nanacee

Nana. 30. She/Her. Previous K-Popper. Gamer. Anime Fan. Avid reader of all things fiction. Current obsessions: Haikyuu!!, Boku no Hero Academia, sad anime movies. Shipper of nearly everything under the sun.

[lostbookmark]

MDNI 🔞

Main Masterlist here

Game Masterlist here

Summary: After the death of your brother and his wife. You find yourself adjusting to a new role in your life. A single parent to your teenage nephew. How do you help him heal? How do you help yourself heal? You're not sure. You don't think you can, until an annoying basketball coach enters your life and turns everything around.

Pairing: Basketball Coach Yoongi x F. Single Aunt Reader

Genre: Romance, Angst, Smut, Strangers to Lovers, Hurt-Comfort

Warnings: Death Of Parents / Brother/ Family, Car Accident (Cause), Swearing, Explicit Sex, Arguments, Physical Fighting, Past Abusive Relationship, Domestic Violence(past)

A/N: Nephew calls MC Sunshine as a nickname.

Also, this story will have some heavy themes so please take heed of the warnings.

“Let's go!” You call out to your nephew as you grab your keys and your purse. “You are going to be late on your first day.”

“Why do I even need to go?” Your nephew Nicholas, aka Nicky, asks you. “Why couldn't I stay at my old school?”

“Because, we don't live in that school district,” you answer, waving him to the door hurrying him along.

“Why couldn't we stay in my old house? There is way more room there compared to here,” he asks, finally walking to the door and opening it. He steps outside and waits for you to shut and lock the door.

“Because, I can't afford the house payments,” you say, jogging to your car sitting in the driveway. The both of you get in and buckle up before you take off to his brand new school. “Look, I am trying here. I know things are hard right now, and being the new kid sucks, but I need you to work with me. I don't know what I’m doing here, but I'm trying my best.”

He doesn't say anything in the seven minute drive to his school, but he shifts nervously, looking out the windows while playing with the zipper on his backpack. You didn't think that you would ever find yourself in this predicament. Caring for your thirteen year old nephew. You had been at work the night it happened. You had been working the closing shift at a rundown seedy bar outside of your hometown when you got the call. Your younger brothers voice was distraught and hurried. You had a hard time disyphehering what he was saying except the words accident, terrible and dead. You must have passed out because the next thing you know, you were in the back office with your coworkers fanning you with a newspaper. You remember having been scared and confused when you came to.

It took a minute for everything to come back to you. Your older brother and his wife were dead. They had been on the way back from a late dinner. A car swerved into their lane, trying to avoid a deer that ran out in the middle of the road, hitting them head on. Nicky, who was thankfully at your parents for the night, was not with them.

They were amazing parents. Your brother coached every sports team that your nephew was on and worked his ass off to support his family. Your sister-in-law ran the pta. They were loving, caring, patient, and everything you wished you could be.

You didn't cry when you found out. You didn't cry at the funeral. You still haven't cried. You couldn't bring yourself to do it. You had no choice but to be strong. You had to be strong for your nephew who had everything ripped from him and had to adjust to a whole new reality. You had to be strong for your mother, who had been hysterical and inconsolable after losing her oldest child. For your younger brother and dad who have been quiet and secluding themselves from the world, throwing themselves into their work. Instead of grieving, you took it upon yourself to do everything in order to keep busy. Planning the funeral, all you. The wake, all you. Appointments with their lawyer, all you. You had to carry the weight of your family and their grief. It was fucking heavy.

“What if I don't make friends?” He asks quietly as you pull up to the school via the drop-off lane. “What if no one likes me?”

“You will,” you assure him, as you lay your hand on his shoulder, trying to comfort him. “You're smart and funny. Everyone will want to be your friend.”

“Thanks, sunshine,” he says, giving you a small smile before jumping out the car and heading into the building with his backpack slung around his shoulders.

You sit there for a minute watching the door that he just walked through just in case he decides to come back out. You are worried for him. You are scared that he was going to be scared. The car behind you honks their horn, and you do everything in your power not to flip them off. As you drive away from the school, you look in the rearview mirror one last time at the school building that is fading away in the distance. You sigh audibly. You don't know how parents do this every day, but you will figure it out.

Eventually.

Transferring your hundredth call of the day, you sit at your desk and stare blankly at your computer screen. You had to quit working at the seedy motorcycle bar where most of the patrons were probably criminals, but that was none of your business. Working nights were out of the question now that you had a young teen at home, and the day shift didn't make a lot of money. Your mother called you out of the blue one day and told you that you were now working for your father at the family construction company. She didn't ask, she told you, leaving no room for you to argue against the decision. It was probably your dads idea, but he wouldn't ever admit to it. Your younger brother helped run the projects at the construction sites while his fiancee was the office manager. You were hired as her assistant. A position that you were sure was never there before, and the pay was way more than what it probably should have been. You think it was his way of taking care of you without being obvious about it, but you knew better.

You tug at the waist of your dark grey pencil skirt as you shift around in your seat. You hate wearing these things. When your mother showed up at your apartment, you felt like a disgruntled teenager being forced into school clothes shopping and buying outfits that you didn't want. She picked out every outfit for you and made you do a little fashion show for her while she did all the critiquing and checking the tightness around your waistline. Flowy blouses, turtlenecks, pencil skirts, and cardigans. You get it. You didn't own any ‘office appropriate’ clothes. Your bar attire had consisted of short and tight or shorter and tighter. This was a major adjustment. A major uncomfortable, almost stifling adjustment. Sighing, your eyes go to the clock on your computer. Standing up from your desk, you gather your bag.

“Getting Nicky?” Elly, your brother Chris's fiancée asks, as she peeks her head out of her office.

“Yeah, got to get there early. I was warned that finding a spot was like the Hunger Games,” you say with an eye roll. “I'll see you tomorrow.”

“That sounds fun. Have a goodnight,” she says with a smile.

She is nice. Your late sister-in-law in law was nice. Both your brothers lucked out and found amazing women early in their lives. You, however, only found loser after loser that left you heartbroken every time. You can't even entertain the idea of dating now. Is that even allowed now that you are taking care of a child? Doesn't matter. Nicky is your number one priority now, and you won't let him down. You won't let him down by bringing some man around him that would potentially hurt him. He needs stability, not your revolving door of men that jump in and out of your bed. Those days are now in the past, and you think it's probably for the best.

You had left thirty minutes early to find a place in the pick-up line along the sidewalk of the school, and you were lucky to snag the last spot. You shake your head and wonder how long some of these parents sit up here for reading their books or maybe taking naps. There is no way you can sit up here for an hour waiting for Nicky to get out of school every day. You might just have to make him wait and pick him up ten minutes after school gets out. He is lucky that you were even picking him up. You remember having to walk to the elementary school to pick up Chris and then walk home. Rain or shine, you did it every day. Luckily enough, the wait wasn't terrible. You are able to distract yourself, and the thirty minutes went by quickly. Distracted by your phone, you startle when your car door opens suddenly.

“Hey, how was your…” you start to ask as Nicky jumps into your car, but he immediately cuts you off.

“I made a friend in gym class, and he told me about after-school basketball. It's not through the school, but through some different program. Can I try out? Please? Please? Sunshine, please?” He asks in one breath.

“Do you have any information?” You ask as you drive away.

“He sent me the link,” he answers, pulling his phone out. Soon, you hear your own phone chime. “There now you have it. The first practice is tomorrow. He says it's not really tryouts because everyone gets on the team.”

“Can we talk after dinner? Let me read everything and see what this is all about?” You ask while concentrating on the road.

“I'm going to need new basketball shoes. The one's dad…..” he says then shut his mouth quickly, and you could feel a stab to your heart. He doesn't like to mention them, and you don't want to force him.

“They are falling apart,” you finish for him, and he nods his head. “If you can get grandma to buy you a new pair, I'll sign you up. Deal?”

“Deal?” He says, immediately putting his phone to his ear. “Grandma….”

You chuckle to yourself. You know that he will get exactly what he wants. Being the only grandchild in the family, he was spoiled rotten from the first day he came home. Admittingly, you are guilty of spoiling him, too. You were twelve when your brother and sister-in- law brought Nicky home. You had fallen in love with him instantly. They had lived with your family during this time. Both were only nineteen years old and broke college students who needed the support of family. Her parents forced them to get married within months of finding out about the pregnancy. Your family gave them a home with all of you. They gave them support to finish college and help raise the young baby. It was a team effort, and you took it seriously.

You had been adamant from the very beginning that you had to get up when he cried in the middle of the night. You didn't care if he was up and feeding or just needed a quick diaper change. You had to be there. You had made it your routine to sing to him as he was cradled in his mothers arms to get him to go back to sleep. “You Are My Sunshine” was the only thing that got him to sleep. You don't even know how many times you sang that song to him as he grew up. It was probably hundreds. The nickname sunshine just stuck after that. You don't think that he has ever called you anything else in his thirteen years of life.

As you grew older and more ‘responsible’, you took him everywhere with you. He was always your little buddy attached to your hip. Even after they moved out and into their own home. You were always there looking after him. Taking him to get ice cream, taking him to the park, babysitting so his parents could go out and enjoy themselves. You never minded and always watched him for free. You were always happy to help take care of him because you loved him and he loved you.

It was obvious to you…and your dad why you got custody after their passing. Your mother, however, was furious that he wasn't placed with her and your dad after the will was read. She didn't think you could raise a child. She held any and all past mistakes you have made against you. Sure, you may have partied some in your late teens and early twenties, but you never hurt anyone. Sure, your taste in men was questionable at the time and found yourself in a bad situation once where you still have nightmares every now and then, but you have learned. You grew up. She didn't trust you and was waiting for you to fail. That absolutely hurt, but you were going to prove her wrong. With or without her help.

You were going to prove her wrong.

Sneakers squeak against the shiny polished gym floor as you watch Nicky run around the school's gymnasium with his new friends. He looks happy as he passes the ball back and forth with two others. You might not like basketball, and the bleachers might hurt your ass as you sit there, but he was happy. You take a minute to look around discreetly as possible and see that it was painfully obvious that all the other parents knew each other. They all sat huddled together in the middle of the wooden bleachers talking as you sat on the outskirts by yourself. You felt awkward like an outsider who wasn't invited to join the party. You feel like you are too old to feel like this.

It was embarrassing.

The gym door opening loudly catches your attention, making you turn your head at the sound. Two men…strike that. Two very good-looking men came walking in carrying bags and a white plastic table between them. You figure they must be the coaches as you watch them set up the table before placing several stacks of paper out all lined up in a perfectly neat row. You think you hear some giggling behind you from some of the mothers. It makes you want to roll your eyes. You watch as the taller, tattooed man goes out on the court to round up the boys. The handsome blonde one with the serious eyes comes to stand in front of the bleachers.

Okay, you can see why they were giggling.

“Okay, I see we have some new faces here this year. Please make sure you read our handbook thoroughly with your child. We have rules here for a reason, and I expect them to be followed. Teamwork and above all else safety is our number one priority,” he says, addressing all the adults in a very unenthusiastic voice. He seems bored, like he has given this same spiel many, many times before. “Every weekday, we have practice after school from 4 to 6:30, and we expect each player to have a guardian here….”

You really don't care to listen to the rest of his speech. If their handbook is so important, then everything would be in there. You let your mind drift and eyes wander back to your nephew. He is in a big circle on the opposite side of the gymnasium. He is paying attention and nodding along to whatever the other man was saying. You were never one for team sports. You definitely didn't play them, and the only time you went to watch something was in high school, and you spent the whole time under the bleachers with your friends doing things you shouldn't have been doing.

Both your brothers had played basketball, ran track and anything else they had time for. Your brother had a basketball in Nicky's hand as soon as he could. They truly bonded over it. That's why it kind of surprised you when he told you about playing. He's been pushing everything away that reminded him of his parents. He even asked you not to have any pictures of them out. You don't blame him and you know it's not healthy, but you wanted him to heal in his own time. If he wants to embrace playing again then you will damn sure make sure he plays.

“Is that clear?” Blondie asks, knocking you back into reality as you see his eyes settle on you for a brief moment.

“Yes, Coach Min,” everyone says at the same time. Oh shit! Maybe you should have paid attention.

Blondie, aka coach Min, turns back to the court as observes the boys who have started to stretch with his arms crossed. Suddenly, a woman dressed way too fancy with a little too much makeup on her face, takes a seat next to you. The amount of perfume that emitted off her body made you want to recoil away from her. You wonder if she is here to support her son or to try and catch the attention of one of the coaches. She gives you an obvious fake smile and looks around quickly before opening her mouth to speak.

“Hi, I'm Ara. My son Jake is the shooting guard on the team. I just wanted to let you know that our children have been on this team for years now. They have been playing together since they were 8. They're champions. Don't expect your boy to start and take a position away from one of us. We don't need anyone new,” she informs you with the same sugary sweet smile. “I just don't want you to waste your time by being here. I'm sure you have more important things to do.”

“Well, Ara, it's a good thing I don't give a shit about you or your positions,” you say back just as sweetly.

You watch her smile drop and huff her way back to her seat, sitting with her minions once again. The man seated a little ways away from you starts chuckling. You ignore him and try to focus on Nicky and how he is doing, but the man slides over next to you.

“No one ever tells her off,” he informs you. “Thank you for that. I'm Mark.”

“Y/N,” you say, introducing yourself, but don't actually look at him. You weren't looking to make friends. Especially with parents who think they are better than everyone else.

“They are just jealous,” the man, Mark, proceeds to tell you. “They try to run off anyone new that comes on to the team. Especially if the mom comes with their child. Unfortunately, their tactics usually work.”

“So, this is like high school drama bullshit?” You ask, still not looking at him.

“Pretty much,” he confirms, nodding his head.

“That's just great,” you say sarcastically.

You go back to watching the boys on the court. The squeaking shoes are annoying, and your ass was definitely going to be asleep by the end. You can feel the heated glares that are focused on your back from the mothers sitting behind you. Their whispers are loud enough to know that they are talking about you, but quiet enough that you can't make out any details. Four months. Four long months. That was how long this damn thing is going to last, and he better freaking enjoy it.

As both whistles blow, you follow along with the parents as they stand up and depart the uncomfortable bleachers. You line up right with them as they all take a piece of paper from each stack on that white plastic table. You thumb through what you just picked up as the boys do some team huddle. Medical clearance, league rules, team handbook, a team / player picture form, uniform payment, travel schedule.

“Damn,” you say softly to yourself as you take it all in.

Your eyes widen slightly as you see the prices on the pictures and the cost of the uniforms. Not to mention the gas your car will burn through traveling. Some of these places were an hour and a half away. Unfortunately, you may have to ask your parents for help. Sure, your dad pays you too much for your little job, but kids are expensive. Most of your paycheck goes toward food. You didn't realize boys never stopped eating.

“Hello, I'm Coach Jeon,” the tall tattooed man says, introducing himself. “Nicky is our only new player this year, and it's nice seeing fresh faces. I just wanted to say that he did an awesome job today, and I’m looking forward to working with him more.”

“That's great,” you say, looking for your nephew who is getting his bag around.

“He's going to fit in perfectly,” he says, smiling brightly at you, easing your worries. “Have a good evening.”

You give him an awkward smile and wave as he walks away. That made you feel good about your decision. He was going to fit in perfectly. He wasn’t going to be the new weird kid with no parents. He was making friends. He was making a new life. You were making a new life, and for once, you weren't going to mess up. Despite the odds being against you. Despite your mother not believing in you. You were going to be the best damn pseudo parent ever.

Hopefully.

《Chapter Two》

A/N 2 : As of right now, I don't know how many chapters this will be. I will update the story masterlist as I go.

Tagged Readers:

@busanbby-jjk , @ jajabro, @wobblewobble822 , @mintedagustd , @yoongiiuu93, @jincapableoflove , @redragdoll, @seoullove96

[rhaemonds]

he said be reasonable, pls

[dearly-somber]

@jisunggy

[a1are]

unleashing my old tota memes

[oinkhop]

should we just come back later or...

[binniebb]

idk who to even be jealous of atp

[promptsforthestrugglingauthor]

Writing Prompt #4110

"Have you considered that you might be overreacting? There has to be some reasonable explanation for all this."

"I am being reasonable! Every piece of evidence is that I have been turned into a vampire, and I told you that you need to help me, not judge me."

[hyunchans]

HYUNJIN :: "THIS & THAT" UNVEIL: TRACK "After You"

[hyunchans]

HYUNJIN :: THIS & THAT ENDING FAIRY @ 260807 MUSIC BANK

[lostbookmark]

MDNI 🔞

Word Count: ~ 20,500

One-Shot Masterlist here

Finding A Home With You here

Summary: You've settled into your peaceful life on Tannie Farm, but you should have known peacefulness can't last. With animals invading the farm, your bakery suddenly expanding and your boyfriend acting weird. Your peacefulness is being tested.

Pairing: Boyfriend Yoongi x F. Reader

Genre: Romance, Smut

Warning: Swearing, Slight Blood, Explicit Sex, Unprotected Sex, Mentions of Cheating (Not Yoongi),

A/N: It's my birthday! I wanted to drop a little present for you lovely readers.

This is a sequel to my Finding A Home With You. So, if you have not read that, then this will probably not make a lot of sense. Hope you enjoy!

You all line up by the barn.

Taehyung's happy form was standing before all of you. His face, smiling brightly as he rocks back and forth on one foot to another from excitement. You look around at your friends, and they all seem just as confused as you. Even the cows Mary and Betsy were poking their heads out to see what all the commotion was about.

“Taehyung, what did you do?” Yoongi, your boyfriend asks. “Why did you need to call a meeting out here?”

“It's a good thing,” he nods. “I promise.”

“I highly doubt that,” Hobi laughs nervously as he leans close to your ear.

“I'm on my lunch break right now,” Joon says from down the line. “I need to get back to school.”

“Okay, okay,” Tae sighs before smiling and clearing his throat. “Tannie Farm family, I am so proud of all the work we have put into the little idea I had. Working together, we have made it blossom and grow …”

“Get on with it,” Yoongi says, making you elbow him.

“Adding Mary and Betsy into the family was a great call on my end last year,” he smiles. “Although, a certain someone … Yoongi…. will never admit to it. They have brought new opportunities to us, and I can't wait until we are about to get them some cow friends soon.”

“Lunch rush is about to start soon,” Jin looks at his watch.

“BUT, I think they are lonely right now and could use some friends.” he continues, and your stomach drops as you realize what he did. He made a decision without consulting anyone else. This wasn't going to be good. Tae picks up his walkie before talking into it. “Soobin, bring'em in.”

One of the senior farmhands, Soobin, drives a large truck into the area. A large truck that was made to transport animals. Oh, no, this REALLY was not going to be good.

“Kim Taehyung,” Yoongi says, warningly.

“I want you all to meet our new…” he pauses dramatically as other farmhands gather around and step into the back of the truck. One by one, they each come out with Tannie Farm's newest family members. “Goats!”

“GOATS!” Everyone exclaims, and Tae nods enthusiastically.

“Yes, I got seven of them,” he claps. “I even named them after us. Sorry, Y/N, they didn't have eight goats, or I would have named one after you, too.”

“I am perfectly okay with that, Tae,” you smile at him. “But that's thoughtful of you.”

“We don't know anything about goats,” Yoongi argues. “Do you know how long we had to take to learn about cows before actually buying them?”

“Soobin knows about them,” he explains.

“Where are they going to go?” Kook asks. “If we are getting more cows soon. The barn isn't going to be big enough to house seven goats.”

“But we don't have the other cows yet,”Tae argues.

“We're going to have to build another barn,” Jimin nods. “Or finally knock down that old one and rebuild a more modern one.”

“So, now we just took on seven new animals that we know nothing about and a whole damn renovation!” Yoongi snaps.

“Yoongi, just look at them,” Tae says and walks over to the animals, who all appear to have seven distinctively different coats of fur. Unlike Mary and Besty, you would be able to tell them apart. “The tallest one here I named after Joon, and this one is Kookie. She is the youngest…”

“Taehyung,” Yoongi growls.

“AND, this one right here,” Tae points to a small white goat. “This one tried to bite me when I first pet her. This one is Yoongi!”

You and Hobi turn into one another, laughing. You can't see the reactions of your fellow friends, but you can hear the snickers from behind you.

“Office now!” Yoongi demands and walks away.

Taehyung deflates, and all your laughter dies down. You feel bad for the guy. He thought he was doing something good. While goats weren't the end of the world, he should have known that Yoongi needed a plan. A plan with uses for the goats with projected numbers, pie charts, and whatever else he needed before he went ahead and purchased the animals.

That was where he went wrong.

He was going to have to fight this battle on his own.

However, all your nosey asses still wanted to hear it.

Outside of Yoongi's office door, the six of you stand as quietly as you can, hovering around the sides of the doorframe. Yoongi's been yelling for ten minutes straight now. You've only ever seen him this mad once before, and that was when he was rolling around your driveway fighting with your ex.

You feel bad for Tae.

“Please, please tell me how you thought getting SEVEN goats was a good idea,” Yoongi asks.

“Y/N gave me the idea,” Tae tells him from behind the closed door.

Your eyes widen as you hear the words come from your friend's mouth. All the other nosy asses eyes turn to look at you, and you shake your head. Honestly, you were innocent. You didn't know where he got that idea from. You didn't tell him to get goats.

“You want to blame Y/N for this?” Yoongi questions him from behind the closed door. “Is that what you're seriously going with?”

“Yes,” Tae answers, and your mouth drops open.

The guys around you cover their laughs with their hands. You couldn't believe this. He was throwing you under the bus when you didn't do anything wrong.

“You're in trouble,” Jimin whispers from across the doorway.

“He's lying,” you whisper back. “I didn't tell him to do anything.”

“Okay,” Yoongi's voice says. “Let me call her, and we will talk to her together.”

Your eyes widen again. It took less than twenty seconds for your phone to vibrate in your pocket. Taking it out, you see Yoongi's name accompanied with a picture of the two of you on your screen.

“Answer it,” Kook smiles.

“Answer it,” Jimin repeats.

“Don't answer it,” Hobi shakes his head.

Jin and Joon shake their heads.

Making a decision, you shove the vibrating device into your back pocket and ignore your boyfriend. Smiling at the group looking at you, you turn slowly and run. You're going to hightail it back to Crust & Crumb and stay there for as long as you can. Maybe Joshua and Felix will stay there with you for as long as they can. He won't yell at you in front of them.

Dammit!

He's going to yell at you, and then you're going to cry. Then, you have to go home and sleep next to him. Fuck, this is what you get for sleeping with the boss. Well, one of the bosses. Maybe you can take shelter with Hobi again. His girlfriend likes you. You can babysit her kid!

Dammit, dammit, dammit!

You were going to have to go back to teaching after this.

You just have to get this over with.

Bursting through the backdoor of Crust & Crumb, you slip into your apron and hurry to the sink to wash your hands. Drying them off, you press yourself between your two assistants and start to randomly knead some dough on the metal table in front of you.

“Is everything okay?” Joshua asks.

“Yeah,” you nod.

‘Okay,” he replies. “That dough is good to go. What happened at your meeting?”

“Oh, you know,” you shrug. “Tae bought some goats and is blaming me for his own impulsive decision.”

“Goats?” Felix looks at you like he for sure misunderstood you the first time.

“Yup,” you confirm. “I'm hiding. If I hide in my office, will you rat me out?”

“I think it's too late,” Joshua says, looking out the back window. “Yoongi's farm truck just pulled up.”

“Shit, give me something to do!” You exclaim quietly. “What are we doing?”

“Croissants,” Felix shoves a rolling pin at you.

Nervously, you take a dough ball and start to roll it out. As the backdoor opens, you look to Joshua in hopes that he will save you, but he quickly looks away and focuses on his own task. Damn, you don't even have loyalty in your own assistants.

“Y/N, we need to have a word,” Yoongi says, fully entering the bakery kitchen.

“Oh, Yoongi,” you laugh lightly. “Now is not a good time. We're busy, busy, busy.”

You start to roll out the dough a little aggressively, causing it to tear. You keep your eyes on the table as you strain your ears to listen for any movement behind you. You thought maybe you were going to be off the hook when you heard the shuffling of his shoes. Only you knew you were wrong when his steps were getting closer to you, not further away.

“Can you step into your office with me?” He asks, now right behind you.

You could feel his body heat with how close he was to you. You drop the rolling pin and let your arms hang at your sides. Looking over your shoulder at him, he tilts his head in the direction of your office, and you sigh. There was no deterring him.

“Of course,” you smile tightly at him.

Turning from the table, you head off to the side and out of the kitchen into your office. While Crust & Crumb was completely and fully integrated into the old Cottage Lodge in town. Your office was a new addition. Yoongi had made sure it had everything you wanted in it. You had told him you didn't care. You just wanted a desk and a window.

Of course, you ended up with hardwood floors, shiplap walls and a sliding barn door entrance, and a large wooden desk. Very much a farmhouse, rustic aesthetic. Very much Tannie Farm. Very much your old house that Hobi now occupies. Your positive Jungkook was in charge of designing it.

Yoongi slides your office door open and gestures for you to enter before him like the perfect gentleman he is. Slipping past him, you stand in the middle of your office and watch him sit on the edge of your desk while crossing his ankles after closing your door behind him.

“I didn't tell him to get the goats,” you promise him. “I don't know why he's blaming me.”

“He said something about cheese,” Yoongi informs you.

“Cheese?” You ask and think back to any conversations that you had with your friend. “Cheese …oh, cheese,” you sigh. “I mentioned a goat cheese pastry ONCE. I didn't mean for him to get seven goats.”

“It's Taehyung,” Yoongi smiles tightly at you. “He doesn't think before acting most of the time.”

“Hey, it's not all my fault,” you argue. “You should blame Jin too. I believe he said something selling goat milk in the store front because people have been asking for it. He's one of the owners! So, it's more his fault than mine.”

Yoongi stares at you seriously before smiling and standing up from the desk.

“Come here, Darlin',” he wraps his arms around you, pulling you into a hug. “I'm not stupid enough to think you talked him into getting goats.”

“Then why did you come here and let me think I was in trouble?” You say into his chest.

“Because I wanted to see if he was actually going to let you take the fall for it … and he was,” he sighs. “I'll be having another talk with him later.”

“Are you letting him keep the goats?” You ask, looking up at him.

“I don't think I have a choice,” he admits. “He named them already, and I saw Kook feeding Kookie. He's already attached.”

“Well,” you smile. “I think that goat Yoongi was the cutest.”

“Oh?” He laughs.

“Absolutly,” you nod.

Grabbing his shirt, you pull him down to you and press your lips to his.

“Did you really think you were in trouble?” He asks, pulling away just a bit.

“I was ready to move back in with Hobi if I had too,” you say, making him glare at you.

“No,” he shakes his head. “I wouldn't allow that.”

“Allow?” You raise an eyebrow.

“I said what I said,” he smirks. “You're mine and I'm not letting you go.”

“Good, because I didn't really want to go,” you laugh. “So, now that you're letting him keep the goats. What happens if he thinks the goats need friends and suddenly you end up with a whole petting farm?”

Yoongi covers your mouth and looks around your empty office.

“Don't let him hear that,” he growls. “I don't need rabbits and whatever else invading the farm. We were solely a produce farm, and now we have animals. What's next, a greenhouse for plants and flowers?”

“That’s … not a bad idea,” you comment, and he gives you a hard look. “I won't tell anyone you said that.”

“Sure,” he nods. “I hope you can come up with some goat cheese desserts. We are putting those little suckers to work.”

“You might learn to love them,” you smile and stand on tippy toes to kiss him once more. He pulls back with a shake of his head and walks back toward your office door. “Just remember goat Yoongi is the cutest.”

“I love you, Darlin',” he winks and disappears out the door.

Sighing, you take a seat at your desk and look at your semi cluttered surface. You were going to have to come up with something to make with goat cheese or goat milk. You've never done it before. You don't think you have ever even had goat anything before.

You could kick yourself for opening your mouth in front of Tae, and you feel like you need to rectify his impulsive and probably expensive purchase. Leaning forward, you place your chin in the palm of your hand. Grandma didn't have any recipes that would help you out here.

You'll have to figure this one out on your own.

“It's really light,” you say while taking a bite of the goat cheese cheesecake drizzled with honey. “And kind of tangy?”

“Yeah,” Joshua agrees. “It's not what I was expecting. I was kind of expecting it to taste like … goat.”

“Yeah,” you say slowly and nod. “Interesting.”

“This one,” Felix says and pulls out another container from the togo bag. “This one is an aged goat cheese and fig tart.”

All three of you take a bite of the next dessert that Felix bought from a restaurant in the city in an attempt to learn what a goat cheese dessert should taste like. So far, it's been interesting, and the flavors were much more complex than you originally thought. .

“This is kind of earthy,” you comment, trying to focus on the flavors in your mouth.

“Yeah,” Joshua agrees.

“But creamy,” Felix adds.

“Yeah.” Both you Joahua say at the same time.

“Isn't it way past closing?” Yoongi says, coming through the front of the kitchen making you nod. “Why are all of you still here?”

“Taste this,” you cut a piece of cheesecake off for him. He accepts the bite, and you watch him chew carefully as you cut off a piece of the fig tart. “Now this one.”

“Wha…” he couldn't get the words out before you shove the dessert in his mouth, forcing him to taste test the other restaurant's dish.

“They taste so different,” you tell him. “I feel more research will have to be done before I can make something. We thought they would taste like a goat.”

“Maybe it's their diet,” Felix comments.

“Where did you get these?” Yoongi asks.

“A fancy restaurant in the city,” you reply. “Felix went undercover for me.”

“Ah,” Yoongi nods, staring at the three of you. “You know it's not that serious, right? I was joking about you pumping out desserts for us.”

“But it would be a nice change to the menu,” you shrug.

“Do you want to have a meeting about changing your menu?” He questions. “I didn't realize you were having issues with it.”

“We're not,” all three of you answer.

“We can talk about this later,” he says. “Everyone go home.”

“Aye, aye, Captain," Felix says as he and Joshua clear the togo containers before leaving the bakery out the backdoor.

“Did you guys get food from there as well?” Yoongi questions you.

“No,” you answer, grabbing your bag and keys to lock the bakery. “I'm starving. I skipped lunch today.”

“I don't like that,” he tells you.

“I know, but we had two baby showers on the schedule. I've been making cupcakes and cakepops all day,” you inform him. “Between that and all of our regular work. We were swamped.”

“I need to hire you more help,” he says, taking your hand and leading you out the back door.

“And take away my help to train a new person?” You laugh and lock the door. “No thank you.”

“I'm your boss, and I get to make that call,” he jokes smugly. “I'd rather be able to whisk my beautiful girlfriend away when I want. Especially when I have a feeling she hasn't eaten and I have food for her.”

“Food?” You perk up.

Nodding, he tugs you along. Latching yourself onto his arm, you let him lead you away. In fact, you would let him lead you anywhere, and you would follow.

Without question.

“Was this Jin's special today?” You ask as you take a bite of the chicken dish.

“No,” he shakes his head. “I asked him to whip us something quick.”

“This is really good,” you say and look out at the landscape that was before you. “Thank you for this.”

“You're welcome,” he says softly. “Do you remember when I first brought you out here?”

You smile, nodding your head as you look at the rolling hills of Tannie Farm in the distance. The two of you sitting in that side-by-side of his, eating your food as the sun starts to kiss the horizon. You remember it perfectly. You remember the beautiful sunset with its colors splashed across the sky, the flock of birds soaring through the clouds and his chapped lips. Only this time, you weren't freezing your ass off.

“I like to consider it our first date,” you smile.

“Almost two years ago,” he breathes out and looks over at you.

“It went fast,” you comment. “It almost seems like another lifetime ago that I was once a teacher.”

“Do you ever miss teaching?” He asks.

“Sometimes,” you admit. “I miss being able to sleep in. I miss getting weekends off. I miss not being sore all the time.”

“You're sore?” Yoongi asks, looking concerned

“Yeah, but that's the life of a baker,” you shrug. “My shoulders hurt. My back hurts. My wrist has been hurting a little bit lately.”

“Why wouldn't you say anything?” He questions, with a serious crease in brow.

“What good would that do?” You laugh. “I still have a job to do. I have to work through it.”

“I'm going to start taking better care of you,” he promises as he props one of his arms around you and gently rubs your shoulder.

“You do take good care of me,” you smile and rub the side of his face.

“Yeah, but I want to take care of you for real,” he says, licking his lips almost nervously.

“What do you mean?” You ask.

“Darlin’,” he starts, but the sudden beeping of his walkie-talkie in the cup holder of the side-by-side interrupts him.

“Yoongi are you on here?” Tae voice asks. “We have a slight problem.”

“Dammit,” he swears and picks up his walkie, radioing back to your mutual friend. “What is it?”

“I went to order more hay from our supplier, and I accidentally dropped food on my keyboard, “ he explains nervously. “When I tried to clean up. I accidently put a few more numbers in the amount area and submitted it.”

“How much did you order?” Yoongi asks with closed eyes, expecting the worst.

“Umm, I don't want to tell you,” he says.

Yoongi tosses his walkie and starts the vehicle. You quickly grab the food containers and hold on for dear life as he speeds away toward your shared home. Poor Tae, he was going to be in for it again, and you're kind of sad that Yoongi seems to be dropping you off at home, so you'll miss it.

“I'm sorry,” he grips the steering wheel.

“What for?” You try not to laugh as you are jostled about the bumpy trail. “It was nice while it lasted.”

“I won't be long.” he promises as the two of you pull up behind your home in no time. I love you.”

“I love you too,” you give him a quick kiss and hop out of the.

Yoongi stares at you for a moment before giving you a smile. Shaking his head, he takes off back in the direction you came from. You swear you see him hit the steering wheel.

Man, just how bad did Tae mess up?

“I present you with mini blueberry cheesecakes made with aged goat cheese and fresh Tannie Farm blueberries. Topped with a drizzle of white chocolate,” you smile and hand each of the seven owners of Tannie Farm, also known as your best friends plus boyfriend, your new creation.

As each man takes a thoughtful bite, you busy yourself looking around the conference room. Nothing has changed in here since the first time you entered the room when Jin was pitching the idea for Jin's Jolly … whatever the name was going to be but was quickly dismissed. You had been so unsure back then. You and Yoongi had just gotten back ‘together’ even though you weren't aware you were actually together. Jimin and Tae were being hateful to you.

It was a rough time.

One that almost drove you out of town. You don't like to think about that time. In fact, you like to pretend like that never happened. Yoongi never brings it up. So you do the same. You like the present you. You like this life the two of you have built or rather the one he helped build and let you in.

“Where did you get the cheese?” Hobi asks.

“The deli in town ordered it for me,” you explain.

“I like it,” Kook nods. “It feels sophisticated.”

“It's good,” Jimin agrees. “Should I add it to the online menu? Give a little teaser to what's coming on the socials?”

“Not yet,” Yoongi says. “Wait until we actually make our own cheese. How are the bottles selling in the storefront of the bakery?”

“We sell out,” you inform him. “People are loving it.”

“That means we will have less bottles on the shelves once Y/N starts using the milk or cheese in desserts or Jin in his recipes,” Joon points out.

“Does that mean we get to have more goat friends?” Tae says with a hopeful smile.

“No one is saying that,” Yoongi sighs.

“We should see how our recipes sell first,” Jin says. “But if the profit is there….”

“It means more goat friends,” Jimin nods at his overly excited friend.

“I figure,” you say. “I can even bake mini..er cheese cakes and give them out as a sample at the farmers market. Get real time feedback before going all gung ho with it.”

“Not a bad idea,” Joon nods.

“I'm worried your menu is full enough as it is,” Yoongi voices his concern. “I don't want to add to it.”

“She can rotate her menu,” Kook suggests. “She and Jimin can get together and come up with a weekly or bi-weekly menu. Jimin can update the website and the socials to reflect that.”

“Again,” Joon adds. “Not a bad idea.”

“Yeah, that way people can really get a variety of new things mixed with the old,” Hobi smiles. “I'm sure she's tired of making the same old things after two years.”

“Okay,” Yoongi gives in. “How many different samples can you have for the farmers market? While this is good, not everyone enjoys blueberries.”

“I'll get with Joshua, and we will come up with two more?” You ask, and everyone nods.

“Perfect,” Joon smiles.

Everyone gets up from the table as you gather the small plates and silverware that you brought with you from the bakery. One by one, the men file out the door. However, Yoongi stays behind and takes the plates from your hands.

“Are you sure you're not taking too much on?” He questions.

“I'm sure,” you nod. “Kook's idea about rotating my menu would help a lot and keep things fresh.”

“I just want you to be sure,” he sighs. “Are you going to be home on time tonight?"

“Yeah,” you give him an odd look. “It's funny. I'm usually asking you that.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he nods, knowing you're right. “Just please be on time.”

“Okay, I promise,” you laugh lightly.

Yoongi leaves the meeting room with his hands full of dirty plates. You stand there staring at the doorway he just walked through. You wonder what he was up to. It wasn't like him to be so secretive. It wasn't your birthday. Yes, your anniversary was coming up, but you two already agreed not to make a big deal out of it. Maybe he was breaking up with you.

Your heart stops for a moment at the random thought that popped into your head. Taking a deep breath, you shook your head and cleared those thoughts away. You were stupid for even thinking that. You blame your old scars for that. After all, he started to give you a speech about wanting to take better care of you the other day. He wouldn't have done that if he was going to end it.

He loves you.

And you're just an idiot.

“Mommy missed you, Marmalade,” you baby talk your chubby ginger cat. “Where's daddy?”

Tossing your bag onto the kitchen table, you listen for any movement within the house. Unfortunately, the house seems quiet and empty. You weren't going to lie and say you weren't a tad bit disappointed that the surprise wasn't food.

“YOONGI?” You call out.

“UPSTAIRS,” he calls back.

Walking through the kitchen and into the living room. You head up the stairs where you notice a slightly warm, yellowish glow coming from your shared bedroom. Approaching the door, you place your hand on the solid piece of wood and push the door completely open.

“What's this?” You ask in awe of the candle lit room.

“I want you to relax tonight,” he says while handing you a white satin robe. “Change into this. You said you were sore. So, I'm going to give you a nice massage.”

“You don't have to give me a massage if you want sex,” you tell him as you take the robe from him.

“That's not,” he sighs. “Please change and come back here.”

Nodding, you walk further into the warm glowing bedroom and into the bathroom where you shut the door. Undressing, you laugh silently to yourself. Why does he seem so nervous about giving you a massage? He's seen you in much more vulnerable settings than in your bedroom with a robe on.

You needed to figure out what was going on with him.

Sliding your arms into the robe, you tie the sash around your waist and leave the bathroom. Yoongi whirls around to face you and slams the drawer in his nightstand shut, making the candle sitting on top flicker like crazy.

“Are you okay?” You ask.

“I'm perfect,” he gives you a tilted smile. “Come here, Darlin'.” He holds his hand out for you to take. Unsurly, you take a step forward and then another before you finally walk to him, slipping the palm of your hand into his. “It's okay. I promise.”

Yoongi unties your white sash and slips the material over your shoulders but doesn't expose you. Dipping his head, placing two gentle kisses to the newly unclothed skin.

“I don't know what to do,” you whisper. “You're kind of freaking me out.”

“Lie down on your stomach,” he tells you.

Crawling onto the bed, he pulls the material further away from your upper body but doesn't let it fall completely away. Lowering yourself to the mattress flat on your front, he places your arms at your sides while your eyes stare at the window. He closed the blinds and curtains to darken the room, allowing the candles to make their full effect. You feel him fold your robe over your bottom, keeping you covered as he straddles your legs.

“Where did you learn to give a massage?” You ask as the bed jostles and the cap of something pops open. “Nevermind, maybe I don't want to know.”

“Jimin gave me a few pointers,” he admits. “Remember when he thought he was going to be a massage therapist? I may have practiced on Hobi yesterday because I didn't want to hurt you. I mean … not like this. Over his clothes.”

“I knew he loved you more,” you say. “He could have given me a hint you were up to something.”

“He's my best friend,” Yoongi laughs. “He wouldn't tell on me.”

“Well,” you sigh as he places his now oiled hands on your upper back and presses them into your muscles. “He was my best friend first. Mmmmm.”

“Good?” He asks, sliding his hands up to your shoulders and sinking his thumb into your tense body.

“Yes,” you close your eyes. “Maybe I won't be mad at him this time for choosing you.”

“You know I was pissed at my parents when they made me move here,” he tells you, and you hum in acknowledgement. “I mean, there is only one stop light in town. I couldn't believe it. My old hometown even had a mall, and we're lucky to even have a grocery store here. I can even remember the first time I saw you.”

“Tell me,” you murmur.

“Mrs. Yoon's 7th grade science class, my first day in school,” his hands dip a bit lower, hitting your middle back, making you groan. “You were on Hobi's back as he carried you through the door. Jin was laughing at something. Probably, one of his own bad jokes. You rolled your eyes at him but quickly looked away, covering your own laugh. I remember thinking how cute you were.”

“You remember all that?” You ask.

“Yeah,” he says quietly. “What wrist hurts?” You raise your right arm, and he sits beside you, placing your hand on his lap. His fingers sink gently into the tender spot, making you bite your lip. It hurts but feels good at the same time. “Then I was pretty much told the three of you were weird and if I wanted to fit in. I should stay away from you.”

“Eh,” you laugh. “They weren't wrong.”

“They were,” he says. “I'm sorry for letting those guys scare me away from you all those years ago. I'm sorry for everything that happened between us in college. I'm sorry for almost losing you a year and a half ago.”

“Yoongi?” You ask and come up on your elbows to look up at him.

“Darlin’,” he breathes out. “I…”

A loud meow and a crash beside you, startling the both of you. Yoongi swears loudly as you gasp, grabbing Marmalade. Yoongi leaps over the side of the bed, grabbing the rouge candle that your cat knocked over onto the carpet. His swears grew louder as he began to wave his hand around wildly as the hot wax spills onto his skin, burning him.

“Oh my god,” you cry out, plopping your cat onto the bed. You quickly right your robe and grab your boyfriend, hauling him into the bathroom to see the damage. “Are you okay?”

“I'm fine,” he says tightly.

You stick his hand under the now running cold water and peel the hardened wax off his skin. Bright red splotches bloom across his pale skin, and you give him a look of pity. However, he doesn't see it. His eyes are closed, and his head shakes slightly.

It concerns you that the wax hurts him that bad.

You'll make him call the doctor tomorrow.

“What is this?” You ask yourself while looking at your email. “JOSHUA!”

“Yeah,” he says, jogging into your office.

“Come here, look at my email,” you say, scrolling through your hundreds of emails that you have never had before.

“Oh … wow,” he says, looking at the screen with you. “It must be from the vlogger that came through here last week.”

“What vlogger?” You ask.

“I guess some ‘famous’ vlogger stopped here one day on his way somewhere and bought something. I guess he liked it,” Joshua explains. “I'll look it up.”

As Joshua busies himself with his phone, you open an email. It was simple and right to the point. It was someone from across the country wondering if you were going to open your site to online ordering and nationwide shipping.

Biting your lip, you close that message and open the next to see a similar request. This is not what you were expecting when you came into work this morning and you definitely weren't expecting a little video of your bakery to get a million hits because someone popular stopped in for a quick minute.

You and Joshua look at one another.

You think Yoongi's plate just got a little fuller.

Giving a quick knock to Yoongi door, you push the slightly ajar door open. He looks up from his desk, giving you a soft smile as you walk in and throw yourself in the chair across from him.

“Uh, oh,” he sighs and leans back in chair to study you. “Please don't tell me someone quit.”

“No,” you shake your head. “I guess the bakery is viral right now.”

“What?” He asks with a scrunched face.

“I'm surprised Hobi and Jimin don't know,” you reply. “I guess we're all over social media. Some influencer bought something and gushed about it. I had three hundred emails asking about being able to order online.”

“What did they order?” Yoongi questions.

“A cinnamon roll,” you say. “That's not even the best thing we have. I don't even know how to reply to three hundred emails.”

“I don't know,” Yoongi sighs. “I mean It would be great to get your products out there and get our name out there further. However, I don't know the laws about shipping like that. Can our kitchen even handle that?”

“Honestly,” you tap your fingers on his desk. “Probably not. We would need room for packaging as well. The kitchen is a perfect size for what we have now, but I don't have room for growth.”

“We would have to hire more people too,” he adds. “We wouldn't have a choice. What do you want to do?”

“It's a big risk,” you admit. “But, I think it could be successful. It might even bring more visitors in and into the farm.”

“Okay, let me talk with Joon first before we call a meeting about it,” he tells you as he leans over his desk and folds his hands across the wood. “He and I will run some numbers and see if it's a risk we should willingly take.”

“Okay,” you nod.

“Are you positive that you're up to it, though?” He asks. “I don't want you taking on too much.”

“I'm sure, aannnd,” you smile. “Theo and Jamie who work out front have been starting to learn some of my easier recipes in their downtime. I know I complained about training new people but they would be good candidates.”

“It will be simple to replace them out front,” he nods. “Start training them one at a time. I have a feeling we are going to need two locations.”

“That sounds expensive,” you say, sounding worried.

“You don't worry about that,” he smirks. “It's your job to make sure things run smoothly at the locations and come home to me.”

“You and Marmalade,” you confirm, getting out of your seat and sliding into his lap. “Our little family.”

“Marmalade,” he groans.

“You love him,” you laugh. “I saw you feeding him bits of bacon the other day.”

“Because he's a beggar and wouldn't leave me alone,” he informs you.

“You're such a liar,” you laugh harder. “You're the first one to cuddle him when you nap on Sundays. I swear the two of you practically push me off the couch.”

“But we love you,” he kisses your shoulder.

Laughing, your eyes go to his office door to see Jungkook waving you over and trying to be discreet about it.

“I should get back,” you say, kissing Yoongi's cheek. “I will start emailing people telling them to look for an announcement soon.”

“Okay, I'll see you at home,” he pats your hip as you remove yourself from his lap.

As you leave his office, you shut the door behind you, and Jungkook immediately drags you away.

“What's going on?” You ask, slightly alarmed.

“A few of the goats escaped,” he tells you as he continues to pull you along the old converted barn.

“Yoongi is going to flip out,” you hiss.

“He doesn't have to find out,” he tells you. “Tae's worried Yoongi will want to make goat meat out of them.”

“How many are missing?” You question as the two of you slip out of the backdoor of Tannie Farm's office.

“Three,” he admits. “Jimin, Hobi, and … Kookie.”

“Great,” you sigh, and the two of you take off running through the farm. “What do they eat for snacks?”

“They like fruit,” he answers. “Let's grab a couple of apples from the barrels that were just picked. Should we split up?”

“What if I find one and can't wrangle her?” You question. “We should stick together.”

Jungkook grabs each of you a small red fruit. Tossing one to you, you catch it, and you look around the area. Tannie Farm was quite large. Between the apple orchard and the corn fields where the stalks are probably a good 6 feet high now. This wasn't going to be an easy task.

“The old barn is clear,” Jimin's voice comes through the walkie on Kook's hip.

“Y/N and I will run the corn field,” he says back into the black device and clips it back on his belt.

You don't even question it. You take off running for the tall green stalks of corn in hopes of finding the rogue goats. You know Yoongi wouldn't do anything to the poor little goats, but you know he wouldn't be happy to find out they were roaming the farm freely. Honestly, you also didn't want him to yell at Tae again for this. He's been good about taking care of the goats. He took pride in them. Just as much as he did in Betsy and Mary.

“Kookie,” you call sweetly as you enter the rows of corn. Pushing the green husks out of your face, you do your best to look between the rows around you. “Psspss.”

“They're not cats,” Kook says and tries his own goat call. “Maaa.”

“That sounds like a sheep,” you say.

“It's better than what you did,” he hisses.

“We got Hobi,” Tae says over the radio. “Kookie and Jimin to go.”

“Of course it's Kookie and Jimin,” you laugh and move further into the corn. “Two trouble makers take right after their namesakes.”

“Yoongi's loose,” Jimin says after the beep of the walkie.

You and Kook look at one another confused. Reaching over, you snatch his walkie-talkie from his belt and hit the button.

“Goat Yoongi or human Yoongi?” You question.

“Human,” Jimin's reply comes swiftly. “He knows something's up. He's seen that your car is still here, but no one can give him a straight answer to where you are.”

“Go fast,” you hiss, as Kook and the two double your speed looking for the goats. “I'll cut through a few rows, but stay where we can hear each other.”

“They are a little skittish," he warns. "Be careful if you find one.”

“I will,” you murmure as you carefully part two stalks of corn and slide through to the next row and then the next.

Dipping lower, you scurry through the field with your head on swivel, hoping to see four little goat legs. Slowing down, you come to a complete stop when you think you hear rustling. Dropping to your knees, you take a closer look around you. One row to your left and up you finally see goat hooves.

“Kook,” you whisper, yell at your friend. “I see one.”

Rustling to your side announces your friend's arrival, and you point down to where the lost animal was standing. Kook grabs his radio and looks at you with a worried face before pressing his side button, making it beep. The two of you look down the row of corn to see if it scares your little goat friend, but thankfully, she was still there.

“We have Jimin in the corn,” he says.

“She's a scaredy cat,” Tae warns. “You might need help with her. I'm coming …. and so is human Yoongi.”

“I'm going to head back the way I can and move up and hopefully get behind her,” he tells you. “You get in front and offer her the apple.”

“I'm scared,” you whisper.

“You'll do great,” he pats you on the shoulder and takes off, leaving you on your own.

Swearing softly to yourself, you move over to the next row on your left and finally come face to face with goat Jimin. The goat moves about some as you come into view, and you crouch down, trying not to intimidate the poor animal.

“It's okay,” you say softly and hold out the red fruit in your hand. The goat bleats at you, making you quickly look around for Kook or Tae. You didn't like being here alone at the moment. “Come on, goat Jimin.”

Taking a bite of your apple, you spit into your hand and toss it in front of the animal. Goat Jimin trots up to the piece of fruit, inspecting it before taking it into her mouth. Smiling, you bite off another piece of the shiny red fruit and toss it again, making it land a couple of feet away from the last piece.

Jungkook slowly comes up behind the lost little goat who was too busy snacking to notice him. Watching your friend, he suddenly makes an exaggerated waving motion with his arms. Scrunching your face in confusion, you look behind you to see Tae and Yoongi join you.

“Yoongi, you and I should flank both sides,” Tae whispers. “Jimin can get spooked.”

“I'm not leaving Y/N,” he says, crouching down next to you. You repeat your process with the apple, luring the goat a little closer to you and Jungkook a little closer to her. “Go, we got her from here.”

Tae doesn't argue and hides in the corn a couple rows over. The goat finishes her snack and seemingly looks at your hand. Reaching out to her, you hold the rest of the apple in your outstretched hand, offering it to her.

“I think it's working,” you whisper as she makes her way over to you and Yoongi.

“Get behind me,” he instructs.

“I'm fine,” you say, staying perfectly still.

Jungkook raises his arm once more. This time, he holds up his fingers in a countdown as you continue to keep your eyes on the farm animal. Just as Jungkook descends upon her, Tae's radio beeps startling everyone.

“We have Kookie,” Human Jimin says.

Unconsciously, you and Yoongi turn to Tae, who seems to be fumbling around with the radio.

“Turn it off!” Yoongi hisses.

“Y/N!” Kook exclaims.

Whirling back around, you don't even have time to register the fact that Goat Jimin was sprinting at you until it was too late. However, the pain of her headbutt is immediate as her head smacks you in the face, knocking you onto the ground.

Crying out, you grab your face. Tae pops out of the corn as Kook sprints and dives for the scared animal. Yoongi wraps his arms around you, pulling you off the ground as your friends capture goat Jimin.

“GET THAT THING OUT OF HERE!” Yoongi shouts, taking off with you.

“Yoongi!” You cry still holding your face.

“I know, Darlin’,” he says, getting you out of the corn field as quickly as he could. “I know. Just hold on.” You wrap your free arm around him tighter and hold on as tight as you can. “It's okay. Don't let go.”

You weren't.

You weren't ever going to let go.

“I can't believe that happened,” you say, removing your ice pack from your face, revealing your black eye. “I thought I was making a friend and then BAM! She took me out.”

“I'm going to send the goats away,” Yoongi tells you as he crawls into bed next to you. “They are a danger to my staff.”

“No, you're not,” you laugh. “I'm fine. I'll just have a black eye for a week or so.”

Propping himself on his elbow, Yoongi reaches over and tilts your face in his direction. His thumb gently rubs against your jaw, making you smile at him.

“I don't like seeing you get hurt,” he tells you. “That could have ended way worse than what it did.”

“I'm perfectly fine,” you say, reaching up to pull him down for a kiss.

Your hand slides through his hair as your tongue sneaks out and teases his bottom lip.

“I don't want to hurt you,” he murmurs against your lips.

“It's only my face,” you joke. “Kiss it better.”

Molding your mouth to his again, his hand gently slides up the skin of your bare thigh. Deepening the kiss, you try to roll him on top of you, but he is resisting. You know he's being cautious after you got knocked on your ass but you were seriously fine.

“Yoongi,” you exhale against him, pulling at his shirt.

“Just lie back,” he tells you.

Pressing his face into your neck, he kisses the sensitive spot between your neck and shoulder, making you moan softly. His hand fists the hem of your, technically his shirt, and slowly brings it up your body. Dipping his head, his lips follow the trail of newly exposed skin, making your stomach tense in anticipation.

Grabbing the fabric of your shirt, you rip it over your head. Yoongi's lips were on your breasts, swirling his tongue around your hardened nipple. You arch your back and press your hand on the back of his head, pressing him closer as he grounds his excitement against your hip.

Yoongi pulls off your breast and looks at you with blown pupils. Giving you a crooked smile, he slides down the bed and settles between your legs. Watching him intently, you watch his eyes flicker over to his nightstand briefly.

“Are you checking the time?” You joke. “Trust me, you last.”

“Oh, I know I last, but thanks for the ego boost,” he smirks wider. “I wasn't looking at anything.”

“You've been acting strange,” you tell him, but he shakes his head.

“I've been acting the same,” he tells you as his fingers sneak their way into your underwear.

“No, you ..” you gasp as his fingers glide over your bundle of nerves causing all your thoughts to fly out the window.

“What were you saying?” He asks, kissing the meat of your inner thigh.

“I don't know,” you sigh and close your eyes, taking in his touch on your needy core.

“Good,” he chuckles, pulling your underwear to the side and exposing you to his gaze. “Now like I said, just lie back and let me make you feel better.”

Opening your eyes, your gaze meets his. Yoongi's tongue snakes out, licking his lips before he descends on your center. You don't even stop the swear that flies out of your mouth as he licks your throbbing clit.

Shit, this never gets old.

You'll deal with your new mystery of his sudden strangeness tomorrow. For now, you'll do what he asks of you and just lie back and enjoy.

You snooped.

It took several days for you to get the courage to do so, but you snooped. You stayed in bed, letting Yoongi wake up first. As soon as you heard the bottles in the shower being moved around, you hopped out of bed and ran to his nightstand.

Opening the drawer, you use the flashlight on your phone to help you see into the darkness of the storage area. Sifting around, you were disappointed to see nothing abnormal in its contents. A couple of books, chargers, and chapsticks. It was way cleaner than your own drawer on your side of the bed, but there was nothing that would raise a red flag.

Now, you feel guilty about going through his things. However, you know your boyfriend and you know something is up. If he doesn't want to admit to it and you don't want to snoop through anymore of his belongings. You would have to go to the next best option.

“You know what he's up to, don't you?” You accuse Hobi as the two of you stand in the middle of your shared driveway.

“I have to get to work,” Hobi tells you quickly as he tries to make his way to his garage. “Shouldn't you have left hours ago?”

“Don't change the subject, Hoseok,” you say. “Besides, I came home to change since Yoongi and I have a meeting today with a guy who owns a shipping company. Tell me what's going on with him. I snooped, and I couldn't find anything, but I know something is going on.”

“Don't you dare snoop!” he says in his funny, high-pitched voice, making you narrow your eyes at him. He straightens up and quickly changes the subject. “Does that mean you are going to do that online ordering thing? My vote is yes. Lena has volunteered to help you package until you get things figured out.”

“I don't know,” you sigh. “Hobi, if you love me. You will tell if something is wrong, right? Like he's not having second thoughts about us, right?”

“There's nothing wrong,” he promises you, shaking his head back and forth . “Yoongi is still head over heels in love with you. Do you know everyone made fun of him after you got hurt by the goat? Kook said he kept wanting to leave the office to check on you the next day. Does that sound like someone who is having second thoughts?”

“No, but he's acting all weird and … nervous,” you tell him. “He's keeping something from me. I know it.”

“You have my word,” he holds up his hand. “If I knew Yoongi was up to something bad or was going to break up with you but was stalling. I would tell you, but he's not.”

“Okay,” you say, defeated. “Will you tell me one thing, though?”

“What's that?” He asks as you finally move aside to let him approach his garage.

“You love me more, right?” You blink innocently at him.

“You both drive me crazy,” he groans and walks past you.

“That wasn't a yes, Jung Hoseok,” you call out. “See if I babysit for you and Lena again.”

His only reply is to wave at you as he makes it to his car. You were bluffing. You know that you will babysit again and why? Because you love him more than anything. Even though you can't say the same for him.

Damn, Hobi.

“Should I let you do all the talking?” You ask Yoongi while the two of you walk into the bakery kitchen together.

“You just need to calm down,” Yoongi laughs at you.

“We probably should have taken this meeting in your office. “Why did we choose the bakery?”

“Why not,” he locks your fingers together. “It's the place of business in question. It will make it more personal and less stuffy.”

“You should do the talking,” you say. “I don't know what I'm doing.”

“Stop,” he stops walking right before you get to the door to exit to the main bakery floor. He cups your jaw, making you look at him. “You know what you're doing. If you didn't. We wouldn't be here,” Yoongi kisses you. “This is just a potential shipping partner. We are not financially dependent on this person. If this doesn't work out. We will find someone else.”

Okay,” you nod. “You're still doing all the talking.”

Yoongi shakes his head at you. Letting go of his hand, the two of you exit the kitchen and look around the bakery floor. After a quick scan, you spot a single man sitting in the corner enjoying a cup of coffee and wearing a jacket with the shipping company name that Yoongi was interested in.

“Mr. Lim,” Yoongi smiles politely. “Thank you for meeting us here. This is Y/N L/N, our bakery manager and head baker here at Crust and Crumb.”

“Mr. Min, Ms. L/N,” Mr. Lim greets. “Thank you for having me. Please have a seat and tell me more about this meeting.”

“We are looking into the opportunity to open up our bakery for nationwide shipping. I've been doing research into different shipping companies, and honestly,” Yoongi pauses and looks at you. “The cost of what they charge is ridiculous. I'm not looking to rip off my customers.”

“Shipping is getting expensive,” Mr. Lim nods. “However, we do have ways to keep costs down for recurring clients. Besides shipping, we do offer customizable shipping supplies. Bubble wrap, tissue paper, and stickers with your brand on them. Those will be at a discounted price with a signed contract.”

“What are prices for shipping across the country compared to other leading companies?” You ask.

“For a box of desserts,” he tilts his head. “Our competitors would probably charge starting at fifteen dollars. We would start at ten.”

“I'm worried how the boxes would be handled,” you tell him.

“They would be handled with the utmost care,” he tells you. “He can even design the perfect box for you to reduce the chance of a ruined product with less movement from inside the box.”

“Send us over a contact,” Yoongi tells him and slides him a Tannie Farm business card. “We are still in the very early stages of this venture, but our lawyer would need to look over the paperwork.”

“Of course,” Mr. Lim smiles at you. “I can even make time if you want to meet me at my office to check out some designs we can do for you. You can bring in your bakery boxes, and we can measure to make sure we fit our shipping boxes to your needs.”

“Oh,” you laugh and look at your boyfriend. “Yes, sure. That sounds good, Mr. Lim.”

“Please call me Jaebeom,” he says, making you nod awkwardly.

“Jaebeom,” you say. “I will be in touch to set up that appointment.”

Yoongi's hand slides on top of your thigh and gives you a gentle squeeze. You smile at him and smile at your guest. You wish you would have let Yoongi deal with this on his own. You should just be dealing with the new goat cheese menu and influx of new daily customers you're seeing at the bakery.

The business end was supposed to be all him. You bake, and he deals with all of the paperwork. It was perfect before.

Great.

Just great.

“Would you eat ice cream made of goat milk?” You ask an eight year old Danny who you broke down and said yes to babysit for.

“Would it taste like regular ice cream?” He asks as he concentrates on his handheld game.

“I don't know,” you admit.

“No,” he says truthfully, making you sigh in frustration.

“What if it was chocolate flavored?” You ask hopefully, and he turns his eyes to you, pulling a face. “You're a tough critic.”

“I'll try some cookies,” he tells you with a smile.

“Your mom and Hobi said no cookies before dinner,” you tell him, then smile as you walk over to your kitchen cupboard. “Sugar cookie or peanut butter?”

“Awesome,” he runs over to you and snags both cookies.

“Hey, you tell them that Yoongi let you have them,” you laugh.

“Okay,” he shrugs and doesn't question you as he goes back to his game.

Sitting back down at the kitchen island, you take a look at your idea scribbled down on your note pad. These little goats were starting to look less cute as the days went by.

“What about a pudding?” You call out from the kitchen into the living room.

“Gross,” he calls back, and you smack your head with your hand.

“Hey,” Yoongi comes into the house. “Our lawyer said the shipping company's contract was fair, and we are good to sign it.”

“Great,” you say, jotting your pudding idea down.

“Should Danny be eating cookies right now?” He questions.

“No,” you shake your head. “What do you think of goat cheese ice cream?”

“You've never made ice cream before,” he replies.

“Hmm, true,” you nod, frowning in thought before perking up with a smile. “Maybe you should purchase me an ice cream maker so I can try.”

“Figure out how to do it by hand first,” he says. “Thoes things are probably expensive.”

“Okay fine, when are we signing?” You back down from the ice cream machine. Yoongi plops the sheet of paper on the tiled surface in front of you. “Should I be reading this?”

“You can,” he nods. “I already did. It just talks about our projected price and products that we are entitled to. It states that if we break our contract before the year is up, we owe a termination fee. If there is damage to any products we or the customers receive from them … well, just tell me, and I will deal with it.”

“What about my meeting with Jaebeom?” You ask. “When should I schedule that?”

“Ah, Jaebeom,” he sighs.

“That's what he told me to call him,” you laugh.

“He didn't tell me to call him that,” Yoongi argues.

“I need to know what color of bubble wrap and tissue paper we want,” you say, ignoring his comment. “Do you want our brand printed on the box or a big ol' sticker stuck to the middle of the box? Although, it would probably be cheaper just to stick with a plain brown shipping box. I don't want to make this more expensive than it needs to be.”

“I'll come with you, and we'll figure it out,” he shrugs, and you throw him a look. “What?”

“Send another babysitter with me,” you say.

“Why?” He questions.

“I don't need you glaring at him the whole time,” you roll your eyes and sign your name to the bottom of the contract.

“I don't glare,” he argues.

“What about a certain music teacher I used to work with?” You look up at him. “You ran him right out of the teachers' lounge.”

Yoongi purses his lips and rolls his neck, cracking it.

“Jimin will go with you,” he says.

“That's what I thought,” you smirk.

“Knock, knock,” Hobi pops his head through the kitchen door. “Danny, it's time to go! Thanks for watching him, Y/N.”

“No, problem,” you say. “Is Lena still up for helping me package?”

“Sure is,” he answers as his girlfriend's child comes running into the kitchen covered in cookie crumbs. “Didn't your mom say no cookies?”

“Yoongi gave them to me,” he replies, looking at you, and you give him a subtle nod.

“Yoongi,” Hobi groans and ushers the child out the door before your boyfriend can defend himself.

Yoongi looks at you in disbelief.

“It's not fun being the least favorite, is it?” You ask as you close your notebook. “I'm moving back up, baby!”

“I can't believe you,” he glares at you.

“Well, believe it,” you smile. “I'm going to shower before dinner.”

“You're gonna get it,” he growls and smacks your butt as you stand up.

Laughing, you take off running through the living room and up the stairs with Yoongi right on your heels. The two of you end up in the shower together and stay under the cascading water until it turns cold.

You guess you can figure out how to make ice cream tomorrow.

“Okay,” you say nervously, looking at the vacuumed sealed bag in front of you. “I'm not going to let you defeat me. You're just cheese.”

“Who are you talking to?” Yoongi asks, coming up behind you and wrapping his arms around your waist.

“The cheese,” you admit.

“It's finally done,” he says, looking down at the counter.

“I'm going to be able to have the samples ready for the farmers market this weekend,” you tell him. “Soobin said he already taste tested the batch, and it was just as good as the one the deli ordered for me. I'm so thankful we have him.”

“Well, pop that in the cooler, and let's go for a walk,” he instructs, and you give him a questionable look. “You've been cooped up in here all day. You need some sunlight.”

“Okay,” you agree, taking the cheese off the counter and putting it away. “Where are we going?”

“We can just walk around town,” he says, shrugging.

Tossing your apron to the side, the two of you step out the back door, and Yoongi takes the liberty of locking it for you. Walking to the front of the building, Yoongi leads you down main street with your arms swinging slightly between the two of you.

“Do you think a goat cheese mousse sounds gross?” You ask. “Not for the bakery, but I feel like Jin could offer it on his menu?”

“Stop worrying,” he kisses your head.

“I wish I could. Hey, do you remember the old candy store that used to be on the corner here?” You ask, looking at the building where the flower shop now stands.

“Yeah,” he nods. “We would go there after school. It was the only place to go other than the cafe.”

“I wonder what the kids do now?” You ponder out loud. “The cafe is gone now. The candy store is gone. Man, even the park doesn't seem as fun anymore.”

“Probably what we used to do,” he laughs. “Go hang out in the woods by school when it gets dark.”

“I … never did that,” you say.

“Yes you did,” he says, not letting you get away with your lie. “You went there with that other girl. I don't remember her name.”

“Nayeon,” you admit. “Hobi and Jin were too afraid to get caught. To be fair, Jin's mom is kind of scary.”

“I think those nights were the only nights I ever saw you without them,” he laughs.

“Why were you watching me?” You smirk. “I believe you always had a date hanging off your arm those nights.”

“Yeah, trying to make you jealous. I don't think you looked at me once,” he smiles, and you laugh. “Let's sit.”

Sitting on a bench across from the middle school, you lean into his side, and the grip on his hand tightens.

“I probably would have died of embarrassment if you had caught me staring at you back then. I never thought I was going to come back here after I left,” you say. “Did you?”

“No,” he replies. “I thought I was going to be gone for good. Then Taehyung's crazy ass dragged me back here. It was the best decision I ever made.”

“I agree,” you nod, watching a group of boys ride their bike across the sidewalk. “You and the guys have done wonders.”

“That's not what I'm talking about,” he licks his lips. “Darlin’, you coming back into my life has been the best …..”

“Mr. Min, Ms. L/N,” Mrs. Yoon, your old seventh grade science teacher, calls and waves at you. The two of you wave back and stand as she crosses the street. “I'm so happy to see the two of you. I wanted to let you know my daughter and son-in-law are so excited to have done business with you.”

“I'm sorry?” Yoongi asks. “What business would that be?”

“Kim Taehyung purchased some of their chickens,” she smiles. “They were getting worried no one was going to buy from them when they started raising them, but then Mr. Kim came along.”

“Did you say chickens?” He asks, and you rub his back.

“Yes,” she nods. “Twenty four hens.”

“Twen … twent…” Yoongi stumbles on his words.

“It was so good seeing you, Mrs. Yoon,” you smile at her. “I think we need to get back to the farm.”

“Of course,” she nods. “It was lovely seeing you two. I'll have to stop by the bakery soon.”

Waving goodbye, you look at your boyfriend, who was in clear shock.

“Yoongi,” you touch his chest.

“I'm going to kill him,” he grits his teeth.

Oh, no.

Here we go again.

“You need to remember you love Tae,” you tell Yoongi as you try to keep up with his fast-paced walking. “He's like your brother. He's part of the reason you're SOOOOO HAPPY now. He's actually probably the reason we're together.”

“Twenty four chickens,” he keeps repeating. “Cows, goats, and CHICKENS!”

You continue to follow him as the sound of hammering echoes across the farm. You practically jog past the seven goats and two cows before rounding the corner heading to the far side of the barn. Yoongi stops suddenly, making you run straight into his back. Looking around his body, you can feel your shoulder slump as you take in a large chicken coop. One that looks premade and was clearly purchased without Yoongi knowing.

“Kook,” you say, causing your friend to stop what he was doing and turn around to look at you. He drops the hammer and looks at Yoongi with wide eyes. “What's going on?”

“Tae made me do it,” he answers quickly.

“Chickens?” Yoongi questions.

“We told him not to do it,” Jungkook tries. “But he had the idea stuck in his head that we needed our own eggs. We told him he better talk to you first, and he obviously didn't.”

Yoongi shakes his head.

“I doubt they were as expensive as the goats,” you say, trying to ease the tension. “I think chickens are pretty cheap.”

“The chickens may be cheap,” he argues. “But now we have chicken feed to buy, vaccinations, and upkeep on the coop. All of that does cost money. Money we should be putting toward your online bakery.”

“So, we don't do it anymore,” you shrug, and he stares at you like you were crazy.

“We already signed the contract with the shipper,” he says. “We are not backing out of it. You don't deserve that.”

“Maybe it won't be so bad,” you wrap your arms around his waist. “He wasn't wrong about the goats or Mary and Betsy. Maybe you should cut him a little slack.”

“He's had a lot of slack,” Yoongi argues. “Too much, I would say.”

Yoongi wraps his arm around you and holds on to you tightly. Kook turns back around, hammering away at the chicken coop. You were just going to keep your mouth shut and stay in your lane. Desserts were your lane. You were leaving everything else to Yoongi and sticking with your desserts.

No matter how guilty you were feeling right now.

“I did it FOR the bakery,” Tae argues as you all sit in the meeting room once again.

“What are you talking about?” Jin asks, sounding exasperated.

“I actually ran some numbers this time,” he said. “Y/N uses almost fifty dozen eggs a week, and that number keeps climbing. Once we open the online store, it's only going to climb higher. This will help cut costs.”

“Twenty four chickens can't produce enough eggs to cut anything,” Yoongi argues back.

“I know that!” Tae snaps. “That's why we start small. It's just like we did with Mary and Betsy. Just like we are doing with our goat friends.”

“He's not wrong,” Joon says, standing up for Tae making Yoongi sigh. “We should see how many eggs they produce. We can cut back on that many cases of eggs we purchase, or we sell the eggs right by the goat milk. Then we see how it does until we get enough chickens to eliminate our egg purchase altogether.”

“We would need … hundreds of chickens,” Hobi says, looking at his phone. “Probably around 200.”

“TWO HUNDRED!” Yoongi exclaims. “What if they don't produce enough eggs? What do we do with TWO HUNDRED chickens then?”

“Jin can cook them up,” Jungkook jokes.

“I'm not killing my own chicken,” Jin shakes his head. “Don't make me do it.”

“Don't be a wimp,” Jimin teases.

“STOP!” You yell, shooting up from your seat, making everyone stare at you. “Just stop. I'm sick of this fighting. I'm sick of this stress. I don't want to open a stupid online bakery. I signed up to bake some stupid bread and make some stupid jams to sell at the stupid farmer's market. AHHHH!”

You scream.

The guys all flinch back into their seats as you take a deep breath.

“Y/N?” Jimin questions.

You don't answer him. Instead, you walk out of the meeting room and down the hall. You thought you would feel better getting it off your chest, but all you feel is embarrassment. You can hear a slight scuffling down the hall from where you just came and a yell before footsteps coming running down the hallway after you.

“Where are you going?” Hobi asks, throwing his arm around you.

“I need air,” you answer as your legs still carry you toward the door.

“We will come with you,” Jin says, grabbing your hand. “Come on, let's go see the goats.”

The three of you leave the office building and walk into the late evening sun. Kicking at the dirt as you go, you head to the seven little goats who invaded the farm. Entering the barn, you give Betsy and Mary a pat on their backs as you make your way into the back of the barn where the bleating of the goats could be heard.

“Hi, Jinnie, you beautiful girl,” Jin smiles at his goat as he reaches over and pets her. “Pet her, Y/N.”

“No, thank you,” you say. “Once you get a black eye from one, you tend to be nervous around them.”

“Hobi wouldn't hurt you,” Hobi smiles and pets his own goat. “So, do you want to actually tell us what's going on?”

“I'm scared,” you admit.

“Scared of what?” Jin asks.

“You guys are sinking a lot of money into this whole online bakery thing,” you explain. “What happens if it's not successful? What happens if you buy hundreds of chickens or open a second location to accommodate my orders and then it just doesn't pan out? I can't even come up with goat cheese recipes that sound good. I'm clearly not made to do anything outside what my grandmother has already come up with.”

“That's not true. I've been struggling with the goat products, too. So, that's not just you. Also, you have been having large custom orders,” Jin explains. “I'm in your bakery all the time to pick up my desserts for the restaurant. When you have an event to bake for. You barely have room back there.”

“A secondary location wouldn't go to waste,” Hobi explains. “Especially if it's on our land that we already own.”

“You have plenty of options to choose where you would want your work space to go,” Jin adds. “We can add on to the main office where there is already electricity and gas running. Also, you'll be close to Yoongi.”

“Or we can run electricity and gas out in the middle of nowhere.” Hobi adds. “And you can have some peace and quiet away from everyone. We can make whatever you want work.”

You cover your face with both hands and take a shuddering breath.

“I don't want to let Yoongi down,” you cry.

“You're not going to let me down,” Yoongi says, walking up to the three of you. Hobi and Jin slip away after giving you a soft pat on the back. Once he reaches you, Yoongi gently wraps his arm around your shoulders and pulls you into his warmth. “The only thing that will disappoint me is if you go through with expanding the bakery and you don't really want to do it.”

“It just seems like a lot,” you continue to cry into his chest. “What if I can't fulfill the orders? What if it cuts into too much of our time together? You already worry that I get home late sometimes.”

“I would never let you drown like that,” he shakes his head and makes you look at him. “I know I'm not the best helper for you, but I would be right there by your side if you thought you were going down. I would be right there fighting through six other men to help you.”

“What if I can't?” You ask. “What's the backup plan?”

“We will figure it out,” he wipes your tears away. “Someone always has an idea. Tell me, do you want to expand? If not, I'll take the blame by saying it's too risky and we will move on. If you do, I'll be right by your side helping anyway I can.”

“I want to try,” you say, making him smile at you. “I want to see if I can do it.”

“I'm right here,” he promises as he pushes you against the goat's pen, leaning in to give you a kiss.

As you pull him in, a heavy hit to your ass sends you into Yoongi. Knocking the both of you away from the enclosure. Your mouth drops open as you whirl around to see the white little goat Yoongi trying to look innocent as she stands there. Your Yoongi starts laughing.

“They hate me,” you say, glaring at him, rubbing your bottom, but he shakes his head staring at his namesake.

“That's my favorite part, too,” he winks at her.

“Oh my god!” You slap his arm and head out of the barn.

While your fear is still there, you suddenly don't feel so alone in the endeavor. You have seven pairs of hands ready to help you out no matter how busy they are. It's just going to be up to you to voice when you need help or are doubting yourself. After all, you do have some of the best hypemen on your side.

“We are doing a standard shipping box with just plain bubble wrap.” You tell your boyfriend as you collapse on the couch next to him and pick up Marmalade. “However the tissue paper is going to have cows, goats, and chickens printed on it to represent Tannie Farm.”

“Are the customers going to understand that?” He questions, looking over at you.

“Jimin had a good idea of putting an insert into the orders, giving an overview about us,” you explain. “One side can be a pretty picture of the farm … probably during a sunrise or sunset. Then, just a quick info blast about Crust and Crumb coming from Tannie Farm and using our self grown produce.”

“Hmmm,” Yoongi nods. “So, all the bleach hasn't ruined his braincells?” Your eyes go up to his own blond locks, making him roll his eyes at you. “Are you sure you don't want a fancy box?”

“That's the thing,” you scratch your ginger cat under his chin. “Jimin and I stopped at Paper Mart on the way back and designed whole new bakery boxes. Instead of the plain white boxes we use, we went with light beige boxes with dark brown horizontal stripes and for closures. We ordered circular Crust and Crumb stickers. Plus, we ordered rectangular stickers to add to the corner of the boxes, saying, "Thank You From Tannie Farm.””

“How much?” He sighs.

Putting your cat down, you reach into your pocket to grab your phone.

“It's not bad,” you promise. “The boxes, stickers, and when we add the inserts are only a bit more than what we pay now for our plain boxes. However, we are saving quite a bit for going with the standard shipping boxes and bubble wrap,” You show him your email receipt. “Paper Mart gives a discount for recurring automatic payments, a new client discount for switching companies and discounts throughout the year that I can apply to my orders. The company we use now has never given me a discount.”

“The box does look nice,” he nods. “I guess Tae can get the picture of the farm. It will make him feel good.”

“Great,” you run your hand through his hair. “They ask that I get it in by the end of the week. You'll also be happy to know that I didn't even see Jaebeom. We worked with someone else.”

"Doesn't bother me at all,” he sniffs, causing you to laugh.

“Okay, great,” you smile deviously. “His secretary gave me his personal number. I guess I can give him a call to get his opinion on my choices.”

“It's a brown box. You don't need his opinion on it,” he glares at you, making you laugh harder.

“I'm joking,” you lay your head on his shoulder. “Listen, I don't admit it but I get jealous when women give you fuck me eyes at the farmers market.”

“No one gives me ‘fuck me eyes’ at the farmers market,” he chuckles, shaking his head.

“Yes they do,” you say softly. “I'm just lucky that you don't care to acknowledge it.”

“I don't want anyone but you,” he kisses the top of your head. “Are you ready to launch your samples tomorrow?”

“I guess,” you answer wearily. “We've been working hard on them. Joshua and Felix busted their butts today to get them prepared. Jimin posted that we are soft launching a new product, and the comments seem positive.”

“Do you want me or one of the guys helping you tomorrow?” He asks, stroking your arm.

“No,” you close your eyes with a yawn. “Theo and I can handle it.”

“Well, we will make sure to keep an eye out anyway,” he says as your body starts to relax against him. “I'm so proud of you.” You hum sleepily in response. “I'm happy that you're letting me be by your side while you're growing like this. I want nothing more than for us to grow together ….”

His words fade away as your body gives into all the mental exhaustion you've been going through in the past few weeks. You're finally getting the damn samples out. You're finally making decisions about the online bakery, and now you can finally feel like you can sleep.

As your light snores fill the room, you miss Yoongi's sigh of disappointment as he holds you closer. Throwing a blanket from the back of the couch over the both of you, as he settles in more comfortably with Marmalade joining you on his lap. Closing his eyes, he lets the warmth of the both of you lull him to sleep. The quiet living room is soon filled with the snoring of two humans and a chubby orange cat.

One sleepy family.

Crust and Crumb had earned its own tent at the local farmers market. Right smack dab next to Tannie Farms tent. Hell, Yoongi even made sure to roll up the joining side of each shelter and tie your poles together to make it one large area. His reasoning was that you were a part of Tannie Farm, so he needed to be able to jump over to you easily if he had to. You think he didn't like the way some of the men talked to you when you wore your cute sun dresses in the hot weather.

While Joshua and Felix ran the bakery on Saturday mornings, you were here selling your goods in person. Smoozing with the customers and sneaking off to do a little shopping of your own when Yoongi went off to get more produce for the Tannie Farm side of your tent. You know you don't fool him, but he hasn't called you out on it yet. It makes you giggle that he lets you get away with too much compared to the guys. Who knows, maybe that's the perk of sleeping with the boss.

“Can I have a sample?” Jungkook whispers as he leans into your tent area.

“You had one already,” you tell him.

“But I'm hungry,” he replies.

Leaning over to pluck a plastic cup off your tray, you hand your friend a dessert with a smile. Shaking your head, you head back out in front of your area and straighten some of your baked goods while there is finally a small line.

“Y/N, dear,” Mrs. Kang, your mother's nosey neighbor, comes up to your table waving at you.

“Hello Mrs. Kang,” you smile at her.

“You are one hard lady to get a hold of,” she tells you. “It must be this new ‘fame’ of yours.”

“I'm always at the bakery,” you tell her. “Did you need something, Mrs. Kang?”

“My husband and I are going to be celebrating our fortieth anniversary in three months,” she informs you. “It's going to be a large party. Your mother and father are, of course, invited. I'm in desperate need of one of your famous cakes.”

“You need to call or stop by the bakery to put in an order,” you tell her.

“Well, I just thought … as your mother's best friend and neighbor. You would do this for me as a favor,” she smiles at you

“You want me to make you a cake for free?” You question making her nod in reply. “A large cake for a party?”

“You can think of it as repaying me for all the times I babysat you after school,” she says.

“I can't do that,” you shake your head at her. “Besides, I only run the bakery. I don't own it. I can't make those decisions.”

“But I watched you grow up from a baby to practically a celebrity of our small town,” she tells you, sounding upset. “I remember when your mother and father brought you home from the hospital. Can't you do this one thing for me?”

“Would you like a sample sample of our new cheese cake?” Jimin asks, smiling at the older woman as he holds a tray between the two of you. “Y/N made these with goat cheese made directly from Tannie Farm.”

“Yes,” you smile. “We have a blueberry, strawberry compote and a honey and walnut.”

“Lovely,” she takes a honey and walnut sample off the tray.

“I'm sorry,” you tell her again. “I can't make you a cake for free. Congratulations on your anniversary, though.”

Her pleasant smile finally drops off her face as she stares at you. Jimin quickly puts the tray down and walks quickly back behind Tannie Farm's table, hiding.

“It's your anniversary coming up too, isn't it?” She asks, taking a bite of her sample dessert. “Your mother mentioned it one day.”

“Of course she did.” You roll your eyes and cross your arms.

“Yes,” she confirms. “Almost two years and yet still no ring.”

“What is your point?” You ask as you start to get irritated with this conversation.

“Didn't I warn you before about your … loose morals?” She asks, blinking innocently at you. “Min Yoongi is a good catch around here. Why would he want to marry you when you give it away for free? You didn't learn the first time, did you? You're not very smart.”

Your mouth drops open, and so do your friends. Your face burns with embarrassment at her words. You didn't think she could sink any lower than she already had in the past, but of course, you were wrong.

She could.

“Isn't that your fourth sample?” Hobi calls from the Tannie Farm tent.

“No,” Jungkook corrects his friend. “It's her fifth. She came around when you went on break.”

“You should listen to yourself,” Jimin says loudly, causing everyone around the vicinity to look in your area. “I think your husband likes loose morals. After all, I'm pretty sure he's been enjoying his … ‘golf buddy’ a lot more than you.”

Mrs. Kang gasps and turns to look at your friends with fury.

“Yeah,” Hobi nods. “I saw him with his ‘golf buddy’ at the Crust and Crumb for dinner the other night. I don't think they were talking about golf balls.”

“How dare you!” She hisses at them. “I'm going to ruin your little farm.”

“YOU WANT TO RUIN OUR FARM BECAUSE Y/N WON'T MAKE YOU A FREE CAKE?” Jungkook asks loudly, making sure the customers can hear the truth. “Or because we know your husband's a cheater?” He asks more quietly.

Mrs. Kang turns back to look at you, glaring at you as hard as she can.

“I'm going to talk to your mother,” she warns, clutching her bag to her body before whirling around and scurrying away.

“I think we won,” Jimin laughs.

“Are you okay here alone, Theo?” You ask, looking at the ground.

“Yeah,” he replies.

“I … I'm … I need to go,” you say.

Walking off, you head behind the tent straight for your car. You didn't know where you were going to go, but you needed to get out of there. You didn't want the town, your customers to see you cry.

You forgot why you hated the farmers market.

Leave to Mrs. Kang to remind you why.

“Extra sprinkles,” Jin slides a dish of ice to you.

“Shouldn't you be in the kitchen prepping for lunch?" You ask through your sniffles.

“I have a good team,” he smiles at you and sits on his desk as you sit in his chair.

“It's not weird right?” You ask, taking a bite of your ice cream. “Two years together and there's no proposal.”

“NO!” His voice suddenly goes high pitched, and he starts laughing. Hobi hits him on the arm, and he clears his throat, containing his laughter. “No, no. I mean, you're happy, right?”

“Of course I'm happy,” you reply. “My career is doing well. Yoongi and I have a cat we adopted together. I THINK we are both happy. I know I'm happy.”

“He's happy,” Jin gets up from his desk and nervously shuffles some papers around.

“What are you doing?” You ask.

“Cleaning?” He answers. “What are YOU doing?”

“Jin, are you okay?” You ask, eating your ice cream as you watch him ‘clean’.

“He's fine,” Hobi laughs nervously and glares at Jin. “We all know Mrs. Kang loves to make people miserable. She was glaring at me and Danny the other day when I picked him up from school. Told me I was a sucker.”

“That's it!” Yoongi snaps, bursting through Jin's office door. “I'm sending that …. old cow a letter banning her from all Tannie Farm properties! I'll sue her for slander if she tries to ruin us. I hope she does. Please, I hope she does!”

“Thank god,” Jin sighs. “I need to get to work.”

“Wait, don't you need your lucky pen?” You ask as your hand goes to open his desk drawer.

“DON'T OPEN THAT!” All three men yell at the same time.

Your hand immediately backs away and drops to your side. Looking at them in shock, you're not quite sure why they all yelled at you.

“What's … in there?” You ask cautiously.

“Drugs … porn,” Jin and Hobi answer at the same time while Yoongi shakes his head, looking at the floor.

You look at your best friends horrified.

“I'll just go back to the market,” Hobi says nervously.

“I can work without my lucky pen,” Jin laughs.

They both walk quickly to the door, shoving each other. Hissing something about drugs and porn while slugging the other one on the arm. God, you hope they were lying.

“I'm ready for today to be over with,” you tell him. “I'm ready to go and just be done. I honestly don't care about the porn but please tell me there's no drugs in there.”

“They're both idiots,” he sighs, running a hand through his hair. “I'm so pissed right now that she made you upset.”

“You're happy with me, right?” You ask, pushing your bowl of ice cream away and letting it melt.

“Of course I am,” he nods.

“Maybe I'm just letting her get to me,” you admit. “I'm okay with not being engaged. I really am, but maybe …”

“Maybe what?” He asks, coming down to kneel in front of you.

“Maybe we should start to think about talking about our …. future more,” you say. “But… Changkyun said he only asked me to marry him because I nagged him about it. I don't want to come across as nagging.”

“Hey,” he says, stopping you. “I love you. Just because I haven't asked you to marry me yet doesn't mean I won't ever ask you to marry me. You have so much on your plate right now. I don't want you worrying about us. We are SOLID. Do you hear me? Fuck, Changkyun. Don't ever listen to that trash.”

“My mother clearly doesn't think so if she is gossiping about us,” you comment.

“You're mother will never think I'm good enough for you,” he cups your face, making you look at him. “But your dad likes me, and you like me. That's good enough for me. I promise you, when I imagine the future … all I see is you.”

“All I see is you too,” you whisper.

Yoongi smiles at you and brings you in for a kiss. Wrapping your arms around his back, your chair rolls forward a bit, hitting him in the front of his thighs. Chuckling, he pulls you from the chair and sits you on top of Jin's wooden desk. Grabbing behind your knees, he pulls you until your ass is at the edge and your body is pressed against him.

“Jin is going to kill us,” you pant as his lips attach themselves to your neck.

“I'll take the blame,” he promises. “We need to hurry. I don't think the door locks but you're so fucking beautiful right now.”

You look over your shoulder and back at your boyfriend. Biting your lip, you make your decision. Grabbing the front of his pants, you quickly undo his belt and pants as his hands disappear under your pale green sun dress. His long fingers grip the side of your underwear, sliding them down your legs and off your feet before pocketing them into the back pocket of his jeans.

“Yoongi,” you say, your eyes looking back over your shoulder.

“Shhh,” he says, taking your lips again as he wraps your hand around his length still confined in his underwear.

You moan into his kiss and grip his harder, causing him to groan into the kiss. With a slight hiss, he rests his forehead against yours. His fingers trail up your thighs until they meet your wet heat. Tipping your head back, you support yourself by resting your hands behind you on the desk while spreading your legs wider for Yoongi.

“I'm going to make sure,” he whispers into the office. “You never forget how I feel about you. You should never doubt my love for you.”

His fingers sink into you, curling perfectly and rubbing against your sensitive walls. You collapse back on the hard desk beneath you. Your legs wrap around him instinctively, moving him closer to you. You can hear the metal of his belt hit the wood of the surface under you as he pulls his fingers out of you and pulls his pants down mid thighs.

You weren't lying when you said you didn't need an engagement.

You had an engagement before, and it was a nightmare.

You love what you and Yoongi have. It's an amazing life, and you feel stupid for letting someone get to you … again. Yoongi is supportive in ways you never thought possible. He believes in you. He makes you believe in yourself. You didn’t need a ring on your finger to tell you that. He tells you that every day.

You just had to stop listening to others and listen to your heart.

You both gasp as he enters you. His hands are firm as he holds you in place. Keeping you right where he wants you.

Closing your eyes, you sigh. That was exactly what you needed right now. A firm hold. A firm hold to keep you by his side.

With a kiss to your shoulder, he interlocks your fingers as the two of you leave Jin's office. Cutting through the kitchen, you pass by Jin, who stops the two of you with the harshest glare you have ever seen from your friend. His eyes take in your appearance as he shakes his head.

“You heathens,” he whispers. “My office?”

“Your chair is safe,” Yoongi promises.

“My desk?” He asks, deathly calm, but you refuse to answer. “I'm burning the building down.”

“Please don't,” you say. “My bakery is attached.”

“Out,” he tells you.

Yoongi's hand tightens on your own hand and pulls you out of Crust and Crumbs' main kitchen. Biting your lip, you finally let go of your laugh as you step foot outside. Yoongi smiles at you, pulling you into a hug.

“Can today get any worse?” You laugh.

“That wasn't that bad,” he chuckles.

“I should get back to the farmers market to see how the samples are going,” you tell him.

“I'm sure they are doing well,” he kisses you.

“Well, Mrs. Kang had five,” you tell him, and he rolls his eyes.

“Of course she did,” he sighs. “I can't wait to ban her. I'll officially ban her for harrassment.”

“Come on, let's go,” you shake your head in amusement.

“Oh, no,” you whisper.

“Shit,” Yoongi swears at the same time as you both take in the long line that went straight down and wrapped around the corner.

It was getting late in the afternoon. Normally, the crowd would have died down by now. Locals usually get their first things in the morning, line up and buy their goods, and leave before crowds come. However, this crowd was different. This crowd definitely was not local. They were younger, and you didn't recognize any of them as your regulars.

Running to your table, poor Theo was red-faced and sweating as Kook and Jimin were helping him keep up with customers. Tannie Farms table was still going strong, but Hobi and Tae looked stressed for you.

“What do we need?” Yoongi asks, taking control.

“Everything,” Kook says. “We are running out of baked goods fast. I made the executive call to close the bakery an hour early, and Joshua is on his way with what they have over there.”

“Is it going to be enough?” You ask.

“I don't know,” he sighs.

“I'm sorry. It's my fault,” Jimin says. “Now that we have followers, I let them know that we will be here. I didn't think ….”

“It's okay,” Yoongi cuts him off. “Jin is really going to hate me after today. I'm pretty sure his dessert pantry was stocked full this morning.”

“It was,” you confirm. “Felix fills it every morning.”

“I'll call him,” he says. “I'll explain what's going on. We are going to take everything and we will make it up to our regular customers later.”

“There's still samples left,” Kook says. “Y/N, go and talk with them. Give them a sample, answer questions, and get to know them. Just stall.”

“Okay,” you say with a shaky voice and take a fully stocked tray. “They're going to eat me alive.”

“No,” Yoongi shakes his head. “They are here because of you. You'll do amazing.”

Putting a smile on your face, you turn to the crowd, and Yoongi runs out back to his car. Taking a deep breath, you step forward. You can do this. Yoongi believes in you, and you believe in you. Well, you want to believe in yourself. You're going to have to fake it until you make it today.

“So, you're a part of Tannie Farm?” The guy in front of you asks as he takes a sample off your tray.

“Yes,” you confirm. “I use what I can from the farm. The milk, the fruit, and soon, the eggs.”

“The land is that big?” He questions, and you nod.

“I'm not on the farm. I'm just down the road in town, but the farm is beautiful," you say. “My friends own the farm. They have an apple orchard out there where you can pick your own apples in the fall during certain events. A corn field that will turn into a corn maze in a few months.”

“Do they hold weddings out there,” a young woman asks, a couple of people down the line.

“They haven't,” you answer and quickly look for Tae, who was busy up at the table. “That's not a bad idea, but don't tell them I said that. That's how we ended up with goats.”

“Thank you for waiting, everyone,” Yoongi comes up behind you, rubbing his hands together. “We just restocked and have another register running. Thank you for your patience.”

“I got this,” Felix smiles and takes the tray from you.

You pat him on the back and walk back up front with Yoongi.

“Yup, they came from Jimin's post,” you say, confirming Jimin's suspension. “Is it going to be like this every Saturday?”

“Don't know,” Yoongi sighs. “Jimin said he saw several people filming and saying good things. I'm going to say yes.”

“Is Jin mad?” You ask, and he gives you a look, saying that you didn't even need to ask that question.

“Let's just say we are going to have a customer appreciation day,” he tells you, leading you behind the tent and helping you sit on the bed of his work truck. “I had no say. He wouldn't even let me talk.”

“I can't blame him,” you say. “We stressed him out too much today. Thank god for everyone.”

“They got through it,” he sighs. “The customers are happy, and everything worked out.”

“I think I really need more staff,” you admit, and he nods. “I also think that I want my second location close to you.”

“Perfect,” he kisses your head.

“I want Joshua to be a manager at the main bakery while I focus on the online and bulk orders,” you look at him, and he pauses. “I can't be in two places at once. If I take on the specialty orders, online orders, and our normal wholesale orders at the second location, he can focus on our regular customers, the farmers market, and stocking for Jin.”

“You trust him with it?” He questions.

“Without a doubt,” you reply. “He would just need to learn how to do inventory and paperwork.”

“Tannie Farms social is being blown up with questions about tickets to our fall fest,” Jimin says, poking his head around the corner. “We better make it bigger this year. Y/N, start thinking of more pumpkin and apple flavored desserts. Kook is going to start making merch!”

Yoongi sighs and drops his chin to his chest.

“That one was me,” you laugh.

Looking back up to you, he rests his chin on the palm of his hand.

“We work pretty well together,” he rubs your leg. ‘You know that?”

You nod.

Yoongi jumps off the bed of the truck and shakes out his arms. You watch him pat his back pocket underneath his flannel shirt.

“Yoongi?” You ask.

“I know this isn't the best timing,” he takes a deep breath. “But …”

“We have to go!” Kook says, hurrying by the two of you.

“What?” You ask, looking at him alarmed. “Why?”

“The goats escaped their pen again,” he says. “They guys have the stand under control, but we need to get the goats.”

“Fuck those goats!” Yoongi hisses.

“Yoongi!” You say, looking a little shocked. “We need to help. Tae loves them so much.”

Jumping off the bed of his truck, you run and jump into Kook's truck, and the two of you take off out of town. You look over your shoulder at Yoongi's trailing truck behind you. You could see him clearly, and he clearly looked upset.

“Yoongi's mad,” you tell Kook.

“Yeah, he doesn't like chaos on the farm,” he tells you as he navigates his truck to the farm.

“No, you interrupted something that he was going to say,” you inform him.

“Ohhhh, noooo,” he grimaces and starts whistling.

“What?” You ask, sitting straighter. “You know what's going on with him, don't you?” He shakes his head but doesn't open his mouth. “What's hiding in Jin's desk? I highly doubt it's porn and drugs.”

“What?” He gives you a double take as he pulls into the farm. “Stop asking me questions! We need to find the goats!”

Parking, Kook practically throws himself out of his vehicle to get away from you. You watch, stunned as he takes off around to the back of the farm. As Yoongi comes up beside you, you turn your head to look at him closely. He doesn't give anything away.

“He knows what was in Jin's desk,” you inform him, but his face remains stoic.

“Did he tell you?” He asks.

“No,” you say. “But he ran away from me. He's guilty of something. I'm going to figure this out.”

“Okay,” he nods. “Let's get some damn goats.”

You point at him and take off running the same path Jungkook had just taken. Their little secrets will fall apart eventually, and you'll laugh when they do. As long as it has nothing to do with you, that is.

Until then, you'll run around and catch goats. Afterall, that seems to be becoming the norm around here.

They just better stay away from your ass and face.

“We probably should have waited until the second bakery was built to launch,” Joon says.

“We need to strike while we're hot,” Jimin says.

“I can make it work,” you say. “It'll be tight, but I can do it. We can package the orders in my office.”

“How much longer?” Hobi asks.

“Five minutes,” Jungkook answers, looking at his watch.

“All allergens are posted?” Jin asks, and both you and Jimin nod. “Good, good.”

Yoongi's hands land on your shoulders, rubbing them gently as everyone gathers in the meeting room around Jimin's laptop.

“Do you want to be the one to launch it?” Tae asks, looking up at you, but you shake your head no.

“Okay,” Jimin says. “I think some of us need to get ready to go to our site and try to put in a fake order once we launch. Just to make sure it's up and going.”

“My computer is upstairs,” Kook says, running out of the room.

“I'm scared,” you whisper.

“You don't need to be scared,” Yoongi whispers in your ear. “People will order.”

“Get ready,” Tae says.

Jungkook returns, slipping into a seat across from Tae, and quickly enters into the Crust and Crumb site. You turn away from them, wrapping your arms around your boyfriend. Closing your eyes, you try to occupy your mind with anything else.

Roasted grape and goat cheese tart.

Apple and goat cheese puff pastry.

“And we're live,” Tae announces as your arms hold Yoongi tighter.

“Everything looks good on my end,” Kook says.

“Same,” Joon says. “It's running well on my phone, too.”

Maybe you can come up with some savory dishes for Jin. You think goat cheese and roasted tomatoes will pair well together.

“Holy shit,” Jimin curses. “Your sugar cookies just sold out.”

“It hasn't even been five minutes,” Yoongi says, looking astonished.

“Welcome to the world of online shopping,” Jimin smiles.

“Annnnnd there goes the chocolate chip cookies,” Jungkook laughs.

“It's going to be all hands on deck for a while, huh?” You look up at him, and he nods.

“Hob's, how would Lena like a full-time assistant job to help Y/N?” Yoongi asks. “We need to start training more bakers ….. now. Doesn't she work in administration?”

“Yeah,” Hobi replies, eyes never leaving Jimin's laptop.

“We are going to need her to help organize the orders and get them shipped out on time,” Yoongi tells him.

“I'll call her,” he says, leaving the room.

“Oatmeal raisin cookies are sold out,” Tae informs you. “You're going to completely sell out.”

“Will you finally let me start shooting videos on the farm?” Jimin asks Yoongi. “Day in the life videos. Cute animal videos. Y/N baking and us doing the renovations. It will help to keep our name out there.”

“Just keep the camera out of my face,” he tells him. “I don't care what you film.”

“But I have a plan to make a whole series,” he says. “Where our customers can get to know each of us.”

“No,” he blinks at him.

‘Fine,” Jimin scowls. “I'll just have Y/N talk about you. Maybe I'll just show goat Yoongi in your place. They won't even know the difference."

“There goes your brownies,” Jin claps.

“Are people going to be mad if they can't get anything?” You ask.

“Probably,” Yoongi sighs. “People will always find a reason to be mad about something.”

“I bet we can find a way to do pre orders next time,” Joon says. “You're probably going to need it. The jams are selling fast.”

“Can we get out of here?” You ask.

“Let's go,” Yoongi directs you toward the door with his hand on your lower back. Yoongi gives Joon a pat on the shoulder as the two of you head out. A quick look passes between the two of them and Joon nods. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” you say. “I think I just realized just how big this actually was. I have to actually get orders shipped out to people and hope that everything makes it in one piece. Can I get everything shipped out on time?”

“Well,” he opens the door leading to the outside and takes your hand, walking with you up the gravel road by the apple orchard. “We have those nice custom boxes. We will bubble wrap the hell of them. We will figure it out. WE will figure it out.”

“Because you won't let me drown on my own,” you say, recalling his words.

“That's right,” he says.

The both of you go quiet, walking up the slight hill. Veering off, he takes your hand, leading you to one of the swings that Jungkook made that was hanging off an apple tree. Sitting down on it, he gets behind you and pushes you, making you laugh.

“This isn't going to break, right?” You ask, looking up at the branches swaying with your movements.

“No,” he laughs. “You know, you were right.”

“About what?” You ask, closing your eyes and letting the breeze from the swing blow your hair back.

“Me acting weird,” he admits. “I've been trying to ask you something for weeks now, but something keeps happening. Marmalade tried to burn the house down, goats…. Mrs. Yoon. No matter what I did, it just never seemed to work out.”

“Yoongi?” You open your eyes, and your hands grip the ropes that you were holding onto just a little bit tighter.

Yoongi stops the swing, holding you suspended in the air, your back against him. His face pressed into your hair. His warm breath fanning against your ear.

“Marry me?” He asks.

You whip your head around to look at him. Slowly, he lets the swing back down as he comes around to kneel in front of your sitting form. You watch him reach into his back pocket, much like he did the day at the Farmer Market and pull out a small velvet ring box.

“I've had the ring for months,” he tells you. “We all panicked when you almost found it in Jin's desk. I can't put it off anymore. Trying to find the perfect time will never happen because there is no perfect time around here. I love you. I just want to make you happy and give you everything I can. Marry Me?”

Your eyes widen as the box opens to reveal a diamond ring. A gorgeous shining diamond that you didn't have to pick out yourself this time.

“Yes,” you whisper, nodding. “Yes!”

Jumping out of the swing, Yoongi takes your hand and slips the beautiful diamond onto your finger. As he stands, you throw your arms around his shoulders as his wrap themselves around your waist.

“I love you,” you murmur into the side of his face before kissing him all over. “I love you so much.”

“I GOT IT ON VIDEO!” Jimin calls from down the hill.

You start laughing, and Yoongi shakes his head, laughing with you. The rest of your friends join Jimin down the hill and start cheering while yelling their congratulations.

“YOU'RE COMPLETELY SOLD OUT!” Jin yells. “ YOU CAN USE YOUR PROFIT TO BUY ME A NEW DESK!”

“No perfect time,” he mutters and kisses you.

“I think it's pretty perfect,” you reply when you pull back.

“KOOKIE NO!” Jungkook yells.

Unfortunately, you didn't get a chance to spot Kookie before she knocks into your legs from behind, sending you and Yoongi onto the ground. Yoongi lands with an oof, and you land on top of him as he pulls you, making sure to cushion your landing.

“I GOT THAT ON VIDEO TOO!” Jimin yells.

Laughing, you roll off Yoongi and lay on your back, looking up at the bright blue sky. Beside you, Yoongi grumbles about getting rid of the goats. It makes you laugh harder. You both know the goats aren't going anywhere.

Holding your hand up, you look at the ring on your hand. The ring Yoongi picked out as a symbol of his love for you. Proof that he was really sticking with you. That he wasn't going to let go if you thought you were sinking.

He was going to be your life jacket in this next phase of your life.

And as chaotic and … not perfect, he thought the proposal was.

You loved it.

It was very much memorable.

Putting your hand down, you press your face into his shoulder as you take in the sounds of your friends talking to one another. You hear Kook and Tae calling for Kookie. Then, somewhere in the distance, the goat bleats.

It was very much Tannie Farm and you wouldn't change it for the world.

*Two Months Later*

“Two months, Y/N?” Your mom sighs and sips her wine.

“What's wrong?” You say staring at her.

“Why couldn't you wait a year?” She asks. Looking around, the old barn was beautifully decorated with string lights and round paper lanterns in different shades of white and browns hanging from the rafters. “What was the rush?”

“I don't know,” you shrug. “We didn't want to wait. Besides, I liked planning this wedding much better than my last. We already had a venue, free catering and a free cake.”

“You made your own cake,” she sighs.

“No I didn't,” you argue. “Joshua and Felix did. Yoongi and I just gifted it to ourselves.”

“You didn't even buy yourself a new dress,” she frowns.

“I know, but this fits like a glove,” you say, running your hands down your beaded lace wedding dress you found in a vintage second-hand shop. “It was on sale. Mom, what's the real problem?”

“I … just,” she takes another drink. “I didn't get to help with anything. I didn't help the first time around because you were hiding just how awful your relationship was and did everything yourself. Now, this time, you rushed it, and the boys practically did everything.”

“Well, don't be mad at Yoongi for it,” you smile. “This was my decision. He was happy to wait and give me a big wedding. I didn't want to wait. He already thinks you hate him.”

A kiss to your temple has you smiling and wrapping an arm around your husband's waist.

“I don't hate you, Yoongi,” your mother says, causing Yoongi to give you a look. “I don't. I just worry as any mother would. Farming is unpredictable. I grew up in a farming family, and I know how hard it can be.”

“I think we're doing just fine,” he tells her. “Our farm is growing. The bakery is growing. I would never let her suffer, and I didn't even make her sign a prenup.”

You slap him on the arm for that one.

She nods and looks over to your father, who was talking to Hobi and Lena.

“Your grandmother would be proud of you,” she tells you. “Everything that you have accomplished. Your dad and I are very proud of you, too. However, I will never stop worrying. If you ever find yourself in a bad spot … either one of you. You better come to us.”

“We will,” you promise.

“As long as that old …” You cover Yoongi's mouth with his hand and laugh looking at your mom, who just shakes her head.

“I hardly talk to Mrs. Kang, after that last stunt, she pulled,” your mom smiles. “She was fuming mad when I wouldn't do anything about you banning her from your properties.”

“I wish I could do it all over again,” he smiles. “I hate to cut this short but we're needed outside, Darlin’.”

“Why?” You ask, suddenly nervous.

“I don't know,” he sighs.

Oh, no.

“Tannie Farm, family,” Tae says as you line up outside of the barn. “We have accomplished more than I ever thought was imaginable.”

“You better not have brought any more animals onto this farm, Taehyung,” Yoongi warns him as he helps you keep your dress off the ground.

“I did not,” he says. “But if I did, you couldn't stop me. Anyway, Yoongi, Y/N. The two of you have really poured your blood, sweat, and tears into our little baby here.”

“No kidding,” Jimin laughs. “And it all came from Y/N.”

“Zip it,” Joon warns.

“Mainly when goat Jimin knocked her on her ass,” Kook snickers, earning him a slap on the back of his head from Jin.

“Anyway,” Tae, scowls at your friends. “We love you guys, and as much as we drive Yoongi crazy. He always ends up supporting us. Y/N, you always love us no matter what, even when we don't deserve it. That's why the guys and I want to present you with a gift from your Tannie Farm family.”

Hobi hands Yoongi a manilla folder, which he promptly opens. You look over at the documents that he pulls out, but you don't understand what you were reading. However, the quiet swear words coming from your husband make it seem like it's a pretty big deal.

“What is it?” You ask.

“It's that plot of land at the edge of the farm that we all own,” Yoongi says. “We haven't done anything with it yet.”

“Oookaay,” you say, looking at your friends for clarification.

“The seven of us no longer own it,” Hobi smiles at you, and you shrug your shoulders clearly, still confused.

“The two of you own it now,” Jin informs you. “Just the two of you.”

“Build your lives out there. Build your dream home that doesn't have to be dependent on all of us,” Joon tells you.

“You gifted us land?” You ask, and they nod.

Yoongi sniffs before quickly covering his face. You wrap yourself around him, pulling him into a hug as you smile widely at the gift they gave you. It was more than just land. They gave you a huge head start for your future family.

Soon, Hobi's arms are wrapped around the both of you before being joined by Jimin and Taehyung. Everyone soon follows suit, joining in the group hug, enveloping Yoongi in the middle. He'll complain about it later but you know that he secretly loves it.

“This should make up for when the ducks come next week,” Tae whispers.

“What?” Yoongi asks.

“Nothing,” Tae laughs. “I love you all.”

“Yeah,” Yoongi sighs. “We love you too.”

Oh, no.

With his lips on yours, the two of you stumble into your shared bedroom. His hands tangle into your curled hair that was loose around your shoulders. While yours, pull at his dress shirt that was tucked into his pants.

“You should have let me take you somewhere for our wedding night,” he pants, moving his lips to your neck.

“I guess it's a good thing we didn't,” you lean your head to the side. “We have a house to build.”

“A house with a tall fence,” he nips your earlobe. “And a security code that no one else knows.”

You laugh, and he pulls away to look at you.

“They will all know it,” you tell him.

“I know,” he admits. “But let's not talk about them right now.”

Gently, he pushes you back further into the room until the back of your knees hit the bed. His arms wind themselves around you, keeping you upright and on your feet as your fingers fumble with the metal on his belt.

Dropping to your knees, you make quick work of undoing his pants and pulling everything down his legs. Looking up at him, you smile, taking him into your hand and stroke him teasingly.

“I love you, Darlin’,” he whispers. “God, you're finally mine.”

“I've been yours,” you smile, taking him into your mouth, making his head drop back with a sigh.

Bobbing your head, his hand tightens in your curls, guiding your movements along his hardened length. Moaning around him, your hands busy themselves trying to unzip the back of your dress. You make a noise of displeasure when your fingers can't find the zipper that was just out of reach.

Yoongi's head snaps down to look at you struggling and pulls himself away from you. Hauling you off the floor, he turns you around so he faces your back. His fingers pinch the metal piece and gently pulls it down your back, allowing the fabric to separate and fall away from your back.

Lifting your hands, you run your fingers through his hair and arch your back, rubbing your ass against his erection. Groaning in your ear, his hands travel up the front of your body until they reach the top of your dress, and he's curling his fingertip into the sweetheart neckline. Dragging the material down your body, you bend your head back, resting it on his shoulder, letting him capture your lips once more as he bares your body for him.

“Where's your underwear?” He smirks against your mouth while his hand dips between your thighs.

“Surprise,” you breathe.

Kissing you deeply, his tongue twists with yours as his fingers circle around your sensitive flesh. His hips grind into the plump roundness of your bottom. Thrusting his hips forward, you fall toward the bed and catch yourself with the palm of your hands. Looking back at him, he gives you a crooked smile as he starts undoing his shirt and tosses it to the side of your room.

Laying on your back, you watch him step out of his pants and trail your hands down your body. His eyes follow every movement, every press of your skin that your fingertips make until you're closing your legs upon your own hand.

He loves it.

He loves you.

Beckoning him with your finger, you spread your legs for him, and remove your fingers from yourself. Pulling the slightest moan from him, he moves, hovering over you. You run your damp fingers down his chest and grip him in your hand, lining him up with your entrance.

Pushing all the way into you, his chest lays completely flush with your own. His body moving atop of yours has you sinking your fingers into the skin of his back as hips meets yours.

“Faster,” you whimper in his ear.

Barely pulling out of you, Yoongi rolls you onto your stomach and grabs your hips, pulling you up to your knees. Your hips wiggle, moving back, trying to find him and get him back into you.

“I'm right here,” he says, running his tip along your core. “Fuck, how do you always feel so good?”

Crying out at the deeper angle, he hips your ass harder as you hold onto his pillow underneath you. Leaning over your back, he presses a hand against the headboard and a hand between your legs, making you bury your face into his pillow and arch your butt into him.

“Yoongi!” You cry out as you attempt to rock your hips over his hand.

“Let go for me, Darlin’,” he groans in your ear. “So fucking beautiful. Just as beautiful and sexy as that first day in your kitchen.”

Squeezing your eyes shut, his fingers tap your clit sending you over that edge. Gasping, you hand shoots up, grabbing the wrist of his hand holding the headboard. Holding onto him tightly as your walls pulsate around him, he moans at the feeling. His jaw clenching as he tries to hold on. However, your cries, your tightness and the feeling of your warm, wet flesh under his fingertips was too much for him. He tips right over the edge with you.

Yoongi's hands fly to your hips, gripping them tightly as he empties himself into you. You lay there with your face pressed to his pillow with his hands running up your back until they're pulling you to lay on your side. Completely wrapped up with him, you felt complete.

Full.

Like you had finally found everything you were looking for.

You found success with your love of baking.

You got to work with your best friends.

You married your childhood crush turned enemy with your horrible one-sided beef.

You didn't just find a home with Yoongi.

You found forever with him.

~ The End

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[lostbookmark]

MDNI 🔞

MAIN MASTERLIST here

FINDING A HOME MASTERLIST here

Summary: After a failed engagement, you move back home and reconnect with your friends. Maybe, just maybe you can find love with someone you never expected.

Pairing: Yoongi x F. Reader

Warnings: Explicit Sex, Swearing, Cheating (Not Yoongi), Physical Fighting, Arguments, Protected/Unprotected Sex, Toxic Past Relationship,

Genre: Enemies(?) to Lovers, Neighbors to Lovers, Small Town Romance, They own a farm, Hurt-Comfort, Slight Angst, Romance, 

You’ve been staring at the small, hairline crack in Hobi's ceiling for hours now. This has been a routine thing for you to do since you showed up at his small apartment back in your hometown a little over three weeks ago, crying with your suitcases by your feet. You probably looked pathetic. It's been years since you actually saw him in person. You only knew his address from the Christmas cards he sent you that you hid away in your dresser. You never gave him your address, so he must have gotten it from your mom. You're kind of surprised he took you in. You're happy he did. You didn’t want to stay with your mom. If you stayed with her, you would have to hear all about your failed engagement and the last-minute cancellation of your wedding that you had to eat the cost of.  Your bank account is not happy with you at the moment. 

Fuck, Changkyun.  You think to yourself.  He ruined it all with one little sentence. “I don't love you anymore.” Five words  and just like that the two of you were done. The three years you were together seem like a lie. It seemed like it never actually happened. Now, you're wallowing in your bestfriends spare bedroom and staring at a crack in the ceiling. You wonder if he knows it's there.  

“Get up,” Hobi said, barging into the room and jumping on you. Your normally peppy best friend seemed serious without his signature smile. “I'm not letting you do this anymore. I can't watch you lay in here all day feeling sorry for yourself. It’s not healthy. You can help out at the farmers market today.” 

“Farmers market?” You question him with a ‘what the hell’ look on your face. “Are you a farmer? Since when did you become a farmer?” 

“No, silly, I'm not a farmer, but I do own part of one. Come on,” he insists and pulls the covers off of you. You fight with him for a minute, trying to grab onto the blankets to pull them back over you. You wanted to wallow, why won't he leave you be. “We are short-handed today and could use a pretty face. Kookie will be there, and I know he misses you. He hasn't stopped asking about you when I told everyone you were back home.”

You grumble something unintelligible under your breath. You finally let him win as you let go of the blanket and head for the shower. You take your time letting the hot water run over your tired body as it steams up the bathroom. Your eyes close, and  you think back to those five words. I don't love you anymore. How can someone just stop loving you? Was it that easy to break away from someone and act like they were never there in the first place? How was it so easy for him to disregard your feelings? How could he not feel guilty for using your shared bed with others? You silently let the tears fall, and they mingle in with the droplets of water from the shower. 

“Hurry up,” Hobis' muffled voice called out. “We leave in 20 minutes, and you're going no matter what you look like.”

You sighed and turned off the shower. Grabbing your towel, you quickly towel dried your hair the best you could and threw it on the top of your head in a hurry. You honestly don't care what it looked like. It's not like you have to impress anyone.

Leaving the bathroom, you see that  Hobi had gone through your clothes and laid out a sundress for you. It makes you want to cry some more. You've been a bad friend since even before you left town after graduation. Ignoring all of them for what you thought was a better life. A life in the city with a new fancy apartment, fancy friends, fancy food. Yet, when it all fell apart here, he was still willing to help you. Hobi was still there. His friendship was always unwavering. You guys bickered and argued, sure, but he always stuck by you.  You couldn't say the same about yourself after you dropped him and everyone else like a hot potato. Sighing, you grab the yellow dress with pretty red and pink flowers, off the bed, and put it on. It wouldn't hurt to do something for him. It was the least you could do. 

The late August heat made the early summer mornings warm and muggy. The sun was full and bright in the blue sky, its rays heating your skin already causing you to feel sticky with sweat on your bare shoulders. There wasn't a cloud in sight to offer any shade and there was no breeze to be found. Hobi gave you a crash course of what you missed while you were gone as you headed into the farmers market in the center of town. After college, Taehyung went into the corporate world, had an epiphany of sorts, quit his well paying job and bought a farm in your hometown after visiting Jin's cafe in a spur of the moment trip. 

Tannie Farms had started out as just your standard fruit farm but has since expanded with vegetables, and now he is figuring out how to grow nuts. Something that is very much experimental at the moment. He suckered everyone to get involved by investing money that they barely had and becoming part owners. Now it's pretty successful in the few years that they have been up and running, so you guess the risk was worth it in the end. You learned that they donate food to the local schools, the food pantry at the senior center, and they sell to the grocery stores in the surrounding area. It seemed impressive. It was impressive. You felt proud by how far they have come. 

“Everyone has other jobs, though, right? How do you guys find the time to help him?” You had asked him.

“Because, we all love him. You don't give up on people you love,” he told you quietly. “Yoongi is the only one there full time. He actually runs the business and marketing end. Everyone else is just manpower and ideas.”

Min Yoongi, oh how you two always hated each other. You ran in completely different groups in middle school and high school. Him with the jocks and popular kids and you….with Jin and Hobi. You don't even think he knew your name back then, and you definitely never talked. It wasn’t until sophomore year in college that he and Hobi became almost inseparable while rooming together in the dorms. He brought along Jimin, Kook, and Tae into your little group. They were sweethearts, and you took to them instantly. Joon rounded out the group when you met him during your child development class. Yoongi got along well with everyone except you and his girlfriend Chae absolutely despised you right from the start. You always tried to stay as far away from them as you could when you were forced into group activities. It only got worse when Changkyun came along.

You met Changkyun when you both worked on the school's newspaper. You had fallen for his flirty personality and sharp jawline fast. He, unfortunately, had written a horrible article about Yoongi losing the college basketball team's Final Four game and supposedly bringing “shame” to the school's name. You, being the editor on the team, let the article go through. To be honest, you didn't even read it, and  you didn't know that it was going to cause such an uproar. You just wanted to impress Changkyun in hopes that he would like you and officially make you his girlfriend. Yoongi started to act like you didn't exist more than he normally did, and Chae openly hated you after the article was published. She threw such a fit about you and started a smear campaign against the newspaper, which ended with you getting fired. You felt like you were the number one enemy in their eyes. After that, you slowly stopped hanging out with them. You tried to fit yourself into Changkyun’s group of friends instead. They were pretty nice, but it just wasn't the same. 

“Y/N!” You look up and see Jungkook waving at you excitedly from under a large Tannie Farms sign. “You're here!” Jungkook comes around to the front of several white tables that stand under a large tent from where the sign dangles and hugs you tightly. Your eyes widened in surprise at the act of affection. You bring your hands up and tentatively pat his back in return. “Are you back for good? Joon said that you're going to work at his school. Are you going to help us every weekend?”

“Kookie, let her talk,” Hobi scolded him.

“Sorry, I just really missed you,” he whispered to you. Guilt. You feel so fucking guilty.

“I missed you too, Kook. Don't worry, there is plenty of time to catch up. Okay, show me what you want me to do,” you tell him, a fake smile plastered to your face. You link your arms together as you make your way to their spot. 

Hobi and Jungkook showed you how to stack all the produce in wooden crates that they were going to sell and how to keep them looking presentable. The more uniformed they were, the more appealing they supposedly were. They chatted away telling you all of their ideas to expand their products at their spot here and in the local stores as you stacked and fixed the wooden crates like they showed you. They told you how they wanted to start selling baked goods using the fruits and eventual nuts that they grew, but none of them could bake that well. Jin was the closest to making something edible, but it just wasn't good enough. 

“You could help with that!” Kook said excitedly. “Your  breads were always so good when you made them in school. OH! Your birthday cakes were amazing. We always looked forward to everyone's birthday because of your cakes.”

“I never got one,” a deep voice soon joined the conversation. Yoongi walked by you carrying a crate of tomatoes.  

His dark hair that you always remembered him having was now a darker blonde. He looked the same, though. He looked good. He was still handsome with an arrogant aura around him that he always had. You were actually surprised that he was carrying something. You figured business and marketing meant a cushy office, not manual labor. Someone who would never give up his weekend to help work the crowd on a hot summer's day. You thought it was more suit and tie than flannel and ripped jeans. 

“We were never friends,” you shot back at him. 

Yoongi turned and pinned you down with a glare. You swear you can feel your cheeks heat up, and you don't know if it's from anger or attraction. Your small, very, very small, almost microscopic crush from high school might still linger….maybe. 

“Okay,” Hobi says, clapping his hands, drawing your attention back to him. “Our price list is here on the sheet for your reference. Just entice people to come with that pretty face, and Kook will ring them up.” Yoongi scoffs. You quickly pick up an ear of corn to chuck it at him, but Hobi takes it away from you just as fast. “Listen, I know you two have had your differences in the past, but we are actually adults now. Just be cordial, at least.” 

“Fine,” you say, feeling ashamed that you let Yoongi get to you. 

“Okay,” Yoongi agress and shrugs nonchalantly. “I have no issues on my end.” 

“Great,” Hobi says happily with a clap of his hands. “Let's get this party started.”

The farmers market got busy pretty fast. People poured in to get their produce and sweets and peruse the crafts at the various tables. The work was pretty easy. You made small talk with customers and talked them into buying more produce than they probably needed. You saw and talked with a lot of your old teachers, neighbors, and some classmates that you haven't seen since graduating high school. You also met a lot of new people who had moved to town after you left, taking over businesses that you haven't been to in years. It was sad how the town had changed. You're sad that you missed it and you didn't get change along with it like the rest of your friends had. You're sad that you've become bitter and angry. It wasn't the town's fault or your friend's fault. That was all on you.

You and Yoongi pretty much just stayed away from each other, and that was fine with you. He mainly just stayed in the background sitting on an empty wooden crate and typed away on his phone, avoiding having to talk to the customers as much as possible.  Occasionally, he would leave only to come back with another crate of something. It was pretty much smooth sailing until it wasn't.

“Y/N dear, oh, I'm sorry to hear about what happened. Your mother told me everything,” Mrs. Kang said dramatically with her hands on her chest. She was your mothers neighbor and the number one gossiper in your little town. If something happens, she always knows about it. Did someone get divorced? Quit their job? Get arrested? She would be able to tell you everything. Your mother also has a big mouth, so you know that she does probably indeed know everything. 

“Thank you, Mrs. Kang,” you say stiffly. 

“Word of advice. If you didn't make yourself….easily….available before your wedding.  He probably wouldn't have gone looking for someone with more class,” she tells you rather loudly. She did it to embarrass you, and it worked. You could see some of the customers that were lingering by listening to the conversation as your face heated.  “He cheated, right? That's such a shame. I heard your wedding dress was absolutely stunning.”  You can feel the tears well in your eyes, and you try to quickly blink them away. You feel stupid that she was able to call you out so easily on it.  You felt stupid for reacting like this. 

“Are you going to buy anything, Mrs. Kang or just harass my employees?” Yoongi speaks up, coming to stand behind you. His arms were crossed against his chest, and a hard glare set on his face. “If you're not going to buy anything….have a good day.”  Mrs. Kang gives the two of you the sourest of looks and surries away. Great, she'll tell your mom all about this. You turn to look back at him, but he had already removed himself from the area and went back to his phone.  You hurriedly leave the front of the tables and hide around back to try and get yourself together. Too many unknown eyes were on you, and you couldn't stand it. 

“You okay,” Kook asks softly, and you nod your head. 

You sniffle and start shaking your head no instead. He hugs you, and the dam breaks. You start crying, and the tears that you keep trying to blink away won't stop. His hands are gentle as they rub your back, comforting you. You wrap your arms around him and let yourself sink into his hug.  

“She's right,” you tell him as you pull away. “He cheated on me…a lot.”  Jungkook wipes your tears with his thumbs. “I think that I always knew, and I just ignored it. It's pathetic, right? I was so desperate to try and make it work.” 

“Changkyun was always a dick,” he says. “He was always horrible to us when you weren't around. You were always too good for him, and you are better off without him. Come on, don't waste your tears on him. We need to head back out there.”

You take a deep breath and wipe at our face one final time before following him back out.  People like Mrs. Kang was always going to be miserable, and you can't let her affect you. That's what makes them thrive. You saw it in the city with your so-called fancy friends, most of whom you would find out, slept with your then fiancé and you see it in small town people like Mrs. Kang. Who has nothing better to do but make everyone as miserable as they are. You busy your hands and rearrange the bell peppers by color. Green, Red, and Yellow. Perfectly stacked and all uniformed. Hobi comes up to you and kisses your head.

“You're home now. Everything will get better,” he promises, and you smile sadly at him as he rubs your shoulders softly. As he walks away, you notice Yoongi staring at you before quickly looking away when you catch him. You can do this. You can start over and be fine….you are not alone. 

“Hey, what's the deal with Yoongi?” You ask Hobi as you two watched a movie huddled on your temporary bed.

“What do you mean?”he asks back, pausing the movie on the television. 

“Instead of enjoying Mrs. Kang calling me a whore he pretty much ran her off,” you tell him. “He hates me. I've known him since middle school, he's never said one word to me until college. He absolutely hated me there.”

“Yoongi is not the bad guy that you want him to be,” Hobi informs you. “I get what happened in school sucked but I don't think Yoongi was behind any of it.” 

“You're defending him because he's your friend, “ you accuse.

“Do you really think I would stay friends with Yoongi if he had some secret agenda against you? His girlfriend was awful to you. Changkyun was awful to him. They were the problem. Listen,I'm going to head to bed. Just think about what I said,” Hobi kisses your cheek quickly. 

Maybe Hobi was right. You honestly can't really remember Yoongi ever being the one to cause the problems between you two. Sure, he made snarky comments, but he did that to everyone. Chae was the absolute worst nightmare that you ever met. She was the one who got you fired from the paper and bragged about it to your face. It got worse after you and Changkyun officially got together. She was able to befriend your roommate  and got her to turn against you. They had locked you out of the dorm one night. You didn't have your keycard or your phone on you. You had to stay in the lounge until your R.A. made them let you back in. 

It had gone on for months and it got so daunting dealing with her that you had begged Changkyun to write a retraction. He had gotten so mad at you that you would take Yoongi’s side instead of your own boyfriend's.  He told you about how he was falling in love with you and how it hurt that you wouldn't stick by him. You were so blindsided by his confession that you let the issue go. You had made him your life after that. You slowly stopped seeing your friends to be with him. By the time you had graduated, they were almost strangers.  You had thrown away so many years over broken promises and lies. It felt like he had manipulated you.  You hated him for that. You hate him, you hate him, you hate him. 

You felt like a complete idiot because maybe Hobi was right, and Yoongi wasn't the cause of all the drama. You were going to have to come up with some way of apologizing to Yoongi. Not only to Yoongi but to everyone. You don’t expect them to forgive you either.  You just don't know how exactly you're going to do that. Like Hobi said earlier, you were home now, and everything was going to be okay.  

《Chapter Two》

[thypaperkwenn]

childhood friends to lovers...

[lostbookmark]

MDNI 🔞

Main Masterlist here

One & Two-Shots here

Word Count 12,900

Summary: You lived a quiet life running your bookstore cafe. You didn't expect your life to be flipped upside down by some strangers escaping noise …. one sandwich at a time.

Pairing: Music Producer Yoongi x F. Reader

Genre: Romance, Smut, Strangers to Lovers, Small Town

Warnings: Unprotected Sex, Swearing

You have the counter covered in cardstock samples, ink stamps, and ribbon spools. Founders’ Day is the biggest event in town. It's a weekend of historical reenactments, craft fairs, and enough tourists to triple your revenue if you play your cards right.

You are currently debating between a vintage botanical print or a minimalist espresso bean design for your custom bookmarks when the bell chimes.

"If you're here to tell me arugula is out and microgreens are in, Jin, the kitchen is closed." You sigh.

"Actually, I was going to suggest sun-dried tomato pesto," Jin’s voice rings out as they all come walking through the door.

"What is all this?" Jimin asks, picking up a tassel. "Are we starting a scrapbooking club?"

"Founders’ Day," you explain, tapping your pen against a sketch of your booth. "It’s next weekend. I’m doing a pop-up at the town square. Coffee, limited edition bookmarks, and maybe those cinnamon rolls if I can keep up with the demand."

"A pop-up?" Hobi’s face lights up. "Like a festival? Music? Lights? People dancing in the streets?"

"Mostly people dressed like 1800s blacksmiths," you clarify.

"This layout is... efficient. However, it lacks flair." Jin says.

"It's a wooden stall and a plastic table, Jin," you sigh.

"We can make it better," Jin counters, already pulling a pen from his pocket. "You have to sell my sandwiches so we need something that screams 'History, but make it Gourmet'."

"I can handle the aesthetic," Jimin chimes in, his fingers dancing over the ribbon samples. "These colors won't work. We need gold. We need deep velvets."

"I can build the structure," Jungkook says suddenly, grabbing a piece of scrap paper and sketching a three-dimensional frame. "The standard stalls are flimsy. If we're running a coffee machine and a sandwich press, we need reinforced counters and better cable management. I can make it modular."

"We need a playlist. I’ll set up the speakers. I can even do some street promotion. Give me a stack of those bookmarks." Hobi smiles.

You look at the four of them, then back at your modest little plan. It’s being dismantled and rebuilt into something massive right before your eyes.

"You realize I have a budget of about fifty dollars and a dream, right?" You ask.

"You have us," Jin says.

You look over at Yoongi. He hasn't joined the huddle yet. He’s just watching the chaos with that familiar, small curve of his mouth.

"You're awfully quiet," you say to him. "No opinions on the 'Founders’ Day' aesthetic?"

"They’re already going to make it ten times bigger than it needs to be. You don't need my opinion." He shrugs.

You feel that familiar heat hit your face that you try to tame. You should stop them. You should tell them that Namjoon will lose his mind if he finds out they’re spent their week designing a modular coffee stall and debating tassel lengths.

But then you look at Jungkook, who is now arguing with Jin about the load-bearing capacity of a croissant display, and Jimin, who is draping ribbons over Hobi’s head to test the light…you couldn't.

"Fine," you say, throwing your hands up in mock defeat. “I'll be overruled anyway.”

“Correct,” Jin says immediately, not even looking up from your sketch.

“What are we going for?” Jimin hums, holding two ribbon samples up to the light like he’s making a life-altering decision.

“Coffee,” you deadpan. “We’re going for coffee and maybe some local history books.”

“Wrong,” Hobi grins, already grabbing a stack of bookmarks. “People need to feel something when they walk up.”

“They will,” you assure him. “Caffeine.”

Jungkook is no longer sketching. He’s measuring. With a tape measure you’re almost positive did not come from your shop.

“Where did you get that?” You ask.

“My bag,” he answers.

“You just… carry that around?” You ask.

“Yeah, just in case.” He nods.

“In case of what?” You question.

“In case something needs fixing.” He states like it’s obvious.

You stare at him for a second. Behind you, there’s a soft thud as Taehyung sets a small stack of children’s books on the counter.

“Is there… anything I can do?” He asks.

“Actually…” you say slowly, after thinking for a moment. “Mrs. Carter usually runs a temporary tattoo booth every year.”

Taehyung looks back at you a little hopeful.

“She teaches second grade,” you add. “And she always ends up overwhelmed by about the first hour. You’d basically be dealing with sticky hands and kids who can’t sit still.”

“I can do that,” he says quietly.

“I'll let her know she has a volunteer,” you tell him.

“That's perfect,’” Hobi smiles. “We can roll out a deal. Buy a tattoo, get a coffee…”

“No,” you cut him off.

“At least make sure the designs are on-brand.” Jin points his pen at Taehyung

“They’re dinosaurs and butterflies, Jin.” You deadpan.

“I bet I can build a better station.” Jungkook doesn't even look up.

“No one is building anything else,” you say firmly.

Too late.

It’s already happening.

“I’m not talking about the bookmark display.” You warn a couple of days later.

“Come on.” Jungkook slaps the counter.

“What?” You blink.

“You need to see something,” he says, like this is obvious.

“I’m working,” you reply, not moving.

“You can work later.” He argues.

“No, I can’t …hey,” He takes your wrist, cutting you off. “Jungkook, what are you doing?” You ask.

“Trust me,” he says.

“I don’t. This is how people get kidnapped.” You hiss.

“You’ll thank me.” He says, as he pulls you out the door.

Ten minutes later, he pulls up to the warehouse and you shake your head. Jungkook hops out of the car and you slowly get out but don't follow.

“No,” you say.

“What?” He turns.

“You brought me here?” You hiss, lowering your voice. “Are you out of your mind?”

“Namjoon's not here,” Jungkook says.

“If Namjoon even finds out I’m here…” You try to take a step back.

“He’s in a meeting,” Jungkook informs you. “Long one.”

“This is a terrible idea.” You press your fingers to your temple.

“Five minutes and I'll take you back,” he says.

“Five minutes,” you repeat.

The second you step inside you stop again. The space is massive. Cables run clean along the floor, equipment set up in sections that somehow feel both chaotic and organized at the same time. However, that’s not what throws you off.

In the corner was a fully built wooden booth. Jungkook steps around you, watching your reaction like he’s waiting for a verdict.

“Modular,” he says, pointing. “Breaks down into six sections for transport.”

“Jungkook.” You breathe out and walk over to it.

“The counter height is adjusted for your machines,” he continues. “And I added extra storage underneath because Jin said you’d run out of space in under an hour. Also, now there’s space for books.”

“You… built this?” You run your hand along the wood.

“We built it,” he corrects.

“For Founders’ Day?” You ask, quieter now.

“Yeah.” He shrugs.

“You weren’t joking.” You look at him. “This is insane.”

“It’s efficient.” He corrects.

“Told you she’d like it.” You turn to find Yoongi leaning against a doorway you didn’t notice before, hands in his pockets, watching you.

“You knew about this?” You ask.

“Helped design the layout.” He nods once.

“How did Namjoon not freak out about this?” You ask.

“Time management.” Jungkook looks pleased with himself. “He can't complain if we're getting work done.”

“Come on.” Yoongi pushes off the doorway, stepping closer.

“Where?” You ask.

“My studio.” He tilts his head slightly toward the hall behind him.

“Five minutes,” you say and Jungkook snorts behind you.

His studio is… smaller than you expected. There’s a desk, monitors everywhere, scattered notes and things with a bunch of buttons.

“This is where you work?” you ask.

“Yeah.” He nods.

“This is where all that… ‘nothing’ happens?” You glance back at him.

“Something like that.” He laughs.

Yoongi doesn’t sit back down at his desk. He stays in your space, his eyes tracking the way you’re looking around his sanctuary.

"It’s not as intimidating as the rest of the building," you whisper, finally turning to face him.

"It’s just a room," he says.

“I think a lot of people would argue with you about that,” you tell him.

The light from his monitors casts a soft, blue-toned glow over his features and the quiet intensity in his eyes. His hands come up to cup your face and his gaze drops down to your lips.

"You talk too much," he murmurs, his face tilting down, his breath warm against your skin.

Your eyes flutter shut, your hands finding the front of his hoodie, pulling him just a fraction closer.

THUD.

The heavy studio door doesn't just open. It bounces off the interior wall. You jump back so fast you nearly trip his chair. Yoongi clears his throat, spinning around to face the intruder with a glare. Taehyung stands in the doorway, completely oblivious to the romantic moment he just shattered. He’s holding a handful of fabric swatches and an interior design magazine.

"I have an idea!" Taehyung announces.

"Taehyung. We're in the middle of... work." Yoongi rubs a hand over his face, his shoulders slumping.

"This is work. Get out of the way!" Taehyung insists, marching past Yoongi and spreading the swatches across something that looks expensive. "I was thinking about the kids' corner back at Perk and Page. The current rug is... well, it’s a rug. However, it could be a meadow."

“A meadow?" You clear your throat.

"Yes! Look." He points to a deep forest-green velvet swatch. "New furniture. Small, rounded oak chairs…no sharp corners for the little ones. The rug... it needs to be thick, plush. Maybe with some embroidered wildflowers."

He looks at you, his eyes wide and sparking with genuine excitement.

"The children need a place that feels like a storybook, not just a waiting room while their parents get lattes," he explains.

"You want to renovate her entire shop now?" Yoongi sighs.

"Just the corner!" Taehyung corrects, then pauses, tapping his chin. "For now. I also saw a very interesting light fixture shaped like a cloud."

"Taehyung," you laugh. "I don't have the money to redo the kids corner right now."

Taehyung waves a hand dismissively, already pulling a measuring tape out of his pocket. Apparently, he and Jungkook share a hobby.

"Who says you have to pay for it,” he says.

"I'm going to lock the door next time." Yoongi just stares at the ceiling.

“Come on! We need to see if the cloud lamp won't hang too low!" Taehyung grins.

Before you can protest, Taehyung takes your hand, leading you back out toward the chaos of the warehouse where the others are likely already building a miniature oak table.

As you're pulled through the doorway, you glance back at Yoongi. He’s still standing by his desk, watching you go. He catches your eye and gives a tiny, barely-there nod. A silent promise that the five minutes aren't over.

Not yet.

The air smells like cinnamon, woodsmoke, and something fried you’re trying very hard not to think about.

It’s barely ten in the morning and the town square is already busy. Leaves crunching under boots, vendors calling out to early customers, the distant clang of a blacksmith’s hammer ringing out like a metronome for the entire weekend. Someone in full 1800s attire walks past your stall carrying a basket of apples like they were born to it.

“Don’t even think about handing that out,” Jin says sharply, sliding in beside you and plucking a plate from your hands before you can pass it over the counter.

“It’s a cinnamon roll, not a bomb.” You blink at him.

“It’s uneven,” he corrects, already turning it slightly on the plate like the angle matters. “Presentation is the first bite.”

“They’re eating it, not framing it.” You laugh.

“They’re doing both,” he shoots back, reaching for a dusting of powdered sugar like he’s blessing it.

“Two lattes, one caramel, one vanilla! And…yes…those are fresh, I promise, we don’t lie here!” Hobi’s voice cuts through the noise.

You glance over your shoulder just in time to see him hand off a drink with a bright grin. The customer laughs, already reaching for her wallet again like she’s been personally charmed into it.

“You’ve created a monster,” you mutter.

“I’ve created an experience,” Hobi corrects, not even looking back.

“Less talking, more pouring,” Jin says, nudging you toward the machine again. “Your shot is going to burn.”

You turn back just in time, catching it before it goes bitter. The machine hisses, steam curling up into the crisp fall air, and for a second it almost feels like a normal morning.

Then you look up.

And stop.

There’s a line.

Not just a couple people lingering. Not polite curiosity.

A line.

It stretches past your stall, weaving between a handmade candle booth and a woman selling knitted scarves, people clutching menus, pointing at your display, talking.

About you.

About this.

“Don’t freeze on me now,” Jin says under his breath, following your gaze. “We’re just getting started.”

“I…” you exhale a quiet laugh, shaking your head once like that’ll reset your brain. “I thought we’d have, like… a slow first hour.”

“We did. That was twenty minutes ago.” Hobi leans in just enough to murmur.

To your left, a burst of laughter pulls your attention. You see Jimin, seated at a small folding table surrounded by a group of older women. He found the bingo tent.

“Bingo!” One of them cheers, slapping the table.

“I told you to trust me!” Jimin grins, pointing dramatically at the card like he personally orchestrated the win. “It’s all about intuition.”

“You cheated,” another woman accuses, though she’s smiling too wide for it to stick.

“How can I cheat at bingo?’” He counters smoothly.

A blur passes behind you. You don’t even see where Jungkook comes from anymore. One second he’s not there, the next he’s setting down a crate of milk like it appeared out of thin air.

“You were down to two,” he says simply.

“I didn’t even…” you start.

“I know,” he nods, already moving again. “You’re good for another hour.”

And then he’s gone.

“Does he teleport?” You mutter.

“Focus,” Jin says, sliding another plate into position. “Next order.”

On the far edge of the square, a small crowd of children has gathered around a table covered in bright colors and paper sheets. Taehyung sits in the middle of it, sleeves pushed up, completely focused as he carefully presses a temporary tattoo onto a kid’s arm.

“Hold still,” he murmurs gently. “It has to set properly.”

“I want another one!” The kid immediately declares.

“You just got a dinosaur,” Taehyung points out.

“I want a butterfly too.” The kid smiles.

“Hey! We’re out of napkins!” Hobi calls.

“Under the counter!” You shout back automatically.

You reach for the next cup, sliding it under the machine, your hands finally catching up to the pace your brain’s been trying to process.

“Next!” Hobi calls.

“Next,” You echo, steadier now.

Jin adjusts another plate like it’s a masterpiece.

Jimin cheers again in the distance.

Hobi’s relentless festival voice falters for a split second, long enough for you to look up from a half-poured coffee. ​Namjoon is standing five feet from the counter, and he looks like he’s been dropped onto a different planet. He’s wearing a dark, expensive-looking overcoat that screams metropolitan boardroom, and his arms are crossed tightly over his chest.

​"I told you," Yoongi says, his voice cutting through the hiss of the machine. "Your world didn't collapse because you stepped away from the monitors for two hours."

​Namjoon doesn't look at him. He looks at the line of people, then at Jin, who is currently garnishing and finally at you.

​"This is..." Namjoon starts, his voice deep, a mix of confusion and reluctant observation. "Logistically improbable to be this busy for such a small town."

​"It's a festival, Namjoon," you say, wiping your hands on your apron and stepping toward the edge of the counter. "I'd offer you a seat, but Jimin stole the only extra chairs for his Bingo empire."

​Namjoon’s gaze follows your gesture toward the Bingo tent. He watches Jimin high-five a woman who must be eighty-five years old, and he actually winces.

​ "Get him a coffee before he starts analyzing the foot traffic patterns,” Yoongi tells you.

​"I don't need a coffee," Namjoon says stiffly, though his eyes wander to the chalkboard menu Jungkook hand-lettered. "I have work to finish. I merely came to see what was so important."

​"You gave us permission to be here today," Jin chimes in.

​Namjoon lets out a breath that’s almost a sigh. He looks out of place among the woodsmoke and the children’s laughter.

​"I'll take a black coffee," Namjoon says, finally uncrossing his arms. "And... whatever Jin is making."

​"That would be the Founders Special,'" you say, already reaching for a cup. "It’s Jin's pride and joy."

​"Look at the display, Joon," Yoongi murmurs. "Top shelf. Left side."

​Namjoon’s eyes drift to your curated book display. You had tucked a few local history titles among the bookmarks and cups.

​Namjoon freezes. His hand reaches out, hovering over a weathered, leather-bound spine: The 1842 Annals of the Valley. "Is this the original print?" He asks, his voice losing that hard, defensive edge. "The town library only has the 1970s reprint. The maps in this edition are supposed to be..."

​He stops himself, clearing his throat and trying to pull the mask back into place, but the book is already open. You just watch him for a second, sliding a black coffee across the counter.

“On the house,” you say. “Your sandwich will be up in a moment.”

“That’s unnecessary.” Namjoon doesn’t look up.

“Probably,” you agree easily.

“You’re running a business.” His eyes lift to yours, sharper now.

“And you’re at a festival,” you reply, resting your hands lightly on the counter. “It's not that serious.”

He studies you like you’re a variable he hasn’t accounted for yet. Then his gaze drops back to the book and you place the sandwich down in front of him.

“You’re losing at least fifty dollars,” he says.

“I’ll survive.” You shrug.

Namjoon’s thumb brushes the edge of the page. He doesn’t reach for his wallet. He just closes the book halfway and tucks it under his arm.

“This is…” he starts.

“You're overthinking it,” Yoongi says.

Namjoon’s mouth opens, his brain clearly firing on all cylinders. You can practically see the bullet points forming in his head.

​"Logistically speaking," he begins, his tone shifting into that authoritative tone.

​"Namjoon," you interrupt, not even looking up as you steam a fresh pitcher of milk. ​"I’m going to need you to do something very difficult for me," you say. "I need you to take that very expensive coat, that very old book, and those very loud opinions, and walk exactly fifty paces to the left."

"Why fifty paces?" ​Namjoon’s brow furrows.

​"Because that’s where the funnel cake stand is," you say, pointing a stirring spoon at him. "Go buy a plate of fried dough to go with your sandwich and coffee. Then, find a bench under that oak tree and read your maps. Just eat the cake and read the book."

​Namjoon looks at the book under his arm, then at the crowded square, then back at you. He looks like a man being asked to solve an equation with no numbers.

"Go away, Joon! You’re blocking the aesthetic!" ​ Hobi shouts from the other end of the counter, popping a stray blueberry into his mouth.

​Yoongi lets out a short, dry laugh. It's the kind that sounds like he’s been waiting all day for someone to talk to Namjoon like that. He reaches out, places a hand on Namjoon's shoulder, and physically begins to pivot him away from the stall.

​"You heard the boss," Yoongi murmurs, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he catches your eye over Namjoon's shoulder. "Go be a civilian for an hour. It’s an order."

​Namjoon stumbles a half-step, looking bewildered, but he doesn't fight it. He looks down at the 1842 Annals, his fingers tightening slightly on the leather spine. ​As Yoongi leads a grumbling, map-obsessed Namjoon into the crowd, you turn back to your line just as Jimin yells out Bingo.

"I've got the rest of this," Jin says, surprisingly gentle as he wipes down the espresso machine for you. "Go. Before Hobi tries to start a new business venture."

You don't need to be told twice. Your legs ache, and your head is spinning with the sheer volume of caffeine and conversation you had today. You slip out the back of the stall, catching Yoongi’s eye where he’s leaning against a nearby oak tree. He doesn't say a word, just pushes off the tree and starts walking toward you.

"You did it," he says.

"Thankfully I had help" you say.

“You gave them a reason to help,” he smirks at you and takes your hand in his.

The two of you walk out near an old stone bridge, looking out over the creek. The orange light of the sunset hits him sideways, making him look softer. It makes you look away quickly.

"It's never been this busy in the past," you laugh, leaning against the rail of the bridge. "Jin must do something special with those sandwiches."

Yoongi turns to you. The sharp intensity you saw in the studio is back, but there’s something heavier now. Something like regret. He reaches out, his hand sliding into your hair.

He doesn't give you a chance to say anything else. He leans in, his lips meeting yours in a kiss. You reach up in surprise, fisting your hands in his hoodie, pulling him closer until there’s no space left between you. When he pulls back, he doesn't let go. He keeps his forehead pressed against yours, his eyes closed.

"Namjoon made the arrangements today," he says, the words barely a breath.

The warmth in your chest that you were feeling turns ice cold. You don't move. You don't breathe.

"We’re going back to the city," he continues. "In two weeks."

"Two weeks," you repeat.

"The others don't know yet," Yoongi says, finally opening his eyes. "Jungkook is planning on changing the shelving for your shop. Taehyung is looking at paint samples for your kids' corner. Hobi wants to plant a garden or … something," Yoongi’s grip on your neck tightens just slightly. "Don't tell them. Not yet. I shouldn't even be telling you, but..."

"But you didn't want to blindside me," you finish for him.

You look back toward the town square, where you can see the guys laughing as they pack up your stall. You knew this was coming. From the moment they crashed into your quiet life with their expensive clothes and their efficient ideas, you knew they were a beautiful, temporary storm.

"We knew this was going to happen, Yoongi," you say quietly, looking back at Yoongi.

“I know,” he says, jaw tightening a little bit.

"Two weeks," you whisper, reaching out to take his hand. "Then we better make them count."

"The Founders’ Day numbers proved my theory," Jin announces, pacing the length of the counter. "People don't just want coffee. We need a signature cake. Something with layers. A Perk and Page torte with gold leaf and a hint of espresso."

"Gold leaf is expensive, Jin," you say, leaning back against the espresso machine.

"We'll adjust the margin!" He counters, dismissively waving his hand. "I’ve already sourced a supplier for edible petals."

“We can do specials based on a book,” Jimin throws in.

In the corner, the quiet click of a measuring tape echoes. Jungkook is standing on a chair, eyeing the ceiling with intense focus. Beside him, a large, oddly shaped box sits open, revealing the soft, white curves of a lamp that looks exactly like a cumulus cloud.

"I can wire the cloud lamp into the main circuit tomorrow morning," Jungkook says, tapping the ceiling. "If I use a recessed mount, it’ll look like it’s floating."

"And the rug!" Taehyung chirps, sitting cross-legged on the floor, flipping through a catalog. "I found the meadow design. It’s coming from a boutique in the city. It should be here by Tuesday. Once the cloud lamp is up, the lighting will be perfect for reading groups."

"I'm thinking we should throw a launch party," Hobi adds, his eyes bright as he scribbles on a napkin. "We do a 'Midnight in the Meadow' event once the renovation is done. I'll handle the invites."

You look across the room, past the gold leaf talk and the cloud lamp, to where Yoongi is sitting on the edge of the far table.

He’s the only one not talking. He’s just watching them, his hands tucked into the pockets of his black hoodie. When he senses your gaze, his eyes shift to yours.

In his eyes, you see the same guilt on the bridge. The knowledge of the calendar and the city that’s already reaching out to pull them back. He watches Jungkook mark a spot on the ceiling with a pencil. He hears Jin talk about a spring menu that probably won't ever be launched. Yoongi gives you a tiny shake of his head.

"You're quiet," Jin says, pointing his spoon at you. "What do you think of the torte? Dark chocolate or white chocolate?"

You look at Jin’s proud, handsome face, then at Taehyung, who is petting the velvet swatch like it’s a tiny treasure.

"Dark chocolate," you say. "It goes better with the coffee."

"Perfect," Jin beams. "I’ll start the test batches on Monday."

Yoongi looks down at his boots, his jaw tightening. You turn away and start wiping down the steam wand, the metal hot against your palm, focusing on the sound of their laughter while you still can.

The bell above the door gives one final, cheerful chime as the last of them spills out onto the sidewalk. You can hear Jimin and Hobi’s laughter echoing down the street, Jungkook and

Taehyung arguing about the best way to hang the lamp, and Jin’s voice rising above it all to remind them that he expects a full tasting panel by noon.

You don’t look up. You grab a rag and start scrubbing a spot on the counter that’s already spotless. You scrub until your knuckles turn white, until the friction starts to burn.

"You're going to rub a hole in the wood." Yoongi’s voice is soft, coming from where he’s still perched.

You stop, but you don’t let go of the rag. You can’t. If you let go, your hands might start shaking.

"I hate this," you whisper. "I hate every second of this, Yoongi."

He stands up, the floorboards creaking under his weight as he walks toward you. He doesn't stop until he’s on the other side of the counter.

"I know," he says.

"Did you see them?" You finally look up. "Jungkook is so proud of the work he does here. Taehyung spent his own money to redo the kids' corner for a shop he’s leaving. They’re building a home here, Yoongi. They’re investing in a future that Namjoon has already erased."

"They're happy," Yoongi says, though his own voice sounds strained. "For now, they're just happy."

"It’s a lie." You throw the rag down. "Every time I smile back at them, I’m lying. When Jin talks about the spring menu and I don’t stop him, I’m lying. It feels like I’m mourning people who are still standing right in front of me."

Yoongi walks around the counter and cups the back of your neck. His fingers tangle in your hair, pulling you forward until your forehead rests against his shoulder.

"You think I don't feel it?" He murmurs into your hair. "I have to look at Namjoon every morning while he checks the countdown on his phone. I have to listen to Jungkook talk about wanting to replace your flooring."

“They deserve to know." You let out a shaky breath.

"And then what?" Yoongi’s voice is suddenly sharp. "The next ten days become a funeral. Jungkook stops building. Taehyung stops dreaming. Jin stops cooking. Right now, this shop is the only place where they aren't assets. They’re just guys hanging a lamp in a coffee shop. Do you really want to take that away from them early?"

"I just didn't think it would hurt this much," you admit, your voice breaking.

Yoongi pulls back just enough to look at you. His thumb brushes a stray tear from your cheek, his touch lingering. He looks exhausted, the weight of the secret is affecting him too.

"It hurts because it’s real," he says softly. "Even if the time is short, the way they feel about this place…about you…that isn't a lie."

He leans down, kissing your forehead, a slow, lingering press of his lips that feels like a goodbye and a promise all at once.

"Ten days," he whispers against your skin. "Don't count the minutes. Just let them hang the lamp."

Yoongi’s hand stays on your cheek, his thumb tracing the line of your jaw one last time before he slowly pulls away. He looks around the room. At the bookmarks, the sketches, the meadow rug sample and for a moment, he looks like he wants to say something more.

"I have to go," he says, walking back around the counter. "Before Namjoon sends a search party."

"I know." You nod.

“I'll see you tomorrow,” he says, as he pauses at the door before slipping out into the night.

Slowly, you reach over and click off the lights. The shop plunges into darkness, leaving you alone once again.

Ten days.

Ten days and you'll be back to your old normal. The routine you used to find comfort in and yet somehow…you weren't looking forward to it at all.

It had been raining for days. It seemed very fitting for your mood. Behind the counter, Jin is a whirlwind. Multitasking, making sandwiches and pausing to write down a new idea. Hobi is stationed at the end of the bar, his laughter ringing out over the hiss of the espresso machine as he chats with Jenna. Across the room, Jimin leans in close as Mrs. Higgins debates her next move, his expression one of mock-seriousness as he whispers strategic advice that has the entire table giggling like schoolgirls.

Nearby, Taehyung is perched on a small stool beneath the glowing, floating cloud lamp. He is surrounded by a cluster of children who are sitting perfectly still as he reads from a colorful picture book. In the midst of everything, Jungkook is tucked away near the back hallway, half-hidden behind a step ladder as he fine-tunes a shelving unit he’s reinforcing.

Further back, at a small table away from the main flow of traffic, Yoongi sits with his laptop and a pair of headphones pushed back off his ears. His eyes occasionally drift from his screen to track your movement behind the bar. There is a heavy, silent understanding in the way his gaze lingers on the others capturing a mental photograph of a home they are still building, even as the clock in his pocket ticks down the final hours.

Suddenly, the bell above the door clatters violently against the glass as the heavy door is thrown open. Mr. Im, little league coach, pta dad stands there, breathless and drenched despite the rain having slowed down to a light mist an hour ago.

"The middle school!" He bellows, his voice cracking with panic. "The roof in the west wing just gave way. The rain was too much! The main pipes burst and the whole first floor is flooding. They’re trying to move the kids to the gym, but the water’s rising too fast and they can't get the drains clear!"

You don’t remember crossing the street.

Or the parking lot.

Or how your shoes are already soaked through by the time you hit the doors.

They’re propped open. Water spilling out over the threshold.

You step in anyway. It hits mid-calf immediately, jeans dragging, the current stronger than you expect as it pulls toward the far hallway. The lights flicker overhead, buzzing like they can’t decide whether to stay on.

Voices echo.

Shouting.

Directions.

Panic.

You push forward.

“The gym…get them to the gym!” Someone yells.

“Teachers, make sure your students are all accounted for!” Another yells.

Your hand slides along the wall as you move, instinct taking over. Left turn past the office. Science wing floods first. The dip in the floor near the lockers. A chair bumps into your leg, half-floating.

You shove it aside and keep going.

Then….

A splash behind you.

Fast.

Jungkook.

He passes you without a word, just a sharp look, already moving toward a man struggling with a jammed door.

“Got it,” he says, bracing his shoulder into it.

“Careful, there’s glass over here!” Another voice…Hobi…loud, cutting through everything.

“You’re okay…just hold onto me…slow, slow…good…” Jimin's voice is calm and soothing.

“I’ve got you. We’re going this way, okay? You’re okay.” Taehyung, softer. “Show me where the gym is.”

“Don’t force it…you’ll make it worse…wait..” Jin, sharp and controlled.

You stop for half a second.

They’re here.

They just came.

Your breath hitches, but there’s no time. You turn toward the west hallway and a hand grabs your arm.

“Hey.” Yoongi says, pulling you back a step. Water is dripping from his sleeves, eyes locked on yours. “Get out of here,” he says.

“I can help…” you start.

“It’s not safe,” he cuts in. “You don’t know…”

“I do,” you snap, as you pull your arm free, stepping back into the water.

“I went here,” you continue, breath sharp. “I know exactly where everything is. I know this place. So I’m not leaving.”

“Fine,” he mutters.

You lead the way toward the west wing, the water now swirling around your knees, cold and heavy. Behind you, you hear the steady, splashing rhythm of Yoongi’s boots.

"The music room," you shout over the roar of a burst pipe somewhere in the ceiling. "If the west wing roof gave way, the instruments are right under the leak."

You reach the heavy oak double doors. They’re swollen from the moisture, resisting you. You put your weight into it, shoulder bracing against the wood, and feel Yoongi’s hands slam against the door beside yours. Together, you heave. The doors groan and swing open.

It’s a disaster.

A massive section of the ceiling has collapsed, exposing jagged rafters and the grey sky. Water is cascading down in a relentless sheet from the exposed pipes, hitting the pooling water with a deafening rhythm. The room is a lake. Sheet music floats on the surface of the dark water, and the town’s pride. The baby grand piano is currently being poured on.

"The cellos," you gasp, pointing toward the far wall where the cases are half-submerged, tilting precariously as the water level rises.

“They will be ruined in minutes." He says, loudly over the water.

“What do we do?” You ask.

Yoongi doesn't hesitate. He’s already wading into the deepest part of the room, the water reaching his thighs.He reaches the first cello case, hoisting the bulky instrument onto his shoulder.

"Start with the smaller cases!" He yells over the sound of the rushing water. "Get anything you can out! I'll handle the heavy stuff!"

You scramble toward the instrument cabinets, your hands shaking as you grab the violin cases, two in each arm. You pass Yoongi as you head for the door, and for a split second, your eyes meet. He’s drenched, his black hair plastered to his forehead, looking less like a famous music producer and more like a man fighting for your home.

"Don't look at the piano!" He barks as he sees your gaze linger on the grand. "Instruments first! We’ll get to the rest!"

You nod, turning back to the hallway where the others are starting to form a human chain. Jin and Hobi take the cases from your hands, their faces set in the same determined lines. You plunge back into the room, back into the cold, because Yoongi is still in there, and because this room…this school…is part of the life they’re leaving behind, and you’ll be damned if you let it go down without a fight.

​As you stumble out of the main entrance and the scene in the parking lot is a blur of flashing emergency lights and huddling groups of teachers and students wrapped in thin foil blankets.

​You stop near a row of yellow school buses, your knees finally giving way. You sink onto a concrete curb, your head dropping into your hands.

​"Hey." Yoongi says, coming up to you.

​​"You're shaking," he says, his voice gravelly.

​"So are you," you whisper.

​He doesn't deny it. He just sits down on the curb next to you, his shoulder bumping yours. In the middle of the parking lot, the others are starting to congregate.

​Jin is leaning against a car and handing out dry towels to a group of crying middle schoolers. Hobi and Jimin are standing nearby, Jimin’s arm slung around Hobi’s neck as they both watch the emergency crews with a look of stunned exhaustion.

​Jungkook is the last to emerge, his boots making a heavy squelch-thud sound on the pavement. He’s carrying a stack of rescued notebooks.

​"Everything from the music wing is out," Jungkook says, his voice flat.

​"Good," you breathe out, leaning your head back against the bus. "That’s good."

​"We should go," a new voice says.

​You look up. Namjoon is standing there. He’s the only one who isn't drenched, though his expensive coat is spotted with rain. He’s holding a phone in one hand, his thumb hovering over the screen. He looks at the school, then at the seven of you, and for the first time since you met him, he doesn't look like he has a plan.

​"The road to the city is going to be a mess if the creek keeps rising," Namjoon says, his voice devoid of its usual authority. "The town is due for more rain.”

​Jungkook freezes. Jimin’s head snaps up, his eyes wide and searching. Hobi’s hand drops from Jimin’s shoulder. The secret, the one you and Yoongi had been guarding, is finally out.

​"What?" Jimin asks, his voice small as ​Namjoon looks at Yoongi, then back at the group.

"Yes." Namjoon nods. “You knew the project…”

​"We discussed the project," Hobi says, stepping forward. "We didn't discuss... this." He gestures vaguely to the school, the town, and finally, to you.

​"It's not personal, Hoseok," Namjoon says, though he’s starting to look uncomfortable.

​You look at Yoongi. He hasn't looked up from his boots. He looks like he’s bracing for an impact that’s already happened.

​"You knew," Jungkook says, looking directly at Yoongi. It’s not a question.

"I knew." ​Yoongi finally looks up. His eyes are red-rimmed and tired.

“Look around, Joon,” Jungkook says. “They need help.”

“Of course we will help them,” Namjoon knits his eyebrows. “We will donate money…”

“No,” Jungkook shakes his head. “They need manpower. They need people that care.”

“Kook…” Namjoon starts, Jungkook cuts him off again.

“I'm… I'm not going,” he says. “Since Y/N let me start fixing up Perk and Page. I found something that actually… matters. I’m not going back to sitting in a dark room fixing problems that don’t mean anything to me.”

Nobody says anything for a moment. They just look around at the mess, at each other, taking in what Jungkook just said.

“I'm not leaving either,” Hobi says. “I've made friends here. People that are… important.”

You watch as his eyes find Jenna helping a student find their parents. You don't know how you missed that.

“Well,” Jimin exhales, glancing off toward the street, “I have bridge club on Thursdays. Mrs. Higgins will absolutely destroy me if I don’t show up.”

“The kids expect me.” Taehyung’s still looking toward the school doors. “We're in the middle of a series. I’m not leaving before I finish that.”

“I can finally cook again,” Jin says, adjusting his sleeves before looking at Namjoon. “I’m not giving it up. My spring menu is already in the works.”

“So, you're all just going to quit to settle down here?” Namjoon asks. “Do you know how much you're losing?”

“We wouldn't be losing anything if you gave this place a chance,” Hobi tells him. “If we didn't feel like we had to sneak around maybe we could actually focus on everything. We can make it work.”

Namjoon doesn’t argue right away. He just… stands there, looking like his friends just betrayed him. It's then however,

his gaze shifts to Yoongi. The one person who understands the weight of timelines, contracts, and the consequences. If Yoongi agrees to leave.

This ends.

“Yoongi.” Namjoon says.

Yoongi isn’t even looking at Namjoon. His eyes are somewhere else entirely. They are looking back through the open school doors.

“Who’s the music teacher?” Yoongi asks you.

You blink, thrown for half a second before you turn, scanning the crowd until you spot Mrs. Woo. She is standing near the entrance trying to talk to someone from the district.

“Over there.” You point.

Yoongi nods once as he pushes himself off the ground and he starts walking. Mrs. Woo looks up as Yoongi approaches. She clearly was not expecting to be addressed by someone like him.

“I’ve seen this before.” He says

“What?” Mrs. Woo blinks at him.

“Programs like this,” he says. “They’re always the first to go when something breaks. Budgets get tight. Priorities shift.”

Yoongi looks around at the destruction. shoving his hands into his wet pockets. “Music is always the first to go. I’m not going to let that happen.”

“I… what?” Mrs. Woo just stares at him.

“We both know most of those instruments aren't salvageable,” he gestures to where the ruined instruments lay on the ground. “Donate the working ones and I will replace everything.”

“Yoongi,” Namjoon says, stepping in beside him.

“New strings, brass, woodwinds, drums,” Yoongi continues, ignoring Namjoon. “Sheet music. Chairs. Stands. Storage….the piano.”

“That’s… that’s thousands of thousands of dollars,” Mrs. Woo says softly. “I can't...”

Yoongi shakes his head once.

“The kids don't deserve to have their music taken away because of district politics. Make a list. A true list. You can drop it off to Y/N at Perk and Page when you're done,” he tells her.

Yoongi doesn’t wait for a response. He doesn’t wait for gratitude. He just gives Mrs. Woo one final nod and turns away, wet boots splashing across the pavement as he heads back toward the curb.

The parking lot has gone strangely quiet.

Even the emergency lights feel softer now, red and blue flickering across soaked asphalt and foil blankets. Mrs. Woo is still standing there, stunned, one hand lifted to her chest as if she’s forgotten what she was about to say.

Namjoon quickly catches up to his friend. His expression is no longer just shock.

It’s frustration.

Confusion.

Something dangerously close to hurt.

“Why?” Namjoon asks.

Yoongi stops.

Doesn’t turn around yet.

Rainwater drips from the ends of his hair onto the pavement.

“Why would you do that?” Namjoon takes a step closer. “You just tied yourself to this school. To this town. For what?”

Now Yoongi turns. His face is exhausted, soaked, jaw set hard enough to ache.

“For them.” He says it simply.

“For a school district that will probably replace the entire board in six months?” Namjoon lets out a short, disbelieving breath.

“For kids,” Yoongi corrects, sharper now.

The lot goes quiet. He gestures toward the school, toward the broken windows and the water still spilling out onto the pavement.

“The kids don’t care about budget reports and project timelines, Joon.” His voice stays low, steady. “They care that tomorrow they still have somewhere to play.”

“This is exactly what I’m talking about. You’re making emotional decisions in the middle of a crisis.” Namjoon’s jaw tightens.

“Yeah,” he says. “I am. I’m doing it for the kids who don’t get a second chance when something like this gets cut.”

His eyes flick back toward the school and back to his friend standing in front of him.

“And for the ones who don’t even know yet that this is the thing that’s going to change everything.” He continues.

Namjoon doesn’t interrupt this time. In fact, he almost looks a little ashamed.

“To the thirteen-year-old versions of us,” he adds. “Who met in sixth grade band class and thought that was as big as the world was going to get. Those kids didn’t care about funding or contracts either,” Yoongi continues, quieter now. “They just wanted a place to play. They deserved that. So do these ones.”

You watch as they stare at each other. Years of shared history and hard, grueling work pass between them.

Namjoon looks away first. He looks at the school. Not as a liability or a series of structural failures, but as a building that looks remarkably like the one where they first learned how to breathe through a woodwind reed. The frustration in his body doesn’t vanish, but it morphs. Now he just looks exhausted. Like he just needed to be reminded of who he really was.

“You’re a fool, Min Yoongi,” Namjoon says, slapping a hand on Yoongi's wet shoulder.

“Probably.” Yoongi doesn’t flinch. He just looks at the hand on his shoulder, then back up at his oldest friend.

“You’re going to be exhausted. You’re going to be here every weekend.” Namjoon’s grip tightens, just once, before he lets go. “And I’m going to have to be the one to tell the contractors why we’re ignoring the Safety First signs in the music wing.”

Yoongi feels the corner of his mouth twitch. It's not a smile, but the ghost of one. It’s the first bit of warmth he’s felt since the pipes burst.

“I know someone that can make the coffee. You bring the blueprints.” Yoongi says.

Namjoon sighs, a long, shaky sound that disappears into the rhythm of the slightly harder falling rain. He turns to stand beside Yoongi, both of them facing the waterlogged building.

“Sixth grade band,” Namjoon mutters, shaking his head. “I hated that clarinet.”

“You were terrible at it,” Yoongi agrees softly.

“I was,” Namjoon admits. He clears his throat, straightens his posture, and looks at the flickering emergency lights one last time. “But I liked the room.”

Yoongi nods, a slow, final movement. He turns back toward the curb, his boots clicking more rhythmically now against the pavement. He doesn’t need a thank you, and he doesn’t need a contract. He just needs to know that when the sun comes up, the doors will still unlock.

As they walk toward the car, the sirens in the distance fade. The only sound is the steady, persistent pattering of the rain reclaiming the quiet town.

The rain hasn’t let up.

It taps steadily against your windows. The house smells faintly like your shampoo and clean laundry, a sharp contrast to the soaked wood, metal and panic that still clings to the edges of your mind.

You twist the towel once more through your damp hair, pacing the length of your living room in an oversized shirt and thin shorts. Everything is too quiet. No shouting. No rushing water. No voices calling directions.

Just you, the rain, and the crackling fireplace.

A knock breaks through it.

You freeze.

It comes again and much firmer this time. You weren’t expecting anyone. For a second, you just stand there before you move, crossing the small space and pull the door open.

Yoongi stands on your porch.

He’s soaked. Again. Hair dark and dripping, hoodie clinging to his shoulders like he didn’t bother with an umbrella or common sense. His eyes find yours immediately, but there’s something underneath it.

Something unsettled.

“Hi,” you manage, a little breathless.

“Hi.” He echoes.

“How did you...” You blink once, then lean against the doorframe slightly.

“Hobi’s… friend,” he says, like the explanation barely matters. Like he didn’t think far enough ahead to come up with a better one.

You stare at him for half a second.

“Yeah, Jenna didn't tell me about that,” you mutter.

A faint huff of something almost like a laugh leaves him, but it fades just as quickly. The rain fills the space behind him.

“You gonna keep me out here?” He asks, voice low.

“Right. Yeah…come in.” You step back immediately.

He slips past you, bringing the cold with him, water dotting your floor as he shrugs out of his hoodie. You close the door, the sound of the latch clicking a little too loud in the quiet.

For a moment, neither of you speaks.

He takes a few slow steps further inside, gaze moving around. Just… taking it in. Your space is small. Lived-in. Books stacked where they don’t quite fit. A blanket thrown over the back of the couch. Mugs that don’t match.

It’s nothing like the warehouse.

Nothing like him.

And then he stops.

The piano sits against the far wall, dark wood catching the dim light from the lamp beside it. It’s polished, cared for…even if it hasn’t been touched in a while.

Yoongi doesn’t move closer right away.

He just… looks at it.

“It was my grandmother’s,” you say, a little too quickly. “I don’t…” You let out a small breath, shrugging it off. “I don’t play. It’s basically just a very large decoration at this point.”

He finally steps closer, slower now, like the air around it is heavier. His fingers hover just above the edge of the keys, not quite touching.

“You don’t play,” he repeats, quieter.

“I tried lessons. It wasn't for me.” You shake your head, crossing your arms loosely. “Are you really staying?” you ask.

It comes out softer than you meant it to. Not casual. Not teasing.

He doesn’t answer right away. His gaze stays on the piano for a second longer before it drifts back to you.

“I was going to expand the warehouse,” he says, voice low, measured. “Build a proper studio.”

You don’t interrupt. He leans back slightly against the edge of the piano, arms loose at his sides, like he’s not entirely aware he’s doing it.

“Didn’t make sense before,” he adds as his eyes meet yours fully now. “It does now.”

“Yoongi…” you start, but it falters.

From the countdown that’s been ticking in the back of your mind like something you’re trying not to hear.

“You’re going to build a studio,” you say slowly, stepping closer without really deciding to. “In a town you were supposed to leave in days?”

“I wasn’t supposed to care either,” he says.

The space between you closes without either of you fully noticing it happen. You’re close enough now to see the way his hair is still dripping slightly at the ends. The way his jaw tightens like he’s holding something back. The way his eyes flicker over your face.

“You showed up,” you say, quieter now.

“Yeah.” He doesn’t deny it.

The rain fills the silence again as it hits your roof.

Louder this time.

Or maybe everything else just got quieter. Your hand lifts before you can think better of it, brushing lightly against the sleeve of his t-shirt.

“You’re freezing,” you murmur.

“I’m fine,” he says softly.

“You’re not.” You shake your head.

“I have towels. Dry clothes, probably something that’ll fit…” You move without waiting for permission, stepping around him toward the hallway. Your wrist is caught before you can take more than a step.

“Don’t,” he says.

Your breath stutters slightly, your gaze flicking from his hand on your wrist back up to his face.

“Yoongi…” you try again, softer this time.

His hand slides from your wrist to your waist. His fingers sink into your dry clothes and pulls you into his wet ones.

“I'm not going anywhere anymore,” he murmurs, voice low enough it almost disappears into the rain. “I’m done pretending I don’t want this.”

He kisses you like he’s been holding his breath for years. There’s nothing tentative about it. His hand slides into your hair, gripping, tilting your head back, and you open for him, a gasp swallowed by his tongue.

You stumble back, pulling him with you, your hands fisting in the wet material of his shirt . He’s dripping on your floor, leaving dark puddles on the wood, but you don’t give a shit. You can’t think past the press of his body, the heat of him beneath the cold, wet clothes. He breaks the kiss, just for a second, his forehead resting against yours. His breath is ragged, his eyes dark and hooded.

“I couldn’t leave,” he says, the words torn from him. “I fucking couldn’t.”

You don’t answer with words. You pull his mouth back to yours, harder this time, your teeth catching his lower lip, a small, sharp sting that makes him groan. His hands drop to your hips, gripping the thin fabric of your shorts, pulling you against him. You feel him, hard and pressing against your belly. You’re walking backward, guiding him.

You push his shirt up, your fingers finding the cool, damp skin of his stomach. He hisses, a sharp intake of breath, and his hands find the hem of your own shirt, tugging it up. You raise your arms, letting him pull it over your head, tossing it aside. You’re naked underneath and his eyes rake over you.

“Fuck,” he breathes.

He doesn’t give you time to feel exposed. His mouth is on your neck, teeth scraping against the sensitive skin, tongue soothing the sting. His hands cup your breasts, thumbs circling your nipples, and you arch into him, a moan escaping your lips. He’s still wet, the rain cold on your heated skin, a contrast that makes you shiver.

You push him back, just enough to work at the button of his jeans. He watches you, his chest heaving, his eyes never leaving your face. You get the button undone, the zipper down, and you push the denim over his hips, letting it pool at his feet. He kicks it aside, along with his shoes, and stands before you in nothing but his boxers, the fabric tented.

You reach out, tracing the line of his hip. He’s beautiful, all sharp angles and pale skin. He catches your wrist, his grip firm, and pulls you toward the couch.

You go willingly, falling back onto the cushions, pulling him down on top of you. He kisses you again, deep and slow, his hand sliding down your body, over your stomach, between your legs. He finds you wet, ready, and he groans against your mouth.

“Been thinking about this,” he murmurs, his fingers sliding through your slick folds, circling your clit with a precision that makes your hips buck. “Every night in that fucking shop. Watching you bend over to shelve books. The way you bite your lip when you’re concentrating.”

You can’t form a response. His fingers are inside you now, two of them, stretching you, curling against that spot that makes stars burst behind your eyes. You grip his shoulders, your nails digging into his skin, your head thrown back against the armrest.

“Yoongi,” you gasp.

He removes his fingers, and you whimper at the loss. However, he’s shifting, his mouth trailing down your body, over your breasts, your stomach, pausing to nip at the dip in your waist. He settles between your legs, his breath hot against your core, and you look down at him, your vision blurry.

He meets your eyes and then his tongue is on you, flat and warm, licking from your entrance to your clit in one long stroke. You cry out, your hand fisting in his wet hair. He groans against you, the vibration sending a jolt through your entire body.

His tongue works you with a rhythm that’s both relentless and teasing. He sucks your clit into his mouth, flicks it with the tip of his tongue, drives two fingers back inside you, curling and pumping. You’re climbing, the pressure building, your thighs tightening around his head. He doesn’t let up, his eyes locked on yours, watching you come apart.

The orgasm hits you like a wave, crashing through you, leaving you trembling and gasping. He works you through it, lapping at you gently as you come down.

He crawls up your body, his face slick with you, his lips swollen. He kisses you, and you taste yourself on his tongue, salty and sweet. He reaches down, shoving his boxers down, his cock springing free. He positions himself at your entrance. He doesn't push in.

“Tell me you want this,” he says, his voice strained. You think you can hear a small thread of vulnerability.

“I want this,” you say, pulling him closer. “I want you.”

He pushes in, slow, inch by inch, stretching you, filling you. You gasp, your eyes fluttering closed, your nails raking down his back. He’s perfect, and when he’s fully seated, he stills, letting you adjust, his forehead pressed to yours.

“Fuck,” he breathes, the word shaky. “You feel…”

He doesn’t finish. He starts to move, a slow, deep rhythm that has you clinging to him, your bodies sliding together, skin on skin. The fire crackles, the rain continues its pattering rhythm, but all you can hear is the sound of his breathing, the wet slap of your bodies, the low moans that escape your throat.

He picks up the pace, his thrusts becoming harder, more urgent. He’s chasing something, and you’re right there with him, the pressure building again, coiling tight in your belly. He reaches between you, his thumb finding your clit, rubbing in tight circles.

“Come for me,” he commands, his voice a growl.

It’s the push you need. You shatter, your body convulsing around him. He follows a moment later, a guttural groan torn from his chest, his hips stuttering as he spills inside you.

He collapses on top of you, his weight a comfort, his face buried in your neck. You can feel his heart pounding against your chest, his breath warm against your skin. The fire pops, the rain continues to fall, and you lie there, tangled and sweaty, the taste of him still on your lips.

After a long moment, he lifts his head, his eyes soft, a lazy smile playing on his lips.

“I’m not leaving,” he says, the words simple, final.

You don’t ask him to explain. You just pull him down for another kiss, slow and sweet, a promise of more to come.

Morning comes quietly.

The rain hasn’t stopped, but it’s softer now. It's more of a steady hush against the windows than the relentless downpour from the days before. The light filtering through your curtains is pale and gray. You don’t move at first. Not until something gently plays through your house. Your eyes stay closed as you listen.

Your piano.

You breathe in slowly, shifting just enough to feel the cool air where he isn’t beside you on the bed. That’s what finally pulls your eyes open. Sitting up, you pull up the blanket around you before getting off the bed and taking the blanket with you.

Heading downstairs, you see his back is slightly hunched, shoulders relaxed, head tilted just enough that his hair falls forward as his fingers move over the keys. He doesn’t notice you yet and for a second you just watch him.

It feels… intimate in a different way.

“You’re up.” His voice cuts gently through the music, low and rough with sleep, but his hands don’t stop moving.

“I didn’t know you were awake.” You blink, a little surprised.

“Been up a while,” he murmurs.

His fingers slow, pressing into a softer string of notes before he finally lets them fade out completely.

“I’ve got to go back to the city,” he says.

You draw the blanket a little tighter around yourself, studying the line of his shoulders.

“For how long?” You ask, voice still soft from sleep.

“A week,” he answers. “Maybe less. Just… loose ends. Things I can’t leave hanging.”

“Okay.” You nod.

That’s what finally makes him turn. His gaze finds you, searching like he expected something else.

Resistance.

Disappointment.

Anything.

But you’re just… there. Looking at him. It disarms him more than anything else could have. Your head tilts slightly, eyes drifting from his face to the piano.

“What were you playing?” You ask.

Something in his expression softens just a fraction. He looks back at the keys, fingers brushing lightly over them without pressing down.

“Something I’ve been working on,” he says.

You shift, the floor cool beneath your feet as you move closer. The blanket stays wrapped around you, trailing slightly as you stop a few steps behind him.

“It sounded… familiar,” you murmur.

“Yeah.” He huffs a quiet breath, almost amused. “I wrote it at the shop.”

“At Perk and Page?” You ask.

“Sat in the corner while you were arguing with Jin about cinnamon ratios.” He huffs a quiet breath, almost amused.

“What is it?” You ask.

He doesn’t look at you right away. His fingers finally press down again. Just a few notes this time.

“It’s yours.” He answers.

“You wrote me a song?” You ask softly.

“Don’t make it a big deal.” He shrugs, like it’s nothing.

“I’m not,” you say in disbelief. “I’m just… processing.”

That earns the smallest curve of his mouth. You step closer again, until you’re just beside him now, close enough to see the faint tension still sitting in his shoulders.

You lower yourself carefully onto the bench beside him, the blanket pooling around your legs. Your shoulder brushes his lightly, and neither of you moves away.

“Play it again,” you say quietly.

He doesn’t hesitate this time. The melody starts over, softer than before. You sit beside him, listening. Outside, the rain keeps falling and suddenly, you think whatever this is. It's going to last a lot longer than either of you were expecting.

The shop is quieter than it’s been in days.

Not empty…never empty.

Rain still taps lightly against the windows, a softer echo of the storm that tore through town earlier in the week. The air smells like espresso and cinnamon, something Jin insisted on perfecting until it felt seasonally appropriate.

You’re behind the counter, reorganizing a stack of bookmarks that don’t actually need reorganizing, when the bell chimes.

You glance up automatically and pause when Namjoon steps inside alone. Not in the sharp, intimidating way he usually does. No heavy overcoat, no storm-cloud presence that follows around him. Today, it’s just a sweater. Sleeves pushed slightly at the wrists. Hair still a little damp from the mist outside.

He looks… less like an authority figure.

More like he belongs.

“Well,” you say lightly, setting the bookmarks down. “If you’re here to audit my inventory, I should warn you. I’ve already hidden the evidence.”

“I’m not here to audit anything,” he says. trying to hide the twitch in his lips.

There’s something in his tone that makes you straighten a little anyway. He steps closer to the counter, pulling a folded piece of paper from his pocket and setting it down between you.

“Yoongi said you might have this,” he adds.

You glance down.

Mrs. Woo’s list.

It was the first draft. The one Yoongi said that she needed to redo. It’s longer now. More organized, detailed, a careful breakdown of everything the music room lost. Instruments, stands, sheet music, storage… even the piano, circled twice like she still can’t quite believe she wrote it down.

You nod, reaching under the counter and pulling out the updated version she dropped off earlier that morning.

“She added a few things,” you say, sliding it over to him. “I told her to be thorough if she didn't want Yoongi to deny it again.”

“Good.” Namjoon unfolds it, eyes scanning quickly. “It’ll make sourcing easier.”

Before you can respond, the bell chimes again.

A kid probably high school age steps in, shaking rain off his hoodie. He hesitates just inside the door, glancing around like he’s not entirely sure he’s in the right place. You recognize the look immediately.

“Hey,” you call gently. “What can I help you find?”

“Uh…do you have anything about, like… early settlement stuff? For a project?” He shifts his weight, a little awkward.

“I might.” You start to move around the counter.

Namjoon’s voice cuts in, not loud, not overbearing. Just… present. The kid looks at him, a little startled.

“What kind of project?” Namjoon steps closer to the shelves, thoughtful already.

“Um…paper,” the kid says. “But like…not just dates and stuff. My teacher said we need… perspectives?”

Namjoon nods once, like that’s exactly what he expected.

“Primary sources will help with that,” he says. “Diaries. Letters. Anything written at the time.” He scans the shelf quickly, then reaches without hesitation, pulling out a worn hardcover from the middle row.

“This,” he says, handing it over. “It’s a compiled set of personal accounts from the town's first twenty years. Not just what happened. How people experienced it.”

The kid blinks, flipping it open.

“This is… actually really good,” he says, a little surprised.

“It should give you something better than a timeline.” Namjoon gives a small shrug.

“Yeah…thank you,” the kid says quickly, already heading for the register.

You ring him up, watching the way he leaves more confident than when he walked in. When the door closes behind him, you glance back at Namjoon. He’s already looking at the shelves again, like he didn’t just do something quietly perfect.

“You’re good at that,” you say.

“At what?” He asks, distracted.

“Knowing exactly what people need before they do.” You answer.

“It’s not difficult,” he says. “You just have to ask the right questions.”

You lean back against the counter slightly, studying him.

“There's a group that's been trying to start something like that here,” you say.

That gets his attention. It's just a flicker, but it's there.

“A historical society,” you continue. “Nothing huge. Just… preserving things. Organizing records. Giving people access to this kind of stuff.”

He doesn’t interrupt.

Just listens.

“People care,” you add with a small shrug. “They just don’t really know how to build it into something sustainable.”

You pause for a moment tapping your counter with your hands.

“They’re missing leadership.” You finish.

Namjoon’s gaze drifts slowly across the shop.

The shelves.

The community board near the door, cluttered with flyers and handwritten notes. The space that’s clearly more than just a little local shop.

“They'd need structure,” he says after a moment.

You don’t react. Just let him keep going.

“Archival standards. Cataloging systems. Funding proposals if they want it to last longer than a year.” His brow furrows slightly, already somewhere deeper in thought. “A governing framework, at minimum.”

“Sounds like you’ve thought about it.” You tilt your head slightly.

“Hypothetically,” he says. “I’ll need to contact a few suppliers,” he mutters. “Strings, brass…those won’t be local. Storage might be. The piano…” he exhales quietly. “I’ll have to look into restoration versus replacement.”

“Coffee?” You push off the counter and step toward the espresso machine.

“Black.” He doesn’t look up from the list.

* Six Months Later *

“No. Absolutely not.” Jin’s voice cuts across the shop before you even see him.

You glance up just in time to see him snatch a sandwich from the counter, holding it up like it personally offended him.

“This is uneven,” he declares, turning it slightly. “And where is the chicken salad? Did it run away?”

“It’s on the bread, Jin,” you say, not even looking up from the register.

“It’s barely acquainted with the bread,” he shoots back, already reaching for the container. “If you’re going to sell something cold, it still needs integrity.”

He adds another generous scoop with the precision of someone plating a five-star dish instead of fixing a lunch rush mistake.

“People trust us,” he continues, pressing the top bun down like he’s sealing a deal. “You can’t betray that trust with inadequate filling.”

“You’re being dramatic,” you mutter.

“I’m being correct,” he counters instantly.

A customer clears their throat, trying not to laugh.

Jin brightens immediately, sliding the now properly constructed sandwich across the counter.

“There you are,” he says smoothly. “Balanced, generous, and worth your money.” Then, under his breath as he turns back to you. “We’re increasing the portion size. I refuse to be associated with mediocrity.”

A bright stack of laminated cards lands on the counter in front of you.

“Okay…hear me out.” Hobi looks at you.

“Hobi…” You don’t even need to look up.

“No, no, just…just one second,” he insists, already flipping the top card around so you can see it.

To Kill a Macchiato

bold espresso, vanilla, a hint of cocoa

You pause and slowly look back up at him.

“Absolutely not.” You shake your head.

“Yes, absolutely yes,” he grins, undeterred. “I expanded on Jimin's idea. It’s a pairing system. Drinks and books. People order both. It’s immersive. It’s branding.”

“Let me see.” Jin appears at your shoulder like he’s been summoned by the word branding alone.

Hobi hands over the stack like he’s presenting a masterpiece.

Jin scans the first card.

“‘Pride and Peppermint,’” Jin reads aloud. “That’s not bad.”

“I know!” Hobi beams.

“‘The Great Gats-bean.’” Jin flips to another.

“Hoseok…” you try.

“It’s memorable!” Hobi argues. “People will talk about it!”

Jin hums, thoughtful now, tapping the edge of the card.

“The flavor balance works,” he admits. “I like it.”

“So we’re doing it?” Hobi looks between you both, victorious.

“We’re testing it.” You exhale slowly, already knowing you’ve lost this battle.

“Yes!” Hobi claps once, already reaching for a pen. “I can build events around this.”

At the corner table, Jimin is surrounded.

Thriving.

“You cannot bluff that aggressively and expect me not to notice,” he says, narrowing his eyes dramatically at Mrs. Higgins.

“I’ve been playing longer than you’ve been alive,” she shoots back.

“And yet,” Jimin grins, laying his cards down. “You walked right into it.”

The table erupts.

Across the room, under the soft glow of the cloud lamp, Taehyung sits cross-legged on the meadow rug. A small crowd of kids leans in, completely still as he turns the page of a book with quiet reverence.

“And then,” he murmurs, voice soft. “The butterfly realized it was never lost. It was just… early.”

One of the kids gasps like this is the most important revelation of their life.

Taehyung smiles like it might be.

There’s a quiet click and whirr overhead. You don’t even look up this time.

“Jungkook,” you call, already knowing.

“I’m almost done,” he replies.

You glance up anyway.

He’s halfway up a ladder near the front wall, tape measure hooked along the space above the counter, pencil tucked behind his ear like he’s been doing this his entire life.

“You said that twenty minutes ago.” You argue.

“I was wrong twenty minutes ago,” he says easily, adjusting the tape by a fraction of an inch. “This needs to be centered properly.”

“It is centered.” You point out.

“It’s visually centered,” he corrects. “Not structurally. Those are not the same thing.”

“They are to me.” You mutter.

He marks something quickly, then leans back just enough to study his work.

“New menu board’s going to fit perfectly,” he adds. “Bigger. Easier to read. Better spacing.”

“You already made one,” you say.

“Yeah,” he nods. “This one’s better.”

Namjoon steps inside, careful as always, but there’s something different now. Less… calculating. More … comfortable. He’s holding a flat, wrapped bundle under his arm.

“Do you have a minute?” He asks.

“For you? Always.” You gesture to the counter.

He approaches, setting the bundle down with surprising care. For a second, he doesn’t unwrap it. He just rests his hand on top of it like he’s deciding how to explain.

“We finalized the first archived piece,” he says.

“That was fast.” Your brows lift slightly.

“Efficient,” he corrects automatically. “It mattered.”

He unwraps the paper, revealing a preserved article. It’s yellowed, fragile, and mounted carefully behind glass.

“A fire?” You murmur, as you lean in.

“The original schoolhouse,” he says. “Early records were scattered after this. Most of what we have now exists because people rebuilt it from memory.”

Your gaze lingers on the date.

On the place.

Where the middle school stands now.

“Would it be alright if we display it here?” He asks.

“Yeah,” you say softly. “Of course you can.”

He nods once, already reaching into his pocket.

“I brought mounting hardware,” he adds as Jungkook snatches it out of his hand.

“Coffee first,” you say, with a smile.

“Black.” He smiles.

The spring evening sunsets were getting longer. Inside, the air is thick with the scent of roasted beans and the lingering warmth of a busy day. Pulling the last window shade down, you reach over the counter, clicking off the main lights, leaving the shop bathed in the soft, ethereal glow of the cloud lamp in the kids' corner. You’ve just turned the deadbolt when a familiar, rhythmic knock sounds against the glass.

You lean your forehead against the cool wood of the door for a second, a smile tugging at your lips, before you slowly pull it open just a crack. Yoongi stands there, hands shoved deep into the pockets of a black hoodie, his hair slightly windblown. He looks tired, but the second his eyes meet yours, that sharp intensity of his softens into something private.

"We’re closed," you say, your voice dripping with mock-seriousness as you block the doorway. "And if you're looking for a caffeine fix, I'm afraid we’re completely out of coffee."

"Out of coffee? In a coffee shop? That’s a bold lie, even for you." Yoongi huffs a short, dry laugh, his gaze dropping to your lips before flicking back up.

"Supply chain issues," you deadpan, leaning against the frame. "Very tragic. You'll have to try the tea shop down the street."

"I don't want tea," he murmurs, stepping closer until he’s firmly in your space, the scent of the evening air clinging to him. "And I think we both know I’m not here for the espresso."

You let out a soft breath, your resolve crumbling as you step back to let him in. He slips past you, the door clicking shut and the lock sliding home with a finality that feels like a relief.

"Namjoon told me about the archival piece," he says, walking to stand by the mounted article. "The schoolhouse fire. It looks good on the wall."

"It feels right," you say, crossing the room to stand near him. "Like the shop is finally holding all the pieces of the town together."

Yoongi turns, leaning his lower back against the counter. He reaches out, taking your hand and pulling you between his knees.

"Six months," he says, his voice low, almost a marvel. "Jungkook’s already planning a patio out back. Jin wants to host a 'Gourmet Founders' gala. They’ve completely moved in."

"And you?" You ask, your fingers tracing the edge of his hoodie. "The studio is finished. The loose ends in the city are tied up. Do you still feel like you’re missing something?"

Yoongi reaches up, his hand cupping the back of your neck. He looks around the shop. His eyes roam to the meadow rug, the books, the life they all built and then he looks back at you.

"I'm not missing a thing," he says.

The weight of the secret you once shared, the fear of the countdown…it’s all gone. There is only the running of the refrigerator and the quiet peace of a home that was never supposed to happen, but did.

"I love you," you whisper, the words easy and honest in the dim light.

Yoongi’s expression shifts, a flicker of something raw and profound crossing his face. He pulls you closer, his forehead resting against yours.

"I love you," he breathes back.

He leans in then, his lips meeting yours in a kiss that isn't a goodbye or a promise for later. It’s a kiss that belongs to the here and now. It's a slow, deep realization of everything you’ve fought for. His hands slide down to your waist, holding, while the world outside stays quiet, leaving the two of you alone in the glow of the cloud.

The End

Tagged Readers:

@selihmvale , @artful-ahgase, @lovemarysblogposts

@sexinukim , @yhm743,

@nonseli, @cannontalwaysbenight, @hhhhhbeg321, @granataepfelchen

@svnbangtansworld ,

@bunnyboop03 , @jimeg629 , @mar-lo-pap , @our-cool-jenny ,

@yoonmins-girl

@mggv97 , @marnz1990 , @jazzy-wazzy509

@disss-ease , @yoongisblkgf1 ,

@golden-angel, @yoonglez0613 , @yoongix7 , @knapris

@jajabro ,

@petroogorodnik , @tea4sykes

@yoongiiuu93 , @mygssibal , @morbid-skittles

@f-fuyuma , @mkwkpspg, @maryhopemei

@ot72025 , @min-suga-free ,

@justletmeread601, @lover-bts-fairy , @mysteryenchatress , @btsamber01

@loopychick ,

@hopeworldfarm, @anjoellamorte

@kam9404 , @sweetmelon010, @toroenojao

@starlight-1010 , @enilocts, @kelsyx33

@libbieminie , @mooniedays02 ,

[lostbookmark]

MDNI 🔞

Main Masterlist here

One & Two-Shots here

Word Count 10, 600

Summary: You lived a quiet life running your bookstore cafe. You didn't expect your life to be flipped upside down by some strangers escaping noise …. one sandwich at a time.

Pairing: Music Producer Yoongi x F. Reader

Genre: Romance, Smut, Strangers to Lovers, Small Town

Warnings: Unprotected Sex,

A/N: So, I don't know if I struggled with this so long because this is more of a BTS fic that leans Y/N x Yoongi rather than the pairing being a main focus. Part two will be up tomorrow.

I hope you enjoy part 1!

The bell above Perk and Page chimes before the morning rush has even stopped. The espresso machine hisses softly behind the counter, milk steaming into a steady rhythm. The shop smells like roasted beans and old paperbacks. It's warm, familiar. Just the way you liked most mornings to be.

Outside, the town was already awake in the way small towns always were. Tires crunching over gravel. A dog barking two streets over. Someone’s radio playing classic rock through an open garage.

Inside, it was your own little world.

“Morning, Y/N,” Jenna, the local florist, calls.

“Morning,” you reply automatically, sliding a mug across the counter to her. “Extra foam, two sugars. Don’t lie to me, I know you.”

“You're a saint,” she sighs.

Your shop isn't big. Half bookstore, half café, entirely accidental in how successful it had become. People came for coffee and stayed for

Books. Or came for books and stayed for conversations they didn’t mean to have.

However, you always knew what to expect.

Or… you always did. Until the door opens again. This time with a gust of cool air that meant someone had been standing outside longer than they should have been. Two older women from the morning walking group stood just inside gossiping.

“Ladies,” you smile at them. “Do I want to know?”

“Oh, you haven’t heard?” One of them asks immediately.

“If it involves Mr. Daniels again,” you sigh, shaking your head. “I don't want to know.”

“No, no, better than that,” the other says, hurrying over and leaning in. “New people.”

That got your attention in spite of yourself. New people didn’t come through here often. Not ones that stayed long enough to matter.

“What kind of new people?” You ask, wiping your hands on a towel.

The first woman lowered her voice unnecessarily.

“The kind with cars you don’t see around here.” She raises her eyebrows.“Fancy cars. Black ones. Too shiny. Like… movie cars.”

“Okay…” You frown slightly.

“They’ve been seen near the old highway property,” the second woman adds. “The one nobody’s used since the old warehouse closed.”

Now that did mean something. That building had been empty longer than most people in town liked to admit.

“Are they renting it?” You ask.

“No one knows,” she says. “But I saw at least four of them. Men dressed fancy. City people.”

“And they were carrying big cases,” the first woman whispers.

Before you can ask anything else, the bell above your door chimes. This time letting in a wave of morning light and the sound of the town itself starting to wake up louder than before. Someone at the counter calls your name.

Coffee.

A refill.

You move back into rhythm, but the conversation lingers at the edges of your thoughts. Why would anyone want to move here?

Outside, through the front window, you catch dark vehicles down the street. Too clean for this town that park across from the hardware store.

“Alright,” you mutter under your breath. “Let’s see what that’s about.”

And the bell above the door chimes again.

The town didn’t stop talking about it all day.

You were too busy looking up lefthanded notebook vendors to notice anything unusual. However, the usual chatter about local sports scores died down into a low, curious murmur. That made you stand up straight and look around. As you turn around to face the front of the store, that's when you notice a new face.

"Just a black coffee please."

The voice was low, raspy, and carried a hint of exhaustion that didn't quite match the pristine look of the man standing there. He was pale against the dark, oversized leather jacket he wore. He wasn’t looking at the menu. He was looking at the bookshelf behind you, his eyes narrow and cat-like, scanning the titles with a quiet intensity.

It almost seems like he was avoiding looking around at everyone staring at him.

"Small, medium, or large?" You ask, reaching for a cup.

"Largest you have," he replies.

His gaze finally drops to yours. He doesn't smile. He just leans one elbow on the high part of your wooden counter, tapping a rhythm against the grain with pale fingers.

"Rough morning?" You ask, trying to break the ice.

“You can say that.” He pauses his tapping as the door flies open.

The quietness the man brought with him was instantly shattered by a burst of energy as three more men step inside.

"Yo…" one of them starts, his voice bright and booming, before catching himself. He has a smile that is completely bright and contagious. "Oh, man. It smells like actual paper in here. Look at this place!"

Behind him, a man with broad shoulders and a long, elegant coat steps in, checking his reflection briefly in the glass of your dessert case before pushing his hair back. He looks like he’d stepped off a runway, looking entirely too polished for a place that sold used paperbacks and day old muffins.

"It's charming," the polished one remarks.

Finally, another with tattoos and piercings comes in looking around with wide eyes. You can hear him earn a few sounds of disapproval from some of your older customers.

“You're late,” the quiet one sighs.

"The GPS didn't recognize Gravel Road Number Four," the energetic one laughs, stepping up to the counter with a grin. "Hi! Sorry. Can we get... everything? What’s good here? Everything looks good."

The pale man at the counter takes his black coffee from you, his fingers brushing yours briefly as he takes the cup. He takes a slow sip, wincing at the heat, and then steps back, leaning against the far wall to watch his companions descend upon your counter.

"I'll take a Chai Latte," the broad-shouldered one says, flashing a dazzling, practiced smile. "And whatever she's having." He points to a regular's plate of cinnamon rolls. "In fact, make it two. We have friends in the car who are too grumpy to come inside at the moment."

You grab another stack of cups, realizing the unofficial Perk and Page book club were trying their best to hide behind the shelves and spy.

"Coming right up," you say, meeting the gaze of the quiet man against the wall one last time. He just raises his cup to you in a silent salute.

The rest of your regulars have caught on to who's in the store.

Mrs. Alden lingers by the sugar station far longer than necessary, stirring a cup that definitely doesn’t need stirring. The retirees in the corner have fully abandoned their newspapers.

You don’t comment on it.

You just move.

“Chai Latte,” you say, setting it down carefully in front of the polished one. “And the cinnamon rolls will be out in a minute.”

“Perfect,” he beams, already sliding one toward the loud one.

“Hey, what’s your name?” The loud one asks you, leaning against the counter.

“Y/N.” You answer.

“Y/N,” he repeats, like he’s testing it. “I’m Hobi. Mr. Model over there is Jin.”

That earns you a quiet huff of something that might be a laugh from the quiet one.

“I'm Jungkook,” the pierced one says as his eyes sweep over coffee machines watching your every move.

“Yoongi,” The name directed toward the man still leaning against your wall by a newcomer with a deeper voice.

Yoongi straightens slightly, pushing off just enough to acknowledge the newcomer.

“Thought you weren’t coming in, Namjoon,” Yoongi says.

“Changed my mind,” Namjoon says.

The new arrival is taller than the rest, his posture straight, expression unreadable. His gaze sweeps the shop once before it settles somewhere just past you.

“Is this the only coffee place?” He asks.

It’s not rude, but you arch a brow before you can stop yourself.

“Unfortunately.” You give him a sad smile, making Hobi wince.

“Don’t mind him,” he says quickly. “He’s…”

“I have standards,” Namjoon cuts in.

“And yet you’re here,” you shoot back, reaching for another cup.

A small one.

Hobi chokes on a laugh. Jin turns his head, clearly trying not to smile. Even Jungkook lets out a quiet, surprised sound under his breath.

And Yoongi?

Well, you’re not sure.

“Don't try to get her fired,” Hobi declares. “I like her.”

“I own the place,” you reply.

“Even better.” Jin smiles.

“Coffee?” You slide a fresh cup across the counter toward the newcomer.

“Thanks,” he says.

You turn as Jungkook moves. He’s been quiet this whole time, but now he’s stepping in beside you like it’s second nature. He's reaching for the stack of lids before you even ask.

“Need help?” He murmurs.

“I guess you’re already helping.” You comment, clearly confused.

He nods once, efficient, already falling into rhythm with you like nothing about this is unusual.

“Good luck getting rid of him,” Hobi smiles at you.

You snort before you can stop yourself. The dinging of the cinnamon rolls has you turning to some tongs that Jungkook quickly grabs before you do. He drops them into two white boxes like he's done this for years.

You can't help but laugh and look at Yoongi who still hasn’t left his spot by the wall where he’s watching everything. When your eyes meet again, he doesn’t look away this time. In fact, you think there's amusement behind them.

“You always this busy?” He asks.

“Only when people with fancy cars show up,” you say, as Jungkook gives Jin his cinnamon rolls.

“Let me pay before they forget,” he says, stepping back up to the counter. “Jungkook.”

Yoongi flicks his thumb and Jungkook scurries around your counter to join his group of friends again. He slides a card across the counter.

Black.

Sleek.

The kind of card that does not belong in your small town. You pick it up between your fingers, turning it once like you’re inspecting it. You glance up at him, completely straight faced.

“If this breaks my machine,” you say, tapping it lightly against the counter. “You’re buying me a new one.”

He just looks at you. Slowly, that same small, almost reluctant curve touches the corner of his mouth.

“Deal.” He agrees.

You hum, satisfied, and swipe the card. The machine processes like normal and you hand it back.

“Lucky you.” You joke.

“Feels that way,” he says.

For a second, neither of you move.

“Yoongi,” Namjoon calls as he stands by the door.

Yoongi looks over his shoulder at him before he turns and drops a tip into your tip jar. Nodding his head slightly at you in parting, he walks out of your shop with his friends.

When they finally leave, opinions and questions soon erupt from your customers as they talk amongst themselves. You glance down at the counter, at the space where the black card had been sitting just seconds ago.

“Yeah,” you murmur to yourself, reaching for the next cup.

“That was … new.”

A couple days pass before the town settles back into its usual rhythm, even if the conversations don't. The gossip of the fancy men with their car sightings taper off into speculation, then into something almost normal.

Almost.

You don’t see them again right away. Not until late one morning. It's during that in-between space where everything moves a little slower.

Two of them.

Two new ones.

The first one steps in like he’s not entirely sure where to put his attention. His eyes move slowly across the shop taking it in. The shelves. The tables. The little reading nook by the window.

Behind him, the other pauses just inside the door for half a second.

Then smiles.

And it’s…well.

Devastating.

Mrs. Alden, who had been mid-sentence about her neighbor’s hydrangeas, stops talking entirely. Her mouth literally drops open at the sight of the man.

“Wow,” you mutter under your breath.

“What was that?” Jenna asks from the end of the counter.

“Nothing,” you say quickly.

The second one steps up, hands in his pockets.

“Hi,” he says. “ Is this a normal level of staring?”

“This?” You glance around at the suddenly very attentive room. “This is them being subtle.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he says, laughing. “I’m Jimin.”

“Y/N.” You smile.

“Oh, I know,” he smiles back, making you raise an eyebrow. “Nice place. It feels… lived in.”

“That’s one way to say it.” You try to figure out if that was a bad thing or not.

Behind him, the other one has already drifted. You hadn’t even seen him move. He ends up at the counter anyway with a worn children’s book already in his hands. He flips it open carefully, like it might fall apart if he’s too rough with it.

His fingers pause on one of the pages.

Illustrations. Bright. Simple.

He smiles.

“You read?” You ask, tilting your head slightly.

“Sometimes,” he says quietly. “Are people usually this quiet here?”

“Only when they’re being nosy,” you reply.

“Good to know.” He laughs slightly.

“They’ve been like this since we walked in,” he says under his breath.

“You get used to it,” you shrug. “Or you don’t.”

“I think I will,” he says easily.

Behind him, Mrs. Alden is still staring. Jimin catches it this time and like he knows exactly what he’s doing. He turns just slightly and sends her another one of those smiles. She physically has to grab the edge of the table. You press your lips together, trying not to laugh.

“Careful,” you murmur. “You’re going to cause a medical situation.”

“I’ve been told that before.” Jimin grins, completely unapologetic.

The other one closes the book gently, like he’s reluctant to let it go, and sets it back on the counter instead of returning it to the shelf.

“You have a whole section for these?” He asks, nodding toward the corner.

“Kids’ corner,” you say. “Parents drink coffee. Kids pretend to read. It works out.”

“I’m Taehyung,” he adds, as he looks at the kids corner.

“Welcome to the quiet version of the chaos.” You greet.

“So this isn’t the full experience?” Jimin glances around once more.

“Not even close.” You slide a cup onto the counter. “My customers are too busy gawking to act normal.”

"Well, Y/N," Jimin says. "If we're going to be the local entertainment, we might as well do it with caffeine in our systems. What do you recommend for someone who's had a very long morning of Namjoon's 'standards'?"

"How about...a maple latte with two shots of espresso?And for your friend?" You suppress a grin.

You glance over at Taehyung, who has wandered to the children's section. He’s currently crouched down, eye-level with a stack of vintage picture books, his long fingers tracing the spine of a worn copy of ‘Where the Wild Things Are’.

"Tae?" Jimin calls out.

"Whatever has the most cocoa. Also, maybe one of those muffins?" Taehyung looks up, his boxy smile appearing slowly.

"Blueberry muffin and hot cocoa it is," you say.

As you work the steam wand, the hiss fills the gap in conversation. You can feel their eyes on you.

"So," you say over the noise. "The old highway property. Planning on turning the warehouse into a modern art gallery? Or is it a secret lair? Are you running from the mob?"

"A secret lair sounds much more exciting. Would you visit if it were?" Jimin tilts his head.

"Depends," you reply, sliding their order toward him. "Do you have better Wi-Fi than the library?"

Taehyung drifts back to the counter, clutching a small, leather-bound book of poetry he must have found tucked away.

"I like this one," he says, placing it next to his cocoa. "I like the way it smells."

You pause, looking at the book. It’s an obscure collection you’ve had for years, tucked in a corner where nobody ever looks.

"You have a good eye, Taehyung. That one’s been waiting for someone to notice it for a long time." You nod.

"I think a lot of things in this town have been waiting for someone to notice them," he says softly.

The bell chimes again, cutting through the moment. It’s Mr. Henderson from the hardware store, and he looks like he’s about to trip over his own feet seeing the two men at your counter.

"Hello, Y/N," he greets, his eyes darting to Jimin’s designer boots.

"Mr. Henderson," you say, your voice welcoming.

Jimin picks up his coffee and Taehyung grabs his book and cocoa after paying. Before they head toward a table in the back. The one that offers the most privacy. Jimin leans in one last time.

"We'll be back, Y/N," he promises.

"For coffee or books?" You ask.

"The company." Taehyung smiles over the rim of his cup, his eyes crinkling.

As they walk away, the shop erupts into frantic whispers among the regulars. You just shake your head and pick up a rag to wipe the counter. Your small town definitely isn't what it used to be, and you hope everyone is ready for whatever changes are coming.

The next day doesn’t feel like it’s supposed to be different.

It isn’t busier.

It isn’t quieter.

The kind of normal you rely on.

“Medium caramel latte, extra shot,” you repeat to yourself midrush, reaching for a cup. “You’re going to start vibrating one of these days, Mr. Greene.”

“It keeps me young,” he insists.

“That’s not how that works.” You respond.

There’s a quiet huff of laughter somewhere to your left. You don’t think anything of it. You slide the cup across the counter, turn to grab the next and ….

The stack of lids you were about to reach for is already in someone else’s hand. Jungkook doesn’t say anything. He just sets two lids down beside the cups like it’s the most natural thing in the world. He then reaches past you to grab a sleeve to slide it onto the next drink.

Efficient.

Clean.

“Do you work here now?” You ask.

“Did you hire me?” He asks.

“No.” You shake your head.

“Then no.” He answers.

“That’s reassuring.” You narrow your eyes slightly and he shrugs.

You turn back to the counter, because there are still people waiting, and apparently you have… help now.

“Caramel macchiato?” You call.

“I’ve got it,” he says quietly, already picking it up and sliding it toward the right customer before you can even double-check.

He moves like he’s paying attention to everything at once. The orders, people, where things are placed.

Learning.

Fast.

“Careful,” you mutter under your breath. “You keep that up, I might actually put you to work.”

He glances at you, raising an eyebrow. You shake your head, turning back to the machine. The rush tapers off slowly after that. Just enough that the line disappears. You wipe down the counter, glancing sideways.

He’s still there.

Restocking napkins now.

“You know,” you say, leaning your hip against the counter. “Most people ask before they start rearranging things.”

“I didn’t rearrange anything,” he replies, straightening a stack without looking at you. “I fixed it.”

“You fixed it.” You stare at him as he nods once.

You look at the napkin holder.

Then the lids.

Then the sleeves.

“Shouldn't you be in your secret lair with your buddies?” You ask.

Jungkook pauses with his hand mid-air, a stray napkin clutched between his fingers. For the first time since he started his shift, he actually looks at you. The corner of his mouth twitches. A ghost of a smirk that softens the edge of his tattoos and piercings.

"Secret lair?" He repeats.

"Well, some of the old men are leaning toward an underground poker ring." You shrug.

Jungkook actually lets out a soft, genuine huff of a laugh. He finishes stocking the napkins and finally turns to face you fully, leaning back against the pastry case.

"It’s just a studio," he says simply. "Blue and Grey Music Production."

"Sounds…important," you muse.

"Important to us," he replies. "It’s quiet here. We like that. Mostly."

He doesn't elaborate, and you find yourself not wanting to push. There's a certain gravity to these men. Something that suggests they didn't just move here for the scenery.

"Well," you say, breaking the silence as you grab a damp cloth to give the espresso machine a final wipe. "Since you unofficially worked half a shift and you're not on my payroll. What would you like for free?"

"Banana milk. If you have it." He looks back at you, his large, doe-like eyes blinking once, twice, as if surprised by the gesture. "Banana milk? I thought you were going to ask for a triple-shot nitro brew or something to match the leather-jacket-and-tattoos vibe." You laugh.

"I like what I like," he says with a shrug, though there’s a slight pink tint to his ears now.

"Coming right up," you say.

He stays for a while, perched on a stool at the end of the counter. He doesn't talk much, but he helps you carry a heavy box of new arrivals to the back and even helps a confused tourist find the local history section. He moves with a quiet grace that makes it easy to forget he's one of the fancy strangers everyone is so enamored by.

"See you tomorrow?" He asks, his hand on the door handle by the time late afternoon rolls around.

"I don't know," you tease. "I might have the napkin situation under control by then."

"I'll check anyway. Just to be sure." He jokes back.

The bell chimes as he steps out, leaving the shop feeling strangely empty. You look down at the napkin holder. Every single one is perfectly aligned.

You just shake your head, but as you go back to your mundane tasks, you find yourself wondering which of the seven will show up tomorrow and what exactly brought them to your little town.

The open sign had been flipped over to closed ten minutes ago. The only noise in your shop was you broom against your floor and the soft instrumental music playing over your laptop.

The bell above the door gives a tired clink.

You lean your chin on the top of the broom handle, watching as Yoongi pushes inside, his hands buried deep in the pockets of his dark leather jacket. He looks even more exhausted than the first time you saw him.

"We're closed," you say, but he didn't stop.

He just kept walking toward the counter, his eyes scanning the darkened shelves.

"The light was on." He shrugs.

"Force of habit," you reply. "But since you’re already here... I hope you like the End of Day Special. It’s about two hours old and tastes like burnt dirt. It’s basically motor oil at this point."

"I’ll take it," he says, his voice raspy and relieved. "Largest cup you've got."

"You’re a masochist, Yoongi." You snort, reaching for a mug instead of a paper cup.

"I'm a producer," he corrects softly. "Which is basically the same thing."

As you pour the sludge, you feel him watching your hands. You set the mug down in front of him, and he wraps his pale fingers around it, seeking the heat. He doesn't add sugar. He doesn't add cream. He just takes a long, slow sip and lets out a long breath.

"God," he mutters. "That's terrible. Thank you."

"Don't mention it and definitely don't send me the medical bill," you joke, leaning your elbows on the counter across from him.

"Jungkook was here," Yoongi states.

"All afternoon," you confirm. "He restocked my supplies, and intimidated at least three members of the local bridge club just by existing. I think he's working for a promotion to Floor Manager."

"He wasn't bothering you, was he?" He asks, sounding concerned. "He gets... restless. When he can't focus on his work, he starts looking for things to take apart or put back together. If he was a nuisance, tell me. I’ll keep him chained to his chair."

"Honestly? He was the best employee I never hired. He’s quiet, he’s efficient, and he likes banana milk. He's a bit of a mystery, but he wasn't a bother." You shake your head.

"Good," he murmurs, relaxing some. "We’re trying to keep a low profile. Hard to do when you're traveling with a pack of extroverts who think a small town shop is a play area."

"You're doing a terrible job of staying invisible," you point out, nodding toward the front window where his shiny black car was parked under a streetlamp. "But for what it's worth? The small town shop owner doesn't mind the company."

Yoongi looks down at his coffee, a small, genuine smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. The first one you'd seen that actually reached his eyes.

"The company's not so bad either," he says quietly.

For a moment, the only sound was the hum of the refrigerator and the wind whistling against the glass. The fancy stranger wasn't so fancy when he was nursing stale coffee in the dark. He just looks like someone who had finally found a place where he could relax.

"Go home, Yoongi," you say gently. "Before that coffee actually eats through your stomach lining."

"Five more minutes," he replies, closing his eyes for a second. "It’s the first time all day it’s been quiet."

Quiet.

That's what Jungkook said.

Maybe there was no mystery after all.

“No, Mrs. Higgins, that is not a scone, that is a muffin. There is a difference,” you sigh.

“There is not,” she argues.

It's becoming normal.

Jungkook is halfway up a small step ladder you definitely didn’t give him permission to use, sleeves pushed up, completely at home in your store.

“You alphabetized my poetry section,” you say slowly.

“It was a complete mess,” he replies.

“Oh! It smells even better today!” Jin announces, coming through the door.

“You’re back,” you say, already pulling two cups.

“Did you miss me?” Hobi asks immediately, sliding up to the counter.

“No.” You smile.

“Wow,” he presses a hand to his chest. “I’m hurt.”

“We need to talk,” Jin says, scanning the pastry case.

“No, we don’t.” You wave him off.

“We do.” He nods. “You don’t have sandwiches.”

“He’s been thinking about this all night,” Hobi stage-whispers.

“I have,” Jin confirms, completely serious.

“This is a bookstore café,” you say, leaning both hands on the counter. “People come here for coffee, books, and carbs.”

“Sandwiches are carbs,” Jin replies instantly, waving his hands. “Turkey and brie with apple slices. Toasted sourdough. Honey drizzle.”

“I didn’t ask..”You blink.

“Ham and swiss. Croissant. Dijon. Simple, classic, reliable.” Jin rubs his hand together.

“Oh, oh wait, that sounds good.”Hobi’s eyes light up.

“Chicken salad,” Jin continues, ignoring both of you now. “But not the sad kind. Fresh herbs. Maybe grapes. Texture matters.”

“Texture does matter.” Hobi is nodding like he’s in a business meeting.

“Can either of you cook?” You ask.

“I eat,” Hobi shoots back.

“I can cook,” Jungkook says.

“Grilled cheese,” Jin adds. “But elevated. Multiple cheeses. Proper melt. Crisp exterior.”

“You are not opening a sandwich shop in my bookstore.” You throw your hands up.

“I’m expanding your menu.” Jin smiles.

“I can help!” Hobi says brightly.

“With what?” You ask.

“I’m great with people,” he says, completely serious. “Customer interaction, upselling, vibes.”

“Vibes?” You repeat.

“Vibes are important,” he insists. “Jin can make the sandwiches, I sell the sandwiches, Jungkook does what you need.”

“I can do that,” Jungkook pipes up.

“This is not happening.”You press your fingers to your temple.

“It is,” Jin says calmly. “You have the space.”

“You do.” Hobi nods.

“I don’t have staff. You already have jobs,” You add.

“We’re very dedicated,” Hobi says, leaning against the counter.

“I can see that,” you deadpan.

“You’re underutilizing your business,” Jin says, crossing his arms as the two of you stare at each other. “Also, you need better display flow. The pastries should be more visible from the door.”

“Get. Out.”Your eye twitches.

“No.” Jin shakes his head.

“Jin.” You warn.

“Y/N.” He says back.

“I think this is the start of something beautiful,” Hobi says, fully invested in this entertainment.

“This is the start of me banning all of you,” you reply.

“You wouldn’t,” Hobi gasps.

“You’re right,” you sigh. “But I’m thinking about it.”

A throat clears.

Yoongi stands beside the counter, hands tucked into his jacket, eyes already on the scene in front of him.

Jin mid-argument.

Hobi half over your counter.

Jungkook on a ladder.

You, clearly losing control of your own establishment.

“What is this?” Yoongi asks.

“A hostile takeover.” You answer.

“A business opportunity.” Hobi grins.

“An improvement plan.”Jin nods.

“Do you need help?” Yoongi asks, trying not to laugh.

“Yes,” you say flatly.

There’s the faintest pull at the corner of his mouth. He steps up to the counter.

“Are you all done?”

You don’t even see him walk in.

But suddenly, Namjoon is standing just inside the doorway, one hand still on it like he didn’t bother to close it all the way.

Jin straightens first.

Hobi freezes.

Jungkook pauses on the ladder, a book still in his hand.

Yoongi doesn’t move.

“Define done,” Hobi tries.

“You’ve been here,” Namjoon says, glancing at his watch as he steps fully inside. “Long enough.”

“No we haven’t,” Jin says automatically.

Your fingers tap once against the counter as you glance between them. This isn’t the same energy as before. This isn’t teasing or arguing over food.

This is… something else.

Namjoon’s gaze moves slowly across the shop.

The ladder.

The counter.

The too-comfortable way they’ve taken over your space.

“We are here to work,” he says.

“It’s just a coffee shop, ”Hobi says.

“Exactly.” Namjoon finally looks at him. “It needs to stay that way.”

Jungkook quietly slides the book back into place.

“We’re taking a break.” Jin crosses his arms.

“You’ve been on a break,” Namjoon replies.

You shift your weight slightly, suddenly very aware you’re standing in the middle of something you don’t understand.

“I’m not asking again. If you don’t get back to the studio in the next five minutes. I will make sure you don’t leave it again.” He stares at them.

“Okay…yep. That sounds like a solid plan. Love that plan.” Hobi straightens immediately.

“This isn’t over,” Jin mutters to you.

“It better be,” you shoot back, though there’s less bite in it than before.

Jungkook is already climbing down the ladder.

And Yoongi…

You glance at him. His gaze is on Namjoon now like he already knew this was coming. Namjoon doesn’t look at him directly, but something passes between them anyway.

“Sorry,” Yoongi says quietly.

“It's okay,” you reply.

“We’re revisiting the sandwich conversation.” Jin lingers a second longer, pointing at your pastry case like this is unfinished business.

“Get out,” you say.

Jungkook follows last, glancing once at the napkin holder like he’s mentally noting if it's full.

Then they’re gone .

“Yeah,” you murmur to yourself. “They’re not going anywhere.”

The morning air is colder than you expect as you make your way down the sidewalk, keys already in hand, toward Perk and Page. Your footsteps slow when you see a familiar figure. Jin is sitting on the step and there's a box beside him with two grocery bags at his feet. He looks up the second you freeze.

“Good,” he says, like he’s been waiting longer than he should admit. “You’re here.”

“You’re… here,” you repeat.

“I am,” he nods once.

“Do I want to know?” You ask flatly.

“It’s a sandwich press.” Jin looks offended.

“I’m not open yet.” You turn the key in the lock and push the door open.

“I know,” he says, following you in.

The shop comes to life as you turn everything on. You hear the box scrape lightly against the counter a second later as you move about your morning.

“You realize,” you start, reaching for the espresso machine. “Most people don’t bring appliances into someone else’s business.”

“You would have said no.” He points out.

“Correct,” you confirm.

“Exactly,” he says simply, opening the box on one of the small side tables.

There’s something different about him today. He’s focused, quieter as he starts unpacking without another word. The box opens to reveal a sleek, stainless steel sandwich press.

“You bought that,” you say, watching him plug it in. “For a place you don’t work at.”

“Yes.” He nods.

“You’re not opening a sandwich shop here.” You turn back to the machine before you can argue further, filling it with water.

“I’m not opening anything,” he replies.

He’s already pulling things out of the grocery bags now. He has bread, wrapped meats, cheese, and small containers.

“I’m testing,” he adds.

“That’s bold.” You huff out a quiet laugh despite yourself. “You don’t even know what my customers want.”

“They want to stay longer,” he says, like that’s the easiest question in the world.

“They already do,” you reply, softer now.

“They leave for lunch,” he counters. “Or they bring food from the diner that's not very good.”

“You’ve thought about this too much,” you decide.

“Yes,” he agrees easily.

“GOOD MORNING, oh my god, you started without me.” Hobi bursts through the door.

“You’re late,” Jin says.

“It’s early,” Hobi argues, dropping his bag onto the counter. “Okay, but listen, breakfast sandwiches.”

“No.” You sigh.

“We can bundle them with coffee.” He suggests. “Discount them if they smile at me.”

“That’s not a real business model,” you say.

“It is if I’m involved,” he grins.

Jin, meanwhile, has already turned the press on. The soft click echoes in the quiet shop.

“You’re really doing this?” You ask and he hums. You exhale slowly, bracing your hands on the counter. “Fine.”

Both of them look at you.

Hopeful.

“This is not permanent,” you say firmly. “This is not a menu change. This is not a takeover.”

“Of course,” Jin nods.

“We’re just demonstrating value,” Hobi adds.

“You are testing,” you correct.

“Yes,” Jin agrees. “Just in the mornings before Namjoon catches me.”

“Fine.” You give in.

Hobi gasps like you’ve just handed him the world as Mrs. Alden steps in, mid-complaint about the weather.

Her eyes land on the counter.

On the ingredients.

“Well,” she says slowly.

“Would you like to be our first customer?” Hobi leans forward immediately.

Jin closes the press with a quiet, decisive click. You look at the door and at the growing line outside that didn’t exist ten minutes ago.

And just like that… your normal morning is gone again.

“This is a terrible idea.” You shake your head, reaching for your apron strings.

“Probably,” Jin agrees.

“But it’s a delicious one.” Hobi grins.

The bell doesn’t stop chiming.

It just… keeps going.

You barely have time to ring up one customer before another walks in, drawn in by the smell.

“This is your fault,” you mutter.

“I accept that,” Jin replies calmly, already assembling another sandwich with unnerving precision.

“Order for Jenna!” Hobi calls brightly, weaving through tables with a plate balanced in one hand and a coffee in the other. “Careful, it’s hot!”

“Well,” Your florist friend says, inspecting it. “If this ruins me for all other breakfasts, I’ll be sending you the bill.”

“I’ll gladly pay it,” Hobi shoots back with a grin.

“Well,” Jimin says, stepping inside Perk and Page. “I didn't expect this.”

“You’re just in time to witness my downfall,” you reply, not missing a beat.

“I don’t know,” he hums, slipping his hands into his pockets as he walks closer. “It looks like a success story to me.”

Jimin laughs softly, but his attention is already drifting to the corner table. The one that always belongs to the older ladies. They’re mid-game. Their cards spread out, glasses perched low, fully invested in something that looks serious and competitive. Jimin watches for exactly three seconds before he turns back to you.

“Question,” he says. “Do you think they will let me join them?”

“They will eat you alive.” You laugh.

“I think I’ll survive.” He smirks.

“I don't know.” You cross your arms.

“I’m willing to take that risk.” He stares at them.

He turns before you can stop him, heading straight toward the table like he’s been invited. Mrs. Higgins looks up first followed by the others. Jimin offers them that same soft, devastating smile.

You can't hear what he says, but you do see Mrs. Alden sit up straighter as one of the others scoots a chair out. You see cards being gathered, reshuffled, space being made.

“What happened?” Hobi appears beside you out of nowhere, leaning over the counter to follow your line of sight.

“He’s integrating,” you say flatly.

“Already? That’s so fast.” Hobi gasps, as the sandwich press clicks open again behind you.

“Next,” Jin says.

“Let’s go!” Hobi claps his hands once.

Across the room, Jimin leans in closer to the table, listening carefully as Mrs. Alden points at the cards like she’s about to declare war.

Hobi rushes past you with another plate.

Jin doesn’t slow down.

You sigh….

Maybe they know what they are talking about after all.

The door is actually locked this time and you’re halfway through wiping down the counter when the knock comes. Yoongi stands on the other side of the glass, hands tucked into his jacket. His gaze lifts when he realizes you’ve noticed him and he doesn’t look away.

“You know how locked doors work, right?” You ask, pulling it open.

“Still worth checking.” He shrugs slightly and walks in.

“Sit,” you nod toward the stool as you disappear into the back, coming back with a plate a moment later.

“Leftover sandwich,” you say, setting it in front of him.

“You let Jin go through with it,” he smirks.

“Temporary insanity.” You lean on the counter.

“That’s really good.” He nods, humming as he takes a bite.

“I know,” you sigh and Yoongi glances at you over the sandwich.

“I think you like it,” he says.

“The sandwich?” You shoot back.

“The chaos.” He clarifies.

“You’re confusing tolerance with survival.” You scrunch your face.

“Mm,” he murmurs. “You haven’t kicked us out yet.”

“You’re all very persistent.” You narrow your eyes slightly.

“Some of us more than others,” he says, eyes locking on yours.

“You look less dead than the last time you showed up after hours.” You joke.

“Thanks,” he laughs.

“You’re welcome.” You smirk as he leans back slightly, one hand loosely holding the sandwich.

“It was getting loud,” he says.

“What?” You look confused. “Your lair?”

“The city,” he corrects. “Couldn’t focus. Couldn’t work. Couldn’t… think. People were coming and going that shouldn't have even had access to my space.”

“So you ran away,” you finish.

“Yeah.” He sighs.

“And they all just followed you?” You ask. “No complaints?”

“Namjoon complained.” A quiet exhale leaves him. “He didn’t want to come. Still doesn’t.”

“But you did.” You rest your chin in your hand.

“I didn’t at first.” He leans forward now, forearms resting on the counter. Closer than before. “But it felt like I had no choice. It’s… easier here. Quieter.”

“Jungkook said that,” you nod. “About liking the quiet.”

“He would.” Yoongi nods.

“And you?” You ask. “You like it enough to stay?”

“I like parts of it,” he says, looking right at you.

“Parts,” you repeat.

“Yeah.” His gaze doesn’t shift.

You hold it for a second longer than you mean to before you glance down at the counter.

“Careful,” you mutter. “You’re going to offend the entire town.”

“They’ll deal with it. You always stay this late?” He asks.

“Someone has to keep the place from getting taken over,” you say. “Apparently.”

“Or,” he says, voice softer now. “You just don’t want to leave.”

“You knocked on a locked door,” you counter. “So what does that say about you?”

“That I was hoping you’d still be here.” His mouth pulls slightly at the corner.

“You’re a problem,” you say, shaking your head.

“So I’ve been told.” He smirks.

You snort quietly, turning to rinse out the rag just to give yourself something to do.

“You know,” you say, glancing back at him. “If Jin hears you liked that sandwich, I’m losing full control of my own business.”

“You already did,” Yoongi replies.

You roll your eyes, but there’s a smile tugging at your mouth now.

When you look back at him. He’s still watching you.

And he's not ashamed of it at all.

“When will the new romance come out?” Mrs. Lee asks.

“Next week,” you reply, checking your computer. “You can try something new. Have you ever tried a mystery?”

She sends you a look like you're crazy and you almost smile.

“Hi,” comes a quieter voice.

Taehyung stands just inside the door, a book already in his hands. It’s something he brought with him. He’s holding it loosely, like he’s not entirely sure what to do with it.

“Hi,” you echo.

His gaze drifts past you toward the kids’ corner. The little rug. The low shelf. The scattered cushions.

“Do you mind if I… use that?” He nods toward it.

“For what?” You blink.

“Just for a bit.” He lifts the book slightly.

“Go ahead,” you say. “Just… don’t break anything.”

“I won’t,” he promises, already moving.

He moves and settles onto the rug, long legs folding awkwardly at first before he adjusts. He opens the book and flips a page. At first nothing happens. Then one kid wanders over. Then another. A mom lingers nearby, coffee in hand, watching. Taehyung doesn’t look up. Doesn’t call attention to himself.

He just starts reading.

The kids lean in.

You glance over once….twice.

“What's going on?” Jenna murmurs, stepping up beside the counter.

“He's reading to the kids,” you say, watching Taehyung turn a page carefully.

Jenna hums and orders her usual. You make it without taking your eyes off the corner for too long.

“Morning.” Jungkook sets something down on the counter with a soft thud.

“What is that?” You ask, eyeing the two medium sized chalkboards on legs and a box of chalk.

“It's for the sandwich menu.” He opens the box, snapping a piece of chalk in half.

“I… have a sandwich menu now,” you say to yourself.

His handwriting is annoyingly neat. Clean lines. Balanced spacing. The whole thing looks like it belongs somewhere much nicer than your slightly crooked menu board ever did

Across the room, one of the kids laughs. You look over again.

Taehyung’s doing voices now. Not big, not exaggerated. Just enough to make the moment land. The kids are fully hooked. One of the older regulars has turned her chair to watch.

The bell chimes Yoongi steps inside. He pauses just past the door, watching the way Taehyung sits on the floor with the kids gathered close. He walks up slowly, stopping at the edge of the counter beside you.

“Your control is gone,” he says finally, voice low.

“I know,” you reply.

Yoongi hums quietly, leaning his forearms against the counter.

For a second, you both just stand there watching Taehyung with the kids.

“You going to stop them?” He asks, looking between his two friends.

“No,” you say and he nods.

“What is Tae doing?” Namjoon asks under his breath, joining the two of you.

Yoongi doesn’t answer right away. Namjoon takes a step forward, but Yoongi’s hand catches his sleeve.

“Leave him,” he says quietly.

“We have work,” Namjoon says.

“We always do,” Yoongi replies.

After a second, Namjoon exhales and steps back. You fight back the smile that threatens to break across your face. Instead, you turn back to look at the shipping dates of the new romance books and take in the sounds of Taehyung's storytelling and Jungkook's writing.

“They don’t do this everywhere,” Yoongi nods toward the corner.

Taehyung’s halfway through another page. A kid leans against his arm like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

“No?” You question.

“They’re comfortable here. Is this what you always wanted?” He asks.

You lean back slightly, glancing around your shop.

“Yeah,” you say finally. “Something like it.”

“Something like it,” he repeats.

“Maybe with less interference,” you admit.

“But you have yet to truly complain,” he smirks.

“Ask me again when Jin installs a full kitchen.” You joke.

“He will,” Yoongi says.

“I know,” you sigh.

“You ever think about leaving?” Yoongi asks.

You don’t answer right away. You glance down at the counter, at the faint ring left behind by someone’s coffee cup, and trace it once with your thumb before you stop yourself.

“Yeah,” you say finally. “I did. I left for a while,” you add, like it’s not a big deal. “School. Thought I was going to… stay gone, I guess.”

“What happened?” he asks.

“Nothing dramatic,” you shrug. “It just wasn’t… home.” You gesture vaguely around you. “Everyone was always in a hurry to get somewhere. I spent more time trying to find a quiet place than actually enjoying anything.”

“So you came back,” he says.

“Yeah.” You nod. “This place was empty. The old bookstore had closed, and the bakery was about to close. It made sense to try and rebuild something.”

“Not everyone goes back home,” Yoongi hums quietly.

“Not everyone wants to,” you reply.

“You ever regret it?” he asks.

“No,” you say simply. “This is my home. This is where I belong.”

Yoongi stares at you for a moment before Namjoon taps him on the shoulder and points to his phone. He gives a quick tap to your counter and turns, leaving with Namjoon.

“Do you want a daily special or a weekly one?” Jungkook asks and you give him a tight smile.

“Ask Jin.” You laugh, making him nod.

The shop’s been quieter the past few days.

Not empty. Just… missing something.

Mrs. Higgins still argues over pastries. Jenna still comes in at the same time every morning. The bell still chimes, the espresso machine still hisses, the pages still turn.

But…

The chaos hasn't been there.

The lights dim one by one until only the front remains. With a slight yawn, you reach for the door. The keys already in your hand. When you pull it open….

“Jesus.” You jump.

“Sorry.” Yoongi steps back slightly, hands lifting just a fraction like he didn’t mean to startle you.

“You can’t just appear like that."You let out a short laugh, pressing your hand briefly to your chest. Your eyes drop to the bag in his hand.

“What’s that?”

“Food.” Yoongi glances down like he almost forgot he was holding it.

“From where?” You narrow your eyes slightly.

“I made it.” He says softly.

“You cooked?” You knit your brows.

“I can cook,” he says, a little defensive now.

“I didn’t say you couldn’t,” you reply quickly, stepping back into the store.

He just stands there for a second looking at you.

“Is there somewhere…?” He gestures vaguely.

“Yeah.” You tilt your head before glance up.

The roof door creaks a little when you push it open, the cool night air hitting you immediately. The town stretches out in soft, scattered lights. A couple streetlamps. A porch light left on somewhere down the road. The faint sound of a car passing. The two of you sit in the old beach chairs you had up there. You watch as he opens the bag, pulling out two containers that clearly came from his kitchen.

“You weren’t kidding,” you say.

“I don’t joke about food.” He smirks.

You open it. Steam rises faintly in the cool air.

“This smells really good.” You compliment.

“It’s simple,” he says. “Don’t expect too much.”

“Okay, that’s actually unfair.” You say after a bite

“What is?” He asks.

“That you can cook this good.” You take another bite. “You all disappeared.”

“Yeah.” He looks down at his food for a second. “Namjoon. We’ve been working…A lot.”

“And avoiding my shop?” You joke

“Also that.” He admits.

“I didn’t realize I was such a distraction.” You laugh.

“You are,” he says and you hum. “Not that it's a bad thing. We just need to stay on Joon's good side.”

“I looked you up.” You admit.

“You did?” Yoongi asks.

“Blue and Grey Productions,” you say, glancing over at him. “Out of curiosity.”

“Shouldn’t have done that,” he mutters, shifting in his chair.

“Why?” You tilt your head. “I didn’t realize you made… all that.”

“It’s nothing.” He stares down at his food, pushing it around slightly with his fork.

“That's not true.” You laugh lightly and a faint flush creeps up the back of his neck, just visible above his collar.

“It’s just work,” he shrugs.

“Well,” you say, taking another bite like it’s not a big deal. “Good for you.”

“That’s it?” He glances up.

“I mean, I don’t really listen to that kind of music,” you admit honestly. “But clearly someone does.”

“You’re unbelievable.” A quiet, surprised huff of a laugh leaves him.

“What?” you grin slightly. “You want me to start fangirling?”

“God, no.” He shakes his head.

“Good, because I won’t.” You smile

“You’re the only person who’s ever said that to me,” he says.

“What… that I don’t listen to your music?” You raise an eyebrow.

“That and then you said ‘good for you’ like I just told you I learned how to bake bread or something.” He laughs.

“Well,” you glance down at the container and decide on a shrug. He huffs again, quieter this time. “You like it?” you ask.

“What?” He questions.

“The work,” you clarify. “The music. All of it.”

“Yeah.” He leans back slightly, eyes drifting out over the town again.

“We're used to pushing out music at a high speed rate for artists. The guys….me…we just need to breathe and that scares Joon I think.”

“He doesn’t seem like the type to like… slowing down,” you say.

“He doesn’t,” Yoongi agrees. “He thinks if we stop, even for a second, everything we built is just going to… fall apart.”

“And you don’t?” You glance at him.

“I did,” he admits.

“What changed?”Your brows lift slightly.

He doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he leans forward, elbows resting on his knees, hands loosely clasped. Thinking.

“This,” he says.

“This?” you repeat, glancing around. “My slightly questionable roof setup?”

A small smile pulls at the corner of his mouth.

“Yeah,” he says. “This.”

The town lights.

The quiet.

The fact that no one’s asking anything from him.

“You just…” he trails off. “You let things happen.”

“That’s a generous way of saying I lost control of my own business.” You huff softly

“No,” he says. “You just didn’t fight it.”

“Some things aren’t worth fighting,” you say after a moment. “They’re not hurting anything.”

“You built something good,” he says after a beat.

“Yeah,” you say, quieter. “I did.”

“Cold?” He asks, looking you over.

“A little bit,” you say.

Yoongi shrugs out of his jacket and drapes it over your shoulders. You thank him and settle back down in your chair. The both of you return to your food as the town grows darker.

You glance at him once, then away. It would be easy to stay like this.

Too easy.

Because you could convince yourself that this isn't temporary.

But he is.

You’re halfway through writing when Jin changes something again.

“No, wait,” he says, leaning over the counter, tapping the page with one finger. “The turkey one needs arugula. Not lettuce. Lettuce is lazy.”

“Lettuce is normal,” you mutter, crossing something out anyway.

“Arugula,” he repeats.

“Arugula,” you echo, scribbling it down.

“Also…” he trails off.

“No,” you cut in, not even looking up. “Finish one sandwich before you start another.”

Behind you, there’s the soft scrape of a chair and the faint clink of metal.

“You’re going to drop that,” you call.

“I’m not,” Jungkook replies calmly.

You glance over your shoulder just in time to see him balanced on one of your chairs, one hand steadying himself against the wall as he twists a lightbulb into place.

“That chair is not a ladder.” You tell him.

“It’s working,” he says.

The light flickers once before it steadies. He hops down like it was nothing, already moving the chair back where it belongs.

“Fixed,” he adds.

“Great,” you deadpan, turning back to your notebook. “Add ‘liability’ to the list of things I didn’t ask for.”

“At least write that one down properly,” Jin mutters, pointing again.

Across the shop, Hobi is mid-conversation with Jenna. He's slightly leaning on her table with one hand, talking like they have known each other for years.

“I’m telling you,” he says, gesturing toward the counter. “You trust me once, just once, and it will change your entire morning routine.”

“That’s a bold claim,” She says, eyeing him.

“I’m a bold person,” he grins.

You shake your head, flipping the page.

“Okay,” you say. “Turkey, brie, apple, honey, arugula…”

“Light honey,” Jin corrects, making you pause and slowly look up at him.

“Light honey,” you repeat flatly, writing it down anyway.

At the table by the window, Yoongi hasn’t looked up in the last ten minutes. Laptop open. Headphones around his neck. One hand moving lazily across the trackpad while the other rests near his coffee like he forgot it was there.

He claimed the table earlier.

Just sat down and… stayed.

You don’t say anything about it.

You just keep writing.

“Okay,” you say, tapping your pen against the page. “Next sandwich…”

“We missed a deadline.”

Hobi stops mid-sentence.

Jungkook’s hand stills where he’s adjusting the chair.

Jin doesn’t turn around right away.

Yoongi’s the first to move.

He doesn’t close his laptop.

Just lifts his head.

Namjoon’s gaze shifts across the room where it lands on you.

“They’ve been here,” he says.

You don’t move, your pen poised over the notebook where arugula is written in your messy, hurried script. You just stare at the grain of the wooden counter, the silence stretching until it feels like it might snap. Namjoon doesn’t raise his voice, but the weight of his presence is enough to make the room feel small.

"We’re three hours behind on the feedback for the title track," he says, his gaze finally shifting from you to the others. "And two of you are playing restaurant while another is... whatever this is."

Hobi slowly lowers his hand from the table he was leaning on, the bright smile he’d been wearing for Jenna flickering out. Jin’s shoulders tense, his hand still resting on the handle of the sandwich press.

Then, the sound of a laptop lid clicking shut cuts through the tension.

Yoongi stands up slowly. He doesn't look at Namjoon immediately. Instead, he looks at you. He sees the way you’ve gone still, the way you’re holding your breath as if trying to make yourself invisible in your own shop.

He walks toward the counter, his boots thudding softly on the floorboards Jungkook just fixed. He stops a few feet away, leaning his hip against the wood.

"Namjoon," Yoongi says, his voice low and raspy.

"Yoongi, not now. We have to…" Namjoon looks at him, his jaw tight.

"I know what we have to do," Yoongi interrupts, his tone calm but final. He shifts his gaze back to you, catching your eye and holding it.

“It’s not your fault, Y/N.”

He looks back at Namjoon, a small, tired smirk playing on his lips. "We’re the ones who keep showing up. We’re the ones who won’t leave. Don’t look at her like she’s the distraction. We chose to be distracted. Pack it up," Yoongi says to the others, though he’s still looking at you. "The break is over."

​You look down at your notebook. The word arugula stares back at you as the men leave your shop one by one.

"Well," Jenna says, walking over to you. "That was a little... intense."

​"Yeah," you murmur, slowly closing the notebook. "Intense is one word for it."

You were sweeping the last of the stray grounds near the counter, the rhythmic shush-shush of the broom the only sound in the room.

​Until the bell clinks.

​You didn't even look up.

"We’re closed, Yoongi. And I’m pretty sure if Namjoon finds out you’re here, he’s going to actually seal the warehouse doors shut." You joke.

​"He probably would," a raspy voice replies.

"Then go back,” you say, though your voice lacks any real conviction. You lean the broom against the counter. “Go back to the studio, Yoongi. Go be the person everyone expects you to be.”

​He doesn’t move. Instead, he closes the distance between you, stopping only when the toes of his boots clip the base of the wooden counter. Up close, the pale light of the single lamp catches the sharp angles of his face, making him look less like a fancy producer and more like a man who’s simply exhausted from the weight of his own success.

​“That’s the problem,” he says, his voice dropping to that raspy, low register that always seems to vibrate in the space between your ribs. “I’ve been that person all day. I’ve been that person for years.”

​He reaches out, his fingers tracing the grain of the wood inches from your hand.

​“Namjoon thinks this place is a detour,” he continues, finally looking up. “He thinks you’re a distraction. But he’s wrong.”

​“Yoongi…” You try to cut him off.

​“He’s wrong because this is the only place where I don't have to put on that stupid professional mask,” He cuts in. He shifts, his shoulder brushing yours as he leans into your space. “I don’t care what he thinks. I don’t care about the schedule or the cars or the fact that I’m supposed to be somewhere else. I just wanted to be here. With you.”

You shake your head, the movement tight and pained, as you pull back just enough to look him in the eye. The warmth of his jacket is a lie you can’t afford to believe.

“This isn’t fair, Yoongi,” you whisper, your voice cracking. “This town... me... I am just a pit stop. I’m the quiet place you go to recharge. You’re going to leave. You know it, and I know it.”

The air between you stays heavy. Yoongi doesn’t offer a hollow promise. He doesn’t tell you that he’ll stay forever or that his world won't eventually pull him back into its orbit. He just stands there, his expression fracturing under the weight of your honesty.

“I know,” he agrees, his voice barely a breath. He doesn't look away, even as the truth of your words settles between you. “It’s not fair. To either of us.”

He reaches out, his hand sliding along your jaw and into your hair, his touch firm but desperately gentle.

“But it’s also not fair to be this close and not know what we could have,” he murmurs. “Even if it’s just for right now. Even if the clock is ticking.”

He leans in again, but this time there’s no hesitation. He presses his mouth to yours. It’s the kind of kiss that acknowledges the end before the beginning has even finished. Your hands brace yourself against his chest as he pulls you closer.

It almost feels like it's too much.

You slowly pull back, your breath hitching as the cool air of the shop rushes between you, replacing the heat of his presence. You keep your hands flat against his chest for a second longer than necessary, feeling the steady, heavy thrum of his heart through the leather of his jacket.

“I need to finish cleaning,” you whisper, your voice sounding small even to your own ears. You try to step around him, reaching for the broom you’d abandoned. “The morning rush doesn’t care about… whatever this is. It still happens at 7:00 AM.”

It’s an excuse to find your footing, a desperate attempt to put the counter back between you before you lose your resolve entirely.

Yoongi doesn’t move toward the door. Instead, he reaches out and catches the handle of the broom before you can pull it away.

“Then let’s finish,” he says.

“Yoongi, you don’t…" You start.

“I’m not leaving yet, Y/N.” He gently pries the broom from your hand, his fingers lingering against your palm. “And I’m pretty sure Jungkook taught me enough about the napkin situation to be useful.”

He doesn't wait for your permission. He starts where you left off, sweeping with a quiet, focused intensity, his movements rhythmic against the worn floorboards. You watch him for a moment, the sight of a world-class producer meticulously chasing dust bunnies in a small town bookstore feeling like a fever dream.

You let out a soft, tired exhale and grab the damp cloth, moving to the other end of the counter.

Neither of you speaks. The only sound is the of the broom and the soft friction of your cloth against the wood. It’s a different kind of quiet than before. It’s a kind that holds a shared secret. The clock was still ticking, just like he said, but as you worked together in the dim light of the shop, the silence felt a little less like an ending and a little more like an understanding.

You toss your rag into a bin to wash later.

The floor’s clean.

Counters wiped.

Everything back where it belongs.

“Guess that’s it.” You sigh.

“Yeah.” Yoongi nods, eyes lingering on the shop like he’s memorizing something he won’t get to keep.

“Come on.” You grab your keys from the counter.

The night air hits cooler than before when you step outside. You pull the door closed behind you, turning the key with a soft click.

Locked.

For a second, neither of you moves. The two of you just standing there on the sidewalk, the town stretched out in low light around you.

You turn to him and he’s already looking at you. There’s no lead-in this time. No hesitation. You step closer first. His hand finds your jaw like it did before and you lean into it without thinking.

The kiss is softer this time.

Slower.

Like something you both understand better than you did ten minutes ago.

It lingers.

When you pull back, it’s easier this time. You rest your forehead lightly against his for a brief second before stepping back.

“Go,” you murmur.

“Yeah.” He doesn’t argue.

He doesn’t try to stay. He just nods once, like he already knew that’s how this ends tonight. You take a step in the opposite direction.

So does he.

A few paces in, you glance back.

He doesn’t.

He keeps walking.

And you let him.

The street stays quiet as you head home, the echo of it all settling somewhere you don’t quite touch yet. You don't know if you can let yourself.

Tomorrow will come.

The shop will open.

Everything will look the same.

But it won’t feel like it did before.

<Next>

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[inozuart]

in another life

[kkumri]

pup’s first crush 🐶💘 (2/2)

[promptsforthestrugglingauthor]

Writing Prompt #4107

He barely suppressed a scream as his bedroom window flew open, followed by his best friend letting himself in with a casual smile.

"Can you not do that?"

"You told me I could always come over if I needed somewhere to go. I'm failing to see the problem."

"Use the front door and knock like anyone else! Or at least let me know you're coming over!"

[boringlilb]

Whole crew decided they wanted to grab me by the neck and whisper “bias wrecked” in my ear.

I’m frightened.

The fits go to hard.

[nanacee]

me: why

band member: why what

me: why are you gay

band member: im not g-

me: shh its ok ive learnt to cope with it it just kills me inside cause i cant have you and i wanna have you i do

band member: but im not ga-

me: liking men is nothing to be ashamed about in fact liking your band members and being involved with them in sexual ways makes me more attracted to you to be honest i never thought you would be gay but i kinda like you being gay you're a good gay you know

band member: but i'm not g-

me: shh it'll be our little secret