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daechwitatamic · 1 year

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All That Holly, Jolly Sh*t || MYG

(banner by @/itaeewon)

Title: All That Holly, Jolly Sh*t

WC: 11k

Genre: exes to lovers, the babiest angst straight to fluffy smut (they’ve got shit to work out, but they get there!!)

Summary: You haven’t seen or heard from Yoongi since he broke your heart five years ago, laying out a logical list of reasons why you were better off breaking up. When a Christmas Eve blizzard traps you together for the night, you have no choice but to examine how few of those reasons are still true. And if they’re not… where does that leave you?

Rating: NSFW - minors DNI

Warnings: manbun!yoongi YES THAT IS A WARNING, drinking, language, kissing, breast play/nip stim, fingering, unprotected sex with bc (be safer than this!!!), multiple orgasms (f), penetrative sex, soft idiots in love

A/N: Merry Christmas, Kelly!!!! @here4btsfics I was soooooo excited to pull your name for @bangtansecretsanta because it gave me such a good opportunity to get to know you better and start talking to you! I really, really hope you love this little Christmas fic!

I know you said no angst so just a lil disclaimer, a synopsis I messaged my beta was "it hurts for a hot minute but then they kiss about it and everyone is fine" so I think you'll be okay!!!

Huge thank you to @kookstempo @moonleeai and @cherrysoulth for beta-ing and to @itaeewon for the gorgeous banner!

“Anything new with you? How’s work?”

You plaster on what you hope is a friendly smile and not a sarcastic one. Seokjin’s girlfriend is super nice, you remember her from a party over the summer, but you do not want to talk about work right now. You want to drown yourself in another cinnamon toast crunch cocktail and double-fist those iced, reindeer-shaped brown-sugar cookies.

You admit to being a little bit on edge.

You’ve attended Taehyung’s annual Christmas party every year since you left for college. It’s tradition, and it’s one of the only times each year that the whole group is back together again after you all went your separate ways in the world.

Except, for the last five years, Yoongi hadn’t attended. You never thought too much about why - too busy, other plans, just the fact that he’s an absolute Grinch… or maybe it’s your presence that keeps him away. You didn’t waste too much time thinking about it. You’re just always happy he isn’t there.

Until this year.

No one even had the decency to shoot you a warning text. Hey, heads up, your ex is here, very unexpectedly.

You knock back the rest of your drink and head to make yourself a new one.

You normally attach yourself to Jimin at these, but he’s betrayed you this year by bringing an absolutely gorgeous date. They’re currently hogging the doorway with mistletoe above it. You make a mental note to remind him tomorrow that the PDA thing stops being cute after a while.

“Work’s good,” you say, finally answering the question. “Nothing new. How about you and Jin? All good?”

“Nothing new to report!” she grins. Then, the smile slips off her face a little as she glances at her phone. She notices you watching and grimaces. “Sorry,” she says, “I’m not trying to be rude, I’m just keeping an eye on the radar. The storm tonight is supposed to get nasty.”

“Hey! What’s the rule tonight?” a voice bellows from the living room. It’s Taehyung, perched against the back of one of his couches, and he points an accusatory finger at the girl you’re talking to.

She must know something you don’t, because while you’re baffled, she looks chagrined. “Don’t talk about the blizzard,” she recites by rote.

“Don’t talk about the blizzard,” he repeats. “Have another drink. It’s Christmas Eve, we welcome the snow.”

“You’re the only person I know who’s optimistic enough to try to throw a party on a night they’re calling for the storm of the century,” Seokjin tells him, making his way into the kitchen - probably to protect his girlfriend from Taehyung’s scoldings.

“They say that every time,” Taehyung scoffs, waving a hand. Then he’s up and moving, heading towards the dining room, where a spread of food is laid out.

There must be more people in there, you think, because the kitchen and the living room are definitely looking a little less crowded than they were an hour ago. Yoongi and Hoseok are on the couch, glasses in hand, talking quietly. The tv, mounted high on the wall, plays a classic Christmas film in black and white. You stop before the balcony doors, peering out into the night. The lamps that line the parking lot glow orange, and you can see in the lamplight that snow is falling steadily, and it’s starting to accumulate a little on the pavement below.

Jimin comes up beside you. His date’s lipstick is still smudged in the corner of his mouth.

“You’re a hot mess,” you tell him affectionately.

“I think we’re gonna head out,” he tells you, ignoring the jab.

You shake your head, your earrings glittering in your reflection in the glass. “It’s not even nine,” you point out.

“The roads are going to get slick,” he tells you, suddenly serious. “You should think about getting an Uber before too long, too.”

“You’re going to break Taehyung’s heart,” you inform him. “I think he’s starting to catch on that people are leaving.”

“He should have rescheduled the party!” Jimin says hotly; he and Taehyung had argued about this passionately all week, ever since the forecast picked up on the storm coming through. “We could have done this yesterday, no blizzard, everyone would have stayed all night!”

Jimin’s date slinks over and presses her hand to his upper back. “Ready?” she asks, voice like silk.

“Bye,” you tell him sulkily. In the reflection, you watch him pause to tell Yoongi and Hoseok goodbye. They each stand, reaching in one at a time to give him a quick one-armed hug goodbye.

You keep watching the reflection in the glass as Hoseok takes advantage of already being up and heads for the dining room.

You knew it would happen at some point tonight - you’re alone in the living room with Yoongi. You’d just hoped it would happen after you were a lot drunker.

He meanders over. You glance at the drink in his hand - whiskey, neat. You could have guessed that on a gameshow and earned some money.

He’s dressed in all black - down to the chelsea boots. His hair is half-up in a bun that sits just behind the crown of his head. The rest brushes the tops of his shoulders, curling slightly at the ends.

He’d never had long hair like this before. It’s a crime how fucking good it looks.

Your gameplan tonight has been simple: avoid, avoid, avoid. But Yoongi stands close enough to reach out and touch you, sips at his whiskey, and murmurs, “It’s been a while.”

Five years. But who’s counting?

“It has,” you allow. You hate confrontation, you don’t want this to be a thing. You’re determined to be polite, play nice, and hopefully get out of here unscathed. “How have you been? Are you enjoying yourself?”

He wiggles his head. “Eh. You know I’m not into all that holly, jolly shit.”

“It’s a Christmas party,” you point out flatly. “Holly, jolly is kind of the point.”

He shrugs. “The point for me is just to see the guys, catch up with everyone. It’s been a long time since we were all together.”

He means we the guys, not we you and him. But your heart still speeds up at the word, the traitor.

You nod, turning away from him to look outside again. But your eyes stay on his reflection, both of you standing with your backs to the party. He looks down at his drink, swirls the amber liquid around the bottom of the glass.

“You always did hate the holidays,” you observe absently.

“We don’t have to do this, you know,” he says, so gently that it shocks you into turning to look at him.

“Do what?”

“Rehash everything,” he says with a shrug. “Talk about everything we remember. Talk at all.”

“If you don’t want to talk to me, then don’t,” you snap, suddenly defensive and heated. “You came over here, not the other way around.” So much for polite and non-confrontational. But damn, he has some audacity.

“That’s not what I meant,” he says, a little quickly, holding up his one empty hand like he’s surrendering. “I just meant… don’t feel like you have to, if you don’t want to. Don’t do it for my sake.”

Your temper settles, but you still feel a little… disgruntled, unsettled. “If I didn’t want to talk to you, I wouldn’t be,” you grumble.

He smiles at this. “That’s right. You never do anything you don’t want to do.”

Maybe that used to be the case.

The liquor takes over your mouth. “I didn’t want to break up,” you say pointedly, “so I guess that’s not true.”

He huffs out a single laugh, shaking his head at your audacity. “You always just say shit,” he murmurs. “To hell with the consequences.”

“What consequences?” you demand, turning to face him fully. “Are you going to dump me more? I fail to see how I could make things worse for us after five years of not speaking.”

He licks his lips, eyes on his glass again. That was the thing about you and Yoongi - he’s right, you did just say shit. And he always just handled it. He always heard you, processed it, and dealt with it productively. He never took the bait and got mad back, never yelled - even when you’d wished he’d yell.

“It’s because,” he’d told you, sometime around seven years ago, when you were together, “when you say absolutely wild shit like that, you always mean something else. And I just happen to be very good at translating you.”

Now, he meets your eyes again, having processed. Having translated. “What I’m hearing you say,” he says slowly, “is that you’re still mad at me.”

That’s all it takes to take the wind out of your sails - that’s always how it worked with you and Yoongi. You blustered and got worked up, and he defused you easily - just by meeting your gaze, just by assuring you that you were heard.

“I think I’m mad at our circumstances,” you correct quietly. “And I think I’ve had too many of these.” You eye the cocktail in your hand with narrowed, accusatory eyes.

He gives you the barest sliver of a smile. “Don’t blame the drinks,” he says, shaking his head. “You never could lie to me - it has nothing to do with alcohol.”

He’s right. For all your faults, for all the negatives you can take credit for, you always told him the truth.

Namjoon appears in the living room, a beer in hand, still in the bottle.

“I’m trying to decide which one of you needs to be rescued from the other,” he admits, looking between you, “and I honestly can’t tell.”

“Rescue him from me,” you say. “He’s been nice and I’ve been prickly.”

“You?” Namjoon says in mock surprise. “Prickly? No way.”

You flip him off, smiling.

Seokjin comes up behind Namjoon, clapping him on the shoulder. “I think we’re going,” he says, looking past you to the snow outside. “I don’t want to drive once the roads are slick.”

Namjoon sighs, following his gaze. “I was having fun,” he says sadly. “But I’m probably not too far behind you.”

“Nooo,” Taehyung whines from the dining room. “Everyone stop leaving! It’s just a little snow!”

Seokjin’s girlfriend finds him, joining your little circle, her phone still in her hand. “We’re supposed to have almost three inches by midnight,” she says in a whisper, clearly not wanting Taehyung to come after her. “We need to get moving.”

When Seokjin and his girlfriend leave, you float back towards the dining room. Namjoon and Yoongi stay behind, talking quietly. Probably, Namjoon is checking to make sure you weren’t too mean to him. Which… that’s fair.

The truth is, you aren’t mad at Yoongi. How could you be? When he ended things, he hadn’t been cruel, or unfair. His decision had been made logically. You understood exactly why he felt he needed to do it.

That’s where the hurt came from, you figured. You were always led by your emotions - quick to anger, but quick to laugh. Yoongi was always more even-tempered, logical. While you were packing up your life to move away from home for university, he’d laid out the reasons you shouldn’t stay together like they were a grocery list.

Like it didn’t hurt him at all.

None of his reasons were wrong. But would it have killed him to act like he cared? You’d been together three years - and you felt like they should count more, since they were such formative ones. Like dog years - each one should have counted for seven. It had broken your heart to let him walk away - shouldn’t he have felt something, too?

You’d dated plenty in college, a few of those relationships getting serious enough to last a few months. But at the end of the day, nobody compared to your first love. How could they? How could anyone?

No one understood you like Yoongi. No one could translate you like Yoongi. No one knew - or learned - how to settle you down like Yoongi. No one had that mental encyclopedia of useless knowledge like Yoongi. No one else had that perfect blend of dry and earnest like Yoongi. No one else fit to your body like a puzzle piece like Yoongi.

It didn’t matter. It didn’t matter then, and it doesn’t matter now. Yoongi had left, Yoongi had taken the decision right out of your hands and walked away with it. You weren’t mad at him, but you definitely resented that.

You’d had years to get over it, to forgive him, to come to terms with the fact that he was right about every single thing. But forgiveness and understanding are one thing. Letting go - of him, of loving him - is something else entirely, and you’re starting to think that even a lifetime of years won’t be enough for that.

That’s enough of that, you think, giving yourself a rough mental shake. You set down your drink glass and head for the bathroom, but it’s occupied. You lean against the wall outside, counting your breaths, trying to get yourself back into that holly, jolly headspace.

The door opens and Jungkook emerges, singing under his breath, “Pah-rum-pum-pum-pum!”

“Hi, JayKay,” you say, moving to slide past him into the bathroom.

“Oh, hey!” he says brightly. “I was just about to leave. You have a way to get home, right? It’s getting worse out there.”

“I was just going to Uber,” you tell him.

“Better do it soon,” he warns. “Soon the drivers aren’t going to want to be on the roads.”

“Good point,” you say, and wave a quick goodbye before shutting the bathroom door. You give yourself a stern look in the mirror.

Get it together, please, you think firmly. Seeing your ex - this ex, too, not just a casual one - for the first time in five years earns you a little wallowing, you think, and you fully intend to. At home. Later. Not here, in front of everyone.

Not here, in front of him.

Back in the kitchen, the party has really dwindled down to the last few people. Outside, snow falls as steadily as Taehyung’s guest list.

The peer pressure gets to you, and you pull out your phone and open a ride-share app. It takes a while before a driver connects, but you’re persistent. Once you have a driver, you watch the little image of their car start to head in your direction on the map.

From the dining room, you hear Yoongi make a tch of frustration. “No one is picking up for me,” he grumbles, seemingly to himself.

“Good,” Taehyung says seriously. “Don’t leave me.”

You go find your coat, slipping your arms into the sleeves and doing up each button. When you return to the dining room, Yoongi and Taehyung are the only ones left. Taehyung is fully, blatantly, sulking, his arms crossed on the table and his chin resting dejectedly atop them.

“Better luck next time, bud,” you tell him kindly.

Yoongi is still squinting at his phone screen, frowning.

You feel a twinge of concern, of the need to make it better for him the way you used to on a regular basis. “Still nothing?”

He shakes his head. “I don’t even see anyone on the map.”

You check your phone again - your car is just up the road. “I have one,” you tell him. “Join mine - we’ll just request the extra stop.”

Yoongi meets your eyes, holds your gaze for a minute. Then, he says, so seriously, “Are you sure?”

You know he means it. You know if you give any indication that you don’t want him in a car with you, he won’t push it.

“Yeah,” you say. “Of course. I’m not going to leave you stranded here.”

“Why not?” Taehyung whines, kicking his feet a little in protest.

“My car’s just here though,” you warn, eyes on your screen, both of you absolutely ignoring the host of the party.

“I’ll grab my coat,” Yoongi says, and heads for the hallway.

“Sorry, Taehyung,” you say sympathetically. “I know you’re sad.”

He refuses to look at you.

After giving over-the-top goodbye hugs to try and un-sulk the whiny baby, you and Yoongi head down the stairs and outside. You don’t look behind you to check that Yoongi is following. The car idles by the curb, and you double-check the license plate against the app.

In the backseat of the car, you slide over to make room for Yoongi. As soon as he closes his door and the car lurches into motion, the vibe changes. You sit stiffly, ramrod straight, eyes on the windshield. Yoongi’s not sitting quite as straight as you, but there’s a tightness to his shoulders, like he’s holding himself carefully so he doesn’t touch you by accident with the car’s inertia.

You had put in your parent’s address when you requested the ride, since that’s where you’re staying until New Years’ Day. You and Yoongi sit in blasting, blaring silence as the car crosses the middle of the town you’d both grown up in, that you’d run around in together as teenagers in love. But, past town, towards the quiet neighborhood where your parents’ house is, the car slows to a stop.

“I can’t go through this way, Miss,” your driver says, peering at you through the rearview mirror. “There’s a powerline down up there.”

“Oh shit,” you say, which is probably not very polite of you. You lean forward to look at the same time Yoongi does, your shoulders bumping. You both recoil quickly.

“I think you can get to the development from the other side,” you muse, “but we’d have to backtrack and go around the lake on the other side…”

“Let’s just go to my place,” Yoongi interjects. “The roads are getting worse, and it’s close.”

You frown. Yoongi’s parents’ house - which you’d been to plenty of times as a younger person - is on the other side of town. Not close by your standards, but you aren’t here to argue.

Or maybe you are.

“I don’t know, Yoongi,” you say, uncertainty creeping into your voice. “How will I get home from there?”

“You might have to stay,” he admits, leaning down to better look at the road through the front windshield. The driver sits, watching you debate, waiting for a directive.

You give Yoongi a silent look like, okay, and so you see my problem?

He scoffs at you. “It’s fine. We can handle one night.”

You want to ask, how sure are you about that? Instead, you start to tell the driver Yoongi’s parents’ address.

“Wait,” Yoongi says, putting a hand gently on your arm to stop you. You both freeze, looking at the point of contact. Yoongi shakes himself out of it first, and tells the driver a different address.

The car shifts back into drive and you look at Yoongi quizzically.

“Did your family move?” you ask finally.

Here’s the thing. You know Yoongi, you get Yoongi; five years apart hasn’t changed that at all. So when he licks his lips, shifts his gaze to his feet, and starts rubbing the back of his neck, you know it’s guilt.

“Yoongi?” you prod, suspicious.

He mumbles something, still not looking at you.

“What?” you snap. “You what?”

“I sort of moved back last month…” he repeats to the floor.

“You live here?” you repeat, dumbfounded. “You live in town again?”

“Currently, yeah,” he says, and there’s something in that currently that you’d really like to examine, but you’re still fucking floored.

Yoongi had gone to university in the city - hours away. The distance thing was reasons one through four of his Why We Need to Break Up list. It had made sense, logistically. It made sense when you went abroad for university, and he stayed here. It made sense when you returned and got an internship and then a full-time job in a different city, hours in the opposite direction. It made sense when you managed to go five entire years without being in the same place.

But now he was here. Reasons one through four, moot.

Reasons five to whatever largely revolved around being young and needing to experience the world and figure out what you want in life, that kind of shit. Now it’s five years later and you’ve both experienced plenty of bullshit.

Reasons five through whatever, moot.

You wonder, wordlessly, heart pounding again, if Yoongi knows or cares that every reason he gave you to validate walking away no longer applies.

“You live here,” you repeat. You’re stuck on it, you can’t move on. “I didn’t know.”

“Yeah,” he says guiltily. “I know you didn’t. I… was honestly fighting with myself about if I should reach out or not. I guess I ultimately decided not… since you’re in the city, and you have your whole life and everything…”

What life? You wonder.

The car pulls into a small, understated neighborhood. You’ve been here before; your chemistry partner from tenth grade lived in this development, you’d come to do homework more than once.

It’s always so weird to come back to this town, where everywhere you go has memories, secondary definitions. It’s not just a library, it’s the library where Yoongi had kissed you for the first time. It’s not just a park, it’s the park where you’d had your first fight, where you’d screamed at him in front of God and the ducks and all the moms pushing strollers. It’s not just a diner, it’s the diner where Yoongi had told you that it made no sense to try and stay together from different time zones.

Everything came back to him. It always had. It always does. In a lot of ways, you felt like you were fated to be tied to him this way - and you usually didn’t believe in shit like that.

You always break your own rules for him.

The place is small, and not very Yoongi-ish, but you keep your thoughts to yourself as Yoongi slides out of the car and waits for you.

“Get home safe,” you tell the driver before closing the door. Yoongi’s got his house keys in his hand, and he leads you up the walkway. It’s slick, and you try to step only in the footprints he leaves in the inch of snow coating the ground.

Inside, the light over the sink illuminates a small, mostly empty kitchen. That’s not very Yoongi-ish either, you think. You remember him cooking all the time - appliances everywhere, cutting boards hanging, pots and pans stored on hooks.

He passes the kitchen and enters what looks like the living room, reaching to click on a few dim lamps. They cast a yellow glow to the room.

You set down your purse and fold your coat up on top of it. Yoongi waits for you in the living room, his hands in his pockets, his eyes on the window, watching the snow. His jawline from the side nearly takes your breath away. He’s so damn beautiful it makes you sick.

And he’s back, Yoongi is back.

“Do you want something to drink?” he asks, finally looking at you.

“Whatever you’re having would be great,” you tell him. You settle gingerly on one end of the couch as he busies himself in the kitchen. You shoot your parents a quick text that the roads were too bad and you weren’t going to make it back to their place so they wouldn’t worry.

Yoongi returns with two glasses of red wine. He hands you one wordlessly and sits opposite you on the couch.

“So,” you say. The awkward, hyper-polite vibe from the car is back. Like you’re strangers. Like you didn’t know each other inside and out, once. “You’ve been here a month?”

“Just shy of it,” Yoongi corrects politely. “I signed a two month lease, so… I’ve got a few weeks to figure out my next move.”

“You don’t think you’ll stay?” you ask, then sip at the wine. It’s good - of course it’s good, he’s got great taste. You love and hate that about him.

He shrugs, drinks from his own glass. “Doubt it.”

He doesn’t give you any more information than that - why he’s back, what’s next for him, why he’s here for such a short time.

You don’t press it. He’ll tell you if he wants to.

Instead, you both drink in silence. Outside, the snow seems to redouble its efforts, the wind picking up until it seems to be snowing sideways for minutes at a time before calming into a normal downward fall again.

“I think we made the right choice,” Yoongi murmurs, and it takes you a second to realize he’s talking about the weather and Taehyung’s party, not about your past.

“Mhm,” you nod, as you come back into the present. That’s a problem you have - you’re always looking back. “Imagine if we were just leaving now? What a mess. Thanks for taking me in, I guess.”

“You guess,” he repeats, rolling his eyes, but there’s no ire in it.

You drink in silence a little longer, and then Yoongi rises with a sigh. “I’ll go put clean sheets on the bed,” he says, sort of absently, like he’s both talking to you and also just thinking out loud. “And then I’ll show you how to work the tv in there if you –”

“I’m not sleeping in your bed, Yoongi,” you tell him flatly.

He balks. “I didn’t mean with me, I meant by yourself!”

“No, I know that,” you reassure him. “But I’m not letting you sleep on your own couch because of me. I’ll sleep out here. It’s fine.”

“Absolutely not,” he says, shaking his head vehemently. That long hair swishes. “You’re a guest. I’m not putting you on the couch.”

“Yoongi,” you say sternly. “If I know you’re out here on the couch and I’m in there with your whole friggin bed, I will simply not sleep because I will feel too guilty about it! And I would like to sleep. So, please, put your chivalry and hospitality aside, and let me sleep. Out here.”

He considers this, because he knows you, and he knows you’re telling the truth. “Fine,” he concedes, and disappears into what must be his bedroom.

When he returns, he’s carrying a stack of what looks like linens. He sets down the pile and you spy blankets and pillows. He pushes the pillows aside gently and picks up something else, turning to hold it out to you, an offering.

It’s gym shorts and a large tshirt, and you reach to take them without thinking. Once they’re in your hand, they feel suddenly heavy with meaning. You used to wear his clothes all the time - you might have one or two of his hoodies in the back of your closet at home because you love them and don’t want to get rid of them, even though you feel too weird to actually wear them. You’re not sure how you feel about wearing his clothes again, now that it means nothing. The alternatives are pretty undesirable, though, so you’ll have to grin and bear it.

“There’s a half-bath on the other side, through the kitchen,” he says, nodding towards the bathroom in question. “So you don’t have to feel weird walking through my room to the full bath if you don’t want to. Though... do you need to shower? I can get you towels and stuff –”

“Maybe in the morning?” you say, eyeing the clock on the wall. “Just… could I borrow face-soap? And toothpaste?”

You’ll have to make do without your make-up remover and an actual toothbrush. Finger-brushing it is.

When you emerge from the bathroom, teeth freshly finger-brushed, wearing Yoongi’s clothes, he’s standing at the kitchen sink, rinsing out the wine glasses you’d used.

You brush past him silently, and start setting up the couch how you want it. You hear the sink turn off, the click of the lightswitch as he shuts off the lights behind him. He comes back through the room and pauses in his doorway.

“Do you need anything?” he asks.

“No,” you say, feeling small in his baggy shirt, feeling small in the face of all the feelings you’re swimming in right now. “I’m all good.”

He looks at you for a long minute, searching. “Okay,” he says, finally. “Sleep well.”

He turns into his room, and you watch his skinny wrist turn as he reaches to shut the door.

“Yoongi,” you say, the word out of your mouth before you really know what will follow it. He pauses, peeks his head back into view, raises an eyebrow at you. “Thanks,” you say, meekly.

He nods, silent, then reaches to close his door, gently and effectively shutting you out.

You get comfortable on the couch, bunching the blanket up around your head how you like it. It takes almost no time at all to fall asleep, and when you do, you don’t dream.

You’re awakened sometime later by a noise, and you sit up, your brain scrambling to catch up to the present and figure out where you are.

A couch, it processes. It comes back to you a little at a time. Yoongi’s couch. Yoongi’s house. Yoongi’s house in town.

The noise that woke you must have been his bedroom door opening, because as you slowly get your bearings, you become aware of him staring at you from his doorway.

“Didn’t mean to wake you,” he says apologetically, then moves across the room towards the kitchen. “I just needed water.” Then, from the kitchen, as an afterthought, he asks, “Do you want one?”

“Please,” you say immediately, mentally cataloging all the effects of dehydration you can feel. Cottony mouth, ringing ears, the tingling beginnings of a headache…

He returns to the living room and stops near the couch. You stretch to turn on one of the dim lamps, casting a quiet yellow on the room. He stands there in too-big pajamas and holds out a water bottle silently.

It’s definitely still the middle of the night. You can’t have slept more than a few hours. Everything feels different, somehow. It was so awkward before; you’d felt the need to be cautious and hyper-polite. Now everything feels blurred, fuzzy with sleep, softer. You’re sitting up, the blanket you’d been sleeping under still over your lap. You reach over and lift the other side, holding it up like a question.

Yoongi pads over and sits on the far side of the couch, but he curls his legs up and slips his bare feet under the blanket. You let it fall, covering him from the shin down.

He taps on his phone and grimaces at the time. “Hey,” he says, a little wry, “Merry Christmas.”

You smile. “Merry Christmas, Yoongi.”

He taps at his screen again and a speaker near his tv comes to life, playing what has to be a Coffee Shop Christmas playlist, pre-curated. You lean your head against the back of the couch, listening to the strum of acoustic guitar and the gentle snare of a drum meander through a mellow, lethargic version of It Came Upon a Midnight Clear.

“Christmas music, huh?” you tease, eyes closed. “That’s very holly, jolly of you.”

“I don’t hate Christmas,” he protests. “I’m not, like, a Grinch. It’s just… another day. So is tomorrow. Why all the fuss?”

You bump his foot with your knee beneath the blanket. “Scrooge.”

Ignoring your teasing, he looks sideways at you, something baleful on his face. “Y/N? I wanted to tell you I’m sorry.”

You’re surprised into silence, looking back at him across the couch. “What? What for?”

He grimaces, like the answer is too big, like he’s got an annotated list of every fault he’s mentally cataloged. “For all of it, I guess.”

You’re not letting him off the hook; this is too important to skirt around. “What are you sorry for, Yoongi?” you ask seriously.

He laughs once, quietly, incredulously, like he can’t believe you. “You really want to go there?”

“You know I do.”

He thinks before he speaks - one of your favorite things about him. “Because for the last five years, I hated myself for leaving you behind. And I wondered every day if you hated me for it, too.”

You sit in silence, feeling frozen. Yoongi lets you - Yoongi waits. Is he admitting regret? Does that mean he’d do it differently, given the chance?

Because here you are - being given the chance, in a way.

“I was never mad at you for going,” you tell him, because you know he needs to know. Yoongi doesn’t say things he doesn’t mean, which means he really did wonder if you hated him. You don’t owe him much, but you figure you owe him this truth. Then you admit, “But I was mad at myself for… letting you. Did you… I mean, should I have argued? When you left?”

You’d always wondered. What would have happened if you’d fought just a little harder for him to stay?

He scoots a little closer, tugging the blanket closer to his knees, thinking about your question. “I think part of me had hoped you would… but it wouldn’t have changed my mind,” he tells you honestly. “Just would’ve made it hurt more. The way things happened, I could lie and tell myself you were fine with letting me go.”

You exhale on a note of indignation. “Fine? That was you. You were so… okay with walking away.”

He shakes his head. He must have taken the bun out when he went to bed, and his hair swishes around his shoulders, loose and beautiful. “I wasn’t okay. I didn’t go a single day and not wonder… how you were. I didn’t go a single day sure that I made the right choice.”

You feel, weirdly, kind of pissed. “What am I supposed to do with that, Yoongi? Seriously?”

He opens his mouth to answer this rhetorical question, but you don’t let him. The words pour out of you, unleashed after five years of being held back.

“This is just… unfair. Because normally, in the movies, when you get this moment - the post-mortem - with someone from your past… they always ask why, right? Why’d you leave? But I don’t need to ask why - I know the why, I understood why. I want to know… I want to know if you regret it. If you’d take it back.”

“That’s two different questions,” he says solemnly, “with two different answers.”

You cut your eyes at him. It’s the middle of the night and your brain is mostly mush. You need him to just be forthcoming, just say things plainly.

He knows.

“Of course I regret it,” he whispers finally, as if the words hold too much weight to utter any louder. “I regretted it while I was still saying it. I hated being away from you, I hated not talking to you, I hated not knowing how you were or what you were doing or if you… still cared about me at all.” He pauses, inhales slowly, rubs a hand down his tired face, then exhales with a whoosh. “But would I take it back? I don’t know.”

You exhale, eyeing the ceiling. Who’s the one just saying shit now? God. “You can’t just say things like that, Yoongi,” you tell him, eyes trained on the shitty, popcorn ceiling above you.

He says your name, still so soft, so quiet.

“What?”

“Don’t cry.”

It’s so stupid. You hadn’t cried then, not in front of him. You wipe hastily under your eyes. “Sorry,” you say hastily, trying to save face. “It’s the lack of sleep.”

“I’m not sure I would take it back,” he repeats carefully, and you realize he hadn’t been done before - you’d interrupted his thought, “because when I left… I knew the whole time that it didn’t make anything better. But if I hadn’t… I think I’d still be wondering if I should, if we’d be better apart. I wouldn’t know, so the question would still be hanging over me.”

You think he’s saying something without saying it, but it’s like four in the morning and you just aren’t sure.

“But now?” you prod.

He shrugs, like it’s so simple. “Now I know the answer.”

You want to shake him. You’ve never had a conversation go in circles like this in your life, and you need to get to the center of it. “Yoongi,” you say, your voice tight like a warning.

He knows.

He always knows. He cuts to the chase. “I have a job lined up in the city.”

You almost drop your water bottle. “My city?”

“Your city.”

“Yoongi,” you say again, pleading. “Just say what you mean.” Please.

He smiles your favorite of his smiles - only one half of his mouth lifts at first, cocky, until it spreads the rest of the way and shows his gums in all their glory. “Just thinking about that whole list of reasons we shouldn’t be together… null and void now, don’t you think?”

You feel like you can’t breathe. You’ve both been circling it like predators, and now you’re closing in.

“So what does that mean? For you?” Do you dare to ask it? You do. “For us?”

Someone else, you think, would probably have asked you, what do you want it to mean?

But it’s Yoongi - and Yoongi knows the answer already.

He’s pushing the blanket off of his legs - and yours - and coming to hover over you. Your body responds, laying back against the pillow you’d been sleeping on, making room for him like it remembers exactly how you fit. Your fingers find his jaw like they’re magnetically drawn, your thumb sliding against his cheek.

His hair falls around your faces like a curtain, blocking out the dim lamplight, as his mouth finds yours.

Kissing him again is everything. It’s absolutely everything. He’s home, he’s wilderness, he’s calm, he’s the whole damn storm, he’s undoing every seam you have, he’s stitching you back together, he’s beautiful beautiful beautiful.

His lips are soft but sure against yours, his jaw moving under the press of your fingers. You feel like you’re flying, falling, maybe both, as your eyelids flutter. He’s bracing himself with his hands on either side of you, holding himself over you. You were resting your free hand against his side, his ribs like piano keys beneath your palm, and you find yourself bunching his shirt into your fist, trying to pull yourself up, closer, closer.

You have to will yourself not to babble against his mouth, I missed you, I missed you, I missed you. You could say it six hundred times and it still wouldn’t get it all out of you. You pour it into the kiss instead, straining up to meet him, beating words away from your mouth as you toy with his bottom lip.

He drops his lower body carefully, pinning your hips beneath his own, shifting to hold himself up on elbows instead of hands. The weight of him is welcome; something needs to keep you tethered to this planet.

He licks into your mouth, tongue sliding against yours, and you inhale sharply against his mouth.

“Yoongi,” you murmur against his lips, and he turns his head to kiss your palm where it’s been resting against his face. There’s something so tender about it that tears spring to your eyes, and you blink them away quickly.

Then he’s leaning down to capture your mouth again, humming a low, happy note against you. You go for the hem of his shirt, pulling until it gets tangled against his armpits. He sits back on his haunches, helping you pull it over his head and tossing it somewhere behind you. Your eyes trace him, over and over, trying to remember every shade and every line, trying to find every difference from five years ago. He’s beautiful, flushing dark across the chest, eyes positively predatory in their focus on you.

“You, too,” he says, sounding a little breathless, and you scoot back and sit up. He goes for your hem before you can, tugging it up and over your head. The cold air assaults you and you shiver. Yoongi makes a noise somewhere between a groan and a growl in appreciation, lowering himself over you again. His kiss is insistent this time, one hand coming up to cup a breast, fingers deftly rolling your nipple, sending electricity skittering down your spine. You whine, deep in your throat, and you feel his lips quirk into a smile.

“Would you kick my ass if I said ‘I’ve missed your tits’ right now?” he asks, chest quaking as he tries to rein in laughter.

“Yes,” you grumble, reaching to weave your fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck. You tug him back so you can kiss him again, and he lets out a quiet, breathy moan as you do.

“Okay,” he says, in between kisses, “but I did.” Then he puts his money where his mouth is - or maybe vice-versa - to prove it, lowering his head and taking the other nipple in his mouth, flicking it lightly with his tongue. Your whole body reacts, feet stretching, back arching to push against his body, fingers tightening in his hair as you moan out loud. Each little motion of his mouth ignites sparks that reach every part of you - the pit of your stomach, the base of your spine, clear down to your toes.

It’s honestly embarrassing how turned on you get as he continues, working one side until you’re writhing beneath him, thighs rubbing together desperately, then switching to continue his onslaught on the other side.

“Yoongi,” you gasp, and some absent part of your brain is aware that his name is the only coherent word you’ve said in a while. “Please, you’re torturing me.”

He releases you with a wet pop, grinning up at you deviously. “So pretty when you beg like that,” he remarks, like he’s observing the weather - which is still a fucking blizzard, by the way. Then he’s coming up to kiss you again, deep and slow this time. His hand slides along your bare stomach, around and under your back, and you arch your back partly to make room for his arm underneath you, and partly because you can’t not, as his fingers leave a trail of goosebumps in their wake.

“Please, what?” he murmurs, lips close to your neck, his fingers tracing the edge of the shorts you’re wearing - his shorts. “What do you want?”

“Anything - whatever you’ll give me,” you manage. All you can focus on is his fingers, their circular path along your lower stomach, toying with your waistband.

It must be the right answer, because he slips his hand into your shorts, fingers pressing along your slit, your underwear clinging to you already. He slides his fingers along the slickened fabric, eyes on your face, listening to the tiny moans that escape when you exhale.

He shifts to his side, between you and the back of the couch, and you loop an arm around his neck - half to hold yourself up on the couch, and half because you need to be holding him. You can feel how hard he is now, as his body presses against your legs. He distracts you with a kiss, and slips your panties aside, wasting no time in sheathing his middle finger up to the last knuckle.

You hiss his name, your head lolling back against the couch in pleasure, your neck bared to him. He gives it a quick nip and then a kiss as he adds a second finger, pumping in and out of you slowly. You groan, the sound rumbling from your chest. You could let him do this all night if you had the patience - just this simple act feels so good you think you might come undone.

And if you remember anything about sex with Yoongi, he’s just getting started.

He slips his fingers out of you and brings them up to your clit, circling once, then twice, before going back to where he started, the pad of his middle finger circling your entrance, careful to stay just outside.

Your whole body turns to jelly, everything quivering from head to toe at the sensation. You grip the couch with both hands, digging your fingers in. “Ohhh my god,” you manage, something accusatory in your tone, like you’re asking him how the fuck are you doing that?

He smiles against you, middle finger still running in lazy circles through the wetness collecting there. “That’s right, I know what you like,” he murmurs, smug, his lips tickling your neck, before plunging both fingers back into your heat without warning. He repeats the cycle - in, out, up, down, around, around, in again - until you’re dizzy from it, your fingers clutching the fabric of the couch so hard that you’re sure you’ll rip it.

You have one single moment of clarity that sends you reaching down to where you can feel him hot and hard against your leg, but he shifts away, tutting.

“You first,” he says. “I want to see you make that face you make. It’s been literal years.”

“Oh my god,” you say, feeling yourself flush. “Yoongi! Seriously?”

He laughs, shoulders shaking. “What? I love to watch you lose your shit. What a fucking ego boost.” He punctuates these words with a quick change of wrist direction, suddenly pistoning against your front wall in a way that has your comeback melting right out of your brain.

He’d had you close before, and the sudden switch-up does the trick - you feel everything tighten from your shoulders to your toes, your eyes screwing shut. Yoongi shifts his weight to hold your leg in place so you can’t try to close them on him and redoubles his efforts, humming in pleasure as you squeeze around his fingers like a vice.

You let out a series of wordless cries as the pleasure builds to the point you want to shy away from it, and then Yoongi presses his thumb to your clit just so and you’re spiraling over the edge, your ears filled with a buzzing white noise, your toes curling, your desperate hands leaving the couch and clutching Yoongi instead, trusting him to guide you to the other side.

When you come down, heart hammering in your chest, you bat his hand away, breaths heaving.

“Take those off,” you pant, tugging on the bit of his pants you can reach, and shimmying your own bottoms the rest of the way off and dumping them onto the floor.

“Bossy,” Yoongi remarks, smirking sideways at you as he obeys.

You resituate yourself against the arm of the couch as he comes to kneel near your feet, stroking himself languidly. You both freeze with the same thought at the same time.

“Do I…” he says hesitantly, “do you want me to wear -?”

You stare at him, wide-eyed, mind racing for an answer. You’re tempted to just tell him it’s fine, because surely having a how many people have you been with in the five years since we broke up conversation will absolutely kill the mood right now. But that’s not really safe.

“Maybe you’d better?” you venture. “Have you -? I mean, we don’t need to talk about this right now. But I haven’t been with anyone without… you know.”

“Same here, and I got tested after… the last one. Just in case,” he admits, eyes on yours, and the moment feels heavy. Do you trust Yoongi to tell you the truth?

Of course you do.

“I’m okay if you’re okay,” you tell him. “No pressure.”

“You’re still on -?” he checks, and you nod.

“In that case,” he says, and leans over you to kiss you again. You can feel him, rubbing along the messy slickness, and it occurs to you that you haven’t even touched him yet.

You whine, twisting your shoulders to try and reach him with a hand, but he’s too impatient, lining himself up and starting to sink into you. You groan at the stretch - it’s been a while since your last fling - but the sound that tears through Yoongi’s throat is more like a growl, guttural and animalistic.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” he growls through gritted teeth, as he slowly rocks into you until he bottoms out, his hips tight against yours.

He’s everywhere - caging you in, hovering above you, holding you down, filling you up. He’s everywhere, and he feels both so familiar it makes you want to cry again, and also - somehow - brand-fucking-new, like you’ve never felt him before.

You can feel every ridge of him, every twitch, as he sets a slow but even pace, letting you adjust.

“God,” you gasp when he hits a spot just right. His head had been hanging above you, his eyes watching the place where he disappeared inside you, all that long hair loose, but he smirks up at you at this.

“Good,” he coos, and picks up the pace, hips smacking yours, filling the room with the lewd sounds of skin on skin, his grunts and your whines.

You’re gasping a little at each stroke, that tight feeling bubbling at the pit of your stomach growing stronger with each thrust. “God,” you growl, fingertips pressing into his shoulder blade as you hang on for dear life. “Yoongi, fuck!”

He slows on purpose, straightening up, forcing you to release your hold on his back. He grins at you, that shit-eating, one-sided grin, and then grabs your ankles, maneuvering them both to rest against his right shoulder. He leans forward against your legs and hammers into you, breathing hard, and you swear to god you see stars for a second.

“Ohmygod, yes, there,” you gasp, hands going to the backs of your own thighs to help alleviate the stretch. You need to start doing yoga or something.

The build-up is slower this time, the feeling pulsing through you in waves that strengthen and ebb again. Yoongi can tell when it’s real by the change in your voice - wordless whines rising in pitch, by the arch of your back, by the way you clamp around him so hard that he almost loses it right there.

“Yeah?” he asks, the word more like a gasp for air. “Close?”

“Please,” you beg, the sensation of pure light racing up your legs to your toes, the pulsing starting slow and determined in your core.

“I’ve got you,” he promises, brows furrowed with concentration as he works to keep a steady pace. He grips one of your ankles and switches it to his other shoulder, creating space to reach down and rub gentle figure-eights around your clit.

The wave takes you over, and there’s a long moment where you’re completely devoid of your senses - no sight, no sound, nothing but how tight tight tight everything has gone, too tight to even breathe - and then it breaks and you can hear yourself wailing, eyes shut against the onslaught of sensations. You clench around Yoongi hard, the aftershocks rolling through you, so hard that he hisses and drops his forehead to yours, his pace slowing significantly as he fucks you through it.

You go boneless as it leaves you, and Yoongi pushes all the way inside you and stills, pressing his lips to your temple.

“You good?” he murmurs, so sweet for someone who just had you experiencing the multiverse.

“Mhm,” you manage to respond, so spent and tired that you can barely form the word.

“C’mere,” he grunts, slipping out of you, and he grips the back of your neck, hauling you upright and falling backwards in the same motion, pulling you over top of him. You loop your arms around his neck, feeling floaty, and he wraps his around your middle. You bury your face in the crook of his neck, his breath loud next to your ear.

“Can you keep going?” he checks. “I know you’re tired. I’m almost there, I promise.”

“M’good,” you assure him against his collarbone, and he gives you one quick squeeze before reaching down to adjust himself. He pushes in and you cry out, the sound muffled as you press your face into him. You’re so sensitive now, the sensation is entirely different.

“You can take it,” he whispers, sliding a hand down your spine. Then, with a grunt of “shit,” he grabs you and jackhammers up into you, his fingers furrowing into the meat of your ass, so tight you think you’ll have five little bruises on each side when this is over.

You feel so close to him - your cheek presses up against his, your arms wrapped tight around him, his hands securing you in place, his heart beating wildly against yours where your chests press together.

You gasp for breath into the crook of his neck, holding on for dear life, just trying to take what he gives you. You can hear his breathing change as he gets close, his pace quickening but his thrusts starting to come less evenly, his grip on your ass tightening just a bit further as he pulls your hips down to meet his every few thrusts.

“Is inside okay?” he asks, the words sounding like they’re torn from him.

“Yes,” you tell him, but it comes out more like a moan.

“God,” he grunts in response to this, and the word tears, ending on a strangled moan as he empties himself deep inside you.

You lay there, gasping for breath, for a long minute. Then Yoongi gives you an affectionate pat on the ass, indicating that it’s safe to move.

“Go get in the shower,” he suggests. “I’ll grab you a towel and meet you in there.”

“I don’t know if I can get there,” you say, joking, but your legs feel like jelly. You grab your phone and make your way, wobbly, through the living room and into his bedroom.

You hadn’t come in here before. It’s clean, but sparse. It’s devoid of anything that makes it feel homey. It’s devoid of anything that makes it feel like Yoongi.

You keep going, padding through his room and towards the attached bathroom, fumbling for the lightswitch. You place your phone next to the sink and fiddle with the shower’s knobs until you get a steady stream of hot water going.

It feels heavenly to step under the hot water, your aching muscles relaxing in the steam. But it feels even better when Yoongi wraps his arms around you from behind, pressing his lips to the side of your neck.

“Hi,” he murmurs.

“Hi,” you giggle. You might still be riding a little bit of a post-orgasm high.

You both rinse off in silence, and then Yoongi places his hand on the knob, looking at you to make sure you’re ready to get out. You nod, but he hesitates.

“Will you sleep with me?” he asks, a little unsure, leagues different from the cocky man you’d been tangled up with mere minutes before. “Don’t go back to the couch.”

You give him a soft smile, and he turns off the water, reaching for the towels hanging just outside.

“Of course I will,” you tell him before wrapping yourself up in the soft, gray terry-cloth.

You crawl into his bed once you’re dry, and he joins you after making a quick pass through the living room to turn the lights back off and gather up the clothes you’d both tossed around. When he clicks off his bedside lamp and rolls to face you, you feel a fluttering of nerves in your stomach.

You’re not sure where you go from here.

You lay facing each other in the darkness; it’s just too dark to really see much, but you can tell he’s looking at you.

You’re laying there, letting your thoughts spool around you, the what-if’s and what-now’s laying themselves out in your mind, when you realize you’ve reached out without meaning to, your fingers tangling in his long hair, rolling strands between them. You keep playing with it, cautiously, practically holding your breath, waiting to see if he objects.

Instead, you feel him relax under your hand, letting out a long breath. “That feels nice,” he admits, voice breathy with almost-sleep and barely audible.

You fall asleep without any answers, with your fingers curled up in Yoongi’s hair.

You wake up to a warm body behind you, not quite touching. You shift your cold toes a little closer to the warmth you find, smiling when you hear him whine about it. The light outside is white, that abnormal shade of light that comes from sunlight bouncing off of snow and ice. You’re about to close your eyes again when you realize that the warm body behind you isn’t sleeping, because you can hear the incriminating clicking and clacking of a keyboard.

“Are you seriously working right now?” you ask him, rolling a little to look at him over your shoulder. He peers back at you guiltily, his glasses low on his nose, fingers frozen in the air above the keys.

“I just wanted to answer a few -”

“It’s Christmas morning!” you scold.

“I’m aware of that,” he answers dryly.

You narrow your eyes at him. “Turn it off, Yoongi. It’s Christmas and you are in bed with someone. My God.”

He shoots you a defensive look, but finishes whatever he was doing and clicks the laptop closed, leaning over to place it on his nightstand.

“You haven’t changed at all,” you say, a little fondly, sitting up a little next to him.

“Neither have you,” he says pointedly. It’s less fond when he says it.

You consider this. “You want to know something stupid?” you ask. Yoongi doesn’t answer out loud, just meets your eyes and waits. “You’re right. I haven’t changed. I think… I think I’ve been afraid to.”

He turns to face you, sensing how serious you are about this. “What do you mean?” he presses.

You stop to think, the way you learned to after spending years watching him, knowing he did this better than you. “I guess… some little part of me always wondered what would happen if we crossed paths again. If I changed too much… what if I stopped being someone you’d want? What if I became someone so different that your heart didn’t know mine anymore?”

It sounds so corny coming out of your mouth, but the truth behind it is so heavy you can’t hold it up anymore. It was a fear you’d secretly harbored for half a decade - what if fate put Yoongi in your life again, and he still didn’t want you?

And Yoongi does what he’s always done - hears you, understands you, answers you in your own language.

“Impossible,” he says softly, leaning closer to you, eyes combing your face. His voice is like a layer of snow, smooth and clear, full of something unnamable. Or maybe you don’t want to name it. You turn your head, as if that will get you further away. “That’s impossible. My heart will always know yours.”

You look at your hands, feeling a little choked up. Your heart stutters and jumps in your chest. The question you’re holding back churns in a little ball behind your ribs.

“Hey,” he says, softly but intently. You manage to look up at him. “Let’s make breakfast?” He says it like a question.

“Yeah,” you say, able to speak again. “That sounds good.”

Yoongi lends you sweatpants, since it’s too chilly to roam around the house in basketball shorts, and busies himself in the kitchen while you get changed. When you finally join him, he’s plated something for each of you, and he pushes a glass of iced coffee towards you.

You can’t help but smile. “You remember,” you accuse, and he avoids your eyes, cheeks flushing.

“You get a girl ninety-thousand iced coffees, it stays with you,” he defends.

“Ninety-thousand,” you scoff, but you’re pleased. As you eat, you look out the kitchen window. It’s bright outside, but it’s still snowing - tiny, wispy flakes floating leisurely down to join you. The road clearly hasn’t been plowed yet; the snow outside is untouched, unbothered, a perfect sheet of white. You can’t even tell where the road is, except for the mailbox poking up out of the feet of snow on the ground already.

Yoongi follows your gaze. “Looks like you’re trapped here for a while,” he observes.

“A shame,” you deadpan, and he kicks at you playfully beneath the table.

“Well,” he says, thinking out loud, “since you won’t let me get any work done… do you want to put on a movie?”

“A Christmas movie?” you ask, perking up.

He rolls his eyes, but he’s fighting a little smile. “I guess that’d make sense,” he agrees.

He leads you back to the couch, which you eye sideways, remembering clearly what this couch witnessed about three hours ago. Yoongi seems unphased, slouching sideways against some pillows and looking at you expectantly. You join him gingerly, leaning against him, and he drapes a blanket over your legs.

“Pick something,” he asks, passing you the remote - another old Yoongi trick that you remember well.

You take the offered remote, clicking through the holiday options for something that you don’t think will make Yoongi gag. As you scroll, brows furrowed in concentration, he clears his throat beside you.

“So, uh,” he says, and you stop scrolling, because he sounds nervous. “Next weekend I’m supposed to go look at some apartments. Do you… would you want to keep me company?”

You look at him, eyes wide, the remote forgotten in your hand, still aloft and pointed at the tv.

“Why?” you whisper once you find your voice.

He shrugs, wets his lips. “You know the city well,” he says. “You can offer your brilliant opinions - tell me if the neighborhood’s okay… if there’s good take-away… where the transit stops are, that kind of shit.”

“Hm,” you say, a little tightly.

He shoots you a sheepish grin. “I’ll take you to dinner after?”

You give him a look. “Say what you mean, Yoongi.”

He purses his lips a little, disgruntled at being called out. Then, busted, he sighs and tries again. “Can I take you to dinner next weekend? Preferably in the city, and preferably after you help me make some choices about my living situation?”

You grin, unable to hold it back. “Yeah,” you say, trying hard to fight back the smile, to play it even a little bit cool. “Yeah, I’d really like that.” Trying to save your dignity, you turn back to the tv and go back to scrolling until you find a movie that seems like it’s not too over-the-top.

Yoongi reaches an arm around your shoulders, and this time you settle against him comfortably. You can feel him breathing beneath you, can smell that Yoongi smell - clean and alluring, can hear the shouts of some neighborhood kids running around outside. From the tv, tinkling bells and happy strings play a medley of Christmas songs as the opening credits run.

Part of you is already thinking about when the roads are plowed and you have to go home, shower off the scent of him, update your best friend about all of this, miss Yoongi in a much more real way than you’ve had to in about three years. But at least you have the promise that you’ll see him again next weekend. You close your eyes, content, happy to just be right now.

Yoongi feels it too, obviously. He gives your shoulders a squeeze, looks down at you fondly, and murmurs, “You know what? All this holly, jolly shit isn’t so bad.”

“God bless us, every one,” you deadpan. “It’s a Christmas miracle.”

He grins at you, gums showing, and you smile back before leaning your head against his chest as on the TV a little girl watches out her window for signs of Santa.

Thank you so much for reading, I hope you enjoyed!!! My full masterlist can be found here :)

3K notes · View notes

ahundredtimesover · 1 year

Text

Belong (01) | MYG

Pairing: Yoongi x (f.) Reader

Genre/Tags: exes-to-lovers-to-exes-to-lovers; actress!OC x basketball coach!Yoongi; summer romance; “long” distance relationship; parallel timelines; angst, fluff, smut

Chapter (Series) Warnings: foul/explicit language; alcohol consumption & passing out, family drama, sport injury; dreams & moving away; implied depression; basketball and acting talk; 2014 and 2022 Yoongi; shy and nonchalant cocky whipped Yoongi; explicit sexual content (specific warnings stated per chapter (18+)

Chapter Word count: 14.2k

Series Masterlist

Status: Complete

Series summary: Being an actor has always been your dream. Pursuing it meant many things - leaving the town where you grew up, distancing yourself from your family that had fallen apart, and saying goodbye to the man who made you feel what home was like. When you decide to finally return after being away for so long, you meet Min Yoongi again, and you’re reminded of the summer romance from 8 years ago with the college basketball superstar whose broken dream pushed you away. As you find yourself spending time with him, you’re left to wonder if love changes, if it gives second chances, or if it’s just another illusion that will hurt the both of you the second time around.

Listen to: Boston by Augustana; Shelter by Luca Fogale || Playlist 🎶

A/N: Posting this today to celebrate People pt.2 and D-Day! Here’s a little piece I’ve had for a while. It felt fitting to write something about dreams and finding your purpose through Yoongi and at a time when I’m going through something similar. There’s nothing like his wisdom and his warmth so I hope this could mean something to you somehow. 💕 Please enjoy! And 🫡 to NBA Ambassador Suga! Now that’s his 🏀 dream in another form.

Present Day

There’s always something magical whenever you watch yourself on screen.

It’s not due to some narcissistic reason or an insatiable desire for the spotlight; it’s not even because you think you’re really talented. Sure, you like the attention and just like anyone who’s spent years of their lives perfecting their craft, you want to be pretty great at it, but all those thoughts become suspended whenever it’s your scene.

During these instances, it’s only about your character and her emotions, and that’s what you think is remarkable about it - watching yourself is just like being there, in that moment, on that set, feeling it all.

Most actors would say they love acting because it gives them a variety of roles and personalities to play. You like that bit, too, but it’s the character’s emotions that you commit yourself to the most; it’s being able to immerse yourself in the feelings of joy and anger, of contempt and fear, of envy and admiration, of guilt and love. You like the finiteness of it, that with acting comes the feeling, and you know at some point, it’s going to end.

Once the scene is over, so is the emotion; you’re able to let go of it right away with one breath. You’re good at that, you think - holding onto something for as long as it’s yours, and then letting it go when it no longer is.

The collective gasp of the people around you breaks your bubble only a little; you release a breath yourself as the last scene unfolds. And with the final shot and the succeeding transition to the end credits, you let go of the sadness.

“I can’t believe that only took one shot,” your best friend, Taehyung, says in awe. “I would’ve been crying already knowing how it ends.”

“Jin and I challenged each other,” you proudly say. “We said we’d do our absolute best for that first try and the director thought it was that good. Seriously, not crying until that last second was so hard; I didn’t think I could do it.”

The Kim Seokjin, your co-actor and good friend, looks at you from the other side of the couch with that soft and proud look that you only ever get from him once a project is over. You return the sentiment, knowing that you wouldn’t have survived your first lead role in a drama series if he wasn’t acting alongside you.

He’d been your senior at university where you both took your major in acting. He was already modeling then and snagged a major role in a movie right after graduation; he became a household name after that.

You watched from the sidelines as he achieved his dreams while you took the occasional 30-second roles given to the students, but he didn’t forget you. He called regularly to know how you were doing, gave tips when you asked, and informed you of upcoming auditions.

It was the type of friendship that challenged you, given that you both wanted to one day star in a series or movie together, a culmination of all the long hours of rehearsals and line-reading and classes that you both did. He had already made a name for himself; you wanted to be good enough to have yours be opposite his.

It would take a few years, but after a supporting role in a romcom movie that saw people wanting more of you, you and Jin finally got cast in a series about a mortal woman falling in love with a celestial being, which, at the beginning, reflected your respective statuses in the industry. You expected the show to do well - everything that Kim Seokjin touches turns to gold, as the saying goes - but you didn’t expect for the public to love you both as a pair as much as they do, given that they want you to star in another show right away.

“I cried as I turned around,” Jin says of the scene where he had to go back to his world and leave you behind. “That was heavy and even I’m impressed we did it in one shot.”

“Well, the sadness and grief would have dwindled by the third or fourth time,” you chuckle. “I’m not good enough yet to maintain all the emotions after so many takes.”

“Not that you aren’t good enough,” Jin counters. “You just haven’t been in the industry that long yet. That kind of experience makes a difference. I’d say I wouldn’t have been able to sustain the same emotion for long, too. It was a difficult one. I mean, what goodbye scene isn’t?”

It’s a rhetorical question, of course, but much of why it was difficult for you to keep the emotions in was because it was your first goodbye scene. You have a feeling that the succeeding ones wouldn’t be any easier, though. You’d like to think you’re okay with goodbyes and that says a lot, but then again, you don’t know anyone who’s actually good at it.

Or maybe you do. But you’d rather not think about it.

It’s silent for a few more seconds. You suppose that the rest of your co-actors who are here with you are still processing the end of a series that’s been their source of comfort for the past few months, too. It had been your weekly routine to watch the episode together in Jin’s house, not wanting to let go of each other just yet after filming wrapped up a few weeks ago.

“Well, that was amazing, wasn’t it?” He finally speaks up. “It was a good run and thank god that ___ insisted on these watch parties. Or else I’d be crying by myself in my room after the finale,” he laughs. “This better not be the last time we see each other.”

“Because it isn’t,” you reply. “We still have that cast and crew dinner and a couple more filming stuff for promo. That’s easily another 3 more weeks of being together. Which is really 3 weeks too short.”

“So… does anyone want to go on a trip after that?” Hyun-seung, one of the actors, excitedly suggests. “It’d be a good way to unwind and use up what we’ll earn.”

You laugh along with everyone but you’re the only one who passes up on it.

“I can’t,” you sigh. “I have a trip to Daegu at the end of the month and I can’t move it.”

Disappointed sighs echo throughout the living room, and you insist that they should continue with the trip without you. Most of them don’t want to, but you eye Jin so that he would make the call to push through with it even if you won’t be around, so he does. It’s rare to find such good company with other actors, and you truly want them to maintain the friendships they built here way beyond the series.

Your friends make general plans as you listen in, wishing you could be there instead of home, which is where you’ll be for the next 2 months as you promised your family. Or more like, as they guiltripped you into doing.

You haven’t been home in years and for good reason. After your parents separated and you were the lone child who didn’t harbor anger towards your mother who wanted to pursue her dreams elsewhere, you promised yourself you’d leave that place, too.

Visits during summer had been fine. But after the most painful goodbye you ever made, you’d stopped going back altogether, reasoning that your up and coming career required all your time. You doubt that your family knew the truth, and despite their remarks of you following in the footsteps of your mother, those weren’t enough for you to open up about something so heartbreaking, knowing it hit too close to home. Their bitterness wasn’t a reason for you to keep going back either.

“Daegu, really?” Jin asks after everyone else has left, save for Taehyung and Jimin, your personal assistant whose glassy eyes say he’s not yet over the season finale. “You haven’t been home in 6 years.”

“Four, actually,” you correct him. “I had a filming there sometime ago.”

“Yeah, but you didn’t actually go home,” he clarifies. “You went to the shoot then back to your hotel. I remember that; I kept asking Tae how you were doing.”

“I was fine,” you shrug. “How was I supposed to be? I was good, just couldn’t wait to get back here. I had a boyfriend, remember?”

“Andrew was a fling, not a boyfriend,” Jin rolls his eyes, and you confirm that the model is his least favorite of your exes. “And if I remember correctly, you broke it off days later.”

“Well, it stops being good when it stops being fun,” Taehyung says, mocking your usual statement whenever your friends ask why you broke things off with your partners. “She shut down when she came back. I guess going home does that to her.”

“You know how places just naturally comfort you? Daegu isn’t that place,” you try to explain. “I had to get it off my system for the one week I was there and Andrew acted out. I just didn’t want the drama.”

Everyone nods, knowing it’s how you usually are. You always viewed relationships as a complement to your job. Being an actor is tough work with its own complications and you definitely don’t want it from your partner. It was always easy for you to fall into that honeymoon hole with someone, but you always walked away from it just as quick once the rainbows and butterflies had subsided. Whether it’s jealousy over your leading men or not having enough time, or just wanting to be by yourself to regroup, your exes always found a reason to argue. And you were always good at walking away when you needed to.

It was like that with every person. Except one. Your friends don’t know if he’s the reason why, or if he’s the exception.

“So what made you decide to go home? And for how long?” Jin queries, feeling a little worried because of what he knows is out there for you. He’s always been a little protective like that.

“About 2 months?” You respond, to the surprise of the older man. “My dad wants me to celebrate his wedding anniversary with them. And spend time with my sisters’ kids and my grandparents and shit.”

“And spend time with my parents,” Taehyung adds, knowing it’s probably the only thing you’re excited about, given how much they adore you and vice versa. “They can’t wait to see you.”

“Same here,” you finally smile. “We’re definitely seeing them first.”

“Anyone else you’re going to see there?” Jin asks some more.

“You can say his name, you know?” You nudge your friend’s knee. “I know he’s who you mean.”

“Well then. Are you going to see Yoongi?”

“I don’t plan on seeing him but I probably will. It’s a big city but it’s a small town. Plus, I’m with Daegu’s Prince right here,” you say, pointing to your best friend who’s made a name for himself as a ballad singer. “Tae will be dragging me around so I won’t be surprised if I encounter Yoongi somehow, somewhere.”

“And what happens when you see him?” Jimin now asks, wanting to know if he’d need to drive to you in case you decide to come home early.

“Then I see him. We’re… fine,” you state, earning you an eye roll from each man, so you clarify. “I mean, I’m perfectly fine living my dream in Seoul. And he’s a college basketball coach in Daegu, which is the closest to his dream he could get, and I heard his team’s doing really well. It’s been 6 years. He let me go. And I’ve moved on. Who knows how it’s gonna be like? But I’m civil with each one of my exes and it won’t be any different with him.”

“He’s different, though,” Jimin points out. “You actually loved him; you can’t say the same for all your exes. And you can’t argue that,” he adds, seeing your shaking head and disagreeing face. “Drunk and hungover you told me all that more than once and I trust that version of you over the sober one when it comes to your love life.”

“Okay, Mr. Know-It-All,” you frown at him. “I wasn’t going to deny that but it was the naive, impulsive, hopeless romantic version of me who loved him. That’s not me anymore. I’ve grown up. I know what I want from my partner, and Yoongi is just the small town boy who’ll always think that his broken dreams will keep him from loving me the way I deserve. And maybe he’s right.”

It’s quiet for a while, as your friends take in your words since you rarely ever talk about the man unless you’re in an inebriated state or recovering from it. But it’s the first time that the possibility of seeing him looms over you, knowing that within those 2 months, you’re bound to run into him somehow.

Now it’s too quiet, and you realize that none of you know what to say since you’re all sober. Truth be told, you don’t remember anything that Jimin’s ever told you during those times that you opened up, and Jin never really said much, knowing how hard that breakup hit you. And Taehyung, well… the man was there before, during, and after it all, yet he never really said much, always choosing to let the silence engulf both of you.

“Look, I’m touched you all seem to be worried,” you finally speak up. “But I’m going to be fine. I found a house I’m renting that’s nice and private. I’m actually excited to eat at my favorite restaurants and visit places I’ve missed. I can’t do anything about my family but at least Tae will be with me the whole time and save me from their madness if he needs to. And Yoongi, well… he’s a closed chapter in my book. There’s no reason to revisit that. Hi, goodbye - that’ll be it, just like before.”

You sigh to yourself, hoping that your friends would take your word for it, though you don’t really blame them if they don’t. They’ve seen you barely bat an eye after calling it quits with your exes but they’ve heard of how broken you were because of that breakup; seeing Yoongi again might just bring up old memories that you might not be ready for. And they won’t all be there to lift you up like they’d want to.

“Okay then, if you say so,” Jin finally smiles. “But if something comes up… you know I can always drive there and bring you back here.”

“And add to the already existing rumors about us being a thing?” You laugh, referring to all the social media fodder about your chemistry that’s too good, it might be real.

“So? Then we let it,” he shrugs.

“Does the Kim Seokjin not care about dating rumors?” You gasp. “You always complained about it. Don’t tell me you like me.”

Jin sits next to you and cups your face in his hands. “I… love you. The way a dear friend who dreamed with you and who gets to live that out with you does. We all love you. We’d do anything for you. You know that, right?”

“I do,” you say, humming once he plants a soft kiss on your forehead, just like all the times he’d done before - when you graduated university, when you didn’t get callbacks, and when you landed your first major role. “Thank you.”

You decide to head out after a long evening. Jimin lists your activities for the next day before he’s dropped off at his apartment. Taehyung lets you listen to his new single for his upcoming album, and you get emotional over his soulful sound and the fact that he gets to live out his dream with you, too.

He walks you to your front door and hugs you tightly, just like all the times he’d done before - when you cried about your family, when Yoongi broke up with you, and when you found out he was dating someone new.

“I love you, okay?” Your best friend whispers.

He says it in that soft, comforting voice of his. The one that always told you that things were gonna be fine, as if love solves all things, and at one point, you believed it did.

Your hometown of Daegu looks very different from the last time you were really here. It changes a lot. And it changes pretty quickly.

But some things about it stay the same - family-run restaurants, streets lined with little shops passed down from generations, the parks and the temples, the playground in your old neighborhood with the basketball court that you know all too well.

They make the place home, Mrs. Kim says. That doesn’t change no matter how far or how long you’ve been away.

You want to disagree. This place was never home. It felt like bits of it during the times you used to watch ballet performances at the Opera House with your mom or when your dad used to grill makchang on Friday nights.

But when she decided to leave and then he remarried, you had just memories of home left. Your sisters’ resentment over your happiness for your mother as she achieved her dreams took all that was remaining, and coming here reminds you more than what you lost; it reminds you of what you can never have - that space to dream, the place of safety, the love that would endure time and distance.

You enjoy the best short ribs dish over Mr. Kim’s recordings of his saxophone performances. Mrs. Kim dotes on you like her own daughter, and Taehyung announces all the things you’ll be doing now that you’re both back home, taking your respective breaks that you deserve, and spending the money that you worked hard for.

You eventually leave for some rest. The house you’re staying at is far from the buzz of the city. It’s private and secure, a little too spacious for one, and boasts of the views of the mountains. Jimin had found it, knowing you’d need the peace and quiet amidst all that would be taking place during your short time here.

Taehyung will be staying over at his parents’ place, but they insist that it’s open for you to visit anytime you want. You think you need the time for yourself, though. Your job often requires you to be around people, and you’re thankful for the choice you have now to be away from them. For some time, at least.

[From: Manager Jung] Are you settled? I’ve got a script for you to go through. Sending it now

Your agent-slash-manager’s message disrupts your moment of tranquility as you sit out at the garden, watching the sun set. You’d arrived from Seoul in time for lunch and spent the rest of the afternoon at Taehyung’s parents’ house before heading to yours.

[To: Manager Jung] Yeah, all good. But give me a week until I read the script. Don’t want to think much about work yet

[From: Manager Jung] Fine. Just don’t take too long

You sigh, knowing that though you promised Jin and Jimin that you won’t be thinking about work while you’re here - you need a break from it all, they told you - your manager won’t really let you. And much as you want to complain about him pushing you real hard, you’re thankful that Jung Hoseok always does.

He was the one who saw your talent and insisted you’ve got a bright future after one casting call that you were almost late for. He was strategic in which roles to pitch you for as a rookie actor, and which ones would get you ahead of the game, no matter how challenging it was. During the times you wondered if you were meant for this industry, he always assured you that you were. There was always going to be a bigger break after the last, he believed, and he promised you he’d go searching for that role until you got the biggest break of your career.

And every time you think he’ll cross the line of pressuring you too much, he says something sweet, brotherly, friendly.

[From: Manager Jung] But take care of yourself there, ok? Don’t let them talk down on you. Don’t let them crush your dreams

You’d cry if his words came with a hug.

[From: Manager Jung] And guard your heart. Don’t let him hurt you again

You pretend he means your father; he let your sisters’ resentment of you go on after all, and his inaction made you feel unloved in your own home.

You don’t want to think that Hoseok means someone else because it would mean that for all the times you questioned if everything you gave up to chase your dream was worth it, then he knew it was because of the man who broke your heart 6 years ago. You don’t want to think that all these years, Hoseok knew that your buzz-worthy dating life, whose aftermath he always had to manage, was just your futile attempt at getting over the first and only man you ever loved.

Being in any sports facility unsettles you. You always claim that the buzz of sporting events just isn’t your cup of tea - you prefer the noise of a film or television set, or of a theater right before the movie starts. It wasn’t always like that, of course. You used to enjoy the screams and heckles of sports fans; you used to be one of them.

But you found out the hard way that losing someone means you lose the parts of you that you’d adopted because of them, that you fall out of love with the things you used to love because of them.

Basketball is one of those things. It’s why Taehyung used to not invite you whenever there were Thunders games at Jamsil despite the free tickets always available for you; he knew you’d say no and he hates rejection.

But Mr. Song is a man you can’t say no to. Not only is he the city’s mayor, he’s also a good friend of your father’s, which is how the chief official got wind of your return.

Your trip isn’t meant to be publicized. Actors take breaks and visit their hometowns regularly without attracting the media, and oftentimes, that’s thanks to the local government, who employs their political will and own security to ensure that celebrities aren’t disturbed while they’re on vacation or just visiting family. It’s good for them, of course, but it also sometimes comes with small favors, like a private dinner with some of their close friends and some photos or autographs. You don’t really mind, especially since the same is extended to Taehyung, hence why the lunch earlier at the mayor’s residence wasn’t all that bad. It was only slightly awkward with your father because you chose to meet up with Taehyung’s family first before yours, but your dad didn’t dwell on it.

Other than privacy, one other thing you get are free courtside Korean Basketball League tickets. The Pegasus just recently moved to Daegu from Incheon and there’d been a lot of promotion to get the city to give their full support to their new hometown team. Mr. Song thinks that photos of you and Taehyung attending the game will be the publicity that the team needs, and while your best friend genuinely agrees to the arrangement, you only do so half-heartedly. You’ll at least see your friends who are playing for the other team, but even the thought of Jungkook and Namjoon being back home and the party they’ll throw after is making you even more unsettled.

“Hmm, number 16 was pretty cute,” you whisper to Taehyung as you head out of the locker room after some photos with the home team. “I wonder if he’ll be at the party tonight.”

“No, he won’t,” your best friend responds.

“Why not? Because he’s from the other team? I’m sure that Jungkook won’t mind, right? I mean, yeah it’s his house but—”

“Tonight is for college friends only.”

“We didn’t even go to their university,” you point out, given that you and Taehyung studied in Seoul and had met there, instantly clicking after finding out you both hailed from the same city. “Why are we going?”

“We are honorary members,” he replies. “I went to high school with them and you…” he trails, trying to figure out how to phrase how you became an honorary member of their group of friends without bringing him up.

“Are the ex of one of their friends,” you finish for him. “You can say it, you know?”

“I don’t know, can I?” He arches a brow.

“Yes. I don’t deny the fact that Yoongi and I dated.”

“You just deny how much it affected you.”

“You mistake my amazing ability of moving on for denial,” you groan. “But oh shit. Wait. Does this mean that he’ll be there at the party?”

Taehyung huffs as he settles in his seat and looks at your worried eyes. “For someone who doesn’t seem to be in denial, you sure look a bit anxious that he might be there tonight. Didn’t you say you can be civil with your exes?”

“Yeah, I can,” you reply defensively. “I don’t know about him. But then again, he moved on first, so I doubt seeing me would affect him much.”

Your best friend lets out a breath, not wanting to argue. He’s learned long ago that when it comes to Yoongi, you’re dead set on many things - like the narrative that he moved on first, that he was so much happier without you, that dreams were always more important for him, whether it was yours or his. Taehyung tried to help you process that whole experience, especially the aftermath, as you went on dating one man after another after you found out about Yoongi dating some local musician.

But you always had a default answer, that you’ve always been that way - quick to fall in love and quick to fall out of it, and Yoongi was no exception. You met, fell in love, and while you technically didn’t fall out of love, the breakup left you no choice but to do just that; he was the one who insisted that you leave, after all, and you’d been the one too heartbroken that he didn’t love you enough to make you stay.

“Well then let’s just see what happens,” Taehyung shrugs. “We’ve got a game to watch, a party to go to, and friends to catch up with.”

“And a nice, peaceful home to retire to after tonight. I’ll need all the good energy before I see the rest of my family tomorrow,” you sigh.

Right, there’s that, Taehyung frowns. Your family’s too complicated that you insist you don’t want him to get sucked into the drama, hence why you don’t want him to go with you. But between that and the possibility of seeing your ex, he could only hope that during this trip, you won’t get your heart broken too early, too quickly, or too hard.

“How is it that the Pegasus have been playing here for months but it’s the first time we’re watching their game live?” Geumjae asks incredulously as he sips his beer.

“Because it’s the first home game of the season against the Thunders when I’m home and when Jungkook and Namjoon don’t have girlfriends to give their tickets to,” Yoongi explains to his older brother. “And well, I never asked before.”

“Well, good on us that you’re here and your friends currently don’t have girlfriends,” Geumjae laughs. “Also, you could totally ask. They’re your friends; I don’t think it would be that hard for them to get extra seats for us.”

“I’m not their only friend here. I’m sure a bunch of the guys from college would ask,” Yoongi shrugs.

“You’re not just their friend, Yoon,” his brother groans. “You played with them, you captained them, and led them to college championships.”

“Yeah, yet I’m the one hustling it out as a college coach while they’re playing pro,” the younger man huffs.

He doesn’t mean to be bitter. He loves those guys, hustled it out with them until the late evenings just to get the proper training and workout in almost a decade ago. He couldn't be any prouder when Jungkook and Namjoon got drafted to professional teams and then reunited as teammates with the Seoul Samsung Thunders just 2 years ago. Yoongi had been the encouraging senior who messaged them right away, happy for his peers for being together again just like old times. He won’t lie and say it didn’t sting a bit to be left out from the life they all dreamed of having, with him being the only one who didn’t get to achieve it alongside them.

“Well, if it matters at all, you’re doing amazing,” Geumjae tries to cheer his brother up. “I read online that many are calling your team to win it all this year. Imagine being the only person in your school’s history to be a champion player and coach? Not just anyone can say that.”

Yoongi hums, trying to let the thought comfort him. It doesn’t do much; coaching a college basketball team is leagues away from playing professionally. The energy is different, so is the hustle. Shooting hoops with the kids during training isn’t the same. The lights and the cheers as he sits on the bench calling plays isn’t the same either. He can at least say that with coaching, he’s able to shape and mentor the young ones, direct them to better paths, encourage them to reach their dreams, and to not settle for a life they’re not happy with or proud of. He’s got a bunch of players who got drafted last year and dedicated their first professional game to him, and that’s an indescribable feeling he’ll always hold onto. It reminds him that even if it wasn’t him, it was at least someone he cared about.

He watches as the players do their warmups on court before the start of the game. This isn’t the first time he’s watched live, but it’s the first time with Jungkook and Namjoon as teammates, so seeing them goof around and do the handshake that they used to do warms his heart a little. Maybe it’s this bit of joy that he needs to remind him that it’s okay, that even if life turned out differently for him, at least basketball is still part of his life. There’s more he wants, of course, but this is way better than nothing. He reminds himself at one point, he didn’t think he could ever set foot on a basketball court again.

The game finally starts and though he’s usually quiet whenever he watches games, he can’t help the small small cheer he makes whenever Jungkook or Namjoon scores or makes crucial plays. He still knows their moves, can still read Jungkook’s pump-fake, and can still tell by Namjoon’s stance if he’s gonna make that rare three. Though he was a shooting guard during his glory days, Yoongi still prides himself in his playmaking skills and knowing his teammates well, something that scouts used to rave about.

Yoongi sips his beer, no doubt enjoying the exciting match. He obviously wants the Thunders to win, but the Pegasus aren’t backing down, not letting themselves trail by more than 8 points. He’s in a bit of a trance, as he lets himself drown in the cheers of the crowd, imagining that it’s him leaving it all out on the court.

But as he looks up on the big screen during timeout, he feels like the air is being sucked out of him. His ears don’t betray them either, as the announcer calls on your name and Taehyung’s - “celebrity sightings,” he says, while you and your best friend wave to the camera and smile like the superstars that you both are. The cheers get louder and Geumjae joins them until he realizes.

“Shit, that’s your ex-girlfriend,” he whisper-shouts. He laughs at the scene of his brother practically choking on his drink. “Wow, she still has that effect on you, huh?”

“No, she doesn’t,” Yoongi says nonchalantly, desperately forcing his heart to slow its beating.

“Did you know she’s gonna be here?”

“I don’t keep tabs on her whereabouts, Geumjae,” he replies, suddenly sounding hard, defensive.

“Do you think she’s gonna be at the party?”

Fuck, the party, Yoongi slightly panics. Jungkook talked about the sort of reunion he’s throwing at his house after the game. Their old teammates will be there, as well as some other friends from college who are still in the city. You and Taehyung were honorary members of that group and Yoongi knows that you’re both invited, too.

“I guess,” he merely shrugs, looking like it doesn’t bother him much.

It shouldn’t. It’s been 6 years, and while he’d been the one to break it off, you’re the one who’s dated a lot since then, something he can’t fault you for. You’d obviously catch a lot of attention - you did catch his - not just for your charm and unbelievable beauty but for your talent as well. He’s not surprised that you’re rumored to be dating Kim Seokjin, said to be this decade’s most desired leading man and who also happens to be your good friend, the one who’d helped you out a lot during your years in university. Yoongi used to be a little jealous then, something he never told you, and well, he guesses it’s meant to be with you and Seokjin now, a man he could probably never live up to.

“Are you gonna be okay?” Geumjae breaks through his thoughts.

“Yeah. Why won’t I be?” Yoongi huffs, sinking back to his seat to watch the game that suddenly isn’t so interesting anymore.

His question is left unanswered and his brother resumes his cheers, no doubt invested in this match that’s now tied. But Yoongi drifts in and out, his eyes following the players up and down the court then mindlessly landing on you. You’re seated in a relaxed manner, the opposite to how you used to watch his games. He sees you silently cheer for the Thunders, too, and you giggle at Taehyung when you scream louder than you intended, your hand covering your mouth as you lean on your friend and he laughs along.

He could hear the sound of your laughter from across the gymnasium, as if the way the dulcet tone of your voice used to send shivers down his spine whenever you giggled in his ears was just yesterday. He shakes off the goosebumps he feels and tries to sit comfortably on the chair.

“Are you nervous?” Geumjae asks. “You’re awfully quiet.”

“Since when was I ever loud during a basketball game?” He shoots his brother an incredulous look.

“You may not make a sound but your body does,” the older man points out. “I could feel you buzzing earlier and cheering in that Yoongi way of yours but now,” he eyes him up and down, “your legs are just bouncing. And you're biting your nails again.”

Yoongi catches himself. He forces his leg to be still and tucks his hand under it. It’s a tell he has, and he has no doubt that his brother has caught on. Still, he lies. “The game’s close. I want the Thunders to win.”

“Really? That’s what you’re going with?”

“Yes, now can we just focus on the game?” Yoongi chides, not wanting to confirm whatever his brother’s suspicions are.

“Fine, but for the record, I know exactly why you’re nervous.”

“I don’t really care.”

Geumjae sighs as he watches his brother’s gaze go to you once more, unknowingly, perhaps, as Yoongi seems to shake himself off after every time he realizes that his eyes were locked on your direction. But he can’t blame the younger man. You entered his life and he fell, extremely hard, and letting you go was the most difficult thing he ever had to do. Yoongi doesn’t need to tell him though, but there’s enough of his younger brother’s broken pieces lying around for Geumjae to know that it was also something he regretted doing, and he wishes his brother was at least brave enough to admit all that.

The Thunders win by 5 points. It was nail-biting until the very end. It was Namjoon’s crucial offensive rebound and Jungkook’s 3-point shot that sealed the game for them, and Yoongi was present enough to witness those last few plays. He decides to enjoy this moment with his friends, knowing they’d be asking him about it later. If he’ll still go to the party. Somehow, seeing you again made him a little dizzy. It was still on the screen, but now he’s not sure he’ll know what to do when he sees you in person.

He and his brother let the crowds go before heading out separately. Geumjae’s car is parked elsewhere, and Yoongi decides to head to the washroom and pace his walk to the parking lot. Hands on his pockets and eyes glued to the floor, he hears a gasp, and he releases one himself when he sees you, hiding behind one of the vending machines as a group of fans at the end of the hallways starts walking towards your direction, wondering aloud where you went.

He sees the panicked look in your eyes and decides to stop the crowd before they come any closer.

“She headed that way,” he announces, pointing to the right. “There’s an exit there. She probably left already.”

You hear the disappointed sighs, and much as you don’t want to let your fans down - you’re not one to deny them autographs - there have been too many of them this afternoon and you weren’t mentally prepared to accommodate each one of them. The footsteps disappear not long after and you let out a sigh of relief. That was close, but you didn’t expect Yoongi, of all people, to be the one to stir them away.

You turn to him, about to say your thanks, but somehow the words get stuck in your throat. You recall being a giddy mess the very first time you saw him, with nibbled lips and palpitating heart as you watched him shoot baskets and dribble the ball like no one’s business, and you’d been a goner since then. But he was a lot thinner during that time. His hair was cut short and his eyes had this sharp, confident gaze that usually intimidated people. You eventually saw how they softened only for you, though, but you’ll always remember that summer and how he had you wanting him at first glance.

This man before you isn’t all that different. He still has the same sharp eyes, with his look penetrating right through your soul like he knows you and well, he does, which is also why he was quick to misdirect the crowd after he perhaps saw the look of worry on your face. His tiny nose is the same, so is his pale skin. But his hair is now long, pushed back in the middle as it softly reaches close to his shoulders. He’s a lot leaner; you can easily tell from what’s hiding behind his thin white shirt underneath his blue jacket. You recall him dressing mostly in monotone colors, so seeing him in something a little more striking is new. He’s gorgeous just like before, and you don’t really know why you expected that he wouldn’t render you speechless this time around.

“___,” he calls out. “Were they bothering you?”

“No, uh…” you stutter, hating yourself for suddenly being nervous. “There were just too many of them and they were getting quite close, I kind of panicked. Stupid, really. I should be used to it by now. More of them came and I just…”

“If they were invading your personal space then that’s not right,” he says, his tone so serious you mistake it for worry. “Did they touch you or anything?”

“Oh no! Nothing like that. I just got a bit overwhelmed.”

“Where’s Taehyung?” He asks, as you watch him walk to the vending machine where you’re hiding, tap his card, and then get the bottled water that falls out. He opens it and hands it to you as if he’d done this so many times before, and well, he actually has.

“He met up with a couple of friends,” you explain. “The crowd got to me right after and I kinda lost him, but I told him I’ll meet him outside, somewhere near where the players come out.”

“Hmm, okay,” Yoongi hums, looking away.

He should’ve expected you to look way more beautiful up close but he tends to overestimate his ability to be entranced by you. He’s surprised he even got any word out, but the worry crept in the moment he saw you look a little winded and he just wanted to make sure you were alright. You’re a celebrity, after all, and the city’s “Princess,” as they claim.

You look a little nervous though, and a part of him just wants to scold Taehyung for leaving you behind, seeing as neither of you looked like you had security with you earlier. But that shouldn’t be his responsibility anymore, he reminds himself.

“Thanks for the water, by the way,” you speak up. “How much was it?”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“Thanks again,” you smile shyly. “So, uhm, do you know where the other exit is? I’m kind of lost.”

“Oh, uh… the one close to where the players go out is there,” he cocks his head to the left, towards a hallway behind swinging doors. “I can uh, I can show you where.”

“Ah, that would be great. Did you park close there, too?”

No.

“Yeah,” he lies. “Let’s go before more people see you.”

He opens the door and walks after you. It doesn’t help that the hallway suddenly feels much smaller and closed off because now, Yoongi has to listen to your footsteps and nothing else, since neither one of you chooses to talk.

What does he say to the woman he broke up with 6 years ago? Maybe he can say something about your recently concluded series. He thought it was really good. Is it weird to ask what your next project is? Perhaps. You probably can’t even tell him. How was it like being the leading lady this time? Fuck, he’s not a talk show host or anything like that.

He sees the end of the hallway before his mind can come up with another stupid question, and he rushes to the door before you do, catching you by surprise.

“Just wanted to make sure there’s no one to bother you,” he explains, as you exit the building with questioning eyes.

“Oh, thanks,” you smile shyly again.

He’s not used to it. He remembers the way your eyes used to gaze at him constantly, how your smile and laughter were all cheeky and flirty, how the tone of your voice was always so confident, so charming. He thinks that maybe like him, you’re just as surprised and unsure about seeing each other after so long. He doesn’t know what to make of things beyond that.

“Do you have someone to pick you up?” he asks, needing to prepare himself if, as a last resort, he’d need to drive you somewhere.

“Yeah, Tae and I were supposed to ride together but,” you pause, checking your phone for your best friend’s text message, “he rode off with his friends and said he’d meet me at Jungkook’s instead so I’m just waiting for the guys. There’s the—”

Party, Yoongi says in his head.

“___!” Jungkook’s loud voice cuts you off. He jogs up to you and puts an arm around your shoulders, unaware of the man in front of you who’s being blocked by a wall. “You ready to go? Tae said he went ahead.”

Yoongi makes his presence known with a low grunt, his eyes pacing from his friend to you. You both look a lot closer than he remembers, and Yoongi’s mind goes to that first time you all met, how Jungkook had announced during their team celebration that the “girl with the yellow scarf on her hair is so pretty” and that he’d wanted to ask you out. Of course, things turned out differently - you weren’t interested in the younger man. But that was years ago. Jungkook has had an impressive professional career and he lives in Seoul. Maybe things have changed for you.

You follow Yoongi’s eyes. Despite many people claiming that he’s difficult to read because of the default unconcerned, almost detached look he has for every situation, you think he’s actually pretty transparent.

Or maybe that’s just you. You’ve spent enough time with him to know his sound of annoyance and the meaning of his body language. You’ve memorized that pretty face of his at one point that you can tell the slightest parting of his lips and the tiniest drop of his eyes, which could mean that he’s confused, sad, or disappointed. Maybe all.

“Oh, we’re not…” you exclaim, surprising yourself, to the amusement of Namjoon, who suddenly appears next to you. “I mean, Jungkook and I aren’t… a thing.”

You promptly remove the man’s arm from your shoulder and try to decipher Yoongi’s look now. Is it relief? Does he believe you? Does he think it’s silly that you had to clarify that, which you’re wondering why you did?

“Okay,” Yoongi says.

Perhaps you’re wrong. You can’t tell right now what he’s feeling.

“We just… got to hanging out when I got drafted by the Thunders,” Jungkook now clarifies, which he quickly realizes is maybe making this awkward situation a lot worse.

You’re Yoongi’s ex-girlfriend after all, and Jungkook had been the one to reach out to you when he moved to Seoul, but not once did he try to pursue you all these years. He respects his captain too much and cares for what you both had, which is why he maintained his friendship with you even after the breakup.

“That’s nice to know,” Yoongi replies, his tone nonchalant like always.

He’s glad he can keep his cool that well, even if his heart was just about to explode at the thought of you possibly dating his friend. He doesn’t know why he cares, though, as he never really thought much about the so-called code that stated that exes were off-limits to friends.

He’s just about to turn around when Namjoon calls out. “Min, you’re still going to the party, right?”

Yoongi looks at you, who promptly looks away. Up until 10 minutes ago, he was about 80% sure he would. He didn’t think that being in close proximity to you would make him remember all sorts of things, and that itself is enough for him to run for the hills and avoid you. He won’t claim he did his best to forget about you - he at least tried, and that still counts - but he didn’t expect he’d ever get a chance to be near you, much less talk to you and be in the same place as you. Again.

But he looks at his friends’ eyes, both pairs unsure yet practically begging him to still go. He remembers these looks, and he swears it’s because he doesn’t want to let both of them down that he battles with the inner part of himself and decides to still go. It definitely doesn’t have anything to do with somehow finding out for how long you’re staying, and why you’re here in the first place.

“Yeah. I’ll see you guys there,” he replies, turning around now and heading towards his car on the opposite side of the parking lot.

You watch Yoongi walk away, unsure of why your heart is beating as fast as it is. It had been like that since you saw him after hiding from the fans, and even more so when you walked silently in the hallway to head outside.

You knew you were gonna see him, maybe even at the party, but not in the way you did. And all your confidence at not being bothered or affected with seeing him again melts away.

You weren’t prepared for how good he’d look, for how concerned he’d be over your safety, and for that hint of disappointment on his face at the thought of you being with Jungkook. Neither were you prepared for that incredibly tiny part of you that wants to know how he’s doing and if he’d managed to piece together the broken parts of himself and his dream that he so adamantly chose over you.

You survive the car ride by glaring at Namjoon every time he starts teasing you about panicking over Yoongi thinking that you were dating Jungkook, while the latter curses as he drives, claiming he survived one of the scariest moments of his life.

You arrive in Jungkook’s house in half an hour, a nice place he bought for himself because he said that Daegu will always be home for him. The sliding doors to the patio give it a spacious feel, and you see that a couple of his friends had already prepped the space, complete with beer kegs and beer pong tables, the way you remember they always used to party.

The 3 of you spot Taehyung who greets you, and the 2 men next to you proceed to narrate what happened, to your best friend’s shock and amusement. You also fill all of them in with the first part of the story about Yoongi finding you as you hid away from the crowd.

“How… symbolic,” Namjoon hums. “You meet at a basketball court in Daegu after a game while you were hiding from fans because you’re such a bigtime actress now. I mean, it’s quite ironic. The universe is out to tease you or something.”

You agree, it is. It’s times like this when you wish you didn’t believe in fate and destiny because doing so would just give you false hope that you and Yoongi may be meant for more than just those 2 years together. And you absolutely hate it because you can’t fall into that trap of thinking that you’re meant for a happy ending that includes him. That ship sailed a long time ago - 6 years and about 5 partners later.

But as Yoongi enters the house, his bowed head turning up to search the area before daintily tucking a strand of hair behind his ear, you start to think that maybe that ship decided to turn back around and sail towards you once again. He briefly meets your eyes before someone calls out to him, and you’re left to admire him from afar, cute button nose and impeccable side profile and all.

Taehyung pulls you by the arm and whispers in your ear. “Okay, so what’s our plan?”

“What do you mean, our plan?” You ask, realizing you’ve lost Yoongi as you glance in the direction of where he was, no longer finding him there. “Plan for what?”

“Yoongi, obviously,” Taehyung rolls his eyes. “Do we avoid him, be civil, pretend you don’t think about him anymore, or act like the past 8 years didn’t happen and we don’t actually know him?”

“None of the above,” you groan. “What kinds of options are those?”

“Decent ones?”

“Nope. You’ve already had a lot to drink and I don’t trust you when you’re drunk.”

“Except you should. This is when I don’t hold back when it comes to you,” Taehyung answers.

“And you hold back otherwise?” You frown.

“Just when it’s about him. It was tough for a long time. I know sometimes it still is.”

You don’t have the heart to disagree. This man has been your best friend for a decade and he knows how you are, knows which pains of yours you’re willing to talk about and which ones you’d rather hide away. Your acting skills may be good but you know that Taehyung can see behind all the smiles and the detachment and the effort to look okay, and whatever it is he’s thinking, there’s a good chance he might be right. You’ve just never been brave enough to admit them.

The look of understanding you both share gets disrupted when cheers erupt in the middle of the living room, seeing that Seungkwan had just beaten Jungkook in beer pong. The pro player demands a rematch and the entire house cheers in agreement. Jungkook takes the next game but Seungkwan won’t back down.

“Let’s do it in pairs,” he challenges. “I take Joon.”

“Fine,” Jungkook says, his game face on, knowing there’s one other person he knows could win this with him. “I take the Captain.”

Cheers erupt once more as people push Yoongi to the center where the rest of the guys are. He shakes his head, seemingly uninterested in partaking in tonight’s festivities but goes anyway after much coaxing from everyone. He then does his handshake with Jungkook to the younger man’s insistence, and you watch Yoongi’s soft, shy smile appear.

And just like the very first time you saw that, you feel your heart thrum in excitement. There was always something special about it, and back then it was because he rarely did it, but he did it a lot when he was with you. It’s nice to see it during a moment like this - surrounded by his old friends while having fun with them. You’re glad he shows more of it now, and you wonder how many people fell harder for him because of it.

You watch from the sideline as the Jungkook-Yoongi pair score 4 straight. Seungkwan complains that Namjoon isn’t making any shots, prompting the older man to claim that he’s way better at dunking than shooting tiny balls like they’re jumpers. They eventually lose after all the theatrics but it’s enough to get the guests going, as you find yourself teasing both men as well.

You remember their house parties being this rowdy and this loud, given all the energy and testosterone that these athletes had so much of. That obviously hasn’t changed, and despite all of them having grown up, looking all mature and much more respectable, the naughtiness remains, especially once they’ve had too much to drink.

It’s why you find yourself surrounded by a bunch of the guys, asking for a photo with you to show off to their friends and families.

“I’m showing this to the guys at the office,” Seungkwan announces as he gets your approval over the selfie picture he took of you both. “They’re not gonna believe I went to college with an actress.”

“Uh, I didn’t go to college with you,” you laugh along with the others. “I studied in Seoul.”

“Then how the fuck do we know you?” He exclaims, no doubt drunk out of his mind at this point. You remember him having a short-term memory every time.

“He’s the Captain’s ex, dumbo!” Soon-young reminds him, another one of the younger guys who hasn’t drank as much but was never good at knowing what not to say. “Remember the summer before his final year? She was with us all the time.”

“Oh right. They were inseparable and looked so in love,” Seungkwan giggles, and at this point, the rest of the people just go with what he’s saying.

Not you though, neither does Yoongi, and neither does Namjoon, who slaps the back of Seungkwan’s head to loud-whisper that the ex-couple in question is right there.

“Shit, did they hear me?” Seungkwan wonders out loud and looks around before sipping his beer. “I meant it though.”

He laughs drunkenly, so do many others. There’s really only a handful of you who aren’t intoxicated, but right now you wish you were.

“Wait, they’re both here?” Seungkwan recovers, eyes now glassy.

He gasps when his gaze turns to you and then Yoongi, and he puts his arm over your shoulder and slightly drags you to the right so he could put his arm over Yoongi, too.

“I found them!” Seungkwan squeals, pushing both of you to face him. “Shit, you still look good together.”

“Alright, dude, that’s enough,” Namjoon finally steps in, pulling the inebriated man away. “Sorry,” he turns to you. “Don’t mind anything he said.”

Too late, you want to say, but you release an awkward laugh instead.

“They haven’t changed since college, huh,” Yoongi says, surprising you. “They still put us on the spot then leave us to deal with the aftermath,” he continues, watching as the group disperses to go drink and chat again.

You turn towards him and sigh in relief over the small smile he has on. You swear the tension was so thick earlier that you could cut it with a knife, but Yoongi doesn’t seem bothered. He looks calm like he always does, and just like those first few times, you take your cue from him. You try to release the tension from your body and smile.

“They should be banned from drinking when there are ex-lovers in the building,” you chuckle. “But I’m pretty sure he’ll be apologizing to you like crazy once he’s sober. Wish I could see that.”

“I can’t wait for that, too,” Yoongi hums.

A wave of silence envelopes you both. The sounds of your friends seem like white noise now, and with the background music on and the man next to you just sipping his drink, it’s oddly comforting.

You learned long ago that he has this amazing ability to do that - make people around them feel calm. There’s something so reassuring about him that remarks about your past don’t faze him, and now that’s rubbing off on you, as you feel the awkwardness slowly melt away.

You and Yoongi stand by the couch while the world around you continues. You’d stay in this bubble with him if it wasn’t so familiar, only because the familiarity scares you a little. You don’t want to know if anything else feels the same.

“I’m gonna look for Tae,” you say, breaking the silence.

You only need to look to your left at the sound of someone hooting to find your best friend downing another cup of some concoction, and by the sound of his laugh, you know this is the one that will do it for him. This is his point of no return. Anything he does after is not meant for many people to see; he has an image to protect, after all.

“Alright, that’s my cue,” you say, walking towards him.

You cup Taehyung’s face in your hands and tell him that the party’s over and you’ll take him home. He argues, but you remind him that he’s a celebrity and that he can’t have drunk pictures of him circulating online. His inebriated mind sort of gets it, and you take him in your arms and start looking around, trying to see which of the guys are the most stable one to drive.

“How are you going home?”

“Uh…” you turn to face Yoongi. “One of… them? Jungkook, Wooz, Soon-young all offered.”

“And they’ve all had a lot to drink,” he replies.

“Who here hasn’t?” You chuckle, eyes still searching the room. You don’t want to ask your safest option, which is the man in front of you. You’re not quite sure how your heart can handle that.

“Me,” he says so casually. “I just had one bottle.”

You know what he means, even more when he goes to Taehyung’s side to help you assist your drunk best friend. Yoongi doesn’t say anything else though; he just stands there while waiting for your reply. This is about safety, you remind yourself, and it has nothing to do with suddenly wanting to be in his presence just a little longer.

“Okay,” you reply, knowing he knows what you mean, too.

“Okay.”

All three of you say goodbye to your friends, all of whom give you smug looks, passing up on the teasing now given Yoongi’s displeased face after someone remarks that “mom and dad are taking care of their kid again.” This isn’t a new scene for them, either. Taehyung just tends to have a lot of genuine fun when he’s with his friends; it’s something you relate with after being in the industry you’re in.

You and Yoongi help Taehyung in the backseat where you sit, with your best friend’s head securely on your lap because he’s now complaining of a migraine. Your designated driver starts the car shortly after he checks on both of you.

“Neither of you took your cars?” He asks.

“Tae did but passed up on driving tonight,” you say. “I would’ve driven, had I known he won’t be able to control himself. I’m still waiting for my requested rental car.”

Yoongi merely hums and focuses on the road while you… well, while you sort of focus on him. Your position behind the passenger seat allows you a view from the side - from how his fingers drum the steering wheel to how he nibbles his lips. His eyes are focused on the road but you can tell he’s focused on both of you, too, with the way he turns to the back whenever Taehyung makes some garbled sound or just to ask you if you’re okay.

You watched him do this so many times before with you next to him, holding his hand and kissing his cheek at every stoplight. For someone who loves music, he never put the radio on when he drove you. He said it allowed him to focus on you, and that memory isn’t one that you really want to think of right now, especially since it’s silent in the car. You don’t know which ones you’d rather remember, though - the good ones or the bad. You suppose either would hurt regardless, and this wasn’t something that you prepared for.

You make it to your best friend’s house as you and Yoongi assist him to the gate to Mrs. Kim’s shock. She scolds a barely-awake Taehyung and apologizes profusely to Yoongi, who says she’s happy to see him in their home once again. As Mr. Kim takes his son up to his room, Yoongi turns to you and asks if you need a ride home.

“I’m sleeping over,” you say in a panic. “Someone’s got to take care of his drunk ass.”

“Okay,” Yoongi says, briefly meeting your eyes before nodding towards his car. “I’ll go ahead. It was nice seeing you again, ___.”

They’re simple words that any old friend would tell another after seeing them in years, but somehow they hit you differently. This entire evening hasn’t been a dream or some made up scenario in your head where you meet the man you loved after so long.

He’s here. With you. Looking at you in a way you’re very unfamiliar with - with a calmness in his eyes and a hint of care and acceptance, as if he’s glad you’re here but that he’s well aware of the years between you, of the years that passed by, of the years that changed you both.

You don’t respond fast enough because before you know it, he’s turning around, ready to head out the door.

“It was nice seeing you, too, Yoongi,” you say softly.

But he hears it, stops walking for a while, and then opens the door and walks out.

You wonder if he’d said something the day you left, would you have stopped and turned around? Or would you have kept walking?

But thinking about that won’t do you any good, so you turn away as well and head upstairs.

Outside, Yoongi steps on the gas, turns to the next corner, and then stops the car. He clasps his hands together so they’d stop shaking, and he lets himself breathe for the first time tonight. He’s kept his cool long enough, but after everything - the party, the teasing, the car ride - he doesn’t think he can hold the emotions in any longer, and he doesn’t even know what they are.

Longing? Sadness? Regret? Is it the unspeakable feeling of fear at the thought of you dating one of his friends who might actually be good for you? Is it relief at the idea that letting you go was the best thing that he could’ve ever done for you? Is it confusion over wanting so badly to take you in his arms but not wanting to feel your touch, knowing it would remind him of everything he’s tried to forget?

Yoongi lays his head on the headrest and takes a breath. You’re so beautiful, as if some light shines on you wherever you go. It’s probably the glow you emit; he’s told you that before but you always said he was just teasing. He sees it even more now.

But it’s also the crinkle of your eyes when you smile that sweet smile of yours that makes things feel familiar, and because of that, uneasy. It’s that honey sound of your voice; he heard it as you laughed during the party and joked around with everyone. It’s that captivating look you have, the one that says you know something but you want to know more; he felt that look when he entered the house and as he drove you earlier.

He wonders if you saw past him, past his nonchalance and calm demeanor. You were always so good at that - knowing there was more behind his passiveness, knowing how to get a reaction from him, knowing which buttons to push so he’d open up and let you in.

He doesn’t know if he should be afraid that you still know how to do it, or if he should revel in it because he’s missed you, more than he could ever say and more than he’d ever care to admit.

But beyond all that, he’s sure that one of his emotions is happiness. Every time you talked about work and being able to watch yourself on screen - he swears he didn’t eavesdrop but that he just happened to be there - there was that excitement that felt like the continuation from when you used to talk about your big dreams with him.

You got what you wanted and you worked hard to get to where you are and he knows you’re proud of yourself and that’s all he’s ever wanted. Seeing that smile - he knows. Letting you go was the best thing he’s ever done for you.

“What are you doing here?”

Taehyung’s hoarse voice forces your eyes off the ceiling onto your side where he’s currently hugging his pillow, messy hair and pouty lips on display.

“Trying to get some rest after I saved your drunk ass last night,” you bitterly respond. “I got to you before any compromising photos or videos were taken. You’re welcome.”

“Hmm, thanks,” he groans. “But uh, why are you here? Didn’t you say you wanted proper rest in your house before seeing your family today?”

“Right, uh… you see. Yoongi drove us here, and then he asked if I wanted a ride home but I kinda panicked and said I’m sleeping over so… Here I am!” You laugh, unconvincingly. “My rental car’s on the way here. I’ll drive to my house and then go to my dad’s.”

“Ugh, you’re so dumb,” he says, sinking into his comforter. You gasp in response. “That was your chance to be alone with him but you didn’t take the offer. We both know you wanted to.”

“Tae, being drunk and not holding anything back doesn’t mean you can just assume things like that,” you respond, sitting up and frowning at him. “I didn’t want to be alone with him, that’s why I’m here!”

“Why didn’t you want to be alone with him?” He answers back.

“Uhm, why would I want to?” You ask incredulously. “Since when was getting in a car alone with an ex ever a good idea?”

“Why? You’re afraid you’d kiss him if you did?”

You scowl at your best friend. “I should’ve left you there drunk with possible penis drawings on your face.”

“Just being honest. It’s not like you’ve never done that with him before,” he shrugs.

“I hate you.”

“I know. But you’ll love me later on. At least I’m still half asleep.”

You push him awake, the stress heightening now as the previous night plays in your head.

“Tae! What happened to my hi, goodbye plan?!” You groan. “I was literally just supposed to say hi and then be civil, like, acknowledge his presence but not be affected by it. But then we had some small talk and he drove us home.”

“We all know it was a denial plan,” he huffs. “It was bound to fail.”

“Gee, thanks. You’re being incredibly helpful right now,” you frown again.

“Fine,” he grumbles, sitting now. “You had small talk, he drove you here. How are those affecting you and why are you making it a big deal?”

“I’m not making it a big deal,” you point out.

“You kinda are.”

“No, I’m not.”

“You are because that’s how things started before. And you’re afraid that one small misstep will cause you to fall for him all over again, fast and hard, because that’s how you are when it comes to him.”

“You’re hungover and tired so your judgment is impaired,” you say, crossing your arms. “You remember what happened after all that. I’ll be perpetually grateful that you never pushed me to talk about it unless I was drunk and couldn’t remember things but I was heartbroken, Tae. And then I was numb. It took a while before I started to feel again.”

“I know,” he says, taking you in his arms now as he holds you like a baby - a rare occurrence, as this often happens the other way around. “And I can never fault you for it because even if it was like that summer fling that only happened in the movies, I know you loved him, genuinely and intensely, and a love like that stays with you. But he’s got a good life here, ___, and you’ve got an amazing one in Seoul. You just have to remember why it didn’t work out in the first place and make sure you don’t fall into that trap again. Just… acknowledge that. For your sake. And then do what you need to do so you don’t make the same mistakes again.”

Enveloped in his warmth, you take in your best friend’s words. He may still be hungover and may also be confused but his comfort never seizes, and it’s one of the reasons why you love him dearly.

“So yeah, good on you I guess for not taking that ride with him. Maybe staying away and keeping your distance might be good,” he adds.

Your silence somehow alarms him, so he nudges you. “It’s a good idea, right?”

“I don’t know. Suddenly I feel like staying away and keeping my distance will let him know that it still affects me. He’ll always know me like that,” you sigh, hugging him tightly for more comfort. “And there’s this part of me that wants to show him that I’m fine, you know? That even with everything that happened between us, I walked away from it knowing what I deserve, and that’s someone who’ll fight through life with me. He didn’t and that’s on him but he had his reasons, and looking back, maybe he was right. Maybe he had to let me go, and maybe - because I loved him genuinely and intensely - I want to show him that it wasn’t all in vain. And that I’m happy. Even without him.”

“You don’t need to prove anything to him, you know?”

Maybe I want to prove it to myself, you don’t say. There’s a stubbornness in you that doesn’t go away.

“This isn’t about him, is it?” Taehyung levels his head with you.

For someone hungover, he still knows you pretty well.

You just sigh and fall back in his arms. He doesn’t push you. He just hugs you again until you both fall back in bed and he can comfortably curl his body all over you because it’s Taehyung and he likes to do this.

“Just be careful, alright?” He pleads.

“You know I also kinda don’t have a choice,” you reply. “It’s a small town and we’re bound to see each other. Jungkook and Namjoon have a game here again in a few weeks and that means another get together.”

“Yeah, but you know what I mean.”

You hum. “Promise me you’ll be by my side whatever happens?”

“Always, you stubborn woman. I’m the one person who’ll never leave you even if you push me away.”

The lunch with your family is how you expect it to go - with your older sisters making some backhanded comments about your fame and how you’ve been “too busy” to even visit, and your father trying to dissolve the tension. He’s at least genuinely curious about how you’ve been, asking if you’re eating well and getting enough rest. Your stepmom raves about your drama series and shares that she cried during the finale.

“Why did he have to go back to his planet?” Garam’s 7-year old asks after your stepmom narrates what happened.

“His time on earth was up,” you explain. “He finished his mission and he had to leave.”

“But why didn’t he stay if he was happy?”

“Because he had a responsibility in his home,” you smile. “He wasn’t made for this world.”

“He didn’t have a choice, sweetie,” Garam adds after her daughter comments that it was sad. “That’s understandable. Some people leave because they’re no longer happy with those around them. Or because their dreams are more important than those they supposedly love. Isn’t that sadder?”

“It is. Don’t leave me, Mama,” the little one pouts.

“Oh sweetie, I never will. I don’t leave people that I love,” Garam responds, glancing at you to make a statement.

You zone out after that, not wanting to engage with your sisters anymore. You play with their kids, though, who get excited when they see you on TV. You don’t want to treat them like you hold a grudge against them even if you do so with their mothers. Your sisters continue to do that with you - resent you when it’s your mom they’re really angry at for leaving your already unhappy family after she got her dream job in Paris. You were never angry though but you did sort of follow in her footsteps, and your sisters hated you even more because of that.

“Are you staying for dinner?” Your father asks, the hope in his eyes hurting you.

Things weren’t going well with your parents for a while, giving your mom more reason to leave, but you always wished that he had done more for you to feel loved in the home that started to become toxic after it fell apart, but you suppose he was just trying to heal his own broken heart after his wife left. It felt like your sisters weren’t going to forgive you when you decided to leave yourself, and he just let you walk away without making sure you knew he still loved you despite your decision.

He’s moved on now, though, and happy with someone who prioritizes him and his needs. But too much time and distance can pull people apart - you can see them without the desire of being with them. That’s the reality with you and him now and there’s not much you can do about it.

“No, I’ve got other plans,” you respond, glancing at your sisters who return your look with bitterness. “I’ll see you at grandpa’s tomorrow.”

You drive around for half an hour with no destination in mind. It’s nice to see how much this place has changed and discover which parts of it still feel the same.

You pass by an antique shop - the antique shop, a generations-old family-run store that used to be the hub of imported furniture that the townspeople once flocked to. It’s now a speciality store that still sells one-of-a-kind items but it also refurbishes old pieces. You see a poster on the window that’s promoting woodworking workshops. You won’t be surprised to find out whose idea that was.

A man briefly exits, and you stop near the front, wanting to just take it in. He’s got more gray hair now and walks a little slower but he looks just like you remembered - soft crinkled eyes, comforting smile, a look that you know all too well. You decide to enter, as you’re desperate for something - anything - that feels more like home than the one you just came from.

“May I help you?” The man asks.

“A greeting and a hug would do,” you look up at him and smile.

“___?!” He gasps, walking outside the counter to get closer to you. “Is that really you, my dear?”

“Yes it is, Mr. Min,” you smile, returning the hug that you requested. “Just passing by my favorite antique shop in town. How are you doing?”

“Great! Business is stable and I’ve still got a lot of fight in me to continue,” he chuckles. “How about you? The big city treating you good?”

“It is,” you reply. “I think I’m doing quite okay there.”

“Ah, well it should be treating you amazingly. That’s what you deserve.”

You continue the conversation, with you asking about his latest projects and him, talking about his furniture and wood like his children, pride laced in his voice every time. He asks you about your latest series and if you’ve met his favorite actors and you indulge him. His laughter is music to your ears. You remember spending time here where he worked on his pieces while you talked about your favorite movies.

“Does my son know you’re here?” He asks after a beat of silence.

“He does. I saw him last night. He looks well.”

“He does, doesn’t he? It took a while but he’s doing much better than before - smiling, joking around, helping me at the shop, talking about basketball again. It’s nice to see.”

The words hit you in ways you didn’t expect. Breaking up with Yoongi was tough to get over. Those last few months had been incredibly hard and so many times you thought that maybe if you’d been more patient, maybe things would’ve turned out differently.

But you remember how during those last days with him, he’d lost the glimmer in his eyes and the softness of his smile. Not even you could bring those back. His passion for things just dwindled; he stopped wanting more, stopped wanting you, stopped thinking that things could still work out for him after what he suffered through.

You’d kept in touch with Namjoon and Jungkook at their insistence, and they’d been the one to update you on how Yoongi was doing. Not a lot of details but just general things like the jobs he took and that he was keeping himself busy and that he was trying to get back on the court. It wasn’t with unpleasant stories, though - you learned about his new girlfriend from them, and that he didn’t play basketball for awhile, and that during the toughest days, he considered giving it up altogether.

You knew he’d done well. You learned that from the guys, too. But hearing it from his father is different; you can’t imagine how it must’ve been like for Mr. Min to see his son start to change from what he used to be. But you know that as the good father that he is, he made sure that Yoongi knew he wasn’t alone.

“And that’s good to hear,” you say. “Yoongi deserves all the happiness this world can give. I’m glad that he’s found his joy in basketball again it seems. And that he found it here.”

“He has, but I guess something will always be missing. He’s a lot better but he’s not the same. A parent would know, you know? The flame doesn’t shine as bright,” Mr. Min answers, the tinge of sadness in his eyes hurting you a little.

But you just nod. His words seem to mean more but you don’t want to know what it is.

“Dad, what did you want me to look at?”

Yoongi’s voice echoes in the shop and you can’t help but turn to him who’s just entered and looks as shocked as his father was earlier.

You have a soft smile on, and Mr. Min knows not to intervene.

“Oh, nothing,” he says, thinking that the new wood he acquired could wait. “Just watch over the counter for me while I check something inside, alright Son?”

He doesn’t let the younger man answer and just heads to the back, leaving you and Yoongi alone. He walks closer but keeps his distance. It’s enough for you to appreciate the softness of his face, though. His presence had always been reassuring; you see him twice and you’ve felt more comfort with him than you have in months. You don’t know how he does it, but that shouldn’t surprise you anymore. This isn’t the first time anyway.

“Is Taehyung alright?” He breaks the silence.

“Recovering, but more from his parents giving him shit for drinking too much,” you chuckle. “He got an earful and Mrs. Kim said she won’t let him in the house next time he gets that drunk. He’s doing chores as punishment.”

“Ah, well it’s been a while. It was nice to spend time with everyone again.”

“It was,” you smile now.

“And you? Are you okay?” He asks, sincerity laced in his low voice.

“Yeah, of course.”

It’s the hesitant nod and the way your eyes look at anything but him, and he knows that whatever happened after last night is something you want to forget or seek comfort for. So he asks.

“So what made you come here? To the shop, I mean.”

“I was driving around. It didn’t register to me right away that I was in the area,” you respond. “And this place was always so calming for me, you know? The smell of wood, your dad’s stories…”

You.

“So I thought I’d come in”, you continue. “He hasn’t changed. It’s nice to see him.”

Yoongi always wondered what parts of you remained the same and which parts didn’t.

Perhaps the playfulness tempered a bit. You seem a little more anxious than he remembers, too. There’s this sophistication about you that was always too good for this small town, and he sees that even more now. Your smile is still soft but it isn’t as bright. He won’t deny that it still makes his heart race, though.

You have a habit of going somewhere familiar to seek comfort. You always looked for it in places, he noticed - in that dingy convenience store near your school, in your town’s secondhand bookstore even if you don’t like reading, in the Opera House where you and your mom used to go to. Yoongi learns now that that hasn’t changed at all. You’re in his dad’s store, a place you always wanted to go to after spending time with your family, and he supposes that’s where you came from.

He doesn’t know if he’s still someone you find comfort in and he doesn’t know if you even want to spend time with him after all these years, but he doesn’t have the heart to just let you walk out of here not knowing if you’re truly okay.

He hated leaving you alone then when things weren’t good. You didn’t always want to talk but you said once that just hearing him breathing on the other end of the phone or just having his hand over yours made you feel better. He may not be the right person now but he’s still someone, and that’s always better than no one.

You eye the door, ready to leave, but his call of your name prompts you to look back at him.

“Do you have somewhere to be?” He asks.

“No, not really,” you reply.

“Would you like to grab some coffee?”

The words are familiar. You hate that you remember everything about it.

“Just coffee?” You ask, almost teasingly.

He chuckles softly and meets your eyes, and somehow a part of you thinks that you shouldn’t do this. But you’re glad he asked in the first place.

“Yes, ___. Just coffee.”

Series Masterlist

Permanent Taglist: @sherlynxx @di0rgguk @thequeen-kat @fan-ati--c @cravingforhotchocolate @adoraminie @helenazbmrskai @weasleyswizarding-wheezes @preciouschimine @gukssunshine @nch327 @kookxin @petuliii @yoursthv @libra04 @fancycollectormoon @twixxxpie @ignoretheskies @ohmydarlin-g @bids97 @minyoongiboongi @main-bangtansmauyeondan @bora-bae7 @investedreader @petalsofink @jvngkooker

#yoongi fic #yoongi angst #yoongi fluff #yoongi smut #yoongi x reader #yoongi x you #min yoongi #yoongi fanfic #bts suga #yoongi fanfiction #exes to lovers #exes au

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babystarcandylovejk · 3 days

Text

✨bad idea, right???✨

I just tripped and fell into his bed!!!

🌷 baby, don't go (yoongi x reader) by @ki-yomii

🌷 last november (seokjin x reader) by @kithtaehyung

🌷 can't spell s*x without ex (jungkook x reader) by @badbtssmut

🌷 just a taste (jimin x reader) by @livingformintyoongi

🌷lemme take care of you (jungkook x reader) by @ahgasegotarmy116

🌷 days to morning glory (jungkook x reader) by @sketchguk

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨ wanna visit my smut library ? ୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨ back to the m.masterlist ୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

#bts #bts smut #bts fic recs #bts smut recs #bts fic #exes to lovers #e2l #bts smut library #yoongi x reader #seokjin x reader #jungkook x reader #jimin x reader #bts fanfic

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jooyeone · 2 years

Photo

j-hope / agust d.

#bts #btsgif #jhope #hoseok #yoongi #agust d #dailybts #*gifs #*jhs #*myg #more mv #they're ex boyfriends i think.#also the way these two songs reflect on fame and artistic voice in almost fundamentally different ways #there's six years of astronomical growth between them and it shows in hobi's song turning the focus back inwards #it's almost funny bc it was really hard to isolate a few lyrics from agust d that do not reference the self #in constant competition with Others in the industry #whereas hobi is all >i< want MORE.#yoongi is self-assured and assertive but hobi feels more desperate almost bursting to let go

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pt2change · 8 months

Text

between the seconds ; min yoongi

[gif source]

pairing: min yoongi x reader

genre: exes, angst. angst. angst. mentions of soulmates, yoongi is sad :(, ft jimin cameo

word count: 784

a/n: feedback is appreciated <3 i hope this makes sense i made it when i couldn’t fall asleep

↣ bts masterlist

⭒☆━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━☆⭒

if yoongi believed in such a thing, he would say you were the closest thing to being his soulmate.

he feels it all the way right down to his bones

it’s sometime in the middle of the night and he’s sitting up on his mattress, gasping for air

he’s drowning.

he feels empty too, like a part of him is missing.

it’s been so long since he really truly felt like himself, but this feeling was different. more intensifying.

his heart is beating too fast inside his chest in a way that hurts

and he just knows, he does.

he’s lying on the mattress in his cold lonely apartment, which now feels to big without you in it.

but he’s on his own now, like he was way before you happened

except the loneliness now feels suffocating

and yoongi drinks himself back to sleep with a bottle of whiskey that’s been sitting in his kitchen cabinet

and when the news spread about your wedding, it reaches yoongi in a sort of sad whisper

his best friend jimin comes over, and yells at him to get up and move on with his life

after all it was because of yoongi that the two of you aren’t together anymore

now he’s so full of regret and just stares blankly as jimin lectures him

he doesn’t know what to say. his heart feels like it’s been ripped out of his chest

his emotions are so overwhelming, he doesn’t feel like he can be a fully functioning human being.

yoongi doesn’t trust himself to open his mouth, so he walks out of his apartment and leaves jimin standing the middle of his living room

he heads towards a small bar that’s down the street, and drinks until he’s numb and the owner is pushing him out

days later, he finds a polaroid picture of the two of you taken on a random night underneath his dresser

yoongi tortures himself looking at it over and over again

you both looked so happy and in love, and his mind flashes to the last time he saw you with tears running down your cheeks and your face flushed

he stares at it until there’s a lump in his throat and his chest feels too tight

he tries to throw the picture away a few times but he ends up placing it on his bedside table

“yoongi, when was the last time you ate?” jimin asks him the next time he’s at his apartment

yoongi can’t even remember if he opened the door or if jimin just simply walked in

he can’t remember the last day he went to work and earned money to buy himself groceries and cooked a meal

in fact, he can’t remember the last time he swallowed something that wasn’t alcohol

“leave me alone” he tells jimin, covering himself with the blanket you had left on his couch.

yoongi doesn’t complain an hour later when jimin gives him a bowl of scolding hot soup he made with whatever was in the fridge

it all comes back when yoongi opens the instagram app and sees the stories and posts of your mutual friends at your wedding

videos of you and your husband laughing, dancing, kissing

he clicks on the next story where the camera had zoomed in on your face and you smiled so big, your laugh filling his quiet living room

and yoongi’s mind replays so many memories with that same exact laugh and he can’t tear his eyes away

and he tries to stop himself from crying, he wants to but he can’t.

just like he can’t throw out the picture of the two of you, or the blanket you would wrap yourself in, or the clothes that you left behind

and he messed it all up, he messed up any chance to fix it with you

it’s too late now.

he finds himself crouched over on the couch, head in his hands, and he can taste the salt on his tongue

he’s crying.

even when he wants to get up and walk away to avoid seeing jimin’s face when he realizes yoongi is crying over his ex, he forgets how to work his muscles

yoongi can’t leave because his attention is on you and your beautiful smile and the contagious laugh on the screen

he remembers the way your lips curved up when you smiled

he remembers the way your hands curled around his biceps when you would walk together

he remembers the way your lips moved when you would speak to him

and yoongi can’t stop staring.

in that same moment, yoongi realized that he remembers every single detail about you.

he memorized it all.

and even though he doesn’t believe in soulmates, the day you left him, was the day you took all of min yoongi with you.

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soraviie · 10 months

Text

━ type: jungkook x gn! reader ━ navigation

━ about: a healthy splash of angst; reader is slightly older than Jungkook (also in denial) and he is a whole forest because there's just so much pine

━ requested by @manavi-meera (?) tumblr deleted your ask when I tried to write in it, all I saw was the gif :/

"Just think about it."

"It's Jungkook!"

"Yeah, it's Jungkook. So think about it."

"Hmm."

It's around when your foot is halfway across the threshold that Yoongi speaks again — just as somber as he'd begun the conversation. If, of course, one's ex-boyfriend turned best friend hurtling a bunch of mistruths and delusions at a completely oblivious and confused party of the other could be construed as a "conversation".

"Oh and ______________?"

You turn around, feeling some form of clammy fear sink its grimy talons around your gut the longer this stifled, awkward bout of silence drags on.

"Yeah?"

"Just...be kind. No matter what you do."

And because for some unknown reason a sudden knot appears at the base of your throat, you can't speak — without rhyme or reason it seems nigh impossible to utter a single word so you nod. Nod and leave Yoongi to sit in his studio alone and with that disconcerting glimmer in his eye.

Jungkook liking you — one has to laugh!

“Old man has to be checked for dementia,” you grouse to yourself, the only thing hearing your discontent being the darkness of the emptied hallway.

The thought! The absolute gall!

Jungkook liking you…

It’s — it's ridiculous!

But because of one nosey little fucker, the idea has been planted in your head now and like an invasive species of flora, it refuses to leave your gardens alone.

You try to imagine, you give it an honest, good effort but even now, after all these years what you see before your eyes when thinking of Jungkook are those big, wet eyes. It doesn’t matter how many tattoos and piercings he adorns himself with, how many bikes he drives through the night in the name of the thrill, none of it matters — to you he’s just a gangly kid, always turning his face away so you don’t see the nearly constant state of panic reflected in his features.

What Yoongi has been smoking you have no idea, frankly you certainly don’t want to try it if it causes this sort of brain damage.

Jungkook yearning for you.

Yearning. Just hearing that word bounce back in your skull makes you scoff. Yearning was for torrid love affairs and sentimental romance books; no one in real life yearned. Who could possibly have the time?

Grab your jacket —> go home —> forget this ever happened —> maybe share a demure chuckle or two with Yoongi five years laters, because obviously he’d be embarrassed about being this wrong about something but the plan is fucked.

It’s fucked because big, brown eyes are staring right back at you, as you round the corner into the wardrobe and more importantly they’re holding your jacket. Well, his hands, not the eyes. Eyes couldn’t hold things.

“Welcome back,” Jungkook outstretches the jacket towards you, his voice rumbling low in the chest. It’s usually a pleasant hum but because of Yoongi you cannot help but wonder whether it’s a pleased hum as well. “Why didn’t you tell me you're stopping by?”

Had it been just yesterday you would have punched his arm, rolled your eyes and annoyed the ever loving shit out of him, saying he’s not your boyfriend — you don’t owe him to know when and where you’re coming and going but it’s today and suddenly merely touching him feels excruciatingly awkward.

“Must have slipped my mind,” you mutter, struggling to put the jacket on. A faint wrinkle of discontent worms its way in the space between his eyebrows. Frustration rises and he outstretches himself to help you — out of instinct, out of annoyance? — you're not quite sure, before it never crossed your mind to ponder about it. However, now that you do your legs take an automated step back and Jungkook's hands after a second of lingering contemplatively into the air, half reached out towards you drop back to his thighs — unassuming and still.

"Something wrong?" he asks, inclining his head to the side and why....

...why is it sort of cute?

Cute in a very Jungkook way but not in a usual Jungkook way because usually he was like a little brother you never wanted and...

"__________________?"

...and you're spiralling.

"Yeah?" you blink down on him and the frown on his face deepens.

"You're a bit," jerkily, he waves his fingers around. "Out of it."

"You're like a brother to me, right?"

You didn't mean for it to come out as a question but it is now and it's terrifying. It's terrifying because Yoongi was right. Jungkook's not laughing or scoffing or even acting annoyed or offended by this familiarity. Rather there's this ashen film covering his face and the longer his gaze flits anxiously from one spot to another — anywhere but your own persona — the more you understand.

He'd thrust his heart into your awkward hands and now you're simply horrified to even hold it with more pressure — what if it breaks, what if you hurt it in anyway? It feels more like an injured bird than a heart — any wrong move and you would do something that would weigh down on you for the rest of the remaining days.

It's your turn to call out his name and echoing the same confused, absent-minded state you're in, he hums at the mention of his name, eyes hazy and teeth gnawing on his lip.

"I mean I always thought we're...friends, you know?"

"You're still—"

"I'm not little anymore."

For a second he gains a new sort of resolution - the hazy veil in his eyes is traded for something more steel like and his spine straightens just for a second befoer he collapses into himself, muttering with no small amount of bitterness:

"I'm not a kid, ___________, and you're not that much older than me."

"I know it's just," there is an ill-willing sense of a migraine coming on - you could feel it into the tepid albeit painful tension sitting at the base of your neck. "I guess it's just hard to shake off first impressions, Koo."

He gives an ugly sort of snort — a bit bitter, a bit self-depreciating — and you swear there is a "don't I know it" under his breath, grumbled in a tone that implies it's something of an inside joke with himself.

You wonder what it means.

"I'll walk you home," he suddenly utters, jumping up from the seat. Was he always such a beefcake? Your stare lingers just a touch too long and now that the proverbial scales had been ripped off your eyes you fully grasp how he preens underneath this crumb of attention.

It brings back the awkward feel in your hands — like holding something too small and too precious while walking across a tightrope.

"I didn't ask—"

"Tough shit," he throws over his shoulder, already walking away, pretending to be all cool.

"When did you get so commanding?" you grouse, rushing to keep up with him. It's a bit easier to breathe for now, here in the desolate hallway of HYBE's lower wardrobess, things have for now returned to normal and you revel in that fact though in the back of your mind you know things are soon to change. Conversations will be had and secrets will be spiilled, be it for better or worse. You know it and Jungkook knows it but for now you both pretend it's the same it used to be and bicker to your heart's delight.

"Spank me then."

"Fucking perv."

"Who do you think I learned it from?"

"From Namjoon's truly godless porn sites."

"I'm a good boy, I would never."

"Wipe that sly grin off your face and maybe I'll believe you."

send in a picture of the boys and I’ll write a scenario

#why did this turn out so messy lmaaaoooo #yoongi being the ex boyfriend whose aware of Jungkook's feelings #reader being awkward and scared #and older than Jungkook #and him pining for reader but clearly being insecure about the age thing and how being viewed as a kidd #this is some telenovela shit (T_T)#anyway I'm back baby #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jungkook x y/n #bts angst #jungkook angst #bts drabble #jungkook drabbles #file/picture series/jungkook

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for-yoongi0309 · 1 year

Text

#ultkpopnetwork #mgroupsedit #idolsincedits #maleidolsedit #yoongi #suga #min yoongi #bangtan #bts #230427 #tour:suga/agustd #ex. fireworks/lighting #myg.year:2023 #Emilyxinfinity

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eleni-cherie · 1 year

Text

among thieves ✨ || bts • pjm

- epilogue

"what even am I to you? your rival, your lover, an obstacle or am I supposed to be your coffin?"

about two thieves who can't live with nor without each other. and a joint past that comes back to threaten them.

»»»

masterlist: here

— genre: thief au, gangster comedy, adventure, romcom, humour, angst, fluff, very flirty jimin, friends/rivals/exes to lovers (it's complicated, ok?!) f2l e2l ex2l all members play a role in this story!

ALTERNATIVE UNIVERSE. CHARACTERS NOT NECESSARILY LIKE THE REAL PERSONS. ALSO VERY UNREALISTIC PLOT LOL - JUST PRETEND READING A MANGA/COMIC OR WATCHING A FILM, REALLY.

SUGGESTIVE THEMES. MENTIONS OF VIOLENCE & BLOOD (BUT NOTHING TOO GRAPHIC, IT'S STILL A COMEDY!)

»»»

several years later

Tainan, Taiwan

Jimin took a sip from his ice coffee and flipped a page in the book he was reading.

The evening sun was bathing the building in a warm shade, a comfortably mild summer atmosphere being created. Some children ran through the streets to get to the nearest park with lots of laughter and screams. Almost bumping into two women who were chatting while carrying their groceries.

He turned another page when sensing someone taking a seat on the free chair on the other side of his table. He didn't need to look up to know who it was though. The café being not overly crowded, and he had already seen him enter from the corner of his eye.

"You finally found me."

"Who said I ever lost track of you?"

Jimin perked up with a lopsided smirk, arching a brow at him. "What took you so long then?"

Seokjin laughed out, shaking his head. "Choosing a country that isn't an interpol member to settle down.. you knew what you were doing."

Closing the book on his lap, he took another sip from his coffee.

"Oh, is that so? I just came here for the nice weather," he said innocently, a small chuckle leaving his lips as he looked at his former antagonist. It felt strange somehow, having him simply sit there casually next to him without him trying to arrest him. Who would've thought a day like this would ever come. "And how comes you pay me a visit now?"

The older man shrugged, leaning back in his seat. "Been awhile since the last time I saw you, so I thought why not spending my vacation here?'"

Jimin nodded understanding and smiled at him. "And how've you been?"

He shrugged. "Oh, you know.. after you guys became inactive, it became quite boring."

"Aw."

"No, that wasn't a compliment."

"It sounded like one though."

"Whatever helps you sleep at night," Seokjin sighed, "But you know, it became boring and you know, I ain't getting younger either. So after I got married, I decided to take it easier and stepped down from the leader position. I focus more on paperwork now."

Jimin's eyes widened in shock as he straightened himself. Unable to imagine some random office sitter in the leader position. "And who's the leader in the theft divison now?"

"Blake."

"Oh!" he exclaimed and relaxed into his previous position, "I can see that. She always seemed eager to prove herself to you."

"And she did."

"Kinda sad for Jungkookie though, isn't it?"

"Nah," Seokjin waved at him, shaking his head, "He never was interested in that position. He still works there with her though."

Jimin couldn't keep himself from laughing at the thought of Skylar and Jungkook together and her giving him orders while he obeyed like a good subordinate. "You know, I always felt like the two were into each other and ever since I tried setting them up.."

A teasing grin spread on Seokjin's features. "Since when are you so invested in other people's love life?"

He only shrugged and dragged a dramatic sigh. "Can't help it, I'm such a romantic."

Seokjin laughed under his breath. "To be honest, I sometimes felt the same," he admitted then, "And I still think it whenever I catch them looking at each other. Perhaps it was their professionalism that kept them from going further."

"Or perhaps they're just dating in secret."

He perked up at this, seeing Jimin wiggling his brows at him. "You think so?"

"I might or might not have my sources."

The older man laughed out, nodding. "Well, good for them then."

"But wait!" Jimin exclaimed then, suddenly having processed something else. "You said you got married? To Yongsun?"

Seokjin's eyes widened, realising he had indeed mentioned it. He bit back a smile, confirming it again with a quick nod. "Yeah.."

"And I wasn't invited to the wedding?" Jimin faked offence to which Seokjin grinned.

"Figured you wouldn't have wanted to get arrested."

"True. But since you only met her thanks to me, I still think I deserved it."

"It surely wasn't thanks to you.."

"Now, don't be so unfair," Jimin pouted, "You wouldn't have been at that ship if I hadn't planned to steal the 'black star'." He was referring to the party a CEO of one of the biggest korean companies had thrown for his wife's birthday two years ago. And that wife had happened to own a very valuable black pearl, which she was wearing on a spray brooch and which the gang had been after. "So technically, I deserved an invitation."

Seokjin groaned in annoyance, getting tired of their quarrel. "You know what? I take it back. It's been great since you retired. I finally got some peace."

"Rude considering I practically introduced you to her."

"You didn't 'introduce' her to me!" Seokjin objected with a laugh, "You pushed her on me when I was running after you!"

"Still counts - you're married now, aren't you?" Jimin pointed out with a sly grin.

He wasn't able to disagree with that. So he gave up with an exhausted sigh.

"So?" Seokjin coughen then in hopes of changing topics and looked around. "And where's the rest?"

"Thought you had kept track on all of us."

"I did," he corrected, "But since interpol doesn't have any resources here, it wasn't too easy and there're some gaps."

Jimin hummed, stirring his coffee with the straw.. "Well, Taehyungie and his wife live nearby."

"You mean Cassandra?"

"Oh, you even got her name! Impressive!"

"Aish, stop with the sarcasm! Of course I know all your associates! I hunted you guys for years after all." Seokjin rolled his eyes before adding with a smirk, "And I was pretty good at it."

Jimin couldn't stop laughing, finding it always amusing how his opponent reacted when getting upset. "Never doubted your skills."

"So the two live nearby."

He nodded. "Yeah, she works at a hospital here."

"And Yoongi?"

"Right now, he's at one of the temples in the mountains. Meditating, training or whatever," Jimin snorted, drinking the last bit of coffee. He always found it quite lame whenever Yoongi got in one of his 'monk moods' - as Jimin called them - every few years and just disappeared for awhile to disconnect from everything. But perhaps he was just a little envious of that skill, since he himself could never do it. "But knowing him, he'll be back in the city in a few weeks."

Seokjin hummed. The corners of his lips shaping a cocky smile. "Needless to ask where Arabella ended up, right?"

"Right," a grin tucking on Jimin's full lips. His glance falling down to his watch then. "I'm actually waiting here for her. She should come any minute now."

"To be honest," Seokjin began then with a light frown on his soft features, "I always knew you guys would retire some day. I just assumed it'd be along with me."

"Well, you know we aren't in our early twenties anymore and besides.. some priorities shifted with time."

Seokjin hummed. Understanding it in a way. After all, same applied to him by now. Still he couldn't help wondering what priorities had changed for Jimin and why.

A black Harley Davidson came to an abrupt halt in front of them then. Arabella taking her helmet off, her hair swaying as it fell over her shoulders.

"Bella-baby, you're late!"

"I said around six, not exactly. Not my fault you came here too early," she huffed. Her eyes widening when spotting the man next to him. "Pops, you here?"

She was actually quite happy to see Seokjin again, having kind of missed him - as weird as it sounded. She had been so used of having him always on their back, it was weird it wasn't the case anymore.

Seokjin, however, didn't seem as pleased. The old nickname cuasing him to roll his eyes. "Seriously, when will you guys ever quit calling me 'pops'?"

"Probably never, it's your nickname for a reason after all."

He laughed under his breath. "You never told me the reason though."

Arabella and Jimin exchanged a look, giggling. "Isn't it obvious? You were always running after us and scolding us. Like a dad."

"And you're older than us, so it fit."

He was speechless for a moment. In a way that stupid nickname that he had secretly grown fond of, made sense. It was even somehow cute, in a very weird and twisted way. He coughed then, feeling his ears becoming red. "I've got to go now," he announced and stood up, "Can't let Yong wait alone for too long. See you guys." He waved at them as he walked away. Only to shortly turn around then with a smirk. "Oh, but before I forget.. You don't coincidentally know anything about that stolen jade statue that is all over the local newpapers?"

Arabella and Jimin looked at each other, before giving him an innocent shrug. Shaking their heads. "No, why would we? We're retired now, remember?"

"Right. Right," Seokjin let out a loud laugh. Not being convinced at all. "Well, see you then."

As he disappeared around the corner, a frowned settled on Arabella's features. "He didn't buy it, did he?"

"So what?" Jimin shrugged and picked up his book, shoving it inside his jacket. "He can't do anything about it as long as we don't leave the country."

They might've officially retired a few months ago, but that didn't mean they'd be dead. After all they'd never be the kind to be content with a 'normal' life. Even if there was no one to hunt them anymore, neither from interpol nor from any organization - Namjoon and Hoseok having liquidated 'owl inc' and its branches only a year ago - they still wanted to keep the excitement, thrill and fun. Just in smaller portions here and there.

"Anyway, let's go."

Arabella tossed him the second helmet before putting her own on and he got on the bike behind her. His arms wrapping around her waist, purposely way too high to be closer to her boobs and she rolled her eyes. Already used to his attics.

She switched the ignition button on, her foot kicking up the kickstand. "By the way," he spoke up then, propping his chin on her shoulder with an arched brow as he curiously looked up to her. "Don't you think it'd be better not to drive the bike for now? You know, because of the.." His eyes pointed down at her belly before returning to her.

She kind of wanted to be annoyed at him for even suggesting this, but then again she understood his worries. She pecked his cheek. "When the bump starts showing, I will," she smiled and squeezed the clutch lever all the way to the grip. His arms tightening around her.

And they drove off.

THE END

»»»

-thank you all for reading this story! it was fun writing something totally new for once, so hope you also had fun reading it!

❗ the sequel a thief's end ✨ || bts • myg is out as well!

❗the prequel "a thief's origin ✨ || bts • kth" along with one shots for jungkook and seokjin are in the works!

- check out my other bts stories, too: here

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gimmethatagustd · 11 months

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Soooo I was gonna write goth Yoongi as the demon crack fic based on Lilith, but then I saw this… and now I’m thinking things…

There are so many plot ideas that came to my head over this

#idk if I would wanna do a reader insert or mem x mem #but imagine like exes to lovers #the ex dies and knows yoongi is in hell so they come for him #friends to lovers and yoongi is the devil and the friend is just happy to see him #there’s so much I cannot handle it #jai talks

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citrustan · 6 months

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slipping through my fingers [1] (myg)

title: will i ever see you again?

pairing: min yoongi x reader genre: dilf!yoongi, exes and co-parents au, angst!, fluff, smut summary: yoongi usually has an explanation for everything. why can't he talk you through this? warnings: [it is important that you read the prologue before this]

It takes you a good five minutes to gather yourself. Yoongi doesn't dare to disturb you.

Still leaned against the wall, you take a few steady breaths.

You don't know why but you don't cry.

The news of him dating another person is enough for you to have an intense breakdown, let alone marrying someone.

This will forever serve as a reminder that you weren't enough for Yoongi.

You kind of just want to go straight to bed. Pretend this never happened. Just deal with it later.

After your break-up, a big part of you always thought you'd end up getting back together. And that no matter how long it takes, Yoongi would be your endgame. He was it for you.

Over the past year, your contact with Yoongi had reduced. He was always busy when you called. Always working.

But now that you think about it, it was you who assumed that he was working. He never claimed he was.

For all you know, he could've been dating.

Pfft. 'Could have.'

He most definitely was.

And he didn't tell you. Not even your friends told you about it.

You don't know what's worse.

You're pushing yourself away from going into a dark place. Where you begin to wonder.

The only question that refuses to budge is: What does she have that you don't?

In all honesty, you wish he never told you. You don't want to know what type of a person his future wife is. You do not want to know if they'd have children together. You do not care if they buy a house together, or if they already have one. You don't want to know.

And you don't want to think about what it'd do to Nao.

When you begin to truly register the possible consequences of Yoongi's marriage, you feel anger. It spreads through your veins in a millisecond.

Had Nao already met this woman? You doubt that because she never told you about it.

Would it be confusing for her to understand what's going on?

Is that woman going to be parenting your child too? You violently shook your head. You won't allow that.

You are her only mother.

The pressure in your chest only deepens the more you think about this.

Yoongi has stolen your peace.

How are you to move on from this? And you hadn't even confronted half of the thoughts you're having. The anger never subsides.

He's going to send you right back to therapy.

"_____?" Yoongi comes looking for you.

You cannot afford to lose your composure in front of him. You don't want to give him more reasons to be grateful for your break-up.

You had to step away for just a bit longer, "I'll be right back."

You were about to turn and hide in your room when you feel Yoongi yanking your arm back.

With a surprised yelp, you pull it back just as forceful.

"Talk to me." Yoongi pleaded with his eyes.

No.

"I...-" You trail off. The words were caught in your throat. I don't want to see you again, ever.

This was such a disaster.

How does one move on from this?

"_____. I'm sorry." He tried again.

Yoongi had it all planned. He was going to sit you down and ease it in on you.

Instead, he chickened out and ended up dropping a bomb on you out of nowhere.

He's usually the more composed one out of the two of you, and he screwed it up.

You sigh, "I don't know why you're apologizing."

After a moment, you swiftly walk away from Yoongi and peek into the living room.

Nao's attention is still on the movie.

"Has she met Nao?"

Yoongi shook his head profusely, "I wanted your permission first."

At this you're confused.

Unable to separate your emotions, you sarcastically laugh. "My permission to let your daughter meet her father's future wife?"

It's like a bell ringing in your mind. Your laugh transitions into a bit of a manic one, "What if I told you no? What happens then?"

Yoongi kept his calm, "Then she won't meet her now." You scoff.

Immediately, you give in, having no interest in continuing this conversation. "Then do whatever you want. She's your daughter too. I can't make decisions for you."

You start to walk away from him when he stops you, "_____. Let's just... talk."

“I don’t want to.” You sternly announce.

This would be a lot easier to handle this if he just got mad at you. It’d be easy to hate him if he were being unreasonable. In all honesty, even then you’d probably never be able to truly hate him.

“_____, I’m sorry,” Yoongi softly brings your attention to him. His eyes were directed towards your feet.

It doesn’t phase you. His blanket apology for whatever happened doesn’t make up for anything.

You want to ask him what he was apologising for. But you don’t really want to go there. Not in front of Nao.

You cannot subject her to this instability anymore than you already have.

“Ask your daughter if she wants to meet your wife,” you spat, “Not me.”

Yoongi knew you were angry. He also knew exactly why. Still, he can’t bring himself to talk you through it. It’s too soon. He needs to let it simmer.

As much as you don’t want him to think (know) that you’re just bitter for very obvious reasons, that ship has already sailed.

You don’t think you can do a whole lot to salvage it. Might as well ride it out for now.

With the risk of sounding pathetic, you turn your body towards him. “How come you’re marrying someone else?”

Yoongi’s mouth opens and closes a few times before he sighs deeply.

“_____...” He coos, “I’m sorry. I don’t want to hurt you.”

There's a pause, a moment where the air seems heavy.

The noises from the TV sound muffled. Time slows down for you to hold yourself together.

“I don’t want you to ever doubt yourself, _____.”

That’s not under his control. Hell, you yourself can’t help it.

“I don’t,” you lie.

“I want you to know that it wasn’t an easy decision. I just… She broke me. I don’t know how but I changed.”

…

That’s what you get for respecting his boundaries.

This is a slap in your face. He better not be saying what you think he is.

“She convinced you?” You question him pointedly.

So, you could’ve ‘broken’ him too? So much for not being an overzealous girlfriend slash baby mother.

“No! I just changed my mind about-“

You wouldn’t let him finish, “No.”

“No?” Yoongi was starting to get a little agitated.

“I… don’t want to know.”

“Okay. That’s okay. Let’s talk tomorrow,” Yoongi agreed.

The two of you take a little break from the almost heated conversation you just had.

“I’ll finish up in the kitchen. Are Mimi’s bags packed?”

“Yeah, just need to get her toothbrush after she’s done.”

Your ex-boyfriend’s nickname for your daughter was Mimi, and you preferred Nao. Nao prefers Nao too but she’d never break her daddy’s heart like that.

He gives your arm a subtle squeeze as he moves past you to get back to the kitchen.

You head to Nao’s room to get her bag as she excitedly follows you in.

Turning to her, you tilt your head towards her, “Did you turn the TV off?”

“Yes! And I unplugged the wire.”

“Good girl.” You give her a genuine smile.

You don’t know what your future is going to look like with Yoongi’s wife in the picture. What if Nao doesn’t like her? What if she doesn’t like Nao?

Your heart drops at the thought of them having a kid. What if she pushes Yoongi to leave you and Nao?

No, he’d never. You’ve got to give him more credit than that.

Wait.

Is she pregnant? Is that why he wants to marry her?

You were pregnant too.

You already know you’re going to kick Taehyung’s ass for not warning you about this new woman in Yoongi’s life.

“MOMMY.” Nao’s scream brings you back.

“I’m sorry! Mama’s here. W-” - “Daddy’s calling.”

Okay. Deep breaths.

“Go on ahead, I’ll bring you your bag.” You then instruct her to brush her teeth at her dad’s.

Nao hugs your waist, burying her head into your side. It tickles a little.

Then, she runs off to find her father.

Soon, you follow her and drop her bag by the door.

Yoongi reappears from the kitchen, drying his hands with a paper towel. He stops in front of you and waits as Nao jams her feet into her pink Crocs.

Seemingly in deep thought, you stand by them. You don’t want to end tonight on a weird note. Even though you’re hurting, you can’t let him see it. For so long, you just assumed you’d find your way back to each other even though you never actively put effort into it.

Now, it seems downright outlandish.

Your next moves are not to save face but an attempt to actually move forward.

“Yoongi!” You call out to him as if he were miles away.

A little startled, he raises a brow at you in question.

“You should introduce them.” You nod, mostly to yourself.

At this, his expression changes. It’s softer and… almost aching.

“And congrats.” You added shyly. “You deserve to be happy.”

Your vision began to blur.

NOOOOOOOOOO. Not now. Please. PLEASE.

You gulp and smile. Yoongi knows the smile. He begins to extend his arms, inching towards you, as if he were about to embrace you.

“Mommy.” Nao winks, blows you a kiss, and runs out of the apartment, breaking whatever moment the two of you just had. You scrunch your brows at the now-empty doorway.

Yoongi scoffs in amazement.

“You should go,” you urge him out of the door, not allowing him to respond to you. “Now. Bye.”

Yoongi simply allows you to push him out, still a little stunned by the two of you.

“Make sure she does her math homework!” You get the last word in as you slam the door in his face.

Had your daughter not distracted you, you don’t know what you’d have done.

₊˚.🎧 ✩｡ underwater by red velvet ₊˚.🎧 ✩｡

note: these song recommendations go great w the story!! u should give it a listen :*

thank u for all the love and attention you've given to this little project 😍

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pascaloverx · 1 month

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OUR SECRET — MYG

chapter seven

Summary: You and Yoongi are having an affair. No, you are not being his lover. But the world is not ready to know that an idol is dating someone. So you two were doing your best to make sure no one found out. Until he breaks up with you. His mistake.

Author's note: This fanfic will contain inappropriate language and intimate moments between some characters. Be warned. I will let you know if anything becomes inappropriate. Please enjoy this Yoongi fanfic.

PREVIOUS NEXT

To marry without love must be terrible. To marry with love seems better, but everything depends on the conditions in which one gets married. If you're stressed because you're about to give birth to an unplanned daughter with a love that no longer serves you, and a fake marriage is your only solution, marrying seems like hell. Unfortunately, you're discovering this the hard way. At least you and your daughter are doing well health-wise. Namjoon and Jin keep checking in to make sure you're taking care of yourself, while Hoseok and the younger ones try to help with the marriage. The fans of the group that your daughter's father is a part of have surprisingly accepted well the fact that you're pregnant with Yoongi and that you're getting married. Everyone bought into the story of marrying out of love and the pregnancy being the result of a cute hidden formal relationship. The wedding with Yoongi was quick and without much fuss. Your belly is too big, time is short so a short wedding was perfect.

"I think this is the last box. Who knew I'd be moving into your house, pregnant with your baby and married to you. It doesn't feel real." You say organizing your last moving box while Yoongi organizes the baby's room.

"I finished setting up our daughter's room. I think it looks nice..." Yoongi comments as he watches you organize the rest of the clothes in the wardrobe.

"Can we talk for a bit?" You ask, sitting down on the corner of Yoongi's bed, which will soon be your bed together.

"We've barely been married, and we're already going to have a serious conversation?" Yoongi tries to be funny, but you look at him somewhat indifferent.

"I think some things need to be talked about. We're almost at a stage where another human being will depend exclusively on us. I think it's important that you know you'll have to be involved in Ji-soo's life. And I know it's premature, but I think Min Ji-soo, a beautiful name, and since I'm carrying her, then..." You speak defensively but without getting worked up.

"You notice that in this relationship, we should be a team and not rivals, right?" Yoongi speaks, taking a strand of his hair that was touching his eyes, while you look at him. You don't know if you're mad at him or if you agree with him.

"This whole situation is crazy. I dated you because I loved you and now we're married and I feel like I'm at the point where I'm stopping loving you. We need to fix this before the baby arrives." You say getting physically closer to Yoongi, your hand held his.

"What is your suggestion?" Yoongi asks holding her hand. A silly smile appeared on his face and you felt shy for a moment.

"May we try to be peaceful with each other. Maybe we can be bold too." You say, raising your hand to Yoongi's neck, pulling him into a kiss. A kiss that reminded you of what it was like to love him, making you feel intoxicated by the sensation of kissing Yoongi.

However, a sudden pain makes you pull away from Yoongi, letting out a groan of pain. It almost felt like your baby was kicking your belly, but usually, that didn't cause such intense pain. When you look down, you see blood on your pants, staining the floor of the room. Yoongi looks at you terrified, and you feel a sense of panic engulfing you.

"Yoongi, I'm not feeling well. I think there's something wrong with our girl." You say, feeling another pang of pain in your belly and slowly becoming dizzy. The pain was so intense that you almost blacked out when trying to stand up.

"Jagiya, listen to me. Let's go to the hospital, but I need you, for the sake of our daughter and yourself, to try to stay conscious." Yoongi says, grabbing the bag they had prepared for the baby and the car keys.

"If something happens, take care of our daughter for me. I know you'll be a good father." You say, feeling like you'll lose consciousness soon. The little strength you have, you use to gently touch your belly, as if saying goodbye to your little girl.

"I don't know what you're talking about. You and I are going to be great parents, together. I promise you that everything will be fine." You hear Yoongi say, so you look at him and touch his face. A last caress before the uncertain end. And then everything fades away, and you see nothing more.

To be continued...

#yoongi x reader #min yoongi x reader #bts fanfic #min yoongi fanfic #min yoongi x you #min yoongi #jungkook #kim namjoon #kim seokjin #taehyung #jung hoseok #park jimin #bts series #bts angst #yoongi angst #min yoongi angst #ex to lovers #future parents au #Spotify

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abloomingperiod · 11 months

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try | min yoongi

"i hate you."

he snaps his head, eyes locked on your face, but not to the point where he used to go - making you unable to speak.

"i hate you and your eyes when they're searching for any ounce of secrecy in mine. i hate your ability to catch every word that i keep from you before i stuff them down my throat again. i hate your will to listen to me, and even more, your desire to do it again. i hate your hands and how they never fucking let my chin when i try and hide from you.

yoongi is a man of personality. he will scoff, he will bicker, he will complain and he will make his opinions clear.

but now, as he watched closely the way your face glowed with your tears, he knows better. like he knows the palm of his hand, he knows the best he can do, is keep his mouth shut.

"i hate how you make everything seem so easy, but somehow can't figure out how to fucking call after 5 days of sleeping and staying with me." you're aware of your surroundings: his place, his room, his space. you sense you should feel bad about telling him off at his own goddamn home.... but should you?

after he did the same?

after he went to your place, your room, your space, and then tore you off like a used band-aid from a wound?

you're not the type to go just vent. no, you're top caught up in your own head to do so. yet, you feel like he should be as uncomfortable as one can possibly be.

he made you feel that, why shouldn't he?

"i fucking hate your arms when they embrace me, even though i want you away. i hate that they know i don't really want to." you weakly let out a bitter laugh at that, knowing you're probably falling off the deep end of what should be a tell off, a firm and stern goodbye. but you know you could never do that.

that is not you, and yoongi also knows that very well. which is why his eyes go redder and redder, saved from your sight by his dark locks and your scared chin, that holds your face down.

"i hate your fucking body for making mine feel so unprepared and held hostage of you. i hate your warmth and i hate the feel of your hands on me. i hate your fucking touch, and i hate the fact that if you approach me right now, i will forget everything i want to say. i hate how you make me forget my own name, but can't seem to know anything but yours when i'm coming down under you" you feel your cheeks redden as they have been doing lately every time anything carnal comes up regarding yoongi, and the fact that it does, only makes you hate him even more.

because it's never been like that. no carnal shit has ever made your cheeks red.

because this wasn't just carnal, and you knew that.

and you hated yoongi for that.

"i hate you for making me feel like i'm the only thing in the world, like i'm your fucking 'love'" you hiss at the nickname he himself put in you.

"there you go, love" "good morning, love" "you can tell me anything, love" "but i want to hear about it, love" "i'm being serious, love"

love, love, love..

it seems impossible to not observe those 4 letters move around until it becomes a mere gutted, bitter and scary feeling.

yoongi catches his breath before you can hear any urgent sniffle from him. because of course he does. he undresses you, your feelings and your heart, and uses it as a shield for his own.

"i hate you more than anything and everyone in the world, because i can't fucking hate you",

and with that, your voice breaks, along with your already weak posture and you hold your face on your hands as to try and protect the last layer that's left, and surprisingly, the first he peeled when he first saw you across that bar, with a dark, firm make-up trying and holding his stare, whilst keeping a smile as your teeth sank on your on lip.

he knows every layer of you, and like nothing, tears it apart.

yoongi feels like a kid that's desperately trying to cover his misdoings from his elders. he knows he's beyond to blame, but still, keeps his gaze on the floor as the only glimpse of you he catches is your nervous feet, movind around nonstoppably.

"and i hate you because i fucking love you, desperately and insanely."

yoongi lifts his gaze for the first time since you started talking, and he scolds himself like never before for that.

seeing people crying is never the best sight, but watching you, the person he feels like he could kill for, breaking apart in front of him, doesn't feel like a scold.

it feels worse.

a sinking consequence.

a punishment.

a capital sin he should pay for.

"i can't fucking do this anymore" you say in a defeated voice "you did it, congratulations. you know me and not you know what you did." yoongi can sense what you're about to do and his heart, if not on the ground, is probably because it got stuck in his tightening grip on the counter top he supported himself.

"i don't know what else you intend to do, but it has to stop. i'm done with your shit, so leave me out of it. this isn't me, this isn't the type of thing i get into, and you fucking know that because i told you so." your tears start falling again, and your head feels like it's gonna explode. but the pain isn't as near as the one in your heart. "so please, please" you beg him, and you're sure you never seemed so pleading, not even when you wanted him to make you beg in other circumstances "fucking let me be, 'cause i can't stand this anymore."

yoongi feels like he might bust at any moment. how could he be so inside his own head, to not realize what he has done before you literally cried it out for him?

but of course he wouldn't. it was so easy to read others, but not nearly as easy as shutting off from them.

but he knows better than to cherish this fact. after seeing the damage he has done, it was transformed into a reason to feel ashamed of himself.

and he hates himself for that. he hated every layer you peeled for him, as he simultaneously battle himself to not peel his own. he hated that, and he hated that it affected you.

you. the person that made him feel like a deranged man. the person he kissed every limb, chased every freckle, cleaned every millimeter of skin after marking it, and mumbled desperate promises in the dead of night to.

you, his love.

but love wasn't supposed to hurt like that.

he knows that very well.

and you know that very well, too.

and he's aware of that, even more so now, that you're gathering every layer he peeled off of you, to regain yourself.

he knows he fucked everything up.

he knows.

he, then, reaches for something in his pocket. a black, tiny box, and fiddles with it for a few seconds.

you're not sure why, but your legs feel like giving up.

"i should've been quicker on my feet" he mumbles, as he sadly looks down at the mysterious object.

"i got it a month ago... the day after the blackout" he seems to go back to that day. ah, yes. the blackout.

it was mid-afternoon, a regular saturday with not much to do, but since you had yoongi over your body, and his warm, plump lips on your skin, it was far from boring.

unfortunately, as you guys laid spent on his bed, your phone died, which meant it hadn't charged, and that's when you realized the power went off.

his place had two way out's and both needed energy to function. so instead of storming out as you used to do after your rendezvous, you stood there, with him. and hours ago, after huge conversations, room-filling laughter and urgent make out sessions, as you left, yoongi realized he wished the power never came back.

he comes back to where you're both at right now, and it feels like ages ago.

a month.

he went a month with that ring on his pocket slapping his own face mentally as he tried to find the perfect time to open its lid and his heart for you.

but you were quicker on your feet, as you were quicker on wearing your heart on your sleeve when you got comfortable - or wrecked - enough.

yoongi bitterly chuckles, but you don't hate him for that. no, his single tear detaches from him in such a fast way you don't have the time to do so, before another one comes.

"i know you find commitment jewelry rather 'lame"... so you can still use it as just accessory, if you want to." he keeps explaining himself with a voice that's suffocated from his urge to cry. he lets another sad, bitter chuckle out "you seemed so radiant when it fit your finger..."

he couldn't've.

he shouldn't've.

well, he did.

"you shouldn't have done that'." you lightly scold him.

"i wanted to"

"what changed, then?"

"it has 'i love you' engraved inside, you know."

then, his eyes get to yours, and you feel like you've been petrified.

of course it did.

and you know very well it didn't when you tried it back then in the pottery shop, but it did now, and you don't know if it's a sick game of his, or if he's really that much of a coward to not put himself together and just give it - the ring and his whole - to you, like he knew you were wiling to do for him.

"you know damn well i am right here ready for you and you don't do it"

"i'm sorry-"

"do you even know what goes inside your head?"

"i wish i didn't if it'd make it easier"

then, you go silent. yoongi is good with words, but surprisingly, not when is his own thoughts translated to them. and you're tired of it.

"i can't put myself into something if it's one-sided"

"it's not"

"you don't seem to be sure of that"

"i'm as sure as i am with death"

you can't do this anymore, you can't, you can't.

"yoongi, i can't be tortured like that because you're afraid" then, you snap back into it all. "hell, i was fucking mortified and yet i let it go because you made me feel like i could" the least you can do is fucking retribute."

and he knows that.

he knows that.

"i can retribute"

you sigh and close your eyes. no. not this. not months ago. not now.

not when you can't do it anymore.

"a ring and a tear is not enough"

"i don't think it is"

you look back to the floor and wish you could stop your tears from coming back, but it would be wasted effort. one you could use right now to say no to his advances.

yoongi tries to approaching you carefully, like you could break just from feeling his warm body close to you. "can i?" he asks.

you look back at his eyes with a feeling you know he understands, and he wants to slaps his own face for being responsible for it.

you're guarded up.

of course you are, and it didn't surprise him.

then, he reaches the black box for you.

"i still think it looks beautiful on you" he comments, the same thing he commented months ago, when you tried it.

"looks beautiful on you, love."

you sniff at his gift, and touches it as if it was a new puppy for a kid, or a confirmation letter from the best college out there for a teen.

you touch it as if you adored it, even in it's been seconds since he gave it to you.

you touch it as if it was a piece of him he gave to you.

you touch it as if it was him.

and suddenly, your fingers itches for his skin.

and you cry because of it.

"i would do anything to try again" he says in a tone that made you heart break three times in a row. "anything."

you stare at him, and his eyes are already on you.

"you really think you tried once?"

he fucking crumbles at your words. they cut like a knife, but he knows you're not lying.

it might be hurting like nothing before, but you're not lying.

"i think i can try more. this i think" he retaliates, but not in a defensive way, no. yoongi knows he's in no place to do so.

it sounds more like a fact. he knows he can.

all he needed is for you to know it too.

he approaches you, but this time, you don't move an inch, and doesn't raise one eyebrow. instead, you feel it and your tears falling together.

"let me try."

he says, looking right at your eyes, and you swear you wanted to grab him by his collar and never let him go. as usual.

yoongi cups your face carefully, his thumbs wiping your tears away as you bit your lip anxiously.

"i want- i will try."

you raise your eyes and find his, that are already on yours and you find in them a stripped yoongi; one that you've only seen in the dead of night, one you've only seen when he's with his six closest friends.

one you've only seen when he loses himself in his true colors.

"anything." he says, mouth close to yours, gaze never letting go.

and when he feels your hand raising the box to him, for a few seconds, he feels his heart in shambles all around the room.

but that is until you open your mouth.

"start from when you stopped, then."

oh, and will he.

with his whole being, and his entire soul.

for a minute, you hate him for saying those exact words.

but at the same time, deep down to where he can see in your eyes, you know you don't.

you know, you actually love it.

you love it.

you love him.

and you see mirrored in his eyes.

he loves you.

he loves you, he will try.

he will try.

#screaming crying throwing up #CAN YOU SMELL THE 10 THINGS I HATE ABOUT YOU IN THE AIR #i love him #min yoongi #min yoongi imagine #min yoongi drabble #min yoongi angst #min yoongi exes to lovers #min yoongi bts #bts imagine #bts min yoongi #suga #agust d #suga imagine #i know i need to learn about real and healthy love leave me alone

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ahundredtimesover · 1 year

Text

Belong (2.5: Rewind) | MYG

Pairing: Yoongi x (f.) Reader

Genre/Tags: exes-to-lovers-to-exes-to-lovers; actress!OC x basketball coach!Yoongi; summer romance; “long” distance relationship; parallel timelines; angst, fluff, smut

Chapter (Series) Warnings: foul/explicit language; alcohol consumption & passing out, family drama, sport injury; dreams & moving away; implied depression; basketball and acting talk; 2014 and 2022 Yoongi; shy and nonchalant cocky whipped Yoongi; almost drowning, explicit sexual content (kissing, straddling, fingering, oral, penetrative sex) (18+)

Chapter Word count: 8k

Series Masterlist

Status: Complete

Listen to: Marigolds by Boundary Run; Younger by Nightly || Playlist 🎶

8 years ago

It’s been a full week since you’ve met Min Yoongi. It’s also been a week since the last time you kissed. You won’t deny that you’ve been meaning to do it again; every time he drags his tongue through his teeth, it’s incredibly tempting. But you also won’t deny how much you’ve been enjoying the past few days with him.

You learn something about him everyday. Like how his dream for basketball started, that he took piano lessons as a kid, and that his dad runs the famous antique shop in town and Yoongi spent a lot of time there growing up. You learn about his closeness with the old man and his love-hate relationship with his older brother. You find out about his mother leaving when he was a teenager, a story that mirrors yours, although he said that they don’t speak as much as they used to.

He also likes reading books and watching documentaries, but that a perfect day for him is one that's spent at home with his americano, lounging around and taking naps, and shooting hoops in the evening. It’s the type of day that’s unlike any of the ones you’ve been having.

Since that late night cafe run where you spoke for hours, you and Yoongi have gone to a few more, found a hole-in-the-wall with the best dumplings, explored parks, drove to the outskirts of town and gazed at empty fields, and have been pretty much walking around, peeping in shops and entering the ones that pique your interest.

Yoongi doesn’t complain. He’s patient when you take a long time to decide where to go and what to do, and he watches you in amusement whenever you skip down the street or insist on laying on the grass. You know this last bit because you’ve seen it - that glimmer in his eyes and the softness of his smile.

Taehyung doesn’t believe you when you describe it; he’s rarely ever seen his senior make eye contact nor show much interest in anyone in all the years that your best friend has known him. But you insist that you see it, that Yoongi’s smile is usually brief and shy, but you catch it during the instances that you look his way, which is many times, given just how alluring and good-looking he is.

Sure, the supposed nonchalance is attractive; you know lots of girls who’d fall for his mysterious aura. But that’s just a part of it for you. You know that underneath the seeming disinterest, he’s actually very attentive. He remembers things you’ve said, points out something at a store that you mentioned you’ve been looking for, and buys you bottled water once you feel dehydrated from the heat before you even say anything. After that one time you said you like your coffee with ¾ milk, he makes sure to get you extra every time.

So while you wish he’d kiss you again, you don’t really mind the ways you’ve been getting to know each other. He wouldn’t be messaging you what your plans for the day are and then showing up outside your house if he wasn’t interested.

Today’s afternoon breeze is cooler than usual. It’s why before heading for dinner and noraebang with your newfound friends, you decide to walk around another part of town with Yoongi. He’s in his usual knee-ripped jeans and plain shirt, his baseball cap worn backwards, and his hands inside his pockets.

You’re walking next to him, excitedly talking about your classes for the upcoming school year and the studio visits you’ll make, before you skip towards a flower shop and head inside.

It’s the biggest one you’ve seen so far and there are so many different types that you gasp in awe. The owner, an elderly woman, smiles brightly at you as you look around. The daisies catch your eyes as they always do, but you can’t help but beam at the bouquet of marigolds she’s arranging. You converse with her - you say you’re visiting for the summer and she says it’s harvesting time for these bright flowers. Your energy and sunny disposition remind her of them, so she plucks a small piece and tucks it behind your ear.

“There you go, darling,” she coos. “The flower’s even prettier now.” She turns to Yoongi who’s just been standing quietly next to you. “Isn’t it?”

“So much prettier now,” he mumbles.

You nibble your lips out of giddiness while Yoongi looks away. You bow at the woman and thank her for the flower before walking out. It falls off your ear before you make it to the end of the street, and so he picks it up and calls out for you, as you walk mindlessly to the vintage store that you see.

He tucks it gently behind your ear, trying to avoid your eyes, while you try to catch his gaze.

“How does it look?” You ask.

“She looks beautiful,” he says, looking at you now.

It’s what he does, you think to yourself. Yoongi may be shy and may not always look you in the eyes but when he wants to be honest or make a point, he will. You learn now it’s one of the things that causes your heart to stop, as you stand in front of him unable to do or say anything.

You eventually burst into a smile and so does he. It’s one of those moments you share where there’s all this tension and unsaid words but you both prefer to just let it flow, to savor it without addressing whatever it is that’s going on between you.

Yoongi’s phone ringing catches your attention, especially as he groans and picks up the call. He turns away for a bit before looking at you once more.

“The delayed delivery just arrived at the shop,” he informs you. “My dad wants me to help out a bit. Are you, uh, are you okay with passing by?”

He looks shy and a bit worried. Maybe it’s the thought of meeting his family but you don’t mind; you’re quite excited, in fact, since you’re still trying to get to know him. You’re obviously attracted to this man and at this point, you just want to know more about the different aspects of his life.

“Of course,” you smile. “I’d love to meet your dad.”

“And my brother,” he groans. “If he says shit about me, don’t believe it.”

“I’ll try,” you tease, following his lead as he starts walking.

The shop is just 3 blocks away and you get there in no time. He seems to be in a hurry and you want to just hold his hand, tell him he doesn’t have to be anxious, even if you’re unsure of what reason he has to be.

There’s a large truck parked outside and you suppose it’s some furniture pieces. That’s confirmed when you enter and see movers placing dressers and cabinets and benches inside. A man, who seems to be Mr. Min, instructs them to just lay the pieces where there’s space, as his sons will be the ones to arrange them. The movers follow and it’s shortly after when they finally unload everything.

Amidst all the chaos, you get to look around. You’re in awe of what you see; Yoongi didn’t do justice in describing the place because it feels like a museum. You want to just look around and trace your fingers along the surfaces and make up stories in your mind about who owned them.

“Thanks for coming so quickly, Son,” Mr. Min says. “I thought you’d be at the park playing with the guys.”

“Not today,” Yoongi hums. “We were just walking around the area.”

“We?” Mr. Min asks, looking around until his gaze falls on you, questioning eyes perhaps wondering if you’re who his son is referring to.

“Hi, Mr. Min,” you bow. “I’m ___.”

“Hello, my dear,” he answers, returning your smile.

“Dad, where do I—” says another man, pausing when he looks at you. He immediately smiles and fixes his hair. Walking up to you, he reaches out for his hand. “Hi, I’m—”

“He’s Geumjae,” Yoongi finishes, taking the hand that’s reached out for him to shake instead. “My brother. You know, the one I said who’d take my clothes and then lose them? Yeah, that’s him.”

Geumjae smacks his brother’s head in response, glaring at him for interrupting his introduction. “Is she your girlfriend?”

“N-no,” Yoongi stammers, glancing at you warily.

“Then why’d you interrupt?”

“No reason,” the younger man shrugs, looking away from you.

Just as you think that Geumjae would provoke Yoongi, he instead walks over to him, whispers something in his ear, and then wiggles his eyebrows. Yoongi scowls then smacks his brother’s arm, earning him a long chuckle. They continue on doing what brothers do as you watch in amusement, giggling when Yoongi embarrassingly looks your way.

“Okay, that’s enough children,” Mr. Min playfully shakes his head. “Now, can you be civil and work together to arrange the deliveries? I’ll work on inventory.” He turns towards you to say, “don’t worry, it won’t take too long.”

You nod and say you don’t mind, even when he asks if it’s okay for you to just wait. You’re free to look around, he says, and you do, but you stay close by.

“So, you and Yoongi are just… friends?” He asks.

“Yes. We met just last week,” you smile, explaining that you’re just visiting for the summer but that you grew up in Daegu.

“Ah, that’s interesting,” Mr. Min nods. “He’s lived here his whole life, too, but he’s never brought a girl to the shop, nor has he ever mentioned one. I’d say you’re the first. I always wondered if he even befriended girls but now I know he does.”

“Oh, I’m sure he has friends who are girls,” you giggle. “He’s popular at school, as I’ve heard.”

“Well then one would think he would’ve brought someone to introduce to his old man, right?”

“I guess he’s just been so focused on basketball that he hasn’t had time. He talks about the sport with so much passion, Mr. Min. I assume that’s what he prioritizes over, uh… girls,” you answer, finding amusement in Yoongi’s anxious face as he glances at you conversing with his dad without him.

“Well, as I keep telling him - if he drowns himself in the court, then that’s all he’s gonna learn to love,” Mr. Min shakes his head. “There’s always time to meet and be with people.”

“Well, we’ve been spending every day together, so, maybe he’s spending the summer doing that,” you giddily say.

“Well, I hope he does. If you’re the only one who can get him out of the house and off the court, then you should come home often,” the old man chuckles.

I’d like to, you say to yourself, thinking that if this thing with Yoongi goes anywhere, you definitely want to travel here as often as you can to be with him.

The hour flies quickly. The two boys move furniture while Mr. Min records each piece. You converse with him the whole time - you talk about your film class and your favorite movies, indulging him because he likes watching them, too. He talks about his great-grandparents who built the shop and how his family has managed to maintain it all these years. You laugh in between, especially when he’d tell stories of Yoongi growing up here, breaking a few shelves because he always tried to climb on them.

The brothers finally finish the task, and they both tiredly walk up to the counter where you and Mr. Min are.

“All good, dad. We’ll go now. Bye!” Yoongi hurriedly says, pulling you by the wrist.

Mr. Min and Geumjae say their goodbyes, and you don’t miss the playful tone of their voices. You turn back to wave at them and they call out that they’ll see you again soon.

Yoongi lets go of your hand once you exit the shop.

“Sorry,” he says. “For pulling you and, uh, for making you wait that long.”

“I could've stayed there longer, honestly,” you smile, liking the feel of his rough hand on you. “I loved talking with your dad. He’s so endearing. You really do have a good relationship with him.”

“My brother and I do,” he answers. “We were all he had after our mother left. It affected our dad so much even if he didn’t want to show it because he wanted to be the strong one for us. So we made sure he knew he wasn’t alone. And he always reminded us that her departure wasn’t our fault.”

“Hmm, what courage,” you remark. “It’s something I can’t say my father has.”

“He could,” he counters. “Parents don’t know how to love sometimes. In some instances, they just don’t know how to show it.”

“That’s what I don’t get though, with people who struggle to show it,” you muse. “Just… why? What’s so hard about it?”

“Maybe if it’s flawed and imperfect, people become ashamed.”

“It’s still love though, isn’t it? Isn’t not feeling it worse than receiving flawed and imperfect love?”

You’d take any kind of love over nothing at all, you think.

“But if the love is shattered glass, then that’s just gonna hurt both people,” Yoongi hums, prompting you to think.

Your father’s heart did break. Maybe you would’ve accepted his inability to handle you shortly after your mom left. But once he’d healed, once he’d found someone new - which he did, about 4 years after - he still didn’t show it, he still couldn’t figure it out. You’re home for the summer after 2 years since you left and you still don’t feel whatever love he’s supposed to show you.

“Yeah, I guess so,” you sigh, not enjoying the somber tone of your conversation.

Yoongi picks this up and immediately asks you if his dad told you any embarrassing stories. Your face lights up right away and you relay what Mr. Min narrated, causing Yoongi to groan and shake his head.

“He said he’ll show me your baby pictures where they put you in costumes,” you laugh. “I can’t wait for that.”

“Why is he embarrassing me like this,” he mutters. “Anything else he said?”

“That you’ve never brought any girl to the shop nor have you mentioned anyone,” you reply. “Is that true? Has sweet assassin captain Min Yoongi not been using his superstardom with the ladies?”

“Well if I did, then it’d be superficial, right?” He answers, earning you a curious look. “There was a girl I liked in freshman year who only went out with me to get close to the basketball team. After I became MVP, a bunch of people started trying to get my attention. It didn’t feel that sincere. And no one really caught my eye and the others sounded quite shallow and those weren’t the type of people I’d introduce to my dad and brother, you know?”

“But I caught your attention,” you remind him. “And you took me to the shop to meet them.”

“Because I had no choice,” he defends. “And well, I just had a feeling they’d like you. And they seem to.”

“That’s nice to know,” you smile. “So what about me catching your attention, huh?”

“Oh I don’t deny that. I’ll always be the guy who got hit by a ball because he was gazing at this pretty girl on the stands.”

“Yes, you’ll always be that guy,” you giggle. “I still haven’t told a soul, by the way.”

“Good,” he hums.

You and Yoongi hang at a park until it’s time for dinner. He drives to the chicken and beer place you’re meeting everyone at, and you don’t miss the smug faces of the guys as you both enter.

“Hanging out again today, I see,” Namjoon teases. “Tae’s been complaining that he hasn’t seen his best friend all week.”

“Yeah, she’s been so busy that I can’t even squeeze myself in her schedule,” Taehyung frowns at you, but you know he’s just teasing, given that you call him every night and talk about Yoongi.

“I’m with you everyday in Seoul,” you playfully roll your eyes. “I’m just seeing what’s out here, you know? I’ve been away a while.”

“And do you like what you’re seeing?” Namjoon baits.

“Oh, I do. Very much.”

The group hoots and you laugh along. You glance at Yoongi who sits across from you and sneak him a smile. He returns it briefly before looking away and giving Jungkook a blank look after the younger man nudges his shoulder to tease.

Dinner goes by noisily. Not long after, you all walk to the nearby noraebang for some more fun. You sit next to Yoongi and you both watch and laugh at the guys fight over the mic and cheer and tease each person who sings.

It’s Namjoon who asks for your song choice and you surprise everyone when you say you’ll only sing if Yoongi joins you. Everyone hoots again, claiming that they’ve never heard the captain sing.

“Is it okay?” You move closer to ask him.

“It depends,” he hums. “Do you have a thing for singers?”

“Hmm, I don’t really mind.”

“Okay. I’m terrible at it and I don’t want you to stop liking what you see.”

You giggle at his statement. He really knows what to say to make a girl flustered and giddy.

“Oh, you don’t have to worry about that,” you reply. “I might even like it more.”

Yoongi feels the embarrassment creep in once he takes the mic and you hold your own. His deep voice blends with yours. He won’t say it’s the best harmony, but you’re definitely carrying the song more than he is. You giggle in between lines but he can’t help but notice how your eyes don’t look away from him, whereas he can’t look at you for more than 3 seconds. The crowd loves you and you know how to charm them. You know how to get his heart beating fast, too.

The song finally ends and he breathes a sigh of relief to your amusement.

Sitting next to him, you whisper, “hmm, I still like it.”

Yoongi can only chuckle as he watches you hold in a smile.

You both talk in whispers for the rest of the night, as your friends get carried away with singing. They leave you to your little corner of the couch though, with you leaning closer to Yoongi to say something and him doing the same. His warmth breath against your skin sends shivers down your spine, and you have to control yourself from kissing him, which you so badly wish he’d just do.

You can take the initiative, of course, but you like the thrill of this flirtation you’re both doing. You also really want him to be the one to do it first. The only problem is you’re not much of a patient person, so every time he leaves you wanting whenever his face inches close to yours only to move away, your frustration levels increase and you start to rethink if you should just go ahead and take control.

Your group is promptly kicked out at 2AM, and you’re about to ride with Taehyung when Yoongi pulls on your wrist and asks if he could take you home. You agree, riding on the passenger seat that’s now become familiar, and you look out the window for most of the ride, not wanting to show him that you’re maybe already getting impatient. He doesn’t say much either, but you do miss the several times he glances at you and the pout on his face because of your unusual quietness.

He pulls over some meters away from your house, turns off the engine, and then quickly walks towards your side. Your movements are slow; you do want the time to stop, even if you’re still a little frustrated.

“Hey,” he says, as he pulls open the door you’ve unlocked. He stands in front of you while you remain seated with your legs dangling outside. “Is everything okay? You’ve been… quiet.”

You turn to him who looks a little worried, and you don’t really plan on keeping your desires unknown that much longer.

“I’ve just been wondering,” you reply. “Why haven’t you kissed me again? Did you not like it? I mean, well, we did go out for coffee after and then didn’t do it again.”

You turn away as you start to ramble. You just hope you don’t sound pathetic, especially given how confident you were in teasing him earlier.

It’s quiet for a while before you feel his fingers under your chin. He shifts you to face him, and all that worry has now turned into softness.

“I’ve been thinking about that kiss since it happened,” he says, his voice so deep you start to lose yourself in the sound. “And may I remind you that you’re the one who asked to go for coffee, so I thought maybe you wanted to take things slow. And I don’t mind that either. But uh, I’ve also just been waiting for you to initiate.”

You give him a shy smile. “Hey, I just really wanted to talk to you after and know if that mouth is as good at talking as it is at kissing,” you giggle.

“And?”

“And it is, obviously!” You pout. “I wouldn’t be spending everyday with you if I didn’t think so. I’ve been openly flirting and so have you but you haven’t tried kissing me again. And I wanted you to be the one to do it but you haven’t, so I brought it up. I mean, you looked so confident doing it last week.”

Yoongi thinks you’re the most adorable person in this world. How you could want him like this yet also want him to show he wants you just as much is making him want to just smother you in kisses.

“Because I’d just played a game and basketball makes me confident,” he replies.

“So what, you’re only gonna kiss me after you play?” You cross your arms now.

“No,” he chuckles, cupping your face in his hands. “I’m gonna kiss you now.”

He leans down and captures your lips in a kiss, which goes slow for only a few seconds before it turns deep and heady. He doesn’t dominate, letting you bite his lips and swirl your tongue around his mouth. He holds you steady with his hands though, just so he could be at the right angle that would allow him to kiss you hard as he likes.

Yoongi finally pulls away, feeling like he won't be able to stop if he keeps going. You’re in front of your house, after all, and late it may be, your hushed moans could still be heard by anyone who happens to pass by.

You have a cheeky, satisfied smile on. You tease by pecking his lips again and again until he gives you one last kiss. He hugs you tightly and you immediately melt into it.

“It’s been a long day, I’m gonna have to let you go now,” he hums against your ear.

“Okay,” you respond, stepping out of the car. “Can’t wait to do this again tomorrow.”

You only get to see Yoongi the next day in the afternoon, as their coach wanted them to get a good workout before the game. You got over the disappointment quickly, as you spent all the time before then with Taehyung, who not surprisingly freaked out and wouldn’t stop asking if you two were officially a couple. You haven’t talked about it, you said, but you knew you eventually would.

You do like the thrill; you can’t wait for things to escalate physically, but more than anything, you just like spending time with Yoongi. There’s something so comfortable about being in his presence. For someone who likes the buzz of the big city, his calm and quiet aura is a breath of fresh air for you.

Yoongi’s focus during the game was such a sexy sight to see, even more when he’d sneak in a glance or a smirk during timeouts, and when he’d look unbothered after making a 3-point shot, and when he’d drag his tongue through his teeth during dead balls. It’s the fact that you know he’s doing them on purpose because you’re watching, and that’s what makes you pull him into Jungkook’s lone bathroom in the apartment later that evening, just so you could make out with him again.

The rest of the week is mostly spent with him again, save for the days your father asks you to be home to be with your grandparents. You both walk around the town, visit the basketball court where he first played, and then kiss in between.

That Friday, he takes you out on a proper dinner date where he picks you up at Taehyung’s house with a bouquet of marigolds, and you ruin your lipstick after kissing him intensely before you even get to the restaurant.

It’s Monday when he takes you to the outskirts of town to swim at a lake. It’s the area that’s less populated and you’re both lucky that you’re the only ones here on a nice summer day. You enjoy your picnic as you talk about the most random things, and then you strip down to your bathing suit and swim in the water.

Yoongi stays on the mat; the outdoors isn’t really his thing. But you’ve been talking about doing new and fun activities and he thought about this one, knowing you’ll enjoy it. You clearly are, as evidenced by your squeals and soft laughter as you float around and moan at the feel of the water on your skin.

His mind tries not to imagine things, given your sounds and the way you look absolutely stunning in your swimwear. Kissing you has been so good. Sure, his hands travel down your waist every time as he gets lost in how you taste, but he’s never tried to do more, and you’ve never really hinted on wanting to do more. He’ll continue to wait patiently though, but it’s not even all that he wants from you.

It may be a little naive to think but he finds himself being something more with you. Yoongi isn’t even the type to fall at first sight; he’s a patient man who knows that love and relationships take a while to build. But you’re unlike anything he’s ever really thought he wanted.

It’s your unabashed joy, your bluntness, your curiosity and general love for things. It’s your energy and how you talk about your dreams and the confidence you have in yourself that inspires him to dream better. You’re different and alike in many ways, and as the unaffectionate person that he is, he finds himself just wanting to be near you with fingers just grazing so he’d know you’re just next to him.

He’s thinking about how sweet your smile is when he realizes that he no longer hears your voice. Scanning the lake, he finds your head popping in and out of the water. You look a little winded and definitely not alright. His mind goes into panic mode and he rushes to the water with his clothes still on and finds his way to you.

He wraps his one hand around your waist and feels for your leg to make sure it’s touching the ground. You cough a bit before you turn towards him.

“Are you okay?” He asks worriedly.

“You don’t like the water,” you say, disregarding his question.

“I don’t. Are you okay?”

“And you hate it when your clothes are wet.”

“I do. ___, are you okay?”

You hum your yes, a cheeky smile painting your face as your one arm wraps around his shoulder for support while you stretch your limbs.

Yoongi eyes you curiously. “___, did you pretend to be drowning just so I’d get in the water with you?”

“Nope, I’m too good at swimming to know how to pretend-drown,” you laugh, feeling only a little bad for scaring him. “I got cramps, though.”

“Shit,” he groans, knowing as an athlete that cramps are the worst, especially while swimming. “Let’s get back on shore.”

You push yourself through the water, not wanting to let go of him just yet. You’d panicked only slightly earlier when you felt that sensation on your leg, and you tried to keep your head above water for oxygen. Once you’d felt Yoongi wrap his arm around you and look worried, especially since you know that he hates the water, your heart started to stabilize.

He helps you sit on the mat as he stretches out your legs. You tell him where it hurts as he instructs, and he massages where you point, starting from your calf.

His hands are a mix of rough and smooth against you. This is the most he’s touched your skin and it’s enough to make your mind short-circuit, especially as your eyes focus on his slender fingers, gently pressing against you. You can think of so many other ways he can use those fingers on you, and you don’t really mind the dirty thoughts now because it’s definitely helping you to forget the pain.

He’s focused on you while you’re focused on him, and it’s when he does this circular motion that you make a guttural sound.

“Is this okay?” He glances at you.

“Higher,” you instruct, and he stops behind your knee before he massages again.

“Higher,” you say once more, and he proceeds to work on your hamstring area.

The tips of his fingers graze the skin close to your thigh. He seems to not have noticed because he still looks quite serious; he probably feels the tightness because you can feel it, in areas that aren’t just on your leg.

But he’s teasing you unknowingly, and you just want him to touch you. You have a feeling he’s waiting for his cue again so you think to give it to him.

“Just a bit higher,” you whisper, the sultry tone of your voice perhaps giving you away, as his eyes lock with yours and it dawns on him that he’s reaching uncharted territory. “It’s not my leg anymore that hurts.”

“Fuck,” he chuckles, knowing exactly what you mean.

He’d been so fixated on managing your cramps because he’s experienced it so many times and it sucks, and he just wanted to make sure you were okay right away. It doesn’t matter if he hates the water and being wet with his clothes on but he realized he’d swim the depths of the ocean to save you any day.

But your words shake him off his focused state and he also realizes that his fingers are way higher than he remembers them being. He tries to steady the beating of his excited but nervous heart, yet it’s your cheeky, almost desperate eyes and the way you’re squeezing your thighs that prompts him to make a move.

“You’re dangerous, you know that?” He mumbles in your ear, surprising you with a deep press of his palm against your clothed cunt.

You moan at the act, unsurprisingly wanting more.

“No. You are the dangerous one, Min Yoongi,” you pant, as his fingers slide up and down your slit. “You have no idea what you do to me.”

Yoongi helps you to go to the back of his car, wet clothes and all. He makes you come twice - the first time with his fingers, the second with his mouth.

The place is buzzing as you look around, with new and familiar faces clearly enjoying the vibe of tonight’s party. It’s one of the rich kids’ birthdays so she threw an all-you-can-drink event at the college bar that everyone frequents. As honorary members of Yoongi and crew’s group, you and Taehyung attend and end up enjoying too much.

Especially you, as you cling onto Yoongi’s arm while his hand caresses the inside of your thigh under the table, something that you guided him to do. You lean on his shoulder as you laugh at your drunk best friend’s banter with your not-boyfriend, and you feel the alcohol slowly hitting your system. This is how you know you’ve had a lot more than you intended and you hate it. You wanted to be able to kiss Yoongi one more time tonight and remember it.

His warm breath against your face makes you smile, and Yoongi chuckles before asking you if you want to go home already. You vigorously shake your head no, your drunk babbling making him smile, but it’s when you almost slide off the chair that he decides you should probably rest now.

You’re sleeping over at Taehyung’s place, who’s almost as drunk as you are, both of you going on about partying similarly back in Seoul.

Yoongi tries his best to manage both of you, including a barely-awake Jungkook whom he drops off first. Arriving at Taehyung’s place, Yoongi is surprised to find it empty.

“My parents are away,” Taehyung mumbles.

“Ooh, you can stay with us first,” you giggle. “More time with you, baby.”

It’s the first time you’ve called him that, and much as he wants to hear it some more and cuddle with you, he knows he shouldn’t. So with all his strength, he helps you and Taehyung up the stairs and takes you to the guest room. You sit on the edge of the bed, mind in a haze as you drink the water that Yoongi gives you, and somehow that just causes you to run to the toilet and puke.

He takes the hair tie from your wrist to pull your hair into a bun and then rubs your back to aid you. You do feel much better after, and he even helps you wash your face and brush your teeth, given that you insist on kissing him one last time before he leaves.

You make it to the bed while Taehyung sleepily walks to his room, and it’s Yoongi’s soft kiss on your forehead that you remember before falling asleep.

Waking up early after a night of drinking isn’t new to you. After staring at the ceiling for a good 10 minutes and trying to remember how you and your best friend got home, you get off the bed then go to the living room. You’ve just gone back down after leaving Taehyung with some aspirin when the doorbell rings, wondering who it could be.

You’re surprised to see Yoongi standing at the door, and he holds up a bag of what he says is breakfast that he bought on the way here.

“Good morning,” he hums against your lips, as you basically jump on him at the sight of his smile. “Did you sleep well?”

“I guess,” you say, walking to the kitchen. “I just remember lying in bed and then waking up. Did you drive us home?”

“Yup.”

“And dragged our drunk asses to bed?”

“Yup.”

“What a sweet guy,” you tease, standing in front of him to kiss him again.

“I knew you needed your beauty sleep.”

You giggle before helping him with the food, and you say that you could both go ahead because Taehyung won’t be up in a few hours.

So you enjoy your breakfast and the hangover soup, which your best friend devours once he wakes up at lunch time. His parents will arrive in the evening so the 3 of you stay at home, get some food delivered, and play video games at Taehyung's insistence.

It's 6PM but he already wants to sleep, he says, wanting to save his energy for online games until early morning with Jungkook, so you and Yoongi decide to leave.

“Should I take you home now?” He asks as he starts the car.

“Hmm, it’s too early,” you say. “Do you think we can hang out at your place?”

It’s been a month since you both met; 3 weeks since admitting that you’ve been wanting to kiss each other again badly. You’ve both pretty much gone everywhere around town, except for his college dorm. He’d have wanted you there earlier but he wasn’t sure of what it would imply or what you’d think of it, and so hearing you suggest it is making him more excited than he should be.

“Sure,” he says casually.

There’s a sea of butterflies in your stomach and you can’t really hide your smile. The thought of being in a private place alone with him is giving you all these ideas, and all of them involve having your skin against his.

You pause the thoughts in your head and focus on something else. You realize that the radio is turned way down, so you turn the volume up a bit, saying that you would’ve expected him to have the music up.

“You talk a lot,” he says, earning him a gasp until he clarifies. “I don’t mean it in a bad way. You just have a lot of thoughts and you express them. I like listening.”

“Oh.”

“I’d hold your hand, too, but you use it to talk so I don’t.”

“You can always hold onto my thigh,” you suggest, causing him to chuckle.

He removes his hand from the brake and lays it on your inner thigh, and you hum in response at his warm touch.

“Is this Taehyung’s shirt?” He asks.

“Yeah. I forgot to bring clothes to his place.”

Yoongi merely hums and goes back to driving quietly, and you can’t help but watch him from your side, one hand on the wheel and the other on you. It feels so comfortable and domestic but something about it is so sexy; it almost feels like foreplay for you.

You make it to his place, a small studio that has all the necessities.

“It’s tight but it works,” he hums, clearing his 2-seater couch for you to sit.

You make yourself snug on it, imagining how days would be like just being with him here. Days of cuddling and maybe more. You know he’s thinking it; he’s been looking a little nervous since you suggested going to his apartment and just like the second kiss, maybe you should be the one to initiate this, too.

“Do you have a shirt I can borrow?” You ask. “This smells too much like Tae.”

Yoongi hums his yes and walks towards his closet. You take the opportunity to remove the one you’re wearing, leaving you with nothing but your underwear on.

He turns around and freezes at the sight of you, his eyes unmoving from your body while you remain standing there, the heat creating up your neck at the feeling of being ogled at like this.

“Guess you don’t need this anymore,” he says, tossing the shirt on his bed.

He walks there without turning away from you, then he sits on the edge and his look suddenly turns soft. He reaches out his hand, which you take, and he motions you to sit on his lap. Straddling him on his bed, you wrap your arms around his neck then kiss him deeply. He steadies you with a hold of your hips, and you can’t help but grind against him as the tension starts to build up.

Yoongi doesn’t say anything. When he pulls away from the kiss, he unhooks your bra, cups your swell breasts, and then sucks them. You let out a restrained cry; it’s so stimulating as he skillfully licks and nips your nipples while you grind against his clothed body.

“Yoongi,” you moan, just completely lost in the feel of his mouth on your chest, with his warm tongue gliding around your sensitive areas.

He doesn’t rush, he doesn’t go too hard; he just follows a pace that lets him savor the perfect way your body was created for him to taste and touch and feel. He thinks he’s in heaven.

Your back arches and this isn’t how he wants you to go; he wants you comfortable and able to feel pleasure all over your body. So he stops momentarily and lays you on your back. His eyes still on you, he pulls your underwear off, humming in satisfaction at the string of your essence that attaches from the clothing he removes.

He spreads you open to see what he’s up against, and you tell him that there’s no need to prepare you anymore; your entire body is ready for him.

Removing his clothes, he remarks, “so this is why you wanted to come here, huh?”

“If you weren’t gonna suggest it, then I would,” you bite back. “I just wanted to be with you. And feel you inside me.”

He smirks then takes a condom from his shelf, looking at you the whole time he puts it on. He wants you so badly. He’s imagined this so many times, yet seeing you naked on his bed, ready and yearning for him, is still so much more than what his mind could conjure. His body’s screaming for you, but you look at him with so much desire that his heart melts at the thought of him being so lucky that you could want him as much as he wants you.

Hovering over you, you see that softness in his eyes again. He cups your cheek and caresses it and you melt into his touch immediately.

“I’m not always good at saying things,” he admits, wanting to say more - that he’s never felt so content, so satisfied, so happy.

“I know, and that’s okay,” you smile. “You do them, and that’s what matters.”

He nods in understanding. He’s generally good with words, but expressing what he feels to someone through them, especially if it’s someone he’s come to care so much about, isn’t his strongest suit. Sure, he’s much more perceptive and introspective than most would think; they usually just chalk it up to his disinterest and detachment.

But Yoongi is very observant, and he’s known from that first day that you were into him. He knew he was in trouble because he was so, so into you. He’s thankful you don’t mind his shyness, with the bursts of confidence only coming in every once a while. If anything, you seem to like how he normally is. But tonight, he’ll at least try.

Pushing into you, he feels the sensation all over his body. You’re warm and every perfect thing out there. You take him so well and he just wants to live in this.

“You feel so good,” he whispers in your ear, thrusting in and out and hitting you deeper every time. “Fuck, you’re made for me.”

His voice is low and deep. You feel like you just had an orgasm.

“Oh god,” you mewl, meeting his thrusts and no longer caring how loud you are.

He fits inside you so perfectly; you don’t think your pussy is made for anyone else. He knows just the right pace to build up the tension so satisfyingly, that when he sucks on your nipple, you crash so suddenly, and it’s a damn good fall that has you wanting more.

Yoongi comes, with his head slotted in the crook of your need as he breathes against your skin, sending shivers down your spine wanting even more of him. After coming down from both your highs, you do it again, much rougher this time, with you on all-fours, feeling him at the edge of your being as he pushes hard, leaving half-moon crescents on your hips.

Tired and hungry from what felt like a marathon, you whip up some instant noodles for your second dinner - you ate each other, after all - and then cuddle with him in bed as you still try to process just how good he’d fucked you.

“Your father’s not looking for you?” He asks, as he plays with your hair while you lay on his chest.

“Nope, he just lets me do and go wherever as long as I tell him where I am “ you say. “And right now, I’m at Taehyung’s.”

“Hope he won’t wonder why you’ll always be there, then.”

“If this is your way of asking me over again tomorrow, then it’s a yes.”

Yoongi chuckles and kisses your forehead.

He can make you come multiple times and look at you like he’ll devour you but at the end of the day, Yoongi will always, always kiss your forehead. It’s the one thing he does that says everything, you think, and perhaps that’s why you feel as much as you do.

It’s the buzz of your phone indicating multiple messages that wakes you up this time, and if it wasn’t for you seeing the time that it’s already lunchtime, you wouldn’t have known the sun was even out. Yoongi’s blinds are so good, they block out an entire day.

You shift out of his hold to get a little bit of light in, then you nuzzle his neck to try to wake him up.

“Wake up, sleepyhead,” you whisper. “You have a pickup game with the guys in the afternoon.”

Yoongi lets out the lowest of grunts but he doesn’t budge.

You pepper his cheek with kisses, and though his groans get louder, there’s no indication he wants to actually wake up. You wrap your legs around him and give him a tight hug. You try to tickle him this time and it gets him to move only a little bit.

“Jagi-ya,” he groans, the tone pretty much asking you to stop.

But you stare at him though, unbelieving of the term of endearment he just used on you. You want to climb on top of him and kiss him awake so you do just that.

“Hey, wake up. You told me to make sure you’re ready by 2.”

“Jagi,” he says louder now. “5 minutes.”

“Only if you call me that again.”

Ironically, it’s what gets him to wake up.

“You like that?” He asks, his eyes now half open.

“Yes,” you smile giddily. “It’s sweet and cute.”

“Okay, then I’ll say it again. Let’s go back to sleep, jagi,” he says, hugging you tight against his chest.

You give in but you don’t really sleep. You just lay on him comfortably, feeling like on cloud 9 as you enjoy these moments with him.

He does wake up 15 minutes later, but by that time, you’d brushed your teeth, watched him lie comfortably on the bed, and got to the glaringly obvious truth about what you feel.

Laying down next to him again, you finally tell him.

“I like you, Yoongi. I like you a lot.”

You smile at his flustered smile, and you want more of it so you continue.

“And I know things happened pretty fast. We kissed first before anything else but this isn’t just all lust or some summer whirlwind romance chick flick,” you try to explain. “You’re so caring and protective and kind and so fucking sexy. Like, it’s possible to be attracted-at-first-look but I might’ve already liked you when you caressed my cheek when you first kissed me.”

He chuckles at your statement.

“I’m serious. That hand is deadly,” you argue.

He cups your cheek again to tease, but you know he’s just distracting himself.

“You know I like you, too,” he finally says, and you’re unable to stop yourself from giggling right on his chest, clearly flustered and giddy.

“At this rate, you’re gonna be in love with me by the time summer ends,” he adds.

“I have a feeling that’s exactly what’s gonna happen,” you smile, kissing his lips softly.

But you lie. You might already do.

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