didn’t ask, though.”
“No, this is the part where you use your fifth chance to ask me out and I accept.”
It's quite entertaining to see Dr. Min act and talk so impulsively, not used to seeing him this frustratedly determined. “But I haven’t asked.”
Yoongi closes his eyes once, his shoulders relaxing.
“Then I’m saying yes for the four previous times you asked me.”
You snort to your cereal and you're thankful that it happens before you scoop another spoonful to your mouth, shaking your head somberly.
“That doesn’t count.”
Yoongi pouts childishly, his brows furrowing at the concept of you denying him this time and not getting what he wants.
“Yes it does.”
“I can’t take you out, Dr. Min. I’m actually a little short on some date money because I’ve been buying you expensive coffee every single morning.”
"Just Yoongi," he corrects but doesn't choose to comment on the fact that you haven't been buying him coffee for two weeks now and he's unknowingly formed a dependency on the coffee and you. “Then I’ll pay for the date.”
“Then that means you’re taking me out on a date.”
“I know, which is why I’m saying yes, I’m accepting-“
You stop the flow of words that makes Dr. Min frown even deeper, looking severely dejected but the guilt doesn't hit you as much. “You can’t. That wasn’t our deal.”
“Then ask me to go out with you.”
It's a suggestion he brings up softly, uncertainty lacing his features because actually, it doesn't sound like a suggestion at all — sounds more of a plead than anything.
“Hmmm,” you pretend to think even if you already had a concrete plan for the day. “I’m busy. Dr. Park needs me.”
Dr. Min clears his throat, sitting up straighter and looks at you.
“Please ask me to go on a date with you.”
“Dr. Park needs me.”
Yoongi exhales through his nose and stands up, straightening his shirt and rearranging the bucket hat on his head before he relents, leaving you alone.
You think that's just about the end of it, but you're wrong because you see Dr. Min pop into the breakroom the moment lunchbreak starts, picking up Jimin who's sitting beside you and ushering him out of the door.
"The fuck? Yoongi! Stop — stop pushing me! You seriously can't just throw me out of the-"
Your eyes are still fixed on the door that Dr. Min just pushed Jimin out of and locked him out entirely, barely glancing to the paper bag that he put in front of you.
He occupies the chair beside you and clears his throat once again, clasping his hands tightly.
“Five takes.”
"Huh? Dr. Min, did you seriously just-..."
Yoongi pokes your cheek to get you to look at him, effectively taking your gaze out of the door.
“Give me five chances to ask you out.”
You thought he wouldn't push it to this because you swore you know him — know him well-enough that he doesn't like you and wouldn't care enough to pursue you once you've stopped.
He blinks owlishly because you're still asking him why when he thought he couldn't make his intentions any more clear, the two weeks without the usual you making him realize it further.
“I could say that I’m asking you this so you could give me a taste of my own medicine,” his attempt at what's supposed to be a joke makes you scoff, later chuckling when he waves his hands around desperately to clarify. “But as much as my pride would like that,” he murmurs. “I uh, I do want to go out with you.”
Hearing it from him is surreal, to say the least. It's something you've never thought to hear and it's admittedly something you've given up on trying to hear not too long ago.
“I’m going grocery shopping later,” you tell him and it makes his eyebrows knit in confusion, lips opening apart as he understands.
Yoongi grabs the prescription pad that fits snugly to his white coat, handing it to you as he explains it could be something for you to write your grocery list on.
“Thank you Dr. Min,” you chuckle at the wholesome gesture, a lot of pages left when you could've settled for a single leaflet.
“Great! I’ll be seeing you-“ he stands up and claps his hands, effectively being stopped when you reach out for him.
Then he understands.
“I have a rewards card that’s been accumulating points for years now! You can use it," he offers gingerly, a grin on his face.
“Thoughtful, but no.”
“I can drive the cart really smoothly and I can promise you that I won’t even bump to your foot once," he nods for a convicting effect, thinking if he'd pass this time.
“Talented, but no.”
“I can lift all the grocery bags in one trip.”
“Nice try, but no.”
“No?” Yoongi parrots you with a tilt on his head, a slight pout on his face that makes him look warmer.
Yoongi accepts it and nod his head, pulling himself out of his chair before he convictedly talks again.
“M’kay. That was take one,” he says it out loud to console himself, earning a surprised gaze from you. “Four more chances left, right?”
Yoongi wordlessly stands and grabs a plate from the cupboard, taking out the lunch he's bought for you from the paper bag and sets your favorite food (courtesy of Jimin for a price of one hug) there instead, setting and plating it in front of you.
He taps two fingers on your cheeks, a cozy smile on his face as he tries to earn himself a loving smile from you before he exits the breakroom.
“Four more chances.”
578 notes · View notes
bts-fanfic-recs · 2 months ago
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last update: 09.27.21
(fics added this month: (NEW) )
(for more details look at this masterlist <3)
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Across the Hall by @gukslut
akrasia by @thelillzmonster
an out of bounds umbrella by @bubmyg
AQUIVER by @floralseokjin
“Are you flirting with me?” by @rmverse
are you still with him by @joonsgalaxy
Baby, can I? by @btssmutgalore
Baby, you can drive my car by @jungshookz
Basketballcaptain!yoongi by @jungshookz
bluebird by @firebettercallnct
can i touch your heart by @infireation
do it again by @kimnjss
ego: hoe chronicles by @suga-kookiemonster
favorite player by @bubmyg
first and last and always by @floralseokjin
First-Date BAIT! by @jimlingss
First Love, Last Love by @kithtaehyung
get it, let it roll by @jjkthclub
gym rat by @mingoyeob
Heartbreaker by @farfromsugafanfic
Hold me tight by @angelicyoongie
i dont wanna love you by @moonnightyoongi
intimidation by @luxekook
keep the change by @httpjeon (NEW)
know your worth by @yoonpobs  (sequel)
lipstick on my satin sheets by @minyfic​ (NEW)
Listen closely by @avveh
Love Language by @gukslut
Mixtape by @jungblue
Noise Complaints by @sugasbabiie
no more by @gyukult
number 14 by @bubmyg
overstayed welcome by @kaep-jjjang
pinky swear by @taelaxies
put two and two together by @mingoyeob
Redamancy by @delightfulserendipity
sangria by @minstrivia
show by @httpjeon
slip by @kinglykook
so i heard you like bad boys by @scriptaed
speak now by @vminity21
spilled milk by @adorajoon
spit by @rmverse (NEW)
straight shooter by @snackhobi
suit & tie by @jungshookz
take me home by @minyfic
The Early Shift by @hobidreams
the reality of falling in love by @hueseok
The Seven Year Itch by @jimlingss
The Singularity Theory by @dovechim
The Third & Sixth by @jimlingss
The truth between us by @jimlingss
Tip of the Iceberg by @fortunexkookie
unnamed by @underthejoon
unnamed by @snackhobi
want a taste? by @suga-kookiemonster
Watermelon Sugar by @yoonjinkooked
what you did last summer by @winetae
622 notes · View notes
yoonpobs · a month ago
back-burner | 04
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just for tonight, you'll try to forget
PAIRING. min yoongi x reader
GENRE. sister's best friend!au, best friend to lovers!au, sorta frenemies?to lovers!au, angst, *slow burn*, smut, fluff
WARNINGS. an intervention, bad decision making and justifications, longing, sibling jealousy, implied smut, public sex-ish?, fwb-situation, introducing hobi!!!, jk trying to be a good friend :(
WORDS. 3.8k
back-burner masterlist | previous chapter | next chapter
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“You know what I need?”
“What?” Jungkook replies dryly, face sour when you dragged him out of his apartment at seven am in the morning on a weekend.
You were an early riser! And, Jungkook did say that he was your best friend even if that title was heavily self-proclaimed. You were simply making use out of the resources that were bestowed upon you, even if said best friend looks anything but friendly when he glares at you through his puffy eyes.
“An intervention,” you deadpan, leaning forward whilst you slide him a green juice that you ordered on his behalf.
He grimaces when he ogles the glass, glaring at you even harder if that was possible before he slides it back to you.
“Couldn’t this intervention wait till it was a socially acceptable hour?” he mutters under his breath.
“You know for someone who’s meant to be supporting me, you’re being really unsupportive right now,” you blink.
“You know my brain doesn’t operate before 12 PM on weekends so whose fault is that?” he sneers patronisingly, simultaneously releasing a sigh of relief when your food finally arrives.
A familiar face serves you, and you smile when Marco greets you and your companion with his signature grin.
“Nice to see you so early,” he chirps before his head is falling on Jungkook. “Boyfriend?”
Jungkook literally gags. “God, no. Please.”
You ignore him before shooting Marco a sweet smile, one that you usually reserve for people that weren’t the bane of your existence.
“He wishes,” you hum and Jungkook kicks you in the shin.
Marco leaves, telling the both of you that he hopes you’d enjoy the food. You will, obviously, this cafe was your favourite for a reason and you needed that douse of serotonin after the events you were put through the night before.
Even recalling what had happened, how you felt and the bitter tang that it leaves in your chest is enough to turn your face tetchy. Jungkook, despite his half-asleep state, picks up on your change of expression.
“Spill before I leave,” he sighs, and you know that even if he feigns disinterest, he was more curious about your life drama than anything else. Only Jeon Jungkook would live off your life crises.
“That’s what I need,” you say in all seriousness.
“To spill?” he asks with a raised brow, visibly confused.
“A boyfriend,” you say, eyes wide as if you’ve just hit a revelation.
Jungkook blinks.
“A man is literally the cause of all your problems and you want a boyfriend?!”
“A man, not men,” you sniff pathetically, “And okay. Maybe not like a boyfriend. But a boy-friend,” you attempt to explain as you gesture your arms.
Jungkook only stares at you like you’ve grown another head. And you don’t think it’s unwarranted. You’re aware you sound a little insane, but Marco triggered something in you that you didn’t realise could be an obvious solution.
A boyfriend wasn’t what you were looking for, it was a—
“Distraction. I need a distraction,” you declare.
“That is the worst fucking idea I’ve heard coming from you and you’re a bottomless bit of horrible ideas,” he scowls.
“Excuse me? How dare you!” you hiss, “This is not a bad idea.”
Jungkook gawks at you in disbelief, exceptionally more awake when he leans forward with a stern glint in his eyes.
“Do I need to remind you that you’re literally in love with someone?” he exasperates.
“Geez, I said I needed a distraction, not a reminder,” you mumble bitterly, folding your arms across your chest as you stare at your food.
“Listen, I know I condemn half the shit you do because it’s you but I’m really drawing the line at a boyfriend,” he blinks.
“What, are you like in love with me or something?” you snort.
Jungkook blinks at you. You stare.
He opens his mouth, then closes it.
“I’m leaving.”
Before he can abandon you, you’re tugging on his sleeve with a whine. “Okay, okay. Too far, I know.”
Jungkook glares at you as if to say damn straight before he settles back onto his chair with his stance more confrontational than you’d appreciate it to be.
“Look. This is a bad idea,” he says seriously, “You tell me over the phone that you almost told Yoongi you were in love with him in the same hour you accused him of being friends with you only to sleep with your sister. How did you suddenly jump to the conclusion that a boyfriend would solve all of your problems?”
You knew Jungkook was serious. And deep down, you knew he was right. But it wasn’t a matter of who was right or wrong, but the quickest form of conciliation that you could obtain before your heart dug a deeper hole that it couldn’t crawl out of.
The longer you think, the more you know that you and Yoongi were never going to happen. You see Instagram story updates from your sister and it’s always with him. Always with him showing his rare smile at her like it was only reserved for her. He was a busy man, a doctor, and yet—he always made time for Haerin.
It sucked to know that you were there only when he remembered you were.
“I need to move on, Jungkook,” you blink. “I know it isn’t the best idea but I don’t know what else I can do.”
“Distance yourself from him,” he hisses like it’s obvious.
It is, isn’t it? Pulling away from Yoongi to give yourself time and space to allow your heart to breathe. To stop wishing that you were your sister, to stop wishing that you were his.
But you don’t know if you had the strength to do that on your own. You weren’t disciplined. You knew what was good for you but that didn’t mean you sought for it. You were human, a vastly average human that did average things. Sometimes things were below average, too. And that meant sometimes you fell into unhealthy mechanisms, enough to allow yourself to feel something else but dread.
“Won’t this help? Meeting a new guy?” you reason softly.
“And that’s fair for the other guy? To be your rebound?”
You flinch.
“If you’re doing this to get over Yoongi, then I’m against it. As your friend I can’t just let you do this to yourself and someone else,” he says sternly.
“I’m not going to jump into marriage with him, Jungkook,” you frown, “All I’m saying is that I … start putting myself out there, you know? I’ve stayed away from dating because I didn’t want to date anyone apart from … yeah. This isn’t about me finding a rebound. It’s about me allowing myself to move on.”
“And what’s going to happen then? You drop your entire friendship with Yoongi?” You know it’s a valid question, but you haven’t thought too far. You didn’t know if you were able to bear being friends with Yoongi even after everything. But your heart and mind were tired. You couldn’t rationalise anything anymore.
“No. Do I always need a plan?” you snap, rather irritated. “If something happens, it happens. If it doesn’t, it doesn’t. That’s life, isn’t it? Why do I need to rationalise and conceptualise all my decisions?”
Jungkook frowns, unimpressed before he’s levelling you with a serious stare.
“I’m not telling you to plan ten or fifteen years down the road. I’m telling you to think. You’re … hurting. And you’re less likely going to be making decisions that you won’t regret in the future now,” he says.
“I appreciate it, I do. But I think I know what’s best for me,” you say stubbornly, poking into your food as you peer up at him. Jungkook looks annoyed, that enough is obvious when you recognise the tick in his jaw. But what else did you do bother than vex the people around you? It was your character. A character that was hard to understand, even harder to like.
You swallow.
“I don’t need your permission,” you say quietly, “I just needed a friend.”
Jungkook’s face softens, even if you know he still disagrees.
“And you have one,” he replies, right before he slides one of his side dishes towards you. He raises a brow when you eye it sceptically.
“I’m not going to poison you, relax,” he says with a roll of his eyes. “So, who did you have in mind?”
You blink, and a small smile makes its way onto your face.
“No one. I’ll just go with the flow.”
Jungkook snorts.
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You’ve met Jung Hoseok a few times.
It was hard not to notice him, really. He was either the loudest person in every room in the best way possible, or he was mingling with everybody and anybody that would take him.
You remember when you first were introduced to Hoseok, a few years back when you made your necessary appearance at one of your sister’s charity events. You were relatively young, and equally as scorned so you were huddled in your own lone corner before you were greeted with a burst of light.
He knew your name. Of course, he did. Besides being friendly, Jung Hoseok was strategic. He was good at his job, and you suppose that a businessman meant that he needed to network as much as possible, and essentially—kiss ass.
You remember being confused, but Hoseok was so nice that you couldn’t do your usual thing and awkwardly excuse yourself to the bathroom.
You were friends. And that was only your first meeting.
But now, you think Jung Hoseok could be a little better than a friend, especially when you don’t hind your intent behind your gaze when you lock eyes with him from across the room.
Another event, you don’t know what for. You just know that your mother told you to lay low, as usual. Let your sister do the talking. You’re just here for formality.
You didn’t need to be reminded.
You sip on your drink, virgin because you wanted to be sober if anything happened.
(The last time you drank at an event didn’t end so well for you.)
Hoseok shoots you a wide smile, already excusing himself from the group he was a part of before he makes his way through the crowd, filled with intent when he raises his class to greet you.
You grin, stifling a giggle when he nearly bumps into one of your parents’ colleagues. His smile is enough to alleviate the situation, the man patting him on the back good-naturedly rather than curse him out if it were anyone else.
“Jung Hoseok,” you greet sweetly, smiling up at him with a purposeful flutter of your lashes when he finally reaches right in front of you.
“And ____,” he smirks, “You look beautiful.”
Another thing about Hoseok was that he wasn’t shy with his compliments. He was extremely generous, and he was genuine.
“Well, I’d tell you you look great but I’m pretty sure you’ve heard that a hundred times already,” you say.
“True,” he agrees easily, earning a snort from you right before he levels you with a flirty wink. “But not from the person I wanted to hear it most from.”
“Did my mother deprive you of her coddles?”
He laughs, loud and contagious. He earns a few eyes, but when they realised it’s just Hoseok, the guests go back to their conversations. That was how easy it was with Hoseok. He was a ball of contagious energy, wherever he went.
“Her daughter did,” he throws back easily.
“So, Haerin?” you tease and saying her name doesn’t feel so bad when Hoseok sighs deeply, as if bothered.
“You, sweetheart,” he corrects, leaning closer.
You’re against the bar, usually where you reside at these events. And Hoseok has you pressed ever so slightly in a way that makes you feel the heat, but not insinuative enough for anyone to frown at.
“Should’ve said so earlier,” you grin, right before you place a hand on his chest to rub down the lapel of his collar. “You look good.”
“Just good?” he pouts, pulling away ever so slightly, allowing you some space as you roll your eyes.
“Don’t want to stroke your huge ego,” you tell him, lowering your voice into a husk as you see Hoseok swallow.
Hoseok has always been handsome. His sharp features drew the attention of anyone in the room, and his impeccable style. It was both because he was rich and stylish that made him look immensely better in clothes that you were sure would look ordinary on anyone else.
He was in a simple black and white ensemble, forgoing the traditional bowtie or tie by leaving his neck bare. The top few buttons were unbuttoned, leaving the delicious expanse of his chest exposed. His hair was slicked back, revealing his forehead which made him look infinitely hotter than he actually was.
Maybe that’s why you take your leap of faith. When if not now?
“Could stroke something else, though,” you hum.
Hoseok freezes, the hand that rests on the counter behind you stilling as you swallow your pride to shoot him a demure grin.
“So now you’re looking my way?” he whispers softly, grinning from ear to ear.
“Just for tonight,” you shrug, leaning closer as you feel your chest pressed against his.
He feels unfamiliar, and that’s exactly what you needed.
“I’m a busy man, sweetheart,” he says with a raised brow.
You smile.
“That’s exactly what I need.”
That’s enough for him to be dragging you out of the hall, uncaring if people were staring or hypothesised what the other daughter of your family was doing while Haerin did her thing. There was a thrill in being so … careless so purposefully.
You’ve just made it out, the lobby completely empty as Hoseok navigates his way through the venue with expert precision. You were sure he had this place memorised like the back of his hand, having his own events hosted here being a successful entrepreneur himself.
He’s leading you to a room you’ve never seen occupied but was vast enough to fit ten people. You feel a tingle down your spine at the implications, and before you can think twice—you pull his arm back with force as his eyes widen, and kiss him.
“Woah there,” he chuckles, low and deep when his hands sneak around your waist before they trail to the plump flesh of your ass, squeezing them.
“Sorry,” you say breathlessly, pulling away with a cute grin. “Wanted to do that.”
His eyes darken, and he’s pulling you in, pressing you against the wall as you gasp.
His thighs dig in between your legs, firmly pressed against your mound as you whimper. He’s so quick. So agile that your head is spinning. You almost forget that you were still out in public, especially when his hand trails up to cup your tit.
“So fucking pretty, you know that?” he murmurs.
“Just pretty?” you throw back, head following your words as he presses hot kisses against your jaw.
“Greedy,” he grins, right before you feel his hand trail underneath your dress through the slit.
Your hands find their way towards his crotch, already palming his hardening member as he grunts.
“I think I’m pretty generous,” you say coyly, emphasising your point with a squeeze.
He narrows his eyes at you before crushing his lips against yours again with a dark, hooded gaze.
“I’m gonna have fun with you sweetheart,” he growls.
“I’m all yours—” you begin to say breathlessly, and the door to the room slams open—cutting you off.
Your reflexes aren’t fast enough, but Hoseok’s ones are. He immediately covers your body with his, preserving your modesty with the way your dress was hitches around your thighs, and the collar of your dress that threatens to expose your free nipples.
“What the fuck,” Hoseok exhales, and you feel him relax ever so slightly. But you’re tense.
“Hoseok,” the voice says blankly, and you feel the blood drain from your face when you immediately recognise it. You feel his stare next. “___.”
“Jesus Christ, would you knock?” he laughs tightly, pushing you behind him as you take it, digging your head into his back in mortification. “Sorry. I got—uh … a little …”
You get a peak from Yoongi, and you notice that his eyes are hardened. And he doesn’t bother hiding his gaze when he rests it directly on Hoseok.
“This is a public event …” Yoongi trails off, and you feel his eyes suddenly drop onto your figure behind Hoseok. You immediately duck your head, rubbing your lips to remove any sign of saliva. “Just—lock the door.”
You freeze.
“I—well …” Hoseok stammers, shaken by Yoongi’s clipped tone.
“We will,” you cut in, eyes firm even if you feel your body shaking.
Hoseok’s eyes widen, and when you finally reveal yourself from behind him, you see Yoongi’s gaze only fixed to your face, his jaw hardened. You don’t know what to make out of his response, but he doesn’t look the least bit moved. Eyes never straying away from beneath your face.
He stares at you, and you’re staring back at him with a sense of determinacy and a refusal to back down. Your heart still rattles against your chest, and you feel Hoseok’s soft touch against your lower back.
“Don’t take too long,” he says, tone suddenly returning to normal as his eyes drift to Hoseok’s. “Her parents will start wondering where she is.”
“I can take care of myself,” you snap.
Yoongi looks at you, and it’s just empty. Completely blank. You can’t read him yet again and here you were being riled up simply by his presence. You hate it.
But you can’t stop the way your heart wants him to show you something. So you know that he feels. That he’ll react or overreact.
Yoongi doesn’t. He never does when it comes to you.
He just nods his head slowly, before he reaches for the door again, back turned to the both of you.
“You can,” he says in response, right before the door shuts.
You just realise that you’re breathing heavily, and Hoseok’s hand shakes you out from your daze.
When you turn around, you see his face morph into a look of concern.
You don’t want pity.
You want to forget.
“Fuck me, Hobi,” you whisper, pulling him by his blazer as his chest slams against yours. Your voice is tinged with desperation.
“___ …” he says, suddenly hesitant. You wonder if he sees it too. The way you always reach out for a man that never quite accepts your grasp.
“Make me forget,” you whimper.
You don’t know if Hoseok thinks you’re referring to the embarrassment of almost being caught, or if he knows what you feel on a deeper level. But his gaze drifts to your lips.
As if sensing his hesitancy, you smash your lips against his own.
“Make me forget,” you repeat, already slipping off your dress.
His eyes darken, and it’s a blur from then.
You remember the squelches permeating the air, loud and lewd when he had you pressed against the door as he slams his deft fingers into your sodden cunt. You remember the way he had your legs wrapped around his head as he laps you dry. You remember the way you tugged his pants down and gagged on his cock as far as it goes, tears dribbling down your cheek. You remember the way he fucked into you, promising to make you forget with every grind of his hips.
You scream and moan his name, and the two of you don’t care that anyone could hear. You cry his name more times than you can remember in an attempt to replace the one that continues to plague your mind.
Even as Hoseok has you locking up in pleasure on his cock, cunt squeezing tightly around his shaft—you can only think of the fact that Yoongi had left.
Like he always had, to return to the person he really wanted. The person that didn’t make bad decisions. Who wasn’t selfish.
The person who wasn’t you.
You’re breathless and well-spent. Your body is satiated but your heart still hurts. And as if Hoseok senses this, he speaks up as the two of you recover from your high.
“We should do this again.”
You pause.
“Hoseok … I’m not—I don’t think …” you say softly, stammering as your eyes avoid his.
You couldn’t.
“Sweetheart, as amazing as you are, I’m not ready for that either,” he says with a tilted grin, buttoning his shirt and zipping up his pants before he helps you on your wobbly feet.
You flush. “I mean—I just … sorry,” you finish lamely.
He laughs, brushing a hair away from your face. Your heart clenches because the act is so familiar yet so distant. It wasn’t the touch you’ve always known.
“Whenever you need me,” he murmurs, “As a friend or as a relief, I’m a call away.”
Your eyes widen.
“Babe, as great as that was, I value you as a friend too,” he snorts as you roll your eyes at him. “Besides, you seem like you have a lot to say.”
It’s obvious that he knows, and you feel defeated, thinking that you were able to full him and yourself.
“Was I that obvious?” you mumble.
Hoseok tilts your chin up to offer you a small smile. “I got that from him, ___.”
You freeze, stunned. But before you can say anything, Hoseok is wrapping a comforting arm around your shoulders.
“Say, let’s ditch and get some food,” he offers, “This event is boring anyway.”
You flounder for a moment, but Hoseok easily as you on your feet again, animatedly discussing drive-thru options as he swings his keys around. You stare at the back of his head when you walk, and you wonder if this was enough of a distraction.
A friend like Hoseok.
And you, forgetting someone like Yoongi.
477 notes · View notes
rmverse · 2 months ago
could you please do “Are you flirting with me?” “You finally noticed?” + yoongi 👉🏻👈🏻
⇢ pairing: yoongi x barista!reader
⇢ word count: i’ll add it later bc i’m on my phone so idk🥴
⇢ prompt: “Are you flirting with me?” / “You finally noticed?”
“Have a nice day, sir,” you force your lips up into a smile as you hand out the nth drink for the day to another frowning customer who doesn’t even bother to look you in the eye. Another rude customer, another day at the job. You were used to it, day in and day out dealing with a whole array of different types of customers.
The rude ones. The angry ones. The impatient ones. The picky ones. The flirty-slightly-creepy ones. You had learned your ways will all of them. All except for one.
“A large iced americano, please.”
His voice is as smooth and deep as always, not one you hear very often. It suits his looks yet somehow contrasts them deeply. He had a cool aura about him, but when you looked a bit too closely, his features were quite soft and pretty. Min Yoongi, you considered him a regular at this point. He came in at least five days a week with the same order every time. He was extremely polite, always told you to keep the change, always gave you the smallest of smiles when grabbing his drink from your hand and hurried to get out of the way before other customers behind him started huffing and puffing.
He usually came, greeted you quietly with a slightly sleepy voice during earlier mornings, grabbed his drink and went on his way. Recently though, something’s been off. He’s…lingering. Was that the right word? During the days where there happens to be no other patrons, he leans against the counter, and asks about your day.
With a few more visits, he’s learnt your name (properly even though he’s seen it on your tag a thousand times now), he knows that you’re currently a college student as well, he learns that you actually despite coffee despite working here. He learns that you like sweets though and that the manager, Hoseok, lets you sneak a cupcake for yourself every now and then. He tries his best in the short couple of minutes he talks to you each day, but it’s still somehow not working. He’s still just Min Yoongi, the regular who comes in everyday and asks about your day.
Today he comes in determined. He comes bearing a drink in hand, a peach iced tea. His palms are kinda sweating and he clears his throat gently to gain your attention. Thank god it’s a slow morning, he doesn’t need anyone rushing him through this. Though he would love it if your coworker weren’t standing by. He didn’t want any bystanders in case this he failed.
“The usual, Yoongi?” You inquire with a smile, already turning to begin preparing it, but he stops you.
“Actually—“ he clears his throat once again. God. You turn to him with raised eyebrows. Arm lifting up, he wiggles the drink slightly with a soft chuckle. “I already had my drink for the day, but I brought you something.”
Your brows furrow. Eyes flickering to the orange drink he was gripping, back to his face, back the drink and then back again. Wait, what?
“I—“ you stutter.Your eyes lock with his, and even though his smiling, you can spot a hint of rose dusting his pale cheeks. The sight alone floods your stomach with butterflies.
“I just thought, you know, you don’t even drink coffee and—“ his free palm reaches for his hair and he pushes it back a little before rubbing the back of his neck. “You could have this for your break. You like sweet drinks, right?”
It rarely ever happens here, especially whenever you were interacting with customers, but your lips involuntarily twist up into a shy, genuine smile.
“I—“ you chuckle, a little bit shocked and a whole lot of touched. “That’s very sweet of you, Yoongi. Thank you, you really didn’t have to.”
“It’s nothing,” he brushes it off, but the smile on his face says otherwise. It’s a lot wider than his usual ones, and oh my god, it’s the cutest thing you’ve ever seen. His gums are showing in the most adorable way. He looks completely different when he was smiling like that. “Just thought it’d be nice for you to have a drink for a change.”
You weren’t used to this. Hell, you could probably write a whole manual about how to deal with a mob of coffee-deprived monstrosities and yet you couldn’t deal with Min Yoongi coming in every other day, smile seeming to be getting bigger and bigger, tone warmer and lighter, eyes twinkling brighter every time.
God, he came in the other day with a blueberry cupcake in hand and said that he hoped it was sweet enough for you.
Could it be…? Was he maybe…? No, it couldn’t be. He had to be just warming up to you. Maybe he was just naturally like that when he got used to certain people. But then—
“You look really pretty today,” he says, getting read to pay, eyes looking down at his wallet.
You continue to stare at him, waiting for him to look you in the eyes, placing the drink on the counter. “Are you flirting with me?”
His gaze snaps up. You can already see his cheeks and the tips of his ears turning a pretty shade of pink. He looks down at his wallet once again, but you can clearly see his cheeks getting rounder as he attempts to hold back a small grin. “You finally noticed?”
He says it so coolly it takes you back for a second, and now your whole face and neck are getting warmer. It seemed like his confidence has suddenly skyrocketed at the sight of you with parted lips and wide eyes, a bit taken back but he can see hints of a smile right there. He grows bolder and reaches across the counter to grab for his drink, but you’re still holding onto it, so he gently covers your hand with his own palm, eyes blinking back at you.
“What time’s your break?” He asks. Your heart is beating wildly because his hand feels so warm and lovely placed on yours.
“In fifteen minutes,” you reply, tone soft and gaze shy. You both smile simultaneously and he nods with a slightly released chuckle, finally pulling away with his drink in hand. He nods to the side towards an empty table.
“I’ll wait over there, yeah?”
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