Omg, This Was So Good. I Loved How You Explored Their Complicated Relationship Throughout The Fic.

Omg, this was so good. I loved how you explored their complicated relationship throughout the fic.

perpetual datejust

pairing: yoongi x reader

wordcount: 19k

glimpse: when the general public hears the name min yoongi, they know him as the world-famous model who’s beyond talented in his craft. when the modeling industry hears the name min yoongi, they remember you: his resolute, firm, and sometimes rude manager who always puts yoongi’s best interests at heart — no matter what.

alternatively, you’re yoongi’s manager and for the first time ever, you take a break away from him.

[ a lot of angst (not all the way thru i promise!!!), love is mutual but unrealized at first, wholesome heartwarming moments, emotional constipation + hint of codependency, yoongi does some rlly stupid things, so much yearning, mentions of sex tape + intercourse (not between the main pairing), jealousy, swearing, redemption arc (i swear!!!) ]

notes: first fic of 2022 <3 thank you so much for waiting patiently for this piece!! i have to say that although this is one of my angst-heavy pieces, this is perhaps the warmest fic out of all of them (take five, heartburn, hlwwf, lyiaik) !! this is my new favorite since you could see more of the emotional growth and development from the characters <33

as always, lmk what you think <3 send in feedback n love to my askbox anytime!! even replying to this post sends me over the moon :)

Yoongi is the second-most respected person in the room.

He knows it by the way that people go out of their way to come close to his personal bubble of space to greet him. They bow respectfully and give him smiles whenever his eyes meet theirs, some of them meek but never the one to break the eye contact first.

He knows it when people crowd around him to get his attention one way or the other, and even if he barely reciprocates any, not a single person from his audience comes home disappointed.

He knows it by the attention he receives — the entirety of it is focused on him even if he’s not the only one in the room.

Yoongi knows to himself that he’s only the second-most respected person in the room because if he was otherwise, none of it plays out this way.

The most respected person in the room has people clearing out of the way to be given space, even if unasked for. They bow deeply but suck their breaths in whenever they’re in the receiving end of said person’s gaze, instinctively gulping.

If he is the most respected person in the room, his inattention for the people in the room would mean the world to them. His disregard would comfort them endlessly and even lull them to sleep in peace.

Yoongi is not the most esteemed because if he was, he would have all the attention to him even if none of them are looking. He’s not the most eminent because it’s not him whom people bend backwards for to please, nor the one who makes or breaks the atmosphere in the space.

Min Yoongi’s manager is the most respected person in the room and everyone knows it.

“Stop staring off into space,” Yoongi nudges you by the shoulder, a little winded to go all the way because while he’s sat in the foldable makeup chair, you’re the one sat on a leather, cushioned stool right beside him. “You’re scaring them.”

“Should they have anything to be scared about?” you roll your eyes at such a trivial concern that he doesn’t suffer from, a little perplexed at his tiny suggestion that you know wouldn’t change your image at all.

Yoongi swears that he just heard someone’s teeth chatter at your quip.

Years ago, you wouldn’t have expected that people in the modeling industry would label you to be someone so intimidating. Yoongi used to tease you at first because even he thought that those assumptions were a load of shit. He was sure that he knows you to the decimal with how often and how long you’ve been at his side.

It was just at that moment, that one specific moment years ago wherein an intern spilled coffee on his shoes and went on her knees to apologize to him and plead to not tell you that it all made sense. It makes much more sense to him now that even if he wasn’t that big back then, remembering how the room fell to a hush. He remembers you emerging out of nowhere with your angry footsteps, the Yoongi from years ago completely unaware on how you would decimate someone for dirtying his favorite pair of shoes with the hot brew.

Yoongi knows you’re protective of him and he thought it was only normal for everyone’s managers to do the same. He thought it was normal for managers to call casting directors out on their faults and still have a job (or even a better one) after that. He thought it was protocol for managers to fight designers for forcing a diet on him and still be the frontrunner for the collection. He thought every model and artist he knew of would have their managers to be in your standard, but at every shocked and yearning face he sees from people who want to be under your care, Yoongi knew.

“Not that I know of.”

He laughs in reply, covering his mouth sheepishly as he bows his head to the makeup artist working on his eyebrows, willfully ignoring the way her hands tremble as she hears your whole conversation.

“You just like seeing me do my job,” you hum in return, fixing your posture on the chair to see if there’s any nick on his skin from the eyebrow razor that the makeup artist’s using.

He looks the best at the moment with his bare face, a sight that you only see now and then in-between his perpetually packed schedule. His cheeks are shiny and his lips are plump, eyes still a little droopy with how late he slept just this morning.

You’ve already fed Yoongi his favorite burrito early this morning but you know he likes his snacks in between takes so he doesn’t crash with fatigue later on, about to stand up from your seat to fix him a plate from catering when you hear eager footsteps towards your direction.

The perky junior assistant on-site thrusts a plate into Yoongi’s direction, neatly-arranged to the point that when he accepts it from her, he’d be able to feel the sticky note placed underneath the ceramic with her cellphone number on it.

“Are you out of your fucking mind?”

The girl’s eyes widen comically when she hears your voice, all of her supposedly-lucky courage being flushed out of the drain as soon as you direct your attention to her.

Yoongi coughs to his hand as he puts a hand on the small of your back to just let it go, feeling your hand gently put his back on his lap, making him sink to his seat when he sees you stand up from your chair.

“You trying to kill him or what?” you tilt your head to her once before looking down at the sandwich in sheer disgust, nudging the plate back to her arms and away from Yoongi. “Mr. Min’s allergic to peanuts.”

She stutters her sincerest apologies and it’s not only embarrassment that makes her cheeks redden, the fear in her eyes unable to evaporate with how your eyes stare her down the harshest.

Just when you think that a shoot could go the smoothest without you interfering, someone just had to endanger Yoongi and his airways in an ambitious attempt to flirt. The fact that he could’ve gotten hurt badly still doesn’t fly over your head, even if all the higher-ups of the production team are in front of you apologizing to no end.

You don’t immediately move on from it even if Yoongi’s nonchalant, knowing deep-down that he’s in disbelief as much as he’s relieved for dodging a bullet that comes in the form of a thick, no-crust, slightly toasted peanut butter sandwich.

The worry doesn’t escape your system even if you get him food that would make his mouth water instead of his throat close, keeping a keen eye on him to double-check.

Yoongi’s no stranger to your worrying but if anything, he knows that if not more, you’re just as spooked about the scare as he is, purposely joining you on the one-seater couch to calm you.

"Say ah," he offers his own spoon from his snack, his own mouth open to demonstrate on how you should do the same and not make him wait. He throws an off-hand comment on how his shoulder would act up and it gets you to finally take the bite.

"You're not allergic to fruit cups,” you say with your mouth full, having to yet take another spoon that Yoongi jams narrowly because he hasn’t seen you eat breakfast yet.

"I know I'm not," he mumbles, taking a napkin to wipe at the corners of your mouth before reminding you to chew. “I just wanted to feed you."

( ♡ )

Yoongi tolerates a lot of things.

He tolerates the repetitive questions thrown his way and answers them just as sincerely as the first time around. He’s calm when he’s asked who he wants to work with for the hundredth time, and even calmer when he throws a vague answer to not jumpstart any rumor with a random celebrity the interviewer links him with.

He’s tolerant towards paparazzi and keeps his eyes stable underneath his sunglasses, not a single hint of annoyance present in his expression.

In your opinion, Yoongi is annoyingly too tolerant for the sake of neutrality, that he often overlooks how he’s being taken advantage of.

He’s not afraid to voice his concerns to you because after all, you’re perhaps the only other person besides his family that he’d entrust his life with. He knows how to stand up for himself, even if it means standing behind you.

Yoongi doesn’t like to think that he’s become too dependent on you, much more the fact that he starts to forget what his life was like before you.

He knows how to go to the casting director to correct them for the butchered pronunciation of his name. He knows how, but he’s accustomed to you rectifying the mistake right then and there, regardless of who is around.

He knows how to talk to the hotel manager to remind them that none of the staff posts his whereabouts (especially when he sees an employee discreetly taking pictures of him), but he’s used to you marching to them with a written agreement that his privacy isn’t leaked, with more or less a threat looming on your tone.

You know that Yoongi doesn’t and wouldn’t always need you, but with the way he freezes beside you and his hand almost squeezes your forearm out of instinct, you’re certain that you’re needed.

The swimming pool in the middle of the set grinds the gears in your head, the clench in your jaw unmistakeable that the director who’s come out to greet you stops in her heels.

"This wasn't included in the brief."

You grit your teeth in the absolute stupidity she’s in charge of. The deep water Yoongi’s afraid of doesn’t become shallow under your gaze, but the thought of how you’d dump a bucket of it on everyone responsible remains.

"I don't care if you already poured your whole year's budget just for this concept — change it."

The director, who’s been in this industry earlier than Yoongi did, stutters over nothing. She’s heard some talk about how nothing ever comes past Min Yoongi’s manager, and yet she only dismissed the concerns with a laugh. Sure, it’s far from a miniscule adjustment in the brief, but she even swore then on how you wouldn’t intimidate her in the slightest.

Turns out she’s wrong.

She’s been in this industry longer than you could fathom and it’s only now that she feels genuinely affected by someone’s assertion towards her craft. Even if you aren’t the first manager that defies her, you’re the only one who makes her want to backtrack completely.

"Mr. Min is uncomfortable with what you request of him,” you articulate sternly, about to give her a piece of your mind when you feel Yoongi tug at your arm lightly.

"I think I can do it, Y/N," he mumbles under his breath and it makes you stop. He peers at the indention on the ground with curious eyes, flickering towards yours to get the assurance he needs. “The pool's wide, right?"

Yoongi's a little afraid of deep and narrow waters.

There’s not anything deep behind it other than he feels afraid when his feet can’t touch the floor. He wants to feel grounded, and with the way that he’s lighter underwater but there’s not anything that reminds him of being weighed down? He’s scared shitless. He knows how to swim but it intimidates him unlike any other, his limit stopping when his chin hits the water.

"This wasn't what you signed up for," your voice softens automatically, assuring him that he shouldn’t feel pressured to take on the change.

“The director said it was only a two-feet plexiglass pool," your gaze pierces her at the emphasis of her job. “Why would you switch it to a seven-feet swimming pool suddenly?"

The director expresses her apologies but they just don’t hit the right note with you. If she didn’t want to make Yoongi uncomfortable in the first place, she wouldn’t have altered the brief without getting his approval. It bothers you that no matter how famous or big Yoongi could get, the circle of people who would try to sabotage him doesn’t get any smaller.

You’re silent throughout her words and your blatant lack of acknowledgement just pushes her further, only stopping (although the nervousness never leaves her) when she sees Yoongi pull you to the side.

"I can do it,” he licks his lips, way past the point of convincing himself because his mind’s already set — under one condition. "I-I just need you to get in the water with me."

You only linger for a second longer in front of Yoongi just so you could be sure that he wants exactly what he’s told you, walking to the director who’s glued to the ground at anticipation.

"Should Mr. Min suffer in the slightest because of your abrupt change of plans," your finger points intimidatingly close that it makes her cross-eyed. “I’ll see to it that your publication disappears the next morning."

You should be perplexed. You know you should.

You should be puzzled at the request of your artist, literally pulling you through the water so he wouldn’t feel scared for his job. You know you should be baffled that the lifeguards who are present on the set are gonna need to sit this one out, because the model they were tasked to look over, already has his manager doing what was supposed to be their job.

You should be confused when you let him hold your hand in between takes, even if he asked so he wouldn’t feel that he’s alone underwater.

You dry him off first even when you're dripping wet yourself, not feeling dumbfounded that even when you get your own towel, you add it to the one on his shoulders because he’s trembling.

With Yoongi, you don’t think twice.

.

.

"You have a cold because of me."

There’s the feeling of guilt that makes Yoongi sniffle, the pitiful sound surely not connected to how he’s had to shoot in a cold pool for half an hour.

"Don't take all the credit now."

He sees your eyes narrow at him and for a moment, he hears you chuckle.

He hears you laugh deeply even if the rasp of it is clearly tainted with a cold that he brought to you. Your laugh doesn’t bother him, not at all! What bothers him is the look of confusion that encompasses your features after.

His arms are outstretched and perched on them is a fluffy, burnt white towel. Even if it’s neatly folded, you could see the outlines of the iron and smell the distinct scent of singed cotton.

You’re not confused over why and how it’s burnt; you’re confused over the kindness.

"Don't look at me like that,” Yoongi mistakens your gaze as something that critics his good deed, a smile creeping to his lips in his attempt to explain himself.

"I tried my best to look for warm towels, alright? This was the next best thing."

"You ironed it while it was still damp," your head shakes at the well-thought yet poorly-executed effort, still peering at it because he hasn’t given it to you yet.

Yoongi’s cute. He tries. He attempts to take care of you and although it’s not the best, it’s good enough for you.

"I tried drying it with a fan at first but I couldn't wait because I heard you blowing your nose all the way from the lobby. Sue me."

( ♡ )

Yoongi thinks you’re a lightbeam.

He thinks you’re pure energy that bounces off and passes through whatever material simultaneously. You get through him the most, and he would never deny that.

There’s a certain glow to you that he gravitates towards and he only gets warm and energized at the most, but never burnt. You’re bright but never too blinding for him; you fill all his senses at once but the sensations don’t become overwhelming.

Yoongi’s not a speaker, much less a writer. He can’t enunciate his feelings for you the way he’d want to and it frustrates him endlessly. You do so, so much for him and not once does he comment on his appreciation.

He tries, though. He doesn’t know if it would ever be enough, or if any of his care for you would be equal to what you give to him, but he tries.

“So you just saw this and thought of giving it to me, hm?”

You hum at the article of clothing he’s put in your hands delicately, the soft knit material of the navy blue cardigan calming your strained eyes. It’s new to you — from the way you’ve never seen a knitted cardigan before with tiny sheep on them all over the place, to the way you’re not used to Yoongi gifting you things out of the blue.

“Does it even suit me?” you mumble under your breath, holding it up against your body to look at the mirror. The design of it was cute, unique even. It’s familiar to you for some reason but you don’t dwell on it, chalking it up to how it makes you happy just by looking at it.

“Every color is your color.”

Yoongi scoffs with his arms across his chest, a little huffy that you’d even doubt your image. “I’m not talking bull,” he exclaims a little more loudly when you shoot him a quizzical look, holding up his hands in defense. “I do mean it.”

You know that Yoongi isn’t the best with his words. He could be passive and defensive amongst all his other self-admitted weaknesses with his words in contrast to his actions, but you don’t mind. Yoongi means what he wants to mean, and you get his point every single time.

So when he tells you that he means sincerely that every color is your color, you believe him. You rely on yourself for assurance but with the reiteration coming from him, the (occasionally) least decisive person you know, you know better than to deny.

The halls in the company building aren’t empty but you choose to walk in the dead center of it, receiving courteous smiles from the mix of staff members before they scramble to not be in your path.

Your fellow employees in the company don’t necessarily fear you, but word comes around of what happens. Most of them are in awe of you from what you’ve heard but sometimes they respect the distance that you put. There were only a handful of people in the company that you like being around with and not just tolerate for the sake of it, and it’s more than enough for you. You didn’t come to make friends — you’re here to be competent. With or without them, you’re here for Yoongi, and Yoongi only.

Sometimes for Jimin too.

The actor from the same company has somewhat weaseled his way into your care, his plus points of being Yoongi’s best friend from high school contributing greatly. He’s not difficult to handle and even if he already has someone else as his manager, you wouldn’t mind buying lunch for him if he asked very kindly.

Jimin bumps your shoulder on purpose to walk with you in the hallway, having some time to kill by annoying you before his schedule resumes for the day. He looks awfully suspicious; half-amused and half-shocked to see you.

His eyes flit over your figure up and down like he didn’t just see you this morning, the ambiguous look on his face making your eyebrows furrow in confusion. “What are you looking at?”

"Oh?" he exclaims, whistling as he does another once-over that just makes you more irritable than confused at this point. He clears his throat when he senses that you want an answer from him, playing it cool by shoving his hands into his pockets. "Where did you get that?"

He gestures to the cardigan you’re wearing, eyes squinting to make sure his vision isn’t playing tricks on him.

"Yoongi gave it to me,” you shrug carelessly, eyes suddenly brightening since you have the energy in you to tease him. "Why? Do I look pretty?"

Jimin’s face doesn’t fall and in fact, he even giggles in reply. He giggles and yet his eyes feel apologetic for some reason, making your head tilt in curiosity.

"You're pretty for sure," he coos, making your worry dissipate instantly.

The worry dissipates for a second but it comes back twofold when Jimin comes closer to you to remove the cardigan from your figure, the sudden act making you freeze that you just let him do so. "But you shouldn't wear secondhand."

"Yoongi and I share socks, a cardigan wouldn't be a problem,” your eyes roll at his trivial excuse in removing your knit.

The cardigan you’ve only had for a matter of hours is tucked to his arms and you make quick moves to snatch it back, but Jimin is even quicker in turning his body away from you.

How exactly should he break this to you?

"This is Sohee's cardigan."

If Jimin’s learned one thing from you, it’s to be direct and immediately cut to the chase.

"You're wearing Yoongi's ex's cardigan."

The familiarity you’ve once felt over the cardigan is no longer there, turning into the ugly type of affinity instead. It once smelled like Yoongi’s perfume to you but now you realize that it overwhelmingly smells like the forgotten depth of a cabinet.

The navy blue knit now looks patchy to you. It looks like it has the remaining dust of mothballs and the splotches of bleach. The sheep pattern on it looks sad to be even there. The material feels scratchy like a scouring pad and feels even dirtier than it. It’s hideous.

"Don't be mad, pretty," Jimin presses his thumb to the middle of your brows to ease the furrow, dropping in your nickname seamlessly to calm you. “Remember, you didn't hear that from me, alright?"

.

.

Yoongi had forgotten the feeling of someone literally throwing clothes at him (the last time was when he was a teenager and his mom was fed up with him not putting his laundry in the proper basket), but now, he relives the feeling.

"I don't want this."

He peeks through the cardigan you’ve just thrown him, confused on why you would be mad.

It’s rare and come to think of it, Yoongi can’t think of a time that you got angry at him. You get mad at directors who change the brief and casters who mispronounce his name and paparazzi who get in his face — you get angry for his sake, not at him.

"It's tacky. It's ugly," you spat, breaking eye contact to angrily organize his things in time for his next schedule. “It's Sohee's."

Yoongi had never angered you in a way and as much as you retain your patience for him, this one just bothers you like a tick. It just makes you itch and drains your blood and gives you unnecessary pain, the angry slew of words uncontrollable on the tip of your tongue.

"Seriously, why would you even give me something that belongs to your ex?"

"She's not really an ex," he exhales unsurely but he just wants to have the last word. He can’t help not being honest, even if being truthful doesn’t help his situation at the moment. “You see, we're kind of hooking-"

"Quit it!" your jaw clenches at the admission, your eyes about to roll to the back of your head from the raw annoyance that fills you. “Do I look like a charity shop for all the run-downs from your fuck buddy?"

Whichever way he puts it, Sohee’s his ex-girlfriend that cheated on him.

She’s an ex-girlfriend that was seeing someone behind Yoongi’s back and no matter how painful their split was, he still chases her after a lost puppy. Her months-long infidelity was forgiven with only a week’s worth of apologies, and it’s always Yoongi that doesn’t want to break off from her completely.

"Don't talk about her that way," he mutters, rolling his eyes at your misplaced protectiveness. You weren’t the one who was cheated on and yet you act like it. You’re not supposed to hurt on his behalf, but he remembers distinctly how you said that you would always rally behind him on his happiness.

Sure, being fuckbuddies with his ex-girlfriend isn’t as good as being committed to her the way a boyfriend would, but it makes him happy. You’re not supposed to hurt on his behalf but you do — you’re supposed to be happy with his joy but you aren’t.

"I just thought it would suit you. She left it in my closet and hasn't looked for it since," he sighs defeatedly, already knowing that you’re barely listening to him.

Yoongi doesn’t apologize simply because it’s not in his nature. He’s not sorry that he gave you his ex-girlfriend’s cardigan, but he’s sorry that you feel angry for whatever reason.

Yoongi’s sorry, but he would never say it.

"I wasn't trying to upset you or anything."

( ♡ )

There are only a handful of times that you get to sleep peacefully.

Those instances only happen when Yoongi’s schedule finishes early in the night and starts late the next day. Your body’s used to the work that fatigue only feels like second-nature, the tiredness hitting your system only when you don’t move.

For the first time in what felt like years, Yoongi’s schedule finished earlier than 5 PM today. You were so excited to come home and have time for yourself that you don’t regret rejecting Yoongi’s offer in getting drinks with him. It probably didn’t hurt him as much as his expression fell blank when you declined his offer for bonding outside work, but you already know that he too would kill to have time for himself.

Normally you would just take a night shower and head straight to bed without even drying your hair completely because you’re just that tired, later waking up with a headache. But god, today was just different. You take a shower for enjoyment rather than necessity, taking the time to break out the scrub you have to leave on in order to fully reap the benefits.

You take the time to dry your hair and put your work phone on silent, finally being able to wear the expensive pajamas upper management had gifted you two Christmas parties ago. You’re able to scroll through your watch recommendations without feeling pressured for time, even taking the time to watch trailers instead of blindly clicking a random title.

You have the time to do nothing and be liable for nobody that it all feels so good. You’re ultimately relaxed and go to bed without calculating for tomorrow, tucking yourself in before 9 PM.

Until your personal phone rings so loudly in the middle of the night.

The shock jolts you awake, accepting the call even if you can barely make out anything from your squinted eyes. Your voice is cut off before you could even say anything, the raspy needy register hitting all your senses at once.

"Come over."

Yoongi fills you up as a whole. He’s overwhelming in nature and if you couldn’t be any more delirious with what’s happening, the scent of his perfume fills your room. It’s unexplainable and doesn’t exist but you could swear that you smell his perfume.

There isn’t anything coherent in your mind that you can say but there’s only purpose somewhere in there, just a tiny bit of purpose that wants to be with Yoongi in that way, at this moment.

"I missed you so much, baby."

Maybe he’s drunk. Maybe he went for drinks by himself and only called you accidentally. He must be, because you’re not his baby.

Is this even for you? Maybe he does genuinely just miss you and the endearment is loose on his drunk tongue. Maybe he’s just slurring his words and he didn’t even call you the name, only being conjured up by your rudely-awakened mind.

"I want you so bad right now, Sohee," he practically moans to your ear, hearing his breath heave through the phone. “My cock's so-"

"Yoongi."

The moment his name leaves your lips in your voice is what makes him come out of his lust-driven senses, the beads of sweat on his forehead turning into the sensation of cold water on his flushed body. He was originally lying in bed when he pressed on Sohee’s number at his phone, at what he thought to be his work phone, instead of his personal. Sohee would always be the top-most contact in his personal cell, and his work’s frequent contact would be-

"Y/N?"

The realization makes Yoongi squeak for all the wrong reasons, hurriedly hanging up and unable to look at the phone on his hands that he chucks it to the wall next to his bed.

Neither of you sleep peacefully tonight.

( ♡ )

The shame in his system is what keeps Yoongi this jumpy early in the morning, not the three espresso shots he drank in one sitting.

His coffee intake isn’t the culprit to his heart palpitations and trembling hands, that much he could make out. He’s just so nervous to be in your presence after his innocent mistake last night. The train of events of him essentially asking you to come over while he sounds fucked-out, then calling you Sohee, and then eventually realizing that it’s in fact you, his manager, who he called up at 2 in the morning — it’s a long shot from being innocent. He didn’t mean to call you, but he didn’t mean to unknowingly hurt you either.

Yoongi doesn’t fear you but maybe he does now by the way you don’t utter a single word to him at all, too preoccupied with your job. Had you always been this busy? He knows that you’re busy superlatively but somehow, you’d always fit him into your process. You were the type to have your nose buried in your cue sheets while asking him at the same time of what he wants for lunch.

There’s only four of you in the lounge anyway; you, him, Jimin, and Tiger– the stray cat who ended up becoming the company feline.

“So how did you sleep last night?”

Jimin looks up from his phone, gauging to see if he was the one being asked. You’re sitting beside him but you’re busy nonetheless, leaving the question unanswered. Yoongi’s looking at Tiger now and it’s clear that he wouldn’t answer the question anytime soon, so of course Jimin’s about a hundred percent sure that he’s the one being interrogated.

"Eh. I slept at five in the morning."

Yoongi screws his eyes shut because this is clearly not going the way he wanted to, but stopping abruptly now just seems awkward.

"It's really quiet at 5 AM. How was your sleep?"

Jimin doesn't think about it, really. He doesn’t wonder how Yoongi basically asked him the same question twice. He’s just here answering whatever came to mind, oblivious to the tension (literally one-sided based on Yoongi’s perspective) that was filling up the room.

"Oddly enough, it was deep. Come to think of it, the later I sleep, the more sound it is."

"Jimin, over here!" Hoseok, his manager, hollers outside the lounge that it has him immediately standing up, leaving the two of you alone together.

Three if you count Tiger.

Yoongi feels like he’s fucked now that there’s no buffer state between the two of you, thinking about the next big thing before clearing his throat, petting the cat on his head.

"You should eat well today.”

You’re not clueless to know that Jimin’s already left the lounge. You see clearly how Yoongi looks like a fool talking indirectly to Tiger in order to make conversation with you.

He’s not as swift and smooth as he thinks but you’re sure that he doesn’t realize it, just like how he doesn’t realize loads of things. He doesn’t realize the gravity of your anger even if you’ve already said what causes it. He doesn’t realize that Sohee is the worst thing to happen to him, both in his professional and personal life, coming from you both as a manager and a friend. He doesn’t realize that you’re intentionally not indulging him this time.

"Your sunglasses look nice,"

Yoongi still gets no reaction from you, coughing to the back of his hand. He looks at you slyly, turning his attention back to Tiger to distract him from the overpowering humiliation he feels.

"I'm talking to you, by the way. Not the cat."

You deadpan to your notes, not budging in the slightest bit when you respond.

“You don't say."

You’re angry and sleep-deprived and you’re dangling by the edge on keeping it all together. You already want to call it a day but it’s just barely started. Seeing Yoongi makes you tired and you think that it would pass eventually, the feeling of it only stuck for today.

You pet Tiger lovingly before you leave the lounge, only making the note to come fetch Yoongi when needed. You don’t want to be around him and it’s a rare feeling, but it’s only for today.

It should only be for today.

"Your shoot starts an hour from now."

( ♡ )

Yoongi can’t stand the thought of you getting anything less than what you deserve.

He doesn’t have a weak stomach but it churns when people make fun of you. Your reputation precedes you and in the few times that your cutthroat attitude leaves no room for screw-ups in future projects, you get mocked by people who haven’t even met you.

Maybe it’s because they haven’t seen you in person that they haven’t been humbled yet. Yoongi thinks it’s pathetic of them to make a caricature of someone who carried him on their back, the main reason of why he even got this far.

They wouldn’t know you like he does and Yoongi loves it because that way, he feels special. Your interactions and warmth in general are exclusive to only the two of you. No one would know how talkative you can get and how bright your smile could get — only he gets to see that.

They wouldn’t know you like he does and Yoongi hates it. He hates it because that way, no one gets to know who you are as an individual because being his manager is a bigger identity than yourself. No one gets to know how kind and loyal you are in your true nature.

“They’re looking at your watch.”

He grits his teeth, eyeing the snotty friend group who’s gathered in a tiny circle and are laughing, their eyes constantly looking at you. He knows for sure that you get a lot of looks, but there’s just something about how they each take mischievous glances at you and laugh obnoxiously at the next second.

Yoongi models for a living, of course he’d know how to read people. He knows how to read body language from years of observing and expressing; he knows how to read lips from waiting between glass panes to see if he would be casted back in his rookie days.

“They’re making fun of you.” Either you don’t hear him or you chose not to pay attention to him, but he repeats it more sternly this time. He comes closer to you with a scowl, crossing his arms as he steps in front of you slightly to cover you from their eyes. “They’re looking at your watch.”

You look up from your phone, tucking it into your pocket. You heard Yoongi the first time but now he sounds more urgent than the last, finally indulging him.

“Who?”

He gestures his head slyly to the group that’s not that far from you in the first place, definitely out of earshot but still completely visible to look at their shadows. “Them.”

Not a second passes that you look at his line of sight, boldly staring even if you catch one of them looking at you. She was laughing at first but it registers belatedly that you’re looking directly at her, making her turn her head away. You recognize her.

Yoongi’s eyes widen to realize that you’ve basically just let them know that you’re aware they’re talking about you, the heads-up coming from him directly.

“The one in the red shirt,” your chin points, looking back at Yoongi to see if he’s catching up. “She’s been stuck as the coffee runner for years. She applied to become a manager five times last year and look where she is.”

He could grasp slightly why you’re telling him this, but the point doesn’t completely sink in. He knows that you’re easily one of the highest-paid managers in the whole industry and you could really put the girl in place if you wanted to.

“But she’s making fun of you.”

At his frown, you sigh. The both of you know that he wouldn’t let this go not unless you get redeemed in some way. Whether that some way would be standing up for yourself or him doing it for you, Yoongi simply wanted to have her karma one way or another.

She meets your eyes again, you motion her to come over using just two fingers, and she does.

She looks more catty and arrogant the last time you saw her, even if she is neither of those things when she’s scared shitless in front of you. You don’t remember insignificant faces but you only manage to remember her because the last time you crossed paths (in the same luxury store while you were getting Yoongi’s necessities), she was hurling profanities at the store manager simply for running out of stock of her desired bag.

“Run to the next block and get me twenty drinks.”

She’s dressed poshly in her tweed jacket and yet her eyes blink dimly, tripping over her words. “R-run?” she repeats, “twenty?”

“Do you expect any of us to let you use our company vehicles just to go to the next block? To get drinks?”

“N-no, ma’am,” she shakes her head earnestly, swallowing the lump of karma in her throat. She’s beyond embarrassed to see the glances towards her, most especially her friends’. She was just talking smack about you and the things she’s heard and at the next blink later, she was being summoned by none other than you.

She swallows her pride, internally cussing herself for being so obvious and so dense. It was true what she heard about you — you don’t let anything go past you.

“What should I get for you?”

Your mouth curves into a small smile, nudging the model beside you.

“I’ll let Yoongi decide for me.”

His mouth falls on why he’s suddenly being dragged into this but there’s just something, something that just plasters his mind as fast as it was formed. He’s not necessarily vindictive, but he is fair.

“Vanilla bean crême frappe, heavy cream, half-cup soy milk, with cream in the largest cup they have, no ice, no water, with honey drizzle, protein powder, no whip, with sweet cream, add chocolate chips, blueberry toppings.”

You have to suppress your laugh.

You’re trying so earnestly to keep yourself composed and the way your chuckle tickles your throat is making it hard, opting to bite your lip instead. He’s funny — something about him coming to your side in the form of a serious, obnoxiously long drink order is just so amusing to you.

“A-and uhm, and the other nineteen?”

She’s the only one who isn’t entertained by the situation of it all, eyes widening at the gravity of her own question.

“Ask around.”

Yoongi snickers to himself quietly, waiting to see her go to the other staff members before finally chuckling out loud. He can’t contain himself, shaking his head repeatedly at what you just did.

“You’re evil.”

“And you helped me,” your tongue clicks to the roof of your mouth, laughing alongside him. “Besides, I’m giving her a job to do.”

Come to think of it, you’re not unnecessarily rude. You’re quick on your feet and even more on your tongue but you don’t go to excessive lengths. You could be snippy and snappy but only within grounds. You’re not rude until you’re provoked and Yoongi knows that.

You tell him briefly how you knew the girl and it doesn’t take much explanation why he would do the same if he was in your position, nodding earnestly while you ask him.

“Who’s making fun of who now?”

He laughs breathlessly, smiling to himself before keeping his eyes on the ground. He peeks up at you, eyes glazing your wrist first in deep thought.

“You’re the only manager I know who doesn’t use a smart watch.”

“I’m the only manager you need to know.”

“It’s so scratched up,” he reasons, circling his hand around your wrist to hold it up. He pokes at the hardware, a slight pout on his face. “The clasp won’t even close.”

“It could still tell me the time,”

“You had to replace the batteries twice this week.”

Yoongi surprises you at times. He sometimes renders you speechless with the random things he remembers about you and the mementos he remembers you by. He’s liquid light at your fingertips, always flowing and never stagnant.

He surprises you when you’re oblivious to the fact that his hard gaze on the camera is not to appease the photographer but because he’s actually in deep thought.

He surprises you that in-between takes, he peers at you to see what way he’s going next. He does extra well to have a break called earlier, no longer able to have his thoughts to himself.

Yoongi surprises you while you aren’t looking, unwinding as you eat your lunch before you check in on him again. He take off his own watch from his wrist, swiftly removing your own to replace it with his.

“Wear this starting now.”

“I really don’t care if they make fun of me, Yoongi.”

You mean it sincerely — a random, insignificant person’s opinions on you, much less the watch you wear, doesn’t really matter. You’d continue wearing it whether Yoongi gave you the heads-up about it or not.

You’d fight him on it and return the watch, but with the way he’s just gripping you softly to remind you that his watch isn’t the only thing that’s hugging your skin, or even the way he pleads you silently to accept something of his — you don’t object.

“But I do,” he says sincerely, pocketing your old watch in the meantime. “I care.”

.

.

It’s not everyday that you grab lunch with the company’s CEO, but it’s also not everyday that you have to pat his back repeatedly after almost choking on his food.

“Oh that’s hard.”

Namjoon remarks while you grab him a napkin, his eyes instantly catching the glint of the timepiece on your wrist. He’s casual with you just like he is with Yoongi, seeing to it that his company was just barely taking off when the two of you were signed in. He has an eye for detail and he’s certain he could never forget, head tilting in wonder.

“Didn’t you use to wear a watch that was a little more… shabby?”

The huff leaves you faster than you could repress it, rolling your eyes playfully. You don’t know why it’s such a big deal because at the end of the day, you don’t even flaunt it around. Ever since Yoongi gave you his watch for you to wear, things just felt differently.

“It’s just a watch.”

“That’s a Rolex.”

You sigh in acknowledgement, knowing the brand well considering you’d see the insignia every time you look at the time. “And a Rolex is a watch.”

Namjoon chews through his salad quickly, adamant to correct you.

“No, that’s the Rolex Oyster Perpetual Datejust watch,” he shakes his head eagerly, holding up your wrist to point out the craftsmanship. He goes about the tangent on what makes it timeless, on his way to his eighth point of defense before you start growing sick of the jargon.

“Are you being paid to say this or what?” you chuckle, snatching your wrist back. “I didn’t buy this anyway. Yoongi just gave this to me.”

You continue eating but Namjoon stops in his tracks, mouth parting open to try and grasp what you just said.

“He did?” he curls his voice, not wanting to believe it at first. He looks back at the timepiece and he could immediately tell what makes it to be truly Yoongi’s, heartily chuckling once it clicks into his mind. “Huh. Interesting. This watch means a lot to him.”

“Yeah, his first paycheck,” you nod, knowing that he knows about the story too, “but apparently not so much. He told me that I needed it more than he did so he just gave it away.”

How endearing.

“I was with him when he bought that watch,” Namjoon pipes in, genuinely surprising you because it’s the first you’ve heard of it. He smiles at your awe, mumbling to himself when he catches you looking at the watch in wonder. “That’s probably why it doesn’t look weird on you. It’s always been yours.”

“Huh? What do you mean by that?” you catch his words instantly, your eyebrows furrowing with what he just said, “this watch has never been mine before.”

Namjoon doesn’t elaborate, instead just smiling at you. It isn’t his place to tell, but no one really said that it isn’t his position to be happy watching from afar.

“If you say so.”

( ♡ )

If you’re not worrying about Yoongi’s today, then you’re worrying about his tomorrow.

Sometime between his hectic schedule, there were days that opened up the opportunity for relaxation. By relaxation, you mean his rest.

Perhaps the two of you have been desensitized to working extremely tiring workdays that a slightly less tiring day already feels like a vacation. The motions of caring for Yoongi made you realize that you could never properly rest until you’re working on something, whether it would be peeling tangerines while watching your shows or crocheting while getting your pedicures.

You’re so used to the idea of not allowing yourself to rest and it’s taking its toll on you slowly but surely. You aren’t necessarily in denial because after all you know you’re cut out for this job, but sooner or later, you know that this would end one day. You’ve saved more than enough and as much as you aren’t worried about the financial aspect of taking a break and perhaps retiring early, you’re scared shitless.

There would come a time when you have to stop taking care of Yoongi.

Now is not the time though.

"I have an idea,” Yoongi bursts into your office carrying nothing but a paper bag, his smile too wide that you have to take your eyes off of your spreadsheet to savor it fully.

"Mhmm."

He skips past your tone of indifference, sitting at the chair in front of your desk without his grin faltering.

"I'm gonna dye my hair orange,” he announces confidently without any room for doubt. He cheers, even, “It's gonna look so good on me, I swear. Plus my hair's longer now too!"

It suits him, just now realizing that he had a haircut to give shape to the length he’s been growing out; only his sides being buzzed. His bangs are pushed away from his forehead and he looks too pretty this way. A little more rugged and a little less prim, the silhouette of his hair complimenting his features nicely.

You’re only reminded of how you’ve been too silent for too long when Yoongi tilts his head, prompting you to clear your throat as if it never happened.

"That's not a bad idea," you shrug, thinking far ahead of the reactions when his new look gets revealed. His hair has been a faded blonde for quite some time now, but he was easy on the eyes regardless. “It's been awhile since you did something new with your hair."

"I'll fit it in your schedule," you conclude, pulling up your phone amongst the many devices you have a copy of his schedule in. “Are you free on-"

"Now. I'm free now."

There goes Yoongi again with the endearingly eager tone, the one that lulls you to let go a little. He seems excited about it and as much as you don’t want to spoil the mood, you atleast want to let him know about the downsides before you need to rein him in.

"You're doing it yourself?" he hears you wince, scratching your temple unsurely. "I don't know about that, Yoongs. Box dye makes your hair crunchy. Remember when you tried red?"

"One step ahead of you," he beams, taking out item after item from the paper bag he couldn’t seem to let go of when he first entered. "I got what they would use on me in the salon. They even wrote the instructions by hand, look!"

Cute.

Yoongi’s cute.

"You did something by yourself?" you gasp dramatically, receiving the energy right back because he’s in a good mood.

"Shocker, right?" he hums, purposefully taking out the gloves from the bag as the last item. He pulls them out agonizingly slow, making your eyes squint until you sense the material being pushed to your hands. "Least I could do because you're the one who's dyeing my hair."

"What?" your mouth falls open, “you already went to the salon to get these yourself. Couldn't you let them do it instead?" It’s not like the thought of dyeing Yoongi’s hair repulses you, but it just makes you nervous for a reason. It’s too domestic, too intimate because knowing the difference of your nature from being in the hairdressers, the two of you are close. Conversation flows freely while you do such a thing for him.

Being domestic with Yoongi doesn’t scare you — mistaking his definition of normalcy as your intimacy does.

“Silly," he coos, "I'm making you dye my hair so in case it goes bad, I won't blame myself!"

You thank the heavens that Yoongi is himself.

"Perfect."

It’s half an hour later until you get everything sorted out, turning your office into a makeshift salon for the meantime with your main priority being ventilation, your door already opened with numerous fans turned on.

Yoongi seems giddy — in his salon cape with a drink on his hand, even coercing you to look into the mirror in front of the both of you so he could take pictures.

Before you could even do it, he removes his own cap from his head, placing it on yours gingerly.

"Keep it."

"Why?"

He’s used to you asking why but this time around, there’s no grand motive to it. You’re not shivering from cold pool water nor are you being made fun of for your watch. There’s no cause-effect tangent to it this time.

"No reason. I just feel like giving it to you."

You’re used to Yoongi not explaining.

He could enunciate himself well, you know it. But being with him for so long in a way wherein you’re heavily involved, sometimes, Yoongi doesn’t need to explain. You know what he wants and you know what he means before he could open his mouth, needless for a grand explanation.

"You're either a cat or a crow."

The observation you keep at the tip of your tongue slips seamlessly when you see his eyes closed, looking ahead at the reflection to see that you’re still wearing his cap even if he isn’t looking.

"Are you high?" he peeks one eye open, a snort leaving him at the suddenness of your words.

The chuckle that leaves you is warm enough to soothe Yoongi’s cheeks, automatically making him smile.

"Sometimes you bring me your hunts.” Just like Sohee’s cardigan, or better yet the entire concept of his ex-girlfriend. Yoongi could be the cat and Sohee could be the rabbit, but in all honestly, you can’t really tell who is which.

“Sometimes you bring me shiny things." She grounds him to what he’s used to, and he restricts his flight to all he’s ever known. Somewhere along, you’ve just been the designated feeder of the crow for him to come around at times, dropping shiny gifts on your lap; case in point the very watch you wear now.

Crows and cats don’t have a lot in common but one of their similarities is the love for the game — the hunt for what’s normal. One gifts, and one scavenges.

"One day, you'll be putting a dead rat right on my hands and I won't be surprised."

"Ew. I hate rats." Yoongi almost gags in his mouth, the mention of the rodent making his skin crawl.

"If I were to give you a rat, I won't put it in your hands," he clarifies, taking your own analogy to fit his. "I'll just bring you to the rat instead!”

"How romantic."

"I know right," he grins cheesily, obviously pleased with himself. “That way, you’re surprised with something so off-putting.”

( ♡ )

Yoongi has the eye for spontaneity.

He tends to be on the impulsive side, but as far as he knows (emphasis on as far), none of his rash decisions ever resulted into harm. He only wants within reason and after two minutes of just pure critical thinking, he knows what he wants.

To go to the rest stop just wearing his sleep shirt and pajamas, buy three packs of ramen and two freshly-toasted corndogs, split it with you evenly, and eat and talk with you by the spinning high chairs.

Yoongi rings you only once at 9 in the evening, you pick him up, and by 9:42, you’re already cracking eggs and blowing on noodles.

“God, this just hits the spot,” Yoongi moans against the hot meal. He’d been craving for the specific experience for awhile now, missing the atmosphere on going on late night drives and stopovers. It reminds him of the family trips when he was a kid, thoroughly enjoying it even if he was an only child. His dad would fill up the car, his mom would go to the clerk to get the keys for the bathroom, and he’d finally walk with no urgency on his step once it’s over.

Just like his family, you ask him what else he wants to eat. And even if he says there’s nothing else, you grab additional snacks you know he would like. He would just read labels upon the racks of things he can’t normally see in a grocery store, take note of what he wants to buy later, and reserves a seat.

“It’s good that you called me. I was fucking craving for the same exact thing,” you grunt in delight when the hot meal instantly takes you aback, the first bite of it never failing to hit the mark.

You like evening drives and rest stop adventures. There’s something so warm in seeing car windows fog up because of the airconditioner and doodling on the moisture. There’s something so cool in draping makeshift blankets and cramming your hands inside sweaters as soon as everyone talks about the gameplan to not stay for long in the stopover.

There’s something so homey in Yoongi asking you to join him into a distinct experience you wanted to go through again — even if you never told him how much you want what he wants too.

“You took your earrings out?”

He comments when he waits for you to finish the remaining bits of your meal, looking at your side profile when he noticed the lack of jewelry on your ear.

“Mhmm,” you hum in confirmation, eyebrows furrowing when his fingers pinch your lobes in curiosity.

“Here, have this.”

Yoongi removes his own earrings without a second thought, using the overpriced wet tissues to clean them thoroughly.

Perhaps it’s because you’re already used to him and his split-second decisions that you aren’t surprised when he nimbly takes off his own jewelry while you’re eating, focused on his own task.

Yoongi uses his hand to cup your jaw, keeping your side profile faced to him. He knows that you aren’t hurt with piercings but he takes great care anyway when he puts in his hoops on your lobes. He does it closely that you feel hyper-aware of his warm palm on your chin to turn your head the other way, putting in the last earring for you.

"It's white gold," he chimes, flicking you hoops. “Protects you from all the bad things, apparently."

You distract yourself from the incredible warmth you feel by making conversation, turning your attention to the table first before gaining the courage to return the eye contact.

"Bad things?"

Yoongi nods.

"Evil things. I don't know, things that hurt you, I guess. Just bad things."

"You believe in these?"

There’s no malice to your question to at all, the both of you knowing that you wouldn’t ever cross such ground.

"Correction, my mom believes in all these," Yoongi rectifies, laughing in recollection of the random things he knows.

One time during a trip to the rest stop, when his ramen was unbelievably hot and his mom was cooling it down for him, she told him of the little tidbits about white gold to keep him preoccupied. His family wasn’t well-off but he distinctly remembers how all the jewelry he had growing up was all real and pawnable.

"I think believing in these trivial things don't matter that much, honestly. As long as no one gets harmed, it isn't so bad," he shrugs. It takes one, two seconds before he pinches his fingers, finally admitting. “okay, maybe I do believe a little."

"Your earrings better work on me,” you joke, borrowing his overpriced mirror that he bought at the cashier to look at your earrings. “As long as I wear them, I won't be hurt?"

"Well I can't promise that you won't ever be hurt as long as you wear my earrings," Yoongi rolls his eyes as expected, making you do the same.

"Isn't it bad luck to wear secondhand jewelry?"

You point out in realization, holding out your wrist and gently tugging at your earlobes, waiting to see if he has any more tidbits that he knows.

Cute.

You’re cute.

"First off, I gave these to you and you already know me. You didn't buy them from a stranger," he emphasizes, “it's a bit of a grey area but it's only bad luck if the person you got it from had bad intentions."

"And you-"

Yoongi smacks you at the back of the head before you even get to finish your question, being quite the paradox when he does so.

"Of course I don't have bad intentions!" he exclaims, then soothing the back of your head with his warm palm rubbing in circles. "I'll never hurt you, y'know?"

"Hm," you hum, looking away so he wouldn’t see how flustered you are. “If you say so."

You’re about to eat another bite of your ramen when Yoongi surprises you by taking your utensils, putting the portion closer to him so he could blow off the steam.

You almost burnt your tongue, he reasons, making you part your mouth open to feed you.

"See?" he whispers knowingly, flicking both your watch and earrings that were once his. "Good intentions only."

( ♡ )

Every once in a while, Yoongi takes you along with him to his parents’ house.

He’s being a good son by constantly giving back to his parents and recognizing that their upbringing of him tremendously helped him to remain humble in the industry.

He’s being a good son by indulging their giggly requests if he could sign some things for a friend’s daughter or a colleague’s son, even paying attention to his handwriting.

He’s being a good son by keeping his feet on the ground no matter how high he gets because regardless if he’s in his childhood home or not, he would be still be as humble as Min Yoongi, his parents’ son, before he became the renowned personality he is now.

His parents always gush over you and an interaction never passes without them thanking you because in a way, you made their son grow in ways they haven’t. Through it all, they would never forget Yoongi introducing you to them as his manager — a bright-eyed, headstrong individual who in reality, has never become a manager to someone until Yoongi came along.

He’s a good son who is always sincere but you don’t know anything when he pipes in the dinner table when the focus was shifted to you, being frozen in your seat while the coos remained around.

"Girl of my dreams right here.”

Yoongi speaks to his food as if he didn’t call you the girl of his dreams right then and there in front of his parents.

He says it casually as if he was talking about the weather or going on about his tire pressure. He says it so easily as if he’s extremely familiar about it and it makes you warm.

He makes you warm but you always get stiff as if you’re frozen, your eyes unable to remain still through the entirety of dinner.

You’re not sure if it’s Yoongi staying with his filial son role but as soon as the first drop of the heavy rain hits their roof, until realization hits that you only came here through Yoongi’s car, until traffic updates say that there’s zero visibility on road — Yoongi asks you to stay.

"Just sleep in my room."

There’s no argument to it with the way he sternly looks at you, knowing that you’d always avoid being a “burden” even if you aren’t seen as one in the slightest bit; especially where he is– even in his childhood home.

"Where would you sleep?"

"Guest room," he answers nonchalantly. He takes the opportunity to joke, sensing your hesitancy on staying the night even if you knew it was technically impossible to leave. “Why? Thought I was sleeping next to you?"

He wiggles his eyebrows in teasing and as much as it loosened you up a little, you whine in complaint. "But I'm the guest."

"I'm sleeping in the guest room because the AC is much quieter," he whispers in admission, "My bed here is softer but the downside you have is that," he points to the airconditioning unit, “that thing's a mammoth."

"Oh."

Of course, there’s no other reason behind the room assignments besides Yoongi wanting to sleep in peace and quiet. But he senses the way you’re silent over it, rambling nonsense to fill in the void.

"Like seriously, the room shakes and you'd think the cold that comes out of it is proportional to all its heaving. It's like-"

If he was being honest, Yoongi wanted you to sleep in his bedroom because it would help him sleep at night knowing that you’re safe.

He didn’t want to say it out loud but really, he didn’t want you to sleep in the only guest room they had because he had just found out that there was a leak in the ceiling. He wouldn’t make you go through that (and his parents don’t either) which is why even if he had already given his room to you, the moment you turn into bed, he’d be going with his dad to the garage to see if they could patch it up before morning comes.

"Night, Yoongi."

He smiles, hoping he didn’t hurt you drastically this time.

"Good night."

( ♡ )

A manager should always be on-guard.

It was reasonable to think about the worst of everything and everyone in order to gauge the best you could care for your artist. It isn’t exactly hypocritical to do so considering the stakes at hand; you need to do whatever it takes.

You aren’t sure when your level of complacency started. You’re still on the tip of your toes each time you’re working with Yoongi, your quality of work never wavering. You had no problem living up to your reputation.

Your complacency in thinking that nothing would ever hurt Yoongi is far bigger than you expected it to be. You held both him and yourself to the highest degree — there’s sincerely nothing bad to be said about him. His track record’s clean and you intend keeping it that way.

There was no room for error in your management for Yoongi, that much you knew. You know to yourself that you’re the most thorough, intricate, and nurturing they could ever come.

You just don’t know where you went wrong in caring for Yoongi.

“I need you.”

Yoongi calls you on your rest day at 8 in the morning, his calls relentlessly growing in number when you don’t immediately pick up at the first ring. You were supposed to sleep in but at the sight of his name on you personal phone, you already know that the few hours of additional sleep are down the drain.

“What for?”

“I just need you to come.”

His voice is trembling, panicky even. You ask nothing but the address of where you need to go to, hanging up as soon as he mumbles in a daze of where he is now.

By the time you hung up, you were still in bed. You have every intention to get ready as soon as you can, and you’re gonna stand up any second now! Any second now and you screw your eyes shut, exhaling loudly to attend to him. It’s getting harder to wake up for Yoongi’s needs.

By the time you arrive at the broadcasting building he directed you to, you’re already escorted inside in a hurry by guards who saw you coming. Yoongi already gave them the heads-up to let only you in and no one else, catching your breath when you take the elevator with them.

They’re trained to be professional as it was a given. None of them break a sweat but you could see their chests rising, their earpieces giving feedback every two seconds with the way they respond urgently. It must be serious, you think.

You’re escorted into a dressing room that doesn’t have Yoongi’s name on it, being met with said man when you’re practically pushed inside. Your dressing room’s barricaded and you have no time to think when Yoongi pulls you to the corner, your eyes momentarily fleeting to the people inside.

They’re all unfamiliar to you besides Sohee. Several of them lend their gazes to you but they’re all back to being frantic as it seems; some drumming their fingers nervously on the couch, some pacing around the carpet with their phones pressed to their ear.

“Sohee’s bag was stolen.”

Yoongi announces it to you and he gulps the lump in his throat, putting his hands on his hips while he tries to calm down his breathing. Sohee was in the main studio filming an interview for her upcoming drama, he was watching her from backstage, and the rest of the staff were getting lunch in the cafeteria — in turn, no one being left in the dressing room.

“Sohee’s bag was stolen?” you repeat. Your eyebrows knit in confusion, stating the obvious. “That’s not your bag.”

He nods like he understand but you don’t think he understands. There’s not a single explanation of why you’re called here other than his ex-girlfriend’s bag was stolen.

“How does this concern me at all?”

He squints his eyes, surprised why you’re even questioning him. Normally you just do what you’re asked but his mind’s too panicked at the moment to even call you out for it, resorting to pleading. “Because her laptop’s in it. Please. Y/N, you have to start calling who you need to call-“

You’re still lost and you won’t even pretend otherwise, reaching out to grab his arm for him to stop pacing and start explaining instead.

“The studio’s been on lockdown, there’s no one in or out. The one who took it must still be in the building.”

“She could buy a new laptop for fuck’s sake,” you reply crassly, forgetting that Sohee’s still in the same room as you. You don’t know why you’re even summoned here on your rest day. “Why would you call me for something you’re not even involved in?”

“But I-I am involved in it.”

Yoongi swallows the lump in his throat and he could visibly see how your eyes are much more focused now, the nervousness ticking in his spine while you probe him to go further.

“There’s sensitive information of me, of us, in her laptop.”

Your composure starts the clock for its erosion, sucking in a breath while you try to figure out how you’d go with this. “Bank account details? Your home address? What’s in there?”

“Sensitive information.”

“Tell me specifically,” you counter, trying to refresh your knowledge about the people you could connect with to deal with a possible security leak. You start to look for names in your contacts and search for who could get you a direct link to someone who’d be of great help, waiting on his answer

“It’s just — i-it’s sensitive,” he doesn’t help his case at all by being shy about it, pushing you to become more frantic. This whole ordeal is time-sensitive and if he trips on his words more, the aftermath of it would be far more tensioned than the room is now.

“I can’t help you if I don’t know, Yoongi!”

Yoongi sucks in a breath and he feels tears pricking at his eyes out of the pressure in his stomach, cracking his fingers. He shuts his eyes to try and compose himself, grounding whatever’s left of his sanity by looking at you.

“Sex tape.”

He didn’t know what reaction to expect from you and to be honest, he doesn’t even know if he’d like any of them. Admitting it to you is far more painful than thinking about the possible repercussions of this whole thing.

You don’t know what your face does. You can’t tell if it dimmed with anger or if it fell with disappointment. You can’t discern if your mouth falls open at surprise or if it fell in surprise. You wouldn’t know what you feel even if someone placed a mirror in front of you.

“Sohee and I have a sex tape in there.”

You gather every last bit of your resolve, call out for Sohee’s manager in the room, and go to work.

You go to work immediately about retracing every last person and interaction they have been exposed to; be it Yoongi and Sohee themselves or the staff members. You direct the room and distribute numbers for them to call, under the strict instruction that they contact these people under your name and no one else’s.

You pick up and bark replies at everyone who’s responded to your request for help, Sohee’s staff (who you didn’t even know of until ten minutes ago) calling your attention as soon as they get a definitive answer from their contact.

You direct the building security to look for every cranny that both Yoongi and Sohee’s party went through the moment they went through the studio. You get a radio to be informed about any suspicious movement that went in and out of the dressing room upon their ongoing review on the security cameras.

You ring up Namjoon due to the gravity of the situation. He does the work himself, getting his driver to hightail through the red lights to get to where you and Yoongi were as fast as possible. He calls the people he know on the inside; a high-ranking police officer to speed up the operations in retrieving the laptop and for the upcoming charges, and a bigshot lawyer in case everything goes to shit and the sex tape ends up hitting the internet.

Everything is fast-paced for the next half hour that as soon as you get the acknowledgement in your end of communication, the tension of everything that unfolded not immediately melting even when you get the good news.

“It was a stalker that started working as an intern in advance when he heard Sohee was doing a new drama. He guessed that you’d get an interview here during the promotions because the show you went on is famous. He’s been caught already — he already had previous charges before this.”

Sohee’s manager breaks the good news, making the people inside the dressing room visibly deflate in relief.

“Nothing was touched. Your laptop couldn’t be opened anyway because the battery was out.”

“Was the battery out the last time you used it?” Yoongi asks her just to make sure, the rest of the people listening in because he did make a good counter.

Sohee eagerly nods her head, swiping the sweat from her forehead. “Yeah, yeah! I was meaning to charge it.”

That was the end of it.

That was supposed to be the end of it but Yoongi barely feels relieved.

“That was a close one.”

Namjoon broke the terse silence with the small comment and as if on cue, both Yoongi and Sohee apologize deeply with a bow in front of their staff. None of them had a reason to stay any longer in the building considering what had just happened, Sohee and her team being the ones to pack up earlier.

Namjoon’s bound to have a long talk with Yoongi but he excuses himself for the day, giving him nothing but a stern instruction to see him tomorrow, before leaving.

Yoongi drove on his own to the studio and he could head home right at this moment but he sees you hanging back in the same dressing room, your expression unreadable.

He has every resource and reason to leave right now — to reel back from what happened and save himself from a scolding. He could and can do that right now, but oddly enough, Yoongi feels like he deserves this.

He deserves your blank gaze at nothing in particular before it grows angry at the realization that he’s still not leaving the room.

Seeing Yoongi infuriates you.

He doesn’t know where to start but he professes his honesty first, his stinging tears not holding back this time round.

“I-I have nothing to say for myself,” he shakes his head. “I’m sorry.”

You don’t say anything. You stay silent and withhold any fibre of attention from him. You can’t even look him in the eye and Yoongi can’t deal with it for the life of him.

“The tape’s from last year a-and we thought-“

“I don’t fucking care if that sex tape was from last year or yesterday.”

You grit your reply through your teeth, every last bit of your patience running out at the exact second he decided to defend himself.

“You’re so stupid, Yoongi!” you exclaim in sheer disdain. “Fuck whoever you want but you do not make a sex tape! You don’t film it in laptops! You don’t film yourself cumming on Sohee!”

You can’t even stomach what had and what could have happened in the last hour. It physically makes you sick and you can’t wrap your head around how come you’re the most shaken of them all, barely able to hold it together.

You’ve held it for the last hour but you can’t even try to pretend you’re composed. You’re the furthest thing from being level-headed right now and your loss of grip makes you spiral, unable to grasp even a single straw.

“Do you know how much this could’ve hurt you?”

Frustrated tears spring out of your eyes and throughout the years he’s known you, this is the first time Yoongi’s ever seen you cry. This is the first time he’s ever seen you so wrecked and upset that his mind blanks on how he could help you. You always know what to do for whatever happens to him, today being a clear example — but you’re crying. You’re crying and it’s a cake walk against all the shit about him you’ve had to solve, but Yoongi can’t do anything.

“Her laptop’s backed up into the cloud, for god’s sake! Anyone could’ve hacked her, even!” you point out further. “Everything would be over for you just because you wanted to film your dick getting wet.”

You’ve never had such a drastic release of emotions. You’ve never cried this hard and this frustratedly to the point you whimper and wail to your hands unintelligibly. You’re so, so spent and for once, you focus on no one but yourself.

You focus on nothing besides the rapid rise and fall of your chest, the sobs you’ve never heard coming from your own mouth wracking your ribs.

You focus on nothing besides the way your head feels like it’s splitting open from all off your accumulated stress.

In respect to the time you last did it in years, you focus on no one but yourself.

“Think, Yoongi! Wouldn’t it hurt to just fucking think sometimes?”

“I-I’m sorry! I already told you I’m sorry!” he cries in between hiccups, trying to get you to look at him.

“You’re not sorry enough,” you grit. “What would you have done if it was leaked, huh? You think I can clean up your mess this time? You think I can just bitch at everyone again so they forget your screw-up?”

You save yourself some dignity by aiming straight for the door, another set of footsteps trying to trail after you.

“Don’t be like this,” he pleads, his voice hoarse as he begs to get you to stay. “W-where are you going? Y/N please!”

“Get out of my way.”

Yoongi is neither a cat or a crow, but he is himself. And as what he once promised, he brings you to the rat; something so off-putting and gut-wrenching.

In your rush to get out, your earrings get caught at a hook by the door. You’re desperate enough to leave that you push through, barely feeling the pain.

Your ear burns and although it's not torn, you feel the sting of the tiny tear of your– Yoongi's earring on your lobe, the warm sensation of red making you shiver for a vague second.

You're hurt.

( ♡ )

For the first time ever, you take a break.

You grab an overdue two-week break you’re entitled to but have never used, and you make the most of it.

Namjoon granted it for you instantly without asking any questions, even going as far as telling you that you could charge everything on the bottomless company card.

Both your personal and work phones were turned off, only responding to urgent situations through email which you thankfully had none of so far.

It’s at a Monday night when you go to a high-end club you’ve only seen from the outside, the scene indoors still as frisky and dirty as other places, but this time with a little more tact.

There’s more than a handful of familiar faces you see but none of the interactions you see now are for the camera. You came here simply to be a part of the environment, not to necessarily get wasted. Oddly enough you crave the busy environment even if the people here aren’t in a rush to go somewhere; and neither are you.

“I know you.”

Someone beside your bar stool chimes and you have to rely on the dim glow of the bar to identify who it was, waiting for the aid of the flashing lights to illuminate the figure.

He’s as handsome as it goes with his sharp, refined features — plump lips and kind eyes with an athletic figure, his jet black hair slicked back prettily.

“I know you too,” you reply just as surely.

He chuckles heartily, his broad shoulders coming along with him as he tilts his head. He’s charming, really.

“You’re the pretty girl backstage who told me someone was taking pictures of me while I was changing,” he reminisces, remembering your goodwill of informing him. He didn’t even know he was having his pictures taken by a perverted intern, but before he could even thank you, you call out the intern loudly and publicly until he gets taken by security. “I only caught your name after I walked the runway. I didn’t get to thank you back then.”

Your eyes glaze at Kim Seokjin’s honesty because the moment he opened his mouth, you thought you would be known for one thing only — you thought he would define you as Yoongi’s manager.

The surprise encompasses you that during your first interaction outside of work, and even throughout, Seokjin would always know you as the one who gave him a heads-up from years ago. He remembered the small act of kindness back when you were a rookie manager and he was a rookie model. In fact, that whole incident almost slipped your mind if not for his memory. Now that you recall, you were only there backstage for Yoongi but in your nature, you couldn’t help but to look out for him too.

“You’re the pretty boy who gave me heat packs in that outdoor shoot.”

It was Seokjin’s turn to be awed, lips curling over the fact that you remember the tiny act of service from years ago. It was after his changing incident, but he didn’t get to thank you properly because your guard dog (read: Yoongi) kept hounding him away from you, so all he managed to do was put heat packs on your lap in a hurry.

In that moment, you didn’t know each other as your reputations.

In Jin’s eyes, you weren’t Yoongi’s manager.

In your eyes, he wasn’t the esteemed rival that Yoongi hated the most.

You knew of their history briefly. From Yoongi’s retelling, they were high school buddies whose friendship turned sour when they were vying for the same big modeling agency who only had one slot left for its roster. Seokjin was the one who got accepted and Yoongi swears to you that his ex-friend must’ve sabotaged his application. It turned out for the better because he ended signing with Namjoon instead (and look where he is now!) but he still won’t let go of what allegedly happened.

Now that you think about it, Yoongi’s dislike for Seokjin just seems one-sided. It was all based on assumption, and you know well how the logic of it is flawed.

You came here to unwind, and just by the karma of goodwill, you come home with Seokjin.

He’s attentive with the way he kisses you deeply, mouth trailing hot against yours and he isn’t shy to show you just how much he wants you, where he wants you, and how exactly he wants you.

He’s addictive to the point you only think what he wants you to, nothing else but your pleasure and him who gives it. He’s selfless with the way he takes his time to not half-ass anything with the pretty girl he came home with, skilled in every which way.

“You haven’t been getting what you deserve lately, have you?”

Seokjin asks in the middle of leaving hickies on the inside of your thighs, his warm palm pressed flat against your clit — rubbing almost lazily to give you a break before pushing you to another high again for the night.

“And what do I deserve, hm?” you ask him to humor you through heavy-lidded eyes, the unreleased tension you’ve harbored finally getting released little by little.

Seokjin thinks you’re hot; admirable. You’re a little mean but he loves it just like that, licking his lips in sincerity amidst lust. “Worshipped.”

“Don’t worry, baby,” he fucks you unlike any other, undoing all the sexual frustration you’ve had because of your busy career. He gives you everything in the same way you bare yourself, and you don’t mind if it’s only for the night. “I’ll take good care of you.”

( ♡ )

The plan was to resign, pack up your office, and get your last paycheck from Namjoon.

It was meant to be a smooth transaction, double-checking with him and the stand-in manager that you wouldn’t bump into Yoongi and have an unnecessary confrontation.

You’ve only opened both of your phones now after two weeks and not a second later upon opening them, hundreds of notifications started flooding in. You couldn’t even scroll past without your phone glitching, sometimes even freezing in between messages that get previewed.

You aren’t scared of seeing Yoongi — you simply just don’t want to see him if you had the chance to. Your anger for him no longer remains but you know you can’t stomach the sight of him either.

He became listless starting two weeks ago and just at the signal of a security guard he’s tipped off (to notify him if you enter the premises), he immediately comes to you.

You don’t even get to finish packing your desk and drawers because Yoongi bursts through your door in a hurry.

He looks haggard; way unlike him. He looks distraught and that’s because he truly is, stopping at nothing to try and contact you during the time you’ve been gone. He’s relieved to see you, he really is, but that feeling of solace completely leaves him when he realizes what you’re here for.

“Was that it?” he blurts out, eyes already stinging just from seeing you.

“Was that the plan all along? You take a two-week leave from being my manager and then suddenly, you resign?! You resign and you become Seokjin’s manager?” he says the last part in a whisper, unsure if he hears correctly what he’s even saying. “The whole point of your break is to leave me?”

You’re calm but it doesn’t placate him, the genuine confusion over what he’s last said apparent.

“Where’s this coming from?”

“And that’s the first thing you say for yourself?” Yoongi’s eyes widen. “I’m over here losing my shit because you’re replacing me with the person I hate most, and you’re asking me where’s this coming from?”

He knows where’s this coming from.

He knows that the reason for the feeling of betrayal looming in his chest is a couple of pictures, supposedly a blind item article of Seokjin. Out of all people, he would know how the paparazzi are extremely invasive of celebrities’ privacy. He hates being the center of them and hates reading them even more, but it’s you.

But it’s you and him.

“There’s pictures of you online having lunch with him. You have your mask on but I could spot you from anywhere. What else could you possibly be meeting him for?”

He knows it’s bad of him to jump into conclusions and rely solely on assumptions, but it’s not as if you were denying them now. You know about his distrust for the guy and you’ve been with him for years. Shouldn’t you be on his side?

“I’m not his manager. I didn’t meet him for that.”

He knows he should feel relief but at the same time, the unease that comes with it overpowers. If it wasn’t business, then it was personal. It’s the thought of the latter that makes him weak on the knees, swallowing his fear when he dares to ask you.

“Then what else could you-“ he goes straight in, “you were meeting with him outside of work?”

“Yeah, I was.”

Yoongi always tries to be lovable.

He always tries to not look at anyone the wrong way and makes it a point to be kind, distinguishing himself from the attitude of his manager. Although not once did your attitude get him in trouble, he wouldn’t lie and say that he gets embarrassed to be linked with you sometimes.

Sometimes, he wants to crawl into a hole underground when you confront someone over something he could easily overlook.

There are times when he wants you to just let him take the beating, to let him take the unfairness of others’ actions instead. He doesn’t want you jumping to his defense all the time because he doesn’t want to be known as someone who hides behind their manager’s back.

But now, now that he tastes the bitter feeling of what tastes like betrayal, he’s not so sure if it was right of him to feel embarrassed of you.

“Why would you meet with my enemy?”

There are times when you don’t want Yoongi to be the artist you manage.

He tends to be too full of himself at times, so much so that you get culture shock when you interact with someone who isn’t a celebrity in the likes of him. He associates you with himself all the time and as much as it flatters you, it could be annoying just like what he’s doing now.

You and Yoongi aren’t the same person.

“My problems don’t revolve around your problems, Yoongi!”

“Well they should!” he spits, looking down on you. “That’s the whole reason you’re my-“

“Manager? Again? My whole life should only revolve and stop in the name of yours because I’m your manager?”

The slow build of your anger speeds up at the word. Manager. Manager. You’ve heard it too many times in your lifetime and it’s sickening. It makes you want to throw up in the inside of your mouth and you want to purge itself clean. It’s no longer a title you adored but instead, it’s become an entity with a shadow bigger than yourself.

“My life revolves way too much around you, Yoongi. I’m getting sick of it!”

He swallows the hurt at your insistence of separating your life from his, even if you’ve spent the prime of your years with each other. The both of you grew up too fast but you grew up with each other, your lives getting entangled in the way.

“You don’t get to complain because you stuck around for it. Your job is to take care of me.”

“I know I accepted the job. I know it was my job to take care of you,” you emphasize the past tense but he tries to rectify it quickly, head insistently shaking no.

“Is. It is still your job.”

Yoongi clinging to you used to be a good thing. It used to remind you of how good you are and how compatible the both of you go along with each other, but this was different. Yoongi’s clinging to you because he refuses to accept no other choice, not even seeing past the work you’ve undertaken that’s becomes detrimental to your wellbeing as a whole.

It hurts to say but the words slips out of you regardless.

“But you’re too much, Yoongi. You are too much for me.”

“Oh, I’m too much?”

He’s fighting his tears but he knows he’s not feeling you. You’ve seen him vulnerable too many times to count but he’s stubborn. He’s stubborn and he fights with you because it’s the only thing that would keep you here. tongue against the inside of his cheek.

“Yeah, I said what I said,” you reply but your voice trembles. “But you don’t tell me that I don’t have the right to complain because it’s my job to put up with you.”

The offense you take to his words grow bigger because in hindsight, all that you have endured have basically been fit into a single nametag — all the burdens you have gone through and all the hurt you carried being reduced to a job you easily could’ve abandoned in the first place.

“I’m sorry that I complained because I was cleaning up after your messes and you don’t even apologize to me once about what you’ve caused. I’m so sorry for getting frustrated because I could move mountains for you and you wouldn’t even thank me once because it’s my job, right?”

You’re crying and you hate it with the pride you try so hard to protect, but if you were to be honest with yourself, the concept of pride had long been gone the moment you signed up to take care of Yoongi.

“I’m sorry that I got short with you because I was preventing your sex tape from hitting the internet.”

The mention of it hits deep and he visibly recoils, hot tears falling on his cheeks to the point that they get red under the sting.

“You have everyone and everything! I take care of you before I take care of myself. I bend at your will and act for your own good but you can’t even take no from me as answer. I get tired taking care of you and the moment I let myself go, you won’t let me?”

Somehow, you knew the reason all this time of why you felt sluggish every time you wake up. You wake up for your job, for Yoongi. He’s the reason you wake up but frankly it hasn’t been enough for quite some time, the task of being there for him feeling like an obligation more than it is a passion.

“I can’t go home for my mom’s birthday because you need me to deliver flowers to your ex-girlfriend. I can’t take my nephew to school because you need me to fetch your suits for you. I can’t do anything for myself without feeling guilty that I’m not putting you first!”

By now you’re crying like the last time you saw him, but you don’t crumble underneath him. You’re hurt but you’re trying to will your knees in taking the weight of your heart.

“Do you know that I go to work even if you don’t? I take care of you even if you’re on break. I take care of you even if you’re celebrating your mother’s birthday abroad. I take care of you even if I’m not beside you.”

You’re exhausted. You’re spent. You’re burnt out and you can’t see the end of the tunnel. You’re not fire — you don’t ignite all of a sudden after being extinguished just because of a random chunk of ember.

“Wanna know why I met with Seokjin?” you ask him, not waiting for an answer. There’s no weight in admitting it, but your chest oddly feels lighter saying it to Yoongi. “He fucked me.”

“He fucked me silly, and then took care of me good. After that, he took me to lunch, asked for my number, then drove me home.”

Yoongi’s chest tightens and he doesn’t comment because he physically can’t. His throat feels like caving in and there aren’t any words he can force out of his windpipe.

“Seokjin isn’t anyone to me besides a friend but he sees me,” you gently tell him, going awestruck again because after a long time, someone recognized you as your own self, not an attachment to Yoongi.

“He doesn’t know my favorite color but he knows how to apologize when he wakes me up by accident in the middle of the night.”

Sorry I didn’t know you were asleep!!! Just pretend I didn’t call, it’s not urgent anyway. Good night :)

“He doesn’t know my favorite meal but he knows how to thank me when I do even the simplest of things for him.”

You’re unreal :O

Did you seriously find the book that I was talking about??

THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOUUUUUU

“I’m not Jin’s manager but if there was a chance to, I’d take it.”

You whisper in admission and for a fraction of a second, you regret your words.

It takes one, two seconds to look at Yoongi. You look at Yoongi and you see a reflection of you, someone who never stops in the name of his success. You stay behind his shadow even if your care for him surpasses it in enormity and frequency, because even in the dark, you’re there.

But you’re always there.

You don’t want to be in the dark with him anymore.

“I’m tired of you, Yoongi.”

You say outloud and it hurts you unlike no other to admit it. Saying it honestly takes the life out of you and not once did you think you would be ever coming to this; to be stopping at a point. “I’m tired of taking care of you.”

“Yoongi, if you want to eat ramen in a convenience store at night, you don’t look for your manager — you look for your girlfriend,” the sigh that leaves you turns into a whimper, a silent plea to your heart to stop working the way it is now.

“You don’t give away your precious watches to your manager, Yoongi — you give them to girlfriends,” the whimper that builds up in your throat is too big that you have to swallow it down, a pitiful sob breaking out from you.

“You don’t bring your manager to your childhood home, ask her to sleep in your bedroom, and call her the girl of your dreams in front of your parents. You do that with girlfriends, Yoongi,” and finally, the sob you once let out turns into a cry.

“I must be as fucking crazy as you are,” you shake your head, laughing in disbelief.

You must be truly losing it at this point, baring your all to someone who always did to you, but you regret only admitting this now.

“At one point, I thought I was yours.”

“At some point, I started taking care of you like it wasn’t my job,” you nod to yourself and you’re oblivious of how Yoongi has his face planted on his hands, choking in quiet sobs. “And that’s on me. That’s my mistake.”

“You’ve exhausted every single thing I’ve had to keep wanting you,” your words are out there already, unable to be taken back. “I’m so, so tired, Yoongi.”

There’s no grand ending to your argument. None of you take it beyond far with your yelling. The both of you are quiet, defeated even.

There’s no fight in it left,

or so you think.

“I think I’m outgrowing you.”

( ♡ )

Namjoon’s on the phone when Yoongi knocks on his door.

Yoongi looks more composed this time, seeing to it that he’s wearing new, clean clothes and he has the energy to take a shower. Apart from that, he still looks like a mess. He looks and is fatigued.

“I’m going on a hiatus.”

He announces thickly into the air as if he just relayed this afternoon’s weather forecast, making the CEO lay the telephone flat against the table.

“Excuse me, what?” Namjoon enunciates, eyes blinking wildly. “You don’t give yourself a hiatus, Yoongi. That’s not how it works.”

“That’s how it works now.”

He shrugs carelessly, exhaling heavily.

“I’m on an indefinite hiatus until Y/N comes back.”

Namjoon’s not surprised about the ultimatum but he’s curious. His annoyance for Yoongi is trumped by his curiosity. His voice has always been full of conviction but now it’s soft, feeling pity automatically lace his tone.

“If she doesn’t?”

It’s clockwork.

“Then I’m not coming back.”

“If I don’t grant your demand for a hiatus?” his head tilts, gauging just how far he’d go for you.

“Then I leave.”

Yoongi’s unsure why Namjoon would ask these things even if it’s clear as day. He indulges the questions but it doesn’t mean he’s letting the course steer away from his intention.

“I’m only going where Y/N’s going.”

“Look, I don’t know what entirely happened between the two of you. My assumptions could only go so far,” Namjoon professes, running his fingers through his hair in thought, “but it doesn’t take a genius to see that your relationship isn’t strictly professional.”

Anyone could see through it.

Anyone could see how you and Yoongi are in love with each other and how the two of you do nothing about it.

“I’m not gonna go on a tangent about it. You’re my best talent and Y/N’s my best manager,” he reveals his practical sense of thinking. “I’m speaking to you as a friend, Yoongi.”

“You’re putting your career — everything you’ve worked for — on Y/N,” Namjoon says solemnly, treading lightly on his weighted words. “You don’t even know if she’ll come back.”

“It’s only right,” Yoongi surprises him with his answer. If you don’t come back, then neither does he. “I honestly wouldn’t have even worked as hard if not for her. Everything I am now, where I’m at,” he smiles gently, “it’s because she was there.”

There’s a comfortable silence between them, the both of them knowing what would come out of this.

“You’re going in on this blind.”

“I’m as good as blind without her.”

“Yoongi,” Namjoon stress, “what you’re doing is basically penance.”

“Is it?” his head tilts, genuinely curious. “This hiatus won’t hurt me. They’re all nothing but cancelled schedules to me now.”

“Then what are you doing this for?”

“I don’t know what to call it.” For the first time, Yoongi feels at bliss not knowing. “It just feels right.”

“No matter how big I get, it all means nothing to me,” there’s nothing but a clearer truth for him. “Y/N’s my roots.”

Yoongi’s rooted to you, his existence running deeper when you’re there. You ground him in the same time that you make him grow. You make him lose his bearings in seasons but you’re definite in making him bloom brighter after. There’s seasons when he’s dried up and you let him stay that way but you make sure he bounces back to his peak, if not better.

“Okay,” Namjoon concludes. “I’ll have someone draft the announcement for your hiatus this afternoon.”

Yoongi leaves the room lighter than when he came there. There’s no bounce to his step but he walks a little less glumly now; a little less lost.

“Still there?” Namjoon checks up on the other end of the call, a chuckle leaving his throat.

“Yeah,” you confirm albeit a little choked up. “Still here.”

( ♡ )

Yoongi’s drunk on a Monday evening and it’s Jimin who has to pick up the pieces.

It’s only been a little more than a month since Yoongi went on hiatus. He’s doing better compared to the last time he was on shambles, but he’s just a tiny little insignificant human without a Y/N on his side, so yeah — he does have those off-days.

“Y/N hates me.”

“She doesn’t hate you,” Jimin repeats, swearing that this entire conversation had already happened three times before in the span of tonight.

“I’d hate me too,” he agrees, bringing up his shot glass that’s just water Jimin switched it out for. “She’s sick of me.”

“She’s not-“

“She told me,” he whines. “And I said mean things to her. I put her through so much shit and I gave her shit when she was simply just feeling,” he deflates to the cushions, sinking further and further into the stick floors that Jimin has to reel him back in. “I’m so mean.”

Yoongi keeps throwing back shots (read: water) that Jimin keeps giving him, going the extra mile of wincing as the liquid hits (read: hydrates) his throat.

“I’m the asshole,” he points to his face, pouting. “Through and through, I’m the one who hurts her.”

“Have you seen Y/N since y’know... your fight?”

Yoongi shakes his head no.

“Do you know where she lives?”

Yoongi nods.

“Then why won’t you come to her?”

It’s a no-brainer question for Jimin, really. The reason why not doesn’t ever cross his mind and he fears he’ll never get it because it simply makes no sense.

“Because I always come to her,” Yoongi says, a little less drunk but not less sincere. “I don’t wanna upset her further.”

“Don’t wanna hurt her more than I already did.”

“I don’t wanna force myself in if there’s no space for me,” he continues, “it suffocates me to be away from her but this would be better for her sake.”

Jimin has a small smile on his face, already knowing the answer before he asks.

“And who decided that?”

“I did.”

“Why would you?”

“Why would I show my face to someone who doesn’t want to see me?” he sing-songs, the reason being as suspiciously transparent than the “shots” he’s been throwing back. “To someone who thinks they’re outgrowing me?”

“What if she wants to see you too?”

Jimin purses his lips, trying not to give himself away. Yoongi can read through him and one look at him as all it’ll take to sense that he knows something, but Yoongi’s gaze is elsewhere. He’s looking at his lockscreen that’s been set the two of you, already years since he’s last change it.

“Then I’ll crawl back home to her.”

( ♡ )

Half a year has passed and Yoongi emailed you everyday.

When the weather is cold and the car windows fog from the outside, you give Yoongi a call.

Half a year has passed and you find yourselves sitting shoulder to shoulder at the rest stop you last went to, waiting for each other’s ramen to cool down.

The both of you are healthier and look the part, a lot more light shared between the two of you.

Neither of you would lie and say you didn’t feel the passage of time nor the distance because you felt it every single day without fail. Not one of you would pretend and say it’s as if the two of you weren’t apart for half a year.

You’ve felt each month, each day, of half a year.

When Yoongi parks next to your car, the first thing you do is embrace him. You don’t suck in his warmth but instead you add to it, not a single space of the cold air flowing between your bodies.

Yoongi missed you so much.

Halfway through his daily emails, you started to respond from time to time. You’d write back to him to answer questions and acknowledge written apologies until eventually, you start to ask him if he’s eating his meals and if he’s sleeping well. You’ve been lax for the past six months and so has he, keeping up with the flow of his hiatus.

The second thing you do after seeing him is apologize. You’re flawed and you don’t doubt that you’ve contributed your own mistakes to your fall-out, and you own up to it fully.

There’s something so warm in being next to Yoongi whose hands are as cold as ice, bursting out laughing when he resorts to sitting on them to try and have the temperature up. It’s the weighted, needed warmth; neither is it suffocating nor overwhelming.

There’s something so cool in spontaneously buying a blanket from the rest stop (you each have one in your own cars but you intentionally don’t say it) and sharing it between the two of you, draped on your bodies while you sit as close as you could to each other. It’s a gentle breeze (maybe it’s the airconditioner directly above you) but it’s cool on the skin; it’s neither nippy nor bitter.

“When someone’s too vast to occupy the space in your heart,” you speak tenderly, “you don’t call that outgrowing, Yoongs.”

You’re in between sharing your meals that you decide to address all that you’ve been through, specifically your words that have admittedly made a home in the back of his head.

“You call that love.”

Love terrifies you and so does the overwhelming pressure of commitment but with Yoongi, it’s a little less scary.

“You’re a little too much for me, I’m not gonna lie about that,” you laugh playfully and you make sure Yoongi reads your tone, assuringly patting his thigh before pinching his cheek. “But it isn’t so bad.”

“I choose to make space for you everyday.”

The both of you have always known but now feels the only time you deem is perfect to profess your love. There’s no other moment, no other scene fitting to the two of you that’s just raw and genuine as this would come.

Yoongi grins and he finds no need in trying to contain his happiness, scratching the corner of his eyes before he prods you gently.

“Take off the watch.”

“This is mine now,” your eyebrows defensively furrow, instinctively taking the watch closer to yourself because you’ve grown to love it a lot.

“I’m not taking it away from you,” he laughs heartily before trying again, circling his hand on your wrist. “Look closer.”

Yoongi looks at you in anticipation, nodding at you when you give him an unsure look.

“W-well I’ve never had a Rolex before so I’m not really sure what I’m looking at,” you chuckle nervously, curious to know if he’s talking about a defect you don’t know about. Yoongi waits again this time with a knowing look, prodding you to look even closer and just take the second to see, knowing you’ve caught the sight when your eyes suddenly narrow before widening.

“Wait, you had this engraved?”

Your eyes feel deceived for a second because not once have you ever inspected it this closely, a gasp leaving your lips when you look to Yoongi in confirmation.

If lost, return to Y/N.

“Why not you?”

The watch was his, the watch is his. There’s no sense in having it engraved in the name of someone else’s when he bought it for himself.

“Everything goes through you,” he says simply. “And I won’t have it any other way.”

Yoongi loves you more than he can ever say.

“I had it engraved the day I bought it.”

“But that was-“

“My first paycheck,” he confirms with a smile, “years ago.”

You remember the year distinctly, even recalling how Namjoon came with Yoongi to buy something for himself from his first ever paycheck.

How Namjoon said that the watch, specifically in his own words and emphasis, the Rolex Oyster Perpetual Datejust, doesn’t look weird on you because it’s always been yours.

“Five years ago.”

He nods at your memory, shifting his hand to hold yours.

“Even before we made it big. Even before I had all the proper headshots you’d have in an actual studio. Before anyone even wanted me,” Yoongi laughs, his eyes proving all his sincerity. “Well I didn’t exactly have the money for a watch in those times for me to engrave your name on, but I’d scribble it here and there.”

Here and there — every item he deemed important.

“The corner of my résumé. The back of my portraits. The tag on my wallet. The soles of my shoes. Everywhere,” he giggles at how far he’s went, how far the two of you went.

When you put the black cap he’s given to you under the light, you could see return to Y/N in black marker you’d miss if not for the change of lighting.

When you remove the earrings he gave you, you could see your initials engraved by the inside groove.

When you take the time to look at the luggage tags of every backpack, every duffel, every suitcase he’s ever owned — you’d see the return address as your own instead of his.

Yoongi thinks there's no other time, no other place than now– in a rest stop, sharing an overpriced blanket between the two of you and in the middle of eating ramen– to profess his love for you.

“I’ll always remember my way back home.”

Rage

Jimin is a damn good cop - but he's been told he needs to work on his emotional wellbeing. That's where you come in.

Pairing: Jimin x F! reader

Rating: 18+

Genre: Non-idol AU, smut, angst

Word count: 9.5k

Warnings: Sexually explicit scenes, inconvenient boners, explicit language, descriptions of various crimes and tragedies, boss Min Yoongi.

Dear reader, this is the first part of a trilogy in the same AU, the second story, Duplicity, features Yoongi and the third, Soft, features Jungkook. It's a slightly different writing style but I hope you enjoy it all the same.

Park Jimin always wanted to be a cop. He loved the idea of it as a child, taking down bad guys, helping ordinary people, fighting for truth and justice. The reality of it hasn’t always lived up to expectations, but he wouldn’t have it any other way. Being a cop is what he knows now, and he’s damn good at it.

Today, though, isn’t his finest hour. Look, he knows he has anger within him. Most of his colleagues do. His mentor, Min Yoongi, used to tell him that once you stopped being angry, you might as well resign because a cop who isn’t angry doesn’t give a shit anymore and that’s a slippery slope.

Min Yoongi is a wise guy, in all senses of the word. Jimin stares at the screen in front of him and thinks to himself, what would Min Yoongi do? The list in front of him gets blurrier the longer he stares at it.

Jiujitsu

Weapons proficiency

Archery

Park run

Crochet

Carpentry

These are all the options available to him as an angry cop who’s been told to pick up an activity or go to talking therapy. The truth is, Min Yoongi wouldn’t pick any of them, because he’d never be asked to manage his rage. He’s got the most zen approach to managing rage Jimin’s ever seen. Jimin sighs, resigned.

He chooses Jiujitsu, fires off an email and gets to work reviewing his report from the case he’s just completed.

By the end of the morning, Jimin’s had a reply saying there are no spaces available in Jiujitsu. He sends emails inquiring about weaponry and archery, and goes to lunch.

His partner, Jungkook, looks at him over the sandwich he’s inhaling. ‘Yoongi told me to get my hair cut,’ he tells Jimin.

Jimin takes a cursory glance at Jungkook’s wavy hair. ‘I’m sure there’s a haircut regulation. Your hair isn’t meant to touch your collar,’ he says.

Jungkook splutters. ‘Your hair is as long as mine,’ he protests.

‘Yes, but mine’s styled like a grown-up’s and not some K-pop boy band idol,’ Jimin says.

Jungkook rolls his eyes. ‘Jura likes it like this.’

‘Jura’s not dating you for your hair,’ Jimin points out. Jungkook’s a dish, he knows it, everyone with eyes knows it. He leans into it, with his floppy hair, his sleeve of tattoos, the hours he puts in at the gym.

He’s also got the quickest reflexes Jimin’s ever seen. Jimin would trust him to have his back in any situation. The kid steps up when shit’s going down, and there’s no substitute for that kind of grit.

‘How’s your anger management going?’ Jungkook asks.

‘I don’t need anger management. I’ve been asked to choose a leisure activity. That’s for people who don’t need anger management,’ Jimin says, sourly. He’s prickly about it, still.

Jungkook smirks at him. ‘Tell that to the Hyundai you blew up.’

Jimin frowns. Never mind that Hyundai’s got the best safety record of all the cop cars the precinct has cycled through. Never mind that there were no explosives in sight. He hadn’t been driving that fast. Fuel tanks don’t usually ignite from gunfire in real life. He’s sure it was some sort of manufacturing defect.

He checks his emails after lunch and sees that weaponry and archery are full up. It’s no surprise to him that Jiujitsu, weaponry and archery are popular – you don’t become a cop because you hate fighting and shooting things. He sends emails to park run, carpentry and crochet, for completeness. He can tell Yoongi he’s tried everything then.

Jimin looks up as Yoongi stops by his desk the next morning.

‘Crochet is a thinking man’s choice,’ Yoongi says. ‘There’s hope for you yet, Jimin.’

It takes a minute for Jimin to process what he’s said, it’s so far removed from the forensic report he was reading.

Luckily, Yoongi isn’t waiting for a response. ‘The woman who runs it is a gem. I knew her sister.’

Jimin nods. He hadn’t really wanted to do crochet as his activity, the police force is still a hotbed of toxic masculinity, and god knows he gets enough flak for his clothes, his hair, his goddamn pretty face, even his skin.

Like using SPF precludes reading a crime scene.

But if Yoongi approves of crochet as his activity, Jimin will give it a shot. Yoongi’s the one signing off on the appraisal paperwork at the end of the day.

***

Jimin parks up outside the apartment building address he’s been given. There’s a woman standing outside the entrance.

‘Park Jimin?’ the woman asks, stepping forward.

Jimin nods in confirmation.

‘I’m Y/N L/N,’ you say. ‘Come on up.’

Jimin follows you up four flights of stairs and into a cosy-looking living room.

‘Is this your apartment?’ he asks, curious.

‘Yeah,’ you reply ‘I hope that’s ok?’

‘Yeah, it’s fine for me. But do you really let a bunch of strangers into your apartment to do crochet?’ Jimin asks.

You look at him like he’s the strange one. ‘I mean, it’s a bunch of cops. Surely if anyone sees me letting a steady stream of cops into my apartment they’ll decide not to hassle me?’

Jimin says, ‘How will people know we’re cops though?’

Again, you give him a funny look. ‘I hate to break it to you Detective Park, but you couldn’t look more like a cop if you tried.’

Jimin can’t believe you. He’s been the subject of ribbing in the department since he started policing. Even Jungkook, the newest detective on the force, looks more the part of a cop than he does, with his muscles and his tattoos. ‘Literally no one I’ve ever worked with has said that.’

‘You walk like a man who can handle himself. Your clothes aren’t tight but it’s obvious you’re in good shape underneath. You looked around for the exits as you entered the building. You didn’t flinch when the trash chute clanged open, and everyone jumps at that because it sounds like a gunshot.’ You pause for breath. ‘Plus you have that look in your eyes. A lot of cops who come to see me have that.’

Jimin doesn’t want to know what look you’re talking about.

‘I’ll make us some tea, then we can get started,’ you say.

Jimin sits uncomfortably on your sofa, watching as you put the kettle on. You’re wearing a dark sweater, jeans, your hair up in a casual bun.

He wonders how many of his colleagues you teach to crochet.

You glance his way as you drop tea bags in mugs. ‘Something on your mind, Detective?’

‘Call me Jimin,’ he says. ‘I was just wondering how many of my colleagues come to learn to crochet.’

He likes the way your laugh sounds, rich and whole-hearted.

‘More than you’d expect,’ you reply. ‘I take it I wasn’t your first choice?’

‘I wanted to take my aggression out on doing something physical,’ Jimin admits. Thinking about it, he’s not sure how he ended up in crochet. Surely, park run would have had no limitation on numbers.

‘Most of your job is physical,’ you say, lifting a brow sardonically. You bring his tea over to your coffee table. ‘You can always go beat something up after this.’

Jimin nods his thanks for the tea. He’s not much of a tea drinker, but he’s got manners, he’s not a complete animal, so he takes a sip. He looks over the two balls of wool you’re holding out – pink and burnt orange.

He points to the pink wool, and you pass him a silver hook.

‘I thought we’d start with a scarf,’ you say, mildly. ‘Got someone you’d like to crochet a scarf for?’

‘Can we swap wool? I think I’ll crochet something for my partner, Jungkook.’

‘You don’t think he’d like pink?’

‘He only wears black,’ Jimin says.

He watches you rummage in the wicker basket beside your seat and emerge with a dark grey ball. ‘Will this do?’

Jimin shrugs. ‘Probably.’

You come and sit next to him. ‘Done crochet before?’

Jimin fixes you with a look. ‘I’m not that good with my hands.’

You look at him, sympathetically. ‘That must be tough for you.’

‘As in for crafts. I don’t have much experience of crafts,’ says Jimin, not sure why he's explaining.

The corner of your mouth twitches suspiciously, and Jimin stares at you.

‘Well, Jimin, you don’t have to be good at crafts to learn to crochet. I just wanted to make sure I was pitching at the right level.’

Jimin watches carefully as you show him how to do a slip knot, then a chain of single crochet stitches.

‘Think you can handle it, Detective?’ Your words are reasonably innocuous, but your lips twitch again as you look at him.

Jimin gets a little confused about where to put his hook in, and you put your hands on his to guide him. He gets the hang of it quickly, though, although his stitches don’t look nearly as pretty as yours.

‘Tell me about yourself,’ you say.

Jimin’s chain of stitches is getting progressively longer. ‘My last case was an assault.’

He stops, suspicious. ‘Are you going to report everything I say back to Yoongi?’

He’s disarmed by the way you roll your eyes.

‘I’m not a counsellor,’ you tell him. ‘I teach crochet. I’m not affiliated with the police at all. I’m doing this because of Min Yoongi, but I’m not employed by him. I was just making conversation.’

Jimin is curious. ‘How do you know Min Yoongi?’

You look out the window for a moment. ‘He helped my sister a lot. She was caught up with some bad people a few years ago. She’s fine now, she lives with her husband in the suburbs.’ You look at Jimin, and smile. ‘I’ve got a lot of time for Yoongi. I’d do anything he asked for.’

Jimin smiles at the look on your face. He feels that way about Yoongi too, though he would never tell Yoongi that. He’s smug enough as it is.

‘Ah,’ you say, eyes on Jimin. ‘Your smile really is pretty.’

Jimin bristles.

‘You know why I’m so angry all the time? It’s constant comments like this, on how I look, on how my hair is. I’ve been in the force for almost ten years, and I can’t tell you the number of times I’ve had to put up with comments like this. It’s just another way of belittling me, minimising me. I’ve got the best clearance rate in the precinct, and all anyone talks about is what fucking colour my hair is.’

He glares at you, and to his surprise, you lift your chin, lips pressing together.

‘On the way home today from my waitressing job, I got cat called by a group of construction workers. They told me I had a fucking beautiful ass and that if I smiled I’d look so pretty. Then when I didn’t smile, they called me a stuck-up bitch.’

You look Jimin right in the eye. ‘I don't mind if you complain to me about being objectified and reduced to the way you look, but please be aware that any woman you speak to will also have experience of this.’

‘Also, I’m sorry. I wasn’t teasing you, although I can see how it could come across that way. I was complimenting you, because you really do have a pretty smile. I’ll keep my personal comments to myself in the future.’

Jimin’s anger ebbs away, and he takes a sip of his tea to give himself something to do.

Finally, he says, ‘I’m sorry.’

You smile at him, tentatively. ‘I’m sorry too. I truly didn’t mean to offend you, or minimise anything you’ve been through.’

Jimin’s trying to think of something else to say when you reach over and tug at the chain he’s still crocheting. ‘You can start a new row now. You’ve got more than enough length for a scarf, even if your partner Jungkook is a giant.’

Jimin obediently starts a new row, and you crochet in silence until your hour is up.

***

Jimin’s in two minds about whether he should bother turning up at this week’s crochet session. He’s a little embarrassed when he thinks back to his outburst. Maybe he does have a problem regulating his emotions. He liked the calm, measured way you answered him, though.

He’s still thinking about you, so when he sees you standing by the main entrance of the police station, he blinks a couple of times just in case you’re a mirage conjured up by his subconscious mind.

He realises you’re looking back at him.

‘Detective,’ you say, smiling in greeting. ‘Got an umbrella?’

Jimin looks doubtfully at the pouring rain past the overhang. ‘I don’t have an umbrella. But I do have a car.’

‘Even better,’ you say, nodding in approval. ‘Ready to go?’

Jimin looks at you, considering, and your smile slips a little. ‘To our crochet session,’ you clarify, quickly.

‘Yeah, ok,’ Jimin says, coming to a decision. ‘I’m parked around the side. Why don’t you stay here, I’ll run to my car and drive up to the front, so you don’t get wet.’

Jimin jogs to his car and takes a quick look around the interior. There’s a brown bag of leftover fries in the passenger footwell, courtesy of his sloppy partner, but it doesn’t look too bad otherwise. He chucks the brown bag into the back, and drives around to pick you up.

Jimin turns to you as he turns out onto the main road. ‘What were you doing at the station?’

‘I went to see Yoongi,’ you say. ‘My sister made him some food, so I went to drop it off.’

‘Not to snitch,’ you say, straight-faced, hand on your heart.

Jimin glances at you, and there’s that tell-tale twitch of your lips again.

‘Very funny,’ he says. He doesn’t want to encourage you, but he’s smiling anyway.

‘How’s your week been?’ he asks.

You stretch in his passenger seat. ‘I’ve just been working, trying to earn some extra cash for a deposit. I think my landlord’s going to kick me out soon, my neighbour told me he wants to sell the building.’

‘That’s tough,’ Jimin commiserates. He owns his place now, an apartment in a converted telephone exchange, but he rented for years.

Jimin signals as he passes a drive-thru. ‘Do you mind if I pick up a coffee? I was up most of last night.’

‘I don’t mind,’ you tell him. ‘Another case?’

‘A run of break-ins and assaults in the estates near the financial district,’ Jimin says. ‘Want anything?’

You shake your head. ‘No thanks.’

Jimin takes a sip of his coffee before pulling out of the drive-thru. ‘I almost called you to say I couldn’t make it,’ he tells you.

He watches your reaction out of the corner of his eye.

‘I wouldn’t have minded,’ you tell him. ‘Genuinely, you can always reschedule. I’m around, and free most evenings anyway.’

‘Do you have a boyfriend?’ Jimin asks. He almost wishes he can take the words back when he hears how it sounds.

‘I’m single,’ you reply. ‘How about you?’

‘I’m single at the moment,’ Jimin replies. You don’t need to know about Erin, the fellow detective he sleeps with occasionally. He concentrates on parallel parking on the street outside your apartment.

When he clicks the engine off, you touch his arm. ‘Hey, if you want, we don’t have to talk whilst we crochet. I can put a movie on, or play music.’

‘Am I that bad at conversation?’ Jimin jokes. There’s something about your laughter that he likes so much he feels like making you laugh all the time just to hear it.

‘No, I like talking to you. I just don’t want you to feel obligated,’ you say.

‘I like talking to you,’ Jimin says, honestly. ‘I mean, I’d rather be shooting a gun or beating someone’s ass at jiujitsu, but I don’t mind talking.’

Again, your laughter warms him.

You jog together across the entryway, and you’ve just entered the building when your name is called.

Jimin looks at the middle-aged man approaching you.

‘Mr Lee,’ you say in greeting.

‘I’m sorry to interrupt anything,’ Mr Lee says, nodding at Jimin, ‘but I wanted to catch you face to face to let you know. I’m selling the building, so I need you to move out by the end of next month.’

You nod. ‘I understand. Thank you for letting me know.’

Jimin turns to you in the lift. ‘There are a few units to rent in my building. I can send you some contact details, if you like.’

You look up at him. ‘Oh thank you, Jimin,’ you say, and you seem genuinely grateful.

Jimin nods. ‘I’ll make a few inquiries and let you know.’

In your apartment, you make tea, and Jimin gets to work on his scarf. He finds the repetitive movements oddly soothing, but he thinks he’d be bored if there wasn’t someone to talk to.

He guesses this is why elderly ladies have knitting circles. The wool steadily gets incorporated into the scarf, and he notices there’s a knot in the wool.

‘I need help,’ he declares. You sit next to him, and examine the knot.

‘It’s fine, Jimin, it’ll just disappear into the scarf.’

Jimin looks at the piece he’s producing, a little critically. ‘Jungkook told me that Yoongi asked him to cut his hair. The scarf will keep his neck warm once he cuts his hair.’

‘That’s very thoughtful, Jimin,’ you say.

‘Jungkook’s been a great partner. He’s good at keeping things on an even keel. I worry about him, though. I get angry about things, and he’s the opposite. He feels things so much.’

Jimin laughs, but there’s no humour in it. ‘The break in last night, was to a family with young kids. They beat up the dad, he’s got a broken nose, a concussion, some fractured ribs. The mom was slapped around a little. She wasn’t sexually assaulted, thank god. But the kids, they’re only 6 and 8, and they had to watch that.’

‘People are such assholes,’ he continues. He shakes his head. ‘Why the fuck.’

He can see the way you’re looking at him, and he apologises. ‘Sorry for my language.’

‘You don’t have to apologise for your language,’ you say. ‘That’s an awful story.’

‘Yeah,’ Jimin agrees. ‘Jungkook was so upset for the kids he gave them our breakfast.’

You look at him for a moment. ‘Are you hungry? My sister made loads of food, it’s more than I’ll be able to finish. I’ll heat some of it up.’

Jimin starts to protest, but the way you’re looking at him gives him pause.

‘Unless you have plans after,’ you say.

Jimin looks at you. ‘I don’t have plans. I can eat.’

Jimin accepts the plate you fix him. You’re right, your sister is an excellent cook. You finish eating before him, and assess his crochet work.

‘You’re coming on nicely,’ you comment, and Jimin feels an unexpected burst of pride at your compliment.

‘I’m sure I wasn’t this good when I started,’ you tell him.

Jimin clears his plate, then gets up to wash up.

‘Don’t worry about it, Jimin,’ you call.

‘I like washing up. I used to do all the washing up after my mom cooked,’ Jimin tells you.

‘Well in that case, knock yourself out. The oven needs a clean too,’ you say.

Jimin laughs. He washes your dishes, stacks them up to dry, and wipes off his hands.

He glances at the clock, and realises his hour is almost up.

‘I’m glad I decided to come,’ Jimin says.

You look up from the burnt orange woolly thing you’re working on. Jimin thinks it’s a sweater.

‘Same time next week?’ he asks.

You nod. ‘Yeah. I’ll be here.’

***

Jimin’s mulling over the profile Yoongi forwarded to him. He doesn’t really believe in profiling as a specialty, he does try to get inside the heads of criminals but he doesn’t think he needs a special qualification to do it.

When he gets onto your floor, he sees a man leaving your apartment. He recognises him, and groans internally. It’s Kim Sung Ho.

A thousand fucks could not express how much of a thorn Sung Ho is in his side. He started at the same time as Jimin, and to give him credit, the man’s also a good detective. He just happens to also be a massive prick. Sung Ho definitely has no use for profilers, because the man thinks like a criminal. Not the grey, Robin Hood kind of criminal either. He’s the kind of guy who would blackmail his own grandmother for his own nefarious purposes.

Oblivious to Jimin’s internal rant, Sung Ho smirks at him.

Jimin wants to slap the shit out of him. He takes a breath, and raises an eyebrow back.

Sung Ho opens his mouth, and Jimin braces. ‘Park Jimin learning to crochet? She’s hot, isn’t she? Too bad it’s wasted on you.’

Jimin smiles, because this isn’t anything he hasn’t heard before. For some reason his sexuality is the subject of a lot of speculation in the force.

Like his sexual orientation precludes taking down a bad guy.

‘Kim Sung Ho,’ Jimin says, leaning close because he knows that’ll piss off the homophobic shitbag.

‘It doesn’t matter who the fuck I sleep with – just know you’ll never have the pleasure.’

The door opens, and you stand there, arms crossed.

‘Is there a problem here?’ you ask, giving Sung Ho what Jimin is sure you think is an intimidating look.

It would probably be scarier if you weren’t wearing fluffy slippers.

Sung Ho doesn’t even bother to reply. He smirks at Jimin and walks off.

Jimin takes a moment to regroup. He stares at your fluffy slippers, trying to focus as he follows you into your apartment.

Jimin looks at the coffee table as you put the kettle on. He looks at the snarled ball of green wool, crochet hook stuck haphazardly in it.

He’s startled into laughter when you say, ‘Shit isn’t it? He’s shit at crochet.’

Jimin looks at you, and sees that you’re slipping your baggy, high-necked sweater off.

‘Fuck, it’s hot. I had to put this on because he wouldn’t stop staring at my tits.’

Jimin’s eyes snap to your face, and he’s glad you’re not looking at him, because he’s guilty of the same. You do have a great set of tits. He must be better at subterfuge than Sung Ho.

You place a hot drink in front of him. It’s coffee.

‘I thought you’d prefer it to tea,’ you say. You toss him his scarf, which to be honest still looks like an inordinately long strip of grey wool, and roll his crochet hook across the table to him.

Jimin reaches out to catch the hook before it rolls off. You huff out a sigh and get started on the burnt orange project you’ve been working on with him.

Jimin takes a gulp of his coffee and gets to work.

‘Seen any good movies lately?’ you ask, after a minute.

Jimin frowns over his work. ‘I don’t really watch movies,’ he says. ‘Cop movies piss me off, horror movies give me nightmares, and I don’t believe in romance.’

He realises you’re looking at him, and smiling. You have a pretty smile, too. He bites his lip to stop himself from saying so.

‘What about music?’ you ask.

‘Every song is a love song,’ Jimin says. He does like music, but he's feeling petulant.

You don’t say anything else after that, because he’s right.

***

Jimin nods at the project you’re working on.

‘What is that?’ he asks.

You flick your eyes up at him. ‘It’s a sweater. Do you like the colour?’

Jimin doesn’t want to be rude. ‘It’s ok. A little loud, maybe.’

You tilt your head. ‘Maybe you’ll like it better when you see the finished product.’

Jimin doesn’t know how adding more orange wool will help things, but he’s not as good at crochet as you are, so he keeps his mouth shut.

Keeping his mouth shut is actually a strategy that helps him a lot at work. He uses silence as a weapon when he’s interviewing people. He uses silence when idiots like Sung Ho are running off at the mouth in meetings. Heck, it even works on Jungkook, he managed to bluff his way to winning a bet the other day with judicious silence, and Jungkook’s buying him a week of lunches as a result.

You turn your project over. Jimin watches as your hands move. You’re quick, much quicker than he is. Your hands are beautiful, they remind him of wings.

‘So, I have a date after this,’ you announce.

Jimin looks up, interested. ‘Yeah? Where are you going?’

‘Just dinner,’ you tell him.

‘How’d you meet?’ Jimin asks. He misses a stitch, so he plucks at the wool to unravel it.

‘My sister introduced us,’ you say. You roll your eyes, but there’s affection in your voice. ‘She worries about me, out here in the city, on my own.’

‘I have a friend in IT who can run a soft background check on him – just make sure he hasn’t got a criminal record,’ Jimin offers. He’s only half-joking.

There’s your laughter again.

‘This is what I get for hanging out with cops,’ you say. ‘You know people go on dates all the time. It’s a normal human activity.’

Jimin keeps his mouth shut about the number of sickos he sees on a daily basis.

‘You can call me,’ he says finally. ‘If you need anything. I sleep late.’

He puts out his hand for your phone, and types his number in.

‘He’s a friend of my brother-in-law’s,’ you tell him. ‘He’s not a random stranger.’

Jimin isn't entirely reassured.

When his hour is up, Jimin bids you goodbye and leaves. He walks down to his car, then something occurs to him.

He has a look in the trunk of his car, lifting aside his tactical gear, until he sees what he’s looking for.

He lifts it out and goes back up to your apartment.

When you open the door, Jimin tries very hard not to stare.

You’ve changed into a black dress which skims over your figure. He doesn’t know about women’s shoes, not really, but the heels you’ve put on are doing something to your legs that make his trousers feel a little tight.

‘You ok, Jimin?’ you ask.

Jimin holds out his hand. ‘Take this.’

Dutifully, you do as you’re told, turning the small black plastic device over in your hand.

‘It’s a personal alarm,’ Jimin tells you. ‘Just pull the pin out and it’ll go off.’

A second idea occurs to him. ‘Also, I should teach you a heel strike. Good for incapacitating assailants, no matter what size they are.’

You laugh, and after a minute, Jimin joins in.

He doesn’t have time to feel embarrassed about his overprotectiveness, because you’ve put your hand on his arm.

‘I know I promised not to say anything personal to you, but this is very sweet of you, Jimin.’

You smile at him, and attach the personal alarm to your keys.

Jimin thinks about you all the way home.

***

Yoongi looks critically at Jimin’s shot pattern.

‘When was the last time you put in time at the firing range?’ he asks Jimin.

Jimin tilts his head. ‘Come on, Yoongi – I landed multiple kill shots.’

Yoongi’s just being a hard-ass.

Jungkook pokes his head over. ‘Fuck, what’s that?’ he snickers, pointing at one shot that he thinks went wild, right in the centre of the right knee of the cutout.

Jimin reloads his gun. ‘Shut up Jungkook. I want a burrito for lunch.’ He smiles sweetly at Jungkook, who gives him a dark look and then disappears, muttering about ‘bullshit bets.’

Yoongi says, ‘I’m going out to dinner with Y/N and her sister tonight. What are you doing? You should come with.’

Jimin texted you once after your date, just to make sure you were alive and unharmed. He’d done it mainly so he could stop eavesdropping on dispatch for rapes and assaults involving young women who fit your description. He thinks he’d have a hard time justifying that at his dismissal hearing.

You’d replied with a simple, ‘fine, thanks.’

Jimin looks at Yoongi. ‘Yeah, ok.’ He thinks it’d be good to see you again, in a situation where he doesn’t have to crochet anything.

Yoongi looks at Jimin’s shot pattern again. ‘We go for kill shots only, Jimin. Who the fuck taught you to shoot kneecaps?’

Jimin thinks that’s a question better left unanswered.

***

Jimin knows he looks good tonight. He’s made an effort with his hair, styling it back away from his forehead. The blonde is growing out a little, his natural dark roots showing, but he doesn’t think it looks too bad.

He slips on his black boots and then he’s off, heading down to his parked car.

By the time he parks up at the restaurant, he’s running late. Jimin nearly collides with you as he reaches the front entrance.

He reaches out an arm to steady you. ‘Are you ok?’ he asks.

You’re slightly out of breath. ‘Yeah. The bus was way behind schedule,’ you tell him.

‘I’ll give you a lift back if you want, you’re on my way anyway,’ Jimin offers. He notices you’ve got another black dress on tonight. No heels, though, thankfully. The last thing he needs is another recalcitrant boner in front of you and your sister. And fucking Min Yoongi.

‘You look pretty,’ he tells you.

‘You look great too, Jimin. That colour suits you,’ you say.

Your sister, Cara, looks like you, Jimin thinks, with her kind eyes and pretty smile. Her husband, Jin looks like the kind of man who’d embrace a dad joke and be fastidious about mowing the lawn on weekends. It’s not an insult, he reminds Jimin of his own dad, albeit a few decades younger.

Yoongi’s his usual self, although he seems softer when he talks to Cara and you. Jimin wonders about the shared history between Cara and Yoongi, and makes a note to ask about it the next time he takes Yoongi out drinking.

You put your hand on his arm. ‘Hey,’ you say.

Jimin shifts. Shit. Has he been staring at your tits again? He’d forgotten to keep track of where he was looking as he was thinking, and your tits are by far the best view he has in his field of vision, with you sitting across from him.

‘You like my necklace?’ you ask, quietly. You’re not wearing a necklace.

Jimin looks at your faux-innocent eyes, sees that tell-tale twitch of your lips.

The boner he’d thought he was in no danger of having tonight rears its head. Damn. These fucking trousers are too tight for this kind of situation.

Jimin covers his shift in position by leaning forward to grab his beer.

Yoongi glances at him. ‘How’s the crochet going?’ he asks.

‘I’m making a scarf,’ Jimin mutters.

‘He’s very good,’ you tell Yoongi.

Your eyes flick to his. Jimin cannot believe the audacity of you. Are you flirting with him? In front of your sister? In front of goddamn Min Yoongi?

‘Anyone giving you any trouble at your sessions?’ Yoongi asks you.

Jimin wonders if you’re going to snitch on him for visual molestation.

You shake your head. ‘No, they’re all fine,’ you say. You smile at him, and Yoongi nods.

‘Just let me know if anyone misbehaves,’ he says. He waits for you to meet his eyes before dropping the subject.

Jimin shakes his head, internally. It’d be a braver man than him who’d try to antagonise Yoongi.

After dinner Jimin drops you off at your apartment. He gets out to walk you up. It’s a nice night, one that reminds him why he chooses to live in this city.

At your door, you turn and look up at him. ‘Thanks so much for the lift, Jimin.’

‘It was my pleasure,’ Jimin says, honestly. ‘It was nice to see you and not have to crochet anything.’

You laugh, and as usual, Jimin enjoys the sound of you. He wonders if he’d like any other sounds you’d make. He thinks he probably would.

Fuck. He keeps forgetting how tight his trousers are.

You lean forward and give him a hug. Jimin hugs you back, and inhales as quietly as he can. You smell so good.

‘See you next week, ok?’ you say.

‘Yeah,’ Jimin says. He’ll be there, if you haven’t filed a restraining order on him by then.

***

Jimin’s scarf is coming along nicely. His single crochet stitches look neat and regular now – you’ve even suggested doing a double crochet stitch for the middle of the scarf. And something called a herringbone stitch, whatever the fuck that is.

Jimin’s starting to enjoy these sessions. He likes chatting to you about his week, it’s a lot less awkward now that you know each other better. You’re a little more teasing than you were, and you laugh a lot more, as does he.

He hasn’t run into Sung Ho since his initial run in, he thinks you’ve rescheduled the bastard. Or maybe you’ve told Yoongi about him. Yoongi’s had a few things to 'take care of’ this week.

He’s even curbing the sexual thoughts he’s had about you, though now that he thinks about it, you’re single and he’s single so why not?

Jimin stifles a groan. Damnit. Sweatpants had not been a good idea. He might as well walk around fucking naked like the neanderthal he clearly is.

What kind of man gets a boner doing crochet?

He needs to get laid.

He doesn’t want to call Erin, though. He thinks Erin’s got a boyfriend now, some lawyer she met working a case.

Also he doesn’t want her. He wants you.

It’s ironic given his reputation in the force, but Jimin’s always been monogamous. In some ways, he’s got more in common with Jungkook than the kid realises. Jungkook’s holding out on cutting his hair, so Yoongi’s sent him to investigate some gang war on the east side.

Jimin’s waiting for Jungkook to realise the real gangs left the east side long ago. The most he’ll find is a bunch of teens playing turf wars over land no one has any claim over.

Jimin’s also waiting for Jungkook to realise he can’t play Min Yoongi and win.

Jimin snaps to attention when he realises you’re talking to him.

‘I’ve got another date tonight,’ you tell him. ‘I promised Cara I’d give Arthur another chance before writing him off.

‘Arthur,’ Jimin says. ‘Has he shown you his sword yet?’

‘Play nice, Jimin,’ you say, raising an eyebrow.

‘I mean, Guinevere clearly preferred Lancelot,’ Jimin says, getting into it.

You laugh. ‘How do you know this, Jimin?’

‘I read,’ Jimin tells you.

‘Yeah?’ you ask, interested. ‘What do you like to read?’

‘I like reading about crimes,’ Jimin says. He gets the sense you’re tickled by this.

‘Case reports don’t count,’ you tell him, sternly.

‘Damn,’ Jimin says. He smiles at you, loving the way you’re looking at him, your eyes bright, lips curved in a smile.

You laugh, then glance at the clock. ‘I’m going to get ready. Can you let him in if he gets here before I’m ready?’

‘Sure,’ Jimin says. The more he thinks about it, the more he likes the idea of being around to let Arthur in. He can provide an eye-witness description if anything happens.

Jimin gets his wish. There’s a knock on the door. He glances in the hall mirror before he goes to let Arthur in, unzipping his hoodie to make sure his shoulder holster is visible. He considers taking his badge out, but figures that’s too much.

He’ll save that for if the guy lets his eyes land anywhere below your neck.

Jimin swings the door open. The man standing on the other side looks pleasant and harmless enough, if a little taken aback by Jimin’s presence.

‘Oh sorry, I’m here to meet Y/N,’ he says. ‘I’m Arthur Chan.’

‘Park Jimin,’ Jimin says smoothly, shaking his hand. ‘Y/N’s getting ready, she’ll be right out.’

Arthur follows him into the apartment.

You’re already coming out of the room, and Jimin takes a moment to admire you.

‘You look lovely,’ he says.

‘Yes, you do,’ Arthur says, behind him.

You take the compliments in your stride. ‘Thanks. Shall we go? Jimin, same time next week?’

Jimin goes with you and Arthur to the lifts. ‘So, Arthur, what do you do?’

‘I work with Jin, Cara’s husband,’ Arthur says, politely. ‘And you?’

‘I’m a police detective,’ Jimin says. He gives Arthur a hard look. Arthur just looks confused.

Jimin sees your lips twitch, and he knows he’s all right.

He takes note of Arthur’s license plate on the way to his car. Maybe he can get someone to run the number.

Jimin’s about to go to bed when his phone lights up.

Y/N: Was that your gun, or were you just pleased to see Arthur?

Jimin: My gun’s in a shoulder holster. Whatever you saw in my sweats – that’s all me.

He chuckles to himself, plugs his phone in to charge and sleeps like a baby.

***

Jimin is running down the darkened residential road. His feet pound the pavement, and he wishes he was wearing running shoes for this. The scuff marks on his leather boots are going to be a ball ache to polish out.

Jungkook’s slightly ahead of him, having leapt out of the first storey window with an agile, careless grace in hot pursuit of the burglars.

Not just any burglars, the same assholes responsible for assaulting that family a few weeks ago. This time they’d got there in time to prevent anyone getting hurt, but the fuckers had made a run for it whilst they’d been making sure everyone in the house had been accounted for.

Jungkook rounds a corner, and Jimin’s subconscious registers the clang of metal against metal and the heavy thud of his partner hitting the ground before his conscious mind has any time to process it. His hand is already reaching for his gun, and he jerks back just in time to feel the air displaced by the crowbar as it strikes down, missing him by a hair.

Jimin has rage, but in the moment like this, he feels nothing at all. He’s like a machine, running through an algorithm he’s been trained to follow. He disarms the man with ruthless precision, yanking his arms up so far up his back the man howls. He cuffs him to the railing and turns to his partner.

Jungkook’s pale, clutching his right shoulder, but he waves Jimin away.

‘Between the buildings, hyung,’ Jungkook says, nodding in the direction the other man ran off to.

Jimin sweeps the crowbar up and takes off.

He’s fast, but more than that, Jimin’s got a hunter’s instincts. His eyes have already adjusted to the near dark, but he gives himself a moment to really look. He holds his breath and listens. Then he sees him.

He’s crouched by a dumpster. Jimin can’t see any detail, but the way the light reflects off the puddle on the pavement is wrong.

Jimin draws his gun. ‘Police,’ he shouts. ‘Hands up where I can see them.’

Jimin trains his gun on the shadowy figure. ‘Hands up,’ he repeats.

The man steps forward, and Jimin is on him, slipping a cable tie around his wrists because his handcuffs are otherwise occupied right now.

By the time he gets back to Jungkook, backup has arrived. He goes with Jungkook to the hospital, holds Jungkook’s hand as his dislocated shoulder is relocated, and drives him home to Jura.

It’s when the adrenaline wears off that the rage kicks in. The sun’s starting to light the sky by the time Jimin gets back to his apartment building. He parks his car, changes into running gear, and then he runs.

He’s exhausted by the time he gets back to his building. The sun’s well and truly risen now, but he almost thinks he’s dreaming when he sees you.

You’re looking at him concerned, in some sort of silky blouse, and he knows he’s not imagining you then because in all his fantasies you’re smiling, and in lingerie, because he’s not such a filthy animal he’d imagine you naked. Not all the time, anyway.

Jimin blinks away his thoughts as you come up to him.

‘God, you’re not ok. Let me help you,’ you say. You take his arm, and Jimin lets you lead him to the lifts.

‘You’re going to need to help me here,’ you say, and Jimin obediently hits the button for his floor.

You haven’t let go of his arm, and Jimin belatedly realises he hasn’t said any actual words to you.

He mulls that over as he unlocks the door to his apartment, then leans over, tips your chin up and kisses you.

You smell so good, he thinks distantly. And you’re so soft, warm. He wraps his arms around you, and thrills at the feel of your hands on his back.

You’re kissing him back, Jimin realises, in wonder.

Fuck, you’re kissing him back.

His cock surges in his sweatpants, and he rolls his hips against yours so you feel it. You let out a pretty moan, so Jimin pushes your legs apart to make room for himself.

You’re rocking your hips against his, making little noises that are slowly driving Jimin crazy.

‘My bedroom’s there,’ Jimin says. He pulls away, but he doesn’t let you go. He doesn’t think he can let you go.

Jimin tugs you into his bedroom.

‘Come sit with me,’ he tells you.

The sight of you on his sheets is making him feel disoriented. He’s so tired he has no idea if anything he’s saying makes sense.

You don’t seem to mind. Jimin wants to kiss you more, but you’re so warm, and you smell so good, that he falls asleep with his face buried in your hair.

When he wakes up, you’re still there, tucked in his arms. Your eyes are closed, breathing even, lips slightly parted. Jimin feels a little like a stalker as he stares at your tits, the inch or so of your stomach exposed where your top has got twisted up.

Jimin realises you’re awake. ‘Hey,’ he says.

Instead of replying, you kiss him again. Jimin kisses you back. He licks his tongue into your mouth, tentatively at first, then more boldly when you moan.

You’re so encouraging that Jimin slides a hand over your breast, palming the weight of you over your top.

‘Touch me,’ you say, and Jimin’s always taken instruction well. He lifts your top off your head.

Damn. Your tits. They’re in some sort of lacy bra, but Jimin doesn’t see the point of it because the lace is see-through, and your nipples are peaked. He looks up at your face, and you undo the hook, letting him pull the bra off.

Jimin stares at your breasts. ‘You’re stunning,’ he tells you. He lowers his head to kiss, and then he’s suckling at your tit. It feels good to have your tit in his mouth, but it feels even better the way you’re arching your back, hands behind his head to hold him even closer.

Jimin’s happy to oblige. The sounds you’re making are obscene in the best way. Experimentally, he runs a hand between your legs, and the sounds you make go from obscene to downright pornographic. He can feel your stickiness on his fingers as he touches you, and now he can’t think of anything he wants more than to taste you.

So he does. ‘Sweet,’ he tells you. ‘You’re so fucking sweet.’

You’ve tugged your lacy underwear down off your hips, and Jimin takes that as an invitation to bury his face between your thighs.

Jimin can’t believe how wet you are. He slips a finger into you, and your hips buck against his hand.

‘Easy,’ he says, hand flattening on your hip. ‘Easy, baby.’

‘Jimin,’ you say, breathily, and Jimin already knows he’s going to try his damnedest to do whatever you ask him to do next. ‘Fuck me.’

Jimin lunges for his bedside drawer. He’d be embarrassed about how eager he is if he didn’t have the evidence in front of him of his desire being reciprocated.

He rubs the head of his cock over your slick then rolls the condom on, giving himself a pump.

All right, buddy, don’t let me down.

He doesn’t realise he’s said the words out loud until he sees your gorgeous face, lips quirking in a smile.

‘Are you talking to your cock?’ you ask.

Jimin pushes into you so he doesn’t have to answer the question. He’s tired as fuck, he’s worried about Jungkook, but when he’s inside you, it all falls away.

It’s simple, like firing a gun at a gun range.

Like the crochet you’ve been teaching him to do.

He lifts your hips up, trying to find an angle that you like.

Gliding into you is like sliding into butter.

‘Fuck,’ he says, and his voice is so fucked he doesn’t even recognise himself.

And you? You’re moaning, clutching at his ass. Your fingers are working your clit, and you look so fucking erotic on the end of his cock Jimin has to stop looking at you or he’ll cum.

His eyes land on your tits. He leans down and laps at your nipples. You let out a sound that can only be described as a mewl.

You like that. Jimin suckles at a nipple, opens his mouth wider to try and fit more of you in.

Oh, you really like that.

‘Jimin,’ you pant. ‘I’m – ‘

Jimin can feel you tightening around his cock. He takes that as his cue to fuck into you harder. You can take him. You take him so fucking well.

God, you sound like heaven when you cum.

Jimin wants to join you so badly.

‘Fuck,’ he grunts. ‘Fuck.’

‘God, you’re so fucking hard,’ you say, tongue flicking against his ear.

Jimin presses his face into your hair, inhales deep, and cums so hard his vision goes white.

***

Jungkook rips at the wrapping paper with his teeth, and Jimin stares at him, speechless.

Yoongi lets out a sound of disgust but doesn’t comment.

It had probably been a bad idea to wrap the scarf but you had suggested it, and then you’d wrapped it for him, naked.

Jimin had spent the time staring at your bare ass.

Jungkook lifts the scarf out, unfolding it.

‘It’s a scarf,’ Jimin says. ‘I crocheted it for you.’

Jungkook looks up at him. ‘You made this?’

Jimin nods, confirming. ‘It took me weeks.’ He helps Jungkook wrap it around his neck.

‘Hyung,’ Jungkook says. He seems lost for words.

Then he rallies. ‘I love it, hyung.’ The emotion in his voice seems excessive, even for Jungkook, but from what Jimin gathers, Jungkook’s on some pretty strong pain meds whilst his shoulder heals.

Jimin gives Jungkook a hug, because he looks like he's angling for one.

There’s a knock at the door of Jungkook’s apartment.

‘Ah,’ Yoongi says. ‘That must be my present for you.’

Jungkook looks worried, but also intrigued, as Yoongi opens the door to reveal a young woman in black.

‘Is she a strip-o-gram?’ Jungkook whispers.

‘Even better,’ Yoongi assures him. ‘She’s a hairdresser. I figured since you have time off over the next few weeks, it’s a good time to get that hair cut you’ve been putting off. I’ve briefed her fully on the departmental appearance policy.’

Jimin is already heading to the door when Yoongi’s eyes land on him. ‘She’s also allotted time for two haircuts today.’

Jimin sighs.

***

Jimin’s started a new project. Today you’re teaching him how to crochet granny squares.

Apart from not getting the point of crocheting dozens of granny squares when one could just keep going and crochet a blanket that way, he’s feeling good today.

He thinks things are going well with you. You seem to be fond of him, constantly complimenting him on his clothes, his shorter hair.

You haven’t said a word about his body but Jimin’s ok with that because the way you stare at him when he’s naked is gratifying enough.

The way you run your hands over his arms, the way you’re constantly touching his chest and abs, the way you ride his thighs, is enough.

You still laugh at his jokes, and he thinks you’re not just being polite.

All in all, he’s pretty happy with his life right now, especially with Jungkookie on the mend.

You’re frowning over a clump of knotted wool, trying to untangle it. Jimin thinks it’s a lost cause, personally, but the way you’re concentrating on it gives him time to stare at you. Your teeth, gnawing your bottom lip, the way your hair falls across your face, your beautiful hands. Your glorious tits.

He realises you’re talking to him.

‘You’re not as subtle as you think, you know,’ you say.

Jimin meets your eyes guiltily.

‘You’re really pretty,’ he tells you.

‘Yeah? What else do you like about me?’ you ask. You’re not looking at him now, but he senses this is one of those situations where there’s a right thing to say.

He doesn’t want to say the wrong thing.

‘I like your hands when you do crochet. They look like wings. I like the way your lips twitch when you find me funny but you don’t want to admit it.’

Your eyes meet his.

‘I like the way you stood up to me when I first met you. I like the way you always make sure I’m fed and watered.’

Jimin’s making his way across the room to you. He stops, knees touching yours.

‘I think you’re a really fucking amazing person,’ he tells you.

Your knees part, and Jimin fits himself between your legs.

You look up at him, and then you’re kissing him.

Jimin thinks he’s said the right things.

Thank fuck for that.

***

‘I’ll see you later, ok? I’ve got to stop by the bank.’

Jimin watches you walk away, admiring the sway of your ass in your tight jeans. He heads into the police station.

It’s been a couple of months since you started fucking, and you have lunch together once or twice a week. Jungkook’s back at work, with a new short haircut that shows off the eyebrow piercing he got whilst he was off work with his healing shoulder.

Jimin can’t wait for Yoongi to notice it.

He’s loading up his shitty work computer, waiting to log in, when there’s a tremendous reverberation.

His first thought is that it’s an earthquake. The truth comes to him as Jungkook bursts into his workspace. It’s an explosion.

Yoongi’s on his phone, scrolling through his alerts.

‘Central bank downtown,’ he says, terse. ‘There's been an explosion – no group’s taken credit for it as yet. They’re activating crisis protocols, we need to get down there.’

Jimin’s heart stops. ‘Central bank?’

Yoongi’s eyes flick to his. ‘Spit it out, Park.’

‘Y/N was headed to the bank.’

Jimin is already running.

***

Jimin’s never been in Yoongi’s car, and thank fuck for that, because Min Yoongi drives like a fucking demon.

He calls you on the way. Your phone rings a few times, then clicks to answerphone.

‘She’s not answering,’ he tells no one in particular.

Yoongi reverses the wrong way down a one-way street, and doesn’t bother to slow down.

‘Damn,’ Jungkook mutters from the back seat as their car narrowly misses a car that’s about to turn in.

Yoongi doesn’t hit the brakes once. Jimin adds his insane driving to the list of things he needs to ask Yoongi about when he’s drunk.

He calls you again, and there’s no answer.

Yoongi stops the car a block from the bank.

The air’s thick with dust and smoke. There are sirens blaring from all the emergency responders, but the worst thing about this is the atmosphere, heavy with the significance of the event that’s just happened.

Jimin’s a cop, it’s in every fibre of his being, but in this moment he’s only focused on finding you.

‘Jungkook and I will help the first responders. You find her,’ Yoongi tells him.

It’s an order, and Jimin’s never failed to carry out a direct order from Yoongi before.

He picks his way through the debris, the concrete and glass, the dust.

There’s a ringing phone, and with a start, Jimin realises it’s him.

There’s a sob, then, ‘Jimin, there was –‘

‘I’m here, fuck, I’m here, where are you?’ Jimin asks, cutting you off. He scans the area as he’s waiting for you to reply, and then he spots you.

You’re staring at the phone in your hand, and your expression when he gets close enough, is so bewildered that Jimin’s heart feels like it’s folding in on itself.

He calls your name, then he’s reached you.

You’re covered in soot and dust, it’s in your hair and your clothes. Your tears are cutting trails through the dirt on your face.

Jimin pulls you into his arms, and you melt into him. You’re still crying, and Jimin doesn’t know what he can do about that apart from hold you, so that’s what he does.

‘I’ve got you,’ he tells you. His heart is slowing for the first time since the explosion. He kisses the top of your head. ‘I’ve got you.’

Yoongi’s expression when he sees you is the first time Jimin’s seen him express any emotion apart from – well actually Jimin’s never seen Yoongi express emotion. He watches, fascinated, as Yoongi holds you.

‘Don’t cry, Yoongi,’ you say, and your voice is raspy but there’s a bit of your usual self in it.

‘I’m not crying,’ says Yoongi. ‘I was just wondering how I was going to explain myself to your sister, if anything happened to you.’

He turns to Jimin. ‘Take her the fuck home, Park.’

***

Jimin’s so fucking hard he wonders if there’s any blood left in the rest of his body. You’ve got him in your mouth, and you’re doing something with your tongue that’s making his hips buck up into your face.

You’re cupping his balls, and swallowing around the head of his cock, and Jimin has no idea how he’s going to survive this. Your mouth is so wet, so warm, and you’re taking him all the way in like you haven’t got a gag reflex.

He strokes your hair, pulling it back so he can see your face, stuffed with his cock.

‘Can I?’ he asks. He’s not sure what he’s asking, but your eyes meet his, and you don’t seem to be saying ‘no’, so he figures it’s ok.

‘I’m gonna cum,’ he says, to give you another chance to pull back.

You look at him again. Then you do that thing with your tongue.

‘Fuck,’ Jimin hisses. ‘I’m cumming.’

You let out a hum that sounds approving, but Jimin’s well beyond keeping track of your noises. He’s spilling in your mouth, and goddamn if you don’t swallow every drop.

Jimin can’t take his eyes off you.

He wants to say thank you, but he thinks that would maybe be weird. You’ve been dating for months, and he hasn’t thanked you after blow jobs before.

Not that he’s not grateful for them.

He’s still in his head, so when you flick him on the forehead, he’s taken by surprise.

‘Get out of your head, Jimin, and lick me out.’

Jimin hastens to comply. This he can do.

He eats you out until you’re crying out and cumming over his face.

Afterward, Jimin gets you water, and lets you choose which of his clothes you want to sleep in. He’s been strategic about arranging his clothes, and always directs you to the drawer with his thinnest, most see-through tees.

Only the best for your incredible tits.

Jimin’s making hot chocolate when you come out his bedroom wearing a white tee he could read a newspaper through. He thinks it looks better on you than it ever did on him.

‘I’ve got a gift for you,’ you say. You look a little wary as you hold out his gift to him.

Jimin would recognise that burnt orange colour anywhere. ‘Is that for me?’ he asks. ‘No one’s ever made me a sweater before.’

Jimin slips it on. He’s not sure about the colour, but the fit is perfect. He’ll wear it, if that’s what you want.

He’s pretty sure he’ll do whatever you want.

©hamsterclaw 2022

---

the art of craving | pt.1

It's easy to feel like you're floating on the clouds when you're near them, it's easy to have them right under your grasp and feel as if they are yours, but why does it feel as if the more you crave them, the more it all seems to fall down?

alternatively, you're a fluffer, irrevocably in love with the seven you work with and it's hard to navigate through your feelings when your hearts are fluttering messes in the presence of each other.

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠. porn industry workers!ot7 x f!reader (side f!oc x reader)

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞. smut, fluff, angst (not really) | f2l | fluffer!au | pornstar!au | unrequited love!au | mutual pining!au.

𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠. 18+ (mature)

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭. 5.2k :(

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬. dom!bts | sub!reader | misunderstandings | pining | lesbian content (reader is bisexual) | chapter specific: slight handjob | cum swallowing | deep throating | dom!taejin | cunnilingus (fxf) | kissing | sexual tension | masturbation (m receiving) | slight cum play. i think thats all.

𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐭𝐬. thank you dee @sugakookitty a bunch for this amazing banner and sorry for all the trouble you went through! :( and my lovely pauli @kookstempo who managed to read all this shit and provide some real good feedback :O thanks my love <333

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞. im sorry for putting this up so late, i have a blithering headache and want to die. thank you so much for all your support, ily guys :(( hope you enjoy, im pretty nervous since this is not what i uploaded back then but any feedback or comments are appreciated <3 comment or send an ask to be added to the taglist!

series masterlist. ʚɞ next.

"Cut! Stop filming right now." Namjoon's voice echoed in the studio, making everyone freeze in their spots. The lights were switched off, the film was paused, and breaths hitched, waiting for the next words of the director.

Namjoon was a perfectionist, known to be one of the strictest directors in his line of work. On set, he was a force to be reckoned with, leaving everyone grumpy with how commandeering he could be. It was maybe how the actor’s face had been angled, or how the squelchy sounds of sex appeased his ears, or that one time when the male actor had been way too soft for his liking- he wanted things to go his way, and his way demanded the utmost precision. 

It was a shock to him when the three of his best stars’ performances were sub-par. 

Misha, the female porn star, had her jaw unhinged, saliva falling from her mouth, black lines of mascara dripping down her face from when she had strained her mouth to take in Taehyung's cock; while Jin, who was pounding her from behind stopped, retreating his hands from her hips, both men slowly pulling out as carefully as they could.

The slick sound that accompanied it was uncomfortable, but it was nothing the people on the set hadn't experienced. The actors slowly moved away from each other's sweaty and cum-covered bodies, waiting just like the others in the studio.

Hoseok and Yoongi were quick on their feet, rushing to hand very expensive silk robes and chilled waters to each of the cast, dabbing their faces with fresh towels. It was important to make sure they looked fresh for each cut, but not enough for it to be evident to the consumer that they did in fact cut the scene in the middle.

Namjoon stepped forward from his position behind the camera, Jungkook trailing behind quickly with a hardboard in his hands, struggling to keep all the papers in his grasp.

Namjoon’s aura was terrifying, especially to Jungkook who was anxious about everything related to said man. It’s as if Namjoon was the devil, controlling all the people in the room like pawns, but Namjoon didn’t think that way. He thought he just paid extra attention to detail, and sure, sometimes he did become angry but he expected everyone to meet standards, his standards.

The director pushed his glasses up with a strained look on his face, jaw clenching every second as he struggled to keep his calm. It was the thought about how imperfect the scene had been that left Namjoon in a fit of pique. He wasn't having a good day today, and to have to experience such a lackluster performance from the team dampened his mood further.

"This is a mess." He stated as soon as he got close enough to the three actors, taking in their tired forms with his equally dull eyes.

"Why? I thought everything was fine?" Misha started after handing her empty bottle to Yoongi, stepping forward with the robe loosely tied around her bare skin.

She looked ethereal without a doubt. Even with fresh streaks of black on her face, her face exuded sensuality, and her body was curved in just the right places for her to garner a relatively large base of loyal fans who were charmed by the way she could get them aroused with just a flutter of her eyes. 

"Wait. Someone get ___ from upstairs first." He declared to no one in particular, but the job would be done soon. He had the power, and he knew it. He smirked when he heard thudding on the stairs. The set was quiet enough for him to listen to the labored breathing of the unfortunate man racing to get to the first floor. No one disobeyed Namjoon.

"I'll be there in two minutes!" Your sweet voice called out from the floor above, making the men in the studio anticipate your arrival, shivers spreading down their spines.

"Okay, first of all, you guys are doing a girlfriend-boyfriend roleplay. It’s supposed to be romantic, just a little bit lovey-dovey, yeah? And you guys look like you’re having a one-night stand.” Namjoon sighed. 

“Wait- but- the people said they wanted rougher stuff. Go check the comments on Tanhub.” Taehyung countered with an exasperated look on his face.

“I know, and that shooting is scheduled for next week,” And Taehyung shut his mouth. “Anyways, Misha, you look disinterested, and your moaning sounds very forced; genuinely enjoy it, yeah? And you guys look like you are hammering a rabbit with your dicks." Namjoon turned to look at Misha's fucked out face and then at the two men who looked disgusted at the director's comment.

"Tell me that when you don't have a dick as big as Taehyung's down your throat. It's not even my fault, my throat wasn't warmed up properly, and I'm just not in the mood." She grumbled in reply, crossing her arms over her chest. 

"Alright, we will do something about that. Is Misha's fluffer on set?" A trembling Jungkook stepped forward from the shadows, cowering under his boss's gaze. He immediately shuffled through the schedule papers in his hands, coming up with nothing, and then he saw you skipping down the stairs.

His gaze was stuck on your form, wearing the shortest pair of shorts he had ever seen on anybody, your ass cheeks falling out and jiggling deliciously with every step you took their way. You hadn't gone easy on them with your crop top either. The cut dipped down all the way from your collarbone, showing off your sternum. The sides of your supple breasts were visible for their eyes to feast on, and boy did they appreciate the sight.

"You called me Mr. Kim?" You chirped, looking over all the people on the floor before your gaze landed on the tallest man in the room.

"Hi Princess, Misha's fluffer didn't come in today?" He smiled, and your heart fluttered. 

"No. Jihoon did, but he left a while back because there was an emergency. He told me to tell you, but since you were in your element, I didn't."

Namjoon’s thick lips parted in a sigh, his hand going to ruffle his hair in exasperation.

"Okay, we will figure something out for Misha; how about you go help Jin and Taehyung till then? We'll resume after a break, everyone be back in 20."

"Alright! Let’s go!" You chirped with a grin, happy to spend time with some of your favorite people. Said men were quick to grab each of your hands, rushing you to one of the empty corners of the studio, covered with flimsy curtains, where they could have their privacy with you.

Though their jobs required them to be exposed in front of the camera, showing off all their assets, they still preferred to keep something to cover themselves up. it definitely worked in their favor when you would trail your hands over their muscular thighs, lightly scratching with your fingertips to keep them worked up.

That being said, they didn't need you to ‘fluff’ them up; your presence was enough to have them turned on for days, but there was something in the way you looked at them, touched them with the lightest yet most sinful hands that made them groan in pleasure and want more, more even after fucking a woman just moments before.

It was something you did, or rather you that had them weak in their knees.

"Hi Tae, Jin! How have you guys been?" You smiled.

Their breaths quickened when they saw you drop to the floor and tie your hair up in a ponytail, your top riding up even further and revealing the tattoo under your breasts to them.

It was a simple flower vine, the blank ink spread from your sideboob all the way under the curve, but to this day, being able to see so much of you felt like a dream despite having known you for two years now.

It certainly had an effect on them, one which you were not oblivious to. You knew them enough to understand when they were really enjoying themselves and when they weren't. Their moans from before left a sour taste in your mouth- they weren't authentic or the low, deep groans you had the pleasure of hearing every once in a while. They were forced and intermittent, and you knew it was time to change into your sexiest, most revealing clothes to make them shift in their seats.

It was the moment you had been waiting for a long time.

"Hi, ___," Taehyung mumbled, his fiery gaze fixed on you.

Having you here right now, in such a compromising position, in front of their chairs, was a bad mistake. Your job was to keep them hard during breaks but it didn't help that they had had a crush on you since the moment they saw you walking down the set timidly on your first day as a fluffer.

Though it was probably them who spent the most time with you, this intimately, this passionately. And hearing the boys whine every second of the day about their lack of you only made them grateful for the few moments you spent with them on workdays. 

And it’s not like the others understood how it took all they had in them not to bust a nut; although they longed to cover your tits with their seed, they would have to wait for another day to indulge in such possessions. It was another level of self-control that they had edged themselves for hours to get to.

"Can I touch you now?" You gazed at them with longing eyes, and they were immediately nodding their heads.

"Thank you."

You dipped your hands under their robes, getting a feel of their calves and then their muscular thighs, not too fast, caressing the soft yet tense skin with a grin on your face. You didn't have it in you to look them in their eyes, you knew it would make you want to submit under their dominant gazes, so you kept your eyes fixed on your hands.

With a shaky breath, you begin to inch them up, teasing them. Their hearts began palpitating in their chests the more you got closer to their cocks. They knew what you were doing, they had played the game with you every time. But after a very uneventful work day, they were horny, patience wearing off every second.

"I suggest you stop teasing, baby. Don't make me get Jimin over here." Jin clicked his tongue in annoyance.

You shifted on your knees. It was your job to tease them. To keep them ready, not enough for them to cum. Jimin, your supervisor, had told you to do the same. How could you disobey his direct orders?

"Your job is to tease, ___, not to make them orgasm. Make them crave you. Use your mouth or your hands, it doesn't matter; as long as they stay hard enough to continue, you get paid." He had told you at the time of your job briefing, grazing his fingers over his thighs, which you couldn't help but gawk at.

You didn't understand what bringing Jimin here could do except for making your day even better. You imagined he would, in fact, just sit there and monitor you with hooded eyes, his legs spread wide enough for you to be able to steal a glance at his erection.

But you were sure it was just your horny mind speaking.

So you ignored their words, feeling your breath start to quicken, lust coursing through your veins from how excited you were to disobey them. It was the thrill of breaking the rules that made blood rush all over your body. They couldn't punish you even if you wanted them to, it was all a part of a job- your job as their fluffer, as much as you hated to admit it.

You rub your palms over them with a feathery touch, wanting to make them wait for you. It was a sight to behold- the two twitching in their seats, and moaning for you. Their cocks were still covered by the silk robe, enticing you to touch them and lick them. Though you could see the outline clearly, it didn't satisfy the hunger in your throat, it never did, so you removed it.

And the sight would always leave you dumbstruck.

Taehyung's was, by far, the longest cock you had ever seen and tasted. His thick cock that twitched under your eager eyes, laid on his abs, long fingers rubbing his chin as if he was deep in thought. He was almost easily seven inches long, and you always commended anyone who had the power to manage an entire shoot with him.

Jin, on the flip side, was equally impressive, if not more. Though his length was maybe an inch shorter than Taehyung's, his girth made up for it. You were sure of the pleasurable burn it would provide when it split open a pussy, massaging the walls like no one else could. His thrusts were harsh and powerful too, thanks to his impeccable hips, and you never understood how one can be so perfect.

As you continued practically gawking over them, your cunt heating in your panties, it was Jin whose resolve finally broke and he grabbed your hand that was fisted in his robe and pulled you towards him in a swift motion. Your knees scraped against the ground uncomfortably, but that was the least of your worries when you saw the need in Jin's eyes.

You gazed at him with startled eyes, your mouth itching to ask if you did something wrong. Jin had his hand wrapped around the base of his cock, his leaking slit smearing his precum all over your reddened lips. You could taste a mixture of Misha's sweet pussy juices and his cum on your tongue, and that ignited a fire in your veins.

"Sweetie, put your mouth over his cock right now; you do not want to disobey us," Taehyung growled under his breath, his hands moving to undo his robe and grasp his cock tightly.

“But what about you?” You asked.

“Don’t worry about me, ___; you have no idea about the effect you have on me." His stare pierced into your eyes as he spoke. 

You flushed but complied immediately, parting your lips and taking him in your mouth. Hollowing your cheeks just the right amount as you take him in. All nervousness left your body the second you felt the weight of his cock on your tongue, it felt like it belonged there, heavy and warm. His cock was long enough to hit the back of your throat easily and thick enough to make your jaw throb with pain increasingly every second, but it was all a part of your wonderful job.

"You look so pretty with your lips around my cock." Jin let out a pleasurable sigh at the feeling, your nails digging into his thighs at the praise, your tongue swirling around his tip, and he let his head fall back. Your eyes were closed due to the strain, but every sharp inhale and moan and sigh you heard was a reward, and you clenched your empty hole, wanting nothing more for him to fuck you.

With a pop, you removed your mouth from his cock, taking in deep breaths. You looked up at him only to see him staring down at you with lust-lidded eyes, his breathing heavy like yours. You were taken aback when his hand moved to grip yours, long fingers interlocking with yours and wrapping them around his thick cock and stroking it, sticky sounds amplifying in your ear. 

You struggled to keep your eyes on his, feeling bashful under his stare, so you wrapped your lips around his tip again, licking his tip and coating it with your saliva. With his chest reverberating in a deep groan, you felt your panties starting to stick to your core uncomfortably. You gasped when his hand left yours, and you stopped yours too, wanting to ask him why. But you couldn’t when his hand pushed your head down on his cock in one go, his tip hitting the back of your throat.

"That's a good fucking girl. F-Fuck, baby, you feel so good!" He growled, the thrust of his hips starting to increase in pace, as you stopped bobbing your head up and down and let him take control of you. You gagged with every thrust when the tip of his cock hit the back of your throat, bruising the flesh of your mouth, but you wanted it. 

With each thrust, you moaned around him, hearing him curse and groan above you. You were so lost in the intoxicating feeling of his cock hitting the back of your throat; you couldn't make out when his length throbbed in your mouth or when his balls tightened, filling with his cum, or when he released the deepest growl you ever heard and spilled his hot cum in your mouth.

Jin knew he shouldn’t do it,knew it was bad, knew it would get him in trouble with Namjoon later. But seeing the girl of his dreams on her knees, sucking his cock with the warmest and most tempting mouth he had ever had the pleasure of fucking, was far too much for him to control, so maybe it was okay to let go, he decided. 

"Fuck, baby, so fucking good for us, gonna make you mine one day! Fuck!" He hummed under his breath. You couldn't hear him over the loud, slick noises of your drooling saliva and his cum, whimpering at the taste of his hot seed coating your tongue- sweet like honey with hints of citrus, a flavor you could easily get addicted to.

"Shit, baby, you're milking my cock! F-fuck!" He continued riding out his high, not caring that the shoot would have to be prolonged. You let him have it after weighing your options after the hazy feeling in your mind disappeared; the only thing you could do was wait for him to get hard again. He continued bobbing your head up and down, swallowing thickly at the sight of you looking fucked out and dizzy after just giving a blowjob.

Some cum dripped down from your mouth and on his shaft, and you darted your tongue out to lick it. Dragging the muscle as slowly as you could over his length, you gave it small kitten licks, rolling your tongue back into your mouth to taste him with your eyes shut closed. You sighed, finally feeling full and hearty.

A deep groan on your left side caught your attention. Taehyung was sitting with his legs spread wide in his chair, forehead glistening with sweat, and was busy rubbing his thumb over his slit that oozed precum, the sight inviting you to wrap your lips around his cock.

You were tempted to suck him dry the same way you had milked Seokjin, but you couldn’t make the same mistake again. It would be unprofessional of you to make him cum; it always had been to wind them up, but never to bring them relief. 

"Having fun here, aren’t we?" You turned your head, jumping in alarm at the presence of an all too familiar voice in your little corner, the curtains already back in their place.

Curse your weak heart for jumping up in a mix of emotions because of Jimin’s voice, both good and bad. 

There had never really been any set professional boundaries between you all, even from the day he had interviewed you for this job. It had always been a mixture of seductive looks from said men, shy glances from you, and sexual tension that was almost suffocating. Neither had the guts to finally make a move, but you couldn’t deny how your heart palpitated in your chest whenever you were in their presence.

You only hoped the feelings were reciprocated, and not just a result of lust. 

It probably affected Namjoon the most how you were always near, yet never seemed to be in his grasp. Still, he liked to maintain his distance from a professional stand, but he too was in the same predicament as you: down bad but scared. 

You couldn’t see the way Taehyung smirked at the fury in Namjoon’s eyes, who squeezed in next to Jimin in the tiny space, pushing down the small bit of empathy he felt for the man. 

“Tsk, is this what I hired you for, ___? Hmm?” Jimin’s condescending tone brought you back to earth and then punched you ten feet under.

You could feel the dread set in with every step your way, and a thousand scenarios ran in your head. Would you be fired, suspended, or worse, replaced? Someone else taking your position made you want to gag. The mere thought of it was bad enough, but what if it actually happened? 

They were right. You had one job, one, yet you couldn’t do it right. The self-hatred started before another word was uttered in the room and you could already feel your eyes burn with unshed tears and the tip of your nose become itchy, a telltale sign of what was to come. 

“You made Jin cum, didn’t you?” 

“Jimin, stop.” Namjoon finally spoke up, feeling the teasing atmosphere turn damp.

“I thought you would be better at this.” 

“Jimin, I said stop.” 

As if sensing the way you stopped moving and just turned your head downwards, covering your face using the length of your hair, with your hands having retreated to your sides as if touching any of them burnt your skin, Jin shoots a sharp glare in their direction. He fisted his hands, feeling worse by the minute, but not knowing what to do. Should he comfort you, rub your back, hope with everything in his being that you weren't actually upset at their teasing tone?

One, breathe in.

Five, hold it. 

Seven, control your emotions.

Nine, breathe out.

You did not know how much time passed by as you kept breathing in and out, but once you did regain a grip on yourself, you got up from your knees, ignoring the way your muscles shouted in protest. You didn’t hear them gasp at the way your form trembled for a second, both in fear and embarrassment, before stilling. 

“I’m sorry Mr. Park, Mr. Kim, we got lost in the heat of the moment. It won’t happen again.” You looked them in the eye as you spoke.

But in all honesty, you didn’t know what you were apologizing for. Were you sorry you made Jin feel good, or that you somehow prolonged the shoot, or was it because it went against the terms of your job? You couldn’t pinpoint it but you felt slightly disappointed in yourself, yet you didn’t show it as much as you thought you would.

“Will you both be okay for the next 10 minutes like this? I’ll go to Misha.” You asked the two men who wore confusion on their faces.

You looked at them again, bowing lightly before making your way out of the stall the very next second, making your way to Misha’s usual place with shaky legs, the surge of confidence wearing down by the second.

After having been subjected to praises and sweet words of affection, this was a punch in the gut to say the least, and maybe that’s why you were overreacting. It’s really easy to cross the line from playful to not, and that was what happened.

“Oh, ___! Hey, I was looking for you. Misha was calling you, if you don’t mind?” Jeongguk rubbed the back of his neck nervously, shifting on his feet nervously. As if you could really say no to his adorable face.

“Yeah, I was just going there. Thanks for letting me know.” You patted his elbow lightly.

“Yeah…” He mumbled, dazed, as he watched you make your way to Misha. If heart eyes were a person, it would definitely be Jeon Jeongguk.

“___! My favorite girl.” Misha exclaimed as you made your way inside her ‘cabin’.

In reality, it was just a small broom closet, cleaned to perfection and decorated with neutral tones, with small pots of green scattered here and there in a futile attempt to brighten up the place. 

“Misha, hello.” You mumbled as you sat on the floor in front of her on your knees, lips parting in an inaudible wince at the feeling.

“Here, baby.” She removed a pillow from her side and put it below your knees, watching as you blushed slightly before moving closer to her.

“Not your baby.” You retorted, spreading her legs gently and pushing your head to the crevice between her thighs. Your nose met her clit, the woman above you letting out a small moan at the stimulation. Your hands gripped her thighs, rubbing small circles there with your thumbs.

“But you could be.” She chuffed, making you bite down on her clit lightly.

“Okay, okay! Slowly, baby, don’t go too hard, alright?” By now you knew that her tone was essentially a code word signifying her want to be worshiped, treated like a goddess, and taken time to properly arouse, love and lick.

The smell of her pussy was the sweetest candy you have ever tasted on a woman. You darted the tip of your tongue out, licking at her clit, slowly. Tasting her juices, watching as it elicited a soft sigh from her. It had been a long time since you ate her out, but she tasted the same as ever. You angled your head into her folds, nudging her legs further apart.

“Taste good?” She mumbled, her voice seductive and inviting, combing through your hair. An outsider may have just thought you two were lovers by the sheer passion of it all.

“Hmm. More.” You whimpered with your eyes closed, continuing to savor her at your own pace.

With shaky hands, you pried her thighs apart, gaining better access to her cunt. You immediately lapped at her clit, drawing ‘eights’ with the tip of your tongue before wrapping your mouth around it and sucking it into your mouth. A groan left her mouth, and you could feel her hand clench at her side before it came down to guide your tongue into her hole.

With need coursing through your veins, you thrust your tongue into her tight hole, still continuing with your slow pace. Her scent was stronger now; you almost felt drunk on it. 

You heard the door open, but you were too far gone into your actions that everything seemed to be a blur except for your desire to taste the woman. You could feel her motions on your hand stop and you whined. A beat of silence ensued before she was continuing with her tender motions and you were back to lazily licking at her wetness.

The same clicking sound was heard again and Misha placed her hand on your cheeks, moving your body upwards to her, placing your head in the crook of her neck as you shivered. She ignored your protests, cooing at the pout on your face before guiding you towards her lips. You lapped at them hungrily, like a woman starved of the simple pleasure of warmth.

Misha pulled you away from her far too quickly for your liking, caressing your cheeks and shushing you lightly. “Baby, baby, baby, what’s gotten into you today? You aren’t usually so placid. Tell me, I’ll make it better.” 

You ignored her, moving towards the dip of her chest, before shaking your head.

“___, tell me.” She spoke, a little more aggressive than you could have handled in your state of mind, 

“Don’t be mean.” You pouted.

“Then tell me what’s wrong.”

“I made Jin cum and I think Mr. Park is mad at me.” You whispered your worries to her.

“Oh, shit. Uh wow. Did he scold you or call you to his room after or… anything at all? Are you in trouble?”

“No, he didn’t, but his tone was like,” You struggled to find the right words. “When you make fun of me when you see me trip over the cables in the main room. I still don’t like it when you do that.” 

“And you think I’m mocking you when I do that?” Misha questioned, to which you nodded your head.

“Oh my god.” She whispered under her breath. “Silly girl, I don’t make fun of you when I say that. It’s adorable that you are clumsy sometimes. You look around with those terrified eyes of yours, when actually many of us already saw you trip.”

“Are you freaking kidding me? Everyone saw that? How am I gonna show my face to them now?” You threw your hands around, exasperated at the revelation. 

She chuckled before bringing your attention back to her. “See, you’re so cute. Now, back to what we were discussing. I wouldn’t be afraid if I were you, ___. Really, just trust me on this one.”

“But why? Gimme a reason at least!” 

“I’m older, I’ve seen the ways of the world more than you have, so shut your pretty mouth up and listen.” You immediately zipped your mouth, waiting patiently for her next words.

“Boys are icky but you do you, baby. If Mr. Park indeed got mad, and he confronts you or whatever, repeat the exact same words I’m gonna tell you, alright?” 

You nod, anticipation heavy in your eyes.

“Tell him to go suck his own dick and hope he chokes on his cum.” 

A terrified gasp and maniacal laugh were heard simultaneously in the room.

“Misha! Are you crazy? Is this your villain arc or something? I’d get fired in an instant.” 

“Hey, babe, you never know what that sneaky little shit is into, okay? I’m just very inclusive to all tastes and preferences.” She had the audacity to wink at you.

“Yeah, Misha, no. As much as I love you, you’re fucking crazy.” 

“Aww, you love me? I’m a pile of mush now, save me!” She squished your cheeks in her hand, pecking the skin peaking out softly.

“Misha- oh,” You heard Yoongi’s voice in the room, dying down towards the end. “Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to disturb the two of you.” His tone turned gruff at the end.

“Nah, it’s cool. I was just about to come out anyway.” She shot you a cheeky smile and helped you get up from your frozen state, pushing you down on the sofa before walking out with Yoongi on her tail.

“See you later, babe.” 

…

“Jimin, what the actual fuck did you do? Did you have to be so condescending?”

“I wasn’t trying to! It just came out like fucking word vomit!” Jimin grumbled, holding his head in his hands like a man defeated.

“Well, thank you for messing everything up. How do you suppose we rectify this, you brat?” Jin scoffed, fighting the urge to snap.

“I don’t know. I really don’t.” 

“Now, you morons, I will be calling in for a favor and y’all better be grateful that our girl doesn’t slip from our hands before we have even treated her right.” 

“What are you going on about?” Namjoon mumbled, rolling his eyes at another one of Jin’s stupid schemes. 

“You’ll see.”

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭. @scentedsope @pb-n-juju @ot7nem @bangtanflirt @purplebtsmagic @kookstempo @take-u-2-an0ther-w0r1d @likeshatteredrainbowglass @natalia-rmnva @myyeoubi @sebootyforlife @seongsanniehwa @dumb-cxm-slxt @maichiverse @portia-bts @sybilvvriting @taestrwbrry @bt21chim @daydreamqueenjaycee @leatherbabyfairy @dollhobigem @singukieee @malewife-supremacy @jeontier @mageprincess7 @effielumiere @mrcleanheichou @blushingatyou @doublebunv @chieftoadturkeynickel @laura-naruto-fan1998 @borataehyungiee @readers-posts @totallynoanalien @ftyoongi @faceaeter @tinyoonsblog @just-me-and-myselfs @their-tongue-technology @jksjx @rjsmochii @kyrah-williams @paymeinkash @lovely-joon @floral-recs @dahliasbouqet @dreamamubarak @cjphoenix-blog @yn-lifeu @ohshutupjimin @drarry-4-lifers @kimsaerom

© hobateas 2022. all rights reserved. do not copy, edit, repost, translate or claim my work as your own.

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Poly/OT7: I

Updated 2/25/23

Burn the Stage - @adonis-koo

A Place Called Home - @agustdakasuga

Between the Bloodshed - ^^

Everything Between Us - ^^

How to Sell Sunshine - @alpacaparkaseok

The Tales of Sisters (Queendom series) - @borathae

Damn the Charcuterie Board - @bratkook

Sanctuary - @btsreactsarchive

Love is Blind - @cinnaminsvga

Dorm Duels - ^^

Betrayal - @daydream-hobii

Sanctuary - ^^

Peculiar Pack - @daydreamindollie

From Eden - @ddaenggtan

Under the Same Sun - @floralseokjin

No Doubt About it - @hoebii

Black Mamba - ^^

Dance to This/Call Me Yours - @hollyhomburg

Hybrid House - ^^

Reasons Wretched and Divine - ^^

Sugary Sweet - ^^

Cute Aggression - ^^

Champagne & Sunshine - @jamaisjoons

Complaint - @jiminiesfavouritecolourisblue

I Want You to Stay - ^^

Our Little Love - ^^

Bleeding Butterflies - ^^

A Bed of Roses - @jimlingss

The Seven Kinds of Love - ^^

Tomorrow - @jungk0oksthighs

Voracious - @jungkookiebus

Date Night - @justcallmenikki7

Regretful Choices - ^^

Wild, Wild, Wilderness - @kimnjss

Thought you were Different - @kookiesbuckethat

Broken Communication - @kpopisthereasonihavenolife

Protectors - @kyutiekook

Little Dove - ^^

Kings of Campus - @luxekook

You Belong to Us - @minniepetals

Feelings of Doubt - ^^

Yours Alone - ^^

Strawberries & Cigarettes - ^^

When the rain gets Rough - ^^

Until the Last Star Falls - ^^

Caramel Macchiato - ^^

Honey Love - ^^

Nightlight - ^^

Heartbeat - ^^

Love Poem - ^^

As Long as You're Here - ^^

A Cup of Love - ^^

A Thousand Springs - ^^

When a Demon Loves - ^^

Guardians - ^^

Milk Honey - ^^

The Butterseries - ^^

Cry Me a River - ^^

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Watermelon Sugar | JJK (M)

☼ Summary: When your friends outvote you for your annual summer trip, you end up stuck at a beachside town. To make it worse, there’s an irritating local surfer boy that won’t leave you alone… that is until you see him shirtless and in the water - then you don’t want him to leave you alone and your unexpected summer romance begins.

☼ Pairing: Surfer!Jungkook x Female!Reader

☼ Genre: Fluff, smut, a dollop of brief angst, strangers to lovers au, summer romance au?, age gap au (Jungkook is 21 and y/n is 27-29)

☼ Rating: 18+

☼ Words: 14.4k

☼ Warnings: Profanity, mention of alcohol, y/n almost drowns, a classic misunderstanding, dirty talk, exhibitionism, handjob, oral (f receiving), face riding, protected sex, sub!jk, dom!reader

☼ Note: Here’s my fic for the Blue Crush collab! Thank you to @jamaisjoons​ for this gorgeous banner!! And thank you so much to my amazing, fantastic, magical beta @bangtanhome! Moon always saves my ass when I need someone’s big brain to read over my fics. Ily moon 🥺💙 Also! It’s still September 1st in the U.S. so I managed to post this in time for Jungkook’s birthday! 🙌🏽 I wrote more than half of this fic when I wasn’t sober, so enjoy!! 💜

Keep reading

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min yoongi fic rec list (Ⅴ)

hi guys it’s been a minute since i posted it’s been hectic i recently got a promotion so that’s been taking up my time but here’s another list of my favourite yoongi fics honestly reading them was so much fun and made me feel happy so i hope you enjoy them as much as i did. remember to please show lots of love and support to these incredible authors and creators and their blogs, don’t forget to give them a follow , leave a heart, reblog or leave a kind message i know they will appreciate hearing from you, these fics contain smut so no minors interact feel free to send and share any fics you are currently into and would like to share with me i would love hearing from you guys

a- angst s- smut f- fluff

series

love lockdown by @personasintro f s a (enemies to lovers zombie apocalypse)

in the margins by @bonvoyagenoona f s a (enemies to friends to lovers slow burn)

look down on me like that by @here2bbtstrash s a (enemies/coworkers to lovers slow burn)

andante cantabile by @kkulfm-2 f s (regency au unrequited love slow enemies to lovers pianist yoongi)

match made in hell by @ughcore  f s a (arranged marriage doctor au rivals to lovers)

only yesterday by @borathae f s a (strangers to lovers)

dating advice by @taleasnewastime f s a (strangers to lovers)

the deal by @untaemedqueen f s a (strangers to lovers gang/cartel au)

matilda by @babystrcandy f s a (brother’s best friend unrequited love)

down the hall by @jjungkookislife s a (brother’s best friend)

ink nemesis by @scriptaed f a (fake dating au)

unexpected lovers by @jjkeverlast f s a (fake dating artist yoongi)

love is a dog from hell by yourlocalhoney (ao3) f s a (love triangle friends with benefits) ft.Jungkook

petals by @yoonia f (parents au)

pink bird houses by @54daysormore f a (single dad au)

everytime by @deathbyyoongx f s a (fuckboy exes au)

desolate by @angelicyoongie f s a (hybrid au)

one-shot

first-date bait by @jimlingss f (strangers to lovers)

↬first-date bait drabble @/jimlingss s (strangers to lovers)

wallflowers by @bonvoyagenoona s (strangers to lovers)

sugar by @zehakoo f s (ceo au strangers to lovers neighbours)

radio sweethearts by @helenazbmrskai s (brother’s best friend college au slow burn)

tongue like candy by @jjungkookislife s a (brother’s best friend age gap)

auburn skies by @persphonesorchid f s a (brother’s best friend)

black and white by @akinnie75 f a (slow burn)

always & forever by @sugakookitty f s (established relationship wedding au)

hard liquor by @chateautae s (boss x employee age gap)

sweetener by @taegularities f s (enemies to lovers fwb au fuckboy)

soft spot by @cultleaderyoongi f (first date)

↬sweet spot by @cultleaderyoongi f s (established relationship)

sticks & stones by @xpeachesncream f s a (friends to lovers ex friends with benefits pinning au)

fuck being friends by @strawberrynamjoon f a (friends to lovers college au)

the seventh muse by @wwilloww f s (friends to lovers)

tell me what you want by @/wwilloww f s (friends to lovers)

yoongi’s lullaby by @jiminrings f a (unrequited love friends to lovers soulmate au)

illicit favors by @yoongiofmine f s a (friends to lovers)

snow blanket by @yoonieper f s (friends to lovers)

a wager of lords & love @hisunshiine s (regency au arranged marriage)

an empty home by @7deadlysinsfics s a (arranged marriage) ft. Taehyung

the nanny diaries by @btsgotjams27 f (single mom roommate au)

the good part by @introlxv s (roommate au)

handyman by @borathae s a (rebound au roommate au)

don’t hold hands by @whatifyoulivelikethat s ( friends with benefits roommate au)

by the time i’ve figured out what it’s worth by @ugh-yoongi f s a (marriage au)

swing life away by @aphrodijin f s a (marriage au)

peaches in bed by @borathae s (domestic au husband au)

the little things by @kth1 f s (boyfriend au)

fxck a fxckboy! by @yoongifis s (fuckboy)

shirt by @bonvoyagenoona s a (one night stand idol au)

cupid’s curse by @ressjeon s a (first love au)

dawned in by @aquagustd f s (dilf yoongi)

bad things by @yoonia s a (escort au pining)

close call by @xjoonchildx (mafia au)

↬looking for other myg fics or the other bts members check out my library

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