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bts-0t-7 · 8 months

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Expressions of Culinary

Pair: Yoongi x F Reader

Summary: Through shared moments in the kitchen, you delve deeper into your relationship with Yoongi. Yoongi, who uses the form of cooking as a way of self-expression, showered you with affection the moment you step home from a rough day at work.

Genre: Fluff, Idolxreader, established relationship, married au

Chapter Warnings: None

WC: 1158

You were not having a good day. From being piled up with more work as an intern got fired to being humiliated in front of your coworkers for submitting a spreadsheet late. Today was not a good day at all.

You shrugged off your shoes and coat, placing your keys in the bowl at the door. Groaning, you gave Holly a scratch behind his ears and walked to put down all your bags on the sofa. You were wondering if Yoongi was home when the aroma of spices and ingredients filled the air as you entered the kitchen.

To your surprise, Yoongi was standing at the kitchen island, too busy chopping vegetables with a focused expression on his face. You watched in awe as he moved with practised precision and a sense of purpose evident in every movement. He was so focused that he didn’t even notice you standing there.

“Yoongi,” You called out. “I didn’t know you’d be cooking today.” Your eyes shined with curiosity.

Yoongi looked up from the chopping board, a smile lifting at the corner of his lips. “Hey, Jagiya. I didn’t hear you coming home.” He momentarily stopped his chopping and washed his hand, coming over to give you a kiss on your hair.

“Hmmm, seems like you were too engrossed in cooking to realise I’ve been standing here for a while now.” You snickered. It was true. Yoongi was much too engrossed in chopping up the ingredients needed for his special-of-the-day meal but you were equally engrossed in watching him cook.

As Yoongi moved back to the chopping board to continue, he said, “Why don’t you go take a bath first? Dinner should be ready in thirty minutes or so.” He looked at you from the corner of his eyes.

You sighed and walked up the stairs, fully agreeing with what he said. You really needed to wind down. Holly followed you to the bedroom, jumping onto the bed and curling up.

“You shouldn’t be sleeping now, right?” You chided the brown toy poodle that now lay in between the pillows at the head of the bed.

You stepped into the shower, soaking in the heat of the water that cascades down your back. You sighed, bringing your hands to your head. You decided to take a short shower, curious about what Yoongi may be whipping out for dinner. Holly followed you out of the room and into the kitchen, standing in front of his food bowl.

“Okay, okay. Coming.” You left your hair towel on one of the dining chairs, going over to the storage room to get Holly’s kibbles. After feeding Holly his dinner, you approached the counter, intrigued by how Yoongi transforms the ingredients into a colourful array of vegetables. And the way his hands moved was mesmerising - an intricate dance that seemed to mirror his musical talents.

Even as the dish started to take shape, Yoongi’s concentration was unwavering. The kitchen was his soundboard, each ingredient was a beat of creativity. He moved around the kitchen with fluid ease, adding a pinch of this and a dash of that, all the while humming a tune softly to himself. His movements were like a melody that carried a sense of contentment.

You were, too, more than content to sit back and watch your husband move around. After a while, he turned to you with a grin, gummies all showing. “Care to be my taste-tester?”

You nodded eagerly, all the waiting around and the delicious wafting of sauces have gotten you hungry. “Not that your food will ever be bad.” Your taste buds tingled with anticipation. With a flourish, Yoongi presented you with a beautifully plated dish.

The first bite was a revelation - a burst of flavours that exploded on your tongue. You couldn’t help but let out a satisfied sigh. “Oh, it’s good. Yoongi, please come home and cook more often.”

Yoongi chuckled and ducked his head, cheeks slightly tinged with a blush. You took that time to tease him. “Aw, Yoongi. Five years and still can’t get used to it?” You wiggled your brows at him.

Yoongi groaned. “Jagiya,” he wined. “Stoooppp.”

You snickered and shoved a mouthful of rice into your mouth. As you savoured each bite, you could feel the passion infused in every dish. It was as if Yoongi’s emotions were intertwined with the flavours - a symphony of tastes that spoke of care and dedication.

As all the dishes were set on the table and Yoongi took a seat opposite you, you chatted about cooking and food, sharing stories and memories. The kitchen was always been one of the places where the both of you connected easily. It was a place where two souls intertwined over shared experiences and mutual appreciation for the culinary arts.

As the evening turned into night, you stood beside each other, washing dishes as a comfortable silence settled between you. Yoongi’s fingers brushed against yours and you exchanged a meaningful glance. It was in these simple moments that rekindled the depth of your connection with him.

“I’m glad to have met you in this universe,” Yoongi admitted in the silence, his voice soft.

You smiled, heart warmed by his sudden honesty. There are not many times where he would so vulnerably lay his heart out to you. Yoongi always wanted you to see only the best in him. “And I am grateful to have found you. What if I decided to ditch the fan meeting that day?” You teased him.

The corners of Yoongi’s lips lifted into a smile. “I would have been doomed.” At that moment, time seems to be at a standstill, the dim lights of the kitchen setting a scene. You shared a moment that went beyond words - a puzzle piece that pulsed in place, forged by the years of fighting for each other and the act of sharing.

As the night continued, you and Yoongi shifted to the bedroom, a final cup of tea in hand as the now empty teapot sat on his side of the bedside table. You finished off the last drop and snuggled into him, covers draping over the both of you. A sense of contentment settled over the both of you.

As Yoongi’s fingers found yours, his caress was gentle and reassuring. “Whatever the future, we’ll get through it together.”

You intertwined your fingers with him as you looked up and kissed his jaw. “Together. Thank you Yoongi, for sharing you with me.”

“God that was corny, Jagiya.”

You laughed. Under the soft glow of the moonlight seeping through the bedroom curtains, you and Yoongi sat in comfortable silence, soaking up the presence of each other. It was these little moments that you treasured so much, the connection deepening with each passing moment. It was a night filled with flavours, emotions, and soft, deep intimacy that only comes from sharing the secrets of one’s heart. The simple joy of being together.

#btsfanfiction #fluff #love #btsff #bts #femalereader #music #idolxreader #minyoongi #yoongi #yoongs #yoon #cooking #marriedau #establishedrealtionship #suga #sugaofbts #sugabts #SUGA

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chimivx · 4 months

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yellow. (7)

pairing: Idol!Yoongi x Female!Reader (and always ot7)

summary: The first of many sleepless, tear filled nights.

word count: 6,060

warnings: 18+, sexual content, mental health topics, depress!on, (idk if the actual word will censor my post), IF I MISSED ANYTHING PLEASE LET ME KNOW!!

a/n: we’ve all read vegas, we know what happens, we know what’s about to go down… apologies for angst, but not every relationship is perfect. i love these two with my whole heart, they gonna make it through okay?!

Sunny poked at you the entire ride home. Comment after comment, question after question, she wouldn’t give it a rest.

Sitting next to the window with your arms folded tight over your chest, you held your focus out the glass, your lips pressed together firmly, not letting her hear a word. Stone cold, your face revealed nothing to her, gave her no clue as to what had happened to make you storm out of the dressing room, brush past the boys without saying a word, and get into the car without a look backward.

Aside from Sunny’s prodding words, your phone vibrated like mad, and when you finally gave in and checked the screen, there wasn’t a single message from the person you had hoped would say something. Seven from Jungkook, one from Sunny, another attempt at getting you to speak, and two from Hoseok.

Jungkook wanted to know what happened. Not trying to be nosey, he’d added to the end of one of the messages. He also wanted to make sure you were okay.

Hoseok inquired the same. Two short messages, one thanking you for the day, and the other a minor question of what had gone down before the boys hurried out of the dressing room.

Jin must’ve been saying things. But, then again, they weren’t stupid, they all heard you and Yoongi, and most had been suspicious throughout the day as well. Jin liked to talk, and you’ve never held it against him until now. He and Yoongi were the closest, it was obvious Yoongi was telling him what was going on by the way the oldest hurried off when you approached the two…

You haven’t mentioned much to Sunny, your relationship was your business and something you intended to keep between you and the person you were involved with so that when shit like this went down, it didn’t affect the way your friends viewed the situation. If Yoongi had shared whatever with Jin, and Jin was telling the others that meant the boys were beginning to see you in a different light.

And that makes it all hurt a bit worse.

Arriving home without a word, Sunny accepted defeat. Your best friend unlocked your apartment door for you and let you shut yourself in your bedroom, knowing you’d come to her when you were ready.

The space you shared with her was small, just a little bigger than her New York apartment, this one having two bedrooms. The kitchen was a tiny thing with the cutest little table with two mismatched chairs on each end, and on the opposite wall was a sage green loveseat that has certainly seen better days. A short bookshelf lived between both spaces, separating the two, and on the walls to the left and right were the doors to your bedrooms.

Sunnys was bright, and colorful and done up to her liking, while yours was primarily bare, white walled with printed photos scattered in a handmade gallery. Some of your artwork was hung up, along with some pieces you and Yoongi messed with together.

Sitting on the edge of your bed, the grey blanket soft as a feather beneath you, your eyes scanned the mess of clothes on the floor, some belonging to Yoongi. Groaning, you press your forehead into your palms and take a long, shaky deep breath.

The sky outside was beginning to light up, the sun making its first early morning appearance. You’d been awake for nearly twenty four hours. You were exhausted, and all the more heartbroken.

Kicking off your shoes, ignoring the tears welling in your eyes, you crawled back to your pillows and laid down, not even bothering to cover yourself with the blanket. Laying on your side facing the window, your body and mind were tired, but you couldn’t bring yourself to close your eyes. So it would be another tortuous night of shitty sleep.

Letting the tears slip onto the pillowcase, you settled for watching the sunrise, hoping your mind would somehow turn off and you could sleep, or exhaust yourself completely that you’d pass out without even knowing.

It was eerily quiet here. The apartment you shared with Sunny was in an oddly calm, silent neighborhood. Even the neighbors next door were respectful enough to barely make themselves heard. Sometimes you forgot they were there. It was nothing like New York.

No sirens to lull you to sleep, no balcony to sit on even if it were freezing outside, no people chattering on the streets below your window… It was too quiet.

You wondered if you’d have to move back home, or back in with Sunny in New York. After this, if it was truly over, you wondered if you’d have to leave, pack up your stuff and fly home. Would you be able to keep your job? The pay was decent right now, you’d love to have to not give that up, but if the pain was too great to stick around… If the company would even let you stick around. Yoongi could be meeting with Bang right now, telling him to get rid of you.

Without missing a beat you knew he’d listen to him too. One mentioned from any of the boys that they wanted you out, and you were out. The company looked for every reason regardless of what the boys said to keep you out, keep you from succeeding. They’re just waiting for something like this to happen to finally have a decent reason to fire you. If you were on the way out, what did that mean for Sunny? Would they fire her, too?

The last time you spoke to your parents, a month or so ago, a vague conversation about where you were and who you were with, they told you you’d never make it over here. Not a detail was shared about the boys, about Yoongi, about what you were officially doing for work. They knew you were in Seoul. They knew you were working with a company. They knew you were creating art. Everything else, you literally were legally not allowed to say.

Moving back home, losing this job, it would all just be the icing on the cake. Another failure for your parents to hang over your head.

It was too goddamn fucking quiet.

Sitting up quick, reaching for the small table next to your bed, you pull open the drawer and fish out a pair of headphones that you plugged into your phone. Shoving the buds in your ears you swipe open to your music and shuffle all the songs, letting whatever beat that was chosen fill the vacant space in your mind, chasing away all the thoughts that lingered.

For another half hour you laid curled up on your pillows, hands tucked beneath your head, lost in the music of an artist that pulled you through college. Their music always there for you when it seemed like no one else possibly could be.

Your eyes, heavier now that you’ve calmed yourself, wanted to close. Before you let them, you sat up one last time, unclasping your bra only for the sake of being more comfortable. Slipping it out from underneath the shirt you wore, a folded piece of paper fell out with it into your lap. Tossing the garment aside, you picked up the paper and sighed.

Part of you wanted to open it. Part of you wanted to chuck it to the cluttered floor. Your heart decided to place it in the drawer of your bedside table.

Settling back down onto the pillows you focused on your music and let your eyes close, taking a steady deep breath, longing for a long slumber that’ll bring you into another day of work, thankfully in another twenty four hours.

Now that the shoot was done, all the footage was captured, it was time to put it together. While working on Run, when you got to this part, this was where all the fun started. Editing the video, watching the piece actually come together and have your vision come to life… There truly was no feeling like it. To immerse yourself in something that was completely your own, to have your worries slip away while you worked, putting your all into a project that you knew people were going to love.

Your phone buzzed under your pillow.

Sunny quieted down a while ago, she had to have been passed out. The woman loved her sleep, you never dared to wake her, she wasn’t exactly an all nighter type. Lifting your head, sliding your phone from under the cushion by the wire of the headphones, the message on the screen shoved a knife into your gut.

[agust d <3]: Please let me up

Blinking a few times, you weren’t sure what to do. Opening the message you typed something back, and when he answered, your stomach sunk.

[you]: Why are you here?

[agust d <3]: Couldn’t go home. Came here instead. Please let me in.

Taking a long, deep breath, you sat straight up and glared at your bedroom door. Pulling the headphones from your ears the world went silent. Reluctantly, wondering how you were even following through, you stood up in your socks and sulked to the front door, pressing the button on the wall to let Yoongi inside, leaving the door unlocked. Sitting down at the kitchen table, pulling your feet up onto the chair, wrapping your arms around your legs, you rest your chin on one of your knees and wait for him to let himself in.

Two silent minutes passed before the door opened. Bare faced, silver hair a fluffed mess, Yoongi was dressed in sweats and a matching hoodie, chunky sneakers on his feet that he kicked off by the door. You didn’t dare look up at him, instead you let him take in the sight of you tired, quiet and alone. It wasn’t in you to make him feel worse, you knew he already felt bad, you didn’t want to pack on more. But you weren’t exactly going to let him get away with not speaking to you.

So it was up to him. Ball was in his court.

Hesitating by the door after closing and locking it behind him, you watched his feet as he paced the tile of the kitchen for a second until he decided to sit down in the chair across the table from you, slumping down, folding his hands in his lap.

It was quiet for another minute. You were beginning to loathe the quiet.

“Yoongi,” you spoke up first, dropping your feet to the floor, looking up at him to find his eyes wide, and full of something you couldn’t read.

His head shook the slightest, his voice barely a whisper. “That’s not my name.”

A sigh escaped you, your head shifting to the side.

“You said it earlier, too,” he gulped. “And you only say it when shits gone wrong, or when you’re having big feelings, and most times I hate the sound of it. You say it when you’re serious, when shit is real. I hear it when I’m in trouble, I hear it when-”

“You’re not in trouble,” you whispered.

Yoongi sat forward, sliding his hands over top of the table, still folded. His eyes begged your own for an answer. He pleaded with you for help. You weren’t sure if he knew what to do, or how to handle this. You weren’t entirely sure you knew how either.

“You let me walk away,” you said. Yoongi’s brows flipped over even more than they were.

“I shouldn’t have,” he said quickly.

“But you did,” you scoffed. “Listen, I don’t know what you’re going through, because you won’t let me in. I’m not a mind reader, but I sure as hell know when a relationship is over.” The look on his face made you sick. “I’ve been here many times, so maybe it’s me. If you want to break up, just tell me.”

“No,” he gasped, shaking his head, pressing his fingers into the wood. With a quivering voice he said, “I don’t want that… I don’t want to break up.”

“Then what’s going on?” A shrug of your shoulders with no change to your face made him sit back. His gaze broke from yours, falling to the table. He didn’t say anything. An anger roiled within you. Sliding your hands over your face you fall back in your own seat and groan. “Yoongi! This is what I mean.”

His lips curled and his eyes narrowed. “That’s not-”

“It is right now,” you cut him off, tone stern enough to make him look at you. “What is happening? Am I… crazy for not realizing something? Am I crazy for wanting you to talk to me? We used to share so much with each other, and now we don’t do any of that. I literally feel like I’m just sleeping with one of my friends. Which is starting to lose its spark by the way, not to get all cheesy, but we don’t talk anymore. It’s just sex. And work. You liked me better in New York. Now that I’m here, I’m just like everyone else. You liked the chase, and now that you’ve got me, you’re bored.”

An exasperated laugh fell from his lips, one laced with frustration. “You’re so wrong,” he said. “You are so far from the truth, it’s ridiculous.”

Folding your arms, you barely let his words hit you. “Enlighten me, Yoongi, please.”

A groan vibrated from his chest. “Okay,” he took a breath, adjusting himself where he sat. “First of all, you’re not crazy. It’s… It’s me, it’s been me the whole time.” He gulped, taking another breath, like it pained him to have to do this. “I really, really… really struggle with… doing this.” His eyes were darting around you, looking into your own for a few seconds before he had to tear them away. “I’m sorry.”

Nodding, you finally felt some sort of relief that he was slowly opening himself up. “This is all you have to do, D. Just talk to me.”

“Right.” He blinked a couple times, falling quiet once more.

You gave him a moment. You gave him several moments.

“What’s going on?” Choosing a gentler, calmer tone of voice, you prayed it’d do something.

“I don’t want to break up,” he said, avoiding your gaze.

“I know,” you sighed.

Yoongi sat backward, burying his face in his hands. When he dropped them he sighed, and he found you on your way to your bedroom, walking away from him. It hurt to have to do it, but he left you with no other choice.

“No,” he said, following you into your room, catching the door you tried to shut in his face. “Stop, don’t. Please, Honey.”

“Honey,” you muttered, flopping down on your bed. “That’s not my name.” You mocked him with his own words.

“Hon- Yeah, okay,” he huffed, sitting beside you, inches away from you.

Scooting backward, you leaned your back on the wall and sat between the pillows, eyes focused on Yoongi, either waiting for him to leave or waiting for him to get on with it.

He looked about the floor, then looked about the walls, taking everything in within the small room, letting his eyes linger on a piece of art you two drew together one late sleepless night right here within these walls. You had laughed, you had hung over each others backs, shameless traveling hands while the other held the pencil, the night ending with the notepad slipping to the floor in a forgotten clobber.

“No one,” he began, keeping your full attention, “has ever gotten to this point. With me.”

“Oh, I’m so honored,” you deadpanned. He shot you a look you deserved.

“You want me to talk? Let me talk,” he spat, and it stung. Definitely deserved. “You know you’re no different than I am.” “Once again, Yoongi, enlighten me.”

He scowled. “What happened between me and my parents is exactly what happened between you and yours. Except mine left me numb and unable to get close to anybody, and yours left you with too many feelings and the need to cling to anyone who shows you any kind of love or support.”

It should hurt more, but he wasn’t wrong.

“I’m sorry.” His voice shook when the shock appeared on your lips. “See, this is why I don’t talk.” He swallowed, hard. “Everything that has ever happened to me has made me this way. I can’t talk about myself, I can’t open up, I can’t let anyone get close, because it’s scary. I’m scared. Anyone who has ever wiggled their way through has ended up leaving me somehow, someway. My parents didn’t show me any kind of love that the other guys grew up with.”

“I didn’t grow up with that love either, I still don’t get it from them,” you shrugged. Yoongi lifted a hand to prove his point.

“You have so much of it to give,” he whispered. “I can’t match that.”

Lurching forward, you crawled closer to him and sat by his side, tucking your legs under you. “Yes, you can.”

“How?” He smirked, shaking his head.

“By doing this,” you breathed. Placing your hands to his cheeks you turned him toward you, forcing him to bring his feet on the bed, folding them in front of him. “This is enough, this is all I want, I just want you to talk to me, I want you to let me in.”

You swore a tear sparkled in his eye. “You’re gonna hate it.”

“I would never,” you whispered, dragging your thumbs over his smooth skin. “I could never hate it. Could never hate you.”

Yoongi bit his bottom lip, bringing it between his teeth as his eyes flickered to your lips. “You’re a happy person.”

“D, listen to yourself and everything you just said about me,” you said. “You see me. And apparently, that’s what I crave, and you’re giving it to me. This thing isn’t one-sided, I need to know what to give you, I need to know what to do to help you.”

A small shrug came off of him, one you felt in your hands. His eyebrows flipped for a moment, until he looked at you and whispered, “I don’t know what that is.”

A tear slipped down your cheek, one you didn’t feel coming. Yoongi swiped it away, then took your hands from his face and held them within his own. An energy came off of him that you’ve never felt before, except maybe from yourself, years ago in the start of your college years.

Sitting here, holding his hands, you squeezed them gently, staring down at them. Yoongi did the same, watching you cry for a moment before his eyes dropped to where you were connected together, his fingers holding onto you desperately.

Letting your mind wander over everything he’s told you, including the past, the trauma’s he’s been through but joked about, something seemed to click, and it washed over you with nausea.

“D,” you whispered, looking up at him. He met your eyes after a few seconds. “Are you okay?” His lips wanted to prick down into a frown, but he suppressed it. A piece of you wanted to freak out, truly. It was like talking to a stubborn ass child. Taking a breath, you tried again. “I’m here for you,” you continued in a whisper. “No matter what you tell me, I’m not going anywhere. I moved halfway across the globe for you, you really think I’ll leave?” A laugh came out of him. A real, genuine small burst of air that forced him to smile for a millisecond. “Come here.”

Tugging on his hands you maneuvered the two of you backward, laying down on your pillows. Yoongi, nervous to take it too far, followed your lead, letting you wrap his arm around your waist where you snuggled into his side. Pulling the blanket over top of you both, you turned to face him, snaking an arm beneath his neck to toy with his hair.

His left arm hung over your waist, his other between you, thumb drawing gentle circles beneath your lips. Foreheads inches apart, his eyes danced all over you, studying you, taking you in. Then, his brows plummeted.

“Did you not shower?” he asked.

Smiling, you said, “Why, do I stink?”

“No,” he whispered, smiling with you. “You still have makeup on, you’re still… in my shirt.” The dots connected, making him pull his lips together. “I’m sorry.”

“Stop apologizing,” you said. “You had nothing to do with whether or not I wanted to shower. I could’ve gotten one if I wanted.”

His fingers paused. “I don’t want this to happen again.” You gave him a hum, a small, positive sound to keep him going. “Me, being the reason that you’re crying, that you’re hurt, that you’re not taking care of yourself.”

“D, it’s one shower,” you attempted a giggle.

“I don’t care,” he whispered. “It’s one shower too many. You don’t deserve to feel this way, you’ve done so much for me… You literally just said it, you moved across the globe, and for what? For me to feel sad, and act like a jerk? That’s so ridiculously shitty, and I’m sorry.”

You watched him speak, the words coming out of him like blazing flames and smoke. It didn’t seem possible for your heart to swell and also sink at the same time, but it did. Licking your lips, Yoongi watching, you took a deep breath and asked, “You feel sad?”

Immediately realizing that he didn’t know what to say, you didn’t try to back track. Letting the words settle, letting the question do its job knowing he just spilled that to you on his own, this was how it was going to go. He would get fired up over something regarding you, and his own secrets would come out. It just shattered your heart to think that he’s been feeling this way and you aren’t even sure for how long.

“Yeah,” he sighed, or gasped, you weren’t sure which. The confession wasn’t even blurred, it came from his lips with ease, like he’d been dying for someone to notice, someone to care. Tears overcame you, ones that you couldn’t swallow away. “No, don’t cry, Honey, please.” His fingers wiped at your wet cheeks, his own eyes dry.

“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to,” you whispered, tangling your fingers tight into his hair, scooting yourself closer to him so that your chests were pressed together, your face buried in his neck. “I’m sorry I didn’t see it, D. I know life has been hard, but I didn’t think it was going that far. How did I not see it?”

He clung to you, holding you tight against him. “Because I didn’t let you,” he mumbled. You could feel his heart beating a mile a minute between his lungs. “And I’m trying to not be pissed at myself for upsetting you by telling you.”

Peeking up to look at him you shook your head. “Please don’t be mad at yourself, I’m so glad you told me.”

“You sure look it,” he joked.

Huffing a laugh, you tucked your face into his collar bone. “You’re insufferable, how are you making jokes right now?”

“I have to,” he admitted. “Or, it becomes too much.”

Pressing a soft kiss to the base of his neck, you sighed. This internalized feeling of sadness, that sounded more like depression, was inevitable and something he couldn’t fight. Shoving away the thought that you packed on more, or added more to it, you kept telling yourself that you didn’t know, and that truthfully, mental health struggles were no reason to act like an asshole. You still felt washed with shame, knowing you purposefully did some things to tick him off. You kissed his neck again.

“I’m sorry if I-”

“Stop,” he sighed. “I know exactly what you’re going to say, don’t say it.”

Tipping your chin up, you lowered your brows. “But, I-” “No,” Yoongi looked down at you, breath heavy, brushing your noses together. “Just kiss me again.”

Catching your lips with his, the kiss is feverish and rushed, like he hadn’t kissed you since yesterday, which he hadn’t. A sense of comfort washed over you, a spark igniting in your heart, the feeling of familiarity. Even between quick bursts of shared air and the fervent way he was kissing you, like he couldn’t get enough, he was him, and he was here, and you had made progress.

The hand around your waist slid down your backside, gripping beneath your knee to guide you to hook your leg around his waist. Wrapping your arms around his shoulders, he pushed further into you, rolling you onto your back, granting you the room to swing your other leg around him. Holding himself up above you, he lowered himself a bit on his elbows, his body weight warming you, caging you in against the mattress.

You couldn’t press yourself any closer to him than you already were, your back was arcing off the bed, coercing him closer, and when he dropped himself more, a gasp came out of you onto his lips, his tongue quick to slip inside with the new access.

He needed you, and he wasn’t being shy about it.

Then again, he never was. And neither were you.

Dragging your tongue over his own you released your arms and moved them between you, until he cut you off, pulling away from your lips with a smack.

“Stop,” he whispered, looking down at you, eyes dark.

Yours went slightly wide, freezing under him. “Okay,” you whispered back, voice small.

“Do you want that?” he asked, flickering his gaze all over your face. You did the same to him.

“I do,” you answered after a beat.

Yoongi gulped, hesitating as much as you had. “Then let me do it.”

Your nod was tiny. “Okay,” you whispered.

He nodded with you, waiting for you to say anything else before he held himself up over you and slid his hands down your body. He touched his lips to yours gently, with care, eyes closing as his fingers took their time tugging down the leggings you wore. Lifting your body to help him, he tossed them to the floor and pulled off his sweats, his lips still working against yours. It was slow, calculated, he wasn’t in any rush, and your heart was ready to burst.

“Take this off, too,” your voice was muffled by his lips, your hands messing with his hoodie. “Please.”

Without a word he listened to you, tugging off his hoodie from the back. His hair, messy over his forehead, made you melt. Here in the early glow of the morning, sun peeking into your room now, casting him in a subtle orange haze, he was stunning. Tired eyes gazed down at you as he settled over top of you like he was, pressing a kiss to your lips while he reached for the drawer of your bedside table.

Fumbling around in it for a second, he paused and pulled back to glance over at whatever he had found. You heard the paper he held in his fingers, your notes he had written on, and weren’t surprised when he dropped it onto your chest still covered by his shirt. Meeting his eyes, they said everything he wanted to say, and you knew yours did too.

Pushing the drawer shut, keeping his eyes on yours, you prayed that he would understand, that you were telling him you read what he said while he bit down on the plastic wrapper, ripping it open with his teeth. Wrapping your arms around his neck like they once were, you lifted your head to kiss him as he situated himself, but then tossed your head back with a desperate gasp as he wasted no time and pushed himself inside of you.

His hips dared to move, but your nails digging into his shoulders stopped him. “Hang on, hang on, hang on,” your whisper was breathless, and rushed. Yoongi, eyebrows knitted together, watching you writhe beneath him with your eyes squeezed shut, took shallow breaths.

After a heavy exhale, he whispered, “Tell me what you want.”

“Just wait a second.” Looking up at him, you slid your hands to his cheeks, giving them a slight puff. A smile tried to peek through on his squished lips.

“I’d wait forever.”

Your lips parted, eyebrows going soft. Dipping his chin down he caught your lips in the sweetest kiss, and once he looked down at you, you were nodding, gazing up at him. “Go. Please.”

The corners of his lips perked up when your arms found sanctuary around his shoulders again, your fingers lacing within the silver of his hair. For a moment, he watched you, the two of you laying here, tangled together, as close as you possibly could be. A kiss met your lips, one as soft as ever, and with a matching push of his hips, a quiet, breathless, “I love you,” tumbled from his lips.

One thirty in the afternoon, peacefulness hanging around the apartment, your bedroom door creaked open, disturbing the quiet. Slipping out of the crack he pulled the door to, Yoongi turned toward it to watch the doorknob as he shut it easily, without a sound. You were still asleep, and after working for so long, he didn’t intend to wake you up.

Shirtless, sweats hanging off his scrawny hips, he spun around in his socks and nearly jumped out of his skin. Sunny, smiling with her lips pressed together tight, watched him exit your bedroom. Beside her on the couch, eyes wide, sat Jin. Both were dressed like it was their day off, sweatpants, bare faces and natural hair. Sunny’s was unruly, her curls sweeping over her back in gorgeous black waves.

“Oh, hello,” she smized, proud that she caught him in the act. “Happy to see you come out of there.”

Yoongi rubbed one of his eyes, looking between her and Jin dumbfounded. His brother, with eyes still wide, shook his head.

“How long have you been here?” Yoongi asked him.

Jin scoffed. “How long have you been here?!”

“Last night,” Yoongi shrugged, then trudged into the kitchen. His friends twisted on the couch to follow him.

“Last night?!” Jin shouted.

Grabbing a glass, Yoongi whipped himself around and shot a glare at him. “Shut up,” he hissed. “Don’t wake her up.”

“Yoongi we’ve been yelling at each other for hours, you two can sleep through anything,” Sunny laughed.

Feeling himself smile, Yoongi faced the kitchen sink and filled his glass with cold water. Sunny and Jin started talking about something they must’ve been discussing before he interrupted them, because Yoongi had no idea what the hell they were saying. Well, he had no idea what Sunny was saying, Jin was surely just staring at her.

Turning around to lean against the counter, he swallowed a laugh. Lips pouted with concentration, eyes flickering between her eyes and her lips, his fists tightening to keep from grabbing the hands she was speaking with… Yoongi tilted his head a bit. Jin was enthralled. He was entranced, he was bewitching, beguiled. He was whatever ridiculous word Yoongi could think of.

Jin liked Sunny. He always has.

But Jin liked liked Sunny.

Yoongi’s only ever seen his brother come over with emotion like this once before, and it wasn’t pretty. Jin’s heart was a rarity, something hard to unlock, hard to crack. Unlike Yoongi however, Jin had so much love to give yet nowhere to put it. It was overwhelming really, at least for Yoongi. Once Jin had anyone in his circle of ‘I care deeply about you’, it was hard to get out. The two boys were similar though in the sense that… Jin didn’t know how to show it.

Here on the couch, pining after the tall, curvy beauty with mocha colored skin, Jin was bursting at the seams, with love, with need, with the urge to hold her hand. But, Yoongi knew he wouldn’t do it. At least not with him standing right here.

It was funny how Sunny pretended to not notice the way Jin looked at her. She was a beautiful woman, maybe she was just used to charming people with her charismatic eyes and soothing voice. Yoongi knows he’s lost you many times because of that, and you aren’t shy to admit it. She reminded Yoongi of Jimin in that sense, to which you’d catch him and have him admitting you’ve lost him to his charismatic eyes and soothing voice. Jimin had a way of captivating his audience no matter the setting. Whether he be in a restaurant or walking down the street, he didn’t need to be onstage to have people swooning left and right.

Blinking a few times, shaking the Jimin out of his brain, Yoongi is reminded to ask you about something funny the charmer had said to him yesterday on set. It was just after you had run out of the room with Jungkook chasing behind you, a thought that made him smile. The relationship you share with the kid is Yoongi’s favorite of them all.

After everything you all endured yesterday, after the night you shared together hours ago, Yoongi searches his brain, praying he can remember what Jimin had said to him. It was quiet, he had whispered it, and it was as soon as Jungkook was out of earshot. Amidst the chatter that echoed off the tiled walls, he can’t piece together if it was a question or not.

…likes someone?

Does Yoongi like someone? Yoongi is dating you, of course he likes you, he loves you. Jimin was zipping his pants when he stepped toward Yoongi to say it, what the hell did he ask? He was eager about it too, it seemed. Like he wanted to know as soon as possible, but they were pulled out of the room faster than he could repeat himself.

…likes someone?

He? He likes someone?

No, it was much longer than that.

What do you… What does it… How do you…

Oh! That was it, that was the start.

How do you-

“There she is,” Sunny raised her voice, all attention diverted toward your bedroom door where you emerged with a proper little smile on your lips and Yoongi’s hoodie on your body. His heart just about fell out of his chest. You looked so cute with your sleepy eyes and messy hair, still wishing to be wrapped up in your blankets as you padded over to him quickly.

The sleeves of his hoodie covered your hands as you stretched out your arms the closer you got to him. Setting his glass down on the counter, his own smile grew as he caught you, loving the feeling of your arms sliding around his waist. Laying yourself over top of him you prop your chin on his chest and look up at him, batting your lashes.

“Hi,” he whispered.

Your smile softened. “Hi.”

“You're so pretty.”

Squeezing your eyes shut, you swallowed a giggle.

“I mean it.” He kissed the tip of your nose, and when you opened your eyes he said, “I wanna talk to you.”

A sigh escaped you. “Of course.”

Taking a peek at how you were latched onto him, his grin widened before he gave you a real kiss, not caring if your friends were paying attention or not. It’d be a good thing to show them you guys were alright, especially if either of them caught wind of what was going on yesterday. Yoongi didn’t say a word to Jin, and didn’t know whether or not you had said anything to Sunny.

Another thing to talk about, he notes. He could do this.

He wanted to scoop you up in his arms and carry you back into your bedroom with how you looked up at him as you parted from the kiss. Holding you tighter, he took a breath.

“I love you,” you whispered to him.

He blushed, he could feel it, and you caught him. “I love you, too.”

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