#yoongi angst

[jjkeverlast]

unexpected lovers | myg

✧ pairing fem!reader x yoongi

✧ rating explicit (+18)

✧ summary what happens when you meet min yoongi at the club, or well accidentally use him as your pawn to not get hit on. not knowing your cousins friend overhears and suddenly your whole family knows.

✧ warnings & tags modern setting AU, strangers to lovers, fake dating AU, weddings, family issues (related to reader), romantic comedy, fluff, humor, angst with a happy ending, smut, soft dom yoongi, exhibitionism, fingering in front of a painting (and they say romance is dead), oral (m. receiving).

✧ word count 19.8k

✧ author's note this is a re-upload. if you've seen it before, this is why. :)

Lights flicked from each corner making the atmosphere more alive; the base booming so hard you could feel it in your feet. Swinging your hips back and forth to 'Work' by Rihanna, while your friend Amanda was hyping you up, making you laugh in the process but continuing letting yourself let loose for once.

Your family has definitely gone to your head.

About the whole, 'isn't it time you settle down and find yourself a handsome young man?' talk which mostly consisted of your Mom, but your Dad was clearly on her side, agreeing with each point she had thrown at you.

You tried Tinder, but let's be honest, most guys on that app are just looking for a quick fuck, which yes sometimes might be fun, but it gets very boring in the end.

It's not that you 'don't believe in love'. No, you just didn't understand the point in seeking it. Growing up — romance novels, cliché movies filled a lot in your daily life. Your mother wanted you to create a romantic yet hopeful side of you when it came to love. But as soon as you entered college, that side of you, which your mother wished from you, were crushed. You fell into the hook-up culture at your college — you had your fun for a while, yet your mother maintained herself around your neck throughout your college years.

But now, it has gotten so out of control, resulting in you stepping out and go clubbing with your colleague Amanda. Both of you are working for  'Fashlance', a clothing designer firm. Mostly consisting of having to design clothes for certain celebrities. One of them being Kim Namjoon, owner of the art gallery 'Stigma' which had gained a lot of attention in the span of a few months. He was one of the kindest people you designed for. He occasionally, still dropped by the firm to thank you and Amanda for the help.

''Let's get one more drink!'' Amanda suggests, before dragging you towards the slightly crowded bar.

Most people were sitting in booths in groups, others like yourself sitting by the bar countertop.

''Two vodka red bull,'' Amanda orders to the somewhat cute bartender. She had quickly caught onto his good looks, her flirting button now being on — you, quickly catching on to it.

You grabbed your drink, letting Amanda flirt with the cute bartender. Now strutting your way back to the dance floor, drink in your hand.

Downing your drink in almost one go, made you slightly gag from the bitter taste, yet you remained on the dance floor, shaking away the bitter feeling on your tongue.

Two hands were suddenly placed onto your hips, guiding you.

You turn around being met with a tall stranger, with nothing but a smirk on his face.

''Sorry, not interested,'' you poke him in the chest, making him surrender his hands from you, mocking you lightly at your rejection.

''Calm down, just wanted to dance," he retorts, making you roll your eyes at his best way to cover up the fact he wants a piece of you.

''Yeah? Well, dance with someone else,'' you snap back, wanting him to go back to where he came from. He shrugs you off, turning his back to you, before disappearing in the crowd of dancing bodies.

You caught a glimpse over at the bar, seeing the bartender now caressing Amanda's face with his fingers. You couldn't go back there, so you continued dancing alone.

''Hey, can I buy you a drink?'' A deep voice behind you asked, confronted with yet another total stranger who again was looking for a quick fuck.

Okay, yes, you are at a club where most people just want to hook up, yet you don't want that. You've had your absolute fun — especially since that conversation with your parents about you needing to settle down has gotten to your head.

Which is why you politely decline any offers that could lead to meaningless sex, which you've had your fair share of.

''No, I'm okay,'' you decline politely, smiling a bit to not seem rude.

The stranger doesn't get a hint of you turning him down, making him move a bit closer to you.

''Come on beautiful, one drink,'' he asks once again, semi-pressuring you when you've clearly said no.

What a fucking jerk.

Not wanting to have to pull up with any guys' bullshit in this club, you come up with one stupid lie.

"I can't. I have a boyfriend," you reason yet laced with slight discomfort and awkwardness.

You expect the guy to leave you alone once you've thrown the 'I have a boyfriend card' but it didn't seem to work.

''Well, is he here?'' He continues, now with a tight smirk plastered onto his face.

Shrugging at his disgusting behavior, you went along with your lie, not thinking of the consequences that can be caused because of this.

''In a matter of fact, yes he is.'' You were now arms crossed. Not wanting to be put up with his bullshit any longer. ''Point me in his direction — need to see who I'm up against," he challenges you, now making the same movement as you, arms crossed over his chest.

You sigh before turning around, trying to get a good look at the people around you. Most of them were either in groups or already with a girl under the arm.

Shit, this seemed absolutely hopeless, but you weren't going to give up just yet.

Scanning around the bar, you catch a glimpse of a very handsome gentleman, sitting at the bar countertop, looking down at his drink. 

Perfect.

''There he is,'' you point towards the gentleman, the guy quickly catching on making him sigh in defeat.

''Well, I'm gonna head back to him. I think he's starting to miss me-"

''I'll come with you. My friends already left like 20 minutes ago, could really use some company.''

You were just about to decline but he had already made his way towards the handsome stranger you had pointed at.

That's embarrassing.

''I- give me just one minute alone with my boyfriend. He's uh- been feeling a bit down lately because of work," you explain as you had grabbed the stranger in the arm, not wanting him near your 'fake boyfriend'. You had to make him know about your stupid lie first.

The stranger nods, standing still near the dance floor, you excuse yourself walking towards the handsome stranger by the bar.

''I'm gonna need you to pretend to be my boyfriend. Just for tonight,'' you confess through gritted teeth, afraid the guy behind you would hear, ruining your uttermost plan to get rid of him.

He finally looked up from his almost empty glass of liquor. Fuck. He's really pretty. ''Your- wait what?'' He was obviously confused; you had just come out of nowhere asking for such a favor. It felt pathetic.

''Yeah- I- well, this creep won't leave me alone.'' You rubbed your hand on your right arm. 

He sighed, tilting his head to the side, trying to see the creep that has been bothering you. His gaze returned to you, adding a sympathetic smile, nodding his head. ''He's coming over-''

Before he could continue, the stranger had sat down next to the both of you. Fuck.

''Wassup man'' the bastard greeted your 'so-called boyfriend' who's name you didn't even know. Well, this is definitely gonna end badly.

''Sup'' he answered short, keeping his cool as the stranger had now approached you, not wanting to leave you alone.

''So, you're the boyfriend?''

Fuck.

This is where you die of embarrassment.

''Yeah.'' He kept his gaze on him, intimidating the fuck out of him. It seemed to work for a bit, until the rat decided to speak again.

''You guys don't look like a couple.'' He comments adding it with a slight scoff, trying to embarrass the both of you.

''Well we didn't ask for your opinion.'' You bite back with a bitter tone, earning a chuckle from the handsome stranger.

''That's my girl," He praises you, both of your cheeks growing hot at the sudden praise and the fact he called you 'my girl', but it was just an act. You had to keep reminding yourself that.

You smile, resting your arm around his shoulders while nuzzling him in the nuke of his neck, side eyeing the creep who was actually looking like someone who wants to leave.

Thank god.

''Well, you two have fun.'' He excuses himself, before finally getting out of your sight. A big sigh had released from you, needed after trying to get rid of him since he set his eyes on you.

''Thank you.''

He nods, taking the last sip of his drink, making you notice the silver rings wrapped around his fingers. He slightly coughed, making your head turn upward, not noticing you had lost your gaze on his hands.

''You can remove yourself from me now,'' he adds. You had forgotten how your arm was still resting above his shoulders.

''I'm so sorry about that- he just walked up to me, asked if I wanted a drink, I declined, no shit. And then this man had the audacity to continue after I declined? What a fucking jerk am I right? So yeah — had to come up with some sort of lie to get out of that one. So I looked around the club and you were the only good looking guy, well, not good looking. Wait, you're not ugly! You’re just-" You paused, catching your breath before continuing, ''the first person I laid my eyes on and I didn’t really think about it so I just pointed at you aaaaand I can tell you didn’t even listen to a word I just said.”

The handsome stranger didn’t spare you a glance and had walked away, leaving his drink on the counter. He had ignored you.

Great. You had tried your best to not embarrass yourself in front of that pig earlier and now you had, in front of the beautiful stranger instead.

You decide to run after him, as he had walked out of the bar not bothering to continue your conversation, okay so maybe you talked the most but hey! He could've just cut you off.

''Hey! Excuse you," you shout, finally gaining his attention which was needed much earlier. You just wanted to explain yourself and this idiot just left.

''Hm?'' He hums, tilting his head, chewing on what seemed to be a piece of gum. He was so unbothered that not only did it piss you off, but it made him even more attractive.

''What kind of person leaves mid-conversation?'' You ask in disbelief, still in a loud tone to indicate that his behavior had pissed you off.

You expected him to answer you but no. He just scoffed before turning his back to you, disappearing through the dark alley.

Running late was not your forte. It was ridiculous how your car found it hilarious to not start the minute you turned on the engine. You had to act quickly and decide to take the bus nearest you. Not expecting it to run ten minutes late which only made things worse.

Today was a very important day. Amanda had notified you that a new guest was arriving at Fashlance. You mentally cursed the entire route to work, disappointed in yourself for arriving late.

''I'm here!'' You shout, arriving at the main lobby where Amanda was standing with a male, his back turned to you.

Amanda quickly caught your stressed gaze and sighs in relief.

''Thank god Y/N!'' She exclaims, slowly walking over to you. The guest's back still turned, admiring the art piece hanging on the wall.

''Don't freak out! But our guest is very attractive.'' She whispers while hugging you, making it less suspicious that you were talking about him.

You grin while shaking your head.

''Hi! I'm Y/N,'' you introduce yourself to the guest.

He turns and your face immediately freezes.

It can't be-

''You,'' you mutter under your breath, him being able to hear and smirking a bit.

''Min Yoongi. I don't think we've met.'' He greets you, as a stranger, which sets a fire in the pit of your stomach.

You decide to swallow that anger and smile bitterly while shaking his firm hand.

Motherfucker.

Amanda slapped you in the arm, glaring you down with wide eyes. Shit- did you just say that out loud?

''Do you two know each other?'' Amanda blurts, causing you and Yoongi to turn your attention towards her.

''No!''

''Yes!''

Min Yoongi looks at you with confusion written all over his face.

You roll your eyes at his childish act.

''Okay, well we should think of some designs," Amanda suggests,  easing the clear tension between Yoongi and you.

You nod not wanting 'whatever the fuck is going on' to continue.

Amanda had already made her way towards the main office, you trail behind her, before a firm grip grabs your wrist, making you turn to see Yoongi with a yet relaxed expression plastered onto his face.

Amanda doesn't notice you and Yoongi and continues strolling towards the office.

When she's out of your gaze, Yoongi decides to speak.

''So, this is where my fake girlfriend works.''

You widen your eyes at his comment. He didn't forget.

''You-'' You whisper-yell out of frustration, stopping yourself not wanting to cause a scene in front of your guest. Just stay professional, you kept telling yourself, mostly to remain calm and to act cold instead of bothered. Yet you were stunned because of how calm he suddenly was.

After all, you were at work, and yes, he's the last person you'd want to assist, but you had no choice.

He grins at your speechless response, retrieving his firm grip around your wrist, you don't even bother to wait for him, fleeting towards the office, before you lost your cool with him. This was going to be a long day.

''Ah! There you are,'' Amanda comments, already looking at a few designs you had sprawled around on the table.

The next twenty minutes were spent on trying to find the design Yoongi wanted for his suit. Kim Namjoon, owner of Stigma had eyed his work for some time, and had finally reached out to him, requesting him to showcase his paintings at his art gallery.

Namjoon had then recommended your firm, for his suit design, which he will be wearing for the exhibition.

It was mostly Amanda and Yoongi discussing each design. You just stayed quiet, keeping your anger hidden in a deep cave within you.

You felt a sudden buzz in your pocket, getting a hold of your phone, curious as to who might call you in the middle of the day.

It was your mother. Weird. She never calls, normally not in the middle of the day. Mostly when you already were off work. This seemed to be important.

You excused yourself, walking out of the office before answering.

''Mom?'' You ask out of confusion, maybe it was just a pocket dial.

''Darling! Why didn't you tell me?'' She questions, with a tint of excitement.

''I- Mom what is this about?''

''Your boyfriend!''

The spit from the back of your throat had now become a clump, causing you to suddenly choke.

''Sweetheart! Everything alright?''

You clear your throat before responding to the last thing you had expected to hear from your own mother.

''Where is this coming from?''

Was she dreaming? Did she dream that you had a boyfriend and thought it was real? This must be a joke right?

''Your cousin Marco! His friend saw you at the club, cuddling with a guy, and overheard a conversation about you two being a couple! This is great news. News I'd like to hear from you instead, young lady.''

What are the odds that someone who is in touch with your family is at the same club as you? Yes, absolutely zero. Well maybe like one percent. So why? Why did this have to land on you? Your life was already going down the drain, being single and having your parents poke you on and on about it.

''Mom-'' You start, wanting to explain yourself.

''But I can say that I'm very proud of you. For once, you've finally decided to take upon your father and I's advice.''

It wasn't often that your parents would praise you for something you've done. It felt somewhat comforting. A feeling you'd wish you could hold onto for much longer. But you couldn't. It's worse lying to your parents about a relationship which is very nonexistent, than having them poke at you more than once a week about your love life. You had to continue living with this, until you eventually found someone.

''But-'' You start once again, your mom is much quicker than you, as if she's planned the whole conversation already.

''No buts! I would love to meet the gentleman at your aunt's wedding next week,'' she insists, which caused a nausea to appear at the idea of having to bring someone, who well, isn't really a 'someone'. This was absolute hell. Your mother had always been very stubborn, causing this situation to worsen and your voice having absolutely no role in this whatsoever. As if you were having a strip of duct tape tightly sealed on your lips.

''Mom I don't have a-'' You were so close, yet again your mother was quick to interrupt, a habit she had which was stepping your buttons way too often for you to keep count.

''No excuses. I'll see you next week. Your father is calling me, bye.''

And with that the phone call ended. You froze. Not being able to move as if all your problems had crashed from the ceiling of the office onto you.

You were fucked. Utterly fucked.

''Y/N?'' the voice behind you woke you from your spacing out state.

You turned around being met with Yoongi, his eyes were set directly onto yours.

''You okay?''

The question startled you.

Min fucking Yoongi wants to know if you’re okay?

You clear your throat before giving a quick nod, entering the office again.

''There you are!'' Amanda shouts in relief, as if you were gone for 3 hours.

''I'm sorry! My mom called- you know how she is," you excuse, not noticing Yoongi staring at you since you've both entered the office.

''Your mom? She called you? At this hour?'' Amanda questions, as if all the information you had put out was never said. You knew she was in shock; she knew your mother would never call you at this time of day and neither for some casual chit chat.

''Yes, yes and yes." You mutter, still swallowing the phone call you had.

She hums, not continuing it further, seeing your drowned out state. ''I'm gonna get you something to eat. You look like someone who's about to throw up their 9 am coffee.''

With that, she got up from her seat, speeding out of the office, leaving you alone with Yoongi.

''I'm fucked," you curse to yourself, covering your face with your hands, wanting to shut yourself out from the real world. The world where a 'rumor' has started in your family, about you. Fuck- that sound's terrifying, and it is. Very.

''What?''

''I'm fucked, Yoongi,'' you exclaimed once again, pulling the roots from your hair out of frustration.

''Oh- did that rat from the club contact you?'' He grins, clearly joking with you to either cheer you up, or piss you off more than you already are.

You give him a dead glare, him quickly losing his smile. ''Okay, not the time for jokes, got it," he murmurs, looking down, showing his regret for whatever kind of joke that was.

''I need your help.'' Was the last sentence you wanted to throw at him.

''Aren't I the one who's supposed to get help?'' He smirks, lifting both his brows, stating his obvious point that yes, he's the one getting help from Amanda and you. But this was a different type of help, unfortunately.

''Just shut up and listen,'' you grew tired. Yoongi's sarcasm, you and your mother's conversation, and now this awful idea which you were hiding from not only Yoongi, but also a big part of yourself. You didn't want this. You needed this.

To your surprise, Yoongi kept himself quiet, eyes fixated on you, indicating that you have his undivided attention.

''I'm gonna need you to pretend to be my boyfriend.''

There it was.

That sentence once again.

Yoongi's eyes widened at your request.

''Again?!'' He shouts in confusion.

Okay, maybe this actually was a bad idea. But it was the 'only' solution. No, okay, maybe the second-best solution to the whole thing. Of course, the first solution would be to tell your mom that it was all an act, but she never lets you speak.

You take a deep breath before nodding to Yoongi, yes, this was going to happen whether the both of you liked it or not.

''It's once,'' you respond with a sharp tone. You had to win this.

''Where is this coming from? Did the rat track you down?'' He asks, his tone laced with uncertainty. Now supporting his hands onto the table. Your eyes set on his hands for a split second remembering back to the night where you gawked at the sight of them. Now, was not the time-

''I don't even know where to start!'' You exclaim, throwing your hands around in despair. Everything seemed pointless.

''From the beginning.''

You nod.

''A friend of my cousin Marco saw us, that night.''

Yoongi closed his eyes, maybe it was his way of receiving such unpleasant information. He hums, signaling you to continue.

''So, now, my whole family thinks I'm dating you.'' You finish off, well this was just the beginning, but Yoongi needed to swallow that information first before you could allow yourself to proceed.

''Fuck.''

''Yeah- that's just the beginning.''

Yoongi freezes at your words, not knowing where this leads and you can clearly see the discomfort he feels about the whole situation. You wish yourself that this never happened. You should've never pulled that stunt in the first place.

''You- um, might want to sit down for this one,'' you propose, in which he does.

And so, you tell him, from you and your parents' often weird relationship to the conversation about your dating life involving your parents and ending it with the phone call from your mom.

''Wow.''

''Yeah, would be great if you could help me out!'' You pleaded, needing this a lot more than you thought.

''What's in it for me?''

You chuckle, setting your eyes on his, ''An adventure you'll never forget.''

''So cliché.'' He retorts as if he didn't just use a cliché sentence himself. Asshole.

''Please. I'll do anything.'' Now you were almost begging.

''Anything?'' He parrots.

''Anything.''

''Fine. Get on your knees.''

Your eyes widen at his order. Did this man really want head from you to play your fake boyfriend for one fucking weekend? This has to be a joke.

''I'm not sucking your dick Yoongi,'' you blurt out.

Yoongi's lips start to tremble — is he really about to cry?

His mouth opens wide and he's laughing. Wow.

His laughter quiets down, ''Just do as I say.''

You carefully get on your knees, a bit far from Yoongi, still skeptical over what he precisely wants from you. You look up, indicating you are ready for new 'orders'. God that sounded wrong.

''Now, beg for it.''

Oh.

''Please, please, please!'' You beg, still down on your knees.

''Please, what?''

''Please be my fake boyfriend again! I can't do this without you Yoongi.'' This had to be enough. You hope.

He sighs before revealing his answer, ''okay.''

You squeal out of happiness, before the door opens and Amanda walks in with a transparent white bag, the smell of fries erupts in the room.

''Why are you on your knees?'' You tilt your head in Amanda's direction, seeing a bewildered Amanda.

''I dropped something! Did you bring Popeyes?''

She nods, as you stand up to look through the bag of fried chicken and fries. You gave her a small kiss to her cheek and thanked her for the gesture.

''Sit.'' you demand, while opening your laptop.

''Why are we here?'' Yoongi asks, noticing the small space you were sitting in.

You had invited Yoongi to come to your local library, as you wanted to clear the air about the whole fake dating thing. It had absolutely stressed you out, the thought of Yoongi certainly not knowing anything about your family. And if you had an actual boyfriend, he had to know every single detail, because you sure as hell ramble a lot about them.

''Do I need to remind you that the wedding is in two days?''

He scoffs, before sitting down in front of you. You turn the computer around showing him your handmade PowerPoint. You came prepared.

The title for the PowerPoint was, 'Everything you need to know about my shitty family,' Yoongi snickered at your ridiculous PowerPoint.

''You're kidding?''

''Shut it.''

First slide was an introduction to your parents, even though you've already made it clear that no, your relationship with your parents has been far from perfect. Ever since you moved out, your mother has given you certain advice, mostly involving men. You were her only child, so it wasn't hard to figure out why she was so uptight about the whole 'dating thing'. You were her one-way ticket for her to become a grandma.

Next is, your aunts and uncles.

''Let's start with Aunt Jennie, she can be a lot.'' You pointed out the slide showing a picture from your 18th birthday, where she had gotten so drunk, she started singing loudly 'Gangnam Style'. Everybody's attention had turned to her when that day should've been all about you.

''She's uh- well a bitch.'' You say in all honesty.

''Oh, do explain,'' Yoongi pressures, seeing your angry and pissed off face at the mention of her.

''You're not gonna believe me.''

''Try me.''

You took a deep breath, preparing yourself for a family secret to be revealed. ''She, how do I say this, well, I had a childhood crush, and she fucked his mother.'' You blurt out, Yoongi's eyes growing wide at the confession.

''That, I did not expect.''

You didn't want to go into detail, revealing how uncomfortable the situation made you feel. So, you moved on.

''Next is Aunt Pamela, she's very quiet. Don't expect much from her, but she is very kind. Probably my favorite aunt if I had to choose.'' You had picked a picture from her 30th birthday, where she had received her puppy, now named based on her favorite food. Kimchi.

''Kimchi is adorable!'' You didn't expect Yoongi to be a dog person. Well now you know more about him too.

''Moving on, Aunt Bridget. Let me just say this, stay away from her. That woman was born without a filter and will make you uncomfortable in a milli fucking second.'' You indicate, trying to show how serious you were about it, but all you earned from Yoongi was a stupid grin.

''Ohh, I'm so scared!'' He spoke in a terrified ironic tone. He can't seem to take you seriously, and you were about to lose your patience.

''Min Yoongi. I'm serious!'' You whisper yell, not wanting to cause attention around you, as you were situated in a public library.

He nods his head once or twice, motioning for you to continue. You press onto the keyboard, revealing your uncles.

''This is Uncle Sam and his husband Philip. If I had to give out an award for best couple, it would be to them. They have the best humor, and I would not mind if you spend more time talking to them than me.'' You explain in a cheerful tone. They always had your back no matter what. Always telling you the family gossip and being honest with you. Which made you guys grow closer over the years. Sam was your mother's brother, and he had scolded her once or twice for being so harsh towards you.

“Finally, two decent people.” He comments. You had a shitty family mostly, which is probably why Yoongi was surprised by the sudden compliment you had thrown.

“Ha ha ha. Okay, finally, Uncle Seokjin.” A slide showing a few posters from the k-dramas and movies he starred in. He was the definition of the cool uncle.

“Your Uncle is THE Kim Seokjin?” Yoongi’s doe eyes had become more prominent, indicating he had not expected that. You had no idea that Yoongi was a k-drama fan.

“Y-yeah?”

“Wow, might just date you for real to see more of him.” He throws in the open, making you gulp. Something about him mentioning you two dating for real, sent a few unexpected shivers down your spine. You decided to brush it off, instead throwing a comeback to his confession.

“So, you’d use me as your pawn?” You scoff.

Yoongi can’t help but laugh at your awful comeback.

“If I remember correctly, you’re the one using me as your pawn, instead of coming clean to your family.” A smirk now plastered onto his face, because he was right, and you both knew it.

“Touché.”

You were patiently waiting at the airport for Min Yoongi, or should you say boyfriend? Fake boyfriend? Pawn? No. Okay.

Let's just get this over with.

You sigh, still not catching a glance of Yoongi. Even after you had told him everything he needed to know, you still felt nervous. It was probably the fact that you're lying to your whole family. But you wanted to prove yourself to them, that you are capable of dating and don't just fuck guys from an app anymore.

You finally caught sight of Yoongi. He was wearing an oversized white tee, tucked into oversized black pants, added with a black cap. He looked good. ''And the adventure begins,'' you spoke first, gaining a grin from Yoongi as you both started walking towards security.

The plane ride was mostly silent, just as you were about to doze off, Yoongi decided to speak. ''Y/N?''

You shift in your seat, turning your face towards Yoongi, seeing a worried expression. You hum a yes, still a bit sleepy.

''We should set some ground rules.''

''Ground rules?'' You question, not knowing what kind of 'rules' should be set. You just have to act like a couple, it can't be that hard.

''Yeah, just like in every cliché fake dating movie, they set rules.'' Yoongi explains to you.

''Ohh- like in 'To all the boys I've loved before'?''

Yoongi nods. You didn't hesitate, asking the red-haired stewardess for a pen and a piece of paper — not long after she returned with it, you thanked her afterwards.

''Seriously?'' Yoongi comments, you are already scribbling 'Ground Rules' onto the piece of paper.

''Okay Min Yoongi, what is the first rule?'' You expect Yoongi to exclude disgusting pet names, or just plainly ask you to never call him something else than Yoongi — but that wasn't exactly the case.

''No kissing.'' He blurts out, his cheeks now a light shade of pink.

''No kissing?! How is my family gonna believe that we're together?'' You whisper yell, annoyed by such a rule. It's not because you wanted to kiss Yoongi — absolutely not. You just didn't want any suspicion to grow onto you and Yoongi this weekend. By not kissing or showing affection, it would be very hard to convince — especially your mother — that you are indeed dating.

''Hey, just not on the lips.'' He defends. Okay, that was at least better than nothing — if Yoongi and yourself just gave each other small pecks on the cheek, it might sell.

''Fine, no kissing on the lips.'' You repeat, writing it down under rule number one. Yoongi smiles in satisfaction.

As soon as you finish writing it down, Yoongi adds yet another rule.

''No matter what happens, after this weekend, the deal is off.'' Yoongi says sternly, as if something was bound to bring you in this situation again. You brush him off, not wanting him to worry.

''Second rule, deal is off after the wedding, no matter what.'' You parrot, while writing it down. Yoongi watched attentively, the pen leaving and submitting itself back onto the paper.

''Anything else?''

''No crazy pet names. I will gag on your shoes if you throw one at me.'' Yoongi threatens. You chuckled, before writing it down under rule number three.

''I knew you would say that.'' Yoongi laughed in the process, yet you knew he was dead serious.

''We should have a safe word.'' Yoongi suggests, you nod in agreement. For a minute, no words were exchanged, Yoongi and you were too focused to think of the perfect safe word.

Deep in your thoughts, the stewardess passed by the both of you, holding a tray with toast and avocado.

Yoongi noticed the tray too, looking at you before blurting, ''Avocado! That should be the safe word.'' You nodded in excitement before writing it down onto the paper.

''Okay, we're definitely ready now.'' You confirmed, Yoongi giving you a small smile.

The hotel was bigger than expected. For a minute you had forgotten how rich Aunt Jennie and her soon to be husband were. Okay, maybe not like 'Crazy Rich Asians' type rich, but definitely a close second.

Yoongi admired the details in the lobby where you two were standing, waiting for someone to assist you.

''I'm so sorry. How may I help you?'' A middle-aged man finally spoke.

''Hi, we're here for the wedding of Jennie Wong.'' you correspond, Yoongi still admiring the lobby ceiling being covered in ancient paintings.

''Name please?''

''Y/N L/N.''

Yoongi trying to hide a smile, now knowing your full name.

''Ah, room 206.'' The man checked you both in, handing you each a key card for your room. You both thank him, grabbing your suitcases, and now walking towards the elevators.

It didn't take long before you were standing in front of room 206, the numbers engraved in gold. You swiped the key card, opened the door, letting Yoongi in after you.

Just as you had closed the door, Yoongi shouted your name.

You don't waste another second, walking towards the bedroom.

''Fuck.'' you let out, seeing only a king-sized bed. How could you forget that your mother, who is quite invested in this 'very real relationship' would of course book a room, with only one bed. Now you felt like you were living in every book who included the 'there's only one bed trope'. You snicker at the comical scene in front of you. Yoongi's ears turn red at the idea of sleeping next to you. To your disadvantage, there wasn't even a couch to save you from this.

''Off to a great start!'' You declare in an ironic tone, placing your suitcase by the window. You started unpacking, not really having anything else to do — the rehearsal dinner first being tomorrow.

You unfolded your two dresses, not wanting them to be wrinkled, when you finally wore them. You turned around, seeing Yoongi place most of the pillows into some sort of barrier between the two sides of the bed. You scoff at his ridiculous act. ''Calm down, I'm not going to throw myself at you.'' You try to defend yourself, although Yoongi doesn't stop. ''Well, you never know what might happen if alcohol is involved.'' He points out, leaving you stunned that he even thinks you can't control yourself because of alcohol.

You don't think for another second when you pull one of the pillows away from Yoongi's grasp.

''Yoongi, for this whole thing to go as planned, you're gonna have to trust me.'' Yoongi's grasp on the pillow slowly softened. You took it as a sign that he gave you right. Almost sighing gracefully, Yoongi's grasp yet again tightened, you falling over onto the bed, landing face flat onto the sheets. ''Ow!''

''The barrier stays.'' Yoongi insists.

You lift yourself up from the covers, seeing a stable Yoongi, not daring to move.

You grunt in annoyance, your one arm swings, catching onto the pillow. ''Yoongi. Let go of the pillow.'' You demand.

Yoongi shakes his head, yanking the pillow towards himself, almost causing you to fall once again. ''Yoongi!'' You scream, still holding onto the pillow for dear life. He still doesn't bother, causing the both of you to yank the pillow back and forth, until one of you decides to give up.

And that isn't exactly what happens, instead the pillow rips into two, the feathers spreading all over the bed. You sigh in defeat, finally letting go.

''Okay, okay! Fine. The barrier stays.'' You exclaim, Yoongi cheering at the victory. ''Now clean this mess up.'' You add, before going to the bathroom to take a warm bath.

Yoongi grunts in annoyance, instantly regretting pulling the pillow too hard.

The night ends on a somewhat positive note. Still, as you laid in your shared bed, you could feel one or two feathers, which itched you throughout your sleep — you mentally threw a tantrum to Yoongi in your head, before finally drifting off to sleep.

You woke up to the sun shining in through the window, blinding your eyes as you slowly opened them — now rubbing them to finally adjust to the light. You turn to see a sleepy Yoongi, mouth a bit agape, small snores escaping his lips in the process. You smiled at the sight, stretching right after, letting out a small moan from the pleasure of your morning stretch, hitting you just right. Yoongi doesn't notice the small moan escaping your lips — thank god.

You don't wake up Yoongi, letting him sleep in while you get ready. As you brush your teeth in the mirror, it clicks for you that today you're gonna have to push through all your family members. Every. Single. One. Of. Them.

You lightly slapped both of your cheeks, hyping yourself in the mirror. ''Y/N, you got this. No one is going to suspect a thing.'' You kept reassuring yourself. You pulled yourself out of the bathroom, seeing Yoongi trying to comb his messy morning hair with his fingers.

''Morning.'' you spoke, Yoongi turning his head towards you, repeating your words.

You check your phone, once you've sat back down on your shared bed.

mom remember, rehearsal dinner at 5:30 p.m. [11:56 AM]

You don't bother answering, instead turning your head to tell Yoongi the information from your mother's text.

''The rehearsal dinner is-'' you pause, noticing the prominent bulge through Yoongi's boxers, as he stands to stretch his arms. Morning wood. Shit — don't look Y/N. You try your best to not look down at his boxers, making you look confused as your gaze searched everything else in the room than him, ''-it's... at 5:30.'' You finally finish, your gaze still trying to regain onto everything but Yoongi's boner.

Yoongi acted way to chill for your liking, did he know you could see his boner? Did he want you to see his boner? Okay, no. That's crazy. He's the one who came up with the no kissing rule and the barrier in the bed, so for him to want you to see his boner, would not make sense. You got so lost in your thoughts, that you didn't notice how Yoongi had left the room to get himself ready.

You face palmed yourself, letting your brain even reach the idea of Yoongi wanting you sexually — you didn't want him sexually so why even bother thinking that?

Up until the rehearsal dinner, you decided to start the crime novel you had brought from home, if ever you needed to pass time — or to stop yourself from thinking about the fact you've seen Yoongi's boner.

Ah yes, the rehearsal dinner.

Yoongi and you finally reached the main floor, your hands now clammy the closer you reached the doors, leading to the room or more so the arena where the wedding would be held. Yoongi must have noticed your sudden nervousness, his hand reaching down to yours, squeezing it lightly to reassure you. The gesture itself was sweet, but your mind was too occupied with what might happen as soon as you walked through those doors.

''Relax. It's gonna be okay.'' Now Yoongi was trying to reassure you with words, yet you remained the opposite of calm. You tried to recollect your hyped-up words to yourself, you've got this.

''Okay, let's go.''

And with that you both entered the dining arena, the first person that caught your eye was your mother. She quickly notices you, making you gulp from nervousness. ''Y/N! You came.'' She excitedly spoke to you, while Yoongi's hand was still intertwined with yours. You gave her a small peck to the cheek, her returning back to where she stood, getting a good look at Min Yoongi, your fake boyfriend for the rest of this weekend — you had to remind yourself.

''So, you're the fine gentleman my daughter has been hiding from me.'' She comments, side eyeing you in the process to scold you for it, without Yoongi having to notice.

''I'm Yoongi. Nice to meet you.'' Giving her a small smile, to show politeness and kindness as well.

''Honey! Come meet Yoongi.'' Your mother called out to your dad, a glass of champagne in his hand, talking with what seemed to be Aunt Bridget.

He excuses himself, walking over to greet Yoongi and you. ‘’Hi, I’m the dad.’’ He introduces in a silly tone, maybe to ease the clear tension between your mother and you. It doesn’t work that well, not until Yoongi cracks a light joke about the tables being ‘too’ round, you didn’t really hear as much, your mind being anywhere but at this rehearsal dinner.

Yoongi took quick notice of your behavior, squeezing your hand occasionally to make sure you’re here. You always brushed him off with a smile, not wanting to go into detail about how much your mother’s behavior affects you.

‘’Oh! I think Aunt Bridget would like to speak with the both of you, go on.’’ Your mother spoke, lightly giving you a push on your back, encouraging you.

When you reached Aunt Bridget, Yoongi side eyes you, knowing she is that one person you should stay the fuck away from.

''Y/N, how good to see you again!'' And now the official show begins. You put on a smile, pressing onto Yoongi's arm for more support.

''How are you?'' You decided to ask first, trying your best for Aunt Bridget to keep talking about herself, so she wouldn't throw an uncomfortable comment at you or even worse Yoongi.

She couldn't help but laugh, as if your question was said by a comedian at a stand up show.

''No, how are you my dear?'' Aunt Bridget, was of course smart about this, turning the conversation towards you. She wiggled her eyebrows when she caught onto Yoongi, with a half crooked smile not knowing what to say, as your words from earlier this week had gotten to his head.

You fake a smile, wanting this to end as quickly as it could, in reality that was 2 hours and 3 minutes from now; but you weren't counting.

''I'm fine, this is Yoongi, my boyfriend.'' The word boyfriend came out a bit too natural for your liking, you only took it as a good sign. It showed you were warming up to Yoongi and this whole fucked up plan you cooked up in your brain.

Aunt Bridget's eyes slowly moved from Yoongi's face to his feet, but shortly stopping at his crotch. You refrain yourself from letting out a loud sigh at her behavior; knowing this was indeed not new.

''Yoongi was it?'' Aunt Bridget let out, letting her hand roam on his arm, Yoongi only threw you a side eye, internally panicking over her behavior. You wanted to let out a laugh, especially since Yoongi didn't take your words seriously when you told him about Aunt Bridget.

''How good is it?'' She turned to you, with a smirk on her face. You knew what she indicated and Yoongi's sudden laugh quickly turned to a cough to cover up the fact that you were indeed embarrassed.

''Aunt Bridget! How much champagne did you drink?'' Quickly saving the both of you from more embarrassment, she only scoffs in response, looking down at her glass merely filled, eyes full of guilt.

You quickly apologize, taking Yoongi by the hand leading the both of you elsewhere. ''I'm so sorry about that-''

''No, don't be. You warned me. I just didn't think it would be that bad.''

Normally, you would say the classic 'told you so' but seeing how uncomfortable Yoongi was because of Aunt Bridget, you held yourself back.

''Oh, there's Aunt Pamela.'' Hastily you changed the subject, catching onto Aunt Pamela sitting by her table, not chatting with anyone.

While walking towards her, Yoongi's hand squeezed yours a little tighter for a second, as if he was afraid you would let go. You didn't dwell on the thought for too long, focusing on your Aunt in front of you.

''Y/N, my beautiful niece! How are you?'' Her eyes, smiling towards you as well as her pearly white teeth.

''I'm doing great! I want you to meet my boyfriend, Yoongi.'' Yoongi stepped forward, shaking her hand lightly with a bright gummy smile.

''Oh my! What a fine gentleman.'' Adding a grin, seeing Yoongi blush at her comment to his appearance.

''I've heard you have a dog named Kimchi!'' Yoongi excitedly mentions, remembering your PowerPoint, which made you smile at the thought.

You've never seen Aunt Pamela talk as much as she just did with Yoongi, them talking from Kimchi to art in a millisecond.

''Y/N, you've hit the jackpot.''

''I really did.'' You look up, being met with Yoongi's eyes already set on yours. It was a short moment of eye contact, but the longest you've had, noticing how brown his eyes were and the length of his eyelashes.

''Seokjin! I was wondering where you'd go.'' That made Yoongi immediately turn his head, seeing the one and only Kim Seokjin standing next to Aunt Pamela.

''I couldn't find the bathroom, have you seen the size of this hotel? It's like the Maze Runner.''

Yoongi grinned at Seokjin's joke, his eyes filled with hearts. Okay, yes he freaked out when you told him you were in family with Kim Seokjin; you just didn't peg him for a big fan.

''I'm glad my joke is appreciated. Kim Seokjin, it's my pleasure.'' Reaching his hand towards Yoongi's, giving him a firm handshake. Yoongi's mouth was agape, still processing when he touched Kim Seokjin's hand.

''Min Yoongi. It's an honor.'' You had never seen this day coming; Min Yoongi fangirling hard over your uncle.

''I'm sensing you're a fan of my work.'' Seokjin chuckling over Yoongi wildly nodding his head.

Yoongi starts rambling about every k-drama your uncle was in. Seokjin grinning, amazed how Yoongi remembered by heart every k-drama he starred in.

''At least someone is a fan.'' Seokjin's side glaring at you, to showcase that you'd want to get on Yoongi's level if you wanted to meet the hot k-drama actors.

The rehearsal dinner turns out better than expected. Yoongi and you were seated next to Aunt Pamela and Seokjin, grinning over Aunt Bridget's drunken state, her mumbling far too much TMI information to the whole family.

''Yoongi, what do you do for work?'' Seokjin asks, casually sipping on his white wine, being disgusted by the sweet champagne which Aunt Bridget seemed to like a bit much.

''I'm an artist, well a painter.'' He corrects himself, to be more precise.

''Impressive!'' Seokjin adds, raising both brows in the process.

''I'm having an exhibition next month, you should come!'' Yoongi spoke too quickly. In a month, your deal would be done for good and having Seokjin come to it would be difficult having to either explain a complete disaster of a story or just stretch out the deal for one more evening.

''I'll make sure to be there.''

Yoongi nervously chuckled, sensing your glare next to him. Giving you a 'I panicked, okay?' look, making you roll your eyes.

''Pumpkin is such a good artist.'' You were bitter, Yoongi had just broken one of his own rules so he needed a taste of his own medicine; cringe pet names is the way to go.

Yoongi choked on his rosé, when the nickname reached his ears.

''But nothing beats your designs, Muffin.'' Now Yoongi's hand landed on your thigh, giving it a firm grip which made you lightly gasp. He was too good at this.

''Stop it Poopsie! We've been over this.'' You rolled your eyes, seeing Pamela and Seokjin awkwardly chuckle at your act.

Yoongi fake grinned, leaning towards your ear, ''If you call me one more pet name, I'm taking the first flight home.'' You gulped, it was a clear threat and knowing you overstepped did give you a sense of victory over this little war, but now Yoongi warned you and you immediately stopped the silly act.

As the rehearsal dinner reached its end, Yoongi got more exhausted than he intended, wanting nothing more than a warm shower before bed.

''Hey, I'm gonna go take a shower. You can stay if you want.'' He whispers casually, while you were sitting with Seokjin chatting over his latest drama. You nod, before he disappears through the big entrance.

You continue your conversation with Seokjin. Him telling you all about his female co-star Park Min-young. They apparently had to film a love scene, the boom operator accidentally dropping the boom stick on Seokjin's head, making him fall flat onto Park Min-young. He processed to show you the deleted scene, you laughing till tears started forming.

''Y/N.'' Your laughter quickly dimmed, seeing your mother in a very stressed state. What does she want now?

''Take Aunt Bridget to her room. She's too drunk.'' Your mother ordered. You caught a glimpse of Aunt Bridget trying to force Aunt Jennie to take a sip of her champagne, Aunt Jennie quickly refusing with a red covered face.

You excuse Seokjin for having to leave, him nodding and smiling in understanding.

''Aunt Bridget! Let me take you to your room.'' She quickly agrees, locking herself to you, stumbling a bit on the way out. Aunt Jennie mumbles a low thank you to you, seeing as if Aunt Bridget had been a huge embarrassment for everyone.

''So how good was that champagne?'' You snicker at your own joke, seeing Aunt Bridget mimic your sentence in a high pitch tone with a lot of blurted words. Thankfully, the elevator was quick and you were already walking towards her room.

Her room was right next to yours, 206. The familiar letters engraved in the door in gold details. Aunt Bridget doesn't hesitate before trying to open, not even bothering to detect her room key. You decide to help, rummaging through her green velour handbag. You instantly lose all your patience, walking towards your room before you go back down to the rehearsal dinner and look for the lost room key.

So, the next best thing to do is take her to your room. You had forgotten all about Yoongi taking a shower and leaving earlier — until now. 

Aunt Bridget was the first one to catch sight of a naked Yoongi once you opened the door for the both of you. Her being already drunk off her mind, didn’t exactly help the awkward encounter. 

‘’Oh, so it is good.’’ A smirk grew on her face, after she’d caught sight of Yoongi’s dick. Yoongi looked like a deer caught in headlights, quickly covering his private area with his hands. You smacked Aunt Bridget’s shoulder, still stunned from catching a glimpse of it. 

‘’I couldn’t find the towels.’’ He explained, while you covered Aunt Bridget’s sight with your hand. You pointed in the direction of the towels, almost catching a sight of his butt when he slightly turned to reach for the drawers with towels. Until he found a towel, you remained with your eyes set on the ceiling. 

‘’Okay, all clear.’’ 

Aunt Bridget removed your hand, slurring mostly her words, ‘’I can’t believe you found a man with a good face and a long di-’’ 

‘’I think that’s enough!’’ You cut her off, not wanting her to say such a thing in front of Yoongi who’s probably still very embarrassed over not only you but your Aunt as well seeing him naked. 

To your luck, Seokjin had found Aunt Bridget’s key card, helping her quickly to her room. It left an awkward tension between Yoongi and you, and for the first time you were glad that the pillow barrier was between you. 

You were laying in silence, the only sound in the room being the AC and your breathing. You wanted to say something, anything. But you didn’t and it resolved into a night with almost no sleep and awkward silence. 

Thankfully it was the wedding today, which meant one more day of this fake dating and you’d both be out of your merry way. The morning was as awkward as expected, only a good morning being exchanged between you. It was all quiet until Yoongi suddenly threw a tantrum. 

"Of course! Of course I forget a second suit!’’ He exclaims and you feel as if he’s talking to himself and not you – due to it still being awkward between the both of you. It’s first when Yoongi sits down and turns to you, his gaze begging for help that you speak up.

"Maybe Uncle Seokjin can borrow you a suit! Last I remember he overpacked three too many." You had accidentally overheard Aunt Jennie gossiping to her soon-to-be husband about Kim Seokjin’s tendency of overpacking. He might just be the only solution for Yoongi's suit emergency. 

Yoongi looks at you blankly, his eyes blinking way too much, not knowing if you’re serious or not. 

‘’I’ll be back.’’ With that you walked out of your shared room and directly to Seokjin’s. Seokjin’s room wasn’t far away, just longer down the hall and you were surprised to see that Seokjin wasn’t standing alone. Aunt Jennie was there as well. 

‘’Ah, my favorite niece!’’ Seokjin caressed your back, seeing your uncomfortable state near Aunt Jennie. She looked stressed and it seemed she tried to find support through Seokjin. 

‘’Seokjin? Do you have a suit for Yoongi, he apparently forgot his second suit back home.’’ You explained and Aunt Jennie only looked down to her feet, trying not to laugh. You ignored her for now, not wanting to cause a bicker for nothing. It was her wedding day after all. 

‘’Of course! I’ll drop by your room in a minute.’’ You thanked him before returning to your room. Yoongi was reading your crime novel and seemed more invested than you’d imagine, him reading a crime novel was the last thing you imagined happening on this trip; yet again you don’t really know much about him. 

‘’Do you like it so far?’’ Yoongi swiftly turns his head up, his brown hair covering a bit of his eyes and he only shakes it, closing the book in an instant. ‘’I’ve already read it.’’ 

‘’You like crime novels?’’ 

‘’I would rather say love than like.’’ You only hum in surprise not expecting Yoongi to love crime novels as much as you do. 

‘’Oh! Seokjin will drop by with his suits.’’ That makes Yoongi finally relax as his shoulders slump and he finally exhales a long awaited sigh of relief. 

After a few time passing conversations, a knock is heard and it reveals Seokjin, standing with as said three suits too much. Yoongi becomes nervous whenever Seokjin is in his presence – his inner fanboy is screaming right now. 

‘’All right Yoongi. Strip.’’ Seokjin lays out the suit on the bed and Yoongi looks at you worried, while slowly unzipping his pants. He obeyed Seokjin too fast and you instantly got sent back to the night where you caught onto the sight of Yoongi wet and naked – with Aunt Bridget being drunk out of her mind. 

‘’I’m– I’m gonna go get ready in the bathroom! I’ll leave you to it.’’ You only heard a soft mumbled ‘okay’ from Seokjin before you grabbed your dress and scurried hurriedly to the bathroom. Your heart was pounding – quicker than it should. You were just scared for the actual wedding; not anything else at all. Your thoughts drifted off as soon as the warm water made contact with your skin. 

‘’You look great!’’ You heard Seokjin shout out of excitement, right after you were done getting ready. Unlocking the door you almost choked at the sight. Yoongi was wearing a classic black suit, his brown hair slightly parted. He looked good, like, really fucking good. You had maybe noticed for a bit too long, Seokjin laughing at your gawking expression towards your fake boyfriend. 

‘’You’re gonna have to wait till later to jump his bones, not now.’’ It was a lame joke by Seokjin and normally you would laugh but hearing Seokjin throwing a comment about you having sex with Yoongi, sent a rush to your heat and your cheeks grew hot. Yoongi on the other hand, laughed lightly at Seokjin’s joke, thanking him once again for the suit, all while you were focusing on not to drool over Yoongi in a black suit. Focus Y/N, just focus. 

Seokjin left the room not long after, sending a wink your way which you turned down with a slap to his shoulder making him grin before being out of sight. 

‘’Can’t believe I’m wearing Kim Seokjin’s suit! Pinch me, I think I’m dreaming.’’ You rolled your eyes, pinching him in the arm making Yoongi wince yet smile knowing he was indeed not dreaming. 

‘’You ready to go?’’ He nods in approval and you both step out, walking towards the wedding ceremony. 

It was more crowded, seeming as if over a hundred people were invited, excluding you and Yoongi. To make sure you wouldn’t lose sight of one another, you held onto him firmly, his cheeks turning pink and you figured it was probably because of the heat in the room; although the AC was on full blast. 

‘’You look great Yoongi.’’ You turn, seeing he’s already looking at you. ‘’Thank you. You look beautiful.’’ His eyes roam your body, taking in the sight of you in a beautiful dress. You thank him and that’s when you see it, a tiny little sparkle in the corner of Yoongi’s right eye. You keep looking at it, being too mesmerized by it until you’re interrupted by your cousin, Marco. 

‘’Oh wow.’’ He comments, making you turn quickly and lose sight of Yoongi’s sparkling eyes. 

‘’Marco!’’ You remove yourself from Yoongi’s embrace, hugging Marco tightly knowing you haven’t seen him for over a year; due to him getting married himself and now awaiting a child. 

‘’Wow! You look great!’’ He notices your dress and you smile at the compliment. 

‘’This is Yoongi, my boyfriend.’’ You move aside as Yoongi and Marco share a firm handshake, both smiling gently towards each other. 

‘’Nice to meet you, I’m Y/N’s cousin, Marco. But you already knew that.’’ He smirks, knowing you too well. 

‘’I’m gonna have to say it. You two complement each other really well.’’ 

You take a hold of Yoongi’s hand in yours; to play along, ‘’We sure do.’’ You agree, smiling towards Yoongi who’s blushing – wow, he can really act well. 

‘’Seems like the ceremony is about to start, I’ll catch you at the bar later.’’ With a received nod from you, Marco is slowly disappearing between the big crowd in the hotel arena. You and Yoongi find your seats not long after, the violins begin to play and the wedding ceremony is officially in motion. 

Everything was beautiful, the dress Aunt Jennie wore, their vows to each other and mostly the details decorating the arena, mostly white and sage green colors. 

‘’Drink?’’ Yoongi asks beside you, when people are starting to move towards the tables to eat. You nod, taking his hand in yours; liking the warm feeling it gave you against your own palm. At the bar you catch onto the sight of your two favorite uncles, Sam and Philip. They wave excitedly at you and Yoongi is quick to notice your favorite uncles. You embrace them together, them hugging you firmly and Yoongi stands with a small distance, admiring the interaction, seeing you shine brightly by being in the presence of Philip and Sam. 

‘’Who’s this gentleman? He’s cute!’’ Phillip whispers in your ear and you laugh lightly while removing yourself. 

‘’This is Yoongi,’’ you pause, looking at him before continuing, ‘’my boyfriend.’’ Somehow your smile grew at the words and so did Yoongi’s. You were doing much better than expected at this fake dating act, you took a mental note to tell Yoongi later. 

‘’I’ve heard great things about you from Y/N. You guys mean a lot to her.’’ Yoongi tells naturally to Philip and Sam who seem in awe of this information, as well as yourself. Yoongi shakes both of their hands and they seem delighted to stand with him. 

‘’Y/N means a lot to us as well, which means you better not break her heart. If you do…’’ Philip starts off, Yoongi immediately feeling threatened by the change of tone in Philip’s words, but Sam finishes off, ‘’Just don’t.’’ With a pleasant smile, yet bitter to send a threatening warning. It doesn’t surprise you for your uncles to be overprotective. They know how hard it’s been for you in this family, especially your relationship with your mother, who’s always been troubling and difficult to handle on your own. She was your first heartbreak. Which does explain you not being able to date someone seriously, afraid of the hurt if they do decide to leave you. 

Yoongi only chuckles dryly, not knowing what to say, knowing the deal will be off after the wedding. The closer Yoongi has gotten to your family, the worse it gets. He's clicked with all your family members, especially Seokjin and Pamela. So for it to end so suddenly after, sends an unwanted rush and you immediately lose your smile. You’ve become anxious again. How do you break the news to them? Will they be disappointed in you? Will your mother step you down – more than she already has? 

‘’Hey. You okay?’’ Yoongi hands you your drink, noticing the smile from your face fade so quickly. You nod, drinking your drink in one go. Sam and Phillip look worriedly at you, asking you if you were okay once again. 

‘’I’m fine! Seriously, I’m okay.’’ You grunt in annoyance of them asking. You didn’t like bringing attention to yourself – even though they only asked because they care. 

‘’Let’s dance.’’ You don’t think for long, taking Yoongi by the hand leading him to the dance floor. Couples are dancing to the slow song playing in the background, you notice it, it’s one of your favorites, Pluto Projector. The version was slowed, making it soothe under your skin and create a slow ambiance on the dance floor. 

You saw Aunt Jennie and her husband dancing, with admiration in both their eyes, full of love. Your heart fluttered at the sight, although it sank right after, seeing this might never be you. Someone falling in love with you, your true self, it was… hard to believe. It was reality. You were never more than a one night stand, a fuck buddy –  if lucky. You were nothing – except the body you carry. You don’t know where all these thoughts came from, it was probably because of the song and the fact that this lie you brought upon yourself was slowly eating you up by the minute. 

‘’Hey, I know I already asked but are you sure you’re okay?’’ Yoongi was worried, anyone could see that. He saw how empty you suddenly looked, all the fun in you had disappeared and he was now met with someone who wasn’t you. Not the Y/N he’s been spending so much time with, laughing, bickering over stupid pillows. No, this was different. As if you realized a lot of things and it all came crashing down unto you. 

‘’I– I don’t know.’’ You wrap your arms around Yoongi’s neck, both of you swaying slowly to the song in the background. 

‘’Tell me.’’ 

‘’I’m sorry.’’ 

Yoongi pulls you closer, noticing the watery sparkles in your eyes. You look away, trying to push back your tears, not wanting attention to gain upon you and especially not from your mother. 

‘’Y/N, why are you sorry?’’ 

‘’For bringing you into this mess. I’m sorry Yoongi.’’ 

‘’Hey, hey it’s not all your fault. I agreed to this remember?’’ Yoongi tries to remind you of when the deal first started. He didn’t only agree because you semi-pressured him. He could see how much you needed help and some part of him just couldn’t help but say yes. 

‘’Y-yeah.’’ You look up now meeting his brown eyes, the sparkle reappearing. It made you want to look forever into Yoongi’s eyes, never seeing yourself grow tired of that beautiful sparkle that filled them. 

As the song continues on playing, Yoongi and you find yourselves moving closer to each other. Noses almost touching and his lips so close to yours. Yoongi leans in a bit closer, your lips slightly brush and that makes you pull away slowly. 

"Thank you for everything. Your acting is really good, I’m surprised."

Yoongi tightly smiles, "It’s- it’s no problem."

Yoongi’s expression made you shiver out of discomfort. He looked hurt and embarrassed. Shouldn’t he feel relieved that you didn’t break one of his rules? He was clear on the no-kissing-rule, so it only surprised you when Yoongi excused himself and left you alone on the dance floor, your heart slowly sinking as he walked out of your view. 

The rest of the evening is a blur.

You see Yoongi maybe once or twice, chatting with Aunt Pamela, her showing pictures of what you guess is Kimchi. Why did it suddenly feel stuffy between you? Whenever he found you staring at him, he turned his eyes elsewhere as if looking at you would cause damage.

You decide to distract yourself from the aching pain in your chest – mostly your heart. Seokjin is a great company for a few hours and so is Sam and Philip. It cheered you up more until they brought in Yoongi’s name, asking where he was. You brush them off, internally wanting to find Yoongi but what could you say? It’s not like he liked you, no, maybe he was just too into playing the role of your boyfriend. It’s a thing right? These things always happen when two people decide to fake date. 

The arena was slowly becoming emptier by the hours passing and Yoongi was still not in sight. You couldn’t help but feel worried. Hurriedly you walked to the hotel room and the room was empty, emptier than before. Yoongi’s suitcase was gone, only a note on the bed was left. 

Sorry, work called. 

It hurt. Yoongi left without saying goodbye, although it seemed as if he already did when he left you stranded on the dance floor after your lips slightly brushed.

Was that why he left?

You took the note, crumbling it into pieces, growing angry at his act. He had no right to just walk away. With no warning, no, nothing. You heard a knock on the door and some part of you hoped deep down it was Yoongi. He probably regrets leaving and now he’s come back to apologize. Oh did you wish that were true, but instead it was Marco. 

‘’Oh, hi Marco.’’ Your greeting must’ve given the wrong signal because you only received a weird and slightly offended reaction from him. 

‘’Were you expecting someone else?’’ Yes. Of course you did. For whatever reason you wished Yoongi was still here, maybe you just got used to having him around. 

‘’No, come on in.’’ Marco didn’t hesitate, walking in sync with you to the bedroom. 

‘’Weren’t you sharing a room with Mr. Min?’’ Marco is trying to joke with you seeing your less happy state than earlier and it does not work. 

‘’Work called, so he left.’’ The words stung leaving your mouth and Marco, knowing you well, noticed.

‘’Fucking asshole.’’ Marco muttered under his breath but truth be told, you were the asshole. You somehow hurt Yoongi and the worst part was you didn’t even know what did it. 

At least you were seeing him again on Monday for the suit design, maybe then you’ll have a decent talk about what happened back on the dance floor and you for sure hoped he would cooperate. 

You were early, for once in your life. The reason behind that being you barely slept.

The morning after Yoongi had left, you were stormed with questions about Yoongi’s whereabouts. It was killing you and on the flight home you ended up puking, your lie breaking you completely.

Amanda didn’t question your worn out state, seeing you were the last one in the mood to speak.

Instead you heard about Amanda’s pleasant weekend which she spent with the cute bartender, who’s actually her boyfriend now. 

‘’And then Hoseok took me out for a romantic picnic.’’ Hearing all the sappy cliché shit Amanda experienced made you happy for her but somehow also wanting to gag out of jealousy. You only kept humming in response and Amanda didn’t stop. 

‘’This might be a big TMI… but he’s really good with his hands. Explains how he’s so good at making drinks.’’ 

‘’Amanda! That was a big TMI!’’ 

‘’What was?’’ You see Yoongi lean onto the doorframe, him wearing an oversized green flannel, a white t-shirt and denim oversized washed jeans. His choice of fashion, of course, has to be killer and kill you in the process. 

‘’Yoongi! Ugh it’s just stupid girl talk about men… I’m sure you don’t wanna hear about it.’’

Amanda is the queen of letting things slide, so it didn’t surprise you when Yoongi didn’t ask further, instead standing with Amanda going over the last details of the suit.

The suit was soon done and Yoongi thanked you both, sending butterflies directly your way.

You couldn’t help but smile but got reminded of the hurt you felt when he left.

He seems surprisingly fine for someone who looked hurt not even two days ago. It bugged you. Not because you wanted Yoongi to feel hurt, it just showed it was all in your head. He was never hurt in the first place. He got clearly uncomfortable about the almost kiss.

You interrupt your thoughts seeing Yoongi left, he left without a warning towards you, only Amanda. Something is still off between you, and you rush to catch him before he leaves for good. 

‘’Yoongs!’’

Fuck, maybe calling him his nickname is a bad timing. But the nickname just slipped out as soon as you saw his figure exciting the building. To your surprise, Yoongi doesn’t turn, he continues his route home and you immediately get thrown back to the night he left you after saving you at the club. No, you’re not going to let him leave this time. 

Running in heels is hard, but you sacrifice the aching pain in your feet and run to catch up to Yoongi. Finally grabbing him in the arm making him flinch but finally turning to see you. 

‘’Yoongi.’’ You’re panting right after, holding up a finger to catch your breath, firmly holding onto Yoongi so he doesn’t walk away. He patiently waits for you and when you can form your words you look at him.

‘’You left.’’ 

Yoongi doesn’t respond and you take it as a sign to continue. 

‘’Why, why did you leave?’’ You seem to lose eye contact, looking down onto the sidewalk instead. 

‘’Y/N, you know why.’’ His words shock you, did you really know? You have an idea of what he could be referring to, but still this is Yoongi, you want to be sure. 

‘’I.. I have an idea.’’ You feel small all of a sudden. You don’t want to hurt Yoongi or even worse yourself, and it’s not going as well as you were hoping. 

‘’Then you know why I left.’’ Yoongi is about to walk away again, but you stop him, grabbing onto him yet again. 

‘’Wait… just tell me. Please just tell me why you left.’’ You are still confused, especially since Yoongi is hiding the very obvious fact, which you seem to not know. 

‘’Are you really gonna make me say it?’’ Yoongi’s tone indicates he’s irritated. But you need to know. So, you nod in response, finally gaining enough courage to look at him again. 

‘’I like you Y/N, thought it was pretty obvious when I tried to kiss you.’’ Your mouth can’t help but drop, his words sending a heat wave through your body. Yoongi likes you… Why is that so hard for you to believe? Oh right. You’re incapable of love. Once Yoongi finds out who you truly are he’s going to leave and you can’t let that happen. You wish your words turned into a reciprocation of his own, but the little voice in the back of your head tells you to run. 

‘’I–’’ You choke on your own words and again, the familiar hurt in Yoongi’s eyes return. His lips don’t move, remaining in a straight line. 

‘’That’s why I left Y/N. You clearly don’t feel the same way. I’m such an idiot for thinking you did.’’ He shakes his head and before you can stop him, he turns and leaves, just like he did back at the wedding. 

You fucked up. You fucked up so bad. 

Since the suit got delivered to Yoongi there wasn’t any contact between you.

A day didn’t pass where you didn’t mentally slap yourself for not admitting your feelings to him. Of course you like him. Yoongi is such a kind soul and so beautiful; how could someone not fall for him? You try to distract yourself by going clubbing with Amanda, and of course it’s the club where you first met Yoongi – or well Hoseok’s workplace.

You feel uneasy, sitting so close to the stools where Yoongi and you sat not long ago. His rings on full display and you couldn’t help but gawk at them. The way he called you ‘my girl’ gave you instant butterflies and you tried your best to keep your cool. You smile, while thinking back to it and Amanda is too busy to notice, by admiring her boyfriend shaking the cups together.

You want to work on yourself, work on this ideal image you have of love and find your worth. Some part of you knew that your worth had been ruined by your mother’s words for as long as you remember. Even Amanda knew how much your mother had an impact on the way you see yourself. 

‘’Y/N?’’ You look up seeing Amanda with a concerned expression. Hoseok was nowhere to be seen – probably taking orders from the corner of the bar. 

‘’You don’t look okay.’’ Amanda could read you like a book.You are far from okay and she can see it. You don’t really feel like telling her this instant of what’s been going on, instead you tell her you’re tired since your last project and you just need to rest. Amanda is quick to let you go, also because she is very busy with her handsome boyfriend. 

It doesn’t take long for you to get home, the club is placed pretty close to your apartment. Sitting in your apartment in complete silence doesn’t help the hurt you’re going through. In all honesty you were just scared. Growing up love and affection wasn’t shown as much as you’d wished. It later affected your love life, finding random hookups on apps to just feel something, anything.

At some point you accepted that this was your fate. Your fate was that you’ll never get chosen, you’ll be the person on the sideline helping people realize they’re in love with someone else. You were like the second female lead in every k-drama you’d watched. You wanted to feel love, actual decent love but again, is someone even capable of liking you, loving you? Your mother pushed you too much, to the point where love seemed unrealistic. Like an image popping up in your brain but quickly fading into something else.

That’s how you perceive love and it’ll remain as a scar on your body. You never felt butterflies, or a rush sent directly to your cheeks until… until you met him. Min Yoongi.

It was so unexpected. Suddenly you were pulled together and it remained like this, almost as if your souls were connected since you pointed at him randomly to a stranger. Weird.

You never saw that in a romantic comedy, normally the first encounters of the two strangers are so cliché. Yours and Yoongi feel that way too but you’re not mad about it. On the other hand you find yourself smiling a bit, reminiscing back to when you and Yoongi had an accidental pillow fight or when you and Aunt Bridget caught him naked and her comment about his… Oh god.

Fuck, how could your small internal voice mess up something that was so good? Every part of you wanted Yoongi, you know that, you knew that since he was the first you caught onto in a full crowded club.

When the three words left his lips you felt dizzy, your head couldn’t comprehend that someone and especially someone you wanted deep down to like you, did. It hurt, it hurt so badly that your heart wasn’t even beating as much. You felt empty, guilty and overall hopeless.

You fucked up for good. Yoongi will never just as much look at you again, now you are gaining butterflies thinking back to the sparkle that kept reappearing in his eyes. The sparkle you found yourself growing so fond of. You’ll never see it again.

The night ends with you falling asleep, fully dressed on your couch, too tired to get up and do something about your appearance. 

Yoongi’s exhibition was nearing, you wish you could go but it would be wrong to ruin his day by showing up, reminding him of the hurt you caused by simply not responding to his confession. He doesn’t need that. 

You’ve been stuck in your apartment since you went out clubbing with Amanda, your phone kept blowing up with texts from her, her clearly being worried over you calling sick for work. You love to work and now you suddenly don’t. You’re so consumed into reflecting that working is the last thing you can do.

But, the cons of staying home for so long is running out of food very quickly. Well, the local supermarket is not far away and it’s almost night. You don’t bother changing into something more presentable, instead keeping your oversized not-at-all stained t-shirt and sweats. With headphones on, you walk out after writing a small list of items you’re missing. 

The supermarket is almost stranded, it looks like every supermarket in zombie films or the world has ended and one person survived, in this case you. The man at the cashier looks tired and he’s almost falling asleep on his palm. Poor guy, you can’t help but think, so for his sake you decide to be quick. You’re strolling through each aisle, picking one or two items calmly with your headphones on, playing your favorite songs on shuffle. 

You look down on your list, seeing you’re missing vegetables and fruit, so you walk towards the greens. The first fruit that catches your eye is avocado. Huh. That’s really funny universe, you can stop the ‘you need to be reminded of him constantly’ bullshit. You look up giving direct contact to the ceiling and inwardly scolding the universe for this sappy bullshit. Enough is enough. Oh how did you speak too soon…

You see him, Yoongi, checking if the eggs are cracked further away from you. You're surprised that you find yourself at the same place and time as Yoongi, once again. Only this time, he’s not a so-called stranger anymore.

But seeing him from a distance, it feels as if you two never knew each other and that stings a bit but what really cracks for you is the woman coming up to him with a cart.

You don’t really catch on to their conversation but Yoongi seems more relaxed than last time you saw him. His smile, for once, is visible. His gummy smile, you gulp at the sight and you remember how you can’t let him see you, not in this state and especially not when he’s with his new girlfriend!

You’re quick to grab the missing vegetables on the list and the almost sleepy man is quicker than you expected. You keep looking back, praying Yoongi and his girlfriend aren’t done with the groceries yet. To your luck they aren’t and you leave with no trouble.

The only trouble that accumulates are your feelings. You’ve officially lost him. There was no hope for the both of you and it was your fault. You were so scared to the point you pushed the one good thing you had in your life and now he’s found someone. Someone who likes him for him and he likes her for her, good for him. He deserves this. 

You smile, yet tears stain your cheeks as you unpack the groceries. You’re fine Y/N, it’ll pass, these things always happen to people like us, it’s okay. You keep reassuring yourself until you're wrapped under your warm duvet, your eyes resting. 

It’s today. Yoongi is having his exhibition and you just want to distract yourself from that. Knowing how he already looks in a suit, you imagine him in the suit you personally designed for him, his girlfriend will be pleased with that sight.

It’s weird how bitter you feel when the thought of ‘Yoongi’s girlfriend’ pops up. Amanda is quick to catch unto your weird behavior, she knew it all started since you came back from the wedding, what the fuck happened? Of course Amanda can’t help but think your mother got to your head again and this time you really took her words to heart. This explains Amanda inviting you over to her place for some wine, or her way of saying ‘you need to speak up or I will.’ 

Which is why you’re currently at Amanda’s apartment, sitting comfortably on her white couch while she pours two glasses. 

‘’How are you and Hoseok?’’ You’re curious as well, Amanda babbles non stop about him but it distracts you from your pain, knowing a person you care for is happy. 

‘’We’re doing well. He really makes me happy.’’ 

‘’You deserve it. I’m happy for you.’’ Amanda smiles as she sits next to you, handing a glass to you. 

‘’Y/N, I need you to speak up.’’ She looks extremely worried and at this point you feel bad. You hid this huge secret from a loyal and beautiful friend who’s been there for you ever since you two became colleagues. 

‘’Okay, but I just want to start off by saying I had a reason for not telling you any sooner, okay?’’ She nods, sipping casually on her wine and you let out a deep breath starting from the beginning. Talking about how it all started caused butterflies to erupt in your stomach, the images flashing in your brain over every small moment you shared with Yoongi the week before the wedding. Amanda giggles when you tell her about the PowerPoint you specifically made for Yoongi. 

‘’That is such a you thing to do!’’ 

She’s right, it’s always been in you to make silly PowerPoints who turn out super helpful. Hearing Amanda saying it’s a you thing made you slowly begin to realize that you’ve truly been yourself around Yoongi. Before you can reflect further, you continue telling what happened, from the plane scene and you making rules to finding out there was only bed for you two to share. 

‘’Y/N, I’m gonna have to stop you for a moment. You’re telling me you’ve experienced the ‘there’s only bed’ trope? What are you, living in some sort of romance novel?’’ It only makes you laugh, because it’s indeed silly how you and Yoongi experienced such a cliché thing on the trip and Amanda really made you realize that. 

‘’He was so scared, like to the point he made a pillow barrier between us.’’ 

‘’What? You’re kidding!’’ She throws her head back laughing and it becomes uncontrollable when you tell her the pillow ripped in two. 

‘’You guys had a lot of fun.’’ You nod in agreement. You really did have fun, the both of you. 

She encourages you to continue and you explain the rehearsal dinner and your mother’s behavior, but that Yoongi was comforting you in the best way so it didn’t affect you as much. Amanda smiles kindly when you go in depth of how well Yoongi communicated with your family members and especially Aunt Pamela. 

‘’Amanda you should’ve seen it, never in my life have I seen Pamela talk as much!’’ Your eyes light up, you becoming overly joyful at the interaction between them. It really made your heart flutter. 

‘’Oh and then, Aunt Bridget and I, we, um, caught… Yoongi naked.’’ Amanda ends up choking on her wine, her eyes becoming more visible. 

‘’W-what!?’’ She’s in shock. Your lips move to a straight line not knowing what to say. 

‘’Was he…’’ She quirks her eyebrows and you stop her before she can continue.

‘’Amanda!’’ She only snorts in return and you continue afterwards, reaching to the not-so-good part of the adventure. It’s hard to formulate that intimate moment you shared on the dance floor but once it’s out you have Amanda almost screaming in front of you.

‘’You almost kissed?! And you fucking pulled away?! What the fuck!!!’’ You stare at her blankly, didn’t really peg her for the shipper kind of person but she seemed way too invested in this. 

‘’I– I was scared, okay? Remember we set rules and one of them was no kissing!’’ You argue your way out of your scaredy cat moment but Amanda only rolls her eyes at your stupid comeback. 

‘’You’re ridiculous Y/N, clearly that moment was real between you. No fake dating, just you and Yoongi.’’ You lose all your words, aware of Amanda’s reason. She was absolutely right. Yoongi wouldn’t have tried to kiss you if it weren’t real. 

‘’You’re right.’’ You let your head fall backwards, letting out a long awaited sigh. ‘’Amanda, that day in the office? When the suit was done?’’ You turn to look at her and her face screams like a puzzle, not knowing where you’re going with this.

‘’What about it?’’

‘’He told me he likes me.’’ Your heartbeat increases with your words. He likes you, or well, liked past tense. 

‘’What the fuck are you doing here then? Go after him!’’ Amanda encourages you and you wish deeply it was that easy. 

‘’Amanda… it’s not that easy.’’ Amanda again looks like a lost puppy and you continue to fill her confused mind. ‘’I saw him with someone two days ago, a woman.’’ 

Amanda grunts in annoyance and you only hum in response, knowing it’s too late. 

‘’Are you sure they’re dating?’’ 

‘’I mean, he was smiling a lot.’’ 

‘’You’re telling me that just because Yoongi smiled, that they’re dating? Y/N you sound ridiculous!’’ 

‘’Well, they- they might?’’ You’re careful with your words, cause you sure as hell sound dumb right now and the look of Amanda proves it. 

‘’Y/N, you can never be sure, seriously if I were you I’d run to the exhibition right now and confess. Please, everyone can tell you like Yoongi just stop being an idiot and go!’’ Amanda’s encouragement definitely helps you. You nod, grabbing all your things and rushing out towards the exhibition. You look at the time and see that Yoongi is about to start his exhibition, shit you can’t miss it. Taking an Uber will certainly get you late although your legs might save you. So you run, run as fast as your body can, with only one thing on your mind, Yoongi. Min Yoongi, the unexpected stranger and fake boyfriend who makes you smile, gain butterflies and is a king at annoying you. 

Running to the exhibition feels like hours on end, but when you finally arrive and see Yoongi standing next to a painting, covered with a white sheet, the pain in your feet was all worth it. Yoongi looks amazing, mesmerizing even. His brown hair is pushed back and he’s wearing… glasses. You don’t even know how long you’re standing outside the art gallery before stepping in, because Yoongi’s presence so near you, made your heart almost full even though you haven’t confessed to him yet. 

You finally enter the art gallery and sneak behind the very full crowd, standing in a half circle around Yoongi. He doesn’t notice you, which is why you hide yourself behind two tall men in the first place. It’s his night and you don’t want to ruin it. 

‘’Thank you so much for attending my ever first exhibition!’’ Yoongi exclaims and people around him start clapping and cheering him on, his gummy smile on full display. You can’t help but feel proud of him, so many people are here to see his work, his art. 

‘’I’d personally also like to thank Kim Namjoon, for being the first to ever set eye on my art and making this exhibition possible.’’ Everyone turns and Namjoon bows with a smile, while people cheer – you included. 

‘’The painting I’m about to show you is called Fake Love. It’s a very personal piece and I’m very excited for you to see it!’’ With that, Yoongi pulls on the white sheet and the painting is now on full display. People are quick to cheer and nod in awe of Yoongi’s art. 

Everyone starts to part ways and explore his other paintings, set out around the art gallery. He greets a few of them as they pass and compliment his work. You see Seokjin praising Yoongi for his art with a pat on the back. Yoongi is blushing and is probably not believing his favorite actor is commenting on his work. 

It takes a lot of courage for you to step closer to Yoongi. Seokjin just left to look around further and now was the perfect opportunity to confess. 

‘’Hi.’’ You stand a few meters away to keep a fair distance. Yoongi sets eyes on you and his mouth drops.

‘’Y-Y/N… What are you doing here?’’ He seems nervous all of a sudden, so you decide to smile to ease the intense atmosphere around you. 

‘’I couldn’t miss it.’’ You reason and Yoongi seems relieved by your answer but also a bit disappointed. He looks away, his brown eyes now looking at the hardwood floor. 

‘’That’s not the only reason I came.’’ That surely catches Yoongi’s attention and you’re met with hopeful eyes. 

‘’It’s not?’’ You shake your head no before continuing.

‘’I came to tell you that, I like you Min Yoongi.’’ 

‘’But you… At Fashlance..’’ Yoongi is mumbling all sorts of commission, not believing you like him too. 

‘’I was scared, a part of me still is but I’m willing to go all in.’’ You move a bit closer, him not moving an inch in response. 

‘’Scared?’’ 

‘’I… well I always thought I was incapable of love so that’s why it seemed unbelievable that you liked me too. I fleeted to avoid the hurt.’’ This time Yoongi steps closer to you, his thumb pressing onto your cheek, saving your tear from falling further. You didn’t even notice you were crying. 

‘’Hey, I like you for you and I’m scared too! Dating is so fucking scary, trust me! But it’s worth it, if it means I get to experience it with you.’’ The sparkle you so dearly missed is back in Yoongi’s eyes and you smile at the sight. 

‘’I would love that.’’ Yoongi is pulling further in and as your lips brush against each other, you pull away. 

‘’Is this a weird timing to ask if you’re seeing someone?’’ Yoongi looks at you dumbfounded and you mentally scold yourself for ruining such a perfect moment. 

‘’I saw you with someone… at the supermarket.’’ 

‘’Oh, you mean my sister?’’ You really are dumb. Instead you both laugh it off, Yoongi’s hands each resting on your cheeks. ‘’Can I kiss you now?’’ You nod and his lips land on yours. They feel soft and plumb against your own. Yoongi’s smile is prominent as his lips as they rest on yours. The kiss is tender and you finally feel whole. You both move in sync before pulling away. His forehead is resting against yours and you’re met with his smile that causes butterflies. 

‘’Finally!’’ 

You see Seokjin clapping cheerfully. Did he just see you and Yoongi kiss? Your cheeks grow hot out of embarrassment and you hide in Yoongi’s chest. 

‘’Oh, Y/N, calm down I didn’t see everything.’’ Seokjin throws in, knowing you always try to hide when you grow embarrassed. Yoongi’s chest vibrates as he laughs at your silly act. 

‘’I told him everything, he knows.’’ That makes you shoot your head up quickly, Seokjin waving jazz hands at you. You stare at him blankly not knowing what’s more embarrassing, him knowing you made Yoongi your fake boyfriend or the fact he saw the two of you kiss. 

‘’I mean, your acting was so great you two fell for each other!’’ Seokjin jokes and you all three giggle at it. The ambiance is much more comfortable and even lighter than before. 

‘’Yoongi, I think there’s something you need to tell Ms. Y/N.’’ With a smirk Seokjin leaves you standing next to his painting.

‘’I.. um, made this.’’ He points to the ‘Fake Love’ painting and seeing it up close makes you realize how talented Yoongi really is as an artist. The coats of painting melting all together creating a unique image. 

‘’When I left, I was hurt and to cope with it, I painted this.’’ The title immediately makes sense to you, he was referring to the fake dating and the hurt you caused him. You can’t help but tear up as the guilt eats you but Yoongi is quick to reassure you.

‘’Hey, I’m okay now. I’m glad you came and told me, really.’’ A small peck is given by him and you smile softly. 

Yoongi and you walk through his exhibition, Yoongi explains the meaning behind his paintings with love and admiration and you notice the sparkle in his eyes when he looks at his art. 

‘’I’ve noticed something.’’ He turns looking at you, the sparkle as bright as ever.

‘’You have this sparkle in your eyes, it’s beautiful.’’ You move closer, looking at it and Yoongi smiles with care.

‘’It appears when I look at something I admire.’’ He reasons and your cheeks grow hot, knowing it appears when he looks at you.

‘’That means you…’’ You bite back a smile, not knowing how to take in such words from him. You were overly giddy and you couldn’t believe Yoongi was finally yours. 

‘’I admire you Y/N. I have from the very beginning.’’ You don’t answer, instead you let your lips touch once more. Somehow the kiss turns heated and Yoongi nibbles on your bottom lip with his tongue. You can feel yourself growing hot over having Yoongi so close to you but again, you were at an exhibition. His to be exact. 

‘’Mmm– we’re in public.’’ You whisper as you pull back and Yoongi looks around, noticing some guests have already left. 

‘’I know, I know…’’ He leans in again, capturing your lips with his and you laugh but punch him lightly in the shoulder, making him pull away in an instant. 

‘’Min Yoongi! I am serious!’’ 

‘’Okay, just, wait here.’’ You’re confused when he leaves you mid in front of one of his paintings. You instead take the time to really admire his work, noticing the very small details and before you know it, Yoongi is back with a smirk on his face. 

‘’Everyone left.’’ He gets all giddy and you notice the now very empty art gallery. 

‘’Oh.’’ You're at a loss for words, the smirk on Yoongi’s face not disappearing, instead he leads you back to the Fake Love painting. 

‘’What now?’’ The lights have dimmed and you notice that Stigma is closed. You expect Yoongi to grab his things so you both can leave and celebrate him somewhere else, but that’s not exactly what he has in mind. 

‘’I want you to keep looking at the painting.’’ Your brows grow closer but obeying either way. Yoongi moves behind you, his arms wrapping around your figure and his chin resting on your shoulder. The warmth of Yoongi’s body so close to yours makes all your fears and insecurities vanish slowly the longer he holds onto you. His intentions clear as a blue sky that he’ll never let you go. 

‘’This feels nice.’’ Your hands rest on his, noticing his rings and fiddling with them. 

He hums in agreement and you turn your head a bit noticing the blush and yet again smirk on Yoongi’s face. He’s up to something and you suddenly grow nervous. 

‘’Keep looking.’’ You keep your eyes settled on the painting. Yoongi’s hand moves towards the waistband of your jeans, you’re quick to notice turning your head down. 

‘’Y/N. What did I tell you?’’ 

‘’But what are you–’’

‘’Just trust me. Keep looking at it.’’ Your head moves slowly up, eyes fixated on the painting once again. Yoongi lifts your shirt a bit, his cold fingers tracing small circles onto your stomach. You bite your lip, trying your best to remain focused on his art rather than his hand going further down and reaching your zipper. You swallow the forming clump in your throat, not believing Yoongi is touching you so sensually at an art gallery. But somehow, you don’t stop him, letting your body and mind trust him completely.

‘’Tell me what you see.’’ He whispers, his lips trailing on your ear, biting your earlobe softly. You inhale deeply, ‘’I see a heart, it’s almost fading, as if it’s transparent.’’ With that your zipper goes undone and Yoongi’s hand caresses your underwear. To make it even worse for you, his lips leave trails of kisses along your exposed neck, you can’t help but tilt your head out of reflex making him lightly chuckle. 

‘’Continue, I didn’t tell you to stop did I?’’ Yoongi’s tone immediately sends a rush in your body and you obey. ‘’There’s a shadow, it looks like a couple. They’re dancing in the middle of–’’ Your voice gets startled by Yoongi dragging his finger across your folds, his lips never leaving your neck. 

‘’Yoongs–’’ You try your best to keep your eyes on the painting but the contact of Yoongi’s slick fingers on your wet cunt, doesn’t help you to remain ‘focused’. 

‘’Mmm.’’ Yoongi keeps teasing you, his fingers only tracing against your wet folds, as if they didn’t dare enter. You were guessing you had to keep describing the painting for him to continue pleasuring you, using only his fingers. The fingers you’ve found yourself thirsting over since the beginning. ‘’They’re dancing, just like we did at the wedding.’’ Yoongi hums in response as if you’re correct and when you really catch on that he painted the both of you while his heart was hurting? You realize how true Yoongi’s feelings are towards you. It was never fake and surely his fingers caressing you are very real. So fucking real.

‘’You’re doing so well Y/N.’’ As his breath lands hot on the nape of your neck, his middle finger slides in with ease, filling you up nicely. Your mouth agape, a moan daring to leave your mouth but you swallow it with pride, trying your best to continue. 

‘’I like, I like what you did with the strokes of the brush.’’ 

‘’Thank you. Want me to show you how I did it?’’ You nod hesitantly, scared your focus will disappear in an instant as soon as he will show you just how he did it. 

‘’First I lightly stroked the brush against the canvas.’’ His finger goes back to stroking on your wet folds, now in a delicate gentle way, a muffled moan escaping you, your eyes about to close to fully enjoy the pleasure his fingers are giving you. 

‘’Then I dragged it all around, covering the whole canvas in paint.’’ Two fingers insert themselves and your head leans back, the stretch making you lose all focus of the art in front of you. The cold metal from his rings makes contact with your heat, which sends an unexpected shiver. Yoongi’s pace is slow but hypnotic. Your brain is all blurred yet your eyes capture all that he’s doing to you at this moment. He’s too focused to notice how you’ve leaned on him, not setting your eyes on what’s in front of you. 

‘’Fuck–’’ Followed by a moan from you, angelic, Yoongi would call it. His fingers are causing you so much pleasure and he can’t believe how well you’re taking them. Letting him do whatever he pleases. 

‘’Y/N,’’ with his other hand, he grabs the nape of your neck, pushing it upwards to face it, ‘’keep looking at it. Don’t ever stop looking at it.’’ You breathlessly respond with a low okay, his fingers never slowing down. His palm rubs itself onto your clit adding friction making you whimper, knowing if he keeps this up you’ll come undone over his fingers and coat him with your arousal. 

‘’Fuck Y/N, hear how wet you are.’’ The room goes quiet, the only noise filling it is Yoongi’s fingers pumping in and out of you, hearing clearly how wet you are and the sounds following right after. 

‘’Mmm–’’ The familiar knot appears in the pit of your stomach and you clung onto Yoongi’s moving arm, warning him that if he indeed continues you won’t be able to hold back. 

‘’I want you to. Please, fuck, come all over them.’’ His pace continues, the friction on your clit building up your orgasm wanting to unleash. Your eyes almost go blurry, a whimper escaping your lips as you finally coat Yoongi’s awaiting fingers with every drop of your arousal. He lets them rest inside of you, pleased by how warm you feel. 

‘’You did so well.’’ You receive a small kiss to the temple by Yoongi and he removes his fingers guiding them towards his mouth and savoring up your coated arousal. 

You’re speechless over how much Yoongi is loving every single drop of you. You’re still trying to comprehend how you let Yoongi finger fuck you in the middle of Kim Namjoon’s art gallery. 

‘’Now, I’m gonna take you home.’’ His gummy smile reappears and you are astounded by the duality of Min Yoongi. As if everything he just said now was a completely different person, the Yoongi you remember is a soft soul and that was not Yoongi. 

‘’O-okay.’’ He grabs your hand and you both finally walk out of Stigma. 

The ride home is pleasant, exchanged with ongoing conversations from what you both missed out on. ‘’I can’t believe you thought my sister was my girlfriend.’’ You grow embarrassed, remembering how you were so scared you’d look like a fool if they caught you in that state at the local supermarket. ‘’Don’t remind me!’’ You pout, crossing your arms trying your best to act offended. Yoongi only admires your attempt, caressing your cheek with his hand. ‘’You’re so cute.’’ 

Yoongi’s apartment is bigger than you expected. It’s a clean space and art pieces hanging on the white walls in the hallway. There’s a certain comfort to his apartment and you already feel much at home – also because you’re in the company of Yoongi. He leads you to his room after you’ve taken your coat off. As he takes the suit off, you notice the outline of his back muscles as he places it in his closet. You know that everything between you is good now, but then again, you want to show just how sorry you are for not speaking up sooner to Yoongi. 

‘’Yoongs?’’ You call out shyly, scared of how he’ll react to what you’re about to do. He turns, being met with your hands landing unto his chest, rubbing it softly. He blushes from your touches and how your palm feels hot against his skin, even though the fabric of the shirt stands in between. 

‘’Can I show you?’’  You start out by asking, taking in his expressions to your words. 

‘’Show me?’’ He repeats your words, indicating he’s uncertain of where this is leading. 

‘’Yes, let me show you just how sorry I am.’’ Yoongi doesn’t even get a chance to respond because you drop down to your knees, looking up to make sure he’s approving of this. 

‘’Fuck Y/N–’’ You smile at his instant reaction at your sudden act. You couldn’t stop thinking about making him feel so good after you saw the painting on full display at the art gallery. Now you’ve finally got him above you, waiting for your mouth to give him an unforgivable pleasure. You’re in such a hurry, not wanting to slow down in the process of removing his clothes. You’ve waited all afternoon to finally feel him in your mouth and get a taste of him. But the zipper becomes your worst enemy, staying put not daring to get pulled. ‘’Hey, Y/N, it’s okay.’’ Yoongi reassures you, seeing your clear struggle with his zipper. 

‘’Fuck, I’ve been waiting all afternoon.’’ You let out your struggles and when it finally comes undone you’re surprised to see Yoongi’s already hardened cock. 

‘’How’d you get hard so fast?’’ You look up, cupping his cock in your palm through the fabric and he hisses from the contact before giving you a response, ‘’The way you just couldn’t wait to get me in your mouth.’’ 

‘’I really can’t.’’

You pull his underwear down, being met with his cock, a sight that’s not unfamiliar. Only this time it’s on purpose for you to see him.

You spit on your palm, dragging it over his cock, now glistening in your spit before you guide it towards your mouth. Yoongi’s hands are gently holding your hair, forming a messy bun so it doesn’t get in the way.

He lets you explore his cock, your tongue running flatly from his base till his tip, coating him with more of your spit. You look up to see Yoongi already looking down at you, a half smirk on his face as his mouth is slightly agape from the pleasure which your tongue caused him.

You notice the pre-cum on his tip, smearing it on your lips, finally taking the tip into your mouth. Yoongi moans, not believing how you are so willing to make him feel good. He can’t stop looking at you taking him almost all the way, using your hand for what you can’t reach.

You try your best for him, inviting him all the way in and hollowing your cheeks as you suck him nicely, your lips running on the veins of his cock. 

‘’Ah– you look so fucking pretty.’’ You look up at him, his eyes still looking at every movement. Your mouth moves back to his tip, your tongue circling around it making Yoongi grab tightly onto your hair. Moving your hand towards his balls, gently playing with them. Yoongi loses all his words, the pleasure completely overcoming him and as his orgasm builds up his mind starts seeing you sprawled all over the bed, your heat desperately wanting him to fill you up. You’re still sucking Yoongi, wanting him to finish in your mouth but Yoongi abruptly stops you. 

‘’I’m begging you Y/N, please let me fuck you. Let me fill you up.’’ You slowly take him out of your mouth, some spit slides down to your chin but you look up to see Yoongi’s cheeks crimson red and the roots of his hair somewhat wet. He looks so beautiful and you stand to meet him eye to eye again. 

‘’Take me. I’m all yours.’’ He smiles shyly, cupping your face and kissing you with all that he’ve got. His lips mold gently against your own and you grow dizzy from his kisses. You follow his lead, letting him guide you towards the bed, his lips never leaving yours. 

‘’Be good for me and lay down.’’ You lay mildly, wanting to be good for Yoongi. He bites his lip seeing you obey so quickly. You look so mesmerizing and he’s so captured by you, the sparkle never disappearing once when he really looks at you. His hands are touching every part of you, admiring every single reaction that you give off by simply him touching you, caressing your warm skin as he takes off your clothes. He doesn’t remove another piece of clothing before giving you a small kiss on the body part that gets exposed. 

‘’This?’’ He places a kiss to your collarbone, ‘’all mine.’’ He moves down towards your breasts, ‘’these?’’ his lips latch onto your nipple, his tongue swirling around one at the time making you whimper out of disbelief over how good his tongue feels. ‘’All mine.’’ Your cheeks grow hot over how much he reassures you that you’re all his. No one else's. Just his. 

His mouth runs further down, almost reaching your heat until he looks up, seeing you so worn out with a smile and he hasn’t even fucked you yet. ‘’And lastly,’’ he places a kiss to your clit, making you gasp from the contact, ‘’your pussy, all mine.’’ He comes back up, caressing your hair with a smile on his face. ‘’Say it, say it’s all mine.’’ He whispers his words to you and you’re growing more hot by the minute, your arousal almost dripping down your thighs at Yoongi’s words. 

‘’It’s yours. All of it, yours.’’ Your fingers run through his hair, making him groan in satisfaction of feeling your fingers, touching him so sensually. 

Yoongi looks down, pumping his dick once or twice and looks back up to make sure you’re okay. You nod, spreading your legs wider for him. He presses his forehead against yours, the tip of his cock smearing itself in your arousal before pushing in with ease. As his cock finally buries itself in you, you both gasp in tact from the contact. He stretches you out so good you feel as if you’ll come again. He stays nestled in you, biting back a moan of how good you’re taking him, your walls squeezing nicely around him. You latch your lips onto his lips, peppering him with small kisses. Yoongi finally gains courage to move his hips, grinding deeper into you, retrieving and continuing on, creating an effective pace that sends your mind completely off this planet. Your eyes begin to close, fully letting go of your thoughts and focusing on the satisfaction Yoongi is giving you. 

‘’Y/N, look down.’’ Your eyes re-open, looking down, seeing Yoongi’s cock disappearing into your body. The sight itself makes you moan softly, your hand landing on Yoongi’s forearm, pressing as he picks up a quicker pace, hitting your g-spot in the process. 

‘’Shit!’’ Your grip tightens and Yoongi doesn’t stop. He keeps thrusting, small pants escaping his mouth. Yoongi swears for a minute he saw stars as he felt you convulse around his cock, signaling you were indeed already close. 

‘’Fuck, I’ve dreamt of this. Me being inside of you, being the reason behind your moans, ah fuck!’’ Your nails dig into his back, the overstimulation soon takes you over and your skin burns at Yoongi’s words. He’s dreamt of fucking you, of feeling you, showing you just how much he wants you. 

‘’You feel so fucking good Yoongs– mmm.’’ Your praise causes Yoongi to curse against your lips. His hair turns more wet as well as your bodies are almost burning hot against each other. Your breath hitches as your orgasm reaches, begging to be freed. Yoongi notices the way you’ve tightened around him, your body about to let go of the awaiting orgasm. ‘’Let go for me baby.’’ You pull Yoongi’s lips down to yours, kissing him tenderly as you climax. 

‘’That’s my girl.’’ He continues, himself about to reach his high and your legs wrap around his hips, pulling him much closer. ‘’Give me all of it, Yoongi.’’ You’re begging to get your walls painted by his cum. He tightens his grip on your hip, thrusting until his hips start to stutter and with a last stroke, he does as you asked, painting your walls nicely with his cum. 

‘’Wow.’’ You both grin afterwards not believing what just happened, being too caught in the act itself. ‘’Let’s shower, hmm?’’ You follow him to the bathroom, both of you now standing under the shower head, getting yourselves wet with the warm water landing on your skins. 

Yoongi takes his shampoo, pressing the almost finished bottle and grabbing your head, applying the shampoo in your hair. His fingers caress your scalp and you close your eyes enjoying the feeling. ‘’Thank you.’’ 

You might’ve thanked Yoongi too fast because he fills his mouth up with the warm water, spitting it on your face. You shriek out of response, pushing him away, completely disgusted by his behavior. ‘’What the fuck!’’ 

‘’What? I thought you were into that stuff?’’ He’s clearly joking with you and you only roll your eyes in response, washing your hair out yourself. So much for having a romantic moment after sex… 

3 months later

‘’Relax, it’s just a barbecue with your family. You’ll be fine.’’

You look from outside the window of Yoongi’s car, your legs trembling over Marco’s sudden invitation to a barbecue. It was going to be the first family reunion with Min Yoongi as your actual boyfriend. Scary.

You push through your fears, following Yoongi to the front door, your hand intertwined with his.

So far your relationship with Yoongi has been a never ending ride of feeling happy and loved.

Yoongi has visited your office multiple times with Namjoon, all of you grabbing lunch with Amanda and Hoseok as well.

That’s where you finally introduced him as your boyfriend, for real this time.

Not long after, Yoongi got invited on the set of Seokjin’s newest drama and Yoongi was a replication of a child at an amusement park for the very first time. 

‘’You came!’’ Marco cheerfully exclaimed as he opened the door, his other arm occupied by your niece, Sierra. You come up to her, giving her a peck on the forehead. ‘’Hi Marco.’’ You carefully hug him to not squish his daughter in between you. 

Yoongi walks by right after you, giving the mainstream bro hug. You finally get to the outside garden, everyone already gathered. You were only late because you were scared of seeing your mother after you haven’t talked to her since the wedding. Yoongi reminded you that just because she was your mother, does not mean she has a right to stay in your life if she’s affecting you this badly. You’ve grown up, basically without her, you can do that again. Which explains no contact since you started dating Yoongi. He was your family, along with Philip and Sam, Uncle Seokjin, Marco, Aunt Pamela and Amanda. They were your family. They made you feel so good about yourself, making you see every good quality of yourself. Those are the people you want in your life. Although, today you’re gonna have to face her. 

It’s funny, she expects you to talk and greet her but instead you walk straight to Marco’s wife, greeting her kindly and going around, Yoongi holding onto your pinky from behind, smiling at everyone. 

‘’Y/N.’’ Your mother calls and Yoongi sees you flinch, rubbing your hand for comfort to show you that no matter what happens, he’s here and many others are as well. 

You stand in front of her, holding onto your strong words. 

‘’Mom, listen, I–’’ 

‘’You haven’t contacted me since the wedding!’’ 

‘’Please, just listen to me for once.’’ Your tone makes her halt, shutting her mouth in surprise letting you speak freely, for once in your life. ‘’I am so tired of not being heard, I am your daughter. If you want to have me in your life, you’re gonna have to work on how to properly be there for me.’’ You look behind you, Yoongi nodding his head in approval of your words, being proud out of his mind. You finally stood against your mother and already, you feel so much better. 

Your mother lets out a puff, not answering which you don’t mind. You got to say what you needed to and can now enjoy the rest of the evening with none other than your boyfriend, Min Yoongi. 

‘’Oh! Y/N, you look happy.’’ Aunt Bridget comments, spotting the big smile easily. 

‘’I am very happy, indeed.’’ You look up to meet Yoongi’s eyes, the sparkle reminding you of the love he has for you. 

‘’I bet you are darling!’’ Aunt Bridget smirks, meaning something completely off-putting. 

You and Yoongi catch on, laughing in sync over Aunt Bridget’s attempt to make you uncomfortable. 

‘’Good one.’’ You wink at her, Yoongi and you continue to mingle, not a single worry in sight.

You were finally at peace with yourself.

[yoonia]

Street Spirit: Act One. The Tarot Reader

— title: Street Spirit: Patreon exclusive series

— pairings: Min Yoongi x female original character; Kim Taehyung x female original character | genre: slice of life!au, unrequited love!au, childhood lovers!au, mystery, angst, smut 

— summary | Sometimes it doesn’t really matter how hard you try to look for the right path to walk on, because in the end, only fate decides where and when you should find them.  

— full fic ratings & warnings | +18 / M for Mature; not much warning for the first chapter, but this chapter includes fortune telling, depiction of Tarot card reading. 

— excerpt word count: 1,862 words | full fic word count: 4,180 words

— story note | This is an excerpt and the first look of my Patreon exclusive series, Street Spirit. I hope by sharing these excerpts on my blog, I can give you a glimpse of this new series and what’s the story all about. I hope that I can share more soon. Please be advised that I’m not adversed in terms of Tarot cards (it’s been many years since I learned them) so I probably won’t get into details further on. Enjoy reading!

— story masterpost: Street Spirit | next chapter ⇢

— fic drop date: Aug 4th, 2025 | main masterlist | mailbox | feedback | ko-fi | divider credit

Act One. The Tarot Reader

Winter nights in the small town of Crescent Hill are long, cold, and quiet. 

But tonight, the small room at the back of the shop called House of Charm isn’t as quiet as the rest of the town. 

The room is quaint, dimly lighted by the wall sconces hanging on the side of the room, casting their golden glow which adds more warmth into the room, while highlighting the bold, vivid colored fabrics adorning the room — the rug on the floor, the cushions spread all over the room, and the drapes used to cover the walls and furnitures — creating a soothing, yet magical ambience in the room itself. A small crystal chandelier hangs from the ceiling, its light falling onto the small round table placed right down below, where two female figures are sitting across from each other, heads bowed in deep focus on the cards being laid between them.  

“Let’s start our reading and see where we’re at today, shall we?” Says the first woman who is now handling all the cards in her hands, her indigo colored hair shining under the golden lights, while her dark-painted nails spread prettily over the deck of cards that she has gathered from the table. 

“Yes,” the second woman speaks, her voice gentle, while her eyes look wary. Even late at night, her blonde hair still looks pristine, each strand catching the lights coming from across the room, making them glow brighter while hiding the uneasiness she has brewing inside. 

“What do you wish to learn tonight, Lily?” 

The blonde woman, Lily, bites her lips, suddenly hesitant. She falls silent for a brief moment, until a sigh slips out of her lips when she finally makes up her mind, “My…love life?” She pauses once again, as if building her courage. “Yes, I wish to know about my fortune in love,” she continues, sounding more determined as she nods.

The fortune teller smiles knowingly as she gently shuffles the cards in her hands, not a word leaves her lips as she concentrates on the movements of her fingers. The young woman sitting across the table has been one of her regular clients. Her visit comes at least twice a month, always late, just an hour or two before the shop closes its door for the night. 

Her questions and requests have always varied; from her questions about life and her career, guidance in making big decisions, her family secrets, her health and the future that she must look forward to. Only now, she finally questions something more personal, a matter that seems to be lingering in her mind for quite a while. 

Without seeing too much, the fortune teller can already sense that she is troubled with making a decision. As she carefully lays down the cards, spreading them across the table between them, she whispers into the divine to help her find answers for her client. Just like how she managed to guide Lily through her troubles previously with her third eye. 

“Pick three cards from the deck. Remember to focus on what you wish to know the most about your love and romance,” she kindly instructs Lily, who immediately follows the fortune teller’s words as if she has memorized every step, her delicate fingers move with purpose as she picks three cards from the deck.

“Excellent,” the fortune teller says as her client finishes with a smile. She gathers the rest of the cards after separating the chosen ones from the deck and sets them aside. 

The fortune teller continues by flipping the cards, one by one, displaying the images that represent the path that lies ahead of Lily’s life — most importantly, the matters regarding her romance. 

“Divine intervention,” she reads as she pushes forward the first card, “There are signs around you that may lead you to where you need to be—” 

As she continues to read her client’s fortune in romance, to explain what these signs may represent and how easy it would be for her to miss it, Lily’s eyes grow wide with interest and awe. She takes in everything that the fortune teller is sharing with deep focus, her gaze growing more determined the more she listens, until they move to the next card. 

“Your path will be challenged. It won’t be smooth sailing once you’ve made your move, and it seems that one of your biggest challenges may come from somewhere close—” 

A frown forms on Lily’s face as she listens carefully to the reading, as if she is trying to figure out what kind of challenge may come and who she may be wary of as she continues going forward with whatever may await in the future. But it doesn’t take long before her gaze softens with hope, as the fortune teller begins to read the final card. 

“A resolution awaits. As long as you and your future partner share the same mind and goals, you will find a light waiting at the end of the road. Until then—” 

The reading continues for a brief moment, and when she finishes, Lily reaches across the table to gently grab her hands and whispers, “Thank you.” The hope in her gaze glows with unshed tears, as if she had just gotten all the answers that she has been searching for. 

“I know that I’ve been quite a bother for coming to you as often as I have for the past six months, but your reading of my fortune has helped me a lot in getting my life back on track after I found myself at the lowest point of my life,” she continues, “Thanks to you, I was able to make the right decisions that had led me to have the life I have now. I have a good job, I’m talking to my mother again after five years of silence, and now—” She pauses, swallowing hard when her emotions get too overwhelming, “I can find the courage to finally accept the man I love.” 

The fortune teller simply returns her smile and places her hand on top of Lily’s in a comforting manner. “Your fate has been written for you. All I’ve done is to help guide you to find your way back to your path.” 

Despite her words, her client shakes her head. “You still gave me a lot of help. And for that, I thank you dearly, Miss Charm.” 

Once the reading is done, the fortune teller’s client rises from her seat and bids her goodbye for the night. As she walks out of House of Charm that evening, she holds her head high, while her footsteps are firm and confident as she makes her way through the cold winter night to face the future. 

Time passes, and the winter nights continue to grow longer, quieter, and more serene. 

It is late in the afternoon when the reading room of House of Charm is covered in shadows. Most of the lights aren’t lit, except for the couple of lamps placed on either side of the entrance door connecting the room to the main part of the shop at the front. Instead of being illuminated by the crystal chandelier hanging above, the round table at the center of the room is illuminated by various candles, each flame dancing with the chill afternoon breeze passing through the room.

The two large windows at the side of the room are closed shut, the curtains only partly drawn, yet no more sunlight slips through the seams as darkness has slowly started to settle in through the small town. 

Miss Charm paces around the room, humming a soft tune while she lights up more candles on top of the side tables across the room, adding more golden lights, which are now making her face glow brighter. Her smile is lifted on the corner of her lips once she is done, and she turns just as a grey cat slithers into the room gracefully towards her. The cat rubs her side against the fortune teller’s legs, who puts away her lighter before bending down to pick up the gorgeous feline in her arms. 

“Not now, Myo. We have a guest coming,” she murmurs to her precious pet as she presses a gentle peck on the cat’s forehead. She carries the feline across the room, sending her off through the small door at the back which leads to her private chamber, just in time for her to hear the sound of a bell chiming from the front area of the shop. 

She closes the door behind her with a gentle click and walks over to the table, taking her seat as she waits for the new guest to arrive. 

Within minutes, her young attendant appears at the doorway with a smile, “Miss Charm, a guest has requested a private meeting with you.” 

Miss Charm nods. “Yes, send him in.” 

The attendant bows her head and slinks back to the hallway, allowing a young man to enter the reading room. 

“Come in, please. How may I assist you?” Miss Charm greets her guest with a smile as she sits straight behind her reading table, when she notices the hesitation written on the man’s expression. 

As he stands by the doorway, the fortune teller takes a moment to study her new client. Standing tall, the man’s body looks slender yet fit and strong, his toned shoulders and arms hidden under his thick, dark coat. His messy hair spills down to frame his face as he looks around the room, as if trying to decide whether her is going to walk deeper into the room or if he should step back and leave. His hands are hidden inside his coat pocket, but Miss Charm can see the telltale of the tight clench of his hands as he turns to face her. 

“I wasn’t sure if I was supposed to make an appointment for this, but your staff sent me back here after I asked about having my fortune read,” the man speaks, his words flow out fluidly despite the obvious uneasiness vibrating through his body. But it is the deep voice coming out of his lips which amused the fortune teller more. 

“You are in the right place,” Miss Charm calmly speaks to him with a knowing smile, which only draws out his curiosity as she seems to have expected his arrival before he got here. “Please, take a seat. We can start with a little chat before we continue. Don’t be nervous.” 

“Right,” the man murmurs, almost to himself, and nods his head slowly before taking the empty seat right across the table. 

The fortune teller gives him a moment to settle down, and to make up his mind about this meeting, before she reaches out to the deck of cards waiting on the table. “Before we begin…may I know your name?” 

The man lifts his head, his gaze misty, mesmerized at the way the fortune teller’s face seems to light up with the dancing flame reflecting on her skin. It steals his voice for a brief moment, then he stills himself and clears his throat to speak. 

— continue reading on Patreon

— ©Yoonia, all rights reserved. reposting/modifying of any kind, translations, unsanctioned adaptations are not allowed.

[jiminrings]

anything

pairing: yoongi x reader

wordcount: 10k

glimpse: yoongi doesn't want to move on from his ex because she's everything he's ever known, whereas you want to move on from him because he's everything you've ever loved.

alternatively, yoongi's your best friend and you've been in love with him your whole life.

[ angst, fluff, friends to Not Friends to lovers, pitiful amounts of Yearning And Pining, emotional constipation, second lead taehyung being unbearable And delicious somehow, jealousy, the harrowing argument of what it means to seek growth n seek comfort, VINDICATION!!!, redemption ]

notes: because i've decided that i will never become sick of writing lovers who are doomed but not really, here we are 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️ to get the full experience, pls listen to the song that was the inspo behind this!!

as always, lmk what you think <3 send in feedback n love to my askbox anytime!! 

Yoongi's only ever been with one woman his entire life.

Ever since he turned old enough to introduce someone to his parents without them mistaking it for puppy love, which in his case was at seventeen years old, Yoongi quickly realized that he doesn’t ever want to introduce anyone other than Haein.

Yoongi, at his fresh age of seventeen, made a pact to himself to never bring someone home again if it’s not Haein, because bothering a nineteen-year old you for your own house slippers to lend to his girlfriend (he didn’t want to spend his allowance buying a nice pair when he could just sacrifice his dignity by groveling at your feet for it) was too much of a hassle.

He didn’t like the fuss that came with forming crushes. Yoongi’s spent countless nights scrutinizing his first love’s actions during recess and microanalyzing her tone towards him from the morning earlier— he doesn’t want to go through any of that again. 

He doesn’t want the grown-up equivalent of it either, because all throughout high school and some bits of college wherein he and Haein were together and totally not broken up in a perpetual on-off cycle as usual, Yoongi thought that he was set for life with her.

Unlike you, he hasn’t had his share of multiple first kisses. Yoongi, not even once, stepped into a bar with wandering eyes and a hopeful perk to his tone. He hasn’t worried about making first impressions again, nor has he ever had to ask how many people came into the picture before him.

In Yoongi’s eyes, it’s only been Haein the entire time. There’s no before, during, and after her, even if the last phase in time is just something he hopes for and is not set into stone. 

It’s still Haein for him, the kind, starry-eyed girl that wore your house slippers when she stepped foot into his childhood home for the first time to meet his parents, and it’s been her ever since.

It’s still her, because she never knew that the slippers she wore was actually yours, which made it her one and only designated pair, so much so that she even took it with her when she moved in with Yoongi in their shared apartment.

It’s still her, because you’ve gone through multiple pairs ever since, and so did the boyfriends you took home to meet your family.

It’s still Haein, because Yoongi hasn’t moved on from her even if they broke up for good (or atleast that’s what you’ve heard in verbatim and what Yoongi refuses to confirm) a year ago.

"There's nothing wrong with being with someone new," you snort, your tone bordering on condescending to which Yoongi predicted correctly, simply because you’ve had this conversation a million times already. 

You told him that in your attempt to comfort him when Haein broke up with him back on the second semester of their first year in college, wherein he found himself wailing against your sheets at your dorm.

You told him that in your attempt to appease him when he broke up with her during their junior year, wherein he had to wipe at his tears furiously before fixing his tie because it was only hours before your graduation and both your parents downstairs are calling for a picture.

You tell it to him now too, in your attempt to convince both Yoongi and yourself, as he starfishes on your couch while reminiscing what could’ve been another anniversary (albeit choppy and not at all continuous) of the first time they held hands.

"Yes there is," he groans, his emotions maturing enough not to cry helplessly unlike the past breakups, but not enough to stop glomming onto you. “I don't want to talk about my favorite color again. I don't want to answer how many siblings I have. I don't want to be asked the extremely quirky question of whether I think pineapple belongs on pizza or not, again!"

"It's only normal to introduce yourself again and again until you find the right one for you!" you laugh, your self-built amusement keeping the entire situation light for you because if you don’t find a way to distract yourself from Yoongi holding onto Haein pathetically, just like how you do so with him, you’d be as devastated as him.

You’d be devastated too if you realize that there’s little to no chance of earning back the only person you’ve ever truly loved, if not more— except you’re not Yoongi, and he’s not Haein.

What you have to go through is more devastating because Yoongi’s never really been yours in the first place.

"But I want Haein to be right for me," he whines, his eyes sleepy from all the fatigue that comes with driving all the way to your place, just so he could be miserable around you and not apart from you. “Even if she's not, I want it to be her."

You’re quiet for awhile, and Yoongi doubts your silence because you’ve only ever chewed his ear off whenever he started moping about Haein. He’s noticed it ever since you were young; you’d never let a single second pass without overwhelming him with your words whenever he thought too deeply, too lowly about anything. You didn’t give him a break to even think when it comes to times like these, so Yoongi grows even more concerned when you give him a break.

He’s used to the noise that is you trying to distract him from everything that pains him.

"For the record, you already did those things twice in your life,” you murmur after some time, looking up from the glass of wine that Yoongi poured you and bought for your collection before he made the decision of crashing out over Haein in your living room.

"Oh my god, did I kiss someone while I was drunk? When you dragged me out for drinks last week? When-… when it was, uh, when it was the anniversary of me and her moving in and-…”

"No, you monogamous asshole," you interrupt, rolling your eyes. "You did it with Haein."

"What are you talking about?" Yoongi tilts his head, his eyebrows furrowed as he tries to comprehend what you’re saying.

You still look annoyed at him, as you’ve always done whenever he comes to you crying about her, but now, you look more subdued; like you’re a little more melancholic for god knows what reason (Yoongi knows it’s definitely not about him and Haein’s breakup), and a little less agitated at having to have this conversation for the nth time.

"I knew you first, Yoongi," you remind faintly, shoulders offering a weak shrug. "You had to do it all over again for Haein when she came into your life, but I don't see you complaining."

Yoongi hits pause on his agony to frown slightly, sitting up on your couch in order to nudge you with his shoulder. ”But that's different because I grew up knowing you. It's only natural for you to know me this way.”

The snort that leaves you borders on offensive, and Yoongi automatically narrows his eyes when he senses the hint of sarcasm in your smirk.

”You mean know you as intimately as your one and only girlfriend did? Maybe even more than Haein actually does know you?"

"If you put it that way it sounds weird, but yeah," Yoongi scoffs defensively, crossing his arms on his chest before looking up at the high ceilings of your apartment in surrender. “Aren't just close friends basically lovers without the formalities?"

Yoongi’s only ever been with one woman his entire life.

You figure it’s because of that so he doesn’t know what he’s saying. 

You figure it’s because of Haein’s monopoly on his feelings and experiences that you convince yourself that Yoongi hasn’t been kicked around enough, to realize that what he’s saying is enough for you to assume a higher, closer place in his life.

You figure that Yoongi only knows love because of Haein and not love itself, enough for him to tell you that being close friends with him is the equivalent of loving him in that light, only without the coveted crown that comes with being his first and only love that Haein still possesses.

"You're right," you mutter, downing the rest of your wine and the assumption that Yoongi knows it’s him whom your hearts yearns for. "It does sound weird when you put it that way."

( ♡ ) 

Yoongi’s a manny. 

More specifically and less confusingly, Yoongi’s a male nanny and he enjoys the job.

When you graduated two years earlier than he did, all he talked about was how happy and envious he was for you over being born earlier than him. He told you that you were unfair (and so were your parents) by bringing you to the world earlier and not as the same time as him, even detailing how he wants to be just a day older than you instead of you being ahead by two full birthdays.

When you graduated two years earlier than him, proving just how lucky you were (even if Yoongi argues that it’s your sheer intellect and not something as silly as luck) by landing a coveted job, all Yoongi could talk about was how he wanted to follow in your footsteps.

He’s not in the place where you are now, and although neither of you are bitter about it, some part of Yoongi still thinks what could’ve been.

“I should’ve never brought it up,” you apologize sincerely, nudging him with your knee to get the point across because you didn’t really mean to throw him into a loop.

You’re sure that Taehyung, your colleague who’s one year your junior and knew both you and Yoongi from college, didn’t really mean to offend the latter either, or atleast that’s what you think. 

You only opened up about your brush-up with Taehyung in the elevator because it was your first time bumping into each other having worked in the same company for so long, and you thought (read: thought) that Yoongi would be amused about the interaction too.

You thought that Yoongi would be amused about your encounter with Taehyung because the third question he asks you (the first asking how you were doing and the second asking if you were single) ventures straight to Yoongi and what he was up to. 

You thought he’d be amused that Taehyung still remembers how the both of you were attached to the hip despite being apart in year levels, but with the way Yoongi scowls (even for just the briefest second), you knew that you hit a sore spot. 

“Nah. It’s okay,” Yoongi exhales, glossing over the random question of Taehyung asking if you were taken before willing himself to forget it completely, and moving onto the facet that you thought offended him. “It pays well, honestly. I didn’t think I would ever score a job like this.”

“Me neither,” you shrug lightly, being relieved when you see the playful roll of Yoongi’s eyes.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he whines, throwing his head back in faux annoyance, to which he may or may not attribute to Hwayoung’s (one of the children he looks after) tendencies.

“I don’t mean it in a bad way, Yoongs. It’s just that, well, I pictured that you’d be this hotshot data analyst, or I.T, or something equally as technical and now-…” you trail off, the smile in your face genuine. “You’re a hotshot nanny.”

“This wasn’t my dream. You knew that,” he snorts, asserting his point by once again bringing up your extensive knowledge about him. “But I was just strapped for cash this one time, and I was behind on rent and my stupid, complicated job at my old company didn’t pay on time– then you already knew about my neighbors being these newlyweds with twin babies and before I knew it, I was looking after them! I was making bank by staying up like I’ve always done, and I get an audience when I’m talking to myself!”

Yoongi doesn’t overestimate your familiarity for him, and neither does he overestimate your sincerity towards his decisions. You judge him, sure (you’ve never made your annoyance for his weakness for Haein and his affinity for their backwards-moving relationship a secret), but you’ve never actually discouraged him from anything.

You didn’t talk him out of getting back with Haein all those breakups ago.

You didn’t talk him out of applying for unrelated jobs outside of his degree.

You don’t talk Yoongi out of anything, even anyone, that’s capable of bringing him joy.

“You love what you’re doing and you’re earning a shit ton. You don’t have to be affected by what an old classmate is asking.”

“That old classmate is working in the same Fortune Global 500 company as you are,” he chuckles just a little bit bitterly, making you nudge his knee a little harder this time. “But still,” he deadpans. “It’s okay. I’ll get over it. I can consider this as practice anyway.”

“You’re… opening up a babysitting company…?”

“Stupid,” Yoongi snickers, squeezing your knee tightly before his hold disappears. “No! I mean practice before I have a family in the future!” he laughs, shaking his head at you as if it wasn’t the most obvious thing in the world; as if his optimism for a future with Haein isn’t persistent. “I don’t know what’s Haein’s take on working if we ever do have children, but either way, it’s nice to know that I already have the basics mastered.”

Whenever you least expect it, even if you should know by now after spending so much of your life with Yoongi, he reminds you of your place.

“You and Haein aren’t even together now,” you mutter, keeping your gaze low.

“Can you shut up?” Yoongi groans, slouching in his seat. “I’m not saying we’re gonna have a family now. I’m saying maybe we’ll have one in the future.”

“But you’ve been broken up for years.”

“Again, Y/N,” Yoongi rolls his eyes, the playfulness between the two of you slowly but surely dissipating. “I need you to be quiet.”

( ♡ ) 

Your parents like throwing thanksgiving parties for you and your siblings.

It’s quite literally the joint event for all seasons because your parents don’t even dare to set out cake for anyone outside of your family to eat when the holidays come, promising to make the party they excessively fuss about to be an umbrella for the rest that they miss throughout the year.

It’s an event that none of you really asked for but your parents insist on anyway; mostly to celebrate their accomplished children, and just a tiny bit more to brag about the lives they’ve managed to cultivate.

Yoongi, like for every other thanksgiving party that your parents have thrown, shows up in his most prized suit. It’s his most expensive and cleanest one to date, and it’s a suit that he reserves only for your parents’ shenanigans; not for a relative’s wedding, and not for a rich friend’s event either — he wears it just for you.

“I’d hate to be your unemployed cousin during this time of the year,” he jokes, being unable to look around the room without locking eyes with atleast one of your relatives or mutual friends and waving at them, yet Yoongi’s not really peeved about it at all.

“Yeah, that side of the family hates us,” you laugh, the tension in your shoulders loosening when you realize that you have nothing to be anxious about, especially when you’re just across the person who knows you the most.

You have your fun in these thanksgiving parties, and Yoongi has his own. Your definition of fun means owning up to your achievements and not attributing them to luck, poking fun at your siblings behind their backs, and maybe striking up a conversation or two with a family friend that you forgot was more handsome than you thought he’d be.

Yoongi’s fun on the other hand, only ever revolved around you and Haein when it comes to these parties. Now that the latter wasn’t invited this year and he’s not capable of trailing after her like a puppy, feeling like an outcast amongst a sea of accomplished individuals, Yoongi can now trail after you, feeling like he belongs.

“Look at my parents. They keep boasting about you so much, you’d think they gave birth to you,” he nods his head to them, talking your aunt’s ear off as they keep gesturing to you, grinning when you catch their gaze.

“I don’t look at you as a brother. Gross!” your nose scrunches, making Yoongi roll his eyes and subsequently kick you lightly in the shin.

The two of you, thankfully, are okay. The awkward conversation that transpired about Taehyung’s curiosity and Yoongi’s own insistence of a future with Haein seems to never have sprung up in the first place.

You’ve known each other for a lifetime; it only felt appropriate, nevermind unhealthy, to let familiarity take its toll to make the two of you complacent enough to not apologize to each other and still be okay by the next day.

“My parents didn’t graduate college, but you knew that already,” Yoongi talks, gaze still holding out to his parents from a distance like it’s a stare he can’t break off because his eyes feel too comfortable. “They found a lot of things– a lot of people annoying because they made them feel inferior, but we never felt that way with your family, y’know?”

You’re not one to deny the distance between you and Yoongi; everything from your age difference, to how your childhood house overlooked his, and even to the feelings you share and don’t share, there’s an imbalance the two of you would never be able to tip.

“Your parents are genuine, close friends with my own, and your family never pitied ours,” he smiles, eyes crinkling in gratitude as he does so.

“I know that,” you return the sincerity, eyes set on his while his gaze is directed elsewhere. “But where’s all this coming from?”

“I see the way you look at me,” Yoongi shrugs, the second that it takes him to turn his attention to you making you falter.

You don’t know if you’re more scared or relieved at the possibility of Yoongi knowing about your feelings.

“And how do I look at you?” you test the waters, tilting at your head to try and closely gauge the tiny smile on his lips, but you come up empty.

“I can’t tell exactly, but you always look at me with some sort of guilt.”

“Why would I look at you with guilt?” a breathless laugh escapes you, the ease plastered on his face making you more and more pressured.

“I don’t know either! You tell me,” Yoongi laughs brightly, slinging an arm across your shoulder to which no one bats an eye to, because although they don’t know the two of you as well as you know each other, they have a semblance of it.

They know how you and Yoongi are friends; how you and Yoongi are close friends who are basically lovers without the formalities.

“We’ve known each other for a lifetime, Y/N. There’s nothing about one another that could surprise us anymore.”

“That sounds so boring,” you mutter, the words slipping out of you before you could even control them, effectively dampening the sentimental mood that Yoongi’s in.

“Excuse me?” he asks, a little bit offended but a lot more hurt over your comment.

“We’re not always gonna be the same, Yoongi,” you continue, staring at your feet with your voice low because it’s not like you can retract your words anymore; they’re as out there as you are when it comes to loving Yoongi silently.

“Do you… not want to be friends with me anymore?” he whispers, arm suddenly stalling as he tries to deduct whatever the hell you could possibly mean.

“Where did that come from?”

Yoongi chuckles uneasily, almost regretful he even said that outloud in fear of manifesting it. 

“I don’t– I-I don’t know! It’s just weird with the way you’re talking. Like you purposely want us to change.”

“You don’t?”

“No, I don’t,” he emphasizes. “If you’re already comfortable with the life that you have now, you don’t need to change,” Yoongi blinks slowly, unfamiliar with the way your eyes lack emotion. “I have you. I have the manny job. I have Haein.”

You’re quiet as you let Yoongi think and simmer in whatever he had to say, and he hates it.

“Is this life not enough for you yet?” he asks hesitantly, the premature scoff that leaves his throat making the bitterness linger for the slightest second. “What more could you want?”

You want to say it’s only him whom you lack, but you stay quiet.

You give Yoongi both the silence and the space to think, and he realizes that he’s never wanted to be overwhelmed by you more.

( ♡ ) 

Things have been awkward between you and Yoongi.

You didn’t mean to sound beyond ungrateful and out of touch, but simply (and maybe even arrogantly) put, Yoongi just didn’t get it. 

He didn’t get where you were coming from because he’s only stayed in one place long enough to call her his future. He didn’t get what you could be possibly going through because Yoongi only longs for comfort and not change because the latter wouldn’t benefit him in any way.

He’s right about him having the manny job makes him happy because he gets a heavy check and a learning experience. He’s also right, even if he’s rarely accurate when faced with her, about having Haein because you figure that if you were in his position, you wouldn’t ask for anything more.

If you were anything like Yoongi by having had the privilege of harboring the person you love and the life-long burden of having to yearn for her, you would be satisfied too.

It’s been a full week since the two of you talked and it’s the longest you ever went without any communication. There’s no texts coming from your end, but there had been plenty of it coming from Yoongi’s.

Yoongi, your best friend, knows that you didn’t end your thanksgiving party in the happiest note because he happened. He felt apologetic about it ever since because he didn’t mean to sound self-absorbed to the point of projecting his selfishness onto you; painting you as the villain would be the last thing he’ll ever do because he knew that between the two of you, you were the stronger one.

You’re the more rational, focused one who studied the same degree as he did, yet actually amounted to something infinitely more even if he’s the younger one who had more opportunities than you ever did.

You’re the more unyielding one between the two of you, because you can stomach ignoring him for a week while he’s about to lose his mind.

Yoongi could send a hundred more texts wherein he pretends to have mistakenly sent a discreet, low-lying sorry to you (because the two of you barely ever apologized to each other) instead of another person. He could react to a message of yours from two months ago just to try and see if you would comment on it.

He could even call you by Haein’s name just to purposely piss you off because he’d settle for anything if it meant breaking you out of your silent treatment, yet you don’t even move an inch whether he calls you on your phone or lingers in the coffee shop you frequent at in your workplace.

Yoongi can pull a hundred different reasons with most of them involving how he’s running errands with the children he looks after. He can say that Hwayoung knows your name (and he’s not lying about it either) and that she asked where you worked, and the both of them just happened to be in the area during their morning walk. He can say every excuse under the sun just to try and get you to talk to him, but you won’t budge.

Yoongi doesn’t like change but he likes the days wherein you rant to him about your day and ask how his went, just like every week before this one. He doesn’t like growth in the guise of everything he’s comfortable with being stripped away, but he likes the nights wherein he could call you and ask you to look after the children in the living room while he goes to the bathroom, when really, he’s just standing from a distance to look at you coo at them.

So when Yoongi got the call from your brother, asking him for a favor to look after your nephew if only he was free for the day (he wasn’t, but he made it work nonetheless), he immediately jumped at the chance of maybe, just maybe seeing you drop by at your family’s home.

“You’ve been ignoring me,” he says under his breath when he locks eyes with you in the nursery, your presence only being a surprise to him alone because he didn’t think you were staying with your parents the entire week when normally, you’d be a little high-strung staying with them after three consecutive days.

“Just been busy. Sorry,” you reply quietly, your apology only being an afterthought because you’re unsure who’s at fault.

“Me too,” Yoongi clears his throat, bouncing your sleeping nephew on his arms as he indiscreetly makes his way to you. “I’m sorry too, I mean.”

It’s weird for the both of you to apologize to each other.

It’s weird for you to see Yoongi in your childhood house and have no one question his presence, because the scene of him cradling your brother’s baby with a cloth strewn over his shoulder and your sister’s headband on his head to keep his hair away from his face, only looks right.

It’s weird for Yoongi to see you so torn up over him, and it’s even weirder that all the anger he had towards you for ignoring him just immediately dissipated.

Yoongi puts your nephew down on his crib with a precise gentleness to him, his hands cramping up not because he spent so long trying to get him to calm down, but because he doesn’t ever know what to do with them whenever you face him.

“You didn’t have to do this for my brother, y’know? You shouldn’t feel pressured to say yes just because he asked,” you clear your throat, filling the silence in with your voice that Yoongi has missed so badly.

“What are you talking about? I’m not on the clock right now,” Yoongi furrows his brows, the frown on his face evident. “I’m not here as a manny. I’m here as an uncle.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. Oh,” he snorts, the snarky expression from him cutting through the tension between you. You could just throw your head back out of relief, knowing that Yoongi’s not that mad at you, but the both of you know you’re far from the clear.

You’re far from the clear when you don’t make a single move to come towards him across the room, even if it’s the only thing you wanted to do the past week.

You know you’re far from the clear and even further from moving on when it’s Yoongi who comes to you, his pace slow yet definitive, his fists unclenched for once as he practically leaps towards you in the end.

It takes one, two seconds for you to realize that although it’s Yoongi who made the first move to get close to you, it’s you who puts your hands on his cheeks, forehead rested against his with your eyes closed, tightly. Painfully.

Yoongi opens his eyes when you do, staying in your grasp even if he realizes that you almost kissed.

“You can read my mind, Yoongi, right?” you whisper, pulling apart briefly to look up at him, yet close nonetheless because you could still practically hear his heart beating out of his chest.

“Yeah,” he swallows the lump in his throat, the hand he has around your waist loosening for just a fraction of a second, yet you don’t need it— you don’t need him to unravel further to confirm what you’ve always known.

“So I don’t need to say it out loud,” you smile tightly, the shaky sigh that leaves you making Yoongi’s lips purse out of guilt. “So I don’t need to say it out loud that I love you,” you say in your mind, eyes already stinging even if Yoongi hasn’t let go of you yet.

“You don’t,” he affirms, his voice hoarse as his hand on your waist still doesn’t budge, the other cradling your wrist because he can’t decipher if it’s him wanting to keep your hand on his face, or if it’s him keeping you away. “You can read my mind too, right?”

You nod earnestly, the smile that he gives you even being tighter than yours.

“Right,” he clears his throat. “So I can’t— I-I don’t have to say it either,” he whispers. “I don’t need to say out loud that the feeling isn’t mutual,” you read in his mind, the silent admission effectively relieving you of the weight you’ve carried ever since you knew him.

Yoongi’s phone ringing is the only thing that snaps the both of you from your daze, your immediate composure being shaky despite having prepared for this for so long because you knew it anyway.

You know that no matter how much Yoongi looks like he belongs to you, your life, and everything in between, you still won’t stand a chance against the person who’d make him drop everything new for the promise of coming home to everything he’s familiar with.

“It’s uhm— it’s Haein,” he explains, the nervous grin he has on face being infectious despite your very own appearing for a much different reason. “She wants to talk about things.”

“You don’t have to let me know,” you shake your head, shoving your hands into your pockets. “Go, Yoongi.”

.

.

.

You’re not ignoring Yoongi anymore.

Apropos of nothing, Yoongi and Haein are talking again.

They’re not together, yet, but you know how it always ends between them anyway, so you steel yourself for the worst despite it being Yoongi’s best.

( ♡ ) 

You badly want to change.

You badly want to change and although it’s not Yoongi’s fault, the way he hovers around you makes you feel otherwise.

You already made well on your promise of not shutting him out whenever things get tough for you, but even then, no part of the way you’ve been acting recently ever appeases Yoongi.

He’s accustomed to you growing like you always have been, yet he didn’t even think that you changing bit by bit could ever impact him this greatly, Sure, Yoongi’s happy that you’re no longer ignoring him intentionally, but his stomach still turns every time you do reply to him at an ungodly hour and he’s reminded of your little joke (he hopes it is) that you’re more active at that time of night because of your extracurriculars.

Yoongi’s happy that you still turn to him, but a large part of him, if not the entirety, grows bitter when he sees you looking happier nowadays and he can’t tell if it’s because of something you’ve already told him or if it’s because of something totally unrelated and how he could never know, because the one thing that he made you promise is for you to keep being his friend.

You’re still Yoongi’s friend before, during, and after your confession, and he doesn’t know if that placates him.

Yoongi doesn’t want to amount to anything less than a friend to you but he doesn’t want to be your family either. He wants to be whatever it is in your life that knows why you’re smiling so much and why you barely rant to him.

He wants to be whatever, whoever, it is your life in order to know that you’re seeing Taehyung right from your mouth and not from your brother’s like he’s a jaded suitor that’s been anticipating bad news.

Yoongi wants to matter enough, as if he already doesn’t, to know about you having a boyfriend.

“You have a boyfriend and you didn’t tell me?” he spits, the way he barrels into your apartment with his own keycard being unceremonious. 

Yoongi knows today’s your rest day and he knows that by this time, you’d be on a call with him to ask about his day and entertain Hwayoung who keeps butting into your conversation. By this time, it would’ve still been you and him, whether or not Haein and Taehyung were in the picture.

“You’re hooking up with the guy that talked shit about me, and you didn’t bother telling me?”

“Taehyung didn’t talk shit about you,” you scoff, closing the door after him as you follow him into your living room.

Yoongi’s eyes widen comically, heart clenching when he realizes that you have no comeback for anything else he’s said, jaw clenching as he points a finger at you.

“He fucking looked down on me-…”

“He was just shocked!” 

“Are you seriously defending him instead of being on my side?!” he exclaims, the sarcastic chuckle that leaves his lips rubbing you wrong because for any other person and any other instance, you’d laugh with him too.

“Do you not expect me to?” you snarl. “You’re dragging my boyfriend’s name to an argument that you started, and you don’t expect me to defend him?”

“You’re being a hypocrite,” he grits, nostrils flaring in sheer anger.

“And if I am, then what about it?!” you throw your hands into the air, poking your finger at his chest yet he refuses to get out of your face. “Have you not ever been a hypocrite when it comes to defending the person you love?”

It’s not your glare that gets him to back off.

It’s not your hostile, defensive nature towards Yoongi, in defense of Taehyung, that makes him deadly silent.

It’s you, holding up a mirror for the same blind defensiveness that he’d always carry whenever your words just barely graze Haein’s honor.

You’re guilty of judging Yoongi, but not of dissuading him from pursuing Haein like he’s always done — Yoongi, however, can’t say the same for himself.

“I hope Taehyung’s worth it,” he spits. “I hope he’s worth treating me like this, because not once have I ever made you less of a priority even when Haein was still in the picture.”

The use of was makes you pause, the past tense making you blink owlishly and finally take a step back from Yoongi as if it’s just your proximity to him that was the raging problem.

“Haein was my girlfriend but I never, never turned my back on you. I never made things awkward for us. I never stopped showing up for you, even if it costed me with her. I never made you feel the way you’re making me feel now,” Yoongi heaves, jaw clenching from how hard he’s ignoring the lump in his throat.

You chuckle sarcastically, the briefest glimpse you have of yourself in Yoongi’s words making you feel utterly pathetic. “Yeah? And how am I making you feel now?”

“Like we haven’t known each other our whole lives.”

( ♡ ) 

It’s been months since you and Yoongi properly talked to each other.

Life got in the way between the two of you and as much as Yoongi didn’t want to push, you didn’t want to grow out of the comfort that you already had with Taehyung either.

There were still texts and calls, but in between Yoongi getting whisked away for his employers’ vacation for a change and you being content with your job and your boyfriend as your comfort, neither of you made any drastic moves after your fight.

The only apology that Yoongi could get out of you after storming off from your apartment was you asking if he had already eaten dinner two nights after your fight, while the only apology that your close friend could ever give to you was that he hadn’t (even if he actually did), just to get your conversation rolling.

You feel guilty reserving parts of you from Yoongi, namely Taehyung and how he fits into your life, even if it’s always been established that there’s no use hiding. You know a terrible lot of information about how Yoongi and Haein are in bed against your will, and Yoongi has an awful amount of knowledge about your preference for condoms and how you like your men. 

There’s guilt in your chest and you don’t think it would ever disappear for as long as Yoongi’s still in your life. Being defensive about anyone outside of your family and Yoongi, specifically because neither are synonymous no matter how much Yoongi keeps recurring from your family’s mouths, is something entirely brand new.

Taehyung is new to your system, just as Yoongi was all those years ago, and it scares him more than it scares you.

The concept of lagging behind someone who had just been a casual topic of interest (more specifically because he had seemingly offended you and him) then became your boyfriend overnight feels like a giant slap on the face because Yoongi, not once, has ever entertained the possibility that you’d be as lovesick as him.

He didn’t think that you were also capable of being defensive about a loved one who isn’t him, just like he is over Haein. 

He didn’t think about how angry and offended he’d feel seeing you become so protective of someone who doesn’t know you like he does, because in Yoongi’s defense, Taehyung doesn’t know shit about you.

Taehyung does not and will never know you like he does, because he never trailed after you and idolized you in everything that you do, so much so that he only pursued his degree because you did before him.

Unlike Yoongi, Taehyung never had to be taught by you how to drive and what it means to have his family’s manual transmission car stall right after the stoplight turned green, because it meant you having to comfort Yoongi who was in tears after being honked at, and you lying straight through your teeth to his parents by saying that he was excellent and should definitely be trusted with driving the car alone with Haein to take her on dates.

Unlike the person you know the most, Taehyung never had to have the conversation with your dad about looking after you in college despite being younger, yet puffing his chest out nonetheless to agree because he made it his personal mission.

Taehyung will never be Yoongi and the latter takes pride in it, except now, he feels that Taehyung doesn’t ever want to be in his position—

Why would Taehyung vie for his position when it’s clear that he’s at an advantage?

Yoongi ignores his feelings and grievances the best that he can, yet unlike the old him who could endure so much shit because it meant having you to lean on, he can’t help but explode now that it’s you whom he can’t see eye to eye with.

“Taehyung and I were thinking of eloping,” you say out of the blue, your admission feeling appropriate (in your eyes, atleast) because you and Yoongi have so much to catch up on after being apart and he strayed the topic towards your sister who’s expecting her first child.

You thought it was your turn to say something equally as life-changing, because with the way Yoongi hasn’t talked about Haein once and you assuming that it’s because they were back together and he was just shy to talk about it, you bit the bullet first.

You thought wrong, clearly, because the happiness completely drains away from Yoongi the moment you finished your sentence.

“What?” he asks. “Don’t be stupid.”

“Excuse me?”

“I said, don’t be stupid,” he repeats, eyes narrowing at you in anger. “You’ve only been in a relationship with him for months-…”

“I’ve known him for years-…”

“And that still doesn’t justify you marrying him just because you feel like it,” he spits, your revelation far from making him happy like you thought it would. “Stop being stupid, Y/N. You’re not marrying Taehyung just because you’re in another one of your impulsive moods.”

Your mouth falls open at that, scoffing in disbelief because Yoongi isn’t letting up in the slightest with the way there’s no hint of his outburst just being a sick joke.

“I’m not being impulsive. I really do want to marry him!”

“Oh yeah? How’s married life going to work out for you when-…”

“I only told you because I wanted to let you know. I wasn’t asking you to weigh in, Yoongi,” you snap, crossing your arms in defense while Yoongi only steps towards you.

The thought of eloping with Taehyung crossed your mind once after a weird dream, and you thought nothing about it at first so you texted him and went right back to sleep. What you didn’t expect was that he didn’t hate the idea at all (in fact, he was even happy that you thought about it), and Taehyung’s confirmation for something unlike you, for something that resembled to settling and being comfortable, changed you completely.

“You don’t expect me to interfere when you tell me you’re going to make the biggest mistake of your life?” Yoongi huffs, his eyes widening over your seeming indifference. 

“Who the fuck are you to tell me that getting married to Taehyung would be the biggest mistake I’ll ever make?”

“I’m your closest friend! I know you better than you know yourself and-…”

“You don’t,” you retort. “Clearly, you don’t know me at all or even respect me when you think the worst of Taehyung when you barely even know him!”

“I could know Taehyung for a decade and still think the fucking worst of him!” Yoongi raises his voice, laughing humorlessly as he runs his hand through his hair. “I could know Taehyung or any other guy for a lifetime and still think that they won’t ever be good enough for you!”

The laugh that escapes you is offensive.

It’s as offensive as Yoongi making your graduation about him by crying to your sheets because Haein broke up with him, and it’s as offensive as you scoffing to his face when he said that having his job serves as his practice for a future with her.

“What, because you’re in love with me?” you spit, trying to trigger something in him just so he could leave you be, for good, because everything that’s he’s saying to now– with the defensiveness you’ve only heard from yourself whenever he rationalized trying to get back with his first love — takes you right back to your previous pining.

Yoongi’s only silent, trusting that you could read his mind, and you’ve never hated knowing him as much as you do than now.

“You’re telling me that you’re in love with me, right when I decided I was sick of loving you my whole life?” you whisper, the tears stinging from the corner of your eyes making your heart clench. You’ve been called too stubborn. Too calculating and too heartless, even by your own family, and for you to unfold in front of Yoongi this easily makes you wail. “Are you shitting me, Yoongi? Are you— are you out of your goddamn mind to tell me this?”

Yoongi looks down in shame, the truth of him being over his first love not relieving the weight on his shoulders like he foolishly expected, because everything he falls short when he sees you crying.

“I didn’t want to get back to Haein with something weighing so heavily on my chest,” he whispers. “I didn’t want to get back with her because you just ignoring me for a fucking week hurt more than any breakup I’ve had with her.” 

Yoongi, vividly, can remember how distraught he was. He can remember how he can’t recall a time wherein he didn’t have you to depend on, as if he didn’t ever outgrow the phase of him idolizing you and following you wherever you went.

As if he’s still the seventeen year old him asking to borrow your slippers for Haein, while deep down seeking your approval for her because he didn’t want to do anything without you beaming at him.

“I-I felt… I felt like I was losing my mind, Y/N.”

“Can you read my mind right now?” you ask, shakily exhaling as you look down on the floor.

“That’s a really stupid thing to bring up right now,” Yoongi breathlessly chuckles, letting his hair brush past his eyes because he’s a little terrified of looking how distraught, how disappointed, you are. “But no.”

“Do you not want to say it out loud?” he asks, making you laugh silently as you gathered the strength to sit next to him, yet not as close as you always did. “Whatever it is, it’s not like I’m going to give up now,” he mumbles, looking down on your hand that’s rested on the cushion, your pinky finger just centimeters away from his, yet he can’t move to hold you like he wants to.

You wanted Yoongi and he wants you, and there’s only so much points where you could intersect until you say what’s been lingering in your mind, just like every other apology the both of you have passed up.

“We need some time apart, Yoongi. We need space,” you mumble. “We need to figure it out on our own before we figure it out together because-…”

Yoongi finishes your thought for you, head tilted down and hand outstretched with the hope that comes with being a little too late for someone who’s waited a little too long.

“Because we’ve known each other our whole lives.”

Yoongi refuses to break even if he comprehends exactly what you’re saying, because there’s no point in it when he knows he’ll never be angry at you. You can defend him and you can hurt him all at once, yet he’ll never curse you, simply because there’s no point picking at wounds he’ll keep on licking anyway.

“Do we just-…” he shrugs lightly, pinky finger painfully close to yours until he makes the heavy move of lifting it, just enough to to cover yours. “Do we find our way back to each other? Is that it?”

“That’s the plan, hopefully,” you smile, sucking in a breath you never thought would be this heavy. “I’ll find you if you find me.”

“I’ll find you when you find me,” Yoongi corrects. “We’ll find our way back to each other.”

You resent comfort and Yoongi abhors change, but there’s only so much the both of you could take until you realize that the only thing constant in your lives is each other, no matter how many seasons pass you by.

For Yoongi, it’s you.

Despite everything, it’s still you.

( ♡ ) 

The year that you spend with Yoongi flitting every once in awhile like he’s only a friend, and not the man you’ve first loved, is a year you didn’t think you’d ever spend.

Despite you and Taehyung separating amicably, he still took with him the love that you sincerely invested. He wasn’t the first boyfriend you’ve ever had, and although you were no stranger to heartbreak, he still imprinted a large chunk of him onto you.

At one point in your life, you did want to marry him; and at several points in your life after him that you don’t even think of denying, you really thought it would be him if not for the life that you led.

You don’t resent Yoongi for loving you a little too late because there’s no point in it, as much as Taehyung doesn’t even hate you in the slightest for letting him let you go in pursuit of the change that the both of you badly needed.

Yoongi could never bring himself to hate you either, even if being apart from you gnawed at him from the inside. Making something out of himself had been his biggest plan outside of pursuing you from a distance, because as soon he tendered in his resignation letter to his employers and cried right in front of the children he looked after, Yoongi won’t ever lie and say that he wasn’t scared.

Yoongi resents change even if you’re someone who yearns for it, and even with the terror that wracks his bones of starting new without you being there for him as his safety net, Yoongi does it scared anyway.

He does it scared with one eye closed as he puts the degree he’s only learned to love because of you to work, developing an app for families to look for certified, trustworthy nannies.

He does it scared anyway with his heart barely into himself and fully into you when he shows up a full night early before your family’s thanksgiving party, donning his reserved suit as he clutches a new pair of house slippers, which again, like always and just like he is, is only for you.

For you, it’s Yoongi.

Despite everything, it’s still Yoongi.

[curryshesus]

jeon jungkook fics that had me going feral

hi guys, here's a part 2 to my favorite jjk fics on tumblr! note that many of these fics contain 18+ content. you are responsible for the content you consume! as always, if you enjoyed any of these fics as much as i did, please take a moment to send some love to the authors! part 1 | other bts members

➺ cold nights & blurred lines - by @awrkive

summary: jungkook and you have been in a sexual relationship with each other for four months now, and it’s casual for the most part. but as time passes, you can’t help but feel that some of the lines suddenly got blurred in the process. is it a cliché to blur the lines with your fuck buddy? it definitely is. will you do something about it? both of your emotional constipation have a hard time saying yes.

➺ night crawlers - by @alphabetboyluvr

summary: jungkook’s always been good at running. track, field, red lights, shit outta luck. drugs, now, too. but he doesn’t expect to run into you. in your shared lecture halls, sure. maybe. but not down the back alleys of daerim at ass o’clock in the morning. there are only three types of women he ever sees in daerim: hookers, sugar-babies and addicts. you aren't any of those; you're a trust-fund baby who can get percocet on private repeat prescription, if you really want it. he's sure of it. so it then further begs the question: why the fuck are you here?

➺ this is how you fall in love - by @jeonqkooks

summary: after years of drinking and clubbing most days of the week and leaving every gig with a different girl on his arm, jungkook feels what it’s like to want someone with his entire being.

➺ the dilf installments - by @mercurygguk

summary: this series follows jungkook’s life as a divorced father. but wait, how exactly does one balance being a father, a boyfriend, a friend, and a respectable boss at the same time? read the installments below to find out!

➺ ultimatum - by @parkmuse

summary: your pervy, idiotic boyfriend just so happens to also be your friendly neighborhood Spider-man (in bed).

➺ a hero's journey - by @hansolmates

summary: jungkook and jisoo are the mightiest power couple. however, one drunken confession and that whole facade fades in an instant. you realize that maybe you need to break from your unvaried life for a bit and be the hero of your own love story

➺ tempest - by @kooktrash

summary: you’ve always considered your life to be more mundane than you would like to admit. it was a constant cycle of the same things over and over again that when you meet jeon jungkook at a bar, of all places, you didn’t expect to see just how much he would change your life and those around you. he’s got an air of mystery around him with his charming good looks and a violent past that you slowly begun to unravel when it feels like everything is going perfect.

➺ by its cover - by @gimmesumsuga

summary: the one where Jungkook makes a horrifically bad first impression.

➺ slow dancing - by @yoonia

summary: when your countdown appeared on your wrist right in the morning of your eighteenth birthday, you had thought that perhaps the universe was on your side, especially since the final seconds were already ticking so soon. You just never expected to have your first meeting with your soulmate to be the day when you had to let him go. But hope was not lost when you still found love without the bond, and Jungkook showed you that it was possible to find happiness beyond the system that was written for you. Except that the universe doesn’t seem to have enough of its game, when your past sacrifice comes back hitting you straight in the face, just when you had believed that you had written off the perfect ending to your bittersweet tale.

➺ e s p r e s s o - by @joonberriess

➺ hold me closer - by @ahundredtimesover

summary: when you're asked to look after your parents' house and meet them before they go on vacation, you, Jimin, and Jungkook take the trip to your hometown of Busan and relive memories of your youth. While your new relationship has you feeling like a lovesick teenager with all the affection that Jungkook shows you, you're still you - a professional trying to make it in the corporate world, and an eldest child trying not to disappoint her parents. And that turns out to be your undoing, as a little blunder causes a rift between you and Jungkook, resulting in a trip that you might as well have messed up… Not if your brother can help it, though.

[ggukivrse]

CRAVING YOU - MYG | series masterlist

‧ ˚꒰🍷꒱ ‧ — when you & yoongi strike up a mutually satisfying deal, it’s supposed to stay simple; blood for sex, sex for blood. but the longer you keep feeding off each other, the harder it gets to tell hunger & need from… something deeper

pairing... vampire!yoongi x succubus!reader

genre/warnings... fantasy au, fwb to lovers, fluff, angst, age gap (oc is 26 & yoongi is technically 30 but older in vampire years), jk and oc are besties, blood & blood feeding, swearing, explicit sexual content, other chapter specific warnings

current word count... 0.0k

status... COMING SOON (some time in september hopefully)

⌗ masterlist. ⌗ taglist. ⌗ moodboard. ⌗ playlist.

༝ teaser | character index

༝ chapter one — to be named ( 0.0k )

coming soon…

written by GGUKIVRSE ༝ picture creds ༝ divider creds

[ktownshizzle]

Pigments & Playlists | myg

✎ ˎˊ˗ Pairing: Min Yoongi x female Reader ✎ ˎˊ˗ Summary: Between makeup and music, you find the one person worth blurring the lines for. ✎ ˎˊ˗ Genre: coworkers to lovers, idol au, older woman (by a few years), fluff, smut ✎ ˎˊ˗ Warnings:  Undercut Yoongi! Undercut! Him being such an attentive thoughtful king, nothing major i think this is a pretty light read, cursing, jk being the annoying younger brother type, lots of makeup brands and seventeen references, MC has thirsty thots for yoongi but who can blame her, part two is where we will have the action (trust) but savor the cuteness of part one for now ✎ ˎˊ˗ Word count: 5.6k ✎ ˎˊ˗ Posting date: June 8, 2025 ✎ ˎˊ˗ Notes: Hello! I have been talking about this makeup noona fic for a while and it’s here. This is a two-shot (don’t y’all make me make it a series!) Thank you so much @tea4sykes for betareading.

Part Two | Yoongi Masterlist

You drag your Züca makeup trolley behind you, wheels gliding against the marble floors. Your phone is tucked between your ear and shoulder as you walk, eyes scanning for a sign, the one marking the next chapter of your career.

Wonwoo’s voice crackles in your ear.

“I’m gonna be fine… No, I’m not gonna have a new favorite… That’s impossible… Just focus on your training, okay?... Seriously? Bye, Wonwoo.”

You sigh, tap the end button, and slide your phone into your back pocket.

Ah, so this is what the 21st floor looks like.

The floor dedicated to the men who built the HYBE building from the ground up.

You laugh to yourself. Does this mean you made it, too? It kinda does, doesn’t it? 15 years doing makeup, five years with Seventeen. Specifically: Seungcheol’s unruly brows, Mingyu’s overzealous sweat glands, and Wonwoo’s refusal to exfoliate. You weren’t just part of the team—you were theirs. The noona they teased mercilessly, trusted absolutely, and sometimes trauma-bonded backstage while waiting for hair dryers to cool.

Now you’re here. Reassigned. Promoted, actually. You’re now the lead makeup artist of Bangtan Sonyeondan, with eight makeup artists and hair stylists in your team. The mission? Make BTS the prettiest fuckin’ boys in all of history. Maybe even prettier than Seventeen? Fat chance. You’re too biased with Sebong.

At the end of the hallway, you spot the door marked:   BTS.   Authorized Personnel Only.   No Cameras. 

And for you, there’s No Turning Back.

You take a breath. Pull your kit and push forward.

No one notices you at first. That’s fine. That’s how you like it. You don’t want to feel like the new kid, all awkward smiles and intros.

You set your kit down by the makeup mirrors and start laying out your brushes. Foundation. Concealer. Lip tints. Focus. Routine.

“Y/N-noona?”

Seokjin. The only one you’ve met before. He had a style consultation for his MV and you were basically asked to lead it as a sort of audition to this new role that you were considered for.

You spent hours scouring the internet for reference pics. But for you his visual was very straightforward. Matinee idol. Heart-achingly handsome, but still kinda attainable, if that even made sense. Full lips–you’re going to be playing this up as the focal point. Maybe dried fig or muted berry for pigment, just the lightest touch. He’s got thick, fluffy natural hair that you’ll need to tame with some lightweight products to push it back to a clean, slick leading man vibe.

“I don’t need botox anymore,” was what he famously said after an hour under your skillful hands. And the rest is history.

“Hello, Seokjin,” you nod.

“Have you met the rest of the members?”

“Haven’t had the pleasure.”

“It’s fine, they’re not important.”

“Yah!” Jimin shouts without looking, obviously eavesdropping. “Don’t talk shit about us, hyung. Hi, Y/N-noona.”

Jungkook glances up and strolls over, a mischievous twinkle in his eye.

“Noona, I’m Jungkook. Wait—ohhhh. You’re Seventeen’s makeup noona?”

“You make it sound like I’m their property, but… yeah. Now yours, though.”

He giggles, bunny teeth on full display. “Mingyu’s like, in love with you.”

You can’t tell if he’s joking. Probably. Maybe. You don’t know.

“I should text him,” Jungkook adds, already reaching for his phone, laughing.

Your cheeks go warm immediately. Good thing you already wore blush—at least it hides some of the embarrassment burning through you.

Before you can figure out how to respond, one of the senior hair stylists calls your name from the next room.

Saved by the bell.

You mutter a quick excuse and step away, heart doing something it definitely shouldn’t be doing around these fine men you didn’t expect to affect you this much.

You pull up the sleeves of your black blazer, checking your makeup station one last time. You just finished your pre-production meeting  with your team, going through today’s run of show and the shoot concept one last time before it begins.

The pegs are taped up on one of the walls, one for each member. You’re confident you can pull this off–you cannot not. It’s your first damn day and you sure as hell want to prove your worth.

Thankfully, your team is not all new. Half of them have been with BTS for years, while the other half are just like you, reassigned, when a few of the long-standing makeup noonas stepped away—schedule conflicts, burnout, one just had a baby. So naturally, BTS’s glam rotation shifted. Jungkook, Jimin, and Yoongi needed new regular artists.

Your right hand woman and the most senior from the tenured makeup girls, Hyein suggested you take him. “He’s not high maintenance. Just likes it quick and consistent.” And since working on him might be quicker than the rest, you will always have time to do quick checks with your junior members.

That’s how you ended up with Yoongi.

And truthfully? You are kind of glad.

You’ve always thought his face was interesting. Not just in a “he photographs well” way. Because most of them do. But there’s something in his bone structure that keeps your eyes coming back. Sharp where you don’t expect. Soft in places that should be angular.

You spend some time studying his features through online references, as you have done with Jin, and as you always do with new artists you handle.

His eyes are slightly mismatched. One double lid, one monolid. Not obvious. It gives him this quiet asymmetry and you already plan to adjust his liner differently every time, because you want to work with it, not against it.

His skin is bright, borderline unfair. “Brighter than your future” as one Tiktok said. He has a few scattered freckles that only show up in certain light. 

Two scars on his forehead near his left brow and one just north of it, then there’s another tucked under his right eye. You don’t intend to cover them up unless he tells you to. If anything, you think this makes him look a little badass. Seems like that’s the persona he’s going for anyway.

His lips are a soft kind of full—not pouty, but plush. Tinted naturally pink like he’s always just bitten them. Shame how in older photos, his top lip shape seems to be blurred with concealer. None of that now that you’re in charge.

And then there’s his hair. Always changing. Sometimes blonde, once ginger, sometimes brown red, once, briefly, a mint shade that made him look like a faerie. Now it’s coal black, natural. Undercut.

The first time you meet Yoongi, he bows and says exactly four words. “Welcome to the team.”

Not the warmest of welcomes, but it’s fine. You think he doesn’t say them unkindly. Maybe he’s just one of those brooding, mysterious idols. Still waters run deep or whatever.

You nod back, introduce yourself.

He eases back into his chair and closes his eyes. For the entire time.

His skin is warm under your fingers. Breath even. Doesn’t flinch when you brush under his eyes, around his cherry nose. When you’re finished, you say so. He glances at his reflection once in the mirror, moves his face left then right, then at you.

“Thank you. I like it,” he says, then walks out.

Cool.

The second time, he beats you to the glam room. He’s in the chair already, in a fuzzy yellow cardigan, hair ruffled from outside. There’s a faint sheen of sweat still drying on his temple. He gives you a tiny nod when you enter.

“Hey. How’s it going?” Four words. Same as last time.

“I’m well,” you respond as you unzip your brush case and start setting up. 

Once you’re done, you pull out a portable bluetooth speaker from the bottom of your trunk. 

“Do you mind music?” you ask Yoongi, who’s busy with his phone.

He shakes his head. “Play what you want.”

You power up your speaker, scroll through your playlist, and hit shuffle to an old 2000s playlist–the music of your youth.

Midway through, you hear a faint sound. And as you push the silicone applicator to his lips, you feel the gentle vibration as he hums along to the second verse of “Iris” by the Goo Goo Dolls.

You don’t comment, but for some reason, this realization makes you happy. The chorus swells.

The next time you meet, he asks to pick the music. You don’t mind. In fact you’re curious what some acclaimed musical genius like him would listen to.

“Want my speaker?”

He shrugs.

You hand it over.

He scrolls for less than ten seconds before music clicks on.

Is that Ring Ding Ding?

You both pause. Look at each other. Then laugh.

“Respect,” you murmur, hiding your smile. 

“It’s a classic,” he says, solemn as a priest.

After that, you start talking. Just… little things. Safe things.

Mostly about music.

You find out he’s got strong opinions about snare sounds in 90s R&B. He then shifts the playlist to that.

He tells you about working with Tablo and and you don’t know how bright you’re lighting up until he teases you, “want me to get you an autograph or something?” You admit you’ve had a crush on him for years. “Like what do you mean he’s ivy league smart and hella goofy, too?”

Then, you tell him about your teenage boy band phase (it’s not just Backstreet Boys and *NSYNC, you were even into the more obscure ones from the UK). You also admit you mourned for Aaliyah and Left Eye.

He confesses he went through an intense BoA obsession and that he may still be in love with her—even tried to copy her hair for one of his concerts.

Things escalate when you both try to rap the second verse of “Nice & Slow.” You fumble spelling U-S-H-E-R five seconds in, and it all goes downhill from there.

“It’s the H!” he hoots. “He says it differently.” You realize he is right. Koreans have that extra syllable.

Somehow, between blending pigments and sharing playlists, something opens up between you.

It’s not fast. It’s not grand. But it’s happening.

One morning, your playlist shuffles itself into an old ache:  “Don’t Wanna Cry” by Seventeen. You freeze only for a second, at Wonwoo’s ulgo ship ji ana, but Yoongi notices.

You try to focus on the foundation you’re patting onto his cheek, but something twists in your chest.

“Missing your old team?” Yoongi asks.

“They’re my boys,” you say, kind of offhand. Kind of not.

Yoongi doesn’t say anything, but you feel his eyes on you through the mirror. He doesn't look annoyed or anything. Just still. Like he’s filing the words somewhere he’ll come back to later and you’re not sure why that makes your throat feel tight.

He’s good at silence, Yoongi. Knows when not to push. But the space he leaves is always heavy. You don’t know what to do with it.

But Jungkook does.

The maknae is sitting in the next chair over, scrolling on his phone, waiting for his makeup artist. At the mention of Seventeen, he perks up instantly, like a dog hearing a treat bag.

“Tell me something Mingyu can do better than me,” he challenges.

You blink at him. “Excuse me?”

“Noona.” He throws in a dramatic sigh. “Be honest.”

You have no idea why Jungkook wants to make this a 1 v 1 showdown between him and Gyu, but you’ll play along. It’s cute.

You glance at Yoongi again. He’s looking down now, pretending he’s not listening as he scrolls his phone, but the corner of his mouth is doing that twitchy thing that says otherwise.

You smirk. “I mean… I liked both your Calvin Klein campaigns.”

Jungkook puts his phone down slowly, like he’s processing emotions. “He only got that gig after I enlisted.”

“He still looked good though,” you sing-song.

“I—wow.” He shakes his head. “You really gonna do me like this in front of hyung?”

You hold up a hand. “Didn’t say he was better.”

“But you implied it,” Jungkook fires back, boba eyes bulging out of its sockets. “What else?”

“I mean, Mingyu is pretty good in the kitchen.”

That does it.

“No way,” Jungkook says, leaning forward like he’s about to attack. “Now I have to invite you over. I’m making dinner. Full spread. Five courses. Hyung can come, too.”

Yoongi doesn’t look up. “Don’t drag me into your ego crisis.”

“I’m including you out of respect,” Jungkook grumbles. “And as the primary witness to this… whatever shit this is.”

You shrug. “A free meal’s a free meal.”

“I’m gonna blow your mind, noona.” He sinks back in his chair with a groan. “Fuckin’ Mingyu…”

You laugh, then glance at Yoongi again. He’s finally looking at you, quiet but engaged. His expression is unreadable, but there’s something just a little tighter around his eyes.

So, you’ve assimilated with the team well enough. Jin greets you with food. Tae compliments your hair quite frequently, offered to braid it once. Jimin tries to read your texts over your shoulder.

You laugh with them. You start to care for them. But you’ve become especially fond of Yoongi.

Maybe it’s the way he watches without crowding. Maybe it’s how he listens so carefully when you talk about songs you love. Maybe it’s the way he only speaks when he has something real to say.

Unlike the maknaes, you won’t see him bouncing off the walls. He doesn’t demand attention. But he holds it anyway.

And lately, you’ve started wondering what it would feel like to hold his.

You were about to grab coffee when some delivery guy arrives with a monstrous amount of packages. Laura Mercier. MAC. Make Up For Ever. Jung Saem Mool.

It’s a ridiculous haul—glass bottles clinking, compacts stacked like poker chips, a forest of lip tints and pencils all jammed into branded boxes. The Beauty Boondocks. Guess this is part of your life now and you’re loving it.

Working with the biggest group in the world means this. A constant courtship by brands desperate for one sliver of the BTS glow. One backstage photo of Taehyung swiping lip balm on, or Jungkook half-blurred with a concealer palette in the background, and that’s a million views and sold-out SKUs easy.

You’re on the floor of the glam room, crouched between piles of cardboard, trying to sort products by category and fighting the growing sense that you’ve just been buried alive by luxury capitalism.

Suddenly, Yoongi walks in, he pauses just beside the door.

“Wow,” he says. “This is what Jungkookie’s house looks like the day after he gets a free night.”

You look up, a brow arching. “Online shopping problem?”

“Massive,” he replies dryly, stepping over a few boxes. “Once he ordered five different bed mattresses.”

You’re a bit stunned. Partly because you did not expect anyone to show up, much less Yoongi. Secondly, Jungkook’s house must be huuuge?

“He does not have 5 bedrooms if that’s what you’re thinking. There was one in his living room for a while…”

Yoongi crouches beside one of the larger boxes, tilting his head to read the logo printed on the side.

“So what’s all this?”

“Makeup, hair products, tools, etcetera…” You gesture vaguely, hands full of crinkle paper and unopened mascara tubes. “Brand offerings. Welcome to the chaos. No thanks to you guys.”

He glances around, taking it in. “Why are you doing this alone?”

“Sera called in sick. Hyein’s sorting more stuff in another room. The rest are on a day off or are in Hobi’s LV shoot. Though honestly, nobody told me about this shipment.”

You expect him to leave it at that. But instead, he lowers himself to the floor, his long legs under him, and grabs a box cutter from a nearby table.

Wordlessly, he drags a new box closer, slices through the tape with smooth precision.

You blink. “What’re you doing?”

He doesn’t look up. “Trying to be useful to my noona.”

Wait.

My noona. My noona?!

It’s playful. Casual. Probably harmless. But something about the way he says it—low and almost offhand, like it comes naturally—snags in your chest. You’re crazy for thinking that it actually means anything else, but you can’t help consider it.

You don’t answer right away. You just stare at him like he’s an illusion: pale hoodie sleeves shoved up to the elbows, veins flexing against cardboard, hair fluffy and soft, devoid of any product.

He glances at you sideways. Sees the look on your face. Smirks. “What?”

“I’m just not used to idols volunteering to help unpack foundation samples,” you say, lips twitching, as you hold up a few NARS bottles and place them on the table.

“That’s because your boys aren’t me.”

Woah. Shots fired at Seventeen and you’re too stunned to speak. Plus, the way his eyes flick back to yours as he says it—yeah, he knows exactly what he’s implying.

Your heart thuds once in response and it’s deafening.

You return to your pile, doing your best to focus. “Well. If you’re going to help, I hope you’re not colorblind.”

“Am I getting judged?”

“Harshly.”

He chuckles.

Not a minute later he is already complaining why there are 30 different shades of pink. 

It’s late.

Rehearsals ran over, and most of the team’s already scattered. The greenroom is dim, half the lights shut off, stage outfits draped over chairs. Someone left a half-eaten protein bar on the counter. (It was Jimin.) You’re too tired to throw it out.

Yoongi’s the last one to be touched up before a promo shoot he’s doing solo. Naturally, you’re also the last one still working. You let the rest of your team pack up after their member completes their segments.

Yoongi sits in the chair wordlessly. You flick on the ring light and squint at him.

“You look exhausted,” you murmur, brushing a warm palm across his cheek to feel the texture.

He shrugs. “You look worse.”

Wha—?

“Gee. Thanks.” You crack a smile. “Asshole.” You say with no real bite.

You work in silence for a minute. You spray a serum over his face, get it to calm and cool. His skin is a bit warm, a little flushed from movement. 

Looking away, you stifle a yawn, lift your glasses and rub at your eye with your knuckle.

“You sleep at all these days?” he asks suddenly.

Your fingers start massaging the serum near his cheek and decide to tease him a bit. “Don’t talk to me. You said I look like shit.”

He smirks, but his tone is soft. “That’s not what I said.”

“I get some in,” you say lightly. “Here and there.”

He hums. Doesn’t press. But something about his tone makes you keep going.

“I wake up a lot,” you admit. “Not always bad dreams. Just… waking. Like something kicks me from inside.”

“Been happening long?”

You shrug like it’s nothing. 

“A while,” you say. “Started around the time…” you pause, study him. His eyes are so kind, the kind you’ll want to spill all your secrets to. “My previous relationship ended.”

He looks at you in the mirror. You glance down, blending gently near the corner of his eye.

“It’s stupid,” you murmur. “It’s not like I miss him. I just… guess my body hasn’t caught up yet.”

Yoongi stays quiet for a few breaths. “It’s not stupid.”

Your throat pulls tight, but you smile like it doesn’t matter. “Anyway. It’ll pass.”

You expect him to nod. To change the subject. You don’t expect what he says next.

“Call me.”

Your hand stills from dipping the brush on the powder pot. “What?”

He tilts his face up just enough to meet your eyes.

“When it happens,” he says. “When you wake up and it’s three or four in the morning just… call.”

You blink. Why did this feel so intimate all of a sudden?

“I’m always up anyway,” he shrugs, like it’s not a big deal, and you remember to breathe.

You search his face, looking for a joke, a smirk, anything sleazy, even. There’s really none. Just sincerity. Like he knows what you’re going through and wants to share your load.

“Okay,” you say quietly, willing your heart to stop pounding so loud.

He holds his palm out. You’re dumbstruck for a second before he tsks and says, “phone.”

Days after, you find a curious box in your kit. Quietly tucked between your brushes.

It says: Tae Pyeong Hwan and when you input it on Naver, it’s apparently a viral anti-anxiety drink.

There wasn’t any note. No name. But you know it’s him. And you don’t know what to feel.

You take a sachet and gulp. Willing it to work before you see him again and your heart does that flip flop thing it keeps doing when he’s around.

The first time you entertain the idea that Yoongi might be interested in you, you actually laughed. It’s not even because he’s an idol, or a billionaire, or a god among men. 

You know you’re a solid 8, maybe even an 8.5 on a good hair day. You’re established enough to have your own house and car. You’ve got enough industry connections and some seed money if you decide to start your own thing. You got it goin’ awn, okay?

You’re a catch for any man, BTS member or not.

But a younger man? Really, Y/N?!

It’s not like you're breaking the law. He’s literally 32. He’s grown. (And shit, you know he’s grown after being in a backstage quick-change with him.)

Unfortunately, try as you might, the attraction has already rooted itself in your brain. 

Are you going to do anything about it? Jury’s still out. HYBE contracts have made it clear that there’ll be no inter-office dating, but does anybody really follow that shit?

Jeon Jungkook’s apartment is ridiculously nice. Like stylish-in-a-way-that-costs-a-fuckton-of-money nice. You barely have one shoe off when he’s already tugging you in with a giant bunny grin, sliding along his hardwood floors with his silly toe-socks.

“Place looks great,” you say.

“You should see the noraebang room.”

“The what now?”

There’s a woman sitting on the couch, sipping wine with her feet tucked under her. She looks up with a soft smile, and Jungkook lights up all over again.

He gestures proudly. “This is Haeun, my girlfriend.”

“Hello, unnie.” She stands to greet you, and you immediately like her. She’s model-pretty, but not in an intimidating way. Choreographer, he tells you, for a rookie girl group. You’ve never seen her around the office, then again it’s a huge building. Interesting, a case of inter-office dating under Bang Si-Hyuk’s nose.

You’re halfway through complimenting her earrings when the door bell sounds.

Yoongi walks in and you swear the temperature in the room changes.

He’s wearing a soft cashmere cardigan in a warm, oat beige. It’s a deeper neckline than what you’ve seen him wear before and, uh, it’s gotten really warm right now.

You feel blood rushing on your cheeks as you take the expanse of creamy skin on his chest. The rest of the look: Brown slacks, clean sneakers, hair barely styled but he looks stupidly good anyway. His lips, a soft sheen to it, looks like a freshly swiped balm.

You know Jungkook prepped food but this is the kind of full-course meal you like… 

Yoongi pushes his shoes to the side, handing the host a bottle of wine. “Sorry, traffic.”

Jungkook claps him on the back. “Nah you’re good, hyung. You made it just in time. Noona’s here.” 

Yoongi stumbles forward with a tight-lipped grin to Jungkook’s shit-eating one. Did Jungkook just push Yoongi towards you? 

“Heeyyy,” you nod, smiling tightly.

Yoongi scratches the back of his neck, sits across you. “What time did you get here?”

“A few minutes ago.”

You glance to your side, and Haeun has vanished. You clear your throat, feeling 50 shades of awkward now that the object of your newest crush has arrived. You feel yourself blush as Yoongi unwittingly manspreads in front of you.

As you calculate ways you can potentially survive this night, Jungkook thankfully hollers from the other room, inviting the guests to settle in.

You sit at the dining table, Haeun beside Jungkook, Yoongi beside you. And it feels… a little like a double date. Is it? You don’t know. And you’re too afraid to ask. 

Yoongi pours you a glass of wine. 

The one he brought. 

The one you had mentioned once was your favorite.

Jungkook, dramatic as always, starts announcing each course like he’s hosting a cooking show.

Course one is an apple and walnut salad with this spicy-sweet sesame dressing. You take a bite and your eyes widen. “Okay, wait. This is actually good.”

Jungkook looks offended. “Rude?”

Course two is a creamy chestnut soup with bits of crispy pancetta. Haeun says she helped him chop things. You raise your glass to her.

Course three is grilled scallops with a yuzu butter glaze. Jungkook explains how long it took to get the sear right. You make appreciative noises, cos wow this shit’s actually fire. Yoongi hums in agreement.

When Jungkook and Haeun head to the kitchen to bring out the next course, Yoongi quietly plops another scallop on your plate.

You blink. “What are you doing?”

He starts drizzling it with sauce like a damn chef. 

“Serving you,” he says simply. “You seemed to like this one.”

“I did,” you say. “Shouldn’t I be doing that, though? I’m older.”

He looks at you then. Direct, but soft. Like he’s not even sure why you’re bringing up age right now, because it doesn’t matter. “I’m being a gentleman. Let me.”

You don’t know what to do with that. Where to look. How to sit still. All you can think is yeah, you’ll let him do anything to you at this point. And you’ll always say,

“Thank you.”

Course four is bulgogi tenderloin with a sweet garlicky glaze. Jungkook says the marinade was 30 hours minimum. Haeun nods like she’s heard that fact 20 times minimum. Okay, you kinda believe him because it was delectable.

Course five is a tangerine panna cotta. It wobbles beautifully. You groan after the first spoonful, and Yoongi actually reaches forward to pat his younger brother on the shoulder. It is that good.

“Okay. Fine,” you say, leaning back. “This wins.”

Jungkook beams. “Better than Mingyu?”

“Fuck Mingyu,” you lift your glass.  

“YES!!! Hear that, babe?” Jungkook yells in victory and actually picks Haeun up bridal style and spins her in a circle around the living room. She shrieks, laughing the whole time. 

You and Yoongi watch from the table, slightly tipsy and amused.

“They’re cute,” you murmur.

Yoongi smiles, eyes on them. “Yeah.”

“Seems that no one really follows that no dating rule in HYBE, no?”

“I do,” Yoongi notes with a shrug, and the high from the scrumptious dinner unceremoniously crashes. You’re suddenly uneasy, acidic.

“Ah,” you nod, picking up your wine glass and downing the last of it in one big gulp to push the lump in your throat. 

Play it cool. You’re a grown ass woman. Shit.

You excuse yourself, powder your nose, apply your jelly tint, and simultaneously, well, spiral. 

So Min Yoongi doesn’t shit where he eats. Okay. He apparently follows rules? Huh… Make it make sense, though? 

Why should you be so disappointed? Plenty of fish in the sea. Except when you’re pushing forty and you’re too damn tired to cast a net out.

You get back in the living room and have another round of drinks, except Yoongi who says he is driving. 

You guess it’s time to head home when you see Haeun stifle a yawn, but Jungkook convinces you to stay for a bit more, just enough for him to video call Mingyu and gloat. Between the boyish bickering and another glass of wine, you’re thankfully feeling a little floatier again.

Later, when you’re putting your shoes back on in the entryway, you glance over at Yoongi. He’s scrolling on his phone, one hand in his pocket.

Your phone pings. Kakao T. Your ride’s on the way.

“Thank you again for dinner,” you say to Jungkook. 

He nods, placing an arm around Haeun. “Anytime, noona.”

Yoongi looks up. “You booked a ride?”

“Yeah. Should be here soon.”

He slips his phone into his jacket.

“Cancel it. I’ll drive you home.”

You blink. “What?”

“It’s late. Let me take you,” he says, tone slightly commanding.

You want to say ‘yes, sir’ out loud. But you keep it together. Barely. And then of course, you cancel the ride.

Yoongi leads you to the parking garage. At some point you think you feel his hand ghosting your lower back.

The drive is quiet. He picks a playlist you both have listened to before. It’s a vibe. Music playing low. City lights reflecting off the dashboard. Yoongi’s hand rests on the wheel, rings catching in the glow. 

He smells good. The veins in his hands are flexing.

You try not to stare. Or breathe weird. 

When he pulls up to your place, he shifts into park but doesn’t unbuckle yet. You unclick your seatbelt slowly.

“You looked beautiful tonight.”

Your breath catches. Full stop.

You turn to say something—thank you, or you too, or kiss me now—but words get stuck in your throat He just smiles softly.

“Good night,” he says.

“Good night,” you parrot before you step out.

The air hits you different. Your hands feel weird. You feel like a teenager after a first date she’s not sure was a date, but definitely made her feel some type of way.

That night, when you dream, it’s his eyes. And when you wake up? You’re not sure if you want to see him again or never see him again just to keep the dream intact.

The studio is chaos in the best way. BooSeokSoon are doing what they do best: being loud, dramatic, and infectious.

You’re standing off to the side watching Yoongi line up with them, the camera propped up and ready, his face unreadable as always, but there’s a looseness to his shoulders that tells you he’s in the mood to play. (And that he took a shot of something before he went in.)

You pull a balm from your pouch and swipe it gently onto his lips before he steps into frame.

“Cherry again?” he asks.

You nod. “Your fanbase will thank me.”

He smirks. “Noted.”

And then they start.

BSS hits every beat like their entire career depends on this one Tiktok challenge. And Yoongi? He’s keeping up. Relaxed, slightly silly, effortlessly cute.

You still don’t get Tiktok honestly.

When the music cuts, you clap before you even realize it.

They check playback, talking over each other. You wipe the sweat that has formed in Yoongi’s temple with a dab of tissue. But, as everyone focuses on the phone, Yoongi looks over at you.

“Which take was better?”

Caught off guard, you stammer, “the uh-i think the second.”

He hums, then he tells the girl he likes the second clip. BSS agrees.

You look at the boys as they chorus agreement, but when you glance back at Yoongi, he nods once, slow and soft. That grin of his (the real one, not the camera one) edges onto his face. It says, Go ahead. I know you miss them.

And you do. 

Before you know it, Seungkwan is already crashing into your side.

“Noonaaaa,” he sings, throwing his arm around you. “Still pretty..”

Seokmin grins, pulling you into a side-hug. “We were just talking about you yesterday.”

“Don’t do it again. I had an awful coughing fit yesterday. Should have known it was you morons.”

“You’re still superstitious.” Soonyoung shakes his head.

The exchange is quick, familiar, a little chaotic. Just like always. But it feels good, like slipping into a jacket you forgot used to fit perfectly. A few more jokes, a photo, and they’re off. There’s someone yelling about dinner, someone else remembering they have a shoot in twenty minutes. 

The social media crew also left, as well as the hair stylist who has another thing in ten. You stay behind, gathering your things. 

Yoongi’s still here, too. He’s at the far end, wiping sweat from the back of his neck with a towel. He grabs his water bottle, takes a long drink, then walks to the wall. You follow suit since everybody has filed out.

Click. He cut the lights.

The room drops into soft shadows, lit only by a few glow strips along the floor.

He’s by the door, tilts his head as he waits for you.

You stop just in front of him. 

“Didn’t say goodbye to your boys,” he says with a slight tease at the end.

You shrug, “They know I’ll see them again.”

He hums. “You look happy.”

“I am.”

You think that’s the end of it. Because why would you be having a whole conversation with the lights out?

He shifts his weight forward, closing the distance between you by a step. Close enough that you can see the sheen of sweat drying along his temple. Close enough to feel the warmth radiating off his skin. Close enough that if you breathed just a little deeper, you'd catch his scent.

Then he leans in. And before you know it, you taste the cherry balm you swiped on his lips minutes before.

The kiss is so soft, so sweet. Just as quickly as it started though, he pulls away. You feel his breathy sigh caress your cheek as he whispers your name and mumbles, “Let’s go out.” 

But before you can form any response, he opens the door.

And, in fact, goes out.

WHAT THE FUCK JUST HAPPENED?

Part Two >

A/N: Scream with meeeee! Idk. Isn’t it yoongi core to kiss, confess and yeet? I recently saw a video of when he met an american artist, he shook his hand, said i like you then looked awkwardly away. LMAO. 

Hope you had fun reading part 1! I’d appreciate feedback, like tell me any favorite scenes or what you wanna see more of.

Leave a note if you wanna be tagged on the next part :)

As always, thanks for reading you lovely, beautiful human xo

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Divider by: @/cafekitsune

[sglossmin]

Yoongi Fics Rec List!!!

fav yoongi fics!!! most of these are oneshots>< Big love and praise to the authors who made these amazing storiesss!!! Most of these are 18+ so... be mindful when reading!!

Your Universe by @muniimyg (series)

MASTERPIECE<33 also my first ever read here on tumblr

Second Love by @cutaepatootie (3parts)

100%<3

Pour Some Sugar On Me by @yoonia

HOOOTTTTT and also messy lol

Act On It by @joonie-beanie

Vampire Yoongi on topppp

Hug-O-Gram by @cinnaminsvga

FLUFFFFF Yoongi is soooo cute helppp

Rings That Binds Us Together by @joyfulhopelox

it's been long since I've read this

Back-burner by @yoonpobs (series)

YESSSS

Private Lesson by @dntaewithluv

erm...

Vows by @hamsterclaw (2parts w/drabble!!)

PURE COMEDY BYEE-

Friend & Fools by @ktownshizzle

idiots

Till The End of The Line by @kimvvantae

got me BAWLING MY EYES OUT

Yoongi's lullaby by @jiminrings

he's an idiot

Love Grows Where You Go by @hueseok

cute heheh

Friendship Over by @borathae

hot hot HOOOTTT

Cherries by @redrose10 (2parts)

:<<<<<<

A Tiger's Judgement by @borathae

praise praise!! The author slayed once again

Ex-things by @namfinessed

idiots....

His entire world by @serendipitous-seven

softtt:<<<<<<<<

Dating Advice by @taleasnewastime (series)

the BESSSTT got me giggling and shii

Love & Lullabies by @ktownshizzle (series)

UGHHHH CUTE DILF YOONGGIIII

Eternal Sunshine by @ilys00ga

<3333

Lunch Break by @borathae

ahem...

Muse by meeeeee (available on wattpad too, click here)

uh...gonna promote mine ofc!!

[kithtaehyung]

minted (explicit) | myg

title: minted (explicit) pairing: street king!yoongi x street cart vendor!reader rating/genre: explicit (18+) ; angst , suspense , smut ; haegeum au , gang au summary: all you do is wake up, sell your fruit on the dusty streets below your flat, and go to sleep. but everything changes when a customer you always look forward to seeing turns out to be dangerous. really, really dangerous. note: again, this wasn't on the docket for 2024 until i saw one (1) mint yoongi edit on my pinterest feed💀 anyways, this is dedicated to hali @sailoryooons for ur belated bday, nary @joonary for being a cutie pie and letting me adopt the tangerine cart girl idea in general, and luce @minttangerines for ur url and for being a wonderful friend. love you all! warnings: this series may not be for everyone, language, violence, weapons (guns/knives/chopsticks/etc.), blood/wounds mentions, drugs, alcohol, murder, gang activity, poor reader is just trying to get through the day, mint!yoongi, haegeum!yoongi, tatted!yoongi, his eyebrow is pierced, tension, slow burn, choking, reader suffers from “my cabbages” levels of disaster, slight e2l, fight sequences, multiple future explicit scenes, yoongi deserves his own warning, chains but who is ever ever shocked, graphic depictions of violence drop date: august 5th, 2024, 9:03pm est word count: 9.4k aiyaaa✌ mood playlist: here

—

—

Ever since you could remember, gang activity in your town has run unchecked. 

Anything goes. Rough fights out of nowhere, car chases busting streets, or even random delinquents snatching food on the run, dust kicking up onto stock they left behind. 

And out of all the districts, yours is begrudgingly the second worst. 

Why? You still aren’t completely sure. But you do know that the darkest is reserved for the underbelly that only slithers in rumors. A place in which you will never find yourself. 

But you do wonder what must happen there to warrant the winning title because each day here is a battle to keep yourself afloat. 

All you do is sell fruit. Why are you fighting for your life every week? Why can’t you exchange goods for money in peace? If you could compare it to the movies you grew up watching on an outdated television, it’s a grungy reflection of the wild west.

But through all the shit you’ve chosen to endure, at least one person is always kind enough to buy his wares and go.

And today is no different.

You still don’t know his name. But you yearn to. Because his hair is the color of magic and rebellion, and his tattoos really set off that bright mop of locks. 

If those lethal, piercing eyes weren’t enough.

When he lifts three long digits, it takes all your strength to nod and get his purchase together. This is the part that never changes, either.

Just like always. One, three, or five fingers for tangerines. Never two, never four, and never any other fruits. 

It’s charming, in a way. As if he’s more particular than most about what he wants—a trait elusive to many.

Like clockwork, you would hand his order over in thin plastic, and he would walk away to hitch a ride on a passing cart. Just like he does right now with a lazy gait, white tee billowing from his jeans. 

Another day. Another exchange.

In the wavy heat of summer, you sigh. Wondering if anything is ever going to change, and if you would ever get to know more about your most frequent, most mysterious patron.

After a while, you do try talking to him. 

Those looks of confusion slowly turn into little hums or grunts, then into single words that keep you going for days. Even though you rarely hear it, his voice is just as attractive as he is. 

One day, you offer him a plantain, handing it over and telling him it’s on the house. 

“Thanks,” he says amongst the clinks and conversations of the street, pocketing the food away. 

When he does, you see a flash of black metal, and you already know what he’s carrying. You’re used to seeing all sorts of those around nowadays. In this district, you’d be shocked if he didn’t have an arsenal on his person while traveling through.

Besides. Even you have a couple collecting dust in your own flat, handed down by extended family but never used.

“If you ever need anything other than tangerines,” you start with a point to his pants, “Please buy those instead.” 

He’s unmoving. Blinks are all you get so you have no choice but to explain,

“I’m so tired of eating them with everything.” 

When he huffs in amusement, your heart flutters thrice. There’s no reason for a sheen of sweat and sticky mint locks to be so deadly. 

“Then eat something else,” is all the stranger advises before walking off. 

Well.

Even though you don’t have much of a choice, the guy does have a point. You wouldn’t be shocked in the slightest if his aim’s just as straightforward as his wit.

Once one exchange lasts longer than a sentence, the two of you start little conversations during his visits. Which prove more fatal than normal since he’d rest his tattoos on the top shelf of your cart. 

From what you can make out, there are creatures stretching in beautiful teal and vivid orange, and even striking white on his other arm. They ripple so well with his veins, a canvas that sways and hypnotizes with every drum of his fingers. 

You know what they symbolize, though it’s unique to have all of them together. 

Taboo, even. 

But you can’t hold back your admiration because of the sheer beauty. What would they feel like if you just… 

“You always stare this long?”

Shit. “Oh, sorry. I just… I rarely see anyone’s ink up close.”

To your dismay, he takes his arm back. “I don’t have a lot of time today, princess.”

“Right, sorry. Hold on,” you respond, cringing hard at blurting two apologies in a ten second span. 

Meanwhile, your way too handsome regular cocks a brow, clearly comfortable making you squirm as you hand over his bag. 

Effortless. In your chaotic life, It’s almost intoxicating feeling someone this resolute in their whole demeanor. If only you could be so commanding and assured one day. 

But here you stand instead, pretending to count fruit you one hundred percent know the stock of already. “Your art is really nice, by the way,” you admit to your inventory. “All the high-powers. I like what you picked.”

“Didn’t choose these.”

Ah. Way to assume things. 

Raising your head, you make to apologize a third time.

But he’s already retreating with his tangerines, hand stuffed in a pocket and beautiful waves a little less vibrant than you recall. 

“What.” 

“I worry sometimes.” 

His gaze lifts. “About me?” 

“Yeah.” 

You don’t know why you choose to say that of all things. But it’s honest. You always wonder about him and think about the weapon in his jeans. Does he use it? Does he ever need to? 

Maybe you should pick up a hobby or two.

Fingers resting dangerously close, he asks with a tilt of his head, “What would you do, doll? If something happened to someone like me.” 

Someone like him? What does that mean? 

Great. Now you have even more to wonder about, as if he knew that was your exact predicament.

You stare, roaming along his arms before meeting his eyes—almost. “Find someone else to buy my tangerines.” 

Huffing, his brows tick up with his mouth. “I respect that.” His attention doesn’t leave your face as he slowly takes his purchase. “See ya.” 

“Bye,” you whisper back, watching him go. More thoughts and concerns bouncing around your mind in the sticky heat of midday. 

These little nicknames he’s using also aren’t helping your issue in the slightest. 

It starts when you hear shouting from a block down.

“Here they come!”

“Bunch of idiots this time.”

“What do you mean this time?”

Rough raiders this early? They should know it’s almost time for Dragon’s sweep. Bold.

After you hear the telltale yells, clanks, and bangs, your section of the street braces for impact. 

And it swoops in like a whirlwind, ruffians tearing through, pillaging and stealing and swiping goods into thick woven baskets. 

Baskets? The usual suspects always carry leather bags. You assume because of their sturdiness and inconspicuous nature, but what do you really know.

Here it goes again. 

As your fruit is taken right from your cart, you sink to your toes, mourning the regular loss of your menu.

No use fighting. Like every other time, you all let it happen because there’s no point in trying to protect anything that isn’t valuable. Perishables and small homemade goods aren’t worth getting gutted over. Truly, the worst losses you suffer are when—

Your cart shifts violently before thieves topple it over, cracking one of your wheels and splitting the wooden boards in three places.

Springing to your feet, you douse the perpetrators in anger, “What the hell!”

“Oh, this was yours?” Someone chides while his cronies run past. “Thanks for the oranges, love!”

“They’re tangerines!” you correct at his retreating back, kicking your cart before yelping at your bad decision. “Damn it…”

Back to your knees you go. Head drooping, arms encircling, and disappointment pooling around like a shadow.

More shouts and feet in the road rampage through. Then it gets quieter. And quieter. 

Then it’s done.

After silence swells in the wake of chaos, groans start making their way down the street. 

“What’d they get from you this time,” you ask your neighbor, a charming old man selling anything from bowls to wide, round frying pans. 

Looking over his little wreckage, he blinks hard. “They got my woks. Nothing as bad as yours. You okay?” 

Walking over to help clean his mess up first, you bend down with a sigh, “I’ll be alright. But it still sucks.. My poor tangerines..” 

“I’m sorry.” 

“Not much to do about it now,” you resign, all your energy taken from you, too. 

A little bit of time passes as you complete your usual round of help, though this raid was worse than others. As they all give their thanks, you keep thinking about how to make the whole situation better. Moreso for them than you because you’ve always been one of the least vulnerable ones on the block.

“You should find another place to sell, dear.” 

In disagreement, you slip into a saddened smile. “I can’t leave you guys,” you explain to the lady you’re holding pails for. “Who will help clean everything up?” 

“Don’t underestimate your elders now.” 

“Fair,” you respond through a chuckle, handing her one of the metal buckets. “If only better protection was an option around here.”

“You know the rules,” another shop owner drones through lingering spices, “Dragon won’t protect us if it isn’t in their own interests.” 

Unfortunately, he’s right. Every single raid that hasn’t coincided with a gang sweep goes overlooked. Even the city police don't bother coming down your street anymore, which is another issue in itself.

If only Tiger or Crane had been the high-powers in place instead. 

At least they seem to be more fair.

After you finish helping, you finally venture back to your own cart, realizing that the trek is a lot further than you thought. 

Did you really walk so far this time? The damage was dealt for much more than a block at this point. 

Not like you need to sprint back, though. What’s left to steal? Everything you got swept into those woven containers.

Still so odd…

But not as odd as the sight that greets you on your return. 

Because instead of seeing your wreckage of a cart tilted and abysmal, it’s upright and being mended.

By none other than your favorite set of hands.  

What the hell? What’s he doing here? You quite literally have nothing to give so there’s no reason for him to spare a second at your broken stand. 

Fast-walking, you hastily try to halt his help, “Oh, shit, you don’t have to—” 

“Course I don’t.” 

That shuts you up. In your split second of silence, you note with agony that his hair is messily tied in a minted bun. Are his sleeves bunched at his biceps, too? Great. What were you even telling him again? 

Ah, yes. You were telling this mystery of a man that he doesn’t have to literally put your stand back together. “Seriously, I got it.” 

“Don’t sweat it.” 

“But it’s my cart, I don’t need your—”

With one look over his shoulder, your mouth snaps shut. And suddenly can’t move to argue again. 

What the hell is up with today? 

Forget all that. What’s he doing? At least you’re familiar with all the shop owners and vendors on your block, though you can’t say you wouldn’t do the same thing for someone you don’t know. But this guy has always been so standoffish and barely approachable. So how is he lending both hands to help you right now? 

Whatever. If he’s gonna be as stubborn as this heat, you can be, too. 

Scanning the area for scattered tools, you find a sun-warmed hammer and get to work, fixing one end of the cart while he works on the other. When you feel his gaze on your working shoulder, it takes massive strength to ignore him—even if you wanna know what his issue is and why he smells really, really good this afternoon.

Looks like you need more nails for this board to fit. When your eyes find a couple on the ground, you clinch a second piece between your teeth while hammering in the first. 

Sounds stop at your side, but you wait until you pluck the metal nail from your mouth and stamp it in to look over.

Oh. He’s eyeing the hammer. Not you. Obviously. 

You wordlessly hand it over, arm slicked with exertion. Because after the day you’ve had, you don’t feel like everything needs a spoken sentence attached. 

It takes the guy a bit to take it from you, but when he does, he holds your stare. “Thanks.” 

You simply nod, eyes sticking to him as he works on the tattier side wait it looks almost new. Better than it has in a very long time. Did he really get that much done in the time you were gone? There’s been great care taken during his repair if that’s the case.  

Hmm. You finally learn something about your favorite customer. Maybe he’s just been a mechanic or carpenter this whole time? 

Contemplative, you get up on sore legs to walk to your cooler—something thankfully missed by the rough raiders. Digging through the clinkage, you retrieve a local beer you recently procured from the restaurant across the street. 

It’s not much. Absolute bottom shelf. But it’s all you got other than a few pieces of oni-coin, so he’s gonna have to deal with it.

When you offer the glass, your regular eyes it for a moment. More than enough time for you to get a good look at his striking floral top.

Well. Mechanic and carpenter are out of the question because that one piece of clothing looks more expensive than your entire apartment building.

Who even is this guy? Now you feel destitute handing him something so cheap.

Just when you think he’s gonna refuse, he takes the beer and smoothly shucks it open, suddenly making you wonder how a bracelet can do that and why it was so attractive.

God. You need to walk straight to the nearest inlet stream and dunk your head right in.

“Thank you,” you whisper, gulping at his full swigs. “You really didn’t have to do all this.” 

“Got some time to kill,” he shrugs. Standing, the man takes another sip, peering along the street with sunlit eyes. With the bottle near his mouth, he murmurs, “You really need to set up somewhere else, doll. This street’s turning into a hot spot.” 

Squinting up at the long lines of clothes and curtains floating in the breeze, you sigh at the building nearest. “I live close,” you sulk. “And this is the easiest place to get to.” 

Those are excuses. Just tell him the real reason you won’t venture out and plop yourself somewhere more profitable. Well, maybe not all of the reasons, but the main one. 

Leaning back on your cart, you stare at the loose dirt, swiping some with your shoes. “Maybe I’m just used to it at this point.” 

He won’t respond. Or he’ll respond in his own way, which is mostly silence. 

But a bright strand falls over his face before he hums, “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” 

Many people have warned you at this point. It’s basically your stubborn and spiteful nature that’s making you stay in the first place. Why would you move when you chose to be here? Why leave a place you actively choose to call home? 

Fighting spirit quelled, you nod right to your stand as you count what’s salvageable. “I know, but I like it here.” When he lifts an unbelieving brow, you look away. “It’s true. But trust me, if there was a way to just make it all stop, I’d take it.” 

He takes another swig, both of you looking into the street and watching things slowly get back to normal pace. Adults and kids alike are back to wandering around, buying what’s left and offering condolences. 

“I’m not fixing another cart,” your patron turned repairman grunts, motioning to your wheel as he steps back. “So don’t fuck this one up.” 

Huh? It wasn’t your fault! All the accidents and chaos that blow through aren’t something you can control oh he’s grinning. Why is he grinning? Why do you feel hot all over? 

His teeth shine in daylight. “I’m messing with you.” 

Ah. 

This version of him is not good for you at all.

When he starts to walk away, you blurt out a quick, “Wait!” 

Shit! Why did you do that? What are you possibly supposed to say right now? All you wanted was to see him a little longer… And while staring at his backside would be more than enough, you kinda wanted to actually talk. 

What do you do? He stopped; he’s waiting. 

And he looks impatient as hell. 

Snapping into action, you round your cart and trot over, offering your name as if you didn’t just give up where you lived. 

Then—without thinking—you ask for his with the most curious, innocent, “What’s yours?” 

Silence has never been so booming.

In the dusty swirls of your street, you wait with a back that’s getting sweatier and colder with each passing second. 

Was that not okay to ask? Did you fuck up with a single question? 

Perfect. You just blew your one good thing about being out here. Wincing, you crush your words so hard you think your teeth will break into dust, drifting off into the very breeze wafting his striking locks. 

After a condescending puff, he only smirks.

Then he takes one step. And another. And another.

The air around you melts, weighing on your shoulders while lighting them aflame all at once. It’s a feeling you can’t describe to anyone else, because they would just need to stand next to this man to believe it. 

Checking to see if the street is clear, your best customer leans over. Slowly. Purposefully. “Yoongi,” he offers with a voice so handsome you’ll think about it for days. “But don’t fucking tell anyone.” 

Oh. 

Why did… you kinda like that? 

Blinking, you swallow. “I won’t.” 

This is when he’s supposed to just leave. He’d walk away, bag swinging with his strides. But ever keeping you on your sore toes, the man just chuckles low before rasping out the most devilish sentence in existence, 

“Always took you for a good girl.”

Then he backs away, turning on his heel and leaving you a statue in the street.

Yoongi. 

For a hardened soul, his name is so… 

Tender. 

For the next sixty days, you don’t get ransacked once. 

But there’s also been no sight of Yoongi. 

As the weeks trudge by, you can’t decide which outcome is worse.

The skies are magnificent today. But obviously at a molten price.

“Thank you for trying,” you say to a lovely wares owner before venturing back out into simmering streets. Exhaling, you wipe sweat from your brow, squinting before choosing to walk left or right. 

Left seems promising. 

You’ve been searching for hours now, perusing through shops, checking out vendors both nice and catty. But after a whole day’s search, you still haven’t found what you’re looking for. 

It’s nothing urgent or pressing. But you would at least like to be prepared. 

Since your initial mission is a bust, hopefully your next one makes up for it before you melt right into gravel and dirt.

Find a meal.

Walking along the busy roads, you pass a few options and keep them in mind, making sure to greet a fellow tangerine cart vendor with a smile. Hopefully they do well today.

A couple steps further, a giant cooler catches your eye. Seafood of all types lie inside along cubes of ice, and you weigh the pros and cons of smelling like fish just to have a cool head.

But before you can make any choices, the smell of spices and hearty soup softly pull your feet inside the restaurant nearby. 

What’s here? Noodles? You’re always down for that. Apparently even in scorching weather.

After ordering, you take your seat at a random middle table in a chair facing the entrance. 

Always facing the entrance.

Damn. You really need to accomplish what you set out to do. But sunset is fast approaching these days, and you aren’t anywhere close to home. All you have time for now is eating and heading out. 

The service here is quick, at least. You’re already thanking the owner for sliding a bowl in front of your sweaty form. 

With a head full of thoughts, you stare into nothing, stirring your noodles and waiting for the heat to die down. 

Maybe you should’ve just walked a shorter distance and checked the shops you originally wanted to browse. If things went to plan, you could’ve been back by now, freshly showered and curling up on a worn down bed. 

But instead, your feet are sore, your head is anything but washed, and you have to trek home empty-handed—on the first day off you’ve had in months. 

Defeated, you sigh, going back to your bowl and watching sliced vegetables swirl in aromatic broth. 

At least the food in this area seems good. And the fading decor really adds to the… 

Ambiance. 

Wait. 

Dragons. A lot of them. 

You can’t pull your eyes away from the crew walking in, bringing heat from the sweltering sun in their eyes and donning their telltale, striking teal. 

But you can only kid yourself for so long because the one that truly has your gaze tethered is the man in front. The one you haven’t seen in weeks. The one looking right back at you with a visage so shadowed you feel like moving tables to let him pass. 

…Yoongi? 

His jacket. The colors.

He’s in Dragon?

Suddenly his hair makes terrifying sense.

As his guys stalk through, you swallow hard, not expecting to see him and having no earthly idea what to do with this harrowing information. There are so many thoughts overlapping each other that they all amalgamate into one huge batch of sludge. 

Aren’t you smack dab in Crane territory? There’ve been white suits peppering the streets everywhere. 

So what the hell is Dragon doing here?

From the slight confusion pinching his forehead, you know Yoongi didn’t expect to see you, either. Which makes it even weirder when he slowly takes your chopsticks right from your fingers. 

Hold on, what—

“What are you—”

A lone, long digit over lips is the only response you get, silencing you immediately before you whip your head around to watch him rush past. 

All of them waste no time tearing up the stairs, a myriad of blues blending with gritty paint and smoke. 

And just like that, your reunion is over. 

Home. You need to go home. Leave, leave, leave, because something is bound to be going down upstai—

A thud faintly shoots out into the staircase, and you spin around again in your chair, eyes snapping to the ceiling. 

Shit. 

Even though you’re on high alert, you realize with a quick sweep that no one else is noticing. Or moving. Or even paying attention to anything else but their own company. 

Does no one else care about the commotion? Do hits happen in this area that often? 

Mind running, you can’t decide what to do. Because even though Yoongi’s guys have plenty of weapons, he clearly had nothing since he needed to borrow your damn eating utensils.

Another crash rains dust on conversations around your shoulders, causing you to look up one last time. 

Go home, go home, go home. In what universe would Yoongi himself ever need your help here? 

With one more look at your noodles, you curl your lips before biting a side. 

Already yelling at yourself for choosing to book it towards the back staircase. 

Shit shit shit this is so stupid. This is probably the worst decision you’re gonna make in your life.

But your gut is churning thinking about Yoongi. Even a seasoned swordsman needs expertise to wield mere chopsticks and win. 

Fuck, if you succeeded in your search today, you probably could’ve been a little more useful. 

Swiping your own set of red from a nearby cup, you hightail it up, slowing as you round a corner and immediately hear multiple clangs and scuffles beyond the last turn.

Stop. You can go back. You can still turn around and go home.

An inhale.

Your feet propel you up and into a dark hall. As you slowly slide along the wall, your gut churns and churns. At a bang, you crouch with a skipped beat of your heart.

This is really, really dumb. But you can’t stop yourself and you have no clue why.

Nothing happens around you. So you keep going. With each careful slide of your foot, you get closer and closer to the noise.

Approaching the corner, you very slowly stick your head out for a peek.

And it’s pure commotion. Pure chaos. Holy shit, what is going on? 

Fuck, there’s already a body lying limp on the floor meters away—

Your chopsticks. You wanna hurl.

But a man flies out of a room ahead before he grips and wrestles with another, and you reel yourself back to avoid being seen by either one.

Where is Yoongi? Is he okay? Did he leave already?

You give one more peek, scanning the long raucous corridor as swift as you can to see any sign of.. Mint.

He’s still here. How’s he just walking so nonchalant as his crew fucks shit up? Crap, he just went into a room and out of sight. 

“Where’d they go?”

“Upstairs!”

Fuck, that was in the restaurant! Get up get up you have no choice but to hide now. 

With pounding steps, you rush forward and book it, entering a large room to dive behind some steel shelving and large, woven baskets right as more Dragons come in behind with fists clenched.

Breathe. Steady. Calm the fuck down.

The grunts rush to the hallway to join the fray, and you wait in the now pungent solitude of your room. With only a still body to accompany you. 

What do you do? What even can you do? 

Just as nerves grip your stomach like a vice, Yoongi strides into the open area, heading right for the exit and not even sparing his kill a glance. 

Go. Go now. Why can’t you move? Why aren’t your hands letting go of your cold confinement? It smells like death and blood and you need to leave with the only person you know—or don’t—so why can’t your feet just fucking—

Someone else slithers into the room. A man in brown with a knife. A knife, a knife, a knife he’s getting faster and Yoongi doesn’t hear him the guy is too quiet fuck! “Yoongi!” 

It all happens before your brain can paint the bloody picture. Shooting out from your hiding spot, you race towards the assassin, slamming into their lanky build just in time.  

Both of you topple to the ground, your target roaring in pain and twisting like hell to fight back fuck you didn’t get him how you needed to he’s got you—

Pain erupts in your hip as you’re grabbed, the room spinning as you’re thrown to the side and your ear hitting concrete right before chopsticks ping down. Thinking quick, you knee the guy as hard as you can, scrambling to finish the job because if you don’t, you’re gone gone gone.

“Bitch!” Your opponent clutches your shirt right as you reach for the nearest red pair, seizing your throat right as you grip and swing them around to stab the other side of his neck with a yell.

Luckiest timing of your life. 

“Hng!” Fuck, he’s still holding down hard and choking, choking, squeezing. “Fuck you!” 

Fight back. Keep the weapon inside he’s too strong finish him finish him. 

Darkness. Ink drops in water. Your vision taints as your grip loosens, and you can only hope that Yoongi got away safe. He had to. At least you… Were able to do… 

This one thing… 

…

Oxygen and life rush back into your lungs, color burning through your esophagus as you gasp for sweet sweet air. Right as you come to, all you witness is the heavy heel of a boot twisting the forearm latched onto you. 

And when the shoe leaves your vision. Lifeless eyes stare back.

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck that was close. Oh god. You actually did it. Oh fuck. 

Coughing, you rush up as you get tugged and pulled right against chains and embroidery, your ears ringing with a gravelly command and glass breaking in the nearby corridor,

“Don’t say my fuckin’ name so loud.” 

“Excuse me?” 

Yoongi roughly lets you go before pinning you with pure anger. Not to say thank you. Not to tell you any words of gratitude at all. The only other thing he finds the need to say is simply, 

“You shouldn’t be up here.” 

What the fuck. You just murdered someone for him and this is all you get? Eyes welling, you feel your body slick and sticky with crimson when you turn, coughing and spitting out regret before you wheeze, wheeze, wheeze, “That’s—that’s all you have to say?” 

Dread swirls around your stomach like poison.

But the sternness from before completely vanishes as Yoongi lifts your chin. His eyes scan your throat and chest, and you rip your head away from his touch because he is not excused just yet. 

“It’s not mine,” you snap, knowing exactly what he’s looking for and what you must look like to him. Dirty. Gross. Certainly a far image from the girl selling tangerines.

But your face is gently held again, and somehow this softer turn carries more strength to swivel you forward. 

Why is Yoongi still looking? Now he’s holding your gaze as if he’s never seen you before. What’s that about? You’re still the same, the same, the same.

…Are you?

More crashes and shots are heard down the hall, and Yoongi snaps his head up in an instant. 

God, you smell. You reek. Your nose is tainted and your hands even more so. There’s no way he’s gonna have anything to do with you now. 

But you get the shock of the century when the man commands you to come along. “Let’s go.” 

Absolutely not. This is all you got in you for a lifetime. “What? No, no, no. No way, I’m going home.”

“And they’ll follow you the whole way back.” 

“I—I didn’t mean to—” 

Shots ring out before grunts barrel out into the short hallway. All of them piling out from crevasses and hidden passages. 

You give one more look at the two men now crumpled on the ground, bile rising up and threatening to spill. 

“Tough shit, princess. You did, now live with it.” 

Live with it. How poetic. 

You were protecting him. You did what you had to do. But you have blood on your hands again and now Yoongi will see you as something else besides a fucking street vendor. 

“Are you coming or not?”

You’re gonna puke your guts out.

With a stilted cry, you bend to snatch your weapons up yet again—gagging at the squelches and much deeper red—before following Yoongi’s long steps. 

Your hands. They’re shaking so bad you can’t even pocket the chopsticks properly. But you finally get them down, crushing your palms and squeezing just to stop them from rattling. 

When you wait behind Yoongi checking the corner, you turn around to make sure you aren’t being followed. And seeing the hallway still a moving mass of broken glass and hard swings, you think you’re safe. 

The stairs feel so different on the way down. Is that because you feel completely changed? There’s no coming back from this. Another side of you died right alongside those two people upstairs. 

No time to think about that. You have to follow his lead. And he’s slowing down why is he slowing down? 

Oh. Normal. Be normal to not garner suspicion. You have to do the same. 

Wait. You can’t go down there with a shirt full of stained evidence! Grabbing him and pulling back, you whisper, “Yoongi—”

His growl is so fierce your head spins, “What the fuck did I say about my n—”

“My clothes,” you panic. “I can’t.” 

Yoongi gives you a quick look before gripping the duffle strap. Brows lowered, he grits out while dumping it, “Lose the shirt.” 

“What?” 

“Do it.” 

“Where’d he go?”

“It’s gone!”

Your heads snap up before you lock eyes. And he doesn’t need to say anything to show you what he’s thinking behind those minted bangs.

As you hastily strip, your brain works in weird ways. Instead of processing how you very much need to hurry the fuck up, you lament the bra of choice today. And how sweaty you look. Because of course those are your thoughts of choice right now. 

Something’s dumped on you before your shirt hits the ground, and you think about its warmth before you realize exactly what’s on your shoulders. “You sure?” 

He’s already heading down. Oh god. You’re really putting this on shit shit shit. 

You’re quick to slip into the material before checking for your chopsticks, rushing down the rest of the stairs to meet him. Nerves firing on all cylinders, you follow Yoongi out of the restaurant with a single, disturbing thought. 

This is going too well. 

But you’re passing tables, you’re walking by the fish display, don’t fucking sob you’re out in the street now. 

Relax. You’re walking. His white tee is flawless and people have no clue you left a bloody shirt on a stairwell. Don’t fucking cry.

But suddenly.

Shouting erupts behind you both, just as a cop car rolls past the restaurant only to get surrounded. 

And with one look back, your brain freezes. Right before Yoongi sounds a little too delighted to say something so foreboding,

“Looks like you’re in it now.”

Adrenaline spikes as you burst into motion. Hot summer air stings your lungs as legs propel you forward, with nothing in sight except for your partner in high crime. 

Yoongi’s right. 

You’re in it now. 

And just like the delinquents that you despise, the two of you both kick up dust on the run. 

You’re really doing this. 

Holy shit, you’re really doing this and there’s no waking up, no jolting awake, no pinching yourself to know that it’s all a dream. The only thing pinching is your sides, fresh stings of karma with each heavy footstep through crowded streets, buildings, levels, wherever the fuck you go. 

At least Yoongi is commanding as he leads you through the city—clearly from a heap of experience. Though rattled, you follow him with more adrenaline than questions. Because running is all you know. Run, run, run, escaping is your only objective and you cannot let up even once.

Your feet pelt down a staircase before you leap onto a disposal bin, impact denting as you follow Yoongi’s long strides across the colorful tops. Shouts and metal pings echo behind you as your chasers catch up, and you grit your teeth so hard they rattle as you jump to alley ground. “Fuck!”

Searing, searing pain rushes through your legs as you twist and wind through busy corridors, squeezing into the gaps Yoongi finds as he barrels in front. 

“Get back here!” 

“You fuckers!”

Who’s following you? Are they even Crane? You don’t see a shred of white on their clothes at all so are they working for some random guy Yoongi stole from?

When you watch him turn at the shouting, all thoughts vanish as your gut churns. 

He’s grinning.

You just killed someone for him. And he probably has more blood on his hands than you can imagine. 

And he’s… enjoying this? 

You feel sick, mind blazing with a million red warning signs. How could you ever have had feelings for h—

You bounce off a passerby as you run, grunting at the sudden pain in your shoulder when another person rams into your back and topples you over, dirt scraping into your palms and knees. 

Shit shit shit it’s so dusty on the ground and all you see are traveling shoes where are you? Where is he did he leave did he even see you fall? It’s too condensed here there’s no way he’s not taking the next chance to disappear.

Forget all of that, they’re coming. The chasers are coming and you see them see you down get up get up get up what the fuck get up now.

Ripping out a groan, you rush to your feet as soon as someone swoops in, bashing someone right behind you with someone’s crate of fruit. 

Yoongi? He waited for you?

“Go!” 

Both of you hightail it with you now in the lead, and your eyes buzz as you slip through holes in the crowd. Left, left, right, around, left again, between. 

An intersection ahead. Yes. Lose everyone in the vehicle traffic or hitch a ride with a stranger. Fascinating how the survival tactics that spawn from your block develop in real time on the run.

Almost there, almost there, almost there—fuck! 

Whiffing in front of your nose, a metal weapon smacks the ground at your toes. 

Flailing, you dodge the next swing, ducking before you see a black duffle smack your assailant in the face. 

Keep going. Finish him and get away. As Yoongi shifts left, you lunge forward, sending a swift punch to the guy’s ribs that hurt like hell goddamn oh fuck someone brought a knife!

“Yoongi!” Just as the surrounding civilians yell and clear out, you rush toward his aid before you’re tackled, air whooshing out of your lungs as your back pummels into gravel. Fuck fuck fuck this masked woman also has a dagger. A thick one. Don’t let her win don’t let her win hold on for dear fucking life. 

Did you think you’d find yourself in a grudge match to keep metal from sinking into your chest today? No. Ever? Also no. 

Your arms are shaking. Shots ring out. Sweat is your enemy. The street is in uproar. Where’s Yoongi did he hear you? Fuck, the metal tip is pricking you now this is— 

Mercifully, your attacker yelps as something slams into her side, dark brown clothes crumpling before you’re hoisted upward and dragged back into the crowd. 

“Let me go or I’ll kick your ass—”

“You good?” 

Oh, it’s Yoongi. Again. Okay. Eyes swirling, you lock onto the gun held flush in his other hand before you nod. “I—I think so—”

“Then keep up.” 

Winding between people, you’re only focused on getting away. But when you catch glimpses of him, he’s back to his glint. He’s exhilarated.

If only you were both doing anything else. If only you weren’t so queasy and guilty and loathing of your own self.

Right as you finally burst into bustling traffic, Yoongi boldly stops a taxi at its hood, motioning you to follow him inside. 

Shocked but head reeling, you open the door closest to your sweaty legs and slide in. 

And before you can even greet the shouting driver, Yoongi pulls you to his side and rushes something out in your ear, 

“Kiss me.” 

“I said get out!” 

“What?” 

“Come here.” 

You’ve kissed before. Not many times, but enough to know that this man knows what the fuck he’s doing because you feel like your soul just abandoned you to exist in this car forever. You don’t know why this is happening or where this came from, but his lips feel as soft as his name and as deadly as the gun he’s pulling on your driver—

“Han Station,” he drawls, halting time and space. “Or your papers are burned by morning.” 

Oh. 

You were just… Oh. 

Lips puffed and head swirling, you sit frozen in your spot, marinating in the realization that the best kiss of your life was a mere distraction. And as you watch Yoongi keep his aim straight, you assume he probably didn’t even think much of it, either. 

“…I thought you looked familiar,” the driver slowly grits, hands gripping his wheel before he shakes his head. “You’re a little far from home.”

You think that’s all he’s gonna say. But his eyes are sharp in the rear view mirror, knowing a gun is pointed straight at his dome. “Aren’t you.”

What is he getting at you need to leave fast—

“Agust.” 

…Huh? 

Agust? 

This is the first time you feel a heartbeat against your arm, and you hold a breath as Yoongi tightens his fingers on the gun. 

When he doesn’t reply, the car fills to the brim with tension, and you feel crushed by its liquid weight. 

Don’t you have to go? Aren’t you in a chase? Are you getting a little too hot?

When you go to slide to your own side of the car for some space, the hand around your shoulder squeezes. 

And you’re more confused, exhausted, and thrown off than ever. 

“Han Station,” is all Yoongi—Agust?—repeats, voice ice. “Now.”

To which the taxi driver stares, standing his ground until he breaks eye contact first to obey. 

“Fuckin’ Dragons and their useless whores.”

Oh, fuck that. 

Before you can lunge forward to outright strangle the man, Yoongi does something that has your eyes magnifying into saucers and hands shooting up to your mouth.

He fires the gun straight at the man’s thigh, yelps leaving both the driver's throat and yours holy fuck! 

“You bastard—”

“You’ll live. Drive.”

“Fucking—fuck!”

The car shifts through traffic, swerving left and right and cutting off slower vehicles. When force smushes you closer into Yoongi’s side, you can’t help but notice how fit he is, and how calm he’s being despite the whole chase. Despite that spike in adrenaline. Despite blowing a hole in a stranger’s leg for six words.

He also feels really, really good against your side, but you can’t let that matter anytime soon. There’s absolutely no way you can let this dangerous man in, especially after this entire nightmare of a day. 

So you swallow, trying to compartmentalize because you’ll reach insanity if you don’t.

Does anyone out there know you took a life minutes ago? Or hours ago? You just kissed a criminal five and a half minutes ago. Would they care about that, too?

The window is suddenly much more interesting than any of your wandering, slingshot thoughts. 

Wait. It’s very pretty in this area, and you finally can tell some semblance of where you are. Because you only know of one part of the city that looks like this, and it’s deep in Crane territory. 

Did you both really make it this far? 

Carefully tended to, it’s a lot greener on the sidewalks, and more open on the roads. And it’s on one of these roads that you finally notice the sunset, gold accents shining on sleek street signs and the tops of buildings that seem much more at rest than you do. 

Rest. Sleep. Home. 

With the luck you’re having, it would be a miracle and a half to reach even one of the three. 

Did you get followed? You don’t know how much longer you can run, so you really fucking hope not. 

“Almost there,” Yoongi whispers, voice scratching your ear in the worst and best ways. “When we get out, move your ass.” 

When you watch the wary, heavy breathing driver in his rear view mirror, you bite out, “I know how to get out of a car, thanks.” 

“Just listen to me.”

“Why?”

“Do you trust me?” 

“No.” 

That came out quicker than you could stop it. But Yoongi only lets silence come between you before he squeezes your shoulder. When he speaks, you can hear how carved out his smirk is without even seeing it, 

“Good girl.”

And you spoke the truth. It wouldn’t have come out so fast if it weren’t. But you know to at least follow his advice here because he’s kept you alive thus far. He didn’t need to drag you out and protect you the whole way, so it’s not like he would steer you wrong here. Right? 

Right? 

“Here,” Yoongi orders before the car slows to a stop. 

That wasn’t so bad. You can get out normally now so why did Yoongi say—

Right as your foot hits ground, the taxi peels out, forcing you to throw yourself out of the side before the rest of your body leaves with it. 

Fucking hell that hurt what the fuck was that for? 

Dirt and dust coats your tongue before you do anything to spit it out. Saliva rushes from your glands as you cough and hack, all while feeling every muscle group in your body begging to not stand up. 

But you feel rough, commanding hands on your arms. “You good?”

“Yeah—”

“Then get up. Get up.”

Straining and wincing like hell, you follow Yoongi’s lead yet again. Because you hear cars rolling up with bad intentions and that means you have to sprint again. 

What the fuck did Yoongi steal? And how the hell are these guys still on your tail? Their resources have got to be as good as Crane’s and yet, they don’t feel the same at all. 

You’re hobbling, but you’re going. You’re rushing. You’re going to get through this alive. 

Instead of heading into the underground, you find yourself ascending a flight of steps. Rumbles and rattles hit your ears as you realize exactly what kind of station this is—one you haven’t seen anywhere in your district. 

Han Station is a floating railway? 

Holy shit, where are you?

Yoongi skids around a corner before you plant hard to stop yourself, only to see him clash with someone before something connects right with your stomach, and you crumple before you feel a solid hit to your head. 

Oh.

The world spins and moves as you hear vibrations, slowed sounds that could be shouts. Gunshots? Or maybe songs? You don’t truly know but your head is aching—

Your arm rushes up to block something before your body follows, and you scream before gripping whatever you can and flipping a whole body forward. 

Reality crashes back into your ears as you snap out of your head. 

You haven’t had to do that maneuver in forever. Was muscle memory more than enough?

“Come on!”

Go. Go, follow him, both of you need to get to the rail shit it’s leaving!

The blaring reverberates through the air, pinging off metal and wheels screeching on the track lines as you bolt for the open doors.

Mid-stride, Yoongi swings to look at the people barreling up the stairs. “One more time: do you trust me?”

“No!”

“Good”—his hands grip your waist—“Jump!”

Head empty, you leap onto the railcar right as it starts to pick up speed, and you watch in horror as Yoongi empties his clip behind him until he can’t anymore. 

“Yoo—” Fuck, what was his name? He seems to not prefer the one you call him and that has to be for good reason. What was it?

You’re leaving. He’s gritting his teeth while hitting the bottom of his gun but he needs to get up! What was his fucking name! 

“Agust!” 

Yoongi finally whips his head around, dashing to the end of the train and straining to carry the duffle. 

He needs to launch it or leave it behind. There’s no way he’s not being weighed down so hard. “Here!” you yell, knowing that look is only reserved for people he doesn’t want to trust. It’s normal. But it still stings. “Hurry up!”

After one more second, he swings it around and flings, leaping onto the side handrail after you get blasted by the bag holy fuck that hurt. 

He was running with this the whole time? No wonder his shoulders are so cut this is heavy.

Straining, you peek out into the wind, seeing Yoongi holding on and scooting along thin steprails towards your awaiting hands.

Shit, this is dangerous. Buildings and the city below fly by, and a parallel train whooshes and roars past as you finally tug him inside with shaky wheezes.

Just like that.

You made it out.

What the fuck. You did it. No one else was able to get onto the train. You’re safe for now. 

Finally, finally, finally able to breathe. 

But goddamn, you both stand out like blood on a blank page.

As you struggle to fully stand, you notice everyone else on the train—well-kept, carrying themselves in sleek linens and lush outfits, hair done beautifully and to perfection. 

Which makes it unsurprising that plenty of them regard the pair of you with suspicion and morbid curiosity. While intrigue covers the one with an unfairly handsome face, zings of jealousy and judgment fire your way. 

You feel so out of place. You are so out of place. But that doesn’t give anyone the right to look at you like filth. The words from the taxi driver pierce your brain again, and you feel rage and pain bubble up to your tongue,

“Anyone got something they wanna sa—”

But Yoongi does something that has your brain chemistry altering because he casually bends a knee in front of you while holding the top rail, forcing you back into the side of the train car and only seeing his jewelry. 

When your eyes snap to his, he regards you before peering outside. “Stop,” he mutters. “You're causing a scene.”

“Me?” Oh, he has some nerve. “What did I do, you’re the one—”

“Quiet.”

Ridiculous. Huffing, you let disagreement tug your lips while joining him in watching the world go by. 

Realizing with a pang that you are probably never getting back home. You’re never gonna see your favorite neighbor with his woks and caterpillar eyebrows. All the produce you were planning to sell will only succumb to mold and time. 

Your tangerines… 

When a tear falls, it glints in your reflection before quickly being swiped away. 

No. Don’t do any of that here where people can see—where he can see. No one will know what the hell you just went through today. Be normal, strong, normal. 

The ride lasts a little longer, with people coming and going during each stop. When there are seats open, neither you nor Yoongi move to take them. The two of you stay glued where you stand.

Silent, together, and covered in hidden blood.

The next stop seems to be in a quieter sector of the city. All around you are buildings you’ve never seen before stretching miles into the sky, and the streets are so neatly paved you’re convinced they’re fake. 

“This is us,” Yoongi whispers, hand guiding your hip to move toward the doors.

Skin scorching under his touch, you can only nod.

Where are you now? Where are you getting off? 

You both exit the train with a few others, and you watch with heightened curiosity as they carry satchels and wear shoes that look horribly uncomfortable. As you move down the steps, you keep craning your neck to take everything in, and more questions fill your head than answers. 

But the truth remains even as you and Yoongi stop in front of your destination.

You cannot run anymore. Even if more of whoever those guys were showed up, you may just choose to sit down instead of take another stride. Besides, your body is still running a thousand steps even though you haven’t moved since getting on the train anyway. After today, the chase may never stop.

“We’ll stay here.” 

We? Stay? 

“Here? This place is…” You keep peering up and up, the top of the building so high your neck hurts. It’s so foreign and magical your only adjective is a quiet, “Nice.” 

At your side, Yoongi seems annoyed when he asks, “Expect something different?” 

“Yeah, like… I dunno, a secret lair or something.” 

Air whooshes from his nostrils, but there’s a stark absence of a smile. Looking up at the building, too, he explains something that you’ve never heard of before,

“We’re in a grey zone. No one will follow us here.” 

Right. Because that somehow makes sense to regular civilians like you. Because you are one, are one, are one. “Allegedly,” you scoff, not knowing what to believe anymore.  

Yoongi pauses before heading up, and his agreement makes you look. “Allegedly.” 

Mm. 

After taking the tiny steps to the entrance, you wonder what he must be thinking bringing your haphazard look in tow. 

Because he could’ve left you behind at any point in time. But he didn’t. What does that mean? Why is he keeping you alive and at his side?

While you’re taking in the opulent and vast lobby, Yoongi guides you toward the front desk, shifting the duffle on his shoulder. 

This place is gorgeous. Nothing like you’ve ever seen. How were they able to install a waterfall in a building? What kind of money does this so-called grey zone have? 

Yoongi nods toward the concierge, who quickly nods back and scurries away and into a room.

If you weren’t so tired, you could probably make something of that exchange. But you are very much exhausted so frankly, you don’t give a shit right now. 

Although. You do give a shit about the fingers suddenly interlacing with your own. As your hand is held, you shoot your best client a look so potent he stares back. “What now,” you snip, question low and dripping with distrust. 

Unfazed, Yoongi slowly pulls you into his side, a steady hand coming up to wrap around your tired hips. So nonchalant, so lax, so confusing as he murmurs,

“Just wanted to.”

Your heart trips into the next beat.

On sore legs, you wait until the concierge comes back with a key, eyes swiping over you as if they finally noticed your existence. Which seems to perplex them as they hand over the metal device.

And Yoongi just takes it, not a word said before he directs you across the lobby to what look like elevators.

Even these look fancy as fuck. Wherever you are and whatever this place is, you feel even more out of place than on that judgy train. 

A hotel worker bows before he motions to the opening doors. “Nice to see you again,” he murmurs to the ground, seemingly expecting the same non-response given to the front desk. “Would you like the usual, Mister—” 

“No,” Yoongi clips him off. “Not this time.” 

“Understood.” 

Brows pinched, you’re starting to get a weird feeling. 

How does everyone know Yoongi so well here? He said this was a grey zone, which you’d think would be akin to a neutral or non-threatening one. So why does it feel like he’s got this area on lock? Who exactly are you getting into an elevator with? 

…Who exactly did you save? 

Yoongi was right when he said you’re in it now. But faced with more questions surrounding him than anything or anyone else, you’re starting to wonder what pit of hell you dropped yourself into. 

Especially after catching the look of utter panic from the serviceman. 

Right before sliding doors shut the world out. 

—

—

⟶ what do we feel! | 🥢 join the taglist 🥢 | masterlist

a/n: thank you all for being so patient as i work through this! it was originally supposed to be a oneshot, but i like, need characters to get to know and learn about one another before heading into spice lmao. I NEED PLOT OK. THERE WILL BE LOTS OF SMUT I PROMISE DSHFKDSF we just gotta get through the slow burn first >:)) a/n 2: if there's something you liked about this or a line/scene/whatever thing you enjoyed, feel free to let me know! feedback is never expected, but always appreciated. if the interest level is high, that adds motivation like no other. thank you all for reading! ++ feedback box: ⇥ of course, any reblogs/comments/messages are appreciated! ⇥ for the ones that are too shy to reblog with a review, comment on this, or send a message, i went ahead and made another anonymous form where you can send in what you think! ⇥ no emails collected, no need to put in a username. it’s literally just a comment dropbox :D feedback can be as short/sweet or as long as you’d like! ⇥ here! ++ more links: ⇥ masterlist  ⇥ minted masterlist

[redrose10]

Here is the second and final chapter. Thank you for all the feedback. I hope everyone likes it!

Idol Husband Yoongi x Female Spouse Reader

Warnings: Swearing, angst, body insecurity, hints of cheating, jealousy, anxiety, panic attacks, slightly smutty but nothing crazy

Part 1

Part 1.5

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A few days had passed since Yoongi left your home. You needed some space to process everything that had happened and he was willing to give that to you. Luckily, Hana was used to him being gone for periods of time so she didn’t question it too much and went about her days normally.

Yoongi seemed to be handling everything just fine too which only upset you more because you couldn’t understand how he wasn’t a mess. If it wasn’t for Hana needing you then you wouldn’t have gotten out of bed.

If he truly cared about you he would’ve been begging for your forgiveness. It had you questioning a lot of things. Why did he give up so easily? Why hadn’t he tried harder to explain himself? Why did he still have to text you every day to remind you to take your vitamins and drink enough water? Why did he still have to have your favorite breakfast delivered to you every morning knowing you’d be too tired to cook for yourself? Why did he have to remind you about your doctors appointment today when even you forgot about it? You hated that he was still so thoughtful and involved even when he wasn’t there because it made it harder to hate him.

Before your appointment you dropped Hana off at your parents place. She was spending the night there because you wanted her to do something exciting plus you just needed a night to yourself. Your appointment went great. The baby was healthy and you were too so you decided to reward yourself with one of your biggest cravings and a night of relaxing on the couch trying not to think about anything that had happened in the last week.

You had just gotten home with your large pizza covered in pineapple, pickles, and onions with extra anchovies on the side when there was a knock at the door. You sighed before putting the pizza down and slowly getting up to see who was interrupting your peaceful evening.

“Jimin?”, you questioned seeing the smiling man standing in front of you holding up a tub of ice cream. “Hheeeyyyy Y/N. How’s it goin?”, he sang as you stared at him before turning to walk away. “Yoongi’s not here.”, you said knowing that he was just going to follow you anyways.

“Yeah I know.”, he sarcastically said before placing the ice cream into the freezer, “He’s currently moping around on my couch driving me crazy.”

“Sounds like a you and him problem.”, you said taking a bite of your pizza while ignoring the dramatically disgusted face Jimin was making at the sight of it. It tasted like heaven to you thanks to your pregnancy hormones and that’s all that mattered.

Even though you acted indifferent to his news there was a big part of you that felt relief knowing he had been at Jimin’s and not hers.

“Please come get your husband.”, he whined before dropping down into the chair next to you, “Look I love him like a brother, but he’s sooooo annoying when he’s like this. He won’t tell me what happened, but he just keeps sitting there and pouting and if he’s not pouting then he’s crying AND I’m going to have to put a lock on my freezer. He ate my favorite ice cream Y/N. My absolute favorite. I was so excited to come home after a hard day of practice and eat some of my special ice cream but nooooo it was all gone and he didn’t even bother trying to hide the evidence.”

You continued chewing as you mulled over his words. “I didn’t know he was like that.”, you mumbled before taking another bite.

“Yeah tell me about it. He doesn’t even like caramel or white chocolate.”, Jimin scoffed.

“Has he really been crying?”, you questioned. You had known Yoongi a long time and you had only ever seen him cry once, on the day Hana was born and they were tears of joy. He certainly never cried over your relationship before, at least to your knowledge. That was not like him. He always wanted to come off as strong to you, even when he was struggling.

Jimin nodded, “Yeah he is a total wreck. He keeps mumbling something about being stupid and a divorce and then he starts crying again.”

“Divorce…?”, you whispered.

“Hey uh I hate to pry and I know it’s not really my place, but what happened between you two? I’ve never seen him like this so it must’ve been pretty bad.”, he hesitantly asked.

“He cheated on me.”, you answered deciding to just rip the bandage off.

Jimin laughed which made you quickly throw a glare in his direction so he stiffened up and cleared his throat. “No he didn’t.”, he simply said shaking his head, “Yoongi is a lot of things, but cheater is not one of them and he definitely would not have cheated on you.”

“Yeah well tell that to the woman who pulled his tie out of her purse because apparently he left it at her place.”

Jimin’s eyes widened in shock, “WWWHHHAAATT?”

You nodded, “Yep, we were at Hana’s talent show and this woman came up to us and handed him his tie from her purse. You know that cherry tie I gave him for our anniversary? She said he left it at her house. What other reason would there be for him to remove his tie other than sleeping with her?”

“I don’t know. Maybe they were eating and he didn’t want to get it dirty? He loves that tie.”, he shrugged.

“Okay then why was he eating at her house to begin with?”, you rolled your eyes, “And he just left. He didn’t even try that hard to explain himself. Maybe he didn’t want the truth to come out.”

“Y/N you know how he is…He’s all about letting things cool down. He probably just didn’t want you getting even more upset and then things would be made worse. He did mention something about the baby and stress and how it’s bad. I don’t know. He’s the one who reads like every baby book ever published.”

Nodding along you started to agree, “I guess...”

Jimin turned to look at you with a raised eyebrow. He tried to speak, but you cut him off, “I don’t blame him to be honest. I mean look at me Jimin. I look like I swallowed a beach ball. I have stretch marks and my boobs are saggy and uneven and that all happened before I even got pregnant for the second time. That woman…she was perfect. She definitely didn’t spend her Friday nights sitting on the couch eating a whole pizza by herself. Why wouldn’t he choose to be with her over me? I bet he doesn’t even find me attractive any more. He probably hasn’t since Hana was born so this was a long time coming anyways.”

You could feel the familiar burning sensation in your waterline and you began to sniffle. Jimin reached over and took your hands into his. Lightly he gave you a squeeze to remind you that he was there for you. “Y/N, deep down you know none of the that is true. Yoongi loves you. He loves you more than anything in this world. He loves every part of you. Trust me. Yoongi loves to brag about you…sometimes a little too much. I still can’t look at a can of whipped cream without feeling weird. And DO NOT even get me started on that cherry neck choker thing he likes you to wear.”

You laughed a little thankful that he was there to help you work through all of this.

“Hey do you remember what that woman’s name was?”, he asked suddenly like he had just thought of something.

You shook your head, “I don’t know. Sarah or Aera or something like that. I kind of blacked out a little.”

Jimin softly chuckled to himself before breaking out into a big smile, “You need to talk to Yoongi. Let him explain and then the two of you need to discuss all of this. Tell him how you’re feeling. It’s not good to bottle this up…for either of you.”

You nodded and whispered a small okay before Jimin grumbled something about going home to save the rest of his ice cream and quickly scurried out of the apartment leaving you to process everything alone.

You were nervous. Hana was spending the second night in a row with your parents and you weren’t sure which one of them was more excited about the extended stay, but you were happy it worked out. Because currently you were pacing around the kitchen waiting for Yoongi to come home. When Jimin came over yesterday he had made it seem like there was a perfectly good explanation for everything that had happened so you texted Yoongi at 3am asking if he wanted to come home for dinner and talk. He responded immediately with a yes and a light scolding for being up so late, but it wasn’t that easy for you to get to sleep.

There was a beep at the door before it opened and shut quickly. Yoongi’s socked feet padded into the kitchen shortly after. The familiar smell of your favorite noodle spot quickly filled the air. He held up the bag with a shy smile and the two of you ate in awkward silence. And when you were done and cleaned up and you couldn’t stall any longer you moved over to the couch to get comfortable. Yoongi took a seat next to you, but still made sure to leave some space unsure of how you would react to him and it killed you that things had gotten so uncomfortable between you both.

“How have you been Y/N?”, he asked.

“Good. You?”

“Alright I guess. I’ve been better.”

You nodded unsure of what else to say.

“I miss you Y/N. I miss you and Hana.”, he said after a while, “I want to come home.”

“Yoongi…are…are you…are you cheating on me?”, you finally questioned wanting to just get it over with. Your bluntness shocked you and him both, but at this point you were tired and you figured what else could it hurt.

You watched his body tense at the question which brought instant tears to your eyes knowing the truth.

Frantically he began wiping away those tears. You wanted to shove him away and tell him not to touch you, but you couldn’t. Having him so close to you. Smelling his cologne that usually signified safety and comfort. Feeling his skin on yours after so long was too much to bare and you needed it.

“Y/N I didn’t cheat on you. I swear on everything I have.”, he whispered trying to keep you calm.

“Then who is she Yoongi? Why did she have your tie and why were you at her place to begin with? Why are you so close with her son?”

He took a deep breath and ran a shaky hand through his hair, “Her name is Aera Kim. She is the new Director of International Relations for the company. She helps coordinate things for us outside of Korea like tours, promotions, merchandising, things like that.”

All you heard was not only is she beautiful, but she’s also really successful and powerful too which didn’t help. Yoongi could see the drop in your demeanor so he turned to look at you so you could see how serious he was.

He continued, “We were at her place a few weeks ago. All of us. All of the guys, our managers, and a few others on the team. We were discussing the upcoming album release and world tour. Things were fine and then she said that they decided to add more tour dates. Five more in the US, three more in Europe, and they want to add a whole leg of the tour in South America plus all of the promotions and interviews that come with that. AND they want Namjoon, Hobi, and I to release an EP for a rap thing.”, he took a deep breath trying to collect his thoughts, “That’s going to add on an extra six months to the tour which was already going to take almost nine months to begin with. Then if we do release this EP there will be EVEN MORE work on top of all of that. Y/N I’ll be gone for well over a year and who knows how much longer. There might be a little break here and there, but not a lot. I’m going to miss so much. I won’t be here for you or Hana or the baby. I’ll miss the baby learning to crawl, maybe even their first steps and first words. Hana already tells everyone how I’m always gone on “bwusiness” and this will only make that worse. It kills me every time I hear her say something like that. I was already struggling with going on this tour to begin with and now it has me questioning everything. I…I just…I don’t know if I can do this any more Y/N. I’ve been thinking about leaving the group. I can just write lyrics or maybe just produce. At least I get to be here more often if I I do that.”

You felt bad for him. You knew it was tough on him at times, but you didn’t know it was to this extreme.

“The more I sat there and thought about it the more I began to panic. If I back out of the group then I’m letting down the guys and the label and of course the fans. If I go on the tour then I’m letting down my family. I got so worked up during the meeting that I had a full blown panic attack. I walked out onto the balcony to get some air, but I still felt like I couldn’t breathe so I took my tie and jacket off because I felt like I was suffocating. Namjoon came out to try and calm me down and after a while they called a car to bring me home. I swear I thought I put the tie in my pocket when I grabbed my jacket so when I couldn’t find it I assumed that I dropped it somewhere or left it in the car, but I guess I left it at her place. I…Y/N I didn’t sleep with her. I promise. I barely speak to her. Her son is a huge fan of mine and he’s friends with Hana at school. Sometimes I let him hang out in my studio so I see her for like thirty seconds while she drops him off and picks him up, but that’s like the most I interact with her outside of business situations.”

Either from relief at getting this off his chest or reliving the stress again or maybe a little of both his shoulders started to shake and he buried his face into his hands. He cries shattering your heart. Your cheeks were fully soaked with your own tears now so with nothing to loose you leaned in and nuzzled your face against him pulling him as close to you as possible, “I’m sorry Yoongi. I’m so sorry. I should’ve let you explain from the start. I’m sorry I didn’t trust you. I’m sorry you feel like this. You’re not letting anyone down no matter what you do. Please don’t think like that.”

“I never should’ve given you a reason to think that I was cheating on you to begin with.”, he shook his head, “I hate that I let it get to that point. I’ve just been feeling like everything was closing in on me and I didn’t know what to do other than ignore it and hope it all gets better, but it just kept getting worse.”

“No it’s not your fault. I’ve just been so insecure and things have just been kind of weird between us and I really thought you weren’t attracted to me any more and then I saw her and how perfect she is and I panicked because I thought you had moved on to someone better.”, you said through your own tears.

Yoongi surprised you when he moved to get down on the floor to kneel in-front of you. He gently supported himself on your thighs. The warmth and pressure of his hands sent a tingling sensation through your body.

“Y/N, I…fuck I’m sorry I made you feel like that. I’ve just been so stressed and tired and then any time I did want to initiate something I felt like you weren’t into it and I didn’t want to push you or make you feel like I expected something. And you know I’m not the best at speaking my feelings so without being able to show you how I felt I didn’t know how to proceed. But you have no idea how much love I feel for you. And how attracted I am to you. Every little thing about you drives me crazy in the best way possible. I can’t get enough of you and I’m so incredibly sorry that I ever made you think any less.”

Your heart swelled as you grabbed onto the collar of his shirt pulling him up onto the couch with your lips searching for his. He laughed trying to catch himself from falling over before reciprocating the action. He straddled you enough to make sure he wasn’t putting too much weight on you as your fingers furiously undid the buttons of his shirt having it removed within seconds. It didn’t take much longer for your shirt to also end up in the same pile on the floor next to you with your bra following right after.

Even though you were burning up Yoongi’s touches left goosebumps on your skin as his fingers trailed down your side to the band of your shorts. He hooked two fingers inside. He teased you just enough to get a desperate whine out out you begging for more. You could feel him smirk against your lips because he got just the reaction he was looking for. He rocked his hips against you searching for any kind of friction and also making sure you could feel how badly he wanted you. Your brain turned into mush with thoughts of him after that.

You pulled away just long enough to catch your breath, “Bedroom?”

“Fuck yes, please.”, he said already picking you up in his arms and carrying you down the hallway while you giggled loudly in response.

Yoongi dropped down onto the bed next to you. “Are you hurt? Was it too much? I wasn’t too rough was I?”, he questioned trying to steady his breathing while pulling you flush against his body and looking you over at the same time. “No”, you shook your head, “You were perfect. I think I…I think we needed that.”

“Yeah.”, he laughed, “It’s been a while huh? Let’s not do that again.“

“Yeah I uh I guess I was afraid to let you see me like this, but it still hurt that lately you never seemed to really even try which only made me feel worse. And everyone’s always talking about how handsome you are and I just felt like I wasn’t good enough. And then I was worried that you found someone el-“

He silenced you with a kiss, “Y/N there will never be anyone else. Not in this lifetime or the next. You’re it for me.”

You smiled and relaxed into his warmth while he soothingly ran a hand over your belly as your baby happily kicked away excited to come into the world soon.

Between the relief you finally felt and his steady heartbeat lulling you it was only minutes before you had nearly fallen asleep in his arms. But then you startled awake remembering a special treat that was waiting for you in the freezer. You and the baby definitely wanted a late night snack and you were thankful it was there.

“Where are you going in such a hurry?”, Yoongi chuckled watching you closely.

“To get cleaned up.”, you grunted as you scooted off of the bed, “Jimin dropped off some ice cream yesterday and I was saving it.”

“Really?”, he asked following you into the shower, “I could go for some ice cream right about now. What flavor?”

You relaxed letting the warm water run over your sore body as you looked up at him with a cheeky smile, “Cherry.”

[glossdebut]

as you are | MYG ★ masterlist

✧ PAIRING: rapper!yoongi x stripper!reader

✧ SUMMARY: It was supposed to be one night, one lap, one bag secured. But Min Yoongi doesn’t play like the others—he watches like he sees you, listens like he means it, and touches like he has no intention of letting go. But forever doesn’t come easy for you—and if falling for him means facing every part of yourself you swore you’d never let anyone touch? You’re going to have to figure out if it’s worth it.

✧ TAGS: smut, fluff, angst, agust d but make it ginger!yoongi, stripper!reader (warnings listed for each individual chapter)

✧ WORDCOUNT: 14.1k & counting!

✧ STATUS: ongoing

✧ CHAPTERS ✧

pt. 1 [14.1k]

pt. 2

pt. 3

✧ EXTRAS ✧

01. the fight

02. the ex

03. the album

『 askbox ★ masterlist ★ ao3 ★ taglist ★ anonymous feedback box 』

[cigarettesuga]

꒰꒰⠀⠀⠀too good at pretending.⠀✸⠀(⠀ myg ⠀)

pairing: idol!fwb!yoongi x producer!fem!reader

genre: smut, slow-burn tension, hidden feelings, late-night studio rendezvous, slice of chaotic intimacy, mutual pining masked as indifference

warnings: explicit sexual content (18+), fingering, teasing, rough sex, oral tension, light dom!yoongi, semi-public sex, dirty talk, marking, overstimulation, slightly possessive behavior, soft aftercare if you squint, mutual denial of romantic feelings, mention of work-stress/mental fatigue, they’re both bad at feelings but good at sex

word count: 4.3 k

summary: it’s after midnight in a nearly-empty hybe building, and she’s still buried in deadlines and demos, jaw clenched and hands in her hair — until the only person who knows her chaos in silence shows up, just as worn out and just as emotionally unavailable. but when yoongi finds her in studio 3A, looking like she hasn't slept and biting down on her own frustration, the air shifts. and when he pulls her into his lap and tells her to be quiet if she doesn’t want the whole floor hearing — neither of them is thinking about feelings. only about relief. except everyone knows — even if they don’t say it out loud — they’re already each other's. just too damn stubborn to admit it.

lu's note: hey there i just wanted to pop up and say that requests are open, i'm on a writing spree and hopefully i'll update more regularly now that i'm almost done with the semester. i'd like to know if you want to see something abt any of the guys... just send a whisper ;)

⠀⠀⠀⠀m.list | latest

the building's nearly dead.

just the low hum of fluorescent lights and the distant echo of someone vacuuming in another hallway. most people had cleared out hours ago — normal people, anyway. the ones with boundaries. sleep schedules. lives.

but not them.

yoongi stretches his neck as he turns the last corner, a paper cup of half-warm coffee in his hand, and there she is.

exactly where he figured she’d be.

her back’s to him, shoulders tense, hands tangled in her hair like she’s trying to physically pull inspiration from her skull. he watches her for a second before saying anything — mostly because it’s kind of fascinating, the way her frustration makes him want to smile. not in a cruel way. more like... fuck, of course it's her. of course she's making herself crazy over something that probably already sounds better than half the shit on the charts right now.

he leans against the doorframe. takes a sip.

“you know you’re not getting paid overtime for this, right?”

she doesn’t jump. just groans without turning around. “don’t start, yoongi. not tonight.”

he chuckles, low and quiet. walks in.

“been trying to reach you.”

his voice is softer now, casual, like this isn’t the third time he’s walked past her empty studio earlier, pretending he wasn’t checking in. “thought maybe you finally ran off to join that noise-pop cult you keep threatening me with.”

“almost did,” she mutters, fingers flying over her keyboard. “but then this demo started sounding like a crime against humanity and i couldn’t leave it like that.”

he settles into the chair beside hers — not close enough to touch, but close enough to be there.

his usual spot.

“play it.”

she hesitates, chewing her lip, and for a second he thinks she’ll argue. but she presses spacebar and leans back, arms crossed.

the track fills the room — unpolished, raw, still bleeding at the edges. but there’s something real in it, something aching and sharp.

and he knows her well enough to hear the exhaustion between the beats.

the trying too hard.

it ends. silence settles.

he nods once. slow.

“doesn’t suck.”

she scoffs. “great. can’t wait to put that on the album review.”

his smirk twitches. “i mean. it doesn’t suck as much as i expected, considering you’re trying to mix in what sounds like a dying printer.”

her mouth drops open in fake offense, and he can’t help it — the corner of his lip lifts again, amused.

this. this is why he came. not because he needed to hear the track. not because he didn’t trust she’d get it done.

but because she looks like a goddamn hurricane when she’s like this, all untamed and brilliant and so deep in her head that it scares him a little.

and he knows the world doesn’t always get the calmer version of her. the one that leans into the quiet. the one that lets herself just be.

but she gives him that version. even when she’s falling apart. especially then.

“take a break,” he says gently, pushing the coffee toward her. “you’re spiraling.”

she looks at the cup, then at him.

and for just a second — just one — her eyes soften.

but then she rolls them. “you’re annoying.”

“you like it.”

“unfortunately.”

he doesn’t say anything to that. just sits there beside her, letting the silence stretch, letting her know she’s not alone — that even when she forgets how to breathe, he remembers. for both of them.

the moment’s quiet.

too quiet for how fast his pulse is moving.

he watches the way her shoulders rise and fall — clipped, uneven — like she’s trying not to fall apart, like holding herself still is the only thing keeping her from unraveling right there in the middle of waveforms and midi tracks. and that shouldn’t do anything to him. he tells himself that every single time.

but fuck, there’s something about seeing her like this — worn down, raw around the edges, still fighting anyway — that guts him more than he’ll ever admit out loud.

he takes a step closer.

then another.

and when he’s close enough to feel the heat of her back through her hoodie, he bends a little, eyes on the crown of her head.

presses his lips there — soft, brief. a barely-there kiss that shouldn’t mean anything but always does.

her hand twitches on the mouse.

he pretends not to notice.

instead, he lets his hands find her arms, slow and easy, fingers tracing lightly from her elbows to her shoulders and back again. not squeezing, not rushing — just being there. reminding her she’s not in this alone, not tonight. maybe not ever, even if neither of them will dare say it.

his mouth finds her hair again, this time to whisper, low and amused, “you keep this up and you’re not getting anywhere with the song.”

her breath stutters — a soft exhale.

and she leans back the tiniest bit, like her body knows something her pride won’t admit.

“maybe,” she says, voice quieter now, “i just need to relax…”

he hums, and it comes out more like a growl than a laugh.

his thumbs drag slow circles into her arms now, a little firmer.

not suggestive — not yet — just intentional.

“yeah?” he murmurs, mouth still ghosting against her hair. “you want help with that?”

there’s a pause. one of those heavy ones, where a whole universe of unsaid things pass between two people who keep pretending they don’t care.

she doesn't say yes.

she doesn't have to.

her body shifts back into him, barely-there contact that might as well be a plea. her eyes stay on the screen, like she’s still pretending this is about the music — like the way her thighs press together slightly isn’t an answer in itself.

he leans closer, lips a whisper away from her ear.

“say the word.”

his voice is lower now. soft, rough, dangerous.

and god, if she says it?

he’ll make her forget what stress even feels like.

her hands on his hips feel deceptively casual — light, teasing — but he feels the tremor beneath her fingertips. the tension riding up her spine even though her voice comes out cool, steady.

"you know i’ll say yes, right?"

he looks down at her, lips quirking into that crooked half-smile — the one that always makes her roll her eyes like she’s not secretly addicted to it.

"yeah," he murmurs, brushing his thumb over the top of her arm. "but consent is sexy. and i’m nothing if not respectful."

her laugh is soft, almost a sigh, but her eyes never leave the screen, like it’s some kind of anchor. or maybe a shield.

he knows how much she hates vulnerability.

knows how much she hides behind work.

but when she leans into him like that — trusting him, choosing him — it undoes something in his chest every single time.

"c’mon," she says, still in that whisper, glancing toward the studio door. "we can’t take too long… we don’t know who’s still on this floor."

and he wants to say, let them fucking hear,

but instead, he lets her guide him — lets her take control the way she always does when she needs to feel like she’s not drowning.

her hand slips into his, fingers cold from hours on the mouse, and he follows as she leads him toward the tiny couch in the corner of the room, worn down from too many late-night naps and occasional power plays like this.

he sits down first, legs open, arms resting on the back of the couch like he’s not already burning for her.

she stands in front of him, hair messy, hoodie half-zipped, pupils dark and pulled — and it takes everything in him not to reach for her right away.

but he doesn’t have to.

because she climbs onto his lap with no hesitation, knees bracketing his thighs, arms sliding around his neck like she’s done it a hundred times — like it’s muscle memory now.

and maybe it is.

he exhales, hands settling low on her waist as she leans in, their foreheads brushing for a moment. a charged pause.

“you good?” he asks, voice barely there.

her mouth tilts into a smirk that doesn’t reach her eyes — not yet — and then she kisses him.

it starts slow, all lips and warmth and quiet desperation. not rushed. not rough.

like they’re trying to remind each other that even in chaos, this is the one place they always come back to.

his fingers press into her back, her hips roll into his without even meaning to, and the tension between them unravels thread by thread.

her hands are in his hair now, tugging, anchoring herself as their mouths move together in sync — and he swears she tastes like frustration and espresso and whatever scent drives him fucking insane every time she walks past him in a hallway.

somewhere in the back of his mind, he hears the vacuum whir down the hall again. a reminder of where they are. who they aren’t supposed to be.

but it doesn’t matter right now.

not when she’s sighing into his mouth like this.

not when she’s melting into his chest like maybe she’s tired of holding the whole world up by herself.

he kisses her deeper — just once — before pulling back just enough to whisper against her lips,

“five minutes.”

she breathes a laugh, breathy and wrecked.

“we’re gonna need at least ten.”

his fingers curl into the waistband of her sweatpants, slow and deliberate — a quiet warning and a promise all in one. the fabric bunches beneath his grip, and he tugs just enough for her to feel it, to know what’s coming next.

but then —

the vacuum hums closer, louder, just outside the door.

they both freeze.

he leans in, lips brushing her ear now, voice low enough to blend with the rumble in the hall.

“you’ll have to be real quiet if you don’t wanna get caught, pretty girl.”

his voice does that thing to her — that husky drop, the weight of intention threading through every syllable. she shifts against him, hips tilting just slightly like her body’s answering before she can think, and that’s all he needs.

he helps her out of the sweatpants — slow and careful, keeping her steady as she steps out of them one leg at a time. it’s practiced, familiar, intimate in a way that makes the air in the room shift.

and then she’s back in his lap, straddling him again, bare thighs brushing denim, skin against skin with only a whisper of lace in between.

her hoodie’s still on. her converse are still on — something about that is stupidly hot, chaotic and casual like everything about her.

his hands trail up her thighs, thumbs skating along the edge of her underwear, a slow tease that makes her bite her bottom lip.

he leans back just enough to take her in — flushed cheeks, messy hair, mouth slightly parted, and that signature don’t fall for me look in her eyes that he knows is all smoke and mirrors.

“lace, huh?” he murmurs, fingertips brushing just under the hem of her panties. “you really didn’t plan on finishing that demo tonight.”

her nails dig into his shoulders in response — not enough to hurt, just enough to say shut up and keep going.

he grins, letting one hand slip up her hoodie, dragging his palm along warm skin, the curve of her waist.

“we’re on a clock, baby,” he whispers, thumb circling higher now, just barely grazing. “think you can stay quiet for me?”

and yeah, he says it like a challenge.

like he already knows she’s not gonna make it easy.

her breath catches — barely audible but unmistakable — as his thumb draws slow, lazy circles over lace. there’s nothing rushed about him, no urgency in the way he touches her. just quiet control. patience that only makes it worse.

or better.

depending on how you look at it.

she shivers under his hand, biting her lip so hard it might leave a mark, trying to keep it together even though her thighs are already trembling around his.

he smirks against the crook of her jaw, amused and maddeningly calm, as if they aren’t one thin wall away from getting caught, as if she isn’t already this undone and he’s barely even touched her.

“you’re shaking,” he whispers, breath hot against her skin. “and i haven’t even done anything yet.”

then his fingers slip under the lace — slow, deliberate — and she gasps, soft and sharp, her hands grabbing at his shoulders like they’re the only solid thing in the room.

he grins, lips brushing her cheek.

“uh-uh,” he murmurs, nudging his nose along her jaw. “remember what i said.”

she nods, swallowing hard, eyes glassy and unfocused.

and that’s when he guides her hand.

takes her wrist gently and brings it down, pressing her palm over his own hand, over the fingers teasing slow, torturous circles just where she needs them most.

“use my fingers,” he whispers, low and rough. “you know what you like.”

and she does.

her hand trembles as she starts to move — guiding him, hips rocking in quiet desperation. it’s messy, it's intimate, and so fucking real.

he lets her take control, but never lets go — his other hand pressing firm at the base of her spine, grounding her, holding her there, reminding her that she’s safe, she’s seen, she’s his — even if they’ll never say it.

every breath she exhales into his neck sounds like a confession.

every roll of her hips says i need you louder than words ever could.

and yoongi, voice barely audible, lips pressed to the shell of her ear, breathes out the one thing he knows will wreck her:

“that’s it, pretty girl. just like that.”

his breath is hot against her skin — ragged now, catching with every sound she makes, every tiny gasp she tries to swallow back like it’s not unraveling him completely.

his fingers move slower, deeper. stretching her gently, curling just enough to make her spine arch into him. he knows her body by now — every twitch, every soft curse under her breath, every time she presses her mouth to his shoulder to keep from moaning too loud.

she’s trying to be good. to be quiet.

and he’s not making it easy.

“so fuckin’ wet for me already,” he murmurs into her ear, voice low and dark and laced with a smile she can feel. “this what you needed, huh? not a break. just my fingers inside you while the whole building’s still awake.”

his lips trail down her neck, open-mouthed kisses that go from soft to claiming real quick — he sucks just under her jaw, enough pressure to leave a mark that won’t fade by morning. something she’ll complain about later with a smirk, trying to act like she’s mad, like she doesn’t love it.

she whimpers — the sound small and stifled, but there — and his teeth graze her skin right after.

“shh…” he soothes, lips brushing the red bloom he just left behind. “you’re doing so good, baby. so fuckin’ pretty like this, falling apart on my lap, hoodie on, shoes still on — god, you’re such a mess for me.”

his fingers stretch deeper now, his rhythm steady but ruthless — working her open while his free hand tightens on her hip, pulling her flush against him, letting her feel just how hard he is under her.

“you feel that?” he breathes out, grinding her down a little. “feel what you do to me?”

she nods, desperate, mouth parted and gasping — but he doesn’t stop.

he can’t.

not when she’s trembling like this, thighs twitching, hands clawing at his shoulders, his name falling off her lips in broken whispers she probably doesn’t even realize she’s saying.

not when she’s losing herself and still trying to hold it together, still trying to not moan loud enough to echo down the hall.

he kisses her collarbone, trailing down with slow reverence before whispering against her skin — filth laced in affection:

“come for me, pretty girl. be quiet if you can… but fuck, don’t hold back on my account.”

she’s trembling in his lap now — her entire body shivering with the aftermath of it, hips stuttering as she rides it out against his hand, making a mess all over his fingers, on his jeans, like she’s got nothing left to give.

but the way she’s gasping his name, barely even trying to be quiet anymore, the way her hands are still gripping his shirt like she’s starving — that’s when he knows.

she’s not done.

not even close.

"yoongi," she breathes, voice wrecked, pleading, pulling at his shirt now like she’ll unravel if he doesn’t do something now.

he kisses her jaw, quick, and helps her up without a word, hands strong and steady under her thighs as she finds her footing again, legs shaky, lips kiss-bitten and slightly parted.

“c’mon,” he says, voice low, firm, laced with need so thick it’s almost a growl. he turns her gently, guides her to lean over the back of the couch, her knees sinking into the worn cushions — and fuck, the sight of her like that?

it nearly undoes him.

she pulls off the hoodie in one smooth motion, tossing it somewhere behind her, hair falling wild and messy down her back. the black lace underwear’s still clinging to her thighs, barely pushed down, an afterthought now — and something about it makes his brain short-circuit.

he stands behind her, hands trailing down her spine, over the soft slope of her hips.

he could tease. he wants to tease.

but not now.

not when she’s already shaking for him, not when she’s arching her back just right, looking over her shoulder with that desperate, wrecked little expression that makes his cock twitch against his zipper.

he leans in, one hand sliding up her back, pressing down between her shoulder blades.

“you want it like this?” he whispers against her ear, hot and low.

she nods, frantic.

he barely tugs the underwear any further, just enough to expose her, to have her. he likes the way it looks bunched on her thighs, messy and rushed, like they never really had the patience to undress properly.

like they never do.

then he undoes his belt, the quiet clink loud in the stillness of the studio.

and just before he sinks into her, he leans down, pressing a kiss to the top of her spine, and mutters — low and reverent — like she’s the only thing he believes in,

“let me take care of you.”

his hands are rough now, no more of that slow build-up — it’s fast, all heat and urgency, all of it fueled by the risk, by how easy it would be for someone to walk by and hear the unmistakable sounds slipping out from under the door.

his fingers dig into the swell of her ass, spreading her open, thumbs pressing into skin like he owns it. he squeezes, slaps once — quick and sharp — just to watch her jolt forward on instinct, breath catching as she reaches for something to bite down on.

she grabs the old throw blanket folded lazily on the armrest — some gifted merch no one ever uses — and she sinks her teeth into it, moaning into the fabric like it’s the only thing keeping her from getting caught.

yoongi’s head falls back for a second at the sight of her like this — needy and wrecked and his, half-naked with her shoes still on, knees digging into a couch they’ve both crashed on too many times.

and he’s fast now. fucking into her like it’s the only thing tethering him to reality, low groans escaping his throat every time she clenches around him, every time her hips grind back like she’s just as desperate.

“look at you,” he pants, leaning in close, chest to her back. his hand tangles in her hair, not too hard, just enough to pull her head back so he can get to her ear, mouth brushing the shell of it. “biting that blanket like you don’t want the whole damn building to know how good i’m fucking you.”

she moans louder at that — muffled but loud — like the filth in his voice is winding her tighter.

“so fuckin’ needy,” he whispers, hips snapping into her, rhythm relentless. “you were practically begging for it, weren’t you? making a mess all over my hand, whining in my lap like a pretty little slut…”

he kisses the corner of her jaw, slow and messy.

"you think they’d still respect you if they saw you like this? bent over, drooling into a blanket while i fuck you stupid?"

her whole body shudders at that — hips twitching, back arching — and he grins, breathless.

“didn’t think so,” he murmurs, voice like velvet and smoke. “now be good, baby. stay quiet, take it all — and don’t you dare cum until i say so.”

yoongi swears under his breath, voice low and ragged, eyes locked on the slick, messy glide of her body swallowing him whole — over and over again. the mess she’s making of him, of herself, of the damn couch cushions. it’s obscene. it’s art.

he can’t look away.

the way her thighs tremble.

the slick sounds echoing in the tiny studio.

the blanket still caught between her teeth, now damp with spit and moans she’s too scared to let out.

it’s almost too much — almost.

he slows suddenly, pulls out with a slow drag that makes her gasp and arch back instinctively, trying to chase the friction.

but he’s already palming himself, thick and flushed and dripping — dragging the head of his cock right against her swollen clit.

“yoongi—” she breathes, voice high and strung out, hips bucking back, needing more — needing anything.

he grins, lazily, running himself along her, smearing her wetness in tight little circles. messy, filthy pressure, just enough to make her legs shake.

“fuck, look at this,” he groans, thumbing her open again just to see the way she twitches. “you’re so wet for me, pretty girl. making a goddamn mess all over my cock, and i haven’t even finished with you yet.”

he pushes in just the tip — enough to make her cry out into the blanket — and pulls back again to rub slow circles against her clit, dragging the head across her like he’s trying to brand her with it.

“you like that?” he murmurs, watching her hips try to press back into him. “like how it feels when i tease you like this? you want more?”

she nods desperately, a muffled please slipping out around the fabric in her mouth, and it’s so sweet, so fucking perfect, it makes his grip on her hair tighten just a little.

“you’re gonna lose your mind if i don’t give it to you, huh?” he growls, circling her clit again, wet and hot and just enough to make her shake. “but i like watching you fall apart like this. so messy, so loud without even saying a word.”

he leans in close again, lips ghosting over her ear, voice lower than before — dangerous.

“keep that blanket right there, baby. ‘cause when i finally fuck you again… you’re gonna need something to scream into.”

he can feel it building — low in his spine, thick in his blood, the kind of tension that’s impossible to slow down once it starts burning through his veins. she’s soaked, her thighs trembling against his, back arching every time he drags himself over that perfect spot, and he’s dangerously close to losing it.

he pulls her up gently, not because he wants to be sweet — though he is, in his own way — but because he needs a better angle. needs to see her face, her wrecked little expressions. needs to feel her falling apart with him.

“come here,” he mutters, helping her shift, guiding her down onto her side, her legs curling slightly as he lays behind her. he hooks one arm under her knee, holding it up to keep her open, the other snaking around her waist to pull her flush against him.

and then he’s back inside her — deeper like this, slower for a second, but heavier, more intense.

“fuck, baby,” he grits, mouth pressed to the back of her neck, teeth grazing skin. “you’re so tight like this… you were made for this.”

she lets out a breathy, muffled moan — lips parted, eyes fluttering — and it’s so much, the intimacy, the sweat, the quiet gasps between them. the danger of getting caught still sharp in the background, echoing with every thrust.

he’s close — too close — and when she reaches behind her, fingers barely brushing his hip like she’s trying to pull him even deeper, that’s what does it.

“shit—�� he groans, deep and rough, burying his face in her shoulder as he pulls out quickly, hand wrapping around himself.

in just a few rough strokes, he’s coming hard — hot and messy, thick spurts landing right across the black lace of her underwear still tangled around her thighs. he pants against her, forehead pressed to her back, hand steadying himself against her hip as the tremors run through him.

“fuck,” he whispers, breathless. “you’re gonna be the death of me.”

they’re still tangled like that — her on her side, flushed and slick, his cum cooling on her thighs and lace — when a knock slices through the air.

sharp.

loud.

too real.

they both freeze.

she shoots him a wide-eyed look over her shoulder, and yoongi curses under his breath as he scrambles for her hoodie, tossing it over her bare chest while trying to zip himself up with one hand.

“(y/n)-ssi?” a voice calls politely from the hallway. a young male staffer, probably an intern. “i was told to remind you about the morning meeting. they asked if you could check your email before you leave.”

yoongi presses a finger to his lips, mouthing don’t laugh when she lets out a wheeze and nearly chokes on it, face buried in the blanket again.

“thanks!” she croaks out after a second, voice not nearly as steady as she wants it to be. “i’ll check in a bit!”

silence. footsteps retreat. door remains mercifully shut.

yoongi leans down, pressing a kiss to her shoulder, voice smug and low and just as wrecked as she is.

“you owe me a new pair of jeans,” he murmurs.

“and maybe a warning next time you decide to look that fuckable in sweatpants.”

-quietly always, cigarettesuga.

[magic-shop-stories]

how would bts react to reader taking off their ring after an argument?

💌 Reply:

first (as always)... THANK YOU for this achingly human request. I hope these headcanons carried what you wanted 🥺 And I am so so sorry for the late reply!  Life decided to get wildly ironic... because I wrote this while sittin in our vacation house bedroom on bf's parents’ 25th wedding anniversary trip 😭 If this resonated (or hurt just right), my DMs are open. Always.... — c —🌙

BTS Reacting to You Taking Off Your Ring After an Argument

Pairings: BTS(solo) x reader Rating: PG (13) up to R (emotionally heavy conflict, marital strife, swearing) Genre: angst, hurt/comfort, romance, fluff Warnings: marital conflict, emotional breakdowns, abandonment fears, (self-harm implications), manipulative behavior, panic attacks/anxiety

KIM NAMJOON

HOW IT HAPPENS

after a brutal fight

= one of those rare but seismic clashes where your words land like stones

his rebuttals are too measured, too logical

that only fuels your frustration

you storm out to cool off

when you return hours later, you slip off your ring and leave it on the kitchen counter like a surrender

Namjoon notices immediately

HIS IMMEDIATE REACTION

Physical

his breath hitches

his fingers, which had been flipping through a book, still

the air in the room shifts (thick, charged)

Verbal

he doesn’t yell

he doesn’t even speak

just stares at the ring like it’s a puzzle he can’t solve

“You took it off.” 

his voice is low

frayed at the edges

it's not accusatory

just hollow

HIS THOUGHTS

First “Did I push her to this? Was I too cold? Too rational?”

Second “Is this it? Is she leaving?”

his chest tightens at the thought

Third “No. No, we can fix this. We have to.”

WHAT HE DOES NEXT

Retreats to His Study

tho not to ignore you

it's to process

he journals frantically

= pages filled with half-formed thoughts:

“Love isn’t a debate. Why did I treat it like one?” “I can’t lose her. Not like this.”

Leaves You Space

doesn’t chase

doesn’t bombard you with texts

doesn’t leave the house either

just lingers in the periphery

like a quiet presence

Note

slides a handwritten letter under your door

not as an apology

as a promise:

“I don’t know how to fight for you with words that don’t sound like lectures. But I know this: I’d rather lose every argument than lose you. The ring is just metal. You’re the treasure. — Joon”

HOW HE MAKES AMENDS

Ring’s Return

finds you curled on the couch at dawn

kneels in front of you

ring pinched between his fingers

“Let me?”

his voice cracks

if you let him, he’ll slide it back on

his thumb brushing your knuckle like a prayer

Changed Behavior

starts asking how you feel before diving into logic

leaves his debates for the bookshelf

Symbolic Gesture

buys a chain and wears his own ring around his neck

“So I never forget what matters.”

KIM SEOKJIN (JIN)

HOW IT HAPPENS

it starts over something stupid

maybe you accused him of forgetting your anniversary

plot: he didn’t; he’s just bad at hiding surprises, or maybe really good

his sarcasm escalates it

before you know it, you’re yelling

“You never take anything seriously!” 

he fires back

“Oh, I’m deadly serious... about how ridiculous you’re being!”

you rip off your ring mid-sentence and slam it on the coffee table

the metallic clink cuts through the room like a gunshot

HIS IMMEDIATE REACTION

Physical

his smirk freeze

his hands, which had been gesturing dramatically, drop to his sides

Verbal

sharp, humorless laugh

“Wow. Okay. Dramatic.” 

his voice is too tight, his jaw clenched

HIS THOUGHTS

First “Shit. Did I push too far?”

Second “She actually took it off. Is she… done?” 

his stomach lurches

Third “Nope. Nope. We’re fixing this.”

WHAT HE DOES NEXT

Deflection Mode

turns on the TV too loud

pretending to watch a drama

“Oh, this is a good part... look, the main couple is fighting too! See? Normal!”

Late-Night Surrender

at 3 AM

he barges into the bedroom

you’re pretending to sleep

flicks on the light

“Yah. Look at me.” 

his eyes are red-rimmed

his hair a mess

“You win. Just… put the damn ring back on.”

Peace Offering

drops a velvet box on the nightstand

inside a new ring

this one with a tiny diamond

“The old one was ‘pre-argument’ jewelry. This one’s post-argument. Upgraded.”

WHAT HE SAYS

Defensive “You’re really gonna let one fight undo years of my flawless husbandry?”

Vulnerable (Rare) “I’m sorry, okay? I’ll… I’ll be less me.” 

he doesn’t mean it

Playful (Recovery) “Also, the new ring is non-refundable. So. Legally, you have to stay.”

HOW HE MAKES AMENDS

Overcompensates

plans a ridiculous “re-anniversary” date

= horse-drawn carriage, rose petals,

“Happy Not-The-Day-I-Pissed-You-Off!”

Learns to Listen

starts asking stuff

“Wait... are we actually fighting, or are you just moody?” 

Secret Insecurity

starts wearing his ring even in public

MIN YOONGI (SUGA)

HOW IT HAPPENS

early in your marriage

maybe six months in

the honeymoon phase crashes into reality

Yoongi’s been buried in the studio for days

he is ignoring texts, forgetting anniversaries

even snapping when you ask for one dinner together

he came home at 3 AM to find you waiting

hurt simmering into anger

the fight is ugly

You: “You care more about your songs than me!” Him: “I’m working! Why can’t you understand that?” 

voice like gravel

eyes blazing

you yank off your expensive ring mid-sentence

slamming it onto the coffee table

the clink echoes like a gunshot

HIS IMMEDIATE REACTION

Physical

his whole body locks up

his hands curl into fists

veins stark against his pale skin

studio-light glare from his laptop paints his face in harsh shadows

Verbal

a sharp, wounded noise escapes him

speaks coldly

“Fine. Do that.”

turns away

his shoulders are rigid

HIS THOUGHTS

White-Hot Fury “She’s giving up? Just like that?” 

mad at you, at himself, at the damn ring for existing

Self-Loathing “I knew I’d fuck this up. Knew it.”

Panic

“Is this over? Is she leaving?” 

his stomach drops

WHAT HE DOES NEXT

Storm-Out

grabs his keys

heads for the door

stops halfway, slamming his palm into the wall

“Fuck.”

Studio Meltdown

drives to HYBE

trashes a demo out of sheer frustration

leter sits on the floor, head in hands

texts you: “Come get me. Please.” 

deletes it

sends instead thet he is at the studio

Breaking Point

when you do show up (because you always do)

he’s a mess

red-eyed, hair wild, voice raw.

“I don’t know how to do this. The… the marriage thing.”

HOW YOU BOTH COME BACK TOGETHER

you stand in the doorway

arms crossed

ring still absent

“You don’t get to run. Ever.”

he chokes out a laugh, wet and broken

“Yeah. Yeah, I know.”

he reaches for you

fingers trembling

“I’m trying. But I need you to... fuck...” 

his voice cracks

“Just. Don’t take it off again.”

you cry

he cries... YES

it’s messy and real and therapeutic

AFTERMATH

New Rules

he sets alarms for “Wife Time” on his phone

you agree to “No Ring Removal” as a nuclear option

The Ring’s Return

he slides it back onto your finger himself

lips brushing your knuckle

“Mine, even when I’m an idiot.”

Growth

starts leaving the studio at midnight no matter what

texts you lyrics instead of apologies

“You’re my bridge. Without you, the song falls apart.”

JUNG HOSEOK (J-HOPE)

HOW IT HAPPENS

fight starts over something stupid

maybe he canceled plans for work again

or you snapped about his relentless optimism when you just needed to vent

it escalates

for once, his sunshine dims

he shouts

you shout back

when the dust settles, you twist off your ring and set it on the nightstand with a quiet clink

he freezes mid-sentence

his expression drops like a stone

HIS IMMEDIATE REACTION

Physical

his hands fly to his mouth

muffling a noise that’s half-gasp, half-sob

tears well up instantly

= big, glistening ones that spill over before he can stop them

“Y-You… you took it off?”

Verbal

voice cracking

high-pitched with panic

“No, no, no... hey, hey, we can fix this! Please!”

HIS THOUGHTS

First “I broke us. I did this.” 

cue internal screaming

Second “How do I fix it? What do I do?”

his brain is short-circuiting into overdrive

Third “Anything. I’ll do anything.”

WHAT HE DOES NEXT

Breakdown

sobs into his hands for a solid minute

shoulders shaking

like a switch flips

he springs into action

Grand Gesture

floods the room with roses

like, obscenely many

every color

bed looks like a florist exploded

orders your favorite food

even if it’s 3 AM

he has to beg a restaurant to reopen

“Extra spicy, extra cheese... whatever she wants!”

spa mode

draws a bubble bath with excessive petals

lights every candle in the house

plays his “Chill Vibes” playlist

“Just... just relax! I’ll massage your feet! Your back! Your soul!”

Pleading

kneels by the tub

eyes red-rimmed

holding the ring out like a sacred offering

“I’ll be better. I promise. Just… put it back on. Please.”

WHAT HE SAYS:

Desperate “I’ll quit the tour. I’ll... I’ll retire! Just talk to me!”

he doesn’t mean it

he thinks he does in the moment

Raw “You’re my person. Without you, I’m just… noise.”

Hopeful “Let’s start over. Right now. Hi, I’m Jung Hoseok. Will you marry me? Again?”

AFTERMATH

Clingy for Days

fllows you around like a puppy 

“Do you need water? A hug? A song?”

Overcompensates

turns into a mind reader

brings you coffee before you wake up

texts hourly “I love you” updates

Real Change

starts asking things

“Do you need me to listen or fix it?” 

then diving into cheerleader mode

PARK JIMIN

HOW IT HAPPENS

the fight is ugly

you both say words like "You never listen!" and "I can’t do this anymore!" 

throwinf them like knives

he is usually so gentle

matches your intensity with his own

his voice cracking with frustration

you storm out

he doesn’t follow

you return hours later

you slide off your ring, leaving it on the nightstand like a white flag

Jimin sees it immediately

HIS IMMEDIATE REACTION

Physical

his breath stutters

tears well up instantly

he doesn’t wipe them away

just stares at the ring like it’s a grenade

"You... you took it off?" 

his voice is small, shattered

Emotional

whirlwind of guilt and fear

"Did I push too hard? Did I break us?"

WHAT HE DOES NEXT

Silent Breakdown

sinks to the floor beside the bed

knees pulled to his chest

presses his palms to his eyes

shoulders shaking

"Fuck. Fuck."

Relentless Texts (If You Left)

"Please come home." "I didn’t mean any of it. None of it." "I’ll wait all night."

Raw Apology (If You Stayed)

crawls into bed beside you

not touching, just to be there

voice raw

"I hate myself for making you feel like you had to do that."

HOW HE MAKES AMENDS

Ring’s Return

when you finally face each other

he cradles your hand

pressing the ring into your palm

"Put it back when you’re ready. Or don’t. But I’m not going anywhere."

Touch as Truce

brushes your tears away with his thumbs

"I’m sorry. I’m so sorry."

if you let him, he’ll pull you into his lap

arms locked around you like a vow

"We’re okay. We’re always okay."

Changed Behavior

starts asking "Are we good?" after minor spats

needs reassurance

leaves sticky notes: "Today’s reminder: I adore you. Even when I’m stupid."

KIM TAEHYUNG (V)

HOW IT HAPPENS

fight starts over something trivial

maybe you criticized his impulsive plan to road-trip to Busan at 2 AM

or he forgot (again) to tell you about a last-minute photoshoot

it escalates

words sharpening like knives.

he hates confrontation, especially with you

deflects with humor until you snap

“You don’t take anything seriously!”

that’s when you yank off your ring and toss it onto the dresser with a clatter

HIS IMMEDIATE REACTION

Physical

his entire body freezes

his playful smirk drops like a stone

he looks scared

Verbal

sharp, wounded laugh

“Wow. Okay. So we’re here now.” 

his voice is light

his hands are fists at his sides

HIS THOUGHTS

First “She’s really doing this. After everything?”

his mind flashes to lazy Sundays

to the way he always kisses that ring before leaving for work

Second “Fine. If she wants to play that game...”

it's his anger

= theatrical, all-or-nothing

Third  “…Wait. No. This isn’t a game.”

WHAT HE DOES NEXT

Grand Exit

grabs his keys and stalks out

slamming the door

drives to Han River and screams into the sunset like a K-drama hero

Symbolic Gesture

texts you a photo of his ring in his palm

captioned: “Should I throw it in the water? Be dramatic like you?” 

he won’t

he wants you to panic a little

Return:

comes home with two new rings

thicker, engraved with “Yours, Idiot” and “Mine, Dummy”

drops them on the bed

“Pick one. Or don’t. But I’m not going anywhere.”

HOW HE MAKES AMENDS

Apology

doesn’t say “I’m sorry.” 

he cooks your favorite meal (burning half of it)

plays your song on saxophone off-key

“Happy fake anniversary.”

= it’s not your anniversary; that’s the point

Promise

wears both rings on a chain for a week

“So you see I mean it.”

Growth

starts leaving Post-its with “I’ll be back at 8” or “Don’t wait up"

his little ways to say “I’m trying.”

JEON JUNGKOOK

HOW IT HAPPENS

the fight was bad, like ugly bad

= the kind that’s been brewing for months

maybe the marriage was rushed

= fans’ backlash, his chaotic schedule, your quiet resentment

when you finally snap and fling your ring onto the hotel bathroom counter

the clink echoes like a gunshot, even worse

Jungkook freezes mid-pace

muscles coiled

“What the fuck was that?”

HIS IMMEDIATE REACTION

Physical

he’s across the room in two strides

snatching the ring like it’s a lifeline

his knuckles whiten around it

“No. No. You don’t get to do this.”

Emotional

anger flares first

always, because fear wears his rage like armor

“You promised! We fought for this!” 

his voice is raw

HIS THOUGHTS

First “Was it the fans? The hate comments? Did I fail her?”

Second “I’ll delete everythinf. I’ll quit the group. Fuck it all.”

Third “Please. Not like this.”

WHAT HE DOES NEXT

Meltdown

kicks a chair (regrets it instantly)

texts his manager: “Cancel everything.”

Silence

disappears for hours

returns with red-rimmed eyes and a plan

Grand Gesture:

RE-PROPOSAL

Setting

rooftop of your first apartment together

fairy lights

no cameras

just him, shaking

What He Says

“I was an idiot. I thought marrying you was enough. But love’s not a ring, it’s every damn day choosing us.” 

kneels, holding out a new ring

= simple, sturdy, no flash, just forever

 “Marry me again. Slower. Louder. Better.”

[aleraquelmancini]

Mr. mrs.smith. - Alvo Marcado

[jiminrings]

six degrees of yearning

pairing: yoongi x reader

wordcount: 10k

glimpse: you're associated to yoongi through six different connections, and you're just hoping that he loves you back in atleast one.

alternatively, you believe in the six degrees of separation, and yoongi's just kind of sick of always coincidentally seeing you.

[ fluff, angst, mutual pining except yoongi's avoidant so He's An Ass At First, initial unrequited love, jealousy, not really a soulmate au (but looks like it w the way yoongi crashes out every time u ignore him (except u are jus reciprocating what he'd normally do!!), reverse cards aka the turns have tabled yippeeee, redemption ]

notes: now #that it think abt it, this is a relatively light fic amongst ALLLLL my yoongis (both tumblr n patreon)!! enjoy :P

as always, lmk what you think <3 send in feedback n love to my askbox anytime!!

Yoongi doesn’t believe in connections.

He neither believes the power and the convenience of the supposed connections he has, not because he worries about the ethical parameters of pulling some strings (he literally could not care less if someone talks shit behind his back), but because Yoongi’s never found any real use for them.

His dad says that he has a friend who works as the head of security in the newly-opened outlet mall in the city, and unless Yoongi’s planning on shoplifting a pair of authentic, luxury cargo shorts (that’s in either a hideous color or has an outrageous factory defect like the zipper being stitched on backwards), he’s not really scrambling at the offer, if it even sounds like one to his dad, with his hands outstretched for the car keys.

Yoongi has also heard from his mom that she has a second cousin who’s a dean in this one university that’s hard to get into. Nevermind the fact that the department she’s heading has something to do with numeracy (and the other glaring fact that Yoongi has to whip out a calculator to make sure he knows what he’s doing with the numbers on the microwave) — his aversion towards even considering the offer of being directly enrolled stems from the fact that the said uni is literally hard to get into because the building’s two hundred years old and he doesn’t want to give himself the stress of having to talk to the walls.

It’s not to say exactly that Yoongi’s turning his back on the entirety of connections his family has and the opportunities they could offer. He’s not saying never to the chance of being able to enter a flagship frozen yogurt store three hours away from his house, thirty minutes early (he doesn’t even know for what reason) or shaking his head at the prospect of one day renting a comically large bounce house and rock wall bundle for a party free of charge.

It’s just that Yoongi has no will to exercise his connections, nor believe in them in the first place, because there’s not one that’s ever really benefitted him yet.

It’s to your understanding, however, that Yoongi’s your mom’s best friend’s son, and that fact alone makes you believe in the sheer beauty and providence of having connections.

The first time your mom’s best friend’s son, Min Yoongi, properly interacts with you— outside of seeing him in passing during compulsory family photos in reunions (where you had to take over for your mom multiple times in taking pictures because she just does not seem to ever grasp the concept of taking a photo without her thumb on the way) and video calls between your moms (where the two of you had no choice but to take over because they just kept making the mistake of calling the wrong people) — is at your family’s dinner table.

Yoongi thinks your family’s a hoot to be with, really, even with the way your dad’s dry sense of humor is rubbing off on his own and the way the wallpaper in their bathroom just keeps changing with every Pinterest board your mom could conjure. 

He doesn’t mind that much; he doesn’t mind the closeness nor the rapidly growing amounts of teasing, because although Yoongi’s always known that you and him basically grew up together without being around each other that much at all, he figures that it’s harmless.

It’s harmless for the both of you to know far too much about each other without having even been left together alone in a room, because he figures that it’s just what moms do. It’s harmless for your moms to keep telling the other random details about their lives and their children specifically, because while you know that Yoongi had once mistyped 40 seconds for 4 minutes in the microwave and almost gave their kitchen a very, very bad day, you don’t know if his eyelashes are short or how many piercings he has on each ear.

Now that Yoongi’s here though, right next to you at your family’s dinner table, because your parents are engaged in a heated debate about whether carrots are better eaten in their original or in their miniature form and you’re the only children here for this, you realize three things.

First, Yoongi’s lashes are long and dense that point downwards, and second, is that he has two piercings on each ear.

Third, is that you thank every auspicious thread in your life because Yoongi happens to be your mom’s best friend’s son, and you’ve never seen someone so charming and enigmatic up close. 

 "You could feed them to the dog so it's not as obvious," he leans down to whisper, eyes pointedly lingering at the way you’ve basically scooted all of your vegetables to the side.

"We don't have a dog," you mutter defeatedly, voice fading to a chuckle when you look up and realize that he’s too close; like he’s too familiar with you to the point that he doesn’t see any issue in having his face just inches away from you in attempt to be discreet, when really, it would take an earthquake and a half to even pull your parents out of their debate.

“You don't?" he tilts his head, scrunching his nose in confusion. "Why's there a collar and a leash in your coat rack then?"

"Because I thought buying them would pressure my parents into letting me adopt one.”

Yoongi chuckles softly, the amused smile that settles on his face making you blink once, twice, the weight of his lazy, comfortable expression almost distracting you from the way his hand moves to your plate.

"Here. That's my share," he nudges his head to your vegetables, chewing and swallowing the noticeable dent he had made on your plate without even flinching. “Rest is yours."

"But it tastes horrible," you frown. "You only want it because you're from a granola household," you murmur, the slip of your tongue making you purse your lips immediately. "No offense. Love your mom, by the way."

"What kind of example would I be if I don't force you to eat your veggies?" Yoongi rolls his eyes, resting his cheek on his palm with an almost bored (and slightly entertained, you hope) look to his face.

You should be grateful that he even considered helping you out, but it just doesn’t hit you yet. You don’t want to count your blessings immediately because Yoongi doesn’t look like he’s going to stop being gratuitous anytime soon.

Almost as if you don’t see him leaving your thread of connections within the future.

"Fine. Just one more spoonful,” he yields, mistaking the wistful, dazed, and slightly unhinged expression behind your eyes (you wonder if Yoongi knows about the sidewalk rule, or what side of the bed does he sleep on, and whether or not he’s the type to jump to your family plan or the other way around) for genuine distraught over him not helping you.

You can’t help but feel a little too fulfilled; a little too prideful of being connected to Yoongi, who’d clear the mountain of vegetables on your plate when your mom’s in a crazy, nutty health kick, even if you’ve never gotten the opportunity growing up to ask him what flavor of scented erasers he liked nibbling on or when his first kiss was.

You like Yoongi.

You like him and his ginger hair and the undercut that’s working really well for him, even more than your older sister’s best friend’s cousin who sells imported factory overruns of your favorite jeans (read: the Japanese selvedge denim that you’d never tell anyone where you got it from when they react to your pictures).

You like him and his habit of chewing on nothing when your conversation dwindles and you’re still racking your brain for tangents to continue it, even more than your uncle’s ex-wife’s (who always had you as her favorite) new husband’s food truck that sells your favorite baked potatoes.

You know you would like Yoongi, whether or not he’s your mom’s best friend’s son — it’s that simple.

It’s not so simple, however, when he lingers by the edge of the living room when he hears the telltale patter of your parents ramping up to say their goodbyes, right after decimating each other’s Letterboxd reviews. You didn’t want him to go just yet; you wanted to hear more of his stupid opinions and see his stupidly handsome face even longer.

"You know, it wouldn't be so bad if you just bring home a dog and then ask for permission later," he hums. ”It's not like they can do anything about it."

"And have me and the dog brought back to the shelter?"

"I can convince my mom to have your mom go easy on you," Yoongi shrugs.

"But she's a cat person and mom's just— she's a person, alright. She doesn't even want to have a pet fish."

"Who do you think made her a cat person?" Yoongi snorts, slightly struggling to put his coat on which makes you have the knee-jerk reaction of scrambling to help him, the sincerity (and almost rabid eagerness) of your hands making his eyes widen momentarily. ”I brought in a stray, then she made me sleep out in the porch for a night, but now? She literally cradles Miso to sleep."

It should just be another tidbit about Yoongi that you’re supposed to forget.

It should just be another seemingly insignificant nugget of information that would awe you, but never endear you to the point that you find yourself thinking about him and your red thread (one that you keep tugging on telepathically because although you exchanged numbers and socials, he’s not doing… anything) — something that wouldn’t keep you up at night.

Yoongi and his horrible, godforsaken influence don’t leave you at all.

Yoongi, your mom’s best friend’s son, and the stupid, detailed facts you know about him linger in your system like a red thread stands out on the pink linen runner in your family’s dining table.

You text Yoongi, late in the night, just once, with a picture of a comically large, skrunkly, and funky-looking dog on your lap, whom you could finally call your own.

her name’s veggie :]

Yoongi sends just one text back in the morning, attached with a picture of Miso sprawled out, sleeping on his shoulder with remnants of cardboard in her mouth. 

yippee!!!!!!!

( ♡ ) 

Yoongi’s your ear seeding guy’s roommate. 

Jin who’s not really a licensed auriculotherapist, but who’s your age and Just Happens to be fond of sticking little tiny beads on his ears and his clients (three including you and himself), doesn’t have an actual shop he could call his own yet.

To have one, it would mean he actually needs to get a certification for what he’s doing instead of practicing his self-taught degree from Reddit University, with his esteemed professors being his grandparents, his parents on a good day (when they’re not being undermined by their parents), and some person aliased Jay M. Rings on Etsy who not only sells him his equipment, but keeps answering his questions.

More importantly, Jin (whom you only knew of because he was sat next to you in the library and flicked your conch when he heard your stomach audibly grumble) would need to rent out a place that would bleed him dry, assuming nobody would pay the ideal 400% upcharge to your existing payment so he could keep the spot.

It doesn’t bother you at all that Jin keeps the ear beads next to the orange juice in his fridge. It doesn’t make your brows draw knowing that he forgets to ask you atleast 75% of the time what you were in for before he starts working. It doesn’t even perplex you when you hear Jin hum for two solid minutes right after you ask him what could possibly happen to you if said beads were to fall right into your ear canal.

The only singular time that Jin, your uncertified but family-trained auriculotherapist, actually makes you perk up into attention is when he leaves you momentarily in the living room of his shared dorm, muttering how you might see his roommate but you’ve got nothing to worry about because “he could be an ass sometimes, but he’s polite to strangers” — is that he’s never really told you that he lives with Yoongi.

Jin, bless his heart, who had no reason to ever assume that you know Yoongi in the first place, was right to leave you momentarily in the presence of his friend who’s just as confused to see you sitting on his stool in the counter.

“We’ve got to stop meeting like this,” he mutters, the supposed playful thrum of his voice sounding far too real towards the end.

Yoongi’s not even dressed for class or work by the looks of it. Instead, he looks every bit the other paying half of the dorm you’re in. From his ginger hair that’s toned down and a little longer than the last time you saw him (read: it’s much longer judging by his roots, but you can’t even think about that right now), all the way to how his sleep shirt features the silhouette of an actor for a superhero that’s long been cancelled before, you have no doubt that it’s your mom’s best friend’s son staring you down.

“Yoongi,” you smile, voice a little breathless despite having done nothing at all prior to seeing him in the flesh. “Why are you here?” you ask, the lump in your throat making it impossibly discreet that you’ve long connected the dots even before you could utter a response to him.

“I live here,” he snorts, running a hand through his hair in an attempt to make himself look a little more presentable (but not that he cares or anything). “Are you here… for me?”

You have no doubt that it’s your ear seeding guy’s roommate who’s making your brain fuzzy.

“I want to say so,” you chuckle, nibbling on your bottom lip. “But I don’t think you do ear seeding like your roommate does.”

“You know that Jin only has three patients right? Me, himself, and I don’t know who the third one is, but he told me that it’s his first client ever.”

“That would be me.”

“Oh,” Yoongi deadpans, narrowing his eyes. “You know he’s not certified, right?”

“I know,” you nod, trailing off as you look down at the floor to try and not to look like an utter fool in front of Yoongi who looks way too lax about your unexpected meeting. “And he doesn’t even charge that much for someone who can’t legally do this, but am I crazy?” you murmur, fading into a whisper as Yoongi stalks towards you on the counter, working around your figure as he fishes for the orange juice. “Am I crazy for feeling that Jin… makes it work?”

“I’ve been in denial about it for as long as I could, if that helps,” Yoongi whispers back, surprisingly not weirded out with the way your voice had dropped as he gives you your own glass wordlessly. “I pay him to do it, but I don’t want it to get into his head that he might actually be onto something.”

“Right? I think it’s a-…”

“What are we whispering about?” 

Jin comes out of nowhere and you practically jump out of your skin at his interruption, your ass just seconds away from dropping to the floor if not for the very glaring realization that Yoongi’s here; that your body’s split-second response could possibly dictate your entire future with Yoongi, and that your embarrassment would seal the horrid fate of both your threads.

“You guys know each other or something?”

“Sort of,” Yoongi answers for the both of you, looking at you with his eyes thinking out loud as he ignores Jin’s muttering of why he wasn’t poured a glass of orange juice. “Y/N’s my… mom’s best friend’s daughter.”

“Yeah,” you affirm, testing the words on your tongue. “And Yoongi’s… my friend?”

He only shrugs.

“That works too.”

It could and it would work for you, because the way Yoongi lingers around you as Jin works on your ears gives you a different type of constipation that not one cold, tiny bead could fix.

It should work for you, because you’ve never been this ecstatic over incidental connections in your lifetime; not when you learned that you can get 20% off your breakfast muffin orders from this famous joint in the city because your great-grandpa was the first cashier for it maybe a hundred years ago (you do not have a grasp on time past your parents’ ages), nor when you found out that the librarian is the stepmom of the kid you used to babysit and she’d let you bring home anything you want.

“Stop talking to Y/N, Yoongi,” Jin grumbles at some point, exhaling more pointedly than usual when he doesn’t get to stick the bead at the exact pressure point that he needed to. “Her ears are too warm right now.”

“No, they’re not,” you immediately retort, the sharp flit of your gaze to him making him mockingly curl his upper lip at you, rolling his eyes at your denial.

It must work for you, because even Jin, your ear seeding guy, could tell that whatever crush or admiration you have for Yoongi would be devastating — it’d be only endearing, if and only if, it was requited.

Yoongi texts you sometime in the evening, a few too many hours later after you left his apartment. You weren’t necessarily expecting for him to holler at you by the doorframe, asking you to give him a call to let him know you made it back safe; Yoongi didn’t require that of you, and it should be okay.

You’re only friends. 

You’re only a friend who unknowingly drank from his favorite, always-washed-and-dried mug, and he’s only a friend who had texted you at 8 in the evening with a picture of Miso on his mom’s lap 

one time i woke up with two less beads on my ear and i never questioned it

You’re only a friend who rapid-fire texts your dad for a picture of Veggie just to immediately reply to Yoongi, even if said image you receive is a live photo of her snoring with the flash going off on her snout.

there would be No Answers either :D

( ♡ ) 

Yoongi’s your little brother’s dentist’s godson. 

In an attempt at self-preservation (read: working a job wherein he doesn’t feel the need to brawl when faced with a customer with a phone whipped out), Yoongi finally relents to trying one of his connections over the break.

It’s fairly easy, really. He doesn’t have to spend his day looking down on other people’s mouths nor hold the suction for the dentist on duty or anything at all; Yoongi’s not exactly making bank, but all he has to do is be a pretty face in the reception area, schedule appointments here and there, type out a few Excel sheets, and his godmother swears that’s it.

You only wish those were the actual things in his job description, because as soon as you walk in through the double doors, you convince yourself through hell and back that Yoongi’s here for every other reason besides working his summer job.

You wait for the other shoe to drop, for him to telepathically communicate to you (without even making eye contact), that he’s been significantly older than you all this time and that he has a DMD degree and he’s only been humoring you during all your previous interactions, and all the aforementioned is a nudge to letting you down slowly.

You wait for it to hit you that perhaps it’s not really Yoongi-Yoongi whose side profile is facing you, but instead some random guy that has one of those faces, while your little brother waits for you to resume functioning again.

He’s dressed in scrubs, but Yoongi has one of those faces which you could tell have never worn scrubs before. It doesn’t look natural in his frame with the way he looks too foreign and polished in them, almost as if he’s never even stretched upward to pick up something from a cupboard or twisted his arms laterally to get rid of the aches in them. 

Yoongi looks like he doesn’t belong in the dentist’s office thirty minutes away from your childhood home, until he blurts out your name in equal confusion.

"Y/N?" he tilts his head, the unsure tone that coats his words making you snap into attention, walking towards him with a renewed purpose in your steps. “What are you... doing here?"

"I'm here to hold his hand," you answer as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world, waving your occupied hand proudly (when just awhile ago you were complaining how clammy your brother’s hand was) with a hesitant smile. "What are you doing here?"

Yoongi’s lips part in astonishment, almost as if he didn’t count on you returning the question to him. He loosely points to the framed picture of the dentist behind him, the chuckle that leaves him making you nod eagerly even before the words could leave him, making it painfully obvious that you already connected the dots to some sort of degree, but you still want to hear him speak nonetheless.

"She's uh, she's my godmom and I'm putting in some hours.”

"Are you getting paid?" you blurt out, eyes later widening when it registers to you that your desperation to keep your conversation going knows no bounds as long as it involves Yoongi, making you swallow your own shame with a cough. “Sorry. I'm just a little nosy.”

Yoongi clears his throat at that, pursing his lips in genuine thought at the (valid) question. ”Uhm, not exactly, I think? I get handed money at the end of the day but really, it's not-..."

You wanted nothing more than to retract your question even before Yoongi could muster finishing his train of thought.

You wanted nothing more than the ground to swallow you whole when Yoongi can’t even finish answering your question, to which you already seemingly crossed a line with, because he’s preoccupied.

Yoongi’s not preoccupied with the way your brother’s started drifting away from you, even with his hand still clasped to yours, except this time he’s treading closer to the reception desk where he stands in, body language glaringly evident that if you were to even loosen your hold on him for a split second, he’ll hide behind Yoongi’s feet to avoid getting his routine cleaning.

He’s not distracted either with the way you keep blinking up at him as if you were communicating your admiration for him in Morse code, nor with the way your lips are still parted with the next awaiting conversation greaser if he were to stall.

Yoongi does stall, not because of you, but because of the woman that strolls into the clinic and past him, her manicured hand grazing past his midsection in the process.

"Hi, Yoongs.”

"Hey, Jisun,” Yoongi immediately replies with a sheepish smile, his hand buffering by his side to return the touch with a gentle pat as his eyes follow her, the flustered lump on his throat making him cough sharply.

Oh.

It’s not Yoongi who doesn’t belong here — it’s you.

"It's more for the experience, then? Not the pay?" you try to finish his thought for him, your voice on the verge of fading if not for the little drops of self-preservation in your throat that keep you standing upright.

Yoongi doesn’t look embarrassed over you seeing the interaction unfold, and he’s not uneasy either. He just looks sheepish… almost pitiful that you had to see something so unnervingly warm and intimate without even meaning to.

“That's one way to put it."

Without another word, you nod firmly and he takes that as his signal to actually do his job.

Without another glance, you do your job and hold your little brother’s hand throughout his appointment, steeling your nerves every time you hear the door to his room open because it would be pointless to look back. There’s no way it’s Yoongi finding an apt reason to linger near you, and there’s no way either for you to come back for conjuring such an expectation.

Yoongi rings you up with no discounts (he's not sure if he's even allowed to) yet he leans in just enough to ruffle your brother’s hair, gaze fixed on him before it flits to you briefly.

"Good job, buddy. Go pester your sister for some ice cream,” he hums, the almost-customary, dry-humored, and slightly playful goodbye rekindling a little bit of hope in you, enough to make you look up from your shoes without worrying if you have to see Yoongi’s midsection grazed by a hand that isn’t yours, again. ”Say hi to Veggie for me."

You nod tightly in obligation.

"I hope Miso's well."

( ♡ ) 

Yoongi’s sister is the amateur hairdresser who gave you a bad haircut for free in cosmetology school.

For the record, you weren’t searching up Yoongi’s family name and making up a family tree as you went in order to find ways to be closer to him. That wasn’t the case at all.

The only pressing situation you had last night on-hand was that your mind was plagued with the saying that hair apparently holds memories, and after a few barely-passing major exams here and there that hours of doom-scrolling and back-to-back partying couldn’t fix, and you decided then and there that you’d get a haircut first thing in the morning.

Your budget wasn’t that of a pressing issue (it’s no match to the marks on your university portal you could only blankly stare at), but it’s truly up there. You couldn’t afford to go to your usual salon, which although may not be the most expensive salon there is in the city (but they did serve iced drinks in-house so that atleast counts for something), would still set you back a few good meals throughout the next two weeks if you were to book an appointment.

You had no choice but to suck it up. You wanted change and you wanted it quick for a fraction of the usual cost, and that’s why you ended up in the cosmetology school just a few blocks away from your dorm. You only knew five minutes prior to walking there, thanks to a classmate, that they offer services for cheap and that most of the time they end up being actually really good, and you didn’t need to hear any more after that.

In hindsight, however, you should’ve stuck around to hear more.

You should’ve stuck around to hear that getting A+ (maybe even C-) treatment at a cosmetology school is basically entering the lottery, and that you shouldn’t have had a perk in your step walking to there because a higher power, whether it’s up in heaven or just a few blocks away, would mistake it for you being too confident in what you thought you deserved.

You didn’t think too much about the way the woman named Eunji, who happily sat you on her chair with a nervous smile and familiar eyes, kept glancing to the back of your head and to the reference picture on your phone.

You didn’t think too much when she engaged you in conversation and something about the way she laughed made you squint your eyes as you rack your brain on why she both looks and sounds familiar, nor the way your hair kept getting into your eyes as she blowdried you and how she made no move in moving it the last minute.

It’s a little bit funny that the one time you didn’t think too much is the exact moment when you should have, and the whole vignette stops being funny as soon as you turn your head sideways.

The whole bit goes sideways, just like your haircut, when Yoongi walks towards your hairdresser who’s not earned her actual license yet.

"Here you go, princess," he scoffs, handing her a cup of iced coffee. "Had the time of my life explaining your order to the barista in the drive-thru booth."

Yoongi takes off his sunglasses, ready to rip her a new one and detail how he had never been more embarrassed knowing the difference between the concepts (concepts, not actualities) of white chocolate and white mocha somehow, but he suddenly stills.

He knew there was someone sitting on his sister’s chair, and he wasn’t really bothered lecturing her in front of a stranger.

Except you’re not a stranger — you’re you, sat on Eunji’s chair, and you’ve physically never looked this unrecognizable to him.

"Y/N?" Yoongi mutters, unwilling to even wait for your acknowledgement before he snaps his heads towards his sister. “Why's she in your chair?"

"Being supportive," you answer clippedly, only looking at Yoongi’s reflection in the mirror instead of the very real, and very solid him beside you so you wouldn’t have to turn your head and see your haircut in a whole new sense. "Also saving my allowance and I needed to get a trim, so I-I figured... why not go to Eunji?"

Yoongi doesn’t want to beat a horse when it’s down.

He really, really doesn’t want to laugh at you, but with the way you’re blinking at him like you’re held at gunpoint (except the gun is his sister’s shears), he can’t help but put a hand over his mouth.

He’s not laughing, but he is smiling. Yoongi’s thoroughly amused and deeply pitiful for you all at the same time, and he doesn’t know how his smile figures into the scheme of your haircut just yet.

"I could think of a few reasons."

"What do you think?" Eunji cuts in, asking with a nerve-wracking grin on her face with her hands clasped together, the watery gaze she has set on you tugging at your heartstrings in a much different way than when she had tugged at your ends.

"I love it," you answer breathlessly, tears pricking at the corner of your eyes as you try to ignore how much length has been cut off and how the layers she gave you are more of an emotional, haircut-related crashout kind. “Oh my god, I love it so, so, so bad."

Eunji breathes a deep sigh of relief at that, her shoulder sagging before she picks herself up and gives you a hug from behind, dashing off to get her camera from her locker instead of her supervisor.

You love the Min family.

You love their warmth and their constant presence, no matter how incidental or fixed.

You’re trying to love the existing skills of their third-born, however, but you can’t tell if your love is that unconditional for a family that’s always treated you like their own.

"Do you need a hat?" Yoongi asks, his upper lip tucked in between his teeth as he continues to stand behind you. "You look like you need a hat."

"N-no. I really, really..." you hesitate, your exhale far too slow for someone who’s genuine, but far too stable for someone who’s pretending to keep it together. "...love the change."

Yoongi gets a full-body shudder.

"I don't," he quips. "I don't think anyone but Eunji would love it."

"Yoongi.”

It’s simple. 

It’s just a simple utterance of his name and yet Yoongi stops cold in his tracks. He reels back the emotion that’s clear on his face, and he lets go of the money he has crumpled in his fists inside his pockets for you to get another haircut at a salon you actually want to go to, because he doesn’t want you to mistake his genuine pity for you as patronization.

You’re on the verge of crying, but Yoongi doesn't wipe your tears. Instead, he just hovers; he’s still there, whether you like it or not, and he could only hope that his striking resemblance to his sister doesn’t further set you off.

"You need a hat," he quietly murmurs, removing his cap from his head and putting it on yours seamlessly. "You don't have to give it back.”

Yoongi leaves it at that, watching you walk out with gas as soon as Eunji finishes taking photos of your hair, before turning his attention to his sister. Her coffee order isn’t the biggest issue they have for the day, instead, it’s her shitty hairdressing skills and how you’re far too kind.

It’s close to midnight, right after you reschedule your ear seeding appointment with Jin for another day because you couldn’t bear seeing anyone with your fuckass haircut (he unfortunately doesn’t know any pressure points that would make your hair grow back longer, and he did research on that after being suspiciously silent when you sent him a picture of your hair), when Yoongi texts you.

He doesn’t talk about The Incident. He doesn’t apologize and go on a rant about how he could’ve reacted better awhile ago.

He just sends a picture of his cat sleeping snugly in a Dutch oven that he got from a blind box and drove to another city for.

sometimes miso throws up orange fur she is white btw

You reply not a minute later before locking your phone.

good night miso

( ♡ ) 

Yoongi’s your best friend’s best friend other than you.

You’re not one to gatekeep. In fact, you’re the number one hater for every creator who washes up in your feed and suggests for you to go manually type up and search a link or press another button to know the follow-up to the already lengthy, chatty video you already watched.

You know you’re not privy to most things; you’re not even privy to anything at all.

It’s not a conundrum with a tight space for it to be debated upon; it’s just the truth. 

The very idea of everyone in the world being connected to each other within six degrees of separation was shaky in itself. If you were asked to, you can’t exactly place the most far-fetched celebrity in the media and trace back the six or less people that would serve as the bridge for you to be acquainted to them. 

You believe, both in a pipe dream and the innate hope you harbor, that you can be connected to said celebrity or anyone just as significant (maybe even notorious), yet it’s the semantics of trying to pinpoint your exact link that you can’t be bothered to do so in your free time. You’re in no rush to discern how many degrees separated you are from the mayor of the city, and you’re not jumping at the opportunity to know how many handshakes away you are from the executive producer of your favorite show.

You believe in fortuity. You believe in the hope that contingency promises and how ridiculous your current chances could be. You believe in select customs when they serve you and you put your hands together to ward off what don’t. You take what resonates with you, even if your belief in tomorrow comes from a long line of whatever came before you that you don’t fully believe in or if it spawns from the clench of your chest that you get when you see something scribbled in a brick wall and you decide that it’ll forever echo in your mind.

You’re not privy to the general admiration you have for Yoongi, nor are you privy to all the connections you have with him.

You believe in fortuity and you believe in Yoongi, but the two aren’t always synonymous.

"Yoongi?" you ask, the slip of his name from your mouth appearing out of habit rather than actual disbelief. “What are you doing here?”

He looks like he belongs here. He belongs here as much as you do and as much as you’ve never questioned the specifics, he looks you up and down with a discreetness that doesn’t belong in a party as big as this.

Yoongi makes Jimin’s party feel small to you. He zeroes in on you with a gaze that you can’t begin to dissect because a grunt slips past his lips before you could even explain what you were doing in the same space as him, again.

"What are you doing here?" he purses his lips, exhaling sharply. "Y/N, it's great to see a familiar face and all, but please don't stand so close to me," Yoongi grunts through his teeth as if your proximity to him physically pierces through his clothes and sears his skin. "I'm seeing this new girl and she gets a little bit-..."

"Hey."

Before you could even try to recover from the recoil of stepping away from Yoongi immediately so he could entertain her, before you could even try to nurse the harshness of his words and his gaze that penetrated your belief in him — Yoongi gives you a further light nudge in panic before backtracking, his arm now across your shoulders.

"She's my cousin, baby," Yoongi breathlessly greets, the belated addition of your name never falling to your ears because you choose not to know her; because you’re rendered frozen anyway when you realize that Yoongi introduces you as someone far more personal to him, yet someone even more distant to anyone who could see you. “Say hi, Y/N."

You can’t even be introduced as his friend.

At the back of your mind, you doubt if being introduced as one would even make a difference because the woman before you doesn’t seem the least bit interested nor intimidated at however Yoongi introduces you as.

You weren’t competition to her, nor did it feel like you were viable opposition to practically anyone in Yoongi’s life.

"Hi," you nod curtly, the clench of your jaw doing little to ease the migraine that blooms from the back of your head.

"Pleasure to meet a family member of my boyfriend, finally. He won't take me home for some reason," she jokes, her outstretched hand being taken by yours that’s gone cold, making her raise a brow, yet she takes it in stride anyway.

Anything for Yoongi’s supposed family, it seems.

"What was Yoongi like growing up?"

"Oh. Yeah, we didn't see each other that much growing up," you swallow, the shallowness of your tone making Yoongi’s casual arm around your shoulders falter, the slyness of his gaze on you curving into something unidentifiable. “Every time I see him, I still... learn something new."

Your voice tapers off, and both Yoongi and his girlfriend let you be. She only pushes for a little right after, when Yoongi’s hand is back snug to her waist and her head is pressed to his chest, yet you can’t bring yourself to add to the conversation she so badly wants.

She should know that she has no reason to impress you. She should know that she doesn’t have any reason to be afraid of letting you down, because neither does Yoongi.

Jimin, yours and Yoongi’s best friend, claps. 

“I’m back! Got in this long-ass line and-..." he trails off, looking between you and Yoongi and his girlfriend. “Oh? You've met each other then. Great!"

Her eyes only narrow in confusion for a split second, but she lets it be.

Yoongi lets it go, right after he sends a few glances your way and realizes that Jimin’s talking to you animatedly.

You only let go of it when you get home from the party far too early than anyone could account you for.

The grasp you have on fortuity is barely firm, just barely getting by, so much so that you don’t even look at your phone when it vibrates on your nightstand.

jimin’s asking where you are

The grasp you have on Yoongi is barely solid, only enough to hold onto thread instead of cloth, that you don’t reply to his text when you see it in the morning, nor bring up the very fact that it was Jimin himself who hailed a ride for you.

( ♡ ) 

Yoongi’s a familiar stranger to you. 

He’s basically a crow to you, and to him, you remain to be the pesky, overeager, and insanely optimistic human who wants to domesticate him.

He’s a highly-intelligent, unforgetting, vindictive creature. He knows patterns when he sees them but never flukes, not because he thinks he’s too good for them, but because it felt impossible.

To you, the world had never felt smaller when Yoongi first sat next to you at the dining table.

To Yoongi, the world had never felt bigger since he’s first crossed paths with you. It wasn’t the dining table for him. It wasn’t every other interaction that came after — it was everything before.

As soon as his eyes lay on you from across the floor of the reception hall, the warmth that spreads across your chest is everything but welcome. It stings and it burns and it leaves marks in its wake because it’s Yoongi and it’s you and there’s no other explanation.

There’s no other plausible, full-bodied explanation for the way Yoongi hates familiarity, other than the fact that it’s from you.

There’s no salve for his lack of need for you either.

“Are you a fucking stalker?” 

“W-what? No!” you stammer, eyebrows drawn together as you try to level with him. “This is pure coincidence. I wasn’t even trying to— all the times before either, I swear! I never intended to bump into you.”

Yoongi rolls his eyes, the scoff that leaves his lips only adding to the uncomfortable warmth that burns your fingertips.

“Say that you’re right. That every interaction, every meeting, every discreet instance of you shooting your shot at me, which by the way is not discreet at all, is just pure coincidence— do you think I’m happy about it?”

You want to correct him.

You want to point out every thread between you that’s there yet you never pulled on. You want to write his name on a piece of blank paper and map out with yarn all the degrees you’re separated from him, and yet you don’t. You can’t focus on anything with regards to proving yourself right and him wrong when all you can zero in on is the little amount of self-preservation you have left.

“But you don’t hate me, Yoongi,” you murmur, shaking your head earnestly. “You said it yourself. Y-you said it’s nice to see me and-…”

“I said that in the past but I don’t mean it now! Yes, you’re familiar, and that benefits me when I get put into situations and all I happen to know is you,” he snaps, throwing his head back. “I don’t mean it now. It’s not very nice to see you when everyone, including the girl I actually like, just assumes that we’re together because you kept looking at me!”

“B-but I don’t-…. I-I don’t do so well in new-…” the words die in your throat, the gentle yet firm tug he has on your wrist making you freeze in its inescapable warmth. It should be familiar. Yoongi should be familiar, but he feels everything besides that. “But you’re the only one I know.”

“Here. I’ll introduce you to someone and then you can hang onto him.”

Yoongi wordlessly takes you across the hall, delivering you like you’re some misplaced package that ended up on his porch. He doesn’t even look back at you despite his hand being wrapped around your wrist, whereas all you can do is burn holes at the back of his head with your gaze, ignoring the curious onlooking to your predicament as you swallow the lump in your throat.

“Hey, Jungkook,” Yoongi makes his presence known as soon as he sees the familiar mop of hair within his eyeline, his holler effectively taking said guy’s attention.

“Oh, hey-…”

Yoongi, without sparing a second glance to you, nudges you gently to him.

“This is Y/N. Someone I know. Can you watch over her for a second?”

Jungkook, the guy you’ve known for a total of two seconds, hesitantly receives you with a pat to your arm, letting his hand linger there as the both of you look at the back of Yoongi’s retreating figure.

“…okay?”

Just two seconds ago, Jungkook was in a heated one-on-one with his friend Hoseok if it was ethical for one to let their hypothetical girlfriend’s hypothetical close friend sit in the front seat, if said hypothetical girlfriend was drunk and wanted to lay in the backseat (Jungkook’s on team not let close friend sit shotgun) — now, he’s in a silent one-on-one with you.

It’s silent, of course, until you sniffle.

“Oh my god, are you alright?” Jungkook panickedly asks, fishing out a handkerchief from his pocket. “Do the tears have to do something with how weird Yoongi was two seconds ago?”

“Yeah.”

“I figured,” Jungkook, someone you’ve known for less than five minutes, rubs comforting circles on your back.

You don’t mind.

“I’m sorry. I drank from this awhile ago but I swear I didn’t spit on it or anything,” he frowns, his hand outstretched invitingly enough for you to interpret it as friendly, but distant enough for you to have the chance to be wary. “Or do you hate drinking from a stranger’s water bottle that’s already open?”

“It hasn’t happened before, but I don’t think I’ll hate-hate it,” you mumble through broken sniffles, turning your head briefly, partly to wipe away your tears, but mostly to not look like a complete idiot. “Also, you’re not a stranger.”

“Right! I’m Jungkook again, by the way. I don’t think Yoongi even said my name properly because of how fast he was dying to get out of here,” Jungkook laughs, the sincerity flowing out of him being easy. Uncomplicated.

You drift to your default silence, nursing your cries to yourself while trying not to make a sound, but it’s proven difficult when you see two large hands underneath your downturned head: one holding the water bottle, and the other cupped underneath it.

Jungkook thinks your questioning gaze is directed to the way his hands are positioned instead of his default kindness for you, and just maybe everyone else he’s ever encountered.

“Because your hands are shaking.”

He lifts the bottle to your lips, being extra careful in tilting it and having his hand tuck right under your chin to ensure that not a single speck of water would drop to the elegant dress you’re wearing (that you’ve only borrowed, unlike his assumption that you just have the number lying around).

Jungkook sheepishly excuses himself right after you tap him on the forearm to let you know you’ve had your fill, the snort that leaves his lips almost disturbing his methodical pouring of the remaining water to the bottle cap.

“Sorry. I’m a little bit thirsty myself.”

“You could just drink from your own bottle,” you find yourself genuinely laughing the first time into the night, shrugging playfully. “Just a thought.”

“But I don’t want you to think I’m a weirdo for drinking from my bottle deliberately after you drank from it,” Jungkook frowns.

“Of course,” you nod eagerly, gesturing to the live image of a man as structured as him taking tiny little sips from an even tinier bottle cap. “This isn’t any weirder at all.”

“Thank you, pretty girl,” Jungkook bows in the most regal way he could, the grin that graces his face easing the weight that Yoongi had left on your chest. “Not bad for a first impression, hm?”

.

.

.

Yoongi has a habit of mumbling.

Jimin has a habit of eavesdropping, especially when it’s Yoongi mumbling angrily to himself.

“Well that’s fucking weird.”

“What?” Jimin clarifies, furrowing his brows at the annoyance that’s plastered clearly on his friend’s face.

Yoongi doesn’t explain. He just barks at him, arms crossed on his chest as he exhales slowly.

“Go bring Y/N a bottle of water. Don’t tell her it’s from me.”

“A please would be nice,” Jimin mutters. “And no? Give it to her yourself.”

“She’s your best friend.”

“She’s your friend too.”

“She’s not,” Yoongi corrects him, the adjustment falling short because Jimin doesn’t even flinch at the attempt.

It’s pure, utter bullshit. It’s a propaganda that he won’t fall for and it’s a movement that even Yoongi himself isn’t truly invested in.

“She’s not?” Jimin echoes. “The girl who hates driving in the dark and in the rain, who drove you to the airport in spite of all that because my car was in the shop last week, is not your friend?”

Yoongi’s breath hitches at the reminder. 

His heart buckles at the way he didn’t even know you were scared until now, because you only talked to him that day like normal. Like nothing bothered you.

Like warm, as always.

Like you.

( ♡ ) 

Yoongi’s not intentionally seeking punishment.

Frankly speaking, he doesn’t even know exactly what’s he’s asking from you. He doesn’t know if there’s a word for the hollow, all-consuming guilt that’s planted in his chest and grows roots in the pit of his stomach and blooms in the back of his skull.

If Yoongi were to hear his own words repeated back to him, with even just a fraction of the amount of vitriol and misplaced frustration, he would’ve called it then and there. He would’ve hurt himself and ran for the hills right after to recuperate because there’s no amount of distance that would ever stop the echoes of his own tirade.

You weren’t Yoongi, however, and he’s never hated that fact more.

It’s beyond good, maybe even immaculate that you weren’t him, because you were far too better. Far too warm and too good, because even though Yoongi doesn’t seek punishment from his own hands, you wouldn’t deal him the same deck of cards if he were to explicitly ask you.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N. You didn’t— fuck — you didn’t deserve that at all and I’ve never been more stupid,” he apologized through the bedroom door of your childhood home. It was his parents’ monthly catch-up with your own and although the invite wasn’t really open for everyone (not one child from either families came with whenever it was this time of the month), Yoongi jumped at the opportunity to come over. You were still warm, although not for him, but not one second passed wherein you took out your anger for him to his parents who didn’t know any better.

“I didn’t mean any of it. I-I was angry, and I was frustrated, and I didn’t know how to juggle everything — but I’m not making excuses! I’m being honest, and the truth was that I was an asshole and I took it out on you,” Yoongi had apologized to you in his dorm when it was time for your session with Jin. You didn’t work your way around him to change your routines; you stayed rooted and despite being overwhelmed with guilt and the need to make himself better, it’s Yoongi who bended backwards by not fleeing at all. You didn’t take it out on Jin, and you didn’t even take it out on the apparently lucky succulent that Yoongi had slipped to your hands during one of your sessions.

“You can push me away. Please. Y-you can cuss me out and everything, and I know I’m asking for forgiveness and you can keep saying no, but I-I’m not doing this to absolve myself, y’know? I just don’t want you to have my… my own words linger in your mind,” Yoongi pleaded to you during your little brother’s return appointment at the dentist. It wasn’t even summer. He’s not even working for his godmother anymore, and yet Yoongi still came into the date he booked your sibling for. You didn’t give him attitude; you didn’t take it out on him in public.

What Yoongi seeks from you is indiscernable. It’s neither penance or punishment. It’s not forgiveness or absolution.

The only absolute thing that Yoongi knows he wants from you, even if it’s within his lowly means and that equates to being beneath you, is something akin to familiarity.

It hurts to see you there but not for him. It aches to see you everywhere and digest that the only times your gaze would land on him is when he makes himself painfully known for your anger and frustration to snag on, anything, really, just to be reminded that you know him enough— even if it’s just barely to get by — to be annoyed over.

You’re everywhere and Yoongi doesn’t complain, even if every single bone in his body is just yearning for the warmth that he took for granted when your shoulders would touch and your knees would brush and your eyes would meet. 

Yoongi’s being burnt alive from your frigid avoidance towards him, even if you’re practically everywhere he goes, but he doesn’t flee.

He’s not avoiding you. He’s taking the hurt and he keeps taking it, because although it’s not punishment enough, it’s close enough to warmth.

It’s close enough to familiarity, even as he pulls desperately at all the threads that bind the two of you close but never together — because it had only been him who had delayed the latter from happening.

“I’m not making excuses. I-I’m being honest and it’s ugly in hindsight, but it’s the truth,” Yoongi whispers, gnawing on his bottom lip as he stands outside of your dorm with no buffer this time; no other connection, no other degree of separation. “I-I wanted to be connected to you in every single way without— w-without anyone else bridging the way for me.”

“That’s stupid,” you mutter.

“I.. know. God, Y/N. You don’t know how much I think of you and all these stupid, fucking ways I want to be your guy for everything,” Yoongi throws his head back, running a hand through his face as he tries to regain his footing. “I-I want to be the guy who fills up your wiper fluid and double checks if you’re being ripped off at the shop because you’re too pretty. It’s stupid, and I know that, but I thought you’d have the tendency to be like your mom a-and be infatuated with wallpapers one day, and I want to be the guy who talks you down from sticking them to the granite your apartment came with-…”

“You sound like an idiot, Yoongi.”

“It’s idiotic. It’s so, so stupid. I want to be your bootleg designer sunglasses guy. I-I want to know how to cut your cuticles and touch up your layers. God, I even have handwritten notes on how I could be the most annoying, present being in your life and-…”

You slap Yoongi very, very lightly.

It’s practically just a tap on his cheek that wouldn’t even be enough to spook a bug off your arm, but it’s you. It’s you and your touch and your warmth and Yoongi literally jolts with electricity, the words stopping right at the tip of his tongue as you stare him down.

“That’s stupid, Yoongi.”

“I know. It’s so stupid,” he shakily affirms, cheeks impossibly warm at your touch. At your proximity, even if your chest is far from touching his own and even if your hand that was on his cheek is now back on your side. “It’s stupid that I kept pulling down the collar of my shirt when I first sent you that picture of Miso, a-and how I’m a grown man but hid behind my literal cat every time I felt that it was getting too real and I-I couldn’t keep up.” 

Yoongi didn’t always believe in connections, and you have no doubt about it.

You have no doubt about Yoongi’s stupidly honest and sincere outpouring either.

“Stupidest thing I know,” you affirm with a whisper, nodding your head tightly.

Yoongi didn’t always believe in fortuity. 

He didn’t believe in yearning and contingency until it dawned into his thick, stubborn skull that what— who — he wanted most is you.

“I want you in all the ways I already know you,” Yoongi relents, not out of surrender, but out of admission. Out of sincere, full-bodied truth. “I don’t want to stop, sweetheart. I don’t wanna stop thinking and being all the ways I could ever be connected to you.”

[curryshesus]

jeon jungkook fics that own my mind, body, heart, and soul

in other words, this is a collection of my favorite jk fics on tumblr! if you enjoyed any of these fics as much as i did, pls remember to support the authors by interacting with their post. part 2 | other bts members

➺ bitchin - by @kinktae

summary: the 80s were a time of choices. which perm was right for you? what color neon would you wear next? none of these choices, however, were more questionable than a certain deal you made with jeon jungkook.

➺ idealizations concerning real life relations - by @venusiangguk

summary: jungkook loves to be loved, but he doesn’t love in return.

➺ hotter than hell - by @chateautae

summary: jungkook, lucifer and king of hell, has been cast out of the crimson underworld for a reason he’s unsure of. embarking on his journey for the answer should’ve been easy, if it weren’t for you, the human that nurses his wounded body in her home, and accidentally witnesses the truth of his identity. kickstarting a hellish adventure with the devil himself, you discover lucifer is the most infuriating company ever; and jungkook finds out that maybe his answer to returning home lies within his annoying human confidant.

➺ jump then fall (into you) - by @writtenwhalien

summary: bringing Jungkook along as your date to your ex’s lavish cruise wedding seemed like a perfect idea at first — all of your family and close friends together, nothing can go wrong… then Jungkook’s ex shows up and all of a sudden you’re in a years long relationship with him. You don’t mind though, really, how hard can sharing a cabin and pretending to be deeply in love with your best friend really be?

➺ too late to dream - by @kookslastbutton

summary: You did it. You married your college professor. You even bought a house together. Against all odds, everything had fallen into place. But after two years of marriage, you begin feeling something was missing. You want a baby but your husband can’t say the same.

➺ the forgotten spaces- by @oddinary4bts

summary: you've been dancing on the same dance crew since your teenage years, and you finally have an important role in it. It feels like life is taunting you when your rival comes back after disappearing for a year, ready to tease you every chance he gets. Will the teasing turn into more, or are you going to take him down with you?

➺ when the end comes - by @oddinary4bts

summary: Seven years after you've started dating Jungkook, long distance creates a wedge in your relationship. When the only solution seems to be breaking up, you go your separate ways even though love still lives in the two of you. Will you find a way back together, or has the end come for you and Jeon Jungkook? **sequel to the forgotten spaces

➺ falling - by @starshapedkookie

summary: soulmate (noun): a person who is bound to another through the strongest level of emotional and physical connection. one is given a name on the body upon 18 years of age and any transgressions against the laws of soul-bonding will not occur without harm.

➺ love alive - by @jamaisjoons

summary: a year after you and jungkook break up, the two of you meet at your brother’s party.

➺ changes in between - by @taegularities

summary: Becoming the roommate of Jeon Jungkook is the biggest change you’ve ever gotten thrown into - but little do you know that the addition of another man will bring even further turbulence into your (love) life.

➺ falling skies - by @fortunexkookie

summary: Jeon Jiyeon was your childhood best friend; her brother, Jungkook, was something else entirely. You used to be friends, but then he had gone from endearingly frustrating dumb boy to card-carrying fuckboy so fast it had given you whiplash.

Despite the teasing and fighting, Jiyeon realized how Jungkook felt about you long before he did - it was a twin thing - and if you were her sun, and he was her moon, then she just wished she could show you how he reflected your light.

➺ sugarplum elegy - by @bymoonchild

summary: You know no bounds nor depth with Jungkook. While your fuck buddy loves sleeping in your bed and doing laundry for you with his favourite fabric softener, you are in love with a mysterious honeyed, velvety voice on Soundcloud. All’s fine, until you find out that the voice that metaphors your heart to a sweet sugarplum melody actually belongs to the boy who has been taking up a special spot in your bed and in your heart, strumming at your heartstrings all this while. Or, Jungkook has one braincell, but it’s heart-shaped.

➺ an abundance of mondays - by @diortae

summary: "why the fuck would it be easy? you’re disgustingly in love with your best friend. of course it’s complicated.” he pauses to roll his eyes, as if he hasn’t just laid out the most secret parts of you here in the middle of the campus dining hall.

➺ five dates - by @kpopfanfictrash

summary: “Ten dates,” he nods, smile tugging at his lips. “Ten dates, to decide if you want this – want me – or want me to go. Ten dates to get to know me. Ten dates,” he says, oddly soft, “to fall in love with me.” Which then becomes five.

➺ here comes the bride, all dressed in pride - by @hansolmates

summary: You and your cousin Doyeon have had beef with each other since the sandbox. When she plucks the last straw, you decide to end your long-simmering fight by claiming that you and her ex—Jeon Jungkook, are now boyfriend and girlfriend

➺ if i told you - by @gukyi

summary: in order to pay for university, jeon jungkook decides to market his most valuable asset to the wealthy socialites of campus: himself. donning a suit and tie, tousled hair, and glasses (to look smarter), he becomes every rich daughter’s dream: the perfect boyfriend to bring to balls, dinners, and business gatherings. all while you watch from the sidelines, only able to dream of having that much money to buy yourself what you really want: him.

[werezmastarbucks]

three hugs

idol!yoongi x f!reader oneshot

oneshot

oneshot!!!!

You will do well to remember that Yoongi is in love with his job first; he is married to his music and is merely cheating with you. There's no space or capacity in his life for commitment to a human; only, the way he cares for you betrays his inconvenient feelings.

warnings/tags: FWB, unreciprocated feelings, jealousy, emotionally cold lovers, dual pov, aerophobia, lovers to exes to ???, drunk sex, cursing, emotionally unavailable Yoongi, hiking in Japan, smut kind of hits you in the face a little, but it's not super graphic?

word count: 12652

music: on the low by justin park, i like it by skz, spring attitude by sunwoojunga

author's note: guys i am stuck in dramatic present. break me out pls

"Shit".

"What?"

You slide the chapstick over your lips.

"It's mint".

Yoongi makes the curious cat-face, raising his eyebrows and pressing his lips together.

"Let me try?"

He found you on the balcony at one of the corporate parties. Those same parties where there was always one particular asshole recording things from under the elbow, in secret, for "reassurance". Thankfully, that evening didn't leak. Yoongi found you on the balcony when you were standing with your hand outstretched, catching rain, and he thought, thank fuck. A normal person. Some piano music was playing, reminding him of Mount Tate. It made him think of low Japanese pines and the fresh morning up above the ground. The droplets were gathering in your palm. You recognized his silhouette although you hadn't spoken before that. You were in too deep from the very beginning.

Now he is kissing you in the corridor of your Hannam-dong apartment, tasting the chapstick and making a face.

"It's freezing".

He's leaving first. You leave fifteen minutes later after his car is half way out of the neighbourhood. You aren't seen together in the street or establishments, unless it's an idol-approved restaurant where mobile phone use is banned altogether, and all the staff is on a massive pile of various NDAs. You do not get to hold hands or speak sweetly to each other, but he gets to watch his dick slide in and out of you, your lips wrap around it, gets to squeeze your breast and twist it, slap your thigh as you bounce on his lap, gets to mess your hair in his fist, yanking your head back, and you get to hear him produce god-fearing moans as he is orgasming under you. You do not date, you are four times removed colleagues and fuck buddies, and for the longest time it works well and boosts productivity tenfold. Stressed? Fuck. Depressed? Fuck. Yoongi can growl at his soundboard, then fall backwards onto his chair and keep falling until he lands head first on your lap. You are careful not to linger with your hand in his hair for too long lest he gives you that look that you don't like. When the tint of pleasure and casuallness slips off his pupil and he starts looking inside of you.

The reason is has been working so well was because you were both too busy and aloof to think about it. Two consenting adults, surviving on coffee shots and IVs, just trying to cum once in a while, and have someone around, who doesn't piss you off. Who doesn't know the people you talk shit about, so they don't side with them.

The fallout happened for you when you noticed him wrinkle his whole face as he squeezed a silicone slime, anatomically correct heart, in a futile attempt to "release the stress". Producer laughed at his snoot. You thought, oh, he's cute.

Oh, shit, he's cute.

Then the whole wagon of romance bullshit started filling your head and it felt like from then on you had about twice as much work. The load that feelings put on you cannot be overestimated. It's the constant thinking, even when you need to be concentrated. It drains the fun out of the sexual arrangement because now, instead of laughing at his jokes, you feel the fire at your ears and awkwardly giggle.

As he brushes his open palm across your hip in a mindless gesture, all of a suden, your whole body jerks, reacts, like a car starting all over again, like you've been zipped.

"Whoa. Haven't had enough?" he asks in the deep, rumbling voice that always gives you one promise. If you want, he can fuck for hours. Ten minutes in between rounds, glass of water, and he's good to go again. Yoongi is never stingy with compliments about your body; he always lets you know when you look breathtaking, and how the angle is to die for, and how nice your curves are, and how he appreciates you.

What he isn't generous with, is the actual connection.

On the day when you simply hang out in the same space, you, with your laptop, getting the documents ready, you decide to annoy him under the guise of being mad at everybody else. You're glad you have established earlier that you're an easily irritable person, because now Yoongi isn't suspicious when you seek his company.

But when you step to him from behind, completely misreading the atmosphere, and put your hands around his shoulders, he flinches. Yoongi never yells, god forbid, or even grunts at you, but instead, he turns around quite coldly, and says,

"Don't make it weird, okay? There was no need for that".

He shows you your place. You are, to each other, instruments. Friends almost, he enjoys your sense of humour when you're cool, and, preferably, naked. He respects your space and expects you to do the same with him. You know he is somebody who needs a lot of alone time. You are the same. The elite type of people who know how to be alone. But you have miscalculated that, after all the sixty-nines, maybe, a hug wouldn't be too out of the line. It is though.

It hurts you because you had already lost. The day when he found you on the balcony catching the rain and made an adorably cautious conversation, you had recognized his frame before he stepped into the pool of light, and you should have known that the cup will overflow and you will fall in love with him.

Like, it's ridiculous, who wouldn't? He constantly makes these funny faces, shaking his oval head, and crunches his nose, and is so quiet that it draws you in. When he comes over for the first time, the fucking doesn't start for thirty minutes because he is fixing a closet door that caught his eye. He is this... an effortlessly lovable, rare person. Emotionally shut, which you interpret as manipulation instead of a fact. His gaze tells you, yes, it only takes two screws. What's the big deal?

You are deeply hurt by his rejection, then a little concerned when he doesn't text for a whole week; it's getting dangerous because you don't know where the line is, that you shouldn't cross. You practice with his brothers: Namjoon seems to like you, and you tend to work with him a lot, sampling his voice and sending him variants. You learn this about yourself: casual touch isn't a norm at all, so it's fair that Yoongi got alarmed at it. You avoid touching people even when you are very drunk: no matter how soft, attractive, squishy they look, you tend to keep your hands to yourself. His suspicion in quenched after a bit, he starts looking you in the eye again as you play annoyance. Yoongi is the type to quietly retreat from an argument, to give up if it takes too much effort to battle; to pretend not to notice rather than confront. When there's a quarrel breaking out, which happens relatively often considering how many different people he is surrounded with, and him, having his authentic, strong opinions; when there's a fight, he visibly shuts off, covers his stomach with his arms and slightly turns around, checks out. Especially when it doesn't concern him or his band. Especially with people he doesn't love.

And he doesn't love you. He likes you, respects you, finds you very attractive for some reason. But he shows love in a completely obvious, unmistakeable way. You know he loves Jimin because he never flinches when Jimin assaults him with hugs. He loves music because he spends all of his waking time with her; he speaks about music; he sees the world through her. He loves mountains, and it's simply easily readable in the way he looks around sometimes. He opens up rarely, and when it's about something that he wants to do, it's usually going to the mountains.

He doesn't love you because it's inconvenient, stressful and isn't booked in his schedule. In his daily life, almost every minute is dedicated to doing something. Even sleep is rationed; he knows what time he eats and what time he showers. There's very little space for improvisation, and at first you felt sorry for him. Because, even though you work in the same place, you are simply an office rat. You walk around the building teaching language models and giving them idol voices. You have days off, evenings off, lunch time and a circle outside work. You can walk the street without covering your head with a hood, a hat, glasses and a mask. You used to feel sorry for him because you thought Yoongi and his other boys were kind of victims to their jobs, but soon learnt that his insane schedule is his own doing. He made it. Training, gym, English, Japanese, guitar, vocals, piano, doctors, meetings, shooting, repeat. Asking him why he lives like that would be stupid. It's because he loves it.

You close up. Losers are left with feeling the sorrow and like the third wheel. That's what you get for catching feelings when you never wanted them in the first place. You're not star-struck: you see him in his least glamourous, in the mornings when he is so groggy that he looks like an old man, dragging his feet around the room, struggling to find his own pants. His hair is all but dead, dry, burnt, occasionally it gets softer when his hairdresser undertakes emergency treatments. You stop thinking of Yoongi as an idol three months into fucking him. That part of his life is constantly present, of course; you even get to see him in his public persona from time to time, but he feels like a different person then. Yoongi is just - surrounded by limits, often a physically unreachable lover, that you happened to get a crush on. You keep on living, having this affair, thinking that the feelings, undeveloped, tend to die sooner or later.

The only thing you can't forget is the look he has given you when he refused your hug. You're not enough to have the right to distract him from work. You aren't loved enough to nag on him or call him without a purpose. You should remember your place. He does good in not invading your space, so what's your excuse?

Otherwise, he's a good guy. Yoongi is generally kind and patient with everybody. If there's a choice, he chooses to do good.

─────────────────────────────────────

Like now.

You click your tongue and swipe the web page closed.

"Hm?"

Your favourite band is touring across Europe without thinking of dropping by your place, or at least somewhere in Asia.

"I can even get the tickets, but flights are too expensive because it's the season".

"Berlin?"

"Yeah", you reply absent-mindedly.

"I can take you. I can go there earlier".

"Don't you have the show in May?"

"They've asked me to choose the date, and I haven't decided yet", Yoongi stretches his arms, then falls on the side like a cat, pressing the top of his head to your ribs as his hand tickles them under your other arm. You shift. He knows you don't like tickling too much and does it when he wants a reaction. You clutch his hand shortly to tell him to stop, and his palm settles.

"But we have to go for three days then".

"I can't get time off work. On Monday I need to be back".

"Tell them you're sick".

You brush it off. It's not a big deal anyway. Yeah you haven't been to concerts in years, but you're not seventeen anymore. Life doesn't make it easy to constantly give in to all you desire. You don't have the power to move events like he does. Your hand instinctively touches his hair, and you manage to swipe through it once, before you catch yourself and let go. Yoongi isn't prickly at all, but that one time was more than enough. You don't need to be told twice.

"You know I can't just clear my schedule like that. They need me".

Even though your brain starts working immediately, weighing options, creating loopholes. Maybe you can say you have an emergency, or even leverage Yoongi himself telling them that since he is taking you out of the kindness of his heart, the management should give you a Friday and Monday off. He sighs without making it too sincere.

"You got time to think until tomorrow afternoon".

"Don't adapt for me".

"It's not a problem".

He leaves as usual, quickly and tidy, and you're thinking about the band. You haven't seen them in such a long time. If you get a free shot at going, you should probably take it. You shove all the other reasons deeper and out of the way because you know when Yoongi is working, he is all but absent.

By midnight, you send him a message saying you have dealt with it. He texts back a thumbs up. Asks if you need a ticket, too. Offers to go with you, and you don't take it as anything because when Yoongi is with you, he is actually nice. He is the kind of person who will offer help and then won't pout when it's accepted. You respond to him that you will go to the pit to thrash your head and slam people around, and he retracts the offer.

Then next time you meet, it's already on the private jet. You're taken to the plane fifteen minutes earlier by a security guy wearing flip-flops, while the airport is buzzing and waiting for Yoongi. You slither right through the crowd and to the gate, leaving them behind expecting the real star.

The star climbs up into the plane clutching his knitted hat in his hand and with a cup of iced coffee. Yoongi's eyes dart to the double seats on the other side where Mr Lee makes himself comfortable. You've chosen a single seat at the window, facing forward, so he crashes across the table from you, recalling vaguely that you are maybe afraid of flying. His memory is proven right when the take off begins, and he sees your face stuck to the window, hands clutching the armrests, mouth a lopsided smile like you're judging the gravity. He is sure there's something very loud going on in the airpods in your ears. He keeps observing, notifying with displeasure, that you're afraid for the most part of the flight, uneasy the whole way as the plane soars up, gaining speed and altitude, and then only mildly bothered for the other thirteen hours, only to get panicked again at the beginning of landing. As the runway approaches, he can see your chest freezing, like you are expecting to crash right into the ground, and he can't take it anymore: nudges your foot with his, pushing lightly, then leans over the table. You are too stressed to take an airpod out, so you just grab the hand that he puts out over the table, without taking your eyes off the land. The hold is so strong that Yoongi unwillingly imagines what it will be like at, say, childbirth. You will probably break his wrist.

"Why don't you drink before flight?" he asks, when the plane is firmly on the rest, as he stands up to get his bag from a nearby seat. Mr Lee leaves the plane with the manager and the stylists, to check if everything is ready.

"I get sick if there's turbulence. Once vomited all over a tiny Ryanair plane, it was horrible", you mumble. You feel positively exhausted after an excrutiatingly long flight. Yoongi had motioned towards the bed in the front segment of the plane, but you can never sleep while in the air: it's like the only thing keeping this thing going without nose diving is your pure terror.

"Jimin is coming, too. He wants to show up at the second performance", he remembers, "so you better fly back with us, too".

"Oh. The two us in one plane?"

He shrugs with a smile. Yoongi likes to note how you are a little similar to Jimin. He never clarifies in what ways; you don't work with his youngster a lot, so you have vague image of the guy. But you hear nice things about him, and like him by extention.

He hums instead of a goodbye, then leaves the plane as per Mr Lee's permission. You leave fifteen minutes later, when the arrivals hall is already clear, and the big SUV circles the terminal to pick you up on the corner. You feel happy after having survived yet another flight.

You attend your show and Yoongi attends his; only, while you're thrashing the life out of yourself in the pit to the favourite music, he is sitting like a good boy in the first row of a game, looking pretty. The next day, you would have left on your own to give everybody a surprise at work by showing up on time, but you weigh everything and realize that, if you were so terrified on a private flight, fifteen hours in commercial will be absolutely unbearable and result in some sticky mess. So you linger around Berlin, wander the city for the day after sleeping in, get cold in April weather, get caught up in the rain, eat some curry wurst and in the evening, go to see Yoongi's private performance for the lack of better things to do.

You hang around the dressing rooms before the performance, watching the stylists doll him up: it's always a pleasant sight. Brushes poking his button nose, he squeezes his eyes shut, moving the phone glued to his palm around. You know people are generally curious what the fuck he is constantly doing on his phone. Watches videos or plays mobile games. At the age of thirty-two, he already has several striking features of an old man, and the forecast doesn't look optimistic. Soon, he will start grumbling about the weather, too. His eyes dart to you as you start fidgeting with the coffee machine.

"Can I have one, too?"

"I am putting star anise in".

His stylist, a short quirky girl, turns around to give you a face full of disgust.

"Why?" Yoongi hoots. Like it's a crime.

"Experiment".

"You shouldn't have coffee now", his manager says.

"It tastes okay".

He is sent off to the tiny stage where he is going to entertain selected European fans and show off his average English. You wander around the place, expecting to see Jimin, who can't go on a week without his genius hyung's company. You heard he has a very packed month, promotions and too many rehearsals, all that while his knee injury isn't healed yet, but Jimin is always in a state of panic so he never wants to pedal back. Now he clawed three days out and darted from Seoul to Berlin to show support because he knows Yoongi doesn't feel too comfortable in Europe on his own. Even though he will never say. It's new information for you, and you have to constantly remind yourself you aren't entitled to it at all.

You find him in the smaller dressing room with monitors, observing Yoongi from a distance. There's a whole crew with the light and cameras swarming around him, while Jimin is hunched up on a chair, not even looking at the screens. His head is down, the lid of the cap hiding his face, hands in his pockets, one knee jerking up and down. You feel something like short-fused anger rise in you and don't think much before stepping in and getting into a shot.

"Hey", you look into the camera, then at the man trying to swerve around you, but you outpace him, making your way towards Jimin in little steps. You've seen this tiny guy at work often. Always running somewhere, his strong legs working. Always a smile on his face. You know much more about him from Yoongi who likes talking about his brothers. You know enough to want to protect him, which means, Yoongi always wants to protect him.

"Do you have to record him when he is like this?"

You can only see the tip of his chin, but then Jimin looks up at you, his eyes timid and glistening.

"He is upset. Is this content, too?"

You tilt your head, meeting their eyes. The crew starts grunting something quietly, cameras rolling.

"I am already in it, so I guess you'll have to delete it".

You sit down in front of him like he's a kid. Frankly, a lot of them look like kids. Most of them are only grown on paper, the age in their passports often doesn't respond to how they are. Many boys, stuck in the tender ages they have been traumatised in, by the company. Yoongi often acts like he is a mature twenty-year old which aligns with his debut age.

You put your hands on his knees and lower your voice.

"Who did this, Jiminie?"

The tone makes him chuckle immediately. He sighs like it's a relief. You're glad you have that sense of humour, coupled with your small size, that makes guys smile.

"I'm alright".

"Yeah? You just tell me who upset you, and I'll beat them up".

The recording crew retreats dissatisfied because you refuse to leave his side. Jimin throws them one cautious look and his face lights up just a little.

"Beat them up?"

"Yeah, I go to gym, bro, I punch the bag all the time".

His left knee shakes with his laughter. He adjusts the cap and takes the second hand out of the pocket of his hoodie.

"Thank you".

"No problem. I am a very angry person, I am always ready to protect pretty boys like you".

Yoongi returns to the dressing room a little sweaty, just a little agitated, his nervous system alarmed but satisfied with yet another linguistic adventure overcome without a catastrophe, and sees Jimin snicker at your words as your hands clutch his knees like he is the little princess and you're his suitor. He sees it from the door the handle of which he clutches, and he notices things instantly. How you smile, bowing to see his eyes, how Jimin's hand flies up to his neck, how his voice rumbles deeply to make him sound more manly. Yoongi also notices the tremor in his injured knee and walks over to join you.

As you see him, you stand up and give space.

Yoongi's hand caresses Jimin's head.

"Don't be upset about it".

"I let you down, hyung".

"You didn't. You're here, aren't you? I am happy you're here".

You step away quietly as Yoongi keeps comforting him, glowing in his white outfit, hair slicked back and with highlighter on his cheeks. Looks too much like a groom.

Back at the hotel, Yoongi keeps waddling in and out of the bathroom with a brush in his mouth, one hand in his hair.

"How was the concert?"

"You asked me yesterday and I told you everything", you reply, without taking your eyes off the phone.

"Right. You caught any confetti?"

"No".

"Why not? People gather them and stuff them in jars, you know. We always try to invent new shapes for confetti so that ours will have different jars with different confetti".

You look up at him. He looks like a guy you could spend the rest of your life with, and it hurts quite frankly. So cosy, handsome with his hair undone, plain white tee, one hand sawing something in his mouth with the toothbrush.

"You had coffee, didn't you?"

He shrugs.

"Why don't you ever babygirl me like you did with Jimin?"

A chuckle rumbles in your chest.

"You never show any weakness".

You see that makes him think, actually. Yoongi is probably too caught up in his life to notice such things, to pay attention to himself. He produces a short pondering hm and disappears back into bathroom. This chitchat pisses you off. He is usually way less talkative. Polite, friendly, but not very open. You don't like it when he acts like you have hope. The old grudge you have festers in you for too long, growing from a little childish sore into a sort of trauma. You avoid touching him for too long, talking to him about personal stuff. He usually doesn't respond anything, at best. Establishing limits in the beginning was kind of humiliating; he would take your hand off his shoulder softly, saying he will vacate you at once if you find someone serious. The same goes for him.

Now he gets into bed and his hand is on the top of your head, patting. His arm wraps around your waist as he pushes himself closer. These two days were too tiring and busy so you didn't have any sex, thus, it's even more intimate when he does this. You don't flinch, but instead tense your body up, bitterness a juice in your brain.

"Don't make it weird", you ask. Yoongi lifts himself up on an elbow to look you in the face.

"Huh?"

"I am uncomfortable when you hug me like this".

In the bluish darkness of the room, you can see his bewildered, surprised expression.

"Are you serious right now?"

And you know, you know his mind wanders back to that one time he flinched. Because you know he remembers.

You nod.

"I can't fall asleep with your arm on me anyway", you lie, "it's too heavy".

With a sigh in between his teeth, he removes his hand but doesn't turn away yet.

"What's gotten into you?" then pause, "is it because I told you to back off once?"

It's spectacular how for both of you, that one occasion is a sharp rock shining painful white of awkwardness and unspoken spite.

"Hey, I don't need you to repeat. But you have to respect the limits, too", you say calmly. You understand his shock, because nothing this evening indicated there were any problems. But the outburst is inevitable from time to time, simply because you react to his touch the way you wish you didn't. When it's not during sex, when it's not possessive, you have to ask yourself what's the reason for touching you at all. Yoongi sniffs through his nose.

"Isn't it a little too dramatic? You're really sore about that?"

"I am not".

"Then what's the problem? We sleep like this all the time".

"After we fuck".

"So let's fuck".

You fall back on your pillow and brush through your hair.

"Fine, Jesus", he closes up, and you breathe a sigh of relief. Yoongi does this very well, removes himself, it's not worth it. It's not worth being straightforward, and because he doesn't push, doesn't try to speak to you, you understand his touch, in fact, didn't mean anything. You're one of those soft, warm breathing pillows that help the sleeping. He simply turns around on the other side and purrs like he always does when relaxing his whole body. He doesn't snore and is quite proud of it.

In the morning things are back to normal. It was a slight glitch; in the dark, you can both bury it and pretend nothing happened. Yoongi is allergic to being direct with you, it's all subtle. You see he avoids brushing hands by accident as he takes your bag and pushes it in the trunk; then by the time you make it to the airport, and you go first, he is casual and light again, happy to go home. He gives you one concerned look then says nothing, pushing the mask up his face even though he stays in the car. You go fifteen minutes before him and pass through the waiting crowd, invisible, efficient, led by the security guy in flip-flops.

Mr Lee enters the plane first, and he motions to you, looking you in the eye with a kind smile:

"Take that seat, by the window".

Yoongi follows him and nods at the double seats as well and you understand he wants to make the flight a little better for you. So you plunge in the wide seat at the window, looking outside at the greyish Berlin sky, unassuming white keeping your night trick hidden away. Yoongi sits down next to you, quite ready to fence if you start acting up again, but you don't. The fear of death is much stronger now. Jimin arrives unexpectedly because you have completely forgotten he flies back with you: he lights up the space, happier than yesterday, ruffles his raspberry-lilac hair and eases the tension. Yoongi's gaze clicks onto him and you are grateful for that. You can suffer in silence and alone. Jimin notices how wide your eyes are, and how you clutch onto Yoongi's hand that reaches out as the plane starts moving. The rain makes it worse: you look at the trees bending in the distance, thinking about how a wind like this can knock a vehicle off the course easily.

"You're scared of flying?"

He also asks this because seeing Yoongi hold someone's hand - a girl's hand - is remarkably unusual for him. He studies this clutch of interlocked fingers with curiousity, like it's an animal he thought was extinct.

"That's to put it lightly", you coo back. The plane gains speed, and you are pressed against the back of your seat. Primal horror snatches your breath.

"You know planes crash very rarely? This one definitely isn't going to. Carrying South Korea's most important producer".

His rambling doesn't help. On the opposite, it exposes how naive Jimin's thinking is. You apprecite the movement of his plump, smiling lips, trying to distract you, but he only makes it worse. The plane doesn't care who it carries; if it crashes, it crashes, killing everyone.

"The only dangerous times of the flight are the take off and the landing", he continues, thinking he is setting your mind at peace. You are well aware of that. And for now, you just so happen to be in the middle of a take off.

"Jimin", Yoongi hoots, "you're not helping".

"Sorry", he smiles sweetly, like a little shit. You chuckle at that nasty grin and look away at the window again. Luckily Yoongi's hand actually helps. If you die, you die holding the person you love. The plane dips slightly as the gear kisses the ground goodbye, and you squeeze it, begging silently. For some reason, he thinks of child labour again, wondering why he gets this specific association. The grip is so strong it hurts his hand, and he gives in to the pain, takes it, without realizing what it means.

─────────────────────────────────────

The sex changes slightly, and it's a sign you're doing worse. You can't help it when he is close to you, with the body you have come to know well and love a lot, you start shoving your face close to his to catch his breathing, and Yoongi seems to enjoy that, feeding into your delusion. He is a needy, universal lover, always down for some tenderness, who likes to be handled with care. Always a giver, a helper in everyday life, he replenishes the affection from you by being caressed and held tightly, without asking. Only, it hurts you when he does this - allows you to pull him closer, share a kiss that's too gentle as you come undone, because for several seconds it feels like you love each other. But it's a position that he comes to like a lot: you on his lap, faces pressed together as he hunches his back a little to be on the same eye level, to then fall on the side like in water, clutching to each other.

"We okay?" he asks out of nowhere. You look at his soft profile. His upper lip trembling a little, the lower part of his stomach contracting. You push his thigh with your knee.

"Yes? Why wouldn't we be?"

He nods like he is getting ready to jump into a well full of sharks, or go on stage. Closing his eyes for a second, then heaves himself off the bed, like he usually does. He doesn't like to linger, sensory overload of your sweaty body pressed against his. He takes a quick shower and then leaves tidying after himself, ready to work. He never has you at his place like it's too sacred, or like he has some secrets there. It's always hotels or your apartment, a car, a locked office with no windows. He says something about his home being too far away, and how inconvenient it is. He knows it's bullshit, and you know it too. You live in the same neighbourhood.

─────────────────────────────────────

Jimin keeps smiling and it suddenly pisses him off. Yoongi folds a napkin and attempts to make a swan out of it, but all that comes out is a plane. He taps Jimin on the shoulder and hands him his little present.

Jungkook's eyes widen at the sight of it.

"And for me? Me, hyung?"

Yoongi rolls his eyes, catching a stare from Taehyung, too.

"Is it his birthday?" the second youngest demands.

"It's not Jimin's birthday", Jungkook confirms.

"What's that for?" Jimin asks, quite pleased.

He wants to jab him playfully, so naturally, it's a bribe: stop staring at my girl. It baffles him. His guts drop. Like when he realizes two meetings clash on his schedule. In that case, after a second of panic, he takes a deep breath and calls his manager. Now, he can't call his manager and say, hey, there's an inconvenience. I don't like the way Jimin can't seem to shut up about Y/N after she touched his leg and smiled at him in Berlin. This glitch is all his. And he closes up. Feelings, undeveloped, tend to die on their own. Whether he needs them is out of question: he doesn't. He's been doing that naturally; of course he'd developed an innocent crush on someone he has sex regularly with. Without it, he wouldn't be able to do that properly. He's a feeling, inspired human, artistic: he can't do it without trust. That's how his head works at least. This kind of light infatuation adds to the sex, it makes it truly relaxing and non-stressful without needing to act on it. Of course he feels something. It's a kind of a driving force in his work, as well.

The real problem arises when there's someone else in the equation.

─────────────────────────────────────

Namjoon is focused like a hawk as you fight for your life. You hate losing; perhaps something from childhood when your cousin constantly beat you and then gloated about it; there was a saying in your family, as a game was over, if you can't work your brains, work your hands. The loser shuffled the deck back in order. You hated being the loser. But against Namjoon it is impossible. He beats you every time, although thankfully, he isn't an asshole about it. But allowing himself to throw hands in the air victoriously. You smile about it, press your jaws together, crunch your nose to laugh it off.

You rarely play cards at all, maybe only in the breaks like these, while the laptop is working and you have to wait; and the foyer is realtively empty, and the disposition is relaxed. You have a coffee at your side on the low table, and the faint music creates a comfortable bubble to lose to your friends at a game of cards. You strike the table with the rest of yours, and Namjoon smiles with dimples, pacifying you.

Yoongi takes his place.

"Rematch".

He is surprisingly bad at it. To the point where his friend is at his side, pushing him with his thigh, so that Yoongi has to scoot over on the small couch to let the giant sit next to him.

"Yoongi hyung, but there's a..."

"Shh. I have a strategy".

You observe his eyes above the cards as he glances at you. The feral looks you give to each other are fun. Namjoon hums something when Yoongi has to scoop the cards and take them to himself, losing more and more.

"The strategy sucks", he muses.

"I know what I'm doing".

It makes you concerned but you beat him in the end with a little bit of wit, and at least it's not too humiliating. Namjoon gives him a look, then turns away, and there are dimples again. The banana palm on your side throws a shade on the table as the sun moves across the sky outside. You look at them both as your nostrils grow in size.

"Oh you let me win, didn't you?"

You lean over the table to get to him and see the cards, but Yoongi moves away, then takes the deck and starts mixing.

"I wish. Maybe I'm just bad at it".

Namjoon stands up with a swing, still with that shit-eating grin on his transparent face. Thing about him, he's not good at three things: acting, keeping secrets and lying. His eyebrows give him away every time.

─────────────────────────────────────

For you, it's like living. The feeling of love is a familiar thing to you, especially with him. He is a warm, unique human and as long as you meet from time to time, it's only half-way bad. You have things to distract you from it, and you postpone doing something about it, like breaking this arrangement. Maybe next month. Maybe next month again.

For Yoongi, it's like falling. Like his house of cards crashing down. Carefully curated existence spinning out of control. Control is very important to him: he likes to have control over his personal affairs. He likes to know what he is doing every minute of the day. He doesn't have obsessions; doesn't have urges that control him instead. Even though he is a feeling human, he isn't a victim to his desires. Now all of a sudden the peace is tilted, and he snaps. It's like a foot catching air instead of a step. He simply doesn't have time for this, it makes no sense. Feeling in love seems to him like someone demanding giving up his work and his freedom, and he will never do that. It actually makes him aggressive, feels like invasion of his space, and he doesn't like that. How dare you clutch the shirt on his chest in your fist, making those eyes he knows he isn't able to resist, saying "let's ruin it?" Will you buy him a new one? How dare you groan at your computer in a way that makes him so hard that he hits his dick on the desk, trying to stand up? How dare you have that laugh that sounds like gripping his hand, giving birht to his babies?

Love is a thing idols cannot afford. It's nonsense for others. He, he has a goal. A point to his existence, he has something to say and something to prove. It's below him to settle like the peak of his life has been reached, and all his ambition satisfied. Far from it. He gets angry with himself when he lets you beat him in a card game because he doesn't understand himself where the impulse came from. It's not that deep.

He breaks it off. Says he doesn't have time anymore. He memorizes your eyes when you size him up and say,

"I figured".

Although there was no indication before, because you were "okay". He lets it slide, the way you let go of him too easily, without questioning it, almost with a sense of relief. He tells himself it's not his burden anymore, and it should clear his head and lighten the load. After all, the affairs like these are often doomed from the start. One of you might fall in love, or meet someone else, or just grow tired. It's not supposed to be for life. He goes back inside his mind and assesses things left after you: memory of your elbow, twice smaller than his; hairs on his hoodie; the feeling of mountains; a new type of coffee: milk, cinnamon and star anise. He's sure there's more, but the feeling of frustration, like he was about to sneeze and never did, floods him and blocks his brains from thinking.

There's also mint. He remembers it when Jimin comes in one day smelling like it. Yoongi gives him a long look as his shoulders go cold.

"Hm?"

He shakes his head nothing.

─────────────────────────────────────

He also gets dreams. They aren't exactly dreams - rather, the lingering visions in his eyelids when on the brink of falling asleep. Pleasant pictures of something he regrets losing; if only there was a way to keep his emotions out of it, he'd watch your stomach contract under his hand forever. Gentle, careful knot of your belly button. The muscles in your sides flexing, soft birthmarks scattered on the skin, the tasty curve of your hip. He dreams again about that one evening when he paid a visit, but was in such a good mood that you ended up cuddling; he couldn't get enough of the sight of your ass in the underwear, squeezing, while you watched funny videos on his phone, and you laughed, thunderously, into his poor ear, snorted with laughter, your body shaking, until he suddenly started noticing the scent of your hair, too.

That's the adult way out: everybody has feelings. The choice is whether to act on them or not; you think, your feelings are only your business and nobody else's. If Yoongi asked, and you feel that at some point he was close to that, you'd tell him to fuck off and mind his affairs. You get to keep what you have inside your head.

Now, as he enters the studio with the hood on, you feel perfectly balanced and calm. Love hasn't hurt you as much as this man; he takes off the hood and you nod to the booth, and he casually follows your instructions. You step after him and hand him a sheet of paper. He's been to a facial recently, you can tell. His nose pores are clear and he's glowing, giving him a slightly pouty look. Smells like star anise. Imagining hugging him in his car as it's raining outside, hiding your face in his clean hoodie, his hair obedient under your palm, is so simple you could draw a picture if you had any talent for it.

"Read from here when you see the green light".

"I know how recording works", he chuckles, a little shy. You smile back and brush him off. He picks on the skin on his thumb and you shake his hands apart out of the habit you haven't smothered yet. However, he complies and puts them in the pockets, looking at the paper. You leave the booth and go to the laptop where you get ready.

"In Japan, women are considered superior divers", he begins reading, his voice unfiltered by his acting. Yoongi has many voices, you've heard most of them you think. The favourite of yours is the purring request he used to send straight into your ear canal, pressing his lips against the side of your head: turn to me, I want to see your face. His speaking voice betrays his origin, and you specifically asked that he drops the Seoul accent when recording. So it's authentic Min Suga, hands in pockets, hair on his eyes, head slightly moving with his own rhythm he weaves easily.

"...due to distribution of fat in their bodies and ability to hold their breaths underwater. Pearl fetching was a dangerous business and required light, swift, nimble women who could at the same time withstand the harsh underwater conditions. Very often they would swim up all blue, but pearls tucked neatly in the pouches on their waists. Gifts of the sea have never been easy to retrieve".

He is done in fifteen minutes, reading overall two pages of text. You can see he's not worried and stressed. Probably sleeps well; he unzips his hoodie and takes it off because it's a bit hot in the studio - you get cold sooner and easier than other people. As he pulls it off himself, the shoulder tugs on the hem of his T-shirt and exposes a bit of his skin, and you see a dark-blue bruise.

"Tsk".

He leaves the booth, turning his head like a mill, a little distracted.

"What?"

"That's such an asshole move".

When there's nothing to lose, as you've lost him already, you actually feel more liberated to speak your mind exactly as it feels. Yoongi is a bit lost, looking at you.

"Huh?"

"So big, as well. You told me you have no time for that business anymore?"

You actually pout, feeling shockingly indifferent. Your feelings have been, so to say, stomped upon, dull under all the cruelty.

His hand reaches for his shoulder as fingers send the impulse back into the brain, and he stretches,

"That- I'm a big boy, alright?"

You cock your eyebrow shortly.

"Could've just said you don't like me personally", you download the file containing his voice and begin renaming it according to the protocol.

"That's not it", he even puts the hoodie back on. "On the opposite, it was getting too personal".

"I agree. I am just surprised you found someone else so soon, that's all", you mutter, your eyes on your work. He hums. Retreats, it's what he does best. Slithers quietly through the door after making sure he is done here.

You tell him he is, hissing the words with a stretch, giving them double meaning.

Yoongi leaves, hands pulling on the sides of his zip-up hoodie, up and down, up and down, thinking about the idiocy of it. He's finished filming a Run BTS episode yesterday, where punishment was cupping. He's lucky he only lost once. Taehyung was roaring with pleasure as he vaccumed the fuck out of his shoulder. What would you say if you saw the back of Namjoon, who lost five times?

─────────────────────────────────────

Yoongi believes in karma and all that shit. Especially when he's drunk; he keeps thinking about that little misunderstanding and how your cheeks pouted as you stared into the laptop, accusing him of getting hickeys a week after he ended the arrangement. He's not feeling guilty or anything, but it's unnatural for him to not keep things straight. Although with you, he thinks, there's already so much shit tangled that he could as well just leave it be. First of all, never talked out that weird rejected hug incident; then again the breakup itself, like walking on the straight road and sudeenly falling into a manhole. He's not in the habit of leaving things piled up, but he just can't seem to learn to be direct with you. It's bad enough you make him horny like he is going through puberty again, you also tie his tongue down. He preferred to keep it deep inside of you to avoid talking at all. After all, that was the deal.

When he starts getting drunk at the Another Billion party, this awkwardness returns to him and he gathers all his might and good will to search you out and tell you what the bruise was about. He is ready to drag the other members with him so that they vouch for it; he finds he doesn't need to do so, because Namjoon and Jimin, of course, are already glued to you. Next to an ugly black-glass sculpture supposed to represent an idol throwing their arms up. Namjoon is swaying, he can't take his alcohol. Jimin is sturdier than him, but is also red in the neck; both listening to you with their mouths slightly ajar. When you talk, people around always listen, and Yoongi hates that, too. That this ability of yours, together with your body, your deafening screeching laughter, your iron grip, your moans, your fears, the mint of your lips, don't belong to him. He doesn't want any of it - but it sucks that other people get to experience it, too. He almost goes blind for a second, slapping his glasses back to his face, as the idea of Jimin knowing what the chapstick tastes like, crosses his mind.

"...that I was a huge black dragon. This is the best dream I've ever had in my life", you enunciate, making sure they are listening to you. Both Joon and Jiminie are so out of it, it makes you shake with the laughter you push down for the sake of the story.

"I was big, I felt big, I remember the feeling of absolute freedom" (Namjoon has exactly one hiccup) "as I was flying above the Aegean sea during black storm. Black dragon, black storm, the waves were gigantic".

"How did you know it was Aegean sea?" Jimin asks.

"I had this dream when I was staying in Greece. It's also my favourite sea".

"Yoongi really likes mountains", Namjoon mutters. You stare at him for a second.

"Okay?"

"Continue".

"And I was flying around, laughing out of happiness, I was so elated I actually laughed, and I was throwing these black pearls into the sea..."

"Sea and mountains", Namjoon continues, funnily, "nuah?"

"Are you sure it wasn't Black sea?" Jimin tries to ignore his hyung, putting his hand on Namjoon's chest as the leader starts to tilt forward.

"I mean you were black, storm was black, the pearls were black..."

You purse your lips because he makes a good point. In between their heads, you see Yoongi adjust his glasses and glaring at you three like you are dismembering a freshly caught deer with your bare hands.

"What's up with the nerd slut?" you nod at him, and the two turn around. The blood rushes back from Jimin's neck as his face lights up in a smile. His imperfect teeth make his smile infectious.

"Yoongi-ah", he coos softly as the cloud approaches.

"I need to talk to you", you can hear he's had a two or six, or sixteen. Yoongi is way too good at drinking, he can take a lot of it and then be drunk for a lot of time, hiding it, and only burst if someone really pushes him. His eyes are glossy behind the lenses of his glasses.

"You tired?" Namjoon becomes perceptive when he drinks. Yoongi nods and extends his hand on the waist level. You do not take it but follow him as he nods in the direction of a quieter corridor. Big hall is booming with music and it irritates you both; everybody reacts differently to alcohol: Taehyung is throwing his ass around on the dancefloor for example. It's his celebration and he is allowed. You, you get more yourself you'd say. All your impulses become sharper. Your loudness becomes louder and quieteness, quieter. Your insecurities shine, but so does your wit. Your laughter becomes irresistible, Yoongi would say, but you never asked him to know about it. His laughter is always irresistible to you, just like his word. So, even though you are sore, hate him a little, feel like aching next to him, insanely jealous, when he calls, you walk with him out of the room, plunging into the lukewarm shade of the corridor.

You sneak away like two schoolchildren trying to act tough. We need to talk. Sounds like giggling to you, and you do. His thick neck turns to you. He's been working out again lately. Of course.

"I need to make something very clear", he begins, harder than you expected him to, and your spine shivers, at the same time with your knees wobbling. You don't know if you're intimidated or upset. You must unintentionally give him a rabbit look, because he stops abruptly, looking you in the face.

"The... that? I was cranky, okay? It was one time".

You struggle to catch what he means exactly, having a moment of complete lack of clarity. All you see is his full lips letting a breath out.

"What are you talking about?"

"You know what, why have you been punishing me for that this whole time?"

Your brows go up, brain struggling, because you just keep thinking about that hickey on his shoulder. And it makes you angry that he's irritated, and agitated after drinking. You can bet you have way more beef with him than he with you.

"Big deal, I brushed you off once, you need to get over your pride some time. Like it's cracking me that that's what you've been hung up on. Becasue I told you to back off, you've been refusing to hug me for six months?"

You bang the back of your head on the window glass as you throw it up. The last thing you need right now is lectures and complaints, but it's refreshing that Yoongi would speak in such long sentences.

"You replaced me already", you hum, like it's an unbeatable argument that is made of gold.

You hope he shuts up and decides to douse the tension in one last hookup. You're down for it. Arguments are tiresome and feel unnatural with him, the guy who prefers to tuck everything in and walk away before it spills out. You realize he isn't actually talking anymore, but his eyes are studying the window behind you as if he's considering breaking it.

"And you replaced me?"

It sounds like a half question, like he's not sure. The intonation going up. Suddenly you think of whales and their gentle, lonely calls, but also, about the wind, whistling in between the crooked branches. The 'fuck it' is announced without being uttered, as your hands reach in the half-dark for his pants. He isn't wearing a belt so your fingers crush into the hem of the jeans and go straight to the button. Yoongi's palm covers them, squeezes your fingers almost with rage, stopping you roughly, but he steps closer, and the last thing you see is the frame of his glasses. He kisses you, at the same time as you kiss him, mumbling something about the last time, just to be sure, your mouth opens simultaneously with your legs. Yoongi's hand slides off yours and grabs your side aggressively, hungrily; a month was the longest you'd gone on without jumping each other's bones, so it's not the withdrawal. It's something else. You tug on his jeans, unsure to unbutton them because you've read his gesture clearly. There's people behind the door. He lifts you up with one arm and sits you on the window sill and your arm snakes around him, touching the back, fingers clinging to every inch of his thick, white, moving body. Kisses slurp in bites, his tongue makes you dizzy. He has never kissed you like that before; not when he was needy, not when he was very horny, not when he was vulnerable which didn't happen often. Guess it's one of the bright colours of making out with a human; they surprise you. The love rises from the depths of your guts, making its painful way up, and you bend and lean against him, trying to feel his body pressed to yours. Yoongi's hand clutches on the top you're wearing like he's trying to tear it off you.

"Do they know it was once covered all over in my cum?" he grunts against your cheek, and your spine shakes like he's done a spell on it. Tiny shivers under his fingers. You grab his neck.

"I don't casually go around telling that to people".

His warm, hard hand sneaks under the fabric, fingers count the ribs, then pinch them, and his mouth slides lower, across your cheek and to your throat. You wish you could stay there forever. The blue and green in your inner mind, darkness around, and Yoongi clinging on you like he's turning during the full moon. You hear his glasses click against the plastic as he takes them off, then his hand returns to the small of your back and presses. He smells so familiar already that it feels like it's going to be your doom; you know all his scents, you're afraid. Eros by Versace, white vanilla detergent on his clothes, blueberry chewing gum, the leather of his car, cloudberry conditioner in his hair, and the skin smell, the clean smell that he has, the perfume no one can replicate and you can't explain. Unfortunately you love all of them, really love in the most genuine way, and it makes you sob all of a sudden, but you mask it as a moan. Yoongi hisses, letting go of your neck, and his hand makes its way up to cover your mouth. In the dark you see his eyes as he kisses the back of his palm. Can he even love you the way you have come to love him. Is he capable of that, with his fixation on his work. Constantly caught up in thinking about how to round up the beat, and how a bridge will come out, his head poking out above the chair, is he even capable of loving someone. He pulls you, your legs made of wool, deeper, looking for an empty room with a lock, and, preferably, optionally, without a cctv hidden somewhere in the foot of a desk.

You barely pay attention to the room; the dark eats away at it. You two, connected at the mouths, hands on each other's ribs, in each other's hair, stumble backwards, like a limping monster, trying to find a place to land. The space around spins; there's nothing but Yoongi, and if he pulled you after himself into a chasm, you'd only clutch his hand tightly. He kicks something behind you, and your calves feel the soft of a couch, and it's the signal to turn. Yoongi crashes onto it, making the vision you've had a fraction of a second ago, reality: you fall, fall into the darkness, guided by his well-studied hands, tracing the veins on the backs of his big palms, a little dry. The shape of them holding you tightly is something you want your mind, drunk or sober, to never forget. You might not have him after this, tomorrow, but now you land on his lap, knees spread, his hand on your back under the crop top, scratching lightly with his short-cut nails. His fingertips are the best - slightly rough from guitar, but sensitive; Yoongi has memorized all the spots on your body, dividing it into "yes-no-maybe" zones for scratching. He knows the "yes-yes" zone just around your spine, it makes you arch your back as you grind your hips against him. You like him for not being too chatty during moments like these; his breathing lets you know. The hardening of his cock is obvious through two pairs of jeans. Falling apart, you think about the mess of it all: you don't have any spare clothes, no extra underwear, and this one is already no good, soaked through. Your hands grab the back of his head again and hold on for dear life as Yoongi guides your hips against his, forehead pressed to your collarbone, your gentle mid-sized giant with dry, soft hair and prominent neck muscles. His shoulders, lean, strong, work under your hands, wet mouth grabbing at your breast through the top. He can't see shit without his glasses or lenses, and especially so in the relative dark, where the only light comes through the windows from the nearby buildings; so sensory study is all that's left to him. When Yoongi is ready to undress, he usually produces a sort of a tired sigh-groan, and then his fingers start pinching at your flesh. But now he doesn't. The alcohol is spinning your head, the heat in your core pooling, and you sort of forget where what is. The only thing that matters is to find his puffy lips again, bearing the taste of mint and whiskey. You raise yourself to deepen the kiss, and Yoongi pushes you back hard, lifting his own hips to connect. The breath is caught somewhere in the ribs, shiver crunching the body, but his hand steadies you in comforting strokes. You are trying to breathe, you really do, but it comes out in gushes, sometimes audibly, as your fingers trace his beautiful face. Yoongi is so good at making you come undone; you barely control your own body, he becomes the puppeteer at the thunderous wave of your feeling. The arousal at this point is animalistic, coming up to your throat, making you mumble. Not talk - talking is banned in between you, but the unconnected shreds of words dripping off your lips, that he catches with his teeth, are okay.

"I want you".

"No, I want you more".

You feel his shoulder flex as he lifts your hips, depriving you of the pressure of his groin, and you immediately whine.

"Oh no, I spoiled you", he whispers, Daegu words blurring with each other, his voice a soft purr. He turns you, pushing on the stomach, and you lie down, and his hands start working immediately, mouth at its favourite activitiy: tracing the lines of your shuddering stomach. Yoongi undoes the jeans and pulls them down together with the underwear. His fingers plunge immediately into you, without a warning, and you produce a silent shriek. Hands searching for him, nails digging into the massive of his shoulders. Yoongi likes the way his own words sounded: I spoiled you. Likes the absolute mess that you are, squirming at his touch, he feels appreciated, wanted, needed. He never managed to make anyone like this before; he has made a quiet unspoken promise long time ago to never tell anyone about it. About how you seem to lose your sentience when his lips are below the solar plexus. He is in love with this sensation. He wants to keep it going, but can't; he can't think; he pulls down his jeans because he wants to fuck you senseless, fuck you into amnesia, and himself; so that tomorrow the things are easier and clearer; you're a blurry silhouette for him, moving against the sea of darkness, the buoy he's swimming towards, and the tighter you cling onto him, the better. He feels cradled, he feels loved. It feels hot inside of you, incredibly tight, you always wrap your legs around his waist like a monkey, trying to push him deeper even when it starts hurting the hips. The best thing - you both cannot come easily because you're drunk, so it just goes on and on, the swimming, the touching, your sounds blooming like flowers on fruit trees. He thinks of sampling them, putting them within the underbeat, masking them, but using them; he has been trying to figure out the beat that would describe the way he feels with you: sharp hip bone in his hand, the heel of your foot on his leg, the tasty chemical of your peach fragrance that he licked clean off your throat. It's the frustration of never finding the right melody, because making music requires love, and he is too busy to allow it to himself, so he just fucks like there's no tomorrow, apologizing through his embrace, dripping feelings off the tips of his hair.

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A whole month away is good. For Yoongi. He gets to travel across all Asia and do some hiking, turn his phone off and just be completely alone. Not to think, he doesn't want to think, he wants to have his brains blank and just see pines, and the slope of the mountain, the birds soaring above, and the flowers fluttering in the wind. But the thoughts come by themselves; he realizes it's a trap that he had set for himself. Because mountains remind him of you, and he finally starts understanding what exactly makes the connection. It's the feeling of freedom, good loneliness and realness that they provide.

Relationships are promises, ruined plans, unplanned arguments, ridiculous commitments and distractions. Yoongi knows himself very well: he is not a multitasking person, and when he is in love, which thankfully doesn't happen often, he is beside himself with the feeling, and it affects work. Sometimes positively, sometimes negatively. It's been so comfortable, so well-organized - living in his independence bubble - that he is pushing the ghost away, because the ghost is whispering scary things to him. Coffee dates; he imagines sitting with you in a place in Yongsan-gu and watching your face and your beaded necklace not matching your band tee. He imagines you in his hoodies; you have stolen none of them, you always abstained from going through his things, touching him too much, and now he realizes it was because he had pushed you away that one time. He imagines you'll be trouble, headache, high maintenance. If you had been sore, had held on that grudge for almost a year, over a thing he had almost forgotten. He imagines these fights will make him feel so alive. You riding in his car, on your phone; cooking; lying in bed with one knee across his belly - all those things have already happened, but from sensual they are now turning warm. Yoongi understands he is losing, he is already taking this weight upon himself, little by little, because in the mountains he refuses to wear his earbuds and listen to music, and the silence is the ghost that follows him around, hammering the truth he's been avoiding into his brain. He imagines your hand gripping his palm, so hard that he yelps in pain, as you turn your face away, and the line of your jaw exposes the little birthmark you have on your neck. He's been kissing that birthmark in secret for months, pleased that you will never guess why he's choosing that very spot specifically.

You brew a coffee. Every time you're bored, the recipes become more and more complex, you keep adding ingredients until the coffee either sends you to heaven or is undrinkable. By now, there's cinnamon, star anise, almond syrup, and now... you're eyeing mint like it's about to jump you. Yolo, you think, and add a little mint, and it's still a success. You're becoming a coffee extraordinaire, you think; even if no one else appreciates your inventive mixing skills.

Jimin is there, of course; cruising around you like an albatross, appreciating every little thing about you. But his presence is breezy, light: he is a natural flirt and it doesn't set off any of your alarms. It seems he simply likes being around you. You see glasses case that he puts in another hand as he takes the coffee from you.

"Never seen you wearing glasses for real?" you're surprised.

"These are not for me, I picked them up from the store for hyung. He doesn't leave his little evil studio these days, got back to the 7AM schedule".

He shrugs. 7AM schedule with Yoongi means he works all night and goes to sleep at 7AM for about three hours, then gets up and goes back to working.

"He never found his glasses?"

"No".

"Somebody must have stolen them", you muse, recalling how they were left lying on the window sill.

"It's weird, normally he only loses things if they cost more than a thousand bucks", he snickers. You're expecting a feedback. Jimin's tastebuds have proven to be professionally sensitive: he is picky with food and always gives an honest opinion of the coffee. He frowns first, his huge eyes focused on the cup, full lips moving like he's chewing. Jimin is charismatic while doing nothing, and he definitely wouldn't have a problem with you, so you wonder why you can't just unlove Yoongi and fall for him instead. Or better, for nobody at all. Even in his brother's face, you're searching for his familiar features, but there aren't any. Jimin looks like a genie who will grant your wishes in the most perverted way so that you'll feel sorry after.

"It's... good?" he is, himself, shocked. "It makes me want to go to Morocco".

"That's an unorthodox review".

"You should get a patent. Name it Faux Morocco Latte and you'll be rich".

"I already have a rich inner world".

He chuckles ironically at that, keeping the cup close to his lips. His phone rings.

"Oh, there he is. I think he needs his glasses", Jimin ignores the call from Yoongi, putting his phone on the desk. "Let him wait a little, right?"

He pats you lightly on the shoulder, like he is siding with you on something. Like that one friend who is ready to smother your ex with her bare hands without needing to know the details. You are slightly bothered by it.

Yoongi lifts his arm and puts his hand into his hair, his eyes fixated on a spot on the desk. The underside of his shoulder is tense, he freezes in this position, thinking, and you can't avoid looking at him even though your eyes move. Your spot is never next to him, it's always a little away, in the back, not at the table. You do not see it as derogatory: without your work, they can't do it, and the hierarchy is there for a reason. When idols are present during the meetings with usual staff like you, everybody feels sorry for them. There go the scapegoats, the puppets, the clowns. Everybody is nice to them because they all have two features: beauty and lack of autono-

"I don't give a shit", Yoongi says calmly.

You doodle in your pad; these meetings are a must, and most often not a word is spoken about your area of work, so you just kill your time looking at Yoongi; at least something. Now everybody is looking at him.

The manager raises his eyebrows. He looks tired all the time.

"Sorry?"

Yoongi leaves his hair alone and places his hand on the desk, wrist caught in a hair tie.

"I said I don't give a shit about the deadline".

Namjoon purses his lips producing dimples. His silence indicates that he agrees with Yoongi. One by one, Bangtan Boys usually stand behind each other, but it always takes a first brave mouth to say something outrageous. Taehyung is rubbing his lower lip absent-mindedly. Yoongi's eyes are puffy, he gives the manager an unaffected shark-like stare that masters openness and simultaneously, stubbornness of a rock.

"It's there for a reason".

"We had discussed the update, and Taehyung hasn't slept in three days".

Taehyung doesn't even hear him.

"What about you?" manager asks softly, trying to lead Yoongi away from his deadly determination.

"I'm working. I'm fine".

His eyes start searching the room, landing everywhere except you. You cross your legs and go back to your pad.

"A week is fine", Namjoon adds, to defuse the tension. After a little back and forth the manager gives up. He always does; he's not the real boss here. Everybody gets up, the important people first: manager leaves the room pacing, hurrying to implement the schedule corrections, J-Hope leaves darker than a storm cloud, which is unusual for him; you gather your things from the floor: you're in a habit of just putting your bag and phone next to the chair since you're sitting at the glass wall. The line at the door gradually disperses and you walk to exit the meeting room but Yoongi turns his head, still sitting, and looks straight at you with a completely different stare. He doesn't say anything, so you just look at him and move on, but Taehyung closes the door in front of you like he didn't notice, and walks away. You see his back through the grey-transparent glass.

"Y/N", Yoongi sounds tired, more tired than he did a minute ago. His back hunched, he is softer, more undone.

"Huh, CEO?"

In spite of himself, he gives out a smile, and his teeth scrape over his lower lip, which makes you wince.

"What do you want?" you say quickly, colder, trying to wrap yourself up, zip up, close up. His hand reaches out but you're too far away, ready at the door, wondering what kind of games he is playing. The fatigue is obvious on his face but thankfully it's not your burden anymore. It does pull on your strings though, so in an attempt to keep up the strength, you frown.

"You win", he says. His words are round, it's the best shape. "I lose".

He stands up, and you want to roll your eyes, not with annoyance, but with an overwhelming feeling of unwillingness. The labour of trying to get over him is draining you like there's a huge gash somewhere that's dripping blood. Every time he is in close vicinity of you, the stream becomes only bigger, it's mentally tiring. Fighting feelings is exhausting. Yoongi is reaching for you, his face an impression of quiet need, and you try to avert his arm, a crusty cut on his elbow, gently. He goes for a timid hug with one hand and you grow stiff, putting up your shoulder. You end up straining your neck, chin up while Yoongi performs the softest forced hug. He needs to press his forehead into you, because he hasn't eaten in twelve hours, and he is so frustrated and a little terrified, and you are the smell of home.

The man of few words. His actions speak much louder.

What's even louder is the music that's on the USB he shoves into your hand. You listen to it at home, sitting away from the laptop like it can see your embarrassed face going through motions. The beats are clean, the rawest you've heard. Yoongi has his own way of polishing music that always makes it crisp like the air in January. They have no words, because it's Yoongi. But the beats, the melodies, talk to you. They sound like the night you met, when you caught rain on your hand to soothe it. Sound like his voice filling the space of his car, and like the hiss of the coffee machine, like the shuffling of your sheets, and like the streets, muffled by the windows, hooting outside. His melodies sound like the wind and the voices of pine trees, their ancient blood singing inside the hard bark. Sound like the sea. The music he has written and named after you sounds like he is diving for pearls and swimming up, panting, like he has given up to something. It's the crack of your hip getting back into place, and the click of his phone, the purr he produces when falling asleep. It's his flowers. The dark circles under his eyes mean he has gotten over the block, and two days after giving the USB to you he calls, and there's an audible strain in his voice, because he is learning to speak:

"I can't give you all those things that are normal, you know".

"Like what?" you are spiteful, although you understand his regret. He doesn't even go grocery shopping. All food is delivered to his house. Last time he got to walk around the city, he got ecstatic and wouldn't stop talking about it for weeks. He was like a child, describing the feeling of the asphalt in Gangseo-gu next to the botanic garden under his foot; you felt deeply sorry for him. Right until the point he mentioned having to borrow the jet again, because he wants to go visit a friend in America.

"Like walking home from a bar at night together, like, holding hands".

"Sounds like it's your fantasies".

"That's all I have".

You tell him you don't want to be the glaring vortex hole in his schedule, sucking in meetings, messing up sleep, putting a strain on the well-spinning parts of the mechanism. He replies it's too late for that. And for once, he actually sounds happy.

─────────────────────────────────────

He points his finger:

"The line where the red roofs end? That's the Osaka Bay".

"If I get a really good start", you muse, "and have like a very big umbrella, can I jump and glide all the way there?"

He thinks about it seriously. Squirms his face in the sun like a sleepy cat. His black eyes blink.

"You'll fly for around seven seconds".

His hand touches the side of your head and then slides down to your shoulder, then moving your closer, pressing you into his side. The air is so fresh that it's putting you to sleep, and the tears in your eyes, provoked by the wind, make everything around seem blurry. Like you're in a cartoon. Like it's a dream. The sea far in the distance shines in separate flashes of sunlight.

"There was no need for that", you mutter, cosying up next to him, clutching on his big arm. His neck smells like aftershave and raspberries. The curse hisses in between his teeth, fingers pinch your cheek lightly. Then go back to your shoulder and start drumming a rhythm; writing music off the closeness of you. You leave the slope of the mountain together, at the same time.