#finally corrected the top of his muzzle to make it green ^w^

[coyotebrained]

Late night yote time yip yip! 🌙

[bubmyg]

i’ll be home - myg

pairing: yoongi x reader

genre: lawyer!yoongi, fluff

word count: 1,851

summary: he was supposed to work late for your first christmas together, married, so he asks that you go to your parents because it’d make him feel better that you weren’t home alone or where you come home to find out that yoongi hasn’t forgot about the cat sweater you bought him or the artificial tree in the attic

a/n: the final part of aicaib!!! thank u for sticking w me through this series (this is the first time i’ve written a one shot for every member woah) as always, if u need the series masterlist, ask me. this is also part of my lawyer!yoongi series, so if you’d like that masterlist, also let me know :’-)

“Please go to your parents’ tonight,” Yoongi squeezed your hands, pleading, “I’m not asking you to spend the night there. Just go. Eat dinner with them. I don’t like the thought of you being alone.”

“I’m not alone,” You argued, chin dropping to your chest to eye the wiry haired poodle lapping at your ankles, “I have Holly.”

He sighed, dropping your hands to curl long fingers around your cheeks, pressing his lips just above the corner of your mouth. “Angel.” Dark eyes flicked down to you, pursed lips hovering a feathery space away from your skin. “Go,” He chided, “and take Holly. I’ll be home as soon as I can.”

You grumbled as Yoongi’s lips trailed down to your jaw.

“Is that a threat?”

Yoongi shrugged off his blocky dress shoes after the third time he’d tripped on the lip of wood from the garage to the foyer, balancing long cardboard boxes and grey tinted plastic bins on his shoulders to pile on the rug in the living room. His shoulders sagged when he peeled the slick black off his heels, puffing out a breath as he stared at the spot where the tree would go.

It was sad really, cleared of the lamp and the corner table and the tiny porcelain pig that normally took purchase there. It’d been cleaned like that for weeks, all intents and purposes to put the tree up for three consecutive weekends and never quite getting there due to scheduling conflict. Now, it was Christmas Eve and all your presents sat underneath what you’d deemed the makeshift tree, or rather, the lavish dining table that a family of two and a dog had no use for.

You’d placed a metal star standee in the center of a knit tablecloth to the oak top of the table, just for good measure.

He forgot the tree broke into three separate pieces, sending the top tumbling into the coffee table and jostling a holder of stone coasters. Pine needles coated the length of his wool sweater by the time he managed to wiggle the tree’s center into the tripod stand, leaving an entirely inconspicuous trail from the damaged cardboard box in the corner of the room to the place where two-thirds of the tree now resided.

The plastic green covered the grinning grey cat plastered to the front of Yoongi’s sweater, outlining the Santa hat perched on top of the character’s head and masking the string of multicolored lights that collage the surface of the top. It was a gift from you, one he’d promised to wear and had artfully avoided until he found yours that matched, tag still on, buried in a ridiculous crevice of your closet. Maybe it was the guilt of taking a case this close to Christmas and continually delaying the construction of the tree to where he had to send you to your parents under the pretense that he wouldn’t be home until late on Christmas Eve, of all things, just so he could sneak in and do it all himself.

But now he couldn’t stop seeing the amused light in your eyes when he’d opened the sweater, your elbow nudging his stomach and cheering, “I have one too! We can match, if you want…”

Yoongi did want to. Now and always. Last names, glittering metal bands, cat sweaters, and all.

He replaced the star on the dining table with your folded sweater, a bit crumpled from being smashed behind a box of his boots, but the grey kitten smiled nonetheless as he plopped a shiny red bow on the corner of the fabric.

The shards of the artificial tree once snagged on Yoongi’s sweater pooled around his socks when he stretched to place the top third of the tree in place. His torso scratched against the limbs, rolled as far as the arches in his feet would allow. With a grunt and a semi dangerous totter of the entire structure, the top was on the tree while a fine layer of sweat beaded across his brow.

“Lights,” He muttered to himself, swiping at his forehead with the cuff of his sweater. “I need lights—” Yoongi paused, index finger lifted, as if pondering the weather or at the very least speaking to someone, “—or music. I need music first.”

He managed to connect the wireless speakers stationed between the rungs of the balcony upstairs, cascading a playlist he found titled Holiday Tunes down into the glowing warmth of the living room. Yoongi clapped, triumphant.

“Okay. Now lights.”

He found them buried underneath a quilted stocking, an unopened package of shatterproof ornaments, and three different stems of mistletoe. He considered the short stalks of green clutched in his palm, the red bow hand tied at the end with ends tickling at the underside of his wrist.

“Couldn’t hurt…” Yoongi squinted, the towering doorway in the threshold from the garage to the hallway arched and daunting for someone who could barely reach his favorite coffee cup in the kitchen cabinet. “Right? Right.”

For once, he wished he were tripping over Holly so that his nonsensical ramblings could at least be heard by someone.

He managed to tape the mistletoe with a half tacky piece he found pasted on top of the (empty) dispenser you kept in a drawer filled with grill lighters and a half opened box of plastic spoons and the spare key to the car you traded in two months ago. Only the bottom link of his spine seemed to be pulled from how high he’d had to stretch after dragging over the leather upholstered footstool and balanced socked feet in the center.

Yoongi found himself tangled in three strands of lights, all connected, two that were half on, tiny twinkling lights burning hot through his black slacks as he pulled out kinks in the braided wire, leaving them in an equally messy pile on the floor. One strand, the one that worked completely, barely covered the circumference of the hulking bottom of the tree and he was halfway through dragging a new strand out from the blue tinted tub (one he thought was red rather than “bright white” but he was willing to take the gamble) when he swore the garage door was opening.

Holly found him first, toenails clacking down the length of the hall and skidding sideways into the door frame before letting out a delighted yip! and stumbling straight into his shins. The wire of the lights was still secured in Yoongi’s front teeth as he crouched, roughing gentle palms across the puppy’s muzzle until you rounded the corner, propping your shoulder against the door frame.

He met your accusing gaze with wide eyes and rounded lips, the perfect circle of his mouth causing the lights to tumble out and drape across Holly’s neck. “Hi!” He chirped, brushing the lights of his wriggling puppy with a nervous smile, “How was dinner—”

“We drove by your office,” You pushed yourself up, taking a scuffing step closer, “and you weren’t there.”

Yoongi worried the inside of his cheek into his molars, “I was. I came home early.”

You hummed, “I can see that—”

You were cut off by the brunt of his torso smacking into you, arm circumventing your waist, hand clutching yours as he swayed you in a dramatic circle. Something festive but softer floated down from the speakers but his guiding footsteps barely followed the beat anyway, socked feet nudging at your slightly chilled ones.

“You really thought I’d leave you home alone on Christmas?” Yoongi’s gums blinded your heart a bit, arm squeezing you tighter against him as he corrected, “Our first Christmas together, might I add.”

“This isn’t our first—”

His thumb and index finger twisting at the band on your second finger from the left had your heart stuttering into the base of your throat. “This ring was a little different last Christmas,” He mused, centering the diamond to lace your fingers again.

“You spent too much…”

“I’ll buy you three more,” Yoongi squeezed your palm, “We can renew our vows twice a year, if you want.”

“I don’t,” You grinned when he feigned offense, pressing your face against his chest, “Can’t top the best day of my life.”

His chest rumbled with a scratchy laugh, chin on top of your head as he directed your blind figure out of the living room to the tune of some song featuring the tinkle of bells and Holly’s high stepping claws against the hardwood. “I got you an early present,” He mused, dropping your hand to reach for your half wrinkled sweater on the dining table.

Your eyebrows furled for barely a second, fond annoyance meeting the roll of your eyes as you opened and let the hem of the sweater fall. “I bought this,” You jabbed an index finger into his stomach, “and this one.”

“Just put it on.”

“I didn’t go to my parents, by the way,” You cocked an eyebrow at him after shoving your head through the slightly too small hole, threads snapping in the process. You centered the sleeves of your sweater over your watch and bracelets while picking your hair out of places it shouldn’t be, watching him with a tiny, knowing smile.

“Why?”

You hummed, plucking absently at some leftover pine needles still taking residency on his chest, “Didn’t want to hear my mom tell me how you’re too busy for me.”

Yoongi curled his index finger underneath your chin, pressing his lips gently to yours. “Hmm, I am,” He rolled his eyes in time with you, pecking down your chin to the pulse point on your neck, “I have a tree to decorate.”

You snorted, letting him pull you in messy, looping circles back into the living room. “Do you?”

“I’ve been busy, miss,” The tree appeared to weep when his wincing gaze sliced over to it, taking in the lopsided top that he hadn’t quite secured and the singular strand of lights that was buried much too far into the artificial limbs, plug in to add the next strand nowhere to be seen and the lights he’d half untangled still red. Not white. “I mean, I didn’t think you’d come home just yet so I—”

You placed a gentle palm on Yoongi’s cheek, leaving a tender kiss to him lips.

“It’s perfect.”

His nose wrinkled, chin cocking just enough to brush the tip against yours, “Is it?”

“No,” You pecked his mouth again, “but we can fix it.”

“I got it inside, at least?” Yoongi’s eyes twinkled a bit as he cheered, “and I put up mistletoe!”

You followed the path of his pointing finger, only to find the spot he was referring to void of any green foliage. Instead, that piece laid in a sad lump on the floor, Holly’s nose buried against the stem as he danced on top of the leaves at his newest discovery.

“We can fix that, too but…” You shrugged, “You better kiss me, reverse the bad luck of letting it touch the floor.”

“Oh, is that the rule?”

“You’re the lawyer, Yoon.”