This is the header for wattpad, just as a little treat and as a thank you for your interaction with the masterlist :)
Two more days until the first chapter drops and we're excited as hell!
We decided to give you a little teaser too, since we didn't expect so many people to be into this - thank you so much! We put so much time and effort into creating the story, the world, the characters and their lore and it was and still is so much fun working on it. Here you go, we hope you'll enjoy the snippet:
"What the fuck!" you shriek as an unknown man materializes out of thin air in the middle of your living room. Scared shitless, you scramble back on the floor from where you were sitting until your back hits the couch.
He groans, mumbling angrily, in a language you don't understand, while you just stare at him with wide eyes, shaking. Your brain is working on overdrive, the gears turning probably visible to your uninvited guest.
“What?” you stutter, before your mind finally starts to connect some puzzle pieces.
You tried to conjure up Kimchi, just for shits and giggles, obviously not expecting this stupid ritual to work. The man in front of you looks to be of Asian descent. Did you actually summon a Korean man instead of Korean food? Again, what the fuck?!
He rolls his eyes at you before his gaze falls to the red chopsticks in his right hand and groans. He snips his fingers. “Ugh, of course.” His language has switched to an annoyed English now.
"For fuck's sake," he grumbles, "I was just sitting down to have lunch." He looks towards the floor, a bowl of spilt fried rice at his feet and on your carpet. Some is even stuck to his shoe. He shakes it off like a cat that accidentally got its paw wet.
“Lunch? It’s 11 pm.”
Why are you even questioning him? His dietary choices and when he eats his meals should be the least of your concerns, when you have no idea what just happened and how he appeared in your apartment. Maybe he’s doing intermittent fasting. None of your business anyway.
Okay, you might have some idea on how it happened actually, but that would defeat everything you believe - or rather don't believe in.
The guy just rolls his eyes at you, shaking his head with an annoyed frown, as if it’s not him intruding on you. “Not where I’m from.”
The hell? Where exactly is he from? A different timezone then? “Korea, by chance?” you carefully try, not entirely believing this is a conversation you're actually having. This can't be happening.
“Not exactly.”
Vague. Bitter. Rude. He’s not helping you understand any of this.
“What do you want?” he asks, fingers curling around his chopsticks, making his knuckles turn even whiter than his skin.
Huh? “What do you want?” you ask. “Why are you here and what the fuck is going on?”
He clicks his tongue, eyes fixed to the floor with his head hanging low, long black hair falling forward. “You summoned me.” He looks up at you now, brows knitted as he cocks his head to the side, studying you. “So you tell me why I’m here. It's not even your time yet.”
“My time?” Seriously, this guy must be insane! “Are you the grim reaper?”
“Worse,” he says with a grin, mocking you with his perfectly feline features.
Those were the first 480 words of the first chap which is 11.4k words in total. Full chapter will be posted on Friday 17/07/26.
Warnings: Swearing, heavy drinking, underage drinking, poverty, almost death, hospitals, abandonment, jealousy, revenge sex, passing out, break ups, Will update as chapters progress
Word Count: 2,461
Here is the final chapter. I always get nervous posting the last chapter because I don’t want to disappoint anyone so hopefully you all like it! I’m sorry if I missed anyone in the tags. Thank you to everyone that took the time to read! ♥️
Backstage was quieter than you expected. The roar of the audience had faded into distant echoes as crew members hurried through the halls carrying equipment and shouting directions to one another. You stood awkwardly near the dressing rooms, suddenly feeling completely out of place. The adrenaline that had carried you through the concert was gone, replaced by a nervous ache deep in your chest.
Mina squeezed your shoulder gently, “We’ll wait outside.” Jungkook nodded toward the hallway, “Go.” You looked at both of them uncertainly, but they only offered encouraging smiles before disappearing toward the exit, leaving you alone.
The hallway felt impossibly long. You stared at the closed dressing room door, wondering how many times you had stood outside doors waiting for Yoongi. Outside his office. Outside his bedroom. Outside his apartment. Always waiting for him.
The door finally opened. Yoongi stepped into the hallway, still dressed in the clothes he’d worn on stage. The black dress pants paired with the navy blue dress shirt with just a touch of glitter really suited him well. His dark hair was damp from sweat, a towel draped loosely around his neck. He looked exhausted, emotionally wrung out, but when his eyes landed on you, he stopped so abruptly it was as if he’d forgotten how to move.
Neither of you spoke. You waited. After everything after the song after months apart after years of losing each other surely he would say something. Anything.
Instead, he only looked at you. His lips parted slightly before closing again. You could almost see the thoughts racing behind his eyes, but none of them ever became words. Your heart slowly began to sink. The silence stretched longer and longer until it became unbearable. A humorless laugh escaped you. Yoongi blinked almost like the sound had startled him. You shook your head, tears already burning behind your eyes. His expression crumbled, “Y/N…”
“No.”, your voice cracked before you could stop it, “I’ve spent years chasing you, Yoongi.” You swallowed hard, trying to steady your breathing, “I chased you after you left the first time. I chased you to another country after you left the second time. I came back here because Mina and Jungkook said…I thought…I don’t know…” You laughed bitterly, wiping angrily at your eyes, “I thought maybe this time you’d finally stop letting me do all the work. Was that song complete bullshit?” His shoulders sagged, “I had something I wanted to say.” He opened his mouth again but nothing came out. You watched panic flicker across his face as if he could feel the words trapped somewhere inside him but couldn’t force them free.
It hurt in a way you hadn’t expected. Not because he didn’t love you. Deep down you knew he did. It hurt because even now, after everything, fear was still winning. You gave him a sad smile, “There he is.” Confusion crossed his face. You gave a sad smile, “The man who always lets me down. I knew he’d make an appearance.” His entire expression shattered.
You turned before he could see the fresh tears spilling down your cheeks. This time, he called your name. You heard it. You heard him take one step after you. Then…nothing. No footsteps. No hand catching your wrist. No desperate plea for you to stay. So you ran. You ran past security. You ran past Mina and Jungkook before they could even attempt to stop you. By the time you reached the street outside your apartment, you were crying so hard you could barely see where you were going. When your apartment door clicked shut behind you, the silence was deafening. You made it halfway to your bedroom before your legs gave out. You slid onto the floor and buried your face in your hands.
For years, you’d convinced yourself that if you could just get him to stay in one place long enough, if you could just make him talk, if you could just love him hard enough…everything would finally make sense. The sob that tore from you was loud and ugly. You cried until your ribs hurt. Until your throat burned. Until there were no tears left to cry.
Sometime after midnight while still wearing the same clothes from earlier, you crawled onto your bed without bothering to change. Exhaustion eventually won where peace never could. You didn’t know how long you’d been asleep when something soft brushed across your forehead. For a moment, you thought you were dreaming. Gentle fingers carefully tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. You frowned slightly, your eyes fluttering open.
The room was dark except for the faint glow of the streetlights filtering through the curtains. Someone was sitting on the edge of your bed. Your heart nearly stopped and you prepared to scream or run but when your eyes finally adjusted and you saw who was sitting there. Yoongi looked just as exhausted as you felt.
His eyes were red like he had cried the whole way over. For a long moment, neither of you moved. Finally, he looked down at his hands and let out a quiet, self-deprecating laugh, “I never gave your apartment key back.” Slowly, he opened his palm. The small silver key you’d forgotten he even had. “I kept telling myself I’d mail it back.”, he admitted quietly, “Every time I packed it into an envelope…I took it back out again…just in case.” He rubbed his thumb across the worn metal before continuing, “I had this whole speech planned for you tonight.” He laughed bitterly, “I practiced it more than the actual performance.” His voice faltered, “But then I saw you standing there…and I got scared….Y/N I’ve spent half my life convincing myself that loving you meant walking away.” His eyes finally met yours, shining with tears he wasn’t trying to hide anymore, “I know now that it doesn’t.” He took a slow, shaky breath, “It means staying.”
You stared at him, unable to speak. “For the first time.”, he continued, “I’m not going to decide what’s best for you. I spent years convincing myself that leaving was loving you. That if I stayed away, eventually you’d find someone better, someone who wouldn’t keep hurting you the way I did.” He laughed quietly, but there wasn’t any humor in it, “But I was wrong.” His gaze dropped to the apartment key resting in his palm before he slowly closed his fingers around it, “I’ve been wrong for a very long time.” The room fell silent again, but this time he didn’t retreat into it, “I love you Y/N.” The words were so simple. So painfully overdue, “I’ve loved you since we were kids, before I even really knew what love was. I loved you when I ate until I almost got sick in that little noodle shop because it was the only excuse I could think of to spend another hour with you. I loved you when we graduated. I loved you each time you bring me a tangerine from the market just to see me smile. I loved you every time my mom told me about something you’d accomplished while I was too much of a coward to call you myself.” His eyes fully filled with tears, “I loved you while I was sitting in another country convincing myself you were happier without me. I loved you when I moved into that apartment and watched you laugh with Mina in the kitchen. I loved you the morning I made you pancakes. I loved you when you chose Jungkook to take you home from the wedding instead of me and I still loved you when you got on a plane and came looking for me.” His voice cracked completely, “I have never stopped loving you even though I tried.”
He wiped at his eyes with the heel of his hand, shaking his head as another tear escaped anyway, “And I’m so sorry.” The words came out broken, “I’m sorry for leaving over and over. I’m sorry for making you question whether you were enough when you were always more than I deserved. I’m sorry I made you carry the weight of us by yourself. Every time you chased after me, every time you begged me to stay, every time you waited for a phone call that never came…” He swallowed hard, “You should never have had to do any of that.” You watched his shoulders shake as years of guilt finally caught up to him, “I can’t give you those years back. I can’t erase the birthdays I missed or the promotions or every night you cried because of me. If I could, I would. God, I would trade everything I have to go back and be the man you needed me to be.” His voice dropped to barely a whisper, “But I can’t. So all I have left is this...” He looked at you with an openness you’d never seen before. There were no walls left. No excuses. No fear hiding behind silence, “I’m asking you to let me spend the rest of my life being better than the man who walked away.” His lips trembled into the smallest, saddest smile, “I’m not asking you to forgive me tonight. I don’t deserve that. I’m asking if you’ll let me stay long enough to earn it.”
For the first time since you’d known him, he wasn’t trying to convince you that leaving was an act of love. He wasn’t asking you to chase him. He wasn’t deciding your future for you. He was simply standing in front of you, with every defense stripped away, trusting you with the answer he’d spent years running from. “I know I don’t deserve another chance.”, he said softly, “But if there’s even the smallest part of your heart that still has room for me…I swear to you, Y/N…you will never have to wonder where I am again.” He took a slow, shaky breath like years of extra weight had been removed from his shoulders. He continued, “I’m done leaving. I’m done running. I’m done pretending I don’t need you because God I need you in my like more than anything…I just…I want to come home.”
You held his gaze for a long moment before finally speaking, “I do still love you Yoongi.” Relief flickered across his face so quickly it almost hurt to watch, but before it could settle, you continued, “But loving you isn’t the problem.” His expression sobered immediately. “You broke my heart, Yoongi.”, your voice remained soft, but there was a firmness to it that hadn’t been there years ago, “You don’t get to come back into my life and expect everything to be okay just because you finally admitted how you feel and apologized.” He nodded before you had even finished, “I know.”
“If we’re going to do this…”, you swallowed hard, “We’re doing it slowly and you’re going to have to earn my trust again.” He nodded immediately, “I will.” You searched his face, looking for hesitation, for doubt, for even the smallest sign that he was already looking for the easiest way out. There wasn’t any.
You took a shaky breath, “If you ever pull any of this again…I’m done.” The words hung quietly between you. Yoongi didn’t try to bargain with you. He didn’t promise he’d never make another mistake. He simply nodded, his eyes never leaving yours. Something in your chest loosened.
Slowly before you could change your mind you shifted farther over on the mattress, creating space beside you, “You can stay here tonight.” He blinked in disbelief. You gave the empty side of the bed a small pat. For a second he looked almost afraid to move. Then he quietly slipped off his shoes and lay down beside you not touching. You were the one who closed the distance and rested your head on his shoulder.
The familiar scent of his cologne and the comforting warmth of his body wrapped around you and suddenly you weren’t in that bed any more.
You were barely eighteen. A mixtape Yoongi recorded in his basement was playing through the speakers. The hood of his old beat up car was still warm from the drive home. The whole town had been celebrating the win, his teammates blowing up his phone, begging him to meet them to celebrate after he had scored the winning basket in the championship basketball game. Instead, the two of you had stopped for fast-food, parked in his driveway, and climbed onto the hood to watch the stars until neither of you could keep your eyes open.
You smiled before you even realized you were smiling. “What?”, Yoongi asked quietly. You shook your head, “Nothing…just thinking.” He chuckled under his breath, “I was just thinking too…” He looked up at the ceiling his smile turning nostalgic, “Y/N…do you remember lying on the hood of my car after I won the championship game?” You lifted your head just enough to look at him, “I was literally thinking about that.” His eyebrows rose in surprise before a soft laugh escaped him, “I guess we’re still sharing the same brain cell.” He continued, “The guys were so annoyed with me that night. They kept calling because everyone was celebrating down by the lake.” You nodded, “I remember. They thought you were crazy for skipping it.”
He looked back at you, his expression impossibly gentle, “But I was already celebrating the only way I wanted to.” His fingers found yours beneath the blanket, intertwining them carefully, “I got to spend the night with my favorite person under the stars.” Your laugh came out watery around the fresh tears threatening to fall, “You are unbelievably cheesy you know that.” He smiled, “Yeah…maybe but there’s always been one thing I regretted not doing thst night.”
“Mmhmm what was that?”, you asked. He reached up and brushed his thumb lightly across your cheek before leaning in and pressing a slow, lingering kiss against your lips. When he finally pulled back, he rested his forehead against yours and smiled, a real gummy smile, the kind you hadn’t seen in far too long. This time you leaned in and closed the space responding with your own kiss.
“I’ve spent years trying to find a place I could finally call home but it turns out home has always been with you.”, he said before placing another kiss to your forehead. You snorted softly and gave his chest a light smack with your hand, “Yeah…well…it took you long enough.” He laughed quietly, wrapping an arm around you and pulling you close as though he never planned to ever let go again.
"life is a party that one day ends, and you were my unforgettable dance"
title: baile inolvidable (explicit)
pairing: ex!yoongi x reader
rating/genre: m (18+) ; angst , smut ; exes to lovers au
summary: there’s only one person that you’re better off never running into again. but when fate decides it’s time for you to face him, you prepare yourself for complete destruction. because he never told you what you wanted, and you never told him goodbye.
note: literally nothing redeeming to say i wrote this in two days all bc of a guy wearing a jersey lol barely edited so pls excuse any typos!
note 2: also tell me why i wrote all of this and then looked for a title, only to fucking weep when this song matched perfectly. anyway, here we go, first new fic in years! enjoy and i’m so sorry if it hurts a bit.
warnings: language, explicit scenes, an unforgettable dance, pining, angst but truly who is shocked anymore, men that give The Ick, exes, yoongi in that gd madrid jersey, chains (hi hello it’s me), hoseok also needs his own warning, tension, more angst, kissing as a warning, guilt, yearning, yoongi hands, the ending is worth it<3
disclaimer: all characters are my own and just happen to look like members of bts! purely a work of fiction. just had a lot of feelings.
mood: baile inolvidable - bad bunny ; qlona - karol g, peso pluma
explicit warnings: under the cut!
drop date: june 30th, 2026, 7pm est
word count: 13k have mercy!
explicit warnings: manhandling, public sex, rough sex, hair/head pulling, oral (m rec), choking, cowgirl, spitting, reverse cowgirl, unprotected sex, breast play, fucking an ex lol yes that’s a warning, multiple orgasms, the chains stay on, hella backshots, emotional sex, creampie OOP, club sex reader is bad, yoongi loses his gd mind, couch sex, wall sex, chair sex, umm yeah alexa play like animals thanks
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“What’s taking you so long!”
Groaning, you concentrate on getting your lashes just right. “Told you it’d be just a minute!”
“I know.” Hoseok pops into your hotel bathroom, deep neckline and even deeper scent of cologne almost making you jab yourself right in the socket. “But it’s been ten.”
It’ll end up being a lot longer than that if he keeps cocking that perfect brow. Shouldn’t he know the rule of getting ready already?
Done with your current task, you blink and inspect yourself in the wide mirror spanning the master bath. “Yeah, a minute means twenty. So I have ten to spare, right?”
Bright teeth shine as he shakes his head. And you know it’s because you’re both slated to be super early anyway.
Everything’s going according to schedule. All your old friends flew in yesterday, and the plan for today is to head to dinner to watch the night game with everyone. After that, you’ll walk straight to the club a few blocks down that you’ve heard to be the best in town.
Well. Best in town for absolute eye candy. Taehyung warned that everyone that’s been to Lo Prohibito knows the dress code is simple but effective: luxurious. Unless your face card is so lethal you get in on that alone, or you happen to have celebrity status.
And your confidence can only take you so far. You look fucking good, but you aren’t risking being turned away just because you were lax getting ready.
So ten more minutes it is. Hobi will just have to deal with it.
Goddamn, he could get in without a single issue, though. Honestly, he could be wearing a linen shirt and shorts with sandals and they’d mistake him for a millionaire. “I’ll be ready before you know it,” you say over your bare, perfumed shoulder. “You’ll be able to see your lover soon enough.”
Hoseok shoots you a grin before huffing out, “Got me, huh.”
“You’re the easiest person in the world to read.” Leaning over your makeup bag, you rummage through your brushes. “Whatever you’re thinking is always written all over your face."
Quick laughter coats the bathroom in more light. “I can’t help it, okay! It’s always been that way.” When you focus in the mirror and pat your face, he suddenly drops two pitches in tone. “Sorry about yours.”
Here you go again. You know exactly what he’s talking about.
“Hobi,” you sigh. “I don’t care anymore, okay? It’s been a month.”
“I know, but…” Expelling a heavy, sympathetic breath of his own, he leans against the double door entryway. That dulcet yet gravelly tone of his rolls across marble floors as he says exactly what you don’t want him to, “You seemed pretty happy with them.”
You were. In fact, you were more than happy.
But something just didn’t feel right. Sure, the days you spent with your most recent fling were perfect. You felt comfortable with them, you admired how thoughtful they were and how attentive.
It was the nights that made you more than hesitant.
Because no matter how many times you slept together, you never felt truly understood. What you wanted, what you needed? They would get so close to getting it right, only to never reach that level of intensity and passion you were looking for.
So you broke it off one quiet, cherry-red sunset on the beach weeks ago.
Only to find out that they were seeing someone else the whole time anyway.
Fuck love. To hell with happiness. Why do all your relationships end up this way? Why do you always attract the people that seem perfect on the surface but hide so many flaws underneath? It’s starting to fucking annoy you and you may damn well swear to the single life forever.
Though. There was one relationship that didn’t exactly end this way.
But you’re never thinking about that one again, so no point in shuffling through those beautiful, tragic, regretful memories now.
“And now I’m happy without them,” you finally respond to Hoseok, who tears his gaze from the white floors to see you staring in the mirror. “Probably happy without anyone else, actually.”
What a fucking lie.
“I mean, there’s time to find someone you...” Your friend pockets a hand while adjusting his loose top, shadows naturally accenting his abdomen. “Never mind. See you out there. Love the red.”
You swish the silken floor-length material of your gaudy, quite revealing dress. “Thank you. This is my favorite part, look.”
Hoseok watches as you stomp your leg out of the thigh-high slit so comically it catches him off guard, cackling before a lighthearted, “Careful with that!”
“Says the man who’s practically naked.”
All you get is a shameless shrug before your friend spins on this heel to leave, no doubt checking the texts on his phone.
At least he's excited about seeing his gorgeous pull after so long. And you do not blame him one bit. The way he looks at her? She may as well be a goddess because his gaze turns almost reverent every time.
A blurry memory consumes your mind like a haze, and you see completely different eyes with just as much fervor. They watch as you mount slow, chests slick with sweat and breathing deep from hours of—
Manicured hands grip the sink as your brush skitters onto granite counters.
Fuck. Never again.
Never, ever, ever again.
Pull yourself together. You’re a whole different person with a whole different future. That version of you is one you left far behind, as well as the life that came with it.
You extend ten minutes into fifteen.
And Hoseok’s outright whistle at your emergence lets you know the extra time was worth it.
—
—
Dinner is loud and vibrant, with the whole restaurant locked in on the game and erupting in cheers when the home team scores. Or at least, the team that the majority of fans want to win scores.
You aren’t completely sure, because there are jerseys of every country everywhere you look. It’s the one time you feel a sense of togetherness, with everyone giving each other friendly jabs and your group doing and saying anything to rile each other up.
Hoseok is downright lethal with his date, the two of them showing off jawlines that can kill as they watch the nearest screen. But they’re on the other end of the long wooden table, so you have to find other people to converse with.
Unfortunately, you find that the person sitting in front of you is a stranger, seemingly knowing someone else in the group and just happened to tag along. He quickly offered small talk when you all started ordering, which you already found a little awkward because you were trying to focus on what to get.
Now, he keeps giving you more and more information about his achievements and endeavors, not once asking for your name. Figures.
Both the friends you’re sitting next to are no help, either.
To your left, Jeongguk’s checking his phone for the fiftieth time this hour, scrolling through videos to avoid having to speak to anyone.
And to your right, Taehyung cheers and stands when another goal is scored, locking elbows with the stranger behind him and drinking from his glass mug. Apparently he had been making fast friends while you were entertaining the guy that keeps staring at you. How cool. Happy for him. Can you both switch seats?
Your wish doesn’t get granted for another hour. So that means you’re still talking to and giving polite encouragement to this gentleman. Though the term gentleman is very, very generous. It became more than obvious he just wants to fuck from the way he's been shamelessly ogling your plunging neckline.
Mercifully, Jeongguk finally saves you, leaning in and pretending to show you a reel or tiktok or whatever the fuck he’s scrolling through. Instead, a text he typed into your message thread is all you see.
Wanna go outside?
Going along and laughing at his fake share, you give him a grateful smile and nod. Turning to the man watching you with curiosity—and is that really jealousy?—you excuse yourself,
“We’re gonna check out the second floor! Be right back.”
Not even waiting to see nor hear his reaction.
—
—
Outside the restaurant and not on the second floor, you can finally breathe again, watching the city come alive with its vehicle rush and streetlight hum.
Next to you, your tattooed savior takes a long hit of his vape, and you run a hand across the thin gold chain around your neck.
Without your permission, another memory slips through your defenses. And this one proves sharper, astonishingly clearer than the first.
Hands grab a string of gold from a nightstand, and you instantly ache because you remember what comes right after. As soon as it’s clipped onto a slim neck, you watch the necklace lower, and lower, right before you angle your mouth up to take it between your—
“Fuck.”
Jeongguk whips his head right as your eyes snap open. “You okay? What’s wrong?”
No. There are a thousand things wrong. You didn’t even fucking realize your vision went dark until light flooded out your unwanted nostalgia.
Fuck, you hadn’t thought of that summer afternoon in years. Your reaction was visceral enough to spurn an oncoming headache. “Nothing,” you whoosh out. “What time is it?”
“Almost time to head over to Lo Prohibido.” Gripping his phone, the man asks with concern, “You sure you’re good to go?”
Head pulsing, you nod. “Yeah, I’m fine, just dehydrated. Can you pick a city that won't try to burn me out next time? I'm down for traveling but it's been hell here.”
Unconvinced and unfazed, Jeongguk cocks his head to the door. “Let’s go back in. I know your favorite person is waiting, but you gotta drink water.”
“Don’t,” you groan. “He’s cute, but I got the biggest ick like halfway in.”
Your amused friend giggles as he holds the door open, “You lasted a lot longer than I thought you would.”
Laughing when more cheers erupt from inside, you give his jacketed arm a playful shove as you look down the street. “I’m nice, okay? Don’t—”
Your heart.
It booms.
In an instant, the whole world blurs, lights and bodies making solid, serpentine lines and even sound itself rolling to a deep, dull hum.
The only one you can see. The only person you can make out with perfect clarity.
Is the one you’ve been trying your fucking hardest to not remember.
Staring right at you with eyes you’ll never, ever forget.
Yoongi.
He’s just down the way, standing amongst a group with a striped jersey, dark hair swept so perfectly your chest pangs. Even though everyone around him is animated and laughing, the look on his face makes it undeniable he’s not focused on anything else.
And with a stopped heart, neither are you.
Until your lower back is held, tugging you out of the dream as Jeongguk’s question is laden with worry,
“Seriously, what’s going on? Do you need to go back to the hotel?”
You jolt away from his touch, but the action isn’t warranted. For fuck’s sake, he’s a friend you’ve known just as long as you've known the spectre down the street. Why did you feel the need to escape his worrisome hand? He isn't like the guy you just met.
If that dude had been the one to touch you, though, you would’ve fucking decked him. You are not letting him feel an inch of your skin, and that includes the majority of it you’re baring at the back.
“No, I’m—I’m fine,” you manage to get out. “Just thought I saw.. Never mind. Water.”
Yoongi would’ve damn near murdered that creep, too.
Shit.
Right before stepping back in, you turn to peer back down the sidewalk, brain concluding that what you saw was your imagination and your heart adamantly disagreeing.
However, there’s no sign of Yoongi anywhere. That same group of people continues to chitter away outside, but he’s nowhere to be seen.
So your logic is sound. It was just a dream. There’s no way he’d be here, and he looked way too fucking handsome to be real anyway. Maybe your mind is just playing tricks on you as an act of revenge for making it remember him this much today.
Because you’re remembering everything. The way he knew exactly how to get under your skin. The times he proved so patient. The way he absolutely knew how to act under your sheets.
And his. And elsewhere. Anywhere the two of you decided to make love.
And that singular word is exactly why your flame burned its brightest before choking out.
You were ready.
He wasn’t.
And you regret your decision to leave more than anything else in your entire life.
Because you could’ve fought harder. You could’ve given him more time. But when you confessed under a blanket of stars and didn’t hear those three words reciprocated, every single celestial plummeted from the sky, plunging you headfirst into a deep, dark ocean of insecurity and bubbling self-loathing.
The night you left, you left everything. You left your room, your apartment, the city you called home your entire life. Like a coward that couldn’t face rejection.
Because you didn’t even tell Yoongi goodbye.
And that’s the last damning reminder you hurl at yourself before rejoining your friends inside.
—
—
You readily down two glasses of water.
Inwardly laughing at the fact that the same dude straight up left to “meet up with his brochachos.”
—
—
Lo Prohibito is decibels louder than the restaurant, and that includes the moments everyone cheered to the max.
A dazzling laser show beams from behind the raised DJ booth, and machines shoot out air to provide much needed circulation and boost the spread of confetti.
To your delight, everyone here is just as pretty as you imagined. You’re thanking all your lucky clovers that you were accepted inside, strutting in on your heels with chin held high.
Maybe not as high as it could go.
But you refuse to let anything else bring you down tonight. You’re supposed to be having another great outing, spending it with your friends and enjoying the nightlife while you’re still able.
Bright colors span across every surface as a thumping bass shakes your toes, and you wait for the rest of your group to trickle in to find a good dancing spot—and a much needed drink because you are desperate for one.
At this point, you’ll pay any price to forget whatever the fuck you saw earlier.
Be it a figment of your imagination, or a devilishly attractive ghost, you just need to wipe that achingly handsome face from your mind.
There’s no way he’s here. And even if who you saw was real? It wasn’t the man you loved.
Because there’s no way Yoongi would even look your way again.
Not like you want him to anyway. Forget him. He gave you everything except the one thing you ultimately wanted, and you couldn’t live in his moonlight without your stars slowly burning out.
Breathe. Focus on the present. Stay in the now.
“Come on,” he instructs, holding your fingers before grabbing your waist. “Stay with me.”
“Sorry,” you whisper to your stumbling feet. “I just keep messing up that damn step and it’s annoying.”
“I know.” He grips your hand, turning so that you land against his chest, comforting tone soothing your burning ear, “But you got a lot more chances to get it. We got time. Stay in the now.”
“Okay.”
“That’s my girl.”
“Come on!”
Your past whisks away with the club fog, and you follow Hoseok and the rest off the crowded floor. “Where are we going!”
Hand on the nearest winding staircase, he turns with a smile. “Got us VIP! We’re up here.”
“No fucking way?” How the hell did Hobi manage to do that? Wasn’t this place booked up the last time you both checked yesterday? “How!”
Cheekily, the man simply plucks at his undone overshirt and wiggles, smirking as his date doubles over in a laugh.
“Oh, you’re a freak,” you call out behind him with praise. “Thank you for your service.”
Thank Jung Hoseok and those abs indeed because the VIP booth is a godsend. Sure, it’s still crowded on the second floor, but at least you don’t have to worry about standing shoulder to shoulder the whole night. You have somewhere to retreat to when you need a breather.
Which Jeongguk is already taking the most advantage of, settling into the middle of the booth and planting elbows on the long table stretching end to end. Music blares while people shout all throughout the club, but he seems quite zeroed in on his phone.
Maybe you can both use each other as a scapegoat again if you need to leave. He’s been enjoying himself for the most part, but you can tell he’s extremely ready to go home and the night just started. If you weren’t desperate to let loose and forget years of your life tonight, you would’ve offered to get shitty fast food with him and walk around the city instead.
Mm. That still sounds like a backup option.
“Who wants drinks!” Taehyung calls out from the far end of the booth, standing to wave someone down and glancing at everyone giving him their orders all at once. “Let’s just get bottles!”
Perfect. He knows exactly what to do, so you let him drive and settle into the booth to wait for the liquid ailment to your problems.
This club has it all, you muse as you take everything in. From endless bottles and extravagant cocktails sailing over the crowd, to sparkler shows and pops of streamers raining down from above, it’s a paradise of a getaway.
But the outfits? To your surprise, you feel slightly out of place, even arguably overdressed wearing the most expensive thing you own. Yes, there are loads of tens walking around, even some elevens and twelves if you’re honest. But you do see quite a few people in outfits as casual as Jeongguk’s leather.
Either way, almost everyone is dripped in the most lavish jewelry and clothing, from designer to exclusive to wait someone got in wearing a jersey?
How the hell? Despite the outfits you saw there hasn’t been anyone in here with a jersey, is he famous? It's the same one you saw on the sidewalk when you—
Fuck. That’s not him, is it? You can’t quite see his face, but that back is so…
No. No no no. You’re staying here for awhile so that better have been another mind trick or you're taking that backup plan with Jeongguk immediately—
“Here,” Taehyung catches your attention while hastily holding out a glass. “This is what you wanted, right?”
You take it with shaky fingers. “Yes, it’s perfect, thank you.”
When you turn back, the red and white stripes are gone.
And you release a breath you didn’t even know you were holding.
“You okay?”
Turning, you notice that Tae’s eyes are extremely focused on yours. You nod as you down your shot in one go. “Yeah, I’m good.”
His honey rasp slows on the way out, “You sure..?”
“Yeah.” When you push more of the stinging, sweet alcohol down, you decide to start telling him what you saw. “I just… I thought I saw…”
Taehyung is one of the only ones that never questioned why you left town. Which you’re grateful for, because you couldn’t handle all your other friends sending you text after text after call. It was fucking overwhelming, but you had one person that just allowed you to make decisions and live with them.
“Saw who?” He asks, cutting through your vision with long fingers in a wave and calling you back to reality.
“No one.” You don’t even wanna say his name. It carries the weight of the world. “Forget it! I’ll be good as soon as we start.”
Unconvinced but letting you have space, Tae doesn’t pry.
“If you say so.”
—
—
For the next hour, everything is great. You play stupid drinking games with your friends, cheer for the most random shit the house emcee yells, and you start to slowly wash the unwanted memories from your mind.
At one point, Jeongguk stuns the section by dancing on booth cushions and swinging his jacket, revealing he only had a thin tank underneath. Many people stare slackjawed at his physique and understated choice of outfit, but you can only cackle with your friends because you all know he’s gonna go right back to his phone in seconds. He just really, really likes the song playing.
And you’re enjoying the DJ set, too. As long as they don’t play specific songs, you can enjoy the rest of the night in absolute peace.
Especially the one song that haunts your every waking moment. The first time you heard it, in a club somewhere along pink lemonade sand, you trudged knee deep into the crashing tide and didn’t leave until the sun dipped under the horizon.
Because it hit too close to home. And your deluge of tears gave back infinite saltwater to the sea.
Relax. Don’t throw any possibilities into the atmosphere, especially when your mind is fucked up tonight. Your friends are heading down to the dance floor, so go with them and forget everyone else.
Making sure your drink is finished, you feel ice hit your lips before clinking it down, rushing to join your group at the top of the staircase.
Only to stutter so close to the edge your heart leaps out of your chest.
It keeps falling, and falling. Because there’s no mistaking this time. That man you saw wearing the outfit that’s starting to haunt you? He’s talking animatedly to someone across the second floor, dusty pink elbow perched on the railing with a drink in his still so veiny hand.
And your mouth turns sour at the way his shoulder is tapped by pretty nails, tongue hot and darkly spiced when Yoongi just laughs into his cup.
God. He’s here. He’s devastating without even trying.
And, as your blasphemous logic reminds you, that beautiful smile will never be yours anymore.
But that doesn’t stop you from staring. Because while on the street, you could’ve argued he was a hallucination birthed from dehydration. Right here, in this moment, you’ve sobered up in a snap and you know for a fact what you’re seeing is real.
Maybe it was better when you assumed he wasn’t.
At least then, you didn’t have to entertain any worse outcomes than just seeing him. You didn’t have to think about how you’d feel seeing him so close to someone else.
Looks like the universe is giving you the final consequences of your escape. Yoongi has your fate in the warm, rough palm of his hand, and you know he’ll do nothing but let it fall to the rumbling floor below. Just to watch with unblinking eyes.
“Hey, you gonna go down or what?”
Turning, you start to move to the side, embarrassment heating the skin of your back that was just lightly grazed, “Shit, sorry—”
A strong arm pushes you sideways into hard metal as a duo of guys head down the stairs. You figure it’s an accident, but that doesn’t stop your face from contorting in pain and a curse to fling from your mouth. Because damn that fucking hurt.
“Dude, watch it!” The one behind looks back at you to apologize, “Sorry about my—”
Oh… Really…
The guy from dinner halts in his apology, and your brow lifts right before he waves you off.
Waves you off.
At least your intuition is always spot on. Good riddance, you were completely valid to ditch his brochacho ass earlier.
Rolling your eyes skyward and even aiming a petulant tongue at his retreating back, you scoff before leaning on chilled metal, letting a moment pass before heading down to Taehyung and the rest of them.
Where are they anyway? If you don’t spot them from here it’s gonna be hard to find them on the.. ground..
Your heart looks up before you do.
And you catch your ex watching intently from across the way, phone sliding from his ear before he straightens to start walking.
…Towards you?
Fuck.
It’s been bad enough catching glimpses of Yoongi and seeing him entertain someone else. If he gets one foot right in front of you? Everything you’ve worked so hard to build up against him and the haunting memories of your relationship will collapse into dust. You can’t bear him seeing how you haven’t changed your fucking mind.
To your utmost pain, all roads have always led back to him. No matter how deep you relate to or click with someone, no matter how happy another person makes you, no one has come close to how Yoongi made you feel.
Because he’s the only one that understood even the darkest parts of you. And he’s the only light in your life you ran away from.
There’s a reason you watch every sunset. There’s a reason you stand on the beach back home and don’t move your sandswept legs until the last rays give way to the ocean line.
It’s because of the guilt. The guilt of turning away from the warmth you held in your hands and the warmth you left behind.
Your eyes stay tethered as your ex makes his way down the long side of the upstairs balcony, partiers smushing together and bottles roving over his head as ladies take them to VIP tables.
Based on the heat in his eyes? Yoongi’s on the universe’s side. There’s no way he’s seeking anything else other than revenge.
Shit, shit shit. This isn’t good for you. Literally nothing great nor healthy can come out of this if he ends up in your orbit. One word, two words, and even worse, three words from those unforgettable lips would destroy you and never let you recover.
But your hands stay tight on the warming railing. And they won’t fucking let go.
Downstairs. Go down the stairs. Go.
Yoongi’s almost here. All he has to do is round the corner. He's close enough for you to notice the silver chains adorning his neck.
And the last thing you think with a withering heart is how devastatingly handsome he’s become.
With a tight breath, you pelt high heels downward one hasty step at a time. Winding, winding, spiraling like the thoughts storming your mind. The further down you go, the farther away he is.
Your heel catches on your dress before you stumble, but you don’t look back to see if Yoongi’s even still behind you.
Chill the fuck out and don’t fucking trip. You already had nasty falls before with scars to prove it and a sticky club floor is the worst place to sprawl onto.
Keep going. Disappear into the crowd. Go find your friends.
And deal with the unmoving, gaping hole in your chest later.
—
—
It takes you awhile to find them, but soon enough, you're back to having the time of your life. The lineup of DJs is all stellar, with only a few misses here and there, even getting Jeongguk to stay on the dance floor longer than you expect.
What's even better? There's no sign of Yoongi. Surrounded by sweaty bodies and flashy grins, you don't catch a single glimpse of him in the crowd.
Good. That's good, right? You wanted this. You wanted to avoid him and run, just like you did the last time.
Your group starts to split up in the commotion of lights and confetti and streamers, but you're fine dancing on your own. With each ebb and flow of music, you lose yourself, letting your heart get swept away by stories of love and loss. Every song holds a piece you understand. Every verse carries the same message.
You aren't alone in being alone.
So embrace it. Let the hurt come later. Smiling wide, you await the next song up, arms thrown in the air with everyone in beautiful togetherness around you.
Then it starts.
The one song you knew you'd hear at some point but sure as fuck didn’t want to.
While people around roar at the familiar opening, you feel like disappearing entirely. Where’s the nearest coastline? You need a rising tide.
As the melancholic notes buzz up your chest, you slowly, quietly, lower both arms to your sides. Around you, the floor moves in sensuous circles and dips, and you envy everyone for not feeling how you feel. This glowing, searing pain setting your chest ablaze until it’s nothing but a pile of cinders, only to be washed away with the waves crashing against your knees.
With each scathing line, your heart cries, remembering exactly why it hit too deep. All those lessons you took that started on a whim. All those sunny afternoons practicing and stumbling about your living room. All those times you were held close and knew there’d be no one else.
Your heart isn't strong enough to stay in the now. It doesn’t want to. It will always remain in the past, on a rooftop gazing into a sea of stars and hoping for a different outcome.
Night, after night, after night.
Suddenly, you’re back in the past, too.
Because a hand, so sure and so steady, settles onto your hip from behind, and your eyes burn when another slides along your bare shoulder. Heat from a body you can sense from anywhere in the fucking universe warms the skin at your back, and you shake as lips touch the shell of your ear to whisper three words that shatter what’s left of your soul,
“One last time.”
You aren't in the past. You're here. And so is he.
Breath whooshing out in a hitch, your throat is in absolute flames as your eyes slide shut. Then you nod, because you can’t think of doing anything else, and you allow him to lead.
And he feels so perfect against you it hurts.
You feel how strong he’s gotten, how sturdy and lean. And yet, you also feel the same soft give you used to feel all those years ago. You know how pliant he could become under your mercy, just like all those times he gave you complete control. If you faced him, you could run your hands along that stomach you’ve kissed every inch of a thousand times over.
But you’re too much of a pathetic coward to turn around.
When you back into him, his quick hiss into that groan you miss so fucking much flips every warning light in your body. But you can’t help it. You know this dance, this connection, this reunion will be the last you will ever have.
He never loved you. You never said goodbye.
Everything that’s left unsaid swirls around you as you move in perfect sync, both your hips moving as one and your hand snaking up and back to grip his neck fuck he feels just like home.
Yoongi… Still feels like home.
A single, hot tear leaks from your eye as you sway, burning a path down your cheek as your other hand closes tight around fingers holding your side. When he grips you even tighter, another tear betrays you, and you feel his lips so close to your neck you expect him to kiss there if he wanted to.
But he doesn’t.
Of course he doesn’t.
So you take what you’re given. A dance. Just one. One last unforgettable dance before your life changes all over again.
Knowing this song by heart, you know it’s approaching the end. The bittersweet last chorus clues you in, and you tense around his neck just a little tighter, hoping Yoongi didn’t catch the need in your fingers for this moment to never end.
Mother Earth can swallow you whole as soon as the last word is sung. You give her your express permission.
Because you feel so hopelessly in love all over again, and you can’t bear your affection to be unreciprocated a second time.
Just like that. Against your deepest, sincerest wishes.
The song dies.
And immediately after, as if your world hasn’t just been upheaved and tossed to the wayside, the next number booms. Everyone on the dance floor cheers again when it’s extremely familiar and a faster tempo. Even more people fill the floor because they need to feel this one in their bones.
And you need nothing else but to leave.
Get out. Go. Yoongi said so, right? One last time. It’s over. This tension between you needed an outlet and that song was the one out you both could use to set it free.
And it’s done. So you start your brisk walk away.
Only for your wrist to be held and your heart to fall out of your ribcage.
Fuck.
When you turn, you forget you’re tear-streaked and full of painful regrets.
And the look on Yoongi’s face heats your soul all the way through.
Because his eyes are unwavering, brows cut deep and mouth completely shut. Over his forehead, tendrils of mussed bangs sweep slow, and his chest rises and falls with every hard, wordless breath he takes.
And you finally get the courage to whisper his name.
Without a word, he slowly pulls you in, not stopping until your hands softly push into his strong chest and your face is inches from his. All heavy bass and bright beats of music fall away. All lights shift until you can only see him.
Time. All that time apart vanishes when you finally feel this close again, his steady expression watching you with an emotion you can’t place but feel ripping at your walls to destroy them.
What is happening? What’s he doing?
Does he know he has the power to hurt you in ten million different ways?
Fingers rise to wipe the sadness from your face, only inviting more to pour from your eyes. “Yoongi,” you whisper again, breaking the dam you’ve been building block by block this whole time, just like you were afraid of. And you can’t fucking stop. “Yoongi…”
Then, when his eyes slide shut, you think he’ll let you go. Why can you only say his name? Why the fuck are you ruining this singular moment that you’ve only dreamed of having wait wait why is he resting his forehead against yours fuck wait—
“You know how long,” he breathes out, “I’ve been waiting to hear you say that again.”
Have mercy.
Your soul finally snaps in two.
You can only say it once more, broken and chipped, before Yoongi grips your jaw and kisses you like it’s his last minute on earth.
And you push back with a ferocity that’s been dormant for years, a magnificent flame never awakened by anyone else. Nothing else. Just him. Only him.
Rivers stream from your eyes as his arms circle you, hands gripping the skin of your back as your nails rake down his. Around you, people dance and bump into your bodies, but neither of you seem to fucking care. No one else exists. The only music you hear is every deep breath Yoongi takes and it’s your favorite, favorite, favorite.
You shouldn’t be doing this. There’s no possible way this doesn’t leave you without a broken heart and a shell of whatever intact spirit you have left.
But goddamn if you don’t stay in the now more than ever.
“I don’t give a shit,” you tumble into his mouth, waiting until he pulls away enough for you to spill every forbidden thought you’ve harbored in your beating chest. “I don’t care if you never loved me. I don’t care if you moved on. I just—just tonight, Yoongi, I need you—”
Your plea is engulfed by another soulshaking push of his lips, and you think that’s the end of it until he tugs away from you before swerving his head around the floor.
“Come here,” he orders, gripping your hand and reminding you just how perfect his fingers slot with yours.
Time. You’re getting more time? Your tears and the burning in your chest don’t quell as you’re led through the crowd. When you get strange or pitied looks, you don’t care. All these perfectly dressed people can fuck off.
When they stare at the man guiding you, that’s what gets your stomach flaring. They can have him. Just after you get one last time to carry you through the rest of your loveless life.
Yoongi suddenly turns to look at you trailing behind, and he waits to bring you in front of his side, now leading you both together through the rest of the packed floor.
Ah. This is the man you remember.
And that just makes everything hurt even more.
Soon, you’re led off the dance floor and through a series of turns, Yoongi heading up a long back staircase before rounding into a hallway of doors before he checks each one.
What are these? Karaoke rooms? Party rooms? You don’t know, but the ache in your body hunches you over, and it takes everything to not crumble before he finally stops and yanks open a door.
“Yoongi, what are you—?”
A dim, neon-lit room is what you come to, and you hear a faint click while noticing the long window looking out into the club below. Different lounge chairs and couches fill the space, and you can see just enough out the glass to know you’re even high above the VIP tables. The room feels exclusive but you don’t get to observe anything else as you’re being pushed into the nearest wall to be liplocked again.
Fuck, he’s gotten even better at this.
Just like you have.
As your dress is gripped tight, your thoughts all blur together in a lustful slurry. How many has he taken to bed after you? Do you remember your own count? Has anyone else made him feel like you do? With a searing green flare, you remember that no one has come close to him. How awfully one-sided would that be if he found someone that completed him.
A veiny hand grips the side of your neck before sliding to your head. “Fuck,” Yoongi grits out. “I… I can’t.”
...What?
No. No no no.
Your heart begins its fast descent. Because if Yoongi doesn’t want this, you have to respect that. As much as you will scream into the night, you’re not gonna stop him if he gets up and leaves.
Because you did. So why shouldn’t he get that same chance to destroy you?
“I get it,” you hitch out, holding his strong wrist with shaky fingers. It’s only fair. This felt too good to be true anyway. “I know.”
“It’s not that.” Yoongi slides his free hand on the wall, holding it at your shoulder. “I just… Fuck, if we do this, I can’t promise I’ll hold back.”
Oh. Fuck that.
You tug the warm silver around his neck. “Then don’t,” you urge to his grunt. “If this is all we get? I don’t fucking care.”
“Even if I t—”
“Do it, Yoongi,” you plead with a gritted cry. “You can do anything to me, whatever it is just do it.”
“Fuck.”
All doubt flees from his eyes as your back gets smushed into the wall, your lips puffed and parting when he places hot, open mouthed kisses down your column.
Hands keep their quest in gathering up your dress. And you make quick work of his belt before pulling, tugging, yanking it out of its holster.
“The fuck,” he shoots out. “Who the fuck taught you that?”
Your eyes flicker to his as you grip the hem of his jeans. “You really wanna know?”
“No.” He switches up on a dime. “Don’t tell me.”
Your lips collide again before he rips his mouth down to attack your chest, nipping at a spot that has you flinching and hand sliding between your legs. When he runs a finger along your underwear, his eyes practically burn out as he growls, “You’re this fucking wet already?”
“I told you,” you gasp out. “I need you.”
Your hand is yanked to the front of his jeans, and shock and emotion completely cover the expanse of your face feeling how unbelievably hard he is.
Unfazed, Yoongi continues kissing up to your shoulder, leaving hot saliva trails all over your skin and bunching your silk in his hands. “Seeing you in this? Lost my shit.”
“You're lying.”
“All fuckin' night."
“Liar.”
Liar, liar. A bold faced lie. You saw him talking to other people. You saw his anger piercing across the club. But you watch as his look levels, and your cheeks sizzle at the way he shifts his jaw,
“I’d never lie to you.”
Shit. Your heart bats eyelashes before you shove it out of frame.
The organ in your chest is a walking liability, especially when it’s connected to your mouth. So there are many, many things you might reveal tonight in the throes of agony and passion. Things you will regret come morning waking to an empty bed.
The best way to not say anything that could potentially do more harm than good? Keep your lips occupied. And that’s exactly what you intend to do.
“We’ll see,” you grit out, unbuttoning his pants and pulling them down. When Yoongi lets you twist to shove him back against the wall, his eyes flare in dark need when he hisses,
“You don’t have to—”
“I want to.”
To show him how you’ve grown in the years you separated, to show him what he could’ve fucking had.
To show him that you aren’t taking a single bit of this last, serendipitous night for granted.
Kneeling slow, you slide your hands along his clothed chest, kissing his chains exactly how you used to and smearing lipstick all the way down his jersey.
“Fuck…”
Balancing on your heels, you wince at the tight bend in your knees, but you aren’t going down completely because your kneecaps aren’t what they used to be. Fuck that. You can do plenty in a low squat anyway, and he’s seen you look a hell of a lot more awkward many times. “Shit,” you still whisper. “You’re lucky I can’t wait to swallow you.”
A curse flings out of his mouth. “Get up, babe.”
Heart ringing at the name, you reject his order with a harsh, “Shut up.”
You want this, and you know for a fact he does, too. When Yoongi tries to bend, you pull down his underwear, springing his cock free and almost salivating at the sight.
Just like you remember. Everything about him is just how you remember, and yet his body has only gotten stronger and filled out in all the perfect places. Yoongi’s a man now. A real, grown man.
If you both just met tonight, you know he would’ve asked for your name before anything else.
Cut the shit. You are not getting into that now, not when you have him with hands trembling against a wall before you take him in your palm. As soon as you touch, Yoongi expels a deep groan, kicking his head back and gripping the wall with a large hand.
What’s going on? You haven’t even done anything yet. Why does your chest constrict at how sensitive he is? This isn’t the time to relax, but you really can’t help but soften at his complete and utter unravelling.
It’s almost as if nothing’s changed.
Yoongi lowers his gaze, and you lock glistening eyes before you take him in your mouth, slow on the tip and swirling to get it coated and prepped just right. Your hand expertly glides along his solid, slick length, squeezing at the spot you know makes him fold.
“Holy fuck,” he gasps out, hand hesitating to palm your head before balling in a fist against plaster. “Shit, babe..”
Again? Does he even realize what he’s saying? Is he trying to hurt you because if that’s his goal it’s fucking working.
Anger, regret, painful nostalgia drives you forward, sinking his velvety ridges inside your throat and proving to him how much better you’ve gotten. With every plunge, you hollow your cheeks, already feeling the telltale searing at your eyes and spiraling up your throat. His endless stream of sounds and praise tumble down your skin, and you keep sucking mercilessly even when his hips buck and his eyes squeeze tight.
Releasing with a loud pop, you feel a huge strain on your soaked legs as you adjust, tilting your drenched chin to bury your face in his sack to lick and take it in.
“Baby..”
At this new, old nickname, you grip his cock tighter, swallowing him whole again just to hide your real tears behind the ones streaming from taking him in so deep.
More. You give more, and more, and more. Time will take away everything else so what you can give is all you got.
Hands grip your head in desperation, and you let Yoongi push you onto his length until your airway is closed tight, nose and cheeks flush against the skin of his thighs. His scent is heady and just like you remember, if only slightly different due to the new musky cologne he’s probably sticking with nowadays. Not like you can focus on it too long because your airway is screaming to be freed again.
Tears leak over your lashes as want slicks your cunt, and you hear syllables that could be words before you finally give his legs a telltale tap.
Oxygen floods your lungs as more tears stream from your eyes, lips sopping wet and saliva leaving your chin in strings. Gulping, you go right back to it, taking him in again and pumping his slick ridges quick.
“Get up,” he commands with a rasp so deep it rumbles your chest. “Get the fuck up.”
You’re pulled upward so fast your legs cry at the bends, and you’re spun so quick the wall hits your shoulderblade and you cry out into a furious mouth.
Pleasure and pain intertwine as you match his intensity, raking at his shoulders and clawing into his hair. With each kiss, he reaches deeper into your throat, and you know he can taste himself on your tongue with the way he claims it in waves.
For a moment, there’s no one else in the world. You aren’t in a dimly lit lounge in a club away from home. You’re right here in his bedroom, getting slung and dragged along his wall and knocking every one of his plaques and posters off-kilter.
“Yoongi, I—”
“I know.”
Without further prompt, Yoongi wrenches at your dress to shove it up to your hip, burning a path along your leg with expert fingers. As you hook itover his smooth forearm, your lips part when his other hand slides between your thighs.
You know your underwear is soaked all the way through.
And now, so does he. “Goddamn.”
“I can’t take it anymore,” you gasp out. “Just—”
“Are you still on the—”
“Yes.”
Shifting the sodden material to the side, Yoongi wastes no time, angling himself to rub over your folds and moaning in tandem with you because holy fuck this already feels so—
“This fucking pussy,” Yoongi grits out, sliding in perfectly and so smoothly it’s like neither of you ever left each other's sides. Your high moan cuts into the cherry ceiling when he sounds like he’s just struck gold, “Shit, you’re gonna be the death of me.”
“Yoongi, please—”
He’s talking absolute nonsense. Gonna be? How is that possible when you won’t see him again?
All questions vaporize when Yoongi’s hips snap up, launching you up the wall again, and again, and again. Pops of need and lust zoom straight to your head, sparkling out of your eyes when you feel his lips smothering your neck.
You’re in heaven. You’re in hell. It feels so good it hurts. Caught in a flurry of need and anguish, your nails rake down his shoulders before scratching at his arms, shivering at his outright growl,
“Don’t do that.”
“Oh, I—”
“Do that shit again and I’ll come.”
Shit. You don’t understand how he could be so shameless. You’re trying your hardest to keep it together and here he is saying whatever the fuck he wants? If you let your mouth just as loose as he has there’s no telling what you’d be shouting out.
But you settle for an apology for now, just in case you actually hurt him, “Sorry.. My nails are super long right now.”
“I noticed.” Another thrust launches you into the sky. “They look good but they hurt like hell.”
“Oh.. Sorry again.” A moan escapes when he shoves into you, mind hazy because he’s still placating you.
“I’m not saying that’s a bad thing.” Devilish, he breaks into a slow smirk you haven’t seen in ages, and your ribcage folds inward and inward. “I’m just not fucking done with you yet.”
Oh. He doesn’t want this to end, either.
Now that changes every fucking cog in your brain.
You keep yourself upright as long as you can, arms slung around his neck as you both move together, dip and lean together, breathe so hard it scorches your chest together. Every muscle in your planted leg burns, but it’s nothing compared to the stare you have connected to his eyes. With each deep thrust, his brows furrow and his teeth peek from his lips, and every groan you hear goes right into a chest for safe keeping. Right next to all the other memories you want to lock away.
Yoongi’s pace starts to quicken the more your mewls encourage him. What was sensuous is now unbearable and, as your dress threatens to shift, you know your breasts will be on full display soon, and Yoongi bites his lip with a grunt with his next hard thrusts.
Soon enough, you feel a chill on your nipples as they’re freed, moaning to the ceiling when Yoongi immediately heats one whole with his tongue. “Baby!”
Goddamn it. You weren’t supposed to address him like that, too. But maybe it’s better than saying his name because every time you do there’s a charge sparking the air.
So you decide to switch, moaning the same word over and over as he licks and sucks, dragging his teeth along your exposed chest and littering it with heavy proof of his lips. Just like the lipstick on his jersey, you know he’s claimed his own marks on your skin.
And neither of you will be able to hide them when you part.
Expelled tension flits about in light streaks as you move with him, slick with exertion and tight with muscles working in double time. You both know this is the last time and you’re acting like it. And you send a prayer to the heavens to let time stop just to keep holding him in your arms.
Suddenly, your heel slips, and you yelp before strong arms keep you upright. “Shit, sorry.”
“I got you.”
Summer sunsets smother your vision as you let him guide you from the wall, gently placing your leg down and leading you to a sofa. Everything simmers to a lull, and you have a moment to catch your breath and steady your racing, racing heartbeat.
When Yoongi sits on vibrant cushions, you admire the way his biceps fill those sleeves right as he tugs his jersey clean off. And you have to fight to not teeter over, continuing to stare in awe at him, so perfectly filled in some placed and chiseled in others that you start to wonder how you even left in the first place.
Of course you know why you did. So why bring it up now when you’re right here? Why agonize over the past when you’re standing right between his legs?
“Baby.”
You flick your gaze back up to his.
“Stay with me.”
Tears zing up your eyes as you nod, heart plugging your throat as you mount his toned thighs. When you feebly place hands on his searing shoulders, you hate the way your words shake on the way out, “Stay in the now. I know.”
Yoongi’s eyes shine with a light in them you weren’t sure was there before. But you can’t wait long enough for confirmation because your heart is keeling over with ache.
He remembers. He remembers. Does that mean he’s thought about you, too?
Focus on something else. No time to think about the past, nor the future. No time to notice that the way Yoongi looks at you now is so heartbreakingly similar to how he worshipped you before. Back when things were perfectly imperfect. Back when you were sure he loved you before he proved to you that he didn’t.
“Still so beautiful.”
Liquid fire fills your eyes as your breath hitches, guiding his length to your entrance before sinking onto him with no issue. When you both groan, you let your glittery vision watch the ceiling instead of him when you admit,
“You look so fucking good in red.”
There’s no response as you breathe, angling yourself to feel him deep and moving in a slow push and pull along his legs. Your thin chain tightens as your neck strains above Yoongi’s head, and you wish you had the guts to look down at the ones around his neck. They’re already deadly resting on his clothes, but rocking against the flush of his skin is how you love them the most.
Still, you can’t bear to look. You know you’ll lose yourself in those eyes if you dare stare long enough. Because what you saw earlier looked too close to longing, which would be impossible because that only exists in yours.
“And,” you whoosh out in tired breaths, gripping your fingers on him a little tighter, “Looks like you.. finally hit the gym.. like I kept fucking saying.”
A puff of warm laughter hits your chest before sweaty hands grip your waist. “Always said I would.”
“But you never did,” you huff out, grinding on him harder and melting at his little sounds. One thing you will keep giving this man credit for: he isn’t ashamed to be just as vocal as you are. The more people you ended up meeting? The rarer and rarer you realized that bedroom quality was.
“I did eventually,” he grits, holding you in place and surging into you so hard you yelp to the stars. “Didn’t I.”
“Fuck you,” you bite, moaning when your argument dies the moment his tongue swirls around a nipple again. What’s left comes out a garbled mess of a groan, and you hate, hate, hate the dark chuckle against your breast. Partly because he’s a constant problem, and partly because you yearn to see his smile again.
“What else is new about you,” Yoongi suddenly rasps, hands lowering to rest on your hips as you ride him. “Aside from clearly getting better at this.”
Lost in lust and surprised at his question, you finally peer down to see him looking up already. “No thanks to you.”
And your world stills as he doesn’t respond right away, any hint of sunlight fading from his features. “No thanks to me,” he slowly agrees.
Fuck. You didn’t mean to do that.
Slowly slipping hands from his body, you rise from his length and mourn the disconnect before standing. When Yoongi only regards you with eyes on fire, you slowly turn and rest on his thighs.
He’s not gonna like this. But he asked.
You turn your head before slowly sliding one side of your dress completely down, revealing a rough scar on your back a little lower than your shoulder.
And your soul immediately clenches when Yoongi heats your back with his body heat. “The fuck?” His fingers feel so light, so protective as they caress your mark. It’s confusing, and you abhor it as much as you need it. “What happened?”
“I fell,” you whisper. “Pretty hard.”
Details of how and when it happened don’t matter. But he wanted to know what was new, and the scar on your heart isn’t exactly readily available to show.
“I did, too.”
What? At his voice over your shoulder, you strain your neck to see him. “When?”
Why is he kissing your scar? Exes don’t do that. Exes don’t do anything you’re doing right now.
“Before you left.”
Now you feel worse. When the hell did that happen? Why didn’t you know about it? “Sorry,” you breathe out with sorrow. “I didn’t know.”
Another slow, calm graze of his mouth tightens your throat. Because he’s since moved across your back, lips now touching where your shoulderblade hit the wall.
“I know,” Yoongi sighs. “I never told you.”
He never told you many things.
Stepping into dangerous territory is making you regret showing him your worst moment. So you shift your ass to push over his cock, feeling it throb against you when you wisp out the worst reminder, “We don’t have much time.”
“Mm.”
When you feel his hands shift your dress, you lift up and allow you both to effortlessly situate you back where you wanna be. Your back hits his chest as he guides himself up into your folds, and your head kicks back to lie across his shoulder like the red silk flowing over your thigh.
“Just like you said,” you start to whisper, eyes already welling with oncoming regret, “One last time.” Every syllable just as melancholic as the notes of your favorite song.
When Yoongi starts, your heart weeps at the pace. Because it reminds you of better times, sensuous and intentional and convincing you to confess all over again. It takes everything not to speak, your moans escaping in weak puffs and your hips swelling in a calm wave.
This is too much. This is way too fucking much and you finally break when his name leaves you like a prayer. “Harder,” you beg. “Please, please go—”
You’re cut off as soon as his hips jolt up, flinging you to life before going at a menacing pace. Yes yes yes this is the one you need. The one you crave. The one that leaves no room for feelings and decisions. Your dress threatens to slip off your sides with each pound, slowly rolling and accentuating your chest in seconds. “Shit, holy shit!”
“Fuck, you’re so tight—”
“So fucking big—”
As if knowing exactly what you want, your arms are held back, locked into place as you’re under the absolute mercy of his dick slamming up into you over and over, skin slapping obscene and thighs burning from the stretch across his lap.
Yoongi knows you better than anyone else. A frustrated growl tears from your lips as you arch so far back you connect clouds, and a strong forearm wraps across your stomach to pin you so fucking close you may as well mold right into him. Passion streaks down your limbs as sweat beads along your skin, the heady scent of sex and forbidden fruit swirling into your nose.
More. More more more he’s giving you everything. As your arms are freed, you can only grip the other forearm slinging over your upper chest, nails digging into creamy skin and leaving angry, cherry red lines.
Words, praise, everything under the sun is being spewed onto your slick shoulders as you mash your teeth and eyes tight. You even hear a word you’ve been wanting to hear for years, but that can’t possibly be true because there’s no way Yoongi would ever—
A hand closes around your throat, and your eyes fly back into your head.
You’re so close. Fucking hell, your thighs are singing and your throat is burning and your abdomen strains from the arch but you need this release. You need this tidal wave to consume you. If only to forget for a split second that Yoongi isn’t—
“—yours.”
What?
Another fierce round of thrusts almost topples the two of you over, and white hot pressure paints the edges of your eyes as you strain for breath. You’re so close. So fucking close it’s right within reach.
But it all vanishes in a snap as Yoongi stops, and you cry with a teary rasp, “No, please, baby—”
“Not yet.” He hauls you up, making you sit straight and facing away yet again. “You know what to do.”
Fuck. There’s no way he remembers this, too. You flinch at the slap to your breast before shakily getting up, legs wobbly but positioning yourself on his cock perfectly before sliding down.
Both heels planted on the ground, you brace his strong knees and work his slick length, eyes rolling at his breathy groans and curses leaving his mouth in spurts.
You know exactly what to do to make him lose his goddamn mind. So you do it all, swirling and swerving your hips while flicking off your silk, showing him the best view of your ass as it bounces. Your legs tire, but you don’t, and you use the music leaking into the room to set your sickening, aggravating pace.
“Fuck, baby..”
“You asked for it.”
“Don’t regret a goddamn thing.”
You can tell he’s on the brink of madness, and you can only picture the way his head thumps back on the couch, mouth torn by his teeth and brows furrowed to hell. His muscles are probably contracting in waves, including the ones in his perfect, bulging arms.
“You shouldn’t,” you hum. “Since this is all you get.”
Without a word, hands reach out and tug you backward, and you’re up on your feet and tripping before your hands slap the firm cushions of the next chair over. “What the fu—”
To your absolute delight, Yoongi plants a foot on the chair before gripping the pliant dip of your hips, pushing tears from your eyes with each quick, deep thrust he rams forward. Stars dance along your vision as drool leaks endlessly from your mouth. “Baby—! Fuck!”
“This pussy’s so.. Fuck.” You’re shoved so far down that your moist cheek smushes into firm cushion. “Say my name.”
“Babe—”
“As much as I wanna hear that every fucking day”—Yoongi shoves into you again and keeps his cock thrumming inside your cunt—“Right now, I’m gonna hear my name. So say it.”
“Yoongi—”
His deep, gritted command makes you snap, “Louder.”
“Yoongi—!”
You feel it. You’re at the brink again. With every snap of his skin pounding against yours, you’re inching closer and closer and closer to the edge, waiting for the fall that will end you. “Baby, I’m gonna—”
Firm arms haul you upward and you’re both travelling the room again, legs skittering until you hit back first into the nearest wall fuck that took your breath out.
Yoongi’s breath catches as he slams a hand against the plaster to steady, face burrowed in your neck and hair brushing harsh against your ear as he buries inside of you again. Fire spews from his mouth as you feel his cock squeeze up into your cunt, and his arm tenses tight behind your knee as he commands,
“Come for me, love.”
You don’t know what the fuck you just heard but you know he didn’t just say—
“I said come.”
Instinct. Pure, animalistic instinct surges your orgasm forward in a high crest, breaking onto shore in hot, white waves as you tremble around him. Your cunt squeezes and tugs, your poor leg threatening collapse as Yoongi roughly hums so deep against your chest. Pleasure, starlight, the warmth of an afternoon faraway heats your body just right, and one crash leads into the next so effortlessly that tears zip down your cheeks.
Your name rips from Yoongi’s throat.
And it’s enough to send you right over the edge again.
How the fuck is this possible how the hell can someone break you with your own name how can Yoongi have this much of a hold on you when it’s been literal years? It doesn’t make any sense and the cries into his neck as he holds you close are akin to sobs. Maybe they are. Maybe they’re your way of mourning everything that could’ve been. Everything that will never be.
But at least you were able to have him, shaking in your grasp and pulsing in your core. One more night. One last time.
“Fuck it, come here.”
Your sobs are yanked from the wall again, and you don’t know up from left as you're thrown onto a sofa, back curling as Yoongi tugs your head upright. Your tears slide down your neck, wetting your necklace as he breathes out,
“Again.”
Fuck! Your cunt tightens around him as you gasp out, “I can’t… I can’t—”
“Don’t lie to me,” Yoongi growls, clutching your chin and flinging hot spit onto your face that catapults you into another level of need you’ve never been to holy fuck. Smothering it against your cheeks, he taps you once and it brings destruction. “I said again.”
All your limbs lock at the bends as you throw your head in a strained cry, a release that overpowers all the others flushing through your veins and igniting beams out of your sweaty chest. Wave upon wave crashes into your soul and your ears ring so loud you can barely hear or see Yoongi watching from above. You can’t. You’re too caught in chaos. You can’t see the way he looks at you.
“Come for me, Yoongi,” you suddenly plead, “Let go.”
“Let me pull—”
“Do it now,” you hitch out. “Come inside.”
A prolonged moan leaves his mouth as he launches into a pace that has you screaming, teeth gritted to hell and fingers gripping you so hard you know they’re going to bruise. But who cares when your skin will match your heart? Who gives a fuck about anything else anymore?
Beautiful weight crushes your chest as Yoongi’s body turns erratic, jolting and seizing up. And you know he’s racing to his own cliff to dive and you’re gonna be right there to catch him. Slinging your arms around his drenched back and fisting the wet base of his hair, you’re already ready and waiting with harsh harsh breaths, because you're about to break him.
“That’s it, baby,” you whisper to his ear, ravaging his slick neck with your lips and scraping teeth over his ear just how he likes, hearts beating as one when you stop just to connect your forehead to his. With a singular, throaty gasp, you plead,
“One last time.”
Yoongi’s sudden release sends a pulse through the air, and your core beats and beats with each pump of essence he spews inside. Heaven and earth collide with stars as you hold tight, and your thighs shake as he finishes filling you with the longest orgasm you have ever, ever seen him endure.
The float down doesn’t come quick, both of you softly suspended in time and air. Steam radiates from your skin and flows from your mouths with each breath, and beads of sweat slip down his jewelry as he stares with a deep vastness in his eyes.
Why is he so quiet?
Why are you so quiet?
Why do you feel like crying again?
With one more shaken breath, Yoongi swallows, chest heaving right after as he struggles to gather himself. His shoulders are so broad when he moves under your hands, closing his eyes as soon as your brows touch,
“I know it’s over.”
Your heart flares.
“But I need you to know.”
Stars light the night sky.
“I love you. And I always will.”
A sob breaks your silence, hand flying to cup your mouth before you hunch forward into his trembling chest. Days and days of pent up anger and sadness spill out all at once, and you weep into his chest because you can’t bear to let go.
“I know you’ve moved on,” Yoongi continues with a shake to his words, not pausing at the way you choke and weep. “But I’ve regretted never saying it back then. And I’m not gonna get another chance.”
What the fuck is happening. What does he mean? What does he mean? Your body can’t stop as it locks and locks, sobs wracking your chest because this is fucked up and confusing and everything you’ve been wanting for the longest time. This is all you wanted. And you only get it at the very end.
“I didn’t even say goodbye,” you shake out. When you lift your trembling head, his lips are already so achingly close to yours and his hand moves to steady your neck. “I left and never came back.”
When his eyes are the only ones that speak, you start to spill everything out, words tumbling into one another and pinging to the floors around your tired feet,
“I tried so hard to forget you. Tried so, so hard to stop loving you. Every day, I’d wake up wanting nothing to do with you, only to see you in my dreams and remember how it felt to—to—”
Bright red flares across Yoongi’s eyes as he keeps listening, jaw pulsing and brows so tense.
“At first, I was so angry. At you, at myself, at the world for letting me love you when you never loved me back. But now, I know what I did was wrong. And I regret it every day that I live.”
When your face contorts in sorrow, Yoongi brings a hand up to wipe your cheek, thumb brushing away your tears. “I did, babe.” Your breath stops and your eyes splay wide. “Just never had the guts to say it first.”
First.
Yoongi loved you all the way back then? Before that starry night that’s kept your heart captive for so long? It pulses against your chest, ramming and ramming into your ribcage to get to his.
Only one question barrels through your mind. “…Why?”
Yoongi looks from one eye to the next. “Because I didn’t think I deserved to.”
Everything clicks into place and you suddenly feel so, so upset. You are going to fight this man to the moon and back. Or, better yet, you’re gonna fight him to the moon and leave him there. “You think I thought that way?”
“No.” He sighs, chains shaking over your chest. “And I replay that night over, and over. Knowing that I’d do anything to go back and tell you how I felt.”
Yoongi never lived in the past. He was always adamant about staying in the present. So knowing he’d been stuck there right next to you makes your chest collapse before slipping down into the deep sea.
“When I saw you today? Every day I told myself I’d get over you didn’t matter. Every reason I told myself I couldn’t be with you was bullshit.”
Your throat constricts again.
“But when you kept running.. I knew you were done with me for good.” Yoongi’s hand falls. “And there was nothing I could do to change your mind.”
“Yoongi…”
All this time, you both had your own reasons for avoiding each other. Everything you fed into your logical side was just a ploy to project your feelings, and it turns out Yoongi did the exact same thing.
He said he wouldn’t be able to hold back if you did this tonight. And now, you’re blessed to know exactly what he meant.
So you also let everything go.
“I was never done with you,” you choke out, seeing a swath of emotion brush across his face. “Because I’m still in love with you, and I will be even if you walk out of here without me.”
Musk and heaven consumes you in a hug, and you cry into a bare shoulder as you hear Yoongi vow something so full of longing and conviction you hold him tighter,
“I’m not going anywhere else without you.”
Music continues to pulse outside, lasers continue to dance around the room. But you see nothing but the light in your lover's eyes.
And it’s a beautiful, beautiful sunrise.
—
—
When you both finally part, it’s only to let him get dressed and for you to use the nearest restroom. In the quiet wake of your emotional storm, Yoongi walks you to the window spanning the far wall of the lounge, and you both watch the club floors move and sway from above. And it’s only now that you feel shy. It’s only now that you feel nervous seeing everyone below.
But a thought occurs to you that dashes all others away,
“How did you know to come up here?”
Yoongi gives you a look that you raise a brow at. “I…” He sighs. “Let’s just say I know my way around this place.”
Ah. Of course. “Come here often?”
“Not for the reasons you think.”
Your brows are fully bent now. “…Huh?”
“I own the building.” Hands busy, he adjusts his jersey as if he didn’t drop the biggest shock of the century on your toes. “And a couple others in the city.”
What.
Pause pause pause hold the fucking phone.
Yoongi lives in this city? He owns what? This is a little too much to take in, but you have time. And you’re gonna hound him for every single detail of his life that you’ve missed.
You have time. Your prayer had been answered tenfold. And you send endless gratitude to the sky.
But suddenly, a second realization pierces your mind and you lightly shove him. When Yoongi looks at you in shock, you yell out, “You asked what’s new and I showed you a scar! Now you tell me you own a fucking building?”
Your lover laughs, and the sun rises even higher over your horizon. Ducking your next swipe, he’s already back to irritating you again as he clarifies, “I said more than one—”
“Oh, fuck you!”
He rushes forward and gathers you in his arms, not caring if anyone sees your embrace in the window. “You wanna go again?”
Your face heats as your eyes roll heavenward, exactly where you feel like you are in this moment. “I have a pretty big hotel room,” you divulge. “And no one to share that bedroom with unless someone else catches my eye tonight, so…”
Yoongi’s eyes crease as he kisses your forehead. “Fuck that. Take me home.”
Your giggles into his chin bubble out in pink, poppable spheres.
As magnificent and dreamlike all of this has been, you're starting to find logic again. Because more than one question badgers into your mind.
How long have you been gone? Have your friends not even checked on you? Did they try? Did they leave do they even still have the... table…
Wait.
Everything else clicks into place.
The random city everyone flew to that Jeongguk picked. The infamous club and dress code you heard about from Taehyung. The table that Hoseok bragged about getting…
“...You're the one that got us VIP.”
That stupid, annoying, ridiculous grin. Of course this is how you'd be reminded of how much you love to hate it.
“Now come dance with me,” he says with teeth still flashing wide. “Let’s see if you ever got that step.”
Eyes sparkling, you let him lead you down and onto the dance floor, moving through until you’re suddenly next to your friends that shout and holler at your arrival together.
“All of you are crazy!” You yell out, tears in your smile as they burst into laughter. “Why didn’t you just tell me!”
Yoongi grabs hold of you before chuckling into your ear. “I told them not to.”
“Why?”
“Didn’t know if you were really done.” He grips you tight, face falling into seriousness. “But I heard you broke up with someone a month ago. This was my only chance and I took it.”
Holy fucking shit.
“Thank you.” You kiss his cheek with purpose. “I love you.”
Yoongi’s cheeks rise high, dimples prominent and eyes carrying the light of the universe. Lips close, he responds how he wanted to the first time.
And you seal your devotion with a kiss full of starlight.
“Ugh, here we go.”
“Already at it again, huh.”
"Figures. Didn't you see his jersey?"
“Get another room—!”
Suddenly, the same song that used to haunt you comes on once more, but this time, you welcome it with a swell of freedom in your chest. The waves of your mind calm, washing onto an empty beach and fading into a mesmerizing valley of blue.
Yoongi grins as he holds your hand, and you can't help but stretch your mouth wide as you both immerse into the crowd, moving and spinning and stepping perfectly together on every beat. Laughter and joy fills the space between your hearts as you all cheer, sharing this infinite moment together as fate intended.
In a beautiful, unforgettable dance.
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fin :)
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hi lovelies what did we think !! | main masterlist
a/n: so don't ask how i managed to write all of this in a single day (now two) lol i think this madrid yoongi broke me. anyways, here's the sidequest that became the main quest for a bit! i'm back to writing three tangerines so 3tan13 will be finished here real soon :D thank you all for reading and i hope you enjoyed this irresistible ex turned lover yoongiiiii :DD did i cry? yes. can you prove it? no!!!!
a/n 2: as always, reblogs and comments and asks are always super appreciated! i love sharing things with you guys and a big part of that is getting to hear what you all liked and what you're excited about. happy to chat, and thank you for reading!
++ feedback box:
⇥ of course, any reblogs/comments/messages are appreciated!
⇥ for the ones that are too shy to reblog with a review, comment on this, or send a message, i went ahead and made another anonymous form where you can send in what you think!
⇥ no emails collected, no need to put in a username. it’s literally just a comment dropbox :D feedback can be as short/sweet or as long as you’d like!
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Synopsis: Mrs Min is persistent, she wants her son to get serious about dating and takes the matchmaking process in our own hands. Min Yoongi doesn't think he has the time or the space for a relationship, but it all changes after a few annoying texts from his mother and an elevator ride.
Genre: Idol Yoongi AU, FLUFF, a lot of FLUFF, boyfriend Yoongi, some smut, two people trying to figure out their feelings for each other. Art curator OC, it's just a lot of fluff with some smut because I am terribly single.
Word Count: 25K+
AOC Link: here
Link to Epilogue: here
"Mom, I don't want you intervening in my dating life anymore!" Yoongi's voice carries down the hallway the moment his phone buzzes with yet another contact saved under a name like Park Soomin - nice girl, works in finance, very pretty ♥. He stares at it for a long second before tossing the phone onto his bed. "I don't want you to help me find a girlfriend. I don't have time for a girlfriend."
He yanks open his closet and pulls out the last of the clothes he needs to pack, draping them over his arm with the practiced efficiency of someone who has lived out of suitcases for the better part of a decade. New York. Weeks of back-to-back schedules, press runs, radio slots, and performances and his mother was out here playing matchmaker like he was a man of leisure.
"I'm sure they're all great," he continues, softer now, more tired than annoyed. He means it, genuinely. It's never about the girls. "I just don't have the time." He pads out of the bedroom, heading toward the living room where he'd heard her shuffling around not twenty minutes ago, the familiar sound of her rearranging things that didn't need rearranging.
But the room is empty. Yoongi stops in the doorway, a dress shirt still folded over his forearm, and looks around. The television is off. Her reading glasses are sitting on the arm of the sofa. A half-drunk cup of tea steams quietly on the coffee table.
He blinks. "…Mom?"
He walks further in, checking the kitchen, empty, then their bedroom. Nothing. He stands very still for a moment and replays the last several minutes in his head. The bedroom, the closet, the hallway rant. Had she even been home? Had he just been pouring his heart out to an apartment?
He drags a hand through his hair and exhales slowly through his nose. His phone buzzes again on the bed, distant but audible. Probably another one.
Her phone rings for a while before she picks up, “Where are you?” Yoongi speaks to the phone as he continues packing. "I'm at the Lee's place." Her voice is bright, unbothered, the voice of a woman who has done nothing wrong in her entire life. "Their daughter is visiting. You should come over." A brief pause, then, as though it's a perfectly reasonable addendum: "Now."
Yoongi stops folding. "Their daughter," he repeats. "She's very sweet. She works in the arts world too, works as-" "Mom." He sets the shirt down. "I leave for the airport in twenty minutes"
"It won't take long, just come and say hello, what is twenty minutes-" "Why are you even there?" He pinches the bridge of his nose. "You went to the Lee's just… did you plan this? Did you leave so I couldn't argue with you in person?"
The pause that follows is a fraction too long. "Their daughter got some amazing desserts from Spain" she says finally, with great dignity. He laughs before he can stop himself, a short, disbelieving exhale and sits down on the edge of the bed amidst the half-packed chaos. "I'm not coming over."
"Just to say hello -" "I'm not coming over, I'm going to New York, and when I come back we are having a real conversation about this." He stands again, reaching for the shirt. "Enjoy the desserts"
"She has a very nice smile, so beautiful, perfect height for you" "Bye, Mom, I’ll see you in two weeks" He hangs up. Stares at the open closet for exactly three seconds, then gets back to packing. His phone buzzes again, information for the Lee’s daughter, like he’s really convinced by the hard sell his mother gave.
The elevator dings and slides open, and Yoongi steps in without looking up, wheeling his carry-on in front of him. He adjusts his mask, tugs his beanie down a little further, and stares at the floor numbers like they owe him something. He does not notice, at first, that he is not alone.
She's standing in the corner with her coat half-buttoned and her bag hiked up on one shoulder, the posture of someone who had also left a situation slightly faster than was polite. She'd walked into her parents' living room an hour ago expecting a quiet visit and had instead been subjected to an unsolicited slideshow. Her mother and Mrs. Min, two women who clearly missed their calling as matchmakers, had walked her through approximately twenty photographs. Career highlights, candid shots, one that looked suspiciously like a press photo with the watermark cropped out.
So she recognizes him from a maternal ambush conducted over barley tea and the good plates. She says nothing at first. The doors slide shut.
"Congratulations on the album," she says, pleasantly, the way you'd say it to a colleague in a lift. "My mother played me three songs from it this morning. Without warning."
That gets him, his head turns. Not just the sideways glance he'd given her when she shifted her bag a proper turn, eyes finding her face with something between confusion and alertness. The look of a man trying to locate the context.
"She what?" "The one with the soft intro," ___ continues, thinking back. "She said it proved you were sensitive. I think that was meant to sell me on you."
There’s complete silence from Yoongi’s side, he just stares at her. She can only see his eyes above the mask but it's enough she watches the exact moment the pieces assemble themselves.
"The daughter," he says slowly. "You're ___ Lee?" he recalls from the last contact information his mother sent. "And you're the son" She tilts her head. "Twenty pictures, by the way. I counted."
He makes a sound that isn't quite a word, more of a groan. His hand moves to the back of his neck. "I'm so sorry," he says, and he means it with his whole chest.
"It's fine." She smiles, and there's no edge in it, just genuine amusement. "Honestly the album part was good. I'd have preferred to find it on my own terms but-" she lifts one shoulder, "-here we are."
"Well, great to meet you." She steps out of the elevator first, one hand coming up absently to tuck a piece of her bob behind her ear before it falls back against her jaw anyway. Her coat is oversized, something vintage-feeling in a warm camel tone.
"I saw you guys in concert in 2019 and now we're being set up." She glances back at him with a grin that's more amused than anything else, fingers brushing through her bob again, a quick, unconscious sweep. "Funny how life works."
Yoongi follows her out into the basement, and for a moment he just looks at her. The way she says it, not starstruck, not awkward, just stating a fact, like it's a mildly interesting observation about the weather, catches him somewhere off guard.
He's used to two kinds of reactions. The overwhelmed kind, and the overcorrected kind, people who perform so hard at being normal around him that it becomes its own thing. She is neither. She's just standing there in her excellent coat, bag slouched on one shoulder, apparently entirely comfortable with the absurdity of the situation in a way that he, who has been mentally managing this airport run since Tuesday, is decidedly not.
"I'm sorry about my mother," he says again, because it warrants repeating. "You've said that already." "It deserves two apologies."
She laughs at that a real one, quick and unguarded, her hand going up to push her hair back from her face. It falls forward again immediately. She doesn't seem to mind. "She means well. They both do."
"I didn't know any of this was happening," he says, and he needs that on the record somehow. "I found out when she sent me your contact details. I was in the middle of packing."
"My mother sent me a voice memo," ___ offers. "Forty seconds. Very thorough." He closes his eyes briefly. "What did she-" he starts, then stops. "Actually, I don't want to know."
"She called you a great catch." ___ says it with complete neutrality, like she's reading from a grocery list. "Said you're the perfect husband material." A small pause. She tilts her head. "She mentioned the cooking specifically. Twice."
Yoongi stares at the concrete floor of the basement parking lot and says nothing for a moment. "The cooking," he repeats. "She seemed very proud of it."
"I made her one birthday dinner-" "Apparently it was very good." ___ is visibly enjoying this now, just slightly, the corner of her mouth giving her away.
He looks up at the ceiling. "I have to go to New York," he says in the tone of a man who has never wanted to board a flight more in his life. ___ laughs, warm and bright in the dim parking lot. "Go," she says, waving a hand. "Your perfect husband reputation is safe with me."
"Please forget everything she told you." "Absolutely not." She hoists her bag up and turns toward the exit, one hand ruffling to find her car keys "Have a good flight, Yoongi-si."
She disappears around the corner, still smiling.
His manager is at his elbow. "The car's ready." "Yeah." Yoongi watches her go for just a beat longer than necessary, the camel coat disappearing around the corner. "Yeah, okay."
The private lounge is quiet in the way airports never quite manage to be anywhere else — insulated, dim, the chaos of Incheon existing somewhere beyond the frosted glass. Their bags are lined up near the door. Someone has already claimed the couch. There's coffee on the table that Yoongi is already on his second cup of.
He sits down, sets his phone face down out of habit, and looks around at the others.
"Are your mothers also aggressively trying to set you up with someone," he says, with the careful delivery of a man who has been sitting on this all morning, "or is something wrong with mine?"
Namjoon looks up from his phone slowly, the way you look up when you want to assess the energy of a room before committing to a response. Jimin, who has been reorganizing his carry-on for the past ten minutes, stops and looks up. "What happened?"
"She left the apartment," Yoongi says. "While I was in my room packing, I thought she was in the living room… I was talking, going on and on-" he gestures vaguely, "-and she was already gone. At the neighbor's place."
"Doing what?" Hoseok asks. "Setting me up." He says it flatly. "Their daughter was there too. She sent me her contact details before I even knew any of it was happening. Then called me and told me to come over." He pauses.
"What did she do to sell you?" Seokjin asks, because he knows how mothers operate and he wants the full picture. "Apparently she played her our music." Yoongi stares into his coffee. "To prove I was sensitive. And she told her I could cook."
"She said I was the perfect husband," Yoongi continues, with the energy of a man reading from a police report. "To a stranger. That she had never met before."
"To be fair," Hoseok starts. Yoongi looks at him, Hoseok closes his mouth knowing when to not fan the flames.
"And then," Yoongi says, "I ran into her. The girl. In the elevator on the way down."
The lounge goes very still. "The girl your mother set you up with?" Namjoon says slowly.
"In your elevator." "Yes." "She was just, there?" "Apparently she left early too." He wraps both hands around his cup. "She must have been flustered by the set up too."
Then Taehyung, who has been sitting in the armchair with his chin in his hand and the expression of someone watching a very satisfying drama, asks the only question that matters.
"Was she cute?" Yoongi opens his mouth, closes it, looks down at his coffee, sets it down, picks it back up, like he doesn’t know what to say or what to do with his hands.
"We're boarding soon," a manager says. “Let’s get going” but none of the members move, waiting for Yoongi’s answer
“Hyung!!" Jimin says, slowly, the way you speak to someone who has already given themselves away. “We should go, board" Yoongi offers as he stands up.
"Was she cute?" Taehyung repeats. "She was- " Yoongi stops to clear his throat, "It was a thirty second elevator ride."
"That's not a no," Hoseok observes. "That's not what I-" He picks up his coffee again even though he's not drinking it, just to have something to do with his hands. "She was normal. She was a normal person. Can we drop it."
"He's flustered," Jimin says to Namjoon, delighted. "I'm not flustered, I'm tired, there's a difference-" "Hyung." Taehyung is grinning now, fully, without shame. "Just say she was pretty."
Yoongi stands up, reaches for his carry-on, and says nothing. Which is, somehow, the loudest answer in the room.
Every month’s second Friday dinners with Sunhee and Wonik are non-negotiable. They have been, for years, the kind of standing plan that survives busy seasons, travel schedules, and the general chaos of three people who probably have no business being as close as they are given how differently their lives run.
They're halfway through the meal when ___ sets down her chopsticks. "I want to tell you guys something," she says, "but you need to swear on your life and mine that you won't overreact."
Wonik looks up. "That is the single most alarming way to begin a sentence." "Swear first." "I'm not swearing on anything until I know the category of information I'm dealing with," Wonik says reasonably. "Is this a work thing, a family thing, or a-"
"Swear." Sunhee is already sitting up straighter. She has the posture of someone whose instincts are firing. "I swear," she says immediately. "Wonik, swear."
"Fine, I swear, I swear." "Okay." ___ picks up her glass, takes a sip, sets it down. "My mother set me up this morning. With the son of her friend Mrs. Min."
Sunhee's chopsticks hit her bowl, the sound is very loud in the small restaurant. "Say the full name," Sunhee says, in a voice that is very carefully controlled. "Say his full name out loud right now."
"Sunhee-" "___." Her eyes are very wide. "Say. The name."
___ looks at her. "Min Yoongi." Sunhee puts both hands flat on the table.
"I met him in the elevator," ___ continues, talking over whatever is happening on Sunhee's face, "for about thirty seconds. It was fine, he was normal, we were equally mortified because his mother had already sent him my contact details-"
"What about you?" Wonik asks. "Did you get his number?" "No." ___ shakes her head. "I mean…he's. You know how famous he is. That's not really something you just-" she gestures vaguely. "I have his mother's number. That's it."
"You have his mother's number," Wonik repeats. "She put it in my phone herself. Before I could leave." "Resourceful woman," Wonik says, almost admiringly.
"You were in an elevator," Sunhee says slowly, still processing, "with Min Yoongi." "For thirty seconds, yes-" "Of BTS."
"Sunhee-" "SUGA!" "I need you to not do that-" "How are you this calm right now? How are you sitting there like that?"
"Because it was thirty seconds in a basement parking lot and then he left for the airport," "Did he seem interested?" Wonik asks, cutting straight through it.
___ opens her mouth and closes it, well she couldn’t see much of his face other than the eyes, and his eyes were more irritated at his mother than interested, "He apologized twice for his mother."
"That's not what I asked," Wonik says. The table is quiet for a second. "He watched me walk away," ___ says finally, very casually, into her drink.
Sunhee makes a sound that is not words, close to a manic laugh. "You said you wouldn't overreact," ___ reminds her.
"I SWORE I WOULDN'T OVERREACT, I DIDN'T SAY I WOULDN'T HAVE FEELINGS-" "Same thing" ___ says with an incredulous laugh as she downs her shot of soju.
"It is absolutely not the same thing!" Sunhee shouts as she downs her drink. Wonik refills everyone's glass quietly, the expression of someone who knew from the word swear that it was going to be a long dinner.
Yoongi thinks about ___ the way he thinks about songs that aren't ready yet, circling it, not touching it, waiting to see if it still feels like something after enough time has passed.
It does. The contact has been sitting in his phone since the morning he left for the airport. ___ Lee. His mother had sent it with a string of hearts he had not acknowledged. He'd told himself he saved it by accident. He'd told himself a lot of things.
He's in the back of a car heading to some schedule. His life is mostly cars heading to schedules, he's come to understand, when he opens the contact and stares at it for long enough that the city outside the window blurs entirely. It's the jacket that does it in the end, or that's what he tells himself.
He picks up his phone, puts it down and picks it back up.
Yoongi: Where did you get the jacket you were wearing?
___ is in Hong Kong, sitting cross legged on her hotel bed with client notes open on her laptop, when her phone buzzes. Unknown number, she frowns at it slightly.
No hello. No name. No context whatsoever. Just that, from a number she doesn't recognize, as if the conversation had already been happening somewhere she wasn't aware of.
___: Who is this?
His response comes quickly, even if it’s pretty late in New York, mostly because he had been on his phone watching something when he couldn’t sleep. Yoongi immediately sits up, realizing what he’s done, just asked about a jacket without introducing himself, of course she’s skeptical.
Yoongi: from the elevator
She stares at that for a second. Then it lands, all of it at once, the basement parking lot, the beanie, the mask, the carry-on, their mother’s voice doing their best to convince her.
She puts her laptop to the side, the client notes can be taken care of later in the day.
___: It's vintage. There's no link I can send you
She has a ghost of a smile as she helpfully types.
___: I can lend it to you
___: No you’re rich rich, buy it from me
In New York, Yoongi reads that last message and something in his face does a thing he's glad nobody is around to see. He is not good at whatever this is, that’s what he’s realizing.
Yoongi: How much
___ reads that and laughs, a real one, sudden enough that it surprises her. She pushes her hair back and looks at the ceiling for a second.
___: I'll think about it
In New York, Yoongi chuckles as he turns around in bed, a real laugh, like he’s amused, like he wants to talk more, like he’s fascinated.
Yoongi: Take your time
He puts the phone on his chest and stares at the ceiling of his hotel room, the city humming its endless New York hum somewhere beyond the glass, and he thinks that this is perhaps the most words he has willingly initiated with someone new in a very long time.
He also thinks that I'll think about it is not a no. He falls asleep twenty minutes later with the phone still in his hand, which has not happened in recent memory either.
___ thinks about that for a moment. The hour it must have been in New York. The fact that he had her number this whole time, sitting there, and this is what finally made him use it. A jacket. An excuse so thin it was practically transparent and he'd sent it anyway.
She wasn't even looking, she rarely is when she finds the best things. She'd ducked into the thrift shop on a whim, killing twenty minutes between a gallery visit and a lunch she was already slightly late for, and there it was. Black leather, clean lines, interesting hardware on the collar. The kind of jacket that looks like it has a history without looking tired.
___ takes the mirror selfie without thinking much about it. One hand holding the phone up, the other shoved in the jacket pocket, her hair slightly disheveled from pulling it on. She looks at it for approximately one second to confirm it's not blurry.
___: Tan will wash you out a bit
___: How about something like this?
She sends the message with the image as she’s already buying the jacket, something in her telling her that she just needs to get this today.
Yoongi is somewhere over the Pacific, when the flight's wifi finally decides to cooperate. His phone loads a backlog of messages and he's scrolling through them automatically, half asleep, when he sees her name.
He sits up as the picture loads. The jacket is perfect. He knows it immediately, the same way he knows when a song is working, something just settles.He stares at the photo for longer than necessary.
In the seat beside him Namjoon is reading, headphones on, entirely in his own world. Across the aisle Jimin is asleep, nobody is watching as he smiles at his phone like an idiot. He makes no effort to mask the smile as he types back.
Yoongi: I like it
Yoongi: Where are you?
Her reply doesn’t come instantly, it comes as he’s being driven home from a long flight, trying to stay up to fight the jet lag.
___: Hongkong for the Art Basel event
___: I was there, now I am at the airport, waiting for my cab to pick me up
___: Do you like it?
Yoongi doesn’t stop to contemplate as he types, Jimin looking at him suspiciously as he does so with a faint smile.
Yoongi: Yes
___: Good, then you can pick it up from my studio when you’re free
He reads that once and then again.
A studio. She has a gallery. She was at Art Basel. He turns that over quietly, this small new piece of her that just landed without ceremony in the middle of his exhausted morning, offered the same way she offers everything, casually, like it costs her nothing, like she isn't handing him a reason to see her again wrapped in a sentence about a jacket.
He's smiling again as he mutters, "I think I've done something stupid," he mutters, to nobody in particular, to the window, to the general concept of his own decision making.
"Yes," Jimin says from approximately four centimeters away, "flirting via jacket is stupid." A beat. "It's also very you." Yoongi turns to look at him. Jimin is gazing out the window with the serene expression of someone who has absolutely been reading every message off the bright screen this entire time and feels no guilt about it whatsoever.
Yoongi: I can come by monday morning if that works for you
Yoongi: Send me the address
He locks his phone for a brief second before it buzzes again.
___: Perfect, but don’t come in too early, I’m useless before 10
Yoongi: I’ll be there by 11 then
Yoongi puts his phone in his jacket pocket and closes his eyes, the city still moving outside, home getting closer. He doesn't sleep. He doesn't particularly try to.
___ spends a bit longer getting dressed that morning, which is not the case on a monday morning when she doesn’t have any clients to meet, she doesn’t even go into work on a monday most weeks. She straightens the pale white dress one last time when she drops her handbag and goes around switching on the studio lights.
“Where are you off too? I thought you didn’t have any schedule” his mother asks as he continues to fix his hair, “Just some work came up, I’ll be back by dinner” he announces as he tries on three different pairs of glasses, landing on the same dainty one’s he’s been wearing for weeks now.
Yoongi is there quicker than imagined, parking the Mercedes quietly as he puts on a mask on, he doesn’t know who all are going to be there, and he’d much rather not have this visit becoming a bigger deal than it needs to be. The studio is located in a quaint neighbourhood, plants all around the glass door entrance as he walks up, coffees hand, he didn’t want to show up empty handed.
The door announces him, not a bell exactly, just the particular sound of glass and marble connecting, his footsteps suddenly loud and deliberate in the quiet of the space. He slows instinctively. His sunglasses are on his head, pushed up to get a proper look, and his eyes move around the room the way they do when he enters somewhere new, taking inventory, settling, trying to understand a space before the space understands him.
"You're early." He turns.
She's coming from the back of the gallery, and he stops. Not visibly, not in any way she'd necessarily catch, but something in him just pauses for a moment and takes inventory of her the same way he did with the room.
The dress is pale linen, short, simple in the way that only works when someone has a very good eye for what suits them. Her hair is pinned away from her face today. She looks entirely at ease in the space, the way people look at ease in places they've built for themselves.
And then he notices the tattoos. He doesn't stare. He notices, the way he notices the jacket, the coat, the glasses she isn't wearing today and darts his eyes away
"Traffic was light," he says. She glances at the carrier in his hand and one brow lifts slightly. "That's more than one coffee."
“Uh yeah, I didn’t know how you take your coffee, there’s an iced americano, hot latte and an iced latte” he explains and ___ smiles, picking up the hot latte for herself. “Thank you” she murmurs and he hums to himself, picking up the americano for himself.
“So, this is my uncle’s gallery, I’ve been working with him for god, ten years now” ___ explains as she walks a few steps ahead of him, showing him around, he hums every once in a while, he’s not very talkative, as she’s noticed.
He does the mental math quietly. She would have been young when she started, almost 20.
"We work with private collectors mostly. Finding them legacy pieces, introducing them to new artists, hosting shows sometimes." She pauses in front of a series of smaller works along the eastern wall, studying them for a second like she's seeing them for the first time. "It's quite fun, actually. Every collection is different. Every collector is different." A small smile. "Some of them are insane, but in the best way."
He looks at the series she's stopped at. Three pieces, related but not matching, a conversation between them rather than a repetition. "How do you find the artists," he says.
She turns, slightly surprised, not that he spoke, but at the specificity of it. Most people ask about the collectors. "Everywhere." She leans against the wall beside the series, arms crossing loosely, the tattoos catching the track lighting. "Art fairs. Studio visits. Sometimes someone sends me something and I can't stop thinking about it." She tilts her head. "Sometimes I find them in thrift shops in Hong Kong."
He looks at her then, and there it is again, that sideways almost-eye-contact, landing just adjacent to direct. The corner of his mouth does something small.
She pushes off the wall and keeps moving. He follows, hands in pockets, in no hurry, taking everything in.
"Your uncle started it?" he asks, after a moment. "Mmhm. Thirty years ago, almost." She stops at a large photograph mounted simply, no frame. "He took me to my first auction when I was nine. I didn't understand any of it." She pauses. "But it did flame the fascination inside me”
He looks at the photograph. Then at her, briefly, the way he does, quick, considered, like he's filing something away.
Yoongi’s phone is vibrating in his pocket, he knows that it’s his manager checking if he’s on the way to practice. They’re currently in the beautiful backyard, what Yoongi’s leart is that this used to be ___’s grandparents home before it was turned into a gallery. She’s on the other end of the bench as she places her empty coffee cup down.
“Anything that caught your eye in there?” ___ asks and he briefly looks at her before he looks away, his eyes falling on her red heels, quite high for a monday.
“A few things” he confesses with a faint smile as he looks around, at anything but her. “I’m not cultured enough to understand art so haven’t bought much as of late” he offers more, he knows that she’s been the one leading the conversation, he doesn’t want her to think that he’s not listening.
"I don't think people need to be cultured to understand art," she says. "There's art in almost everything." She says it without any weight to it, not a lecture, just a thing she actually believes.
He looks back down. At the floor, at the middle distance, briefly at her hands where they rest against her knee, the tattoos more visible from here, something intricate in the design, leaves or maybe something older than that, he can't quite tell without looking properly and he's not going to look properly.
She's in the middle of saying something about the artist, a story beginning to take shape, her hands moving slightly the way they do when she's getting to the good part of something when his phone rings.
Loud with no respect for the moment whatsoever. He pulls it out and silences it immediately, the name on the screen requires no explanation. He closes his eyes for approximately one second.
“You need to leave don’t you?” ___ asks as she stands up, “I do, we have a tour starting in two weeks” Yoongi offers as she leads them back in, her heel slipping in some mud before he catches her briefly.
“Thank you” she murmurs, steading herself as she fixes her posture, all he does is softly smile as he drops his hand from her arm.
“So, the jacket, it’s a vintage Ralph Lauren jacket” ___ speaks as she appears from her office, a bag in her hands. “Thank you, I don’t think I own any vintage pieces” Yoongi shares as she hands him the bag, their fingers brushing just for a second.
“Um, how much-” “Please, no, consider it a gift” ___ says with a soft smile, the smile that is making Yoongi late for practice. He holds the bag and looks at it and then looks at her. She can see him trying to find another angle on this and coming up short.
“We have a few concerts in Goyang, you should come,” Yoongi suggests and she presses her lips together like she’s thinking long and hard about it. “You got me a jacket, let me get you concert tickets, our come by rarely” he brags a bit, trying to sell her on this.
“Sure, but can I get a plus one on that?” ___ asks knowing full well Sunhee would quit on the friendship if she doesn’t get him a ticket. The plus one confuses him, like there’s someone already in the picture and she catches that confusion almost immediately.
“My friend, she’s a huge fan, she wasn’t able to get tickets” she says and he huffs, not quite a laugh but adjacent to one and looks away, and she watches him do it with the ghost of a smile that she doesn't bother hiding because he isn't looking at her anyway.
“Of course, I’ll text you the details?” he asks as he mentally prepares himself to leave. "Thank you," she says. "I really enjoyed the 2019 concert." She turns one of her rings, slowly, around her finger. Then another. He glances at her hands briefly. "And Sunhee fainted, which in this situation I think counts as a good sign."
He looks up at that. "She fainted?" "Briefly. She was fine." ___ pause, looking up at him "Mostly fine." The almost-laugh again, slightly more this time. He looks away before it becomes anything. "Okay." He takes a small step toward the door. "I'll see you. I really, really need to go."
He still doesn't turn around, she notices. "Yes, please." There's warmth in it, no edge. "You're a busy man, Yoongi-si." He turns then, just slightly, and there's something in his expression that she hasn't seen yet, something a little looser than his usual careful composure.
"Let's just -" he starts, stops and tries again. "We should talk informally. I'm not that strict, and not that much older than you"
She looks at him. He looks somewhere adjacent to her, the way he does, the tips of his ears faintly pink in the studio light, and she realizes with some delight that this small thing, dropping the formality, asking for it plainly, has cost him something, not much.
She tilts her head. "Okay," she says simply, no teasing. She gives him that much.
He nods once, like something has been settled. "I'll text you," he says.
"Go," she says. He is almost jogging out of the gallery. The glass door swings shut behind him and she stays exactly where she is for a moment, rings still warm from where she'd been turning them, the studio quiet around her.
Yoongi’s mother has made something good, as promised. The table is full and warm and she is asking about his week with the particular casualness of someone who has decided not to ask about anything specific, which means she is asking about everything specific indirectly.
He answers in the usual way. Fine, busy, yes he ate properly in New York. No he doesn't need her to call his manager about the schedule. His phone is face down beside his bowl.
He picks it up, checks it once, puts it back down. His mother says something about his aunt. He nods. She says something about the weather this weekend. He nods again.
His phone buzzes twice in quick succession. Then once more when he finally turns it over.
___: So I see you sunday?
___: I have to meet this client in Dubai and I fly in late afternoon on saturday, can I come to the stadium with a suitcase?
___: Can’t do saturday because Sunhee has a scheduled c-section for a patient
He reads them once, then again. He's smiling at his phone before he's decided to, the particular involuntary kind, and he catches it and schools his expression back to neutral approximately one second too late.
His mother is looking at him. "What," he says. "Nothing," she says, in exactly the tone she used that morning about the glasses. She turns back to her food with the serenity of a woman who has already won something and knows it.
They've been texting for two weeks now. Properly, not just the jacket, not just small talk, but the kind of texts that start about one thing and end up somewhere else entirely an hour later. She's funny over text in the same way she is in person, dry and quick, and she asks him questions that are more specific than people usually bother with.
He'd much rather call her. He knows that about himself already, that he'd rather hear her voice than read the words, that a call would be easier and faster and better in almost every practical sense. He's not ready to call her yet. He's not entirely sure what that means but he knows it's true.
Yoongi: I’ll have someone from the team meet you, they’ll take care of everything
Yoongi: Your friend is an OB-GYN?
___: Yes, she’s also my doctor, and will be for free for the rest of my life so I gotta treat her right. Also because I love her
He reads that and something about it lands warmly, the easy way she says it without any performance in it. He's about to type back when , "Have you reached out to any of the girls I sent you?"
He looks up, his mother is across the table, expression pleasant, chopsticks down, in the posture of someone who has been waiting for a natural opening and has decided this is it.
"No," he says. "None of them?" "None of them." She considers this with the gravity of a woman receiving disappointing quarterly results. "There was a very nice one, works in finance, you said you wanted someone independent"
"Mom." "And the architect, you didn't even look at her profile-"
"I looked." "For how long?" He doesn't answer that. She sighs with her entire body. "The concerts are this week?"
"Thursday, Saturday, Sunday." "Which day can we come? Me, your dad and your aunt-" "Saturday," he says immediately with no hesitation whatsoever.
She blinks. "Saturday? Not Sunday?" "All the parents will be there on Saturday" Yoongi says this like it’s a sure think which he knows isn’t, but he’s going to have to plan it so that it is.
"Your aunt was hoping for Sunday" He picks up his chopsticks with great authority. "I’ll have to check, but I already have your tickets for Saturday”
“Okay, but what about the Lee’s daughter? Mrs. Lee said she's very busy with work, always travelling, very independent, the hair cut was a disappointment to the parents but she’s still such a pretty woman, and she’s short enough for you” “I’m not that short mom” “It’s my fault, I should have married a taller man” His mother says with complete sincerity and Yoongi stares at her.
"That's" he stops. "What does that have to do with " "Your father is a good man." She picks her chopsticks back up serenely. "But the height. I should have thought more carefully."
"Dad is right there." From the other end of the table, his father, who has been eating in peaceful silence through this entire conversation with the practised serenity of a man who checked out of these discussions some years ago, looks up briefly.
"She's not wrong," his father says. "Dad." "I'm just agreeing with your mother." "You're agreeing that you're too short"
"I'm agreeing that she should have thought more carefully." He goes back to his food. "Very different thing." Yoongi looks between them. His mother is eating with great satisfaction. His father has returned to his bowl.
___ hasn’t changed in a bar’s bathroom before, so this is a first as she slips herself in a black dress right from the airport. Her hair is not the best, but that’s the good part about having a bob, it doesn’t need a lot of styling. What does need help is her face.
“How do you have no makeup?” ___ asks with disappointment as she slides back onto the bar stool, she’s swapped the beer for hard liquor because the dress she packed doesn’t allow for a beer belly.
“I have chapstick, but it’s not hygienic to-” “I have like five lip products but nothing for my face, I need to start carrying around a cushion foundation or a tinted sunscreen or something” ___ says as she she downs her drink, third drink of the night and with the little amount of rest she’s had all week, she knows she’s going to be hitting a wall soon.
“___ are you nervous?” Sunhee finally asks as the food comes, it would be normal for Sunhee to be nervous, but ___ is never nervous. “I don’t know, I am mostly tired” ___ offers as she stuffs her face with the fries, food should help her. She’s about to speak up again when her phone buzzes loudly against the table.
Yoongi: I’ve forwarded your contact to my manager, he’ll find you and get you guys to your seats
Yoongi: I’ll see you after the concert
___: All the best for the concert, I’m sure it’s going to be great
She types as Sunhee pays the bill, ___ might be nervous but Sunhee is anxious to leave this pub and be at the venue as soon as she can
Yoongi: Thank you, I’ll see you soon
___ doesn’t have a change to respond back before her phone is already ringing. It’s all too quick from there, they barely find a cab to the event, which Sunhee spends meditating like she does before operating, this is as she says, a spiritual experience for her.
“Why am I the only one that drank?” ___ asks as they sit down in their seats, the massive crowd all around her leaves her awestruck for a second. “I am on call” Sunhee answers, her eyes wandering, her short answers give her away.
“Come on, chill out, we’re going to be having a lot of fun” ___’s just the right kind of drunk now, the four drinks when everything is amazing and all you can think about is a drunk cigarette. The crowd around her is the kind of happy that's collective and contagious and she can feel it getting into her bloodstream alongside the liquor.
"Sunhee, your hand is shaking." Sunhee looks down at her hand. Places it flat on her knee with great effort. “That's adrenaline," she says. "It's a physiological response, it doesn't mean-"
The lights drop all the sudden, Sunhee grips her arm so hard ___ loses circulation for a moment. The crowd becomes something else entirely, a single enormous sound, and ___ feels it before she hears it, in her chest, behind her eyes, somewhere wordless and immediate. She stops thinking about the cigarette immediately as the music starts playing.
Between the singing and dancing that ___ and Sunhee have been doing, they almost miss Sunhee’s phone going off. She reads the message and is immediately a different person, “My patient just went into labour” she announces to ___ as she’s picking up her bag.
“How’ll you get back?” ___ yells over the music, "I'll call a cab-" "Are you sure-"
"___." Sunhee stops for a second and looks at her properly for one second, the exit forgotten. Her expression does something warm and knowing and slightly unbearable. "Stay."
"I was going to stay-" "I mean after." She squeezes her hand once. "Stay after."
___ opens her mouth and closes it, not able to form any words at the moment. The crowd surges around them as the last few songs begin to play, enormous and bright, and Sunhee is already moving toward the exit, bag on her shoulder, phone to her ear, slipping through the crowd with the quiet efficiency of someone who has somewhere more important to be.
___ sees him, her eyes almost involuntarily finding him every now and then, smiles to herself seeing him so happy on stage, his cute mannerism that she’s finding too endearing. How the crowds cheer for them, the heart that they sing and dance with, this kind of passion could move anyone.
The final note ends, the roar that comes after is physical, a wall of sound, and the boys walk back out for their bow, all of them, together, the stage lights warm on them, and the crowd sends everything it has left toward the stage in one long unbroken wave.
___ stays seated as the people around her continue to gather their stuff and move around, ready to leave. She's not sure where to go or what the protocol is or whether there even is a protocol, the text that said see you after suddenly very present in her mind now that after is here.
She's still sitting when someone appears at the end of her row. Yoongi's Manager, the same one who met her outside the venue, was efficient and unhurried, with the quiet competence of someone who has done this exact thing many times.
"Ms. Lee." He nods once. "If you'll follow me."
She picks up her clutch and stands too quickly, smoothing her dress in one swift motion, she walks as she reapplies her lipstick, hoping this can mask the lack of makeup.
She follows him through the emptying stadium toward the back, the crowd thinning around her, the stage growing closer, the noise of the night shifting into something quieter and more specific the further in they go.
The hallway outside the green room is not what she expected, though she's not sure what she expected exactly. It's busy in the contained way of post-show logistics, staff moving with purpose, and people. Guests, she realizes, a few of them, recognizable faces standing in the particular way that recognizable people stand when they're in a space that isn't quite public, relaxed but not fully, aware but performing unawareness.
Jimin notices her first as they emerge from the resting room, having caught their breaths after the concerts and now ready to greet their guests. His eyes land on her and then move to Yoongi in the same second, quick and unnoticeable to anyone not watching for it. She catches it.
The group collectively greets a few people as ___ stands on the side, not wanting to be in people’s way when Yoongi stops right in front of her.
Still slightly out of breath, towel around his neck, water bottle in hand, his eyes find her sneakers first. They make her considerably shorter than him and she watches him register this, his gaze traveling up slowly before it finds her face.
"Hi," he says softly, a small smile spreading on his face, she’s about to say something when he pulls her by the arm, away, in another quiet room, away from the people.
"Oh my god, you guys were incredible. I think my throat actually hurts from how much I was cheering, which has never happened to me before in my life-" Yoongi sets his water bottle down and disappears behind a curtain at the far end of the room, changing, and she can see his silhouette moving and hear the quiet sounds of someone pulling off a jacket, a shirt, the efficient undressing of someone who just wants to be in normal clothes as quickly as possible.
"-the production, the stage is so massive, and the crowd, every one having the best times of their life, my hearts still beating like crazy, I can’t even imagine what yours is doing” she talks naturally, like a person who had a life altering experience and needs to share it. There’s a faint laughter from his end as he continues behind the curtain.
“Seriously, the scale of this is crazy, you guys were amazing” He says nothing for a moment. She can hear him pulling on something.
He's tired, she can hear it underneath the silence, the particular quality of exhaustion that has gone past the point of showing itself and become something quieter. He performed for three hours, he's been doing this for days and he's here, behind a curtain, listening to her talk about the lighting.
She stops talking suddenly, very aware of how much she’s rambled on, "Sorry," she says. "You're exhausted." “I want to hear everything you have to say ___” he speaks softly as he emerges from behind the curtain.
“I always have a lot to say Yoongi,” she stops, copying the same emphasis he just placed on her name, “You might get tired of how much I have to say” she continues as he stops by a table, dropping all the clothes he was just wearing now that he’s in a simple jeans and black shirt.
Yoongi isn’t just tired, he’s exhausted, exhausted enough to do what he’s done each night after a show, and rush home. But he simply takes a seat on the sofa opposite to hers, he wants to continue listening to her voice.
“Seriously, it was amazing, congratulations, I would have brought flowers or something if I didn’t directly come from the air-” “You have freckles around your nose, they’re um” Yoongi interrupts. It comes out before he's made a decision about it. The exhaustion, probably. The way tiredness removes the small delay between thinking and saying, the buffer he usually relies on.
The briefest pause where his senses catch up with his mouth and he considers his options and decides on honesty anyway. "Very pretty."
The silence between them is the particular kind that has too much in it to be comfortable and too much in it to break carelessly. “Your friend? I didn’t see her-” “Oh her patient went into labour so she had to rush out, but she caught most of the concert and is now probably prepping to deliver a baby”
“Oh” that’s all Yoongi can muster now that the buffer of a friend is gone, when Yoongi was imagining seeing her after the concert, he kept imagining the friend. “Yeah, but I should get going too, you must be tired”
“I am tired, but I can still drop you home?” Yoongi asks, knowing full well that he should have probably asked her for dinner, given the thin smile on her lips. “Please, I can find my way-” “There’s going to be a lot of traffic ___” Yoongi offers and she smiles briefly as he says her name again, the particular softness that he uses.
"It's late," she says. "Which is why there'll be traffic."
"Yoongi-" "My car is already outside." He says it simply. "It's not out of the way." She looks at him for a moment. He looks her straight in the eyes for a second, like he really means this and isn’t offering this out of some formality.
“You don’t know where I live” she says with a teasing tone as they both stay seated, not quite ready to move onto what comes next. “Today I learn your address then”
The car is quiet, not the uncomfortable kind, but the kind where neither of them knows what to say. None of them imagined the string of events that led to this, it almost makes Yoongi chuckle to himself as he thinks about how vehemently against this he was, his mother can’t know any of this yet. Not until he knows why he keeps reaching for his phone for her text back, why he saved her address without thinking about it, why he's sitting in a car at midnight when he should be in bed.
He doesn't know yet. He'd like to figure it out quietly, without his mother's involvement, which is the only way anything survives in its early stages.
“So, the tour, you guys must leave soon” ___ speaks up as they stop at a red light, the traffic is indeed awful. “Yes, Japan, then the US, Mexico, back to US and then back in Korea around mid June” Yoongi hears himself say it. All of it, laid out in sequence, the shape of the next several months suddenly made concrete in the quiet of the car.
Somewhere in the middle of the list he understands, clearly and exactly why he told his mother he didn't have time for a girlfriend. Why he'd meant it. Why it was true then and remains true now regardless of freckles or the jackets or the way she says his name.
He can't do this to someone. The disappearing, the timezone math, the months of existing primarily as a name on a phone screen. He knows what that looks like from the inside and he knows what it asks of the person on the other end and it's a lot. It's always been a lot.
"Mid June," she says quietly, doing the math the same way he just did. "Mid June," he confirms with a long exhale.
"Do you get used to it?" she asks. "The schedule."
He thinks about it for a few seconds, deciding on how honest he should be, "You get used to moving," he says. "You don't really get used to leaving."
The car stops at another light. Somewhere outside a group of people are spilling out of a restaurant, loud and warm on a Sunday night, and she watches them through the glass.
She’s almost thirty two, a gallery she loves, clients she's spent years building relationships with. A life that moves exactly the way she designed it to move. She doesn't need to complicate that. ___ knows this.
She can't quite bring herself to be realistic about this, even if she has been realistic about way less complications in the past.
"What are you thinking about," he says, he needs to know just what she’s thinking because he knows it can’t be good.
She glances at him, he's looking ahead at the road, not at her, but his attention is entirely on her answer. "The tour," she says. Which is true but not all of it.
He nods, something in his jaw shifts slightly, the way it does when he's decided not to say something.
"Yoongi." "Mm."
"It's a long time to be away." "It is," he says, simply with no argument, he knows there isn’t one.
The light turns green. "Do you…" she starts and stops to try again "Is there ever a point where it gets easier? The coming back. Picking things back up."
He's quiet for a moment. "Depends what you're picking back up," he says.
She looks at him. He's still looking at his hand now and the city lights are moving across his face in slow intervals and she thinks distantly that this is an unreasonable amount of person to have discovered in an elevator.
She looks back out her window. "I'm not twenty anymore," she says, mostly to herself.
"Neither am I." "I mean-" she turns her rings once. "I used to be better at not thinking ahead."
"What do you see?" he asks. "When you think ahead." She's quiet for a long moment, outside Seoul continues, indifferent and bright.
"A very long tour schedule," she says finally. He exhales through his nose. Not quite a laugh, almost a laugh like he’s had this discussion before, "Yeah, that’s just the first leg" he says quietly.
The car moves through the city and neither of them solves anything and somehow that's alright, the silence settling back around them like something they've agreed to for now, the kind of quiet that isn't an ending, just a pause.
The car stops outside her building and they both get out, the night air cool after the warmth of the car. She tilts her head back slightly to take in the street, familiar and quiet, and he falls into step beside her naturally, walking her to the entrance the way he'd stood up to walk her out of the green room.
They stop at the entrance. The streetlight catches everything, her hair, her rings, the white sneakers. He's still in his cap and mask pulled down, hands in his pockets, adjusting his cap without meaning to, forward, back, forward again.
Neither of them starts the conversation. She looks up at him and he looks somewhere just past her, and the comfortable quiet of the car has followed them out onto the pavement.
"I think we should go on a date," she says. He goes very still as his eyes find her.
"A real one." Even, practical, like she's proposing something with a clear agenda. "Before Japan. Before our rational sides catch up with us and decide this is a terrible idea." A beat. "An experiment. To find out if there's actually anything here before we decide there isn't."
He knows what he should say. He's been doing the math since the car, since she said mid June in the quiet way she said it. He knows what this looks like, the beginning of something, the successful experiment she's predicting, and he knows what comes after that too, what he'd be asking her to sign up for.
___ deserves someone who comes home on a regular basis. Yoongi knows this.
"You know it won't stop there," he says quietly. "If the experiment works."
"I know," she says. "The tour is-" "I know, Yoongi."
"I'm just saying you might-" "I know." She says it gently, firmly, the way she says things when she's already thought them through and doesn't need him to think them through on her behalf. "I'm aware of what I'm suggesting."
He looks at her for a long moment, the way she’s fidgeting with her rings, "Okay," he says.
"Okay?" "One dinner." He holds her gaze. "Before Japan."
She nods once, that's when he looks down.
The height difference from here, standing on the pavement, is… notable. He does the mental calculation of exactly what his mother said and feels the smile coming.
"What," she says immediately. "Nothing." He presses his lips together and fails entirely. "My mother said you were short enough for me."
She stares at him. "She said that."
"Among other things." "Short enough for you," she repeats.
"Her words, not mine" "And what do you think?" He looks down at her from the full, considerable distance of his height, cap crooked, mask around his chin, and says with complete straightness,
"I think she was right." She laughs brightly and he lets himself smile properly this time, all the way, and for a moment they're just two people standing outside a building at midnight laughing about height and mothers and the specific absurdity of how they got here.
She steps back and looks up at him one last time. "Goodnight, Yoongi." "Goodnight, ___."
She turns and goes inside, the door closing quietly behind her, he stands there a moment longer than he needs to. Reaches up and adjusts his cap.
Gets back in the car and looks at the ceiling for a long moment, the city moving quietly around him.
He knows how this goes. He knows himself well enough to know that one dinner won't be one dinner, that the experiment is going to tell them both exactly what she predicted it would, and that she said I'm aware of what I'm suggesting with the confidence of someone who has never actually done this before. Not with someone like him. Not with a schedule like his.
She'll be realistic about it eventually. Everyone is, eventually. He just hopes she is the anomaly in the experiment that his dating history has been.
"-so you just decided, so young, that music was your calling?" "I didn't decide anything." He turns his glass slightly on the table, a small rotation, thinking about how to explain it to someone who hasn't lived it. "It was more like…the decision had already been made somewhere and I was just catching up to it."
She rests her chin in her hand, elbow on the table, the way she settles in when she's properly interested in something. She's been doing it on and off all evening and he's stopped pretending not to notice. "That's how it feels with the work I love too," she says. "Like you didn't choose it so much as recognize it."
He looks at her. "Exactly that." The restaurant is quiet around them, the kind of quiet that Tuesday buys you, a handful of other tables, low light, no one paying attention to anyone else.
"Okay," she says, picking up her glass. "Worst part of the job. Honestly." He thinks about it and she waits, turning the stem of her glass between her fingers, patient.
"The losing yourself of it," he says. "Not in a dramatic way. Just…" he pauses. "You're performing a version of yourself for long enough and you start to lose track of where that version ends."
She's quiet for a moment. "Does it come back?" she asks. "The original version."
"I'm still figuring that out." She nods slowly, like she's filing that somewhere careful. Not with pity. He'd noticed pity immediately and she seems to know that.
"Your turn," he says. "People assume I do this because I come from money," she says, the same even tone she uses for everything. "That it's a hobby dressed up as a career. Something for a well bred woman" She pauses to take a sip of her wine. "I would have done this regardless of the money. The money just meant no one could stop me from starting early."
He nods. That he understands, the specificity of a thing choosing you rather than the other way around. She looks at him for a moment. Something shifts slightly in her expression, a decision being made.
"Can I ask you something personal?" she says. "We’ve been doing that for some time now" Yoongi notes with a light chuckle.
"More personal." He leans back slightly, arms loose. "Okay."
"Do you actually want this? Not the date, not…" she gestures between them. "In general. A person. Do you want one or do you like the idea of wanting one?"
The table goes quiet. He looks at her steadily and she looks back, unhurried, leaving the question exactly where she put it.
"That's a good question," he says. "I know."
He takes a sip of his wine as he prepares to talk, "I miss it," he says simply, like something admitted for the first time in a while, to someone actually listening. "Having a girlfriend. Having someone who… knows your schedule well enough to know when you're tired before you say it. Someone to call when something happens. Good or bad." He pauses. "Someone to just, be there."
She's quiet as she leans in, like she wants him to know she’s listening. "I've told myself that life makes it impossible," he continues. "And it's not untrue. It's hard, it's always been hard." He glances up at her. "But I think I've been using it as a reason not to try. Which is different from it actually being impossible."
"That's honest," she says. "You asked."
"I did." ___ says with a small smile. "Your turn. Same question."
She exhales softly, "Yes," she says, without hesitation, which means she's known it for a while. "I'm not complicated about it. I just want someone, I've always wanted someone." She turns her ring once. "I've just been spectacularly unlucky."
He looks at her., and then her glass, and then the residual of her lipstick on the glass, "Unlucky how?"
She laughs, short and genuine, the kind that comes from a story that has lost its sting and kept its absurdity. "The last person I was serious about decided to move to London for work and forgot to mention it until two weeks before he left." She picks up her fork. "Before that there was someone lovely in every way except that he was still in love with his ex. Which he also didn't mention."
"I have good instincts about art," she continues, "and terrible instincts about men. Which is a very specific combination of traits to be living with” He presses his lips together, like he’s trying to suppress a smile.
"You can laugh," she says. "I'm not laughing."
"You're doing the thing where you're not laughing." He looks away briefly and then back at her, the wine really helping him look at her, "I'm not laughing at you."
"I know." She sets her fork down. "It's tiring, mostly. Being caught off guard by people when you're not someone who gets caught off guard easily."
The table settles into a quiet with something real in it now. The lightness still underneath but something more honest sitting on top as their plates get cleared, signaling a clear end to their date, or at least their time at the restaurant.
"How's the experiment going," he says, after a moment as he quietly places his card in the bill book.
She looks at him, steady and warm. "Terribly," she says with a pleasant smile.
He smiles into his glass. "Yeah," he says. "Same." Yoongi reaches into his pocket for his mask as they step outside, pulling it up with the practiced ease of someone who has done it ten thousand times, adjusting it once.
The street is empty and still. Tuesday midnight belongs to no one in particular. "I'll walk you home," he says, naturally, already falling into step beside her. “It’s a long walk” ___ retorts as they walk, hands brushing every now and then.
“It’s a two minute walk ___” Yoongi offers plainly as he doesn’t move away. They fall into step together and talk as they walk, nothing important, nothing that needs to be, she says something about a show she's been meaning to see, he says something about a track he's been sitting on for weeks, small things, the kind of conversation that exists just to keep the evening going a little longer.
It’s all light and breezy till they reach a crossing, he reaches out and takes her hand. His hand just finds hers as they step off the curb, the way you do something you've been doing for years. Fingers wrapping around hers, already looking both ways, already moving.
She looks straight ahead, hoping her hair masks some of her blush. They cross, but he doesn't let go.
She doesn't say anything. Neither does he. They just keep walking, her hand in his, and she looks at the street ahead with the expression of someone being very deliberate about not smiling and not quite managing it.
He looks at the building and looks back at her. Her hand still in his, the evening sitting between them with nowhere left to go, he leaves for Japan tomorrow, the night air cool and still around them.
She tilts her head up at him. "Do you want to come up?" she says. "I have dessert. Ice cream" she says as she tries to tug her hand to gesture with her hand, which he doesn’t let go.
He's looking at her with the particular expression she's learning, the one that isn't quite a smile but is adjacent to one, the one that lives mostly in his eyes, quiet and certain and slightly devastating at close range.
"Ice cream," he repeats. "Yes."
"What kind?" "Does it matter?"
He considers this with complete seriousness. "Somewhat."
"Yoongi." "I'm asking a reasonable question-"
"Come upstairs and find out," she says, and turns toward the entrance, and this time he lets her hand go, only to hold the door open for her, which she walks through without looking back at him because her face is still doing the thing and she needs another three seconds before she can be a normal person again.
Her apartment is exactly what he would have guessed and nothing he was fully prepared for.
Organized chaos, the particular kind that has a system even if the system isn't immediately visible. Paintings leaning against the walls in clusters, some framed, some not, some wrapped in brown paper with labels in her handwriting. Books on every surface, some closed, some splayed open face down. Magazines stacked in a way that suggests they're referenced rather than decorative.
It's lived in. Genuinely, thoroughly lived in, and it suits her so precisely. They end up on the sofa without deciding to, the way they keep ending up places without deciding to. Her legs tucked under her, turned slightly toward him. Him at the other end, bowl in hand, looking at the painting propped against the wall directly across from them.
They talk. The ice cream disappears somewhere in the middle of a conversation that moves from her uncle to his producing to a collector in Geneva who cried when she found him a specific work he'd been searching for for eleven years. He tells her about what it feels like when a track finally becomes what it was supposed to be. She listens the way she always listens, fully, without waiting for her turn.
It's past one when his phone lights up on the cushion between them. Mom.
She sees it the same moment he does. He reaches for it. "Pick up her phone," she says sternly, the tone of teasing right there.
"I'm not -" "Do not cut your poor mother’s phone, she might be sick and worried" ___ adds dramatically and he huffs and picks up the call anyway.
"Mom." "Where are you?" She’s wide awake, unbothered by the hour. "You're never out this late, are you sick-" "I'm not sick-"
"Have you eaten?" "I had dinner" "With who-"
___ opens her mouth with that same teasing smile and his hand moves before he's decided to move it, swift, certain, palm covering her mouth completely, cutting off whatever she was about to contribute to this situation as he closes the distance between them.
She goes still as he keeps his eyes forward, continuing the phone call, entirely composed. "With a friend, Mom, I'll be home soon"
___ looks up at him over his hand. She very aware, in the specific silence of having nothing to say because there is a hand preventing her from saying it, of his hands. The size of them. The warmth. The way it covers most of her lower face with a kind of easy certainty that she is finding deeply inconvenient given the current context of a first date and his mother on the phone and her own heartbeat which has made a unilateral decision she hasn't approved.
"You sound strange," his mother says. "I'm fine."
"Which friend?" "Mom -" ___ raises her eyebrows at him. He finally looks at her, briefly, and whatever he sees makes him look immediately back at the painting on the wall across the room.
His hand stays and she stays still beneath it.
"Come home soon," his mother says. "Soon," he confirms. "Go to sleep"
He hangs up with a huff and neither of them moves. His hand is still there, warm against her face, and the apartment is very quiet around them, the painting on the wall offering no commentary whatsoever.
Slowly, with the careful deliberateness of someone making a considered decision, he lowers it. She looks up at him. He looks back at her, right beside her.
"You were going to say something," he says shyly as his hand comes to rub his neck.
"I was going to be helpful," she says. "You were going to be a problem." "Same thing," she says with a smile, and her hands come up without much deliberation and fix his hair which the sudden movement moved out of place.
He goes very still, not uncomfortable. Just, very still. The way he goes still when something catches him off guard in a way he wasn't prepared to be caught. Her hand drops back down, briefly touching his thigh when she leaves them.
He's looking at her now, properly, the full direct version he allows himself in small increments, and from this close it's a lot. “I didn't expect to have this much fun," he confesses, his voice quieterl, like he's admitting something he hadn't planned to. "Not that I doubted you, I just-" he pauses, choosing the words carefully the way he does, "I haven't been on a first date this good in a while."
He looks at her when he says it, waiting for her reaction with the particular stillness of someone who has said a true thing and is now at the mercy of what happens next.
"I know," she says, and there's warmth in it, no teasing yet, just the honest version first. "I was kind of rooting for you to be this brooding, nonchalant musician, actually. Would have made it all much easier."
"Easier," he repeats. "To not like you," she says simply, reaching for her glass of wine. "I had a whole plan. You'd be aloof and a little difficult and I'd think, well, lovely person, interesting work, not for me." She takes a sip. "Very clean. Very uncomplicated."
"I almost cancelled," he says, after a moment. She raises an eyebrow. "Not because-" he stops, tries again. "I almost talked myself out of it. On the way over." He turns his glass slightly on the table, the small rotation she's noticed he does when he's thinking. "I do that. Find the practical reason not to."
"What changed your mind?" she asks. He's quiet for a moment, looks at the table, at his glass, briefly at her hands where they rest near her wine. “I really liked the feeling of seeing you after the concert," he says. Simply, without dressing it up, the way he says true things when he's decided to say them. He pauses. "I kept thinking about it on the drive over and I couldn't find a practical reason that was bigger than that."
She looks at him for a moment, this careful, deliberate man who thinks before he speaks and means everything he says and had apparently spent an entire car ride arguing with himself about her and lost. "The feeling of seeing me," she repeats, softly.
"Yes," he says. He's looking at her now, noticing how she looks in these dim lights.
They talk for a while, about something and nothing in particular, the night settling into the easy rhythm that has become theirs without either of them formally deciding. She tells him about an artist she'd found earlier in the year, eccentric beyond what that word usually covers, a man who'd moved deep into the woods over concerns about wifi radiation and could only be reached by a forty minute hike up an unmarked trail. "I showed up in the wrong shoes," she says, gesturing at her feet like the memory is still personal. "He didn't apologize. Just handed me a cup of something that tasted like tea and started showing me the work." She pauses. "It was extraordinary. The work, not the tea, the tea made me sick."
He's smiling properly now, elbow on the sofa back, chin in his hand, watching her the way he watches things he finds genuinely interesting. "Did you sign him?"
"I'm working on it," she says. "He doesn't have a phone so it's mostly letters." A beat. "Actual letters. With stamps." He laughs, low and warm, and she tucks her feet further under her, satisfied.
He talks about tour, stories that surface easily now in the comfortable quiet of her living room, the way they don't always in interviews or in rooms full of people waiting for something quotable. A night in São Paulo where the rain came down so hard they could hear it over the speakers and the crowd stayed anyway, every single person, standing in it. The particular feeling, he says, quieter now, of standing in the wings before a show when everyone is there together, all seven of them, and the noise of the crowd coming through the walls like something alive.
"You miss them," she says, not a question. "It's different performing without all of them," he says simply. "It'll be good to be back."
She looks at him for a moment, the lamp throwing everything soft and warm, his profile against the dark of the window, the city quiet beyond the glass. She's been thinking about something, something which is a lot to ask on a first date, but asks anyway.
"How does it work?" she says. "A relationship. With you on tour." She says it evenly, no weight of accusation in it, just the genuine question, the one that has been sitting underneath the whole evening. "Practically. What does it actually look like?"
He's quiet for a moment, turning his glass slowly. "A lot of texts," he says. "Voice notes when there's time. Video calls that get cut short because of schedules." He pauses. "Having them fly out for tour dates, as often as I can, as much as they can" He looks at the glass, talking in hypotheticals.
“The hardest part isn't the being away," he continues. "It's not being there for the small things. The ordinary ones." He glances up at her briefly. "Someone has a bad day and you're in a different timezone and a text isn't the same as being there."
She's quiet for a moment, turning her ring. "No," she agrees. "It isn't."
"I'm not going to pretend it's easy," he says, and she can hear the care in it, the way he's choosing honesty over reassurance because he thinks she deserves the honest version. "It asks a lot of the other person."
"It asks a lot of both people," she says. He looks at her then. "You'd be the one leaving," she continues. "That's not nothing either." He holds her gaze for a moment, something shifting slightly in his expression, like she's said something he hadn't expected to be said. "No," he says quietly. "It's not."
It’s about three am when Yoongi yawns for the first time, ___ chuckles as she stands up, they’ve talked for a while, they could keep going, but he also leaves for the tour tomorrow.
“What time do you leave tomorrow?” ___ asks as she walks over to the kitchen and refills her glass, “Around 7 pm” Yoongi says as he checks his watch, very aware of the time. He stands up, swiftly putting on his jacket.
“I should go, we both have stuff in the morning” He says as he stands awkwardly, he isn’t sure how to say goodbye, or if he even wants to.
“Yeah…yeah we do” The silence that follows is different from the ones before. He shifts slightly, hands sliding into his pockets, then out again, like he can’t quite decide what to do with them.
He’s not usually like this, but there’s something about this, about her, that’s throwing off his usual rhythm.
“Tonight was…” he starts, then stops, he exhales lightly, glancing away for a second before meeting her eyes again. “A successful experiment” ___ adds as she walks over, stopping just a few steps away from him.
“___,” he starts again, quicker this time, like if he hesitates he won’t say it at all. “I’d like to see you again.”
The words land between them, steady but unpolished, so painfully honest. “My life is complicated,” he continues, glancing at her briefly before looking back, like he’s choosing not to hide behind anything. “But I feel like we’ve got something good.”
He pauses there, watching her, trying to read her before he goes any further. He continues quietly, “something real”
For a second, she just looks at him, and then her smile grows. “I was hoping you’d say that,” she admits, closing the small distance between them.
Now they’re close, closer than before, close enough that she can see the growing blush on his face, “Because I was about to say the same thing.”
That catches him off guard, just slightly, his expression shifting to relief and something more warm. “Good,” he says, softer now.
“You know,” she adds lightly, her voice dropping just a little, “for an experiment, this went pretty well.”
“Mm.” “Almost like we should repeat it.”
That earns the faintest hint of a smile from him. “I was planning on it.”
Her eyes flick briefly to his lips before returning to his eyes, the movement subtle and quick, but not quick enough to escape him, and in that fleeting moment something in him settles, something quiet but certain, like a decision finally catching up to a feeling he’s been circling all night.
His hand lifts again, more deliberate this time, coming to rest at her waist, fingers curling slightly as if he’s grounding himself, or maybe holding onto the moment just a little longer, like he’s aware of how easily it could slip past them if he rushes it.
He doesn’t rush, and he doesn’t overthink it either, which for him is saying something, because there’s usually a pause, a calculation, a reason to hold back, but not now.
He stops just short of her, close enough that the space between them feels intentional rather than hesitant, close enough to feel the warmth of her breath, to give her the chance to pull away if she wants to, to change her mind, to set the boundary before he crosses it.
But she doesn’t, instead, she closes that last bit of distance herself, leaning in just slightly, just enough to meet him halfway, and that’s all the confirmation he needs.
When he kisses her, it’s softer than expected, not because he’s unsure, but because he’s choosing to be careful with it, choosing to let it build rather than take, and there’s something in that restraint that makes it feel more intentional, more real.
Her hand comes up almost immediately, pressing lightly against his chest, not to stop him but to steady herself, or maybe to feel something tangible in the middle of everything that suddenly feels a little too charged, a little too new.
And that’s what shifts it, that simple contact. It deepens the kiss, not dramatically, not all at once, but enough to change it from something tentative into something that lingers, something that holds, something that neither of them seems in a hurry to end.
___ didn’t know how to feel when Yoongi sent her the flight tickets. She isn’t even sure if they’re in a relationship, how does one qualify this as a relationship when it went from a phenomenal first date to flying across continents for the second one.
They’ve been constantly in touch with each other, texting, calling, even video calling a few rare times, each sending pictures from their day, and usually ___ would have classified this as something too difficult for 31 and moved on, but he’s just charmed her. His soft laughter, sending her flowers to the gallery, song samples that he genuinely wants her thoughts on.
She's found herself laughing into her phone more than she has in recent memory. While she drives to work and he's somewhere between cities, still half asleep, voice low and unhurried. While he eats dinner and she scrapes together a lunch at her desk, their schedules overlapping in whatever small window the timezones allow. The video call where he talked her through using a power drill for twenty minutes with the focused patience of someone who genuinely could not rest until she could hang the paintings in her living room.
___ pushes all the doubts aside as she moves through the airport, it’s still early morning and a significant amount at the San Francisco airport. ___ spots Mr Shin right away, Yoongi’s manager standing there with a warm smile as he waves his hands to greet her.
"Morning, Ms. Lee." He's quick, stepping forward to take her bag before she's even fully registered the intention. "How was the flight? Did you eat?" "I'm fine, really-" but the bag is already gone, and he's already moving, and she has learned enough about the people in Yoongi's orbit to know that efficiency is a personality trait they share collectively. She falls into step beside him.
The car is black, tinted, parked just beyond the terminal in the kind of spot that suggests someone made a phone call. Mr. Shin rounds the front of it and she follows, and that's when she sees him.
Yoongi is standing on the far side of the car, away from the flow of arrivals, away from the small clusters of people watching the arrivals gate. He's in a cap and a mask, hands in the front pocket of his hoodie, she isn’t sure if he’s smiling, but his eyes light up for sure.
She stops for just a second. Then she keeps walking and he straightens slightly, the way he does when he's trying to look like he wasn't just waiting, and she would tease him about it if her own face wasn't currently doing something she'd prefer it didn't.
"Hi," she says, stopping in front of him. "Hi." His eyes move over her briefly, the way they do, quick and considered. “Long flight?" Yoongi asks, almost instinctively taking the massive handbag from her hand, their fingers brush, the simple touch is enough to wake him up.
“Yeah, there was so much turbulence, I didn’t get a minute's sleep” ___ shares as they stand a few steps away from each other, none of them ready to be bold this morning. “How do you look this beautiful after fourteen hours of no sleep?” Yoongi comments, a compliment filled with genuine curiosity.
___ blinks once. Then she breaks into that familiar laughter, the real one, sudden and unguarded, her hand coming up to hit his arm softly. "That's not-" she starts, still laughing, shaking her head. "You can't just say things like that."
"I'm just asking," he says, and he's smiling now too, the full version, the one that takes over his whole face when he's not paying attention to stopping it. "You're not just asking, you're-" she gestures vaguely at him, at the general situation, at whatever this is, and he watches her do it with quiet satisfaction.
“Mr Min, we’re ready to leave” Mr Shin speaks before he gets into the driver seat, they’re in the car quickly, ___ is the first to yawn then Yoongi when she laughs again, there isn’t much being said, both of them just glad to be in each other’s presence.
“Is there anything specific you want to do before you fly to LA?” Yoongi asks after three complete minutes of silence, he has five days before their dates in Stanford, but ___ has combined this trip with some work trip.
“Golden gate bridge for sure, lots of coffee” ___ talks as she looks ahead at the GPS, it’s going to be thirty minutes till they reach the hotel, “and eat all the food we can in Chinatown” she turns to face him, Yoongi is currently taking very serious mental notes, hoping he remembers this all.
"Everything," she adds, because she means it. "Dim sum, noodles, everything." "Everything," he repeats, solemnly, like he's committing it to memory.
The city slides past in the early grey light, the fog sitting low over everything, soft and unhurried. ___'s exhausted in the particular way that crosses the point of feeling like exhaustion and becomes something closer to weightlessness, the fourteen hours and the turbulence and the airport and the adrenaline all catching up at once now that she's finally still.
He's warm beside her, warm and solid and here, actually here, not a voice through a speaker or a name on a screen, and she is tired enough and brave enough that when her head tips sideways and finds his shoulder.
“Is this the shoulder with the surgery?” ___ snaps out of it, lifting her head slightly just to confirm things. Yoongi is still for a second, "No," he murmurs. His arm comes around her, slow and easy, like it's the most natural thing, settling at her back with a gentleness that she feels all the way through the exhaustion.
“I’m glad you’re here,” Yoongi shares a few moments later, knowing she’s fully awake. “Even more glad that you can stay a month” he murmurs softly into her hair as his hand gently rubs her shoulder. Her hand finds the fabric of his hoodie, fingers curling lightly against it, too tired to talk. Yoongi rests his cheek gently against the top of her head and looks at the road ahead with the expression of a man who is trying very hard not to think about how much he already doesn't want this month to end.
___ feels like a zombie dragging herself, barely awake yet fully awake, full of food, desserts and coffee that they kept stuffing each other with. Yoongi walks back to the park bench, water in hand and he too feels like he’s ready to call quits on the day even if it’s only 6 pm yet.
“You don’t look too well, do you have a fever?” Yoongi asks as he hands her the bottle, wiping his hand against his jeans before checking her temperature. ___ almost immediately falls into his touch, her eyes closing, her whole body leaning slightly into his hand like she's been needing to rest against something for a while now and this is close enough.
"I am just-" she starts, then stops, organizing her words with some effort. "I can see how much you've planned, I know you looked things up and I know you had the whole route figured out and I genuinely loved today, all of it, the food and all of it-" she opens her eyes and looks at him, earnest despite the exhaustion, "-but can we just go back to the hotel and sleep." A pause. "You should stay out," she adds, because she means it, "get some air, do something, I just really really need to crash."
He looks at her for a long moment. His hand has moved from her forehead to the back of her neck, resting there lightly, and she hasn't moved away from it. “Let me call a car, we can go to that restaurant some other time” he whispers mostly to himself as ___ sighs with relief, going back to resting against the bench back.
“I promise I’ll be a lot more fun tomorrow morning, I just need to sleep” ___ mumbles and Yoongi can’t help but be fascinated by this new side to her, the extremely exhausted that makes her whiny. "Why didn't you say anything sooner?" he asks, looking at her sideways, and his arm comes around her naturally, his hand finding her far shoulder and drawing her back toward him, her head settling against him with the ease of something practiced.
"I hadn't seen you in so long," she says finally, her voice quiet and honest, the filter that exhaustion removes making everything simpler. "I didn't want to waste time sleeping."
He goes still, not visibly, not in any way she'd catch in the state she's in, but something in him just stops for a moment and sits with that. “Please just tell me the next time you’re too tired” Yoongi pleads as a car rolls in, hoping it’s theirs.
"Come on," he says gently, standing and bringing her with him, his hand steady at her back. She goes without complaint, leaning into his side, and he keeps his arm around her as they walk toward the car, her steps slow and his matching them without thinking about it.
“Are you sure you don’t want to eat anything? Room service? Have food picked up?” Yoongi talks as he swipes the key card, “I can’t, I feel nauseous already” ___ answers with great delay as she picks up the pace, walking up to it but struggling to open it.
“Need any help?” Yoongi asks and ___ simply nods walking to the washroom, she is optimizing the time, going straight to washing up while Yoongi finds her pyjamas. He helps her out, wiping her face that she left damp, helping her remove her rings and watch, and is almost fascinated by the speed in which she gets into bed.
Yoongi slips into bed approximately twenty minutes later, hoping she’s already asleep and it seems to be true until she stirs towards him. “I am so sorry” ___ mumbles and Yoongi’s eyebrows knit as she moves even closer, or he does, Yoongi’s not sure.
“___ you flew across continents for me, you’re allowed to be tired” Yoongi speaks softly, pushing some of her hair behind her ear. “I know, it’s just that I thought we’d be having sex and instead we’re falling asleep at 6 pm” she speaks against his arm and something in his chest does a complicated thing and he presses his lips together and looks at the ceiling for a moment, and the laugh that comes out of him is low and quiet and completely helpless, the kind that sneaks up on him.
“We have an entire month” Yoongi reassures her, he isn’t sure what the move is, this is technically their second date, but he also wants to cuddle her, maybe even kiss her if he could be just a bit braver. “I counted, and with your work and mine, we only have 17 days together”
He pulls her in, properly, his arm coming around her, and she goes without stirring, fitting against him with the ease of something that has been doing this for years instead of days.
"Seventeen days is a lot," he says softly, into her hair. She makes a small sound, almost agreement, almost already dreaming. “We can still have a lot of fun, just tell me the next time you’re tired like this" he says, quieter now, his head leaning down but ___ seems to be fast asleep against his chest.
Yoongi has rules about this sort of thing. No sleeping in the same bed before the fifth date. No inviting someone on tour before you're actually together. No cuddling before, he looks down at her, well.
He looks back at the ceiling. The rules were built for a specific kind of situation. A careful, sensible situation where feelings arrived in an orderly fashion. The rules had not accounted for ___ specifically, which in retrospect was a significant oversight in the design.
He exhales slowly, a bit scared of how much he’s already feeling but also very excited but it all, no one has been like her, she’s truly the anomaly to the experiment.
“Come here, we should take pictures together as well” ___ gestures towards Yoongi who turns towards his security personnel with her phone. She’s banned pictures on his samsung, something about them just not looking right. Yoongi jogs beside her, the sun peaking through the golden gate bridge, the soft morning glow on her face, he can’t help but smile.
“You look very pretty in the morning” Yoongi compliments her, posing awkwardly beside each other. “You think I look pretty after a 14 hour flight, I don’t trust you” ___ teases as she shifts closer, the security guard continuing to take pictures.
“Well you’re always pretty to me,” Yoongi continues nonchalantly, like this is the most natural thing in the world, ___’s blush growing deeper. “Am I just that, arm candy Yoongi-si?” ___ teases as she looks up at him.
“Well that, also you're so terrifyingly confident and smart, so kind,” Yoongi says, his fingers intertwining with hers. “Wow, I’m arm candy for BTS’s Suga, I’ve finally made it in life” ___ jokes, mostly because she doesn’t want to process the other compliments he gave her.
"Okay," the security guard calls out, "I think I got some good ones." "Thank you," ___ calls back, and her voice only wavers slightly. Yoongi squeezes her hand once, still not looking at her, and starts back down the path, pulling her gently with him, away from the rocky terrain, his grip sure and unhurried.
“So, you fly to LA tomorrow morning?” Yoongi confirms as he drys his hair, he finds ___ staring at her phone intently, like she’s overanalysing something. “___?” he calls her again, walking closer. Yoongi sees her shuffling through the pictures from the golden gate bridge, stuck at one particular one where he’s looking at her instead of facing forward.
He sits down on the edge of the bed beside her. She looks up at him, then at the photo, then back at him. "What are we?" she asks. Not confrontational, not loaded, just genuinely asking, the way she asks things she actually wants answered.
He looks at her with the expression of someone who finds the question slightly puzzling. "What do you mean?" "I mean-" she gestures between them, "us. This. What is this."
"I'm your boyfriend," he says, simply, with complete confidence, the way he'd say something obvious, like the name of a street or the time of a flight. Then he tilts his head slightly, reading her face. "Was that not clear?"
She stares at him, “___ I begged you to join me for the tour, why would I do that? I didn't think we were dating?” Yoongi speaks, the towel coming up to her hair to dry it instead. “So, you’ve not brought girls around when they were just a fling?” ___ deflects again, teasing now that she’s gotten the answer she’s wanted.
“No” he says, flatly, no elaboration, the kind of no that closes a door completely. He keeps drying her hair, unbothered, and she lets him, looking up at him from where she's sitting, close enough now to see everything his face is doing in the quiet of the room.
“Did you really think we were a fling or something, what’s it called now?” Yoongi stops to think for a second, “A situationship?” his amused tone is not helping the laughter escaping ___, her falling flat on the bed.
“You grandpa, how do you know what that even is?” “Jungkook’s love live is complicated” Yoongi answers, pulling her up, but ___ just pulls him with her. She reaches up and pushes his damp hair back from his forehead, slow and deliberate, and he stays completely still beneath it, watching her, and when she doesn't move her hand away he turns his head slightly into it, just barely, just enough.
The kiss starts soft and then doesn't stay that way, his hand finding her waist, pulling her closer with the quiet certainty of someone who has wanted to do this all day and has run out of reasons not to. She goes willingly, her fingers curling into his shirt, unbuttoning his shirt almost immediately as his hands wander, his fingers running the length of her thighs, stopping just to pull her back up.
“Hey, you can’t do that” ___ complaints as Yoongi successfully makes her stand up, they have dinner reservations with the members in less than thirty minutes. “What? I didn’t do anything?” Yoongi answers with great restraint, knowing exactly what he just pulled.
“You know exactly what you just did Mr Min” ___ whines, going back to getting ready, very slowly putting on each piece of jewellery. “I kinda like being called Mr Min” Yoongi confesses as he watches her though the mirror, and the devious smile that immediately graces her lips scares him a bit.
“Oh, do you Mr. Min?” ___ teases turning around, her blouse coming off in one swift motion. She's looking at him with the expression of a woman who has just evened a score and knows it, perfectly composed, completely unbothered.
He looks at her, at the blouse on the floor, at her as she snaps off her bra in one swift motion, just standing there in a mini-skirt. "That's not fair," Yoongi mutters weakly, his eyes trailing all over her, clearly losing this as ___ pushes him back onto the bed.
"Isn't it?" she says pleasantly, her hands moving quickly to unbutton his trousers. “How about, for the little move you pulled earlier, I just do this for a second and get dressed again?” ___’s voice is low as her hands rub against his bulge.
“That’s just mean” Yoongi whines, propping himself against his arm, completely helpless to her whims as her soft hands wander, pulling his briefs low, “No what’s meaner is you pulling away after making me think you’re going to finger me” ___ complaints as Yoongi lets out a soft moan, her hand rubbing down his length.
“I am so sorry okay, but please keep going” Yoongi barely gets the words out as ___ gently kisses his tip. “Now what should we do, should I suck your dick or should we get dressed for dinner?” ___ knows they’re not making dinner when Yoongi moans a quiet please.
Yoongi’s phone is going off on the nightstand, as Yoongi pulls ___ back to the bed, she’s spent far too much time on her knees and he needs to be inside her. “Darling you are so wet already” Yoongi murmurs in her ears as his nimble fingers rub in a circle. “Stop fucking teasing me” ___ whines, pushing his fingers inside her.
___’s breathless, so close to climax as Yoongi’s fingers keep going in a steady motion, no matter how much she wants, he refuses to pick up the pace, taking his sweet time. His phone rings just as ___ is shaking in his arms, the waves of orgasm sending shockwaves through her but Yoongi just keeps going.
Yoongi sighs with frustration as his phone rings once again, “Stay quiet, just for a minute” Yoongi mumbles, his fingers still going as ___ kisses his neck just to keep quiet. “Jimin-ah, we can’t make it, ___’s sick” Yoongi talks with a devious smile on his lips as ___ takes a sharp breath.
“Hyung be better with the excuses at least,” Jimin teases and Yoongi chuckles, “I swear, she’s not well, she’s been in bed all evening” Yoongi talks and ___ lightly bites his neck, so close once again.
“Alright, if she’s sick, I hope she feels better” Jimin talks and all Yoongi does is hum as he ends the call. “You’re going to leave a hickey” Yoongi complains but ___ just cradles in his lap, facing him now, quickly putting on a condom.
“Maybe you shouldn’t have stopped to pick up a call” ___ continues biting where she was as Yoongi thrusts inside her, the motion sending her in a frenzy as he just keeps going, slow and soft. “Maybe you shouldn’t have taken off your top” Yoongi teases, steadying her in his arms, the glow on her face, how her hair keeps sticking everywhere, he could get used to this view.
“Maybe you shouldn’t have teased-” ___ stops talking as Yoongi picks up the pace, arching back with pleasure, Yoongi’s takes a sharp breath, “Are you close, I am so-” Yoongi nods, biting her lower lip, kissing her rapidly as they orgasm. ___’s limbs give out, both of them falling back into bed.
She reaches up and traces the line of his jaw lightly, just because she can, just because she's allowed to now, and he closes his eyes briefly beneath it. “I don’t think I can walk Mr Min” ___ teases, pulling the sheets over herself. “You are beautiful” Yoongi notes as he turns to face her, her cheeks still flush as they both continue to catch their breaths.
“So are you” ___’s voice is uncharacteristically shy as he pulls the sheet even higher, “I am beautiful?” Yoongi teases, his breath finally even. “Yes, you’re also so buff, where did those arms come from?” ___ talks, running a hand over her heart, trying to calm herself down.
“Are you okay? Just give me a few seconds and I’ll get you some water” Yoongi mumbles, tucking her hair away, it’s gotten significantly longer since the first time he saw her, reaching her shoulders now. “I am fine, but you were great, really” ___ talks, shuffling closer till she’s firmly resting against his chest.
“And you are so evil, but also so amazing, taking off your top and we just derail our evening like this” Yoongi talks and he can feel her laughing before he hears it. He pauses and looks down at the top of her head. "I had a plan for this evening," he continues..
She tilts her chin up to look at him, her eyes still warm with laughter, her cheek pressed against his chest. "Was this better than the plan?"
He meets her eyes. Looks away and looks back. "Don't," he says. "Was it?" "You're so smug," he tells her.
"Yoongi-si" "Significantly better than the plan," he admits, quietly, which is the most she's going to get and she knows it and takes it anyway, her smile pressing into his chest as she settles back down. His hand keeps moving at her back, slow and easy.
___ goes around the apartment, picking up after herself. She really needs a cleaning lady or move because the mess around her apartment has only grown over the last six months. Her job’s always involved some travel, with a boyfriend on tour she’s been away even more and she doesn’t even remember the last time she was in the guest room.
___’s also cleaning because Yoongi is finally going to be back at home for a month, and the last time he was here he spent half the time helping her clean. She dials his number as she moves through laundry, but when the call doesn’t go through she just assumes he’s flying home, the last concert before the break was yesterday morning.
Yoongi: I’ve sent a few desserts your home as consolation for not being there to celebrate your birthday tonight, he should be there in 20ish minutes
Yoongi: Are you even home?
___: I am home, I’m not feeling the best and my apartment needed some TLC
___: You didn’t have to send anything, you’ll be here tomorrow anyway
Yoongi: Not feeling well? Oh, the first week of the month… you absolutely need desserts
___: Are you tracking my period?
___: It’s kinda cute but I don’t think I ever told you that explicitly?
Yoongi: We started fighting around the same day each month and I connected the dots
___: Are you saying that I pick pointless fights around my birthday? Because that’s rude
Yoongi: Darling, last month we fought about if a window should be opened or not and then you cried when I very gently explained why it needs to be opened for airflow
___: This feels like we’re fighting about a fight, am I that irrational on my period?
Yoongi: I don’t care, all those hormonal changes and pain would make anyone irrational
Yoongi: Just rest till the desserts arrive, I kinda like organizing your mess
___: It’s not my mess, it’s organized chaos
Yoongi: An organized mess where I can’t find the salt in the kitchen
___: okay, it’s a mess
___ goes back to cleaning when her phone doesn’t buzz for a while, Yoongi must have gotten busy with something, so does she as he hauls her laundry over the sofa. She’s mid-folding when the bell rings, for a woman living alone she should have checked through the peephole before swinging the door open.
But she’s kinda glad she didn’t, because the sheer surprise she feels at the view of her boyfriend standing outside with flowers and his carry-on dropped to his feet. “Surprise!” he musters up all his energy for that, engulfing her in a tight hug as he finally takes a deep breath.
“Oh my god, I thought you were flying tomorrow?” ___ talks into his jacket, momentarily lifting her face, only to be hugged tighter. “I didn’t want to arrive tomorrow and be groggy and tired on your birthday” Yoongi talks into her hair, taking a long whiff of her hair.
“So you flew directly after the concert?” “Who cares about the logistics, the important thing is that I am here” Yoongi talks as he finally detaches, taking a long look at her as he smiles widely. ___ intertwines their hands, leading him in and giving him approximately two seconds to drop all his stuff before she holds his face, it’s been too long since they’ve kissed.
"I missed you so-" she says between kisses, soft and unhurried, her thumbs against his jaw, "-so much, and I love you so so much and you're like the best boyfriend ever-"
He makes a sound against her mouth that is warm and amused and tired all at once, his hands finding her waist, pulling her closer with the ease of something practiced, and she can feel him smiling into the kiss which makes her smile too, which makes kissing considerably more difficult and neither of them minds.
"Best boyfriend ever," he repeats, pulling back just enough to look at her, his eyes barely open from exhaustion, red rimmed from the flight and the concert and the night in between. "I also did a bunch of shopping for you at duty free. Does that get me any brownie points?” Yoongi asks his eyes trailing down the white dress she always wears just at home.
His eyes trail down the white dress she always wears at home, the one he's come to associate with her off days, her genuinely-at-rest days, the version of her that exists only in her own apartment with no clients to see and nowhere to be.
"Honey, baby, sugar plum buttercup-" she takes his face in her hands again, very seriously, "-that gets you so many brownie points, but you have got to stop spending so much money on me." She pushes her hair out of her face with one hand, still not used to the new cut, the layers falling everywhere, doing whatever they want.
"Why?" Yoongi says. He pouts, she's too busy dealing with the direct effect of it. "I have too much money to spend in a lifetime. I should spoil my girlfriend after being away for so long."
"Yoongi-" "Six weeks," he says. "Six weeks, one day, and-" he checks some internal calculation, "-about fourteen hours."
She stares at him. "You counted." "I'm just saying the math supports the duty free shopping." He reaches up and pushes the layered hair from her face himself, tucking it behind her ear the way he always does, watching it fall forward again immediately. His hand stays at her jaw. "I like the haircut."
"It does whatever it wants," she says, slightly mournfully. "I know." He tucks it back again, pointlessly. "I like it." She looks at him, at the exhaustion and the pout and the hand at her jaw and the duty free bags presumably somewhere in the carry-on she hasn't let him unpack yet, and she thinks that she has been thoroughly swooned by a man who is barely conscious.
"You're impossible," she says. "I love you” Yoongi states simply, the same way he did earlier this year in Paris. He just blurted it out one morning while leaving for rehearsal, never making a big deal out of it, like it was the most natural thing for him to say.
“Are you sure that you want to go on a trip before the last leg of the tour? You’ll be exhausted from travelling by then?” ___ talks through her airpod, her phone still somewhere in her purse as she continues to get the gallery ready for an event.
“We haven’t just gone on a vacation just for us, it’s always been us trying to piece together a few days between the tour, that’s not a real vacation” Yoongi retorts as he sits down to get ready for the first Bangkok show. “There must be somewhere you want to go?” He continues already having shortlisted a few options.
“Oh this client last week was telling me about this amazing Maldives resort he went to, it’s so beautiful and private” ___ talks, fixing a few frames that still need to be put up. “He? Are you sure he was telling or was he offering?” Yoongi teases and ___ sighs. “I work in art, Yoongi,” ___ says. “Do you know how many men have tried to flirt with me by explaining private islands?”
He huffs out a laugh, the one that always sounds slightly disbelieving, like amusement caught him off guard. She can picture it immediately despite not being able to see him, head tipped back slightly in the makeup chair, phone balanced in one hand while someone fixes his hair.
“And?” he asks. “And what?” “Did the resort at least look nice?”
“Oh, unbelievable.” She bends to pick up a stack of exhibition cards from the floor. “White sand. Crystal water. Villas with pools bigger than my apartment.”
“See?” he says immediately. “You want to go.” She smiles despite how much they shouldn’t do this. “I want to sleep,” she corrects. “You’ll be exhausted, I’ll probably have three openings back to back by then, and we’ll spend the entire trip unconscious.”
“You know,” he says after a moment, quieter now as the backstage noise fades slightly, “I think I miss you best when I’m tired.” Her hands still briefly over the stack of cards.
It’s such a Yoongi sentence, not dramatic or casual. Just honest in that careful devastating way he has. “What does that even mean,” she asks softly.
“I don’t know.” She hears movement, fabric shifting, maybe him leaning back in the chair. “When I’m busy I can ignore it because everything’s moving all the time. Schedules, rehearsals, flights. But when I get tired enough that my brain finally shuts up a little…” A pause. “You’re kind of the first thing I look for.”
“Honey you can’t just say stuff like that when I miss you like crazy” ___ speaks softly, all she wants is to see him, feel him, she’s just been missing him. Something in his chest pulls tight in that quiet painful way longing sometimes does when it lands at the wrong time of day.
“Yesterday I was walking back home and all these couples were out,” she continues, absentmindedly straightening a stack of gallery brochures as she talks. “Getting dinner, holding hands, arguing about where to go, normal boring couple things.” A small laugh escapes her. “And I just kept wishing you were there.”
He looks down at the floor for a second. There’s always a specific kind of helplessness that comes with tour. He’s learned to live with it, mostly. The missing, the leaving, the constant temporary nature of things.
“What would we have been doing?” he asks quietly. She smiles immediately at the question, hearing what it really is beneath it.
“Probably arguing.” “About?”
“You refusing to let me smoke.” “You shouldn’t smoke.”
“You sound eighty years old.” “You cough for three business days afterward.”
“That’s not the point.” She walks toward the back office, lowering her voice instinctively once she’s away from the staff. “Maybe we’d stop for tteokbokki.”
“You always want tteokbokki at night.” “Because it tastes better at night.”
“That’s scientifically untrue.” She laughs softly, and he feels some invisible tension in himself ease at the sound. “And then,” she continues, settling into the fantasy now, “you’d insist on walking me home even though your place is in the opposite direction.”
“I would.” “I know.” Her voice gentles around the words. “That’s the problem.”
The thing about Yoongi is that he loves in practical ways first. Walking someone home. Buying three coffees because he doesn’t know which one they like. Remembering flight times. Sending weather screenshots. Calling managers to make impossible schedules work. But distance makes practical love difficult.
Distance leaves him with words instead, and he’s still learning what to do with those. “I miss you too,” he says finally, the sentence low and steady and entirely unprotected. “More than I thought I would.”
___ leans back against the desk behind her, eyes closing briefly. “Come home soon,” she murmurs.
There’s a long pause on his end, “I’m trying,” he says quietly, and she can hear the exhaustion underneath it now, the real one he saves mostly for her. “I think if I stay away from you much longer I’m going to start doing irrational things.”
She smiles immediately. “Like?” Another pause, she can practically hear him debating whether to say it.
“Looking at apartments closer to your gallery.” Her breath catches before she can stop it. Yoongi rubs his arm, not knowing if he’s said something utterly stupid, “Something for us maybe, I’ve just made one search” he continues honestly and ___ can’t help the tears welling in her eyes.
On the other end Yoongi immediately notices the quiet stretching too long. “Hey,” he says softly, sitting up properly now. “I didn’t mean it like-” He rubs at the back of his neck, suddenly uncertain. “I’m not trying to pressure you or anything, I thought it’d be easier if I was closer to your gallery and then-”
He stops himself, he’s rambling. Which she’s realizing is rare enough from him that it almost makes her cry harder. “It was stupid,” he says quickly, already retreating from the admission. “Forget I said anything.”
___ lets out a wet laugh despite herself, shaking her head immediately even though he can’t see it.
“No,” she says quietly. “No, don’t do that.” He goes still. There’s noise around him again now, staff moving in and out, someone asking about wardrobe changes, but he’s listening to her so fully it’s almost tangible through the phone.
“I just…” She exhales shakily, pressing the heel of her hand briefly against her eyes. “You caught me off guard.”
“With the apartment thing?” “Yes, Yoongi, with the apartment thing,” she says with a laugh threaded through the emotion now. “You can’t casually mention moving in together while I’m actively suffering from how much I miss you”
He thinks about all the versions of them that exist lately only in transition. Her half asleep face on facetime at two in the morning while he’s eating room service in another timezone. Her voice breaking apart through bad hotel wifi. Him landing in Seoul already calculating how many hours they get before one of them leaves again.
This, exactly, was why he didn’t want a girlfriend. Not because he didn’t want love. Because he knew what happened when love had to survive logistics. Because somewhere deep down he understood that eventually another person would have to start structuring their loneliness around his schedule.
He drags a hand slowly over his mouth. “I used to think,” he talks carefully, “that if I never let myself really build something serious then maybe I could avoid doing this to someone.” A small humorless laugh escapes him. “Very logical solution. Very emotionally healthy.”
“Yoongi…” “No, it’s true.” He rubs at his arm absently now, exhaustion making him honest in that dangerous way it always does. “I know what this life feels like from the inside. I know how disappointing it can be sometimes.” His jaw shifts slightly. “Missing birthdays. Leaving dinners early. Watching someone you love get used to being alone.”
The gallery office suddenly feels too small around her. Because she can hear it now beneath everything he’s saying. Not fear of commitment, but the fear of becoming absent.
“I remember telling my mother I didn’t have time for a girlfriend,” he says quietly, a faint disbelieving smile touching his voice now. “And I meant it. I really did.” He pauses. “I think I thought wanting someone badly enough would just make the impossible parts hurt more.”
“And does it?” she asks softly. The room goes quiet on his end for a moment. “Yes,” he says honestly. Then, after a beat, “But not having you hurts more.”
The tears come properly then, silent and immediate. ___ presses her hand harder against her eyes, breathing out a shaky laugh because of course this is happening on a Thursday afternoon between exhibition setups.
“I have to do math before I can even talk to you.” A wet laugh escapes ___. “Do you know how romantic it is calculating if your boyfriend is conscious?” That finally pulls a real laugh out of him, tired and warm and aching around the edges.
But she hears it fade quickly, because they’re both thinking the same thing now. How much work this is. How much wanting each other has become an active sustained effort. “That’s the part I didn’t expect,” Yoongi says after a while, quieter now. “How easy it would be to keep choosing you anyway.”
___’s hand almost absentmindedly plays with the pendant Yoongi got her for her birthday, “Yoongi,” she says softly. “Mm?” “I love you.” The words leave her gently.
On the other end of the line he goes completely still. ___ keeps turning the pendant slowly between her fingers, eyes fixed on nothing now. “I love you when I’m exhausted and irritated and calculating timezones,” she admits quietly. “I love you when I’m angry at tour for taking you away from me.” A shaky breath leaves her. “I love you even when this feels impossible sometimes.”
His chest aches so sharply it almost feels like fear, not of her loving him. Of how badly he loves her back. Because Yoongi has spent most of his adult life believing love had to fit around ambition carefully or it would break beneath it. That eventually someone would ask him to choose.
“I think,” she says softly, almost smiling through the tears now, “that’s how I know it’s real.”
He lowers his head briefly, eyes shut, he wishes she were here so badly it physically hurts. Wishes he could pull her into his lap and bury his face into her neck and stay there until this terrible restless homesick feeling finally settled.
“You can’t say that right before I go on stage,” he says finally, voice rougher now. A soft laugh escapes her immediately. “I love you too, I love you in hotel rooms,” he murmurs. “In airports. Half asleep. Fully stressed. I love you enough that I catch myself looking for things to bring back for you in every country now.” A faint breath of a laugh. “Which is deeply embarrassing.”
Her eyes close tightly. “And I think…” He pauses, searching for the words carefully now because he wants to get this right. “I think loving you stopped feeling temporary a long time ago.” That one nearly undoes her completely.
“Hyung? Are you okay?” Jimin asks as they are once again leaving the airport, Yoongi quietly mumbles a no as they shuffle inside the car. “It’s been an exhausting tour, ___ and I had this big fight last week about something so stupid and god am I tired” Yoongi confesses as the car moves around the highway.
“What happened?” Jimin asks quietly. Yoongi lets out a humorless breath through his nose. “She fell asleep waiting for my call.” Jimin winces immediately. “Ouch.” “Yeah.”
“I know this life is hard,” he says after a while. “I knew it before we started dating. I just…” He laughs once bitterly under his breath. “I think I underestimated what it feels like when the person waiting for you is someone you actually can’t stand disappointing.”
Jimin watches him carefully for a moment. Yoongi has always carried guilt strangely. Quietly. Internally. Like he believes if he absorbs enough of it himself nobody else will have to. “I hate this part,” Yoongi murmurs eventually. “The feeling that no matter how hard I try, eventually my schedule still wins.”
“Hyung,” he says softly, “you know what’s different though?” Yoongi glances at him tiredly. “You’re talking like someone who’s trying to keep her.” Jimin shrugs lightly. “Not someone looking for a way out.”
They’re quiet for the rest of the ride, Yoongi contemplating how he’s going to make it up to her, what he’s going to say. He almost dozes off till he’s being gently shrugged by Jimin, something about them being there.
Yoongi steadies his bag as Jimin nudges his rib cage, hard. “___?” Yoongi can make her out of just her shadow as she leans against a car, they had discussed this a few weeks ago, he just didn’t expect her to be here after whatever yesterday was.
“What are you doing here?” She shrugs one shoulder lightly, though her eyes are already glassy in the parking lot lights.
“I wasn't going to show up just because we fought?” Something inside him breaks instantly at how simple she makes it sound. Yoongi looks down briefly, jaw tightening hard enough that she realizes suddenly he’s trying very seriously not to cry.
“You shouldn’t have driven this late,” he murmurs instead because it’s safer than saying what he actually wants to say right now. “You shouldn’t have fought with me from another continent,” she replies softly.
That finally pulls a real breathless laugh out of him and then neither of them can really hold the distance anymore. Yoongi drops his bag carelessly onto the pavement just as she reaches him, and the second his arms wrap around her he exhales so deeply it almost sounds painful. Like his body’s been waiting to do that for days.
“I don’t want to say sorry because stuff like that might happen again and I can’t lie to you” Yoongi speaks truthfully. “I know,” she says quietly.
Yoongi’s expression shifts faintly at that, like he wasn’t entirely expecting this. “I just…” He exhales shakily, forehead dropping briefly against hers now. “I need you to know I’m never not trying.” His voice lowers. “Even when I get it wrong.”
“You know what the worst part is?” she murmurs softly. “What?” “I wasn’t even angry because of the phone call.” His hands tighten around her waist slightly. “I was angry because I missed you so much already.” A weak laugh escapes her. “And then I had to miss you disappointed too.”
Because that’s exactly what yesterday felt like, not conflict, longing with nowhere to go. Yoongi presses his forehead harder against hers, eyes closing briefly. “I hate that you cry because of me.” “You also make me very happy because of you,” she whispers immediately.
“That grammar was terrible.” “I’m emotional.” A tired laugh slips out of him then, quieter now, warmer. God, he missed this too. The way she can pull him back toward something lighter before he disappears too far into guilt.
“Now kiss and make up,” Jimin calls as he walks backwards toward his building entrance, duffel bag hanging off one shoulder. “I can’t take brooding Yoongi hyung anymore. He’s been unbearable all week.”
Yoongi sighs deeply without even looking at him. “Please go inside.” “I’m serious,” Jimin says, grinning now. “He kept staring out the van window like a divorced father.” ___ laughs against Yoongi’s shoulder immediately, the sound finally pulling a reluctant smile onto his face too.
“And he snapped at me because I asked if he wanted ramyeon.” “You asked me three times.”
“Because you looked emotionally unwell.” Yoongi shakes his head tiredly as Jimin snickers to himself. “Anyway,” Jimin says, swiping the card to the building gate, “fix him please”
Then a softer, fond voice follows, “You look better already, hyung.” And with that he disappears inside, leaving the two of them alone again beneath the parking lot lights. The silence settles differently now.
___ brushes her thumb lightly beneath his eye before speaking quietly. “Your parents are still on vacation, right?” He nods once slowly. “They left for Jeju yesterday, come home with me,” he says quietly. Yoongi’s hand slides up slowly into her hair, fingers curling gently at the base of her neck before he pulls her toward him and kisses her like he’s been hungry for her.
His mouth soft against hers as he exhales shakily into the kiss, shoulders finally loosening beneath her hands for what feels like the first time since he landed. “You know,” he murmurs softly, voice rough with exhaustion and affection both, “I think this is the longest week of my life.”
She smiles faintly, brushing her nose against his. “Good thing you’re home now.” His eyes close briefly at that. Home, not Seoul, not the apartment, her.
And maybe that’s the thing that feels different tonight. Not just relief. Not just surviving another stretch of distance. The tour is over. For the first time in months there isn’t another flight looming somewhere ahead of them. No countdown ticking quietly in the background. No rehearsals stealing entire weeks before they can properly settle into each other again. Their first anniversary is in two weeks.
“You’ve been living like this all this time, what do you need a walk in closet for?” ___ complains as she walks around the dimly lit closet, admiring his watch collection. “Come on, lets go to bed” Yoongi whines from behind her, his arms loosely wrapped around her, he’s been clingy like this since they got inside the apartment.
“I have a meeting set with a realtor next week, you sure you still want to live with me, I never put away my laundry” ___ speaks as they finally slip into bed. Yoongi turns toward her immediately.
There’s barely a second of hesitation before he moves closer automatically, arm sliding around her waist underneath the blankets until she’s tucked against his chest like that’s where she’s been sleeping forever. “I’ve seen your apartment,” he murmurs sleepily into her hair. “It’s a mess”
She gasps softly. “That is unbelievably rude.” “You own a chair entirely dedicated to clothes.”
“It’s an organizational system.” “It’s a fabric mountain.” ___ laughs under her breath as he presses a lazy kiss against her shoulder.
“Are you sure about moving in together? We might not tour this year but there might be times when I’m still away?” Yoongi asks as he trails kisses downward. “Yes I am sure” ___ replies confidently as Yoongi bites her boob, knowing exactly where this is going.
“Aren’t you tired?” ___ investigates as Yoongi mumbles a no, removing her slip dress in one go. She doesn’t get an answer. What she does get is Yoongi softly biting her nipple as she arches back. “Another perk of living together, we can have sex any time we want, anywhere we want” Yoongi says as his hand fondles her soft breast, the other hand trailing south.
“We can do it against the glass like we did in Maldives,” she murmurs. That finally pulls a real reaction out of him.
Yoongi groans softly into her skin, forehead dropping briefly against her chest like the memory alone exhausted him all over again. “You almost killed me that night.”
“You were very enthusiastic.” “You wore that bikini on purpose.” A faint smug smile appears on her face. “Maybe.” He looks up at her then, hair messy, eyes dark and sleepy and impossibly affectionate all at once.
Yoongi shuffles around the kitchen looking for a snack, all the fridge has is leftovers and fruit. He settles on an apple as he continues to wash it for a little too long, too lazy to do the whole peeling and cutting thing.
___: Why’d you leave this morning in such a hurry? Waking up all by myself is no fun
His phone pings and he stops mid-way, typing a response immediately, a ghost of a smile appearing the second her name appears. He exhales softly through his nose, drying his hand absently against his shirt as he types back.
Yoongi: I told you, my dad had a doctors appointment, he won’t tell but he wanted me there
Yoongi: I am sorry, I can make up by coming over tonight and not leaving in the morning
___: I have a thing, might not come home
Yoongi: What thing?
___: Work thing
Yoongi: That’s very vague, but okay, I’ll see you on Saturday then? Can we go shopping?
“Who are you talking to smiling like that?” his mother shouts from the other end of the living room, startling him, almost into dropping his phone. It’s been a year and he’s successfully kept a lid on this relationship, the less she knows the better.
“No one, the guys are being funny in the group chat? Where are you off too?” he asks as his mother continues putting on her earrings.
“It’s the Lee’s 40th wedding anniversary and I thought I might bring them something, and ___ is going to be there” he stills not very noticeably, “I just love her,” his mother continues, completely unaware, stepping back into the kitchen to grab the baked goods she ordered earlier. “Too bad you never went out with her.”
He almost chokes on his own breath, covering it with a cough. “…Yeah,” he mutters, because what else is he supposed to say to that?
But his mind is already moving. So, ___ is in the same building as him and didn’t even tell him, is this why she won’t be coming home tonight? The wheels in his brain are going, a smirk almost appearing, “Maybe I also come with you, I was pretty rude last time when I didn’t visit them?”
“When?” she asks almost absentmindedly, forgetting that afternoon completely. “The time you tried to, you know what, I am going to change, wait for me”
Yoongi scrambles around, picking out a soft blue shirt and tucking it in almost instinctively. He fixes his hair next, more carefully than he’ll admit, adjusting it once, then again, like he’s trying to make it look like he didn’t try at all.
“Why do you even want to come, you’re usually not interested in my friends at all?” his mother questions from outside his room, watching him contemplate between two belts.
“That’s not true, you remember when I sent flowers for your friend Mrs Song?” “You didn’t send them, I did” she retorts almost immediately, “Well, I paid for them” he shoots back, not missing a beat.
He tightens the belt, exhaling softly through his nose before grabbing his watch, fastening it around his wrist with a little more care than usual. “I’m just being polite,” he adds, tone deliberately casual, like this is nothing out of the ordinary. “You said it yourself, I was rude last time.”
His mother leans against the doorframe now, watching him more closely. “You didn’t care about being rude last time.” “Well, as I grow older, I am trying to be a better person, come on” he walks right past her, she nods her head in confusion but decides to go along with it anyway.
Yoongi wouldn’t admit it, but he’s nervous. Things have been going well, too well. They move in together in a month, all their free time is being spent decorating their new home. The next natural steps would be to meet the parents, something he’s never done. “Stop fidgeting” his dad comments as he continues to fiddle around with his collar, the shirt suddenly suffocating him.
Yoongi spends the entire elevator ride thinking of what he’s going to say, which isn’t a long time to prepare for something this monumental. What exactly is he supposed to say? Hello, surprise, I’ve secretly been dating your daughter for over a year and we accidentally bought an apartment together?
His mother rings the bell before he can spiral further. The door swings open almost immediately, to his relief it’s ___. For one beautiful second her face lights up instinctively at the sight of him. Then she notices his parents standing there and immediately freezes.
“Oh! Hi, um” ___ stammers, fixing her hair the best she can as she tugs the sweater, well his sweater to be accurate that she stole just last week. “Hi, how are you ___, we just wanted to stop by with some treats before your parents leave for Europe” Mrs Min adds and ___ nods quickly, recovering with impressive speed considering she is currently trying to piece together why he’s here.
“Right, yes, come in,” she says, stepping aside quickly. “Mom and dad are inside.” Yoongi walks past her carefully, close enough to catch the tiny glare she shoots him under her breath.
“Ah, you made it!” Mrs. Lee says cheerfully as she appears from the kitchen carrying coffee cups.
Mr. Lee follows behind her with Yoongi’s father, already mid-conversation about travel routes and airport timing.
For a few blessed minutes, things settle.
Coffee is poured. Pastries are unpacked. The parents fall naturally into conversation around the dining table while Yoongi hovers awkwardly near the kitchen island pretending he isn’t hyperaware of every movement ___ makes.
“I’ve also made some sandwiches, let me just bring those out” ___ adds as she stands up, wanting a few minutes just to herself. “Oh, I’ll help” Yoongi adds and all the heads turn to him, none of them expecting this.
“It’s not much Yoongi-si, I’ll just be a few moments” ___ argues with a tight smile, hoping no one in this room catches onto this tension. “Oh I’m sure my mother’s told you what a great cook I am, I can help” Yoongi can’t help but tease, knowing this is going to cost him later.
“What is with these two?” Mrs Min murmurs to Mrs Lee as the two walk into kitchen, “Maybe he’s interested now, too bad she already has a boyfriend” Mrs Lee comments as they continue to sip on their coffee.
“She has a boyfriend?” Mrs Min asks with shock, she has secretly been hoping for her son to come to his senses all this time. “Well, she hasn’t told me explicitly, but she went to a vacation to Maldives and that’s such a couples destination” Mrs Lee adds and the wheels in Mrs Min’s head are finally going.
“When was she in Maldives?” “Early January I think, she didn’t even send us any pictures-” “Yoongi was in Maldives early January” Mrs. Lee blinks.
Mrs. Min blinks back, silence.
“Oh my god.” “OH MY GOD SHE’S WEARING HIS SWEATER THAT I GOT HIM FOR CHRISTMAS” Mrs Min yells as she rapidly walks towards the kitchen. The closer they get, the quieter they become. Because suddenly they’re not entering casually anymore.
They’re investigating and then they stop dead in the doorway. ___ is standing close enough to Yoongi that their bodies almost touch, fingers gently smoothing down the collar of his shirt while Yoongi looks at her with an expression his mother has never seen him wear before.
Soft and completely gone for her. Like the entire world narrowed down to the woman fixing his clothes in the kitchen.
“Oh.” The word slips out of Mrs. Lee before she can stop it. The couple freeze instantly. ___’s hand is still resting lightly against Yoongi’s chest.
Yoongi turns first and unfortunately, instead of looking guilty, he looks caught in the exact way a man does when he’s deeply in love and interrupted mid-moment. Which is somehow more incriminating.
“How long has this been going on?” Mrs Min asks softly, not entirely believing what she’s seeing. ___ immediately drops her hand from Yoongi’s collar like she’s been burned.
Yoongi exhales slowly, knowing he needs to take the lead in this situation, “A year and a half” he answers, his hand coming up to ___’s waist like he’s trying to tell it all with a show but ___ swats his hands immediately, like she can still talk her way out of this.
There’s silence and immediately there are questions, lots of them. “A YEAR AND A HALF” “Why didn’t you tell us” “Is this why you’ve been working late” “Is this why we couldn’t come to the Paris show?”
Mrs. Min’s eyes widened further somehow. “Oh my god, you traveled to see him during the tour?”
“No..well sometimes-” “How many times?” Mrs. Lee gasps. ___ looks ready to faint.
Yoongi, meanwhile, has reached the point of surrender where he almost finds this funny. “Enough that she has airline status now,” he says honestly.
“Min Yoongi!” ___ hisses in horror. “What? We’re already caught.” “That does not mean volunteer information!”
From the dining room, both fathers have fully abandoned pretending not to listen and are now standing in the doorway too. Mr. Min crosses his arms slowly. “I knew something was going on when he wanted me to check documents to buy an apartment”
The interrogation moves from the kitchen hallway to the dining room because ___ can’t keep standing without feeling like she’s about to faint and Yoongi wanted everyone to eat the sandwiches she made.
“When were you going to tell us that you’re moving in together, after you had children?” Mrs Min asks her son incredulously, she’s still in shock from this all, happy nonetheless. “What you aren’t engaged are you?” Mrs Lee asks as she rapidly reaches for ___’s hand.
“I wouldn’t ask ___ to marry me without speaking to her parents first,” Yoongi says immediately. The room quiets slightly at the seriousness in his tone. Because despite the chaos, despite the interrogation and the absolute catastrophe of this reveal, he means that sincerely.
Across the table, Mr. Lee watches him carefully now and for maybe the first time all afternoon, Yoongi feels genuinely nervous. “I’m not irresponsible,” he says quieter now, gaze flicking briefly toward ___ before returning to her parents. “I know how serious this is.”
___ looks at him softly for a second. Because beneath all the teasing and disaster and accidental exposure, that’s the thing about Yoongi, once he loves someone, he becomes frighteningly earnest about protecting the future around them.
Mrs. Min’s eyes narrow suddenly, too suddenly. “Wait.” Every person at the table goes still. “You said you wouldn’t ask without speaking to the parents first.” She points at him slowly. “Not that you haven’t thought about it.”
Yoongi makes the catastrophic mistake of glancing at ___ for half a second. And unfortunately that alone is enough.
Mrs. Lee gasps loudly. “Oh my god.” ___ blinks between them in confusion. “What?” Mrs. Min sits forward immediately. “You’ve thought about marriage.”
“We’re in a happy long term relationship, of course we have” “Do you have a ring?” his mother throws that question like a grenade in the middle of the dining room. ___ turns toward him so fast she nearly knocks over her water glass.
Yoongi suddenly regrets every decision that led him here. Because the thing is, he does have a ring. Hidden badly, according to Namjoon. Carefully and thoughtfully selected over weeks because once the idea entered his head, it never really left again.
“No,” he says too quickly. Mrs. Min narrows her eyes instantly. “That was suspicious.” “I don’t have it with me.” The second the words leave his mouth, he knows he’s doomed.
“YOU HAVE A RING?” both mothers shriek simultaneously.
___ just stares at him, like her brain genuinely stopped functioning for a second. Yoongi rubs a hand down his face slowly. “Well,” Mr. Min says calmly, sounding deeply entertained now, “this escalated quickly.”
“You bought a ring?” ___ asks finally, voice small in a way that completely destroys him. And suddenly all the teasing leaves the room a little. “We talked about it, we were on the same page about marriage?” Yoongi turns, like he needs to talk about it urgently.
“We did, I just didn’t expect you to actually buy a ring” The vulnerability in her voice hits him square in the chest. Because he understands what she means, not disbelief in them. Disbelief in how real this all suddenly sounds out loud.
Yoongi shifts slightly closer to her instinctively. “I wasn’t trying to pressure you,” he says lower now, like he’s forgotten there are four other people listening. “I just saw it and…” He exhales softly. “It felt right.”
___ looks at him for a long second. “They bought an apartment,” Mr. Lee mutters. “The married couple part was already implied.” “That’s true,” Mr. Min agrees.
“Is there a date on your mind?” Mrs Min asks quietly and that earns another dramatic gasp from Mrs Lee. “Okay,” ___ says finally, standing abruptly before this spirals into someone discussing grandchildren. “I think this is enough for today. Mom, dad, you both need to leave for the airport soon.” Then toward Yoongi’s parents, polite despite the emotional destruction currently occurring in the dining room, “Mrs. and Mr. Min, the desserts were delicious, and I do love your son, so I hope today won’t leave the wrong impression on your minds.”
“Yoongi and I are leaving because apparently we need to have a conversation.” That finally gets his attention fully. Yoongi blinks up at her once. “Do we?”
“Yes.” “Am I in trouble?” “You will be if you don’t get moving” ___ speaks with a smile but Yoongi knows better by now and stands up immediately. She’s quiet as they close the door behind them and it’s right at that moment when Yoongi’s phone rings.
He declines it and ___ sighs as she presses the elevator button with no clear plan on where they’re actually going to talk. Yoongi groans softly this time before answering. “Hi.”
There’s a pause, then his entire expression changes. “Oh.” ___ looks over immediately. “Our mattress is going to be there in a few minutes, they need someone to let them in” Yoongi continues and ___ simply hands him her car keys, knowing where they’re going.
“Oh, hi… that room,” ___ says quickly, pointing them toward the bedroom. They nod and disappear down the hallway carrying it carefully while Yoongi steps aside to answer yet another phone call.
Apparently every single thing related to this apartment needs attention today. “Yes, Tuesday is fine,” he says distractedly into the phone while pacing slowly near the windows. “Yes please early in the day, I’m busy post afternoon”
___ watches him for a second. It still catches her off guard sometimes, this version of him. Not a massively successful musician. Not the exhausted version surviving airports and tour schedules. Just… her boyfriend trying to do everything right with their apartment.
The mattress gets assembled surprisingly quickly considering it took them nearly three weeks to choose one. “So, the sofa will be here on the tuesday so we’ll have enough of a ready home to move in, rest we can tackle once we’re here” Yoongi adds as ___ gets them some water from the fridge, they might not be living here, but they still have a fully stacked kitchen already.
“And I’ve booked a moving company for your place for Sunday, I’ll be there too-” Yoongi continues and ___ shuts him up with a soft kiss. All the tension from today just melts as he helplessly kisses her, his hands all over her till they settle under the sweater.
“You stupid idiot” ___ pulls back just to say that but Yoongi only smiles as he pulls her even closer. “Did you really buy a ring?” she continues and Yoongi sighs, resting his forehead against hers. “I swear my mother, can we not make a big deal out of this, it’s not happening that soon, I want us to live together first and you weren’t supposed to find out like this” he explains which only makes ___ laugh more.
“Is it beautiful? It’s not too flashy is it? I know you have money but big diamonds don’t suit me” ___ teases and he groans gripping her waist even tighter. “Darling I know what you like, can we just please drop this?” Yoongi pleads and ___ nods knowing when to give up.
“I didn’t think I’d be doing this with you after our first date, I really wanted to see you again but I wasn’t sure it would work” ___ confesses as she moves around, finally getting the water she wanted. “I really wanted to see you again,” she admits. “But I honestly wasn’t sure it would work.”
Yoongi’s brows lift slightly. “Really?” He watches her carefully now as she hands him a glass of water before continuing.
“And then you kissed me like that,” she says, pointing at him accusingly now, “and just left.” Yoongi looks entirely unapologetic. “I had an early flight.” “You kissed me after the best first date and just left and it felt like a romcom for a few hours till you didn’t text me for 12 hours”
“I was trying to seem calm.” That actually makes her laugh. Because if there’s one thing she knows now, it’s that Yoongi has never once been calm about her. “I was still dazed from the date and the kiss and I was all confused and and I um, was so surprised and I hated that I had to leave even if I really wanted to tour” Yoongi confesses and ___ smiles from the other side of the counter.
“I for a very long time believed that this all, a girlfriend, living together, the eventual stuff, planning a life with someone wasn’t in my books and for the longest time I was okay with it” The apartment falls quiet around them. Suddenly he looks younger somehow. Not physically, emotionally, like she’s catching a glimpse of the version of him that spent years convincing himself wanting less from life was safer.
“You just thought loving someone would mean losing parts of yourself.” That catches him off guard.
Because unfortunately she’s right. Yoongi looks down briefly, jaw tightening faintly like he’s still a little uncomfortable being understood this clearly. “Yes,” he admits quietly. “And honestly…” A tiny breath leaves him, almost amused at himself now. “I didn’t expect you to be this stubborn.”
___ smiles faintly. “Excuse me?” “We fought,” he continues, stepping closer again like he physically can’t stay far from her for long anymore. “A lot sometimes. Especially in the beginning.” His hands slide back around her waist naturally. “But you always treated the problems like they were against us.” He pauses, gaze steady on hers now. “Not us against each other.”
Something soft flickers across her expression immediately, because that mattered more to him than she probably realized.
“So, shall we break in the new mattress, take a nap?” ___ jokes and Yoongi chuckles holds her from the behind. “Is this us now, napping? So painfully domestic” he says, his warm hands back under the sweater.
“What’s more tragic is that I really want to nap” Yoongi confesses nuzzling his head into her shoulder. “Honey, we can do whatever we want, nap, look at vacuums, argue if we really want a piano in the living room” ___ teases and Yoongi laughs thinking back to the major vacuum selection fight.
You were the assistant choreographer for BTS tasked with taking over for the lead while on tour. You’d sacrificed everything for this job, and you didn’t want to risk it, but the temptation has proved to be too sweet.
Now you have to juggle the social, physical, and emotional consequences of your affairs. Jealousy between the members, social isolation, and potential feelings? No, that last one was not something you’d allow. You already had enough on your plate. You had to squash that down. But feelings demand to be felt. And you cannot run away forever.
Masterlist
A/N: I know Yoongi didn't serve the standard military service, but for the sake of the plot, pretend he did.
___________
The dark tinted windows of the black SUV obscured your vision. Wrought iron gates guarded the front entrance. Pollen and petals littered the black leather seats from the bouquet of sunflowers in your hands. Nervously, you wiped them onto the floor and adjusted the hem of your dress.
Outside, a commotion sounded as the gates parted. You sucked in a breath. He was here.
It had been almost a year since you’d last seen him. He’d been afforded leave on and off but he was usually busy during that time with the company or visiting family. You’d kept in touch with letters and phone calls, but seeing him in the flesh was a luxury you hadn’t been able to afford.
The commotion continued for a good twenty minutes, and you knew it would take a while for him to get past the mandatory greetings and press photo ops and finally make his way to the car, but each minute dragged on and had you drumming your manicured nails against the leather seat.
Watching him approach, you swallowed the excess saliva that had pooled on your tongue and crouched behind the second row of seats to avoid being seen, holding the bouquet in front of your face for extra assurance.
When he finally clambered into the vehicle, he didn’t say anything. You peeked out from behind the bouquet to find him glancing at you out of the corner of his eye, trying to suppress a smile.
“I wanted to surprise you.”
“Consider me surprised,” he said, taking the bouquet from your hands as the car engine purred to life.
His hair was shorter, but not as short as the buzz cut he’d had last year when you had met up with him during a short leave break.
On the ride to his apartment, the two of you chatted about what you’d been up to in the last year. You told him of the new building you’d moved your studio into when classes got too big for the old one and the choreographers you’d hired to help you out. He discussed the various struggles he’d faced during his time in the military and soon it felt like old times. You kept a respectful distance between you during the car ride, broken only when he grabbed your hand during the walk from the elevator to his apartment.
There it was—the warmth you’d missed. His long fingers wrapped around your hand and squeezed it tightly to let you know he’d missed this as much as you had.
As soon as the two of you were inside, he flashed you his signature gummy smile and you couldn’t help but return it.
“So,” he began, leaning against the door, and you knew exactly what he was thinking.
“So,” you parroted, fidgeting with the tie on your dress.
A knowing smile played on the corner of his lips before he surged forward, wrapping his arms around your waist.
“Hi,” he muttered against your mouth.
“Mmm—missed you,” you said, draping your arms over his shoulders as he walked the two of you back towards his bedroom. That’s all you could get out before his tongue slipped into your mouth.
“I like this,” he said, running a finger under the garter strap that held up a set of thigh-high stockings.
“Oh!” you exclaimed, elastic snapping against skin.
It was quick, all sweat and tongues and teeth. After his time in the military, Yoongi was not interested in going slow or savoring anything—there would be time for that later.
After, Yoongi lay with his head on your chest as you lightly caressed the scar on his shoulder and he filled you in on his upcoming busy schedule now that the rest of the group had completed their service.
“Who’d they get to help with choreography?” you asked.
“Dunno,” he said shrugging. “I never paid much attention to that stuff. Except for once.” He nipped your skin to drive his point home. “Why? You thinking of coming back?”
“Ha!” you said. “I wouldn’t have the time, even if I hadn’t disgraced myself.”
“You know everyone would love it if you returned. Even just as a guest choreographer.”
“Fat chance.”
You’d be lying to yourself if you said you hadn’t thought about it. You deeply missed the friendships you had made with the members, as well as with the rest of the crew, but a bigger part of you felt that it was time to move on from that. Let the past be the past.
“They all miss you, you know,” he said, tentatively tracing a finger along one of your ribs.
“You’ve talked about me?” you asked. He nodded into your breast.
Propping himself up on his elbow, he fixed you with an inquisitive look. “Have you kept in contact with anyone?”
“Not much,” you shrugged. “Hobi and I text sometimes. Every once in a while, Jimin and I send each other viral dance challenges. Aside from that, it’s just the occasional birthday or holiday text. Why?”
“No reason,” he said. “I just think it would be fun to get everyone back together sometime.” He flopped on his back and you rolled to face him, dragging the thin white bedsheet with you. Yoongi chewed on his lip for a beat before giving you a knowing look. “Have you talked to him at all?”
You inhaled a measured breath. “Not since he came to the studio,” you said, making eye contact with his shoulder scar.
“He asks about you sometimes,” he said. “I never know how much to tell him.”
“You can tell him whatever you want,” you said, shrugging. “It’s not like I’m keeping anything from him.” You continued tracing the tiny 7 tattoo on his shoulder until he grasped your hand in his, bringing your fingertips up to his mouth and delivering soft kisses to each one.
“I know it’s uncomfortable,” he began.
“It’s not,” you cut in, pressing your forehead against his shoulder. “I just…I don’t know. It was six years ago. I just want to move on, you know?”
“You don’t think it would be easier to move on if you got closure?”
“Can we talk about something else?” you asked, rolling onto your back and staring up at the ceiling fan.. He sighed, and you didn’t blame him. Even you were growing annoyed with your inability to face your demons.
“Would you at least be open to reconnecting with the group one day?” he asked. “I know it would be good for you.”
You squeezed your eyes shut, knowing the only way to shut him up would be to agree. “Fine. One day.”
“Good,” he said, thumbing over your hip. “When did you get this tattoo?”
______
“Do you remember the last time we ate here?” asked Yoongi.
“I try not to think about it,” you laughed, stepping to the side as he opened the door to let you through. It was one of the few restaurants in the city with a private entrance for people who could be easily recognized by the public. The last time you’d been inside, the group had just finished preparing for a comeback. You’d gotten drunk and had tried to sleep with Jimin.
It was another lifetime ago.
Yoongi led you by the hand down the dark hallway and into a private back room. When you entered, you stopped in your tracks, slowly registered the sight in front of you, and immediately turned to leave. Nobody had seen you yet. You could still bail.
“Nope,” Yoongi said, catching you in his arms and turning you back towards the room.
“Yoongi I can’t,” you whispered. “I’m not ready yet.”
“Yes you can,” he soothed, nudging you forward. “It’s been long enough.”
Shakily, you stumbled forward as Yoongi directed you towards two chairs at the end of the table. At the same time, your dinner companions noticed your presence and looked up from their menus to greet you.
Cognitively, you understood that they were speaking. You registered the warmth in their greeting as well as the surprise, but you had no idea what was actually being said as your ability to understand language had suddenly been ripped from you.
The only person who didn’t seem at all surprised still looked at his menu as you were directed by Yoongi’s strong hands to sit in the seat at his right side.
The backs of your legs hit the wood of the chair with a thud, and all of your focus went to steadying your breath while the left side of your body burned with his proximity, skin embedded with the memory of his touch.
With great effort, you forced yourself to look up at the faces smiling at you. Seeing your old friends made it easier to coax your nervous system out of fight-or-flight mode. You greeted them with practiced poise, locking eyes with each member, as well as some of the crew members and managers you recognized who had also joined.
When the greetings had finished, you locked eyes with Yoongi, who offered a reassuring smile and mouthed ‘good job’ from his seat directly across from you. He held up his menu and started reading it over, which you took as a signal to do the same. It offered a welcome and much-needed distraction so you could collect your thoughts.
Junkgook sat stoic and still beside you, eyes burning a hole through the menu in front of him. He looked good, from what you could tell. Mostly the same since the last time you’d seen him, but you only took in what you could see from your periphery.
Pulling out your phone you texted Yoongi.
You: Did he know I was coming????
Yoongi: Yes. Be nice.
Gnawing on the inside of your cheek you put your phone away and scanned the menu again.
“Hey.”
The word came out soft—so soft it was almost lost in the ambient noise of the table, but your senses were still so attuned to him, even after all these years, that you picked it up instantly.
“Hey,” you echoed, not looking up from the menu.
He said nothing else for the time being, but almost imperceptibly, his posture shifted ever so slightly your way.
Sometime around when the server was in the middle of taking orders, the muscles in your shoulders relaxed and you settled into a comfortable familiarity with the members of the table. A slice of your focus remained on Jungkook, but the rest of your brain was able to carry on conversation with the members as they regaled stories of their military service and projects they were excited to work on now that they were all out.
Someone ordered a round of drinks. Everyone clinked glasses. Yours touched Jungkook’s, and you chanced a look at him. He did the same, and you locked eyes for only as long as was polite before breaking away to look at the tablecloth. You knew it was only a matter of time before the two of you talked, and when you did, there was an inescapable conversation to be had. It barreled toward you like a freight train.
It hit after two more rounds, as the table shared a dessert. Subtly, Jungkook turned to you, and almost under his breath, whispered “how have you been?”
Your stomach stretched taught, as if it had been connected to a rope that winded itself up into your esophagus. You swallowed the feeling back down and whispered back, “I’m okay. You?”
He fidgeted with the straw in his drink, not looking up from the plate in front of him. “I’m good. Was hoping I’d see you here.”
“Yeah?” you asked, a bit too eagerly. You bit the inside of your cheek.
He nodded. “I’ve been meaning to reach out.”
A shaky breath left your lips. You knew this was necessary, but the nerves inside you still held your body in a vise. “Yeah,” you agreed. “I was wondering if you would.”
He sniffed and cleared his throat. “Yeah. I tried a while ago. I think you have my number blocked.” It was awkward, how he said it. Not accusatory in the least, but with the carefulness of someone who must begrudgingly approach an elephant in the room.
“Oh,” you said, face flushing with more than just the alcohol you’d consumed. “I didn’t realize. I can fix that.”
You rushed to pull out your phone, but Jungkook swiftly placed a palm on your arm. “You—,” he started, but a jolt of electricity ran through the part of skin his palm touched and he immediately removed it. “Sorry,” he said. “You don’t have to do that right now.”
Your eyes lingered on the part of your arm he’d touched before they flicked up to meet his finally and the rest of the room faded into the background. “I guess I’m a little jumpy,” you said.
The corner of his mouth pulled upward in a lazy half-grin and your heart twisted, which was the last thing you wanted it to do.
“It’s okay,” he said. “You think it’d be okay if I texted you? Maybe we could meet up for coffee or something?”
“Sure,” you said, agreeing out of compulsion more than any cognitive desire to have that conversation.
“Cool.”
He turned back to his drink, taking a sip, and that was the end of the conversation.
_________
On the way out of the restaurant, as you climbed into the back of a cab with Yoongi, he grabbed your hand. There was warmth to his touch too, but it was a gentle, familiar warmth instead of the burning sensation that accompanied Jungkook’s.
“How was it?” he asked.
“I don’t know,” you answered honestly. “He wants to meet up.”
Yoongi brought your conjoined hands to his lips before delivering a soft kiss. “Is that what you want?”
“It’s hard to say,” you admitted. “I’d love to feel better about the whole situation. I know that talking it out is pretty much the only way to do that, but…,”
“You’re scared of what will happen?” he asked.
You slumped against the car seat, bringing his hand to rest on your thigh. “Aren’t you? What if it affects what happens with us? I don’t want to lose this.” You gave his hand a squeeze for emphasis.
Yoongi chuckled. “I’m more afraid of what will happen if you keep holding yourself back. Besides, you’re acting as if you won’t have free will to make your own choices. If you don’t want to lose this, take whatever steps you need so we can keep it.”
“It’s not that simple.”
He sighed. “If it makes you feel better, I don’t think you have anything to worry about. You and I are solid. Nothing’s going to get in the way of that. We love each other. At least in our own weird little way. And yeah, maybe we’re not together in the most traditional sense, but we’ll always have this—whatever you want to call it—this bond. Even if it’s not the only romantic relationship in your life.”
You rubbed the back of his hand with your thumb, eyes meeting his in a moment of vulnerability.
“And if he wants to be with me?” you asked.
“He might. Do you want to be with him?”
“Not if he makes me choose between you two.”
Yoongi chuckled again, rubbing his palm up and down your leg. “I don’t think he’ll do that. He tried once, remember? He saw how that played out.”
“What if he and I try to make it work, and then down the road he decides he doesn’t want to share?”
The car lurched to a stop at a red light. Yoongi locked eyes with you briefly before pulling you closer to him. He tucked your hair behind your ear, cupped the back of your neck with his hand, and pulled you in for a lingering kiss.
“If that happens, you will have a difficult decision to make. But I also trust your ability to make the right choice for yourself, and at the end of the day, what I really want is for you to live a happy, fulfilling life. If I can be part of it, in whatever capacity, that would make it even better.”
You and Yoongi ended up in his bed together again that night. He whispered praises into your skin and you left your mark on him anywhere you could get away with.
You didn’t know what you and Yoongi were to each other. Or, well, you did know, but it wasn’t something that could be easily put into words. It was just something to be felt and experienced. There was love there, of course. And passion. And desire. But there were no restrictions. There was nothing between you that hinted at a defined future. Neither of you were exclusive, but neither of you were looking for anything beyond what the two of you shared.
Which is why, when Jungkook texted you the next morning and asked if you could meet up, you agreed.
___________________
Steeling yourself, you reached up, closing your fist and hovering your hand just over the cold metal of the door. One second passed. Then two. Then three. Your skin prickled with the cool blast from the air conditioning—or perhaps it was anticipation.
You exhaled, dropping your fist and thudding your forehead softly against the door. You’d been working up the courage to knock on Jungkook’s door and then panicking and bailing repeatedly for the last ten minutes.
A staticky crackle sounded to your left and you jumped.
“Are you going to stand there forever or are you going to actually knock?”
It was then that you noticed the camera and speaker next to his door.
“Shit, sorry!” you said, backing away from the door. It swung open, revealing Jungkook, shirtless in grey sweatpants, because of course that’s what he was wearing. Why wouldn’t he be shirtless in grey sweatpants?
He stepped to the side and gestured for you to enter, which you did, fixing your eyes on a corner of his apartment to keep them from drifting over to his chest.
Too long of that, however, and he cleared his throat. You turned to face him and he had his arms crossed over his chest. The memory of the two of you in this very position flashed in your mind, a repeat of that fateful night in Chicago.
“You have some nerve showing up here,” he said.
You grimaced, hanging your head.
“I know.”
“I waited for an hour.”
“I’m sorry.”
“You could have texted.”
“I know,” you repeated. “I panicked.”
He huffed and shook his head, leaning against the back of the door. “Why are you here?”
You chewed on the inside of your lip. That was a question you’d been asking yourself. Jungkook had reached out last week asking you to meet up for coffee. You’d agreed on a time and a place, which wasn’t easy to do considering how cautious Jungkook had to be whenever he ventured out of his apartment. And then you never showed. He’d called and texted several times that day, asking what had happened, and you had no answer for him.
Just like you had no answer for him now. At least, not one you could easily put into words.
“I felt bad,” you said. It was a pathetic excuse. One which Jungkook picked up on.
“You felt bad,” he repeated.
You tried to look at him, but found his naked torso too intimidating to make eye contact with. “Can you put on a shirt please?”
“No,” he said incredulously. “You came into my house unannounced after standing me up. I’ll wear what I want.”
You sighed in frustration. Jungkook wasn’t going to make this easy for you, and why should he?
“Look, I’m not proud of how I acted, okay? I’m sure you can understand what it’s like to have a weak moment.” At that, you looked at him, and a bit of the hardness of his jaw finally slackened, so you took it as your sign to continue. “I knew this was going to be a difficult conversation and I was afraid of what would happen, so I ghosted. But it hasn’t been sitting right with me, and I agree that we probably should talk about it if either of us ever hope to move on and find closure or at least not have any animosity or whatever. So I came here hoping to…,” you began to trail off, “…do that. I guess.”
His tongue prodded at the inside of his cheek. After all these years, you liked knowing that he still did that whenever he was feeling impatient.
“I’m sorry,” you repeated. “It wasn’t cool of me. I don’t want to do that again.”
Something in the air shifted—a subtle change in the energy wavelengths coming from Jungkook’s end and you realized he was deciding to forgive you, even if he was still upset about it. Your heartbeat slowed.
“Do you want to sit?” he asked, nodding over to the sectional sofa taking up the living room portion of the open-concept apartment.
“Thanks.”
He led you over to the sofa, plopping down on one side while you slowly lowered yourself onto a seat at the opposite end. Jungkook kicked his feet up on the ottoman, savoring having the upper hand in the conversation for once.
As hard as it was to admit, you liked him better this way. You didn’t want him tip-toeing around you the way you were currently with him. There was a familiar sort of comfort in the dynamic that humbled you in a way that was necessary.
“So you wanted to talk?” you began.
He nodded. “Seems like a good move, don’t you think?” He flung an arm over the back of the chair. Your eyes followed the movement before you had to avert them.
“Yeah,” you said, but failed to follow it up with anything. It would have been nice if your brain would cooperate, but Jungkook’s aura took up all the air in the room, so you settled for wiping your sweaty palms on your jeans.
“Okay, I’ll start,” he said after a while. “Congrats on the award.”
“Thanks,” you breathed, relaxing into the conversation finally now that he’d broken the ice. The city had formally recognized your philanthropic efforts at an award ceremony three months ago. All the local charitable organizations had been invited to attend the event, including yours, and the mayor himself had awarded you with recognition for the work that you’ve been doing with sexual assault survivors. The class had grown from twelve to over sixty participants, and you’d used the grant money you’d received to hire an assistant choreographer of your own to lead a second class.
“Same to you. The album’s done really well.”
“You listened to it?” he asked, and you nodded.
“Did you…was it,” you began, knowing the question that was on your tongue but having trouble launching it from your mouth.
“Yeah,” he said with a shrug, trying to play nonchalant. “I mean, I changed some things, but you’re in there.”
You nodded slowly, digesting the information that you had suspected to be true for some time now. Having it confirmed was something else. “How much was me?” you asked.
He shrugged. “You know which ones are you.”
You nodded, because you did know.
“I hope that doesn’t make it weird,” he said. “I wasn’t trying to like, convince you to come back to me or anything. My therapist suggested I channel my feelings into my work and use it as inspiration, and I didn’t have much to lose at that point, so I figured I may as well.”
“That was pretty vulnerable of you,” you said, picking at a stray thread on the back of his couch. His eyes flicked to your fingers.
“I think looking back on it, I could have been more…measured with my vulnerability.”
The corner of your mouth twitched upwards on its own. You’d thought the same thing when you first heard it. “I think the fans liked it.”
He chuckled, bashful. “Live and learn.”
You nodded again, allowing the conversation to lull into a semi-comfortable silence.
“Drink?” he asked. “I have ice water, tea. Something stronger if you’re craving it at,” he checked his watch, “eleven thirty in the morning.”
“Ice water would be great.”
You watched him move casually through this space, noticing all the ways in which he was the same and all the ways he was entirely different. He was less tense, for sure. His shoulders sat casually at the base of his neck, whereas before they had always been tightly ratcheted to each other.
Handing you the glass, you allowed your fingertips to graze his and he purposefully held eye contact with you, both sharing the mutual understanding that this touch was very much on purpose and a test.
You broke the gaze first, flushing and dropping your eyes to the glass as you brought it to your lips and sipped.
“Thank you,” you said, swallowing thickly.
“Sure.”
Another silence fell between the two of you—this one more awkward than the last. You brought your eyes up to meet his and found him staring at you perplexedly, head tilted to the side.
“Hm?”
“Nothing, I’m just,” he began, searching for words. “I’m just processing you being here, I guess. I’ve imagined this moment going a hundred different ways and now that it’s here, it feels surreal.”
You knew what he meant. You’d done the same thing and were feeling the same way about being there.
“How do you think it’s going?” you asked.
He cracked a smile. “It’s…not as scary as I worried it could be. Definitely not comfortable, but it feels right. Natural.”
“Is there anything you wanted to talk about specifically?” you asked.
“A lot,” he confessed, “but they’re all hard to talk about.”
You huffed a laugh. “Same here. Shall we rip the band-aid off, then?”
He nodded. “Why did you hook up with me that first day?”
You had to stop yourself from snorting into your glass, not because it was funny, but because he really had gotten straight to the point.
“Well,” you began, eyes scanning the ceiling as if you’d find the answer written up there, “for one, you’re very attractive, Jungkook. I think you know this. Plus, it had been a while since I’d felt the weight of a man on me. I was feeling lonely for a long time. I built my entire identity around work and didn’t have much of a life outside of it. Of course, I didn’t realize it at the time.”
“Did you have feelings for me?”
“At first, no,” you said, taking a sip and then swallowing hard. “Eventually, yes.”
His eyebrows lifted in surprise. They shouldn’t have, because he had to have known. “When?”
“Chicago.”
He took a sip of water as well, seeming like something had clicked for him.
“Why did you hook up with me?” you fired back.
“I had a crush on you since you first started at the company. I respected you though. You were always so professional, so I’d written it off as just something I’d have to get over. But then that night at the studio happened, and I guess I allowed myself to entertain that crush.”
“I see.”
“Why did you sleep with Jimin? Right after?”
That was a harder one to answer. Sucking on your tongue, you searched your brain for the most accurate answer. “Sleeping with you opened a sort of floodgate for me. I felt very out-of-control. Part of me was ashamed that I’d crossed a professional boundary and I entered into a sort of shame spiral.
“I thought it was manageable when it was just us, but then you started acting possessive and jealous, and I didn’t know how to handle that. It didn’t feel safe to be with you, but there was a hunger you’d sort of awoken in me, and if it couldn’t be met by you, I was going to find someone else to do it.”
You had never put the emotions into words before. It was as if by saying it, you were finally processing everything that had happened.
“Where did that hunger come from?” he asked.
“I’m still trying to figure that out.”
The tip of his tongue poked out to moisten his lips as he regarded you for a minute. “Do you think we’d have started dating if I hadn’t acted so jealous?”
A bitter half-laugh escaped from your lungs. “I have no idea. Yes? Maybe? But then again, relationships are kind of impossible in your line of work.”
“Yeah, but aren’t you in a relationship with Yoongi?”
That was not something you expected him to ask. “It’s…complicated.”
He blinked a few times. “Go on.”
Grimacing, you tried to push past your discomfort. “We’re not like…together in the traditional way.”
“Do you fuck?” He asked, and a nervous laugh burst out of you.
“Yeah, but it’s also about like, being good for each other. We decided not to put any labels on it.”
“So you love him?” he asked.
You nodded. “I love him.”
He pursed his lips, considering you for a moment.
“Back when we were on the tour, I asked you if anything was going on between you and Yoongi. You said there was nothing.”
“At the time, we were just friends.” Your neck grew warm under his scrutiny. You were approaching the real meat of the conversation. “But in in all honesty, there was some flirting going on. And I had tried to hook up with him, but he turned me down.”
He nodded again, chewing on the information, seeing how tough it was to swallow. “Okay. So when I came to your room that time and told you how I felt…you turned me away. But you just said you developed feelings for me after Chicago.” He paused, collecting his thoughts. “I don’t know how to make sense of that.”
You sucked in a breath. “Yeah. So…I wasn’t lying when I said I had feelings for you. Turning you down was actually one of the hardest things I’d had to do at that point..”
“So then why Yoongi instead of me?”
That really was the million-dollar question. Where would you have ended up if you’d chosen to let Jungkook stay that night six years ago? Would you have ended up with Yoongi regardless? Would you be with Jungkook now? It seemed like everything changed that night.
You swallowed, biting your lip while you worked out how to put your thoughts into words. “I…,” you began, but struggled to find what you wanted to say. “I guess it’s like…Yoongi understood in a way nobody else did. I really needed that. And at the time, I needed to connect with someone who just…got it. We didn’t have to work to understand each other. He made me feel like I wasn’t alone when I needed it most.”
Jungkook wasn’t looking at you. His eyes rested somewhere on the wall to your left, unfocused.
“What are you thinking about?” you asked.
“I’m replaying the night I came to your room. Wondering if there was something I could have done to make you feel the way Yoongi did.”
“There was nothing you could have done,” you said, reaching out to rest your hand on his knee. You knew touching him was toeing the line, but you wanted to convey your sincerity. “It wasn’t what Yoongi did. It was who he was. The things he’d gone through.”
Jungkook’s eyes fell on the spot where your hand lay. You could tell despite your reassurance, he was hurt by the situation. As were you.
“So you and Yoongi are…together now?”
“Like exclusively? No,” you said.
He nodded, and you felt his energy shift. Perhaps he was hoping for a different answer.
“Are you in an open relationship then?” he asked.
“I guess?” you answered. “I mean. Theoretically. We haven’t defined it as a relationship, and I haven’t been with anyone else.” You could feel yourself offering up too much information and decided to leave it at that.
That last tidbit did seem to pique his interest though. He pulled his bottom lip into his mouth and chewed on it for a beat. You had a feeling you knew where the conversation was heading.
“Would you be with anyone else?” he asked. Ballsy of him to come right out and say it. The corner of your mouth twitched upwards, and his gaze landed on it. You knew he knew you knew what he was really asking.
“Possibly,” you said slowly, holding eye contact. You didn’t want him to get too excited, but you also couldn’t help the anticipation bubbling up inside of you. “Depending on the circumstances.”
Too late. He dug his upper teeth into the skin at the edge of his lip, pupils dilated. You could feel the vibrations radiating off him. You also knew he was determined to get this right. You’d just issued him the ultimate challenge, and Jungkook was nothing if not competitive.
“Not so fast,” you said. “We need to talk about Japan.”
He broke eye contact, letting his gaze fall somewhere on the edge of the ottoman in front of you. He picked at a stray thread on his clothes. Inhaling deeply and letting it out in a puff of air, he nodded.
“Where should we start?”
“A couple things I want to get off my chest first,” you started. He nodded again.
“First, I was telling the truth that time you caught me walking out of Tae’s room.”
“I know,” he cut in. “Taehyung told me everything.”
“Okay good,” you said. “And when I told you nothing was going on with Yoongi, again, that was true at the time.”
He held up a palm to stop you. “The guys and I all cleared up these misunderstandings a long time ago. I acted like a dick at the time, but you don’t need to explain anything. I’m sorry for how I reacted.”
“Okay,” you said, stopping short. You’d had a bit of a monologue prepared and now that it was unnecessary, you weren’t sure where to go.
Luckily, Jungkook had you covered.
“So we kind of talked about this already, and I have an idea about what the answer is but can you just clarify why you turned me away when I came to your room? I’m not bitter about it or anything,” he said. “Just confused. I thought you liked me.”
“I did,” you insisted.
“Did?” he asked, again bold.
“Pending.”
He nodded.
“It was just the timing of everything. I knew it wasn’t a good idea to get involved with you when I had so much baggage to sort through. I wouldn’t have been a good partner to you. And to be honest, I’m not sure you would have been the best partner to me at the time.”
“You think we would have started a relationship?” he asked.
“Don’t you?” you asked. “I mean, even if we didn’t officially date, I would have wanted to, and would have spent the whole rest of the tour chasing one instead of focusing on my job.”
You could feel yourself getting emotional again. That was what you were afraid of. Taking a deep breath, you worked to stay grounded. After all this time, he still had this effect on you.
“Okay,” he said, and you got the sense he was trying to calm you down. “Okay.” He sucked on his bottom lip for a few beats before continuing. “Okay, so here’s I guess what I didn’t understand: why were you able to spend the night with Yoongi shortly after? Why could you have a relationship with him and not me?”
You felt his question in the center of your ribcage. You knew your answer, but it wouldn’t be easy for you to say or him to hear.
“Yoongi earned it,” you said, eyeing him carefully to see his reaction. You weren’t sure, but you thought you saw the tiniest grimace on his face. Whatever it was, he recovered quickly.
“In a way that I wasn’t?” he asked.
You pursed your lips, considering your words. “I don’t know. I think you were good for me in a weird way. In Chicago, you were good for me. And even when you refused to kiss me, I think it was good for me. I think I needed to be rejected by you in order to get my head out of my ass. But then you didn’t stay away, and I think that wasn’t good for me. I think you needed to stay away in order for me to learn the lesson I needed to learn.”
“Which was?” he asked.
“That I had to stop taking people for granted and treating them like shit. I was really entitled to you,” you confessed. “I didn’t treat you well at all, and I don’t think I respected you the way I should have.”
He swallowed hard, his Adams apple bobbing up and down and he blinked a few times.
“What?” you asked.
“Nothing it’s just…I always thought it was just me who treated you shitty, but I think there’s a part of me that really needed to hear that.”
Steeling yourself, you took his hand in yours and looked straight into his eyes, which had grown ever so slightly glassy. “Jungkook, I was not kind to you. I wasn’t a good person back then, and I should have been better. It wasn’t just you.”
Something cracked within his composure and suddenly, you were swallowed up by his presence. It took a second to register he was hugging you. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I’m so sorry.”
“I know,” you said, hugging him back. “I’m sorry too.” You inhaled the smell of him, both familiar and a little new, savoring the feel of his arms around you, but this time, it didn’t pull you under the way it had back then. This time, you were able to keep you head above the water.
He cupped your face in his hands and pressed his forehead against yours. “I’m going to be good for you,” he promised. “If you let me back into your life, I promise this time I won’t fuck it up.”
You smiled, taking his hands from your face and bringing them to rest in your lap. He got the message and pulled back to look at you. “I believe you,” you said. “But I still need to make sure I can be good for you, too.”
“How would you do that?” he asked.
You sucked in a breath, “I think it’s by asking you to be patient,” you said.
He fell back against the couch, squeezing his eyes shut. “You’re killing me.”
You chuckled, scooting closer to him and he used the hand that was still holding yours to pull you into his lap. You let him. “You’ve always had trouble with that, haven’t you?” you asked, teasing.
He opened one eye to look at you. “I have been very patient, thank you.”
You laughed, leaning in to press your body against his. “I suppose you have.”
Grinning, he wrapped an arm around you and you savored his touch. He was warm, and smelled like a heady mixture of his own musk, the cologne he always wore, and what you suspected was a new shampoo. Slowly, you began to register a growing firmness underneath you.
“Can I kiss you?” he asked. You thought about it for a moment, but you already knew your answer. You had also been patient. You nodded.
Kissing Jungkook was unlike kissing anyone else. It was like diving into the ocean—raw, powerful, easy to be overpowered if you didn’t know how to swim. Luckily, you did. You kissed him back passionately, licking into his mouth and fighting against the current until you finally found a rhythm. His hand traced from your neck down your back, eventually coming to rest on your ass, and you waited for the nerves to come, but they never did. It felt right. A thought did, however, pop into your head and you broke the kiss, panting.
“You know I’m still loyal to Yoongi, right?” you breathed. His hand squeezed the soft flesh of your ass.
“Yeah,” he said between heavy breaths. Beads of sweat collected where your fingers met his chest. “Obviously.”
“And like, we’ll have to talk about what this means at some point,” you said, digging your nails into his skin. His chest rose and fell with the breath coming through his open mouth.
“Absolutely,” he agreed. “Whenever you want. Kiss me again.”
You wasted no time, diving back in as he fisted your shirt in his hand.
“Mmmph. Bedroom?” he muttered into your mouth.
“Yeah,” you said, sucking his bottom lip into your mouth. You wrapped your legs around his waist as he lifted you into the air and walked the two of you across the span of his apartment, kicking open the door of his bedroom and tossing you unceremoniously on to the bed.
“These are coming off,” he said, grabbing the waistband of your pants and ripping them down your body. His eyes were blown wide with lust, but you could tell he was still in control. If you asked him to wait, he would.
Patting the bed, you gestured for him to join you, and when he did, you eagerly straddled his hips, rocking into him and reveling in the sensation you’d dreamt about for years.
“Kiss my neck,” you said, and he did, not even bothering to hide the bruises he deliberately sucked into your skin. He rubbed you over your panties, no doubt feeling how soaked they were.
“Can I?” he asked and you nodded, closing your eyes and arching into him as he slipped his digits under the fabric and rubbed between your folds. You whimpered into his touch. “I missed that sound.”
It wasn’t long before the two of you were completely naked, bodies pressed up against each other as you teased the tip of his cock, hovering over him just enough so he could feel how warm and wet you were, but not enough for him to sheath himself in you.
“Please?” he begged.
You bit your lip, rocking your hips over him without letting him slip inside just yet.
“Please?” he whined, neediness reaching a crescendo. Still, you said nothing and continued rocking into him.
“What do I have to do?”
“Love me,” you whispered.
“I do,” he panted. “I never stopped.”
“Love me even more,” you said.
“I will!” he promised. “I’ll love you more than you’ve ever been loved.”
“Really?” you asked, grinning down at him, expecting him to make up some bullshit in order to get laid. He surprised you by looking directly into your eyes.
“Really,” he said, and the sincerity on his face was so intense you broke eye contact and dropped your gaze to his chest. He stopped moving and he took your chin in his hand, forcing you to look at him. “I mean it.”
Almost without your permission, your body submitted to him. He finally pushed into you and your head dropped back in rapture. Rolling onto your back, your body moved on his own accord, matching his movements until you moved as one. A sound bath of his voice surrounded you—breathy little noises mixed with whines and gasps that increased in volume as his movements increased in effort.
“Jungkook,” you whined, “baby slow down, I don’t want to come too soon.”
“What if I promise to make it up to you?” he panted, voice strained with his thrusts.
Rather than answer, you offered up a high-pitched moan, filling the room with sound and he sped up, his movements becoming sloppy.
“Where should I come?” he grunted.
“Inside,” you breathed. “You can come inside.”
“Fuck yeah.” His hands found purchase on your hips and he used the leverage to speed up.
“Fuck, Jungkook,” you panted, “fuck I’m gonna—,” but the rest of your words were swallowed by a moan as you came, hard, everywhere.
Jungkook looked down to see his chest glistening with your juices. “Shit, I forgot you did that sometimes.”
You threw an arm over your face in embarrassment, but he didn’t let you hide. Instead, he pulled out briefly before hoisting you up and spinning you around so you were on your hands and knees. When he resumed his movements, it was at a punishing pace. You were on the verge of overstimulation, but held out for him. You wanted him to get his fill.
“Almost there,” he said between gritted teeth. He gave a few more sloppy thrusts and then spilled himself into you with a shuddering groan.
You collapsed onto the bed, rolling onto your side so you could face him and he tucked a strand of hair behind your ear before closing his eyes to catch his breath.
When he opened them again, he smiled lazily.
“Hi,” you whispered, suddenly shy.
“Hi,” he chuckled.
“I don’t know what this means,” you said, gesturing to your bodies, legs still entangled in each other’s.
“It doesn’t have to mean anything,” he replied. “We can just take it day by day.”
He pulled you into him, kissing you lazily until you were both spent enough that ended up falling asleep in the mid-afternoon sun.
There was still more to discuss with Jungkook. You hadn’t even begun to talk about what happened in Japan during that tour, but you sensed that when you did finally breach the topic, you would come to an understanding and would be able to move forward without it hanging over you like a dark cloud. For the first time, it felt like Jungkook was good for you.
___________
The next morning, you unlocked the door to Yoongi’s apartment, where you were staying for the next week, and when you found Yoongi cheerfully frying eggs in the kitchen, you greeted him with a kiss on his cheek.
“How’d it go?” he asked, putting down his chopsticks and wrapping an arm around you to pull you in for a real kiss.
“Good,” you said, with a smile. You brushed off a piece of lint that clung to his shoulder and nuzzled into him.
“Someone got laid,” he said, chuckling to himself.
You pulled back to look at him. “Is that okay?” you asked.
“Preferred,” he replied. “You’ve been mopey for years. It was driving me nuts.” He picked up his chopsticks with his free hand and resumed scrambling the eggs, but he didn’t let go of you.
“Did you know this whole time?” You asked.
“What? That you never stopped loving Jungkook?” he said, “Pretty much.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I tried,” he said, kissing the tip of your nose. “You kept insisting that you were fine. I knew you needed some time to work through some things, but then you started procrastinating. It was me who forced you to see him at dinner the other day, in case you forgot.”
You moved so you were hugging him from behind while he tried not to burn the eggs.
“I suppose I should thank you for that,” you said.
“I have a few ideas for how you can thank me.” He grabbed one of your hands and moved it down over the front of his boxers. You complied, rubbing over him and kissing the back of his neck.
“You sure you won’t get jealous?” you asked.
He turned the burner off, spinning around to face you. The look in his eyes was serious. “I’m a big boy. I know how to handle jealousy, even if it does come up, which is hasn’t yet. Falling in love with you means falling in love with all of you, even the part that loves someone other than me,” he said.
Unexpectedly, a lump rose in your throat and tears pricked your eyes. “Why are you so good to me?” you choked out.
Yoongi walked you backwards until you hit the kitchen island, then he lifted you so you were sitting on it. “Believe it or not, you’re worth it. I’m sorry that you spent most of your life not being treated the way you deserved, but it’s time you understood what it really means to be loved.” He punctuated his thought with a kiss and you wrapped your arms around him to deepen it.
“I want to be good to you, too,” you said.
“You already are. You’ve never once asked me to be anything other than myself. You’re thoughtful, honest, and hot as hell. And you let me put it in raw,” he said. “I couldn’t ask for anything more.”
“Oh shit, that reminds me,” you said. “I didn’t ask him to wear a condom.”
Yoongi screwed his eyes shut, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Okay, well I guess it was time to get tested anyway. I’ll ask Jungkook to test himself as well when I see him later. We have a group meeting with Bang today to go over the next steps for the comeback.”
“I should do that,” you said. “I think our relationships should remain separate, at least for now.”
He rubbed his thumbs along your hips. “Yeah, you’re probably right.”
“This is going to be weird, isn’t it?”
“A little. Until we get used to it.”
“It’s going to be complicated, too.”
He nodded. “Yeah, probably.”
“You sure you’re up for it?” you asked and he rolled his eyes.
“I’ve already said yes,” he said, annoyed, and then softened. “You’re happier than I’ve seen you in over six years. That’s worth dealing with whatever logistical issues come up.”
You responded by kissing him deeply, savoring the feeling of being loved so wholly and offering up just as much love to him in return.
“Oh, and one more thing, before I forget,” Yoongi said, pulling away.
“What is it?”
“Hoseok wants to know if you’ll help with the choreography for our comeback.”
GOOD GOD WAS THIS THE BEST READ I'VE DONE FOR THIS YEAR.
I love how the character was self-aware but also not at the same time. I love how there was always a moment of reflection in every decision she makes, granted that the decisions could've been better at times. I love Jungkook BUT GODDAMN I LOVE YOONGI SO MUCH HE'S THE FUCKING BEST EVER!!!!
You were the assistant choreographer for BTS tasked with taking over for the lead while on tour. You’d sacrificed everything for this job, and you didn’t want to risk it, but the temptation has proved to be too sweet.
Now you have to juggle the social, physical, and emotional consequences of your affairs. Jealousy between the members, social isolation, and potential feelings? No, that last one was not something you’d allow. You already had enough on your plate. You had to squash that down. But feelings demand to be felt. And you cannot run away forever.
Masterlist
A/N: I know Yoongi didn't serve the standard military service, but for the sake of the plot, pretend he did.
___________
The dark tinted windows of the black SUV obscured your vision. Wrought iron gates guarded the front entrance. Pollen and petals littered the black leather seats from the bouquet of sunflowers in your hands. Nervously, you wiped them onto the floor and adjusted the hem of your dress.
Outside, a commotion sounded as the gates parted. You sucked in a breath. He was here.
It had been almost a year since you’d last seen him. He’d been afforded leave on and off but he was usually busy during that time with the company or visiting family. You’d kept in touch with letters and phone calls, but seeing him in the flesh was a luxury you hadn’t been able to afford.
The commotion continued for a good twenty minutes, and you knew it would take a while for him to get past the mandatory greetings and press photo ops and finally make his way to the car, but each minute dragged on and had you drumming your manicured nails against the leather seat.
Watching him approach, you swallowed the excess saliva that had pooled on your tongue and crouched behind the second row of seats to avoid being seen, holding the bouquet in front of your face for extra assurance.
When he finally clambered into the vehicle, he didn’t say anything. You peeked out from behind the bouquet to find him glancing at you out of the corner of his eye, trying to suppress a smile.
“I wanted to surprise you.”
“Consider me surprised,” he said, taking the bouquet from your hands as the car engine purred to life.
His hair was shorter, but not as short as the buzz cut he’d had last year when you had met up with him during a short leave break.
On the ride to his apartment, the two of you chatted about what you’d been up to in the last year. You told him of the new building you’d moved your studio into when classes got too big for the old one and the choreographers you’d hired to help you out. He discussed the various struggles he’d faced during his time in the military and soon it felt like old times. You kept a respectful distance between you during the car ride, broken only when he grabbed your hand during the walk from the elevator to his apartment.
There it was—the warmth you’d missed. His long fingers wrapped around your hand and squeezed it tightly to let you know he’d missed this as much as you had.
As soon as the two of you were inside, he flashed you his signature gummy smile and you couldn’t help but return it.
“So,” he began, leaning against the door, and you knew exactly what he was thinking.
“So,” you parroted, fidgeting with the tie on your dress.
A knowing smile played on the corner of his lips before he surged forward, wrapping his arms around your waist.
“Hi,” he muttered against your mouth.
“Mmm—missed you,” you said, draping your arms over his shoulders as he walked the two of you back towards his bedroom. That’s all you could get out before his tongue slipped into your mouth.
“I like this,” he said, running a finger under the garter strap that held up a set of thigh-high stockings.
“Oh!” you exclaimed, elastic snapping against skin.
It was quick, all sweat and tongues and teeth. After his time in the military, Yoongi was not interested in going slow or savoring anything—there would be time for that later.
After, Yoongi lay with his head on your chest as you lightly caressed the scar on his shoulder and he filled you in on his upcoming busy schedule now that the rest of the group had completed their service.
“Who’d they get to help with choreography?” you asked.
“Dunno,” he said shrugging. “I never paid much attention to that stuff. Except for once.” He nipped your skin to drive his point home. “Why? You thinking of coming back?”
“Ha!” you said. “I wouldn’t have the time, even if I hadn’t disgraced myself.”
“You know everyone would love it if you returned. Even just as a guest choreographer.”
“Fat chance.”
You’d be lying to yourself if you said you hadn’t thought about it. You deeply missed the friendships you had made with the members, as well as with the rest of the crew, but a bigger part of you felt that it was time to move on from that. Let the past be the past.
“They all miss you, you know,” he said, tentatively tracing a finger along one of your ribs.
“You’ve talked about me?” you asked. He nodded into your breast.
Propping himself up on his elbow, he fixed you with an inquisitive look. “Have you kept in contact with anyone?”
“Not much,” you shrugged. “Hobi and I text sometimes. Every once in a while, Jimin and I send each other viral dance challenges. Aside from that, it’s just the occasional birthday or holiday text. Why?”
“No reason,” he said. “I just think it would be fun to get everyone back together sometime.” He flopped on his back and you rolled to face him, dragging the thin white bedsheet with you. Yoongi chewed on his lip for a beat before giving you a knowing look. “Have you talked to him at all?”
You inhaled a measured breath. “Not since he came to the studio,” you said, making eye contact with his shoulder scar.
“He asks about you sometimes,” he said. “I never know how much to tell him.”
“You can tell him whatever you want,” you said, shrugging. “It’s not like I’m keeping anything from him.” You continued tracing the tiny 7 tattoo on his shoulder until he grasped your hand in his, bringing your fingertips up to his mouth and delivering soft kisses to each one.
“I know it’s uncomfortable,” he began.
“It’s not,” you cut in, pressing your forehead against his shoulder. “I just…I don’t know. It was six years ago. I just want to move on, you know?”
“You don’t think it would be easier to move on if you got closure?”
“Can we talk about something else?” you asked, rolling onto your back and staring up at the ceiling fan.. He sighed, and you didn’t blame him. Even you were growing annoyed with your inability to face your demons.
“Would you at least be open to reconnecting with the group one day?” he asked. “I know it would be good for you.”
You squeezed your eyes shut, knowing the only way to shut him up would be to agree. “Fine. One day.”
“Good,” he said, thumbing over your hip. “When did you get this tattoo?”
______
“Do you remember the last time we ate here?” asked Yoongi.
“I try not to think about it,” you laughed, stepping to the side as he opened the door to let you through. It was one of the few restaurants in the city with a private entrance for people who could be easily recognized by the public. The last time you’d been inside, the group had just finished preparing for a comeback. You’d gotten drunk and had tried to sleep with Jimin.
It was another lifetime ago.
Yoongi led you by the hand down the dark hallway and into a private back room. When you entered, you stopped in your tracks, slowly registered the sight in front of you, and immediately turned to leave. Nobody had seen you yet. You could still bail.
“Nope,” Yoongi said, catching you in his arms and turning you back towards the room.
“Yoongi I can’t,” you whispered. “I’m not ready yet.”
“Yes you can,” he soothed, nudging you forward. “It’s been long enough.”
Shakily, you stumbled forward as Yoongi directed you towards two chairs at the end of the table. At the same time, your dinner companions noticed your presence and looked up from their menus to greet you.
Cognitively, you understood that they were speaking. You registered the warmth in their greeting as well as the surprise, but you had no idea what was actually being said as your ability to understand language had suddenly been ripped from you.
The only person who didn’t seem at all surprised still looked at his menu as you were directed by Yoongi’s strong hands to sit in the seat at his right side.
The backs of your legs hit the wood of the chair with a thud, and all of your focus went to steadying your breath while the left side of your body burned with his proximity, skin embedded with the memory of his touch.
With great effort, you forced yourself to look up at the faces smiling at you. Seeing your old friends made it easier to coax your nervous system out of fight-or-flight mode. You greeted them with practiced poise, locking eyes with each member, as well as some of the crew members and managers you recognized who had also joined.
When the greetings had finished, you locked eyes with Yoongi, who offered a reassuring smile and mouthed ‘good job’ from his seat directly across from you. He held up his menu and started reading it over, which you took as a signal to do the same. It offered a welcome and much-needed distraction so you could collect your thoughts.
Junkgook sat stoic and still beside you, eyes burning a hole through the menu in front of him. He looked good, from what you could tell. Mostly the same since the last time you’d seen him, but you only took in what you could see from your periphery.
Pulling out your phone you texted Yoongi.
You: Did he know I was coming????
Yoongi: Yes. Be nice.
Gnawing on the inside of your cheek you put your phone away and scanned the menu again.
“Hey.”
The word came out soft—so soft it was almost lost in the ambient noise of the table, but your senses were still so attuned to him, even after all these years, that you picked it up instantly.
“Hey,” you echoed, not looking up from the menu.
He said nothing else for the time being, but almost imperceptibly, his posture shifted ever so slightly your way.
Sometime around when the server was in the middle of taking orders, the muscles in your shoulders relaxed and you settled into a comfortable familiarity with the members of the table. A slice of your focus remained on Jungkook, but the rest of your brain was able to carry on conversation with the members as they regaled stories of their military service and projects they were excited to work on now that they were all out.
Someone ordered a round of drinks. Everyone clinked glasses. Yours touched Jungkook’s, and you chanced a look at him. He did the same, and you locked eyes for only as long as was polite before breaking away to look at the tablecloth. You knew it was only a matter of time before the two of you talked, and when you did, there was an inescapable conversation to be had. It barreled toward you like a freight train.
It hit after two more rounds, as the table shared a dessert. Subtly, Jungkook turned to you, and almost under his breath, whispered “how have you been?”
Your stomach stretched taught, as if it had been connected to a rope that winded itself up into your esophagus. You swallowed the feeling back down and whispered back, “I’m okay. You?”
He fidgeted with the straw in his drink, not looking up from the plate in front of him. “I’m good. Was hoping I’d see you here.”
“Yeah?” you asked, a bit too eagerly. You bit the inside of your cheek.
He nodded. “I’ve been meaning to reach out.”
A shaky breath left your lips. You knew this was necessary, but the nerves inside you still held your body in a vise. “Yeah,” you agreed. “I was wondering if you would.”
He sniffed and cleared his throat. “Yeah. I tried a while ago. I think you have my number blocked.” It was awkward, how he said it. Not accusatory in the least, but with the carefulness of someone who must begrudgingly approach an elephant in the room.
“Oh,” you said, face flushing with more than just the alcohol you’d consumed. “I didn’t realize. I can fix that.”
You rushed to pull out your phone, but Jungkook swiftly placed a palm on your arm. “You—,” he started, but a jolt of electricity ran through the part of skin his palm touched and he immediately removed it. “Sorry,” he said. “You don’t have to do that right now.”
Your eyes lingered on the part of your arm he’d touched before they flicked up to meet his finally and the rest of the room faded into the background. “I guess I’m a little jumpy,” you said.
The corner of his mouth pulled upward in a lazy half-grin and your heart twisted, which was the last thing you wanted it to do.
“It’s okay,” he said. “You think it’d be okay if I texted you? Maybe we could meet up for coffee or something?”
“Sure,” you said, agreeing out of compulsion more than any cognitive desire to have that conversation.
“Cool.”
He turned back to his drink, taking a sip, and that was the end of the conversation.
_________
On the way out of the restaurant, as you climbed into the back of a cab with Yoongi, he grabbed your hand. There was warmth to his touch too, but it was a gentle, familiar warmth instead of the burning sensation that accompanied Jungkook’s.
“How was it?” he asked.
“I don’t know,” you answered honestly. “He wants to meet up.”
Yoongi brought your conjoined hands to his lips before delivering a soft kiss. “Is that what you want?”
“It’s hard to say,” you admitted. “I’d love to feel better about the whole situation. I know that talking it out is pretty much the only way to do that, but…,”
“You’re scared of what will happen?” he asked.
You slumped against the car seat, bringing his hand to rest on your thigh. “Aren’t you? What if it affects what happens with us? I don’t want to lose this.” You gave his hand a squeeze for emphasis.
Yoongi chuckled. “I’m more afraid of what will happen if you keep holding yourself back. Besides, you’re acting as if you won’t have free will to make your own choices. If you don’t want to lose this, take whatever steps you need so we can keep it.”
“It’s not that simple.”
He sighed. “If it makes you feel better, I don’t think you have anything to worry about. You and I are solid. Nothing’s going to get in the way of that. We love each other. At least in our own weird little way. And yeah, maybe we’re not together in the most traditional sense, but we’ll always have this—whatever you want to call it—this bond. Even if it’s not the only romantic relationship in your life.”
You rubbed the back of his hand with your thumb, eyes meeting his in a moment of vulnerability.
“And if he wants to be with me?” you asked.
“He might. Do you want to be with him?”
“Not if he makes me choose between you two.”
Yoongi chuckled again, rubbing his palm up and down your leg. “I don’t think he’ll do that. He tried once, remember? He saw how that played out.”
“What if he and I try to make it work, and then down the road he decides he doesn’t want to share?”
The car lurched to a stop at a red light. Yoongi locked eyes with you briefly before pulling you closer to him. He tucked your hair behind your ear, cupped the back of your neck with his hand, and pulled you in for a lingering kiss.
“If that happens, you will have a difficult decision to make. But I also trust your ability to make the right choice for yourself, and at the end of the day, what I really want is for you to live a happy, fulfilling life. If I can be part of it, in whatever capacity, that would make it even better.”
You and Yoongi ended up in his bed together again that night. He whispered praises into your skin and you left your mark on him anywhere you could get away with.
You didn’t know what you and Yoongi were to each other. Or, well, you did know, but it wasn’t something that could be easily put into words. It was just something to be felt and experienced. There was love there, of course. And passion. And desire. But there were no restrictions. There was nothing between you that hinted at a defined future. Neither of you were exclusive, but neither of you were looking for anything beyond what the two of you shared.
Which is why, when Jungkook texted you the next morning and asked if you could meet up, you agreed.
___________________
Steeling yourself, you reached up, closing your fist and hovering your hand just over the cold metal of the door. One second passed. Then two. Then three. Your skin prickled with the cool blast from the air conditioning—or perhaps it was anticipation.
You exhaled, dropping your fist and thudding your forehead softly against the door. You’d been working up the courage to knock on Jungkook’s door and then panicking and bailing repeatedly for the last ten minutes.
A staticky crackle sounded to your left and you jumped.
“Are you going to stand there forever or are you going to actually knock?”
It was then that you noticed the camera and speaker next to his door.
“Shit, sorry!” you said, backing away from the door. It swung open, revealing Jungkook, shirtless in grey sweatpants, because of course that’s what he was wearing. Why wouldn’t he be shirtless in grey sweatpants?
He stepped to the side and gestured for you to enter, which you did, fixing your eyes on a corner of his apartment to keep them from drifting over to his chest.
Too long of that, however, and he cleared his throat. You turned to face him and he had his arms crossed over his chest. The memory of the two of you in this very position flashed in your mind, a repeat of that fateful night in Chicago.
“You have some nerve showing up here,” he said.
You grimaced, hanging your head.
“I know.”
“I waited for an hour.”
“I’m sorry.”
“You could have texted.”
“I know,” you repeated. “I panicked.”
He huffed and shook his head, leaning against the back of the door. “Why are you here?”
You chewed on the inside of your lip. That was a question you’d been asking yourself. Jungkook had reached out last week asking you to meet up for coffee. You’d agreed on a time and a place, which wasn’t easy to do considering how cautious Jungkook had to be whenever he ventured out of his apartment. And then you never showed. He’d called and texted several times that day, asking what had happened, and you had no answer for him.
Just like you had no answer for him now. At least, not one you could easily put into words.
“I felt bad,” you said. It was a pathetic excuse. One which Jungkook picked up on.
“You felt bad,” he repeated.
You tried to look at him, but found his naked torso too intimidating to make eye contact with. “Can you put on a shirt please?”
“No,” he said incredulously. “You came into my house unannounced after standing me up. I’ll wear what I want.”
You sighed in frustration. Jungkook wasn’t going to make this easy for you, and why should he?
“Look, I’m not proud of how I acted, okay? I’m sure you can understand what it’s like to have a weak moment.” At that, you looked at him, and a bit of the hardness of his jaw finally slackened, so you took it as your sign to continue. “I knew this was going to be a difficult conversation and I was afraid of what would happen, so I ghosted. But it hasn’t been sitting right with me, and I agree that we probably should talk about it if either of us ever hope to move on and find closure or at least not have any animosity or whatever. So I came here hoping to…,” you began to trail off, “…do that. I guess.”
His tongue prodded at the inside of his cheek. After all these years, you liked knowing that he still did that whenever he was feeling impatient.
“I’m sorry,” you repeated. “It wasn’t cool of me. I don’t want to do that again.”
Something in the air shifted—a subtle change in the energy wavelengths coming from Jungkook’s end and you realized he was deciding to forgive you, even if he was still upset about it. Your heartbeat slowed.
“Do you want to sit?” he asked, nodding over to the sectional sofa taking up the living room portion of the open-concept apartment.
“Thanks.”
He led you over to the sofa, plopping down on one side while you slowly lowered yourself onto a seat at the opposite end. Jungkook kicked his feet up on the ottoman, savoring having the upper hand in the conversation for once.
As hard as it was to admit, you liked him better this way. You didn’t want him tip-toeing around you the way you were currently with him. There was a familiar sort of comfort in the dynamic that humbled you in a way that was necessary.
“So you wanted to talk?” you began.
He nodded. “Seems like a good move, don’t you think?” He flung an arm over the back of the chair. Your eyes followed the movement before you had to avert them.
“Yeah,” you said, but failed to follow it up with anything. It would have been nice if your brain would cooperate, but Jungkook’s aura took up all the air in the room, so you settled for wiping your sweaty palms on your jeans.
“Okay, I’ll start,” he said after a while. “Congrats on the award.”
“Thanks,” you breathed, relaxing into the conversation finally now that he’d broken the ice. The city had formally recognized your philanthropic efforts at an award ceremony three months ago. All the local charitable organizations had been invited to attend the event, including yours, and the mayor himself had awarded you with recognition for the work that you’ve been doing with sexual assault survivors. The class had grown from twelve to over sixty participants, and you’d used the grant money you’d received to hire an assistant choreographer of your own to lead a second class.
“Same to you. The album’s done really well.”
“You listened to it?” he asked, and you nodded.
“Did you…was it,” you began, knowing the question that was on your tongue but having trouble launching it from your mouth.
“Yeah,” he said with a shrug, trying to play nonchalant. “I mean, I changed some things, but you’re in there.”
You nodded slowly, digesting the information that you had suspected to be true for some time now. Having it confirmed was something else. “How much was me?” you asked.
He shrugged. “You know which ones are you.”
You nodded, because you did know.
“I hope that doesn’t make it weird,” he said. “I wasn’t trying to like, convince you to come back to me or anything. My therapist suggested I channel my feelings into my work and use it as inspiration, and I didn’t have much to lose at that point, so I figured I may as well.”
“That was pretty vulnerable of you,” you said, picking at a stray thread on the back of his couch. His eyes flicked to your fingers.
“I think looking back on it, I could have been more…measured with my vulnerability.”
The corner of your mouth twitched upwards on its own. You’d thought the same thing when you first heard it. “I think the fans liked it.”
He chuckled, bashful. “Live and learn.”
You nodded again, allowing the conversation to lull into a semi-comfortable silence.
“Drink?” he asked. “I have ice water, tea. Something stronger if you’re craving it at,” he checked his watch, “eleven thirty in the morning.”
“Ice water would be great.”
You watched him move casually through this space, noticing all the ways in which he was the same and all the ways he was entirely different. He was less tense, for sure. His shoulders sat casually at the base of his neck, whereas before they had always been tightly ratcheted to each other.
Handing you the glass, you allowed your fingertips to graze his and he purposefully held eye contact with you, both sharing the mutual understanding that this touch was very much on purpose and a test.
You broke the gaze first, flushing and dropping your eyes to the glass as you brought it to your lips and sipped.
“Thank you,” you said, swallowing thickly.
“Sure.”
Another silence fell between the two of you—this one more awkward than the last. You brought your eyes up to meet his and found him staring at you perplexedly, head tilted to the side.
“Hm?”
“Nothing, I’m just,” he began, searching for words. “I’m just processing you being here, I guess. I’ve imagined this moment going a hundred different ways and now that it’s here, it feels surreal.”
You knew what he meant. You’d done the same thing and were feeling the same way about being there.
“How do you think it’s going?” you asked.
He cracked a smile. “It’s…not as scary as I worried it could be. Definitely not comfortable, but it feels right. Natural.”
“Is there anything you wanted to talk about specifically?” you asked.
“A lot,” he confessed, “but they’re all hard to talk about.”
You huffed a laugh. “Same here. Shall we rip the band-aid off, then?”
He nodded. “Why did you hook up with me that first day?”
You had to stop yourself from snorting into your glass, not because it was funny, but because he really had gotten straight to the point.
“Well,” you began, eyes scanning the ceiling as if you’d find the answer written up there, “for one, you’re very attractive, Jungkook. I think you know this. Plus, it had been a while since I’d felt the weight of a man on me. I was feeling lonely for a long time. I built my entire identity around work and didn’t have much of a life outside of it. Of course, I didn’t realize it at the time.”
“Did you have feelings for me?”
“At first, no,” you said, taking a sip and then swallowing hard. “Eventually, yes.”
His eyebrows lifted in surprise. They shouldn’t have, because he had to have known. “When?”
“Chicago.”
He took a sip of water as well, seeming like something had clicked for him.
“Why did you hook up with me?” you fired back.
“I had a crush on you since you first started at the company. I respected you though. You were always so professional, so I’d written it off as just something I’d have to get over. But then that night at the studio happened, and I guess I allowed myself to entertain that crush.”
“I see.”
“Why did you sleep with Jimin? Right after?”
That was a harder one to answer. Sucking on your tongue, you searched your brain for the most accurate answer. “Sleeping with you opened a sort of floodgate for me. I felt very out-of-control. Part of me was ashamed that I’d crossed a professional boundary and I entered into a sort of shame spiral.
“I thought it was manageable when it was just us, but then you started acting possessive and jealous, and I didn’t know how to handle that. It didn’t feel safe to be with you, but there was a hunger you’d sort of awoken in me, and if it couldn’t be met by you, I was going to find someone else to do it.”
You had never put the emotions into words before. It was as if by saying it, you were finally processing everything that had happened.
“Where did that hunger come from?” he asked.
“I’m still trying to figure that out.”
The tip of his tongue poked out to moisten his lips as he regarded you for a minute. “Do you think we’d have started dating if I hadn’t acted so jealous?”
A bitter half-laugh escaped from your lungs. “I have no idea. Yes? Maybe? But then again, relationships are kind of impossible in your line of work.”
“Yeah, but aren’t you in a relationship with Yoongi?”
That was not something you expected him to ask. “It’s…complicated.”
He blinked a few times. “Go on.”
Grimacing, you tried to push past your discomfort. “We’re not like…together in the traditional way.”
“Do you fuck?” He asked, and a nervous laugh burst out of you.
“Yeah, but it’s also about like, being good for each other. We decided not to put any labels on it.”
“So you love him?” he asked.
You nodded. “I love him.”
He pursed his lips, considering you for a moment.
“Back when we were on the tour, I asked you if anything was going on between you and Yoongi. You said there was nothing.”
“At the time, we were just friends.” Your neck grew warm under his scrutiny. You were approaching the real meat of the conversation. “But in in all honesty, there was some flirting going on. And I had tried to hook up with him, but he turned me down.”
He nodded again, chewing on the information, seeing how tough it was to swallow. “Okay. So when I came to your room that time and told you how I felt…you turned me away. But you just said you developed feelings for me after Chicago.” He paused, collecting his thoughts. “I don’t know how to make sense of that.”
You sucked in a breath. “Yeah. So…I wasn’t lying when I said I had feelings for you. Turning you down was actually one of the hardest things I’d had to do at that point..”
“So then why Yoongi instead of me?”
That really was the million-dollar question. Where would you have ended up if you’d chosen to let Jungkook stay that night six years ago? Would you have ended up with Yoongi regardless? Would you be with Jungkook now? It seemed like everything changed that night.
You swallowed, biting your lip while you worked out how to put your thoughts into words. “I…,” you began, but struggled to find what you wanted to say. “I guess it’s like…Yoongi understood in a way nobody else did. I really needed that. And at the time, I needed to connect with someone who just…got it. We didn’t have to work to understand each other. He made me feel like I wasn’t alone when I needed it most.”
Jungkook wasn’t looking at you. His eyes rested somewhere on the wall to your left, unfocused.
“What are you thinking about?” you asked.
“I’m replaying the night I came to your room. Wondering if there was something I could have done to make you feel the way Yoongi did.”
“There was nothing you could have done,” you said, reaching out to rest your hand on his knee. You knew touching him was toeing the line, but you wanted to convey your sincerity. “It wasn’t what Yoongi did. It was who he was. The things he’d gone through.”
Jungkook’s eyes fell on the spot where your hand lay. You could tell despite your reassurance, he was hurt by the situation. As were you.
“So you and Yoongi are…together now?”
“Like exclusively? No,” you said.
He nodded, and you felt his energy shift. Perhaps he was hoping for a different answer.
“Are you in an open relationship then?” he asked.
“I guess?” you answered. “I mean. Theoretically. We haven’t defined it as a relationship, and I haven’t been with anyone else.” You could feel yourself offering up too much information and decided to leave it at that.
That last tidbit did seem to pique his interest though. He pulled his bottom lip into his mouth and chewed on it for a beat. You had a feeling you knew where the conversation was heading.
“Would you be with anyone else?” he asked. Ballsy of him to come right out and say it. The corner of your mouth twitched upwards, and his gaze landed on it. You knew he knew you knew what he was really asking.
“Possibly,” you said slowly, holding eye contact. You didn’t want him to get too excited, but you also couldn’t help the anticipation bubbling up inside of you. “Depending on the circumstances.”
Too late. He dug his upper teeth into the skin at the edge of his lip, pupils dilated. You could feel the vibrations radiating off him. You also knew he was determined to get this right. You’d just issued him the ultimate challenge, and Jungkook was nothing if not competitive.
“Not so fast,” you said. “We need to talk about Japan.”
He broke eye contact, letting his gaze fall somewhere on the edge of the ottoman in front of you. He picked at a stray thread on his clothes. Inhaling deeply and letting it out in a puff of air, he nodded.
“Where should we start?”
“A couple things I want to get off my chest first,” you started. He nodded again.
“First, I was telling the truth that time you caught me walking out of Tae’s room.”
“I know,” he cut in. “Taehyung told me everything.”
“Okay good,” you said. “And when I told you nothing was going on with Yoongi, again, that was true at the time.”
He held up a palm to stop you. “The guys and I all cleared up these misunderstandings a long time ago. I acted like a dick at the time, but you don’t need to explain anything. I’m sorry for how I reacted.”
“Okay,” you said, stopping short. You’d had a bit of a monologue prepared and now that it was unnecessary, you weren’t sure where to go.
Luckily, Jungkook had you covered.
“So we kind of talked about this already, and I have an idea about what the answer is but can you just clarify why you turned me away when I came to your room? I’m not bitter about it or anything,” he said. “Just confused. I thought you liked me.”
“I did,” you insisted.
“Did?” he asked, again bold.
“Pending.”
He nodded.
“It was just the timing of everything. I knew it wasn’t a good idea to get involved with you when I had so much baggage to sort through. I wouldn’t have been a good partner to you. And to be honest, I’m not sure you would have been the best partner to me at the time.”
“You think we would have started a relationship?” he asked.
“Don’t you?” you asked. “I mean, even if we didn’t officially date, I would have wanted to, and would have spent the whole rest of the tour chasing one instead of focusing on my job.”
You could feel yourself getting emotional again. That was what you were afraid of. Taking a deep breath, you worked to stay grounded. After all this time, he still had this effect on you.
“Okay,” he said, and you got the sense he was trying to calm you down. “Okay.” He sucked on his bottom lip for a few beats before continuing. “Okay, so here’s I guess what I didn’t understand: why were you able to spend the night with Yoongi shortly after? Why could you have a relationship with him and not me?”
You felt his question in the center of your ribcage. You knew your answer, but it wouldn’t be easy for you to say or him to hear.
“Yoongi earned it,” you said, eyeing him carefully to see his reaction. You weren’t sure, but you thought you saw the tiniest grimace on his face. Whatever it was, he recovered quickly.
“In a way that I wasn’t?” he asked.
You pursed your lips, considering your words. “I don’t know. I think you were good for me in a weird way. In Chicago, you were good for me. And even when you refused to kiss me, I think it was good for me. I think I needed to be rejected by you in order to get my head out of my ass. But then you didn’t stay away, and I think that wasn’t good for me. I think you needed to stay away in order for me to learn the lesson I needed to learn.”
“Which was?” he asked.
“That I had to stop taking people for granted and treating them like shit. I was really entitled to you,” you confessed. “I didn’t treat you well at all, and I don’t think I respected you the way I should have.”
He swallowed hard, his Adams apple bobbing up and down and he blinked a few times.
“What?” you asked.
“Nothing it’s just…I always thought it was just me who treated you shitty, but I think there’s a part of me that really needed to hear that.”
Steeling yourself, you took his hand in yours and looked straight into his eyes, which had grown ever so slightly glassy. “Jungkook, I was not kind to you. I wasn’t a good person back then, and I should have been better. It wasn’t just you.”
Something cracked within his composure and suddenly, you were swallowed up by his presence. It took a second to register he was hugging you. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I’m so sorry.”
“I know,” you said, hugging him back. “I’m sorry too.” You inhaled the smell of him, both familiar and a little new, savoring the feel of his arms around you, but this time, it didn’t pull you under the way it had back then. This time, you were able to keep you head above the water.
He cupped your face in his hands and pressed his forehead against yours. “I’m going to be good for you,” he promised. “If you let me back into your life, I promise this time I won’t fuck it up.”
You smiled, taking his hands from your face and bringing them to rest in your lap. He got the message and pulled back to look at you. “I believe you,” you said. “But I still need to make sure I can be good for you, too.”
“How would you do that?” he asked.
You sucked in a breath, “I think it’s by asking you to be patient,” you said.
He fell back against the couch, squeezing his eyes shut. “You’re killing me.”
You chuckled, scooting closer to him and he used the hand that was still holding yours to pull you into his lap. You let him. “You’ve always had trouble with that, haven’t you?” you asked, teasing.
He opened one eye to look at you. “I have been very patient, thank you.”
You laughed, leaning in to press your body against his. “I suppose you have.”
Grinning, he wrapped an arm around you and you savored his touch. He was warm, and smelled like a heady mixture of his own musk, the cologne he always wore, and what you suspected was a new shampoo. Slowly, you began to register a growing firmness underneath you.
“Can I kiss you?” he asked. You thought about it for a moment, but you already knew your answer. You had also been patient. You nodded.
Kissing Jungkook was unlike kissing anyone else. It was like diving into the ocean—raw, powerful, easy to be overpowered if you didn’t know how to swim. Luckily, you did. You kissed him back passionately, licking into his mouth and fighting against the current until you finally found a rhythm. His hand traced from your neck down your back, eventually coming to rest on your ass, and you waited for the nerves to come, but they never did. It felt right. A thought did, however, pop into your head and you broke the kiss, panting.
“You know I’m still loyal to Yoongi, right?” you breathed. His hand squeezed the soft flesh of your ass.
“Yeah,” he said between heavy breaths. Beads of sweat collected where your fingers met his chest. “Obviously.”
“And like, we’ll have to talk about what this means at some point,” you said, digging your nails into his skin. His chest rose and fell with the breath coming through his open mouth.
“Absolutely,” he agreed. “Whenever you want. Kiss me again.”
You wasted no time, diving back in as he fisted your shirt in his hand.
“Mmmph. Bedroom?” he muttered into your mouth.
“Yeah,” you said, sucking his bottom lip into your mouth. You wrapped your legs around his waist as he lifted you into the air and walked the two of you across the span of his apartment, kicking open the door of his bedroom and tossing you unceremoniously on to the bed.
“These are coming off,” he said, grabbing the waistband of your pants and ripping them down your body. His eyes were blown wide with lust, but you could tell he was still in control. If you asked him to wait, he would.
Patting the bed, you gestured for him to join you, and when he did, you eagerly straddled his hips, rocking into him and reveling in the sensation you’d dreamt about for years.
“Kiss my neck,” you said, and he did, not even bothering to hide the bruises he deliberately sucked into your skin. He rubbed you over your panties, no doubt feeling how soaked they were.
“Can I?” he asked and you nodded, closing your eyes and arching into him as he slipped his digits under the fabric and rubbed between your folds. You whimpered into his touch. “I missed that sound.”
It wasn’t long before the two of you were completely naked, bodies pressed up against each other as you teased the tip of his cock, hovering over him just enough so he could feel how warm and wet you were, but not enough for him to sheath himself in you.
“Please?” he begged.
You bit your lip, rocking your hips over him without letting him slip inside just yet.
“Please?” he whined, neediness reaching a crescendo. Still, you said nothing and continued rocking into him.
“What do I have to do?”
“Love me,” you whispered.
“I do,” he panted. “I never stopped.”
“Love me even more,” you said.
“I will!” he promised. “I’ll love you more than you’ve ever been loved.”
“Really?” you asked, grinning down at him, expecting him to make up some bullshit in order to get laid. He surprised you by looking directly into your eyes.
“Really,” he said, and the sincerity on his face was so intense you broke eye contact and dropped your gaze to his chest. He stopped moving and he took your chin in his hand, forcing you to look at him. “I mean it.”
Almost without your permission, your body submitted to him. He finally pushed into you and your head dropped back in rapture. Rolling onto your back, your body moved on his own accord, matching his movements until you moved as one. A sound bath of his voice surrounded you—breathy little noises mixed with whines and gasps that increased in volume as his movements increased in effort.
“Jungkook,” you whined, “baby slow down, I don’t want to come too soon.”
“What if I promise to make it up to you?” he panted, voice strained with his thrusts.
Rather than answer, you offered up a high-pitched moan, filling the room with sound and he sped up, his movements becoming sloppy.
“Where should I come?” he grunted.
“Inside,” you breathed. “You can come inside.”
“Fuck yeah.” His hands found purchase on your hips and he used the leverage to speed up.
“Fuck, Jungkook,” you panted, “fuck I’m gonna—,” but the rest of your words were swallowed by a moan as you came, hard, everywhere.
Jungkook looked down to see his chest glistening with your juices. “Shit, I forgot you did that sometimes.”
You threw an arm over your face in embarrassment, but he didn’t let you hide. Instead, he pulled out briefly before hoisting you up and spinning you around so you were on your hands and knees. When he resumed his movements, it was at a punishing pace. You were on the verge of overstimulation, but held out for him. You wanted him to get his fill.
“Almost there,” he said between gritted teeth. He gave a few more sloppy thrusts and then spilled himself into you with a shuddering groan.
You collapsed onto the bed, rolling onto your side so you could face him and he tucked a strand of hair behind your ear before closing his eyes to catch his breath.
When he opened them again, he smiled lazily.
“Hi,” you whispered, suddenly shy.
“Hi,” he chuckled.
“I don’t know what this means,” you said, gesturing to your bodies, legs still entangled in each other’s.
“It doesn’t have to mean anything,” he replied. “We can just take it day by day.”
He pulled you into him, kissing you lazily until you were both spent enough that ended up falling asleep in the mid-afternoon sun.
There was still more to discuss with Jungkook. You hadn’t even begun to talk about what happened in Japan during that tour, but you sensed that when you did finally breach the topic, you would come to an understanding and would be able to move forward without it hanging over you like a dark cloud. For the first time, it felt like Jungkook was good for you.
___________
The next morning, you unlocked the door to Yoongi’s apartment, where you were staying for the next week, and when you found Yoongi cheerfully frying eggs in the kitchen, you greeted him with a kiss on his cheek.
“How’d it go?” he asked, putting down his chopsticks and wrapping an arm around you to pull you in for a real kiss.
“Good,” you said, with a smile. You brushed off a piece of lint that clung to his shoulder and nuzzled into him.
“Someone got laid,” he said, chuckling to himself.
You pulled back to look at him. “Is that okay?” you asked.
“Preferred,” he replied. “You’ve been mopey for years. It was driving me nuts.” He picked up his chopsticks with his free hand and resumed scrambling the eggs, but he didn’t let go of you.
“Did you know this whole time?” You asked.
“What? That you never stopped loving Jungkook?” he said, “Pretty much.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I tried,” he said, kissing the tip of your nose. “You kept insisting that you were fine. I knew you needed some time to work through some things, but then you started procrastinating. It was me who forced you to see him at dinner the other day, in case you forgot.”
You moved so you were hugging him from behind while he tried not to burn the eggs.
“I suppose I should thank you for that,” you said.
“I have a few ideas for how you can thank me.” He grabbed one of your hands and moved it down over the front of his boxers. You complied, rubbing over him and kissing the back of his neck.
“You sure you won’t get jealous?” you asked.
He turned the burner off, spinning around to face you. The look in his eyes was serious. “I’m a big boy. I know how to handle jealousy, even if it does come up, which is hasn’t yet. Falling in love with you means falling in love with all of you, even the part that loves someone other than me,” he said.
Unexpectedly, a lump rose in your throat and tears pricked your eyes. “Why are you so good to me?” you choked out.
Yoongi walked you backwards until you hit the kitchen island, then he lifted you so you were sitting on it. “Believe it or not, you’re worth it. I’m sorry that you spent most of your life not being treated the way you deserved, but it’s time you understood what it really means to be loved.” He punctuated his thought with a kiss and you wrapped your arms around him to deepen it.
“I want to be good to you, too,” you said.
“You already are. You’ve never once asked me to be anything other than myself. You’re thoughtful, honest, and hot as hell. And you let me put it in raw,” he said. “I couldn’t ask for anything more.”
“Oh shit, that reminds me,” you said. “I didn’t ask him to wear a condom.”
Yoongi screwed his eyes shut, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Okay, well I guess it was time to get tested anyway. I’ll ask Jungkook to test himself as well when I see him later. We have a group meeting with Bang today to go over the next steps for the comeback.”
“I should do that,” you said. “I think our relationships should remain separate, at least for now.”
He rubbed his thumbs along your hips. “Yeah, you’re probably right.”
“This is going to be weird, isn’t it?”
“A little. Until we get used to it.”
“It’s going to be complicated, too.”
He nodded. “Yeah, probably.”
“You sure you’re up for it?” you asked and he rolled his eyes.
“I’ve already said yes,” he said, annoyed, and then softened. “You’re happier than I’ve seen you in over six years. That’s worth dealing with whatever logistical issues come up.”
You responded by kissing him deeply, savoring the feeling of being loved so wholly and offering up just as much love to him in return.
“Oh, and one more thing, before I forget,” Yoongi said, pulling away.
“What is it?”
“Hoseok wants to know if you’ll help with the choreography for our comeback.”
Warnings: Drinking, Sugar Daddying, Swearing, talks of prostitution, maybe a tiny hint of slut shaming?, Sick pet, mentions of vet clinics and surgery, Whore used as an insult, physical fighting, small mention of injuries/blood, extreme poverty, surgeries, cheating, hints of smut but nothing explicit, the term daddy used in an implied sexual way
Word Count: 3,804
Thank you to everyone that has read this series and commented and liked! I really appreciate it. We have reached the end and I hope it doesn’t disappoint. We’ll see what comes next!♥️ Requests or any ideas you have are always welcome!
Chapter 10- Raspberry Eclairs & Ice Cream Cones
His hands slid from your waist to your hair, fingers tangling in the strands to tilt your head back, deepening the kiss until you were breathless against him. A low, jagged groan vibrated against your throat as he trailed his lips down to the sensitive skin of your neck. "I’ve wanted to do this since the moment I met you.”, he rasped, his breath hot against your skin, “Every time you looked at me...every time you pulled away..."
He didn't wait for a response. He lifted you effortlessly, your legs instinctively hooking around his waist as he backed you toward the edge of the dining table. The wood was cool against the back of your thighs, a sharp contrast to the radiating heat of his body. He settled between your knees, his hands roaming upward, tracing the curve of your ribs until his palms pressed firmly against your chest, feeling the frantic rhythm of your heart.
He pulled back just enough to look at you, his dark eyes clouded with a raw, predatory intensity you’d never seen before. Gone was the polished billionaire. The man who had once offered you an arrangement. And in his place was a man who wanted to consume all of you. He reached for the hem of your shirt, his knuckles brushing your skin, sending a jolt of electricity through your nerves, “Are you sure? Because if I start, Y/N, I’m not going to be able to be gentle with how much I want you."
"Don't be gentle.”, you whispered, reaching for the buttons of his shirt with shaking hands. He didn't need to be told twice. He stripped his shirt off in one fluid motion, the candlelight dancing over the lean muscle of his back and chest. When he pulled your top over your head, his eyes traveled over you with a reverence that made you feel more seen than any other man ever had.
He leaned back in, his kisses becoming more possessive, more demanding. His hands were everywhere mapping your curves, pressing you into the table, pulling you so close there wasn't a breath of air between you. He moved with a focused, heavy grace, trailing his lips down your stomach, making you arch against him with a sharp intake of breath.
When he finally moved to carry you upstairs, he didn't break eye contact once. The hallway was a blur of shadows, but his room was filled with the lingering scent of his cologne and the soft light of the moon. He laid you back against the silk sheets, the same ones you’d shared during the storm but everything was different now. There was no polite space, no hesitation. As he moved over you, the weight of him felt like an anchor, finally pinning you to the reality you had been afraid to claim.
Every touch was an answer to the doubts everyone else had planted. This wasn't a game. It wasn't an arrangement. It was the friction of two people finally admitting they were terrified of how much they mattered to each other. In the quiet of the French countryside, with the ruins of a cake downstairs and flowers blooming in the dark of the windowsill, Yoongi showed you exactly what he meant when he said he wouldn't put this much of himself into someone he didn't love. He was slow where you needed it and frantic where you didn't, his name a constant, broken prayer on your lips until the sun began to threaten the horizon and the city of Paris felt a lifetime away.
Morning came slowly after that. Warm sunlight spilled through the curtains in pale gold streaks, washing softly across the rumpled sheets and tangled blankets. For a few seconds, you stayed half-asleep, warm and comfortable enough that you didn’t want to move. Then awareness settled in. The ache in your thighs. The bruises on your hips and the marks on your chest. The warmth still lingering against your skin. The memory of Yoongi’s hands on your waist. Your face heated instantly.
You shifted slightly beneath the blankets, reaching lazily toward the other side of the bed only to find it empty. Your eyes blinked open. For one brief, horrible second, panic flickered through you. Had you imagined all of it? Had things become weird afterward? Did he regret it? Then the smell of butter and coffee drifted faintly through the room and from downstairs, you heard cabinet doors softly closing followed by the quiet clink of dishes.
Relief hit you so fast you almost laughed at yourself. You pushed upright slowly, wincing a little at the soreness in your muscles before glancing around the room. Your clothes from last night were scattered somewhere between the bedroom and hallway in a way that made your face warm all over again.
A soft gray silk dress shirt lay folded neatly beside the bed. Yoongi’s. You smiled and slipped it on inhaling the leftover scent of him. The staircase creaked softly beneath your feet as you made your way downstairs, sleeves hanging over your hands, the sweater swallowing you whole. The mansion smelled warm now. Fresh coffee. Pastries. Rain lingering faintly through the cracked kitchen window. Yoongi stood at the counter with his naked back turned to you, sweatpants hanging low on his hips, dark hair damp from a shower and slightly messy like he’d only run his fingers through it once before giving up.
And the flowers. Your flowers sat in the middle of the kitchen table in a clean glass vase. Not shoved aside somewhere. Not forgotten. Carefully arranged. Your chest tightened quietly.
Like he felt you there, Yoongi glanced over his shoulder and immediately stilled. The look on his face hit you all over again. Soft. Affectionate. Absolutely ruined for you. “You’re finally awake.”, he said quietly. You nodded once, suddenly very aware you were wearing his shirt and absolutely nothing else underneath. His eyes flicked downward briefly.m. Then back up again.
“…Morning.”, you managed. A small smile tugged at his mouth. You wandered closer slowly. On the counter sat a white pastry box from the little bakery up the road. Beside it were two plates and fresh coffee already waiting.
“You went out this morning?”, you asked softly. “Mhm and then I came back and showered and started cleaning up a little.”, he hummed, “Couldn’t sleep.”
Your brows lifted slightly. A quiet smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth then, “Relax Y/N. That’s a good thing.” Heat rushed straight to your face, “You’re awfully smug today.”
“You’re wearing my shirt, only my shirt, in my kitchen after telling me you love me and giving me the most incredible night of sex I’ve ever had.”, he replied calmly, “Let me have this.” You groaned softly, hiding your face briefly in your sleeve while Yoongi laughed quietly under his breath.
He opened the pastry box then, revealing delicate raspberry eclairs decorated with gold flakes. Your eyes widened instantly, “Oh my god.”
“I saw you staring at them when we walked by the other day.”, he said softly. “You remembered that?”, you asked. Yoongi gave you a look over the rim of his coffee cup, “I remember everything about you. It’s actually becoming a real problem.”
Your stomach flipped violently. He slid a plate toward you before leaning casually against the counter beside you. Not across from you. Beside you. Close enough that your shoulder brushed his. Close enough that his hand absentmindedly settled against your lower back like it belonged there now.
You picked up one of the pastries carefully before taking a bite and immediately made a sound embarrassing enough that Yoongi actually laughed, “That good?” You pointed the pastry toward him, “Don’t talk to me right now.” He grinned openly this time, “That good then.” You nodded, “Almost better than the sex.” He laughed at that, “Well guess I’ll have to step up my game then. I can’t be outdone by some raspberry eclairs.”
With the silence that followed the air shifted again immediately. His eyes dropped briefly to your mouth. Then slowly back to your eyes. “You look good here.”, he murmured quietly. Your heartbeat stumbled. “Because I’m wearing your shirt?”, you teased weakly. “No.”, he said softly. His hand slid a little more firmly against your waist. You stopped breathing for a second. You knew what he meant even without further clarification.
The flight home was quieter than the one there but in the best way. Yoongi lazily traced circles against your leg absentmindedly. You rested against his shoulder, half-awake as clouds drifted outside the plane window. For a while neither of you spoke. Then suddenly he said, “I want to ask you something.” You tilted your head slightly to look at him. Yoongi looked nervous. His fingers paused briefly against your thigh before continuing slower this time. Yoongi exhaled softly through his nose before glancing down at your joined hands.
“I know technically we already crossed every line possible this week.”, he started dryly, earning a quiet laugh from you, “But I want to do this properly. You deserve that.” Your chest tightened instantly. “No arrangement this time.”, he said quietly. “No expectations. No hiding. No playing games. Nothing like that.” His gaze lifted to yours finally, softer now. “I just want you Y/N. I want to be exclusive.” Your heart melted completely. You stared at him for exactly two seconds before breaking into a grin.
“Well...”, you sighed dramatically, “I don’t know…I don’t really want to loose my sugar daddy benefits.” Yoongi looked genuinely offended, “Do you really think you would lose benefits? Things can only go up from here.” You laughed so hard the flight attendant glanced over briefly. “Oh really?”, you asked. He nodded seriously, “You’ll get the girlfriend privilege now. It comes with A LOT of extra benefits.”
You smiled helplessly because deep down you knew there had never really been another answer. You leaned over, kissing him softly once before whispering against his lips, “Yes.” The relief that crossed his face afterward was almost devastating like some part of him had still been scared you’d say no.
“You actually managed to tie down THE Min Yoongi.”, Jimin said across your kitchen counter four days later, “Do you understand how incredible that is? You tamed the untamable.” You nearly choked on your drink. Across the apartment, Yoongi rolled his eyes from where he stood unpacking takeout containers. You laughed helplessly while Yoongi muttered something under his breath in annoyance. Jimin leaned closer toward you conspiratorially. “He’s so smiley now.”, he whispered like it was concerning, “I’m not sure if I like it.” Yoongi threw a napkin at him, “I’m never coming over when you’re here again.”
“You say that every time and yet here you are.”, Jimin smiled. The entire evening felt warm in a way your life suddenly always seemed to around Yoongi now. Like somehow you’d slipped quietly into each other’s routines without noticing.
And apparently everyone else noticed too. Within two weeks, people at work had figured it out. Mostly because Yoongi didn’t even try hiding how gone he was for you.
He brought you breakfast every time you worked a morning shift. Canceled meetings to take you to lunch. Remembered tiny details about things you mentioned once in passing.
And he talked about you constantly.
“Y/N likes that restaurant.”
“Y/N hates this brand of wine.”
“Y/N said that musician was overrated.”
One day while you sat in his office waiting for him to wrap up a meeting, one of his assistants looked at you with exhausted amusement and whispered, “You realize he’s obsessed with you, right?” You did and somehow it still made your stomach flip every time.
It was a Friday when the restaurant glowed warm against the cool evening outside, all golden lighting and soft jazz drifting through the air. Candlelight flickered between you and Yoongi as he reached across the table, stealing one of the roasted potatoes from your plate before you could stop him. “Did you just take food off my plate?”, you narrowed your eyes. He looked completely unbothered as he chewed, “Mmmhmm.”
“You’re gonna pay for that later.”, you smirked. “You’ve eaten half my dinner every night for the last week.”, he said pointing his fork at you. “That’s sharing because you love me.”, you corrected immediately, “This was theft.” A quiet laugh left him, shoulders relaxing deeper into the booth. He looked different lately. Ever since that last night in the countryside when everything between you had finally stopped feeling uncertain.
Now he touched you constantly without thinking about it. A hand on your knee beneath the table. His thumb brushing your wrist while you sat and watched tv. That soft look in his eyes every time he caught you smiling at him when you thought he wasn’t looking.
“You’re staring at me again.”, he murmured suddenly. You blinked out of your trance, “Don’t think so highly of your self. I was just…plotting my revenge for the potato theft.”
“You’re something else.”, he laughed. “Yeah but you love it.”, you shot back. His grin widened just slightly before he lifted his wineglass, “More than you’ll ever know.”
And then a voice cut through the moment, “Well…this is unexpected.” Your smile faded immediately. Mia stood beside the table dressed in a white silk dress and pearls, one hand loosely wrapped around a wineglass. Her eyes moved between the two of you before settling on Yoongi with a knowing little smirk.
Yoongi’s entire posture stiffened. “What do you want?”, he said flatly. She ignored the tone completely, leaning slightly closer toward him instead. Speaking loud enough for you to hear every word. “I’m honestly surprised to see you two here together.”, she sighed dramatically, “Especially since I heard about you and that waitress from your business dinner the other night. Something about the backseat of your car and you bragging about her underwear ending up in your pocket.”
Silence followed. Your entire body froze so hard your muscles ached. Mia’s eyes slid toward yours briefly, waiting for the reaction. Waiting for the hurt. The doubt. Then she smiled to herself like she’d already won. “Well…”, she hummed lightly, straightening again, “You two enjoy the rest of your dinner.” And then she walked away.
Yoongi turned toward you immediately. You could practically see the anxiety and fear hit him in real time. “Y/N…”, he started. “So anyway...”, you picked up your fork calmly and stuffed a potato in your mouth, “You still haven’t answered my question from this morning.”
He blinked, “…What?” You took another bite, “If I were to…adopt a cat…for you…a black one…that we were looking at a few weeks ago…that I may or may not have already put a hold on with the credit card you gave me…what would you name him?”
For a second he just stared at you completely dumbfounded, “You’re not upset?” You looked at him like the answer was obvious, “No?”
“Y/N she just implied…”, he tried to start but you cut him off. “I know what she implied.”, you shrugged lightly, “And I know she’s lying to try and break us apart.” The words hit him hard enough that he actually stopped breathing. You set your fork down then, giving him a softer look, “Yoongi…you…I know you wouldn’t hurt me like that. I trust you.”
His expression changed instantly. Not relief exactly. Something deeper than that. Something almost overwhelmed. “You really believe that?”, he asked quietly. You reached across the table, threading your fingers through his easily, “I do.” Yoongi stared at you for a long moment like he still couldn’t fully process being trusted so completely. Then his thumb brushed slowly across your knuckles.
“I love you.”, he said softly. Your heart squeezed painfully. Not because it surprised you but because it didn’t. You smiled a little, “I know and I love you too.” A helpless laugh escaped him then, warm and disbelieving all at once. Like he still couldn’t believe this was real.
Dinner became even softer after that. He kept looking at you across the table like he’d never seen anything better in his life.
Which was why, twenty minutes later, you nearly choked laughing when you spotted Mia still sitting at a table across the restaurant watching the two of you. “Oh absolutely not.”, you muttered. Yoongi immediately looked suspicious, “What do you have planned?” You stood up, “You’ll see.” He sighed, “Y/N…” His eyes widened when you grabbed your wineglass and started walking toward her.
“Baby.”, he called after you in a weak attempt to stop you but you were already gone.
Mia looked up just as you stopped beside her table. Her expression shifted immediately into smug satisfaction again. “You know Y/N.”, she started smoothly, “This whole time I’ve just been trying to help yoooOOOUU!”
You dumped the entire glass of red wine directly into her lap and all over her white dress. The shriek she let out nearly stopped the entire restaurant. “Oh my god!!!!”, she cried. You smiled sweetly. “Stay far away from us.”, you said calmly, “Maybe find another billionaire to gold dig on because your meddling isn’t working here any more and it’s honestly pretty pathetic.”
Her face turned scarlet. “You bitch!”, she shouted wiping at the wine stain. “Well…yeah probably.”, you cut her off lightly, “But mostly just someone who actually deserves him and cares enough to step in when someone’s trying to ruin him.”
Then you turned and walked away before she could say anything else. The entire restaurant had gone silent. Yoongi was doubled over laughing by the time you made it back to the table. “You are actually insane.”, he breathed between laughs. He stood and had one hand immediately sliding around your waist as he pulled you against him.
“And I think…”, he said, still grinning, “you might actually be the sexiest woman I’ve ever met.” You smirked, “Oh I already know I am.” He kissed your lips, “That confidence is really doing something to me right now.” You laughed just before he kissed you again completely unconcerned with the fact that half the restaurant was still staring.
The two of you started walking towards the exit when Yoongi stopped next to Mia’s table. He reached into his wallet and tossed a handful of money in front of her, “That should be more than enough to cover the dress. It’s clearly a knock-off anyway.” You hid your laugh with a small cough and quickly followed after Yoongi so you wouldn’t be tempted to add fuel to the fire.
“The more I think about it…you’re kind of terrifying when you want to be.”, he said as you walked towards the car. “Good.”, you laughed leaning into him, “Remember that the next time you ever think about pissing me off.”
“Hey now...”, he said opening the car door for you, “Don’t threaten me with a good time.”
Twenty minutes later you stood together outside a tiny late-night ice cream shop on the other side of the city. You looked over at his cone in genuine disbelief, “Seriously…all of those flavors and you went with vanilla?” Yoongi looked offended, “It’s classic.” He narrowed his eyes while you happily took another bite of your own ridiculously overloaded strawberry cheesecake ice cream covered in caramel drizzle and cookie pieces.
“That…”, he pointed at your cone, “Is going to put you in a sugar coma by the end of the night.” You gasped dramatically, “You’re actually judging me after choosing the most basic flavor? We better get you home soon because it’s almost past your bedtime grandpa.” He barked out a laugh loud enough that a couple walking past glanced over.
You grinned before leaning over and stealing a bite of his anyway. Yoongi sighed heavily, “You literally called it boring two seconds ago.” You laughed, “And yet here I am.”
“Yeah and I wouldn’t have it any other way.”, Yoongi squeezed your hand once before glancing over again, “We should probably figure out the cat situation too.” Your entire expression brightened instantly, “I knew you were excited and you weren’t gonna say no.”
“I am not excited.”, he shook his head. You laughed at his denial, “I saw that you already bookmarked luxury cat beds online.”
“That was research for Sir Fuzzy Paws. I think he needs an upgrade.”, he corrected. “You compared cat trees for forty five minutes the night I first mentioned the cat.”, you smiled. He scoffed, “I just thought that maybe I’d get one to have at my place incase Sir Fuzzy Paws ever wants to spend the night.” You laughed, “Suuurrreeee…but I guess that does ALMOST explain why you ordered four of them.” He rolled his eyes but then his expression shifted slightly, something more playful pulling at the corner of his mouth.
“Oh…”, he added casually, taking another bite of his ice cream, “I think I’ll name him Tang. You know like sugar.” You laughed softly, glancing over at him, “That’s actually kind of perfect.”
“Mhm.”, he nodded proudly, completely unaware of where your brain had already gone. Your steps slowed just slightly. You looked up at him through your lashes, lips curving slowly as realization settled in. “Well…”, you said innocently, voice softer now, “I guess that means you’ll have your sugar…and I’ll still get to have my daddy too.”
Yoongi nearly choked. You burst into laughter immediately as he stopped walking altogether, staring at you in complete disbelief while his entire face turned red all the way to the tips of his ears. “Y/N.”, he hissed under his breath looking around the sidewalk like someone might’ve heard you, “You can’t just say stuff like that while we’re in public.”
“What?”, you asked sweetly, taking another lick of your ice cream, “You started it.” He was very visibly flustered now. You leaned a little closer as you walked again, “You’re the one who invited me for brunch and then turned me into a spoiled girl with expensive taste and too much confidence.”
“That is not…”, he cut himself off with a groan before following it up with a pout, “You can’t say stuff like this in public where I can’t absolutely ravage you like I want to.”
“Careful.”, you murmured teasingly, “Don’t get me excited about the thought of it…daddy.” He looked genuinely devastated by that one. And somehow even through the shock, even while hiding his face behind one hand and laughing under his breath, his fingers still found yours automatically. Holding on tighter like he always would now.
You laughed and bumped your shoulder against his as the two of you continued down the glowing city sidewalk together, fingers tangled tightly between yours. And for the first time in a long time, everything felt easy.
What started simply as a way to get a little extra sugar had turned into something infinitely sweeter.
( 𝓣𝐇𝐄 𝐓𝐑𝐔𝐓𝐇 𝐔𝐍𝐓𝐎𝐋𝐃 ) 𝗼𝘁𝟳 𝘅 𝗳𝗲𝗺!𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿. ˖Ი𐑼⋆ smau +++ mdni. your best friend accidentally finds out what kink you are into and who else to try it out with, if not him, the person you trust the most in this world? cw: bdsm dynamics (daddy kink, marking, bondage, oral fixation, sadomasochism, blindfolds, and predator/prey).
The water heater is broken, the shower is freezing, and Yoongi is annoyingly warm. Luckily, one of these problems has an easy solution.
My Masterlist!
A/N: Discovered a new form of government torture (logging into my baby army era Wattpad acc and rereading my old fics) and found this one. I totally revamped it and wanted to share it here! Dedicated to my pookie @kookteatime 🫶🏻
Warnings/tags: suggestive themes, no explicit sex; this is fluffy. Husband!Yoongi, established relationship <3
-
The water heater chooses the worst possible week to give up. Not completely, of course. That would be too easy.
It spends its final days cycling between the settings of freezing and surface-of-the-sun. A plumber can't come until next week, which means you and Yoongi are stuck playing shower roulette every morning.
Bathing Holly has become a war zone, and the two of you have started having arguments no married couple should ever have.
"Your turn," you snap without meaning to one morning.
Yoongi arches a brow at you, unfazed. "No, I showered yesterday."
You roll your eyes. "You showered for three minutes yesterday.”
He shrugs. "It still counts.”
By Thursday evening, you're tired and annoyed. Work was gruelling and you desperately need a relaxing shower.
You peel your clothes off in the bathroom, stepping out of the day's exhaustion. Reluctantly, you turn on the faucet and wait a few minutes.
“Maybe I'll get lucky,” you mutter.
The second you stick your hand beneath the spray, you hiss and yank it back.
“Jesus Christ!”
It's ice cold, searing into your skin.
You stare at the stream for a moment.
It stares back.
"You know what?" you tell it. "I don't even like you.”
You step in anyway because a miserable shower is better than no shower.
You instantly regret it. Every muscle in your body locks up as the water hits your skin, fast and unforgiving. You let out a sound between a gasp and a curse as you fumble for your shampoo bottle.
“This is ridiculous,” you gripe, already lathering it between your palms. You move quickly, washing your hair like you're being timed.
The shampoo barely has a chance to sit before you're rinsing it out. Cold water runs down your back and you shudder, teeth chattering.
"This is exactly how people die," you declare as you turn the showerhead away from you.
By the time you're scrubbing body wash across your arms, you've mentally drafted three separate complaints for the plumber. You don't even hear the bathroom door open over the rush of water and your own muttering.
What you do hear is a familiar chuckle, low and warm.
You pause, sponge halting over your elbow.
"You better be laughing with me," you say, not even turning around.
"I'm trying," Yoongi says. You can hear the grin in his voice.
You glance over your shoulder. He's leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed, watching you suffer.
The smug, handsome bastard.
You scoff at him. "You think this is funny?"
"A little,” he admits lovingly.
You glare at him through the glass shower door. "Get out."
"No."
"Yoongi."
His grin widens. "You're making the exact face Holly makes when we give him a bath."
You curse as you run the stream over your body, soap suds swirling colorfully down the drain.
"You know what?" you say. "I hope it's freezing when it's your turn."
"It was freezing this morning,” he replies calmly.
You huff indignantly. "Good."
He sighs, but affection flickers across his face as he looks at you. "You really do look miserable.”
“Wow. Romantic,” you deadpan.
He laughs quietly, pushing off the doorframe. “You know I love you.”
Whatever snarky comment was brewing dies on your tongue. You immediately look away as color blooms on your cheeks, staring at the tile instead. You feel ridiculous. You've been married for years. You share a house, a dog—hell, you've even talked about what your future kids might look like. Yet those three words still manage to catch you off guard.
A pleased smile tugs at the corner of Yoongi's mouth. “Cute.”
“Shut up,” you say to the floor instead of him. You blindly reach for the faucet, fingers slipping around the wet handle.
“Oh, come on.”
As you continue your struggle, you hardly hear the rustle of fabric behind you.
“Need any help?” Yoongi suddenly asks.
Your jaw tightens in annoyance. “No, obviously not,” you start, sarcastic and fed up, “I'm doing fi—”
Your voice dies the moment you turn around.
Yoongi has abandoned his shirt on the counter, his belt already unfastened and hanging loosely from his hips.
“Oh.”
Yoongi glances down at himself, then back at you. One eyebrow lifts suspiciously.
“What?”
“Nothing,” you say quickly, trying very hard to act normal. Your face prickles with heat, sparing you some relief from the chill.
You fail the moment he slips off his jeans and boxers in one go.
Your eyes immediately betray you as they flick down, then back to his face, then back down again.
A laugh escapes Yoongi as he steps closer.
"My eyes are up here, sweetheart.”
You snap your gaze upward. “I know.”
Yoongi merely hums, disbelieving, and steps into the shower without another word.
The second he reaches for you, you go willingly.
His arms slide around your waist from behind, pulling you back against him, and the contrast nearly makes you groan. Every inch of him feels warm compared to the freezing water pelting your skin.
"You're freezing," he murmurs.
"No kidding,” you reply, already melting against him.
A quiet laugh rumbles through his chest. His hands move slowly over your arms, rubbing feeling back into them. The gesture is absentminded, something he's done a hundred times before.
You let your head fall back against his shoulder and close your eyes. For the first time all evening, you stop thinking about the water heater and work and everything else going wrong.
Your world dissolves into the steady rhythm of Yoongi's hands and his chest pressed along your spine.
"Sweet girl," he says softly.
You can't stop the smile that pulls at your lips. He presses a kiss to your damp hair.
“Pretty girl,” he adds, almost like an afterthought.
You crack one eye open. That one gets you.
“Don't,” you warn him, but the fight drains from you as his hands drift lower to settle on your hips.
Yoongi's hands are slightly rough, fingers calloused from playing guitar, but the touch still makes your heart flutter.
You shouldn't be this flustered. He's touched you like this plenty of times.
And yet, when his thumbs sweep slowly across your hips, you stop paying attention to the water's assault around you.
You turn in his arms, meaning to say something capable of salvaging what remains of your dignity.
But you find him already watching you, attentive and adoring. The same look he had on your wedding day.
Heat spreads through your chest at the memory.
A droplet of water slides from his hair and down his face, catching on his bottom lip.
Without meaning to, you follow the swipe of his tongue across his lip.
Yoongi's mouth twitches in amusement when he notices.
“Oh, now who's staring?”
You catch yourself, giving a small, flustered shake of your head. “Pffft. Not me.”
He taps your side thoughtfully. “You're cute when you get shy. Did you know that?”
Before you can think of a comeback, he reaches up and brushes a strand of hair away from your face. His knuckles graze your cheekbone, wet skin sliding together.
You don't even realize you're leaning in until Yoongi closes the distance.
The kiss starts soft, but it never stays that way.
Your hand slides to the back of his neck, fingers threading into his hair and tugging lightly.
Yoongi makes a content sound against your mouth, his hand sliding from your hip to the small of your back. He pulls you closer until the space between you disappears, and your breath catches as your pelvises brush together.
Your mouth moves languidly with his, then a little more insistent when you chase him the moment he tries to pull back.
He huffs out a laugh. “Thought you were mad at me.”
“I am,” you insist.
Yoongi makes a face like he doesn't believe you for a second.
He's probably right.
The bathroom fills with the sound of rushing water and the occasional bump of elbows against the shower wall. You slowly lose track of how long you're standing there trading kisses, interrupted only by brief moments to breathe and roll your eyes at whatever ridiculous thing he's just whispered.
You hardly register him guiding you backward until your shoulders meet the cool tile wall. The contact makes you flinch, and Yoongi only laughs softly, pressing his lips soothingly to your cheek.
“I've got you,” he whispers.
And when his hand cups your jaw to meet your mouth again, you believe him.
The water doesn't feel so cold anymore. Maybe it's the heat Yoongi leaves behind on your skin as his hands wander, or it's the broken moan that leaves you when he cups your breasts.
Whatever it is, it's definitely Yoongi's fault.
“Feel better?” he eventually murmurs when you're clutching desperately at his shoulders.
Your knees nearly give out at the sincerity in his voice. God, you got lucky with him.
“No,” you lie, though you're ten times hotter now, pleasantly so.
Yoongi tilts his head. “No?” His thumb rolls slowly over your nipple, teasing.
Your hands tighten on his shoulders, and that's all the answer he needs.
“Mm. Sure, baby” he says, trying his best not to sound too smug. “Glad I could help.”
You nod weakly as your heart does little flips in your chest.
“I think…” You trail off shyly, fingers still tangled in his hair, “...the water heater should break more often.”
Yoongi smiles against your temple as he kisses you there. “Yeah? So I can hold you and keep you warm like this?”
He gives you a gentle squeeze, his solid chest pressing against yours. You let out a startled little squeak at the contact, drawing a laugh from him, his head tipping back slightly.
He looks back at you, eyes crinkling as his smile grows. “Don't worry, love,” he reassures as you shiver faintly. “I'll hold you any time. Freezing shower not required.”
Genre: fluff, strangers-to-lovers!au, mutual pining, GOOD GOD THIS WAS SO FLUFFY IN MY HEAD
Masterpost
♪°•°∞°•°♪°•°∞°•°♪°•°∞°•°♪°•°∞°•°♪
The first time you call him, it’s two in the morning.
In all honesty, you don’t really expect anyone to pick up. After all, who would be awake at, again, two in the morning? But the voice that answers you mere seconds after you started calling told you otherwise.
“Who is this."
The flat, no-nonsense tone that is all but radiated in the greeting leaves you fumbling for a reply, but then the very next second the voice continues, the snowy gales turning into frost. "How did you get my number? I’ve already had too many calls from saesangs- if you don’t explain who you are and why you called me, I’m hanging up.”
♢ Genre: romance, chilhood-best-friends-to-lovers, denial, slight angst, real adulthood shit
⌲ Description: Falling in love with your best friend was never a good idea. Falling in love with your best friend, who happened to be a world-famous idol, was an even worse one. Too bad your heart had never listened to reason, especially when it came to him.
m a s t e r l i s t
“A moment, Y/N?”
You were not often irritated. It was actually quite hard to get you to a point where it showed on the surface. You know, customer service and all that.
But there was something about finishing your seven hour shift – that in actuality turned to nine hours – only to have your name called with your jacket halfway over your shoulders.
Your mouth probably quivered in the effort, but you managed to force on a half-smile anyways. “Yeah?”
“Listen, I hate to ask you this, but can you take a shift tomorrow?”
If your manager hated it as much as she claimed, she would have asked anyone but you. Especially knowing how many extra shifts you had picked up lately due to sickness from other employees. More often than not, you cursed your strong immune system.
Where was a cold when you truly needed it?
“I’m sorry, I’m actually busy tomorrow.” The lie was effortless on your part.
Your manager’s brows furrowed. “No way you can postpone?”
“No sorry. It’s a family birthday, can’t really postpone that, you know.”
You were honestly bone-tired after working the entire week, with all your six hour shifts becoming overtime by several hours and you just needed one damn day of rest. To just bed rot to your heart’s content without worrying.
Your pride was usually too stubborn, and a few extra bucks in your account each month definitely never hurt, but you were certainly feeling your age right now.
“Oh okay.”
That was it, you supposed, mentally rolling your eyes as your manager turned back around without a goodbye as you watched her walk away with the tight smile still present.
God, you were not paid enough to deal with her attitude.
“Bitch.” you couldn’t help but mutter to yourself.
The cold was unforgiving in the beginning of this year, and you had never been much of an ice, snow or even cold weather person to begin with, which added to your already foul mood.
You had to switch metro lines once, and then take a bus to get to your destination. And the idiot should appreciate your effort after a long shift. Not to mention all the security measures needed for you to get past just to get to his building.
The front door had never looked more inviting as you entered the doorcode and let it close shut behind you with a rhythmic beep. You could hear the sound of talking coming from the living room or kitchen, as well as the sound of the TV somewhere in the background.
“If anybody’s looking for me, it’s your birthday tomorrow!” You called out just before rounding the corner to the kitchen.
Yoongi blinked at you, while Jimin and Taehyung were mid-giggle about something.
“Oh, hey boys,” you added quickly, trying to hide the fatigue in your voice.
A black little fluff ball weaved out from beneath the dinner table and trotted over to you eagerly as you cooed and bent down to greet him. “Look who it is, hi Tangie.”
The black cat was vocal, meowing at you in greeting and rubbing against your legs until you gently pushed him away to go sit down.
“Hiyaa noona,” Tae grinned at you, picking up a piece of meat from the grill on the table.
“Noona, come eat with us!” Jimin stood up to grab an extra set of chopsticks and a bowl of rice as you plopped down on the chair next to Yoongi.
“What are you talking about?” He drawled to your sudden shoutout while wrapping up his ssam.
“If my manager is asking, I'm busy with a family birthday tomorrow.”
“And how would your manager know me?”
“It’s a what-if situation, Yoongs. Just go with it.”
He huffed and wordlessly plated your bowl with rice and several pieces of perfectly grilled meat, as Jimin poured you a glass of soju. Always the gentlemen.
You caught yourself smiling, small and soft, and felt the weariness in your chest ease just a little from their presence.
“Was work tough today, noona?”
“Less tough and more annoying, to be honest.”
“Let’s drink to that!” Tae held out his glass as you two clinked and downed it one shot.
“What’s with the impromptu dinner?” You asked after a few bites.
“We were bored,” Jimin shrugged.
“They didn’t exactly ask to come,” Yoongi clarified in return. “Barged in like an hour ago demanding me to cook.”
“We asked you,” Taehyung corrected. “And came bearing gifts.”
“You mean soju which I already had in my fridge?”
“And now you got double, you’re welcome.”
You only chuckled to yourself at the usual bickering between the boys as they continued to talk about the past, and down alcohol like it was water.
Maybe it was the weather, or even the significance of a new year beginning. But your mind somehow felt reminiscent. Sitting here in Yoongi’s large home, silently watching as he acted annoyed by his two younger members with that smile on his face.
And somewhere in the back of your mind, the memories started to drift.
Your parents had been close – were close to this day. Though Yoongi’s family had moved to a newer house in the years that followed whilst your family still remained in the same neighborhood.
They had dragged you to dinner at the petulant age of ten, promising there was going to be another kid there your age, and someone for you to play with. They just never mentioned it was a boy. And at that age, boys were very much gross to you. And yet, you grew inseparable.
Yearly summer vacations spent together, sitting on the curb eating ice creams, biking through the streets and waiting for each other after school to walk home together. During your middle school years the two of you would often hang out on the school’s rooftop during breaks, being split into different classes. He was always scribbling away, and you beside him lounging tilting your head curiously now and then.
“I’m gonna move to Seoul one day,” he often declared.
“I know.”
“You do?”
“You love music, of course you’ll move.”
He frowned. “Do you think I’ll make it?”
“Yes,” you answered immediately. “Because you’re stubborn.”
By the time the two of you turned seventeen he was already active in the underground hip hop scene in Daegu. And you were often used as a scapegoat to distract his parents from his absence rather than being by his side.
“I’m supposed to be cool, Y/N. I can’t have you by my side like a clingy sister every performance,” he had whined while you gave him an unimpressed look.
“Cool, my butt.”
You had been the one to help him pack the day before his move to Seoul, choosing which clothes were best fit for the fancy big city neither of you had experience living in.
“Take the black one,” you had ordered.
“But I like the yellow one.”
“It makes you look like a middle schooler, don’t you want to be taken seriously?”
He switched it out without another word.
His first year in Seoul went by with constant phone calls and texts. You even got scolded by your mother for spending your entire monthly phone credit in just two weeks for constantly calling him.
And then one day it just stopped.
At first you hadn’t thought much of it. Yoongi was busy, and he often left you on read due to time restraints. But then it got suspicious. To the point even his own mother had received the same treatment.
‘Are you dead?’
‘Yoongs?’
‘Are you okay?’
‘Did I do something?’
‘Hello?’
There were days between each one. And then weeks later, you got a reply;
‘I’m fine.’
You called right away, but it went unanswered.
You couldn’t even remember your feelings back then, it felt too long ago. An emotional turmoil of a teenager that made no sense. And you had no choice but to grow up and continue your own life despite the heartbreak of a friendship lost.
That’s why it felt strange at first when you stumbled across it; Bangtan Sonyeondan’s debut.
It was a strange name, with an even stranger concept. But you had recognized him.
Of course you had.
And ever since that moment, he had never left your orbit even from a distance. Even when you didn’t want to, you saw it all. From their failed attempts to remain popular, to songs that didn’t make it big yet were still added to your playlist for genuinely being good music.
It came to a point where you no longer viewed him as your Yoongi. But rather BTS’ Suga, and a part of you was convinced it helped you move on quicker.
Then COVID hit, and you were forced to move back home to your parents.
You chalked it up to coincidence at first; running into his mother at the grocery store after how many years? She had grown excited, even teary-eyed and hugged the life out of you as she cooed over how grown you were. A beautiful young woman.
“You know, I think he’d love to hear from you.”
Your breath had hitched, until you forced out a small, polite laugh. “It’s been years. I doubt he even remembers.”
She had given you a knowing glance, rummaged in her bag and ripped out a small piece of paper and written a number on it. “He’s having a bit of a rough time right now, with everything being cancelled. I think a text from you would cheer him up.”
You felt your chest tighten, memories flooding back. The late-night calls, the unanswered messages, even the reluctant acceptance of distance.
“I’ll think about it, thank you.”
And you thought about it. For days. Staring at that single slip of paper like it was your largest obstacle.
‘Hey. It’s Y/N. From Daegu.’
It had only been an hour when the reply came.
‘I know.’
“Another shot?” Jimin’s voice snapped you from your thoughts, chopsticks hovering dramatically over the grill.
“Yeah,” you said with a small laugh, reaching for your glass. Tae clinked his against yours, smirking.
Yoongi glanced at you, brow slightly raised, as if he could tell your mind was elsewhere. ‘You okay?’ His silent question was obvious and you just assured him with a smile.
Yoongi always kept the grill going and filled your bowl to the point you were ready to roll home. So when it hit 10PM, you stood up with a stretch. “Right, time for me to head off.”
Yoongi’s brows furrowed as he glanced at the time. “It’s late already, just stay over.”
“Nuh uh. I stay at your place almost more than my own, and I still pay my bills.”
“Just stay and let me drive you home tomorrow morning.”
“The bus straight to my house is literally down the road,” You gave him a pointed look. “Besides, It’s my first day off in a week, so I will be rotting in my own bed and eating unhealthy food the entire day.”
With that declaration you grabbed your bag and gave them all a wave over your shoulder. “Don’t text me tomorrow unless someone’s dying.”
“At least let me call you a taxi!” He called at your retreating back.
“Buh bye!” Was all you said, and the sound of the door being unlocked and closing again. You left behind a waft of your favorite perfume; a deep warm combination of something spicy and floral.
Silence swiftly took over in your departure besides the TV. Well, for five seconds at least, until Jimin broke it.
“So when’s the wedding, hyung?”
“What are you on about?”
“Oh come on!” He giggled. “You’re telling me she isn’t the perfect woman for you?”
“She’s Y/N,” Yoongi rolled his eyes.
Taehyung smirked knowingly “Yeah, Y/N who’s been by your side since you were both ten.”
“Yah, not you too, Taehyung.”
“I’m just saying, hyung. Jimin has a point.”
“What point? She’s my best friend.”
“The point, that she's the only female who’s been by your side longer than your mom. And you’re saying you don’t have feelings for her?”
“Stop being a nuisance and finish the food.”
“Hyungnim!” Jimin suddenly spat out firmly, his face exaggeratingly strict which did not go in hand with his flushed cheeks and messy hair, as Taehyung snorted.
Yoongi only raised a brow silently, waiting.
“As your family, we think you need to pull your denial out of your ass and start looking.”
He ran a hand through his longer hair now, sighing heavily, knowing the two younger men wouldn’t let this go until he heard them out.
“Meaning?”
“Be honest, hyung,” Taehyung had dropped his chopsticks, leaning forward conspicuously over the table like they were discussing some kind of secret. “Are you telling us you haven’t once looked at Y/N noona and thought she was attractive?”
Whether he was actually thinking about it or just teasing them by taking an extra long time to pour his shot and then sip it, they didn’t know. But Yoongi finally answered with a light shrug. “I have.”
“Because I can definitely tell you that Jeonggukie–wait what?” Taehyung actually looked genuinely surprised whilst Jimin let out a triumphant laugh while clapping.
“You have?”
Another shrug. “I’m well aware that Y/N is a pretty woman.”
“Then why haven’t you told her?”
“I tell her all the time.”
Jimin cut in with his continuous giggles. “Hyung, telling her she looks good, is not the same as telling your potential girlfriend you look beautiful.”
“Stop getting ahead of yourself. Who said anything about a girlfriend?”
“Oh my God.”
Leaning back in his chair, Yoongi zeroed back on Tae. “What were you saying about Jeongguk?”
It was Taehyung’s turn to shrug. “We’re pretty sure he has a crush on Y/N.”
“What makes you say that?”
Jimin exhaled, holding up his hand ready to count. “She’s pretty, smart, independent, physically fit, has tattoos and bonus points for being older. That’s pretty much his type.”
Yoongi didn’t react immediately. Because when Min Yoongi didn’t react, he was thinking. Deeply at that.
Their hyung usually had a quick brain, and never failed to make them speechless with how smart he actually was.
So this…this was a good sign. Right?
"He told you that?”
Jimin blinked. “Huh?”
“Didn’t think he had a type,,” Yoongi repeated flatly, eyes still on the table, fingers idly tracing the rim of his glass. “Did he tell you that, or are you just assuming?”
Taehyung and Jimin shared a look.
“We have eyes, hyung,” Taehyung said carefully. “He’s not exactly subtle.”
Jimin nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah, he gets all–” he gestured vaguely, shoulders hunching as he put on a poor imitation, “–Noona~ did you eat?’ ‘Noona~ you look tired’–”
“It’s actually quite pitiful to witness,” Taehyung added.
Yoongi clicked his tongue, looking away. “You’re both reading too much into it.”
“Are we?” Taehyung asked, brows raising slightly.
“Most likely, like always..”
“Then why do you look like that?”
Yoongi frowned. “Like what?”
“Like you want to punch something.”
Jimin snorted. “Or someone.”
“I don’t.”
“You do.”
“I don’t,” he repeated, firmer this time.
Then Jimin leaned forward slightly, resting his chin in his hand, eyes narrowing just a little. “Hyung.”
“What.”
“You know we’re not saying this to mess with you, right?”
He rolled his eyes, mouth tugging. “I know.”
“Then why are you acting like this?”
Yoongi exhaled sharply, standing up before either of them could say anything else to grab a bottle of soju and shutting the fridge door a little harder than needed. “Because the two of you are trying to fish for something that isn’t there..”
“You’re certain about that?” Taehyung asked unflinchingly. He had grown more outspoken with his thoughts around his oldest members after the military, and Yoongi was getting the whole spectacle right now. “You’ve been weird about her for a while now.”
Yoongi turned slightly, leaning back against the counter, arms crossing. “Okay, weird how?”
Jimin exchanged another look with Taehyung before answering. “You watch her.”
Yoongi’s jaw clenched, expression still trying to feign disinterest.
“Like, all the time,” Jimin added. “You think no one notices, but–”
“That’s–”
“You do,” Taehyung smirked. “And you get annoyed when someone else is paying attention to her.”
“I don’t–”
“And you always make sure she eats,” Jimin continued, back to counting on his fingers now. “And you let her do whatever she wants here, but if anyone else does the same thing, you complain.”
Yoongi opened his mouth to protest, but his members were doing their darn best to not let him get a single word in.
“You remember things she says that she doesn’t even remember saying.”
He looked away, down at the floor, really. At the slippers covering his feet “…so what?” he muttered. “She’s my friend.”
Jimin tilted his head. “Is that all she is?”
“Yes.” The answer came out automatically.
But it must have worked, because the persistence of Jimin and Taehyung seemed to calm down as they shrugged and finally left the topic alone, as if agreeing to let him off the hook for tonight.
So to distract himself from their annoying gazes and muttered laughter, he did the dishes. Slowly and meticulously, because his brain was whirring too much to actually focus.
And without his knowledge, Jimin smiled lightly behind his tense back exchanging a silent fist bump with Tae, as if the both of them didn’t just drop something in their second-oldest hyung’s lap and just disappear.
“…Tch.”
+
The tip of your pointed heels were pinching your toes for each step as you got off the bus in a slight hurry, trying to smooth down your freshly curled hair and flyaways all in one movement as the venue got closer. There were already dozens of guests mingling inside, holding champagne flutes and exchanging polite conversation as you brushed past them.
You spotted the main couple near one of the double entrances greeting guests, and as you got closer your friend’s face brightened in recognition.
“Y/N, you came!” She squealed happily, hugging you as her white poofy dress swallowed your legs as you stepped into the hug.
You grinned at her excitement, impressed that she still had that much energy and returned the hug gently to not ruin anything. “Of course I came, you invited me.”
“Thank you for coming, Y/N,” Her husband smiled beside her, shaking your hand.
“Of course, of course,” you waved off their gratitude before pulling out the white envelope from your purse. “Where’s the box?”
“Oooh, I’ll show you!” Soojin, your childhood friend, looped her arm through yours. “Honey, will you take over a bit? I need some girl talk.”
Her husband only smiled. “You two go ahead, I can handle the crowd.”
Before you had a chance to protest, Soojin was already pulling you into the venue hall where dozens of round tables were set up filled with people, but she pulled you further to the back where a large box for money envelopes stood and grabbed a flute of champagne for you on the way.
“So,” you finally managed to pull her to a stop as the two of you stood in the corner, private but not hidden from sight. “How does it feel to be married?”
“Ugh, tiring,” Soojin let her head drop back, long veil brushing the floor. “But at least it’s almost over and done with.”
You glanced out of the room. “Who are even all these people?”
She waved her hand. “No idea. Most of them are his colleagues or friends of his parents’. My family and I just invited close friends and relatives.”
Sipping from the glass, you chuckled but stopped when noticing her looking. “What?”
“How’s everything on your end? Any handsome gentleman that is making those wedding bells ring?”
“God no!” You scoffed. “I’m a single, thirty-three year old woman who works at two different cafés. Not exactly dating material.”
“Girl,” Soojin pushed your shoulder in disagreement. “Who gives a shit what your job is, at least you have one!”
Fair point.
You huffed out a quiet laugh, shaking your head as you took another sip of champagne. “Yeah, well, try telling that to literally any man over thirty.”
“They’re idiots,” she dismissed immediately. “And probably intimidated.”
“By what? My ability to steam milk and survive on three hours of sleep?”
“By this,” she gestured vaguely at you, up and down, as if that explained everything. “You’ve always had this thing, you know. Like you don’t need anyone. Independent woman and all that shit.”
A part of you was strangely touched by that.
“I don’t,” you replied lightly, though it came out quieter than intended.
Soojin’s expression softened just a fraction, like she caught the shift but chose not to dig. “Still,” she nudged you again, grin returning. “if anyone tries anything tonight, I expect a full report.”
You rolled your eyes. “At your own wedding?”
“Especially at my own wedding. It’s prime matchmaking territory.”
“I’m not getting set up with someone’s cousin.”
“Too late,” she sang, already reaching for your hand again. “Come on, I need to introduce you to–”
“Soojin!” Her name was called from across the room, sharp enough to cut through the chatter.
She groaned dramatically. “Saved by the bell.”
“Go,” you laughed, gently pushing her away. “Bride duties.”
She squeezed your hand once more before letting go. “Don’t disappear, okay?”
“No promises.”
And just like that, she was gone, swallowed back into the crowd, her white dress a moving beacon among dark suits and muted colors of people dressed in mostly sleek business attires rather than fancy dresses.
You ended up seated somewhere in the middle of the hall, wedged between a couple who introduced themselves as Soojin’s university friends and another woman who barely looked up from her phone.They were nice enough, with polite smiles, brief introductions and small talk that never quite went anywhere if you were being honest.
You nodded when appropriate, laughed when expected, sipped your drink awkwardly when silence stretched just a second too long.
“…and then we all went to Busan for spring break, it was insane–”
The plates came and went, courses replaced one after another as speeches started, applause echoing across the room in bursts. You clapped along, half-genuine half out of your depth watching Soojin from afar; her bright smile, the way she leaned into her husband without thinking, the ease of it.
Something in your chest pinched at the sight. Jealousy perhaps, or even longing. You wondered just briefly, how it would feel. To have something like this, a day of celebration with a person constant at your side.
You prided yourself in being an independent woman in a big city like Seoul. Surviving by yourself, not needing anyone to help with most things, but then he happened. Yoongi swooped back into your life like some damn hurricane, flipping your days upside down.
No longer did you wake up to a silent phone, but a text message telling you to come over to dinner. Sometimes you found his car parked outside after a late shift and he would drive you home, or if you stayed over he would drive you to work with a full stomach.
It was nauseating how caring he was without realizing it, and it didn’t help that your heart and stomach fluttered at everything he did.
By the time dessert rolled around, you were halfway through mentally planning what greasy takeout you’d order tomorrow when her familiar voice came again.
“Y/N!” You looked up to see Soojin slipping into the empty chair beside you, slightly breathless, cheeks flushed from moving around all evening.
“Finally found you,” she said, grabbing your arm like she was afraid you’d disappear.
You smiled, setting your fork down. “I’ve been here the whole time.”
“I know, but everyone keeps pulling me everywhere,” she huffed, before her eyes scanned your table briefly. “Are you okay? You look a bit bored.”
“I’m not bored,” you lied easily. “Just tired, double shifts.”
“Mm,” she hummed, clearly not buying it. Then, like a switch flipped, her expression brightened. “Okay, but listen. I know someone.”
You blinked. “Please no.”
“Yes.”
“No.”
“He’s single, works in finance, makes good money–”
“I don’t care if he owns the bank, Soojin.”
“He’s tall!”
You gave her a flat look. “That’s your selling point?”
“It’s an important one.”
You let out a quiet laugh despite yourself, shaking your head. “I’m not interested. But appreciate the effort.”
“Why not?” she pressed. “You can’t just be single forever.”
“Do you want to bet on that?”
“I’m serious!”
“So am I,” you said with a giggle, lifting your glass.
“Girl, stop,” she nudged you hard enough to make you lean slightly. “You’re hot, you’re funny, and you’ve always had your life together way more than the rest of us.”
“That’s debatable.”
“It’s not,” she insisted. “And you should be dating. You deserve that.”
You softened a little at that, but still shook your head. “It’s just not… something I’m thinking about right now.”
“That’s exactly why I need to interfere.”
“Oh my god.”
“I’m just saying–” she leaned closer, lowering her voice conspiratorially, “what about someone you already know?”
You narrowed your eyes slightly. “I don’t like where this is going.”
She grinned. “What about Min Yoongi?”
You blinked, caught off guard by the sudden name drop as your heart hammered. “Why him?”
Soojin tilted her head, studying you. “Didn’t you guys date?”
“What?” you let out a short laugh, shaking your head immediately. “No. Since when?”
“That’s what everyone thought,” she said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “You were literally attached at the hip.”
“Yeah, well,” you shrugged, glancing down at your plate, “we also didn’t speak for like ten years after.”
There was a small pause, enough for you to look up only to regret. Because her eyes were fucking sparkling like the diamonds from her engagement ring she had sent a picture of.
“No,” you warned immediately.
“You like him.”
“Soojin–”
“You do!”
You dragged a hand over your face, groaning under your breath. “Can you not start something at your own wedding?”
“This isn’t something, this is a revelation.”
“It’s not.”
“You didn’t deny it.”
“I just did.”
“No, you deflected.”
“Okay, fine!” You leaned in slightly, lowering your voice despite the noise around you. “But you do realize we’re talking about one of the world’s most famous idols right now?”
“And?” she shot back instantly.
“And that should end the conversation and the possibility of anything.”
Soojin didn’t answer immediately, which was worse. She always had something to say. “No,” she shook her head lightly. “That’s your excuse.”
You let out a short, disbelieving laugh. “Excuse? For what?”
“For not even trying.”
Your jaw tightened just slightly. “That’s not–” you started, then stopped, fingers tightening around your glass. “It’s not that simple.”
“Then make it simple for me,” she said, softer now, but just as persistent. “Because from where I’m sitting, you’re shutting something down before it even exists.”
You glanced away, eyes drifting back toward the head table where she had been sitting earlier, where everything looked natural.
Because the fear of your feelings ruining this friendship again was something you didn’t want to see happen. Just the thought of it was more painful than actually being rejected. You had gone a decade without him, and now that you finally had him back in your life, you didn’t want to lose him again.
“He’s my best friend,” you said instead, the words coming out more firmly than you felt. “I’m not risking that.”
“And?” she asked after a moment.
“And,” you continued, voice lower now, “he has his life. I have mine.”
“That doesn’t mean–”
“It kind of does,” you cut in gently. “Be realistic for a second.”
Her brows furrowed. “I am being realistic.”
“No,” you shook your head, finally looking back at her. “You’re being romantic.”
“And you’re being pessimistic.”
“How?.”
“By being scared.”
You went quiet, because there wasn’t an immediate comeback for that. Soojin’s gaze softened just a little when you didn’t respond. “You still talk to him, don’t you?” she asked.
“...yeah.”
“How is it? When you do?”
You let out a small breath, looking down at your hands. “It’s normal,” you said after a second. “Like nothing changed.”
“And you don’t think that means anything?”
You gave a faint, almost tired smile. “It means we were friends for a long time.”
“Maybe that’s not all?” Soojin let out a breath, turning to fully face you sitting sideways on the chair. “You’re saying it’s not realistic because he’s an idol, and that might be true for fans, but you’re not a fan, Y/N. You’re already neck deep in his world.”
“If I cross that line,” you said slowly, choosing your words carefully, “there’s no going back.”
Soojin stayed quiet.
“So I’d rather just…” you trailed off, shrugging lightly. “Keep it like this.”
Her lips pressed together, like she didn’t quite agree but understood anyway. “And you’re okay with that?”
Your eyes flickered, almost unconsciously, back toward the front of the room. Toward her, her husband, the soft glow of something settled and certain before looking away again with a shrug.
“I have to be.”
+
You woke up late.
Deliciously late.
It was definitely later than intended, but not enough to make you feel guilty about it. The curtains were half-drawn, letting in dull winter light that made everything feel slower than usual.
You stared at the ceiling for a moment, duvet pulled to your chin and trapping the comfortable warmth underneath, mind blank.
Until it wasn’t.
Your brain, traitor that it was, immediately started replaying yesterday.
Yoongi’s hand brushing against yours when he passed you the glass.
The way he had said, just stay over.
The way he always–
You groaned, dragging the blanket over your face. “Stop it,” you muttered.
It didn’t mean anything, because it never did. Especially when it came from him. It’s just who he was and you’ve known that since you were ten. But still, it was your own fault not listening to the oldest rule in the friendship book, aka. falling for your own best friend.
You dropped the blanket and stared at the ceiling again. “…annoying,” you sighed.
You stretched lazily, letting your arm fall back onto the bed as you debated getting up when your phone buzzed from the bedside table.
Your brows furrowed slightly as you turned your head, reaching for your phone.
Jeonggukkie:
are you alive?
You huffed a small laugh, already typing back.
You:
barely
Three dots appeared immediately.
Jeonggukkie:
dramatic
did you eat
You stared at the message just as your stomach rumbled and the time finally made you realize it was actually 1PM already.
You:
Not yet
A small pause went by.
Jeonggukkie:
ok, i’m coming over
Your eyes widened slightly, fingers tapping furiously
You:
why
Jeonggukkie:
don’t argue
20 mins
actually give me 30
You blinked at the screen. “…This kid,” you muttered, but there was no real annoyance behind it.
You pushed yourself up with a sigh, stretching as your feet hit the floor. “Guess I have to be a functioning adult now,” you mumbled, dragging yourself toward the bathroom.
Twenty five minutes later there was a knock at your door. Jeongguk stood there, hood up, cap and mask on with two bags of food in his hands as well as takeaway coffee. You stepped aside quickly, pulling him in and shutting the door behind him like you were hiding a fugitive. “Did anyone see you?”
“Nope.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
“Did you check?”
He blinked. “Check what?”
“The street? The cameras? The neighbors?”
He just stared at you as you locked the door. “You’re stressed.”
“I am stressed,” you snapped, turning to face him. “I’m stressed for you. Why are you not stressed?”
“I’m stressed in appropriate situations” he said easily, slipping off his shoes. “Just not about this.”
“That’s worse.”
He laughed under his breath, holding up the bags. “I brought food. Rosé tteokbokki, mild flavored, and pork belly.”
You still refused to give in, even though you were practically drooling at the smell wafting towards you now, until he held up the last bag of two coffees.
“I also bought your favorite; vietnamese iced coffee.”
“Fine,” you gave in, pulling out a chair and dropping down opposite of him as he was already unpacking everything and grabbed two pairs of chopsticks from your drawer.
Jeongguk shrugged off his jacket and mask, as he grinned knowingly at your weakness.
“You always bring food when you’re committing crimes.”
“I’m not committing a crime.”
“You’re an internationally known idol sneaking into a civilian’s apartment unannounced,” you said, grabbing the first piece of meat and then tteok, humming content. “That feels illegal.”
He never stopped that grin, following you in grabbing some food and handing you the coffee after stirring it, like this was the most normal thing in the world.
“You worry too much, noona.”
“I worry the exact right amount,” you shot back. “One blurry photo and your entire company will be breathing down your neck.”
“As if they dare.”
You turned to glare at him. “Confidence much?.”
“And you are way too paranoid.”
You opened your mouth – then paused. “Okay, maybe a little.”
He snorted. “A little?”
“Shut up, kid.”
Both of you ate mostly in silence, although you noticed him only taking a small bite here and then, letting you enjoy yourself while sipping on his own coffee. You were the one who had introduced the boys to the deliciousness that was Vietnamese iced coffee with condensed milk, and you would catch most of them drinking it now and then after practice, or whenever you met up with them for quick coffee catch-ups.
Jeongguk leaned back slightly, watching you with quiet satisfaction. “You look less dead from the last time I saw you.”
“Wow. Thank you. What a way to make a woman feel better.”
“You’re welcome.”
You rolled your eyes, but your shoulders had already dropped. As you leaned back in your rickety little plastic chair you got on a sale on Coupang, you watched Jeongguk carefully.
He did look wholly out of place in your little studio loft apartment that probably fit in his living room alone. But he still found it comfortable here in your space. Like an annoying little brother who had nowhere else to go, as if his six older members didn’t have large fancy homes of their own.
He was just persistent when it came to you, and worried as if his schedule wasn’t a hundred times harder than your own minimum wage, mundane café jobs.
Jeongguk noticed you stopped eating and stood up wordlessly to pack the remaining leftovers in a box for later, and started cleaning up everything as well as recycling, leaving you to relax and enjoy your coffee.
“I heard you went to hyung’s yesterday.”
What a smooth talker. “Hm, did Jimin snitch?”
He chuckled. “It was Taehyung hyung, actually.”
“And what did he say?”
“Nothing much. Just that you came by while they were eating.”
“Right…you’re being nosy.”
Jeongguk shrugged, drying his hands on the towel before sitting back down. “I have eyes. And nosy hyungs who update me on everything even when I’m not interested.”
“You and everyone else, I suppose.”
He huffed a quiet laugh, before turning serious again. “Why haven’t you told him yet?”
You flickered up a brow, pausing your sipping on the straw. “I told you that in confidence,” you said flatly. “Not to use as ammunition.”
Jeongguk ignored your dig. “You should tell him.”
You snorted immediately. “Yeah, no.”
“Why not?”
“Because I enjoy my stressfree life?”
“That’s a lie.”
You leaned back. “Oh?”
“You’re miserable when you overthink, noona” he stated simply. “And you’ve been doing that a lot, so not as ‘stressfree’ as you think.”
You narrowed your eyes. “You’re very observant for someone who used to have a crush on me.”
“Used to,” he emphasized, as if the memory itself brought forward shudders. “And very briefly at that.”
It was fucking ironic, actually. You, sitting here discussing your current long-time crush on your best friend with one of his best friends that used to have his own crush on you.
Jeongguk, despite his younger age, had been upfront about his feelings for you right before his military enlistment. Thankfully he hadn’t been too deep in to actually get heartbroken when you both gave it two dates before realizing friends fit you better.
Not that anyone was aware of this. God, the chaos it would bring if they knew.
“Mm.” The silence settled for a bit, as you forced yourself to relax before admitting. “It’s complicated.”
Jeongguk pursed his lips in thought. “Does it have to be?”
“It does with him.”
Jeongguk didn’t respond right away. “What if he likes you too?”
You let out a small laugh. “Not possible. He’s Min Yoongi. His love is his work.”
“Maybe a couple of years ago, but we’ve all matured since then.”
You shook your head. “I don’t want to worry about it right now, Guk. Let’s not, okay.”
He wanted to protest, you saw it. But he respected you enough to not push so he nodded.
“Okay, noona. Let’s just relax, how about a movie?”
You smiled thankfully. “Sounds good. You choose.”
And just as you were settled in the couch and the intro started playing, your phone buzzed with a text.
Yoongs:
What are you doing?
You typed a reply without much thought.
You:
watching a movie with guk
You waited for a reply, but it never arrived. Not even after the movie had ended and Jeongguk had left.
+
A couple of days go by before you find yourself looking for him again. But this time it’s at HYBE.
You always feel like a nervous wreck stepping inside the intimidating glass building, your stomach fluttering with worries that probably won’t happen.
Like the security dragging you out on suspicions for being a stalker fan, for example.
God, your brain went haywire sometimes.
You follow the protocols carefully; stepping up to the reception desk as they register your already known name, printing the guest tag and band for you to wear around your neck with a polite smile.
There were so many people walking in and out of this building on a daily, that most employees didn’t blink when you arrived. For them you could be anyone. From a visiting stylist to a dancer, or even business partner. As long as your name was in the system, it meant you had already passed all security checks and approved for visits whenever.
This time you felt slightly more confident, tapping yourself through the gate and waiting for the lift surrounded by strangers and not fidgeting too much. Your destination was one of the higher floors; dedicated to the Big Hit creative team, and where Yoongi’s studio was located.
You were the only one still in the lift by the time it was your turn to get off, and when you arrived at the closed door of his studio you stared at the keypad for a second longer than necessary. The code still worked a moment later, of course it did, before you pushed the door open and the familiar quiet of Yoongi’s place greeted you immediately.
It was darker than usual, but he was there. On the large, comfortable office chair in front of his desk with four screens, a microphone and more speakers than you could identify.
Despite being half-inside the room already, you knocked lightly anyway.
“Yoongs?”
The studio smelled faintly like decaf and something warmer, perhaps tea. He had reached a stage of only decaf these last few years, which honestly hurt your coffee-loving soul more than anything. The glow of his monitors lit up his face in soft blues and purples, shadows resting under his eyes but nothing you hadn’t seen before.
His black hair was also long again, with bangs framing his now slimmer face from when he first got out of the military.
Yoongi didn’t turn right away, just lifted a hand briefly in acknowledgment.
You hovered for a second before lifting the bag slightly. “I brought food.”
That got his attention. He turned his chair halfway, eyes flickering down to the bag before settling on you. “What is it?”
You held it up like an offering. “Don’t act like you’re not going to eat it.”
A faint huff left him, something just short of a laugh. “Did I say that?”
“You were about to.” You walked over to the low table by the L-shaped couch against the wall, taking out the containers and drinks, already moving like you’ve done it a hundred times. Because, honestly, you had. “Or something along the lines of not being hungry.”
Standing back up with your hands on your hips, you turned to face him again with a pointed look. “You haven’t eaten yet, right?”
“Not yet,” Yoongi confirmed, never seeing the point of lying to you when you already knew him so well.
You resisted the urge to roll your eyes. “Shocking.”
You handed him a pair of chopsticks before taking the seat on the small couch tucked against the wall. He swiveled his chair slightly, accepting them without a word.
You had cooked an average pesto pasta with marinated chicken strips. Nothing fancy, and definitely easier to buy as delivery. But a part of you still remembered when Yoongi complimented your cooking during one of the rare times you had made it for him, and he said it tasted better than the ones at restaurants.
You were annoyed how vivid that simple comment still stayed with you.
You watched him, but not obviously. And never long enough to get caught.
Just…small enough glances to feel satisfied.
The way his hair fell slightly into his eyes when he leaned forward. The way his fingers moved without thinking, precise and practiced, even when he was just picking at food with the chopsticks. How fine and elegant his hands looked.
He looked a little tired, you noted. Not surprising, with how much they were all still fine-tuning the new album.
Something in your chest tugged at the sight.
“Did you sleep at all?” You asked after a couple of bites.
He hummed. “A little.”
You narrowed your eyes. “That’s not an answer.”
He just shrugged and instead took a bite, knowing you weren’t one to stop him from eating.
You leaned back into the couch, exhaling softly. “You’re going to burn out again.”
It slipped out before you could stop it. His hand paused mid-air for a fraction of a second, then continued.
“I won’t,” He assured you, sounding calm and confident and you did believe him. But a part of you was always worried.
“You always say that.”
“And I’m still here.”
You tilted your head slightly, watching him. “I guess.”
Suddenly there was a knock against the door, and you remained seated watching as he stood up and opened the door to grab whatever the person on the other side handed to him before it closed again.
Yoongi handed it to you, as you pulled out a large sized cup of Vietnamese iced coffee from your favorite coffee shop chain, and felt your heart swell.
“I ordered when you said you were on the way up.”
You smiled faintly into your drink, savoring the taste. “Thanks.”
Your gaze drifted back to him. To the way he had already turned back toward his screen, attention slipped back into his work like nothing else existed.
You knew that look. You've seen it since you were kids.
Back when it was notebooks and scribbles instead of full studios and polished tracks. When you sat next to him on a rooftop, pretending you weren’t watching him as closely as you were.
And somehow nearly fifteen years later, you found yourself still watching.
“Play it.” The words left your mouth before you could overthink them.
He didn’t turn. “Play what.”
“Whatever you’re working on.”
“It’s not finished.”
“When have I ever cared?”
You could almost hear the hesitation as he scrolled through a couple of files, almost thinking which one to choose before a sound filled the studio.
♫Twenty-four hours in the tubTwenty-four hours of your thoughtZ-z-z, don't wake me up꿈이면 깨기 싫어, 내.”
FantasyIt's a fantasy (Ayy, you next to me)It's a fantasy (Oh)You're my fantasy (Take that) ♫
The damn irony of those lyrics, you wanted to scoff to yourself.
“It’s good.” Your voice came out softer than intended, perhaps softer than needed for the poppiness of the song that had filled the studio.
His eyes flickered toward you, just enough that you noticed. And for a second it felt like he was waiting for something else. Instead he huffed lightly. “That’s it?”
You smiled a little. “Do you want me to lie and say it’s bad?”
“No.”
“Then it’s good.” You pulled your legs up on the couch, tucking them underneath you.
He didn’t respond, but you saw it. The smallest shift in his shoulders and the way his posture relaxed just slightly, as if you had confirmed something for him. You couldn’t fathom why he cared that much for your opinion. Your musical understanding was minimal at best.
“You always say that,” he muttered.
“Because it’s always true.”
You looked away first, distracting yourself on your phone. Because if you didn’t, you might keep staring.
And if you kept staring…You honestly didn’t want to think about that.
Your fingers tightened slightly around your cup instead, wanting to say more. You always did, but the words stayed where they were. Always caught somewhere frustratingly uncomfortable between your chest and your throat.
+
Fuck. He genuinely forgot how tiring concert and comeback prep used to be.
Spending months in LA creating songs was a different mental tiredness he could handle better. But the physicality of things? At damn age when it feels like his knees would crack by the slightest bend? Someone give him a break, please.
Luckily he wasn’t the only one who thought so. All of them were struggling more than normal, besides Seokjin and Hoseok, who had been doing their own things for a while now and gotten used to the rush again.
Him and the others though? What a mess.
Jimin and Taehyung would giggle every five minutes at their attempts of coordinating, while Jeongguk would be the one to try and pick a fight just for the fun of it. Namjoon tried his best, laughing along and whining whenever a member teased his dancing, which had actually improved rather than gotten worse.
The guys had even been impressed with the muscle mass he had put on in the last couple of months since returning to Korea. With nothing to do with his time besides finishing up the album, he had decided that starting to hit the gym more seriously was a good idea.
Still, he had managed to switch out one mental stress for another. From album concerns to his own personal life now beating the fuck out of him whenever he thought of a person.
Yoongi was already exhausted by the time he stepped out of the practice studio for a quick pick-me-up. All he wanted was ten minutes of silence and maybe another decaf coffee he absolutely did not need, but could pretend would help him with his exhaustion.
The placebo effect was real, he was convinced.
But instead, he heard your very familiar laugh echoing down the hallway. A voice that shouldn’t be in this building at the moment, to his knowledge.
His steps slowed automatically when he rounded the corner. Jeongguk was leaning against the wall beside you, phone in hand while showing you something on the screen. You stood close enough that your shoulder kept bumping his arm every time you laughed.
“No, wait—play that again,” you said through laughter.
“I’m telling you, hyung looked ridiculous.”
“Jeongguk!!”
“What?” He grinned unapologetically before replaying the video anyway.
Yoongi recognized it immediately, to his chagrin. A behind-the-scenes clip from years ago where he had nearly fallen asleep during an interview, of his eyes dropping in real-time and becoming a meme in the fandom and their groupchat.
Traitor.
You dissolved into laughter again, instinctively grabbing Jungkook’s sleeve for balance. And something inside Yoongi twisted unpleasantly. Which was somehow worse when Jeongguk was the first one to notice him there, of course the damn kid did.
His grin shifted instantly into something more suspicious, which Yoongi did not like.
“Yoongi-hyung.” He straightened casually. “You done already?”
Your head turned immediately, your face lighting up the second you saw him. “There you are.”
Again, that dangerous little sense of relief settled in his chest at your expression. Yoongi shoved his hands into his pockets. “What are you two doing?”
“Bullying you, apparently,” you answered easily.
Jungkook snorted. “She started it.”
“You literally showed me the video!”
“And you enjoyed it.”
“I did.”
Yoongi couldn’t help watching the way Jungkook looked at you when you spoke. The stupid word of Jimin and Taehyung replaying around in his mind of his apparent crush on you.
It was clearly comfortable and playful, perhaps even too comfortable if he could add.
Then Jungkook casually threw an arm over your shoulders, clearly a thoughtless action that he had done several times before. But Yoongi’s jaw tightened instantly.
You, completely oblivious, kept talking like nothing happened. “…and then he got mad at me for laughing,” you continued.
“I did not get mad.”
“You glared at me for like three hours.”
“Because you wouldn’t stop laughing.”
Jungkook looked between the two of you briefly before a slow grin appeared on his face. “Wow.”
You blinked. “What?”
“Nothing.” His grin widened. “You guys are seriously weird.”
If Yoongi hadn’t paid as much attention as he did, he wouldn’t have noticed the slightly sharp nudge you gave into Jeongguk's side as he flinched slightly away.
Yoongi narrowed his eyes slightly. Jungkook only looked more entertained. “I thought you were at work?”
“In an hour, it’s just around the corner so I’d thought to stop by and cheer you all on,” you shrugged.
“You should come eat with us first,” the brat offered.
Before you could answer, Yoongi spoke. “She’s busy.”
Both of you looked at him. Including Yoongi himself, internally, while Jeongguk’s eyebrows lifted slowly.
You frowned. “Am I?”
“You promised to help me with something before, remember?” The lie came easily.
“Oh yeah! I remember now.”
For a second nobody spoke. Then Jeongguk looked like he was physically restraining himself from laughing. “Right,” he said carefully. “Of course she did.”
Your eyes narrowed suspiciously, but knowingly while Yoongi avoided looking directly at either of you. You had known each other long enough for you to pick up on his excuse and play along.
And suddenly Jungkook looked way too entertained for Yoongi’s liking.
+
The last employee finally waved goodbye before disappearing down the street, leaving you alone with the familiar task of locking up. You exhaled tiredly, turning the key as you rolled your tight shoulders before tugging lightly on the café door to make sure it was secure.
Your shoulders ached from the long shift, feet even worse, and all you could think about was getting home and collapsing face-first into bed, ignoring the uncomfortable tightness of your stomach.
The low rumble of an engine made you glance up, and a familiar black, gleaming car sat by the curb. You slowed down immediately with a sigh, but the affectionate smile was hard to hide.
And then the driver’s window rolled down. Yoongi looked at you from behind the wheel, one arm resting lazily near the window. “You done?”
“What are you doing?”
“Picking you up, obviously.”
You gave him a pointed look. “And I told you to stop doing that.”
“You said your shift ended late.” That explained absolutely nothing. Still, warmth spread embarrassingly fast through your chest as you crossed the little space toward him.
“You didn’t have to.”
“I know.”
Which somehow made this entire situation worse for your stupid heart.
You slid into the passenger seat, immediately greeted by warmth and the faint scent of clean laundry mixed with his cologne. Familiar enough now that your body relaxed before your brain caught up.
“You look tired,” he said once you buckled in.
“Yeah, feel like shit.” You had never been dishonest to him about your work.
The car pulled smoothly back onto the mostly empty road at this time, only a handful of cars whizzing past. For a while, silence filled the space between you comfortably. The radio played quietly in the background while Seoul’s lights blurred outside the windows.
Then Yoongi glanced at you briefly. “Did you eat?”
You looked out the window immediately. “Maybe.”
“That means no.”
“I was busy.”
“You’re always busy.”
“So are you.”
“Yeah, and you yell at me for it.”
“Well obviously.” You frowned slightly. “Somebody has to.”
Yoongi hummed quietly, like he found that amusing. A few minutes later, however, you realized the roads looked wrong.
You frowned. “Yoongs.”
“Hm?”
“This isn’t the way to my apartment.”
“I know.”
You turned toward him slowly. “Min Yoongi.”
“You’re eating first.”
“I can eat at home.”
“You won’t.” Annoyingly enough, he sounded completely certain.
“You’re very bossy today.”
“And you’re very stubborn.”
“You say that like it’s new.”
A small smile tugged briefly at the corner of his mouth before disappearing again.
God. That stupid smile really needed to stop affecting you. And he needed to stop being so easy to love.
“You can sit down,” he called. “I’ll make you something to eat, it won’t take long.”
“I know where your couch is, Yoongi.”
“Just making sure you don’t collapse halfway there.”
“You’re hilarious.”
He smirked. “Go take a shower, you know where the clothes are.”
You sank into the couch with a quiet groan, letting your head fall back briefly before muttering. “I need to wait for a bit. Can’t be bothered to move right now.”
You heard cupboards opening before Yoongi reappeared carrying two bowls, setting one in front of you on the coffee table. Ramyeon with extra green onions and two eggs, exactly how you liked it.
Your chest squeezed slightly, and he must have noticed your expression.
Yoongi looked at you like the answer should’ve been obvious. “You complain when people make it wrong.”
“I do not.”
“You absolutely do.”
“Fine.”
A quiet huff of amusement left him as he sat beside you, knees touching yours as you both ate. For a while, the only sounds were the television playing softly in the background and the clinking of chopsticks against bowls before you sighed dramatically.
“What.”
“You know, I never told you Soojin’s wedding exhausted me emotionally.”
Yoongi glanced over. “How so?”
You slumped further into the couch. “Do you know how terrifying married people are?”
“That sounds judgmental.”
“They become obsessed with everyone else dating.”
His mouth twitched slightly. “Ah.”
“She tried setting me up with like three different men.”
Yoongi’s chopsticks paused briefly before continuing. “And?”
“And what?”
“Did you want her to?”
You blinked at him. “Not particularly.”
“Why not, I thought you said having someone would be nice.”
You shrugged lightly, staring down into your empty bowl. “I don’t know. I’m busy with life. I’m still paying down on my student debt, my monthly rent is going up in a bit and job applications are going nowhere.”
“You could if you wanted to.”
You narrowed your eyes. “Whose side are you on?”
“I’m just asking.” Something about his tone felt strange to you, almost like an interrogation rather than his usual amused interest.
“Yeah apparently so. She kept insisting I’m ‘too pretty to be single,’” you muttered with a grimace.
Yoongi looked at you then, and your stomach tightened slightly under the weight of it. “Well, she’s right.”
You were fucking certain you were blushing like a damn tomato, but the dim lighting in the room hid most of it. You hoped so at least.
Were your hands clammy? They certainly felt like it.
You stared at him for half a second too long before forcing out an awkward laugh. “Wow. Look at you being nice.”
“I’m serious, though.”
His voice stayed frustratingly steady, and suddenly the air between you felt different again. He was still looking at you, dark eyes looking more intense than you had seen him besides when working on music or on the stage in front of fans.
Your heartbeat started climbing for absolutely no reason. So naturally, your brain panicked. “You know, one of them owned like…three cats.”
Tangie meowed just then from the top of one his cat towers in the room, as if knowing. Yoongi blinked once, clearly caught off guard by the abrupt subject change. “What?”
“At least that’s what Soojin said. Honestly that should’ve been her opening line.”
A quiet laugh escaped him then. And God, you loved that sound more than you should.
“You’re unbelievable,” he murmured almost knowingly.
Your eyes lifted toward his automatically, and this time neither of you looked away. The moment should’ve lasted a second like it always did. The two of you making eyecontact was nothing strange. But it didn’t.
he television kept talking softly in the background. Somewhere in the apartment, a pipe clicked faintly with the heat, Tangie’s claw were gently scraping against his post.
And Yoongi’s gaze dropped, just slightly. But enough to send your heart stuttering.
It was small. Barely there. So quick you almost convinced yourself you imagined it
Your throat went dry. “What?” you asked, quieter than before.
Yoongi didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he leaned back into the couch, dragging a hand through his hair like he was physically resetting himself. “Nothing.”
What a fucking lie, you both knew it.
Still, you nodded slowly, because that was easier than acknowledging what your body was suddenly doing. How aware you were of his knee still touching yours, of how close he actually was, of the fact that you could smell him even over the food.
Besides the entirely strange moment that just happened between you, you knew something was bothering him otherwise. And if you didn’t ask him, you doubted any of the others would.
Your fingers tightened slightly in your lap. “Yoongs, what’s been bothering you?” you said carefully, like saying his name wrong might break something.
He exhaled through his nose, almost a laugh—but there was no humor in it. “Please don’t.”
You blinked. “Don’t what?”
He shook his head once, like he was annoyed at himself more than you. “Forget it.”
He started to stand, hands ready to take the bowls towards the kitchen. And that should’ve been the end of it, but your hand moved before your brain caught up as you caught his sleeve.
Yoongi froze. His gaze flicked down briefly to where your hand still held his sleeve and you let go immediately. However, that didn’t stop you from following him stiff form into the kitchen.
“Why won’t you answer?” Your voice followed him before your feet fully caught up.
Yoongi stopped near the sink and didn't turn around immediately. The bowls were still in his hands, but he didn’t set them down either.
For a second, all you could hear was the faint running of the refrigerator and the distant hum of the city outside the window. “Because you’re not going to like it.”
That made you pause as you scoffed, leaning back against the counter behind you and crossing your arms. “Try me, Min Yoongi.”
Yoongi finally set the bowls down with more care than necessary and when he turned, it was slower than before. His eyes found yours instantly and stayed there as you swallowed.
“You always do this,” he said quietly.
“Do what?”
“Push.”
Your brows knitted slightly, annoyance crawling underneath your skin. “I’m asking a question, Yoongi.”
“I know.” His voice softened, but carefully. Like he was holding something at the edge of slipping.
“Then answer it.”
Silence stretched again; long enough that your chest started tightening in a way you didn’t like. What was he keeping from you? Had something happened? About the album or upcoming tour? Something more internal, perhaps.
A…girlfriend?
Fuck, just the thought of it made something in you want to break but you kept it all together.
Then Yoongi exhaled slowly, dragging a hand through his hair, and when he looked at you again, something had changed. Resignation, you realized. He was done holding back whatever had been bothering him.
“You don’t notice it,” he said, and you held back from replying. His gaze flickered briefly down, then back up. “Never mind.”
Your frustration sharpened. “Don’t do that. Start saying things and then stop halfway.”
That made something in his expression shift. “You really want me to finish it?” he asked.
Your heart stuttered, but you nodded anyway. “Of course I fucking do, Yoongi. When have I never listened to you?”
A long silence, then Yoongi finally stepped closer. Just enough that now there was no pretending this was casual anymore.
“I don’t like watching you with other people.”
Your breath caught—but you didn’t interrupt. Because something in you already knew that wasn’t the full sentence.
His voice dropped lower. “And I don’t like how easily you laugh with them, and how I notice it.”
The room went still as your stomach twisted. Your voice came out smaller than you meant. “…Yoongi.”
He didn’t look away and barely moved. Just stayed there, like he’d already crossed a line he couldn’t step back from.
“I don’t know how to stop noticing you, Y/N.”
It was like your brain went dry, and very, very quiet. Your heartbeat hammering in your ears, the only thing you saw was him. Your hands were trembling too, gripping your clothes as you simply tried to take it all in.
Every time he picked you up when you didn’t ask. Every time he asked if you ate like it mattered more than it should. Every time his eyes lingered just a second too long when you laughed at someone else. Every time he went quiet after Jungkook put an arm around you like it physically cost him something not to say anything.
It all snapped into place at once, the dumb realization of it. And how your own worries had been nothing at this point. You had worried for nothing.
And you felt so incredibly dumb.
Your chest tightened, like something inside you had been holding its breath for too long and finally let go.
In the turmoil of it all, Yoongi was still watching you carefully. As if he was waiting for rejection. “…say something,” he said quietly.
That almost made you smile as you stepped closer. His eyes flickered down to you the moment the space between you changed, but he didn’t move and chose to let you control the pacing.
Your hand came up first, gripping the front of his shirt as Yoongi’s breath caught slightly at the contact. That was a new reaction you only just noticed.
You’d never seen him react like that before; like he was the one who might lose control. You loved it.
Your voice came out softer, but surprisingly steady for everything happening inside. “Unbelieveable.”
That was the moment everything inside you shifted from shock into certainty.Because Min Yoongi, calm, composed, unreadable Yoongi, was standing in front of you right now like you were the only thing he couldn’t control.
And you had never wanted anything more.
His brows pulled faintly together. “What is?”
You didn’t even bother to answer, just pulled him down to your height.
Yoongi froze for half a heartbeat before he gave in.
The kiss wasn’t near anything soft and careful. His hand found your waist immediately, steadying you like instinct finally caught up with intention. The tension he’d been holding all night snapped, something long overdue.
Your fingers slid up into his shirt as if you needed something real to hold onto while your brain caught up with the fact that this was happening—this was him—this was the thing you’d been orbiting without naming for years.
His mouth was relentless on yours, moving gently but urgently at the same time as you hummed into the kiss, his tongue caressing yours as you stumbled back into the counter behind you.
Yoongi groaned softly against your mouth, hands coming up to cup your face, fingers curling into your hair deliciously as you sighed.
When you finally broke it, it was only because you had to breathe. Yoongi stayed close, refusing to move as his forehead rested against yours, breathing heavier than before, like he didn’t trust air to behave normally anymore.
The second kiss lingered longer than the first. Your heart was still catching up, beating unevenly in a way you were very aware of.
“So,” you said eventually, voice softer than you meant it to be, “this is happening.”
A faint breath left him, almost a laugh again, but warmer now. “Yeah,” he said simply.
You tilted your head slightly, just enough to look at him properly, unguarded and sparkling. “And what now?” you asked.
His thumb moved once against your back—slow, grounding, like he was thinking with his body more than his words. “I certainly hope this meant you’re willing to become my girlfriend.”
You bit down on your lip, containing the grin wanting to stretch and he noticed it with a shy smile, ducking down to kiss the tip of your nose. “Stop it.”
“I thought you’d never ask, Min Yoongi.”
“You’re insufferable, you know that?”
“Yes,” you giggled before tightening your hold around his waist, chin resting against his collarbones as your face tilted up. “But you love it.”
His gaze softened visibly, tucking a loose strand behind your ear as his thumb brushed against your cheek. “I do.”
Summary: Yoongi accidentally causes internet chaos during a concert in Mexico, then calls you right after just to get teased for it. Somewhere between embarrassing fancams, late-night flirting, and a random colorful skull from a market, long distance suddenly feels a little harder than usual.
Status: Oneshot
Pairing: Idol!Yoongi x Reader
Word Count: 4.4k~
Genre: Idol!AU, Fluff
Rated: T
Tags: Boyfriend!Yoongi, Secret, Slice of Life, LDR
Posting Date: May 17, 2026
SCC: Ko-fi ☕️ ・ Taglist 📝
That night, Seoul was at its coldest. Light rain had been falling since the afternoon, making the apartment air feel cool and cozy. You had already showered, wearing one of Yoongi’s oversized shirts that somehow had been staying in your closet more often than in his own lately. Your hair was still a little damp when you climbed onto the sofa carrying a thin blanket and a glass of iced americano with almost-melted ice.
The TV had actually been playing a drama for a while, but you weren’t really watching it. Your focus was only on mindlessly scrolling through TikTok. Your FYP that night was completely random—people reviewing spicy food, Jungkook gym edits, videos of angry cats getting bathed.
Until suddenly…
A concert video.
The lights were insanely bright. Fans screaming loud enough to burst your ears even through your phone speaker.
And in the middle of the screen—
Yoongi.
You automatically stopped scrolling.
His hair was soaked with sweat, his breathing still visibly heavy after performing. He was wearing a thin white tank top underneath and a black outer jacket that had already fallen halfway open. His face was red from the heat and exhaustion, but he still looked absurdly handsome in the most annoying way possible.
The caption said:
“HE ACCIDENTALLY TOOK OFF EVERYTHING 😭”
Your eyebrow instantly lifted.
“Hah?”
The video kept playing.
Yoongi was seen pulling off his jacket from behind his neck, probably because he was hot. But somehow, the inner shirt got dragged up with it.
And a split second later—
The entire venue literally exploded.
“KYYYYYYYYAAAAAAAAAA—”
The fans’ screams cracked from how loud they were.
The camera recording immediately shook violently. Someone dropped their phone downward. Someone else only recorded the venue ceiling because they got too hysterical.
Meanwhile Yoongi…
His expression was priceless.
He instantly stopped moving, blankly staring for one second like his brain was buffering, then quickly pulled his shirt back down while laughing shyly.
You immediately covered your mouth.
Then burst out laughing alone in the living room.
“OH MY GOD.”
Replay.
Replay again.
And the more you replayed it, the funnier it got because he genuinely looked like it was completely accidental. Even the member next to him turned around with a shocked-but-laughing expression.
The next TikTok appeared from another angle.
One zoomed in on Yoongi’s face.
One was in slow motion.
One used dramatic Titanic music.
Another one had the caption:
“Mexico survived earthquakes but not this.”
You practically collapsed against the sofa laughing.
“Poor him…”
But you still replayed it again.
Honestly, it wasn’t just funny.
Yoongi looked way too good there.
That white tank top clung to him because of the sweat. His arms were full of veins after performing. His black hair fell slightly onto his forehead. And his embarrassed, panicked expression somehow made everyone lose their minds even more.
Your phone even started constantly buzzing.
The BTS group chat instantly became chaotic.
Jimin:
hyung trending 😭😭😭
Hoseok:
I TOLD YOU NOT TO TAKE OFF YOUR JACKET ON STAGE
Jungkook:
Mexico will never move on
Namjoon:
internet is gone
You laughed again while screenshotting several videos.
Then without thinking, you opened Yoongi’s chat.
For a few seconds you were still smiling to yourself before finally typing.
You:
[5 screenshots]
Congratulations
Typing…
Typing stopped.
Typing again.
Yoongi:
I want to disappear
You immediately laughed again.
You:
No seriously 😭
This is so funny
Yoongi:
I just wanted to take off my jacket
You:
And accidentally took off your dignity too
Read.
No reply for a few seconds.
Then—
Yoongi:
You’re enjoying this way too much huh
You:
Very much
Yoongi:
Mean
You:
An entire stadium screamed like they got jumpscared
Yoongi:
I was shocked too
You:
Your face was so funny 😭😭😭
You replayed the video again while grinning to yourself.
Especially the part where Yoongi immediately pulled his shirt back down with an expression like “what the hell just happened?”
You even zoomed in on a certain screenshot.
Oh.
Oh no.
His arms were insane though.
Without realizing it, you took another screenshot.
You:
Btw are your arms even legal?
Yoongi took longer to reply this time.
Maybe he was showering. Maybe eating. Or maybe regretting his life because the entire internet was now filled with fancams of him.
Finally the chat bubble appeared again.
Yoongi:
Are you thirst tweeting now too?
You:
I’m a victim of the timeline
Yoongi:
Delete TikTok
You:
Can’t
The entertainment tonight is too good
Yoongi:
I’m tired
You:
But handsome
Read.
No reply for about a minute.
Then suddenly your phone screen showed an incoming video call.
You instantly laughed before answering.
The moment it connected, Yoongi’s face immediately filled the screen.
His hair was still slightly wet after showering. He was now wearing a loose black shirt with the collar hanging lower on one side. His skin was still slightly flushed from the concert and hot shower. He sat leaning against the hotel sofa while staring at you with a tired face.
“Just keep laughing.”
The second you heard his raspy post-performance voice, you laughed even harder.
“Sorry—really sorry but this is genuinely funny…”
Yoongi closed his eyes briefly while letting out a long sigh.
“I opened my phone and it was pure chaos.”
“Well that’s your fault.”
“It wasn’t intentional.”
“You know people are saying Mexico lost their minds tonight?”
“I want to uninstall the internet.”
You were still smiling widely while staring at the screen.
And damn it, the more you looked at him now, the more you kept thinking about him earlier on stage.
Sweaty. Heavy breathing. Tense arms.
God.
Yoongi watched your face for a few seconds.
Then the corner of his lips lifted slightly.
“Oh.”
“What oh.”
“So you were freaking out too apparently.”
“No.”
“Liar.”
“I was just surprised.”
“How many times did you replay it?”
You instantly went silent.
Yoongi narrowed his eyes slightly.
“Exactly.”
“…a few.”
“How many is a few?”
“Well… several.”
“You took screenshots too.”
Your eyes widened immediately.
“How do you know?!”
“I can tell from your face.”
“What’s wrong with my face?”
“You look guilty.”
You let out a small huff while leaning back against the sofa again.
Yoongi watched you with a faint smile. Even exhausted like that, he still had energy to tease you.
“You seriously…” you muttered quietly.
“What?”
“You made an entire country hysterical.”
“One country is exaggerating.”
“No it’s not. Their screaming was terrifying.”
Yoongi just laughed softly.
And oh my god, that soft laugh.
You hated how easily he made your heart feel weird just from his voice alone.
“You need to see the edits now,” you said while reopening TikTok. “Someone already made a slow motion version.”
“Don’t show me.”
“Too late.”
You played one video.
The second the hysterical fan screams blasted from your phone, Yoongi immediately covered his face with one hand.
“OH MY GOD.”
You burst out laughing again.
“Your expression is so funny!”
“I’m genuinely embarrassed.”
“It’s rare seeing you this embarrassed.”
“Because it wasn’t intentional.”
“You literally buffered on stage.”
“I panicked.”
“It showed.”
Yoongi sighed deeply while sinking further into the hotel sofa.
His shirt shifted slightly higher around the sleeves.
And you… unconsciously glanced again.
Yoongi noticed.
Very noticed.
“What are you doing?”
“Hm?”
“You keep staring.”
“I’m not.”
“You think I don’t know?”
You instantly got flustered.
“Fine, maybe a little.”
“You said it was funny.”
“It is funny.”
“So what is it now?”
You bit your lip briefly before quietly answering,
“…handsome too.”
Yoongi went silent for a few seconds.
Then he smiled very slightly.
A thin smile.
The kind that made your heart melt because he genuinely looked happy hearing it.
“You make me feel confident so easily.”
“Hey don’t get too confident.”
“Why?”
“Or you’ll intentionally take your shirt off at concerts.”
He immediately laughed.
“I’m not that bad.”
“You sure?”
“You’ve already seen it plenty of times too.”
And like someone pressed pause—
You instantly froze.
“…what?”
Yoongi casually leaned back while looking at you.
“Why are you pretending to be shocked now?”
“MIN YOONGI.”
“What?”
“That’s a different context.”
“What’s the difference?”
“AN ENTIRE STADIUM SAW THIS.”
“But who sees it the most often?”
Your cheeks instantly heated up.
“That’s not the point—”
“You literally sleep hugging me every night.”
“STOP.”
“And now you’re embarrassed?”
You immediately covered your face with a sofa pillow while groaning in embarrassment.
Yoongi just laughed victoriously from the other side.
“Finally embarrassed too.”
“You’re so annoying.”
“You started it earlier.”
“But now you’re doing it on purpose!”
“Hm.”
“What do you mean hm.”
“It’s cute seeing you flustered.”
You peeked from behind the pillow.
Yoongi was still smiling faintly while watching you. His face looked far more relaxed now compared to the beginning of the call.
And strangely enough, you really loved being the reason he relaxed after a long concert like this.
“You’re really tired huh?” you finally asked, your voice softer.
Yoongi nodded slightly.
“A little.”
“Did you eat?”
“Yeah.”
“Drink water?”
“Yes, mom.”
“Yoongi.”
He laughed softly again.
“I drank.”
You watched his face for a few seconds.
His eyes were slightly red from exhaustion. His voice sounded heavier too. But he still called you just because you teased him about that stupid wardrobe malfunction earlier.
Your chest warmed on its own.
“You should sleep later,” you said quietly.
“Later.”
“Don’t keep saying later.”
He looked at you for a moment.
Then quietly said,
“I miss you.”
Your expression instantly softened.
“…it’s only been a week.”
“Long.”
“You’re dramatic.”
“Yeah.”
You smiled faintly.
And for a few seconds, you just stared at each other through the screen, both exhausted but comfortable.
Until Yoongi finally spoke again casually,
“But seriously.”
“Hm?”
“You were more excited than the Mexico fans.”
You instantly glared.
“Because that’s my boyfriend.”
“Oh so you were jealous?”
“A little.”
“Aigoo…”
“What do you mean aigoo.”
“You’re cute.”
“Not cute.”
“You’re jealous over an accidental shirt slip.”
“It sounds stupid when you say it like that.”
“Because it is funny.”
You huffed in embarrassment.
And Yoongi, who had looked half-dead exhausted this whole time, just smiled even softer while quietly saying,
“The one who sees the most is still you anyway.”
You immediately collapsed backward onto the sofa while covering your face.
“OH MY GOD MIN YOONGI.”
. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.
You were still lying flat on the sofa with your face covered by a pillow, while Yoongi’s soft laughter kept coming from your phone speaker.
Satisfied laughter. The kind of laughter from someone who realized he had successfully made his girlfriend malfunction.
“Get up.”
“No.”
“Why are you so embarrassed?”
“Because you said it like that!”
“But it’s true.”
You lowered the pillow slightly, glaring at the screen.
“Yoongi.”
“Hm?”
“Don’t flirt when your face still looks like this after a concert.”
He raised an eyebrow slightly.
“Why?”
“Dangerous.”
That smile immediately appeared again. Small, crooked, annoying.
“I’m literally just sitting here.”
“Yeah, that’s the problem.”
Yoongi laughed softly while resting his head against the hotel sofa. The dim room lighting made the lines of his face look even sharper. His black hair was still slightly damp and falling over his forehead in a way that looked way too good for someone claiming to be exhausted.
And the thing making your heart race the most— He looked so comfortable right now. Relaxed. Soft. But his eyes hadn’t left you this entire time.
“You seriously…” you muttered quietly while avoiding his gaze, “you just caused internet chaos and still have time to tease me.”
“Because I miss you.”
His answer came too fast. Too honest. Your heart instantly skipped weirdly.
“You usually get clingy when you’re tired,” you said, trying to sound casual.
“And?”
“And right now I can’t hug you.”
Yoongi went quiet for a moment.
His expression immediately softened a little more.
“I know.”
The atmosphere suddenly became calmer.
You were already used to tour schedules. Used to video calls from different countries. Used to falling asleep on call until one of you passed out first.
But somehow this time felt different.
Maybe because Yoongi’s schedule was too packed. Maybe because you had gotten too used to being close before he left. Or maybe because right now he was looking at you like that while seeming like he really wanted to come home.
“You know,” he suddenly said, his voice low and raspy, “right after the concert, the first thing I did was check my phone for your message.”
You instantly looked back at the screen.
“Seriously?”
“Hm.”
“Why?”
“I already knew you’d make fun of me.”
You laughed softly.
“And you still looked for it.”
“Because I missed you.”
God. You genuinely couldn’t handle it when he suddenly got soft like this. Especially when he followed it up with a tiny smile while secretly staring at you.
“Yoongi…”
“Hm?”
“You make it hard to sleep.”
“I haven’t even started yet.”
You instantly froze.
“What do you mean you haven’t started?”
He casually shrugged a little.
“You said I was flirting earlier.”
“And?”
“But I was just acting normal.”
Your cheeks instantly heated up again.
“Okay then don’t start.”
“What if I do?”
“MIN YOONGI.”
He laughed softly again. Not loudly, but low enough to make your stomach feel weird. Then he moved slightly closer to the camera. And god. That was a terrible mistake.
Because now his face completely filled your phone screen.
“You know what the funniest part earlier was?” he asked quietly.
“What?”
“You got possessive immediately.”
“I was not possessive.”
“You literally said ‘that’s my boyfriend.’”
“Well he is.”
“And then you got jealous.”
“A little.”
“You really like me huh.”
You instantly glared in embarrassment.
“Overconfident.”
“But it's true.”
You let out a long sigh while covering half your face with the blanket. Yoongi watched you with a faint smile.
“Cute.”
“Don’t call me cute.”
“Why?”
“It just makes me more annoyed.”
“But you’re smiling.”
You reflexively touched your lips.
Damn it.
He was right.
Yoongi instantly looked satisfied.
“I know your expressions by heart.”
“You don’t need to know them by heart.”
“Too late.”
A few seconds later the atmosphere became quiet again. You could hear the hotel AC from his side. Occasionally there were distant sounds from the hallway, but other than that there was only the sound of your breathing.
Yoongi looked really exhausted now. His eyes were half-lidded. His loose black shirt slipped slightly off his shoulder when he moved. And unfortunately it made you remember the earlier video again.
Yoongi noticed again. “What are you thinking about?”
“Nothing.”
“You’re spacing out.”
“I just remembered earlier.”
“Which earlier?”
“You know which one.”
He smiled faintly.
“Oh. The Mexico incident.”
“Don’t call it an incident like it’s a scandal.”
“It felt like one.”
“The internet literally lost its mind.”
“You did too.”
You sighed softly.
“Well how was I supposed to react…”
“Hm?”
“You earlier were…”
You stopped yourself.
Yoongi waited.
And somehow that was worse than if he pushed you.
Because he just quietly stared at you, making you even more nervous.
“What?” he asked again softly.
“…hot.”
Yoongi immediately tried to hold back a smile.
“Oh?”
“Don’t get too confident yet.”
“But you called me hot.”
“You are hot.”
He finally let out a small laugh.
“Wow.”
“You’re not fair.”
“Why?”
“You know exactly what your post-concert face does to people.”
“What does it do?”
“Yoongi.”
“Answer first.”
You covered your face again.
Which only amused him more.
“Aigoo…”
“Stop laughing.”
“You’re so cute when you’re embarrassed.”
“And you’re so evil when you miss me.”
Yoongi went quiet for a moment.
Then with a lower, softer voice—
“I really do miss you badly right now.”
Your heart instantly dropped. The way he said things like that was always dangerous. Not excessive. Not dramatic. But because his tone stayed calm, it somehow felt more real.
“When are you coming home?” you asked softly.
“Still a few more weeks.”
You instantly pouted.
“That’s too long.”
“Hm.”
“I hate long distance.”
“Me too.”
Yoongi slowly rubbed his face before looking at you again.
“That’s why when I get home later, don’t complain.”
“Why do I suddenly feel nervous?”
“You’re the one who called me hot earlier.”
“I REGRET SAYING THAT.”
He laughed again.
“You can’t take it back.”
“Yes I can.”
“No you can’t.”
“You’re annoying.”
“But you miss me.”
You stayed quiet. Because he was right. And Yoongi knew you too well to the point where he could already see the answer before you even said it.
He leaned back again while staring at the screen for a few seconds. Then casually said,
“After the tour, I probably won’t let go of you.”
Your heart dropped.
“Yoongi…”
“Hm?”
“Don’t say things like that while looking at me like that.”
“Like what?”
“LIKE THAT.”
He laughed softly.
“I’m just saying I miss you.”
“The way you say it is the problem.”
“What if I was at the apartment right now?”
You instantly went completely silent. Yoongi saw your reaction and his smile became even thinner.
“Hmm.”
“Don’t hmm.”
“I’m just imagining it.”
“You’re doing this on purpose.”
“A little.”
“Yoongi…”
“I’d probably pull you onto the sofa already.”
Your breath instantly caught.
“And then you’d say you’re tired.”
“I am tired.”
“But you’d still come over to me.”
You genuinely couldn’t handle him once he started talking in that low voice. Especially now that his face already looked sleepy and soft. The deadliest combination.
“And then?” you asked quietly without realizing it.
Yoongi’s eyes immediately lifted slightly.
“Oh, so you want to keep listening.”
“Actually, never mind.”
“No. You asked.”
You bit your lip slightly. And Yoongi saw it. Of course he saw it.
“So dangerous,” he muttered softly.
“What?”
“The way you look when you’re embarrassed.”
You instantly turned your face away. Which only made him smile even more fondly.
“Come home soon okay,” you finally said quietly.
Yoongi’s expression instantly softened again.
“Hm.”
“I miss you.”
“I miss you more.”
“Overconfident.”
“I’ll prove it later.”
. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.
The time difference started becoming more and more annoying once BTS began touring in America.
In Seoul it was already evening while the sun there had only just risen. Sometimes you had just finished work while Yoongi was still at rehearsal. Sometimes you woke up in the morning to dozens of random texts from him sent at three in the morning local time because he couldn’t sleep again.
And the longer the tour went on, the more the longing started to settle in too.
Not the dramatic kind of longing that makes you cry every night. But the kind that appears in small things.
Like when you automatically took out two glasses from the cabinet before realizing you were living alone in the apartment right now. Or when you found Yoongi’s black hoodie still hanging over the living room chair and instinctively hugged it for a second because it still carried traces of his familiar perfume and laundry scent.
Or when you came home exhausted from work and realized there was no Yoongi sprawled across the sofa pretending to sleep just so you would approach him first.
That night you were sitting at the apartment work desk while staring at packaging design files that hadn’t gotten anywhere for hours. The desk lamp glowed brightly while the rest of the apartment stayed dim and quiet. Light rain fell outside the window, making the atmosphere feel calmer and lonelier at the same time.
You had just changed the song on Spotify when your phone vibrated.
Incoming video call:
Yoongi.
A smile instantly appeared on your face without realizing it.
You hadn’t even pressed accept yet, but half your exhaustion was already gone.
The moment the call connected, the screen immediately showed a shaky camera moving everywhere. At first there was only a bright sky and the sound of people passing by. Then a few seconds later Yoongi’s face appeared.
And seriously.
He looked way too relaxed for someone who was supposed to be world famous.
A black cap pulled low. An oversized gray hoodie. His mask was hanging under his chin because he was probably too lazy to talk with it covering his face. Black hair sticking out slightly from under the cap and moving with the wind.
He walked slowly while holding his phone low, like he was genuinely just some ordinary person wandering around an evening market.
Even though he was Min Yoongi.
That was exactly what stressed you out.
“You’re outside?” you asked while automatically sitting up straighter.
“Hm.”
Yoongi’s answers were always short when he was relaxed. His voice sounded heavier from tour exhaustion, but there was a lighter tone that rarely appeared whenever he was genuinely enjoying himself.
The camera shifted slightly, showing small stores around him. Everything was full of color. Neon hanging fabrics, hand-painted ceramics, tiny lights, and faint street music in the distance.
You immediately understood why he liked that place.
Because it felt alive.
And because it was exactly the kind of place that would make you stop at every shop just to stare at random cute things.
“You went out alone?” you asked again.
“Hoseok and Jungkook are eating. I got bored at the hotel.”
His answer sounded so casual that you had to stop yourself from sighing loudly.
Yoongi was always like this.
Sometimes he still forgot who he was now.
Not because he was arrogant or intentionally dismissing his own popularity. Actually the opposite. Sometimes he genuinely still thought he could casually walk around without attracting too much attention, especially outside Korea.
Even now?
Even people who didn’t follow BTS would probably still recognize his face.
And you knew perfectly well the other members often said the same thing—Yoongi was sometimes way too relaxed about himself.
“Are you even being careful?” you asked while lowering your laptop volume.
“I’m wearing a cap.”
You stared at the screen flatly.
“That’s not a disguise.”
“I’m also wearing a hoodie.”
“Wow. Incredible.”
Yoongi chuckled softly.
His laugh mixed faintly with footsteps and market noise, but it was still enough to make the corner of your lips lift too.
Even so, you kept paying attention to the surroundings behind the camera. People passed by without caring, but there was still a small nervous feeling sitting in your chest.
Not because you didn’t trust him to take care of himself.
But because you knew what the world was like now. One person realizes that’s Min Yoongi from BTS, and five minutes later there could already be a crowd.
And the funny thing was, Yoongi himself still looked genuinely confused whenever that happened.
“You seriously…” you muttered while leaning back in your chair, “still think you guys are nobodies sometimes huh?”
Yoongi stayed quiet for a second before finally smiling faintly.
“Sometimes I forget.”
“Exactly.”
“I’m just taking a short walk.”
“You say ‘just taking a short walk’ like you’re some guy running the neighborhood photocopy shop.”
He laughed more clearly this time.
And honestly, you liked hearing him laugh like that.
Lately the tour schedule has been too exhausting. His face often looked tired. So every time Yoongi sounded genuinely relaxed and comfortable, you felt relieved too.
The camera moved again, showing rows of tiny colorful stores. Neon-painted Mexico skulls, brightly embroidered fabrics, flower mugs, and strange ornaments that somehow still looked artistic.
“You’d love places like this,” he suddenly said.
And he was right.
Your eyes were instantly drawn to all the colors.
You have always loved bright things. Random tiny objects that were cute and overly crowded-looking. Even your apartment had colorful decorations. Yoongi often mocked for having “too many colors.”
“I bought something for you,” he added casually, as if that sentence alone didn’t instantly warm your heart.
You automatically turned quickly toward the screen.
“Hah?”
Yoongi looked satisfied seeing your reaction.
He was always like that. Sometimes purposely saying things suddenly just to watch your shocked expression.
“I kept seeing it and thinking about you.”
And god.
No matter how simple the sentence was, it still always made your chest soften.
Because Yoongi wasn’t the type to openly act romantic. Which was exactly why small things like “I saw this and thought of you” felt far more special.
You immediately started guessing excitedly.
Maybe a cute plate.
Maybe embroidered fabric.
Maybe a long brightly-colored dress Yoongi himself would never touch but would still choose because “this is so you.”
The more you imagined it, the more curious you became.
Especially because the way Yoongi kept holding back his smile clearly showed he was enjoying this.
“Come on, show me,” you whined.
“No.”
“Yoongi.”
“You’ll laugh.”
“It’s fine.”
He finally stopped walking in front of one of the stores. The camera lowered slightly toward shelves full of colorful ornaments.
Then he picked something up.
At first you didn’t realize what it was.
Until he lifted it closer to the camera.
“…is that a skull?”
Yoongi instantly grinned faintly.
“Yeah.”
You stared at the screen for several seconds with a blank expression.
Out of everything in Mexico…
Your boyfriend chose a skull.
But of course it wasn’t just any skull.
It was a brightly painted Día de los Muertos ceramic skull. Pink flowers, blue lines, neon yellow, tiny bright green details. It looked more cute than scary.
Still—
“Why a skull…”
“But the colors are cute.”
“You’re seriously weird.”
Yoongi actually looked proud of his choice.
He slowly rotated the skull toward the camera like he was showing off expensive artwork.
And the longer you looked at it, the more it really did feel… very you.
Crowded colors.
Weird.
Slightly chaotic.
“You like it, right?”
You tried holding back your smile.
Because honestly, this really was Min Yoongi-style romance.
Not flowers.
Not stuffed dolls.
Not expensive jewelry.
But a random colorful skull he saw at a market and immediately thought of you.
And somehow that made your heart ache from affection.
“You know normal people buy flowers for their girlfriends.”
“I’m different.”
“Clearly.”
“You don’t like it?”
You finally laughed softly while leaning your head back against the chair.
“I do…”
“Exactly.”
“But you’re still weird.”
Yoongi laughed in satisfaction again.
Behind him, the shop lights had started turning on because evening was approaching there. The bright colors around him looked warmer now. And in the middle of that crowded market, Yoongi stood there holding his ugly-cute little skull proudly.
Strangely enough…
That sight only made you miss him more.
Because you could clearly imagine him casually walking from store to store, then stopping the second he saw that thing and thinking:
“This would definitely be something Y/N likes.”
And now you really wished you were there with him.
Summary: Yoongi accidentally causes internet chaos during a concert in Mexico, then calls you right after just to get teased for it. Somewhere between embarrassing fancams, late-night flirting, and a random colorful skull from a market, long distance suddenly feels a little harder than usual.
Status: Oneshot
Pairing: Idol!Yoongi x Reader
Word Count: 4.4k~
Genre: Idol!AU, Fluff
Rated: T
Tags: Boyfriend!Yoongi, Secret, Slice of Life, LDR
Posting Date: May 17, 2026
SCC: Ko-fi ☕️ ・ Taglist 📝
That night, Seoul was at its coldest. Light rain had been falling since the afternoon, making the apartment air feel cool and cozy. You had already showered, wearing one of Yoongi’s oversized shirts that somehow had been staying in your closet more often than in his own lately. Your hair was still a little damp when you climbed onto the sofa carrying a thin blanket and a glass of iced americano with almost-melted ice.
The TV had actually been playing a drama for a while, but you weren’t really watching it. Your focus was only on mindlessly scrolling through TikTok. Your FYP that night was completely random—people reviewing spicy food, Jungkook gym edits, videos of angry cats getting bathed.
Until suddenly…
A concert video.
The lights were insanely bright. Fans screaming loud enough to burst your ears even through your phone speaker.
And in the middle of the screen—
Yoongi.
You automatically stopped scrolling.
His hair was soaked with sweat, his breathing still visibly heavy after performing. He was wearing a thin white tank top underneath and a black outer jacket that had already fallen halfway open. His face was red from the heat and exhaustion, but he still looked absurdly handsome in the most annoying way possible.
The caption said:
“HE ACCIDENTALLY TOOK OFF EVERYTHING 😭”
Your eyebrow instantly lifted.
“Hah?”
The video kept playing.
Yoongi was seen pulling off his jacket from behind his neck, probably because he was hot. But somehow, the inner shirt got dragged up with it.
And a split second later—
The entire venue literally exploded.
“KYYYYYYYYAAAAAAAAAA—”
The fans’ screams cracked from how loud they were.
The camera recording immediately shook violently. Someone dropped their phone downward. Someone else only recorded the venue ceiling because they got too hysterical.
Meanwhile Yoongi…
His expression was priceless.
He instantly stopped moving, blankly staring for one second like his brain was buffering, then quickly pulled his shirt back down while laughing shyly.
You immediately covered your mouth.
Then burst out laughing alone in the living room.
“OH MY GOD.”
Replay.
Replay again.
And the more you replayed it, the funnier it got because he genuinely looked like it was completely accidental. Even the member next to him turned around with a shocked-but-laughing expression.
The next TikTok appeared from another angle.
One zoomed in on Yoongi’s face.
One was in slow motion.
One used dramatic Titanic music.
Another one had the caption:
“Mexico survived earthquakes but not this.”
You practically collapsed against the sofa laughing.
“Poor him…”
But you still replayed it again.
Honestly, it wasn’t just funny.
Yoongi looked way too good there.
That white tank top clung to him because of the sweat. His arms were full of veins after performing. His black hair fell slightly onto his forehead. And his embarrassed, panicked expression somehow made everyone lose their minds even more.
Your phone even started constantly buzzing.
The BTS group chat instantly became chaotic.
Jimin:
hyung trending 😭😭😭
Hoseok:
I TOLD YOU NOT TO TAKE OFF YOUR JACKET ON STAGE
Jungkook:
Mexico will never move on
Namjoon:
internet is gone
You laughed again while screenshotting several videos.
Then without thinking, you opened Yoongi’s chat.
For a few seconds you were still smiling to yourself before finally typing.
You:
[5 screenshots]
Congratulations
Typing…
Typing stopped.
Typing again.
Yoongi:
I want to disappear
You immediately laughed again.
You:
No seriously 😭
This is so funny
Yoongi:
I just wanted to take off my jacket
You:
And accidentally took off your dignity too
Read.
No reply for a few seconds.
Then—
Yoongi:
You’re enjoying this way too much huh
You:
Very much
Yoongi:
Mean
You:
An entire stadium screamed like they got jumpscared
Yoongi:
I was shocked too
You:
Your face was so funny 😭😭😭
You replayed the video again while grinning to yourself.
Especially the part where Yoongi immediately pulled his shirt back down with an expression like “what the hell just happened?”
You even zoomed in on a certain screenshot.
Oh.
Oh no.
His arms were insane though.
Without realizing it, you took another screenshot.
You:
Btw are your arms even legal?
Yoongi took longer to reply this time.
Maybe he was showering. Maybe eating. Or maybe regretting his life because the entire internet was now filled with fancams of him.
Finally the chat bubble appeared again.
Yoongi:
Are you thirst tweeting now too?
You:
I’m a victim of the timeline
Yoongi:
Delete TikTok
You:
Can’t
The entertainment tonight is too good
Yoongi:
I’m tired
You:
But handsome
Read.
No reply for about a minute.
Then suddenly your phone screen showed an incoming video call.
You instantly laughed before answering.
The moment it connected, Yoongi’s face immediately filled the screen.
His hair was still slightly wet after showering. He was now wearing a loose black shirt with the collar hanging lower on one side. His skin was still slightly flushed from the concert and hot shower. He sat leaning against the hotel sofa while staring at you with a tired face.
“Just keep laughing.”
The second you heard his raspy post-performance voice, you laughed even harder.
“Sorry—really sorry but this is genuinely funny…”
Yoongi closed his eyes briefly while letting out a long sigh.
“I opened my phone and it was pure chaos.”
“Well that’s your fault.”
“It wasn’t intentional.”
“You know people are saying Mexico lost their minds tonight?”
“I want to uninstall the internet.”
You were still smiling widely while staring at the screen.
And damn it, the more you looked at him now, the more you kept thinking about him earlier on stage.
Sweaty. Heavy breathing. Tense arms.
God.
Yoongi watched your face for a few seconds.
Then the corner of his lips lifted slightly.
“Oh.”
“What oh.”
“So you were freaking out too apparently.”
“No.”
“Liar.”
“I was just surprised.”
“How many times did you replay it?”
You instantly went silent.
Yoongi narrowed his eyes slightly.
“Exactly.”
“…a few.”
“How many is a few?”
“Well… several.”
“You took screenshots too.”
Your eyes widened immediately.
“How do you know?!”
“I can tell from your face.”
“What’s wrong with my face?”
“You look guilty.”
You let out a small huff while leaning back against the sofa again.
Yoongi watched you with a faint smile. Even exhausted like that, he still had energy to tease you.
“You seriously…” you muttered quietly.
“What?”
“You made an entire country hysterical.”
“One country is exaggerating.”
“No it’s not. Their screaming was terrifying.”
Yoongi just laughed softly.
And oh my god, that soft laugh.
You hated how easily he made your heart feel weird just from his voice alone.
“You need to see the edits now,” you said while reopening TikTok. “Someone already made a slow motion version.”
“Don’t show me.”
“Too late.”
You played one video.
The second the hysterical fan screams blasted from your phone, Yoongi immediately covered his face with one hand.
“OH MY GOD.”
You burst out laughing again.
“Your expression is so funny!”
“I’m genuinely embarrassed.”
“It’s rare seeing you this embarrassed.”
“Because it wasn’t intentional.”
“You literally buffered on stage.”
“I panicked.”
“It showed.”
Yoongi sighed deeply while sinking further into the hotel sofa.
His shirt shifted slightly higher around the sleeves.
And you… unconsciously glanced again.
Yoongi noticed.
Very noticed.
“What are you doing?”
“Hm?”
“You keep staring.”
“I’m not.”
“You think I don’t know?”
You instantly got flustered.
“Fine, maybe a little.”
“You said it was funny.”
“It is funny.”
“So what is it now?”
You bit your lip briefly before quietly answering,
“…handsome too.”
Yoongi went silent for a few seconds.
Then he smiled very slightly.
A thin smile.
The kind that made your heart melt because he genuinely looked happy hearing it.
“You make me feel confident so easily.”
“Hey don’t get too confident.”
“Why?”
“Or you’ll intentionally take your shirt off at concerts.”
He immediately laughed.
“I’m not that bad.”
“You sure?”
“You’ve already seen it plenty of times too.”
And like someone pressed pause—
You instantly froze.
“…what?”
Yoongi casually leaned back while looking at you.
“Why are you pretending to be shocked now?”
“MIN YOONGI.”
“What?”
“That’s a different context.”
“What’s the difference?”
“AN ENTIRE STADIUM SAW THIS.”
“But who sees it the most often?”
Your cheeks instantly heated up.
“That’s not the point—”
“You literally sleep hugging me every night.”
“STOP.”
“And now you’re embarrassed?”
You immediately covered your face with a sofa pillow while groaning in embarrassment.
Yoongi just laughed victoriously from the other side.
“Finally embarrassed too.”
“You’re so annoying.”
“You started it earlier.”
“But now you’re doing it on purpose!”
“Hm.”
“What do you mean hm.”
“It’s cute seeing you flustered.”
You peeked from behind the pillow.
Yoongi was still smiling faintly while watching you. His face looked far more relaxed now compared to the beginning of the call.
And strangely enough, you really loved being the reason he relaxed after a long concert like this.
“You’re really tired huh?” you finally asked, your voice softer.
Yoongi nodded slightly.
“A little.”
“Did you eat?”
“Yeah.”
“Drink water?”
“Yes, mom.”
“Yoongi.”
He laughed softly again.
“I drank.”
You watched his face for a few seconds.
His eyes were slightly red from exhaustion. His voice sounded heavier too. But he still called you just because you teased him about that stupid wardrobe malfunction earlier.
Your chest warmed on its own.
“You should sleep later,” you said quietly.
“Later.”
“Don’t keep saying later.”
He looked at you for a moment.
Then quietly said,
“I miss you.”
Your expression instantly softened.
“…it’s only been a week.”
“Long.”
“You’re dramatic.”
“Yeah.”
You smiled faintly.
And for a few seconds, you just stared at each other through the screen, both exhausted but comfortable.
Until Yoongi finally spoke again casually,
“But seriously.”
“Hm?”
“You were more excited than the Mexico fans.”
You instantly glared.
“Because that’s my boyfriend.”
“Oh so you were jealous?”
“A little.”
“Aigoo…”
“What do you mean aigoo.”
“You’re cute.”
“Not cute.”
“You’re jealous over an accidental shirt slip.”
“It sounds stupid when you say it like that.”
“Because it is funny.”
You huffed in embarrassment.
And Yoongi, who had looked half-dead exhausted this whole time, just smiled even softer while quietly saying,
“The one who sees the most is still you anyway.”
You immediately collapsed backward onto the sofa while covering your face.
“OH MY GOD MIN YOONGI.”
. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.
You were still lying flat on the sofa with your face covered by a pillow, while Yoongi’s soft laughter kept coming from your phone speaker.
Satisfied laughter. The kind of laughter from someone who realized he had successfully made his girlfriend malfunction.
“Get up.”
“No.”
“Why are you so embarrassed?”
“Because you said it like that!”
“But it’s true.”
You lowered the pillow slightly, glaring at the screen.
“Yoongi.”
“Hm?”
“Don’t flirt when your face still looks like this after a concert.”
He raised an eyebrow slightly.
“Why?”
“Dangerous.”
That smile immediately appeared again. Small, crooked, annoying.
“I’m literally just sitting here.”
“Yeah, that’s the problem.”
Yoongi laughed softly while resting his head against the hotel sofa. The dim room lighting made the lines of his face look even sharper. His black hair was still slightly damp and falling over his forehead in a way that looked way too good for someone claiming to be exhausted.
And the thing making your heart race the most— He looked so comfortable right now. Relaxed. Soft. But his eyes hadn’t left you this entire time.
“You seriously…” you muttered quietly while avoiding his gaze, “you just caused internet chaos and still have time to tease me.”
“Because I miss you.”
His answer came too fast. Too honest. Your heart instantly skipped weirdly.
“You usually get clingy when you’re tired,” you said, trying to sound casual.
“And?”
“And right now I can’t hug you.”
Yoongi went quiet for a moment.
His expression immediately softened a little more.
“I know.”
The atmosphere suddenly became calmer.
You were already used to tour schedules. Used to video calls from different countries. Used to falling asleep on call until one of you passed out first.
But somehow this time felt different.
Maybe because Yoongi’s schedule was too packed. Maybe because you had gotten too used to being close before he left. Or maybe because right now he was looking at you like that while seeming like he really wanted to come home.
“You know,” he suddenly said, his voice low and raspy, “right after the concert, the first thing I did was check my phone for your message.”
You instantly looked back at the screen.
“Seriously?”
“Hm.”
“Why?”
“I already knew you’d make fun of me.”
You laughed softly.
“And you still looked for it.”
“Because I missed you.”
God. You genuinely couldn’t handle it when he suddenly got soft like this. Especially when he followed it up with a tiny smile while secretly staring at you.
“Yoongi…”
“Hm?”
“You make it hard to sleep.”
“I haven’t even started yet.”
You instantly froze.
“What do you mean you haven’t started?”
He casually shrugged a little.
“You said I was flirting earlier.”
“And?”
“But I was just acting normal.”
Your cheeks instantly heated up again.
“Okay then don’t start.”
“What if I do?”
“MIN YOONGI.”
He laughed softly again. Not loudly, but low enough to make your stomach feel weird. Then he moved slightly closer to the camera. And god. That was a terrible mistake.
Because now his face completely filled your phone screen.
“You know what the funniest part earlier was?” he asked quietly.
“What?”
“You got possessive immediately.”
“I was not possessive.”
“You literally said ‘that’s my boyfriend.’”
“Well he is.”
“And then you got jealous.”
“A little.”
“You really like me huh.”
You instantly glared in embarrassment.
“Overconfident.”
“But it's true.”
You let out a long sigh while covering half your face with the blanket. Yoongi watched you with a faint smile.
“Cute.”
“Don’t call me cute.”
“Why?”
“It just makes me more annoyed.”
“But you’re smiling.”
You reflexively touched your lips.
Damn it.
He was right.
Yoongi instantly looked satisfied.
“I know your expressions by heart.”
“You don’t need to know them by heart.”
“Too late.”
A few seconds later the atmosphere became quiet again. You could hear the hotel AC from his side. Occasionally there were distant sounds from the hallway, but other than that there was only the sound of your breathing.
Yoongi looked really exhausted now. His eyes were half-lidded. His loose black shirt slipped slightly off his shoulder when he moved. And unfortunately it made you remember the earlier video again.
Yoongi noticed again. “What are you thinking about?”
“Nothing.”
“You’re spacing out.”
“I just remembered earlier.”
“Which earlier?”
“You know which one.”
He smiled faintly.
“Oh. The Mexico incident.”
“Don’t call it an incident like it’s a scandal.”
“It felt like one.”
“The internet literally lost its mind.”
“You did too.”
You sighed softly.
“Well how was I supposed to react…”
“Hm?”
“You earlier were…”
You stopped yourself.
Yoongi waited.
And somehow that was worse than if he pushed you.
Because he just quietly stared at you, making you even more nervous.
“What?” he asked again softly.
“…hot.”
Yoongi immediately tried to hold back a smile.
“Oh?”
“Don’t get too confident yet.”
“But you called me hot.”
“You are hot.”
He finally let out a small laugh.
“Wow.”
“You’re not fair.”
“Why?”
“You know exactly what your post-concert face does to people.”
“What does it do?”
“Yoongi.”
“Answer first.”
You covered your face again.
Which only amused him more.
“Aigoo…”
“Stop laughing.”
“You’re so cute when you’re embarrassed.”
“And you’re so evil when you miss me.”
Yoongi went quiet for a moment.
Then with a lower, softer voice—
“I really do miss you badly right now.”
Your heart instantly dropped. The way he said things like that was always dangerous. Not excessive. Not dramatic. But because his tone stayed calm, it somehow felt more real.
“When are you coming home?” you asked softly.
“Still a few more weeks.”
You instantly pouted.
“That’s too long.”
“Hm.”
“I hate long distance.”
“Me too.”
Yoongi slowly rubbed his face before looking at you again.
“That’s why when I get home later, don’t complain.”
“Why do I suddenly feel nervous?”
“You’re the one who called me hot earlier.”
“I REGRET SAYING THAT.”
He laughed again.
“You can’t take it back.”
“Yes I can.”
“No you can’t.”
“You’re annoying.”
“But you miss me.”
You stayed quiet. Because he was right. And Yoongi knew you too well to the point where he could already see the answer before you even said it.
He leaned back again while staring at the screen for a few seconds. Then casually said,
“After the tour, I probably won’t let go of you.”
Your heart dropped.
“Yoongi…”
“Hm?”
“Don’t say things like that while looking at me like that.”
“Like what?”
“LIKE THAT.”
He laughed softly.
“I’m just saying I miss you.”
“The way you say it is the problem.”
“What if I was at the apartment right now?”
You instantly went completely silent. Yoongi saw your reaction and his smile became even thinner.
“Hmm.”
“Don’t hmm.”
“I’m just imagining it.”
“You’re doing this on purpose.”
“A little.”
“Yoongi…”
“I’d probably pull you onto the sofa already.”
Your breath instantly caught.
“And then you’d say you’re tired.”
“I am tired.”
“But you’d still come over to me.”
You genuinely couldn’t handle him once he started talking in that low voice. Especially now that his face already looked sleepy and soft. The deadliest combination.
“And then?” you asked quietly without realizing it.
Yoongi’s eyes immediately lifted slightly.
“Oh, so you want to keep listening.”
“Actually, never mind.”
“No. You asked.”
You bit your lip slightly. And Yoongi saw it. Of course he saw it.
“So dangerous,” he muttered softly.
“What?”
“The way you look when you’re embarrassed.”
You instantly turned your face away. Which only made him smile even more fondly.
“Come home soon okay,” you finally said quietly.
Yoongi’s expression instantly softened again.
“Hm.”
“I miss you.”
“I miss you more.”
“Overconfident.”
“I’ll prove it later.”
. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.
The time difference started becoming more and more annoying once BTS began touring in America.
In Seoul it was already evening while the sun there had only just risen. Sometimes you had just finished work while Yoongi was still at rehearsal. Sometimes you woke up in the morning to dozens of random texts from him sent at three in the morning local time because he couldn’t sleep again.
And the longer the tour went on, the more the longing started to settle in too.
Not the dramatic kind of longing that makes you cry every night. But the kind that appears in small things.
Like when you automatically took out two glasses from the cabinet before realizing you were living alone in the apartment right now. Or when you found Yoongi’s black hoodie still hanging over the living room chair and instinctively hugged it for a second because it still carried traces of his familiar perfume and laundry scent.
Or when you came home exhausted from work and realized there was no Yoongi sprawled across the sofa pretending to sleep just so you would approach him first.
That night you were sitting at the apartment work desk while staring at packaging design files that hadn’t gotten anywhere for hours. The desk lamp glowed brightly while the rest of the apartment stayed dim and quiet. Light rain fell outside the window, making the atmosphere feel calmer and lonelier at the same time.
You had just changed the song on Spotify when your phone vibrated.
Incoming video call:
Yoongi.
A smile instantly appeared on your face without realizing it.
You hadn’t even pressed accept yet, but half your exhaustion was already gone.
The moment the call connected, the screen immediately showed a shaky camera moving everywhere. At first there was only a bright sky and the sound of people passing by. Then a few seconds later Yoongi’s face appeared.
And seriously.
He looked way too relaxed for someone who was supposed to be world famous.
A black cap pulled low. An oversized gray hoodie. His mask was hanging under his chin because he was probably too lazy to talk with it covering his face. Black hair sticking out slightly from under the cap and moving with the wind.
He walked slowly while holding his phone low, like he was genuinely just some ordinary person wandering around an evening market.
Even though he was Min Yoongi.
That was exactly what stressed you out.
“You’re outside?” you asked while automatically sitting up straighter.
“Hm.”
Yoongi’s answers were always short when he was relaxed. His voice sounded heavier from tour exhaustion, but there was a lighter tone that rarely appeared whenever he was genuinely enjoying himself.
The camera shifted slightly, showing small stores around him. Everything was full of color. Neon hanging fabrics, hand-painted ceramics, tiny lights, and faint street music in the distance.
You immediately understood why he liked that place.
Because it felt alive.
And because it was exactly the kind of place that would make you stop at every shop just to stare at random cute things.
“You went out alone?” you asked again.
“Hoseok and Jungkook are eating. I got bored at the hotel.”
His answer sounded so casual that you had to stop yourself from sighing loudly.
Yoongi was always like this.
Sometimes he still forgot who he was now.
Not because he was arrogant or intentionally dismissing his own popularity. Actually the opposite. Sometimes he genuinely still thought he could casually walk around without attracting too much attention, especially outside Korea.
Even now?
Even people who didn’t follow BTS would probably still recognize his face.
And you knew perfectly well the other members often said the same thing—Yoongi was sometimes way too relaxed about himself.
“Are you even being careful?” you asked while lowering your laptop volume.
“I’m wearing a cap.”
You stared at the screen flatly.
“That’s not a disguise.”
“I’m also wearing a hoodie.”
“Wow. Incredible.”
Yoongi chuckled softly.
His laugh mixed faintly with footsteps and market noise, but it was still enough to make the corner of your lips lift too.
Even so, you kept paying attention to the surroundings behind the camera. People passed by without caring, but there was still a small nervous feeling sitting in your chest.
Not because you didn’t trust him to take care of himself.
But because you knew what the world was like now. One person realizes that’s Min Yoongi from BTS, and five minutes later there could already be a crowd.
And the funny thing was, Yoongi himself still looked genuinely confused whenever that happened.
“You seriously…” you muttered while leaning back in your chair, “still think you guys are nobodies sometimes huh?”
Yoongi stayed quiet for a second before finally smiling faintly.
“Sometimes I forget.”
“Exactly.”
“I’m just taking a short walk.”
“You say ‘just taking a short walk’ like you’re some guy running the neighborhood photocopy shop.”
He laughed more clearly this time.
And honestly, you liked hearing him laugh like that.
Lately the tour schedule has been too exhausting. His face often looked tired. So every time Yoongi sounded genuinely relaxed and comfortable, you felt relieved too.
The camera moved again, showing rows of tiny colorful stores. Neon-painted Mexico skulls, brightly embroidered fabrics, flower mugs, and strange ornaments that somehow still looked artistic.
“You’d love places like this,” he suddenly said.
And he was right.
Your eyes were instantly drawn to all the colors.
You have always loved bright things. Random tiny objects that were cute and overly crowded-looking. Even your apartment had colorful decorations. Yoongi often mocked for having “too many colors.”
“I bought something for you,” he added casually, as if that sentence alone didn’t instantly warm your heart.
You automatically turned quickly toward the screen.
“Hah?”
Yoongi looked satisfied seeing your reaction.
He was always like that. Sometimes purposely saying things suddenly just to watch your shocked expression.
“I kept seeing it and thinking about you.”
And god.
No matter how simple the sentence was, it still always made your chest soften.
Because Yoongi wasn’t the type to openly act romantic. Which was exactly why small things like “I saw this and thought of you” felt far more special.
You immediately started guessing excitedly.
Maybe a cute plate.
Maybe embroidered fabric.
Maybe a long brightly-colored dress Yoongi himself would never touch but would still choose because “this is so you.”
The more you imagined it, the more curious you became.
Especially because the way Yoongi kept holding back his smile clearly showed he was enjoying this.
“Come on, show me,” you whined.
“No.”
“Yoongi.”
“You’ll laugh.”
“It’s fine.”
He finally stopped walking in front of one of the stores. The camera lowered slightly toward shelves full of colorful ornaments.
Then he picked something up.
At first you didn’t realize what it was.
Until he lifted it closer to the camera.
“…is that a skull?”
Yoongi instantly grinned faintly.
“Yeah.”
You stared at the screen for several seconds with a blank expression.
Out of everything in Mexico…
Your boyfriend chose a skull.
But of course it wasn’t just any skull.
It was a brightly painted Día de los Muertos ceramic skull. Pink flowers, blue lines, neon yellow, tiny bright green details. It looked more cute than scary.
Still—
“Why a skull…”
“But the colors are cute.”
“You’re seriously weird.”
Yoongi actually looked proud of his choice.
He slowly rotated the skull toward the camera like he was showing off expensive artwork.
And the longer you looked at it, the more it really did feel… very you.
Crowded colors.
Weird.
Slightly chaotic.
“You like it, right?”
You tried holding back your smile.
Because honestly, this really was Min Yoongi-style romance.
Not flowers.
Not stuffed dolls.
Not expensive jewelry.
But a random colorful skull he saw at a market and immediately thought of you.
And somehow that made your heart ache from affection.
“You know normal people buy flowers for their girlfriends.”
“I’m different.”
“Clearly.”
“You don’t like it?”
You finally laughed softly while leaning your head back against the chair.
“I do…”
“Exactly.”
“But you’re still weird.”
Yoongi laughed in satisfaction again.
Behind him, the shop lights had started turning on because evening was approaching there. The bright colors around him looked warmer now. And in the middle of that crowded market, Yoongi stood there holding his ugly-cute little skull proudly.
Strangely enough…
That sight only made you miss him more.
Because you could clearly imagine him casually walking from store to store, then stopping the second he saw that thing and thinking:
“This would definitely be something Y/N likes.”
And now you really wished you were there with him.
Can I request a yoongiXreader oneshot (established relationship, yoongi is a chef and reader is an author) where reader is going through a depressive slump/episode and she handles it the way she's known best, by avoiding people and shutting everyone out. But yoongi helps her fight through it and helps her work towards being better. Angsty at the beginning but very fluffy towards the end. I don't really know how to describe what I mean but you can write however long or change up some details if you'd like.
I got you! Love the details in this request !!! Tysm for your submission 🤍
We must live. Yoongi sfw
The house is quiet again. Drapes drawn, dishes in the sink… the couch barely looks lived in. Yoongi flicks the lights on, sheds his shoes and peels out of whatever work clothes smelled like the back room at work. He’s shoving everything in the wash when he feels Tang brush against his ankles.
“Tangy,” he addresses, bending even if he was sore to pat him and scratch behind his ears. “Did nobody feed you today? Why are you meowing at me, huh?”
He notices the food and water empty. It’s like he lived alone around here; what has gotten into you lately? Despite his exhaustion, Yoongi makes sure Tang is fed and trudges upstairs to your shared bedroom. The makeshift sign the two of you had come up with hangs on the door.
Working, it says on the side facing out. He knocks anyway. Judging by the state of the house you haven’t left your bed.
“Baby,” he says through the door. “Im home.”
“Yeah,” you say; he can hear how exhausted you are.
“… can I come in?” He asks. “I know you’re working, but Ive gotta shower and…”
“I know, come in.”
He hesitantly opens the door, peeking his head in. All of the lights were off. You were in bed, papers scattered on the comforter, laptop open on the lowest brightness setting.
“.. you okay?” He asks, bewildered. “Did you eat today?”
“No, I forgot,” you sigh, repeatedly hitting backspace. “I want to finish this….”
He frowns, not happy with the state of you. He knew you had… moments like this, but it was only getting worse. At least you had gotten out of bed at the start of the week. He wordlessly walks by you, opening the door to the bathroom so he could strip and shower off.
You blink tiredly, frustrated. This chapter had you stumped. You’ve tried every writing method in the book and it was just… a lost cause. Getting from point A to point B felt impossible.
You could skip this chapter, sure, but then you would have to come back to it. You squint as Yoongi comes out of the bathroom and turns all of the lights on.
“Yoongi,” you complain, rubbing your eyes.
“What, Youve gotta get up. It’s been twelve hours.” He scolds. It ate at him to show tough love right now, but it was all he knew how to do. “Come on. Put that down. Take a break.”
“What do you think I’ve been doing?” You defend yourself, raising your voice. “I haven’t written much of anything because of this stupid writers block.”
“Maybe you’ve got writers block because I haven’t seen you eat anything or sit up since Wednesday.” He continues. “I know you don’t like to hear it but you’re slipping again.”
“Can you just leave me alone?” You snap at him when he comes to stack all of your notes up and close your computer. “I don’t need to be babied!”
Yoongi freezes, his gaze intense. Fine. Okay, take it out on him. “I just worked for ten hours. The last thing I want to do is come home and take care of you.” He states coldly. “You let tang starve all day. There are dishes in the sink you haven’t cleaned all week— when was the last time you brushed your teeth?”
“I don’t- yoongi I dont care. Can you just fuck off?” You retort, regretting it as soon as it reaches your lips. “Okay? I know what I’m doing.”
“Yeah. You know what, I think we both need that right now.” He returns dryly, throwing a shirt on and shutting all the lights off as he storms out down the stairs.
A burning sensation creeps over your chest when it starts to get tight. Why did you just do that to him? Your eyes burn. You blink away tears and sit up.
It takes several minutes for you to compose yourself before you go down to apologize. Yoongi has washed everything and has already started a meal. You approach him slowly, starting off with a hug.
He tenses up, but puts an arm around you regardless.
“Im sorry,” you manage, upset with yourself.
“It happens.” He replies gently. “Are you hungry?”
You nod, pressing closer to him. He kisses your forehead and lazily trails his hand up and down your spine.
“I should have been more considerate. You just worry me.” He admits, leading you to the table with a plate of what he had made. He kneels by your chair when you sit. “Trust me, I know what this feels like. You’re not alone. I can help you, you’ve just gotta let me in.”
“I know,” you frown, still upset. “I know it’s just hard.”
He sighs; talking about things was never his specialty. “You’ve gotta keep going, though. Don’t you remember what we agreed to do?”
“… we cant die so we must live?”
He nods slowly. “We cant die so we have to live.” He stands then, giving you one more kiss. “Im going to start a bath for you. You eat, take as long as you need. I love you.”
Aah I love your writing so much! Could we get a yoongi drabble/oneshot where reader is extra clingy to yoongi? Idk how to explain but like clingy and very affectionate reader and yoongi just lets her do anything but is concerned the reader might be sad at first and then he's amused.
howd you know I love this troupe? 🤨
touch starved. Yoongi sfw.
Yoongi is preoccupied, basking in the light of an open window; his hands are busy with a tangerine. Judging by the peel next to him he’s already been through one.
A sensation akin to cuteness aggression falls over you. You couldn’t help yourself- he just looked so comfy. So you act on your impulses.
Silently you come over to mess with him. At first its a kiss to the temple, he doesnt think twice about that. Then you start messing with the longer pieces of hair sticking out from under his cap. He leans his head away from your fingers, shy about being touched.
So you take it a bit further, round the chair he was in and move his hands so you can straddle his lap and hug him.
“Wha- what. What?” He asks at first, not used to you coming over and just smothering him in a hug. He nearly drops his orange when you climb up on his seat and throw your arms around him. His cheek is smushed against your chest as he makes a face. “What are you doing?” He asks again. You try not to laugh, pressing your face to the crook of his neck once you settle down.
He misinterprets the gesture as sadness.
Awkwardly, he puts one arm around you to rub your back, the other still fumbling with his snack. He deftly pulls a section from the whole and offers it to you. “Honey.” He says “are you upset? This is so weird…” he mutters, confused but not necessarily against it. “Look at me, please?”
You cant take it anymore— he feels you starting to snicker and he take a deep breath. “You worried me,” yoongi complains, exhasperated; he realizes now you’re playing around.
“What, I cant hold my boyfriend?!” You ask— popping your head up. He tries offering you a slice again and you take it this time. “You looked really cute I just wanted to cuddle.”
“You didn’t say anything,” he points out, “I thought you were crying,”
“Wowwww…”
“What? I- I don’t… you confuse me.”
“Im just loving you,” you nuzzle him and his shoulders tense.
“I can see that.” The slightest hint of his gummy smile shows. He wouldnt admit it but he does like this; it wasnt every day he felt comfortable enough to hold you. Slowly his body returns back to its relaxed state. In time he presses a kiss to your forehead right between your eyebrows.
“Not so bad is it?” You ask, relaxed against his body.
“No.” He replies, focused once more. “Im starting to anticipate it. Comes with having a velcro girlfriend.”
“Velcro girlfriend?” You repeat, amused by the term.
“Yeah,” he confirms, finishing off his tangerine. “You are stuck to me everywhere I go. — I would touch you back but my fingers are sticky. Let me get up to wash my hands.”
“Nooooo,” you whine. “I just got comfortable.”
“Honey,” he grins, amused by your antics. “Let go of me- see this what I mean by velcro. Im about to carry you to the sink.”
“No!”
“I will be right back- Right back! What do you want from me, huh?”
cowlick a min yoongi one-shot
pairing: idol!min yoongi x wife!f!reader
genre: pwp
rating: explicit content MDNI!!!
summary: you're the reason why your husband’s hair is a mess for the 'hooligan' mv.
warnings/tags: yoongi pov, quickie in a trailer, riding, unprotected sex, they're married and reader wants to get pregnant, his boys make fun of him lol
wc: 1.7k
notes: i say im burnt out from writing smut and then i go and write this. it's just bc yoongi makes me so insane 😩 this was inspired by a convo between myself and aqua (contents of which may or may not be based on real life events) so im dedicating this to her 🫶💜 thank u for betaing last minute!!
Yoongi’s supposed to be on set. But instead he’s sweating under his leather outfit with you spread out on his lap, bouncing on his cock.
It starts off with him just going to his trailer because he forgot his lucky bracelet (the one you gave him on his birthday the first year you celebrated together). The door almost hits him on the ass by the time you jump him, and he barely has time to be surprised before you grab his face and pull him down.
“How’d you sneak in here?” he chuckles between breathless kisses, hands going to your waist like clockwork.
“I’m your wife. Duh,” you snap, fingers ensnaring the heavy chains around his neck.
“I start filming in five minutes.”
“I’ll be quick.” He never argues with you. He lets you push him down on the couch, straddle him, kiss and lick at the base of his neck, knowing you don’t need the reminder not to make marks unless you want a hit put on you by his stylist, and you’re always careful not to touch his face for that same reason. It takes him a second to realize you’re wearing a skirt. He opens his mouth to scold you for coming to see him in clothes like that since it’s so cold out but then you reach under to dip into your bare, sopping pussy. Ah. Easy access. You came with a plan.
In all the years you’ve been together, it’s never taken much for you to get him hard. You walk into a room and bam - he has to adjust himself. And when you touch him - there goes his thoughts for a few minutes. It’s always been like this, and he knows it’ll never change. So when you figure out how to get into his boxers without pushing down too much leather, he’s already stiff and leaking at the tip.
You smear down his precum and he bites his lip when you grab his cock with the fingers you had between your legs, glistening with your slick, making him nice and wet for you.
“Damn, baby. Were you playing with yourself while you waited for me?”
“Mhmm,” you nod, whimpering as you finally let him penetrate your walls. You’re so wet and warm and tight when you sink down on him that he has to hold in a breath to keep himself together. But then he reminds himself that this is a quickie. He knows you could stay here and ride him until his balls are empty, but, unfortunately, he doesn’t have that kind of time. His phone - that he shouldn’t even have on him in the first place (he does though, just for you) - has been vibrating in his pocket for the past few minutes, but the more he’s distracted, the longer it’ll take him to make you both come, so he ignores it.
Your hands grip his shoulders as you wiggle your hips to adjust to his girth that he finds so fucking cute every single time, but he can hardly feel your touch through the thick leather of his jacket. He curses, because his fingerless gloves are preventing him from fully touching the skin on your hip, so he grips you hard enough to bruise. Usually, he’d let you bounce and ride him until you came on him and got too tired to carry on, but to speed things up, he bucks up into you, watching your parted lips spill out moans as he grinds against your spot, grunting as it makes you squeeze him and suck him deeper in. He kisses you, swallowing your sweet sounds, and his balls tighten when your fingers dig into the side of his head, tightly fisting his hair. Telltale sign that you’re close. You must've really worked yourself up while you were waiting for him.
“Come for me,” he whispers against your lips, fingers dropping and finding your clit to press and rub you over the edge. You loudly cry out his name, pulling at his hair so his head tips to the side as he continues fucking up into you and kissing the underside of your jaw. “That’s it, baby. Fuck, you’re squeezing me so good.”
“Come inside," you warble, cheek lolling against his temple, fingers still entangled in his hair, cunt clenching him through your aftershocks.
“Mm.” Eyebrows pinched, his fingers return to flex on your hip, cock twitching at the mere thought of getting to fill you up. “Remember to take your pill.”
You whine, indignant. He sighs, shakes his head. You make that sound when he doesn’t give you what you want.
“I’ll give you a baby when we come back from tour, ‘kay?”
You whine again, louder and borderline disobedient, slamming down on him like it tells him something. Sucking in a hiss because damn that felt good, he slaps your ass and massages out the sting, a silent warning to stop being a brat. This is one thing he’s not going to let you win an argument about.
“Hey, that was the deal, right? I’m not leaving you at home alone and pregnant while I fly around the world for eight months.”
“Yeah, but by the time you’d get back, you’d have a baby. You wouldn’t have to deal with all my pregnancy bullshit,” you try to reason, hips still rolling, eyes glassy and pout pathetic. He frowns. You’ve both had this conversation multiple times before, but that’s the first time you’ve made this point. He doesn’t fucking like it.
Yoongi tugs down on your waist to get you to stop, pelvises pressed together, cock deep inside you. But you know better than to move.
“Look at me.” You refuse, and the leather of his fingerless gloves rubs your cheeks as he grabs them. “I want to deal with all your pregnancy bullshit. I married you, remember? I signed up to put up with all your bullshit for the rest of my life and I don’t plan on missing out on any of it.”
His eyes dart between both of yours, making sure what he said is sticking with you, and when you lean in to sloppily kiss him, he knows the message got through.
“Now, c’mon. You said you were gonna be quick.”
You sit up straighter, and you’re clearly weakened from your orgasm but you put in effort that he’ll worship you for later to bring him to his own peak. Slick sounds of your pussy and slams of your hips fill the trailer, and within seconds of you squeezing him, sucking on his earlobe, and toying with his chains, he’s muttering an incoherent string of curses and spilling deep inside you. His balls just keep pulsing and holyyy shit, he really could get you pregnant right now. (He would love nothing more, but later he’ll text you another reminder to take your pill).
“I love you so fucking much,” he pants into your neck, wishing he had the time to leave his mark. “Even though you’re gonna get me in so much fucking trouble.”
“Love you, too. Don’t forget you married trouble,” You grin, waggling his ring on your finger in his facr, and his hips jerk as you lift off of him. He tips his chin up when you start to lean in for another kiss but your mouth drops and your eyes go wide.
“Oh, fuck, your hair-“ You reach out to try and fix it, but just as you do, a loud pounding on the trailer door startles the both of you.
“Shit, gotta go,” Yoongi mutters, quickly stuffing himself back in this godforsaken leather as his manager starts yelling for him to come out. You try your best to smooth down his hair, but when you keep muttering curses under your breath, he knows it’s not working.
“It’s fine. I’ll see you later.” He kisses you, lingers a second longer than he has time for, and leaves you sitting on the couch, skirt halfway up your waist, fingers playing with his cum dripping out. Fuck, you’re gonna be the death of him. He needs to shoot this music video first.
Yoongi’s manager chews him all the way out onto the set, and his stylist gives him the evilest eye when she catches sight of his hair. He just scurries towards his band because his manager already said there’s no time to fix it.
“Where were you?” Namjoon exclaims as Yoongi walks towards the center of the platform. He shrugs, like he’s not still perspiring and his dick isn’t still hard. Luckily, his leather pants are bulky enough to hide it.
“I had to grab something.”
“Look at his hair! That means his honey came to visit,” Hobi says, waggling his brows. Yoongi shoots him daggers.
“Shut up.”
The maknaes burst into raucous laughter and Taehyung and Jimin mime grabbing at each other, making overexaggerated kissing noises and mimicking the way you cry out Yoongi’s name. Yoongi turns his back on them to go to his spot, just missing Jeongguk thrusting in the air like he’s mid-Baepsae.
“You brought this on yourself,” Namjoon mutters, stepping up next to him, fixing his gloves. Yoongi pretends not to hear. “It’s been, what, four years? And y’all still act like newlyweds.”
“We’re making up for the time we missed while I was in the military.”
Namjoon’s face pulls back, disgusted. “Okay, well, can you not do that on our schedule?”
“Sorry, leader-nim,” Yoongi fake apologizes, pressing his hands together, smirk lopsided and shit-eating. “Maybe if you let her come on tour, she wouldn’t find any downtime I have now to, yknow, make up.”
Namjoon sighs, long and distressed. Yoongi only feels a little bad. You’re his wife. He needs you by his side, and not just to have little quickies whenever there’s minutes to spare. He was enough of a wreck being away from you during his service. He doesn’t want that to happen because of work.
“Fine. I’ll see what I can do.”
Yoongi smiles, lighting up inside and out. “Thanks, bro. You’re the best.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Namjoon waves him off, just in time for the director to call for action.
He doesn’t know how crazy his hair looks until they play the footage back to check for mistakes and potential position adjustments. His band members tease him, but it makes him smile that it’s there because you need to grab onto his hair when he makes you come. No one outside of this set will ever know his cowlick is thanks to his wife, and that makes him like it even more.
He still left his damn bracelet.
.
.
.
thank you for reading!!! ahhhh i cant believe this happened lmao pls let me know what you think with comments and reblogs!! 💜
