Aug 31, 2022
Happy Birthday Jungkook!
Master List
Peace*
Illicit Affairs
Mirrorball
August
Be the One*
Love Again
Nobody Needs to Know
Codename Cupid
The Worst Guys*
I Choose You*
Merry & Bright 2020
Merry & Bright 2021
*Most Read
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seen from Spain
seen from Argentina
seen from Malaysia
seen from Japan
seen from Japan
seen from Japan
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seen from China
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seen from Ireland
Happy Birthday Jungkook!
Master List
Peace*
Illicit Affairs
Mirrorball
August
Be the One*
Love Again
Nobody Needs to Know
Codename Cupid
The Worst Guys*
I Choose You*
Merry & Bright 2020
Merry & Bright 2021
*Most Read
A DIAMOND FOR YOU - JIN
pls.
xx Louise
@aglassofpinkchampagne Jin works at Swarovski hehe 👀
summary: "he can tell it's your first time and he was supposed to help you, it's just that he's never met a customer like you before"
wip ask game
GUTS: Bad Idea, Right?
Pairing: MxM; Min Yoongi x Park Jimin
Genre: Smut – Lovers to Exes
Rating: NC17
Word Count: 2.6k
Warnings: Oral sex, swearing, legal alcohol consumption, safe sex
Song: Bad Idea, Right?
“It’s not like you tripped and fell into his bed, again,” Taehyung laughed, lips coolly sipping on his Americano. His eyes were alight with curiosity and humor, brows raised in a jovial expression. He couldn’t help himself, laughing at me for what amounted to yet another “one night stand” with my ex, Yoongi.
“I did too!” I argued.
“How?” Jungkook asked, tilting his head in curiosity. “I’m trying to imagine how you tripped into his bed. How did you even get there? Didn’t he move?”
“I – he kept blowing up my phone.” I shrugged, as if my explanation was believable.
“You were with us, and Hoseok, how the hell did we not notice?” Jungkook gaped.
“It’s because he’s a liar,” Hoseok said as he joined our group, coffee in hand. “He said he was going home to sleep.”
“But he never said where!” Taehyung laughed.
I could feel my cheeks flushing, making it blatantly obvious that I’m both embarrassed and dying to tell the details of my evening. I can’t ignore how deeply problematic it all was, sleeping with Yoongi once more. It was always a bad idea, and I know I should’ve probably not, but I couldn’t abstain, not four months ago, or two months ago, or even last night.
It had all played out like some 90s pop-punk music video: purple and blue lights strewn across the wall and dancing faces, the music a little too loud and the crowd was an over zealous group of people ecstatic Seokjin had returned from his military service. Red solo cups were everywhere, remnants of jello-shots accompanying them in the piles of trash that would inevitably have to be taken out. The host – a friend of Hoseok’s – was nowhere to be found, most likely in the bathroom taking a hit or making out with one of their partners. In the middle of it all, Jungkook was grinding against some curvaceous brunette with a wide grin and bright eyes. Taehyung was trying his hand at pool, and I was in the corner, nursing my vodka soda and staring at the night as it unfolded.
That was until my phone started to buzz, and I begrudgingly pulled it out of my pocket.
Yoongi: What are you doing?
Jimin: At a party
Yoongi: Whose?
Jimin: Seokjin’s post - military welcome back party
Yoongi: Oh – is it fun?
Jimin: It’s fine – why?
Yoongi: Just wondering what you’re up to
Jimin: Am I sensing some undertone?
Yoongi: That seems like a big word for a drunk you
Jimin: I’m not drunk
Yoongi: Then come over
Jimin: Why do you want me tonight?
Yoongi: I always want you
I stared at the conversation, knowing full I was going to wreck my plans for him. How could I not? It’s not like I was thrilled with our break up, or like I was patiently waiting for a time to bring up getting back together. We broke up because we were both treading water, drowning in our jobs and not having any time for our relationship. At least, that’s how I felt… Yoongi seems to have different feelings but it’s not like he’s ever going to share them with me. I should add that as a reason we broke up: deeply withholding. But alas, I will not.
And if I’m honest, Yoongi’s gorgeous, a sexy mysterious man with the most luxurious long black hair. And while there are other qualities I loved about Yoongi, like his sensitive stare and how gentle he was with my heart most of the time, I couldn’t help but admit in that moment, with a reckless abandon in my gaze, and Yoongi asking me to come over, that all I wanted was to lay on my back and let Yoongi fuck me. Which would inevitably lead to Yoongi ghosting me for another two months, until he knew I was out with my friends and that I would, without hesitating, blow it all for one more night with him.
So last night, I found my friends and told them I wasn’t feeling well and was going to head out. The biggest lie I’ve ever told, because I was feeling fine and had been looking forward to this party all week. Hoseok stared at me, concerned, his brows speaking volumes to his displeasure and disbelief that I was in fact going home. Jungkook and Taehyung were too busy and too drunk to think twice about it.
I hopped in my car, and despite knowing that I was abandoning my plans (drinking, dancing, possibly hooking up, and passing out somewhere in the house only to be woken up at 6AM by birds chirping and no memory of the night before or how he got there), I couldn’t stop. I drove cautiously to Yoongi’s new address, an apartment complex with an inner courtyard. Staring up at the floors, I scanned the second for him. Yoongi stood, sweats and baggie t-shirt on, gaze locking me in.
“Hey,” he said from the balcony, and that was all it took for me to take off at a brisk pace up the stairs. Whenever I saw Yoongi, my brain went fuzzy. No thoughts could penetrate the deep attraction I felt for him, the hazy blah blah blah of whatever lust-fog overcame me time and time again.
I hastily closed the gap between us, lips meeting Yoongi’s as I hungrily kissed him. My teeth pulled Yoongi’s bottom lip, hips rocking into his, hands tugging that luxurious mop of black hair.
“You can’t fuck me on the balcony,” Yoongi growled, a hint of red on his cheeks, a little embarrassed by this depravity.
“Fine, then show me inside.”
Yoongi’s last apartment, which he’d lived in for 7 years, was much smaller, a two-bedroom, windowless box he shared with Namjoon. He hadn’t minded the lack of natural light because he was always in the office, working long hours and keeping his nose to the grindstone. But when he’d been promoted, and transitioned to remote work in the pandemic, he needed more light and more space. Namjoon in turn was ready to move in with his lover, and thus Yoongi searched for the perfect place to call home. No apartment had met his needs until a few months ago when he saw this one. With two bedrooms, a view of the courtyard on one side and a view of the creek on the opposite, it was brimming with everything he wanted. As we stepped inside, and Yoongi locked the door, I took in the spacious living room and modern kitchen, still finding remnants of his last home here.
“Well, this is an upgrade.” I said.
“Thanks.”
“Still two bedrooms?”
“Yeah, bedroom and an office.”
“Look at you, leveling up,” I teased. I watched Yoongi draw the shades and caught sight of his gentle biceps and the quiet expanse of his back. As the room grew darker, I grew hungrier.
Knowing Yoongi would never give me a grand tour, I took it upon myself to wander the apartment, first checking out the office, before casually meandering to the bedroom.
“That took less time than I thought,” Yoongi said, leaning against the door frame. He pushed his hair out of his face and licked his lips, eyes raking over me.
“What?”
“I didn’t expect you to come here in jeans tighter than sin and a t-shirt that I promise you I can and will tear from your body,” Yoongi smirked. “You also made your way to the bedroom in record time.”
“Oh, should I go change? Slip into some sweatpants I guarantee I left here? Oh wait,” I dropped my gaze to Yoongi’s lower half, where the navy sweats were cinched and hanging from his hips.
Yoongi flushed. “I was going to mail these back.”
I laughed. “Don’t lie to me.”
“Fine. I was never going to give them back; I was going to keep them.”
“They were a birthday gift,” I lied.
“Don’t lie to me.” Yoongi replied.
“You kept them.”
“Yeah, and?”
I wanted to fight him, to get some sort of answer from him on what we were doing. Does he want me the same ways I want him? Does he cancel his plans in case I come through? Last night wasn’t our first song and dance, but I couldn’t bring myself to ask.
“Are you going to kiss me, or are we going to keep up this repartee until we exhaust the conversation and have to discuss our breakup and subsequent hook ups?” I said instead.
Yoongi licked his lips, eyes becoming hungry. “I’m going to kiss you, and then I’m going to strip you bare and have my way with you.”
“Then stop talking and do it already.”
~~~~~
Yoongi made slow work of stripping me. And why shouldn’t he? He needed to lock this memory in, because how much longer would I engage in this with him? Based on our tristes, and the pure fact that we have slept together at least 3 times in the 6 months since we’ve been broken up, I was beginning to feel like this was unsustainable. If we’re not a couple, is he just leading me on? He knows how deeply I loved him, but had anything in our situations changed enough to get us to where we needed to go? Or was I always going to fall prey to this bad idea, seeing him in the cover of night, sleeping in his sheets without regard to how shitty it made me feel? Or could I treat him as casually as he treated me? The depths of Yoongi’s feelings for me remained unknown, and I had to let them go if this night was going to continue.
It was easy to do, when Yoongi’s lips were suckling and kissing every inch of my bare skin. Or as Yoongi trailed his tongue along the lines of my tattoos, fingers gracing the taut skin of my abdomen. He teased me for as long as he could stand it, his cock hardening while he performed his ministrations across my nipples and down the light happy trail leading to my fully hard member. My hands were tangled in his lush hair, pulling and tugging as my want began to take over.
I always wanted Yoongi, wanted another night with him, wanted the feeling of his embrace and his member and his lips all over me. I craved it regularly, and nearly texted and asked for just this a few weeks ago, but refrained. Before Yoongi, a backslide was not something I did. Once I was done in a relationship, I was done and over it. But how could I ever be done with Yoongi?
“Yoongi,” I moaned, hips rising to press into Yoongi. “You’re being an asshole on purpose.”
“Yes,” Yoongi hummed. “Tell me what you want, baby.”
I groaned at the endearment, missing how it sounded coming from Yoongi’s baritone voice.
“I want all of you.”
The double meaning sat uncomfortably in the air. I hadn’t meant it to be so…. Romantic? So laced with passion and heat in a way that was not appropriate for this evening. I just meant it as…. Fuck it I don’t know what I meant. Not wanting to let the pall of my confession ruin the evening, Yoongi slipped his hands down my sides and gripped the front of my jeans. His lips lowered against the hollow of my ear as he whispered, “Then have me.”
Feeling emboldened by the directive, I eagerly flipped Yoongi over and slid the sweatpants from his hips. I bit his lips as Yoongi’s member sprung free, hard and thick and dripping. I laid on the bed, head between Yoongi’s thighs and kissed up them, teeth pulling the pale skin and reddening it.
As I teetered on the brink of taking Yoongi fully between his lips, I had a brief flash of clarity, knowing I either needed to dive right in, or stop completely. There was no going back from this, from my confession or sex with him, no acting like my feelings for him were not real. As I stared up at the glorious man in front of him, who was easily the hottest man I’ve ever had the pleasure of gazing up, I told himself the only thing that would lessen the potential backlash to this night: fuck it, it’s fine. Which I think should be deemed as the new YOLO. But more on that never.
I lightly traced the vein up Yoongi’s shaft, swirling my tongue over the tip and delighting in the precum that had beaded at the tip. While I’m not a cum-girlie, I have missed how Yoongi tasted, and it caused me to dip low, taking all of him at once. I began to pleasure Yoongi, unaware of my own hips rutting against the mattress, too lost in the dulcet tones of Yoongi’s arousal. He moaned and groaned, hands pulling at the sheets while I swirled my tongue, sucking him down. I could feel the strain of Yoongi wanting to come, to unleash himself into the depths of my throat, but was equally met with a firm restraint, holding him back from release.
“Stop,” Yoongi growled, the pain of ending this moment written across his brow.
“Why?” I asked, Cheshire smile on my lips.
“I need to fuck you.”
“Fuck my throat,” I offered.
“No,” Yoongi said.
“What if I want to fuck you?” I asked.
“Do you?”
“No,” I shrugged.
Yoongi rolled his eyes, the indecision of this libra driving him a little mad, like I always had.
“Great, doggy or missionary?”
“I want to look at you,” I answered. Yet another confession I hadn’t meant to share tonight.
“On your back then.”
I smiled with pure delight, hoping to lighten the mood. Afterall, I was getting almost everything I wanted.
Yoongi made quick work of sheathing himself with a condom before he parted my legs.
He hesitated. “Did you-
“Prepare for this?”
“Yeah,” Yoongi confirmed.
I nodded. “Yeah, didn’t know if I’d get strange dick tonight so I prepared.”
“I hate that,” Yoongi admitted.
“What?”
“Strange dick.”
I stared at him, the sweat already pressing Yoongi’s hair to his forehead. “Me having strange dick or the concept in general?”
“You.”
Yoongi realized the corner he’d backed himself into and stared at me pleadingly. Unlike my confessions, which were honest and true and slightly painful, it was clear in his discomfort that he had said it before he realized what the implications would be.
“Yoongi,” I said softly, my eyes widening with barefaced hope. We should’ve probably stopped, had a conversation, and returned to sex if we were truly emotionally ready for it. But Yoongi wiped his face of anything remotely confessional before I could say anything else.
“Fuck it, it’s fine.” Yoongi said, and he pressed his tip slowly into my entrance.
~~~~~
“You’re going to do it again, aren’t you?” Hoseok asked, still nursing his rather large mug of espresso.
“Probably,” Taehyung said, the jovial light in his eyes replaced with concern.
“I am not.” I said.
“You are too,” Jungkook said.
“Can’t I evolve and change?” I asked them.
Hoseok stared at me, full judgement in his eyes. “You can, but you won’t.”
“What makes you so sure?”
“Oh my god,” Taehyung said beside us, staring at his phone.
“What?” We all asked, turning to stare at him.
“Holy shit,” he said, eyes widening further.
“What?” Jungkook demanded.
“Did you know about what happened to Seokjin?”
“What do you mean what happened to Seokjin?” Hoseok asked.
“What the fuck is going on?” Jungkook demanded, his whine more endearing than alarming.
“Read this,” Taehyung put his phone between us, and as we collectively sucked in our breath, I read the headline:
Famed Actor Kim Seokjin Returns from Service to Tell-All from Former Bunk Mate: The Partying, Drugs and Men Revealed Below
River: Master List
Summary: Every relationship ebbs and flows. Some come back, some retreat, some merge and flow together. This is River, a series examining what it means to be caught amidst one.
Pairing: BTS x Reader
Genre: Angst, Fluff
Rating: PG13-R
Word Count: ~
Warnings: Given in Each Chapter
I. I Wanna Go
II. Hairpin Trigger
III. Wider Than a Mile
IV. Till I Reach You
V. Don’t it Make You Sad?
VI.
VII.
Master List: The Littlest Dumpling
Summary: Beloved young adult author Yoongi Min, known to the world as author of the Lil King Yoongi saga, has stepped away from the spotlight for the last five years. Coming out of retirement, he is ready to step into new territory: picture books. Armed with an idea centered on his tumultuous childhood, Yoongi is unprepared to confront the friends he lost, the challenges he overcame, and the adventures that shaped him into the man he is today. With a new publisher, whose smile often sends a deep blush over his pale cheeks, can Yoongi make it through the editing, illustrating and launch of his highly anticipated new project? Or will he, like the dragons and little king he wrote about, scorch the earth, unsure how to tend to the swirling emotions around him? Only time, and too many edits, will tell.
Pairing: Min Yoongi x Reader
Genre: Slice of Life / Non Idol AU / Fluff / Maybe Smut
Rating: R - NC17
Warnings: Swearing, Kissing, Maybe Smut,
Word Count: 46,045
Tag: #lilkingyoongi
Posting: Uhhh whenever I feel like it but probably Saturdays
The Littlest Dumpling {1}
The Littlest Dumpling {2}
The Littlest Dumpling {3}
The Littlest Dumpling {4}
The Littlest Dumpling {5}
The Littlest Dumpling {6}
The Littlest Dumpling {7}
The Littlest Dumpling {8}
The Littlest Dumpling {9}
The Littlest Dumpling {10}
The Littlest Dumpling {1}
Pairing: Min Yoongi x OFC
Genre: Non Idol AU / Author AU
Rating: PG 13
Warnings: Swearing!
Word Count: 4.7K
Summary: Yoongi’s ready to shop his newest book idea, what he isn’t ready for is you.
Master List
Tag List: @4ksj, @jagiya, @ot7nem, @knjkitten, @teamtardis-notdead
Tag List
A dark sky streaks with lightening, thunder rumbles throughout the land.
Boulders quake, but our hero stays strong. He pushes his sweatband up and adjusts his hanbok. The sweat still drips down his brow, his scar, long perpendicular to his eye shines in the flash of lightning.
“I am not my brother,” Lil King Yoongi said, his sword unsheathing itself from underneath his garment. “I am not my father, either.”
“Then who are you?” The hooded figure asked. His sword was drawn too, ready to strike in attack.
“I am King Yoongi.”
Lil King Yoongi Volume 1
April
“Damn it,” Yoongi throws his pen across his desk, watching as it nails the framed picture of him and his parents, holding his first ever published piece of writing from when he was a teenager. It was small, a local newspaper that held an essay contest. He had written stunning prose about why he loves books, and the local library. His essay had won, beating out all the competition from his 1000 person high school and surrounding areas. The prize was having his essay turned into a column, and getting to shadow the local newspaper staff for a month. He was allowed to create a column and run 4 articles. Naturally, he chose to read and review books.
Yoongi’s Reading Review became a hit, and after the success of it’s limited run, he was offered a junior staff position. He submitted 1 article a month, full of up to 5 book reviews. He reviewed everything, novels to essay collections, to biographies and new comic book editions. In Summer months, when his classmates were off from school, hanging out at the local pool and the mall, making out on the empty football field and gearing up for football season in the fall, he worked. In the summer they upped his count from one per month to two, and as a rising Junior they upped it again to three. Every dollar he saved went to buying more books, despite what his parents wanted (saving all the money), he couldn’t help but reach for that hardcover fantasy novel. He couldn’t stop himself from indulging in a reissue of a comic he just discovered. Yoongi loved it, exploring new lands and times, sharing what he’d discovered with other people his age. It hadn’t made him popular, perse, but it had ignited a fire within him.
A degree in creative writing, and MFA and a series that has garnered him a Newberry honor, and he’s sitting at his desk. The desk he started writing on as a boy, refinished and brought to his apartment from his parents house, still had indents from when he would write so hard on loose leaf paper that he permanently changed the make up of the desk. Now he has glass resting on top of it, protecting those early scribbles.
With his favorite pen now lost behind a table, the words in front of him look like utter shit.
“Fuck.” He mutters. “Fuck!”
Yoongi has a meeting with a new publisher, someone his agent set him up with so he could make his first foray into official childrens books. He had the idea, and the concept and what he wanted to say, but he couldn’t well, say it. Nothing came when he thought about his newest project. And what did was complete and utter shit.
Why had he thought he could do this?
Easy, he had to. Just like breathing, he had to write.
The Littlest Dumpling, is a story about a little boy who looks, much like he did and does, like a boiled dumpling. He becomes brave as he goes through school and out into the world. His mom calls him Little Dumpling, affectionately, his brother teasingly, and his father prefers more traditional nicknames for his youngest son.
It’s meant to be both hopeful and easily identifiable as a story any kid can cling to. But he can’t get started. And that is terrifying.
Lil King Yoongi had flown out of him. He had written four volumes of it before he got a publishing deal. He knew it inside and out, every aspect of it. His agent had wanted him to make a spin off when the last book came out last year, but he wouldn’t do that. That felt so disingenuous to the characters. There was no prequel, there was no sequel. Lil King Yoongi was complete.
So he took five years off. Went to Korea with his parents, saw his friends, rested and did a few guest review spots for new books and his local paper that still asked him to. All in the hopes that he could, when he was ready, put pen to paper and write his next great work: The Littlest Dumpling.
Then the deadline came - his agent, Marc, set up a meeting with a new publisher. And he tried. He really really tried. But now, sitting in the waiting room, bouncing his leg and trying not to crack his knuckles, he’s going into this meeting with an idea and no pages to show.
“Mr. Min?” Alexis, the assistant asks. “She’s ready for you now.”
Alexis guides him to the office, through a hallway of framed book covers, pictures with authors holding their books and quotes pulled from said books. It’s a gallery wall to end all gallery walls, and Yoongi kind of wishes he was a part of.
Inside the office, which seems more like a fort than a functioning structure, you are standing behind a desk, waiting.
“Mr. Min, welcome to Serendipity Publishing, where we believe every book we create is meant to be. Have a seat. Alexis will you bring some coffee?” You rattle off in quick succession, no hint of annoyance in your voice, but a little sparkle of fire in your eyes.
“Sure thing,” Alexis smiles.
“I’m Y/N,” You extend your hand to him, and he takes it cautiously. ”And I get paid to say that phrase, though I’d much rather not.”
“Oh,” Yoongi’s taken aback. “Okay, then please call me Yoongi.”
“Okay Yoongi. Welcome. I’m so excited to meet you and discuss your work.”
“That won’t last long,” Yoongi mutters.
“What?”
“Nothing - just, don’t get your hopes up. I don’t know if I have anything, good.”
You’re caught off guard by his deprivation, tipping your head to the side and staring at him quizzically. “That seems unlikely given the success with your graphic novels. But note taken. I am ready to be pleasantly disappointed.”
“So, I have this idea -
“Wait,” You hold up a hand and stare at Alexis who has just entered the room. “Do you want cream or sugar?”
“Black, just black,” Yoongi says.
“Great.”
Alexis, hot pink curls bouncing, sets two cups of coffee down and walks out, shutting your office door behind her. Yoongi takes the opportunity to glance around. It’s an office carved out of book shelves. There’s a window, a window seat and your desk in the middle. Every single wall is covered in what appears to be clear floating shelves filled with books.
“Have you edited or published all of these?” He asks.
“The company has, but if you keep looking you’ll find a few that aren’t our label. I snuck them in,” You say.
“Aren’t you going to get caught?”
“And what, fired? I’d love to see them try.”
He nods approvingly. “So you’ve been here long?”
“Yeah, straight out of college, started reading the reject pile, found a few gems, got moved up and eventually here I sit: Head of New Acquisitions, Young Adult and Children’s Lit.”
“That’s a fancy title,” He says.
“Better be, Vassar wasn’t cheap,” You crack a smile, and his shoulders relax.
“Ah you’re a Vassar grad?”
You shrug. “That’s what my diploma says.”
“Interesting,”
“Not up to snuff?”
“I expected a Sarah Lawrence or like, Whitman.”
“Small college in Eastern Washington. Wow!” You laugh. “That’s not where you went, is it?”
“Nope,”
“Berkeley?” You already know.
“Yep.”
“How’d you like the rain?”
He shakes his head and offers a gentle smile. “About as much as you want to drink black coffee.”
“Ah, you noticed?”
“Yeah, I assume you brought yours from home?”
“Of course.”
Yoongi reaches for his mug, with the company logo in gold and rainbow across the front, and takes a sip.
“It’s hot!” You say quickly, watching as he winces.
“Fucking fuck,” Yoongi mutters. “Thanks for the warning.”
“Who takes a sip of coffee like it’s ice water?” You ask, your mind racing to decide if a lawsuit is possible from too hot coffee. How embarrassing, going down for serving an author coffee that was scalding.
“Valid,” He accepts your sympathy easily.
You let the moment pass, then start again. “So you wrote a book.”
“The new one, or the old ones?”
“The new one, and your agent wants you to what, shop it around? We’re willing to make you a deal today, Yoongi.”
“What if my idea is shit?” Yoongi’s earnest gaze is a little concerned, vulnerability and weakness showing through.
“You wrote a five part saga about a lil king that has sold millions. It’s one of the most popular graphic novels in the history of graphic novels. You could go anywhere, do anything,” You lean forward, your voice just above a whisper. “But you’re here.”
“How serendipitous,” he jokes.
“Precisely. So tell me, Mr. Min, Yoongi, what is this new project?”
He takes a deep breath, wishing he had water instead of this coffee.
“Our parents all give us nicknames as kids, whether or not we want them. We either grow into them, or out of them. My new project takes shape with a little boy who affectionately is called, Little Dumpling.”
“Oh my god,” You mutter. “I’m already hooked.”
“The Littlest Dumpling is about this boy. I want the first book to be about his nickname, how he got it, what it means. Then the next to be about adventures he has as his alter ego, Littlest Dumpling, and as himself.”
“Let me guess,” Your elbows prop, chin resting in hands. “You can’t fucking write, can you?”
Yoongi stares at you, unsure how you could possibly know he’s had writers block for a year.
“I - I currently have writers block. But, at present, I have outlined the first three installments.”
“What’s book 1?”
“His classmates find out his nickname.”
You take out a piece of paper that has his name written across the top in very curvy lettering. “And two?”
“His bully picks on him for the lunches he eats.”
“Traditional Korean?”
“Yes,” He agrees.
“I’m in. I love it.”
“But, I don’t have anything written.”
You wave your hand through the air, dismissing his objection. “That’s okay, I’ve signed deals with people who had far less than you do.”
Yoongi isn’t sure if this is comforting or concerning.
“I see that look - but think about it, look at where I am. I know what I’m talking about.”
“I don’t doubt that you do, but I’ve never gone to a publisher with an idea and no pages. It’s like streaking across the football field at halftime.”
“I get it, and i know we’ve only been talking for twenty minutes, but trust me, Yoongi. You can do this.”
He inhales through his teeth, sucking in air loudly before exhaling and doing it again.
“I’m going to be incredibly difficult about the illustration, it has to be perfect.”
“Understood, and editing too, I’m assuming?” You ask, jotting his answers down.
“Yes.”
“I have an editor and illustrator in mind for you, both have done work with our authors before to great success. I’ll get the contract sent to your agent and legal team today for them to go over and discuss. What we’re paying you will be included and competitive.” You switch to your computer, drafting an email to legal. That’s what it looks like to Yoongi, but really you’re typing send the contract ASAP.
“That’s fast.”
“Look, you’re Yoongi Min. I can tell you right now there’s at least five other agencies and publishing houses who want you to sign with them. Your current agencies is shitting themselves over losing you and your future projects. The sheer fact that you’re leaving your primary publishing house is, the most exciting get anyone could imagine right now. I know that’s pressure, I know that that means that you are having writers block. But Yoongi, I’m telling you, and I will keep telling you, we are your best option. You can pick who you want. You can go anywhere, truly, but we are dedicated to children’s literature. We are dedicated to the highest quality illustrations and collaboration amongst all our artists. We aren’t some big magnate, or conglomerate. We aren’t going to license your work without you knowing, and we aren’t going to publish something you aren’t 100% proud of. I promise you that.”
“Okay.”
“So, once I send the deal over, please take your time to look it over and understand it all. I will give you a list of editors with a single name starred for who I think you should work with, same for illustrators. But it’s up to you. Serendipity is a fabulous publishing house, and I can guarantee you will not regret signing with us or working with me.”
“You’re incredibly convincing.” He says.
“Like I said, Vassar. Business and creative writing degrees.”
Why are you so hellbent on impressing him?
“Double major, damn.”
“I’m incredibly impressive, Yoongi. And I won’t hide it.”
Yoongi wants to smirk, to keep calm, to remain somewhat nonplussed. But he can’t, not when you are looking at him like he’s the hope diamond and you haven’t yet realized he’s cursed.
He can’t look away, so he whispers instead. “You shouldn’t.”
“So, like I said. I’ll send it over and we can meet next week to sign or you can come by for more hot coffee and turn me down. Either way, we should talk again.”
“Yes, okay, sounds good.” He agrees.
“Great. Do you have any questions for me?”
Yoongi does. “What’s your favorite children’s book?”
You smile, not waiting a moment to respond. “Harriet the Spy for classic literature. Where the Mountain Meets the Moon and Escape from Mr. Lemoncello’s Library for contemporary. Oh and The Westing Game.”
Yoongi beams, he hadn’t been expecting that. Not one book, but four?
“Okay, okay, I haven’t read three of those.”
“You should. You can borrow my copies,” You stand and move to a specific corner of your book shelves, taking down all four and handing them to Yoongi. “Then you have to come back and see me.”
“Okay, sounds like a deal.”
“If you bend pages or damage them in any way I will take it out of my offer.” You warn him, finger pointing accusingly at the middle of his chest. He’s standing a little too close, he realizes that as he backs away.
He picks up his coat and mutters, much louder than he intended. “You’re feisty.”
“Thank you. It’s one of my winning qualities.”
Yoongi has met with a few publishers in his day, and at the behest of Hoseok’s girlfriend, sat through many episodes of Younger starring Sutton Foster and Hilary Duff. But his meetings were never quite like the TV shows, or films, that glamorized publishing houses. No one was itching to sleep with each other, or fuck him while editing his books. But then again, he was in children’s publishing. Perhaps if he wrote a book geared towards adults, he’d have a similar sexy experience. But he hasn’t. Instead he’s just… Yoongi.
The littlest dumpling that ever lived, slinking into his agent’s office to discuss the deal. Or, if his agent has anything to say about it, you.
“She’s the hottest new publisher in the game, Yoongi’s,” Jane Huang says. Her quaffed hair is the color of flames, reds and yellows blurring into orange and curled atop her head. The sides are delicately shaved and bleached blonde. He always gets distracted by the ancient Chinese symbols dancing up her forearm, giving way to rich greens and emeralds that make up the bonsai she has stained into her skin. Jane, or Janie as Yoongi calls her, stares at him from her place behind her desk. Her office far less occupied than yours. “She’s promising you the world. Or at least, what sliver of it she can.”
“It’s all great - but how does the contract look?” Yoongi asks.
“She’s offering more than the others.”
Ah yes, the others. All the notable publishing houses, the few that still cared about his work after his brief hiatus. All offering far less than Serendipity, with a publisher far less enthused than you.
“The contract is clear, you aren’t going to get a better deal for the amount of work you’ve put in,” Jane says.
“I’ve put in a lot of work! There’s a concept, I have outlines!”
“But you haven’t written shit, don’t try to bullshit me, Yoongi.” Her tone is reminiscent of a scolding from his mother - which he knows if he points out, she will absolutely ream him for it.
“Noona, I know. But there will be,” Yoongi waits for her to erupt, hoping for sparks ready to ignite.
Instead she gently rolls her eyes. “I hate it when you call me noona. I’m not even that much older than you, and you have known me for long enough to know that.”
“Sorry, Janie.”
“Thank you. I’m glad you’re feeling confident. I was beginning to think you lost your nerve, and how embarrassing would that be for either of us? Humiliating.”
He scoffs. “I haven’t lost my confidence, mostly. I mean a little. Most of it is totally gone and tied up with my writing ability which, now that it’s lost and probably never coming back, seems like a great time to sign a new contract with a new publisher who -
“Yoongi!” Jane interrupts. “Stop spiraling. You’re fucking fine.”
“Sorry,” He says sinking deeper into his chair.
“She wants to meet with you again?” Jane asks. She finishes putting stickie notes where Yoongi needs to sign the elaborate and thorough contract.
“Yes, to officially sign the contract.”
“Isn’t that why Doc-U-Sign was invented?”
“Yes, she also lent me a few books so i have to give those back too.”
“I’m sorry, she did what?” Jane asks. She keens at him, elbows on her desk, body moving towards him as if she’s about to pounce. “She did what?”
“She lent me a few books -
“Books she’s published?”
“No,” He’s desperately trying not to blush.
“So, social books? Books about writing children’s books?”
“No,” Deeper red, the colors of hell.
“Yoongi,” Jane’s voice rises an octave, screeching in his ears.
“Well if you’d let me get out more than a word I’d tell you that i asked her what her favorite children’s books are, and she let me borrow the ones I hadn’t read.”
“And have you read them?” She asks.
“Of course,” He rolls his eyes.
“She’s flirting.”
“She is not.”
“Yoongi, you’re dense but not stupid.”
“She lent them to me, I read them. I’ll give them back when I sign the contract. That’s it.”
Jane is still smiling, more like smirking and only a little green with envy. “Good, because no matter how hot and talented she is, you can’t fuck your publisher.”
“Who says I want to?” Yoongi feigns ignorance, of course he wants to. He has eyes and ears that heard you spill genius to him.
“The glimmer in your eyes, Yoongi. That’s who.”
“Come on, you’re fucking some younger guy, why can’t I do something a little reckless?”
“And jeopardize your career?”
“I wouldn’t, she wouldn’t.” Though Yoongi has no idea what you would and wouldn’t do, with him. Or anyone that works for you.
“You’re an idiot if you think sleeping with your publisher won’t absolutely tank your reputation and career,” Jane says.
“It’s a hypothetical. I didn’t even know she was flirting with me until two minutes ago!”
“You definitely knew she was flirting, because you were flirting too,” Jane teases. “Of course you were. Have you seen her?”
“Have you seen the guy you’re sleeping with?” He tries desperately to pivot.
“Uh, yes?”
“Great because I haven’t, so tell me who he is.”
“Yoongi!” Jane tips her head back in exasperation.
“And not that we’re coworkers not friends shit, because you have been my agent for five years and we are more than just coworkers.”
“Work friends is better than coworkers,” Jane reminds him.
“You’ve told me about every exploit you’ve had over the last five years, and yet for some unknown reason you won’t tell me about this new person. Is it someone I know?”
Yoongi and Jane met when he won a collegiate award for an initial draft of, what would become the first draft of Lil King Yoongi. He had busied himself turning his Yoongi’s Reading Review into a city wide column, and then in college leading his collegiate paper and winning writing scholarships. She’d been following his career as they both experienced tangential success. Jane had won some of the same prizes years before him. That’s how she got her start, and how she stumbled upon him. Reading his work in a contest for a 5K scholarship.
To say in the last few years they’d become best friends would be a stretch, but Yoongi is right. They’re more than coworkers.
“You know they’re younger than me, what more do you want?” She asks.
“You’re being shady,” Yoongi accuses.
“You’re being nosy.”
”Ms. Huang, I believe I am just trying to be your friend,” Yoongi says.
“He isn’t in publishing if that helps,” Jane concedes. “And he’s around your age. And incredibly hot.”
“That’s more information than I had… so I’ll take it.”
Jane lets a beat pass. “But he isn’t as hot as Y/N.”
“I didn’t even -
“You have eyes, idiot. You know she’s a stunner.”
”Fine - she’s beautiful,” It’s his turn to concede.
“Thank you!”
“But I’m not, she isn’t interested in me. She wants my book, she wants my story. That’s it. That’s all.” He says.
Jane shakes her head. “You don’t really believe that, do you?”
“I do.”
“No, you don’t Yoongs,” She leans forward again, staring intently at him.
He’s uncomfortable under her gaze. “How do you know?”
“Your eyes, Yoongi. Your eyes.”
“You’re back!” You say, smiling widely at Yoongi as Alexis brings him into your office. “Oo with presents?”
“Just your books,” Yoongi hands the bag to you. “I liked them. Where the Mountain Meets the Moon was my favorite.”
“I’m glad! So, tell me, good news or bad news?”
“Uh, depends?”
“On?”
“I’m ready to sign my contract.”
“Oh shit! Yes! Great news!”
“What would’ve been bad?”
“If you didn’t want to sign it, if you decided you didn’t want to write The Littlest Dumpling. If your old publishing house offered you more money to write more Lil King Yoongi’s. There are a lot of possibilities, Yoongi.”
“Clearly you’ve thought of all of them.”
“Isn’t that my job?”
“That’s fair.”
“Well, while the contract is printed, let me show you the list of illustrators and editors. I’ve already starred the ones that I think would be great for this project.”
You open a folder with his name neatly printed and take out a piece of paper with two columns. Passing it over to him, Yoongi doesn’t take long to skim it and choke on his own spit.
“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me,” He says, looking across the top of paper to you.
“What?”
He’s quick on his feet. “I will sign the contract, but I have one stipulation.”
“Oh?” You ask, surprised he doesn’t have more. A lot more. He could ask for almost anything and you’d oblige. You need this win.
“Yes, I will not, under any circumstance, work with him,” Yoongi hands over the list and watches as your eyes linger on the name you had starred.
“Okay, why not?” You ask.
“He’s an asshole.”
“Okay, but what about his work?”
“Who cares?” Yoongi snaps.
You clear your throat, trying a different approach. “Did he wrong you in your past? Is that what it is?”
“Maybe.”
You nod, understanding. “So you won’t work with him because he was a dick in college?”
“High school. And we were childhood friends before that. Our parents are still best friends,” Yoongi rushes through it. A sordid past told in a quick breath.
“Oh my god! Yoongi! That’s even more pathetic.”
“Is it?”
“Yes, it is. Your parents like him, why can’t you?”
Yoongi shakes his head, because really it’s more complicated than a petty disagreement or squabble in high school. It goes back years, decades really, and has hurt Yoongi the entire time. It’s so much more than his parents liking Seokjin, actually his parents liking Seokjin is part of the problem.
“I will never, ever work with that man,” Yoongi says softly, his eyes hard and his jaw set.
“So you’re telling me you won’t sign the contract if I make you work with him?”
“Correct.”
“Okay,” You nod and lean back in your chair, watching him. “So you have two options: One, walk away from Serendipity. Or, two, which I definitely think you should consider: get over it and push your feelings aside to create a great piece of work. Jin would be a perfect editor. He is incredible and has edited several best sellers. He is the best, and it would shock you to know how much we pay him to keep him here instead of going to Penguin or Random House or another boutique publishing house. Insane.”
“I - that’s it?”
“What, I’m not entertaining your teenage angst? Nah, I’m not doing that. I run a business, and if your ego is so fragile you can’t grow up, fine. But that’s who you’re going to work with.” You tell him.
Yoongi exhales. His agent had prepared him for this, well not the Jin of it all, but the potential that his pettiness would be overruled and ignored. He would have to work with people he didn’t like, or who didn’t like him, no matter what field he was in. But this?
Maybe he should grow up and move on. Though Seokjin is the last person he wants touching whatever masterpiece you think he’s capable of writing. But- again - maybe you’re right. Maybe Jin is the best option, and he is finally ready to move past it.
Yoongi inhales deeply through his teeth. “Fine.”
“Fine?” You ask.
“Fine - I’ll,” He exhales sharply, “I’ll bitch about it the entire time.”
“I don’t care.”
“You’re going to be the one who hears about it.”
You smile, already looking forward to it.
“That’s my job. Now tell me, what did you think of Escape from Mr. Lemoncello’s Library?”
Having signed his contract and returned home with another two books that Serendipity had in fact published, Yoongi felt ready to finally put pen to paper. Though the physical demand of crawling on the floor to dig his pen out from behind the table seemed beyond reproach. But, he finally, truly wants to start writing this new piece.
That is, until his phone buzzes, and a new email has arrived.
Subject: Untitled YM Project: Editing
From: Seokjin Kim
Yoongi -
Wow! It’s been a long time. What a weird coincidence you’d stumble into Serendipity Publishing. I am excited to work with you on this next project, Dumpling.
Let’s get coffee and discuss your plans soon. I am eager to figure out a schedule and start working!
Seokjin
PS - I know you’re probably going to request I be taken off this project, and I’d love to tell you there’s a solution besides sucking it up and dealing with me… but unlucky for you, there isn’t. Lucky for me, I get to helm the latest project from Yoongi Min. What a partnership we will be.
Yoongi throws his phone at the wall.
Fucking pompous asshole who thinks he’s god’s gift to literature. What an asshat. Who emails like that? Who says that shit? Who flaunts their status and power in front of someone they have to work with?
Fuck.
Seokjin.
Fucking.
Kim.
Yoongi’s fucked - because of course Seokjin is right. You were right when you said it earlier. There is no one better than Seokjin Kim. And Yoongi, despite his protesting and frustration and youthful hatred, absolutely has to work with him.
Next: The Littlest Dumpling {2}
August {III} Are You Sure?
Previous: August II
Pairing: Kim Taehyung x Reader
Genre: Fluff, Smut
Rating: NC17
Warnings: Kissing, Making Out, Oral Sex, Consensual Safe Sex between 2, 18 Year Olds (it’s very clear), Talking About Sex, Birth Control, Swearing, Losing Virginities (antiquated I know)
Word Count: 6.7K
Summary: Two summers pass and each one gets steamier and steamier.
Notes: ARE WE FINALLY DONE WITH TEENAGE THEM? ALMOST.
Listen: August, Taylor Swift; The Last Great American Dynasty, Taylor Swift; I Think He Knows, Taylor Swift; Cinema, Harry Styles; Crush, Gavin Degraw
Tag List: @4ksj, @jagiya, @ot7nem, @knjkitten, @teamtardis-notdead
Tag List
Master List
7 Summers Ago
You waited in the Adirondack chairs as the sun went down and the stars began to show. Your moms were at some dinner with both Kim’s at Bar Harbor, leaving you, EJ, Taehyung and both his siblings and yours to roam the beach. The younger Kim’s had been tucked in bed at 10PM, but left to play quietly on their ipads until their parents came home. EJ was too busy hooking up with Yoongi, who her parents somehow allowed to stay with them, and unsupervised, because EJ was most definitely not having sex. Which, wasn’t a total lie. She most definitely was having sex with Yoongi, oral sex, digit sex… all the sex that comes as foreplay before penetration. And she most definitely knew what it felt like to climax, a fleeting sensation you hadn’t yet explored.
It wasn’t for lack of trying, but lack of time. Too many activities, too much homework, too much to prepare for senior year. Your preliminary SAT and ACT scores were good, strong but could be better. They needed to be better if you wanted a shot at an Ivy. Extracurriculars and letters of rec would do a lot for you, plus the whole two-moms and being biracial was definitely going to help as well… but that was no guarantee an Ivy would care. You spent the first part of summer organizing the lists of schools to apply to, some state schools and public institutions, then listed the six Ivy’s you wanted to try and get into: Columbia, Brown, Yale, Princeton, Cornell and Dartmouth. And Stanford, the almost Ivy. In total you had twelve schools to apply to, twelve schools to impress, twelve schools to prove your worth.
“Hey,” a voice said behind you, and you knew without looking that Taehyung had finally cleaned up the kitchen from dinner and was coming to join you. “I stole this from my parents stash back home.”
You took the can of beer and stared at it.
“Underage drinking? Taehyung Kim who are you?” You asked.
“I thought it might be fun, drink it together then bury it in the recycling bin before my parents come home.”
“Okay,” you said and cracked the top. The first sip made you wince, why was beer so gross?
“Do you hate it?” He asked as he sipped. In his letters to you, he’d alluded to the fact that he’d gone to a party or two or five where drinking was happening. He made it clear that it was a means to an end, a way to prove he was cool and worthy of being at the party, but he usually filled a solo cup with water and pretended he’d snuck a pour of vodka from the freezer or liquor cabinet or wherever the parents of his peers hid their hard booze.
“Yeah, it’s nasty.” You looked at the label, not recognizing it and handed him the can again. He sipped and winced, too.
“So beer isn’t our drink.”
“It most certainly is not.”
“Good to know now so that next year we’re ready.”
“God, can we not talk about next year for like, ten minutes?” You begged.
“Of course. What are you taking this year?”
“AP Physics, AP Lit, APUSH, AP Studio Art. You?”
“AP Lit, APUSH, AP Chem and AP Calc.”
“Are we going to survive?”
“I doubt it.”
“Hey – you never wrote to me about Junior Prom. Did you ask that girl?”
“Girl?”
“Yeah, in your letters you made comments about having a crush with wide dark eyes and a smile that when it expands, reminds you of wings. You were totally crushing. Did you go to prom with them?”
“I uh – no. I didn’t go to prom with him.”
“Him?”
“Yeah, I think I’m bi, or pansexual… I’m not sure yet.”
“Oh, cool,” you shrugged. This was in fact not totally new information. “That’s why when I talked about how hot Seokjin’s become you agreed, isn’t it?”
“Yeah, it is.”
“He’s gotten hotter. I don’t know how that happened but it’s really fucking getting to me.”
“Whoa – swearing too? Has one sip let you loose?”
“Shut up!” You said swatting his arm.
“He is looking hot, so is Namjoon.”
“Yeah, they’re coming up for a week and bringing Hoseok and Yoongi which, seems unfair.”
“That they have a lot of hot friends?”
“Yeah, but I have you, and you’re like…. Hotter than all of them combined so it’s fine.”
“Shut up,” Taehyung said blushing.
“You’re a model, Kim.”
“So are you, Y/N.”
“Don’t,”
“What?”
“Lie. I’m no you,”
“You don’t have to be,” He said and leaned over the arm of his chair. “You’re perfectly you.”
You turned your head and leaned across to meet his lips. They were soft and patient, reminding you what it was like to kiss him like you had summers before.
“Did your prom date ask you to be his girlfriend?” Taehyung asked as he pulled away.
“No, we’re not a couple. I don’t really want to date him.”
“Why not? I thought he was interesting and considerate?”
“Yeah, he is, but you know,” you shrugged, allowing your sentence to hang. “I did get asked out by the captain of the varsity basketball team.”
“Oh? Did you say yes?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“He’s an idiot and his parents are republicans. You really think my moms would allow that?”
“That’s true. What if you fall in love at college?”
“That wasn’t even ten minutes!”
“Sorry, sorry!”
“It’s a moot point anyway, I’m kind of pining over someone. I guess I like the feeling of unrequited love a little too much to date.”
“You’re wise beyond your years, but don’t let that unrequited love dictate your future.”
“It’s not totally unrequited,” You said, knowing full well he understood you meant him.
“No, it’s not,” he leaned in again, this time kissing you with fervor and heat. “Can we go to yours?”
“Yeah,” you stood and took his hand, walking side by side into your cabin and to your bedroom. You shut the door, grateful that Max was crashing at Taehyung’s house with his siblings.
Taehyung kissed you as you turned around, lips moving in tandem with yours as his hands cupped your cheek. You’d both had practice since last summer, kissing other people. Taehyung had gone out with some girl his parents had set him up with, and you had gone on a few dates with a guy named Mark who was totally fine and it more fizzled than burned out.
“Can I,” Taehyung started, then sat back and looked at you.
“Take my shirt off?” You filled in his unasked question, because you had the same one.
“Yeah?”
“Yes.”
It seemed like a natural progression, moving from kissing occasionally the summer before, okay and completely making out on more than one occasion, to this… to topless kissing and hands exploring. It was safe and it was comfortable, he was looking out for you and you were looking out for him. And, of course, it was Taehyung. Taehyung who you’d crushed on since you were fifteen… Your best friend, and you his.
It was all going, rather well, until you heard the front door open and footsteps getting louder and louder as they approached your door.
“Shit,” you muttered as you reached for your shirt and tossed it on. Taehyung did the same and sat on the floor, hoping his swollen lips and mussed hair wouldn’t give anything away.
“Y/N?” Your mama asked as she opened the door, her eyes widening as she saw Taehyung on your rug, legs crossed, and you sitting on your bed. “You know the rules.”
“I’m sorry,” you said quickly.
“I should go,” he said standing quickly. “Have a good night.”
“You too, and you, living room.”
Your mama didn’t need anytime going from cool and collected to angered parent. She did it so quickly it could give someone who was unfamiliar with her reactions whiplash.
“Jackie!” she called.
“Yes? Y/N, why are you up?”
“It’s 10pm, it’s not that late.” You countered.
“Don’t you have work in the morning?” she asked.
“Yes.”
“Taehyung was here,” mama said. “In her room, with the door closed.”
“Y/N!” Mom said.
Your hands shot up, defending yourself. “I’m sorry!”
“I thought we had an understanding, no closed doors, no boys in the house when we’re not here,” your mom said.
“I know,” you said.
“Do we need to buy condoms?” She asked.
“Oh my god!” You exclaimed, blushing furiously.
“Well, you’re not on birth control, and you’re having a boy in your room with the door closed. Do we need to buy protection for you?” Mama asked, clearly and with a hint of fear that you, her precious daughter was becoming sexually active.
“I don’t think so.”
“But you might need them this summer?”
“I – I don’t know,” you answered sheepishly.
“We wanted to get you on birth control before college,” Mom said.
“You do?”
“Yes, you never know what could happen. The world isn’t a safe place and it’s better to be protected than to be vulnerable. But we didn’t expect, I guess we should’ve,” mama sat down, exhaling loudly.
“You know the risks, of sex before you’re on the pill or have an IUD?”
You nodded.
“Verbal confirmation please,” Mama requested.
“Yes,” you said clearly.
“Even with condoms, they are not –
“I know.”
“I can’t believe we’re having this conversation,” Mom muttered.
“Yeah, I had health. Remember I got an A?” You replied, regretting the snark you’d chosen for that question. You watched as your mom rolled her eyes and your mama shook her head.
“Of course, you did, but taking a class and having it be your reality are very different things.” Mom said.
“I’m sorry I broke the rules.” You apologized.
“Is EJ having sex?” Mama asked.
“Mama!”
“It’s a valid question, dating that older boy,” Mom said.
“No, she’s really scared that because he’s older, if something happens her parents will like totally wig out.”
“Makes sense.”
“I would be worried.”
“Well luckily Taehyung turns eighteen a few months after I do,” you said. They knew, how could they not? You scrambled from the day your birthday was over all the way until his trying to find the perfect gift and mail it on time. They’d been watching you, and taking you to the post office, for years now.
“Right, but now you’re seventeen, so can you please promise us, you won’t do anything drastic until you’re eighteen?”
You thought about it, what was a few months? But in a few weeks Taehyung would be back in his home and you would be in yours, and you couldn’t… you didn’t want to take that next step with some guy from school. Ew. No, if you were going to do it before college it would have to wait until next summer. Then you’d be protected, right?
“Okay,” You grumbled.
“I would like that in writing,” Mama said.
“Oh Teresa, stop,” mom chuckled. “I’ll draft it in the morning.”
“You know this is how teens end up pregnant, celibacy pacts,” you reminded them.
“We could take her to the urgent care and get it,” Mama offered.
“She could have side effects, what if she starts the wrong one and has a bad reaction? I’d rather take her to her pediatrician and go over options and make an educated decision instead of just shoving the pill on her.”
“Hello?” You asked. “Can I be a part of this conversation?”
“Of course, honey,” mom said.
“I want an IUD. I’ve done the research, and yes they hurt and are more expensive, but they offer the best protection from unwanted pregnancy for the longest time. I want, I want that.”
“She is our daughter after all,” mama commented.
“Okay, when we get back we’ll take you to your doctor,” mom decided. “And you’re grounded for the week, no seeing Taehyung except at work.”
You arrived to the mall and sat at the empty picnic table that awaited weary workers before and after their shifts. But you weren’t alone for long, because EJ, having the day off, came to support you on your first day back.
“Yo,” she said sitting down. “You will not believe what I heard.”
“So, I think I’m going to start birth control,” you whispered, pulling EJ closer to you.
“What?” she yelled, directly into your ear.
“Yeah, my parents walked in on me and Taehyung last night and they wanted me to start before college but they’re gonna start it now.”
“Is that what you want?”
“Yeah, I think so? I mean, I only want to have sex with Tae, but we can’t this summer because my moms will ground me every day if I do.”
“Oh my god did they make you sign a virgin pact?”
“Yeah, and they asked if you’re having sex with Yoongi.”
“I’m assuming you lied.”
“Of course.”
“Good, my mom doesn’t need to know anything. So you’re grounded this week?”
“Yeah, because he was in my room with the door shut.”
“Oh my god, ladies!” Clara exclaimed as she came up to the table, smile on her face, new summer clipboard in her hand.
“Hi Clara,” EJ and you grumbled.
“EJ, aren’t you supposed to be at Pirate’s Treasure Chest?”
“I have today off.”
“Oh, well you’ll both be excited to hear that you, Y/N, are officially moved to the candy section and out of ice cream!”
You stared at her, unsure why that was exciting news. Ice cream was difficult, sure, but to deal with all those customers? No thank you.
“Why?”
“It’s because she got hot, isn’t it?” EJ asked Clara.
“Oh my god,” you slapped her arm. The sound echoed in the near empty strip behind the stores. “This isn’t a YA summer romance, I didn’t just get hot over the school year and no one noticed.”
“You sure?” EJ asked. “I know someone who has been thinking about you.”
“Who?” Clara asked, then realized she wasn’t part of the conversation. “Anyway, your shift starts in five. Have you seen your boyfriend?”
“Boyfriend?” You asked in confusion.
“Taehyung, duh,” she said.
“Oh, he’s probably out front, waiting for you to let him in.”
“He wasn’t when I walked in but I’ll go double check. I’m sure he’ll be happy to have you as his work wife again.”
Clara turned and used her key to get into the back room of the candy store, ponytail swaying and bopping as she walked. She clearly hadn’t changed in the year since you saw her.
“She’s gonna be prom queen, isn’t she?”
“Then marry a republican senator and eventually stand by him when his sex scandal breaks.”
“Yikes,” you sighed. “So who has been talking about me?”
“I’m sworn to secrecy,” EJ teased.
“You’re the worst.”
“Hey, EJ!” Taehyung appeared from the door Clara just entered, big smile on his lips.
“Hi,” she said – they had been spending plenty of time together this summer before you arrived. A fact that made you insanely jealous. But you got EJ all school year, and you got Taehyung… well in ways EJ never would.
“Y/N we gotta wash up and then I’m training you on candy,” he informed you.
“Great, you gonna be a drill sergeant?” You asked.
“That’s are you going to be a drill sergeant, sir, to you,” Taehyung winked, waved to EJ and disappeared back into the shop.
“He likes you,” EJ said.
“Considering we were topless making out on my couch, I’d say yes, he does like me.”
“And you like him,”
“He’s fine.”
“Oh come on, don’t act like you don’t pine after him all school year, hoping he’ll make some long distance move and you’ll be together.”
“I like the hope of him, never quite turning into anything real. It’s, fun. It’s breezy.”
“It stops you from going out with other people,” EJ reminded you.
“Who wants to date me back home anyway? No one.”
“That’s not true.”
“Whatever. When do Seokjin and Namjoon get here?”
“Tomorrow night. They said they wanted to give us one night together until they steal you away and ruin your summer.”
“I hate that they enjoy college but not enough to stay there all summer,” you said as you stood and collected your items.
“Same. I don’t miss them at all,” EJ lied. “I’ll come by at one and we’ll bike home?”
“I’m grounded remember?”
“Yeah, from Taehyung, not me.”
She was right, your moms had no problem when you rode up to the house with EJ next to you, or when she came in, gave them a hug and collapsed on the couch, ready to watch TV or play games.
“Go swimming,” Mama said as she came out of the kitchen to stare at you and EJ. “Please, not in the house.”
“Fine,” you groaned and changed quickly into your swimsuit.
EJ was already outside, at the end of the dock, applying sunscreen to her arms and legs. You walked out and let her slather your back in the white concoction before doing the same to hers.
“Are your moms really that mad?”
“I don’t know, but I know they’re going to regret grounding me.”
“Why?”
“I’m so much more annoying when I can’t see Taehyung than when I can.”
“That’s true, I can confirm that,” EJ laughed. She took the first jump, spinning and plummeting into the water. You followed suit, jumping in after her and laughing as you came up for air.
“I think he dates other people during the school year,” you confided, your suspicion more an idea and a thought than an actual reality.
“You do? Wouldn’t he mention it in your letters?”
“I don’t know that he would. It took him until I asked yesterday to find out about prom. He’s allusive.”
“In like, a hot way.”
“Yeah, I mean he’s the hottest man I’ve ever se –
Something wrapped around your ankle and in a swift motion pulled you under. As water filled your nose you began to fling your arms wildly, trying to hit whatever it was that had gotten to you. It’s a lake, there isn’t anything more than fish, ducks and microscopic living organisms. Nothing with a grip that could take you down. You kicked your legs, almost making contact with whatever it was as the grip released you, sending you up to the top of the water gasping for air.
“What the fuck?” You yelled, eyes wild as you tried to land on whoever or whatever it was that had gotten you.
You heard the laughter before you saw the face, popping out a few yards away from you, broad shoulders and symmetrical face, his windshield wiper laugh was like no ones you’d heard, besides coming from him. He was in hysterics, laughing heartily as he watched your panic turn into blind rage. EJ laughed too, because of course she had been in on it.
“She hates you,” another voice came from the dock across from yours, and you glared at Namjoon.
“She’s in shock, leave her alone,” Yoongi, decked out in full sun shirt and leggings, said as he sat down and dipped his pale feet into the cool water.
“I fucking hate you, Seokjin Kim.” You yelled before climbing up the ladder on your dock. “None of you fucking talk to me.”
As you stomped back into your house, you could hear Seokjin calling your name.
“It was a joke! I’m sorry!” Seokjin called.
“I told you it was a dick move,” Namjoon said before he jumped into the water, splashing Yoongi.
“I thought Hoseok was coming with you?” EJ asked them.
“He’s changing still,” Yoongi answered.
“He didn’t want to be a part of this,” Namjoon told his sister.
“Of course not, you guys are assholes.”
“You helped!”
“All I did was get her in the water, I thought you were just going to be floating, not try and drown her.”
“Whatever, it was a great prank,” Seokjin said.
“You are going to really have to apologize to her,” Namjoon told his twin.
“I know,” Seokjin regretted the prank almost immediately after he saw your face. He had expected you to be surprised, but he thought maybe you’d be happy he was there, happy he’d come up a day early to hang out with you and his sister. That he took some time in his busy summer, he’s working as an undergrad researcher at Northwestern all summer, to come up to the lake and be with his family. But no, you’re pissed at him, and he knows you, it’s going to last a while if he doesn’t apologize correctly.
Seokjin hops out of the lake, having used his large wingspan and strength to pull himself up and out of the water. He stalks down your dock before turning on the sand and going to the one person’s house who will know what to do: Taehyung.
“Why did you think that was a good idea?” Taehyung asked, sitting in his living room with a can of sugar free root beer in his hand.
“I thought she’d be more excited to see me than she would be mad.”
“Why would she be excited to see you?”
“I don’t know! I haven’t seen her since Christmas. I didn’t come home for spring break, I thought maybe she’d be –
“Excited,”
“Yeah, to see me.”
“And not Namjoon?”
“Who is excited to see Namjoon except his professors?” Jin asked.
“I’d guess you, I mean he’s in Boston and you’re in Chicago for the year, don’t you miss him?”
“That’s not the point of this. How do I apologize?”
“Write her a letter.”
Seokjin wasn’t convinced. “A letter?”
“A letter. And get her favorite chocolates and candies. Be sincere, but not patronizing.”
“I can do those things.”
“Write it in your best handwriting, she cares about penmanship even though hers looks like she’s nine years old.”
“Okay, anything else?”
“Don’t like to her, or make up something about why you did it. Be honest,” Taehyung said.
“Did EJ say something to you?” He asked.
“Uh, no? Should she have?” It was Taehyung’s turn to be confused about the conversation transpiring between them.
"No, no, she just talks a lot for someone who knows so little. Anyway,” Jin said standing. “Thanks.”
“Why do you care so much?” Yoongi asked that evening over dinner, where Mr. & Mrs. Kim were less than impressed with their eldest son’s prank.
“She’s like my second sister, I shouldn’t have done it.”
“Told you,” Namjoon muttered.
“You shouldn’t have, what if she hurt you? Or you hurt her?”
“She was only under for maybe ten seconds,” Jin said. “I had a loose grip on her and let her go quickly.”
“Ten seconds is still enough to do damage to an unsuspecting person,” Mrs. Kim scolded. “Honestly Jin, you know better.”
“I’m working on my apology!” He said defensively.
“We ought to ground you for your foolery but you’re an adult, and that would be embarrassing for both of us.” Mr. Kim said.
“Sorry for being a disappointment.”
“You are not a disappointment,” Mrs. Kim told him. “You just behaved like you’re fifteen, which frankly is an age we are glad to be past.”
“Nothing was as bad as Namjoon at thirteen,” EJ piped in. “Do you remember?”
“The time he kicked the hole in the wall? How could we forget,” Mr. Kim laughed.
“You did what?” Hoseok asked, turning to stare at his friend.
“It was an accident.”
“An accident was EJ putting stickers on her bedroom door. No, you knew what you were doing,” Mrs. Kim said.
“I hate this family,” Namjoon groaned.
“Honestly, same,” Seokjin said, meeting his twin’s gaze.
He didn’t tell Taehyung that he had missed his brother during their time apart for college. He always missed him when they were apart. They’re twins, it’s part of their dna and make up to be completely locked into the other. It was terrible, freshman year, being separated for the first time, and for a long time. Neither came home for Thanksgiving, but thankfully Namjoon went to Chicago to stay with Jin. They both went home for Christmas and at Spring Break the entire family, even EJ who wasn’t on break yet, went to France. But there were still long and lonely hours. Seokjin didn’t take to making friends quite as easily as his brother, and he missed having a guaranteed companion. Not to mention Yoongi was still in state, and Hoseok was in New York and could see Joon more frequently. Phone calls and texting did little to fill the void, and Jin really regretted, at least the first few months, that he’d turned down the option of going to Northeastern with his brother.
“I think we’re great,” EJ said as she finished the last of her grilled asparagus, and smiled at Yoongi who happily grinned back.
“You have to talk to him,” Mama said the next day as you avoided spending time with EJ or listening to Seokjin.
“I do not. He made a dick move and I don’t have to forgive him yet.”
“Doesn’t she have consequences for swearing?” Max asked as he ate his cereal. Finally old enough to work, he’d scored a job at Gunner’s Golf Pros caddying and working the snack shack.
“She’s already grounded,” mom reminded him.
“Yeah, but she still gets to hang out with EJ and Taehyung at work. How is that even a punishment?”
“Because she really wants to spend time with Taehyung, who she only sees for a month out of the year. Imagine you had a friend like that and mom and I said you couldn’t see them? How would you feel?”
“Max doesn’t have friends,” you commented.
“Why are you so mean to me?”
“I love you, that’s why.”
“Okay, love and being mean do not equal each other,” Mama said.
“We know,” Max and you said in unison.
“Please, Seokjin has been texting for weeks asking when we’re having a family bbq and now you won’t speak to him. Maybe he’s trying to say he’s sorry the only way he knows how.”
“By being obnoxious?” You asked.
“By being genuine and authentic.” Mom said.
You shrugged, staring at the last remaining pieces of your cereal, floating helplessly in the oat milk of your bowl. “I don’t know why he’s being either.”
“He’s a sweet boy, well, young man.” Mama said.
“He’s fine.”
“Have you noticed how handsome he’s gotten?” Mom asked.
“Can we please not discuss Seokjin has attractive?” Max requested.
“Yeah, that’s gross,” you agreed.
A knock hit your front door and Max ran off to get it. You could hear him a little, and recognized the deeper voice speaking to him as Seokjin’s. You rolled your eyes because of course that asshole would show up at your door, unannounced and want to speak with you. Wasn’t he supposed to be sleeping in?
“Here,” Max said, handing you an envelope with your name written in pretty hand lettering, most likely done by EJ.
“What?”
“It’s from Jin. He wants you to read it.”
“Why?” You asked him.
“I don’t know, he just said to give it to you, and this,” Max passed you a large bag of candy, which made no sense, how had he gotten into The Confectioners Corner before it was open? Let alone known to buy your favorites?
“He’s doing this on purpose,” you declared.
“What is he doing, honey?” Mama asked.
“He’s trying to get me to think about him all day. Either I read this letter now and think about it all day, or I don’t read it and think about what it could say until my double shift is over and I can come home and read it.”
“Which one is worse?”
“Not knowing,” you answered quickly.
“So go read it and then get on that bike and go to work,” mom said.
You raced to your bedroom and carefuly opened the letter. Inside was a piece of stationary that was clearly EJ’s.
Dear Y/N,
I’m so sorry I scared you yesterday in the water. I wanted to have a bit of fun with you, remind you of the fun we had before I went to college. I think I was feeling insecure about how you’d feel, seeing Namjoon and me after we’d been away for so long. You’re like another sister to me, and I missed you. God that sounds pathetic, but you’re a family member so it’s true. I’m sorry I scared you… I was feeling nostalgic for the times we used to – well I guess the times Joonie and I would tease you or chase you around probably were hell for you… sorry for those too.
Forgive me? Please?
XX,
Jin
You laughed as you read the letter again and again. What a little dork. You took your cellphone out of your pocket and texted Seokjin.
You: you loser
Jin: did you read it?
You: yeah, I did. Thanks for the candy.
Jin: do you forgive me?
You: I’ll think about it while I’m at work
Jin: that works for me
You: for what it’s worth, I missed you too. but if you tell anyone I said that I will deny it and say Max got to my phone and texted you
Jin: glad to know you only admit you care about me under threat
You: Well you only said you missed me because you embarrassed your parents
Jin: how’d you know?
You: You’re sister has been my best friend since birth, idiot
Jin: why are you so mean to me?
You: I am not
Jin: you’d never call Joon an idiot
You: he’s smarter
Jin: I did better on my SATs
You: whatever
Jin: don’t you have a job to get to?
You: Yeah – I’ll see you later
Jin: and you’ll forgive me, too?
You: we’ll see
6 Summers Ago
“Are you sure?” Taehyung asked the following year on July 31st, as he lay next to you on your bed.
“Yeah, are you?”
“I am if you are…. I wanted it to be with you.”
“Yeah? Me too,” you whispered, then kissed him quickly as your shaking hands moved down to unbutton his shorts. You could feel him against your hand, hardening as your body somehow moved with his.
“Do you have –
“Yeah and I got an IUD so we’re like, super safe.”
The idea of losing your virginities to each other had come from well…. Both of you. In letters traded over the school year, you’d discussed how far you’d gone in your hook ups with each other. The wandering hands, the temptation to go farther, the burning want that took over both your bodies whenever you were together. Taehyung wanted you, all of you, and you wanted him too. But you’d promised you wouldn’t do anything, not just with Taehyung, but with any boy until you were 18. A weird pact your moms wanted you to agree to in case you somehow slipped up last summer. You hadn’t, and during the year your want to explore sex with someone you trusted grew and grew and finally, you mentioned sex to Taehyung. He too was growing in curiosity, but had more access to porn and dirty magazines than you did. He was curious, but only if he could be curious with you.
Your theory of him dating people during the school year was squashed, he wasn’t dating anyone, just quietly pining over someone he couldn’t ever really have… and of course you knew that to be you.
“Can I, can I touch you?” You whispered.
Your moms had let you come up a day early to get ready before starting work, with a double shift, tomorrow, August 1st. Taehyung had been up at Lake Augusta for a while, like always, and waited for you outside your cabin when you drove up.
What started as a hug hello soon became a heavy make out on your bed, which led to shirts (and a bra) being tugged off as his hands, consensually, worked to explore you.
“Yeah,” he said, nodding. You watched him carefully as you slid your hand down his exposed torso, unintentionally teasing him as you caught the bearings of his body. How soft his skin was, how toned his stomach felt and yet still remained soft. You’d seen him shirtless before, but this was totally different. Your hand continued down, dipping into the hem of his shorts and finding purchase on his hardening cock, a sensation you had never experienced before. Slowly, like EJ had taught you, you began to stroke him up and down, eyes not leaving his face as he fluttered his shut. His little moans were encouraging, as was the precum dripping from his tip. You wanted him. Your body was telling you how deeply you wanted him, and his was pleading with you for more. You picked up your speed, and Taehyung thought he could see stars.
“Wait,” He said, taking your hand from him and holding it to his chest.
“What? Did I do something wrong?” You asked.
“No, I just… I think I’m going to come if you keep doing that and I’d really like to you know, come inside you,” he muttered the end of his sentence, embarrassed by his own desire.
“Oh! Okay, I don’t know, I think I’m ready?” You asked, assessing how your body was feeling.
“Lay back,” he said. “Can I take these off?”
Taehyung trailed his fingers across the hem of your underwear, waiting for you to give him permission.
“Yeah,” you said and held your breath. He was the first boy to see you…. naked. And exposed.
His hands were delicate as they pulled the cotton down and tossed them into a pile with your sun dress. He parted your legs with his hands and knelt in front of your cunt. Fingers lithe and gentle, he stroked between your lips, feeling the soft warmness of them, and admiring the liquid wetness that coated his fingers.
“Yeah, but like, I can maybe put a finger in, or two before?” He asked. You nodded, having read about fingering and heard about it from EJ. She was so excited for you to finally have sex, as she and Yoongi had started immediately after she turned 18. Taehyung nodded and using his other hand, held your legs open. He gently eased a finger into you, listening as you gasped and adjusted to it. Slowly pumping in and out, your body adjusted quickly to the sensation.
“More,” you muttered, a moan leaving behind it.
“Okay,” he nodded, eyes fascinated by how your body was moving. He inserted his middle finger too.
“Gentle,” you said, feeling more of a stretch with his two fingers than you had before.
“Do you want me to stop?”
“No,” the firmness of your voice surprised you both, but your eyes told him the truth, you were really enjoying this.
He continued to pump in and out of you until he felt like he might explode from the sounds you were making and the sight of you before him. He carefully pulled his fingers out and did, what you thought could possibly be the most insane act, he licked them.
“Oh my god, why did you do that? We’re on a towel!” You scolded.
“I was curious. You know a lot of people like to eat –
“Don’t say the p- word.”
“Fine, a lot of people do oral sex before they have penetrative sex. We haven’t done that, so I was curious what you tasted like.”
He was so matter of fact about everything.
“What do I taste like?” You asked, dreading the answer.
“I don’t know how to describe it, but you taste like you.”
“Not like pineapple, or sweet or gross?”
“No, just like you. I don’t know how else to describe it. Do you want to –
“No thank you.”
“Condom?” He asked, and watched as you reached into your bag, which had been lugged up because it contained contraband, and pulled out a fresh pack.
“Moms said I’d probably need it this summer so,” you shrugged nervously and watched as Taehyung opened the box, pulled out a foil and tore it open. He stood to take off his pants and while he stood, fully naked and unashamed, slipped the condom over himself.
“How’d you?”
“Health class, lots of cucumbers and bananas, lots of practice.”
“Oh,” you said, shocked a school was that comprehensive. He crawled back over you, and separated your legs to slate between them.
“Are you sure?” He asked again.
“I am. Yes. Are you?”
“Yeah, fuck yeah I am,” he said, blushing at his use of profanity.
“Go slow,” you instructed, and watched as he lined himself up with your entrance. You figured it was probably good he had fingered you, that way he knew where he was meant to be.
It burned, gently, as he slowly inched himself further and further into you. You winced, eyes closed, face screwed up into a pained expression as he fully sheathed himself in you. He didn’t move, he barely breathed, as Taehyung waited for you to say something, anything.
“Move, slowly please,” You said, and he did so, gently pumping himself in and out of you.
“Oh my god,” Taehyung said into your ear. He finally got it, why every guy viewed sex as this godly experience he was just waiting to have. He imagined they felt that way because it was sex, and from the thirty seconds of it he’d had, he was feeling that way too. But maybe all his friends, or people in magazines, had had their first time with someone they deeply loved and cared about, like he was.
“Oh my god,” you muttered as the pain eased and pleasure took over. He felt, good? That’s what sex is supposed to feel, good?
“Yeah?” He asked, unsure what your oh my god meant.
“Yeah, it feels good.”
“I’m not - I’m not going to last much,” he said as his breath became more panicked and sputtered.
“That’s okay,” you said, having done your homework on the male experience.
“Okay, because I’m going to –
Taehyung didn’t have much time to finish his sentence as he gave one final thrust and came. You laid, with him on top of you, for a moment while he collected himself.
“Shit,” he said, and as he pulled out of you, he took off the condom and tied it before dropping it in your garbage can. “Keep your legs open.”
“Why?” You wondered, staring up at his glorious form.
“I’m going to go down on you. Why should I be the only one that comes?”
“Do you feel like, changed?” Taehyung asked as you sat on the Adirondack chairs, sipping a homemade vanilla milkshake.
“Uh, ask me tomorrow when I’ve had time to process,” you said.
“That’s fair.”
“Are you nervous?” You asked, glancing sideways at him.
“For college?”
“Yeah, for USC, big shot.”
“Completely. Are you?” He asked.
“For Columbia? Yeah, New York is scary and big and so far away. Why am I doing this? I ask myself that every day.” You shared.
“You’re going to be incredible,” Taehyung assured.
“I don’t know about that, but I’ll figure it out.”
“You will, I guess I will too?”
“You have to, we both have to. We’re the oldest, we can’t fuck up.” You remind him.
“That’s true.”
“At least we have one thing checked off our lists.”
“Are there more?” He asked.
“Yeah, I think we’ve got a few more to complete before summer ends.”
“More repeats of tonight though, right?” He smirked.
“Oh definitely, we definitely need more practice.” You blushed as you finished your milkshake. “I’m glad it was with you.”
“You’re the only one,” Taehyung said, like above all else, no matter what happened the next year at college, you were bound by bodily fluid and something like love, to this moment, and to each other.
Next: August IV
Merry & Bright: I. Christmas for You & Me
Pairings: Min Yoongi x Park Jimin; Jung Hoseok x Kim Taehyung;
Genre: Fluff, Non-Idol AU, SLOW BURN
Rating: R
Warnings: Swearing! Talking about Sex!
Word Count: 5.1k
Summary: Yoongi wants to reunite the famous writing group Kim & Kim to celebrate the 1 millionth copy of their Christmas book and album being sold. The only problem? They haven’t spoken since they broke up 5 years ago.
Notes: Merry & Bright this year is taking the form of one cohesive story involving all of Bangtan! Hope you enjoy this change!
I. It’s the Most Wonderful Time for a Plan
The fresh scent of gingerbread wafted through Yoongi’s nostrils as he opened the door to Sugar & Spice, the bakery on the corner of his block. He hated gingerbread, but that didn’t much matter to the store’s proprietor, who sold more gingerbread than any other bakery in the vicinity. Yoongi grumbled as he made his way around the counter, bypassing the line of guests in for their morning coffee (a seasonal blend of course) and morning baked good. The cabinets, absolutely brimming with gingerbread cinnamon rolls, red berry scones and hot chocolate croissants, were all the ideas of baker Jimin Park.
Serendipity Sweets, opened for nearly five years, was Jimin’s crowning achievement, besides his marriage. He loved the corner shop, the stunning Victorian window trim and warm morning sunlight. It was a beautiful shop, one he held deeply in his heart as his truest dream. When he had told Yoongi about his dream, sometime on their third date, he had been struck by the beautiful way Yoongi held space for it. What he hadn’t expected was Yoongi’s connections and advantageous interactions to lead to him standing in the kitchen, placing gold flakes onto another batch of gingerbread cinnamon rolls.
“Hey!” A customer called, pulling Jimin out of his reverie. He stepped into the shop as Yoongi grabbed a holiday cup and began filling it with the black brew.
“He can’t cut the line!” Another called as Yoongi used the tongs to grab an apple cider muffin from the cabinet. Clearly none of these people had been in when Yoongi was, or seen him move deftly through the store taking whatever he wanted. They’d missed watching his hair grow long as the seasons changed, his delicately pale legs becoming hidden under pants instead of bare in shorts, how he stopped drinking iced coffee right when the leaves began changing.
“It’s fine,” Jimin said as he fully came out from the kitchen, wiping his hands on his apron. “Do you have to do this every morning?”
“Good morning to you too,” Yoongi said, and he dipped his head ever so slightly, bringing his lips to Jimin’s.
“Good morning,” Jimin said smiling. “I like this outfit.”
Yoongi glanced down to his plaid button down with a loose cardigan draped over his shoulders and dark corduroy pants. He shrugged, unimpressed by his own choice for clothing, but pleased Jimin thought it was worth a compliment. He felt the blush creep into the apples of his cheeks at the little attention, so delicate and inconsequential from the usual love his husband heaped on him, but burned deeply in his heart.
“Thanks honey,” Yoongi said and kissed Jimin once more, this time lingering to rub it into the patron’s faces. His lips parted slightly, and he felt Jimin lean into it for a brief moment, tongue darting to swipe Yoongi’s lip before he pulled away.
Jimin’s hands pushed into Yoongi’s chest, and he said in a low almost moan, “Yoongs.”
“Sorry,” he muttered, but they both knew he wasn’t sorry at all. He adjusted the beanie covering his swooping and long midnight locks.
“What does your day look like?” Jimin asked as he moved away from the customers.
“I have a meeting that I –
“Yoongi, no,” Jimin said, knowing the look in his husband’s eye.
“I did.”
“Yoongi!” Jimin said hitting his chest. “
“What?” Yoongi asked, sipping his black coffee.
“You know what,” Jimin said.
“Maybe I do, maybe I don’t.”
“You are playing with fire, and I for one do not want to clean up the ashes,” Jimin said passively as he continued restocking the gummy Christmas trees and assorted sour gummy stockings.
Yoongi scoffed. “I am not.”
“Yes, you are.”
“I won’t get burned. It’s just an idea.”
“That they don’t know about,” Jimin said.
“Correct.”
“When this blows up in your face, expect an I-told-you-so,” Jimin said as he shuffled some of the store’s goods around on the shelves.
Jimin was never done tinkering with his Christmas decorations and treats, constantly rearranging and moving them until January began. It wasn’t that he was unsatisfied, it was more so that he knew he could do better and constantly wanted to prove himself. He stared at the assortment of mugs from local vendors and shuffled a few of them to the front, brushing some fake snow onto the floor. He stepped back, staring at the shelves and the Christmas trees and lights he’d strewn around. Not nearly as good as last year’s decorations, which was themed Merry & Bright, and included a special holiday sugar and spice sugar cookie shaped like a Christmas light. This year, his theme Merry Berry, had been somewhat successful. The berry themed treats, and drinks, were doing well for business. But the décor left a lot to be desired, at least for Jimin. His bakery was known in town for it’s holiday decorations and themes, always pulling the stops out at Halloween and Valentine’s Day… but this year Jimin couldn’t quite crack it, and Hoseok was similarly creatively blocked.
“It won’t,” Yoongi assured him, eyes raking over Jimin’s figure as he watched him shelve products. He looked good, deliciously so, like he did every day. His black hair, growing long like Yoongi’s, was tied up in a little ponytail, if you could even call the two inches of hair that. And he had a bit of flour on his apron, and a dash of sprinkles stuck to his cheek. He looked like a goddamn Christmas Elf, and Yoongi loved it.
“It will,” Jimin said, his tone all-knowing and accusatory.
“We’ve been friends with both of them for over a decade, I think they’ll be okay.”
“They don’t even come to our holiday party!” Jimin argued.
“Psh, a lot of people don’t.”
“Yoongi,” Jimin warned.
“Jimin.” He countered.
“I hope I’m wrong,”
“Like Nancy’s brother?” Yoongi asked, referencing the famous wedding scene of Love Is Blind season 3.
“Yes.”
“Well, we’ll never know if I don’t leave this shop and get to work,” Yoongi said. He moved back to the counter to put a lid on his coffee and pick his pastry up. “I will text you.”
“Yes, you will,” Jimin said. He leaned in and kissed Yoongi once more, holding Yoongi against him with the tether their lips held onto. “Be good please.”
“I’m always good, honey,” Yoongi winked before turning on his heels and exiting Sugar & Spice.
“Yoongi!” A voice came from behind him, and he turned quickly to find Hoseok.
“Hobi – aren’t you late?”
“No, I had to go meet a vendor and Jimin said Sasha would help open,” Hoseok said as he approached his friend. “You got your morning treats?”
Yoongi laughed. “You know I did.”
“Good, you guys still coming to dinner tomorrow?” Hoseok asked as he put his hand on the doors handle, opening it to let a few customers out.
“Yeah, 7PM?” Yoongi asked.
“Yeah, we’ll see you then,” Hoseok smiled and headed inside.
Yoongi began the trek to his office, down three blocks from his husband’s store. It was a brisk morning; his breath coming out in fits and starts of steam as he exhaled. He wished he’d taken the scarf Jimin had left out for him, but he’d forgotten when he remembered the rush of holiday customers and the glare Jimin would give him for disrupting the flow of business with his morning ritual. He loved Jimin’s baking, in fact it had been the first thing Yoongi loved about him. Besides his smile and adorable laugh. It was the snickerdoodle cookies Jimin had brought to a study session in college, followed by the cherry blossoms at Christmas, and soon Yoongi was head over heels for the man. It had happened in a blink, studying together blossoming into love. He'd encouraged Jimin to go to pastry school instead of finishing university, and he did without regrets. Hoseok, Jimin’s childhood best friend, was happy to put up the capital and become a business partner. Together Sugar & Spice was thriving, and Jimin happier than ever.
Yoongi, though loving the pastries his husband baked, was not a chef or baker. He in fact worked at a literary agency, publishing children’s books. It always felt a bit… disjointed, the most curmudgeonly man absolutely adored illustrated books with rhyme schemes and talking animals. It came from his childhood, the love of books that filled his days and helped him find out who he was.
Which was why today was so important. A nearly a decade ago, when Yoongi was first starting as an agent, he had repped a duo of authors and musicians named Kim & Kim. They were two men, both last named Kim, who wrote a singular smash of a Christmas children’s book. Their story, Christmas for You & Me, had featured an album of original, children’s Christmas songs. With their album and book, they became beloved amongst families and children, doing book tours and signings across the country and even globally as their book and album were translated. They were beloved and skyrocketed to Barney in the 90s levels of success, only to watch it all come crashing down when they broke up. Yoongi made his early career on them, reaping the benefits of their brilliant stories and worlds they wove. Kim & Kim were sensational, not since Rafi had kids’ music transcended genre and seasons to be a hit. Yoongi loved working with them, and thus was shocked when he received an email stating their breakup. He wasn’t totally blindsided; they had a tense relationship, but they had just signed another contract for two more albums and four more books when they both walked away.
Today, Yoongi was bringing them both in, Kim & Kim, to discuss getting back together to write a book celebrating the one millionth copy of Christmas for You & Me being sold. Of course, in his business mind, not telling them they were each coming in was the right decision, but in his friend heart, he felt a little guilty. Sitting in his corner office, with views of the city and a view of the park, he prepared himself for the arrival of Kim & Kim.
“Yoongi, your 8AM is here,” his assistant, Poppy, said from the door.
“Great, send him in,” Yoongi said with a gentle smile. He adjusted his cardigan and stood, waiting patiently for the Kim to walk in. He glanced down at the wedding photo of him and Jimin, black and white, Jimin in a white tux, he in black. Their wedding day was perfect, with pastries and cakes baked by Jimin’s delicate hands. The photo, his favorite, was of the two of them, Jimin’s arms around him as he laughed and Jimin smiled. Yoongi never got tired of looking at it.
“Mr. Min,” Namjoon Kim said as he walked into Yoongi’s office. His shoulders were broad and bulky, muscles on muscles supporting his stature. His smile, genuine and warm, crinkled his eyes and displayed his dimples.
“Namjoon,” Yoongi said, returning the warm grin with his own smile. He exhaled a shaky breath and went to hug his friend. “Good to see you again.”
“You too,” Namjoon said. “I’ll be honest, I wasn’t expecting your email.”
“No?”
“When was the last time you emailed me from your work email?”
“You didn’t think I got rid of it, did you? Oh, pity the thought, your former book agent can’t contact you out of the blue without suspicion? Didn’t you realize I’d desperately need you again?”
“Ha – you’re never desperate Yoongi. Scrappy and resourceful, yes. But desperate? Pleading?”
“Only in the bedroom,” Yoongi laughed. Namjoon did too, tilting his head and raising his brow.
“How is that husband of yours?” Namjoon asked.
“What, you don’t follow his Instagram” Yoongi laughed.
“Just because I didn’t come to the wedding doesn’t mean I forgot you existed. I sent you a set of champagne flutes.”
“Oh, Jimin pulls them out all the time. He’s obsessed with the colored glass. Has even tried to track down a few more because he thinks he’ll break one.”
“I can send them to you, don’t worry,” Namjoon pulled out his phone to make a note. “Married life is good?”
“Married life is incredible.”
“I pop into Sugar & Spice every so often, Jimin’s usually gone.” Namjoon told him.
“He does mornings and Hoseok does afternoons.”
“Ah, I forgot about Hoseok. How’s he doing?”
“Good, the bakery is really thriving so he’s enjoying a nice return on his investment.”
“Has he learned to bake yet?”
“He’s got a few tricks up his sleeves, a few baked goods he’s really mastered as he and Jimin have played around with recipes. It’s been fun to watch his growth.”
“How often do they put out new things? Seasonally?”
“Yes, seasonally. Or after every season of Great British Bake Off, where Hoseok takes on making at least one of the recipes.”
“That seems like a daunting task.”
“Oh it is, he cries every year,” Yoongi laughed. “But what about you, you haven’t come around much lately. Someone keeping you occupied?”
“No, no one special. I’ve been busy working on a few books and you know I’ve been teaching.”
“Yes, your vague and often second hand Christmas card is wonderfully detailed.”
“I try,”
“Do you?” Yoongi asked.
“I could try harder,” Namjoon agreed.
“Yoongi?” Poppy’s voice said from the door, and Yoongi glanced up the moment Namjoon turned. At that moment, Seokjin Kim stepped into view.
“Fucking hell,” Namjoon muttered.
“Oh shit,” Seokjin said. “What the fuck?”
“Yeah, come in, Poppy would you get the door? Thank you,” Yoongi said and he moved quickly from behind his desk to shuffle Seokjin in. “Please take a seat.”
“I will not,” Seokjin said, stepping out of Yoongi’s grasp. “What the fuck is going on?”
Namjoon was stunned. He hadn’t seen Jin in five years, not since he walked away from him, from the career, from Kim & Kim & Kim, and the dreams they created together. He hadn’t thought – no that was wrong. He thought about Seokjin Kim every single day. But he never thought he’d be standing in a room with him, not after they both skipped Yoongi’s wedding, or missed Taehyung’s birthdays all because they were terrified of running into each other. No, Namjoon thought about Jin and the curve of his pout and the perfect notes he would sing without even a thought, and the jokes he’d make all the damn time. How had Seokjin become more beautiful in the five years since they last saw each other, and how was it possible that Namjoon, near 30, felt the same way towards this man as he had when he was in his early twenties?
“Namjoon-ah!” Seokjin snapped, using the Korean honorific to pull him out of his reverie.
“What hyung?” Namjoon asked, staring at Jin.
“Why aren’t you mad?”
“I’m shocked,” Namjoon stuttered. He glanced between Jin and Yoongi, then back. “I didn’t expect today to be the day I have to fucking deal with you.”
“I have to deal with you! You should be so lucky as to deal with me.” Jin said.
“There’s that ego, never fucking goes away, does it?” Namjoon argued.
“What ego? It’s a fact, Yoongi isn’t it true that it’s an honor to be in my presence? That he should be lucky I so much as speak to him?”
“I don’t –
“Don’t drag Yoongi into your conceited arrogance,”
“Don’t those words mean the same thing?” Jin leered.
“Fuck off,” Namjoon said. He wanted to stand up and walk out, to argue harder and louder and feel the energy radiating off of Jin and use it against him. But then he looked in Seokjin’s eyes, and he couldn’t.
“Can we talk, for a moment?” Yoongi asked both of them, interrupting the squabble.
They turned and stared at him, then silently agreed by clamping their mouths shut and facing him behind the desk.
“I know you both are fully aware that you’ve recently sold one million copies of Christmas for You & Me,” Yoongi began.
“The Times reported as much,” Namjoon mumbled.
“The checks have been clearing, yes,” Seokjin quipped.
Namjoon rolled his eyes in response.
“I wanted to bring you here to discuss writing a sequel and –
“Oh, for fucks sake,” Seokjin exclaimed.
“Fucking hell, Yoongi,” Namjoon snapped.
“And perhaps recording a new album.” He let the weight of what he was proposing sink in. They stared at him, both struck silent by his words.
“You’ve got to be joking,” Namjoon said.
“We paid out our contracts,” Seokjin argued, a point Yoongi had noted one of them would make. Jimin had ventured it would be Seokjin, and it was only minimally annoying that he was right.
“I know, but one million copies sold, that’s usually reserved for shit like Taylor Jenkins Reid and white women over 35,” Yoongi told them.
“So?” Seokjin asked, unsure the reason for the celebration.
“So, it’s the perfect time. No one would expect it and you could fucking break the mold again. Two Korean authors, with a Korean illustrator, coming together to write Christmas songs? Who else is doing that?”
“Still no one?” Seokjin was shocked, surely someone had tried to imitate them.
“No one as successful as you two, with name recognition.” Yoongi told them. “Please, consider it.”
“Was this Jimin’s idea?” Seokjin asked.
“You know it wasn’t,” Yoongi answered.
“He’s betting this blows up in your face, isn’t he?” Namjoon guessed.
“You know my husband so well,” Yoongi smiled.
“I do,” Namjoon said. “Look, I’m not opposed to it, but I’m only doing it if Seokjin agrees.”
“No, I do not agree,” Jin said. “I’m not doing anything with him.”
“Jin, just think about it,” Yoongi pleaded.
“What could work with him do for me? We stopped working together for a reason, unless something’s changed in the last five years, why the hell would I work with him again?”
“Seokjin,” Namjoon said, voice hinting at desperate.
“What? Tell me I’m crazy for thinking this is an insane idea. Tell me.”
“You’re not wrong,” Namjoon pacified.
“Right, so let’s not and say we did,” Seokjin stood up, slipped his thick winter coat over his expansive shoulders, and sulked out the door.
Seokjin took large strides towards the parking garage, and once in his car let out the scream that’d been building in his chest.
“Fuck! Fucking shit! Holy fucking shit!” He screamed, vibrating the windows of his sedan with his exclamations. He hit the steering wheel a few times for good measure and felt the all too familiar creep of a panic attack ghosting up his spine. How fucking dare Yoongi bring Namjoon to whatever impromptu meeting this was. How dare he – how dare he put them into a room when they hadn’t spoken or seen each other in half a decade. How dare he ever think they’d work together again. Wasn’t Jin doing enough? He was still Yoongi’s client, writing children’s books and middle grade reader novels that were quite successful. He had built a reputation and a name for himself outside of Kim & Kim, and yet here he was, screaming in his car yet again over Namjoon Kim.
How had he gotten even more fit and beautiful and probably smarter, since Seokjin had last trolled his very public Instagram page? How had he seemingly blossomed in the years since they last spoke while he felt like he was withering away?
“I can’t do this,” Seokjin said to himself, shaking his shaggy black hair. “I can’t do this.”
A knock sounded on his car window and he jumped, surprised to see Yoongi.
“You done?” Yoongi asked, eyebrows raised.
“Depends, how much of that did you see?”
“All of it.”
“Then yes, sure, I’m done publicly humiliating myself.”
“Can I?” Yoongi gestured to the passenger seat.
“Yeah,” Seokjin agreed.
Yoongi moved around the car and sat in the open seat. “You wanna talk about it, or yell at me?”
“Yoongi I can’t believe you’d put me in a situation like that,” Seokjin said, voice leveled out and clear.
Yoongi took a deep breath. “Like what?”
“Dealing with Namjoon after he, after we,” Seokjin shook his head and Yoongi placed his hand on top of Jin’s.
“Jin, he knows.”
As if Yoongi had tied concrete blocks to his feet, Seokjin sunk when realization hit.
“How?”
“I don’t know, but he knows.”
Seokjin Kim wasn’t closeted… but he also wasn’t loud and proud and out in the way Yoongi and Jimin were. He never gave much of a reason to why, though Yoongi always suspected it was the mere idea of having attention thrown on him, coupled with misguided perceptions and the idea someone could judge him without knowing him… all of it together was too much for Seokjin, and though he hadn’t said as much to Yoongi, it was in the quiet way he lived his life. Jin wasn’t much of a dater, supposedly he had one heartbreak that ruined any relationship for him. He was, characteristically, mum on the details, and Yoongi, in their working relationship and in their friendship, never pushed.
“I don’t know why I’m so gutted by that,” Seokjin muttered, the air filtering back into his lungs.
“I don’t know either,” Yoongi said. “But he knows, and you know… so maybe that awkward sexual tension between you two can –
“Yoongi Min, how fucking dare you. Get out of the car.”
“Seokjin,”
“First you put him in front of me, then you suggest sexual tension? Is it because we’re gay?”
“I’m gay!”
“You’re a twat,” Jin countered.
“Maybe I am, but you two have been so quiet and so stealth about why you broke up. All I know is that I saw the flicker of hope in his eyes when you walked in, and I watched as he very thoroughly and obviously checked you out. There’s something going on between you two, just like there was five years ago.”
“There has not, nor has there ever been, sexual tension between Namjoon Kim and I.”
“I don’t believe that, not after –
“He allegedly checked me out?”
“And, you did the same.”
“I did no such thing!” Jin yelled.
“Oh please, I’m married to Jimin. I know what it looks like when someone is being checked out,” Yoongi said.
“Does it bother you?”
“That everyone knows my husband is hot?”
Seokjin turned it over in his brain for a second. “Yeah, that the entire world ogles him constantly.”
“No, because he wouldn’t indulge any of their fantasies,” Yoongi answered honestly.
“But –
“Oh, he indulges mine without a second thought.”
“Nasty boys,” Jin teased.
“The nastiest. But that’s beside the point: you are the one in a standoff.”
“Why is my work, my solo work, not enough?” Jin wanted to know.
“Tell me, when you jerk yourself off, is it better than sex with another person?”
Seokjin’s jaw dropped as he stared at Yoongi. “You’re filthy.”
“I’m proving a point.”
Jin ignored the blush creeping across his cheeks. “You’re right.”
“There’s magic in the lyrics that you sing, in the melodies Namjoon creates. There’s something undeniable about the two of you together, Jin. Please, consider it.”
He glanced around the parking garage, watching as a few cars left their spots, and sighed loudly.
“I’ll think about it, but no promises.”
Namjoon twirled the quarter filled tumbler on the smooth oak of his desktop, eyes moving from the liquid to the document on his computer screen. It was old ideas, ones that needed to be worked or teased out, but it existed, a running list of all the ideas he’d harbored for his and Jin’s next project. It was getting long and had led to several sub documents and eventually an entire external hard drive… because even if they hadn’t spoken in five years, he still hoped.
A knock sounded on his door, and he moved swiftly to open it.
“Hey,” Namjoon said, stepping aside and letting the guest in.
“Hey, sorry about today,” Yoongi apologized. He slipped his coat off and hung it on the hooks Namjoon had clumsily installed. They were brass and slightly crooked.
“Yeah, it was ballsy of you and kind of shitty,” Namjoon said guiding Yoongi through the entryway and to the living room. Yoongi sat on the emerald couch and stared at his friend. “I take it I’m handling it better than Jin is?”
“You know him,” Yoongi shrugged.
Namjoon hummed in agreement. He did know Jin, had known him since college. His reaction today was… calmer than Namjoon had thought it would be.
“He screamed in his car, didn’t he?” Namjoon asked.
“Yep, but he’ll come around.”
“Will he?” Namjoon asked.
“I don’t know, I hope so.”
“What do you want me to do in the meantime?”
“I have an idea, but I don’t know that you’re going to like it,” Yoongi began.
“Oh?”
“We need Jin to fall in love with you.”
Kim & Kim should’ve been called Kim, Kim & Kim, because of the third, and silent, member of their project. Taehyung Kim, illustrator and musician, found himself staring at the back of Jimin Park’s head as he washed green beans the following Sunday evening.
“Do you want help?” Taehyung asked.
“No, you’re terrible in the kitchen, and you always cut yourself which makes no sense to me.”
“Fine – I’ll just drink wine,” Taehyung tipped his glass back and swallowed the Chardonnay.
“You think the plan is going to work?”
“No,” Taehyung said. “But I told Yoongi that when he asked.”
“Why are you willing to work with them, again, after they left you high and dry?” Jimin wondered aloud.
“I still got to live my contract out and illustrate books, which as we know is my livelihood and passion.” Taehyung answered.
“Still, they treated you like shit.”
“They were both closeted, going through so much… it’s not my fault they didn’t know how to talk to each other,” Taehyung said as he grabbed a cut green bean from the bowl.
Seokjin and Namjoon broke up the trio with little to no input from Taehyung, which created a massive strain on their relationship that had barely been fixed. While Taehyung knew this plan was worth something to Namjoon, to him it was more work, and he loved work. He loved working with different authors and turning their imaginings into real art that was more than they could begin to dream. The breakup had worked for him, he was a huge success in his style, but it didn’t totally make up from the hurt Namjoon and Seokjin inflicted. But, if he was fair, the eruption of their trio had led him to Hoseok. And he’d go through anything if it meant falling in love with Mr. Jung again.
“Their success is yours, too, you know,” Jimin reminded his friend.
“I know.”
“You too sold one million copies of Christmas for You and Me.” Jimin paused the work of his hands, glancing up through his shaggy hair to stare at Taehyung.
“I get the checks,” Taehyung dismissed.
“So be happy about it – it’s a huge accomplishment.”
He shrugged, not really feeling like celebrating. If he calculated all the other books he’d illustrated, and their sales, that number would be well past one million. “I got Hoseok out of it, and that’s what matters.”
“How’s married life?” Jimin asked. He had officiated the wedding, naturally.
“I think I love him more than I did when we got married. Have you noticed his smile is a heart? That’s my favorite part, the little heart that is always waiting for me,” Taehyung gushed.
“Give it five years,” Jimin said teasingly.
“And then?”
“Then you’ll love him so much your heart might burst.” Jimin told him.
Taehyung thought that was possible. He’d only ever fallen more deeply in love with Hoseok since they first met at the soft launch of Serendipity Sweets. It was love at first sight, a silent “oh there you are”, of cosmic alignment and meeting. It was beautiful, how swiftly they fell and never lingered from each other’s side. Jimin and Yoongi were proud, if Yoongi hadn’t asked Taehyung to stop by the soft launch to discuss working together post Kim & Kim’s break up, Jimin’s childhood best friend might never have met the artist. And Jimin might never have gained another best friend.
“I find that completely easy to believe,” Taehyung said. “Have you seen Jin or Namjoon recently?”
“Me? No, they didn’t come to our wedding, and Joon and Yoongi text often but never hang out here. I’ve forgiven him for ditching our wedding, but he hasn’t felt
Their conversation was interrupted by the arrival of Yoongi and a man Taehyung hadn’t spoken to in years.
“Namjoon-ah,” Taehyung said, surprised and confused.
“Taehyung, we need your help.” Namjoon said, his eyes full of confusion and hope.
“My help?” He asked.
“Yes,” Yoongi slipped his arm around Jimin’s waist and placed a kiss on his cheek. “We need your help getting Seokjin to fall in love with Namjoon.”
Taehyung, brows knit in confusion, glanced between them once, twice, three times before he spoke. “What?”
“It’s the only way he’ll write, or sing. He has to fall in love with Namjoon, ostensibly, again.” Yoongi explained.
“Did he ever stop loving Namjoon?” Jimin asked, turning from his work on the counter to face the men filling the space, Yoongi’s arm till around him.
“No,” Namjoon shook his head. “There’s no way he was in love with me or is.”
“How would you know?” Taehyung asked him.
“I think I would know. I mean I was there when we broke up, Taehyung well, you were collateral.”
“I was, and I’ve mostly forgiven you,” Taehyung said. Truthfully, he had forgiven them. He just hadn’t made any moves to communicate that to either Namjoon or Seokjin, and neither had they.
“The question is, though,” Jimin began. “Are you in love with Seokjin, and is that what broke you up five years ago?”
“That’s two questions babe,” Yoongi said.
Jimin elbowed his husband. “Answer, please.”
“I don’t know why we broke up,” Namjoon answered. “But, if I’m honest, I’ve always been a little in love with Seokjin.”
Yoongi nodded, chewing on his bottom lip. “Taehyung, that’s why we need you.”
“Me?”
“You’re the most romantic out of us, and you know Seokjin and Namjoon really well. We need your help to get Seokjin to fall in love with Namjoon.”
“I don’t know if I can do that,” Taehyung said, struck by the weight of the question.
“Yes, you can. We’ve already started planning it.”
“There’s a fucking plan?” Jimin asked as he returned to his work making dinner for the growing group.
“Yes,” Yoongi answered, and he pulled a crumpled piece of paper from his pocket. “Step one: meet cute.”
Next: II. Christmas for You & Me