give me your hand
￫ summary: While at Hobi's Jack in the Box listening party with Yoongi, you suddenly become overwhelmed by your surroundings. Noticing your change in mood, Yoongi resorts to something that he knows will ground you.
￫ genre: tickle fic, hurt/comfort, fluff
￫ pairing(s): yoongi x reader, brief hobi x reader, brief jimin x reader
￫ warnings: swearing
￫ word count: 5.4k
￫ A/N: lol i wrote this after hobi's jack in the box listening party when i saw that yoongi couldn't make it because he didn't feel good 😭 i wanted him there just as much as the boys did so i wrote a fic inserting him into the party to cope with his absence 😔 if there are any errors i sincerely apologize. also, seeing as i wrote this with myself in mind, please note that this fic is written from the perspective of fem!reader with my features.
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The music was loud, too many colorful lights and patterns were flashing and reflecting off of the ceiling, and a dull ache was blooming in your head just behind your eyes. It felt as though there were too many people standing around you, and the room was starting to feel stuffy, despite everyone being fairly spaced out.
You had been thrilled to attend Hobi's listening party for Jack in the Box, but now that you were a couple hours in, the environment was becoming too much for your introverted personality. After getting the already guaranteed invite from Hobi, you and Yoongi had tried to prepare for this, discussing ways to give you a comfortable experience at the party.
It was known that big events like parties, fashion shows, and promotional premieres weren’t your thing. You often supported your boyfriend and his bandmates from the sidelines, mostly to protect you from the public eye but also because you were very introverted. Social gatherings had never been a huge interest of yours, unless they consisted of a tight-knit group of people that you were familiar with.
As a result, Hobi attempted to put together another Jack in the Box listening party reserved for the eight of you and a few select people, but you brushed it off. You assured him that there was no need to accommodate you in that way. Hobi deserved to be celebrated with many of his loved ones and connections for one special night; you didn’t want to make his schedule busier than it already was.
Besides, it was the polite thing for you to do. You could suck it up for one night. Plus, it wasn't as if you absolutely despised social events altogether; you simply preferred a small gathering with your close friends. As long as you stayed close to Yoongi and the rest of the boys for the majority of the night, you’d be alright.
Or so you thought.
While Yoongi had gone to get the both of you another round of drinks, you had shuffled yourself into a corner of the room near the wall of windows, creating the illusion of being in a more open space. You figured the speakers and flocks of people would bother you the least from there. The other boys were elsewhere around the gigantic room, so you were alone. Your plan of sticking to at least one member of Bangtan had failed.
You didn’t even know why you hadn’t agreed to join Yoongi in getting the drinks. You didn’t even think your answer through, too focused on everything that was bothering you in the surrounding area. Yoongi figured something was up when you responded a little too quickly. He didn’t think much of it, only assuming that staying put would overwhelm you less than making your way through the fairly crowded space.
You slumped against the wall for a couple seconds before turning your body around. Closing your eyes, you pressed your forehead into the wall’s coolness. You felt hot and sticky, needing to ground yourself.
“Did Yoongi put you in timeout?”
Your head whipped towards Hobi’s playful voice beside you. You opened your mouth to speak, wanting to quip back and show him that you were fine, but nothing came out.
“Hey,” Hobi said, smile faltering slightly. He ran a hand down your back. “You okay?”
You turned your head back to the wall, stomach dropping at being caught. “Uh, I don’t think so.” You paused. “No.”
Hobi’s eyebrows furrowed slightly in concern before he craned his neck to the right, then turned to the left as he studied the room.
“Do you want me to get Yoongi hyung, sweetheart?”
“No, it’s fine, he’s just getting drinks,” you reassurred, eyes prickling with tears. Yoongi had been gone for more than ten minutes and you were starting to get antsy. You prayed that Hobi couldn’t tell. After all, you were still turned to the wall and the room was quite dark.
“Are you sure?” He asked, looking uneasy. “I can still get him.”
You let out a shaky sigh. “I’m sorry,” was all that you could manage to reply.
You wanted Yoongi, but you felt childish for getting that upset and desperate for him. You didn’t want to waste Hobi’s time, nor make Yoongi feel that you couldn’t last ten minutes without him.
“Hey,” Hobi stopped you, leaning his forehead against the wall with you to catch your eye. When you lifted your head, a gesture to show that you were listening, he gave you a gentle smile. “No apology needed.” You watched him beckon someone over, and you were glad to see that it was Jimin.
“Can you stay with her for a second? I need to find Yoongi hyung.”
“Yeah, of course,” Jimin said without hesitation. He watched Hobi walk away before facing you. Your eyes met the floor, too embarrassed to look at him.
“You alright, honey?” Jimin asked. “You seemed okay thirty minutes ago.” Jimin was most likely referring to the conversation you were having with all of the boys after the eight of you had taken a group photo together. You had genuinely been having a good time, bantering with the guys and laughing at their jokes. Before your gaze even hit the ground, Jimin had noticed the frantic look in your eyes. He noticed how you were now biting your lip and picking at the skin on your thumb—signs of your climbing anxiety that the boys were familiar with.
“Yeah, just… need Yoongi.”
Jimin clicked his tongue. “Aigoo. It’s getting all too much, hm?”
You nodded, shoulders slumping in relief now that you knew you didn’t have to explain yourself to Jimin. Aside from Yoongi, his bandmates knew you all too well. Yoongi was their brother, and in return you were like a little sister to them. They would protect your life as if it were their own. If Yoongi wasn’t there, they were ready to step up in any way they could.
Not a minute later, Hobi had returned with a calm looking Yoongi at his side, carrying glasses filled with a bubbly, red-colored liquid in each hand.
“Woohyuk was keeping him hostage,” Hobi joked, trying to keep the mood light. He also knew you would feel more reassured about Yoongi’s absence after being given an explanation.
You huffed out a small laugh, genuinely amused by Woohyuk’s predictability but finding it hard to continue wearing a happy face. It was a running joke between the eight of you that Woohyuk, a producer under Hybe, could never read the room during a conversation; he always rambled longer than he needed to, and he often made it hard for the other person to find a way out of the conversation. But right now, you couldn’t focus on the hilarity of the situation. You currently needed to be alone with your boyfriend.
Yoongi eyes flickered across your face, immediately understanding what to do.
“Can you hold onto these?” Yoongi asked, handing Jimin one glass and Hobi the other.
The two of them nodded, trying to hide their worried faces but failing miserably at it. They knew you could get overwhelmed at events like these, but your mood had changed so suddenly. They usually had warnings, anxiety signs popping up gradually. Yet now, it seemed as though a switch had been flipped inside you. Jimin and Hobi wondered if they had missed something earlier.
“We’ll be right back,” Yoongi reassured, grabbing your hand.
Yoongi guided you across the room, gently pulling your hand into his chest to keep you close. The walk to the hallway felt endless as you dodged guests and furniture that was placed around the room with no rhyme or reason. People were greeting you left and right while others shot you smiles, but you could barely register them. Your eyes were set on the green exit sign ahead of you. You grunted as your arm brushed someone’s back, only wanting to feel Yoongi’s touch.
When you finally made it to the door, Yoongi opened it swiftly, beckoning you out of the room first. Once the door shut, you felt like you could fully breathe again. The air out there was cooler and less suffocating. The hallway was dim, warmly lit only by tiny lamps lining the wall every few feet. You shut your eyes for a moment, relieved now that the bass from the music was slightly muffled by the wall.
“There we go,” Yoongi said, voice gentle and low. If you were in the room next door, you wouldn’t have been able to hear him. It was just loud enough to hear over the booming bass, enough to soothe you—until another guest opened the door, causing you to wince.
A cacophony of music, excited conversations, and laughter briefly filled your sensitive ears. You watched the man walk down the hallway and into the men’s restroom, eyes furrowed with irrational anger toward the innocent party-goer just for opening a door.
“Hey,” Yoongi said softly. “Look at me.”
You sighed, lifting a hand to your forehead as you tried to relax. You couldn’t help but feel guilty. The two of you were there to celebrate Hobi’s album release, but you couldn’t focus. You didn’t want to take Yoongi away from his best friend or ruin the night for him just because you couldn’t keep your anxiety and irritation at bay. You were overwhelmed—almost annoyingly so—yet he was being so patient with you.
“I’m sorry,” you mumbled, keeping your eyes on the floor rather than doing what he asked.
Yoongi hooked his index finger under your chin, guiding you to meet his eyes. “Good girl,” he said, just as softly as before. “What’re you sorry for, hm?”
“For taking you away from the party. I’m just so… ugh. I can’t help it. I’m getting overwhelmed in there and you have to be out here rather than with Hobi just to calm me down. You shouldn’t be dealing with this.”
“I’m not ‘dealing’ with anything,” Yoongi said patiently, a hint of a chuckle in his voice. “I’m simply helping my partner through a situation that she and I knew from the very beginning might stress her out. I have no problem being out here with you, jagi. I figured this would happen, and I don’t mind it one bit. I was prepared.”
You grunted, still not sold.
“It’s okay to take five minutes to yourself,” Yoongi continued. “It’s only natural when you’re in an environment that you don’t actively seek out or you’re not used to. You’re simply not sociable. You’re just not a party person, no matter whose it is. You like smaller get-togethers. You can’t be expected to be okay with this type of environment the entire time.”
“But I was having a good time,” you pouted. “I just…”
“Needed a second,” Yoongi finished for you. “And that’s okay. You’re allowed to feel. You’re allowed to do that. That’s what we’re doing now, right?”
“Yeah…” you admitted, closing your eyes as he leaned in to kiss your forehead.
“What if I told you that I’ve been feeling exactly how you are right now?”
You leaned back, scanning his face curiously. “Really?”
“Really.”
“But you’re hiding it so well.”
“It’s part of the job, love,” Yoongi chuckled. “I’m used to putting on a face when I’m feeling anxious or overwhelmed. I have to be professional. That’s not to say I’m bottling it up. I take time to give myself the space to relax amidst the chaos, whether that be a bathroom break or putting my foot down to say I need some fresh air. The right people will understand.”
“But how are you so calm right now?” You asked, dumbfounded.
“I stepped out a few times to take a breather.”
You nodded, remembering how Yoongi had taken at least three “bathroom breaks” since arriving a couple hours ago.
“And I’ve been making sure to stay by your side and hold most of the conversations with the boys,” he explained, cheeks darkening slightly at the allusion of his affections for you and his bandmates. “It uh, helps ground me. Keep me in a space where I’m actually enjoying myself.”
You smiled at that, wrapping your arms around his torso. You knew he was too shy to look at you, and you had an overwhelming urge to be hugged by him, so you hid in his chest for the sake of both of you.
You realized that you had been engaging in conversations with so many different people throughout the night, feeling as though you had to socialize with as many fellow guests as possible in fear of appearing rude or closed off. You had completely disregarded your plan to stick with Yoongi or one of the other boys throughout the night.
After hearing Yoongi’s advice, you realized that you had been draining your social battery. It was polite to engage in conversation with the other guests, but you didn’t have to go on for nearly as long as you forced yourself to. It was okay to divert to a subtle escape and to say no.
“I’m not like this all the time though,” Yoongi continued. “I just have to be in the right place. For example, concerts are loud but I always have a good time putting on a show. As for this party, yes the rest of the group is here—but there are also a ton of other people here that I’ve only talked to a few times in my life. It makes this circumstance harder to deal with, so I have to step out here and there to regulate.”
“Do you go to therapy or something?” You said sarcastically, but genuinely marveled by how Yoongi could explain things on a level that you could understand. You already knew he went to therapy and could build on the skills he learned after each session, but you were often amazed at how he always knew just what to say—the right thing to empathize and put you at ease.
Yoongi didn’t respond; you only felt his chest move from under your cheek as he chuckled warmly.
“We can stay out here for a bit. Let me know when you’re ready to go back in.”
You nodded against his chest, sinking into his warmth. It felt different from the warmth you felt in the room on the other side of the door.
“Do you know what made you start feeling this way, or when it started?” Yoongi questioned, pulling away from you with a gentle firmness.
“I don’t know. I think it was a little after we took the group photo and scattered.” You paused, wracking your brain for any further explanations. “I guess I just felt safe and stable being around the seven of you. I think I’ve been on edge all night without really noticing, so when I finally felt calm—and then it was ripped from me—it was like I fell flat on my face. That was really the only time I had been with them the entire night. I should’ve been spacing out my time with them like we planned, but I didn’t. I spent it talking to people I didn’t really want to talk to.”
You huffed out a sarcastic laugh.
“I think there’s a difference between stepping out of your comfort zone and running out of your comfort zone, jagi. I’m so proud of you for wanting to get more comfortable with socializing, but I think you might have over done it too quickly, hm? It’s okay to take it slow.”
You bit your lip, then nodded, albeit belatedly. “I burnt myself out.”
“Exactly, baby.” He rubbed your biceps in an attempt to soothe you and avoid making you feel attacked or embarrassed. “But I’m so proud of you. You did so good, even though it was probably so hard for you.”
You leaned into your boyfriend once more, melting into him as you wrapped your arms around his waist and tucked your head under his chin. You mumbled out a tiny “thank you,” putting a fond smile on his face that you couldn’t see.
“How about we take things slow, hm?”
“How?” You whined.
“For tonight, we don’t need to talk to anyone else if that’s what will make you feel more comfortable. I think you pushed yourself as much as you could for the night. It can just be you and me in the corner—and the boys whenever they come over, of course.”
He sensed you stiffening against him, so he rubbed your back. “And for the future, maybe you can consider coming along to some events more often, rather than skipping most of them. That way, you can expose yourself more and get more comfortable rather than avoiding them. I know we do it for your privacy, so we’ll find a way to hide you from so many cameras. How does that sound? ”
You snuggled under his chin. “That’s doable.”
“That’s my girl,” he crooned, voice deep and velvety. “Should we go back in?”
You nodded into his chest, snuggling in a little deeper to savor the moment. “‘Mkay.”
Reluctantly, you let go of your boyfriend. Yoongi opened the door for you once more, allowing you to hook your arm through his own while he led you through the packs of guests. Ending up in your corner from before, you sat on a low wall resembling cement a few feet in front of the actual wall, an interesting architectural choice that was too firm for your rear.
“We can just sit here and people watch for a little bit,” Yoongi suggested, sitting down beside you. “We don’t have to stay for long.”
You hummed in reply, but upon realizing that he probably couldn’t hear you over the music, you nodded in his direction. You swung your legs as you observed the room around you, letting your heels hit the wall repeatedly as your feet came back down.
Across the room, you watched Hobi dancing to Butter, then you glanced to the side of the stage where Taehyung, Namjoon and Jin looked on fondly. Beside them, Jimin laughed as he pointed at Jungkook, who was laying on the ground and adorably tapping his feet to the song’s rhythm with a glass of champagne in his hand.
You wanted to go over there and join them, but the last thing you wanted to do was dodge a maze of tables, seats that were oddly shaped as bulky cubes, and spatially unaware elbows. Your social battery was nearly dead, but you wanted to hang on a little longer out of respect for Hobi and any other peers who were a part of the album-making process. You knew Yoongi felt the same.
Unbeknownst to you, Yoongi’s eyes were only on you and no one else in the room. You were wearing an adorable little pout, and as cute as it was, he knew he had to get rid of it. If the two of you were going to stay for Hobi’s sake, he had to at least distract you from your stressors.
“Give me your hand,” Yoongi directed lazily.
Without question, you clasped your hand in his, assuming that he only meant to hold it. However, when he shook your hand off, you shot him a confused look. Yoongi didn’t respond; he only took your hand and rotated it so that your palm faced the ceiling.
“What are you—”
“Shh. You’ll see.”
Yoongi had only done this a couple times before, otherwise you would have known what was up his sleeve.
Yoongi began running his fingers around your palm. The speed at which he did so was fairly slow, but it was still enough to make you squirm and stretch your arm out at the sensation. Goosebumps erupted on your wrist, traveling up your arm and making you roll your neck.
Your pout was being replaced with a smile that you were attempting to suppress. You couldn’t help it—pressing your lips together made it easier to stop yourself from moving so much. Furthermore, Yoongi’s tactic at making you feel better made you feel quite shy.
Yoongi swirled the tip of his index finger across the skin of your palm and he took care to trace every line. The side of your palm—the base of your pinky finger—appeared to be the most ticklish. Yoongi took notice of this by the way you fidgeted, fighting hard to keep your hand open. He intentionally stretched out the moments he spent in that area, focusing on it until he knew you were a second away from snatching your hand back. But then, he would give you brief breaks, dragging his blunt nail up and down the underside of each of your fingers where you were less sensitive.
As Yoongi continued, you were becoming more and more used to the sensation; it was becoming more soothing rather than overwhelming ticklish. You could feel yourself relaxing at each moment passing by, watching Yoongi’s groupmates goofing off from afar while basking in the feeling of Yoongi tickling your palm. He switched between using five digits around your palm and then letting one finger do all the work. You didn’t know which tactic you preferred more.
After a few minutes, Yoongi stopped and lifted your hand to his lips. He kissed the top of your hand before clasping it and bringing it down to his lap protectively.
“Thank you,” you said, lowering your head to rest on his shoulder.
Yoongi purred, patting the top of your hand in acknowledgement.
Deep down, you wanted Yoongi to keep going, but you realized he must have stopped as Jin was walking towards the two of you. How you felt about being tickled was something shared between you and Yoongi only. You knew that the other boys wouldn’t care, but tickling was a sensitive and intimate topic for you—information that you could currently only trust to be in the hands of your boyfriend.
“I’m heading out,” Jin said loudly so that you could hear him over the music. “I’ve got an early schedule tomorrow.”
You stood up and embraced Jin. “Bye, Jinnie.” You stepped back and watched Jin hug Yoongi as well.
“Let’s walk out together,” Yoongi suggested. “Y/N and I are quite tired so I think we’ll leave too.”
Your goodbyes to the boys went by in a blur, seeing as you were eager to get out of there. You received hugs from each of them, as well as praises for getting out of your comfort zone. Hobi thanked you more times than you could count for making it to the listening party, and his gratefulness made you all the more happy that you came and stayed for as long as you did. You were proud of yourself, and more importantly, the joyful look on Hobi’s face made it all worth it.
You could have celebrated Hobi’s album from afar—shooting him a text message, calling him on the phone, congratulating him between schedules—but showing up to the main event was a significant gesture. He was one of Yoongi’s best friends, and because of that, he was one of yours, too. You owed it to him.
As you stepped out of the elevator and into the parking garage, you and Yoongi bid Jin one last goodbye as he walked to his car. The two of you walked hand-in-hand to your own SUV. Listening for the quiet signal of the door unlocking, you put your hand on the door handle to hop in but Yoongi stopped you, moving to open the door himself. You giggled softly, tired but still giddy over his chivalry.
You watched Yoongi make his way to his side of the car and sighed. You couldn’t wait to go home. For the most part, you had a good time, but you felt drained.
Yoongi flopped into his seat and let the door shut. You thought nothing of him opening the center console for something. While his left hand rummaged around, you didn’t expect his right hand to find its way to your side. You jerked, not being able to move very far in such a small space. Not only that, you were already secure in your seatbelt.
“Hey—!”
“What?” Yoongi questioned, feigning innocence. He continued to squeeze and crawl his fingers around your side. You gripped his fingers, attempting to bend them while squirming this way and that to escape the feeling. But, Yoongi was strong, and his hand was stuck to you like glue.
“Why’re you fidgeting so much?” Yoongi asked, still acting clueless.
You couldn’t reply, only splutter out embarrassed giggles over your predicament.
And just as quickly as the tickles began, they stopped. Yoongi turned the car on, moving on as if nothing happened. You panted slightly, surprisingly out of breath from being caught off guard and unable to defend yourself.
Yoongi craned his neck, about to back out of the parking spot. Unbeknownst to you, he never put the car in reverse. Using a couple that was actually walking by the car to carry out his charade, Yoongi pretended to watch them pass so that he could “back out.” Then, he blindly reached for your stomach, fingers wiggling over the fabric of your dress. He squeezed the sides of your tummy, thumb finding just the right spots to make your laughter burst out.
“WHAT THE F—”
“Why’re you laughing?” He was evil. You could almost hear his own entertained laughter fighting to release itself from his pursed lips as he continued to pretend looking behind the car for any more pedestrians. Meanwhile, his fingers attacked you with squeezes and scribbles. You jolted forward—almost smacking your head on the glove compartment before flopping back into your leather seat.
“Careful, jagi!” Yoongi instructed, voice playful but laced with genuine concern.
You gripped his wrist and shoved it away, your success mostly credited to him backing off. The possibility of you bumping your head gave Yoongi a scare. Luckily, you appeared unfazed; a grin was plastered on your face as you panted, anticipating another attack.
“What the fuck,” you managed to finish, not at all angry but feigning irritation to mask how much you actually loved it.
“Are you okay? You’re pretty fidgety and giggly. Did someone put something in your drink? Do I need to hunt someone down?”
“I’m fihihine.”
“If you say so…”
Yoongi actually put the car in reverse and made his way out of the parking garage, making sure to give a polite wave to an employee by the gate.
About five minutes into the ride home, Yoongi slowed to stop at a red light. You watched the light, waiting patiently for it to turn green. The quicker you got home, the sooner you could shower, change into comfy pajamas, and snuggle into Yoongi’s side.
Suddenly, you were ripped out of your thoughts, yelping as you felt a hand squeeze your upper thigh.
In a split second, Yoongi’s hand was already gone from your thigh, resting on the steering wheel as if he did nothing. Then, before you could even register it, his hand was attached to your thigh again. You saw it coming this time, but you still weren’t prepared. He squeezed your thigh several times, making you shriek and jerk violently at the electric feeling.
“YOONGI!” You screamed during the last squeeze, partly because it felt so ticklish and partly because you wanted him to focus on the road.
Yoongi couldn’t keep a straight face anymore. The light turned green, highlighting his gummy smile and the small crinkles by his eyes. He eased onto the gas as he chuckled, shoulders shaking as you groaned in embarrassment. But you loved it, and he knew that, no matter how much you outwardly protested. You loved being surprised, you loved being trapped, and you loved having to succumb to his touch. You loved the moment of panic, because at the end of the day, he made you feel safe and comforted. He was a cat and you were the mouse, enjoying the chase.
It wasn’t long before Yoongi was smoothly pulling into the parking garage of your apartment complex. You stretched to relieve your fatigue, groaning slightly as your muscles went rigid before relaxing.
Yoongi directed you not to get out of the car yet, and a second later, he was scurrying around the car to the passenger side. The door popped open, and before you could unbuckle your seatbelt, Yoongi was already reaching for it to do it himself. You smiled at his unyielding chivalry, moving your arm to climb out of the car.
However, you were stopped short when Yoongi’s hands shot to your sides, kneading and pinching just under your ribs. You curled up in the seat, bringing your legs up to your chest and your shoulders up to your neck to protect whatever dignity you had left.
“I’m gonna kill youhohohou,” you strained through giggles.
“I don’t think so,” Yoongi said matter-of-factly, a smug smile on his face.
Yoongi switched spots, now aiming for your collarbones. You sunk down into your seat even more, laughter going silent the second you felt the flutter of his fingers near your neck. Curling up into the fetal position did nothing to protect you; Yoongi still found ways to slip his fingers in every crevice, and he took advantage of each spot opening up as you did your best to twist and turn in the small space.
“My poor baby,” he teased, grinning as a new wave of laughter rolled out of you. “I don’t think we can go to any parties anymore. She’s gone crazy.”
You didn’t have any breath left to dispute him. You simply sunk down further, nearly snuck between the dashboard and the bottom of the seat. That was Yoongi’s sign to finally conclude his playful assault.
You lay limp in your seat, breathing heavily as you tried to catch your breath. You adjusted your dress and hair, as both had become disheveled from all of the flailing.
“You okay?” Yoongi asked innocently, shoulders shaking as he watched you pull yourself together.
“No,” you whined, but your bright smile told him otherwise.
“Come here, my baby,” he said, offering up his hands for you to hold. You looked up at him suspiciously.
His eyes scrunched as he was overcome by giggles. “I’m done, I promise.”
Thus, you accepted his hands, allowing him to pull you out of the car. You wobbled slightly, leaning into Yoongi to steady yourself as he swiftly shut the door and locked the car. Just the mere proximity of Yoongi’s chest to your own made you want to melt into him—so you did. Your arms found their way under his armpits and your hands clung onto his shoulders. You nuzzled into your boyfriend like a kitten, sighing contentedly as you could still make out Yoongi’s natural scent through his expensive cologne.
“Someone’s sleepy,” he drawled, pulling you even closer and patting your back.
“Yeah, ‘cuz of the party. And you tick—yeah. You t-worded me.”
“I tickled you?”
You giggled, cheeks and ears growing hot at the mere word. Yoongi could be so soft, never pointing out the fact that he was tickling you to pretend he wasn’t doing anything for your sake and to mask his overt prompts at initiating physical affection. However, he could also turn so wickedly blunt that you were left a bashful, giddy puddle.
Yoongi maneuvered his head, lips nearly brushing your ear as he purred, “But I think someone loved it, hm?”
Your giggles grew in pitch as you shook your head against his chest.
“You needed it, hm?” His tone turned softer.
You nuzzled into him again, as if trying to rid an itch on your face. Then, you nodded. You could practically feel the soft, satisfied smile radiating off of Yoongi’s face.
“Come on, my sleepy girl.”
Reluctantly, you pulled away from the embrace, opting to cling onto his arm instead. Your heels clacked against the concrete as you walked to the elevator. Yoongi had basically dragged you all the way there. The journey wasn’t even a minute long, but your aching feet made it feel longer. Yoongi tapped the button to go up as you spoke.
“When we get in—shower, pajamas, bed—no wait. Shower, pajamas, cuddles, bed.”
Yoongi chuckled, squeezing your hand.
“Why’re you laughing?” You quipped, squeezing it back.
The doors dinged open, and he didn’t respond until you were in the elevator and the doors were shutting.
“It should be shower, pajamas, cuddles, tickles, and then bed.”
You squeaked. Yoongi often gave you back tickles to help you fall asleep, especially after a hard day. That night was already a given, but he just had to point it out.
As the elevator ascended, you leaned your head against Yoongi’s good shoulder. “Yoongs?”
He hummed.
“Thank you for making me feel better.”
“Always, jagi.”
