Valentine’s Day 2016 BTSX is done posting all the fics and reveals are out!
I wrote something~!! ♥ ♥ ♥ I have a continuation for this already being written because I enjoyed it so much ^^b For @sungjae!! ♥
title: Blanket Kick
pairing: JiKook
rating: G
word count: 1.8k
tags: canon universe, secret crush, overthinking, pining, hurt/comfort, jeongguk-centric
summary: Jeongguk is only a stuck-up brat because he has a gigantic crush on Jimin, and as much as Jimin thinks Jeongguk is the cutest thing in the world, he is completely oblivious to Jeongguk's feelings.
warnings: i wrote fluff?????? what is wrong with me
also this is a semi true story (my life has perfect fanfic material istg)
Hoseok was a man who often sought after convenience, and the latest Mobile Order & Pay update to the Starbucks app might’ve been the best improvement to his current coffee addiction lifestyle.
Except it meant never getting that 30 seconds of chat time with his favorite barista ever again.
Kim Seokjin was something of a diamond in the rough in the world of coffee shops. It was rare to find someone so ridiculously good looking, so ridiculously charming, and so ridiculously friendly. He greeted everyone with an exuberance of a puppy and the air of a royal waving to his citizens, no matter the time of day, and without fail even when Seokjin had the flu for two weeks. (Not that Hoseok kept track of his health.)
No one was really sure what to make of Seokjin, though. He seemed to give everyone the same kind treatment (wide smiles, crinkled eyes, majestic hand waves) and every man and woman’s attempt at trying to get his number has so far failed. (Not that Hoseok kept track of such things–he just happened to listen in on the other regulars’ conversations.)
Hoseok, on the other hand, was pretty open about his sexuality. In this day and age, no one (thankfully) gave him a second glance anymore. He wore his rainbow bracelet every day on his left wrist, his backpack had a giant equal sign on it, and when feeling extra, he’d blast Sissy That Walk from his iPod and start vogueing. (Not that Yoongi cared about his sexuality, but more than once his friend started walking in the opposite direction out of second hand embarrassment.)
And true to his royal nature, Seokjin was affectionately called the Coffee Prince by all the regulars at the shop and oh boy did he love that nickname. He had practically preened the first time Hoseok had finally called him that (damn that man had an endless love for ego stroking) but really Hoseok liked to think of him as his Barista Boyfriend. (Not that he would never admit to this aloud, even to Yoongi–a boy could dream.)
So yeah, Hoseok happened to be one of many that crushed on Kim Seokjin. Who wouldn’t with that piece of fine ass and charm to boot? But Hoseok knew the Coffee Prince (his Barista Boyfriend) was way out of his league, but he could still drool over him in the privacy of his… well… privacy. And never once would Hoseok try and get his number, because why be like every other annoying customer trying to hit on him? (Not that he wouldn’t mind ever getting his number–he just didn’t want to be a nuisance.)
“Hey Coffee Prince!” He called cheerfully when it was his turn at the counter, his own trademark bright smile in place. Seokjin returned it and (as usual) he felt his heart skip a beat.
“Hoseok-ah! Sixteen ounce dark roast café au lait. You off to work?”
“You know it. Same shit different day” Hoseok wasn’t a barbarian like others and their destroyed sense of good taste. Bless the Coffee Prince (his Barista Boyfriend) and always remembering his order. He swiped his card and moved off to the side, tossing a quick V-sign. “Have a good day, Prince. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Looking forward to it! You have a good day too, Hoseok!” Seokjin returned his V-sign, his eyes disappearing into a ridiculously charming eyesmile that (much to Hoseok’s chagrin), switched to the next customer in line.
Hoseok left the shop, steaming hot coffee in hand. One day (one day) he might get the courage to ask for Seokjin’s number, even if it meant becoming like every other customer fawning for his attention. He had to try, right? He could be brave. He could be forward. He could handle rejection if Seokjin turned him down (oh god oh god oh god). But he had to try. He would never know otherwise if he didn’t try. He would never be able to find out what kind of future they could have together. He would–
“CAAAAW!”
Hoseok shrieked in terror as something huge and black smacked right into his face and he toppled backwards, the pitch of his scream elevating as hot liquid splashed across his bare arm on the cup’s way to the ground He fell back on his bottom (wincing at the crack on his tailbone) and sadly watched as the puddle of spilled coffee pooled across the concrete and down the curb. He glanced up at the sky, wondering what the hell hit him, to see a cackling crow flying off to join the rest of its crew chilling on the powerlines. Talk about an attempted murder.
“Shit shit shit double damn fuuuuuuh!” Hoseok hissed and clutched as his arm, glaring in dismay at the red angry mark on his skin and trying not to cry in pain.
Behind him, the door to Starbucks swung open and footsteps pounded on the ground. Hoseok glanced behind him, blinking in shock at Seokjin (in all his green aproned glory befitting a Coffee Prince) running towards him at breakneck speed.
“Hoseok, are you okay?! I saw the whole thing!” Seokjin huffed breathlessly, standing over him with hands outstretched. Hoseok took them gratefully, allowing himself to be tugged up.
“Yeah I’m fine, I ju–”
“OH MY GOD! YOU WERE BURNED!” Seokjin screamed, loud enough to rival Hoseok’s lungs on a good day, and he grabbed Hoseok’s elbow in a firm grip, dragging him back to the Starbucks door. (Holy shit he was freakishly strong.)
“Come on, we need to run that under cold water.” Seokjin tugged him towards the single bathroom, barreling through the confused customers standing in (thankfully being helped by a backup cashier). Hoseok ducked his head, trying to hide his flushed face from the regulars whispering in gossip over the lips of their coffee cups. He tried to focus on Seokjin’s soft soft fingers on his arm rather than the extreme embarrassment,
“Excuse me!” Seokjin trilled as he pushed Hoseok into the bathroom and flicked the light on, door swinging shut to–
Great, now they were alone in a tiny enclosed room together. He wondered if Seokjin could hear how loud his heart was beating.
The faucet sputtered and Seokjin pulled him to his side, shoving his arm under to let the cool water wash over his skin and soothe the injury. Hoseok felt incredibly thankful at that moment. The biting of his lip, the heat in his cheeks, the hitched breathing could all be attributed to the pain and not the warm body pressed up against his side, the gentle pad of a thumb brushing over his wrist.
“You know, crows don’t normally just attack like that,” Seokjin murmured, turning his wrist this way and that to make sure the water cooled down the entire area. “I guess there must be a nest somewhere close by.”
“Probably thought I was cute and just wanted my number,” Hoseok said with a lilt to his lips and tried to keep some cheer in his voice despite oh god Seokjin’s body felt warmer than the burn on his arm. “But it’s a bird, so you know, couldn’t do much else but flail about and hit me in the head.”
Seokjin flashed him a funny look, lips pursed and eyebrows furrowed almost like he was constipated. Hoseok kept the grin on his face, hoping he didn’t just make a fool of himself. But surely Seokjin’s heard him say stupider shit in all the time he’s been going to that Starbucks?
“There, it doesn’t look as bright as before.” Seokjin twisted off the faucet and grabbed some papers to gently pat him dry. “I can get you a bandage and a new coffee.”
Hoseok hummed in appreciation and tossed out the damp papers, his arm feeling much better (although his heart was still pounding). “Thanks man, I really appreciate it. I won’t be able to survive work today without it.”
“No problem.” Seokjin gave him that funny look again before he turned to open the door.
Still giving him that funny look, glanced over his shoulder, one hand paused on the knob.
Still giving him that funny look, reached out with his other hand and lightly tapped Hoseok on the forehead, resting a long finger there for just a moment before removing it and turning around again.
Swung the door open and walked out, leaving Hoseok all alone in the bathroom.
“No way,” Hoseok whispered to the tiled walls in equal parts horror and delight, heart pounding even more wildly than before.
(“You scored a date with the Coffee Prince? Jimin is going to kill you. You know how many times he’s slipped that dude his number?”
“Please, Yoongi, we all know Jimin’s true love is that nerdy TA of his.”)
This was loosely inspired by The Outsiders by S.E. Hinton and I’d like to credit sugamins from AO3 as the inspiration for Tae’s nickname for Hoseok.
“What the fuck you doing on my territory, soc boy?”
Hoseok stumbled back and fell with a grunt from the soft kick to his gut. He caught himself on his hands, wincing as the skin scraped against the concrete. Pain shot up his arm, a leftover from when one of the thug greasers twisted it behind his back as they dragged him down to the shanty on the edge of the beach.
He knew he was stupid for crossing the line, for wandering way too far on the other side of Arbor Avenue. The high quality threading of his clothes and clean bright face was like a lighthouse beacon for the greasers, bringing them back to shore (or in his case, bringing them to fresh meat to hunt).
He knew he was gonna get picked up. But that was exactly what he wanted.
Their leader towered over him. Not hard to do when Hoseok was on the floor, but even if they were standing, the other boy had some good height on him. Hoseok wasn’t sure what the leader thought of him right now though. It difficult to tell with that blank, glazed look over in those warm golden eyes.
Hoseok licked his lips, tasting coppery blood from when he’d been pushed into a wall, and willed his arms to not tremble in worry. He had nothing to be scared of, not from the leader of the greasers. He had called for parley when he’d been grabbed (not too long after crossing the avenue) and hustled down an alley, but that certainly didn’t stop the greasers from roughing him up on the way.
Take me to your leader. Kim Taehyung.
He could do this. He was brave enough. He was determined enough.
“I h-have a message for you. From the socs.”
“And they sent some pussy like you, screaming all white flag in our faces?” The leader, Kim Taehyung, snapped his fingers at the thugs behind him. “Get the hell out and fuck off in the general direction of your choice.” The greasers shuffled their way out of the shack, shoving at each other and cackling under their breaths.
Hoseok was proud of himself for not breaking that blank piercing stare, to watch in relief as the others left.
Taehyung moved suddenly, crouching down between his knees and grabbing his chin in one hand. Up close, underneath the grime and thin layer of sweat from the summer heat (and the smudged kohl around his eyes) he could be considered beautiful. Put him in a suit and tie, truss him up in all the right fixings, Hoseok was sure he’d have every woman in town begging for his attention. He would be so beautiful, a flower of its own breed. Nothing as common and boring as a rose, the flower the socs hid behind, pinned to their lapels to mask their own ugliness and transgressions.
“You stink.” It was ironic enough for him to say to him, considering Taehyung’s own breath stank of cigarettes and stale kimchi (calling Hoseok home).
Hoseok stared up at him, into that piercing gaze, the warm golden eyes baring no emotion.. He resisted the urge to reach out, to wrap hands around the wrist keeping his head still.
“That’s funny,” he whispered in reply. “Coz I took a bath before I came.”
“Hmm? Is that what this stench is?” Taehyung tilted forward, until the tips of their noses touched. Inhaled deeply, his eyes shutting and nose crinkling. Lips twisting in a grimace. “You smell like a fucking rose.”
Hoseok reached up then, unable to resist anymore. He slid the backs of his fingers over Taehyung’s cheeks and cupped his jaw in both hands. Taehyung’s eyes shot open again as soon as his fingers brushed his skin, and fortunately there was something that had replaced the stoicism. Something that Hoseok had seen before and was always thrilled to see again and again.
Affection.
“I guess you’ll just have to dirty me up again.” He murmured, leaning in, Taehyung’s grip on his chin releasing as he pressed his bloodied lips against Taehyung’s chapped ones.
Taehyung laughed softly into the kiss and threaded his hands into Hoseok’s hair, pulling and pushing Hoseok until his back was nearly flat on the ground. Taehyung fell with him (nearly kneeing him in the balls), a comfortable weight as his legs straddled Hoseok’s waist.
Hoseok looped his arms around Taehyung’s shoulders and moaned into his mouth (around the insistent tongue trying to shove its way down his throat), hips rutting up and brushing the hardening in his pants against the other’s erection.
“Fuck, Tae,” he gasped when they broke apart, lips wet and swollen, and this time when he met Taehyung’s eyes, it was full of mischief, eyes crinkled and shiny lips curled up into a smirk. “Ever heard of a toothbrush? You taste like rotten kimchi.”
Taehyung huffed, fingers tugging painfully at his hair. “Kimchi is rotten, you idiot. And brushing teeth is for rich bitches like you. Ain’t no point in wasting clean drinking water.”
“How many times have I told you I’d give you the money, anything you needed.” Hoseok licked his lips again, this time tasting Taehyung (kimchi and sweat and salt from the sea breeze and everything that welcomed Hoseok home) mingled in with the copper tang.
“Stop talking shit, lover boy,” Taehyung rocked his hips down, eyes rolling back briefly into his skull. “Let’s fuck already. I’ve missed you and the crew’s gonna get antsy if I make ‘em wait too long.”
“Who cares about your stupid greasers. They fuck me up every time I cross over and you don’t even give them shit for it.”
“Yeah? I kind of like it when you come to me all roughed up. You always look too stuffy.” Taehyung carded his fingers to the front of his head, fussing the strands as he went along, parting and pushing the locks this way and that. Satisfied with his work, he curved down and pressed a chaste kiss on Hoseok’s newly bared forehead.
“But you’re right.” His lips traveled down, grazing Hoseok’s temple, cheekbone, all the way down to his throat. Hoseok tilted his head, giving him access to lick and nibble at his skin. “I should be the one giving you bruises. Something for mumsy to get shocked at? Something to tarnish your reputation?”
“W-wait–”“Wait for what? Wait for you to pussy out on me? Wait for your fucking socs to come looking for you, bats and knuckles in hand?” Taehyung jerked up to look at peer at him and there was anger flashing in his eyes now. “I only get to have you when you get off your fucking high horse and come running into my arms. I can’t come walking past Arbor Ave and expect a welcoming committee from your kind. Socs would fucking kill me if I ever crossed that road.”
There was fear now, and wetness, in Taehyung’s eyes, and Hoseok brushed his thumbs under the long black lashes. Brushed away the tears before they fell. “I said I’d run away with you, Tae. I got all the money we’d need. Fuck school, fuck the socs, I don’t need any of that. I just need you.”
“This ain’t about the money or living like a stinking rose. I got a crew here to look after and you know it. They count on me.” Taehyung’s lips trembled as he spoke, but at least his voice wasn’t breaking yet. “And don’t pretend to be so fucking innocent. Not to me. How many greasers have you brawled up in your lifetime, with your pretty little soc hands? I’ve felt those fingers inside of me, lover boy, and those calluses ain’t old. Once a soc, always a soc.”
Hoseok’s heart clenched and a heavy weight settled over his chest that sure as hell wasn’t just Taehyung’s body. He could feel a lump forming in his own throat, but he wouldn’t cry. He had to remain brave. Determined. “You know I do, you know I’d do anything for you. Fuck, Taehyung. I love you so much.”
“And I you,” Taehyung smiled down at him, a sad smile that didn’t quite reach his red rimmed eyes. “So you’re mine now until I’m done with you. Until you fuck me good enough coz I ain’t knowing when you’re gonna remove your stinking rose and come back to me again.”
Hoseok wrapped his hands around Taehyung’s throat, feeling his pulse beat wildly under his fingertips. “I’ll always come back to you, Taehyung, even if it takes me awhile. I’ll always love you. Fucking forever and ever.” Gently pulled him back down for a kiss. Rolled his hips up again, pleased at the moan that stuttered through the other’s lips.
“Golden words, lover boy,” Taehyung whispered against his mouth, breath still stinking of stale kimchi (always bringing Hoseok home). “But nothing gold can last forever.”
Seokjin thumped his head against the wooden planks and turned a squinted eye at Namjoon, who was already slumped against the wall on the other side of the window. “Maybe? I don’t know. It’ll be nice to see classmates again.”
Cheeks dimpled (little indentations that Seokjin wished he could run a thumb over during a kiss) as Namjoon beamed at him. “You’ve got composition this semester, right? My offer to proofread your papers still stands, you know.” Namjoon tapped on the glass with a nail. “Just hold your laptop up like I do with my lyrics.”Seokjin rolled his eyes. “And have you make fun of my poor writing skills, Mister I Read Dictionaries For Fun? No thanks.”
“I wouldn’t make fun of you,” Namjoon grumbled, turning his head and looking up with sigh. “At least the weather wasn’t too hot today.”
The weather was indeed pleasant. The high humidity had dropped the past few days after the summer rain slowed down and it was perfect in the shade of the enormous oak tree that towered over the back of the old crumbling house. The same but not the same shade they both rested under. The same but not the same oak tree that kept them comfortable. The same but not the same old house that they leaned against.
There was perspiration at Namjoon’s hairline, a sign of his body’s discontent even with the tolerable temperature, and Seokjin resisted the urge to try and wipe it away. He knew Namjoon preferred the wintertime. He knew every second Namjoon spent out in the sweltering aftermath of a volcanic eruption was a sacrifice.
(“I don’t mind, really. I’m fine,” Namjoon had stuttered out and held up a bottle of water. “I’ll just dump this on my head if I can’t take it anymore.”
“But then you’ll be all wet and gross. The first measure to cooling down is taking all your clothes off,” Seokjin teased, giggling at his flushed face and stammered reply.)
Seokjin smiled at the memory and wondered if Namjoon would be up for some fun that evening. They’ve always scheduled such meetups during the twilight hours when there was less chance of being caught doing something inappropriate in public, or worse, someone finding out about the window. It was worth the risk, though, even if they could only pretend it was the other’s hands on themselves.
“Yo, Earth to Jin!”
Seokjin snapped out of his fantasy, blinking his way back into reality to focus on the mobile phone Namjoon was wiggling in front of the window. “Yeah?”
“I was saying I made you a new song.” That cautious look was back in Namjoon’s eyes, the look he always got whenever he produced something new, especially when it was gift for Seokjin. He was setting his mobile phone on the window sill, a soft piano melody already humming from its speaker, and placed a hand against the window.
Seokjin licked his lips and swallowed back the lump in his throat. He slid his fingertips over the warm glass until his palm was directly over Namjoon’s. “Beautiful,” he whispered, not breaking Namjoon’s gaze.
“Yeah, you are,” Namjoon grinned and waggled his eyebrows.
“Well that’s obvious.” Seokjin couldn’t help but laugh and he hoped it reached his eyes properly. Hoped it didn’t sound too forced.
He leaned his head to the glass and Namjoon copied his position, foreheads tilting together like a mirror image. (But never touching.)
Hands pressing together like a mirror image. (But never touching.)
Breath stirring and fogging the glass like a mirror image. (But never touching.)
The browning leaves of the oak tree behind Namjoon breaking free from a sudden breeze and fluttering to the ground.
Seokjin felt a leaf brush gently (cruelly) against the back of his head.
Jinmin, fluffy version! "i got you for secret santa so i got you this really expensive but sentimental gift that you’ve always wanted, hoping you’ll never find out it’s from me - and that i’ve been in love with you 1234567 years”
Seokjin rolled the heavy object over in his palms, fingerprints marring the clear surface but not veiling the wondrous work it contained. Etched in the crystalline, under the smooth black band that rounded the orb, was a dragonesque creature: wings addorsed and inverted to take flight, long tail curving around its body and claws raised, neck craned upwards as if a deep threatening rumble coursed up its throat to spew its fiery, catastrophic breath. It was an exquisite gift from his Secret Santa, an exquisite and evidently expensive gift, well out of the price range their office had decided upon for the exchange.
“Is that… Charizard?” Taehyung gasped out, leaning over the wall of Seokjin’s cubicle and staring at the crystal Poke Ball, grabby hands reaching out with a pout of barely contained excitement.
“Taehyungie, it was a 25,000 won limit. This looks like it cost a fortune!” Seokjin exclaimed, pushing his chair back with a huge smile.
“Yeah, right right. Holy ginger snaps, hyung, this is like out of a Friends episode. You know, when Ross got Carol that ridiculously expensive crystal duck?”
Seokjin paused at the threshold, arms still in their elevation to embrace his coworker. “What?”
“You know, like when Ross got Rachel that antique brooch for her birthday and Chandler’s big mouth,” Taehyung threw his hands in the air and rolled his eyes dramatically, “as usual revealed that Ross is really really really like super duper in love with her?”
“But you got me this,” Seokjin said. “You’re the only one in this office who knows I love Charizard, what Charizard even is!”
Taehyung froze, face contorting into a comical display like he was constipated, and his hands slowly lowered. Fingers twisting together, twiddling and squirming, and why was his breath suddenly labored?
“Right, um,” Taehyung stammered. “Yeah, I’m the only one who knows. Uh. It wasn’t me though. Ihavetogobyehyung!”
Seokjin was tall enough to see over the solid blue panels, so when Taehyung shot off, weaving through the cubicles as if death was on his heels, he followed his path, glasses on and magnified to see every detail. Watched as Taehyung stopped at the threshold of one cubicle on the other side of the room. Watched as his arms flailed wildly, eyes wide and lips stuttering. Watched as another person popped up, a crown of fluffy hair barely rising above the wall, his own eyes wide and cheeks flushed as he pointed an accusatory finger at Taehyung.
That person being Park Jimin, Seokjin’s senior in the company who helped him get the job two years ago.
That person being Park Jimin, Seokjin’s junior in college who helped tutor him in statistics in preparation for their future accounting careers.
That person being Park Jimin, who never had much interest outside of high level mathematics and a weird obsession with the Olympic games, and certainly never had an interest in animated movies or video games.
“Holy ginger snaps indeed,” Seokjin whispered, feeling a flush of heat creep up the back of his own neck.
"i could smell cooking burning - whoaaa now that’s just embarrassing? step aside i’ll handle this” vmin with v in the hotpot
December 25th, 2016 10:37 A.M.
Jimin cautiously picked up the hard, black blob that should have been delicious food, but was in reality unfit for human consumption, burnt to a crisp and still dripping oil on its similarly unfortunate demised siblings on the serving plate.
“Tae… Those potatoes took me two hours to prep,” said Jimin mournfully as he dropped the ruined pancake.“Hold on, this batch is perfect!” Taehyung was at the stovetop wiggling his butt to the beat to Missy Elliott, tongue peeking from the corner of his mouth as he scraped the cast iron, pushing around clumps of steaming glutinous piles of–
Jimin sniffed the air.
–already burning potato.
Jimin dropped the towel from his still damp hair to his shoulders and hurried forward, seizing the spatula and bumping hips to push him to the side.
“Jiminie, no! You’re ruining them!” Taehyung clung to his arm, eyes wide in horror as Jimin quickly flipped the potato shreds and gently pressed down to flatten them, oil sputtering in protest.
Jimin lowered the heat a bit and rounded on Taehyung, whipping the spatula up with what he hoped conveyed an air of threatening menace. “I told you to wait till I was done showering!”
“I wanted to surprise you, you said you were hungry!” Taehyung whined and leaned in, pressing his face into Jimin’s shoulder and into the divot above his collarbone.
Jimin patted him on the back with his free hand. “You know you’re banned from frying food, that includes the stovetop, not just the fryer, that includes potato pancakes, not just chicken wings.”
“They’re called latkes,” Taehyung supplied helpfully from where he was burrowed under the towel around Jimin’s neck.
“Loht-kiss. Whatever,” Jimin mumbled and awkwardly poked at the sizzling shreds in the pan, a golden brown crust starting to form under the batch that he arrived just in time to save. The mild burnt scent was starting to dissipate from the kitchen, with cooked onions and black pepper and mouthwatering delicious heavenly earthy carbohydrates taking over. “Next Christmas morning, we’re having eggs and bacon. Much simpler.”
Taehyung looped arms around his waist and tilted his head back, a mischievous grin on his face. “Don’t worry, Hanukkah starts on the twelfth next year!”
“YOU DON’T LIKE MARSHMALLOWS IN YOUR HOT CHOCOLATE? WHY DO YOU HATE LOVE” Taegi pls
“Hyung, that is disgusting,” whined Taehyung over the lip of his mug of cocoa.
“Chubby bunny,” mumbled Yoongi, cheeks twitching as he tongued the new marshmallow into his already stuffed and puffed up cheeks, and prompt reached for the next sugary confection.
“This is so so disgusting and this isn’t making me like marshmallows at all. In fact, I think I’m beyond the dislike stage and simmering in hate.”
Yoongi poked the next marshmallow between his lips, but it wouldn’t go in any further, forcing him to keep his mouth open. He craned his neck a little and popped a second one next to it.
It was like a train wreck that Taehyung couldn’t look away from.
“Seriously, hyung. I prefer my boyfriend to not choke and die on Christmas morning.”Three more marshmallows went in. “Mffh mfhh pffhie mumie.”
Taehyung sighed, lowered his cup with a soft click upon the marble, and reached over the counter to pinch Yoongi’s nostrils shut. A glimpse of fear flashed through Yoongi’s eyes before it turned into a stony glare, and his arms came up to push Taehyung off, but Taehyung caught one delicate wrist. Yoongi tried to pry the fingers off his nose, but Taehyung pinched for dear life, and when Yoongi jerked his head back violently, Taehyung followed with a yelp of pain, nearly giving himself a self inflicted Heimlich maneuver as his ribcage slammed into the counter.
Yoongi twisted his head and spat the marshmallows out on the floor, a congealed white gooey mass with a few of the more recent drier ones bouncing on the tile. “You tried to kill me!” Yoongi wailed, breathing hard and wiping saliva from his chin with the back of his hand.
Taehyung let go of his nose and slumped face first on the counter, letting his wrists hang over the side. The marble was cool and pleasant on his cheek, a stark contrast to the searing pain in his ribs. “You tried to make me never want to kiss you again.”
Yoongi crouched on the floor in front of him, elbows resting on his knees, and narrowed his eyes in scrutiny. “I don’t like marshmallows either.”
Taehyung’s eyes widened.
“This was payback for when you stuck hot Cheetos up your nose and made me wash it out with milk so it’d stop burning. Now that was disgusting.” Yoongi patted his cheek with a grin. “But you’re still cute. Get up, get an ice pack, and help me with breakfast.”Taehyung groaned into the countertop.
tHE LAST CHRISTMAS AU W THE BOXES. jikook w jungkook proposing????
Jimin didn’t know whether to be still excited or dismayed as he unwrapped the seventh cardboard box to find yet another a smaller, perfectly wrapped box inside. Like each of its predecessors, it was expertly wrapped and taped to straight edges, the paper a different festive pattern to remind Jimin just how unfortunately less festive his Christmas morning was getting. He’s had enough, he decided, and no amount of high pitched gleeful giggling from his boyfriend could make him change his mind.
“Real childish, Jeongguk,” Jimin said dryly. “I was already considering murdering you for suggesting presents before coffee.”
“Three more! Only three more! I promise!” Jeongguk wiggled closer to his side, slinging a warm arm over his shoulders.
“I’m regretting getting you that Gibson,” Jimin muttered, glaring at the brand new deep mahogany guitar resting against Jeongguk’s thigh. “I’m pretty sure you love it more than me.”
Jeongguk lightly pressed a kiss to his ear before grinning. “I love nothing more than you, idiot. Open them!”
“Fine, fine!” Jimin tore through the next box, shredding the paper and tossing it in Jeongguk’s face. And the next box. And the–
And the last box wasn’t made of cardboard, nor was it wrapped.
Instead, the box was snow white, small and velvet soft in Jimin’s hand, gold filigree adorning the lid and glittering under the lights of the Christmas tree. It felt weightless against his palm, yet the weight of what it could contain made his throat close up and tears prick his eyes. Jeongguk was nuzzling his temple, much too warm against Jimin’s side like this, everything was suddenly way too warm.
“Ten boxes for the ten years we’ve known each other,” despite the gravity of the situation, Jeongguk’s voice held too much mirth. “I was going to do just six we’ve been together, but that wouldn’t have been as aggravating as ten.”
“Jeongguk,” Jimin breathed, the wetness in his eyes finally escaping. “Are you fucking kidding me?”
He opened the box.
Took a deep, shuddering breath.
Closed the box and dropped it on the floor.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” Jimin snarled, pushing Jeongguk off him, uncaring if the Gibson scratched against their wood floor. The tears were rolling wet and hot down his face now, and he wiped at them furiously with the back of his hand.
“It’s the one you said you wanted! It vibrates! I even got it in your favorite color! Jimin–hey!–where are you going?” Jeongguk reached for his hand but he slapped it away, scrambling to his feet and storming off.
Jimin scrubbed at his cheeks, willing himself to breathe properly, and headed straight to his favorite canister of ground Yirgacheffe beans. “I am making coffee! Before I murder you for real! For getting me a co–a sex toy for Christmas!”
Jeongguk followed him, all the mirth and glee gone from his face, and Jimin almost almost felt bad for acting like an ungrateful brat, but really–what kind of gift was that? And with how it was presented– (Breathe, he reminded himself.)
“Jimin, I’m sorry–”
Jimin slammed the canister down next to the coffee machine and tried to pry the lid off, but goddamit his hands were trembling. But then Jeongguk’s arms slid around his waist, chin coming to rest on his shoulder, and before Jimin could even react to elbow him away, the lid was off.
“You’re not forgiven,” Jimin mumbled, reaching for the filters and popping the machine open. He rose up on his toes to properly squash the brown paper in, and saw something glinting off the black bottom of the container.
Picked it up and rolled it over in his palm.
Let out a breathless squeak.
“See, I got you two rings. Merry Christmas, baby.” Jeongguk pressed a kiss to his cheek, plucked the silver band up and slid it on Jimin’s finger. “Still think I’m an asshole?”
“….Yes.” Jimin felt Jeongguk’s face droop to his shoulder, body sagging against his back. Jimin slowly turned in his hold, looping his arms around Jeongguk’s neck. Through the tear stained vision, he could see the hesitance on Jeongguk’s face, the fear, the worry, and underneath it all: hope.
“Yes, you’re still an asshole. But I’m still gonna marry you.”
