Hi there! I love your gojo x reader stories so much! And I saw a post that your requests are opened or I assume. After the jjk leaks I've been having gojo brain rot and I was wondering if you could possibly make this idea into a story?
My idea was that the fem reader is absolutely TERRIFIED of thunderstorms after fighting a special grade spirit who used lighting and thunder. She has PTSD and is receiving help to get over the fear but it's so bad that she hides under tables, beds and in closets as she sobs. I think it would be a cute augst/comfort/fluff idea of having gojo hearing her yelling after a loud thunder only to find her room 'empty' but she is hiding in the closet or under the bed sheets trembling and silently sobbing. And he of course does what he do best and be a good boyfi and conforts his little cry baby!
If you don't wish to do this I completely understand! Keep up the good work! ❣️🫰
omg thank you so much! also, this idea is amazing! i love it so much!
Shelter From the Storm (Gojo x Astraphobic Reader)
CW: PTSD, mentions of death, mentions of therapy, phobias, panic attacks, fluff, gojo satoru is a good boyfriend
JJK Masterlist | Blog Navigation
Stepping into your shared apartment, Gojo waited expectantly for you to come and greet him with his kiss. Instead a dark apartment welcomed him as rain pattered against the windows.
"Babe?"
He called out, kicking off his shoes and entering.
"Where are you?"
He saw your shoes, bag, and uniform jacket when he came in so he knows you're home. The question is where.
As he turned and began walking down the hallway to your shared bedroom, there was a blinding flash of lightning, and a deafening clap of thunder that seemed to shake the small apartment.
But that wasn't what caught his attention.
No, what caught his attention was the muffled shriek of terror that accompanied the thunder.
Bursting into the bedroom, he scanned it, prepared for the worst.
But the room was empty.
That's strange, he could've sworn he heard you scream...
Another loud clap of thunder split the air.
A high pitched whimper emanated from beneath the bed.
Concerned, Gojo walked over to the edge of the bed, and crouched down, peering underneath it.
"Sweetheart? You down there?"
"'T-Toru?"
You stammer out, voice shaking.
"Yeah baby, it's me. Are you okay? What are you doing down there?"
He can see your shaking form, curled up in a ball under the bed and his heart aches.
"C'mon baby. Let's get you out from under there."
Reaching under the bed, he tried to pull you out but you curled in on yourself more, refusing to leave your sanctuary.
Sighing, he pulled his hand back.
"What's going on? What are you afraid of? What can I do to help? C'mon baby talk to me."
"Th-thunder."
Your voice is hoarse from screaming, and Gojo feels a pang of guilt for not being home earlier.
"You're afraid of the thunder?"
"Mhm."
You mumble, before jumping and yelping as there is another loud boom.
"Hey, hey hey hey,"
He soothes, scooching closer to the edge of the bed. He contemplates the narrow gap before deciding to go for it.
Unfortunately, your giant boyfriend could not wedge himself under the bed with you.
Annoyed, but not discouraged, he came up with the next best option.
"Stay here sweetheart, I'll be right back, okay?"
You give him a tiny nod, and that's all the confirmation he needs before sprinting around the apartment gathering all the pillows, blankets and stuffed animals he could find. For good measure he also found a couple flashlights, a pair of headphones, a few of your favorite snacks, and a huge weighted blanket you usually reserve for camping.
Rushing back into the bedroom, he dumped everything onto a pile next to the bed and got to work.
A couple short minutes later, your boyfriend has successfully constructed a blanket fort right next to the bed so you can crawl out from under it and straight into the fort without having to expose yourself.
Your boyfriend had outdone himself. It was a huge blanket fort, high enough for both of you to be able to sit up in, and wide enough for the two of you to curl up with plenty of space.
Squeezing in after you, Gojo set the snacks in the corner and turned on the flashlights after double checking that the weighted blanket stopped any flashes of lightning from entering your little abode.
Satisfied that it was sufficient, he turned his attention on you.
You were a wreck, still in your uniform pants and undershirt, with mascara running down your cheeks.
"Hey baby."
He said gently, opening his arms.
"Let me take care of you, please."
You nod against his chest.
He pulls back, making sure to keep an arm around you at all times, and starts making a mental priority list.
By the time he's done fussing over you, he's removed all your makeup, helped you into your favorite pajamas, set up the headphones with loud, comforting music, fed you a couple snacks, and is cuddling you.
Needless to say, you were still a little tense, but you fell asleep rather quickly in the safety of your boyfriend's arms.
─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───
After you had fully calmed down the next morning, you sat down with your boyfriend feeling that you owed him an explanation.
He reassured you that you didn't, but you wanted to tell him, especially after how sweet and careful he was with you last night.
So over your cups of coffee, you tell him all about the special grade that used a cursed lightning technique appeared out of nowhere when you were in junior high. About how your older brother, who had been attending Tokyo Jujutsu High at the time tried to defend you.
Tears begin to stream down your face, grief and guilt still plaguing you all these years later. Moving around the table and wrapping you in his arms, Gojo gives you the time you need.
Continuing, you tell him about how help arrived, but it had been too late. About how they had to pry you off your brother's charred body, the residual smell of ozone filling the air. About the years of trauma and PTSD flashbacks that followed any bright flashes of light or loud noises.
You explain the consequential years of therapy that allowed you to watch fireworks again, and helped you to work through (some of) the guilt.
And finally, you give him your therapist's phone number, explaining that you still meet with them once a week, and that if you ever get too out of control during a storm you can call them and they should be able to talk you down from your panic attack.
Needless to say, your boyfriend was completely understanding. He spent the rest of the day reassuring you that he didn't love you any less because of it, and that he was going to stay by your side.
Later he researches PTSD and panic attacks, trying to learn more about them so that he knows what to to.
He reaches out to your therapist, and asks for advice, because his heart breaks when he thinks about what you went through, and wants your therapist to know that there is nothing he wouldn't do for you.
Finally, he sets up storm notifications on his phone, so the instant there is even the slightest chance of a storm he can drop everything and be by your side.
And it quickly becomes a tradition to build a blanket fort every time there is a storm. Even once you begin to overcome astraphobia, Satoru refuses to stop, needing you to know that he will always be there, your own personal shelter from the storm.
─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───
Thanks for requesting!! I had so much fun writing this! If anyone has any other requests send them in! Also feel free to invade my ask box. I don't mind. Anyways, I hope this was what you were looking for!
tag list: @awinkies @yzkyzkuniverse @wedarkacademia @yiyi4657 @scuzmunkie @astralandcosmos
The sound of the lock turning echoes through the otherwise silent apartment and you jump up from your seat on the couch. Before Yoongi can fully step inside, you engulf him in a hug, knocking him back a few steps before he regains his balance. He had just come back from a long trip to America and you missed him so much, especially because you couldn’t even pick him up from the airport.
“Welcome home,” you breathe out into the crook of his neck, “I missed you so much.” He lightly pats you on the back a few times before pulling away and moving into the apartment. You’re puzzled by his rather cold behaviour, expecting a little more of a reaction from him but you shrug it off, assuming he was just tired from the long flight home.
Hi i’m not a native english, it’s my first story, there is no beta reader. Sorry if i do mistake 🙏. Thank you for loving my story ♥️
This is Dark! Steve Rogers x Fem!
ReaderWarnings: 18+ ONLY. dark Steve, manipulation, age gap, non com, manipulation, somnophilia, daddy kink, innocent kink, dom/ sub If you have gotten this far, it means you have read and understood my warnings. I AM NOT responsible for your consumption. Don’t read if you are sensitive to any of the warnings.
Chap1. Chap12
Chap13
When you wake up, you feel something wet between your legs. Steve is licking your folds. Your body is exhausted, it’s too much.
“Please Daddy, it’s…”
Steve pulls you into another orgasm. You don’t have time to get your head around it, Steve is on top of you. He kisses you, you taste yourself. Your legs are still shaking. You can feel his hard cock against your stomach. You cry out.
𝗦𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆 | Months into your relationship with Ari, he finally indulges in his deepest desires—that are also his biggest-little fears. Based on this ask.
𝗪/𝗖 | 6.47K
𝗔/𝗡 | hi anon, thank you for being patient with this request, it's my first time writing for ari ! I scrapped the smut last night and rewrote it—this is so filthy, someone needs to shut biker!ari up. All mistakes are my own. [all asks — all drabbles]
˗ˏˋ𝐌𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭ˎˊ˗ ⋰˚ 𝐂.𝐄. & 𝐂𝐨. 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭
“Bear, be quiet.” You giggle, crumbling beneath his weight as he leans on you, “Ah! Walk, Ari!”
The big, burly man growls, rubbing his nose on your head. “Mhm, you smell like sugar cream…” His hand drags along the wall as you stumble further down the hall, and he’s hanging off you like a limp sack of muscles and hair.
“I—hold on,” you reach into the pocket of his leather jacket, fishing out his keys. Silver shines in the dim lights, the handmade beaded bracelet hanging from the ring, a carefully chosen pattern of blue, pink and lilac—not purple, lilac is prettier, Ari told you. The gift was too small for his wrist, so he added it to his keys instead.
Although, you wish you thought about sizing before making it because seeing the usually stone-cold and silent biker wearing a cute beaded bracelet would be amusing.
Ari was smooth, observant and worldly-wise, clad in leather and denim, with a chain around his neck and rings on his hands if it were a special occasion. That was how everyone knew him. To you, he was the sharp and collected co-owner of the mechanic shop across the street who never seemed to take his lunch break.
You were kind, sensitive and sincere and started to sneak in bundles of neatly packaged freshly baked goods to leave them on the counter whenever he went into his office. Far too shy and nervous to say a single word to the domineering biker.
This went on for weeks, and you started leaving more treats for the rest of the bikers employed at Fast Lane Mechanics. Ari and his friends were getting spoiled by the little angel from the bakery, filling up on the pastries from The Snickerdoodle.
Then one day, Ari caught you. You got startled and accidentally walked right into the wall during your abrupt escape—the biker proceeded to tuck you into his office until you calmed down.
That was months ago, and you’ve been dating ever since. To be fair, you were very hesitant to say yes because of your lack of experience with relationships. But Ari, ever the gentleman, has worshiped the ground you walk on and your existence—even if it goes unnoticed by you, as most things tend to do.
“Are you going to give me your sugar cream?”
You struggle to unlock his apartment door, oblivious to the growing tent in Ari’s jeans. “Uh…the bake sale is tomorrow, but I don’t mind giving my boyfriend a free treat.”
The door swings open, slamming into the wall as you cringe. Stepping into the dark living room and kicking the door shut, you wobble towards the bedroom. Ari’s chin bumps against the top of your head as he showers you in kisses.
“Wasn’t talkin’ about that cream.”
“Hm?” You look up at him, finally making it to his bedroom and attempting to set him on the bed, but he clings to you. You collapse onto his chest with a squeak, straddling his hips.
“I missed you today, angel,” Ari smirks, dark hair fanning across the sheets like a halo. He easily moves you until you’re seated on his bulge.
Your eyes widen and you gulp nervously, intimidated by the size. “I-I missed you too…”
“I like your new skirt, it‘s cute.” He pinches the flimsy fabric before sliding his hands up your thighs. “I wish I stopped by the bakery today, I could’ve seen you in your little apron and that headband with the bow. Always so fuckin’ adorable in your uniform.”
You giggle and try to push him away, “You’re not too bad yourself, handsome, covered in grease and those work jeans—ah!” You’re flipped over, crushed under his weight. A stream of laughter flows from you as his fingers dig into your sides, your legs and arms flailing as he tickles you relentlessly.
Ari’s breath catches in his throat, his hands freeze and his eyes fall between your thighs. Your skirt is flipped up, revealing the cotton panties that cup your mound.
The alcohol in Ari’s system has him thinking with a one-track mind, drunk off the memory of a past date that ended with his cock sliding along your wet cunt. The sweetest moans poured from your lips as he moved you how he wanted with ease. Firmly seating you on his bare length and gripping your thighs, watching your cream coat him.
He remembers smelling you on his beard when he dropped you off at home.
You had requested to take things slow—and it’s been absolutely perfect, Ari didn’t mind that it took over three weeks to kiss, and even longer to do some over-clothes touching.
Although, this was utter torture. Now, Ari must restrain from devouring you like a beast. He’s fingered you and rubbed his dick against your folds, but he’s only ever been inside with the tip and that was after spending a good thirty minutes opening you up.
You’re smaller than him and extremely more delicate than his 6’7” beefy tower of muscle and meat.
Worst of all, you’re unaware of the effect you have on him. Teasing him with your gentle touches and soft-spoken words, your compassion and your body striking him to the core. Nearly begging him to just lift you up and carry you wherever he wants. To hide you away from the rest of the big, wide world.
As Ari’s hand draws closer to your heat, you swiftly escape from under him. With your ass in the air, you crawl off the bed and stand on solid ground again. “You deserve a timeout for that, mister.” You point a finger.
God, he loves you, but he’s not drunk enough to let that slip. You love him too and similarly, you need a drink to get that confidence to say it—you were just too damn shy.
“Hm, how about you just give me a kiss instead?”
Not only are you physically weaker than the biker, but you’re awfully vulnerable to that deep drawl and those light blue eyes, his dominant nature pulls you toward him like a magnet. Ari cups your cheeks, bringing you in an uncoordinated but tender kiss. It goes from gentle pecks to his tongue slipping between your lips. His skilled digits trail up your legs and under your skirt again.
“Bear, you’re so handsy…” You squirm, ignoring the dampness in your panties because there are more pressing matters at hand. As the clock strikes midnight, you know that waking up in the morning will be a pain.
Dropping to your knees, you shiver as his warmth crawls up your arms and he tugs on the collar of your shirt. As you unbuckle his belt and start dragging his pants down, Ari closes his eyes in anticipation, awaiting the bliss that comes with your lips around his cock. Blood rushes through his veins as he remembers the first time you sucked him off, all innocent and nervous—is this okay? You’re so big… I don’t know how I’ll fit you in my mouth.
That ecstasy turns into confusion when he doesn’t feel you rub over his length because that was the first rule he gave you about blowing him. He loved feeling your hand over his clothed cock, almost as much as he loved watching you choke on his fat girth.
And you were always a good girl and a good listener.
Ari sits up, suddenly very sober and aware.
“There,” you lean back on your feet, beaming up at him. So small, delicate between his thick, toned thighs, “now you can sleep all nice and comfy. Jeans aren’t good pyjamas.”
If possible, his heart grows bigger to offer even more affection for you. “I’m going to marry you one day.” Ari flops on his back, his dick shamelessly straining his boxers. “I already told the guys, Curtis and Bucky were arguing about who should be my best man.”
Your eyes fall to the bulge. And unfortunately, you can’t hide from your brain that replays those sinful events like a movie, Ari’s filthy words playing in your ears, his rough hands holding you so tightly. You whimper, subconsciously clenching your thighs before your head snaps up, “You’re drunk, Ari. You don’t mean that.” You’ve only been dating for a few months, too early to meet extended family, let alone, get married.
“Really? Go check my nightstand.”
You shoot up and process his words, then you eagerly start crossing the room but Ari grabs your wrist. He pulls you to stand between his legs, flashing you a knowing smile, “Aw baby, you want to be my wife already?” He chuckles, soft blue eyes gleaming, “There’s no ring—yet. I still haven’t measured your finger.”
Your heart settles as yet echoes in your head, you want to hide away, “Y-You’re so drunk…”
His fellow biker friends had called you when Ari was too intoxicated to get home by himself, they offered to call him a cab, but you were still at the bakery preparing for tomorrow’s bake sale. So, you swung by the bar, pulling up along the row of big shiny bikes as the handsome men hauled your boyfriend into the passenger seat.
To others, Ari was fairly quiet, only speaking when his voice was needed yet he wasn’t shy by any means. More of a silent observer with a searing gaze that could be felt through the skeleton to the soul. Your bones were familiar with that burn, while your inner thighs were still healing from his beard after he ate you out yesterday.
“God, I hate that…”
“Hate what, bear?”
“Your fuckin’ seat—always gotta put it back when I’m drivin’ this tiny bug.”
You giggle, reaching over to unbuckle his seatbelt. “It’s because you’re a giant.”
Ari sighs to himself, tapping his pen on the desk as last night’s events repeat in his mind. He doesn’t know if he should feel humiliated over his behaviour or frustrated—both sexually and generally—over you.
It wasn’t a ring in his nightstand, it was a key to his apartment, personalized with your favourite colours. He’s relieved you didn’t open the drawer, perhaps it was too early to give you a key to his place, but he adored you so deeply.
He’s dreamt of the things you could potentially do together if you had a key—or, better yet, lived with him—surprising you with breakfast in bed, spending the weekends lounging on the couch or in the kitchen where you’d attempt to teach him recipes. He can imagine ordering-in dinner together only to fill up on flawless baked goods that you’d make, dressed in his clothes with your apron, just like the little angel you are.
Domestic, soft things that he’s never fantasized about in his life.
As always, on the tail of those wishes are his fears. In the grand scheme of things, they’re insignificant and shouldn’t matter, especially since you’ve displayed a fondness for it. Those small concerns wrap around Ari’s mouth and keep him from ravaging you like a wild animal, keeping him from diving headfirst into his deepest desires.
His little fears aren’t things like missing payments, losing the shop or his friends, not even wrecking his prized bike. Those are reasonable worries that could greatly impact his life, but they’re different from his tiny, truly comical concerns. Ari’s ridiculous little fears revolve around you. With you being so much smaller than him, graceful and pure in every sense, his biggest-little fear was hurting delicate you.
Of course, he’d never intentionally harm you—you’re the most gentle bear, Ari—but your size difference was a touchy subject for him. He doesn’t know how much longer he can control himself, one wrong move and he’ll wreak you wherever you stand. And this time, it will go the way in.
Why did you have to be so irresistible?
It’s concerning how hard and fast Ari has fallen for your clumsy and sugary charm. He loves you yet, he feels guilty about tainting you. Colouring your blank pages with his shades of sin in bruises and bite marks, but his sick hunger to ruin you were stronger than that remorse.
He inhales sharply, your voice echoing in his head—that first night, you called him daddy, only to never repeat it, even when you did things. He doesn’t think you noticed either. Daddy, it was a breathy gasp as your juices poured out, covering his thick, heavy cock.
Ari is tempted to leave the shop early just to get off with the thought of you.
You aren’t safe from him. Your innocence, your body and your mind aren’t sheltered from him, and he’s already tarnished the thought of you. In his head, you’re withering on a bed, covered in his saliva and seed, with marks sitting pretty on your softest parts.
It’d be incredibly easy to pick you up and fuck you anywhere, on the desk, against the wall, on his bike. He foggily recalls having you to ride his face after one date—oh no, he talked about your sex life with his friends too, that included voicing all of his pent-up frustration too.
“—No, she definitely wants that.” Bucky sips his beer.
“How do you know that?” Ari huffs, tipsy enough to spill his concerns to his best friends. He doesn’t remember much of what he said, but it was about your size difference and his influence on your purity.
Across the table, Steve agrees. “You can just tell.”
Curtis nods. “It’s when she looks up at you like she’s got other things in mind, and she bites her lip. I’ve seen her stare at your arms, she clenches her thighs and squirms, just waiting for you to pick her up—”
Ari frowns, “—All right, that’s enough.”
Curtis raises his arms, his beanie is drawn low. “I’m just saying… you’re scared of nothing, you should be thankful that she gets off on your size difference too.”
“I know.” Ari elbows him, “stay the hell away, jerk.”
The man scoffs, “I’ve got my eyes set on that one.” He smirks as the beautiful waitress swings by and picks up their glasses for another refill. “Hey baby, you come here often?”
The rest of the bikers groan as the woman chortles, shoving his shoulder. “I work here, you dummy.”
Curtis smirks, bringing his girl in for a quick kiss. “Mhm, and your shift is almost done. I’m staying here for a little longer, but I’ll bring home your favourite take-out.”
“Are you trying to get out of changing the cat litter?”
“I’m trying to love up on my lady, is that a crime?”
The young woman prys his fingers from her hip, “This is still my workplace so keep those hands to yourself.” She turns to Ari, “How’s your girl? I’ve heard folks talking about the bake sale all day.”
He’s about to answer, but Bucky interrupts. “Ari wants to devour her but he’s scared because she’s so small compared to him—”
“—everyone is.”
“—but it’s obvious she wants him to, she just doesn’t know it.”
A grin plays on the waitress’s lips. “Well, this is juicy.”
“We’re trying to make him go for it. You know they’ve only done pussyjobs?”
Ari’s jaw drops as he smacks the back of Curtis’ head, “fuckin’ loudmouth, and that’s not true.”
“Oh, right, sorry—Ari’s only ever fit the tip in.” The other men burst into giggles while Ari whacks Curtis again.
The woman stifles her laughter, ignoring her boyfriend’s curses. “She’s as innocent as they get and trust me, a girl like her doesn’t know unless you spell it out for her. And I’ve seen her with you, Ari, she certainly has the same interests as you.”
Most people look up to the biker because he stands at 6’7”. Although, your size difference runs much deeper than that.
He’s impartial and stern, his voice is loud, clear and commanding, his choice of words is well-thought-out and highly valued. A tall and sturdy stature like a skyscraper, his thick and powerful muscles are well-earned with his consistent gym sessions.
On the other hand, you’re soft-spoken, pristine and shy. Terribly naive with meeting new people and seemingly normal social interactions, including sexual innuendos. Clad in skirts and dresses of pastel shades with knee highs, always smelling sweet with the most adorable smile.
Ari is wide and confident, as deep and intriguing as the sea. He can be as cold as the deepest trenches, harbouring secrets that will never see the light of day. And, you're nothing like that. You don’t have the ability to be cold or bitter, you were made as soft and sweet as the baked goods at The Snickerdoodle. Most importantly, you had the power to turn the strict biker into a pile of flirtatious, sincere adoration and gentle caresses with a single glance.
Ari can’t remember the last time he was this invested in a relationship—or a person.
In the dictionary, there would be a picture of you under the words soft and sinless. And, under smitten, would be a photograph of a lovesick Ari with a bright blush erupting under his beard.
Soon enough, Ari starts working again. Going over the documents on his desk, marking things to bring up with the rest of the guys as the hours fly by. Then, Curtis bursts through the office door with grease on his hands and arms, “Hey, that guy is back.”
Ari’s face twists in confusion, “What?”
“That guy who flirts with your girl.”
The biker stiffens, narrowed gaze set on his friend. If this wasn’t a sign, he didn’t know what was.
Curtis scratches his beard as a suspicion arises about what’s going through Ari’s mind. He decides to add a little more fuel to the fire. “Yeah, he’s been across the street for a while and has snatched up each sample from the bake sale at least twice.”
It happened all too fast for you to process.
First, you’re chatting happily with a regular customer, answering his strangely daft questions between packaging orders for the bake sale. Then, the little bell rings from above the door and heavy footsteps walk up to the counter before a wall of shadows appears.
If you were paying attention, you would’ve seen Ari and the guys push the man out of the way. As they line up along the counter by the display, shoulder to shoulder with threatening glares that send the man rushing out.
“All of it? Are you sure?”
Ari nods, “Steve doesn’t have anything for the party at the community centre—even though he said he would. Plus, the guys and I haven’t had lunch yet.” He plucks a cupcake from a platter, taking a large bite and getting icing in his beard. “Tastes delicious, angel, you bake any maple pecan danishes?”
Still overwhelmed by him buying the entire bakesale stock, you fumble over your words. “Uh-huh… back—they’re in the back.” You answer breathlessly. “Mrs. Martha is going to have a heart attack.”
That wasn’t completely wrong—although it would have been more accurate if you added: “and I.”
Once Ari’s massive order was packaged and divided among the bikers, Mrs. Martha, the owner of the bakery, gave you the rest of the day off. You accepted Ari’s offer of a ride home on his motorcycle and clung to him like a koala until he pulled up to his apartment.
Those events have led to you splayed out on his bed. Clothes in a haphazard trail from the front door to his bedroom, your panties clenched in his fist as he brings them to his nose.
“Bear, I—” you shuffle backwards as he kneels on the mattress, yanking your ankles until you’re flat on your back. Then, he’s on top of you, his heated gaze set on you as your cotton panties hang from between his teeth.
“Hm?” He suckles the gusset, groaning lowly at your taste.
You whimper as his clothed length presses against your heat, snug between your folds as he pulls you closer. “Uh, what’s going on—” You’re cut off by a cry as Ari starts moving, slowly grinding against your cunt.
Instantly, his boxers are soaked with you, it seeps through the fabric to his cock, and releases the desire he’s kept locked behind iron bars. It’s free and starving and making him shameless.
“You’re so good, angel, you know that?” Your panties land on the bed and Ari sinks lower until his lips meet your neck. His beard tickles you between his kisses, “Always so polite—too polite, and so innocent.”
You melt into the sheets, and your legs wrap around his hips as he thrusts against your cunt. He murmurs against your skin in a gravelly tone, “You don’t even notice when a man is flirting with you.”
“Huh?” You gasp.
“It’s okay, I’m not upset with you. I know you can’t think for yourself. Such a sweet, beautiful girl, so neglectful and oblivious—that’s why you need me.” He reaches down, pulling out his throbbing dick and sliding between your creamy petals, he growls at the feeling of your warmth, “Just a dumb baby brain. You need daddy to think for you, huh?”
You don’t have a chance to feel mortified because Ari leans back, slapping the fat tip on your button, sloppily tracing around your hole.
“C’mon, angel, say it. You said it that first night, but you were too cockdrunk to notice. Can’t think when my dick is on your pussy, yeah? Look at us.” He demands, leaning forward so his shaft is on your tummy.
He’s huge and heavy, his balls against your centre as he trails the wet head along your skin, marking you. He’s so big that you’re a little uneasy about the size difference, the head of his length lying on your belly, showing you exactly how deep he can reach inside you. His thumb dips into your mouth, “my stupid baby can’t speak either?”
You nod dumbly and suck on his finger, your mind drifts away as the second's tick by. Ari coos, grabbing your chin and bringing you up, he kisses you messily. Giving in to his darkness, and becoming the beast he was once terrified to be.
As you fall back onto the mattress, your head sinks into the pillows and he spits down where you meet. Watching you carefully, “You’re so pretty, angel.” He groans, swinging your legs over his shoulders, further spreading you open. Grasping his thick base, he rubs the bulbous tip on your folds, coating himself in your slick as lewd noises fill the room.
“You hear that? You’re so wet, just a little mess for daddy. Need me inside your tight pussy, huh? Stretch this little fuckhole, make you mine.”
You clench, you’re at his mercy, cradled in the palm of his rough hands, vulnerable and taken with every word that pours from his lips.
“Want my cock baby? You’ve never let me inside and that’s not very nice, is it?” He’s been starved for far too long and looking down at you whining as his shaft slides through your folds, drenched in your sweetness.
This doesn’t feed Ari’s desire, he needs to be inside you, splitting you open. He has an appetite that will only be suffixed by ruining you.
“Daddy, ah, p-please,” you whine, weakly gripping his built arms. “Want it, please, please.”
“That’s a good girl, using those manners. Now, watch me, baby.” He commands softly, angling your face until your eyes fall to your connected centres. He’s shiny with your juices, his fat tip sitting heavily at your entrance, he inches in and groans appreciatively, “that’s it, fuck, open up for me.” His thumb lands on your clit, applying delicate pressure.
“I-I’m trying, daddy.” You gasp, thighs threatening to close. Falling into a deep abyss of trust and pleasure, “you’re t-too big…can’t—” Your poor cunt couldn’t take the head, you can’t imagine how the rest will fit.
Ari grinds his teeth, he knows he should probably grab some lube to be safe, even though he can’t wait anymore. You were tighter than he imagined. He wants to be careful and not accidentally hurt you, but he does want to see you destroyed, so he tries once more.
Your hole refuses to take him again, and he pulls away—but you latch onto him. “N-No, don’t go, daddy.”
“I need to get lube—”
“Don’t, please… can’t wait anymore.” You beg, lips swollen from his kisses. “Want you so bad, please—”
“Okay, okay,” he shuffles back between your legs, growling at your weepy hole, begging for him. “I’ll stay, but you’ll need to help daddy, okay?”
Your brows furrow, “How?”
Then, he does something that catches you off guard. Slipping fingers into your mouth, forcing you to slobber and gag on the digits like it’s his shaft. If it were possible, Ari gets harder at the sight, his cock throbbing between his thighs as he pulls away, a string of spit connecting your lips to his fingers.
“Touch yourself with my fingers, baby. Open that tight cunt for me.”
Hesitantly, you bring his hand to your heat. Softly moaning as you move his hand along your pussy, covering yourself in your saliva and using him. You cry out, slipping one of his thick, long fingers into you, and Ari takes charge once more.
He spits down on your core, scissoring two fingers into you. Taking you apart in a matter of moments, speaking the most filthy words to bring you over the edge. Your lack of experience is evident through your quick release and loud squeals.
Ari manhandles you again, sliding a pillow under your back to prop up your lower half. His shaft returns to your creamy hole, slipping in with ease. “That’s it, take my cock. You’re so little compared to me, sweetheart. I was scared of hurting you.”
You clench as he draws back, then forward again. His thick girth stretches you wide, barely halfway before you cry out. “Daddy! Too big, I can’t—”
“You can, angel.” Ari gently drops your legs, capturing your lips in his. He kisses away that wrinkle in your forehead, distracting you with his tongue until he’s all the way in. He’s balls deep, his pubic hair brushing your nub. “See? My little dumb baby, worried for nothing.”
You never thought you’d be into this, but it’s strumming you just right. Your vision goes blurry as he hits so deep. Ari hooks one of your knees over his shoulder, keeping you trapped under his beefy frame and locked on his girth.
“I’m going to fill you up. Cum in this little cunt, watch it pour out and fuck you again until you can’t take anymore.” He chuckles darkly as you gasp for air, “Even though it seems like you can’t take anymore right now—you're milking my dick already, baby?” He takes one of your nipples in his mouth, tugging the nub with his teeth, groping your other breast.
You’re already so damn sensitive and arch into his touch. “Ah, Ari!”
“Shh,” he releases your tit with a lewd pop, his eyebrows knitted tightly as you clench around him, “don’t open that mouth unless you’re going to call me daddy.”
“Daddy, daddy, daddy.” You weep.
“That’s my girl.” He starts pumping slowly, letting you feel every vein along your pulsating walls. From tip to base, he feeds your tight hole. “Taking my dick so good—even fucking yourself with my fingers? So good at doing what you're told.”
You whimper, gnawing on your bottom lip as he speeds up. High-pitched uh’s are pushed from your body with every thrust, the tip of his dick ramming into your cervix. You’re so hot and messy already, a mixture of yours and his saliva, and your slick creating a ring around his fat base.
Ari grunts, eyes flickering between your weepy hole and your blissed-out face, with your eyes rolled back and jaw slack. He can’t decide which is more obscene, especially with the drool hanging out the corner of your mouth, dripping onto the pillow.
He’s just started and he can see every thought flying out of your head, your entire body is too full for anything but him. His guttural groans and wandering hands grip your body, leaving finger-shaped indents in their wake. His big cock spreads you wide, a euphoric burn blooming in your little pussy as your juices spill out. You can barely remember your own name.
He kisses you, it’s soft in contrast to his length spearing you open. His tongue slips into your mouth, massaging yours as he swallows your moans. When he touches your hole, you accidentally bite his lip. Ari hisses, “Ow.”
“...You just t-touched me down there.”
Down there—he almost laughs at your choice of words. So pure, even when he’s fucking you one inch from your life.
“I touched your pussy. My dick has been in your mouth before, I know you can say pussy.” He smirks, tracing over your stretched hole to your clit, rubbing in hard circles as you cry out, trying to push him away. You’re too weak and eventually give up, letting him abuse your tingling button.
“Can’t believe you haven’t let me fuck you yet. You knew I’d ruin you, but that’s what you want, huh?” He pounds into you, your body moving up the bed with the sheer force, “Don’t you feel fucking stupid, baby? Oh, sorry—you’re already stupid, yeah? Say it.”
You gulp and nod, pathetically whimpering. “‘m d-dumb, daddy…”
“Yeah, you are, and so fucking creamy,” Ari growls, sweeping his fingers through your folds, gathering your arousal before slipping it to his mouth. His hips unrelenting, dirty sounds filling the room. The headboard even bangs on the wall. “You want a taste, angel?”
“Ah, I-I don’t know…” Your toes curl as he touches your sensitive cunt, then brings his digits to your face. Your mouth falls open in a moan as he rams into your sweet spot, that familiar electricity streaming through your body.
Ari is tempted to shove your taste down your throat, but he’ll play nice, for now anyway. “You’re close again, huh? Then c’mon, just a little bit of a taste. Don’t you want to be my good girl and cum?” He traces your lips.
You do. You want to be his best girl, his angel.
When you nod, Ari doesn’t waste any time. He leans over you, pelvic bone pressing against your clit as his dick spears deeper. You squirm, full and cockdrunk as he rubs his fingers on your tongue, slapping your thigh when you close your lips.
“Keep your mouth open.” His spit lands on your tongue and he sickly smears your tastebuds with your cream and his saliva. “Now, close it and swallow. That’s a good little girl, so good for daddy.”
Your high strikes so abruptly, you don’t expect it. Your juices squirt out all over Ari’s length and his pelvis. His thickness continues to invade your convulsing walls, almost brutally but you take it, gasping around his fingers as your mind goes foggy.
After one particularly hard thrust into your sore cunt, you gag on his fingers, eyes watering as he touches the back of your throat. “Oh, why the tears, baby? You got to cum and made a stupid mess, what’s wrong?” He taunts.
Still floaty from your orgasm, you attempt to answer, but all you can manage are wet choking noises.
“It’s okay, daddy knows what you need.” He grits his teeth and slaps his dick on your nub, the noises making your face heat before he sinks back in. Swinging your other leg over his shoulder, “Look—that’s because you’re so small for my cock, feel me all in your guts, baby?”
There's a faint bulge appearing in your lower belly every time he drives forward. You can’t help but hide your face, you don’t know why.
It’s probably because his filthiness is destroying you.
“Let me see you,” Ari pulls your hands from your face, interlocking your fingers on either side of your head. The pillow sinks, your quiet gasps flowing into the air, “Don’t you ever hide from me, angel. Ever.”
You obey but avert your eyes to his tensing muscles under his flushed skin. He’s ragged and husky, dark hair dusts over his chest and prominent pecs, trailing down his abs to the neatly trimmed pubic hair. You feel so little as he looms over you, swatting your ass before grabbing your breasts, loud grunts flowing over your mewls.
He could crush you—and why did that turn the both of you on?
He grabs your hips, moving you on his cock like a doll. “Look at that tight pussy taking me, such a good girl. Letting daddy fuck your brains out, ruin this little cunt, you’re a dream, sugar.”
You fist the bedsheets, your mouth falling open as he grinds deeply, a hot feeling building in your stomach.
“You want me to put a baby in you? Get you filled up until you’re leaking and crying like a dumb baby.” Ari grunts, fingers bruising your skin, “Stupid, stupid girl—I don’t even have a condom on, you know that? Yeah, and I bet you love it.”
You do—and you love him, you try to say it but all oxygen is yanked from your chest as realization dawns, you aren’t on contraceptives and he knows that too, because you told him.
Ari works your body, unable to stop thinking of you plump and pregnant with his baby. He wants that, he wants you as long as you’ll have him, and hopefully, it’s forever.
His girth splits you open, reducing you to a submissive mess. “For someone so innocent, you sure want to be knocked up, huh? That’s why you’re dripping down my cock. Want me to put a baby in you—fuck, let everyone see you full of me and my baby. They’ll know you’re mine.”
You’re scared, but not because of the possibility of getting pregnant, but because Ari seems to know all your kinks before you do. As your head bobs roughly, your hands have a mind of their own and land on his abs, pushing him away.
Ari tsks, swatting you away, his stomach tightens, “Don’t do that.” Imagining you carrying his big baby was feeding a different desire, the thought of how full you’d be—he can’t contain himself. “You want this—want my cum in you sweet pussy, want daddy to fill you up, yeah?”
“I-I do. Want your, ah, baby!”
“Then, take my dick, sweetheart and let daddy breed your tiny fuckhole.” His dirty words are draped in a gentle tone. He spits but misses your mouth, it lands on your hot cheek. “What a dumb messy girl.”
You're ruined under him, sweaty and hiccuping moans. Your breasts bounce as he fucks you harder, ramming into your sweet spot. You can't process anything over the squelching noises or the headboard slamming into the wall. He’s so big inside you, but it hurts so good that you never want him to stop.
Your walls are heaven around him, sucking him so tightly he doesn’t know how much longer he’ll last. He follows your gaze to your belly, and you squeak when he grabs your hand, pressing your palm to the bulge.
“Feel me right here, baby? You feel daddy’s dick. This little fuckhole could barely take my fingers before, now look at you—taking my cock so good, and begging for my cum.”
You helplessly blubber, struggling to take his thrusts as they get harder, faster.
“You were made for me, huh? And you’re close already?” Ari coos, “mhm, reminds me of our first time, remember that?”
Of course, you do. You’d never forget it. He was passionate and gentle, still dominant yet sweet. Taking you apart with his fingers until you soaked your panties, then he flattened you on the couch, mouthing against your underwear until you nearly cried. Then, he tore the cotton off and pushed his shaft between your folds until he covered your tummy in his seed. Now, he’s finally fucking your tight hole, ruining you for any other man—and your high hits like a wave.
Ari groans, cursing lowly as you squeeze around him, begging for his cum. Without stopping, he lifts your bottom half completely and you squirt all over him, even reaching his heaving chest. Your core suffocates him as he rubs your nub, prolonging your high. “That’s it, fuck, soak me, sweetheart.”
You’re so overwhelmed that you don’t register Ari falling over you. Covering you in his mass, grinding sinfully into your spasming cunt and filling you to the brim. His cum paints your walls white, pumping you full. He claims you, pressing you into the mattress as the air is yanked from your chest.
In utter pleasure, Ari rocks into you with abandon, spurred on by your cries and your nails digging into his shoulders as his pelvis rubs your humming clit. “Give me a baby, angel. That’s it, take daddy’s cum in your little pussy—fucking take it.”
A baby—this man was going to be the death of you in the best way.
His warmth spreads within you, leaking out from around his throbbing girth as his hips slow to a stop. You soften to quiet whimpers, nuzzling into his neck in a daze.
The next time you open your eyes, you’re in his bathtub and curled in his lap. The water is soothing, so is the gentle cloth running over your back and shoulders. Only then do you notice Ari is humming, filling the quiet.
“Bear?”
He chuckles deeply, his wet hand cups your head, “Awake now, angel? Are you okay?” His chest vibrates against your face.
“Mhm, tired.” You sink into the comfort, somehow drifting away again. “Never done anything like that…”
“Me too,” He pecks the side of your head, easily turning you around to wash your other side. A silence takes over again, your head lolling to the side as your eyes flutter shut. Ari’s heart swells, those three words on the tip of his tongue. Say it—he tells himself, “You can sleep again, I’ll bring you to bed.”
“Okay, daddy.” You yawn, the water and his presence envelope you. “Good night…”
It’s now or never—well, not never, more like just until you wake up again, but Ari can’t wait another moment. The words spew out of his mouth in one breath. “I love you, angel.”
Your only reply is a quiet, “luh you.”
Ari knows you’re probably delirious. When you gain consciousness in a few hours, you’ll be mortified over your response to his declaration. At least he’ll be there to comfort you and soothe any other worries you have, just like you have for him.
All fears, little and big.
𝐄𝐧𝐝𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: I've always wanted to write a biker au and just had to add some other special characters hehe, also I'm really happy to fill this request for ari.
Thank you for reading ! I'd love to hear your thoughts/feedback !!
follow my sideblog and turn on the notifications so you can see whenever I post: @onsunnyside-fics in case if I discontinue my taglist.
✂ This story is fictional and for amusement only. I don’t believe any of the members would do this in real life. As always, thank you for reading and I hope you have a good day!
Do not re-upload my writing to another website or use it without my permission.
[Edited]
***
My bias received so little love from me. I hope you enjoy slightly obsessive Yoongles!
If you like my writing, please support me on ko-fi!
“Kiss & Kiss, your earphones (I hear music sounding from them). Kiss & Kiss, for the two of us, it may be the ultimate love song.” - Kuchibiru ni Be My Baby [AKB48]
summary: a short miniseries based upon all too well (ten minute version) (taylor’s version) (from the vault) (the short film) featuring min yoongi.
pairing: min yoongi x fem!reader
disclaimer: this story is fiction. it does not reflect the min yoongi in any shape of form. this story includes age gap (9 years), strong language, smut (but not really descriptive) and angst. i suggest listening to all too well while reading this. also, i’m sorry but i just couldn’t keep this in any longer. i’ve always wanted to write a fanfic about this song because it’s been a favorite of mine ever since its original release and AAAAA here i go. it’s gonna be a miniseries styled as a oneshot, based upon the order in the short film.
An Upstate Escape
When Min Yoongi told you that he had a month all to himself, you couldn’t believe your ears. First, you thought you just misheard him. Second, you thought it was a prank—something one of the boys had dared him to do. But when he clarified it to you for the third time, you felt like your face was splitting in half for how huge your smile was. You literally screamed in delight, causing your neighbor to yell at you from the other side of the thin walls to shut up. That didn’t deter you from continuing to dance around your room as you listened to Yoongi telling you to pack some clothes because you and him were heading to his sister’s house over the weekend. Even then, as you were packing, you couldn’t believe it.
an ⋮ hahahahah they are finally coming back together! also, i lowkey wanted to make this a little more angsty (and there will still be wtf moments) but you know what? fuck angst! fluff is where it’s at 🕺… i was also listening to cute songs so i physically couldn’t handle bad scenes… don’t judge me…
taglist ⋮ @mizz-kraziii @aria-grace-scott @teenand1dstuff @wrmnssoul @missmadwoman @n4mina @bebebutbetter @heartsarecompatible @l7bangtan @jikooksgirl19 @borahae-reads @taegijns @somelazysundays @dyaidk @kpopsimpstruggles @imissheroinbarbie @simpforyoongs @diestheticu @honey-boyyoongimain @miriamxsworld @as-hs-blog @tannies-luv @joshuaseyes @secretly-a-weeb @babycoffeefire @lynniac @ksooed @broken-glowsticks @tinyoonsblog @whitefoxgirl @readingfanfic-ly @90s-belladonna @squishyoonie (if your user is in a different color, i am unable to tag you!)
Of course, the baby had to be Yoongi's son. Otherwise, why would he be a little prick? Just like his dad.
pairing: yoongi x f. reader
genres/tags: established relationship; fluff; slight comedy; pregnancy
words: 0.8K
rating: G
warnings: childbirth (I don't know if it's a warning but here it is 😅)
a/n: So, hi! I'm posting this as a test since it's my first time posting a BTS fanfic (I write a lot but never post anything 😢). I'm a little nervous (??) since I'm not a native English speaker, so this one's short. Let me know if you like it because I have other works I really want to post here but I feel like my vocabulary is poor. Also, I'm new to Tumblr (yeah, in 2021) and I don't really know how to use it properly, so my blog's kinda lame, sorry for that! Despite all, I hope you enjoy ❤
masterlist
"God, seriously, where have you been all my life?"
Yoongi's arms are spread, his hands palmed against the large wood table supporting the weight of his upper body. He's grinning down at you while you chew his fabulous kimchi fried rice, and from there you can see his cat-like eyes squinting and his gummy smile and little teeth.
He's adorable.
"Hiding from you."
And snarky too.
You roll your eyes. "You can preach that all you want, everybody knows how you fell for me the moment you put your eyes on my green flowery summer dress. And my black all-star. That was a classic."
"Stop daydreaming." He whines, but the smile on his face never fades. You smile too.
"Oh, tiger boy, don't act like you didn't rail me–"
"Okay, okay!" He shakes his head. "Now eat. You're eating for two."
Oh, yeah, the heavy tummy you'd been carrying up and down for nine months now reminds you of why you've been so keen on getting Yoongi on his nerves. Your hormones have been throwing a bomb-ass prom party in your body since the first stages of pregnancy and you are desperate for Jaehyuk to kick out of your belly as soon as possible. You love your still unborn baby more than anything in life, but he's heavy and sometimes you think he already chose he's going to be a soccer player because he kicks more than Cristiano Ronaldo himself. Doctor Cha says it's because he's positioning to come out, but you're sure he wants to stay there for all 42 weeks.
Apart from that, since you completed 37 weeks – now on your 39th, poor Yoongi – you've found your fun in faking your ROM and making him loose his mind thinking you're going to deliver in the middle of your house. It's cruel, and you know he's been on edge, but Jaehyuk is a tiny lazy baby that refuses to be born. You're mad at your own baby boy and your loving husband has been on the receiving end of yours and your son's disarrangement.
"Yeah, yeah, this little ravenous boy–"
Oh no.
Oh no.
"Yoongs", you call him before you feel the first excruciating pain and the warm liquid between your legs. "Baby, he's coming."
"What?" Yoongi pays you no mind, back facing you while he cleans some dishes he left behind. "Don't tease me again, prick. I won't believe you."
"No, no, no, no, no", the word leaves your mouth like a chant. Curling your body to the table, you try to get up to show him you're not pranking him this time, but a sharp pain in your lower back makes you sit down again. "Min Yoongi, your son is coming!"
He looks at you, and you see the color drain his face as soon as he notices the dark stain on your dress, the inside of your tights shining.
"What's this? What's happening?"
"Yoongi!" You cried out. "I'm going into labor! Get me to the hospital now!"
Almost 7 hours.
Turns out Min Jaehyuk didn't even wait for you to go to the hospital, and you were so mad your son decided to change his mind as if coming out in the middle of the kitchen was a good idea. Like he has to come to his parents as soon as possible. Yoongi had to call the health insurance for the childbirth crew to come to you and after 7 hours of thinking you might faint from pushing your son out of you too hard, between Yoongi's legs as you squeeze his hands and thighs and resting your head on his chest, he thinks you're the strongest woman he has ever seen.
It's alright.
He's coming to us.
You're doing such a great job.
You're strong.
You're so beautiful.
We're almost there.
Just a little more.
I love you.
Thank you.
His words were encouraging and when you thought you wouldn't be able to push anymore, Yoongi combed your sweaty hair out of your face, wiped your tears, and whispered those words.
Then silence.
Then a strangled baby cry.
"Finally", Yoongi's voice is soothing and you rest against him more comfortably. You smile in a blissful state.
"Yeah", your eyes are closed, but you sense his eyes on you. "That little prick. I just know he's your carbon copy."
Yoongi grins, and as Jaehyuk is placed comfortably in your arms, he feels his heartbeat increase and his vision getting blurry. His son is indeed a carbon copy of him; cat-like eyes, thin lips, bread cheeks. You were so eager to meet him, and there he is.
"He's got your nose."
"Stop lying", your voice quivers. "He doesn't even look like my son. If he hasn't come from inside of me, I'd doubt."
Yoongi giggles. He doesn't want to wake his baby, now peacefully resting on his mother's chest. "What? I'm serious."
"Yeah", rolling your eyes, they meet your husband's shiny ones behind you. "He's beautiful."
Yoongi shakes his head. "He is. We made that."
Returning your gaze to your son, you whisper. "Where have you been all our lives, my love?"
Jaehyuk stirs, his tiny closed fists resting on each side of his face.
"Probably hiding from us."
You giggle and can't stop thinking that this indeed is what heaven probably looks like.
Ollo, how are you? Would you mind doing Bucky, Steve or whoever you want with a fem!reader who's flat? Like she compares herself to other girls because while she has an A or B cup, the other girls have C or D cups and she just feels like she's not satisfying enough
on it!
decided to do steve because i feel like being captain america's girlfriend would be a LOT of pressure-
All Yours, Forever
content warning: steve x insecure!reader, secret relationship, angst, self-deprecation, anxiousness, fluff, hurt/comfort.
That pink bikini in the summer before tenth grade. Bra shopping with your mother. Oddly-fitting dresses that evoked whispered comments from your aunts.
Funnily, your brain thinks of those things during moments like these. It associates this feeling of unworthiness with those traumatic memories, which makes sense enough.
Pink bikini. Bras. Bitchy aunts.
Dread and sadness and a little anger.
You shouldn't still be feeling like this. You're a grown woman.
Really? Could've fooled me with that chest.
Shut up. Why are you so mean to you?
Focus.
You look back up. There he is; your Steve. Turning down another date because he's yours. Being asked on a date because nobody knows he's yours.
It was your idea to keep your relationship a secret. You can't even begin to imagine how America will react when they learn that their Captain has a girl. What if you fumble under the pressure? What if you ruin his image? What if they tell him he deserves better and he agrees with them?
Things are better this way. They're more fun, too, and you get a little adrenaline rush whenever he sneaks you a hidden kiss during a press event.
This is the shitty part, though. Seeing the kind of women he could be with instead. While he mingles with the other party goers, you can't help but notice that a certain type of person seems to have stolen his attention.
She's beautiful, makes him smile, and has a body you'd kill for. And there's been about 8 of her so far tonight.
"I'm jealous, too," Sam mumbles from next to you, handing you a glass of whiskey. "Seems nobody's worth talking to unless he's Captain America. How come nobody wants to flirt with the Falcon?"
"Firstly: I'm not jealous," You reply stubbornly, before narrowing your eyes at him. "And secondly: I once witnessed you getting 4 numbers in the space of fifteen minutes. Everyone wants to flirt with the Falcon, and you know it."
Chuckling, Sam pats your shoulder. "You know, if that were my man, I'd kiss him in front of all of these people just to show them who he belongs to."
You wince at the thought of it. Going public. Could there be anything worse?
"Alright," Sam says, not entirely convinced. "If you say so."
"Let him have his fun," You say casually with a shrug. "He's been feeling a little overshadowed by Carol lately. He could do with an ego boost."
You're left alone again, but this time the thoughts are louder. The voice of your aunts have chimed in.
How old is she now? When I was that age, I was a lot more developed.
I'm concerned she won't do any more growing.
What kind of a man will want an underdeveloped wife?
Whiskey is good at drowning them out. The ice clinks against the glass as you gulp it down, and you take to sucking on the alcohol-soaked cubes while praying nobody will stop you from getting drunk enough to forget your insecurities.
"I don't know what's more shocking," His warm, silky voice calls out just before you get the chance to order a tequila. Steve stands beside you at the bar before continuing. "The fact that you're standing here alone, or the way you look exactly like the angel in my dreams."
You want to feel flattered by his words. To float on the cloud of his sweet compliments and promises, silver-lined by his smile. But you can't let yourself crash to the ground again.
"Thanks, Cap," You reply flatly, keeping your eyes on your drink.
With a frown, Steve glances around. "You know, there's nobody around us, buttercup. You could probably even sneak me a little kiss, if you love me."
You can't stop the soft giggle that leaves your mouth, before you catch yourself and look down. "You'd be so lucky."
He sits down next to you, gently nudging your arm with his. "What's going on, buttercup? I saw you turn down Thor's offer to dance earlier, and you never give up the chance to bring out my possessive side."
"I think I'm feeling possessive enough for the two of us tonight," You admit with a dry laugh.
Knowing immediately what you're talking about, Steve's mouth curls up. "Yeah, there's been a lot of 'em tonight, huh? Keep telling Tony to improve security; half of them aren't even SHIELD."
You hum in response, looking down at your dress. The plunge neck feels like a stupid choice now that you really see yourself in it, being as there's nothing on show. It's as though the red curtains have opened, but the stage is empty.
You're such an idiot. You look a fool in this dress.
"You aren't upset about them, are you?" Steve asks cautiously, pulling your attention back to him. "You know I'd never reciprocate any of their flirting- I'd never do anything to disrespect you or our relationship-"
"I know, Steve," You assure him with a smile. "I know you. I wasn't afraid of that."
Disloyal is hardly how you'd describe Steve. He'd never cheat on you. He may realize he wants someone with a bustier chest and break up with you, though.
"Good," He says softly, looking around to make sure nobody's watching before planting a gentle kiss on your cheek.
Running your hands over the fabric of your dress, you sigh. "I'm not sure if this dress is... complementary of my body."
He almost looks offended. Taken aback, Steve frowns, looking you up and down. "What? But you look absolutely beautiful, buttercup. Has someone said something? Was it Sam? I saw him talking to you- if he said something-"
"Sam didn't say anything. Nobody did," You insist, smiling at how overprotective he is, before your smile falls again. "I just think it doesn't really suit me."
"Doesn't suit you?" Steve asks, utterly baffled. "Baby, with all due respect, what are you talking about? The color is gorgeous against your skin, the silk makes it hard to keep my damn hands off you, and you know what a good leg slit does to me, honey darling."
Resting your head on your hand, you lean forward. "My boobs are too small," You mumble, your words muffled by your palm.
Steve is shocked. Immediately, he wraps his arm around you and pulls you closer, his heart racing. "What? Did- did someone say that?"
"They didn't have to," You sigh, playing with your fingers. "I just know it."
"Oh, baby, are you kidding me?" Steve asks softly, stroking your arm. "Nothing about you is 'too' anything."
"But those other women that were talking to you-"
"What about them, huh?" He questions you with a raised brow.
Meekly, you shrug. "They're... sexier than me. They'd better satisfy you."
"Better satis- buttercup, are you hearing yourself?" He shakes his hand, tightly holding your hand. "You more than satisfy me. Do you not remember what a pathetic mess you had me reduced to last night?"
Your cheeks heat up at the memory and you hide your face in his chest. "Steeeeeve."
"And your boobs are the things of dreams."
"Oh, please-"
"I'm being serious. I have many, many dreams about them," Steve admits, cupping your face in his hand and making you look up at him as his eyes twinkle with mischief. "I love how sensitive they are. I bet if I was to just run my thumb over your dress right now, I'd instantly feel your nipple getting hard."
Shocked by how outwardly sexual he's being in public, you cling onto his jacket and bite your lip. "You're so naughty, Captain."
Smiling down at you, he leans closer and gives you a sweet kiss, stealing your breath. "Can't help it. You just have that effect on me." With a sigh, he tucks your hair behind your ear. "There is absolutely nothing I'd change about you. You're my baby buttercup. I love you."
"I love you," You reply softly, keeping our lips a whisper away from his and melting into his safety. "So, I guess everyone knows about us, now."
Steve glances to the side where Sam and Bucky are giving him proud thumbs up, and the others are sharing whispered claims, saying they knew it all along and totally saw it coming.
"I guess they do," He mumbles, before looking back down at you. "Is that okay? Or should I threaten them all into never mentioning it?"
Laughing, you shake your head before giving him another kiss. "Let them talk. At least they all know you're mine, now."
"I am," Steve promises, his blue eyes filled with devotion. "All yours, forever."
i no longer use a taglist, but if you follow @kinanabinksupdates and turn on notifications, you'll know when i have updated 🥰
glimpse: when the general public hears the name min yoongi, they know him as the world-famous model who’s beyond talented in his craft. when the modeling industry hears the name min yoongi, they remember you: his resolute, firm, and sometimes rude manager who always puts yoongi’s best interests at heart — no matter what.
alternatively, you’re yoongi’s manager and for the first time ever, you take a break away from him.
[ a lot of angst (not all the way thru i promise!!!), love is mutual but unrealized at first, wholesome heartwarming moments, emotional constipation + hint of codependency, yoongi does some rlly stupid things, so much yearning, mentions of sex tape + intercourse (not between the main pairing), jealousy, swearing, redemption arc (i swear!!!) ]
notes: first fic of 2022 <3 thank you so much for waiting patiently for this piece!! i have to say that although this is one of my angst-heavy pieces, this is perhaps the warmest fic out of all of them (take five, heartburn, hlwwf, lyiaik) !! this is my new favorite since you could see more of the emotional growth and development from the characters <33
as always, lmk what you think <3 send in feedback n love to my askbox anytime!! even replying to this post sends me over the moon :)
Yoongi is the second-most respected person in the room.
He knows it by the way that people go out of their way to come close to his personal bubble of space to greet him. They bow respectfully and give him smiles whenever his eyes meet theirs, some of them meek but never the one to break the eye contact first.
He knows it when people crowd around him to get his attention one way or the other, and even if he barely reciprocates any, not a single person from his audience comes home disappointed.
He knows it by the attention he receives — the entirety of it is focused on him even if he’s not the only one in the room.
Yoongi knows to himself that he’s only the second-most respected person in the room because if he was otherwise, none of it plays out this way.
The most respected person in the room has people clearing out of the way to be given space, even if unasked for. They bow deeply but suck their breaths in whenever they’re in the receiving end of said person’s gaze, instinctively gulping.
If he is the most respected person in the room, his inattention for the people in the room would mean the world to them. His disregard would comfort them endlessly and even lull them to sleep in peace.
Yoongi is not the most esteemed because if he was, he would have all the attention to him even if none of them are looking. He’s not the most eminent because it’s not him whom people bend backwards for to please, nor the one who makes or breaks the atmosphere in the space.
Min Yoongi’s manager is the most respected person in the room and everyone knows it.
“Stop staring off into space,” Yoongi nudges you by the shoulder, a little winded to go all the way because while he’s sat in the foldable makeup chair, you’re the one sat on a leather, cushioned stool right beside him. “You’re scaring them.”
“Should they have anything to be scared about?” you roll your eyes at such a trivial concern that he doesn’t suffer from, a little perplexed at his tiny suggestion that you know wouldn’t change your image at all.
Yoongi swears that he just heard someone’s teeth chatter at your quip.
Years ago, you wouldn’t have expected that people in the modeling industry would label you to be someone so intimidating. Yoongi used to tease you at first because even he thought that those assumptions were a load of shit. He was sure that he knows you to the decimal with how often and how long you’ve been at his side.
It was just at that moment, that one specific moment years ago wherein an intern spilled coffee on his shoes and went on her knees to apologize to him and plead to not tell you that it all made sense. It makes much more sense to him now that even if he wasn’t that big back then, remembering how the room fell to a hush. He remembers you emerging out of nowhere with your angry footsteps, the Yoongi from years ago completely unaware on how you would decimate someone for dirtying his favorite pair of shoes with the hot brew.
Yoongi knows you’re protective of him and he thought it was only normal for everyone’s managers to do the same. He thought it was normal for managers to call casting directors out on their faults and still have a job (or even a better one) after that. He thought it was protocol for managers to fight designers for forcing a diet on him and still be the frontrunner for the collection. He thought every model and artist he knew of would have their managers to be in your standard, but at every shocked and yearning face he sees from people who want to be under your care, Yoongi knew.
“Not that I know of.”
He laughs in reply, covering his mouth sheepishly as he bows his head to the makeup artist working on his eyebrows, willfully ignoring the way her hands tremble as she hears your whole conversation.
“You just like seeing me do my job,” you hum in return, fixing your posture on the chair to see if there’s any nick on his skin from the eyebrow razor that the makeup artist’s using.
He looks the best at the moment with his bare face, a sight that you only see now and then in-between his perpetually packed schedule. His cheeks are shiny and his lips are plump, eyes still a little droopy with how late he slept just this morning.
You’ve already fed Yoongi his favorite burrito early this morning but you know he likes his snacks in between takes so he doesn’t crash with fatigue later on, about to stand up from your seat to fix him a plate from catering when you hear eager footsteps towards your direction.
The perky junior assistant on-site thrusts a plate into Yoongi’s direction, neatly-arranged to the point that when he accepts it from her, he’d be able to feel the sticky note placed underneath the ceramic with her cellphone number on it.
“Are you out of your fucking mind?”
The girl’s eyes widen comically when she hears your voice, all of her supposedly-lucky courage being flushed out of the drain as soon as you direct your attention to her.
Yoongi coughs to his hand as he puts a hand on the small of your back to just let it go, feeling your hand gently put his back on his lap, making him sink to his seat when he sees you stand up from your chair.
“You trying to kill him or what?” you tilt your head to her once before looking down at the sandwich in sheer disgust, nudging the plate back to her arms and away from Yoongi. “Mr. Min’s allergic to peanuts.”
She stutters her sincerest apologies and it’s not only embarrassment that makes her cheeks redden, the fear in her eyes unable to evaporate with how your eyes stare her down the harshest.
Just when you think that a shoot could go the smoothest without you interfering, someone just had to endanger Yoongi and his airways in an ambitious attempt to flirt. The fact that he could’ve gotten hurt badly still doesn’t fly over your head, even if all the higher-ups of the production team are in front of you apologizing to no end.
You don’t immediately move on from it even if Yoongi’s nonchalant, knowing deep-down that he’s in disbelief as much as he’s relieved for dodging a bullet that comes in the form of a thick, no-crust, slightly toasted peanut butter sandwich.
The worry doesn’t escape your system even if you get him food that would make his mouth water instead of his throat close, keeping a keen eye on him to double-check.
Yoongi’s no stranger to your worrying but if anything, he knows that if not more, you’re just as spooked about the scare as he is, purposely joining you on the one-seater couch to calm you.
"Say ah," he offers his own spoon from his snack, his own mouth open to demonstrate on how you should do the same and not make him wait. He throws an off-hand comment on how his shoulder would act up and it gets you to finally take the bite.
"You're not allergic to fruit cups,” you say with your mouth full, having to yet take another spoon that Yoongi jams narrowly because he hasn’t seen you eat breakfast yet.
"I know I'm not," he mumbles, taking a napkin to wipe at the corners of your mouth before reminding you to chew. “I just wanted to feed you."
( ♡ )
Yoongi tolerates a lot of things.
He tolerates the repetitive questions thrown his way and answers them just as sincerely as the first time around. He’s calm when he’s asked who he wants to work with for the hundredth time, and even calmer when he throws a vague answer to not jumpstart any rumor with a random celebrity the interviewer links him with.
He’s tolerant towards paparazzi and keeps his eyes stable underneath his sunglasses, not a single hint of annoyance present in his expression.
In your opinion, Yoongi is annoyingly too tolerant for the sake of neutrality, that he often overlooks how he’s being taken advantage of.
He’s not afraid to voice his concerns to you because after all, you’re perhaps the only other person besides his family that he’d entrust his life with. He knows how to stand up for himself, even if it means standing behind you.
Yoongi doesn’t like to think that he’s become too dependent on you, much more the fact that he starts to forget what his life was like before you.
He knows how to go to the casting director to correct them for the butchered pronunciation of his name. He knows how, but he’s accustomed to you rectifying the mistake right then and there, regardless of who is around.
He knows how to talk to the hotel manager to remind them that none of the staff posts his whereabouts (especially when he sees an employee discreetly taking pictures of him), but he’s used to you marching to them with a written agreement that his privacy isn’t leaked, with more or less a threat looming on your tone.
You know that Yoongi doesn’t and wouldn’t always need you, but with the way he freezes beside you and his hand almost squeezes your forearm out of instinct, you’re certain that you’re needed.
The swimming pool in the middle of the set grinds the gears in your head, the clench in your jaw unmistakeable that the director who’s come out to greet you stops in her heels.
"This wasn't included in the brief."
You grit your teeth in the absolute stupidity she’s in charge of. The deep water Yoongi’s afraid of doesn’t become shallow under your gaze, but the thought of how you’d dump a bucket of it on everyone responsible remains.
"I don't care if you already poured your whole year's budget just for this concept — change it."
The director, who’s been in this industry earlier than Yoongi did, stutters over nothing. She’s heard some talk about how nothing ever comes past Min Yoongi’s manager, and yet she only dismissed the concerns with a laugh. Sure, it’s far from a miniscule adjustment in the brief, but she even swore then on how you wouldn’t intimidate her in the slightest.
Turns out she’s wrong.
She’s been in this industry longer than you could fathom and it’s only now that she feels genuinely affected by someone’s assertion towards her craft. Even if you aren’t the first manager that defies her, you’re the only one who makes her want to backtrack completely.
"Mr. Min is uncomfortable with what you request of him,” you articulate sternly, about to give her a piece of your mind when you feel Yoongi tug at your arm lightly.
"I think I can do it, Y/N," he mumbles under his breath and it makes you stop. He peers at the indention on the ground with curious eyes, flickering towards yours to get the assurance he needs. “The pool's wide, right?"
Yoongi's a little afraid of deep and narrow waters.
There’s not anything deep behind it other than he feels afraid when his feet can’t touch the floor. He wants to feel grounded, and with the way that he’s lighter underwater but there’s not anything that reminds him of being weighed down? He’s scared shitless. He knows how to swim but it intimidates him unlike any other, his limit stopping when his chin hits the water.
"This wasn't what you signed up for," your voice softens automatically, assuring him that he shouldn’t feel pressured to take on the change.
“The director said it was only a two-feet plexiglass pool," your gaze pierces her at the emphasis of her job. “Why would you switch it to a seven-feet swimming pool suddenly?"
The director expresses her apologies but they just don’t hit the right note with you. If she didn’t want to make Yoongi uncomfortable in the first place, she wouldn’t have altered the brief without getting his approval. It bothers you that no matter how famous or big Yoongi could get, the circle of people who would try to sabotage him doesn’t get any smaller.
You’re silent throughout her words and your blatant lack of acknowledgement just pushes her further, only stopping (although the nervousness never leaves her) when she sees Yoongi pull you to the side.
"I can do it,” he licks his lips, way past the point of convincing himself because his mind’s already set — under one condition. "I-I just need you to get in the water with me."
You only linger for a second longer in front of Yoongi just so you could be sure that he wants exactly what he’s told you, walking to the director who’s glued to the ground at anticipation.
"Should Mr. Min suffer in the slightest because of your abrupt change of plans," your finger points intimidatingly close that it makes her cross-eyed. “I’ll see to it that your publication disappears the next morning."
You should be perplexed. You know you should.
You should be puzzled at the request of your artist, literally pulling you through the water so he wouldn’t feel scared for his job. You know you should be baffled that the lifeguards who are present on the set are gonna need to sit this one out, because the model they were tasked to look over, already has his manager doing what was supposed to be their job.
You should be confused when you let him hold your hand in between takes, even if he asked so he wouldn’t feel that he’s alone underwater.
You dry him off first even when you're dripping wet yourself, not feeling dumbfounded that even when you get your own towel, you add it to the one on his shoulders because he’s trembling.
With Yoongi, you don’t think twice.
.
.
"You have a cold because of me."
There’s the feeling of guilt that makes Yoongi sniffle, the pitiful sound surely not connected to how he’s had to shoot in a cold pool for half an hour.
"Don't take all the credit now."
He sees your eyes narrow at him and for a moment, he hears you chuckle.
He hears you laugh deeply even if the rasp of it is clearly tainted with a cold that he brought to you. Your laugh doesn’t bother him, not at all! What bothers him is the look of confusion that encompasses your features after.
His arms are outstretched and perched on them is a fluffy, burnt white towel. Even if it’s neatly folded, you could see the outlines of the iron and smell the distinct scent of singed cotton.
You’re not confused over why and how it’s burnt; you’re confused over the kindness.
"Don't look at me like that,” Yoongi mistakens your gaze as something that critics his good deed, a smile creeping to his lips in his attempt to explain himself.
"I tried my best to look for warm towels, alright? This was the next best thing."
"You ironed it while it was still damp," your head shakes at the well-thought yet poorly-executed effort, still peering at it because he hasn’t given it to you yet.
Yoongi’s cute. He tries. He attempts to take care of you and although it’s not the best, it’s good enough for you.
"I tried drying it with a fan at first but I couldn't wait because I heard you blowing your nose all the way from the lobby. Sue me."
( ♡ )
Yoongi thinks you’re a lightbeam.
He thinks you’re pure energy that bounces off and passes through whatever material simultaneously. You get through him the most, and he would never deny that.
There’s a certain glow to you that he gravitates towards and he only gets warm and energized at the most, but never burnt. You’re bright but never too blinding for him; you fill all his senses at once but the sensations don’t become overwhelming.
Yoongi’s not a speaker, much less a writer. He can’t enunciate his feelings for you the way he’d want to and it frustrates him endlessly. You do so, so much for him and not once does he comment on his appreciation.
He tries, though. He doesn’t know if it would ever be enough, or if any of his care for you would be equal to what you give to him, but he tries.
“So you just saw this and thought of giving it to me, hm?”
You hum at the article of clothing he’s put in your hands delicately, the soft knit material of the navy blue cardigan calming your strained eyes. It’s new to you — from the way you’ve never seen a knitted cardigan before with tiny sheep on them all over the place, to the way you’re not used to Yoongi gifting you things out of the blue.
“Does it even suit me?” you mumble under your breath, holding it up against your body to look at the mirror. The design of it was cute, unique even. It’s familiar to you for some reason but you don’t dwell on it, chalking it up to how it makes you happy just by looking at it.
“Every color is your color.”
Yoongi scoffs with his arms across his chest, a little huffy that you’d even doubt your image. “I’m not talking bull,” he exclaims a little more loudly when you shoot him a quizzical look, holding up his hands in defense. “I do mean it.”
You know that Yoongi isn’t the best with his words. He could be passive and defensive amongst all his other self-admitted weaknesses with his words in contrast to his actions, but you don’t mind. Yoongi means what he wants to mean, and you get his point every single time.
So when he tells you that he means sincerely that every color is your color, you believe him. You rely on yourself for assurance but with the reiteration coming from him, the (occasionally) least decisive person you know, you know better than to deny.
The halls in the company building aren’t empty but you choose to walk in the dead center of it, receiving courteous smiles from the mix of staff members before they scramble to not be in your path.
Your fellow employees in the company don’t necessarily fear you, but word comes around of what happens. Most of them are in awe of you from what you’ve heard but sometimes they respect the distance that you put. There were only a handful of people in the company that you like being around with and not just tolerate for the sake of it, and it’s more than enough for you. You didn’t come to make friends — you’re here to be competent. With or without them, you’re here for Yoongi, and Yoongi only.
Sometimes for Jimin too.
The actor from the same company has somewhat weaseled his way into your care, his plus points of being Yoongi’s best friend from high school contributing greatly. He’s not difficult to handle and even if he already has someone else as his manager, you wouldn’t mind buying lunch for him if he asked very kindly.
Jimin bumps your shoulder on purpose to walk with you in the hallway, having some time to kill by annoying you before his schedule resumes for the day. He looks awfully suspicious; half-amused and half-shocked to see you.
His eyes flit over your figure up and down like he didn’t just see you this morning, the ambiguous look on his face making your eyebrows furrow in confusion. “What are you looking at?”
"Oh?" he exclaims, whistling as he does another once-over that just makes you more irritable than confused at this point. He clears his throat when he senses that you want an answer from him, playing it cool by shoving his hands into his pockets. "Where did you get that?"
He gestures to the cardigan you’re wearing, eyes squinting to make sure his vision isn’t playing tricks on him.
"Yoongi gave it to me,” you shrug carelessly, eyes suddenly brightening since you have the energy in you to tease him. "Why? Do I look pretty?"
Jimin’s face doesn’t fall and in fact, he even giggles in reply. He giggles and yet his eyes feel apologetic for some reason, making your head tilt in curiosity.
"You're pretty for sure," he coos, making your worry dissipate instantly.
The worry dissipates for a second but it comes back twofold when Jimin comes closer to you to remove the cardigan from your figure, the sudden act making you freeze that you just let him do so. "But you shouldn't wear secondhand."
"Yoongi and I share socks, a cardigan wouldn't be a problem,” your eyes roll at his trivial excuse in removing your knit.
The cardigan you’ve only had for a matter of hours is tucked to his arms and you make quick moves to snatch it back, but Jimin is even quicker in turning his body away from you.
How exactly should he break this to you?
"This is Sohee's cardigan."
If Jimin’s learned one thing from you, it’s to be direct and immediately cut to the chase.
"You're wearing Yoongi's ex's cardigan."
The familiarity you’ve once felt over the cardigan is no longer there, turning into the ugly type of affinity instead. It once smelled like Yoongi’s perfume to you but now you realize that it overwhelmingly smells like the forgotten depth of a cabinet.
The navy blue knit now looks patchy to you. It looks like it has the remaining dust of mothballs and the splotches of bleach. The sheep pattern on it looks sad to be even there. The material feels scratchy like a scouring pad and feels even dirtier than it. It’s hideous.
"Don't be mad, pretty," Jimin presses his thumb to the middle of your brows to ease the furrow, dropping in your nickname seamlessly to calm you. “Remember, you didn't hear that from me, alright?"
.
.
Yoongi had forgotten the feeling of someone literally throwing clothes at him (the last time was when he was a teenager and his mom was fed up with him not putting his laundry in the proper basket), but now, he relives the feeling.
"I don't want this."
He peeks through the cardigan you’ve just thrown him, confused on why you would be mad.
It’s rare and come to think of it, Yoongi can’t think of a time that you got angry at him. You get mad at directors who change the brief and casters who mispronounce his name and paparazzi who get in his face — you get angry for his sake, not at him.
"It's tacky. It's ugly," you spat, breaking eye contact to angrily organize his things in time for his next schedule. “It's Sohee's."
Yoongi had never angered you in a way and as much as you retain your patience for him, this one just bothers you like a tick. It just makes you itch and drains your blood and gives you unnecessary pain, the angry slew of words uncontrollable on the tip of your tongue.
"Seriously, why would you even give me something that belongs to your ex?"
"She's not really an ex," he exhales unsurely but he just wants to have the last word. He can’t help not being honest, even if being truthful doesn’t help his situation at the moment. “You see, we're kind of hooking-"
"Quit it!" your jaw clenches at the admission, your eyes about to roll to the back of your head from the raw annoyance that fills you. “Do I look like a charity shop for all the run-downs from your fuck buddy?"
Whichever way he puts it, Sohee’s his ex-girlfriend that cheated on him.
She’s an ex-girlfriend that was seeing someone behind Yoongi’s back and no matter how painful their split was, he still chases her after a lost puppy. Her months-long infidelity was forgiven with only a week’s worth of apologies, and it’s always Yoongi that doesn’t want to break off from her completely.
"Don't talk about her that way," he mutters, rolling his eyes at your misplaced protectiveness. You weren’t the one who was cheated on and yet you act like it. You’re not supposed to hurt on his behalf, but he remembers distinctly how you said that you would always rally behind him on his happiness.
Sure, being fuckbuddies with his ex-girlfriend isn’t as good as being committed to her the way a boyfriend would, but it makes him happy. You’re not supposed to hurt on his behalf but you do — you’re supposed to be happy with his joy but you aren’t.
"I just thought it would suit you. She left it in my closet and hasn't looked for it since," he sighs defeatedly, already knowing that you’re barely listening to him.
Yoongi doesn’t apologize simply because it’s not in his nature. He’s not sorry that he gave you his ex-girlfriend’s cardigan, but he’s sorry that you feel angry for whatever reason.
Yoongi’s sorry, but he would never say it.
"I wasn't trying to upset you or anything."
( ♡ )
There are only a handful of times that you get to sleep peacefully.
Those instances only happen when Yoongi’s schedule finishes early in the night and starts late the next day. Your body’s used to the work that fatigue only feels like second-nature, the tiredness hitting your system only when you don’t move.
For the first time in what felt like years, Yoongi’s schedule finished earlier than 5 PM today. You were so excited to come home and have time for yourself that you don’t regret rejecting Yoongi’s offer in getting drinks with him. It probably didn’t hurt him as much as his expression fell blank when you declined his offer for bonding outside work, but you already know that he too would kill to have time for himself.
Normally you would just take a night shower and head straight to bed without even drying your hair completely because you’re just that tired, later waking up with a headache. But god, today was just different. You take a shower for enjoyment rather than necessity, taking the time to break out the scrub you have to leave on in order to fully reap the benefits.
You take the time to dry your hair and put your work phone on silent, finally being able to wear the expensive pajamas upper management had gifted you two Christmas parties ago. You’re able to scroll through your watch recommendations without feeling pressured for time, even taking the time to watch trailers instead of blindly clicking a random title.
You have the time to do nothing and be liable for nobody that it all feels so good. You’re ultimately relaxed and go to bed without calculating for tomorrow, tucking yourself in before 9 PM.
Until your personal phone rings so loudly in the middle of the night.
The shock jolts you awake, accepting the call even if you can barely make out anything from your squinted eyes. Your voice is cut off before you could even say anything, the raspy needy register hitting all your senses at once.
"Come over."
Yoongi fills you up as a whole. He’s overwhelming in nature and if you couldn’t be any more delirious with what’s happening, the scent of his perfume fills your room. It’s unexplainable and doesn’t exist but you could swear that you smell his perfume.
There isn’t anything coherent in your mind that you can say but there’s only purpose somewhere in there, just a tiny bit of purpose that wants to be with Yoongi in that way, at this moment.
"I missed you so much, baby."
Maybe he’s drunk. Maybe he went for drinks by himself and only called you accidentally. He must be, because you’re not his baby.
Is this even for you? Maybe he does genuinely just miss you and the endearment is loose on his drunk tongue. Maybe he’s just slurring his words and he didn’t even call you the name, only being conjured up by your rudely-awakened mind.
"I want you so bad right now, Sohee," he practically moans to your ear, hearing his breath heave through the phone. “My cock's so-"
"Yoongi."
The moment his name leaves your lips in your voice is what makes him come out of his lust-driven senses, the beads of sweat on his forehead turning into the sensation of cold water on his flushed body. He was originally lying in bed when he pressed on Sohee’s number at his phone, at what he thought to be his work phone, instead of his personal. Sohee would always be the top-most contact in his personal cell, and his work’s frequent contact would be-
"Y/N?"
The realization makes Yoongi squeak for all the wrong reasons, hurriedly hanging up and unable to look at the phone on his hands that he chucks it to the wall next to his bed.
Neither of you sleep peacefully tonight.
( ♡ )
The shame in his system is what keeps Yoongi this jumpy early in the morning, not the three espresso shots he drank in one sitting.
His coffee intake isn’t the culprit to his heart palpitations and trembling hands, that much he could make out. He’s just so nervous to be in your presence after his innocent mistake last night. The train of events of him essentially asking you to come over while he sounds fucked-out, then calling you Sohee, and then eventually realizing that it’s in fact you, his manager, who he called up at 2 in the morning — it’s a long shot from being innocent. He didn’t mean to call you, but he didn’t mean to unknowingly hurt you either.
Yoongi doesn’t fear you but maybe he does now by the way you don’t utter a single word to him at all, too preoccupied with your job. Had you always been this busy? He knows that you’re busy superlatively but somehow, you’d always fit him into your process. You were the type to have your nose buried in your cue sheets while asking him at the same time of what he wants for lunch.
There’s only four of you in the lounge anyway; you, him, Jimin, and Tiger– the stray cat who ended up becoming the company feline.
“So how did you sleep last night?”
Jimin looks up from his phone, gauging to see if he was the one being asked. You’re sitting beside him but you’re busy nonetheless, leaving the question unanswered. Yoongi’s looking at Tiger now and it’s clear that he wouldn’t answer the question anytime soon, so of course Jimin’s about a hundred percent sure that he’s the one being interrogated.
"Eh. I slept at five in the morning."
Yoongi screws his eyes shut because this is clearly not going the way he wanted to, but stopping abruptly now just seems awkward.
"It's really quiet at 5 AM. How was your sleep?"
Jimin doesn't think about it, really. He doesn’t wonder how Yoongi basically asked him the same question twice. He’s just here answering whatever came to mind, oblivious to the tension (literally one-sided based on Yoongi’s perspective) that was filling up the room.
"Oddly enough, it was deep. Come to think of it, the later I sleep, the more sound it is."
"Jimin, over here!" Hoseok, his manager, hollers outside the lounge that it has him immediately standing up, leaving the two of you alone together.
Three if you count Tiger.
Yoongi feels like he’s fucked now that there’s no buffer state between the two of you, thinking about the next big thing before clearing his throat, petting the cat on his head.
"You should eat well today.”
You’re not clueless to know that Jimin’s already left the lounge. You see clearly how Yoongi looks like a fool talking indirectly to Tiger in order to make conversation with you.
He’s not as swift and smooth as he thinks but you’re sure that he doesn’t realize it, just like how he doesn’t realize loads of things. He doesn’t realize the gravity of your anger even if you’ve already said what causes it. He doesn’t realize that Sohee is the worst thing to happen to him, both in his professional and personal life, coming from you both as a manager and a friend. He doesn’t realize that you’re intentionally not indulging him this time.
"Your sunglasses look nice,"
Yoongi still gets no reaction from you, coughing to the back of his hand. He looks at you slyly, turning his attention back to Tiger to distract him from the overpowering humiliation he feels.
"I'm talking to you, by the way. Not the cat."
You deadpan to your notes, not budging in the slightest bit when you respond.
“You don't say."
You’re angry and sleep-deprived and you’re dangling by the edge on keeping it all together. You already want to call it a day but it’s just barely started. Seeing Yoongi makes you tired and you think that it would pass eventually, the feeling of it only stuck for today.
You pet Tiger lovingly before you leave the lounge, only making the note to come fetch Yoongi when needed. You don’t want to be around him and it’s a rare feeling, but it’s only for today.
It should only be for today.
"Your shoot starts an hour from now."
( ♡ )
Yoongi can’t stand the thought of you getting anything less than what you deserve.
He doesn’t have a weak stomach but it churns when people make fun of you. Your reputation precedes you and in the few times that your cutthroat attitude leaves no room for screw-ups in future projects, you get mocked by people who haven’t even met you.
Maybe it’s because they haven’t seen you in person that they haven’t been humbled yet. Yoongi thinks it’s pathetic of them to make a caricature of someone who carried him on their back, the main reason of why he even got this far.
They wouldn’t know you like he does and Yoongi loves it because that way, he feels special. Your interactions and warmth in general are exclusive to only the two of you. No one would know how talkative you can get and how bright your smile could get — only he gets to see that.
They wouldn’t know you like he does and Yoongi hates it. He hates it because that way, no one gets to know who you are as an individual because being his manager is a bigger identity than yourself. No one gets to know how kind and loyal you are in your true nature.
“They’re looking at your watch.”
He grits his teeth, eyeing the snotty friend group who’s gathered in a tiny circle and are laughing, their eyes constantly looking at you. He knows for sure that you get a lot of looks, but there’s just something about how they each take mischievous glances at you and laugh obnoxiously at the next second.
Yoongi models for a living, of course he’d know how to read people. He knows how to read body language from years of observing and expressing; he knows how to read lips from waiting between glass panes to see if he would be casted back in his rookie days.
“They’re making fun of you.” Either you don’t hear him or you chose not to pay attention to him, but he repeats it more sternly this time. He comes closer to you with a scowl, crossing his arms as he steps in front of you slightly to cover you from their eyes. “They’re looking at your watch.”
You look up from your phone, tucking it into your pocket. You heard Yoongi the first time but now he sounds more urgent than the last, finally indulging him.
“Who?”
He gestures his head slyly to the group that’s not that far from you in the first place, definitely out of earshot but still completely visible to look at their shadows. “Them.”
Not a second passes that you look at his line of sight, boldly staring even if you catch one of them looking at you. She was laughing at first but it registers belatedly that you’re looking directly at her, making her turn her head away. You recognize her.
Yoongi’s eyes widen to realize that you’ve basically just let them know that you’re aware they’re talking about you, the heads-up coming from him directly.
“The one in the red shirt,” your chin points, looking back at Yoongi to see if he’s catching up. “She’s been stuck as the coffee runner for years. She applied to become a manager five times last year and look where she is.”
He could grasp slightly why you’re telling him this, but the point doesn’t completely sink in. He knows that you’re easily one of the highest-paid managers in the whole industry and you could really put the girl in place if you wanted to.
“But she’s making fun of you.”
At his frown, you sigh. The both of you know that he wouldn’t let this go not unless you get redeemed in some way. Whether that some way would be standing up for yourself or him doing it for you, Yoongi simply wanted to have her karma one way or another.
She meets your eyes again, you motion her to come over using just two fingers, and she does.
She looks more catty and arrogant the last time you saw her, even if she is neither of those things when she’s scared shitless in front of you. You don’t remember insignificant faces but you only manage to remember her because the last time you crossed paths (in the same luxury store while you were getting Yoongi’s necessities), she was hurling profanities at the store manager simply for running out of stock of her desired bag.
“Run to the next block and get me twenty drinks.”
She’s dressed poshly in her tweed jacket and yet her eyes blink dimly, tripping over her words. “R-run?” she repeats, “twenty?”
“Do you expect any of us to let you use our company vehicles just to go to the next block? To get drinks?”
“N-no, ma’am,” she shakes her head earnestly, swallowing the lump of karma in her throat. She’s beyond embarrassed to see the glances towards her, most especially her friends’. She was just talking smack about you and the things she’s heard and at the next blink later, she was being summoned by none other than you.
She swallows her pride, internally cussing herself for being so obvious and so dense. It was true what she heard about you — you don’t let anything go past you.
“What should I get for you?”
Your mouth curves into a small smile, nudging the model beside you.
“I’ll let Yoongi decide for me.”
His mouth falls on why he’s suddenly being dragged into this but there’s just something, something that just plasters his mind as fast as it was formed. He’s not necessarily vindictive, but he is fair.
“Vanilla bean crême frappe, heavy cream, half-cup soy milk, with cream in the largest cup they have, no ice, no water, with honey drizzle, protein powder, no whip, with sweet cream, add chocolate chips, blueberry toppings.”
You have to suppress your laugh.
You’re trying so earnestly to keep yourself composed and the way your chuckle tickles your throat is making it hard, opting to bite your lip instead. He’s funny — something about him coming to your side in the form of a serious, obnoxiously long drink order is just so amusing to you.
“A-and uhm, and the other nineteen?”
She’s the only one who isn’t entertained by the situation of it all, eyes widening at the gravity of her own question.
“Ask around.”
Yoongi snickers to himself quietly, waiting to see her go to the other staff members before finally chuckling out loud. He can’t contain himself, shaking his head repeatedly at what you just did.
“You’re evil.”
“And you helped me,” your tongue clicks to the roof of your mouth, laughing alongside him. “Besides, I’m giving her a job to do.”
Come to think of it, you’re not unnecessarily rude. You’re quick on your feet and even more on your tongue but you don’t go to excessive lengths. You could be snippy and snappy but only within grounds. You’re not rude until you’re provoked and Yoongi knows that.
You tell him briefly how you knew the girl and it doesn’t take much explanation why he would do the same if he was in your position, nodding earnestly while you ask him.
“Who’s making fun of who now?”
He laughs breathlessly, smiling to himself before keeping his eyes on the ground. He peeks up at you, eyes glazing your wrist first in deep thought.
“You’re the only manager I know who doesn’t use a smart watch.”
“I’m the only manager you need to know.”
“It’s so scratched up,” he reasons, circling his hand around your wrist to hold it up. He pokes at the hardware, a slight pout on his face. “The clasp won’t even close.”
“It could still tell me the time,”
“You had to replace the batteries twice this week.”
Yoongi surprises you at times. He sometimes renders you speechless with the random things he remembers about you and the mementos he remembers you by. He’s liquid light at your fingertips, always flowing and never stagnant.
He surprises you when you’re oblivious to the fact that his hard gaze on the camera is not to appease the photographer but because he’s actually in deep thought.
He surprises you that in-between takes, he peers at you to see what way he’s going next. He does extra well to have a break called earlier, no longer able to have his thoughts to himself.
Yoongi surprises you while you aren’t looking, unwinding as you eat your lunch before you check in on him again. He take off his own watch from his wrist, swiftly removing your own to replace it with his.
“Wear this starting now.”
“I really don’t care if they make fun of me, Yoongi.”
You mean it sincerely — a random, insignificant person’s opinions on you, much less the watch you wear, doesn’t really matter. You’d continue wearing it whether Yoongi gave you the heads-up about it or not.
You’d fight him on it and return the watch, but with the way he’s just gripping you softly to remind you that his watch isn’t the only thing that’s hugging your skin, or even the way he pleads you silently to accept something of his — you don’t object.
“But I do,” he says sincerely, pocketing your old watch in the meantime. “I care.”
.
.
It’s not everyday that you grab lunch with the company’s CEO, but it’s also not everyday that you have to pat his back repeatedly after almost choking on his food.
“Oh that’s hard.”
Namjoon remarks while you grab him a napkin, his eyes instantly catching the glint of the timepiece on your wrist. He’s casual with you just like he is with Yoongi, seeing to it that his company was just barely taking off when the two of you were signed in. He has an eye for detail and he’s certain he could never forget, head tilting in wonder.
“Didn’t you use to wear a watch that was a little more… shabby?”
The huff leaves you faster than you could repress it, rolling your eyes playfully. You don’t know why it’s such a big deal because at the end of the day, you don’t even flaunt it around. Ever since Yoongi gave you his watch for you to wear, things just felt differently.
“It’s just a watch.”
“That’s a Rolex.”
You sigh in acknowledgement, knowing the brand well considering you’d see the insignia every time you look at the time. “And a Rolex is a watch.”
Namjoon chews through his salad quickly, adamant to correct you.
“No, that’s the Rolex Oyster Perpetual Datejust watch,” he shakes his head eagerly, holding up your wrist to point out the craftsmanship. He goes about the tangent on what makes it timeless, on his way to his eighth point of defense before you start growing sick of the jargon.
“Are you being paid to say this or what?” you chuckle, snatching your wrist back. “I didn’t buy this anyway. Yoongi just gave this to me.”
You continue eating but Namjoon stops in his tracks, mouth parting open to try and grasp what you just said.
“He did?” he curls his voice, not wanting to believe it at first. He looks back at the timepiece and he could immediately tell what makes it to be truly Yoongi’s, heartily chuckling once it clicks into his mind. “Huh. Interesting. This watch means a lot to him.”
“Yeah, his first paycheck,” you nod, knowing that he knows about the story too, “but apparently not so much. He told me that I needed it more than he did so he just gave it away.”
How endearing.
“I was with him when he bought that watch,” Namjoon pipes in, genuinely surprising you because it’s the first you’ve heard of it. He smiles at your awe, mumbling to himself when he catches you looking at the watch in wonder. “That’s probably why it doesn’t look weird on you. It’s always been yours.”
“Huh? What do you mean by that?” you catch his words instantly, your eyebrows furrowing with what he just said, “this watch has never been mine before.”
Namjoon doesn’t elaborate, instead just smiling at you. It isn’t his place to tell, but no one really said that it isn’t his position to be happy watching from afar.
“If you say so.”
( ♡ )
If you’re not worrying about Yoongi’s today, then you’re worrying about his tomorrow.
Sometime between his hectic schedule, there were days that opened up the opportunity for relaxation. By relaxation, you mean his rest.
Perhaps the two of you have been desensitized to working extremely tiring workdays that a slightly less tiring day already feels like a vacation. The motions of caring for Yoongi made you realize that you could never properly rest until you’re working on something, whether it would be peeling tangerines while watching your shows or crocheting while getting your pedicures.
You’re so used to the idea of not allowing yourself to rest and it’s taking its toll on you slowly but surely. You aren’t necessarily in denial because after all you know you’re cut out for this job, but sooner or later, you know that this would end one day. You’ve saved more than enough and as much as you aren’t worried about the financial aspect of taking a break and perhaps retiring early, you’re scared shitless.
There would come a time when you have to stop taking care of Yoongi.
Now is not the time though.
"I have an idea,” Yoongi bursts into your office carrying nothing but a paper bag, his smile too wide that you have to take your eyes off of your spreadsheet to savor it fully.
"Mhmm."
He skips past your tone of indifference, sitting at the chair in front of your desk without his grin faltering.
"I'm gonna dye my hair orange,” he announces confidently without any room for doubt. He cheers, even, “It's gonna look so good on me, I swear. Plus my hair's longer now too!"
It suits him, just now realizing that he had a haircut to give shape to the length he’s been growing out; only his sides being buzzed. His bangs are pushed away from his forehead and he looks too pretty this way. A little more rugged and a little less prim, the silhouette of his hair complimenting his features nicely.
You’re only reminded of how you’ve been too silent for too long when Yoongi tilts his head, prompting you to clear your throat as if it never happened.
"That's not a bad idea," you shrug, thinking far ahead of the reactions when his new look gets revealed. His hair has been a faded blonde for quite some time now, but he was easy on the eyes regardless. “It's been awhile since you did something new with your hair."
"I'll fit it in your schedule," you conclude, pulling up your phone amongst the many devices you have a copy of his schedule in. “Are you free on-"
"Now. I'm free now."
There goes Yoongi again with the endearingly eager tone, the one that lulls you to let go a little. He seems excited about it and as much as you don’t want to spoil the mood, you atleast want to let him know about the downsides before you need to rein him in.
"You're doing it yourself?" he hears you wince, scratching your temple unsurely. "I don't know about that, Yoongs. Box dye makes your hair crunchy. Remember when you tried red?"
"One step ahead of you," he beams, taking out item after item from the paper bag he couldn’t seem to let go of when he first entered. "I got what they would use on me in the salon. They even wrote the instructions by hand, look!"
Cute.
Yoongi’s cute.
"You did something by yourself?" you gasp dramatically, receiving the energy right back because he’s in a good mood.
"Shocker, right?" he hums, purposefully taking out the gloves from the bag as the last item. He pulls them out agonizingly slow, making your eyes squint until you sense the material being pushed to your hands. "Least I could do because you're the one who's dyeing my hair."
"What?" your mouth falls open, “you already went to the salon to get these yourself. Couldn't you let them do it instead?" It’s not like the thought of dyeing Yoongi’s hair repulses you, but it just makes you nervous for a reason. It’s too domestic, too intimate because knowing the difference of your nature from being in the hairdressers, the two of you are close. Conversation flows freely while you do such a thing for him.
Being domestic with Yoongi doesn’t scare you — mistaking his definition of normalcy as your intimacy does.
“Silly," he coos, "I'm making you dye my hair so in case it goes bad, I won't blame myself!"
You thank the heavens that Yoongi is himself.
"Perfect."
It’s half an hour later until you get everything sorted out, turning your office into a makeshift salon for the meantime with your main priority being ventilation, your door already opened with numerous fans turned on.
Yoongi seems giddy — in his salon cape with a drink on his hand, even coercing you to look into the mirror in front of the both of you so he could take pictures.
Before you could even do it, he removes his own cap from his head, placing it on yours gingerly.
"Keep it."
"Why?"
He’s used to you asking why but this time around, there’s no grand motive to it. You’re not shivering from cold pool water nor are you being made fun of for your watch. There’s no cause-effect tangent to it this time.
"No reason. I just feel like giving it to you."
You’re used to Yoongi not explaining.
He could enunciate himself well, you know it. But being with him for so long in a way wherein you’re heavily involved, sometimes, Yoongi doesn’t need to explain. You know what he wants and you know what he means before he could open his mouth, needless for a grand explanation.
"You're either a cat or a crow."
The observation you keep at the tip of your tongue slips seamlessly when you see his eyes closed, looking ahead at the reflection to see that you’re still wearing his cap even if he isn’t looking.
"Are you high?" he peeks one eye open, a snort leaving him at the suddenness of your words.
The chuckle that leaves you is warm enough to soothe Yoongi’s cheeks, automatically making him smile.
"Sometimes you bring me your hunts.” Just like Sohee’s cardigan, or better yet the entire concept of his ex-girlfriend. Yoongi could be the cat and Sohee could be the rabbit, but in all honestly, you can’t really tell who is which.
“Sometimes you bring me shiny things." She grounds him to what he’s used to, and he restricts his flight to all he’s ever known. Somewhere along, you’ve just been the designated feeder of the crow for him to come around at times, dropping shiny gifts on your lap; case in point the very watch you wear now.
Crows and cats don’t have a lot in common but one of their similarities is the love for the game — the hunt for what’s normal. One gifts, and one scavenges.
"One day, you'll be putting a dead rat right on my hands and I won't be surprised."
"Ew. I hate rats." Yoongi almost gags in his mouth, the mention of the rodent making his skin crawl.
"If I were to give you a rat, I won't put it in your hands," he clarifies, taking your own analogy to fit his. "I'll just bring you to the rat instead!”
"How romantic."
"I know right," he grins cheesily, obviously pleased with himself. “That way, you’re surprised with something so off-putting.”
( ♡ )
Yoongi has the eye for spontaneity.
He tends to be on the impulsive side, but as far as he knows (emphasis on as far), none of his rash decisions ever resulted into harm. He only wants within reason and after two minutes of just pure critical thinking, he knows what he wants.
To go to the rest stop just wearing his sleep shirt and pajamas, buy three packs of ramen and two freshly-toasted corndogs, split it with you evenly, and eat and talk with you by the spinning high chairs.
Yoongi rings you only once at 9 in the evening, you pick him up, and by 9:42, you’re already cracking eggs and blowing on noodles.
“God, this just hits the spot,” Yoongi moans against the hot meal. He’d been craving for the specific experience for awhile now, missing the atmosphere on going on late night drives and stopovers. It reminds him of the family trips when he was a kid, thoroughly enjoying it even if he was an only child. His dad would fill up the car, his mom would go to the clerk to get the keys for the bathroom, and he’d finally walk with no urgency on his step once it’s over.
Just like his family, you ask him what else he wants to eat. And even if he says there’s nothing else, you grab additional snacks you know he would like. He would just read labels upon the racks of things he can’t normally see in a grocery store, take note of what he wants to buy later, and reserves a seat.
“It’s good that you called me. I was fucking craving for the same exact thing,” you grunt in delight when the hot meal instantly takes you aback, the first bite of it never failing to hit the mark.
You like evening drives and rest stop adventures. There’s something so warm in seeing car windows fog up because of the airconditioner and doodling on the moisture. There’s something so cool in draping makeshift blankets and cramming your hands inside sweaters as soon as everyone talks about the gameplan to not stay for long in the stopover.
There’s something so homey in Yoongi asking you to join him into a distinct experience you wanted to go through again — even if you never told him how much you want what he wants too.
“You took your earrings out?”
He comments when he waits for you to finish the remaining bits of your meal, looking at your side profile when he noticed the lack of jewelry on your ear.
“Mhmm,” you hum in confirmation, eyebrows furrowing when his fingers pinch your lobes in curiosity.
“Here, have this.”
Yoongi removes his own earrings without a second thought, using the overpriced wet tissues to clean them thoroughly.
Perhaps it’s because you’re already used to him and his split-second decisions that you aren’t surprised when he nimbly takes off his own jewelry while you’re eating, focused on his own task.
Yoongi uses his hand to cup your jaw, keeping your side profile faced to him. He knows that you aren’t hurt with piercings but he takes great care anyway when he puts in his hoops on your lobes. He does it closely that you feel hyper-aware of his warm palm on your chin to turn your head the other way, putting in the last earring for you.
"It's white gold," he chimes, flicking you hoops. “Protects you from all the bad things, apparently."
You distract yourself from the incredible warmth you feel by making conversation, turning your attention to the table first before gaining the courage to return the eye contact.
"Bad things?"
Yoongi nods.
"Evil things. I don't know, things that hurt you, I guess. Just bad things."
"You believe in these?"
There’s no malice to your question to at all, the both of you knowing that you wouldn’t ever cross such ground.
"Correction, my mom believes in all these," Yoongi rectifies, laughing in recollection of the random things he knows.
One time during a trip to the rest stop, when his ramen was unbelievably hot and his mom was cooling it down for him, she told him of the little tidbits about white gold to keep him preoccupied. His family wasn’t well-off but he distinctly remembers how all the jewelry he had growing up was all real and pawnable.
"I think believing in these trivial things don't matter that much, honestly. As long as no one gets harmed, it isn't so bad," he shrugs. It takes one, two seconds before he pinches his fingers, finally admitting. “okay, maybe I do believe a little."
"Your earrings better work on me,” you joke, borrowing his overpriced mirror that he bought at the cashier to look at your earrings. “As long as I wear them, I won't be hurt?"
"Well I can't promise that you won't ever be hurt as long as you wear my earrings," Yoongi rolls his eyes as expected, making you do the same.
"Isn't it bad luck to wear secondhand jewelry?"
You point out in realization, holding out your wrist and gently tugging at your earlobes, waiting to see if he has any more tidbits that he knows.
Cute.
You’re cute.
"First off, I gave these to you and you already know me. You didn't buy them from a stranger," he emphasizes, “it's a bit of a grey area but it's only bad luck if the person you got it from had bad intentions."
"And you-"
Yoongi smacks you at the back of the head before you even get to finish your question, being quite the paradox when he does so.
"Of course I don't have bad intentions!" he exclaims, then soothing the back of your head with his warm palm rubbing in circles. "I'll never hurt you, y'know?"
"Hm," you hum, looking away so he wouldn’t see how flustered you are. “If you say so."
You’re about to eat another bite of your ramen when Yoongi surprises you by taking your utensils, putting the portion closer to him so he could blow off the steam.
You almost burnt your tongue, he reasons, making you part your mouth open to feed you.
"See?" he whispers knowingly, flicking both your watch and earrings that were once his. "Good intentions only."
( ♡ )
Every once in a while, Yoongi takes you along with him to his parents’ house.
He’s being a good son by constantly giving back to his parents and recognizing that their upbringing of him tremendously helped him to remain humble in the industry.
He’s being a good son by indulging their giggly requests if he could sign some things for a friend’s daughter or a colleague’s son, even paying attention to his handwriting.
He’s being a good son by keeping his feet on the ground no matter how high he gets because regardless if he’s in his childhood home or not, he would be still be as humble as Min Yoongi, his parents’ son, before he became the renowned personality he is now.
His parents always gush over you and an interaction never passes without them thanking you because in a way, you made their son grow in ways they haven’t. Through it all, they would never forget Yoongi introducing you to them as his manager — a bright-eyed, headstrong individual who in reality, has never become a manager to someone until Yoongi came along.
He’s a good son who is always sincere but you don’t know anything when he pipes in the dinner table when the focus was shifted to you, being frozen in your seat while the coos remained around.
"Girl of my dreams right here.”
Yoongi speaks to his food as if he didn’t call you the girl of his dreams right then and there in front of his parents.
He says it casually as if he was talking about the weather or going on about his tire pressure. He says it so easily as if he’s extremely familiar about it and it makes you warm.
He makes you warm but you always get stiff as if you’re frozen, your eyes unable to remain still through the entirety of dinner.
You’re not sure if it’s Yoongi staying with his filial son role but as soon as the first drop of the heavy rain hits their roof, until realization hits that you only came here through Yoongi’s car, until traffic updates say that there’s zero visibility on road — Yoongi asks you to stay.
"Just sleep in my room."
There’s no argument to it with the way he sternly looks at you, knowing that you’d always avoid being a “burden” even if you aren’t seen as one in the slightest bit; especially where he is– even in his childhood home.
"Where would you sleep?"
"Guest room," he answers nonchalantly. He takes the opportunity to joke, sensing your hesitancy on staying the night even if you knew it was technically impossible to leave. “Why? Thought I was sleeping next to you?"
He wiggles his eyebrows in teasing and as much as it loosened you up a little, you whine in complaint. "But I'm the guest."
"I'm sleeping in the guest room because the AC is much quieter," he whispers in admission, "My bed here is softer but the downside you have is that," he points to the airconditioning unit, “that thing's a mammoth."
"Oh."
Of course, there’s no other reason behind the room assignments besides Yoongi wanting to sleep in peace and quiet. But he senses the way you’re silent over it, rambling nonsense to fill in the void.
"Like seriously, the room shakes and you'd think the cold that comes out of it is proportional to all its heaving. It's like-"
If he was being honest, Yoongi wanted you to sleep in his bedroom because it would help him sleep at night knowing that you’re safe.
He didn’t want to say it out loud but really, he didn’t want you to sleep in the only guest room they had because he had just found out that there was a leak in the ceiling. He wouldn’t make you go through that (and his parents don’t either) which is why even if he had already given his room to you, the moment you turn into bed, he’d be going with his dad to the garage to see if they could patch it up before morning comes.
"Night, Yoongi."
He smiles, hoping he didn’t hurt you drastically this time.
"Good night."
( ♡ )
A manager should always be on-guard.
It was reasonable to think about the worst of everything and everyone in order to gauge the best you could care for your artist. It isn’t exactly hypocritical to do so considering the stakes at hand; you need to do whatever it takes.
You aren’t sure when your level of complacency started. You’re still on the tip of your toes each time you’re working with Yoongi, your quality of work never wavering. You had no problem living up to your reputation.
Your complacency in thinking that nothing would ever hurt Yoongi is far bigger than you expected it to be. You held both him and yourself to the highest degree — there’s sincerely nothing bad to be said about him. His track record’s clean and you intend keeping it that way.
There was no room for error in your management for Yoongi, that much you knew. You know to yourself that you’re the most thorough, intricate, and nurturing they could ever come.
You just don’t know where you went wrong in caring for Yoongi.
“I need you.”
Yoongi calls you on your rest day at 8 in the morning, his calls relentlessly growing in number when you don’t immediately pick up at the first ring. You were supposed to sleep in but at the sight of his name on you personal phone, you already know that the few hours of additional sleep are down the drain.
“What for?”
“I just need you to come.”
His voice is trembling, panicky even. You ask nothing but the address of where you need to go to, hanging up as soon as he mumbles in a daze of where he is now.
By the time you hung up, you were still in bed. You have every intention to get ready as soon as you can, and you’re gonna stand up any second now! Any second now and you screw your eyes shut, exhaling loudly to attend to him. It’s getting harder to wake up for Yoongi’s needs.
By the time you arrive at the broadcasting building he directed you to, you’re already escorted inside in a hurry by guards who saw you coming. Yoongi already gave them the heads-up to let only you in and no one else, catching your breath when you take the elevator with them.
They’re trained to be professional as it was a given. None of them break a sweat but you could see their chests rising, their earpieces giving feedback every two seconds with the way they respond urgently. It must be serious, you think.
You’re escorted into a dressing room that doesn’t have Yoongi’s name on it, being met with said man when you’re practically pushed inside. Your dressing room’s barricaded and you have no time to think when Yoongi pulls you to the corner, your eyes momentarily fleeting to the people inside.
They’re all unfamiliar to you besides Sohee. Several of them lend their gazes to you but they’re all back to being frantic as it seems; some drumming their fingers nervously on the couch, some pacing around the carpet with their phones pressed to their ear.
“Sohee’s bag was stolen.”
Yoongi announces it to you and he gulps the lump in his throat, putting his hands on his hips while he tries to calm down his breathing. Sohee was in the main studio filming an interview for her upcoming drama, he was watching her from backstage, and the rest of the staff were getting lunch in the cafeteria — in turn, no one being left in the dressing room.
“Sohee’s bag was stolen?” you repeat. Your eyebrows knit in confusion, stating the obvious. “That’s not your bag.”
He nods like he understand but you don’t think he understands. There’s not a single explanation of why you’re called here other than his ex-girlfriend’s bag was stolen.
“How does this concern me at all?”
He squints his eyes, surprised why you’re even questioning him. Normally you just do what you’re asked but his mind’s too panicked at the moment to even call you out for it, resorting to pleading. “Because her laptop’s in it. Please. Y/N, you have to start calling who you need to call-“
You’re still lost and you won’t even pretend otherwise, reaching out to grab his arm for him to stop pacing and start explaining instead.
“The studio’s been on lockdown, there’s no one in or out. The one who took it must still be in the building.”
“She could buy a new laptop for fuck’s sake,” you reply crassly, forgetting that Sohee’s still in the same room as you. You don’t know why you’re even summoned here on your rest day. “Why would you call me for something you’re not even involved in?”
“But I-I am involved in it.”
Yoongi swallows the lump in his throat and he could visibly see how your eyes are much more focused now, the nervousness ticking in his spine while you probe him to go further.
“There’s sensitive information of me, of us, in her laptop.”
Your composure starts the clock for its erosion, sucking in a breath while you try to figure out how you’d go with this. “Bank account details? Your home address? What’s in there?”
“Sensitive information.”
“Tell me specifically,” you counter, trying to refresh your knowledge about the people you could connect with to deal with a possible security leak. You start to look for names in your contacts and search for who could get you a direct link to someone who’d be of great help, waiting on his answer
“It’s just — i-it’s sensitive,” he doesn’t help his case at all by being shy about it, pushing you to become more frantic. This whole ordeal is time-sensitive and if he trips on his words more, the aftermath of it would be far more tensioned than the room is now.
“I can’t help you if I don’t know, Yoongi!”
Yoongi sucks in a breath and he feels tears pricking at his eyes out of the pressure in his stomach, cracking his fingers. He shuts his eyes to try and compose himself, grounding whatever’s left of his sanity by looking at you.
“Sex tape.”
He didn’t know what reaction to expect from you and to be honest, he doesn’t even know if he’d like any of them. Admitting it to you is far more painful than thinking about the possible repercussions of this whole thing.
You don’t know what your face does. You can’t tell if it dimmed with anger or if it fell with disappointment. You can’t discern if your mouth falls open at surprise or if it fell in surprise. You wouldn’t know what you feel even if someone placed a mirror in front of you.
“Sohee and I have a sex tape in there.”
You gather every last bit of your resolve, call out for Sohee’s manager in the room, and go to work.
You go to work immediately about retracing every last person and interaction they have been exposed to; be it Yoongi and Sohee themselves or the staff members. You direct the room and distribute numbers for them to call, under the strict instruction that they contact these people under your name and no one else’s.
You pick up and bark replies at everyone who’s responded to your request for help, Sohee’s staff (who you didn’t even know of until ten minutes ago) calling your attention as soon as they get a definitive answer from their contact.
You direct the building security to look for every cranny that both Yoongi and Sohee’s party went through the moment they went through the studio. You get a radio to be informed about any suspicious movement that went in and out of the dressing room upon their ongoing review on the security cameras.
You ring up Namjoon due to the gravity of the situation. He does the work himself, getting his driver to hightail through the red lights to get to where you and Yoongi were as fast as possible. He calls the people he know on the inside; a high-ranking police officer to speed up the operations in retrieving the laptop and for the upcoming charges, and a bigshot lawyer in case everything goes to shit and the sex tape ends up hitting the internet.
Everything is fast-paced for the next half hour that as soon as you get the acknowledgement in your end of communication, the tension of everything that unfolded not immediately melting even when you get the good news.
“It was a stalker that started working as an intern in advance when he heard Sohee was doing a new drama. He guessed that you’d get an interview here during the promotions because the show you went on is famous. He’s been caught already — he already had previous charges before this.”
Sohee’s manager breaks the good news, making the people inside the dressing room visibly deflate in relief.
“Nothing was touched. Your laptop couldn’t be opened anyway because the battery was out.”
“Was the battery out the last time you used it?” Yoongi asks her just to make sure, the rest of the people listening in because he did make a good counter.
Sohee eagerly nods her head, swiping the sweat from her forehead. “Yeah, yeah! I was meaning to charge it.”
That was the end of it.
That was supposed to be the end of it but Yoongi barely feels relieved.
“That was a close one.”
Namjoon broke the terse silence with the small comment and as if on cue, both Yoongi and Sohee apologize deeply with a bow in front of their staff. None of them had a reason to stay any longer in the building considering what had just happened, Sohee and her team being the ones to pack up earlier.
Namjoon’s bound to have a long talk with Yoongi but he excuses himself for the day, giving him nothing but a stern instruction to see him tomorrow, before leaving.
Yoongi drove on his own to the studio and he could head home right at this moment but he sees you hanging back in the same dressing room, your expression unreadable.
He has every resource and reason to leave right now — to reel back from what happened and save himself from a scolding. He could and can do that right now, but oddly enough, Yoongi feels like he deserves this.
He deserves your blank gaze at nothing in particular before it grows angry at the realization that he’s still not leaving the room.
Seeing Yoongi infuriates you.
He doesn’t know where to start but he professes his honesty first, his stinging tears not holding back this time round.
“I-I have nothing to say for myself,” he shakes his head. “I’m sorry.”
You don’t say anything. You stay silent and withhold any fibre of attention from him. You can’t even look him in the eye and Yoongi can’t deal with it for the life of him.
“The tape’s from last year a-and we thought-“
“I don’t fucking care if that sex tape was from last year or yesterday.”
You grit your reply through your teeth, every last bit of your patience running out at the exact second he decided to defend himself.
“You’re so stupid, Yoongi!” you exclaim in sheer disdain. “Fuck whoever you want but you do not make a sex tape! You don’t film it in laptops! You don’t film yourself cumming on Sohee!”
You can’t even stomach what had and what could have happened in the last hour. It physically makes you sick and you can’t wrap your head around how come you’re the most shaken of them all, barely able to hold it together.
You’ve held it for the last hour but you can’t even try to pretend you’re composed. You’re the furthest thing from being level-headed right now and your loss of grip makes you spiral, unable to grasp even a single straw.
“Do you know how much this could’ve hurt you?”
Frustrated tears spring out of your eyes and throughout the years he’s known you, this is the first time Yoongi’s ever seen you cry. This is the first time he’s ever seen you so wrecked and upset that his mind blanks on how he could help you. You always know what to do for whatever happens to him, today being a clear example — but you’re crying. You’re crying and it’s a cake walk against all the shit about him you’ve had to solve, but Yoongi can’t do anything.
“Her laptop’s backed up into the cloud, for god’s sake! Anyone could’ve hacked her, even!” you point out further. “Everything would be over for you just because you wanted to film your dick getting wet.”
You’ve never had such a drastic release of emotions. You’ve never cried this hard and this frustratedly to the point you whimper and wail to your hands unintelligibly. You’re so, so spent and for once, you focus on no one but yourself.
You focus on nothing besides the rapid rise and fall of your chest, the sobs you’ve never heard coming from your own mouth wracking your ribs.
You focus on nothing besides the way your head feels like it’s splitting open from all off your accumulated stress.
In respect to the time you last did it in years, you focus on no one but yourself.
“Think, Yoongi! Wouldn’t it hurt to just fucking think sometimes?”
“I-I’m sorry! I already told you I’m sorry!” he cries in between hiccups, trying to get you to look at him.
“You’re not sorry enough,” you grit. “What would you have done if it was leaked, huh? You think I can clean up your mess this time? You think I can just bitch at everyone again so they forget your screw-up?”
You save yourself some dignity by aiming straight for the door, another set of footsteps trying to trail after you.
“Don’t be like this,” he pleads, his voice hoarse as he begs to get you to stay. “W-where are you going? Y/N please!”
“Get out of my way.”
Yoongi is neither a cat or a crow, but he is himself. And as what he once promised, he brings you to the rat; something so off-putting and gut-wrenching.
In your rush to get out, your earrings get caught at a hook by the door. You’re desperate enough to leave that you push through, barely feeling the pain.
Your ear burns and although it's not torn, you feel the sting of the tiny tear of your– Yoongi's earring on your lobe, the warm sensation of red making you shiver for a vague second.
You're hurt.
( ♡ )
For the first time ever, you take a break.
You grab an overdue two-week break you’re entitled to but have never used, and you make the most of it.
Namjoon granted it for you instantly without asking any questions, even going as far as telling you that you could charge everything on the bottomless company card.
Both your personal and work phones were turned off, only responding to urgent situations through email which you thankfully had none of so far.
It’s at a Monday night when you go to a high-end club you’ve only seen from the outside, the scene indoors still as frisky and dirty as other places, but this time with a little more tact.
There’s more than a handful of familiar faces you see but none of the interactions you see now are for the camera. You came here simply to be a part of the environment, not to necessarily get wasted. Oddly enough you crave the busy environment even if the people here aren’t in a rush to go somewhere; and neither are you.
“I know you.”
Someone beside your bar stool chimes and you have to rely on the dim glow of the bar to identify who it was, waiting for the aid of the flashing lights to illuminate the figure.
He’s as handsome as it goes with his sharp, refined features — plump lips and kind eyes with an athletic figure, his jet black hair slicked back prettily.
“I know you too,” you reply just as surely.
He chuckles heartily, his broad shoulders coming along with him as he tilts his head. He’s charming, really.
“You’re the pretty girl backstage who told me someone was taking pictures of me while I was changing,” he reminisces, remembering your goodwill of informing him. He didn’t even know he was having his pictures taken by a perverted intern, but before he could even thank you, you call out the intern loudly and publicly until he gets taken by security. “I only caught your name after I walked the runway. I didn’t get to thank you back then.”
Your eyes glaze at Kim Seokjin’s honesty because the moment he opened his mouth, you thought you would be known for one thing only — you thought he would define you as Yoongi’s manager.
The surprise encompasses you that during your first interaction outside of work, and even throughout, Seokjin would always know you as the one who gave him a heads-up from years ago. He remembered the small act of kindness back when you were a rookie manager and he was a rookie model. In fact, that whole incident almost slipped your mind if not for his memory. Now that you recall, you were only there backstage for Yoongi but in your nature, you couldn’t help but to look out for him too.
“You’re the pretty boy who gave me heat packs in that outdoor shoot.”
It was Seokjin’s turn to be awed, lips curling over the fact that you remember the tiny act of service from years ago. It was after his changing incident, but he didn’t get to thank you properly because your guard dog (read: Yoongi) kept hounding him away from you, so all he managed to do was put heat packs on your lap in a hurry.
In that moment, you didn’t know each other as your reputations.
In Jin’s eyes, you weren’t Yoongi’s manager.
In your eyes, he wasn’t the esteemed rival that Yoongi hated the most.
You knew of their history briefly. From Yoongi’s retelling, they were high school buddies whose friendship turned sour when they were vying for the same big modeling agency who only had one slot left for its roster. Seokjin was the one who got accepted and Yoongi swears to you that his ex-friend must’ve sabotaged his application. It turned out for the better because he ended signing with Namjoon instead (and look where he is now!) but he still won’t let go of what allegedly happened.
Now that you think about it, Yoongi’s dislike for Seokjin just seems one-sided. It was all based on assumption, and you know well how the logic of it is flawed.
You came here to unwind, and just by the karma of goodwill, you come home with Seokjin.
He’s attentive with the way he kisses you deeply, mouth trailing hot against yours and he isn’t shy to show you just how much he wants you, where he wants you, and how exactly he wants you.
He’s addictive to the point you only think what he wants you to, nothing else but your pleasure and him who gives it. He’s selfless with the way he takes his time to not half-ass anything with the pretty girl he came home with, skilled in every which way.
“You haven’t been getting what you deserve lately, have you?”
Seokjin asks in the middle of leaving hickies on the inside of your thighs, his warm palm pressed flat against your clit — rubbing almost lazily to give you a break before pushing you to another high again for the night.
“And what do I deserve, hm?” you ask him to humor you through heavy-lidded eyes, the unreleased tension you’ve harbored finally getting released little by little.
Seokjin thinks you’re hot; admirable. You’re a little mean but he loves it just like that, licking his lips in sincerity amidst lust. “Worshipped.”
“Don’t worry, baby,” he fucks you unlike any other, undoing all the sexual frustration you’ve had because of your busy career. He gives you everything in the same way you bare yourself, and you don’t mind if it’s only for the night. “I’ll take good care of you.”
( ♡ )
The plan was to resign, pack up your office, and get your last paycheck from Namjoon.
It was meant to be a smooth transaction, double-checking with him and the stand-in manager that you wouldn’t bump into Yoongi and have an unnecessary confrontation.
You’ve only opened both of your phones now after two weeks and not a second later upon opening them, hundreds of notifications started flooding in. You couldn’t even scroll past without your phone glitching, sometimes even freezing in between messages that get previewed.
You aren’t scared of seeing Yoongi — you simply just don’t want to see him if you had the chance to. Your anger for him no longer remains but you know you can’t stomach the sight of him either.
He became listless starting two weeks ago and just at the signal of a security guard he’s tipped off (to notify him if you enter the premises), he immediately comes to you.
You don’t even get to finish packing your desk and drawers because Yoongi bursts through your door in a hurry.
He looks haggard; way unlike him. He looks distraught and that’s because he truly is, stopping at nothing to try and contact you during the time you’ve been gone. He’s relieved to see you, he really is, but that feeling of solace completely leaves him when he realizes what you’re here for.
“Was that it?” he blurts out, eyes already stinging just from seeing you.
“Was that the plan all along? You take a two-week leave from being my manager and then suddenly, you resign?! You resign and you become Seokjin’s manager?” he says the last part in a whisper, unsure if he hears correctly what he’s even saying. “The whole point of your break is to leave me?”
You’re calm but it doesn’t placate him, the genuine confusion over what he’s last said apparent.
“Where’s this coming from?”
“And that’s the first thing you say for yourself?” Yoongi’s eyes widen. “I’m over here losing my shit because you’re replacing me with the person I hate most, and you’re asking me where’s this coming from?”
He knows where’s this coming from.
He knows that the reason for the feeling of betrayal looming in his chest is a couple of pictures, supposedly a blind item article of Seokjin. Out of all people, he would know how the paparazzi are extremely invasive of celebrities’ privacy. He hates being the center of them and hates reading them even more, but it’s you.
But it’s you and him.
“There’s pictures of you online having lunch with him. You have your mask on but I could spot you from anywhere. What else could you possibly be meeting him for?”
He knows it’s bad of him to jump into conclusions and rely solely on assumptions, but it’s not as if you were denying them now. You know about his distrust for the guy and you’ve been with him for years. Shouldn’t you be on his side?
“I’m not his manager. I didn’t meet him for that.”
He knows he should feel relief but at the same time, the unease that comes with it overpowers. If it wasn’t business, then it was personal. It’s the thought of the latter that makes him weak on the knees, swallowing his fear when he dares to ask you.
“Then what else could you-“ he goes straight in, “you were meeting with him outside of work?”
“Yeah, I was.”
Yoongi always tries to be lovable.
He always tries to not look at anyone the wrong way and makes it a point to be kind, distinguishing himself from the attitude of his manager. Although not once did your attitude get him in trouble, he wouldn’t lie and say that he gets embarrassed to be linked with you sometimes.
Sometimes, he wants to crawl into a hole underground when you confront someone over something he could easily overlook.
There are times when he wants you to just let him take the beating, to let him take the unfairness of others’ actions instead. He doesn’t want you jumping to his defense all the time because he doesn’t want to be known as someone who hides behind their manager’s back.
But now, now that he tastes the bitter feeling of what tastes like betrayal, he’s not so sure if it was right of him to feel embarrassed of you.
“Why would you meet with my enemy?”
There are times when you don’t want Yoongi to be the artist you manage.
He tends to be too full of himself at times, so much so that you get culture shock when you interact with someone who isn’t a celebrity in the likes of him. He associates you with himself all the time and as much as it flatters you, it could be annoying just like what he’s doing now.
You and Yoongi aren’t the same person.
“My problems don’t revolve around your problems, Yoongi!”
“Well they should!” he spits, looking down on you. “That’s the whole reason you’re my-“
“Manager? Again? My whole life should only revolve and stop in the name of yours because I’m your manager?”
The slow build of your anger speeds up at the word. Manager. Manager. You’ve heard it too many times in your lifetime and it’s sickening. It makes you want to throw up in the inside of your mouth and you want to purge itself clean. It’s no longer a title you adored but instead, it’s become an entity with a shadow bigger than yourself.
“My life revolves way too much around you, Yoongi. I’m getting sick of it!”
He swallows the hurt at your insistence of separating your life from his, even if you’ve spent the prime of your years with each other. The both of you grew up too fast but you grew up with each other, your lives getting entangled in the way.
“You don’t get to complain because you stuck around for it. Your job is to take care of me.”
“I know I accepted the job. I know it was my job to take care of you,” you emphasize the past tense but he tries to rectify it quickly, head insistently shaking no.
“Is. It is still your job.”
Yoongi clinging to you used to be a good thing. It used to remind you of how good you are and how compatible the both of you go along with each other, but this was different. Yoongi’s clinging to you because he refuses to accept no other choice, not even seeing past the work you’ve undertaken that’s becomes detrimental to your wellbeing as a whole.
It hurts to say but the words slips out of you regardless.
“But you’re too much, Yoongi. You are too much for me.”
“Oh, I’m too much?”
He’s fighting his tears but he knows he’s not feeling you. You’ve seen him vulnerable too many times to count but he’s stubborn. He’s stubborn and he fights with you because it’s the only thing that would keep you here. tongue against the inside of his cheek.
“Yeah, I said what I said,” you reply but your voice trembles. “But you don’t tell me that I don’t have the right to complain because it’s my job to put up with you.”
The offense you take to his words grow bigger because in hindsight, all that you have endured have basically been fit into a single nametag — all the burdens you have gone through and all the hurt you carried being reduced to a job you easily could’ve abandoned in the first place.
“I’m sorry that I complained because I was cleaning up after your messes and you don’t even apologize to me once about what you’ve caused. I’m so sorry for getting frustrated because I could move mountains for you and you wouldn’t even thank me once because it’s my job, right?”
You’re crying and you hate it with the pride you try so hard to protect, but if you were to be honest with yourself, the concept of pride had long been gone the moment you signed up to take care of Yoongi.
“I’m sorry that I got short with you because I was preventing your sex tape from hitting the internet.”
The mention of it hits deep and he visibly recoils, hot tears falling on his cheeks to the point that they get red under the sting.
“You have everyone and everything! I take care of you before I take care of myself. I bend at your will and act for your own good but you can’t even take no from me as answer. I get tired taking care of you and the moment I let myself go, you won’t let me?”
Somehow, you knew the reason all this time of why you felt sluggish every time you wake up. You wake up for your job, for Yoongi. He’s the reason you wake up but frankly it hasn’t been enough for quite some time, the task of being there for him feeling like an obligation more than it is a passion.
“I can’t go home for my mom’s birthday because you need me to deliver flowers to your ex-girlfriend. I can’t take my nephew to school because you need me to fetch your suits for you. I can’t do anything for myself without feeling guilty that I’m not putting you first!”
By now you’re crying like the last time you saw him, but you don’t crumble underneath him. You’re hurt but you’re trying to will your knees in taking the weight of your heart.
“Do you know that I go to work even if you don’t? I take care of you even if you’re on break. I take care of you even if you’re celebrating your mother’s birthday abroad. I take care of you even if I’m not beside you.”
You’re exhausted. You’re spent. You’re burnt out and you can’t see the end of the tunnel. You’re not fire — you don’t ignite all of a sudden after being extinguished just because of a random chunk of ember.
“Wanna know why I met with Seokjin?” you ask him, not waiting for an answer. There’s no weight in admitting it, but your chest oddly feels lighter saying it to Yoongi. “He fucked me.”
“He fucked me silly, and then took care of me good. After that, he took me to lunch, asked for my number, then drove me home.”
Yoongi’s chest tightens and he doesn’t comment because he physically can’t. His throat feels like caving in and there aren’t any words he can force out of his windpipe.
“Seokjin isn’t anyone to me besides a friend but he sees me,” you gently tell him, going awestruck again because after a long time, someone recognized you as your own self, not an attachment to Yoongi.
“He doesn’t know my favorite color but he knows how to apologize when he wakes me up by accident in the middle of the night.”
Sorry I didn’t know you were asleep!!! Just pretend I didn’t call, it’s not urgent anyway. Good night :)
“He doesn’t know my favorite meal but he knows how to thank me when I do even the simplest of things for him.”
You’re unreal :O
Did you seriously find the book that I was talking about??
THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOUUUUUU
“I’m not Jin’s manager but if there was a chance to, I’d take it.”
You whisper in admission and for a fraction of a second, you regret your words.
It takes one, two seconds to look at Yoongi. You look at Yoongi and you see a reflection of you, someone who never stops in the name of his success. You stay behind his shadow even if your care for him surpasses it in enormity and frequency, because even in the dark, you’re there.
But you’re always there.
You don’t want to be in the dark with him anymore.
“I’m tired of you, Yoongi.”
You say outloud and it hurts you unlike no other to admit it. Saying it honestly takes the life out of you and not once did you think you would be ever coming to this; to be stopping at a point. “I’m tired of taking care of you.”
“Yoongi, if you want to eat ramen in a convenience store at night, you don’t look for your manager — you look for your girlfriend,” the sigh that leaves you turns into a whimper, a silent plea to your heart to stop working the way it is now.
“You don’t give away your precious watches to your manager, Yoongi — you give them to girlfriends,” the whimper that builds up in your throat is too big that you have to swallow it down, a pitiful sob breaking out from you.
“You don’t bring your manager to your childhood home, ask her to sleep in your bedroom, and call her the girl of your dreams in front of your parents. You do that with girlfriends, Yoongi,” and finally, the sob you once let out turns into a cry.
“I must be as fucking crazy as you are,” you shake your head, laughing in disbelief.
You must be truly losing it at this point, baring your all to someone who always did to you, but you regret only admitting this now.
“At one point, I thought I was yours.”
“At some point, I started taking care of you like it wasn’t my job,” you nod to yourself and you’re oblivious of how Yoongi has his face planted on his hands, choking in quiet sobs. “And that’s on me. That’s my mistake.”
“You’ve exhausted every single thing I’ve had to keep wanting you,” your words are out there already, unable to be taken back. “I’m so, so tired, Yoongi.”
There’s no grand ending to your argument. None of you take it beyond far with your yelling. The both of you are quiet, defeated even.
There’s no fight in it left,
or so you think.
“I think I’m outgrowing you.”
( ♡ )
Namjoon’s on the phone when Yoongi knocks on his door.
Yoongi looks more composed this time, seeing to it that he’s wearing new, clean clothes and he has the energy to take a shower. Apart from that, he still looks like a mess. He looks and is fatigued.
“I’m going on a hiatus.”
He announces thickly into the air as if he just relayed this afternoon’s weather forecast, making the CEO lay the telephone flat against the table.
“Excuse me, what?” Namjoon enunciates, eyes blinking wildly. “You don’t give yourself a hiatus, Yoongi. That’s not how it works.”
“That’s how it works now.”
He shrugs carelessly, exhaling heavily.
“I’m on an indefinite hiatus until Y/N comes back.”
Namjoon’s not surprised about the ultimatum but he’s curious. His annoyance for Yoongi is trumped by his curiosity. His voice has always been full of conviction but now it’s soft, feeling pity automatically lace his tone.
“If she doesn’t?”
It’s clockwork.
“Then I’m not coming back.”
“If I don’t grant your demand for a hiatus?” his head tilts, gauging just how far he’d go for you.
“Then I leave.”
Yoongi’s unsure why Namjoon would ask these things even if it’s clear as day. He indulges the questions but it doesn’t mean he’s letting the course steer away from his intention.
“I’m only going where Y/N’s going.”
“Look, I don’t know what entirely happened between the two of you. My assumptions could only go so far,” Namjoon professes, running his fingers through his hair in thought, “but it doesn’t take a genius to see that your relationship isn’t strictly professional.”
Anyone could see through it.
Anyone could see how you and Yoongi are in love with each other and how the two of you do nothing about it.
“I’m not gonna go on a tangent about it. You’re my best talent and Y/N’s my best manager,” he reveals his practical sense of thinking. “I’m speaking to you as a friend, Yoongi.”
“You’re putting your career — everything you’ve worked for — on Y/N,” Namjoon says solemnly, treading lightly on his weighted words. “You don’t even know if she’ll come back.”
“It’s only right,” Yoongi surprises him with his answer. If you don’t come back, then neither does he. “I honestly wouldn’t have even worked as hard if not for her. Everything I am now, where I’m at,” he smiles gently, “it’s because she was there.”
There’s a comfortable silence between them, the both of them knowing what would come out of this.
“You’re going in on this blind.”
“I’m as good as blind without her.”
“Yoongi,” Namjoon stress, “what you’re doing is basically penance.”
“Is it?” his head tilts, genuinely curious. “This hiatus won’t hurt me. They’re all nothing but cancelled schedules to me now.”
“Then what are you doing this for?”
“I don’t know what to call it.” For the first time, Yoongi feels at bliss not knowing. “It just feels right.”
“No matter how big I get, it all means nothing to me,” there’s nothing but a clearer truth for him. “Y/N’s my roots.”
Yoongi’s rooted to you, his existence running deeper when you’re there. You ground him in the same time that you make him grow. You make him lose his bearings in seasons but you’re definite in making him bloom brighter after. There’s seasons when he’s dried up and you let him stay that way but you make sure he bounces back to his peak, if not better.
“Okay,” Namjoon concludes. “I’ll have someone draft the announcement for your hiatus this afternoon.”
Yoongi leaves the room lighter than when he came there. There’s no bounce to his step but he walks a little less glumly now; a little less lost.
“Still there?” Namjoon checks up on the other end of the call, a chuckle leaving his throat.
“Yeah,” you confirm albeit a little choked up. “Still here.”
( ♡ )
Yoongi’s drunk on a Monday evening and it’s Jimin who has to pick up the pieces.
It’s only been a little more than a month since Yoongi went on hiatus. He’s doing better compared to the last time he was on shambles, but he’s just a tiny little insignificant human without a Y/N on his side, so yeah — he does have those off-days.
“Y/N hates me.”
“She doesn’t hate you,” Jimin repeats, swearing that this entire conversation had already happened three times before in the span of tonight.
“I’d hate me too,” he agrees, bringing up his shot glass that’s just water Jimin switched it out for. “She’s sick of me.”
“She’s not-“
“She told me,” he whines. “And I said mean things to her. I put her through so much shit and I gave her shit when she was simply just feeling,” he deflates to the cushions, sinking further and further into the stick floors that Jimin has to reel him back in. “I’m so mean.”
Yoongi keeps throwing back shots (read: water) that Jimin keeps giving him, going the extra mile of wincing as the liquid hits (read: hydrates) his throat.
“I’m the asshole,” he points to his face, pouting. “Through and through, I’m the one who hurts her.”
“Have you seen Y/N since y’know... your fight?”
Yoongi shakes his head no.
“Do you know where she lives?”
Yoongi nods.
“Then why won’t you come to her?”
It’s a no-brainer question for Jimin, really. The reason why not doesn’t ever cross his mind and he fears he’ll never get it because it simply makes no sense.
“Because I always come to her,” Yoongi says, a little less drunk but not less sincere. “I don’t wanna upset her further.”
“Don’t wanna hurt her more than I already did.”
“I don’t wanna force myself in if there’s no space for me,” he continues, “it suffocates me to be away from her but this would be better for her sake.”
Jimin has a small smile on his face, already knowing the answer before he asks.
“And who decided that?”
“I did.”
“Why would you?”
“Why would I show my face to someone who doesn’t want to see me?” he sing-songs, the reason being as suspiciously transparent than the “shots” he’s been throwing back. “To someone who thinks they’re outgrowing me?”
“What if she wants to see you too?”
Jimin purses his lips, trying not to give himself away. Yoongi can read through him and one look at him as all it’ll take to sense that he knows something, but Yoongi’s gaze is elsewhere. He’s looking at his lockscreen that’s been set the two of you, already years since he’s last change it.
“Then I’ll crawl back home to her.”
( ♡ )
Half a year has passed and Yoongi emailed you everyday.
When the weather is cold and the car windows fog from the outside, you give Yoongi a call.
Half a year has passed and you find yourselves sitting shoulder to shoulder at the rest stop you last went to, waiting for each other’s ramen to cool down.
The both of you are healthier and look the part, a lot more light shared between the two of you.
Neither of you would lie and say you didn’t feel the passage of time nor the distance because you felt it every single day without fail. Not one of you would pretend and say it’s as if the two of you weren’t apart for half a year.
You’ve felt each month, each day, of half a year.
When Yoongi parks next to your car, the first thing you do is embrace him. You don’t suck in his warmth but instead you add to it, not a single space of the cold air flowing between your bodies.
Yoongi missed you so much.
Halfway through his daily emails, you started to respond from time to time. You’d write back to him to answer questions and acknowledge written apologies until eventually, you start to ask him if he’s eating his meals and if he’s sleeping well. You’ve been lax for the past six months and so has he, keeping up with the flow of his hiatus.
The second thing you do after seeing him is apologize. You’re flawed and you don’t doubt that you’ve contributed your own mistakes to your fall-out, and you own up to it fully.
There’s something so warm in being next to Yoongi whose hands are as cold as ice, bursting out laughing when he resorts to sitting on them to try and have the temperature up. It’s the weighted, needed warmth; neither is it suffocating nor overwhelming.
There’s something so cool in spontaneously buying a blanket from the rest stop (you each have one in your own cars but you intentionally don’t say it) and sharing it between the two of you, draped on your bodies while you sit as close as you could to each other. It’s a gentle breeze (maybe it’s the airconditioner directly above you) but it’s cool on the skin; it’s neither nippy nor bitter.
“When someone’s too vast to occupy the space in your heart,” you speak tenderly, “you don’t call that outgrowing, Yoongs.”
You’re in between sharing your meals that you decide to address all that you’ve been through, specifically your words that have admittedly made a home in the back of his head.
“You call that love.”
Love terrifies you and so does the overwhelming pressure of commitment but with Yoongi, it’s a little less scary.
“You’re a little too much for me, I’m not gonna lie about that,” you laugh playfully and you make sure Yoongi reads your tone, assuringly patting his thigh before pinching his cheek. “But it isn’t so bad.”
“I choose to make space for you everyday.”
The both of you have always known but now feels the only time you deem is perfect to profess your love. There’s no other moment, no other scene fitting to the two of you that’s just raw and genuine as this would come.
Yoongi grins and he finds no need in trying to contain his happiness, scratching the corner of his eyes before he prods you gently.
“Take off the watch.”
“This is mine now,” your eyebrows defensively furrow, instinctively taking the watch closer to yourself because you’ve grown to love it a lot.
“I’m not taking it away from you,” he laughs heartily before trying again, circling his hand on your wrist. “Look closer.”
Yoongi looks at you in anticipation, nodding at you when you give him an unsure look.
“W-well I’ve never had a Rolex before so I’m not really sure what I’m looking at,” you chuckle nervously, curious to know if he’s talking about a defect you don’t know about. Yoongi waits again this time with a knowing look, prodding you to look even closer and just take the second to see, knowing you’ve caught the sight when your eyes suddenly narrow before widening.
“Wait, you had this engraved?”
Your eyes feel deceived for a second because not once have you ever inspected it this closely, a gasp leaving your lips when you look to Yoongi in confirmation.
If lost, return to Y/N.
“Why not you?”
The watch was his, the watch is his. There’s no sense in having it engraved in the name of someone else’s when he bought it for himself.
“Everything goes through you,” he says simply. “And I won’t have it any other way.”
Yoongi loves you more than he can ever say.
“I had it engraved the day I bought it.”
“But that was-“
“My first paycheck,” he confirms with a smile, “years ago.”
You remember the year distinctly, even recalling how Namjoon came with Yoongi to buy something for himself from his first ever paycheck.
How Namjoon said that the watch, specifically in his own words and emphasis, the Rolex Oyster Perpetual Datejust, doesn’t look weird on you because it’s always been yours.
“Five years ago.”
He nods at your memory, shifting his hand to hold yours.
“Even before we made it big. Even before I had all the proper headshots you’d have in an actual studio. Before anyone even wanted me,” Yoongi laughs, his eyes proving all his sincerity. “Well I didn’t exactly have the money for a watch in those times for me to engrave your name on, but I’d scribble it here and there.”
Here and there — every item he deemed important.
“The corner of my résumé. The back of my portraits. The tag on my wallet. The soles of my shoes. Everywhere,” he giggles at how far he’s went, how far the two of you went.
When you put the black cap he’s given to you under the light, you could see return to Y/N in black marker you’d miss if not for the change of lighting.
When you remove the earrings he gave you, you could see your initials engraved by the inside groove.
When you take the time to look at the luggage tags of every backpack, every duffel, every suitcase he’s ever owned — you’d see the return address as your own instead of his.
Yoongi thinks there's no other time, no other place than now– in a rest stop, sharing an overpriced blanket between the two of you and in the middle of eating ramen– to profess his love for you.
summary ⋮ high school sweethearts who no one knew were high school sweethearts. min yoongi wasn’t a man of many words, much less was he one to outwardly show any sign of love towards his other half. yln yn was the opposite. she wanted to spew her feelings every second she could, she wanted to hold her other half’s hand while walking down a street.
yoongi could never be that man for her and for that — she lets him go. two broken hearts, both completely different, yet oddly similar, are thrown back together years after graduation and their breakup.
pairing ⋮ myg x reader
genre ⋮ angst, fluff, 18+ content, ex’s to lovers
schedule ⋮ i’ll try my best to update everyday but sometimes things will get in the way, so i apologize!
warnings ⋮ angst, yn is kinda dumb, yoongi is kinda dumb, but they’re kinda dumb together, curse words, 18+ conversations, dirty talk honestly, lewd behaviors, talks of infertility and running out of time for impregnation
✏️ means theres a written portion to the chapter w chats, 📝 means its only a written portion and holds no messages whatsoever.
authors note ⋮ this should be a pretty short and fluffy smau with its dribbles of angst! a lot of comedy or what i hope is funny LMAO. i hope you all enjoy!
Warnings: DUB-CON, mentions of NON-CON, mentions of murder, vampire!Avengers, past Peter x reader, jealous!Steve, modern setting they just wealthy af
➥ banner by @maysdigitalarts | divider by @firefly-graphics
➥ series masterlist
summary: In a coven, the master’s word is law, and humans are nothing more than pets to symbolize wealth and prestige. They tell you that being the master’s pet is a great honor, but the poorly constructed façade is broken when you forsake honor for love.
"Should parents read their daughter's texts or monitor her online activity for bad language and inappropriate content?"
Earlier today, I served as the “young woman’s voice” in a panel of local experts at a Girl Scouts speaking event. One question for the panel was something to the effect of, “Should parents read their daughter’s texts or monitor her online activity for bad language and inappropriate content?”
I was surprised when the first panelist answered the question as if it were about cyberbullying. The adult audience nodded sagely as she spoke about the importance of protecting children online.
I reached for the microphone next. I said, “As far as reading your child’s texts or logging into their social media profiles, I would say 99.9% of the time, do not do that.”
Looks of total shock answered me. I actually saw heads jerk back in surprise. Even some of my fellow panelists blinked.
Everyone stared as I explained that going behind a child’s back in such a way severs the bond of trust with the parent. When I said, “This is the most effective way to ensure that your child never tells you anything,” it was like I’d delivered a revelation.
It’s easy to talk about the disconnect between the old and the young, but I don’t think I’d ever been so slapped in the face by the reality of it. It was clear that for most of the parents I spoke to, the idea of such actions as a violation had never occurred to them at all.
It alarms me how quickly adults forget that children are people.
Apparently people are rediscovering this post somehow and I think that’s pretty cool! Having experienced similar violations of trust in my youth, this is an important issue to me, so I want to add my personal story:
Around age 13, I tried to express to my mother that I thought I might have clinical depression, and she snapped at me “not to joke about things like that.” I stopped telling my mother when I felt depressed.
Around age 15, I caught my mother reading my diary. She confessed that any time she saw me write in my diary, she would sneak into my room and read it, because I only wrote when I was upset. I stopped keeping a diary.
Around age 18, I had an emotional breakdown while on vacation because I didn’t want to go to college. I ended up seeing a therapist for - surprise surprise - depression.
Around age 21, I spoke on this panel with my mother in the audience, and afterwards I mentioned the diary incident to her with respect to this particular Q&A. Her eyes welled up, and she said, “You know I read those because I was worried you were depressed and going to hurt yourself, right?”
TL;DR: When you invade your child’s privacy, you communicate three things:
You do not respect their rights as an individual.
You do not trust them to navigate problems or seek help on their own.
You probably haven’t been listening to them.
Information about almost every issue that you think you have to snoop for can probably be obtained by communicating with and listening to your child.
Part of me is really excited to see that the original post got 200 notes because holy crap 200 notes, and part of me is really saddened that something so negative has resonated with so many people.
glimpse: dr. min's distraught on how you're still best friends with kim taehyung, aka your ex-boyfriend who's now famous.
alternatively, yoongi gets a dose of his own medicine and he seriously considers going to a cardiologist for his heartaches from chasing after you.
[ a continuation to part one ]
[ angst, so much pining but this time it's yoongi's 24/7 occupation, jealousy n insecurity, eventual fluff ]
notes: i really didn't expect a lot of requests for this piece to have a continuation but alas here it is!! the main theme of the asks i received is to make dr. min suffer and honestly i am not against it <3 once again, this is inspired by yang seok-hyeong and choo min-ha’s dynamic from hospital playlist and u don’t necessarily have to watch it in order to read this!! ok anyways pls enjoy this piece :D
as always, lmk what you think <3 send in feedback n love to my askbox anytime!!
Yoongi has four chances left.
Four is an even number by literal definition but he feels that it's odd. It’s a number that’s unfair and unforgiving and he just realized today how much hatred he could have for a damn digit.
Was it a smart move that he immediately asked you out two seconds after he proposed the offer of getting to ask you out for only five times? Not really. But in actuality, Yoongi would’ve thought it was the smartest move if only you accepted. Yet of course, you rejected him (he can’t blame you) and now he realized how dispensable he really is.
He’s never really chased someone per se. Never really been the type to question nor prod but he feels like he’s the nosiest being ever when it comes to you — you, who isn’t all that crazy for him nowadays.
And he understands! Yoongi truly understands where he went wrong and as much you assured him that he’s not obligated to like you back, he still gave you motive and means and that atleast has to count for something.
He’s paying the price, that much he knows. He’s filling in your shoes and even if you’ve stood countless of times next to him, only for him to look down and see how your work shoes are smaller than his, he feels like it’s an infinite void he’s stepped into.
“You know that Y/N’s my oldest friend, right? Knew her before I knew you?” Jimin asked him as soon as Yoongi spilled the beans on how his interaction went with you, adding in a half-ass apology of how he threw him out of the breakroom.
“Mhmm. Is this the part where you give me the guy best friend speech?” He snickered but he feels the worry in his tummy, not admitting to how Jimin may be younger but he can truly intimidate him from time to time.
“Close,” he chuckled, putting a spoonful of the ice cream you’ve treated him to out of the blue. “But I just want you to know that I know her the most, and I know that she doesn’t forget. Doesn’t really give in that easily. Doesn’t really budge when it’s not needed.”
Yoongi’s lips pursed at that. “How do you want me to take that?”
Jimin’s intentions are pure. Not ill, but rather honest. It’s his way of telling his friend that chasing after his other friend wouldn’t be easy. Not exactly futile but it’s close to it, having had the knowledge that when you give up, you truly give up. “You take it however you want to.”
It’s that small interaction with your closest friend that pushes Yoongi to suck up a breath and let himself be embarrassed, knowing that you’ve done it numerous times before for him.
“Good morning.”
Yoongi chirps from behind you and all the remaining grogginess from your short nap you take before opening gets detached, resisting the urge to yawn.
“Hi.”
Dr. Min tries not to smile when he sees you blink away the sleep-induced tears rapidly but he fails anyway, learning that he has nothing to hide.
His morning routines are different to say the least. He buys his own coffee now and only throws his bag when he sees you within the crowd of a staff greeting him, regardless if you’re the one who catches it or not.
He doesn’t go straightly to his office but instead he aims straight for the breakroom and if you haven’t arrived there, then he’d wait. He knows not to impose on your routine that you’ve set but there’s no harm in trying to slightly impose, just enough to make his presence known.
He waits for five minutes and tries to just casually give you his treat of the morning, just as casual as if he woke up from bed and suddenly decided to buy himself cocoa crepe cake and accidentally bought one more slice, and even more hauntingly, accidentally packaged it up in a lunchbox with your name on it so it would retain its form and coolness.
All accidental and casual of course.
Yoongi, the easy-going guy he is, puts an all too-familiar cup in front of you — something that only Jimin could know how frustrated you get when you try to find it in the chiller aisles.
"The grocery was all out of this. Where did you find it?"
He smiles to himself for yet another job well done, suddenly feeling his skin prick with nervousness when you twirl the cylinder with your fingers.
Oh god, did he give you a damaged one?
Was this not your favorite flavor of pudding?
Better yet, do you even eat it at all?
It clicks in your memory why the expiration date is familiar, the pudding obviously not yet spoiled but it's the exact one you've seen before.
"How much did Jimin charge you for this?"
It's from Jimin's fridge from the grocery trip you embarked on with him just last week ago, remembering snagging the last two packs for each of you to take home. It's routine that the both of you get your groceries together despite living apart — it's routine for him to drive the cart and chuck the items from both of your lists, and it's routine for you to check the expiration dates since he clearly doesn't.
Yoongi can't find it within him to be annoyed that you found him out so quick because the entire situation itself is humorous, sheepishly scratching his nape.
"Thrice the price, I think."
You chuckle in amusement, not entirely sure if it's because Jimin managed to sell your favorite pudding for thrice the price, or it's because Yoongi bought it despite being ripped off. "Is it worth it?"
He knows you only mean the question at surface-level but he can't help to look at it a little more deeply, shrugging as what seems to be the obvious answer.
"Well you're smiling now and you're getting a spoon, so yeah, of course. I think it's worth indulging Jimin the part-time scalper."
It's nice seeing you laugh because of him. He figures that he probably must've hurt you in ways he wasn't even aware of but he tries not to dwell on it, instead looking at you face-to-face.
"Do you want more of those?" he tentatively asks and you're clueless to how his voice became meek, putting his hands behind his back as he practices the smooth flow of words in the back of his head.
You snort at the question despite sounding like a lure, answering truthfully the moment you let the pudding engulf your tiny spoon.
"I'd actually gatekeep it if I had the chance to."
"I called around," Yoongi starts off and all the shakiness has disappeared from his voice, a solid front as he risks one of the four chances that he's entitled to. "I have this close friend who owns a restaurant. He has whole tubs of these and he said he'd give it to me for free."
Your eyes widen considerably and he takes it positively, a huge relief that he has so many connections that are seemingly in his favor each time.
"Do you wanna go to the restaurant? I'll pick it up with you so I can see too why you love it so much."
He sees you eat a spoonful with your eyes twinkling, no joke at all when Jimin swore up and down that this is your favorite. He shoves down the hope he feels because second tries don't always end up victorious because they don't even rhyme at all.
"No thank you," you hum, shaking your head. "But can I have the number of your friend though?"
Yoongi's eye twitches and he tilts his head at your reply that simultaneously involves him and not at all at the same exact time.
"For uh, f-for pudding purposes, right?"
"Gatekeeping your friend now, Dr. Min? Why, is he handsome?"
You joke but the concept of it doesn't sit snugly on his bottom lips because it weighs it down considerably into a frown, his eyebrows scowling as he thinks of a family friend with the name of Kim Seokjin.
The despair he feels is short-lived because it's replaced with annoyance, the tiniest bit of green tinting his vision. "No. Definitely not. He's unattractive. Undesirable. His only personality trait is that he's friends with me. Stop asking."
Dr. Min's answer is too blunt to the point that you find yourself coughing, looking at the cup in front of you while you talk in passing.
"I assume he's friends with Jimin. I'll just ask him then."
Yoongi snaps out of his jealousy-fueled reverie and he physically shakes the thought away from his mind, mumbling at first. "What? No, no, don't do that. I'll just-" he feels for the car keys in his pocket, making a mental note to drive to the restaurant right after closing.
"I'll bring it to you myself tomorrow. No need to ask for his number."
( ♡ )
Hoseok has no interest and didn't really mean to, but he thinks he's unconsciously memorized and met the entirety of all the personalities that the Myers-Briggs Type Indicator could ever come up with.
He thought it was stupid at first but now that there's been five separate clients who went to the front desk to ask for some more magazines while in reality, they were just chatting him up in attempt to have their slot moved earlier, it's not all so stupid anymore.
What he's been doing is giving the same magazines each time with a different page opened, all with a customer service smile saying that it was new.
"Do we have a lot of patients today?"
He almost grits his teeth at yet another client but he's relieved when he looks up and it's just Yoongi, lazily leaned against the counter with a bored look on his face.
"Yeah, like a hoarde. I don't think I'd even be able to use my phone in-between."
"You use your phone during your shift?"
Hoseok merely scoffs despite being flustered that he just admitted to his boss that he's not all that attentive and uses every second of his time in using Excel and arranging patients' charts.
"No you use your phone during your shift. I don't know what you're talking about."
Yoongi doesn't add onto such a childish remark from his childhood friend that only calls him Dr. Min when there's actual people around, unbothered enough that he diverts the conversation smoothly.
"Is Jimin in? All the other doctors are here too?"
"Of course he's in. Of course all the other doctors are in," Hoseok furrows his brows and stops typing on his keyboard that's greased up with his hand sanitizer. "Yoongi you literally own this place why do you — this is routine already. What's with you?"
"Nothing," the guy in question huffs, crossing his arms as he pathetically throws back the question. "What's with you?"
Hoseok's clueless on why Yoongi's chatting him up in the front desk when it's clear that the clients in the waiting room could clearly see their doctor doing everything else besides accommodate them, a little lost for words.
"Long queue for me?"
He exhales at how Yoongi still won't budge and leave his front desk, definitely certain now that once the doctor leaves, he'd be hounded again by impatient clients.
"You have the longest one today. Beat Jimin only by two patients more," he mumbles, making it the official verdict for the little competition that the two owners and main doctors have of which would get the more clients.
"Cool, cool," he's only slightly amused by his win of the day because it's clear that his mind's in other places, looking at his back slyly before turning to Hoseok again. "Assign Y/N only to me today."
His secretary actually deadpans at him as if he's not surprised at all but still insulted nonetheless. "But the clinic's busy," he motions to the hoarde of people that are a mix of appointments and walk-ins. "All the nurses are free game to the doctors because it's hectic."
Yoongi sucks in a faux gasp, motioning to Hoseok to come close to him so he could whisper.
The younger guy rolls his eyes but he knows that Yoongi won't leave him alone until he doesn't, begrudgingly coming closer across the desk.
"I own the clinic."
Hoseok gasps lewdly to indulge the guy, making him roll his eyes in return. He beckons him back closer so he could cup his hands around his ear, eyes wide to make it look like he's never been more serious of anything in his life.
"Do you want me to buy you a collar so you could wear it for Y/N?"
Yoongi would've smacked Hoseok at the back of his head if only you hadn't made your appearance known at the front desk with a frantic gaze, making him straighten his posture immediately.
Hobi smiles at you like he always does and you wave at him before you speak to Dr. Min, unnerved at the daggers they send to each other during the split second you looked away.
"Doc where have you been? Ms. Seri keeps looking at her Rolex."
Right. Seri, of course. Yoongi's reminded of why he came out of the procedure room in the first place with the excuse that he's getting the materials even if you've already brought in the cart.
He's reminded of how he's the best in the game and that's why Seri, his ex-wife's nosy best friend that's just dead-set on dipping her heels in every occasion, was awkwardly left alone with you in the procedure room until you had to excuse yourself because Dr. Min's taking too long.
He walks lethargically back into the room and you have to slow down your pace every now and then because it'd be rude if you walk ahead of the doctor, even if he's intentionally taking ages to stroll.
Botox on the forehead. Enclosed room with Seri and Y/N. Less than twenty minutes.
Yoongi inhales to soldier through it all, carelessly opening the door to see the immediately inquisitive gaze of Seri who looks more than excited to see him again.
"Disinfectant, please."
He wastes no time into making Seri lie down to get it all over with, making you fumble for the pad as you swallow down the guffaw when Dr. Min cleanses the area a little more vigorously than needed, seeing the pinkness that's blooming on Miss Seri's glass skin.
She hums at it but Yoongi knows that she already has a question blooming underneath her tongue, only a matter of seconds before he's cornered.
"How's Jihye?"
There it is.
If you're shocked to hear the name, you definitely don't show it because you barely even flinch. You only have an inkling of who's connected to who, but you don't have the faintest idea how Miss Seri's closely related to Miss Jihye as a token nosy friend.
If Yoongi's annoyed to hear the unnecessary mention of his name, he definitely shows it.
"Marker, please."
He only bites gently as he looks at you with worry that you can decipher, a look that baffles you for all the wrong reasons because he looks apologetic even.
He quietly marks Seri's skin as you hand her the mirror to observe, only leaning back slightly to see the symmetry. It's quiet besides Seri's hums, the default explanation Dr. Min has to do when it comes to botox not being uttered because the girl already knows it enough for the amount of times she's been in this chair
"Jihye and I are divorced now, Seri. You were like the third person to ever know."
He's met with a knowing chuckle because she was indeed one of the first people to ever know, knowing that he wouldn't be surprised at all when someone tells him that she was the one who leaked the news to the press because it's not far-fetched at all.
Seri's more than satisfied with the markings, handing you back the mirror. "Jihye's single. You know that right?"
"Numbing cream, please."
Yoongi isn't interested at the slightest bit and it shows with how his eyes look sleepy, his hand waiting for you to hand him the container as he doesn't even chuckle at the unwarranted input of his patient.
"Hmm, she is? Good for her," he sing-songs but it sounds the furthest thing from entertaining, feeling compelled to slather on a whole lot of cream to the point Seri wouldn't even be able to feel until the next month.
It's clear that he's annoyed and there's no point in covering it up. Even when he was still married, he was already long-annoyed at Seri who does exceedingly well in trying to get under his skin.
She's annoying and he doesn't even know why Jihye still keeps her around. It's not pity that he feels in extension for his ex-wife, but it's just pure-hearted annoyance.
"There's this gala next week, did you know? Jihye's invited and she's also entitled to a plus one," Seri hums proudly even if unprompted. "Not every guest is privy to that."
"Syringe please, Y/N."
Yoongi ignores her all the more as he cusses infinitely in his mind because of all the times he had to cater to who happens to be his ex-wife's friend, it just had to be you who's his assistant.
Yoongi from ten minutes ago would've been happy as he requested specifically for you to Hoseok, but the present version of him wants nothing more than to usher you outside so you wouldn't have to be in the same room and endure a conversation such as this.
"I know there's a gala next week because you're not the first party-goer I've given botox to today," he mumbles as he injects, unblinking when Seri winces slightly despite the numbing cream.
"All the plus-ones are screened beforehand, you know that," she emphasizes and it hurts Yoongi right where it hurts, reminding him well-enough the times he had to walk the red carpet with the woman he doesn't want to do anything with. "Whether they walk the red carpet or not, you can't just bring a random person in there."
Yoongi can sniff from a mile away what Seri's intention is and it frustrates him to no end, a groan brewing at the back of his throat.
"You're trying to get me and Jihye back together and it's a no, Seri," he says it so sternly that it intimidates you even if it isn't directed at you. Yoongi only leans away briefly to cover the next area, looking up at you for a fraction of a second before he injects again. "Besides, my eye's set on someone special already. Lay it off already."
He takes his eyes off of you even before you could register what he said, the blankness in your face wavering at the slightest.
"Is she a model?"
"She could be if she wanted to."
"Dating already?"
"No," he answers straightly and with the way he sees Seri's lips curve as she probably has the intention to relay this to his ex-wife and 99 others, he regrets that he even gave her numbing cream in the first place. "Not yet, atleast."
"Ah, so you're single," she exclaims, her forehead once again being harshly cleansed to remove the markings but she champions through it. "And so is Jihye."
Yoongi reclines the chair suddenly that it almost has Seri recoiling in surprise, removing his gloves to discard them as he points to the door.
"Goodbye, Seri."
Miss Seri rolls her eyes and spares you a glance with her lips pouted as if to get you on her team, directing his gaze to Yoongi one last time to silently signal to you that there must be something wrong with him.
She leaves the procedure room without so much of a fight and it leaves you in the room alone with Dr. Min who's gone silent, sitting on one of the chairs with his brows furrowed in deep thought.
"I'm sorry for that."
It piques your attention instantly because you don't grasp it fully, tilting your head in question. "Why are you apologizing?"
He hangs his mouth briefly, glancing up at you with an inquiring gaze of a puppy who's pondering in misplaced remorse. "Are you mad at me?"
"I have no reason to be mad at you."
You say truthfully as you wipe down the chair, alarming Yoongi slightly because it seems to him that you don't care at all and it worries him to no end.
"A-are you sure?" he asks once again, eyes widening while he tries to look for the barest shift of attention in your eyes.
"Why would I be mad, Dr. Min? I'm not childish to throw a tantrum over your own personal affairs."
Your own personal affairs.
He doesn't know why the mere fact you've stated affects him more than it should. Better yet, it probably wasn't even a dig at him. It's just a casual answer that involved the truth and he's getting butthurt over it because he thought it would affect you.
"Y-yeah. You're right."
He swallows the lump on his throat and he feels the burst of proactiveness in his chest, lips curling as he tries to catch your gaze one more time.
He didn't plan on asking today but he just felt it in the back of his head. He's not entirely sure if it's appropriate for the moment, but it prods at his mind to try.
"If you're not mad, then would you go out with me tonight? I'm closing the clinic at five o'clock exactly."
"No," you chuckle in amusement at the suddenness of the question. "I'm not going out with you, not because I'm mad."
Yoongi tilts his head because this is the rejection he feels for the third time wherein it hits a little closer to him for each attempt that he tries, waiting for your answer still even if you wouldn't reverse it.
"Busy tonight. I need to look for a gown."
"A gown? What for?" his interest grows in your admission, straightening his posture as he knows you're bound to finish cleaning up any second now. "I can come with. I don't complain when there aren't any chairs in the shop."
You only humor him with a snort, exiting the procedure room without waiting for him.
"Next patient, Dr. Min."
( ♡ )
Jimin didn't really know what to do this weekend.
He made no prior plans and his rest day remains unmarked and untouched. He doesn't have the slightest clue on what he should do today, but he knows for sure that this isn't something he'd think about in the first try.
"Hang out with me."
Yoongi says as he's sitting on the other end of Jimin's couch, sprawled while cuddled up to a throw pillow because after all, it must've been exhausting to invite himself over to his friend's house and decide to spend some time with him.
"You already came over, we're already hanging out."
He isn't entirely sure if what he's seeing is correct because as far as he knew, he was the clingier out of the duo. He's the one who comes over to Yoongi's place and buys all the snacks — not this. Not the other way around.
Yoongi must've probably picked up a theme along the way too because he came over wearing matching pajamas and made and off-hand comment of how Jimin's sleep shirt looks ratty, therefore making him change into a set. They're vaguely matching at this point and Jimin just badly wants to know what the hell is going on with his friend's mind.
"No we're not. We're just sitting together on a couch after I had to see you struggling to mirror your phone to your TV."
Yoongi's clingy and if he's entirely being honest, he didn't want to be lonely tonight. Watching replays on his phone didn't satiate him enough and you're not asking him out to go do something in the weekends, so he resorts to the next big thing — crash at Jimin's place so he wouldn't feel alone.
The host huffs because he struggled for atleast ten minutes to mirror his phone, giving Yoongi more than an eyeful of his recent searches and all the photos he's took with neighborhood cats outside the clinic.
"I think your definition of hanging out revolves around talking about Y/N."
"N-no it's-" he stammers over nothing but he gives it up when he's shot with a look that he doesn't sound believable at all, "that's justified."
Jimin decides to let it go because Yoongi dodges the topic of you altogether, probably too sheepish to admit that he only has two tries left and he hasn't made you agree even once, but he knows it nonetheless.
It wasn't embarrassing; if anything, it's adorable. He knows that Yoongi's never the one to chase and it's a little heartwarming to see how determined he is.
Yoongi moves his hair out of the way that's become longer, the blonde being faded at this point. "Why are we watching the gala livestream anyway?"
That gains the younger one's attention instantaneously because he just about remembers to rant, dropping the chip back to his bowl because talking would be the first priority at his list.
"Remember Soyeon?" he asks and the image of the petite celebrity flashes on Yoongi's mind, making him nod. Jimin's relieved to know that they're on the same page because otherwise, he wouldn't have someone to share his sentiment with. "Gave her a rhinoplasty a week ago and I explicitly told her that it would bruise. Like I literally just removed the splint yesterday."
"Yikes," Yoongi winces at the mental image, knowing that the bruising that comes with it isn't subtle at all. "Do you think her team managed to cover it up?"
"The nose? No. Definitely not. She didn't want me to do it subtly," Jimin snorts as he takes a swig of his beer, swallowing bitterly before continuing. "But the bruising? I really wanna see if they did good."
Yoongi turns his gaze to the huge TV in front of him (this has to atleast cover half of Jimin's electricity bill) and sees the numerous faces walking the red carpet, recognizing some of them yet not really all that amazed.
"Mhmm, they really need to pack it in with a sponge. That's gonna take a lot of pressure, especially with the layers they'd need."
He sees people walking left and right and Yoongi's struggling to find interest within it all, only keeping his eyes on the screen to look out for Soyeon because he wants to dish in it too.
His eyesight's clear without the need for prescription glasses yet he feels as if he's being deceived by his own self, unsure if he's even happy to have quite such the skill to spot you in a crowd.
"Is that Y/N?"
The words tumble out of his mouth before he could contain them and he finds himself standing immediately to get closer to the screen, making Jimin fumble for his glasses and do the same.
It's not before Jimin cusses and jabs his finger to the screen that he realizes that it's unmistakably you. It truly couldn't be anyone else and seeing the person right beside you, as much as Yoongi wouldn't want to see him, he's certain that it's you and not anyone else.
"Holy shit."
Jimin's voice borders surprise but he's not in disbelief. He's laughing and chuckling to himself while Yoongi just stays rooted to his position, mouth dry and eyes glazed at the same time.
It's truly you and you're gorgeous in your gown that's silky yet glitters underneath the light. It's clear that you own it right away with how Yoongi knows no one could even come close to giving it the same justice as you.
You're dashing even if the livestream isn't the clearest and it's when you walk away from the red carpet that he's reminded of who you're with, the guy he's seen before wearing a suit that fits the theme of what adorns your body.
"Taehyung's her ex-boyfriend, right?" Yoongi clears his throat and crosses his arms, looking down on his feet as he retreats back to the couch. "What's she doing there with him?"
Jimin looks as shocked as Yoongi is but he doesn't feel conflicted at all. Unlike him, his mind's at peace and it isn't straying to the fact that you're with your ex-boyfriend in a gala that's filled with prying eyes and with no context at all.
Yoongi's no stranger at all to the public eye but something in his stomach just churns that in the first moment you're out there, it had to be with Kim Taehyung the model — Kim Taehyung, the ex-boyfriend.
"I don't know, she told me at first that she wasn't sure if she'd be accompanying him."
And it's true that you've mentioned it in passing to Jimin as you asked him if he knew of any shops with gowns that wouldn't break the bank, with its main purpose only for you to serve as a plus one.
"You knew?" he asks his friend and it leaves a bitter taste in his mouth because he feels like he's the only one who didn't expect you to be there. "You knew that he asked her out?"
Jimin realizes the gravity of the situation but he knows there's no real heat to the inquiry behind Yoongi's wavering voice, avoiding his gaze as he plops himself back to the couch.
"Asked her out to be a plus one... yeah."
"Great," he nods once, looking down on his beer that's just as bitter as he is. "That's great."
It's a tense silence that engulfs them both and Jimin, clearly the one who's suffocating in it, doesn't even know his way out. He's just about to add in a little explanation of how he came to know but he's interrupted before he even gets to open his mouth.
"You know this Taehyung guy?"
Yoongi looks at his knees and he doesn't realize that he's bouncing one, drumming his fingers on his thigh in a tune he can't place.
"Not much, but yeah. She introduced him to me before she introduced him to her parents."
Jimin's only attention in adding the last bit was his fondness because you trusted him enough to be the first of your loved ones to know, warming at the thought that he matters to you in such a way.
But god, in the way Yoongi seems to even dive deeper into his blooming insecurities, he wishes he hadn't.
"Does the press know? Do his fans — do people know?" his voice hushes, "do they know that they're exes?"
It's a valid question born out of curiosity. Anyone who knows you and Taehyung remotely would dare to ask.
"Not sure. They dated even before Taehyung got famous," Jimin somberly answers, meekly scratching the back of his ear. "But after this appearance? I'm sure it won't be long before someone digs something up."
It's a coarse silence that even the bitterness of the beer Jimin kept in stock at his fridge isn't enough to corrode it. All he sees and feels is Yoongi who keeps looking at his hands, his unsureness towards himself reeking.
"Right. Of course."
Yoongi brings his phone and texts you silently when Jimin's attention gets whisked away with Soyeon's appearance on the red carpet, only taking a brief look to see that the bruising on her nose wasn't color-corrected at all.
He thinks little of his dignity because he figures that none would be deducted from him at this point, seeing to it that he's compromising on asking you out even if it's not exclusive to only the two of you.
"Are you free tonight? I'm with Jimin right now and I cooked dinner enough for three. Come hang out :)"
He looks at the screen and Jimin, oblivious to his turmoil, points to where you are at the screen. You're already out of the red carpet but you're visible nonetheless with the wide-angle view of the livestream.
Yoongi could only wait.
You're buzzing with unknown adrenaline from having so many people's attention to you all at once that your shoulders sag in relief once you and Taehyung exited the stream of flashes, the puff of fresh air without being crowded by dozens of media in front of you hitting especially.
"You're my hero," Tae sighs in relief as he puts his hand on the small of your back, "and my hero's phone vibrates so loud that it's making my knee tremble."
He pulls out your phone from his pocket because the free clutch that came with your dress could barely fit your hand, handing you the device from the roomy pocket of his dress pants.
Apparently, you're now his hero because you agreed when called you desperately in need. His manager was forcing him to get a plus-one to the event and coincidentally, you were the first person Tae thought of.
He didn't want to be linked to yet another rumor and he instead just decided to call you in hopes you would agree, even if it was a gigantic favor he was asking from you. You're low-key and unproblematic and most important of all, he's comfortable with you! He didn't want to spend the night of what seems to be an important gala with someone he barely knows.
You're his ex (but they don't need to know) and what someone could say a close friend. It's wholesome. It's heartwarming. Warrants no unnecessary hounding from the press.
You open your phone and Yoongi's text is the first thing that greets you. It's sudden and you don't know what to make of it that you even subtly try to look around to see if he's here somewhere, regardless if he's with his ex-wife or not.
It throws you off your rhythm for a short while but you recover, typing in a quick reply before you shove your phone back to Tae's pocket.
Yoongi watches the livestream until he feels his phone vibrate, sinking into the cushions right when he sees the last sliver of you before the stream was taken down due to a report.
"can't :( i'm doing grocery shopping rn"
( ♡ )
There's a weight on Yoongi's chest that he can't put off.
It's a weight on his chest that he can't remove and it comes in the form of the questions that he formulates inside his head, already out in the open since he can no longer keep them burrowed.
He asks it with little to no urgency, honestly. He's curious but it's in the definition of defeat — asking Jimin as his last resort.
"Why did you not do anything when you knew that Y/N had a crush on me?"
The two of you knew Jimin as someone who had a knack for meddling; meddling in the definition of just teasing the boundary yet not actually intervening. It was his way of reminding the other that he knows it's there and although he won't exactly do anything, it doesn't mean that he's clueless.
In all honesty, Jimin's a little choked up at the question because first of all, he's still surprised that Yoongi came into work because he's figured that since last night of you being involved with Taehyung, he needed a breather of some sort.
Although Yoongi doesn't meet his eyes, Jimin knows he's no longer dancing around the topic. No longer dancing around the subject of you because it's out in the open that he wants you and is hurting.
"It's conflicting on my part. I kinda always wanted to play cupid for the day Y/N had like a legitimately huge crush," his voice gets sheepish, "but when I learned that it's you, I uh, I just didn't know what to do or how that would even go."
Yoongi understands it — not fully, but he does have the faintest grasp.
"Is it because of Jihye?"
"Yeah, kind of like that too," he swallows because if he thinks just far enough, he'd recall the day when he stood as best man at his friend's wedding, never having anticipated that Yoongi would end up loving someone he's closely familiar with all this time. "I just wasn't sure that you'd like her back so with me being neutral, in a way, I'd get to save you from the inconvenience and save Y/N from the heartbreak."
The wording is what makes Yoongi look up, his eyebrows furrowing in genuine confusion as he corrects him.
"Y/N's not an inconvenience to me."
He says it with much sternness and he internalizes it in entirety because it is true. You're the furthest thing away from being an inconvenience to him and it's only now that he realizes how he's made you feel like it in the start.
In a way, Yoongi loathes himself because he didn't take the time to look at you for a second longer.
He didn't allow himself to feel the warmth of the coffee you used to give him every morning for a second longer than necessary, and he didn't even utter a single thanks whenever you'd give him what he requested of you.
It hits him in a way he can't explain because as he peers down on the article on his phone, the very one with you and Taehyung in the thumbnail, his arm felt like giving out when he showed it to Jimin.
HE'S GLOWING: How could Kim Taehyung not when his mystery plus-one is the humblest yet brightest in the room?
Jimin's mouth dries when he sees the fuel to Yoongi's insecurities in the form of an article, skimming past the words before he hands it back to him with the screen turned down.
"Did they make a good couple?" Yoongi pipes in, simply curious with no malice behind his question. "They fit right together, don't they?"
Although Jimin already turned off his phone, he finds himself turning it back on again, being met with the thumbnail that glares at him in high-definition.
He sees Taehyung's hand around your waist and he realizes that it's probably because he's slotted it around too many times before that it feels like muscle memory to do so.
That Taehyung's hand probably made a home out of your waist and takes solace in everything else because after all, you have a history that's undeniable.
You have a history and you're still with him in a way, even if it's not of a lover's concern.
"Yoongs, don't do that."
Jimin scolds him the longer he looks at his phone to the point that he's snatched it out of his grasp, no longer wanting to see his friend bring himself down.
He allows it, staying silent. "Namjoon's in cardiology, right?" he thinks of the familiar face he's seen a couple of times when they were still serving in the hospital. Jimin nods mindlessly but he didn't expect an answer directly.
"Good. I need him to make all these pains stop."
Yoongi thinks it's pathetic of him that there's tears forming at the corners of his eyes, thinks it's even more pathetic that he doesn't even try choking them back down.
"Do you think Y/N will like me back?"
"Yoongi."
He exhales at the sound of his name, nodding to himself before he goes out of the room because his large office seems to close down on him. "You're right. I shouldn't ask. I'm putting you in a tough spot by doing that."
He leaves even before Jimin can squeak, the words he couldn't utter because the one who was supposed to hear them is already put. Yeah. I do think Y/N will like you back.
Yoongi's been working in a daze the whole morning that he breezes through clients and doesn't even realize it. All he knows is that he feels overwhelmingly small and unlike himself and he couldn't bring himself out of it.
It's been his habit to go to the breakroom to linger around you that regardless if you were in there or not, he'd stay there during lunchbreak instead of eating out. His lunch routine would be ordering in and getting you your own meal.
It's engraved into his mind to the point that he barely realizes that when he goes to brew his second coffee of the day, you're already sat on the couch — only sinking in that you were there when he hears you muttering to yourself.
"Hi, Dr. Min."
His mouth is slightly agape to see that you've been there the whole time, bringing down his mug as he acknowledges that you're alone in the room with him.
But the words form on their own accord, and he means it wholeheartedly.
"You looked pretty last night."
To say that you're shocked would be an understatement because you gulp before you know it, eyes widening in realization.
"H-how did you-"
"Jimin gave a rhinoplasty to one of the attendees just a week ago and he wanted to have an I told you so moment with the bruising and all that," he easily explains, giving his coffee an extra stir. "You're also kind of in articles."
"I am?" your head tilts in confusion of why there'd even be articles about you in the first place, the individual you accompanied enough of a reminder to make it dawn on you. "Oh, right. Taehyung told me that would happen."
Dr. Min merely smiles in reply and the lack of a retort keeps you alert, unused to the calm look on his face especially after the mention of Taehyung's name.
You twiddle your thumbs together and the sight of Yoongi like this undoubtedly worries you, the urge to get to the bottom of it overpowering you.
"Are you mad?"
"Why would I be mad at you?"
Yoongi chuckles at the ridiculous question, the abruptness of it enough to make him amused.
"Because I lied to you," you piece together the text he sent you out of office hours, right when you were out of the red carpet. You didn't question it at first but now it boggles your mind, the slightest bit of guilt being planted at the back of your mind.
He shakes his head no, sincerely meaning his sentiment that he isn't mad at you at all.
"You're not indebted to me. You can do whatever you want, I have no right to be mad."
He thinks about how the article's right and how he barely even focused on anyone else that attended just because whoever wrote it knows just how much you shone that night.
He's lost in his thoughts but he keeps stirring his coffee in the corner until there's bubbles at the top with how much he's been doing it, giving you your space.
"Are you upset?"
The question leaves you before you can even process it and oddly enough, you don't regret asking.
"I am," he admits, "but I shouldn't be."
Yoongi has a weight on his chest and he doesn't know how to relieve it at all. He doesn't know how to move around it nor how it even got there in the first place but his palms move automatically, digging into his eyes as he inhales shakily.
"I'm sorry for springing all this to you. God, why am I even sniffling? Sorry, my mind's just a little cloudy right now."
The sight of him being distraught tugs at your heartstrings in a way you've never felt before, a whimper bubbling at the back of your throat.
Yoongi gathers himself enough, just enough to utter his own words without his voice wavering or his eyes watering.
"Please let me down gently."
He knows he basically has no hope at all and he's really trying to come into terms with it. He deserves the pain, he thinks. He's selfish, that much he's sure of, but he pleads that this would be his last time being selfish as long as once you reject him for the final time — it'd be gentle.
"I haven't used my last chance yet and I don't want to expect anything but please, if you're gonna reject me," and the bitter part of his brain thinks you really should, "please go easy on me."
It's a watery silence between the two of you, only being broken when you can't hold yourself back for much longer.
"I haven't used my last chance either," your voice alone brings Yoongi back down, piquing his undivided attention while he tries to make sense of your words. "Do you wanna grab lunch with me right now? Just down the street."
Yoongi's breathless once he realizes the weight of your words, a sudden clarity to his gaze that he nods surely.
"Of course I would."
His voice is still croaky but he clears it to the best that he can, rocking himself back and forth with his feet in place.
It all feels too real when it's just the two of you alone in the breakroom, only a few feet apart but just as close in intention.
"Dinner later? I bought new pots and pans just last week."
The interjection of him using up his last chance to somehow sneak in there that he has new kitchenware makes you giggle, nodding eagerly.
"I'd love that."
"O-okay."
Yoongi knows that he's abandoned his coffee long before he even realized you were in the room, putting his hands at his back as he sheepishly looks at you for what exactly you're going to do next.
"Lunch?"
It's nice. It's more than nice to walk out together side by side. You're toeing around each other when it's clear that the both of you've attempted to cross the boundary for ten times combined, yielding to each other at the last try.
Yoongi tries not to trip on his feet but his eyes widen just the same when he realizes that people are walking with coats and you're not as toasty warm as you'd like with the heating of the clinic, his hands fumbling to make action.
He shrugs off his white coat and stops you at the middle of the street to put it on you because merely draping it on you wouldn't do much justice.
"I don't want you to shiver."
He explains without meeting your eyes but he knows there's warm smile that's been established already, shoving his hands to his pockets as he clenches them out of excitement for yet another tiny victory.
Yoongi feels your hand on his arm, making him peer at you with a curious gaze but he tries not to breathe at all as he walks, too enamored with the way he feels secure.
glimpse: dr. min yoongi’s a board-certified dermatologist; skilled, renowned, and in-demand — oh and also, he’s divorced.
alternatively, you’re yoongi’s nurse and you have a crush on him, and he gives you five chances to ask him out — he never said anything about accepting though.
[ angst, fluff, unrequited love, so much pining ]
notes: inspired by yang seok-hyeong and choo min-ha’s dynamic from hospital playlist!! you don’t necessarily have to watch it in order to read this :D this idea has been sitting in my notes for like a year now (yikes) and i’ve only found the wILL to do it now!! took a short break because i’ve been mostly just pumping out stem koo for the past months, but here’s a yoongi piece to cleanse everyone’s palate!! this has got to be one of my favorite pieces ever hee-hee
as always, lmk what you think <3 send in feedback/requests/love to my askbox anytime!!
[ part two ]
“Now where the hell did you hear that?”
Yoongi looks at you incredulously and for a moment, you think you’ve actually hit homerun with your stupid myth of the day because not only does he roll his eyes at you, he also scoffs and stops in his tracks.
“Just somewhere,” you mumble under your breath and hope that Yoongi doesn’t ask you for the exact source and citation because he already looks irked with what he just heard. “But they say it’s true though! If you don’t immediately drink water when you start having hiccups, you would have a breakout the next day or hours later, even.”
There is bliss in ignorance.
There is bliss and beauty in ignorance and it comes in the form of knitted brows and an agape mouth on Dr. Min, his eyes trained on you as if you asked him the stupidest question he's ever heard (you probably did) in his career and perhaps his lifetime.
Every week, from Monday to Saturday, Yoongi comes to his own clinic between the window of 8 to 8:15 in the morning wearing a bucket hat and his choice of clothing to wear under his white coat. Only his right hand would be occupied by the Louis Vuitton Keepall Bandoulière 45 bag, which he later tosses as soon as he enters the clinic and see his employees scramble to catch and save it, just to give himself a little chuckle every morning. He really couldn't care less if none of them manage to catch it, but it's kind of nice having a pointless yet joyful routine.
Additionally, every week, from Monday to Saturday, you come to Serendipity Aesthetics at 7:00 AM to drop off your things so you could walk to the expensive coffee shop to buy equally overrated coffee because after all, your place of work is in the heart of the luxury district. Between the window of 8 to 8:15, Dr. Min walks in and throws his designer bag into the air, to which every employee tries to catch so there wouldn't be a single scratch (but everyone knows that he literally wouldn't care if nobody could save it), and every single time, you're the one who catches his bag.
Also, every week, from Monday to Saturday, you make sure that you're Dr. Min's first interaction of the day.
It always starts with a pathetic skincare myth that you ask him to verify while he either confirms or denies it for you while walking to his office, giving him his coffee that you buy with your own money. It originally started with you searching compilations online and eventually, they got so boring and repetitive that you started making up your own.
The more ridiculous it is, the more reaction you get from Yoongi.
You quickly learned that by now and every morning, you get to see the way he furrows his eyebrows and you're convinced that if you say your myth in a defensive and completely-swayed tone, Dr. Min would actually look at you to deadpan.
This time, however, you probably struck gold.
"I would actually fire you if you even thought for a second that it would be true."
Granted, maybe the gold you thought you've struck is just plated and would turn green overnight.
"Very funny, Dr. Min. No explanation today?" you try to coax one from him because the door to his office is looking especially near and he doesn't allow you to enter anyway.
"I think it's pretty self-explanatory that I studied to be a doctor for more than a decade, have my own clinic, and threatened to fire you for your useless myth of the day, don't you think?" he hums lowly, wiping his finger to press his code onto his door.
"You do have a point," you sheepishly mumble at being outed more harshly for your tactics, "can I ask you something else though?"
Yoongi's eyes are glued on his phone as he just waves you off to both shoo and acknowledge you at the same time, leaning his weight to the door so he could both watch the highlight reel of a show he watched just last week and carry his bag.
"Later. I'm busy."
"No problem!" you stammer because you're not sure if you're ready to ask him anyway, wordlessly pushing the door open for him because he's deeply immersed on his phone. "Can I ask you over lunch? I-..."
... know a place.
Yoongi's door already closes on your face as the result of him kicking it backwards as he enters, making you take a step back to gather yourself.
You are not ready at all to ask him.
It's no secret that you have a crush on Dr. Min. Not at all. Practically everyone knows how head-over-heels you are for him; even the man himself actually.
It was embarrassing at first when it sinked into you that everyone collectively knows how you trail after him like a stray kitten whose gotten their first feed of the day, but later on, it’s something you actively and unnecessarily took pride in.
That way, you could ward off any other people in the clinic who have an eye on him! Dr. Park says that it’s the equivalent of a dog peeing on a fire hydrant within a street that nobody likes to walk in, but you just dismiss his comment as per usual. You’re sure that it’s impossible that no one likes him a little more than usual as an employee would, but perhaps they’re just not as showy as you are.
You can't pinpoint exactly why you have a crush on him because truth be told, you liked him in entirety. It was gradual, sure, but you liked him as a whole even from the start. Something about him’s so pulling that you find yourself complaining silently sometimes.
Liking him is easy. The variables aren't.
It just so happens that Dr. Min doesn't like you in that way, or in any way at all, but that’s okay. There’s nothing wrong with that. Everybody starts from zero at one point.
"Not to burst your bubble, buttercup, but you do know that Yoongi used to have a wife, right?"
Jimin, the cosmetic surgeon of Serendipity Aesthetics and Yoongi's business partner, asks you. He has no ill intent — he actually finds it adorable to see you pining after his best friend who's done nothing but turn you down.
It’s harsh, entertaining, but not laughable. Even the secondhand embarrassment and heartbreak makes Jimin look away whenever you ask Yoongi about his weekend. It’s a game of cat and mouse, but the only difference is that the mouse is unfazed and untouchable, and the cat's scared yet determined.
Coincidentally, Jimin's your childhood friend. Both his and your parents would assign him to watch over you even if he's just some years ahead of you. It even strengthened the bond of you treating him as an older brother and him fulfilling the role well, just as annoyingly.
Your communication hasn't been consistent especially when he entered medical school, which is why you've rarely ever heard about Yoongi before you even worked here. None of it matters though because it feels that you’ve been with Jimin for a lifetime in a literal sense, feeling a stroke of fate because somehow, he’s the common string that bridged you and Dr. Min unknowingly.
You like him a healthy amount. In a very respectful, healthy, almost pitiful amount.
"Yeah. I knew that," you sigh dejectedly, stirring your iced coffee that’s already gotten too watered-down for your taste. “She’s the model, right?"
How could you not?
How could you not know who Dr. Min’s ex-wife is because even before you worked in his and Jimin’s clinic, you’ve already heard of her?
You once saw her in an LED billboard once at a prime spot in a busy street. You saw her face on a promotional liquor poster in a convenience store without knowing that she was the wife of your then-crush (who you didn’t know yet) at the time. You see her large signature on the wall at a restaurant you regularly eat at but don’t have the appetite for nowadays.
"Mhmm, Jihye."
Jimin hums in agreement, spooning a portion from your plate and into his mouth because you’re too preoccupied to swat his hand away.
"Is she your best friend?"
Jimin rolls his eyes playful at the tone of your voice who’s suddenly gotten meek. "No, that's you, buttercup.”
You atleast feel comforted that Dr. Min’s ex-wife, whom you barely know, hasn’t managed to snatch perhaps your favorite person in the whole world. She once had Yoongi and that’s something you can stomach because it’s their life you’re not a part of, but something tells you that you’d be a little more bummed to know that Jimin and her are close just like the two of you.
“We were friends at best because I'm close to Yoongi and well... y'know..." He coughs awkwardly, eyes hesitantly looking up at you before he buries his face to the noodles to the point he could feel the steam rise to his face. "I was the best man at their wedding."
Jimin notices the way your mouth is just fixed on your dumpling, unmoving. It's only rare that you ask him about Dr. Min because there's always the guilt that you're just using your friendship with Jimin as leverage to know more about his colleague, but in the few times that you do ask about him, it always has something to do with major facts you can't immediately grasp your head around.
"Don't worry! They were in a relationship for three years, and only married for one. They knew each other even before Yoongi became a resident."
"That does not help me, Jimin. At all."
He only sheepishly scratches the back of his head, going back to his words which he now realizes did nothing to make you feel better.
"Relax. If you say something superlatively dumb enough for your skincare myths, he'll probably take the hint and date you out of pity."
You unclench your mouth on the dumpling, finding no will to chew it now that Jimin, once again, opened his mouth. "Made it even worse, actually."
He's no stranger to you feeling bummed but he knows that he's somehow in a bind because he's in a point of conflict between you and Yoongi, both his best friends. He can't exactly give you false hope in order to cheer you up, but he can't lie either and say that you don't have a solid fighting chance with Yoongi.
You're frowning but he knows you understand, well-aware that you'd recuperate soon enough.
"Cheer up. Just ask him out and if he denies you, then be it! I had a hand in designing this clinic, remember? It's big enough for you to avoid him."
"Not sure if I should feel inspired or discouraged," you tut under your breath, pressing your forehead down the table so you could ignore him while he leaves you alone. "Thanks, Dr. Park."
Jimin rolls his eyes at the nickname you use to spite him and only call him when the other employees are around, in which case there aren't, just because he did the equivalent of making you gulp orange juice after brushing your teeth like his sudden "I was the best man at Yoongi's wedding" revelation.
You don't know how long your forehead's been pressed to the table but it feels long enough to the point you hear a familiar set of footsteps you didn't anticipate to come this soon, immediately straightening your posture.
"Dr. Min! You're here!"
Yoongi looks up from his phone and nods, completely unsurprised that you're here in the breakroom at the exact moment that he comes in.
"Dr. Park bought everyone lunch today, yours is in this bag," you gesture to the meal you've separated and took the initiative of writing his name on so no one would "accidentally" claim it for themselves because it's always the one with the extra sauce and napkins.
He only hums as he plops down to the seat parallel to the paper bag, not registering it at all that you did it on purpose so he'd be sitting beside you. You didn't actually think he'd fall for it, but it's one of the times you feel indebted to his eager attention to his phone because he doesn't notice.
Yoongi sets his phone down on the table as it's held up by his convenient popsocket, immersed in slurping his own noodles to be oblivious of you who's close to losing your shit right beside him.
The opportunity is sitting right next to you and you didn't expect it to come this soon because if you knew that Dr. Min would be setting off your tentative plans unknowingly with how everything's coming to place, you probably would've rehearsed endlessly in front of a mirror.
"Can I ask my question now?"
Dr. Min's in the middle of chewing when you ask but he doesn't flinch, already aware that you ask him so much questions within a day that he feels like he's working with a nosey toddler.
"Go. You're gonna ask it anyway," he replies monotonously and continues chewing, bringing more noodles to his mouth even if his cheeks haven't deflated yet.
His nonchalance is what simultaneously intimidates and eggs you on, finding the words leaving your mouth with no filter at all.
"Can I ask you to go out with me? I'll only ask you five times and after that, I'm gonna get off your tail."
There's no beat of silence because Yoongi keeps chewing and you're sure you heard a chuckle in-between, looking at his side profile while holding your breath. You're just about to apologize for crossing a line you've been toeing for the better portion of a year when he looks at you once, briefly and lazily.
"Okay."
The word doesn't immediately click in your mind as you stumble with spelling out the letters in your head. Are you hearing it right? Is this just a side-effect of Jimin randomly clapping his hands beside your ears when you're getting groggy?
"O-okay? As in, yes?"
"Okay as in yes, you can ask me to go out with you," Dr. Min clarifies calmly, a ghost of a smile appearing on his lips when he sees the favorite part of his show appear on-screen. "Asking me to go out with you is different from going out with you."
You're shell-shocked because that's exactly what you asked of him and you're even more surprised that he interpreted it as such, the weight of his approval now dawning on you.
"Of course."
Yoongi only hums but he can't bring himself to get another bite because you don't let a second go to waste, seeing your face plead closer to his peripheral vision that he only manages to give you a side-eye.
“Can we go out later, Dr. Min? I actually checked your schedule and you have nothing booked past 4 PM!”
You try to tone down your excitement and you're glad that the expectation of him answering you in the first try is only an afterthought, because he shoots you down twice as quick as you asked.
“No.”
“Do you have plans tonight then?” you prod with a gentle smile, trying to see if you can sway him even in the slightest.
“Nope.”
“Then why don't you wanna go out with me?” there's a light-hearted frown on your face and as much as you know that it won't elicit a reaction from Dr. Min, it's only playful. There's no real accusation nor anger behind your tone.
“Because I don’t, Y/N," Yoongi actually chuckles and he looks at you as if you're the silliest goose he's ever come across a pond. "You’re on closing duty later, bye!”
( ♡ )
“Good morning to my favorite dermatologist in this whole wide world!”
Yoongi hears you greet him cheerily and it almost makes him flinch because you materialized out of nowhere. He's about to scold you for doing that because who knows if you get mistaken and accidentally give a faint-hearted client with the shock of their lifetime, he really was about to — but he sees his cinnamon bun on your hand (courtesy of Jimin telling you his favorite dessert for the price of one cheek kiss), and all the words melt from his mouth.
“Good morning.”
Dr. Min almost snatches what you're holding and you almost huff, trailing beside him as his fingers quickly undo the familiar teal box packaging of his favorite pastry.
“You forgot 'Y/N, my favorite nurse in this whole wide world'.”
“No, I’m pretty sure I didn’t forget anything," he adds for good measure but something doesn't quite fit because as much as his hand is holding a box that houses his favorite type of sweet, his other hand doesn't feel warm. There's no cylindrical cup on his hand that makes his palm just the right amount of toasty and he realizes it the hard way because he raises his hand, ready to take a sip of a whole lot of nothing.
"Where's my-"
“Here’s your coffee.”
"Thanks," Yoongi feels the familiar warmth in his hand in a second and he sighs in relief inwardly, but there's just something off. Feels that there's something actively off because it's definitely more warm than what he'd feel in his regular cup. "Huh? Why is it in a mug?"
He wonders out loud and the sight of the ceramic mug is enough culture shock from the usual lidded paper cup he sees almost every morning, looking at you as if you've told him the worst insult known to man.
You didn't exactly think that Dr. Min would react as differently as this because Jimin said that coffee is still coffee to him, but in the process, you've directly forgotten that your friend told you right after Yoongi's coffee preferences — is that he tends to be a creature of habit.
“From the shop. I-I also bought the mug from the coffee shop so I can present it as this.”
You thought Dr. Min would be pleasantly surprised as he holds the too-expensive ceramic excuse for a coffee mug, but you don't know what to anticipate as he casts his eyes down.
GO OUT WITH ME? :), written in cocoa powder amongst the white froth, a product of going to the coffee shop extra early and having to fend off the red-haired barista with the bunny smile because he thought you were asking him out.
"Mhmm," Yoongi spends a second longer looking at the foam art before he takes a big gulp and effectively washes away what you significantly paid higher for than his usual coffee, trapping your wince at the back of your throat. You're looking at his Adam's apple and he looks just one gulp away from finishing it all, and he does right in front of you. "Can't. I'm taking my mom to go shopping."
You awe unconsciously as it's a known fact within the clinic that Yoongi adores his mom a lot and you see her quite often, having extra snacks being delivered personally to the employees each time because she's a nice and sincere woman.
“I can carry the bags?" you're only half-joking, a cheesy grin on your face, but Dr. Min only shakes his head at you and disappears into his office.
That's your second chance gone as quick as the latte disappeared into Yoongi's throat, but atleast you know that he doesn't hate the beverage and he can reuse the mug.
There's still some merit in your attempt somewhere.
There's never an empty instance in the clinic. It's always full. It's a little more high-end than most clinics and you could see it in the design and layout of the clinic itself, but it doesn't mean it's fully-exclusive. You see celebrities and socialites every other day and with the hands-on nature of your work, you're not as starstruck and bothered as you used to be.
There would always be more than a handful of VIP clients but that doesn't mean they're the only clientele. Serendipity Aesthetics isn't that snooty, and it's something you can manage with.
Your work's just as tiring as the doctors' and not a lot of people credit you for it, but it's something you shove to the back of your mind at the end of the day. You only scrunch your nose under your mask when you see the 73rd trustfund baby come into the clinic for the day, unfocus your eyes so you couldn't roll them when they manage to bring in their wealth that wasn't questioned into the conversation, and move on to your next patient.
You've just finished giving a diamond peel to a breadwinner mother (whom you've had a nice chat and laugh with throughout the process) when your eyes immediately lock in to the figure that knows no queues nor other clients as she walks past, walking straight to Dr. Min's procedure room.
And of course, you don't know whether fate is on your side or not, but you're the only assistant available to assist so naturally, Hoseok, the secretary, looks at you with a knowing nod.
You don't know what to expect when you come inside the procedure room, making yourself as small as possible when you knock twice briefly and enter, standing in the corner with your eyes trained on your clipboard.
Yoongi nods at you once in acknowledgement as his attending assistant, and you can barely acknowledge him back because the Jihye, who was Mrs. Min at one point, is in your direct line of sight.
She's sitting down but you can still see her graceful posture then with her shoulders pulled back and her hair framing her face perfectly. The casual sweater ensemble she wears is probably more expensive than your whole closet could be, but the gray of it doesn't dull her out at all. There's creases on the material since she's sitting down and is therefore not taut, but the wrinkles look poised on her figure nonetheless.
Her manicured hands sit prim and proper on Dr. Min's desk and you can't help but think how they used to look with a wedding band on her ring finger, your thought process making you look at his hands that are clasped right in front of him.
She smells expensive and important, just like how Dr. Min does. Not only do they have a figurative scent of gravitas surrounding them, but they also carry it literally. When they shared a home, have they started smelling like each other at one point? Does the intoxicating smell of daisies on Jihye become Yoongi's scent on his white coat at one point?
"What do you want, Jihye?"
You find yourself holding your breath in anticipation of hearing her voice in-person, and it's everything you've ever expected.
"Undereye fillers, please. I have campaigns and Fashion Week back to back so I need a touch-up."
Expensive, important, elegant, sweet.
Yoongi sighs under his breath, standing up from his seat to examine closer. You almost move to stand beside him to assist but you forget that of course, Dr. Min has his own penlight. You're paralyzed at your corner but you can't help but watch.
You watch him press Jihye's undereyes lightly with the pad of his thumb and then with his ring finger, assessing intensively but holding her lightly as if she's made of glass.
"They're not that sunken-in like usual. You still want a touch-up?"
Jihye laughs sweetly, putting a hand on her chest as she tilts her head up at Yoongi.
"Ah. You're still so sweet to me."
Yoongi doesn't indulge her with a laugh but instead just rolls his eyes, going back to his seat as he types into his chart. "Would that be all?"
"That's it for now," Jihye grins, clutching her purse to her chest as she rocks back and forth on her heels even if she's sat down. "Always down for a facial from you though."
"Jihye."
Yoongi clicks his tongue and gives his ex-wife a warning gaze, and just for the slightest fraction, you feel him turning his gaze to you. His gaze that's not for the purpose of feeling sorry you had to hear that, but rather for the purpose of telling his ex-wife that the two of them aren't alone.
"Yoongi."
She drawls sweetly and you could only look away because this banter of theirs doesn't concern you at all.
Dr. Min ignores her and looks at you, a firm line on his lips.
"Get me the materials, Y/N."
"Extra ice too! I wanna munch on some," Jihye adds as you're on your way out and you make the note of getting more ice from the freezer because she asked so, filling up a champagne glass neatly.
You wheel in your cart and you could only reply with a stiff nod when she thanks you eagerly, already plopping an ice cube to her mouth.
You wait as you see Yoongi become gentle, all from the way he injects the filler to massaging the skin underneath Jihye's eyes.
They're divorced and yet they look casual as they've always done this. They probably did and still continue to. They look like they still belong to each other.
You can't deny that Jihye's pretty and although you're not privy to details if she has work done or not, it doesn't change the fact that she's pretty. She must and is the prettiest girl in the world for Yoongi because obviously, he married her. Loved her. Maybe even currently love her even.
You feel silly. A little more silly than usual like what Yoongi points you out to be because after all, you're an assistant at work who's holding the tissues and the icepack, feeling as if you have the right to intrude or even be jealous of the fact that your boss, the one you have a pathetically huge crush on, is laughing with his ex-wife over an inside joke like what all couples have.
Like what all couples, divorced or not, have.
( ♡ )
Yoongi thinks he's actually managed to escape you.
He's in his procedure room simply because the airconditioner blows colder and not because he has a patient to meet at the moment. It's his favorite kind of quiet; no one's daring to knock on his door, no shoes squeaking, no you who keeps asking him questions at every waking moment you could find.
Come to think of it, not only did he barely see you today, but he also barely saw everyone in the clinic. It's unusual to say the least because for the hundred times that he passes by Hoseok, he now realizes that he barely occupies his position at the front desk. He's heard nothing from Jimin either whose office is just right next to his, unaccustomed to not having someone knock on his door until he budges and lets him in because the guy just wanted to hang out even in silence.
Actually, he doesn't know anyone's whereabouts at the moment. The clinic's full even at lunchbreak but it oddly feels quiet, making him put his phone down and debate to whether or not he should check up on everyone.
“Give me a facial, please.”
Yoongi practically jumps out of his seat when he hears someone pipe up from right behind him, goosebumps forming at the back of his neck as he automatically flinches.
He knows it's you but he didn't know it would be you who's sneaked up on him out of nowhere. Sometime in his whole thought process, you've already opened the door to his room without him noticing and he's badly reaping the consequence of not being perceptible enough.
"Holy fuck," he clutches at his chest from the shock upon seeing you that's slowly simmering down, throwing his head back, only to see you smiling at him gently as if you didn't age him atleast two years faster. "A facial?"
Yoongi grimaces at your crude plead, snickering to himself, but when he registers the weirded-out look on your face, he immediately remembers his profession and what you're actually asking from him.
“Yup! A facial.”
You seem to have no qualms about repeating your request and that's because you don't have any, feeling fully confident in yourself because you're certain that he can't deny such a trivial request at the time.
“Do you have a schedule with me? Have you paid to the front desk already?” Dr. Min asks you in succession and tilts his head at you, making his newly-dyed blonde hair bounce from side to side intentionally.
It's cute, really, but you didn't come here unprepared. After all, you believe that it's Dr. Min this time who owes you something.
“But it’s my birthday — you didn’t know?“
That throws him off the loop for a second and he doesn't even actually believe that it's your birthday at first, especially coming from you whom he believes is a big fan of bogus skincare myths and probably eats them for dinner.
He's about to ask you for some ID but the dots connect in his mind before he polices his employee over their own birthday; why everyone's been missing, why Jimin couldn't stay still the whole morning, why he's been seeing random balloons being held by patients in the waiting area, and why there's some bit of frosting left on the side of your jaw.
“Why would I know when your birthday is?”
“You hired me.”
You blink owlishly at what’s supposed to be an obvious answer but Yoongi reads it as being a smart-ass.
“I hired you for your credentials, not your birthday,” he rolls his eyes and you already know he’s fully recovered from the unintentional spook you’ve given him. "Actually, scratch that — Jimin told me to hire you."
You'd like to think that you'd get hired nonetheless if not for Jimin, but the thought lingers heavily on you. It leaves a bad taste on your tongue and you’re unaware that it shows on your face because for a second, Yoongi feels as if he should apologize because he may have took it too far. In full honesty, the whole concept of it only struck you now and you don’t know what to think of it, especially in a day you swore you’d only be self-indulgent.
You miss a single beat and the needier part of Yoongi’s guilt feels compelled.
“I’m-…”
“Nevermind. It’s okay! But it’s my birthday, and you told me that you give your employees a free facial as a birthday gift!”
Yoongi feels saved with your smooth transitioning but his eyes narrow once he recognizes the gist of what you’re saying, deeming it to be a little too demanding because all he wanted to do this afternoon was to lay back in between appointments.
"I can just give you a gift card,” he offers and he thinks you’re gonna accept the upgrade which is why he’s about to stand up and retrieve it from his office right this instant, being stopped abruptly when you block his way out of his chair.
“No. I want a facial.”
He hasn’t even started telling you that he has some designer gift cards in his drawer as well but you already shake your head no to what he was about to say, unrelenting when he tries to walk past you that only prompts you to hold your arms out horizontally.
“Fine. It’ll just be a quick one after the last patient and-...”
“Actually, your patient for this hour just cancelled because she has to appear in court for evading taxes or something.”
He blinks once, clearly unnerved. “Oh. Naeun? Again?”
Dr. Min hums to himself about taxes and turns his back on you silently, making you stammer in place because you don’t know if you’d accept rejection at your birthday this early into your attempt. You want to ask one more time if he’s still giving you a facial or not because you’re just standing there as still as an idle video game character, waiting for a prompt that would directly address you.
“What are you doing?” he asks you and you look straight to the mirror that’s in front of him, wide-eyed at being guilty for simply just standing in his presence. “Lie down already. I thought you wanted your birthday present?”
You realize belatedly that Dr. Min’s standing by his employee benefit because while he had his back turned on you because it turns out he was just preparing the tools and equipment he needed for your facial, not because he was annoyed at you and wanted you to take a hint by making you look at his back.
You've never been in this position, actually — the one where you're lying on the patient's bed and Dr. Min's looking down on you, the mix of a scowl and a small smile on his face just to appease you.
He's gentle. Much more gentle that you thought now that you're on the receiving end of his hands. Puts the least amount of pressure in holding up your head to put on a headband before setting you back down, his hands close enough to your face that you could smell the familiar scent of the clinic's hand soap.
You surprisingly melt when Dr. Min dots the cold cleanser to your face and rubs gently in small circles, expecting to flinch because of the overwhelmingly new experience, but there's just something in the way he caresses your face that puts you into ease.
“Jimin and the others prepared me a cake in the breakroom awhile ago.”
Your eyes are closed and you're relaxed and you don't entirely know if it's still a good look on you because Dr. Min's still rubbing in the cleanser, not entirely lying when he says that he's considering on rubbing in the lather to your mouth because he expected you not to talk this much considering he's already in the midst of giving you a facial.
“I pay all of you and you didn’t offer me any,” he mumbles in faux dejection, but the thought of having cake with the chocolate icing he's swiped from your jaw does sound appetizing.
“You were out on lunchbreak.”
You were out on lunchbreak with your ex-wife.
You withhold the last bit that you came to know because of Jimin, since he was on the way to Yoongi's office to invite him for your impromptu birthday lunch but couldn't even finish his invitation because Yoongi already uttered urgent lunch and Jihyo in the same sentence.
“Do you know what my wish was?” you speak meekly but Dr. Min doesn't notice the dimming hope behind it, one that's about to wear off sooner or later.
“Humor me,” he murmurs and that's when you hear the familiar beep of the steamer in your side, knowing that it would grant him 20 minutes of separation from you which he probably craves.
You've memorized it by now — steaming your face doesn't actually open your pores, and neither does washing your face with cold water close them. Steaming just loosens the pores which therefore allows products to seep in deeper and further.
Apart from that, there's one thing you've also come to memorize.
“That you’ll go on a date with me.”
Dr. Min chuckles and atleast you know that it'll soften the blow you expect by now.
“Nope. I’m watching a movie in the cinema with my friends tonight.”
You open your eyes and he closes them right back because it'll hurt to open with the hot steam, unconsciously doing it with a tut on his lips.
“It’s my birthday," you weakly offer with a pout on your mouth and you're oblivious to the half-smile Dr. Min has on his face because of course, your eyes are closed and have been threatened once again to be fired if you don't keep them closed.
“It’s my movie time.”
( ♡ )
Nothing’s going right.
You watched a movie last night with Jimin and it ended up having a cameo of Jihye, making the remaining thirty minutes in the cinema become a darkroom for all of your doubts and insecurities, while Jimin chews your remaining popcorn as silently as he could (because it would be a waste) while rubbing circles on your forearm.
You drank with him all night but he's counting his shots because he obviously has some clients to attend to the next day. It's not exactly a good look of being hung-over with his eye twitching as he completes a rhinoplasty at 1 in the afternoon.
Your car wouldn't be fixed for another week and when you hitched a ride with Jimin and passed by the shop, it's because your car's in the corner and everyone's working on a flashy blue Maserati, in which he made the off-hand comment that it looks like Jihye's but he isn't entirely sure.
Everything from last night until today makes you feel like you don't have control over anything at all. It's deflating and pitying and it adds to the ever-growing con list of what it's like to have a crush on your divorced boss.
So while Dr. Min's standing in his gown since he's assisting Jimin, and in turn you're assisting them and the two of you are alone because Jimin's still washing his hands outside, you ask.
“Go out with me?”
“Can’t.”
“Okay.”
Yoongi's eyes widen at your straightforward reply, cutting to the chase. There's no pleas, no rebuttals and most of all, there's no underlying curiosity. No sneak-handed question that inquires what exactly were his plans.
It's just a plain okay that he can't wrap his head around, making him look at you whose gaze is set on the patient's gown.
“It’s Jihye’s grandmother’s birthday today. She’s old-old — you get the point. Still thinks we’re together and we don’t wanna break her heart.”
He feels compelled to explain even if you haven't asked him remotely, preparing himself for any added questions you might have.
“M’kay. Have fun tonight.”
The question marks visibly float on top of his head and he doesn't know what he's missing, the opening of the door to the surgery suite signifying Jimin's entrance furthermore making his head cloudy.
“Yup. Gonna have a blast with my ex’s family," he says it either as a snide remark or a half-attempt in getting a reaction from you; either way, it dissipates into the air and he gets nothing.
You accept that nothing's going your way and it rarely does otherwise.
Yoongi keeps looking at you like he's never met you before.
( ♡ )
Yoongi enters the clinic, throws his bag into the air, and his eyes practically pop out of his head when he sees that it's Hoseok who's holding it.
Where are you?
It's emptying, almost. He's not hearing a skincare myth first thing in the morning and he doesn't have a warm cup of coffee on his hand, be it in a regular cup or a mug.
In fact, he's walking alone to his office and he feels the need to keep darting his head around because you must be hiding in one of the many vantage points you could spring out of.
There's a shadow set on the large couch, and he feigns his surprise that it's you who's gonna jump beside him any moment now, but it turns out to be the fake plant in the corner.
It's the big green fake plant they bought for accessories in the event that a patient of theirs would be allergic to a real one, and Yoongi's never felt this much annoyance towards an overpriced leafy hunk of plastic.
Jimin hasn't arrived yet but he assumes that it's because you're with him. You've got to be.
Jimin arrives sooner than anticipated as if to calm the curiosity in Yoongi's mind but immediately furrows his brows at him because he actually looks disappointed that he's here.
Yoongi peers at the empty spot beside his friend, even trying to peer his head further for the familiar package deal named you that he carried in mornings.
"Is Y/N with you?"
"No...?" Jimin tilts his head, genuinely confused that he's asking him about you, but is even more confused to learn that you're not here. "Is she with you?"
"No," Yoongi shakes his head no somberly, awkwardly standing as he tries to look behind him to see if you've already creeped your way there. "Weird."
He exits himself from the situation even before Jimin can question him and they both think it's the logical thing to do, especially since it's concerning you and they've been dancing around the topic of you for some time now — from the perspective of the one being crushed on and a potential love interest, the other being your best friend.
You come in some time later, still early before opening but Yoongi's not used to it at all. This is perhaps the first time he's seen you arrive later than he does, but he's conflicted if he ever wants that to happen again.
He's looking at his schedule for the day yet he can't help but peek at his window, anticipating a you who's trying to steal a glance but there's no attempts made, just walking straight past his office and into Jimin's next door.
Weird.
His whole day started off weird and his first interaction is basically omitted from his book because it doesn't start with his usual habit of fact-checking your myth, leaving a bitter taste on his mouth.
He has his own stash of his favorite snacks in his office but he plans to drop by the breakroom nonetheless after flying through all of his appointments before noon, instead accidentally (but thankfully) walking out to the whiff of your perfume because you just walked in front of him, entertaining a client that must be a walk-in.
"Taehyung?"
You walk to the familiar face you probably last saw just a few weeks ago, seeing his face register you belatedly in warmth and relief.
"Y/N, there you are! I was about to start knocking on every door to look for you," he sighs and you know he sincerely means it, thankful you've showed up just in time because he probably would've caused a ruckus by doing that.
"What do you need? I fell asleep early last night so I didn't get to answer your call."
Yoongi thinks that if he stands still enough, he could be mistaken for a fake plant with a white coat. He tries his best to fix his eyes and not be caught eavesdropping and looking, but that doesn't necessarily mean he's the best at it.
This guy calls you? At night too?
"Just my lobes. I need you to stitch them up back to normal. Tried the rubbing oil method for like a month but it barely did anything."
"Ah," you hum in recognition, gently taking Taehyung's earlobe into your fingers that makes him tilt his head to you in obedience so you could examine it closely. "You only had small gauges. 10G, right? 2.5mm is something I can work on alone."
Yoongi manages to conclude that you're somehow familiar and acquainted with this Taehyung guy, easily taking him under your wing and into an empty procedure room as if the two of you do this everyday.
It's a minor procedure. Local anesthesia and some stitches and Taehyung could walk out in less than an hour. Normally, if the gauges are bigger and therefore the earlobe's more stretched out, Jimin's called in to operate but 10G is something you can do without supervision, meaning that you and said guy would be alone together in the procedure room.
“Need help?”
As a doctor, Yoongi's just offering his supervision and guidance — that's all.
Taehyung's already well-acquainted in his position and so are you, the past fifteen minutes he's spent talking and hyping himself up to stroll in as casually as he could already meant giving you much leeway in between.
“No need doc," surprisingly, it's Taehyung who answers, a warm smile on his face which makes his shoulders vibrate in the slightest to which you tut at him. "Y/N’s used to this already.”
Yoongi's surprised but he doesn't let it show, clicking in his mind that the guy seems like a familiar face he's seen before but he can't place it exactly.
“Oh. Are you a regular in my clinic?”
“Hmm? Oh, no! I’m a first-timer here. I just meant that Y/N’s-“ he gets cut off and it's because you bump your knee into his to stop talking and moving, your voice finishing up his small explanation. "Used to stitching him up."
Tae's kind of scared to talk even more because after all, you're the one who's holding the needle to his ear, not wanting to unintentionally test you further so he just whispers to Yoongi instead.
“Exactly what she said.”
Yoongi feels like he's barging into a couple's business whom he's not a part of. He's seeing you in action as you reconstruct Taehyung's earlobes and that's where the familiarity hits him, quietly awing to himself.
Isn't this Taehyung guy famous?
You didn't take his offer up for help but he still shadows you, maneuvering himself behind you instead of standing by the door alone, not even pretending to give you pointers to fill up the uncomfortable silence (for him) because you both know you're doing a great job.
“Hey, remember when I thought that guy was flirting with you in the bakery?”
Taehyung suddenly pipes up and you have to hold still with the needle in your hand, shoulders shaking in a slight laugh.
“Of course. You ended up punching my brother.”
The two of you fondly laugh and it feels extra humorous because the two of you are trying not to move your bodies to the best of your abilities, seeing his cheeks turn red from trying to stifle his laughs as much as he could.
“He didn’t know whether he’d feel mad or proud of me that time.”
Yoongi turns up the light brighter that focuses on his earlobes that makes Taehyung squint. Normally, that's his non-verbal way of saying that the two of you should not be a having a moment right now, especially with him in the room.
He quips his lips to the side but stays quiet, his once-stable breaths dragging out extra slow.
“You free tonight? Minhyung’s staying with me for a week," he complies when you ask him to turn his head slightly, getting a response to his offer just as quick.
“Yeah, sure! Missed him anyway. He’s how old now?”
“Seven. He pokes fun at me now.”
The reminder of meeting Minhyung when he was barely a toddler versus the comparison of bullying his older brother now makes you laugh, remembering all the fond interactions you've had and continue to have with him. Just last month, Tae called you in the middle of the afternoon because Minhyung was suddenly looking for you.
You wrap up quickly and you wouldn't realize if not for Dr. Min who's been standing behind you almost the entire time, a barely-audible bite to his words. "He's finished."
Dr. Min beats you into relaying the aftercare instructions and follow-up check-up, the lax nature of how he usually explains being a stark contrast to how he sounds quick right now.
Taehyung's oblivious to the difference you could notice but he listens nonetheless, bidding you with a sweet warm smile as he exits the room.
“Thanks Y/N, see you later!”
Dr. Min shuts the door behind him and proceeds to clean up the station you've worked on, getting you into work because you don't quite understand why he even came in here in the first place.
“You didn’t tell me you had Kim Taehyung the model for a boyfriend.”
He passive-aggressively murmurs but you catch it, thinking nothing of the unusual nature your superior is exhibiting.
“You know him? He’s that famous now, huh?”
Yoongi, however, freezes. It's far from your easy chuckle and way further from the territory of peace because his face morphs into confusion. “What? I was kidding with you. He is your boyfriend?”
"What?" your eyes glaze at the odd joke you wouldn't have bothered correcting in the first place because you didn't think he'd ask, much less assume, in the first place anyway. “Oh no, he’s my ex-boyfriend.”
Yoongi genuinely doesn't know what to feel about that.
Is he frustrated over the fact that Taehyung isn't your boyfriend at the moment, or is it over the fact that you're exes and therefore share history together in a way he can't decipher?
He doesn't meet your gaze, the pettiness running through his bones before he could register it as such.
“I don’t believe that. Pretty sure no one would go to their ex’s place especially at night.”
The words he's just uttered basically tells you that he's eavesdropped well and even added his own analysis to it, feeling offended because as what you can recall, you didn't even ask him for his own take.
“I’m hanging out with him and his little brother.”
“Still. No one does that.”
You play off the offense you feel into nonchalance, gritting your teeth as you disinfect the area for the next patient.
“You can be friends with an ex, it’s possible, Dr. Min,” you wipe extra hard at the bed, not even knowing why you feel defensive for a situation that doesn't even involve him. “We didn’t break up in bad terms anyways so it was more than plausible that we would be friends.”
He looks up inhumanely fast, eyes trained on you as if you've grown two heads within a second.
“That’s impossible.”
You humorlessly chuckle and that's the end of it, choosing to tune him out while you clean up as quick as you could because you don't even know if you could stay in a space with him any longer.
Yoongi finds it odd that you're not searching for his gaze, stopping right in front of you when you retrieve the remaining sanitary equipment.
“Have you even checked the schedule? You agreed to him so quick. Who knows, we’d probably do overtime.”
“Then I’m reminding you that I’ve never been absent ever since I started working here, and if we need to do overtime, I’m using my leave.
Dr. Min hardens his glare at you. “That’s against the law, I’m pretty sure.”
“I can ask Tae later, his mom’s a lawyer.”
You add harmlessly as it's the truth and it does make you curious if it's just his unknown pettiness or the law that's talking, seeing his eyes roll at your quip.
“Heh," he narrows his eyes and turns his back on you, quick hands moving into a blur while he goes on his way out. “The gauze’s contaminated now. Get a new one.”
Yoongi can't explain it but he feels like something's changed in his routine and in some way, it has something to do with you.
His entrance every morning feels weird and his arm wants to give out every time he throws his bag into the air because it's not your familiar face that squeezes in so close beside him even if there's plenty of space for you to walk on.
He finds himself looking through windows and wandering through hallways just to look for a trace of you, even if it's the little chocolate nibs you snack throughout the whole day or if it's your extra handkerchief that Jimin uses because he forgets his all the time.
You’re supposed to ask him anytime now, aren't you?
You've used four of your chances in four different occasions with no exact pattern to it, but Yoongi knows. He knows and feels that it's been too long ever since the last time you asked him out (that was two weeks ago) in the procedure room and he doesn't know when the next would be.
He's sure it's a tactic of yours. It must be. You must've been doing it in a certain method that trains him to miss you and look for you unconsciously, even if he's at home and not in the clinic.
Yoongi finds himself lingering around you and he doesn't know if he could just continue hovering and hovering in this way; in a way that's unlike yours because you're unafraid to stand so close to him, talk to him whenever you please, and trail around him like a lost puppy.
He thinks he's had enough when he sees you enter the clinic, just thirty minutes away from opening and goes straight to Jimin's office, walking out later in your scrubs that makes him audibly gasp in surprise.
You enter the breakroom and he finds himself tailing after you unceremoniously, not being able to wait atleast five minutes to enter.
You're just now eating your breakfast because you've had a late start to your morning, also waiting a little later for you to retrieve your car from the shop that took longer than what you initially expected.
You're mid-bite into your cereal when you see a shadow cast onto the table, looking up to see Dr. Min who avoids your gaze as soon as you catch him.
“Yes.”
You chew slowly and cover your mouth when he turns to you, arms across his chest while you try to swallow. “I’m not following...?”
He sighs heavily, not knowing he had to spell it out for you.
Yoongi sits beside you and scoots his chair closer to yours, leaning his face onto his hand that makes you confused even more on how he's willingly sitting this close beside you.
“Yes, I’m going on a date with you.”
You swallow your cereal without a fuss as it registers in your head collectively, a curious and inquisitive quirk to your lips that throws him off.
“I didn’t ask, though.”
“No, this is the part where you use your fifth chance to ask me out and I accept.”
It's quite entertaining to see Dr. Min act and talk so impulsively, not used to seeing him this frustratedly determined. “But I haven’t asked.”
Yoongi closes his eyes once, his shoulders relaxing.
“Then I’m saying yes for the four previous times you asked me.”
You snort to your cereal and you're thankful that it happens before you scoop another spoonful to your mouth, shaking your head somberly.
“That doesn’t count.”
Yoongi pouts childishly, his brows furrowing at the concept of you denying him this time and not getting what he wants.
“Yes it does.”
“I can’t take you out, Dr. Min. I’m actually a little short on some date money because I’ve been buying you expensive coffee every single morning.”
"Just Yoongi," he corrects but doesn't choose to comment on the fact that you haven't been buying him coffee for two weeks now and he's unknowingly formed a dependency on the coffee and you. “Then I’ll pay for the date.”
“Then that means you’re taking me out on a date.”
“I know, which is why I’m saying yes, I’m accepting-“
You stop the flow of words that makes Dr. Min frown even deeper, looking severely dejected but the guilt doesn't hit you as much. “You can’t. That wasn’t our deal.”
“Then ask me to go out with you.”
It's a suggestion he brings up softly, uncertainty lacing his features because actually, it doesn't sound like a suggestion at all — sounds more of a plead than anything.
“Hmmm,” you pretend to think even if you already had a concrete plan for the day. “I’m busy. Dr. Park needs me.”
Dr. Min clears his throat, sitting up straighter and looks at you.
“Please ask me to go on a date with you.”
“Dr. Park needs me.”
Yoongi exhales through his nose and stands up, straightening his shirt and rearranging the bucket hat on his head before he relents, leaving you alone.
You think that's just about the end of it, but you're wrong because you see Dr. Min pop into the breakroom the moment lunchbreak starts, picking up Jimin who's sitting beside you and ushering him out of the door.
"The fuck? Yoongi! Stop — stop pushing me! You seriously can't just throw me out of the-"
Your eyes are still fixed on the door that Dr. Min just pushed Jimin out of and locked him out entirely, barely glancing to the paper bag that he put in front of you.
He occupies the chair beside you and clears his throat once again, clasping his hands tightly.
“Five takes.”
"Huh? Dr. Min, did you seriously just-..."
Yoongi pokes your cheek to get you to look at him, effectively taking your gaze out of the door.
“Give me five chances to ask you out.”
You thought he wouldn't push it to this because you swore you know him — know him well-enough that he doesn't like you and wouldn't care enough to pursue you once you've stopped.
“Why?”
He blinks owlishly because you're still asking him why when he thought he couldn't make his intentions any more clear, the two weeks without the usual you making him realize it further.
“I could say that I’m asking you this so you could give me a taste of my own medicine,” his attempt at what's supposed to be a joke makes you scoff, later chuckling when he waves his hands around desperately to clarify. “But as much as my pride would like that,” he murmurs. “I uh, I do want to go out with you.”
Hearing it from him is surreal, to say the least. It's something you've never thought to hear and it's admittedly something you've given up on trying to hear not too long ago.
“No.”
“No?”
“I’m going grocery shopping later,” you tell him and it makes his eyebrows knit in confusion, lips opening apart as he understands.
Yoongi grabs the prescription pad that fits snugly to his white coat, handing it to you as he explains it could be something for you to write your grocery list on.
“Thank you Dr. Min,” you chuckle at the wholesome gesture, a lot of pages left when you could've settled for a single leaflet.
“Great! I’ll be seeing you-“ he stands up and claps his hands, effectively being stopped when you reach out for him.
Then he understands.
“No.”
“I have a rewards card that’s been accumulating points for years now! You can use it," he offers gingerly, a grin on his face.
“Thoughtful, but no.”
“I can drive the cart really smoothly and I can promise you that I won’t even bump to your foot once," he nods for a convicting effect, thinking if he'd pass this time.
“Talented, but no.”
“I can lift all the grocery bags in one trip.”
“Nice try, but no.”
“No?” Yoongi parrots you with a tilt on his head, a slight pout on his face that makes him look warmer.
“No."
Yoongi accepts it and nod his head, pulling himself out of his chair before he convictedly talks again.
“M’kay. That was take one,” he says it out loud to console himself, earning a surprised gaze from you. “Four more chances left, right?”
Yoongi wordlessly stands and grabs a plate from the cupboard, taking out the lunch he's bought for you from the paper bag and sets your favorite food (courtesy of Jimin for a price of one hug) there instead, setting and plating it in front of you.
He taps two fingers on your cheeks, a cozy smile on his face as he tries to earn himself a loving smile from you before he exits the breakroom.
I don’t know who needs to hear this, but you don’t need to “perform” on tumblr
Don’t apologize if you disappear for a few weeks, months, or even longer. We’ve done it too. You probably didn’t even notice, and that’s okay. Take your time.
Don’t feel guilty if you had a regular posting schedule and you can’t make your self-imposed deadline or if you can’t keep up that pace and need to start posting less frequently. We understand, life gets in the way and the muses can be fickle. You don’t owe us anything.
Don’t worry if you don’t reply fast enough. You’ll get to it when you’ll get to it. You probably haven’t even seen it yet. We will not think less of you.
Don’t feel bad if you don’t want to reply to something at all, ever, because it triggers you, because you don’t want more drama in your life, or because you just don’t have the energy to reply. Whatever they are, your reasons are valid. And the other person has probably forgotten about it anyway by now.
Feel free to add other things!
Please, Scooby Doo this shit. @littlegasps - Tumblr Blog | Tumgag
