#myg. hair color : mint | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

whatifyoulivelikethat · 3 years

Text

tuxedo, m | myg

pairing(s): yoongi x reader, mentions of previous jungkook x reader

summary: Your cat turns into a man. No, not, your cat was always a man and turned back into a man. Your actual cat turns into an actual man and neither you or your cat (man? cat-man?) have any idea why he's human now. Also, he's naked, so that’s a problem. Also, he’s kind of attractive. Yikes.

warnings: rated M (18+) for language, mentions of the coronavirus pandemic; possibly full-on crack; Yoongi still thinks he’s a cat; mentions of smut (fem reader, m-receiving oral (choking on a dick, but not in a sexy way), doggy, spanking, wall-fucking, unintentional??? voyeurism); non-idol!AU - cat!Yoongi x human!reader; ft slightly cocky Jeon Jungkook and you being mad horny for him, what’s new; breaking of the fourth wall; are YOU a furry? you decide

an anon asked for cat hybrid Yoongi, although instead this is some voodoo witch doctor shit, whoops yes, I do reference BT21, Bob Ross, the lady-pointing-to-the-cat-accusingly meme, list goes on... and there is a cameo of 2021 Seasons Greetings Kim Taehyung and Park Jimin XD

Your lungs were being crushed.

You were bundled in your duvet, wrapped like a mint-colored burrito, on your back, head nestled comfortably in your memory foam pillow. Warm, cozy, snuggly. All things considered, a comfortable position. So comfortable that you were blessedly asleep for many hours until your lungs started getting crushed.

You cracked one eye open.

A giant tuxedo fluffball was causing this slow and painful death.

“Get off.”

You glared with slitted eyes, voice cracking from sleep. The fluffball did not move. Velvety, pointed black ears flicked back and forth. The little pink nostrils flared a bit, breathing evenly and contentedly. At least one of you was. You grunted in irritation. The minty-green eyes opened, black slits for pupils.

“I’m going to die.”

Your cat meowed in your face.

“Shut the fuck up. Get off.”

He yawned.

You narrowed your eyes and lips into lines. Stared at your insufferable, not-so-subtle tuxedo cat that was killing his owner. How long had he and his seven-kilogram ass been sitting on your tits? Too long because your sternum was already aching. You rolled over and he gave you a disgruntled meow as he tumbled off. You pulled your arms out and gave him a soft scratch behind his ears before reaching around to his white belly and patting his chest. He started purring, rolling to his side, white sock-like paws sticking up.

“Ugh, my chest hurts, Shooks. You’re a dick.”

Your cat gave zero fucks.

You were still petting him. Sigh.

“I’m getting up,” you announced to no one except your cat.

You tugged yourself out of your comfy, mint-colored duvet and winced, rubbing your breastbone. Did you buy this bedding set because it reminded you of your cat’s eye color? Yes. Were you a crazy cat lady? Maybe. In your defense, you hadn’t meant to become a crazy cat lady. You were innocently walking on the street when the tuxedo-patterned cat started following you. A large cat with big minty eyes surrounded by black fur like black bangs. White snout and jaw, pink nose, and a raspy meow. The tuxedo pattern was pretty similar to an actual suit, with a white chest and black fur over its back and limbs. White, sock-like paws, on the bigger side. Cute pink toe beans too. At the time, he was skinny and dirty, no collar around his neck, but you could tell he was long-limbed. He had a cut on his right eye, caked with blood.

“You alright, little guy?”

The cat seemed to scoff at you disapprovingly, as if to say, do I seem like a little guy to you?

“I guess you’re not a little guy. You have an owner?”

The cat’s response was headbutting your calf.

You took him back to your apartment and then it was doomed.

Why was his name Shooks? Well, actually, your cat’s name was Shooky, and it was because you tried many names to get him to respond to you – including, but not limited to, “you little shit” – and he responded to none of them except Shooky. For some reason, Shooky made him turn his black-and-white face around and look at you.

Shooky it was.

The first encounter was cute, but after you had fed him and given him a few pats, you gave him a good, hard taste of reality. Shooky was very upset about getting a bath for the first time. There had been a lot of angry meowing, although thankfully he hadn’t swiped at you very much. As soon as you got mostly undressed and sat in the bath with him, he seemed to relent. Maybe it was because you closed the glass door and he couldn’t leave.

“Do you see how dirty you are? You need a bath.”

He gave you a disapproving meow.

“Look, I even bought pet shampoo and you’ll get treats after. Come on, you.”

He was very displeased.

In any case, Shooky was now your primary companion, a large, long-limbed, fluffy tuxedo cat, following you around as you brushed your teeth and made breakfast, his new black collar jingling with a tiny silver bell. Every morning, you handed him his dry food first – he chomped down immediately – and made yourself some breakfast as he ate. Somehow your life now revolved around him, spending time looking up the best cat food (without paying an arm and a leg, you weren’t a sugar momma), making sure he was brushed (his hair got everywhere), telling everyone you needed to get home because you couldn’t miss his dinnertime (if you were a second late opening the door, Shooky would start meowing very exaggeratedly, like he was dying, what a drama queen). Was he annoying? Yes. Was he the best cuddle buddy? Also, yes. Kind of like a boyfriend, but better, because Shooky didn’t talk back.

You arranged your small dishes on the table. Tofu. Eggs. Pickled squash. Just enough for one. You sat down, holding your bowl of steamed rice.

A tuxedo furball jumped onto the table, licking his chops.

“Look here, this isn’t for you. Shoo.”

He settled onto the tabletop and stared at you as you ate.

Sigh.

Live with a cat was pretty similar to life without one.

Except for that weird habit Shooky had of sitting on your bathroom rug when you got out of the shower, scaring the shit out of you the first time. You lived alone, so you didn’t really bother closing doors, but you considered changing that. But it was just a cat. Also, he walked in here of his own volition. Not your fault if his eyes were scarred.

Shooky was a normal cat, but also a weird cat.

He slept a lot. Normal. He bit his paws sometimes. Weird. You figured maybe it was his nails, so you learned to trim them and he seemed better about it, but sometimes when he was stressed, you would notice fur missing from his little white socks. A lot of things could stress a cat. The internet taught you that. You brought him toys and played with him, but mostly he seemed to want you to sit down so he could plant himself in your lap. This make life rather difficult, so you decided it was time to invest in Netflix so you could at least use your time wisely.

This was for your cat, remember.

Yes, binging shows on Netflix was for your cat.

The weirdest thing was…

Shooky was always stressed when you invited a man into your home.

Maybe he didn’t like men. Something in his past, maybe? Could be. Come to think of it, did you even like men? That was a question for another day, but in any case, your cat always gave you this accusing stare when you brought a guy over, no matter how nice the guy was, even if the guy petted him very gently. Shooky never attacked them. He just glared at you like you had betrayed him somehow. How could that be?

What a needy drama queen.

You figured, eh, it didn’t really matter. He wasn’t trying to sabotage your chances of finding true love and all that stuff.

Who are we kidding?

You’d settle for a simple good dicking.

Well, there was that one time.

That time you were in the middle of giving a guy a blowjob. It was going great. You were naked, he was naked, he had a tattooed arm – hot as fuck – and he was very vocally enjoying your tongue technology. Hey, you didn’t have many talents, but you had that going for you. Even if a guy was mildly apprehensive about banging you, once you got your mouth on his dick, it was game over. You mentally patted yourself on the back for doing such a good job.

Positive reinforcement, right?

Annnnnnnd then…

Your cat jumped onto your back and made you choke on his dick.

“Urk!”

“Oh, fu–”

All seven kilos right between your shoulder blades. Oof.

“Are you okay?” He was half-worried, half-laughing, and Shooky was climbing up your back, pressing onto your neck, one paw on the nape, trying to murder you by dick suffocation. It took both of you to lift you off the dick – sad – and Shooky left a few scratches on your neck, as if to communicate his distaste of your infidelity. The guy was really nice about it. Actually, he found it hilarious. You scowled at Shooky and he gave you that deadpan stare that all cats seemed to have. The rest of the night was hot and heavy like you wanted and you even eventually got to complete said blowjob, which brightened your spirits.

It was a little disorienting that your cat was watching you from his cat tree the entire time.

Creep.

Honestly, you would have kept dating that guy if he didn’t move to a different city. Sigh.

Eventually, you stopped bringing men over.

One, because Shooky. Two, because worldwide pandemic.

Sigh.

The night that changed everything was ordinary.

Too ordinary.

You were passed out on the couch, halfway into season six of American Horror Story, somewhat peeved because you wanted to watch the other seasons, but geez, season five had such a poor story and hard focus on gore that it slightly turned you off. That it was a lot, even for you. Season six was better, but slow. The first four seasons had really hooked you and the idea of them all being connected? Nutty. You wanted to watch all of it.

Idea of season five? Awesome.

Lady Gaga? Yeah, why not, you’d be seduced.

Execution? Eh… could be better.

Shooky hadn’t watched any of it. He just slept in your lap.

Subtitles really helped you out here. You didn’t understand how the English-speaking audience could hear the whispering parts, but maybe that was because your English was garbage. You could read better than listen.

At the moment, you weren’t reading shit.

You were half-tucked in a fuzzy black blanket with a tuxedo cat pattern. Did you see the tuxedo cat pattern and buy it immediately? Yes. Were you a crazy cat lady? Maybe. In any case, your head was cocked at an awkward angle on the couch cushion and your mouth was open, snoring away. Attractive. You were wearing mint-colored, striped pajamas, one arm hanging off the couch and the other on Shooky’s furry butt, because you had been petting him.

Netflix was doing that annoying thing where it was asking you if you were still watching or not.

You couldn’t respond.

Shooky was awake.

Your cat was staring at your laptop on your coffee table. It was open. An HDMI cable connected it to your television. Not a clean setup, but an effective one. Again, you lived alone. Who was going to judge you? Your tuxedo cat?

Pfft.

Your cat was awake.

He got off your lap and hopped to the coffee table, peering at your laptop. Then he did what any sensible cat would do.

He walked all over your keyboard.

Circling around and around, smashing all the buttons with his cute pink toe beans, looking for a comfortable spot before settling down and planting his fluffy body on top of it. Windows closed, tabs appeared, the volume got muted, your display settings got fucked, the usual.

The unusual part was that your cat was looking at the screen.

Your internet browser was open.

A video was playing on a mysterious website.

A handsome young man with a boxy smile was wearing a sienna floral dress shirt and sunglasses, oddly paired with flared violet pants. He was standing next to another young man with an angelic face who, for some reason, was wearing a pastel floral handkerchief around on his head and a white-and-navy tracksuit with black, red, and green stripes. They were standing in some weird set with a black tablecloth covered round table and a lavender crystal ball, crystal-like beaded curtains glinting in strangely colorful lighting.

There was no volume.

Your cat tilted his head at the screen, curious.

The man with the boxy smile was speaking excitedly, gesturing to the angelic-looking man who seemed to be in awe. A retro, old school graphic popped up, flowers surrounding a blocky orange and green serif font, mildly tacky but somehow endearing in its own way.

COULD WISHES REALLY BE GRANTED?

Your cat tilted his head the other way.

Your cat didn’t know Korean.

… Right?

Well, you did mostly speak to him in Korean. Maybe he was secretly fluent. He definitely knew, don’t fucking do that, because you would witness him doing the very thing you told him not to do right after you said it. Bastard. But you couldn’t bear witness to this now. You were knocked out on the couch.

Zzz.

Boxy-smile guy placed his fingers elegantly on his forehead, mock dismay on his features, acting as if he couldn’t believe the viewer’s skepticism. Angel-looking guy placed his hands in prayer position, the text now reading, I won’t believe you unless you prove it! Boxy-smile guy flourished to the camera, showing off his brilliant pearly-white smile, mouthing words unheard. Text appeared once more.

Make a wish, any wish!

Your cat closed his eyes and appeared to be asleep.

The video turned black and disappeared into purple sparkles.

Your internet browser unexpectedly closed.

You woke up with a painful stitch in your neck and Shooky nowhere to be found.

“Fuck…”

You tried to get up, but underestimated the cramp in your back and fell onto the hardwood floor.

“Fuck!”

You blamed the pandemic for fucking up your sleep schedule. Also, getting old. Fuck getting old and being an adult. Time didn’t stop just because you didn’t go to work. Well, not true. You did go to work; your work was just different now. You were YouTube video editor, which meant you were mostly edited video game montages now instead of travel vlogs. The work was slower now. People were getting discouraged, taking breaks, because, you know.

Pandemic.

Sigh.

Anyway, not the point. You were grateful that your work was mostly internet and computer-based. Not everyone was so lucky. You were also grateful that you didn’t work in an industry that was too negatively affected by the pandemic. It had started off as a hobby, but then the creators you were helping unexpectedly blew up, needing your help more and more. You fell into it by accident, but that’s how life was. Happy little accidents. You couldn’t complain. As long as you had some income to feed your cat and you, that was enough.

Speaking of cat.

“Shooky?”

No meow.

Huh.

He normally would meow or trot over to you when called. He was weirdly affectionate like that.

You were still on the floor, on hands and knees, crick in your neck and back aching. Ah yes, age was just a number until your back pain flared up due to repeated nights of unintentionally falling asleep on the couch. Lovely. You stretched out your back with a groan and yawned, cracking your neck.

“FUCK!”

That hurt. Ugh, you really needed to stop sleeping on the sofa. You untangled yourself from your blanket and headed to the bathroom, rubbing your neck. You still didn’t see your fluffy, seven-kilogram, kind-of-an-ass tuxedo cat, but whatever. He had to be in the apartment. He couldn’t exactly leave. He was a cat. What was he going to do, grow legs and opposable thumbs?

Pfft.

You shoved your toothpaste-covered toothbrush in your mouth and began brushing your teeth. You hummed, trying to remember if you had any deadlines. Eh, they were on your Google calendar. You would check it after washing up. You spat and brushed for a few more minutes, thinking about nothing. This was nice. Sometimes it was nice to think about nothing. No major problems to address, simply a chill and routine morning.

Seemed sufficient.

You reached over to the spit cup and put some lukewarm water in it before taking your toothbrush out and sipping some water to gargle the minty suds out.

You heard a deep, raspy voice call your name.

“Hmm?”

You looked in the mirror.

Wait.

Your mouth was full of dirty toothpaste water, cheeks puffed out.

The voice called your name again, quietly.

Nervously.

Your eyes widened, staring into the mirror in shock.

A pale man was standing behind you, wearing your mint-colored duvet over his shoulders. Messy black hair to his rounded cheeks, dark brown cat-like eyes, small pink pout. His nose was a little red, as if he was cold. There was a black choker on his neck, with a silver bell. He was taller than you, and he looked very confused.

Also.

Pointed, velvety black ears on top of his head, white tufts of fur sticking out, flicking back and forth.

You spat all over your mirror in shock.

“Urk–!”

The man jerked back as you threw your head into the sink, hastily taking another cupful of water to rinse out your mouth because, WHAT THE FUCK WAS GOING ON? Why was there a man in your apartment? With fucking cat ears? That moved? What kind of kinky shit was that? Were you dreaming? What the fuck?! You grabbed the hand towel from its hook and furiously wiped the dirty water off your mirror, completely convinced you were having sensory and auditory hallucinations. Did you drink last night? Accidentally buy groceries laced with LSD? Snorted three kilos of cocaine off a hooker? Who the fuck knows, but there was no fucking way that you let some fucking man in your home, because, one, pandemic and, two, Shooky–

You froze.

The pale man with black hair was still there, standing in the doorway of your bathroom, looking slightly disgusted, but also scared.

He said your name again. A question, almost like a raspy meow.

It was…

Familiar?

You violently wiped your bathroom mirror some more, nearly cracking the glass.

The man was still there, wearing your mint-colored duvet.

Slowly, slowly, you turned around to face this man, your neck cracking loudly, sending searing pain up the back of your head and reminding you that, nope, this is not a dream, and if it was, it was a very shitty dream because at least in a dream you shouldn’t actually feel pain. You looked up at this man, at his fluffy black bangs shading his dark attentive eyes and pale face, chewing on his lip, clutching your duvet around his body like a giant mint cloak.

The cat ears on his head twitched.

“Uh…”

You blinked at him, watching the ears.

“Do… I know you?”

He gave you an eerily recognizable deadpan stare. “I think you do.”

No way.

What?

No.

This wasn’t possible.

You’re drunk, high, or in purgatory.

(You did have sex before marriage.)

“S… Shooky?” you croaked.

The man took a deep breath and shook his head.

“Actually, my name is Min Yoongi.”

You blinked at him. “What? You have a name?”

He shrugged. “Yeah, I guess.”

Relief washed over you. “What do you mean, you guess? That means you’re a human being! With a birth certificate! Thank God, I thought you were my fucking cat for some reason, haha, that’s so fucking ridiculous–!” For some reason, the idea of a random stranger being in your home was much more comfortable to you than you damn cat becoming a human being, because for a hot second, you thought… but no, no, that’s stupid. “Speaking of ridiculous, these ears are crazy dude, they look almost real–”

You reached up and yanked on one of the velvety ears.

“Ow, what the fuck!”

Oh.

Oh my God.

OhmyfuckingGodthey’reattachedtohishead.

“What the FUCK?” you bellowed and a large pale hand shot out of the duvet to clamp one of his cat ears down, shrinking away from you.

“Stop yelling, please, I have sensitive hearing,” Yoongi winced, ticking his head, as if he was trying to flatten the other ear too, but couldn’t. His other hand was holding tightly to the mint duvet.

You saw a glimpse of a pale chest.

Your eyes widened into the size of saucepans.

His hand darted back into the duvet and clamped it shut from your bulging eyes, frowning. He quickly bundled himself up and straightened, thinning his mouth into a line. A few seconds passed. You gawked at him, jaw slack. The pale man sighed heavily.

“My name is Min Yoongi. My parents gave me that name. I don’t think I have a human birth certificate because I’m not a human. I am a cat. You used to call me Shooky, but Min Yoongi is my name, so I would appreciate it if you called me by my given name.”

Your jaw went even more slack.

“Cats… have names?” you squeaked.

Yoongi made a face at you. “Of course, we do. We are not savages.”

“B… But…” You frowned, shoulders falling. “You seemed to like the name Shooky…”

Yoongi shrugged his duvet-covered shoulders. “It sounded better than all the other names you suggested.”

You puffed your cheeks, placing your hands on your hips. “What was wrong with Tata? Or Chimmy? Or Cooky?”

Yoongi gave you a disapproving glare. “Well, perhaps in a parallel universe the name Shooky is somehow important to me. In any case, it was the best suggestion.”

You narrowed your eyes, frowning. “You little shit.”

“I especially disliked that one. Seemed a bit discriminating to our size difference…” He paused, looking down at you. “At the time anyway.”

Your hands fell, looking up at your cat. Er. Min Yoongi. “So, uh… Yoongi…?”

He tilted his head, peering curiously at you under his black bangs. “Hm?”

You pointed at him, gesturing up and down. “Why are you, uh… a man?”

He looked down at the duvet covering his body. You stared at your bedding wrapped around him. Why was he wearing it anyway? In fact, all you could see was a black choker with a silver bell. The mental lightning bolt suddenly hit you. Oh. Your neck began to heat. Your ears began to heat. Your whole face began to heat. Oh. Oh? Oh! Shooky – er, Yoongi? – whatever, your cat didn’t wear clothes. He only wore a collar… which meant…

It felt like your whole body was on fire with abrupt realization.

Yoongi looked up at your mint-pajama-wrapped, now tomato self still pointing at him.

“I don’t know why I’m a man.”

One of his eyebrows raised. Then Yoongi smirked.

An open-mouthed, amused smirk.

“And yes, I’m naked. Your clothes don’t fit me. I tried.”

Your cat, er, man? Cat-man? What even... never mind, Min Yoongi was sitting on your bed, still wrapped in your mint duvet like a key lime cake roll, waiting as you rummaged around in your dresser, searching for literally any piece of clothing that might possibly fit him. The problem was, you worked from home, so you didn't exactly own a plethora of different clothing options. Your daily wardrobe consisted of slinky black leggings...

"They're stretchy?" you suggested timidly.

Yoongi had blinked at you. "I don't think so."

"It could work?"

He pursed his lips together. "I think you're forgetting something."

You gave him a blank look. "Huh?"

Yoongi gave you his deadpan stare. "I believe you are well acquainted with human male genitalia."

Oh.

Right.

He had a dick.

You turned red and robotically shoved your leggings back into their place. A sudden thought flitted across your brain and you spun back to face him, blurting it out before filtering yourself.

"Hahaha, good thing I never got you fixed, eh?"

Yoongi blinked very, very slowly. It was hard to tell if he was annoyed, amused, or wanted to murder you. In conclusion, typical cat behavior.

"I'm not fond of the idea of castration, so I suppose so."

Awkward.

Your vet had suggested it, but since he had been an indoor cat and you weren't intending on getting another, you figured you wouldn't put him under the unnecessary surgery and it would help you avoid the cost. A little irresponsible? Maybe. But you were very careful not to leave the front door open and, so far, he hasn't had the chance to get some poor lady cat knocked up.

Unfortunately…

He knew you considered permanently removing his nuts. Yikes.

Sorry, Shooks. Er, Yoongi.

In any case!

The other half of your daily wardrobe was sweatshirts, but Yoongi's shoulders were too broad for them and he was too tall. Why was he so big anyway? Well, he wasn’t exactly big, just long-limbed. You guessed he was actually on the leaner side, judging from the way the duvet wrapped around him and the brief flash of long fingers, slim forearm, and toned chest. He had been a larger cat.

Seven kilos turned into... him?

You suddenly started and yanked open your underwear drawer, shuffling through it to get to the back and pull out a neatly folded dark gray blob.

"I have this–"

"No."

The response was so forceful and dismissive that you froze, the dark gray fabric unfurling in your loose grip. It was a large men's sweatshirt, soft, charcoal, slightly acid-wash, covered with white paint stains. Eggshell white, to be exact. The exact paint color of this very bedroom, because you had worn it to repaint over that original disgusting beige color.

"Why not?" you inquired, holding it up by the shoulders. "It'll fit you, for sure. It used to be..."

Yoongi kept his completely neutral expression trained on you as you reached your revelation, his dark eyes observing every detail of your body's reaction to the memory. Your grip on the sweatshirt tightened. You felt your cheeks and ears heat, pulse roaring in your ears.

Oh.

Er, right, so…

That one time that Shooky – no, Yoongi? – jumped on your back and made you choke on a dick? Yeah, that guy. Tattoo guy. Yeah, well, before that incident, tattoo guy was the friend of a friend who offered to help you paint your apartment because he had experience working construction – “helped my dad fix-up a house to resell for a couple months,” he had said with his disgustingly cute, cheeky grin, making you nod like an idiot and your pussy throb with his endearing adorableness – and you had moved all the furniture out so you two could get it done quickly.

You had to put your cat in the bathroom.

You didn’t want him to breathe in the fumes or get paint on his luscious fur. It was for his own good.

Tattoo guy had appeared in said charcoal sweatshirt, black ripped jeans, and the most attractive thighs in the whole damn universe, just out and about, giant holes exposing tan skin and taut muscle. Your eyes widened, frozen at your front door.

Oh yeah, he had paint rollers too. You hadn’t given a shit about those in that moment.

He had noticed you staring and laughed sheepishly. “Sorry, I just wore the ugliest pants I own. It might get messy, you know?”

No, tattoo guy. No one thought your pants were ugly.

You sure as hell didn’t.

“Oh, yeah, that’s why I wore this gross t-shirt,” you said absentmindedly, referring to your four-sizes-too-large, free t-shirt that had been chucked at your head while walking past your university common area. It was a hideous chanteuse with magenta writing, a color combination that absolutely deserved to go to hell, and could not even be saved by the quirky, stylish, thrift-savvy TIkTokers of today. It was the ugliest thing you owned, so you wore it to repaint your bedroom.

Now you regretted it.

Tattoo guy looked you up and down. He smirked under his long black hair.

“Your body still looks great though.”

“… Urk?”

Didn’t really matter that you couldn’t conjure a sexy response, because, clearly, tattoo guy had made his decision leagues before arriving here. Painting a bedroom? Oh, yeah, you did that, and with way too much sexual tension. A man should not be that flirty while holding two paint rollers and speed painting your walls. What were you supposed to do? You barely knew the guy. All you managed to do was make awkward small talk to get to know him better. Then he took off his sweatshirt.

“Wait, that’s illegal.”

He had smirked at you, spinning the paint roller in his hand, white t-shirt molded to his body. “Hm?”

You were being mildly disrespected, but also you were gawking at his tattooed right arm and his blindingly beautiful forearms. Cough, no. You didn’t have a thing for attractive forearms. Wasn’t like staring at this muscular pair was making you weak at the knees or anything. Okay, maybe. But you weren’t going to say it out loud. Tattoo guy ticked his chin below you, to the floor. Your job was to paint the little nooks at the corners, ceiling, and baseboards. You spent a whole lot of your job sneaking glances at him and getting caught.

Shit.

“You missed a spot.”

You whipped your head to the floor, craning your head to look for it. A paint roller appeared beside you, pointing to a small sliver for nasty beige. He had a clear, silvery voice.

“Right here.”

You frowned at it and raised your paintbrush in warning to the offensive beige, ready to strike.

“… Noona.”

You started and fell over.

You sputtered, legs tangled, oversized shirt flipping up, trying not to drop the paintbrush and drawing a fat streak across the unpainted wall. You shook your head roughly, clutching the handle of the brush, cool draft floating up your shirt.

Tattoo guy appeared above you, grinning, his front teeth slightly too large and giving him the appearance of a rambunctious bunny.

“You alright?”

You felt your neck and ears heat. No, you were not alright. Yes, you were older, but that didn’t… that wasn’t the time… You didn’t expect it, that’s all. You tried very hard not to look at his thighs. Or his face. Or his chest. Just didn’t look at him. Also, you were pretty sure you were flashing him and pretty fucking sure you didn’t give a shit.

You coughed awkwardly. “Yup, I’m good.”

Back to copious sexual tension complemented by paint fumes.

Once the first coat was down, you two stood in the center of the room, surrounded by the plastic drop cloth, him banishing a paint roller and you a paintbrush. Challenge complete and it didn’t take you very long. Nice.

“We have to let it dry and then we can paint another coat,” he was explaining.

“It looks fine like this.”

Tattoo guy clicked his tongue, shaking his head. “Once it dries, it will look uneven. Trust me.”

You frowned. “Okay. How long should we wait?”

“Couple hours, at least.”

A couple hours? You frowned more. “What are we supposed to do until then?”

He didn’t reply. You turned your head to face him and tattoo guy was staring at you with a smile.

Uh oh.

He was spinning the paint roller with one hand. You felt your ears and neck heat. He switched from his left hand to his right, seamlessly. Incredibly sexy. Were the paint fumes getting to you? You gulped, awkwardly gesturing to the paintbrush.

“Let me just… put this down…”

You turned around and balanced your paintbrush in the paint tray, only to gasp as your felt something foamy roll down your back, covering you with the strong stench of paint. It stopped above the curve of your ass, unable to roll smoothly any longer.

“Hmm, can’t get past your juicy ass, noona,” he teased.

You spun around, cheeks flushed, sputtering.

No, no. You didn’t forget tattoo guy’s name. You remembered it, even now. Remembered saying it in multiple different ways, even.

“Jeon J-Jungkook!”

In surprise, streaks of paint in your hair, him smirking, dropping the paint roller on the other plastic tray and somehow not tipping it over, thank goodness, him walking up to you, taking the bottom of your paint-covered chanteuse university t-shirt, leaning down to whisper hotly against your lips.

“Ah, sorry, it seemed like you didn’t like that shirt very much,” he breathed, sending your brain into overdrive with the heat against your skin, his knuckles brushing your thighs. “You can wear my sweatshirt instead, if you like.”

Your eyes widened, staring at him in shock.

“J… Jungkook…”

In breathlessness, heart pounding in your chest, gaze locked with mischievous dark chocolate orbs, his teeth catching his lower lip, tiny mole underneath revealed.

“Yeah?”

Why was his voice so deep? The tiny tip of his pink tongue darted out, licking his lips enticingly.

“… Noona?”

This man was illegal.

Your hands darted down and gripped his, catching your lower lip in your teeth as well, matching his lip bite, seeing the eagerness growing in his eyes.

Someone should call the police. Or an ambulance.

You grinned, cocking an eyebrow. “I don’t want to wear anything around you.”

But not for you.

There was a very loud meow from your bathroom, but before Jungkook could ask, you yanked your shirt up and over your head. He gasped and instantly it was lips on lips, messy kisses and stumbling to the living room were your bed, dresser, nightstands, bookcase, knickknacks, everything scattered everywhere, but Jungkook and you were too busy yanking off clothes and getting frisky to give a shit.

Yikes.

You stared at Yoongi now, red from head to toe, clutching the dark gray sweatshirt. He rolled his eyes and looked away from you.

“I… washed it?” you offered weakly.

Yoongi’s dark brows raised from under his black bangs. “Mmm, you forget that I have quite keen hearing. I’m not deaf like you, human.”

The color drained from your face.

Well.

Maybe, just maybe, Jungkook got you to wear his dark gray sweatshirt, forcing you – respectfully, he called you noona, after all – to get on your hands and knees for him, then make you wait in said embarrassing position with his sweatshirt bunched around your neck – because, er, gravity – while he casually made you watch him roll the condom on, highly amused by your impatient glare, only to move away and slowly shove his dick inside your soaking wet pussy and spank your ass until you backed up into him enough times to make yourself cum on his stiff length without him moving his hips.

Respectfully, of course.

“Fuck, noona, that was so fucking hot…”

“Jungkook,” you gasped breathlessly, ass stinging in glorious pain. “F-Fuck me, please.”

He made you scream.

He fucked your hard, making the bed creak, pounding you so roughly into the mattress that your fingers curled into the mint sheets, and when you gasped that you were close, he fucking stopped, the damn sadist, causing you to slam your fists into the bed and buck back into his crotch, Jungkook chuckling at your desperation. In your haze of begging for Jungkook’s cock, you heard a judgmental meow from your bathroom, but before you could address it, Jungkook seemed to have accepted your pleading and began to thrust into you once more, making you lose your train of thought and all thoughts in general, except your dire need to orgasm.

Jungkook had made you moan for hours.

Right now, however, Yoongi’s sharp look was making you mute. You were so mortified that you swore your soul stood up and walked out of your body, too ashamed to be in Yoongi’s presence any longer.

“Mmm,” the dark-haired man mused absentmindedly, pointed ears flicking.

From spitting onto the mirror to mentioning his possible castration to remembering that you had locked Yoongi in the bathroom for hours to have mind-blowing sex with Jeon Jungkook under the guise of repainting your bedroom walls…

Too bad life doesn’t have an undo button.

You suddenly remembered Jungkook pushing you up against the bathroom door, your leg hooked around his waist, his cock plunging in and out of you, lips on your neck, and your wrists pinned to the door, rattling it as he fucked you, whispering against your skin.

“You sound so fucking sexy, make more sounds for me, I’ll fuck you as much as you want, fuck you until you can’t think, can’t move, just to hear you say my name over and over…”

“Jungkook… f-fuck, you f-feel so fucking good, o-oh, Jungkook…!”

He pulled his lips away from your neck and smirked in your face.

“Yeah… noona?”

Respectfully.

“Fuck!”

Your back arced against the bathroom door as you came, pussy throbbing and spasming, the top of your head touching the wood, gasping Jungkook’s name in ecstasy, slamming your wrists against the door, Jungkook moaning as he came inside you, cock jerking inside the condom and swelling it with his orgasm, lips crashing down on yours and you whining pathetically into his mouth as he sucked on your tongue roughly.

A quiet, disapproving meow below you.

A master yikes.

You deliberately shoved the dark gray blob back into your underwear drawer.

Yoongi pursed his lips.

“Why is it in your underwear drawer, anyway?”

You slowly closed it, the wood snapping as the drawer touched the dresser.

Silence.

A crow cawed in the distance.

“You know what, let me make a trip to the convenience store…” was your hollow reply as you mechanically walked out of your bedroom, followed by a mint duvet.

“Do you know what size I would be?” came the husky, amused chuckle behind you as you pawed around your apartment for your wallet, two masks, hand sanitizer.

“I’ll just… buy a variety…”

“Or you could measure.”

You heard a rustle and you whipped your head around, only to see Yoongi’s cocked eyebrow and a slight bit of his exposed shoulders, collarbones on display, silver bell jingling. He yanked it back up, frowning at you.

“Are you a pervert?”

“N… no!”

You jerked away and hastily hooked the masks on your ears, fumbling with your sneakers before declaring, “I will be right back!” And then you threw yourself out the door.

Yoongi sighed, finally releasing his hold on the duvet.

“Ugh, so stuffy…”

His long black tail whipped about.

The door suddenly jerked back open and you plucked your keys from the side dish.

Only to see Yoongi fully naked, sleek black tail whisking around, blinking at you.

He was naked.

Really naked.

Very, one hundred percent, naked.

The mint duvet was pooled around his legs on the ground and Min Yoongi, who was formerly your cat Shooky, was a fair-skinned, long-limbed, lean-bodied, very attractive tall man, with velvety black cat ears and tail and – urk! – completely intact human male genitalia. Your neck, ears, cheeks, chest, ancestors from generations long ago, all turned red in embarrassment. Once again, you soul completely left your body in pure mortification.

“D… Don’t leave!” you blurted, snapping the door closed.

Yoongi just stood there, sighing as he heard the door lock and a body bolt down the apartment building stairs.

“You didn’t even change out of your pajamas…” he muttered, picking up the duvet.

"I can't wear these."

It was a few hours later. Thankfully, when you arrived home with your purchases, your cat... man was asleep, wrapped like a mint cake roll in your duvet. You tried not to think about his naked body on your bed, therefore ending up thinking about his naked body on your bed.

"You need to wear pants! For..."

Dark eyebrows raised.

"Decency!"

After getting home, you had spent the next thirty minutes hand-washing a black t-shirt, black boxer briefs, and loose black pants that were definitely too short but it was the only size available that could fit that waist, so you had to make do. You put the other shirts and underwear in the washing machine, but you needed to wash at least one outfit and hang it to dry. You tried to use the hottest water your hands could handle to sterilize the clothing, wincing at the blistering heat.

You didn't know if Yoongi could get coronavirus but you weren't going to risk it.

Eventually you placed everything on the drying rack and positioned your space heater on them to dry them off.

Then you passed out on the couch. You deserved it, after working so hard.

Only to be woken up by Yoongi poking your shoulder roughly and telling you he couldn't wear the underwear and pants.

He was still holding the duvet around his body and your neck was still regretting every second of sleeping on the couch. Ow. Too much physical labor. Quarantine had turned you into a formless potato. You sat up halfway, wincing. Ugh, pain. You jabbed your finger at Yoongi, who gave you a displeased narrowing of his eyes.

"Put the pants on, you animal!"

Yoongi swept around the sofa, mint duvet and all, determined glint in his dark orbs, lips pursed in annoyance. You started, cracking your neck by accident, yelping in pain as you fell back against the couch.

Yoongi planted himself on top of you nimbly.

You froze.

Partly because you were shocked, but mostly because your neck seized a bit.

His legs were on either side of you, body still wrapped up, perfectly balanced despite the sudden leap, surveying you with a disapproving and discerning eye. The silver bell on his neck jingled with his movement. You could feel his calves against your knees.

His bare calves.

"Are you dumb?"

"What?" you croaked in response.

Yoongi rolled his eyes. "You always forget things."

You blinked at him, confused, neck heating. "What are you talking about?" you snapped impatiently.

"This."

Thump.

You felt something long and furry hit your leg. Your body almost jerked up in surprise, but Yoongi hissed at you, making you lurch back, somewhat stunned at how cat-like it sounded. It was definitely a warning. You were still in your pajamas, slightly thinner material than your usual clothes. It had been cold outside, but your everlasting embarrassment had kept you toasty warm.

Like it was now, because you realized your clothed outer thigh was touching his inner thigh.

His naked inner thigh.

You let out a noise between shock and confusion.

"Urk?"

The long, furry thing brushed against your legs as Yoongi watched you reach your slow realization.

"O-oh... Right. You have a tail..."

He grunted, thinning his eyes into slits. "Yes, because I am a cat."

Highly debatable at the moment, but you were too busy remembering your cat also had a human dick and nuts. Well, not also. Only had? Well. Maybe if you had a seco–

No. No, never mind that. Yeah.

Never.

Mind.

You gulped, trying to suppress the rising heat in your ears and failing. "I can sew?"

Yoongi tilted his head, nose wrinkling a bit. Then he got off you, circling around the couch. You sat up, neck still hurting, but the warmth of your embarrassment somehow helping. Yes, great, trading temporary physical pain for lifetime mental embarrassment, only for such moments to be remembered at the most inopportune times to throw you off guard.

Awesome.

You visibly cringed before standing up, seeing Yoongi's hand snake out and nab the boxer briefs, making them disappear into the duvet. You saw the fabric rustle and then the briefs reappeared, chucked at your face.

Your head snapped back at the force, arms flailing.

"Mmphf!"

"Should be about four or five centimeters. Make it quick. It's hot under here."

You yanked the underwear off your face, scowling. "I'm not your maid!"

Yoongi raised an eyebrow, black ears flicking. He was smirking at you. You narrowed your eyes. What was this guy so high and mighty for? If anything, he should be grateful that you even car–

"You're been cleaning up my literal shit for a few years now, so you are practically are my maid."

... Wait a second, he's right.

You growled and hauled yourself up.

An hour later, your cat was dressed.

Cat?

Man?

Whatever.

Min Yoongi was finally wearing clothes and not your duvet and your fingers stung like a bitch.

You ended up snipping a hole and using bias tape to seal off the raw edges. You didn’t own a sewing machine, so this was the next best thing you could think of without destroying your fingers by trying to imitate zig-zag stiches, although you ended up destroying your fingers anyway because you had to sew small, delicate stitches to attach the bias tape. The area was too high traffic to not reinforce.

Sigh.

“Please tell me you know how to use the bathroom by yourself from now on.”

Yoongi had raised an eyebrow.

“Of course. I’ve watched you enough times to know how to expel human excrement.”

Right. Because he was your cat. Don’t think about it too much. You were trying to take everything one thing at a time so you didn’t overwhelm yourself. Those were future-you problems. Why does he talk like that anyway? You didn’t even know how he knew Korean. Was it because you watched too much television? Yikes.

You rubbed your forehead, dismissing the discussion. “Good talk.”

You realized you would have to cut openings for his tail for all the underwear on the drying rack but, again, that was a future-you problem. Instead, you let him change in your bedroom and went to retrieve the laptop on your coffee table. Plugged it in and turned it on.

All your settings were wack.

“The fuck?” you muttered, resetting your display, volume, brightness, sigh, nearly everything. This only happened when a certain someone stepped on the keys when you weren’t looking. You raised your voice, still looking at the screen. “Did you fuck with my computer last night?”

“No. Oh, well, I did sleep on it,” Yoongi was saying as he stepped out of your bedroom. You growled in your chest, annoyed, but setting everything back into its place before opening your Google calendar. Nothing due immediately, thank god. “Er, maybe you shouldn’t…”

You looked up.

Oh.

Oh?

Oh!

Yoongi mussed his black hair, scratching at his velvety black ear. You noticed he didn’t have a set of human ears. Well, duh. That’d be weird. He was still wearing the black choker with the little silver bell on it. The t-shirt was nicely loose on his frame, the black standing out against his fair skin. The sweatpants were a little short on the ankle, the slim fit showing off his leanness. The sleek black tail swished back and forth.

He was… handsome.

Yoongi looked apprehensive, twisting his lips to one side. “Hmm.”

You blinked at him. “What?”

He shrugged. “Well, when I woke up as a human, I was cold, except for…” His hand ghosted towards his crotch. He pulled it away, waving it aside. “Mmm, never mind.”

You gave him a confused look and went back to your keyboard, typing away. Yoongi winced but you were too busy replying to an email to think too much about it.

We interrupt your regularly scheduled program to inform you of the following.

Min Yoongi had woken up on the coffee table, fucking freezing because humans didn’t have fur, and because his nuts and dick were getting roasted by your overheating laptop keyboard.

Upon waking up, he had a mild mental breakdown as you continued snoring loudly and unceremoniously, before scurrying away to the warmest place he knew – your bed, where he claimed the duvet and tried to figure out what the fuck was going on.

Is this real life?

He had poked at various parts of his new body, trying to figure out if this was a dream or a horrific nightmare.

As we all know.

Life is a horrific nightmare, so indeed, this was real life.

You jumped as Yoongi slumped down on the sofa next to you, sticking his head and ears into your view, blocking the computer screen.

“I’m hungry.”

You gawked at him.

“What a-are you d-doing?” you sputtered.

“I’m hungry,” he repeated. He had a bit of a raspy, almost growly voice at times, reminding you of a cat’s meow. His meow, in fact.

You scooted away, neck heating. Yoongi followed, prodding you.

“Why are you like this?” you grumbled irritably, smacking his hand. Yoongi persisted, as if you did nothing at all.

“This is how I get your attention, because you humans will ignore me if I don’t.”

“You’re a human too!”

“No, I am a cat.”

“Hello?” You grabbed his hand and jabbed at his palm, pointing to his thumb. “Cats don’t have thumbs!”

Yoongi yanked his hand out, shockingly similar to how Shooky used to pull his paw out when you were massaging his little white socks and he was over it. You noticed his cuticles looked a bit dry and torn up. Lately, Shooky’s paws had been a little chewed up too. You frowned at it, tilting your head.

Yoongi stood up and his tail whacked you in the face.

“Ow!”

“Feed me.”

You scowled, rubbing your cheek. Yoongi stared down at you, face expressionless.

Okay, your cat might be a man now, but he was still a borderline asshole, so not much had changed.

“Fine.”

You both stared at the bowl of dry cat food.

Yoongi raised an eyebrow.

“What am I supposed to do with all this cat food then? I just brought it last week!”

“That’s your problem.”

You threw up your hands and cooked you both some lunch.

This was too much.

You know what you did when it was too much?

You took a nap.

You had dishes to clean, underwear to make tail-holes for, a cat that was now a man, an existential crisis to address, but you know what? You took a fucking nap instead. You left Yoongi with your computer and Netflix and told him to do whatever as long as none of it involved him leaving the house.

Yoongi had snorted. “What do I need to go out there for?”

“Awesome. I’m taking a nap.”

And you passed out.

Only to wake up groggily because your lungs were being crushed.

Actually no, it kind of felt like your whole torso was being crushed.

“Urk…!”

You fought with your sleepiness, somehow worse off than you had been before the nap, scrunching up your face ad blinking blearily. Head on memory foam pillow, check. Back on soft mattress, check. Black hair with sleek cat ears and pale face pressed on your chest? Check.

What, wait?

“Gah!”

You lurched and the head grunted, shoulders solidly pinning you down. He was under the mint-colored duvet. Yoongi, your cat that was now a man, was under the duvet.

UNDER THE DUVET.

“Stop yelling. Is that all you humans do? Yell?”

“Why are you – what are you doing here?” you hissed shrilly, trying to wiggle out from under him, but it was impossible. Yoongi was far too big now for you to throw him off.

“Sleeping, obviously,” he grumbled. “Or I was, until you started shouting.”

“Yes, but this is my bed,” you emphasized, realizing you could move your hands so you grabbed him by the waist, fingers grasping the black jersey fabric. You pressed inwards, hands molding to his sides.

Yoongi raised his head, squinting down at you.

You froze.

An oddly familiar gaze of accusation and uncaring. His eyes were dark brown, not the recognizable mint, but the effect was the same. Pink lips upturned, slightly annoyed.

And.

You suddenly remembered he was a man.

A man who was pressed down against you, long legs around your legs, broad chest to your chest, and shockingly attractive for someone who used to be a cat.

“I sleep in your bed all the time. What’s the difference?” Yoongi muttered.

What’s the difference?

The difference???

You’re a man!

A HOT MAN!!!

You struggled to find words, completely entranced by how close Yoongi’s face was to yours, watching his ears adjust slightly to pick up all the small sounds around him. You opened your mouth and it only made a tiny squeak. The pressure on your chest was becoming unbearable. You were so shocked that you completely forgot that you were still dying. You cleared your throat as Yoongi looked increasingly displeased.

“You… You used to be over the duvet…”

Yoongi yawned, nodding a little. “Yes, but it’s colder now. No more fur. I don’t know how you humans survive. Must be why you buy these warm things.”

Your hands were still on his waist. You pulled them away quickly and Yoongi frowned.

“Y-Yeah, but… you weigh a lot more now…” you croaked. “Can’t… breathe…”

Yoongi sighed heavily, as if this was a great disappointment. He slid off you.

“Hmm, I suppose that’s true.”

He nestled close to you and you still stunned, pin-straight body.

“Guess it’ll have to be like this instead from now on.”

Like this?

From now on?

Oh. Oh no.

Yoongi’s velvety, pointed ear flicked against your cheek, a low hum resounding in his chest.

part ii

masterpost

#yoongi x reader #jungkook x reader #bts fanfic #bts smut #yoongi fanfic #yoongi x you #min yoongi x reader #min yoongi x you #jungkook x you #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x you

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kiirokero · 3 years

Text

Zephyr (MYG)

Zephyr: A soft gentle breeze; Comforting wind on a hot summer's day.

Part of the “Protect the Village!” Oneshot series.

Masterlist

Pairing: Florist!Yoongi x Reader

Genre: Fluff, mentions of death (not major, don’t worry) Yoongles doesn’t know how to express himself, soft boi hours.

Note: Time for me to pass out. We’re back on schedule hoes. :)

Summary: First, it was flowers for your grandmother. Next, it was flowers for a sick friend. Now, its flowers because the handsome flower shop owner lives in your head rent free.

Word Count: 4.3k

A dense, luscious forest surrounds Bangtan Village. Filled with sturdy oak trees and delicate blooming flowers. As far as the eye can see, it’s nature. Trees stretch to the heavens, touching the sky with their strong appendages. Flowers draping over the petrichor forest floor, gracing those who walk through its lush maze.

It’s magical, really. Some rumour that Bangtan Village is ancient, rivaling the Mayans. Local historians say that the people here were protecting something that lays dormant in the forest. What that relic is? A mystery to most. But town elders always warn against wandering in the woods. Whispers of a magical heart that keeps the town alive roles through the town every year after New Year’s celebrations.

Because nobody knows why every year the village gets a new influx of natural resources

But thanks to this odd phenomenon, Min Yoongi never runs out of flowers. Peonies, sunflowers, hibiscuses. Every kind of flower grows in that forest, regardless if it scientifically should. Everyone collectively dismisses the impossible things that go on beyond those trees. Ignorance is bliss.

So because of the logic defying forest, Min Yoongi always has the best flowers. Which, in turn, means you always know where to find spider lilies.

Any event. Birthdays, weddings, minor celebrations. They always called for flowers. That was your motto. Flowers make everything better. Roses here, daisies there. Nothing can go wrong with flowers. They can make someone smile, ignite love, mourn a loss. Flowers can do anything, and your glad Min Yoongi indulges your thinking.

She loved roses.

Your grandmother was a bit old-fashioned. Not the most tech savvy, would rather do things by hand, and was a sucker for a beautiful red rose. Maybe it was because those were the flowers in her wedding bouquet. Or maybe its because your grandfather always brought her one every single day before he passed. It doesn’t matter.

What matters is your getting her those roses, one last time.

When you first walked into Min’s Flowers, it had a peculiar petrichor smell. Like the shop was in an endless cycle of spring. Solf showers and light rays. It was a comforting calmness that soothed the cracks in your heart. Every which was there was a flower resting in peaceful serenity.

All the flowers seemed to look dreary, or maybe the soft petals were acting as a mirror, reflecting the melancholy of the day. You wouldn’t know. The only thing currently on your mind was red roses. Red roses. You needed to get those red roses.

Walking deeper into the shop, the walls greeted you with blissful silence. Not a sound was made, not a person in sight, shopkeeper or customer. It was just you and the flowers. A cruel thing, really. Alone with beautiful works of art that couldn’t distract your racing mind with words, only looks. But everywhere you looked, memories of your grandmother lingered. You needed words to revive your slowly beating heart.

“Hey, can I help you with anything?” A gruff voice sounded through the hazy, quiet aura of the shop. Turning around, you saw a man with scruffy noir hair. He wasn’t the tallest, but wasn’t short either. He had sharp brown eyes that emanated a hidden warmth encased in cool glass. His skin was as pale as petunias and he wore a desaturated blue apron with flowers peaking out of the pocket.

“I’m looking for red roses...” You somberly informed, unable to keep the emotion out of your voice. His cat-like eyes slightly softened, flashing a look of sympathy for your lost soul. You wondered if he often encountered lost souls here in the shop, using his business as a pit stop in a wayward journey. “I have just what you’re looking for,” He said, gesturing me to follow him.

He led you through the shop in silence, like a drifting ghost. He floated elegantly through his shop, uncaring of the twist and turns that appeared in his way, even if there were few. Soon, he led you to an area full of roses, all different colors. White, blue, yellow. It was a beautiful image.

But he walked passed them, going towards a door in the back. “Where are we going?” You asked, stopping just a bit behind him. “Those roses are pretty, yes, but I think you need something more,” He said, face unchanging from a stoic expression. He opened the door, walking inside to grab something out of the artificially sun lit room.

Reappearing, he held a bouquet full of two dozen bright red roses. The petals undamaged, their color as lush as the day they came out of the Earth. “I’ve been saving these for a special occasion, I think they’d be of use to you now,” The man said, handing you the bouquet, You held them gently, afraid to damage the perfect flowers.

“How are they so perfect?” You marveled, unable to peel your eyes away from the beauty of which you held. “A lot of odd things happen in Bangtan,” Was his answer, nothing more. “Go on, I’m sure you have somewhere to be,” He said, putting a soft hand on your back, guiding you to the entrance you came in from.

“But I have to pay!” You protested, but the man didn’t stop guiding you. “Consider it a gift,” He shrugged. “But I don’t even know your name,” You argued, looking at him incredulously. “It’s Yoongi, what’s yours?” He asked, tilting his head slightly. “Y/n,” You answered. “Well Y/n, it was nice to meet you. Now go on, I hope those roses bring peace,”

You didn’t go back to Min’s Flowers for three months. You decided it would be best to mourn in your own way, by yourself. That didn’t mean your close friends didn’t keep an eye on you though, Jimin and Jeongguk would never let you forget that they were there for you. Whether it was late night junk food runs to Hoseok’s store or messing around with Taehyung at the bakery. They made sure you knew they were there, waiting for you when you were ready to be picked back up and put back together.

Which you were. You picked yourself back up and hammered yourself together. Life didn’t wait for anyone. Seasons still changed, flowers still bloomed, zephyrs still came and went. Maybe the tape you used to patch yourself up was still a bit brittle, maybe the glue you used to fill the cracks in your heart hasn’t quite dried yet, but you were okay.

And Jimin was not. Poor bastard caught a nasty case of the flu and has been miserable ever since. Jeongguk and you have been taking care of him whenever you could, and when he started complaining about missing the outside, flowers seemed like the perfect remedy. “I really like yellow and white chrysanthemums”

Those were Jimin's words when you asked him what his favorite flower was, and by golly were you going to get him the prettiest yellow and white chrysanthemums ever. So that’s how you found yourself back at the shop which aided your once wayward soul.

The shop still had that same comforting petrichor scent. Memories of the pixie like world that the flower shop simulated came back to you as you saw the same flowers in the exact same places as last time. When you first came to the shop, you had a heart leaking with melancholy. Now, you have a heart with scars and a mission to make your friend feel better.

“Oh, you’re back,” A familiar voice said. Turning, you saw the same man as before. He had mint hair now, standing at the counter. “That I am, Yoongi,” You said. You don’t know why the name stuck in your head the way it did, but you couldn’t forget it. Every time you thought about getting some flowers, Yoongi popped into your head.

It surprised Yoongi that you remembered his name. He thought that the interaction between the two of you was significant to him and him only. But hearing your soft utterance of his name made him freeze longer than he should’ve. “I’m surprised you remember me,” He said, cracking the slightest of smiles.

“You’re memorable, I suppose,” You chuckled, taking a few steps deeper into the indoor forest that was Yoongi’s flower shop. “So what brings you here this time?” Yoongi asked, not taking his eyes off of you. “My friend’s sick, so I wanted to get his favorite flower to cheer him up,”

Yoongi nodded, walking around the counter to stand in front of you. “Well, I can guarantee that I have it here. What are we looking for?” He said, voice unchanging from a dull tone. “Yellow and white chrysanthemums,” You said, and Yoongi didn’t need to hear anymore before he was guiding you once more through the shop. The floor was slightly wet, showing that Yoongi had watered the flowers recently.

Quietly, he led you to where he kept the chrysanthemums, gesturing one of his hands to the yellow and white ones. “Go ahead and pick. A dozen flowers are 9,000 won,” Yoongi said, walking away to do his shopkeeper things.

That day you stayed in the shop a bit longer than you expected. You and Yoongi talked for what seemed like forever. Maybe it was minutes, maybe it hours, you wouldn’t know. You didn’t care, Yoongi was like a breath of fresh air. A whispering zephyr during the summer solstice.

So you kept coming back, again and again. Every day after work you made your way to Min’s Flowers, eager to talk to your new florist friend. You would arrange bouquets with him, tell him jokes, watch movies on the tv he had in the back. No matter the day or the weather, you never failed to meet with Yoongi every single day. Sometimes with Jimin and Jeongguk, sometimes alone.

You couldn’t get enough. Yoongi couldn’t get enough, and that scared him.

Min Yoongi was a quiet man. He preferred to stick to himself, hoping to limit the amount of human interaction he had on a daily basis. It’s not that he didn’t like people, per se, but he just rarely got along with others. It was a problem for him since Kindergarten. Being overly blunt with peers or arguing with the teacher.

He just drove people away with his cold aura and “unforgiving” personality. Yes, Yoongi had friends. He had Hoseok, Namjoon, Jin, Taehyung, even Jimin and Jeongguk hung out with him from time to time. But he’s never had that certain type of connection with someone.

Yoongi used to think he was critically apathetic. That no matter how much he wanted to bounce off the walls in celebration when Taehyung met his business goal, he couldn’t. He couldn’t muster up anything other than a “That’s good, I’m happy for you,” And he was! He knew he was, but he didn’t quite express that he was.

It left Yoongi feeling inferior, like he was a bad person. What kind of friend comforts you after a breakup by saying, “Love is dead anyway,”? Min Yoongi, apparently. Yeah, Yoongi had feelings. Things made him sad, mad, happy, annoyed. He wasn’t entirely broken. But those feeling felt like they were dampened, diluted.

“Aren’t you happy? Sad? Mad?” Those were the words Yoongi dreaded, because the answer was always yes. Yes, he was happy that Jin got a girlfriend. Yes, he was sad that Jeongguk couldn’t find the person painting flowers all over Bangtan village. Yes, he was mad Jimin shattered one of his terracotta pots. He just didn’t express it well.

But you never seemed to care.

You took Yoongi’s blunt words at face value. You believed him when he said, “That’s funny,” at one of your embarrassing childhood stories. You didn’t question why he wasn’t crying during “The Notebook” even if the tragic story silently broke his heart. You took his small smile just as seriously as you would a full one. That made Yoongi happy, even if he couldn’t express that to you.

You didn’t treat Yoongi’s lack of expression as a bad thing. You didn’t think he was cold and uncaring, because you knew he was. Actions speak louder than words. When he bandaged your ankle after you slipped in a puddle one day in the shop. When he gave you half of his granola bar after hearing your stomach rumble. Or how he never fails to ask how your day went, even if it sounded rather uncaring to the average person.

Yoongi didn’t know when it happened or how. Yoongi didn’t know why your simple touches turned smouldering to him. Or why your smile was a picture he’d look at forever. He doesn’t know when he started eagerly looking at the clock, waiting for 4pm when you’d undoubtedly would come visit him at the shop. Yoongi didn’t know when it hit him, when his horribly suppressed emotions made him feel something like no other.

Yoongi didn’t know when he fell in love with you, but damn did he fall hard.

“Alright Yoongs, I agree with you on most things, but mint chocolate ice cream is definitely not it.” You argued, poking his carton of green ice cream with your spoon. “Well, coffee-flavored ice cream is weird too,” Yoongi retorted, stuffing a spoon full of ice cream monstrosity into his mouth. You dramatically gasped, “Yoongi! Coffee is totally a valid flavor,” You laid your head on the table inside Yoongi’s back room, putting a hand to your heart, “You wound me,”

Yoongi rolled his eyes, going back to his pint of frozen goodness. “You’re ridiculous,” He said, shaking his head. “Hold on, I speak Yoongi. You just said that I’m funny and you love me,” You teased. Yoongi felt his face slightly flush at your words, but he cleared his throat, changing the topic. “Whatever, wanna arrange a wedding bouquet with me?”

You quickly sat up, stars in your eyes as you ecstatically nodded your head. “Hells yes!” Yoongi hummed, grabbing both pints of ice cream and putting them away in the mini refrigerator he had. “Let’s go then, I already have my work space set up,” He said, walking out the room to which you happily followed him.

“So, a marriage? Is it a big one?” You asked. Yoongi shrugged, sitting down in his work chair to which he already had a spare one set up next to it. “I guess, I mean, how big can things get in Bangtan Village?” He said, picking up roses and cutting off bits of their stems.

“I dunno Yoongs, remember that time you found a huge sunflower in the forest? Bangtan Village may have a small population, but things can get pretty weird here,” You chuckled, joining Yoongi in his somewhat tedious task. “Yes, you are correct. Many things in that forest surprise me.” He said, nonchalantly.

“Really? Are there fairies? White stags? Gremlins?” You asked, turning towards the man contently snipping away at the stems next to you. “You and your fairy tales,” Yoongi sighed, secretly finding your interest in the unexplainable cute.

The two of you worked together in silence, enjoying each other's presence as the artful skills Yoongi had with flowers created beautiful bouquets. But the silent atmosphere was suddenly broken when your phone rang. Fishing it out of your pocket, Jeongguk's face appeared on the screen. You excused yourself and answered the phone outside, leaving Yoongi alone in the room. To him it felt a bit colder now.

A couple minutes later, you peaked your head in the door, gaining Yoongi’s attention with a smile. “Sorry to say this Yoongs, but I have to help Jeongguk with something,” You said. Yoongi felt disappointed, but his face remained unchanging. “Oh... Okay... Do you- Nevermind,” Do you have too? Is what Yoongi wanted to ask. He didn’t want you to go, he wanted you to stay and make pretty flower arrangements with him. But he couldn’t express it.

“I’ll be back tomorrow, don’t miss me too much, okay?” You joked, bidding the gruff florist a farewell. Yoongi tried to. But he really did miss you. Not only that, he felt... Jealous... He found himself wishing he was Jeongguk or wishing that you left your phone on silent so you wouldn’t hear his call.

It was selfish, Yoongi knew that, but that didn’t mean the feeling didn’t go away. He didn’t like this feeling. His emotions may feel weaker than others, but jealously always came on strong. Why did he have to be like this? Why couldn’t he just admit his feelings for you, ask you out on a date, tell you all the things that ran through his head about you?

He needed to do something. What if Jeongguk made a move on you? What if you guys were kissing right now? Or worse, on a date... Yoongi’s heart felt heavy. His heart was heavy and his stomach was queezy.

One good thing came from Yoongi’s less than normal emotional responses. It meant embarrassment and shame were less of a bitch. Still total bitches, but bitches on chill pills. “Alright,” Yoongi told himself, “Operation fuck my emotional response and ask Y/n out on a date is a go,” Yoongi immediately pulled out his phone, dialing his friend Jin.

“Hello!” Jin answered. “Hyung... I need your help with something.” Yoongi said, his voice deadly serious. “What’s up?” Yoongi took a deep breath, wiping his sweaty palms on his apron.

“You have a girlfriend...” Yoongi blurted out

“Yes...?” Jin chuckled

“And you asked her out,”

“That is correct.”

“How did you do that?”

Yoongi heard Jin’s squeaky laugh through the phone. “What?” He asked, confusion clear in his voice. “How d'you ask her out...?” Yoongi asked again. “I told her that I had feelings for her and asked her to go out with me,” Jin answered, most likely shrugging those broad shoulders of his. “How were you able to express your feelings?” Yoongi sighed.

Jin was well aware about Yoongi’s trouble expressing himself in a way that didn’t make kids cry from his scary, brooding face. He had even helped him on a few occasions when he had to apologize and look like he meant it, (Whether he really did or not) But expressing a feeling like a crush or even love, was different for everybody.

“Yoongi, are you trying to ask that Y/n girl out?” Jin inquired, hearing a thing or two about you from when Yoongi dropped hints here and there. “Yes...” Yoongi said, resting his chin on his hand in defeat. “Yoongi, buddy, there’s no “right way” to express your feelings to somebody, you just have to do it in a way that is right for you.” Jin advised.

“But the way I express things isn’t particularly... Nice,” Yoongi said.

“Yoongi, if she likes you too she’ll accept that your just you,” Jin stressed, “And if what you tell me about the way she treats you, I’m sure she’ll understand just how hard and serious it is for you to admit something like this,”

Maybe Jin was right, you’d get that he’s basically head over heels for you, right? You know how he operates. You always treated him like a normal human with normal expressive capabilities. Okay, he’ll do it.

Yoongi can’t do this. What was he thinking? Inviting you over at 9pm to “help him with flowers” was probably the worse idea he’s ever had. You probably think he’s a weirdo. More of a weirdo than he actually is. What is he supposed to do?

Well, it was too late. Because you just came barging through the door with a bag of takeout and that beautiful, blinding smile on your face. “Yoongs!” You exclaimed, placing down the food and giving him a hug. “Another emergency flower order?” You asked, taking out styrofoam containers and disposable chopsticks.

“Um... No. Yes... No,” He said, unusually indecisive. Yoongi sighed, sitting down at the table and taking a huge bite of the food that you handed him. “Yoongs, are you okay?” You asked, brows creased in worry. “I’m fine,” He shrugged, but you knew better.

“Are you sure? You seem a bit off,” You pushed, hoping he would give you the honest answer. “Mhmm. I just- uh... I’m just tired,” He answered, turning his attention back to his food. You frowned, picking your lukewarm dumpings.

You liked to call yourself a Yoongi translator. You knew a lot about his body language and usage of words. “I’m fine.” Usually meant just that. He was fine and meant it. But paired with his odd behavior just moments ago, you knew something was up.

But you also knew that Yoongi wasn’t an expressive person. He didn’t show powerful emotions very often. Yeah, he’s genuinely smiled before and chuckled. However, that was few and far between. Yoongi wasn’t good at expressing himself, and now that fact only worried you more.

“Hey Yoongs, you know the meanings of different flowers right?” You asked, brewing up an idea in your head. “Um, yes. You revealed that embarrassing fact when you snooped through my old books.” He said, raising his eyebrow incredulously. “What are you planning?” He asked.

You said nothing, instead opting to grab Yoongi and drag him out into the store. “Tell me how your feeling, but with the flowers,” You said. Yoongi looked at you like you’ve grown 3 head, “What?” He asked, still sounding iconically unimpressed. “I know something’s bothering you. I know it’s hard for you to express things sometimes, so tell me without words,” You explained, urging Yoongi to do as you say. “You don’t know the meanings though,” He argued. “Wrong. I studied them for a month straight to impress you. It’ll be fine,” You gave him a smile, and he felt his resolve breaking.

Yoongi thought about it for a second. Originally he was planning on just forgetting his entire plan and watching trash tv with you in the back until the sun came up, but this could work. Does he want it to work? Will you understand what he means when he gives you a pink camellia? Will you be weirded out if he presented you with red chrysanthemum?

It was worth a shot.

Yoongi sighed, giving into your admittedly smart idea. This could work. Yoongi ran around the shop, picking out flowers of different kinds and colors, coming back to you with a messy bouquet. “Okay, lets begin. You won’t have to talk or explain, you can just nod your head,” You said. Yoongi nodded, handing you his first flower.

A yellow hyacinth.

“Jealousy? Are you jealous of someone?” You asked,

Yoongi nodded.

A vine of ivy

“...Friendship? A friend? Are you jealous of a friend?”

Another nod.

Gardenia

“Secret love... You have a crush on somebody?” Your heart stung a bit at that one, but you schooled your emotions. This was about Yoongi, not you. “Your jealous of your crush?” You asked, but Yoongi shook his head no. “Your jealous of... your crushes friend...?” You guessed, Yoongi nodded, stoic face still unchanging.

A red columbine.

“Anxious, your crush makes you anxious?” You asked. Yoongi didn’t answer right away, but he lifted his hand and made a “sort of” motion. You racked your brain again for a moment. “Having a crush... makes you nervous?”

Yoongi nodded

“Is it because your bad at expressing yourself?”

Yoongi gave you a ‘duh’ face, holding out another flower.

A yellow carnation

“They rejected you?” Yoongi shook his head, pointing back to the red columbine, “Ohhh, you’re scared that they will reject you.” A nod.

Yoongi had one more flower left, but he didn’t give it to you just yet. He hid it behind his back, away from view, so you opted to cheer him up a bit in hopes that you’ll be able to comfort him enough to express this last thing. “Yoongs, you’re a great dude! Anybody would be lucky to have you! Sure, maybe your not as dramatic as me, but you care in your own way. That’s all that matters,” You said, giving him a smile.

Yoongi looked away from you to the side. He wasn’t usually a nervous person. Why is he so nervous? Why is this the one emotion that’s cripplingly strong? He could do it. He didn’t even have to say anything, just hand you the goddamn flower. He’s psyching himself out. Quickly, he thrusted the flower towards you without thinking.

Chucking, you took it in your hands

A red rose.

I love you.

“Yoongi, you should give this to your crush, not me,” You chuckled, but Yoongi didn’t move, just stared at you with unimpressed eyes. “Yoongs, you don’t mean...” “I love you,” He blurted out, a soft blush dusting his cheeks. “Y-You do?” You asked.

One last nod.

“Sup loser,” You lovingly greeted your grumpy boyfriend, giving him a kiss on the cheek. Yoongi rolled his eyes, wrapping an arm around your waist from where he was sat in his work chair, meticulously finishing up his last order of the day. “And you claim you love me when you treat me like that,” He said, voice gruff and scratchy from not using it for a while.

“Yeah, yeah, I love you too,” You chuckled. Yoongi bent down under the table and grabbed a flower, wordlessly handing it to you. “A red camellia?” You asked, taking a whiff of its pleasing aroma. “I’m expressing,” He said, and you nodded, understanding.

Yoongi’s gotten a bit better with expressing himself, but it can still be hard for him. As a solution, he talks to you in flowers when he wants to say something but can’t form the words. “You’re the flame in my heart too Yoongs,” You smiled, kissing the top of his head

Yoongi might not know the exact moment he fell in love with you. All he knew is that it happened swiftly and silently.

Like a zephyr on a warm day.

#yoongi #min yoongi #suga #yoongi x reader #bts #bts fic #bts oneshot #yoongi oneshot #fluff

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excusemin · 4 years

Text

Keys - MYG

-Part Two of Quarantine with Bangtan

Pairing: Yoongi x female reader

Rating: PG

Genre: established relationship, FLUFFY FLUFF

Warnings: mentions of insomnia, a bit of anxiety, other than that I think we are good? :)

Word count: 4.4k

Summary: Coffee and warm chocolate croissants can go down a sweet, sweet road.

A/N: Hello, this is so far my longest fic created and I hope it is likeable. Super huge thanks to @dontaskshhhhh for helping me throughout the whole phone call part. I’m so socially awkward, it’s embarrassing lol. The phone call was slightly inspired by the song 10000 hours hehe. Remember to send in an ask if you’d like to be tagged in the following parts to Quarantine with Bangtan. Enjoy. 💜

Sleeping at night was always hard so finding different methods to sleep have become hopeless. Y/n has tried almost about everything that could come up in her mind. Ranging from aromatherapy to melatonin supplements, nothing seemed to work. Even avoiding the small afternoon naps after coming from work have made it worse. Fearing the dark corners of the room but disliking the bright light coming from the television, it was hard. White noise seemed to help but it could not be too loud. Sleepless nights were rough but can be dealt with coffee in the morning.

That's until he came in the picture. It was any other ordinary day, walking into the nearby coffee shop to get an iced Americano for herself and a chocolate croissant as a ‘thank you for covering for me while I was running late again’ gift to her beloved coworker.

The wait for her order to come was slightly longer than usual and she could not stop the wave of anxiousness flowing through her body. She wondered how her coworker would scold her for being far more late than usual. Y/n started to unknowingly, pick at her nails while she waited for her order to be called up.

“Iced Americano and a chocolate croissant to go!”

Snapping out of her daze, she walked forward to grab a hold of her items, when she was met with a larger hand above hers. Immediately, her hand froze as she let out a gasp. The larger hand was removed quickly as soon as the gasp came out of her lips. Her body jolted backwards at the action and ended up bumping into the chest of whoever the large hand belonged to. Too scared to bring up her gaze, she apologized to the owner of the large hand. Hearing nothing, she feared being told off for grabbing the drink. Stumbling over her thoughts, she mustered all the courage she could to bring her gaze up to the most likely angry person.

Instead of being met with an angry person, she was met with locks of mint colored hair covering their face. Their gaze was focused on the floor as their hand moved to the nape of their neck, blocking Y/n’s view from their face. Worried, she stepped slightly closer to get a look of the person's face.

“Hey, are you okay? I’m so sorry about that, I hope I didn’t hurt you.” She spoke softly as she slowly raised up her hand to see if the person was okay.

Y/n softly touched the person’s shoulder and luckily her hand was not swatted away. She took note of the person’s comfortable outfit as she calmly waited for a response. They were wearing an over sized black hoodie, dark blue jeans with a few rips here and there along with some black combat boots. Comfortable indeed. She stared in awe of the mint colored tresses on the head of the person standing before her. Y/n wanted to reach out to see if they were as soft as they appeared but she didn’t want to push her luck too much. The locks of mint colored hair moved to slowly allow their gazes to meet.

She was finally granted sight of the minty haired person’s face. Y/n was not expecting to be met with such a delightful sight. Letting her eyes wander, she noticed the soft features of the guy standing before her. Starting from his lips, they were a soft hue of pink, they looked slightly chapped but she wondered how soft they would feel. Moving her gaze up little by little, she took note of the faint mole near the top on his button nose. Too busy admiring his features, she did not notice him admiring her features as well.

Their eyes met and they both shied away from each other's gazes. Both faces were flushed and avoided eye contact at all costs. Luckily, the barista called out another order of an iced Americano and a chocolate croissant. Once again, looking at each other, their eyes widened realizing they had ordered the exact same thing. Smiling softly at each other, they walked up to the counter to retrieve their items.

The mint haired guy reached out for the first order that was out on the counter before the incident while handing the one that was recently put out to her. Curiously looking up at the guy with a questioning gaze, he let out a soft chuckle.

“It’s fresher so I’ll let you have it. I’m okay by the way. Not hurt in any way, I was just startled.”

“Oh! Are you sure? I don’t mind, it’s still a drink.”

“It’s perfectly okay...”

“Y/n. L/n Y/n. I am sorry for that.”

“I’m Yoongi, Min Yoongi. Nice to meet you. No need to worry sweetheart, it’s my fault after all, I did reach out after you’ve gotten a hold of it.”

“Thank you Yoongi, I’ll see you around?”

“Definitely sweetheart.”

Y/n smiled at him one last time before walking out of the coffee shop flustered. She wondered if she would still see him around as she rushed to her job. Work seemed to pass by in a flash and in no time, she was back home to finally rest. Falling asleep that night was easy because all that was replaying in her mind was the sound of Yoongi’s soft voice.

The next day was a much brighter one, thanks to the extra hours of sleep. The whole walk to the coffee shop was full of hope to see the Yoongi once again. Arriving at the coffee shop, Y/n began to pick at her fingernails in nervousness when she entered the door. Immediately getting hit with the smell of freshly brewed coffee, she took a deep breath in letting the scent calm her down.

Looking around for the mop of minty locks, she frowned when they were nowhere to be found. Y/n let her feet trail her to the line to get her usual order as she let out a sigh.

“Good morning, sweetheart.” Y/n gasped at the sudden voice that spoke from behind her. Recognizing the voice right away, her face flushed while she hoped that he didn’t catch her scanning the coffee shop for him. Turning around, she offered Yoongi a warm smile. He moved up to be next to her as they moved forward in the line.

“Good morning Yoongi.”

“It is a good morning indeed. I thought I wouldn’t see you around after yesterday.”

“Me? I’m not going anywhere any time soon.”

“That’s good to hear, I’m glad I didn’t scare you off.”

“You scaring me? I bumped into you. If anything, I feel like I did enough to scare you off.”

“I’m happy for that, I wouldn’t have met you if you didn’t bump into me. Plus, a cute little thing like you could never scare me away.” Feeling heat rush to her face, she figured it was going to natural now when in the presence of Yoongi.

“U-um...Y/n?”

“Yes Yoongi?” Sensing a pinch of nervousness laced in his soft voice, she turned around to look up at him to let him know that he had her full undivided attention. Noticing her attention on him, his hands immediately went into the front pocket of his dark colored jeans and avoided all eye contact with Y/n.

Noticing his shy behavior, she placed her hand on his arm and offered him a warm smile when he finally looked at her. Smiling back at her, he took a deep breath to calm his nerves.

“I-It may seem a bit ridiculous considering the fact that we are standing here but would you let me treat you for coffee or anything you’d like?”

“Coffee with you? I’d love that.” Hearing those words come out of her lips, Yoongi released a breath he did not know he was holding.

Noticing that the line was nearing the front of the cash register, he placed his hand gently on the small of her back to guide her up the line as it advanced. Affected by the action, Y/n felt her heart pound in her chest as she felt her face flush for the hundredth time that day. She was faced with Yoongi’s black knitted sweater along with the faint aroma of laundry detergent. Yoongi glanced down at Y/n, eyes widening once he took note of how close they were.

“Hello, how may I help you today?” Both of them looked ahead of them while mentally thanking the cheerful cashier for snapping them out of the little moment.

“Go ahead sweetheart.”

“Um hello, can I get an Iced Americano and a chocolate croissant?”

“Can you make that two of each please?” Y/n felt her breath hitch as she felt Yoongi’s presence behind her. Once the cashier read out the price, Y/n tried to reach into her bag to grab her wallet but before she could, Yoongi held her hand and told her that he had it.

Eyesight falling from his face to gaze at his larger hand holding hers, Y/n felt her cheeks burn up at view. She muttered a small ‘thank you’ once he paid for the both of them.

Side by side, they walked to a few empty stools to sit on while they waited for their orders to be prepared. Pulling out the chairs for the both of them, Yoongi waited for Y/n to sit down first so he could take a seat as well. As he waited, he felt his heart swell up at the sight of Y/n struggling to get on the wooden stool. Once she got settled down, he sat right next to her.

Y/n’s eyes narrowed down at how easily Yoongi was able to slide into the stool. Watching her little fit of frustrations, he couldn't help but laugh at the observation. She tried to keep up the ‘angry’ look but eventually gave in to join his laughter. Once they both calmed down, they relaxed back into the wooden stools as their gazes met once again. Yoongi offered a small smile before he took the initiative to break the comfortable silence between them.

“Do you come here everyday sweetheart?”

“Pretty much, I live off of these coffees. How about you?”

“I think I started coming here about two weeks ago. Now, I think I’ll be coming more often. It feels so nice here, it feels so...”

“Soothing?”

“Yeah, I needed to get some fresh air and instead I got the aroma of freshly brewed coffee in my lungs.”

“That’s the highlight of my day.”

“I think it’ll start being mine too.” Looking back at Yoongi, Y/n noticed his cheeks tinted with a soft pink color while his eyes avoided her lingering ones. His gaze darted to hers once he heard Y/n giggle. Softly smiling along, he noticed his fingers were itching to hold her hand and whisper sweet words to her. Luckily, he didn’t get the chance to embarrass himself as the barista called out their orders.

“Stay here sweetheart.”

Once again, Yoongi mentally thanked the barista for snapping him out of his daze as he walked to receive their orders. Coming back to the beautiful girl that caught his eye, he handed her the coffee and warm croissant.

“Thank you Yoongi. Unfortunately, I have to go before I’m late to work.”

“No worries sweetheart. If it’s not too much for me to ask, is it fine if we can exchange phone numbers… we don’t have to if yo-”

Chuckling at his little stammering, Y/n unlocked her phone and handed it to Yoongi. Slightly embarrassed, Yoongi focused his gaze on her phone to type his number and his name with a little heart on the end. He tapped on the call button so he could get her number as well. Once he felt his phone ring in his pocket, he handed hers back to playfully answer the ringing phone.

“Hello sweetheart.”

“Hello Yoongi.” They could have sworn that they looked like complete idiots smiling at each other to anyone who was in the coffee shop but they did not care.

“As much as I want to stay here with you, I have to get to work.”

“It’s okay. I’ll see you tomorrow sweetheart.”

“See you tomorrow Yoongi.” As Y/n walked out of the coffee shop after getting her things, her phone chimed notifying her that she received a message. Carefully balancing her iced drink on one hand as she unlocked her phone, she smiled when another message popped up on her screen.

‘I hope you have a wonderful day at work and well all day overall sweetheart. I can’t wait to see you tomorrow.’

Y/n looked back into the coffee shop to spot Yoongi already looking at her. She brought up her hand to wave as she mustered up a bright smile.

Her phone chimed once more and her eyes widened seeing the message of her coworker asking if she had to cover for her again. Quickly, she typed a text back letting her know that she’d be there in six minutes. Before starting her walk, she took a deep breath in and released it with a content smile on her face. To her, that coffee tasted much better than any other day along with the warm chocolate croissant that seemed to make her heart warm up at every bite.

That content smile remained for the rest of the day, not even the loads of work that her boss piled on her desk was enough to bring her down. Almost exactly like the day before, work passed by once again in a flash and she was ready to go home. The walk home was not far but it seemed to pass by much more quickly than any other day.

Once Y/n was able to reach her home, she directly walked to the restroom to prepare for bed. As she passed her bedroom, her bed looked so comforting and she could have sworn it was calling out her name. Giggling at the thought, she made her way into the bathroom and turned on the water to the shower. As she waited for the water to adjust to the preferred temperature, she removed the clothes she wore for the day. Before she hopped in, she turned on a soothing playlist on her phone and set it down on the bathroom counter where it would not fall.

Feeling the water pour over her head, she pretended that her worries and troubles were being washed away along with the rose scented soap she lathered on. Once she felt she was clean enough, she wrapped a towel around her body as she stepped out. Gathering her phone, Y/n walked back into her bedroom humming the tunes she heard while she showered.

Tossing her phone on the bed, she stood in front of her wardrobe looking for what to wear for the night. Settling in for an over sized shirt, she hung the towel on the hook by her wardrobe to dress up.

When everything seemed just right, she let herself fall right in the middle of the bed. The phone next to her head chimed and Y/n bubbled with excitement in hopes that it was the guy with the minty hair. Sounding out his name, she realized that his name had a nice sound to it, she loved it. Or maybe she loved the guy that name belonged to.

Shaking her head at the thought, she unlocked her phone and read the message. Her heart skipped a beat for the thousandth time that day.

‘Hello, sweetheart. I hope it’s not too late for you but is it okay if I call you?’

‘I don’t mind Yoongi.’

Before she could pause to think if the message was decent enough to send, her own fingers betrayed her mind and it sent her heart into a frantic state. She’s talked to the guy before but it does not ease down her racing heart. Before she had any more intruding thoughts, her phone rang and her breath hitched. Once again, her fingers had a mind of their own and answered the call.

“Hello sweetheart.”

“H-hi Yoongi.”

“I hope I didn’t wake you up.”

“No, I just laid down so no worries. So Yoongi, to what do I owe the honor for this call?”

“Um well… I just… well I wanted to hear your voice.”

Feeling ecstatic, Y/n shifted around to place her burning cheeks on her cool pillow as she let out a giggle. Part of her wished she could see his face but the other part of her is thankful that he doesn’t get to see the outcome of his words.

“It’s just that you have a soothing voice and well, calling is so much easier than texting.”

Y/n stumbled upon her words as she tried to mentally gather what to say back to Yoongi but before she could embarrass herself any more, he started talking again.

“The rain looks really nice tonight. Is it raining with you?”

“I actually didn’t notice it until you brought it up. It is soothing.”

“Do you love the rain?”

“Does it make you dance?”

Bursting into a fit of laughter, Y/n tried to muffle her laugh with her pillow to listen to Yoongi’s. She decided at that moment that it was definitely one of her favorite sounds in the world. After calming down, she let out a sigh as she felt her body less tense than when the phone call started.

“Tired of me already?”

“No, I could never. I’m enjoying this Yoonie.”

“Yoonie? I like the sound of that sweetheart.”

“Really? Good, now I have a nickname for you too. I gave you my name and you still use sweetheart.”

“I just wanted to know more about you and I still do.”

“Feelings mutual Yoonie. Tell me something that’s on your mind.”

“I’m glad to hear that. Well, the only thing that comes to my mind other than you is that I need to finish the song that’s sitting on top of my piano.”

“You play the piano? You’ve gotta play something for me someday.”

“Actually, I can play a part of it and you can tell me if you like it or not.”

“Play me a song piano man.”

“Very funny, here we go. Ready sweetheart?”

“Ready Yoonie.”

Shifting was heard in the background, Y/n imagined that he was getting comfortable so she adjusted herself to lay comfortably on her side and brought her knees near her chest. Y/n turned the speaker on and pressed it close to her chest, hoping that Yoongi wouldn’t hear her heartbeat.

At the sound of the first few notes, she let her eyes close to enjoy the sound coming from the other side of the line. Mellow tunes were being played so gracefully that Y/n felt as if she were floating in the softest clouds.

The peace and warmth that enveloped in her body was indescribable but it was enough to bring her comfort that she did not know she was missing. Tiredness was consuming her body but instead of giving in she tried to keep her eyes open to listen to the beautiful melody that Yoongi played so gracefully. The peaceful melody eventually came to an end and Yoongi’s soft voice made an appearance again.

“I still need to work on it but it’s almost finished, did you like it?”

“Yoonie that was so beautiful, I loved it so much. What’s the name of the masterpiece?”

“Ah, I’m really happy to hear that. You’ll know the name pretty soon if everything works out sweetheart.”

“Hmm, I’m excited for that day to come. I’m sure whatever name you choose, it’ll be amazing.”

“ Thank you sweetheart. Your nickname suits you very well.”

“You know, your voice is pretty soothing too.”

“Ah you heard that.”

“Were you hoping for me not to hear it?”

“Part of me did but the other part of me is happy you did.”

Before she could answer back, a yawn escaped her mouth.

“Sleepy?”

“A little.”

“You should try to get some sleep sweetheart.”

“Already trying to get rid of me Yoonie?”

“Not at all but who am I to keep a princess from getting beauty sleep.”

“Very funny, I’m enjoying this conversation a lot but I don’t want to fall asleep on you.”

“Go ahead and sleep, I’ll be here when you need me to be sweetheart.”

“Will I see you tomorrow Yoongi?”

“I’ll be there waiting for you.”

“Good, I’ll see you tomorrow. Good night Yoonie, sleep well.”

“Sweetest dreams to you sweetheart.”

Sighing as Y/n finally let sleep consume her, she does not remember if she ended the call or not but she could not bring herself to check. She heard a faint chuckle before she drifted off to another restful sleep.

When Y/n walked into the coffee shop the next morning, Yoongi had been waiting for her along with their orders of iced Americanos and warm chocolate croissants.

As each day passed by, their mornings became dates whenever they found free time in their busy schedules. As each week passed by, they became more comfortable with each other. As each month passed by, their feelings became stronger for each other which led Yoongi to confess with a mixtape labeled as ‘Honey FM’.

Waking up to an empty bed was slightly disappointing but hearing the soft tunes flowing out of the piano made up for it. Smiling to herself, she stretched out and released a couple of tired yawns. Y/n would have made the bed but she knows that somehow they’ll end back under the comfortable sheets pretty soon.

Following the source of the soft tunes playing until she caught sight of her boyfriend sitting in front of the piano with his eyes closed while his hands flowed up and down the piano gracefully.

Zoning out, she remembers the nights where they cuddled together. There were nights where he’d be the big spoon and there were nights where he would be the little spoon, she loved both especially when one of his arms were wrapped around her body while his other hand was intertwined with hers. When she was sure he had fallen asleep, she would bring up the hand that she held and place soft kisses on them. She felt as if the action was showing her wordless appreciation towards him even if he was asleep.

Little did she know that he would sometimes still be awake. The first time she had done it his heart warmed up and he wanted nothing more than to turn her around to place the most love packed kisses he could muster up but he didn’t want to startle her. So he would pretend to be sound asleep just to watch her display so much affection, his heart never seemed to cool down at the affection.

Snapping back to reality, she slowly walks up behind her boyfriend bringing her hands up to place them softly on his shoulders. Smiling to herself when he shifted his head to the side to let her hand caress his face. He let a soft sigh escape his lips as Y/n placed a soft kiss on the apple of his cheek.

“Baby?”

“Yes sweetheart?”

“Can you show me how to play?”

“You want to learn?”

“If you don’t mind showing me, yes.”

“Come here baby.” Yoongi grabbed Y/n’s hand from his shoulder and led her around to have her sit on his lap. He wrapped his arms around her waist to pull her into a small loving embrace once she got comfortable enough.

“I’m not a good teacher but I’ll play something short and easy for you to learn. How does that sound?”

“Perfect Yoonie, I think you’ll do amazing!” He tightened his hold around Y/n’s waist as he placed a peck on her cheek.

He stretched his arms in front of them to place his hands above the keys, instructing Y/n to place her hands on top of his. Nuzzling against the crook of her neck, he started to test out a few keys to warm up.

“I want you to guess the song I’m going to play. Ready sweetheart?”

“Ready.”

Nodding, Yoongi began to move his fingers on the keys playing notes gracefully while Y/n’s fingers tried to remember the keys he played. Once she caught on to the song, her heart warmed up to the sound he played. It was the song he made for Y/n when they first met. She remembered the little mixtape he gifted her along with that song were many covers of the songs she liked. The most unforgettable part of the mixtape was the little handwritten letters with shiny black letters reading out ‘Honey FM’ with a tiny little heart at the end. It was sweet indeed.

Y/n shifted in Yoongi’s lap slightly to place her forehead on his and give him a small peck on his slightly chapped lips.

“Baby, as much as I’d love to continue kissing your lovely lips, I will need you to pay attention. I promise that I’ll give you all the kisses you want as long as you learn this.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

“Okay Yoonie.”

Once again, he unwrapped his arms from around Y/n and put them on the keys of the piano while she took in a deep breath to calm her heart down. Years after being together, she expected to get used to this feeling but he always found a way to speed up her heart and she did not mind one bit.

“Okay. I’ll go slow about a few tries and then once you memorize them, I want to see you try on your own.”

“Do you think I’ll learn it quickly?”

“If you set your heart to it, yes. Even if you don’t learn it, I’ll be here every step of the way.”

“Let’s get started then. Show me your ways piano man.”

“Slow down princess, we have all quarantine to learn this.”

“That’s not what I’m eager for. I want my unlimited kisses so let’s get learning.”

Chuckling underneath Y/n, Yoongi placed one last kiss on the back of her ear before getting ready to play again.

“Let’s get learning then sweetheart.”

#thetruthretold #kpopficsnetwork #yoongi x female reader #yoongi fluff imagine #yoongi imagine #min yoongi imagine #reader x yoongi #yoongi oneshot #yoongi drabbles #yoongi fluff drabbles #yoongi fluff oneshot #quarantine with bangtan #mint yoongi #yoongi fic #bts fic #kpop fic #bts x reader #mint yoongi fluff

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ddaenggtan · 5 years

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monsters and gods | series masterlist

from eden | myg + jhs | ♡ ꕤ ☽ | 15.6k | posted

you’ve been in the dark a long time, overworked and exhausted. the only bright point is your gatekeeper, hoseok, your closest friend and the man you love but can’t have. you’ve accepted that loneliness is inevitable for you. when a voice calls to you, though, and moves you so deeply that you rip open the earth to help them, you meet a mint-haired boy that changes everything you thought you knew about your prison.

lay me gently | ksj | ♡ ꕤ | posted

there is no time for loneliness among the fires of your forge, no room in your buzzing mind for thoughts of anything but your next invention and the pain in your leg. your life is tilted off its axis, though, when your parents arrange a marriage without your knowledge or consent, and your new husband begins to situate himself into your life despite protests from either of you. you don’t know what zeus and hera have planned, but a volcano is no place for a love god like seokjin.

black irises in the sunshine | kth | posted

anger is everything. other gods tease you for the short fuse, but it comes with the territory. people have called you stupid, have called you dumb, oafish, useless, incompetent, insolent, rude, arrogant. all of it. insults and mockery flung at you, but even your skin isn’t thick enough to deal with constant abuse. it’s the exact reason you keep going to the underground, knuckles bloody and bruised, fighting anyone that dared enter the cage. it’s the reason you go to the clubs, surround yourself with mortals and their writhing bodies. it’s there that you see him the first time, voice husky as it rolls through the room. it’s there you find someone who treats you differently than the rest. you just never expected him to be one of the muses.

it will come back | pjm | ♡ ꕤ ☽ | 20% written

this dance has been going on for centuries, it seems. years and years spent waiting for another glimpse, another chance, only to have it stolen from him again. this time, it’s different. this time, he’s ready. this time, when he sees you and your brother, he ensures that zeus is distracted, and he takes his chance. you, on other hand, don’t know where this beautiful man came from, or how he seems to know things about you and your brother that should be impossible. it’s unnerving and fascinating and you’ve always been one for an enigma. you just don’t know how true that is.

kill the lights, kiss my eyes | knj | in progress

it’s a curse, they say. punishment for defouling the temple of a goddess, they say. glory to any who prevail, they say. they don’t mention the pain that came, they don’t speak of the desertion, they don’t consider the person that existed before. they certainly don’t speak of the solitude, or the fear that comes with being hunted. and they never speak of the kindness of athena, the gift of self-defense and protection that everyone views as a threat, the comfort that the palace brings. the love that radiates from the wisest of the olympians whenever you look upon him. they don’t mention how it was meant to be a blessing. they don’t mention how it is a blessing.

fetor and fertile | jjk | in progress

seeing the future isn’t what you expected. it’s not what others told you it would be. it’s not luxury, it’s not sitting in his temples and palaces while you’re fed grapes and you spout some wise quip to whoever wandered in. no, instead, it’s sitting in the dark at four in the morning, the sky change colors while flashes of what might be obscure your vision. it’s scrawling words on every available surface and attempting to piece together some kind of sense out of them. it’s caffeine and insomnia and nightmares, and if you ever see him again, you’re going to wring jungkook’s neck for making you into this. how lucky you are that he gets stranded among the mortals and has only you to turn to.

#series: monsters and gods #masterlist: monsters and gods #*whistles* just gonna leave this here #i'll update this as they get finished and posted #so y'all have an idea of what's coming up!!

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kookscrescent · 4 years

Text

BTS Game ☽

I was tagged by @wthkook 💕 thank you for tagging me!

Rules: Answer the questions and tag more ARMY friends to play along!

First BTS song? Blood, sweat & tear 💦

First bias? Jungkook

Current bias? Jungkook has remained my bias since day one, but they honestly all wreck me 24/7!!

Put the members in order of your bias list: Can’t do that and I refuse to do that!

Favorite BTS song? Blood, Sweat & Tears and Mikrokosmos ✨

Favorite BTS song that is underrated? Coffee ☕️ Seriously I freaking love that song! It’s so good and I listen to it all the timeeeee

Favorite song of Wings? Blood Sweat & Tears

Favorite song of each LY Her, Tear and Answer? Dimple, Outro: Tear and Answer: Love Myself

Favorite music video? Blood, Sweat & Tears, but ON is quickly racing to #1!!

Favorite dancer? How is one supposed to choose when they all dance so good?!

Favorite vocalist? I have a weak spot for my bub Jungkook, but they can all bring me to tears!

Favorite rapper? Probably Yoongi - I’ve listened to his Mixtape the most

Favorite hair color on each member? KSJ: Purple!!! Or that really pale pink color he had during bst! MYG: Do I even have to say it? MINTTTTT!! JHS: I loved his orange hair! But also when he just has black hair... ufff! KNJ: blond blond blond blond!! PJM: this is the toughest one yet and I simply cant choose bc they all look good on him and I love every single one!!! KTH: Blue/mint!!!! And blond!! Don’t forget the blond! JJK: When he had cherry hair!!!!!!!! I’m also just crazy about the hair color he has now!! .... also can we get blond JK soon please?!

Favorite choreography? Mic Drop, ON and I’m fine

Favorite ship? (I don’t like to call it ship but that's just me... so I’ll call this one favorite friendship lol)... My favorite friendship is the one they have as ot7!!

I’m tagging: @moonstarvmin @moonpjms @jooniehasmyheart @jiminsfault @engeljimin & everyone else that wants to do it (you can tag me in the post if you want to :)))) )

#thank you for tagging me in it!!#games #personal

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gukyi · 6 years

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stages | myg

⇒ summary: from neighbors, to locker buddies, to college classmates, you and min yoongi never seem to leave each other alone.

⇒ {neighbors!au, enemies to lovers!au (sort of??), bad boy!yoongi}

⇒ pairing: min yoongi x female reader ⇒ word count: 3k ⇒ genre: fluff ⇒ warnings: n/a ⇒ a/n: surprise!!! i needed a break from twp and this was the first thing that happened. it’s kinda short and kinda doesn’t have a plot, but whatever!!!

When you are five years old, it is the summer before kindergarten. Your mother has been dutifully preparing you for the beginning of your public education, teaching you how to read and write. You can almost read your favorite children’s book—Brown Bear, Brown Bear, What Do You See?, clearly, the superior children’s book—entirely on your own.

You are five years old, and sitting at the edge of the sidewalk, the hot pavement burning the backs of your lower legs as they are crossed criss-cross-applesauce. In your hand is a thick black Sharpie, and in front of you, held down onto the pavement by your foot so it does not go flying off in the wind, in a piece of paper.

You are five years old and in front of you come zooming a small minivan in a sky blue color and a big, white truck behind it. On the truck are the words “Moving Company.” You don’t know what they mean, but they stop at the house right next to yours. You stop drawing for a second, peering over the bushes planted at the sides of the sidewalk to see what all of the commotion is about.

You are five years old when, amongst the sounds of car doors slamming and big men shouting, emerges a little boy from the backseat of the minivan, his hair as jet black as the shapeless blob you’ve convinced yourself is a dog on the paper in front of you. He’s tiny, his thick bangs cover his eyes, and he’s wearing all black despite your mother always telling you to wear light colors in the summer so you don’t attract heat.

You’ve never seen another child on this street. All of your neighbors, at least the ones that you’ve met, are either old people or people with dogs instead of kids. Not that you’re complaining, because Pickle the German Shepherd from the house two doors down is the sweetest dog you’ve ever met, even if he’s the same size as you.

Your mother did always tell you never to talk to strangers, especially strangers that not even your parents know, but the little boy isn’t a stranger. He’s the same age as you. By default, that makes him a friend. That’s just how it works.

You drop the Sharpie onto the paper resting on the sidewalk, not really caring if it blows away in the wind—it’s not like it was a very good drawing, anyway—and begin to make your way into the road. With each step, the hot pink sneakers on your feet light up and the pigtails in your hair bounce in the wind. You can feel the bobbles keeping your hair up hit each other with each playful skip.

The little boy has his back turned to you when you approach him. He’s reaching into the backseat of his car to grab something, but you can’t figure out what. As you get closer, you realize that you’re about the same height, though you’re willing to be that you’re actually taller than him.

“Hi!” You exclaim excitedly, chirpily. Your shrill voice clearly catches him by surprise, and he whips around with his brown eyes blown impossibly wide. In his hands, clutched tightly to his chest, is one of those play keyboards, the ones that make all of the drum sounds. “I’m Y/N.”

“Hello,” the boy says quickly, ducking his head and pushing past you.

You raise your eyebrow. That’s never happened to you. You always make friends. That’s how it works.

“What’s your name?” You persist, following him intently. You’re not leaving until the two of you have shared your life secrets with each other. He’s the only other kid on this block. You’re desperate.

“Yoongi,” he mutters quietly, and you almost don’t hear him if it weren’t for your apparently good ears.

“Nice to meet you, Yoongi,” you say, quickly running in front of him and holding out your hand. He’s still clutching the keyboard, even as he dodges all attempts by you to be friends and walks up to the house next to yours.

He doesn’t reach out to shake your hand, something that your father always told you was rude. What’s up with this kid? All he does is nod, trying to avoid you but clearly to no avail.

“How old are you?” You continue to interrogate him. “I’m five.”

“Me too,” he says rapidly, the words slurring together in an effort to make them even faster.

“We should be friends,” you suggest plainly.

Yoongi’s eyes widen again, and he looks you up and down four times (four!), from your head to your toes. You realize what you must look like to him, a crazed little girl covered in pink and purple items, a bright smile on her face, and a wild fire in her eyes. In response to your declaration, Yoongi brushes past you once more, heading right into the house. You’re left standing outside the front door, mouth still open and arm outstretched, wondering why on Earth this new kid, Yoongi, doesn’t want to be your friend.

When you tell your mother later, she tells you that he’s probably a new neighbor. You don’t know what that means until she explains that Yoongi and his family will live next door, and that brightens your spirits a little. Maybe today was just an off day, and tomorrow you can try again to become best friends. Your mother even suggests the two of you make a welcome cake for the family. Cake always works.

He’ll definitely want to be best friends after the cake.

(Spoiler alert: He doesn’t.)

You are sixteen, and out of every single time you’ve spoken to Min Yoongi, you don’t think he’s spoken back more than four words to you at any single instance. His responses are always short, clipped words, no more than one syllable, and they very clearly convey some sort of disdain for you that you can’t exactly pick up on. It’s been eleven years since he moved in, and Min Yoongi wants absolutely nothing to do with you.

You are sixteen, but that doesn’t mean you are foolish. You know that Min Yoongi has made it plenty obvious he’s not keen on being your friend. Which is perfectly fine, you’ve come to realize. Not all people have to be best friends with each other. But what you do not understand is why he is so intent on letting you know that he dislikes you, why he always rudely responds to you whenever you try to just be amicable and friendly. It costs zero dollars to be a nice guy, but not even Yoongi can manage that.

You are sixteen, and so is Min Yoongi. And he is still wearing all black—at least, he is whenever you catch the occasional glimpse of him in the school hallways or outside of his house—and has bangs that cover his eyes. Instead of them being black, however, he changes it up, and every time you see him he’s got a different color to them, pink, mint, blonde, blue. He has piercings that decorate his ears from top to bottom and one on his bottom lip, too, and you have never seen him without his thick black earplugs in.

You are sixteen, and high school is in full swing. You’re at the peak of your teens, and it doesn’t get much better than being sixteen and carefree and genuinely happy, right before the weight of college applications and actual college drag you down into the fiery pits of hell, where you most definitely belong. Still, you have yet to grow out of your phase of pink and purple, even though you’ve added a few more colors, like yellow and blue, to your arsenal of clothing.

When you are sixteen and you get to your locker for the first time for the school year, already ready to shed yourself of the weight that’s definitely going to give you back problems in the near future, there is already somebody standing there. It’s not difficult for you to figure out who.

Min Yoongi looks different up close, his back turned to you just like it was when he first moved in, reaching into his car to grab that fucking keyboard of his. He isn’t reaching into the locker that is most definitely yours, but he is blocking it. Him, and his all black getup, his combat boots, and the earrings that dangle from his lobes. They’re all blocking the way to your locker.

“Excuse me?” You ask, and you can see the way his shoulders slump when his ears recognize your voice. Alright, you get it. He doesn’t like you. “You’re blocking my locker, Min Yoongi.”

Yoongi whips around, and you’ve never seen him so up close like this. His eyes are small, beaded, hazy. They hide secrets behind the chocolate in them, a fuzziness you can’t make out. His lips are bright pink, plush, especially so with the lip ring piercing his lower one. His skin is smooth and warm, despite his already pale complexion. His hair is fading more in the front than in the back, the blue turned into an icy gray. You can’t deny that he’s attractive, not even when he’s staring at you with nothing but displeasure lacing his features.

“Is this your locker?” He asks, deadpanning and unhappy.

“Yeah,” you say brightly, trying not to let his pessimistic mood get the better of you. You’ve always been chirpy and cheerful, and you refuse to let a certain Min Yoongi change that. “Is that one yours?” You ask, pointing to the locker directly to the right of your own.

Min Yoongi sighs, which you take as a yes.

“Great! Guess we’re locker neighbors this year, along with being regular neighbors!” You say as Yoongi moves out of the way, clearly regretting every single one of his life choices, probably beginning with his agreement to move next door to you. Quickly, you enter in the locker combination and begin to pull your stuff out of your backpack, already starting to decorate the inside with photos of you and your friends, your beloved dog, and various bright colors of stationary for emergencies.

One glance over at Yoongi’s locker reveals to you a wholly bland locker, filled only with his books and his black denim jacket. No pictures, no decorations, no spare supplies.

“Guess I’ll see you around, Min Yoongi! We’ll become super close this year, I’m sure of it!” You say happily, already well aware that Min Yoongi will try his damn hardest to avoid you at all costs.

Well, this year, you’ve decided that you’re not going to let him get away with that.

It’s the season of the annual winter formal, which is always less formal than prom but more formal than any other school dance you have during the year, if there is such a thing. It’s winter formal season and you are intent on interrogating Min Yoongi, to the ends of the Earth even if you must, to convince him to go. He doesn’t even have to go with you—you laugh at the thought of him thinking about it for even a second—but Min Yoongi never does anything for the school, never goes to the games, never raises his hand, never contributes to the fundraisers. All he ever does is listen to music and sulk in corners.

“Min Yoongi!” You say one day, slamming his locker shut and catching him entirely by surprise as you meet his eyes. He immediately loses all form of expression when he sees your face, his lips curled down slightly and a single eyebrow raised.

“What do you want, Y/N?” He asks. “I told you, I don’t want a partner for our music project.”

“I don’t need you for our music project,” you object. “I have my own partner, and we’ll be fine. Fuck you,” you tell him. “Anyway, I wanted to ask you if you were going to the Winter Wonderland dance.”

Yoongi scoffs, eyes looking away with his mouth open in shock, as if he’s saying, “Is she really asking me, Min Yoongi, if I’m going to some lame school dance?”

“Why, did nobody else want to take you? Am I a last resort?” Min Yoongi asks, pouting your way as he leans down condescendingly.

“I don’t need an escort, I’m not a princess,” you tell him. “I’m going with friends, thank you very much. I just wanted to see if you’d go. We’re trying to get our attendance up this year.”

Min Yoongi nods. “Right, I forgot you were one of those Student Council bastards.”

You try not to dwell on the insult to the one school organization you actually kind of care about, moving right past it. “That’s besides the point. You should come, Min Yoongi. It’s a lot of fun and the food isn’t actually half bad. Plus, someone almost always laces the punch.”

“Sweaty bodies grinding up against each other in a dark gymnasium to the tune of terrible pop music?” Yoongi asks. “Not really my thing. Sorry, Y/N. You’ll have to try persuading somebody else.”

“You’re always such a stick in the mud, you know that? You hate doing everything and you keep to yourself and you’ve never liked me even though I’ve done absolutely nothing wrong to you,” you say, trying not to let all of your pent up emotions on Min Yoongi spill out at once and failing miserably at it. “What the fuck is your problem? Why do you hate me so much?”

“I don’t hate you,” Min Yoongi says quietly.

“What?” You ask, unsure if you heard him correctly.

“I said, you just bother me,” he says, changing his words. You’re still not one hundred percent positive he said he didn’t hate you, but it’s too late now. He won’t change his words again. “Sorry, Y/N. Not everybody loves you.”

With that, he’s walking away, putting his earbuds back in and letting the bass echo around him, loud enough for you to make out as he leaves you speechless yet again.

You are eighteen, and you’ve come to the conclusion that the universe maybe just has it out for you, or something.

You are eighteen, and you are so damn excited for university. So damn excited for a fresh start, for a clean slate, for you to be able to wipe away all of the terrible memories of high school and make room for better experiences, experiences worth remembering. You can’t stop shaking with anticipation as you move into your cramped little dorm, decorating it with fairy lights and an abundance of throw pillows and stationary that’s too aesthetically pleasing to use.

You are eighteen, and the only class that you’re actually looking forward to is your Intro to Music Production class, a giant seminar that will probably not be very engaging nor personal, but enlightening nonetheless. You swear you’ve picked a university that nobody else from your school is attending, a promise that there will be no loose ends you have to tie up now.

You are eighteen, and when you walk into your first Intro to Music Production class on a warm, sunny Wednesday, the first person you are greeted with is none other than Min Yoongi.

He’s up out of his seat, rearranging himself, when he makes eye contact with you. The both of you must look like deer caught in headlights, shocked at the sight of the other, standing in the same lecture hall at the same time in the same university. Only God would play such a mean practical joke on you, laughing from above you at the fact that you have to spend the next four years dealing with Min Yoongi despite the fact that you swore you’d never see him again after graduation.

What is surprising, however, is the fact that after you quickly turn your eyes away from him and rush to an empty seat, far from his, you feel a body sitting to your right, and when you turn to look, it’s him. He says absolutely nothing, his earphones still in like usual, playing a song you’ve never heard before. You open your mouth to speak, ask him why, ask him how, ask him if he’s gone insane, but nothing comes out.

Maybe it’s better this way. Maybe if you don’t say anything, don’t question his actions, then you really can start fresh. Maybe this is his way of wiping his own slate clean, the first show of something other than clear disdain for you. Maybe, if you do question it, something will change. And strangely enough, you don’t want anything to change.

Turns out, Intro to Music Production brings out a Min Yoongi that doesn’t decide not to pay attention and mope around, headphones in and music blaring. Intro to Music Production is a class that both you and Min Yoongi avidly care about, taking notes that aren’t nonsense and trying to engage yourself in the content being taught.

When the class is over, you have half a mind to dash out, not wanting to spend another second in such close proximity with Yoongi, the feeling so foreign it gives you chills. But, the other half is telling you to wait for him, to talk to him, to finally make an attempt to become something other than mild enemies. So, you resist the urge to run and loiter around, your stuff held tightly to your chest as you wait for him to gather his own belongings.

“What’s gotten into you?” You ask as you’re walking out, trying to avoid his piercing gaze. He’s stopped dyeing his hair so much, his roots heavily grown in, and he’s traded his lip ring for a simple stud, but other than that, he looks the same. A little older, a little softer, but the same.

“I don’t know,” Yoongi says gruffly. “I just liked seeing a familiar face.”

“But you hated me in high school,” you say, laughing at the absurdity of it all.

“I didn’t hate you,” Yoongi says. “I just wasn’t used to you.”

“We’ve been neighbors for thirteen years,” you remind him, not buying his excuse.

“But you… you were always so loud and wild and vibrant,” Yoongi says. “I wasn’t used to it. You scared me.”

“Not my intention,” you tell him apologetically. “My bad.”

“Mine too, really. I did actually kind of like you, you know,” Yoongi says. “Your overbearing presence in my life was comforting.”

You place a hand on your chest, offended by the word ‘overbearing’, but you do appreciate the fact that Yoongi has changed, is changing, is learning to change. He’s always been something of a constant in your life, him and his stoic personality. You remember your friend telling you a word for people like him, tsundere. It’s such a perfect word for a guy like Min Yoongi.

“I guess your uptight, emo self was kind of a constant in mine as well,” you relent, giving into his words with ease. Strangely enough, everything just feels so natural when it comes to him.

“Hey, I was not emo,” Yoongi says. “I was expressing myself.”

You scoff. “Sure thing, Emo,” you tease, ruffling his hair and making his nose scrunch up. Yoongi laughs at the action, something you don’t think you’ve ever seen before, and it is warm and bright and makes your heart flutter ever so slightly. Damn.

“Hey, do you want to grab some coffee with me?” Yoongi suggests happily. “We can kick start college the right way—caffeine.”

You giggle. “Like a date, or something?”

Yoongi looks up to the side as if he’s pondering your question, figuring out an appropriate response. “Sure,” he says, nodding. “Like a date, or something.”

And maybe you and Min Yoongi haven’t always gotten off on the right foot, but you are eighteen and things are changing, and you hope that like always, Min Yoongi will be there through it all.

⇒ hmu with feedback or just talk to me here!

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smuttyfairy · 7 years

Text

Escape {MYG}

Part 1 | Part 2

Description: You’re Min Yoongi’s professor. Min Yoongi doesn’t seem to care about that.

Genre: Smut

Word Count: 2,593

Pairing: Min Yoongi x Reader

Author: Admin Xiufairy

Just being a teacher was hard, but being his teacher was harder. He was Min Yoongi, a boy in his last year of college with you as his music professor. This kid had a passion, you’d give him that, despite the age gap not being that big.

The day he walked in with his hair dyed mint green, you knew it was over for you. He liked rap, more than the average rapper really did, and not only that, but he was good at it. Good was probably an understatement, you’d say he was one of the best rappers you’d ever heard, celebrity or not.

You and Min Yoongi talked about music a lot. Honestly, you didn’t know why he took the class, he probably knew more about music composure than you did. In fact, the other day he told you something that blew you away - you had no idea about some of the secrets music really had.

He had a few friends in your class, their names were Hoseok and Namjoon, both rappers as well. There was also their younger friend, Jungkook, who you had met before because he hung out with Yoongi before he had to go to his own class.

Yoongi had the afternoon class, and for some reason, you always looked forward to seeing him, it was what got you through the morning class. You couldn’t help but notice the bright color Yoongi had dyed his hair. It almost was enough to distract you from actually teaching the lesson, but you were a professional. Yoongi was just a good friend who connected with you through music. That was all.

After the lecture was over, you weren’t surprised when Yoongi walked up to you with papers, pulling a chair up to your desk. You looked up at him with a smile.

“What’s up?”

“Well, I was writing this rap and since you’re a music teacher and all, maybe you could check it out?” He gave you a little smile and you began nodding, taking the papers he handed you. You looked over the lyrics. They were good. Explicit, but good.

“Agust D?” You raised an eyebrow at him before looking into his eyes.

“My rapper name is Suga.” He replied. “I’m from Daegu. D-Town Suga spelled backwards.” He bit down on his lip like he was nervous. You continued looking at the song and then you tripped up at some lyrics before going back and reading them again.

“Yoongi…?” You looked at him. “Does this say you’re going to fat dick ‘em?” You heard him choke back a laugh before he responded.

“Uh, yeah. I just...felt like writing that? I don’t know but you don’t have to read it if you don’t -”

“Yoongi, calm down.” You chuckled at him and you saw him sink down in his seat a little bit. Once you finished reading the lyrics, you actually really enjoyed them. While you were a music teacher, you’d never actually written a full song, you could never get it to flow but Min Yoongi had talent. Amazing talent.

What was Min Yoongi doing in a music class when he could write like this?

“I really like it.” You told him, handing him the papers back. His face lit up like a Christmas tree.

“Really?” He grinned.

“Really.” You replied. “The lyrics are...explicit, but well written, I’m excited to hear what you’re going to do with this.” You didn’t know why you had such an effect on Min Yoongi, but you’d be lying if you said you didn’t like it.

You and Yoongi talked for the rest of the class period and nearly an hour after the class actually ended. You didn’t mind spending extra time with Yoongi but since you promised your friends that you’d go out tonight, you had to go. He didn’t ask and respected that you had things to do.

You hurried to get ready, seeing as it was already past 7 PM when you got home. You settled for your black high-waisted shorts and a red crop top that your friends had bought you long ago. You’d never had a reason to wear it before now. You put on your makeup and just as you finished getting ready, your friends texted you to tell you that they were there.

You rarely showed skin. Not that you didn’t want to, you just didn’t have a reason. After all, you were a professor at a college, you didn’t need anyone to figure out anything about you. You always wore shirts that covered the tattoo on your back, but now you could easily see it when you were wearing the crop top. You’d gotten it a while ago just for the hell of it, and you still didn’t regret it.

The first thing you did after arriving at the bar was actually going to get a drink. You had to get something in your system before you could even pretend to have fun. Bars were typically not your scene, you discouraged them but at least you could enjoy them while you were there.

Just as you started on your third drink, you turned around to face the dance floor, your friends already there and far ahead of you. You envied how they could just do things like this, you just had grown out of this phase apparently.

“Professor?” The voice was so familiar and you almost groaned at the sound of it. You turned just a little bit more to face the mint-haired boy.

“Please, I’m not a teacher right now.” You told him. “My name is (Y/N).” Min Yoongi just had a way of turning up at every turn. He sat on the stool next to you, getting a drink for himself before he started talking to you.

“You look different.” His eyes traveled along your body and you almost blushed.

“I don’t do these things.” You looked down into your glass.

“And you have a tattoo.” He tsked. “You’re full of secrets.”

“I’m not a teacher all the time.” You turned to face him again, not thinking of anything that could possibly go wrong. You were right, you weren’t a teacher right now.

“Good, come dance with me.” He held his hand out to you and your eyes widened.

“That’s really inappropriate, I’m your teacher -”

“You said you weren’t a teacher right now.” He reminded you, raising his eyebrow. “There’s nothing inappropriate about dancing unless you make it that way.”

With that in mind, you less than reluctantly took his hand and began to follow him to the dance floor. You knew this was a bad idea, but it was also Min Yoongi. The man who just so happened to be in your class despite not learning anything new and acing every single test and exam you could ever begin to come up with. There was nothing you could do to trip him up.

His hands rested on the uncovered skin just above your shorts, his warmth radiating against your skin. It was dangerous how much that made your skin tingle. Whatever happened, you would blame it on the alcohol that had barely taken over your system yet.

There was no space in between both of your bodies and something about that gave you a thrill. You nearly shivered under his simple touch. He must’ve noticed, he knew his effect on you and when his eyes traveled down to your lips, your breath hitched. Was he really going to kiss you?

You got your answer soon after that. He leaned close to you, but before his lips touched yours, he paused.

“Since you’re not my teacher right now, I think it’s okay to tell you that you’re fucking driving me crazy.” And before you had the chance to answer, his lips were against yours. He was both rough and gentle at the same time and you were living for it.

You gripped onto his shoulders and the world faded away from the two of you as he pulled you closer to him. You gasped against his lips when he reached down to squeeze your ass. He chuckled darkly before giving it a light smack. You were definitely surprised at this side of Yoongi but something about him was making your core tingle.

It seemed like you were not the only one who had a lot of secrets.

“Do you want me?” He asked, moving his lips to your neck as you held onto him tightly. You hadn’t ever thought about something like this happening to you. It was wrong and he was your student, but you wanted him more than you’d ever wanted anyone. His teeth brushed lightly against your skin and you bit your lip to keep back a moan. He moved his hips closer to you and you felt his semi hard member press against your leg.

“You’re insane.” You kissed him this time, tangling your fingers in his mint colored hair. It suddenly hit you exactly what was happening. This was far past inappropriate. You suddenly pushed him away from you, watching as he raised his eyebrow at you.

You immediately went to the bathroom, running your fingers through your hair before you patted your flushed cheeks so you would come back to your senses. However, the only thing on your mind was Min Yoongi, standing there all alone with his own problem growing.

You turned towards the door again and nearly jumped three feet in the air when you saw Yoongi leaning against the wall. You watched as his fingers moved carefully and deliberately to lock the door. You’d never seen him look at you like that but you could tell that he usually got what he wanted. For some reason, right now he wanted you.

“Why’d you run away from me?” He asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Because I -” You paused for a second. “I don’t have to explain anything to you. Go back out there and bring someone home -”

“I want you.” His voice was oddly calm and monotone for someone who clearly had a problem. “I know you want me too. It’s not like either of us are underage, and all I can think about is fucking you so hard that you can’t walk tomorrow.” His words made you feel like you were melting. The wetness between your legs was growing and you knew that if he tried again, you wouldn’t say no.

“Then what are you waiting for?” After that, he practically pounced on you, his hands trailing against your bare shoulders as he kissed you hard. You rocked your hips against his, a sound emitting from the back of his throat as his hands shot down to your hips.

“This isn’t how I wanted this to happen but I really can’t take it anymore, I’m going to explode.” He groaned, undoing the buttons on your shorts. He pushed the shorts and your panties down your legs in one tug. He hoisted you up onto the sinks and you gasped at the coldness touching your skin.

Your shorts and panties were pulled past your heels and you had no time to be embarrassed as you watched Yoongi’s fingers go for the belt on his ripped jeans. You watched in anticipation, as he moved close to you, kissing you hard again. You gripped his shoulders and pulled him closer to you, hearing his belt clang against the ground as he pushed them down his legs. You didn’t dare look down at him.

You lips locked with him again and your whole body twitched when you felt his tip against your entrance. You couldn’t sit still as you anticipated him inside you, unable to ignore how badly you wanted him. As soon as he began pushing inside you, your breath hitched and he paused. He continued, sliding into you easily.

He stopped moving again and you assumed, felt that he was all the way inside you until he pushed the rest of the way in. A moan escaped your lips and you wrapped your legs around his waist. He bit his lip and you watched as he closed his eyes.

“Do you know how long I’ve waited for this?” He leaned forward, nipping and sucking on your neck until he heard another moan leave your lips. “I’ve wanted you for so long.” He began to move his hips, small grunts falling from his lips every time he thrusted inside.

“Yoongi,” You gripped onto his shoulders, digging your nails into his shirt. “Fuck me. Please.”

“Well, since you asked so nicely.” He smirked against your neck before he began to slam into you, not wasting any time in filling you up over and over again. You couldn’t even process what was happening, the pleasure drained everything else out from the world and all you knew was Yoongi.

You felt yourself building and you didn’t want to cum so embarrassingly fast, but you couldn’t help it. Yoongi was easily pleasuring you. He moved his hands to your thighs and gripped you tightly, lifting your legs further up to angle your body and spread your legs more for him.

He hit your g-spot hard and you cried out, curling towards him and feeling your high wash over you. You held onto him tighter and a long moan fell from his mouth as you felt him still inside you. His warm cum filled you to the brim and he held you tightly to keep you upright.

You were both breathing heavily as he pulled out from you, an unsatisfying emptiness taking you over. He held you against him for a few until he set you gently against the counter. He pulled his pants and boxers up and fixed himself before he grabbed your panties and slid them up your legs again, pulling you off the counter so he could pull your shorts up as well. You looked into his eyes as he buttoned up your shorts.

You were expecting him to leave now, you were expecting him to never even talk to you again unless he had to. After all, you were his teacher. But he just sat there, presumably waiting for you to say something.

“Can I drive you home? You’ve been drinking.” His question surprised you. You nearly frowned before you decided against it.

“Yoongi…”

“Don’t say what I think you’re going to say.” His words stopped you in your tracks. “You have secrets and I...I want to know them. I thought I was pretty straightforward with how I felt about you.”

“How you feel about me?” You frowned at him, a pang of guilt striking your chest.

“I’ve been so obvious about - it doesn’t even matter.” He closed his eyes and ran his fingers through his mint colored hair and turned away from you. “Are you seriously not even considering actually being with me?”

“Yoongi, you’re my student.”

“But you’ll have sex with me? You just won’t date me?” His words were becoming louder. You’d never seen him like this. “Is that what you thought I wanted from you?”

“Yoongi, you need to understand how hard it would be for us to -”

“Yeah, whatever.” He scoffed. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” He walked towards the door and unlocked it, walking out of it and not even giving you a second glance.

There was no way you could escape Min Yoongi.

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