Ryen I Am Not Prepared And Will NOT Be When This Drops.
Ryen… i am not prepared and will NOT be when this drops. 👀😳


Just please please… don’t hurt our baby Yoongi 🥺🥺👉👈

Look at sweet innocent face Ryen! 🥺🥺
Also some tangerines to help save our baby. 🍊🍊🍊
[ 3tan9 ] 🧍♀️
![[ 3tan9 ]](https://64.media.tumblr.com/41f409d0ef00521fddd3a0fd64510ff3/d3013c76937a0a07-eb/s500x750/e8d2d69c051b8349ba88a97ed747dcd000ef6b37.jpg)
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a/n: so………. a ha ha🫣
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More Posts from Wobblewobble822
Ooff—🥴🥴🥵🥵
@kithtaehyung for blessing us with this fall drabble. 💖💖🥹
drabble: apple bobbing (3tan) | myg

drabble: apple bobbing pairing: 3tan!yoongi x reader(f) series: three tangerines | fall prompt submissions rating/genre: pg ; fluff ; brother’s best friend au, implied age gap au prompt: apple bobbing at an autumn fair, yoongi looks disgustingly hot all wet, by 🌚 note: bobbing for apples is a tradition that’s usually done around halloween. it involves trying to grab a floating apple from a basin filled with water, and you can only use your mouth! note 2: so we’re just gonna start off with a bang lmfaoooo thank you, moonface. this was so fun to do<33 if you haven’t read the three tangerines series yet, i highly encourage you to! the side characters would make a lot more sense :D warnings: language, wet hair yoongi.., cheeky jimin, yoongi bobs for apples and i think i need about two days to recover from this lol, tension, the ending🥴 drop date: october 4th, 2022, 7:17pm est word count: 2k
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“Wait, isn’t that Jimin?”
Keep reading



seeing him like this soothes my heart 💘
@aseaofyoongi 🔥💖🤌
YASS‼️‼️
Loving it!!!
we belong together | ch.1

min yoongi x reader (f)
genre: min twins au; angst; smut
rating: mature audiences only (18+)
word count: 8,8 thousand words
summary: before college you and your bestfriend yoongi promised your parents if you were to come back home single you would begin dating to marry as a way to get them to back off your love lives. upon coming back however, although you’re both single, yoongi is in love with someone else and unwilling to let them go. unfortunately, you are left to carry out the hapless promise with yoongi’s twin brother and your sworn enemy min yoojin.
warnings: arranged marriage themes; slowburn; enemies to fake dating to eventual lovers;bickering; wet dreams, post college au; clitorial stimulation; fingering; denial/supression og feelings; sexual tension; brief mention of choi soobin of txt; secrets; chapter one set up like an intro; this is unedited so sorry for mistakes now.
posted: november 27, 2022 at 9:20pm
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Confined.
That’s the feeling you’ve been consumed by for a sizable amount of your life. As if you were utterly trapped in a massive black hole just floating aimlessly amongst the grand ocean of loneliness and darkness; waiting to be chewed up and spit out with little to greet you on the other side.
Every little detail about your life has been promptly calculated since the moment you were a mere fetus in your mother’s womb. There was no event spared for you to decide on your own free will as your parents steered you down an avenue of accomplishments worthy of your families last name. While time and time again you wanted to snatch the wheel from their hands and swerve in your own direction there was something that stopped you every single time the thought even emerged in your head—you couldn’t quite pinpoint what it was or where it derived from but you shucked it up to cowardice and continued to comply in being the exemplary daughter they had molded you to be.
Actually, that was bullshit, ‘comply’ was a loose term. You felt it your obligation to obey their demands one after another because it wasn't your duty as their daughter one and only daughter to not burden them with insignificant nuisances.
Still you’d imagine some management over your own life would be nice once in a while. As much as you craved the idea however it was unattainable. A mere figment of your wildest dreams.
Walking through the rotating doors and before you could get a single word out the boy sitting behind the front desk greeted you with a beaming smile. He was nothing short of adorable and you could practically see the bright splendor of vibrancy radiating right off his ambiance. He shone so bright he served as the luminescence for the entire room, “Jiminie, you are glowing.”
There was a gleam sparkling in his eyes at your emphatic display of affection. Jimin was special to you—he was a genuine friend. One you’d make entirely on your own without the need of your parents’ influence of persuasion.
“What can I say. I’m a different man than I was two days ago.” He dusted off the implied dust of the yoke of his black button up as a way to exhibit a hint of pride. Although you knew the reasoning for his puffed chest and radiant grin you decided on teasing him anyway.
“Hm. . I can’t recall anything happening in the past couple of days.” You rubbed your chin pretending to be hurdling around a million thoughts.
Which technically you were daily.. but not because of this and never because of Jimin.
“Seriously?” He pouted, looking a bit deflated like a balloon running low on helium and you couldn't stand to see the sad puppy dog eyes substituting his usual sparkle.
“Of course not. I could never forget my second favorite day of the year right behind my own birthday.” You pulled out a small white box tied in a navy blue ribbon. His favorite color. “Happy birthday, Jiminie.”
His gasped was louder than you expected and the patrons who loitered around the lobby immediately turned their lurking eyes in your direction but neither of you cared. “You really shouldn’t have.”
“Nonsense. Besides, what are friends for?”
“These look so expensive,” he whispered as the opened gift box sat opened on his petite palms displaying the present you had worked on for months. A small pair of sterling silver hoops with the letters ‘JM’ engraved in the inner top corner of the earring. “You didn’t have to.”
“You deserve way more than this, Jimin-ah Plus the big two-one should be celebrated appropriately. Are you doing anything special this weekend?”
“I was planning on going out with someone this weekend but I don’t know if they’ll have the time anymore,” he shrugged. “Apparently, something super secretive came up.”
“Well if the loser ditches. You know I’m always down to party.” You extended your hands to pinch at his roseate cheeks. They truly resembled the softness and intricate tint of strawberry mochi, “I can’t believe you're getting so old already.”
“Ouch,” he smacked your hand away. “You sound exactly like my mother.”
“Correction! I am like your mother. I’ve practically raised you for the past 3 years.”
“You’re only 4 years older than me.”
“It might as well be a ten year difference.” The younger chuckled at your dramatic antics which resulted in you eventually joining along.
“Today after work I have uni orientation but how about we meet up-”
“Back it up,” You interrupted, holding onto his hand tightly. “‘Uni’ as in University?”
“That’s right,” he beamed, “majoring in dance.”
Jimin’s enthusiasm was evident in the way his voice glossed over your tympanum with its delicate velvet vibration. His pitch was just a bit higher than usual and you’d immediately notice how his cheeks curved into an adoring smile—the way he talked about dance. That was the exact way you felt towards painting. The only difference between the two of you was he had a vacant street and a straightforward road ahead to follow. While you stood at the start line with a business degree you had no desire of obtaining in the first place and dozens of obstacles in your way. Thrown in your path by your very own mother and father.
You were happy for him—but you resented his freedom.
“I’m so happy for you. I hope I’m automatically invited to all of the showcases to come.”
“Without a doubt.”
You painted your softest on your cheeks. “Please let me know if you ever need help with anything for school. Promise me, Jiminie?”
“Promise.”
“Keep me updated on your birthday plans,” you walked towards the elevators pressing the first button before it lit up white but the doors remained closed. “I forgot to ask. Is he in yet?”
“I think so. I punched in about an hour ago but I haven’t seen him leave or anything.” Jimin’s demeanor shifted at the mention of your best friend. There were remnants of nervousness in his motions as he fidgeted around with one of the many silver bands hugging his fingers. A habit you’d notice he’d adopt when in distress but you didn’t question it, “I guess I’ll surprise him.”
He spoke almost in a whisper, “you can invite him if you want.”
“Yoongi?”
He nodded.
“I’ll let him know.”
The younger boy nodded but words failed to follow. He remained as quiet as a mouse. The usual richness of his chocolate eyes was dulled down and he never bothered to meet your eyes once as the elevator doors opened.
“See you later, Jiminie.” You stepped into the mirrored walls of the four by four elevator waving him off as the doors began to shut slowly—he waved back.
“See you later.”
The ride up to the 50th floor was shorter than you remembered but you supposed you were distracted by the dozens of thoughts colliding in your head. The main one sitting at the forefront was Jimin’s hostile — tense even — reaction at the mention of Yoongi’s name. To you it was no secret that between the two of them another world war could ensue as they agreed on very little and argued about a lot more but this time it just felt different and you couldn’t figure out why.
The elevator dinged indicating you’d made it to your destination. The digital numeric pad appeared to the left side of the elevator and you quickly punched in the code before the steel doors opened, granting you access to your bestfriends loft.
“Yoongi?” You called out, walking deeper into his home, past the foyer and down the hallway leading you to the living room area. His apartment was in utter disarray. There were shoes, pillows, blankets, clothes and countless objects scattered all over the floor. While a multitude of takeout containers were spread all over the coffee table still containing food that had to be at least a couple of days old. A simple whiff sent your nostrils into a frenzy as the putrid stench overtook the atmosphere. As a result, you pinched your nose to avoid anymore of the horrid smell invading your senses.
Walking past the leather L-shaped couch you set your things on the kitchen island and immediately the mountain of dishes accumulating in the sink.
This was so unlike him.
If there was one perpetual detail you’d become familiar with in all your years knowing Yoongi, it was his cleanliness. And the lack of organization around you only sent a troubling worry to course through you only imagining the worst of events to have unfolded. Your shaky hands reached into your bag for your phone, immediately pulling up his number from your contact list.
No answer. You dialed again—nothing.
Suddenly, your ears became alarmed by a soulful voice.. humming. The melodic vibrato was coming from the direction of Yoongi’s bedroom and even in the distance set out between you and him you could tell the person knew how to carry a tune. That definitely was not Yoongi.
For a second you feared you might be interrupting one of his rendezvous but Jimin hadn’t alerted you of anyone being over.
“Yoongi. .” You called out again a bit louder but you were not met with a response, just the continued rhythmic hum bouncing off the walls—it was soothing and silky and it made the hairs on the back of your neck stand straight. In the back of your mind you know you should feel uneasy but the saccharine voice was hypnotic, recognizable to your ears even and you were enthralled by his sweet song like a snake to a pied piper.
The vexatious ring of the elevator rang behind you followed by the click clacking of shoes against the marble floor.
“Yoongi?” Realistically, you knew you were an idiot for yelling out into the void but in your defense. . Fine, there was nothing to defend. It was downright fatuous on your part. Entirely hypocritical after having made fun of protagonists in horror movies for doing the exact same thing.
“Yes. .” His tone was puzzling and although your impromptu visit was definitely unannounced it wasn’t entirely out of the blue. Your name tasted of lemons against his rose tinted lips, “what are you doing here?”
You rounded the corner into the main foyer and there he was. His skin mimicked the pale tints of ivory. He raked his fingers through his auburn locs displaying the sudden panic in his cafe noir tinted eyes stripping them of their usual shine.
“I texted you last week,” you waved your phone in your hand. “I told you I would be coming to visit after being away for the past few weeks.”
“Right. .” he nodded, “right.”
He forgot.
He never forgets yet he forgot.
“I just—” there were beads of sweat glistening his temples. “I expected you a little later on in the day is all.”
And now he lied.
Yoongi would never lie to you.
You swallowed the lump sitting in your throat. It was hard to stand before someone you’ve known most of your life and feel so unfamiliar with the version of them you used to know. “Time has never been an issue before. If you prefer I can leave and come back later.”
“No,” He plopped all the bags he’d been carrying down on the floor. Cleaning supplies? Understandable considering your surroundings. “Please stay. I’ve just been dealing with something.”
“Does it involve Jiminie?”
“Jimin?”
You nodded.
“Why? Did he mention anything?”
“Is there anything to account for?” You crossed your arms at your chest. Your attempt at looking a bit more serious. Hoping he’d spill whatever the fuck happened with Jimin which they both seemed to be hiding from you.
“No. .” he stuttered. Not very convincing.
“Are you asking or telling me, Min Yoongi?” your tone was rugged and if you were a rose your thorns would be piercing right through his flesh.
“Telling. .” His words were still sitting on a balance between an inquiry and a statement and Yoongi himself seemed to not be entirely sure which he believed the most, “I’m telling you.”
“Can you listen to yourself Yoongi?” You roared. “Are you really believing the words coming out of your own mouth right now?”
“You’re asking way too many fucking questions,” he scratched the back of his head. “My head cannot tolerate it right now please.”
“Bullshit.”
“No—not bullshit. You are really causing me a throbbing migraine.”
“No.” You hissed, “you did that to yourself.”
“Did you come over just to fight?”
“Not exactly. . but it seems that’s the route you’ve driven us down. So nice to have you back in town.” You walked back to fetch your bag from the kitchen, “by the way your house smells like shit.”
“Well that’s totally my bad.” His voice was bass almost reaching the deepest depths of the undiscovered sea. The sound in the utterance of his words rumbled behind you like an unexpected spark of thunder causing a nimbostratus cloud to near as the azure sky you were used to turned to a dark gray hue. You felt a gaping hole developing in your stomach—slowly swallowing your entire being. So you stood waiting to be sucked in and vanish into thin air.
It couldn’t be.
“Are you just gonna stand there like a fucking statue?” he snickered.
“I’m hoping you would actually disappear.”
“Ah, just as. . peculiar as I remember.”
Yoongi’s eyes inflated to the size of golf balls as he entered the kitchen. He either didn’t know his idiot brother was in town OR he didn’t expect you to find out his idiot brother was in town.
Either way, paired with the secrecy in whatever the fuck was going with Jimin; this was yet another thing he kept from you.
“Were you ever going to tell me that he was back in town?” you were fuming with rage and any more unfounded words would have you reaching a venomous pique you hadn’t reached with Yoongi in a long long time.
“I was going to—” he took a deep breath. “Perhaps, initially I thought I wouldn’t have to.”
“Which one is it?” you tapped at the marble floor with the toe box of your red bottoms. Your back still turned towards the unwanted intruder standing behind you.
“Actually. .” he began, “this is why I was expecting you a bit later in the day.”
“Go on.”
“I needed to propose something to you,” Another thunder blared but this time it was nearer. So close you felt its vibration through your body. “To the both of you.”
“Well. .” He whispered in your ear, closing the distance between the two of you. His words were lento in their pace and so mellow. You despised the way his euphonious voice was fucking sweet like honey and most of all you hated the way the continued to effect you after so many years, “I already know but we still have to fill you in.”
You turned around to push him away but instead your eyes gravitated towards his towel that was disposed of on the floor near the frame of the kitchen door. His bare physique was completely exposed to your eyes. He was as captivating as you remember and though Yoojin wasn’t chiseled by any means, he was much more captivating than any Greek god who had been marbled into a statue. Not to mention, those pieces of so called art didn’t have a third fucking leg for a dick. He brushed his long black locs back exposing the rich tone of his skin's golden hue. “Yoojin, you wanna stop eye fucking her and put your towel back on?” Yoongi hissed.
You shook your head forcing yourself back to reality. Calling on sane thoughts and drifting your thoughts away from Yoojin and the reminder of his beautiful and massive cock.
“But I like having it all out,” he snickered. “Especially if there’s an audience.”
Yoongi walked past the two of you and grabbed the towel before throwing it in Yoojin’s direction. Your eyes remained on his slender fingers as he wrapped the rectangular fabric low on his waist.
You hated yourself for feeling as if you were still in the palm of his hands even after he did what he did and even after being away for such a long time.
You hate him. He means nothing to you.
“So about that proposition. .”
“Right.” You pointed towards Yoojin, “how come the evil twin already knows but I don’t?”
“He’s been here for the past three days.”
“Three days?” you muttered through clenched teeth.
“Now before you get mad at me once again,” Yoongi cleared his throat and Yoojin pranced around the room semi-naked reaching for the handle of the refrigerator. The towel hung low on his body and you despised admitting you were enchanted by him once again there was a part of you hoping it would accidentally slip off. Besides, your last good memory of Yoojin featured him being nude anyway. “I wasn’t here when he invaded my house. I was away.”
“But aren’t you glad I found my way back home?” he raved. His hands flailed in the air signaling his brother to proceed. But that wasn’t cause for your perturbation. . it was the cynical smile plastered on Yoojin’s face. “Go on.”
You raised an eyebrow in your bestfriends direction as he took a seat on the stool beside you. Seemingly consumed by his own thoughts and although his mouth opened more than once there were no actual words being spoken. And while you understood he might need a minute to communicate whatever it was he needed to say. You were slowly dissolving into a puddle of apprehension. Although, you didn't know the precise reason for being here in this position, you couldn’t shake off the anxiousness coursing through your body. Despite what you felt you opted to accompany him in silence deducing perhaps all he needed was a moment of peace. Perhaps, all he needed was you to be there even if it was just like this.
“Yoongi?” You snaked your hand under his intertwining your fingers together, “what is the proposition.”
Though you weren’t looking at him you could feel his eyes burning a hole on you from across the room.
“It’s less of a proposition.. more of a favor.”
“I’m all ears.”
“You promise not to fight with me?” he rested his head on your shoulder.
“I promise.” You held your breath as you levitated above the cerulean sea. It was calm. For now.
Seven words were all it took to leave you sitting speechless with no thoughts baring consciousness to even compose a single sentence. The ocean beneath you no longer lapped its miniscule waves whispering their timid tune—the surf was ravenous and his fucking words had you decending deeper and deeper into the roaring waters.
“I’m sorry, Yoongi. What exactly do you need me to do?”
“A decoy.”
“A decoy?.” you inquired.
“A decoy.” Yoojin confirmed, “you do know what that is right?.”
You ignored him. Directing your attention to your best friend, “And you want me to. .”
“I want you to date Yoojin who will be pretending to be me.”
“Why?”
“While you were gone. .” his clammy hands held onto yours a bit tighter, “my parents in agreement with yours provided me with an ultimatum and it was birthed from that ridiculous promise you and I made to them like four years ago.”
“The promise?” your eyebrows scrunched up together shooting him a puzzled look.
He nodded. “The dating to marry promise.”
“That fucking promise?” You scoffed. “We made that to get him off our backs before college. They were setting us up with people we didn’t even know.”
“I’m so fucking glad I left.” Yoojin whispered.
Although, you wanted to be upset at his irreverent comment—he was right. He was always adamant in wanting to opt out of this manufactured lifestyle and actually had the courage to simply walk away but unlike him you and Yoongi were the cowards who you stuck around. Enduring every fucking obstacle your parents chucked your way with a graceful smile still plastered on your faces to satisfy their perfect child syndrome. The two of you were fucking masochistic.
“W-we didn’t actually mean it though,” you stammered. . your mind was in a haze, struggling to find your way to the surface as you continued to sink deeper under the blue blankets of the sea, “. .but that is not what you want, Yoongi. It is not what I want.”
“When have they spared us our feelings? Our privacy? I met someone you know.” He sounded so fragile as if his heart would break at any moment. Perhaps it already has.
One thing was certain, your heart was already shattered into dozens of tiny irreparable pieces. You had nothing to lose just the condemning perpetuation of a love-less marriage to an affluent tycoon. There wouldn’t be happiness but it’d be something you could endure. Yoongi on the other hand.
He couldn’t.
“And I’m guessing this is where the proposition comes in?”
“Yes, unfortunately. Upon coming back from my vacation Yoojin decided to sporadically visit. He was already at my house. And during that same time our parents phoned me telling me about their plans for us. For our future.. but I’ve met someone who doesn’t know about the wicked ways of our family and I cannot let him go.”
“And I really have to fake date this idiot?”
“I think you mean this handsome idiot,” He stood behind you on the stool placing his chin up on your other shoulder. The proximity between the two of you became miniscule the closer he pressed his chest against your back. You wanted to push him off you but your body betrayed you and it selfishly craved the heat radiating from his semi naked figure like an itch finally being scratched.
“No, that’s not at all what I meant,” you rolled your eyes.
“Don’t worry it won’t be for long.” Yoongi reassured you, “I won’t take forever. I promise.”
“Forever’s a long time.” A nippy shiver ran down your spine when his minty breath crashed against the nape of your neck as he chanted his tempestuous locution. The pool of arousal between your thighs seeped on to your panties. All you could think about was his carnal utter vocalizing his filthy desires to you as he fucks you agaisnt the island or maybe the counters or against every single piece of furniture in this apartment.
“This will never be synonymous to forever,” you scoffed hoping he wouldn’t notice the way your legs were pressed just so tightly onto one another.
“Do you thrive on being annoying?” Yoongi interrupted your sinful thoughts.
“No. But I know you enjoy cockblocking.” Yoojin winked at you.
“There is no cock to block.”
His thunderous laugh rumbled through the walls of the apartment as he exited the kitchen.
Your eyes followed after him, “can I just get back to you later? I need to think about this.”
Yoongi hummed, “I’ll be a text or call away.”

Arriving back at your apartment was a breath of fresh air—though, it was quiet and lonely on most nights. Having a space away from your parents house and their controlling nature was peaceful. Not to say they didn’t just barge in here sometimes but you’d figure dealing with them sometimes was better than dealing with them all the time.
You kicked your shoes off by the door and placed your purse and keys on the entryway table stationed near the front door.
Yoojin was back. You were boggled by the realization as it hit you once again. No matter how many times you repeated it in your head it sounded false—like your mind was playing a trick on you.
Except it wasn’t.
He was back.
And now you have to date him. . This felt like a wicked curse bestowed upon you by your worst enemy and you couldn’t imagine coming out of the whole ordeal sane and in one piece.
But you have to.
Except, the terms of this whole charade replayed in your head as Yoongi uttered them off to you.
‘You will be a couple. You have to kiss, hold hands, be affectionate and actually look like you mean it. Our parents will be watching the two of you two carefully and while you are you, Yoojin will be me.’
You knew Yoongi wasn’t doing it out of wickedness.. he was completely oblivious to what had happened between the two of you but it still felt so cruel.
So fucking cruel.
You plopped on the bed following an exasperated sigh staring up at the eggshell ceiling. A flood of memories coursed through your head—all of them having one common denominator: Min Yoojin.
If you were going to get into specifics your story with the Min twins began the first day of sixth grade when they began middle school as the new kids in town. Yoongi was placed in your class and the two of you shared nearly every class together. You’d remember the first day the teacher introduced him to the class. All of your classmates were indifferent to the boy standing in the front of the class; they were all distracted by their own doings. Some on their phones while others simply ignored the situation entirely as only a few pairs of eyes lifted up to catch a glance at him but your attention remained on him from the moment he walked in.
“Yoongi.” you repeated to yourself.
The soft curves of his timid smile were dulcet—painted in the pastel undertones of comfort and familiarity. You didn’t know him, not yet. . but it sure felt as if you did. In no time that feeling became a reality, as you got to know him real well, real quickly when the both of you connected instantly.
What you didn’t bargain for however was Yoongi’s mischievous twin brother—older by a whopping 2 minutes he’d often argued.
Min Yoojin.
The moment you laid eyes on him your world shifted. Though, he shared the same face as your best friend. He was just . . so goddamn different. While Yoongi kept his hair in a bowl cut his fringe covering nearly half of his face Yoojin kept his short with a middle part framing his petite face, golden skin and dark brown eyes. He used to dress in black while Yoongi’s wardrobe was colorful and bright. They were complete opposites in terms of personality as well and as Yoojin was an introvert, reserved and kept to himself all of time. Adding to the mysterious aura everyone wanted to crack. Yourself included but unlike the other you kept your distance.
You weren’t really sure why you did. You just knew you didn’t want anything to come between your friendship with Yoongi.
For a long amount of years you kept at the promise you made to yourself but the more time you spent around him (and between sneaky glances and scarce verbal encounters which you often re-lived bashfully under the safety of your bed sheets) the deeper your crush developed.
Your first mistake was developing feelings and the second was that moment of weakness you had succumbed to which led everything to crash and burn to ashes.
Your continuous mistake however was the way your heart continued to palpitate increasingly at the mention of his name—it was obvious in the way your body reacted to him, desiring his touch and attention even now.
There was a slight knock at the door. You weren’t exactly expecting anyone but figured it was Yoongi being anxious as usual to remind you once again of the details of the agreement made between the two of you. . And the other Min.
“Who’s there?” you really needed to stop that.
There was no response.
Looking through the peephole you eye was met with a head full of black locs that hovered right above his shoulders. He stood with his hands in his pants front pockets, swaying his body back and forth as he waited for you to answer.
“What do you want?” You yelled, door still closed.
“Just—” he sighed and you saw as he leaned against the door, “please open.”
“I am not going to open until you tell me why you’re here.” Some might say you were being childish and perhaps you were but Yoojin was the last person you expected to come knocking at your door at 1 in the morning.
He landed a harder punch on the black door.
“Just open up already.”
“Aggression will get you nowhere.”
“Aggression?” He scoffed, it was your persistent hobby to push his buttons—after everything he had put you through, this could be your coping mechanism.
This time he repeatedly pounced on the door.
“You’re going to wake up my fucking neighbors.”
“And whose fault is that?”
“Yours,” you opened the door slightly, revealing an agitated Yoojin. Immediately, a cunning smile across your face. “Hi.”
“Save it.” He pushed past you, his shoes were placed by yours at the entrance and he walked further into your apartment as if he was familiar with the place.
“If you haven’t noticed,” You shouted after him, “You haven’t been here after disappearing so you cannot just walk into my fucking house like you own the place.”
You found him sprawled out on your couch—seeing him this comfortable in your house really pinched at your nerves for some odd reason, you just wanted to throw something at him just to induce a bit more of irritation his way.
“First of all,” you pushed his feet of the couch, taking a seat on the opposite couch. As far as possible, “these are new so get your fucking feet off.”
“There are the same fucking couches you had in your room back at your parents house.”
“Well, did you come over to analyze my fucking furniture, or did your little impromptu trip have a actual point.”
“I came over because—” he scratched the back of his neck, why was he nervous, “I missed you.”
You burst out in laughter, but his expression remained stern, “I’m sorry,” you continued, “It’s just you literally had years after years to miss me. Yet. . Now?” you snickered.
“You’re so fucking immature,” he hissed.
“And you’re a fucking loser knocking at my door begging to get some pussy.”
“I never asked for pussy and for the record I wouldn’t have to beg.”
“But you do agree that you’re a fucking loser right?”
He shrugged, “if I say yes will it get me some pussy points?”
“Fuck you, Min Yoongi.”
You stood ignoring his question and existence and walked in the direction of the kitchen as he followed from behind.
Why did you even answer the door? There was a versatility in the feelings you possessed for Min Yoojin that drove you to an intersection, the same one you stood at this precise moment, stuck between two roads. One side was composed of all of the core memories you held onto like a photobook in the back of your mind. This avenue was the reason why your heart beat at the mention of his name.
The other other option was a road of sorrow, heartbreak and melancholiness. And every single memory with Yoojin there you wanted burned to ashes.. It was the reason why you wanted to rid yourself of such a nuisance promise on and for all.
He called you by your name, something you hadn’t heard since that day. It sounded so foreign to your ears but your body felt the complete opposite—there was a bolt of electricity coursing through you causing the hair follicles on your arms to stand straight.
Years later, still the same effect.
You were pathetic.
“Tell me you don’t miss me.” He whispered.
“Wow, that was really fucking cringy.”
Yoojin chuckled as he shook his head, “glad to see not much has changed.”
“I could say the same.”
He stood on the other side of the kitchen island while you leaned on the counter near the sink. It was summertime, the heat was off and your air conditioner was set on high, yet you could feel the beads of sweat forming at the palms of your hands.
“Was your prime objective to make a fucking fool out of yourself,” you crossed your arms at your chest, “did you achieve your goal for the day?”
“Actually, no—” Yoojin rounded the island and walked towards you, closing the distance you had been so desperate to maintain between the two of you, “I just wanted to make sure we were good after our meeting back at Yoongi’s place.”
“I told Yoongi I needed some time.”
“Is it because of me?”
It is. “No.”
“Then why wouldn’t you just agree?”
“Because unlike you I can’t have to hide behind this fake relationship. I’m me.” Your tone is a bit more hurtful than you intended, “and I have to continuously lie to them for the long foreseeable future.”
He nodded, seemingly understanding where your frustrations stemmed from. Even though that wasn’t your frustration at all. Your parents controlled your life for as long as you could remember and dating fake Yoongi who’s actually Min Yoojin was going to be the best form of secret rebellion you could come up with.
Your parents aren't fond of Yoojin—just like his own parents aren’t fond of him.. And that slight detail made things so much better.
“You’re right. I guess I never considered the route your life and Yoongi’s life took,” he stepped closer, “the fact that Yoongi even has to go through such lengths is. .” he sighed.
“It’s fucked,” you finished for him, “but that’s how life has been here, at home, for him and I.”
“Tell me. .” his eyes were just as star-filled as you remembered, so alluring, dark, “who were they planning to marry you off to?”
“Soobin.”
“Ah,” the proximity between the two of you was slime and any sudden moves would have the two of you pressed against each other. An exciting thought, though you would never admit it out loud, not with Yoojin around. “He’s richer than the Min’s will ever be. How did you manage to slip away from that?”
“I almost didn’t,” you began, “Soobin is sweet, the sweetest person I’ve ever met actually. We went on so many dates and although we clicked instantly, it was more platonic than romantic. There was love but not like our parents were hoping for so we made plans to walk away from the whole thing.”
“And both parents agreed?”
You shook your head, “Of course not, but in trying to get out of that, Yoongi and I ended up in this. . Well you and I now.”
Once again a deep silence fell in the room.”
“Was that all you wanted to know about?” He nodded, “this could’ve been a text, Yoojin.”
“You never gave me your new number.”
“I know you well enough to assume you probably swiped it off Yoongi’s phone when he wasn’t looking.”
“Did.” He smiled brightly, his golden cheeks rose up like a loaf of bread right out of the oven.
That damned smile. It was so delicate, so bright, mesmerizing, so hard to forget. You knew because that same smile played in your dreams night after night. It was your artistic inspiration and the reason why you always secretly hoped to see Yoojin once more.
However, now that he was here, it was more complicated. You found yourself in a staggering debate ever since you laid eyes on him again. Your mind told you to send him off already, that you’ve entertained him long enough. While, the ocean between your thighs, begged for you to take him back to your room.
You must’ve been enthralled in thought because you hadn’t noticed when Yoojin closed that tiny gap between you, placing his hands on your waist.
“Yoojin,” you murmured.
“My name has always sounded so much better on your lips,” his hand abandoned the indent of your body and came up to your face, tracing your silk lips.
“Yoojin, please,” your voice was so weak, your eyes were shut so tight you could actually see stars.
“Yoojin please stop or Yoojin please don’t stop.” His hand retracted itself from your lips as he waited for you to answer.
“Yoojin please touch me already before I end up going crazy,” you blurred out.
“See, I knew you it,” his hands wasted no time finding themselves at the hem of your panties. If his intent was to tease, he was definitely working you up real nice and slow because even after what felt like five minutes of having him head south, you still waited for some sort of stimulation.
“When I said touch me, I meant now.”
“Patience is a virtue.”
“I’m not a patient person and you know that.”
Yoojin smirked, finally dipping his hand into your underwear. His fingertips found themselves tracing shapes against your clit slowly as his lips landed on the nape of your neck. His mellifluous kisses felt sultry against your skin.
Still, he maintained a timid pace.
“More,” you breathed into his ear, you began moving your hips faster against his fingers.
“You really know what you want huh?”
You nodded, not a single stutter in the way you continued swaying at your own pace. Forward and backwards you moved—chasing your own high.
“Hm, you look so hot like this you know,” he hummed, “just as I remembered but—” he removed his fingers from your body just as you were nearing your peak, “I want to make you cum on my own accord.”
Your labored breathing hindered a response to escape your lips but you were determined to have things your way.
You felt as two fingers sat at your entrance, pressing against you teasingly, the squelching sound chimed as a result of how drenched you were. He massaged your slickness lento, the recurrent circular motion he added to the bubbling anticipation rushing through you, as his digits began sinking further in your cunt.
“You’re so warm, doll.” He groaned.
Being a whimpering filled mess at the mercy of Yoojin’s fingers was not how you expected your night to roll out when you opened the door earlier that night. But an hour into his visit, here you were bearing his attack against your walls as his digits moved in and out of you slowly.
“Yoojin,” you whimpered, holding on to the edge of the kitchen counter—feeling the knot at the pit of your stomach tighten already .
“That’s it, doll,” His earthy tone was raw and tickled your inner ear, sending a frigid chill down your spine. “Cum for me.”
His pace hastened grazing the spot that drove you over the edge.
You could feel it.
Fuck.
You woke up in cold sweat, heavy breathing. Looking beside you on the bed, you expected a naked Yoojin to be lying next to you, instead you were the only person occupying your bed.
It was a dream.
You sighed, relieved that you had not fallen into his abysmal trap so easily.
It was only just a dream.

Thursday came around quicker than expected and being incognito for the last couple of days really served as a form of needed therapy. Providing you all the time needed to think things through—to make a decision on Yoongi’s proposition.
Though, your heart threw spears at Yoojin’s name, you knew Yoongi wouldn’t be asking for a favor if this magnitude unless he was desperate—plus you figured if you were in the same situation, and you found your better half, Yoongi would be one hundred percent willing to do the same for you.
‘How do you know he is the one?’
You asked Yoongi.
‘..Because I cannot picture my life without him.’
So your decision, although hard, came to you rather quickly.
‘I’ll do it. . . For you.’
‘Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.’
‘Will I meet him soon?’
‘Soon.’
You haven’t spoken with him for two days since that conversation took place over the phone with the passing of midnight clouds bearing as the only witness to the assertion of the deal concealed between the both of you.. and Yoojin.
Since then, you were in solitude for a couple more days to prepare yourself for life after the decision you’ve made—to link arms and walk side by side with the treacherous Min until Yoongi was ready to get things (not so) straight with his parents.
Tonight, however, your last spec of sanity disintegrated as your weekend isolation was cut short by your favorite front desk boy as he invited you to celebrate his birthday at club Fuego. Initially, Jimin had decided the two of you were desperate for a much needed night out without the presence of anyone else and you agreed but to your demise and slight surprise, Jimin knew of Yoongi and Yoojin. He knew about Yoojin being here on a secret mission with you and somehow at the expense of that the twins ended up on the invite list to the birthday celebrations as well.
You didn’t mind but a part of you wanted just one more day away from it all, from Yoojin mainly.
The journey in finding the perfect outfit was more exhausting than you would have liked to admit but an essential to having a good night out included looking your best. First, you tried on a knitted royal blue long sleeve dress, though the color was perfect the more you looked in the mirror the more you hated the way it looked for an odd reason; not really flattering at all. Next, came an all black ensemble consisting of a black crop top and black faux leather plants but it looked bland and not ‘night club worthy’ at all. You discarded that outfit in the ever growing mountain of clothes taking residence on top of your bed. Exhaustion washed over you as a result of your continuous outfit changes, and even then you still had no fucking clue on what to wear.
You needed to be out of the house in approximately, you looked at the digital clock on your nightstand, 30 minutes.
You needed something to make you feel confident; sexy; and unstoppable, something that would have Yoo. . the city eating out the palm of your hands.
Suddenly the perfect outfit.
[9:30pm - You] Is this like a hip hop night club or an actual get dressed night club?
[9:31pm - JM] Please tell me you’re already dressed.
[9:32pm - You] I’m basically almost done.
You stared at your lace black undergarments in the mirror.
[9:32pm - You] How far are you though?
[9:33pm - JM] Not far at all. Hurry up!
He attached a picture of the entrance to your building.
Oh shit, you hurried to finished getting dressed.

“You look great ma’am. Have a great night,” The door man nodded in your direction holding the glass door open for you—you shot him a soft smile thanking him and wishing him a good night.
Yoongi’s car sat by the curb as your best friends and an unwanted demon waited for your arrival. Jimin rolled the passenger window down, “I was going to talk shit for making us wait here for like 20 minutes but you look way too fucking good bitch.”
“Thank you, thank you. Your compliments only feed my ego. I hope you’re aware,” You began posing on the sidewalk as Jimin began flashing pictures if you.
“That’s my best friend. She’s a real bad bitch,” he screamed out, calling on the attention of everyone around you. There was a tinge of bashfulness taking over you as the eyes of those settling on the sidewalk were set on you.
“Can you get in the fucking car already?” Yoongi said from behind the wheel.
“Fine.”
Not fine. Of course, you were stalling but only because you knew who would occupy the seat beside you for the 15 minute car ride ahead. And 15 minutes next to Yoojin would be like an eternity in hell. . But you could only stand outside your best friend's vehicle for so long without raising eyebrows or questions being formed about your hesitation to sit next to him.
While Yoongi knew of your mostly hate relationship with his brother. He didn’t know what caused it and you intended to keep that a secret for as long as you could. Before you could reach for the handle, the door was being opened for you from the inside and suddenly there you were, face to face with the man you’ve convinced yourself to be your least favorite Min. His eyes ogled you as you got in the car as strategically as you could without flashing anyone, of course, you settled for the black off the shoulder long sleeve corset dress with crystal trim aka the shortest dress in your closet. His intense gaze remained on your figure as you took a seat beside him after slamming the door shut, but his eyes were so fucking hard to read, so dark they mimicked the expansive late night sky. Those were the eyes you thought you knew once upon a time but now they were estranged and knowing Yoojin presently; you figured he was probably mocking you and likely thinking of about a dozen snarky comments he’d make to make you feel like a fool and ruin your night but you wouldn’t let him win this time. Or ever.
You had to be nice to him while your parents were around any other time was free territory.
The car ride remained silent aside from the low music being emitted from the radio, of course, they played the same generic crap that looped on continuously all day long so not even that could stop your thoughts from drifting to the man who sat just a couple feet away from you.
You wanted to say so much but instead you bottled it all up and stored it all away under lock and key in the deepest depths of your heart. Unwilling to give him the satisfaction of knowing just how much he occupied your thoughts on a daily basis.
Jimin cleared his throat, clearly uncomfortable by the silence that has taken reign in the last 5 minutes of all of you being in the car together, “have any of you been to this club before?”
Yoongi shook his head, “I’ve been in New York for the last few years.”
New York. . Nice.
The three of them looked at you but you were stuck in your own thoughts as you swirled around the whirlwind gusts of the tornado wrecking havoc in your mind.
“What?”
“Have you gone to Club Fuego before?”
“No,” you answered. “This is my first time.”
Once again silence fell amongst the four and there was a wave of awkwardness washing over you as you remained hyper focused on looking out the window—enjoying the vibrancy of the city under the grace of the stars.
“Yoojin,” Jimin spoke once again, silence was not in his nature as he flourished in his true social flower nature, “How was New York?”
“Loud.” He was notorious for his one word fucking answer. Yet another thing you despised about him.
“So I guess the city truly never sleeps.”.
“Unfortunately, but I have good memories as well so it wasn’t all negative.”
“Was there a lucky lady?”
“Ah—” you could feel his stare on you. Perhaps, he was trying to figure out what your body language displayed, but you ignored him and slaughtered those butterflies flapping their wings at the lining of your stomach. Your gaze was set intensely on whoever or whatever you could spot through the car window. You knew Yoojin was simply trying to structure the right words to cause a reaction out of you.
“There were a couple.”
A couple? You felt a jab land at your stomach vacuuming the air right out of your lungs in the process. You were hurt, and you were beaten but most of all you hated how much you felt for someone who wasn’t even yours. Someone who doesn’t deserve you.
The gates of Club Fuego were seemingly the pearly white gates to your safe haven; the only offset was the man still sitting right beside you. But it was within your full intentions to stay as far away from Yoojin as you could and by far, you meant far. . far. . far away.
Yoongi turned off the engine as he pulled into the parking spot—you were ready to jump out of the vehicle, ready to lose yourself in your last night of “singleness.”
The soft utterance of his vibrato voice rang through the tight space of the car, “We’ll catch up in a minute.” Yoojin was demanding, authoritative, and quite invasive. As much as you wanted to rebel against him your body was non compliant and you became enchanted by the spell he cast upon you.
Yoongi looked in your direction and you nodded, signaling that it was OK, “we’ll go ahead and make the entrance line. Don’t take too long.” He opened the door, “And no fighting or I’ll just call the cops on you two.”
You were both now alone in the car.
The air became stuffy, restricting your airway and you weren’t quite sure if it was due to all of the car doors and windows being shut tight or if it was due to the fact that you were alone with Yoojin for the first time in years.
“I know my arrival was unexpected. Especially, to you,” he spoke, scratching the back of his neck, “but I was hoping we could talk”
“There’s nothing to discuss,” you hissed.
“There’s plenty to discuss,”
“There was plenty to discuss before you left Yoojin,” you shrugged, “but that expired long ago.”
He shook his head, “I wasn’t aware things like this had an expiration date.”
“Everything has an expiration date, Yoojin.”
“If only I would’ve been made aware.”
You had not gotten the chance to see how truly captivating Yoojin looked tonight. The buiguilding charm he exuded was venomous and simply looking in his direction had you under his fangs.
“I don’t think knowing would have mattered much to you,” you narrowed your eyes in his direction, “being in New York with all those girls and all.”
“Are you jealous?” he snickered.
It was so fucking hot, beads of sweat were rolling down your temples.
“Don’t flatter yourself,” there was a scornful derivative in your intonation, “you were the last thing I thought about.”
“Face it, you missed me.”
Those words took you back to the wretched dream you had the other night, remembering the way he spoke softly into your ear, the way his lips serenaded your neck, the way his fingertips felt as soft as the fluffiest of clouds against your skin.
“I-I did not,” you stuttered.
“Admit it.”
“No, you know what I have to admit though,” you began deflecting, just mention something you hate about him, “I hate this fucking act you adopt. You’re a fucking asshole, stomping over me without a care in the world, but as soon as we’re alone you pretend to care.”
You recalled how he used to be, the Yoojin from before the storm. The Yoojin who understood you, showered you with care and love, the Yoojin who was communicative and expressive. The Yoojin your heart longed for in the loneliest of nights for the past five years.
“Listen,” his eyes were finally expressive, they were kinder, the dark tone in his pupils were comforting. There was solace behind them, they felt like a warm blanket but was the opposite of what you needed as the temperature continued to rise in the enclosed car, “I’m here now. I’m back.”
You wanted to believe him, but you knew it was bullshit.
“I don’t care Min. Tonight we’re celebrating Jimin. Tomorrow we begin our little charade which I hope you know I only agreed to do for Yoongi.”
“For Yoongi?”
“For Yoongi.” You confirmed.
“So you don’t miss. . .” His words drifted off leaving his implications for you to interpret and you knew exactly what he meant.
You did, but there was no admitting it to Yoojin—a deep silence fell through and the only noise your ears picked up came from the quickened thumping of your heart clashing on the walls of your chest, it terrified you that he could possibly hear.
“There was nothing to miss.”
He huffed, “Alright.”
“I’m glad we got this little conversation out of the way. See you inside,” you excited the car, slamming the door behind you.

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author’s note: it took me longer than expected to write this (I deleted 3 different drafts 🙂) so hopefully this first chapter isn’t too bad, also this is unedited so hopefully everything makes sense.
thanks for reading. comments, likes, reblogs and messages are always appreciated. let me know what you think <3
🤤🤤🤤

🤍
🔥🔥
twirl for me (3) | myg

You’re perfectly content with admiring your ballet student’s father from afar until he discovers the secret of your second job when he pays for a VIP room at the local strip club. What’s worse is your new knowledge of his secret life that won’t let you get him off your mind, no matter how awful it is.
» pairing: dad!yoongi x fem!reader (ft. jungkook)
» genre: BTS | 18+ | strangers to lovers | slow burn | smut | angst | fluff
» wc/date: 6.1k | october 2022
» warnings: yoongi and reader are really awkward | sexual tension | reader is pining for yoongi even tho he's married | small amount of slut-shaming (but isn't intentional kinda idk)
» notes: this is a super lowkey chapter to make up for the fact that the last one was kinda heavy~ i hope you enjoy seeing yoongi and reader interact more! they're cute 🥺
» masterlist | ao3 | join my taglist
» what was jai listening to? the series playlist

The Nose Picker and her mother were the last to leave the Academy an hour earlier, yet you still lingered in the lobby. You leaned against the front desk while Layla packed her things away. It was a wonder how her small purse could fit so many tubes of lipstick, and even more of a wonder why she needed so many tubes of lipstick. She barely had lips at all.
“What will you do on your day off tomorrow?” Layla shoved the last of her overpriced makeup into her bag and draped it over her shoulder. Using her pinky finger she flicked through the notifications popping up on her Apple watch.
“Oh, nothing really.” You played with your earring, twisting the dangling chains around your finger as you tap your foot against the marble floor. When Layla leaned forward to turn off the front desk’s computer, you stopped her. “You don’t need to shut down. I need to work on some expense reports.”
Layla’s eyebrows scrunched together for a moment, but the expression faded when her attention was drawn back to her watch. “Okay…”
You locked the front doors behind her, waving her off into the cool Friday night air, before turning back to the front desk. Sliding into Layla’s seat, you brushed aside little scraps of paper with squirrely handwriting on them and crumpled post-it notes. It was a blessing Layla was a bit stupid because you didn’t have the patience to come up with an excuse to use the computer beyond imaginary expense reports.
The client database wasn’t difficult to navigate. All you had to do was search by her last name and Binna’s record immediately popped up. This was how you kept track of her birthday for class celebrations, credit card information, and guardian information. Including her address.
Maybe Diamond and Jimin were right. Maybe you were overreacting. Maybe you were jumping to conclusions. But there was only one way to turn those “maybes” into definitive answers.
And that was why the following day you stood at the front desk of the Min family’s apartment complex.
“Please have a seat and Mr. Min will come down momentarily.” The man operating the front desk gestured toward the lobby couches.
You sank into a plush black armchair and allowed yourself to take in your surroundings. The apartment complex looked more like a hotel. The high ceilings were lined with gold chandeliers that glistened in the morning sunlight streaming through the floor-to-ceiling windows. Jimin would have started drooling over the gold crown molding that decorated the edges. There certainly weren’t any cracks or leaks mixed among the designer art that hung on the walls in gold frames. You felt like you had Midas’s touch as you ran your fingers along the edge of a gold decorative bowl resting on the coffee table in front of your chair. Even the black marble beneath your feet had whisps of gold and silver creating intricate patterns on the floor.
What kind of jobs did the Mins have to afford an apartment like this?
Penthouse, you reminded yourself silently. The front desk employee corrected you when you notified him you were there to visit Mr. Min. The Min family didn’t just live in the apartment complex; they lived in the penthouse.
The lobby was empty so the sound of shoes scuffing the marble floor toward you was easy to make out. You lifted your head at the same time Yoongi called out to you, though his utterance of your name sounded more like a question than a greeting.
“What are you doing here?” Yoongi flinched slightly as if he realized how confrontational his question was and immediately regretted it. You didn’t mind though; it was essentially what you’d expected - the shock of being somewhere you weren’t meant to be.
Just as it was the last time you’d seen Yoongi, his silver hair was fluffy and hung into his eyes. The length of his bangs made him toss them out of his eyes every once in a while, occasionally using his pinky to sweep them across his eyebrows as he spoke. Designer jeans stretched over his thighs and a black t-shirt just slightly too big hung on his frame in a way that still managed to accentuate the broadness of his shoulders and back.
Not that you were looking or anything.
“I…” You quickly rose to your feet and clutched the container you held in your hands a bit tighter. You didn’t know what Yoongi and his wife liked, but you knew Binna loved chocolate chip oatmeal cookies. It took you three tries and a few degrading (yet motivating?) comments from Jimin to get the batch tasting just right. It didn’t mean much when you looked at the big picture, but you hoped the gift could be a small gesture of happiness in a trying time.
“I wanted to give Binna this.” Although you were offering the gift, you couldn’t bring yourself to extend your arms to hand over the container. Instead, you stood frozen in one spot, feeling your body begin to heat to an uncomfortable temperature when Yoongi didn’t make a move. Maybe this was a stupid idea.
“Oh…” Yoongi cleared his throat, dark eyes quickly shifting from your face to his shoes. The two of you were both wearing hightop all-white Air Forces.
“I’m sorry, I should have waited until her next session. I don’t know what I was thinking.” Snapping out of it, you quickly shoved the container out to the man and avoided his gaze.
“No, no. Please, don’t apologize,” Yoongi immediately countered you. His fingers brushed over yours as he took the container from you. “It’s very kind of you to stop by. I wish she was here, but she’s at her grandmother's house.”
You wanted to tell him that you were doing this for his entire family, no matter how small and silly it may have seemed, but you couldn’t find it in you to vocalize that. Instead, you simply nodded.
“Of course, you’re welcome.”
You spoke with a small shrug of your shoulders. It occurred to you that Yoongi may not have made the connection between you being there and your last conversation with him. Then again, he seemed like a smart man. How could he not know? Maybe the fact that he was avoiding your gaze was an indication that he had an idea of what you were doing.
Shit, you had to make this feel less awkward and less like a pity party.
“Umm…” You tried not to stare at the darkness under his eyes and instead focused on the soft pink of his lips. “Since Binna’s away, would you and your wife like to go out for brunch or get a coffee? My treat?”
If Yoongi wanted to question your generosity, he didn’t. It was hard to look into the cold, intimidating stare he directed toward you. Just before you chickened out and decided to leave, the corners of his mouth twitched slightly.
“Lani’s not home either, but coffee sounds nice. Would you mind if I…?” He gestured to the container.
Lani. So that was her name.
“Oh sure, sure.”
Yoongi seemed to hesitate as you stepped forward to follow him toward the elevators, but he eventually turned on his heel to lead you. The penthouse was on the fifty-fifth floor, much to your distaste. Elevators were a death trap as far as you were concerned.
“Was Layla giving out my contact information?”
His question pulled you out of your spiraling thoughts about plunging to your death if the elevator cords snapped. You peered at him from the corner of your eye and you were relieved to find that he was staring straight ahead as the elevator beeped.
“I’m really sorry. I know it was inappropriate, but I wanted to…” You stopped yourself when Yoongi turned to look at you. His cold stare had turned softer with his jaw less tense and his mouth still slightly turned upward at the corners.
“Please stop apologizing.”
Before you could apologize for apologizing so much, the elevator doors opened. You quickly stepped into the hallway and paused as Yoongi reached for his keys.
“Do you mind waiting out here?” He kept his hand wrapped around the gold doorknob, just about ready to push through, but waiting for your response. The intensity of his gaze warned you not to challenge him, but you weren’t sure why it was that big of a deal. You wouldn’t want someone showing up at your apartment unexpectedly and assuming they could go inside. On any given day there were a half dozen of Jimin’s underwear lying around. You’d be horrified if anyone saw that.
“Of course not.”
With a firm nod, Yoongi slipped inside.
You waited on the balls of your feet, rocking a bit to try to relieve the jitters your anxiety was giving you. Why had you offered to take him out for coffee? This was supposed to be a quick trip. Give Binna cookies. Give your condolences for being in a tough spot and offer your support. End of mission. Signing out.
Yoongi reappeared shortly. The container of cookies was gone and he’d thrown on a simple black leather jacket. Leather on him was unexpected, but not unwelcome.
“Thanks for waiting. Oh, we won’t go to the lobby.” Yoongi pressed the garage button on the elevator once it arrived. “I’ll drive.”
There was no chance you could protest; you’d taken public transportation to get to his apartment. What would you do, pay for his $2.50 bus fare? How generous. How helpful. But as you followed him through the parking garage until you reached the matte black car whose passenger’s door he opened for you, you were beginning to wish you’d suggested the bus.
“Wow, I don’t know anything about cars, but this is… This is something.” You slid into the cool leather seats, that creeping intimidation setting in again. What the fuck were you doing, offering this guy coffee? The Min family had a lot more money than you’d thought…
Yoongi let out a quiet huff of a laugh as he started the ignition. “Maserati GranTurismo. I only drive it when I’m not with Binna. She gets the BMW. Cheaper to service.”
These were all words that meant virtually nothing to you, but you didn’t want to show your ignorance any further. Besides, you were too busy eyeing the way Yoongi twisted in his seat to back out of the parking spot with one of his large hands gripping the back of your seat. There was a patch of skin at the base of his throat where his neck met his collarbone that looked slightly discolored and splotchy. Maybe his wife wasn’t dying; it seemed she was well enough to give Yoongi a hickey. If that’s what the mark was.
You tried not to think too hard about it. Something about Yoongi having a hickey was making your stomach churn.
“Have you gone to Rosebud Cafe?”
When you shook your head, Yoongi tsked. “Were you going to suggest Starbucks?” Another tsk, this time when you nodded your head.
“I don’t get out here much unless Jimin has some bougie restaurant he wants to try out.” You cringed at your slip-up. Calling Yoongi’s neighborhood bougie may not have been the most appropriate thing to do.
“Jimin?” Yoongi raised an eyebrow and quickly side-eyed you as he whipped out of the parking garage.
“Oh, my roommate. He’s gay.”
Your mouth hung open once the words tumbled out of you. Why had you been compelled to tell Yoongi that? What did Jimin’s sexuality matter to this conversation? Your stomach was churning so badly you were worried you might throw up right there in Yoongi’s fancy ass car.
“Cool.” The corners of Yoongi’s mouth twitched. “I’m bi.”
By this point, your head was absolutely reeling. How had this fucking conversation so quickly slipped out of your control?
Perhaps Yoongi sensed your discomfort because he seamlessly redirected the conversation. “How long have you lived in the city?”
This was a bit easier to manage. You could babble with ease about having grown up in the city before moving to LA when you graduated from high school. With bitten lips, you conveniently left out the little details of your LA experience. This wasn’t therapy, this was a quick drive with a man you didn’t even know.
Yoongi was an attentive listener. On occasion, he let out a few hums of acknowledgment, even as his attention was split with ensuring the two of you showed up to the cafe alive.
By the time Yoongi was flexing his masculinity by parallel parking in front of the cafe, he’d heard all about your genius little sister and how annoying your mother was. You quietly trailed off when Yoongi turned the car off.
“Thanks for driving.” He probably didn’t feel it, but the air in the car seemed palpable to you.
“Of course,” Yoongi said with a small smile. “Let me show you something new.”
You weren’t sure why his words made your stomach flutter, but you talked yourself out of the feeling. Yoongi had a wife and a daughter and some obvious family problems. You were just you.
Rosebud Cafe might as well have been a five-star Michelin restaurant. It was far more elegantly decorated than any coffee shop you’d ever visited and the prices matched, though you knew Yoongi would force you to let him pay. He hadn’t explicitly stated that fact yet, but you assumed it to be true. You could already tell he was that type of gentleman.
With your orders on their way, Yoongi shrugged his jacket off and leaned back in his chair to get comfortable. You did your best to avoid knocking his legs under the table.
“Do you go here often?” You normally excelled in small talk, but Yoongi had you sweating in the cafe just as he did when he watched you lead Binna’s class.
“Mhmm, it’s great for casual work meetings.”
It occurred to you that you knew very little about what he did outside of taking Binna to class. “Where do you work?”
Yoongi gave you an amused look. He leaned forward until his forearms rested on the table and the gap between the two of you decreased slightly. “You don’t know who I am?”
Well, now you felt fucking stupid because the question made it seem like you should know. You examined his face, picking apart every little detail as if you hadn’t been doing that for weeks already. Did you already know Yoongi? Nothing about his face looked familiar nor did his name mean anything to you either. Were you offending him if you admitted that you had no idea what he was talking about?
“No…” you said softly, afraid of what awaited you in his response.
A smile, a genuine smile that met his eyes enough to make them crinkle at the corners, was not the reaction you expected.
“You have no idea how good that feels. Thank you.”
Yoongi didn’t explain himself further at first, as the waiter arrived with your coffee orders. An iced americano for Yoongi; an extra sweet iced vanilla latte for you. It was only when the waiter was gone and you were swirling your straw around the ice that Yoongi spoke again.
“I’m the founder and CEO of Ddaeng Records.”
You knew of Ddaeng Records. Everyone did if they knew anything about popular music. But the Min PD you remembered being featured on songs or producing them during your party days in LA couldn’t possibly be the man sitting across the table from you. Yoongi seemed like such a… businessman. Sure, you knew that running a record label was a real business endeavor. Many successful musicians did it: Jay-Z, Drake, and Lil Wayne. Hell, even Psy had P Nation.
But Yoongi? Really?
You must have looked skeptical because Yoongi laughed as he lifted his coffee to his lips. “Don’t worry. I know I’m no A-lister. Though you’d be surprised how some people react.”
“Oh, no, that’s not what I was thinking at all!” You weren’t here to judge how famous (or not famous) he was. You knew that music producers rarely got the recognition they deserved. It was a very behind-the-scenes type of occupation, you were sure. “I just… didn’t expect that.”
This earned you another soft chuckle, Yoongi’s shoulders bobbing with the force. It was the first time you’d seen him laugh. The gummy smile and crinkled eyes looked good on him.
“Nothing like marriage and having a child to make a kid turn into an adult.”
You supposed that was fair. Yoongi didn’t seem much older than you, maybe five or six years older. You were in your mid-twenties and still felt like you had no idea what you were doing. Having a spouse and a child would have certainly forced you to grow up.
“Well, that’s pretty cool. Like, really cool.”
His next smile looked a bit more tired than the first. “It certainly can be, yes.”
You didn’t feel it was appropriate to ask him to explain the vague response, so you let it go. The conversation went quiet for a moment as the two of you enjoyed your drinks.
“What about you?”
“What about me what?”
“Was dancing always part of your future?”
What a great question. If only he knew that was two questions within itself - two that warranted two different answers. You decided to give him the one he expected to receive; it was the least painful.
“When I was little I wanted to be part of a ballet dance company, like the American Ballet Theatre.” You ducked your head down and focused on the ice cubes swirling around your latte. “It was silly, I know. But I guess that’s how dreams are, right? You achieved yours…”
“Theoretically.”
You kept your head down, but you dared to sneak a peek at Yoongi. His eyes never left yours. Despite his intimidating gaze, you found it difficult to break away.
“Sometimes you think you’ve achieved your dreams, only to find that dreams don’t look the same once they’ve become your reality.” Yoongi leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms against his chest with a deep sigh. The action made his biceps and pecs bulge slightly. “I don’t want to sound bitter. Lani’s always calling me Mr. Mean.”
The exhale he let out seemed like a laugh, though you felt it retained the bitterness he mentioned and it seemed to come out as more of a scoff.
You wanted so badly to ask him about his wife - Lani, you now knew her name to be - but it felt wrong to ask when he hadn’t offered any real information upfront. He had to know that you wanted more information, that you were curious. If he wasn’t giving you anything, that must mean something.
Besides, you liked seeing the corners of his eyes crinkle when he smiled and the shake of his shoulders when he laughed. You assumed all of that would quickly disappear if you brought up his wife, based on the “Mr. Mean” comment. For however long you could spend at Rosebud Cafe, you wanted to hold onto the happy Yoongi you’d never seen before.
Suddenly, your phone began vibrating and lighting up. Jungkook’s name flashed across the screen and you quickly snatched your phone from the table to silence the call.
“I’m sorry, let me just respond to this real quick,” you muttered as you typed out a response to talk to Jungkook later.
“No worries.” Yoongi brought his coffee to his lips and took a small sip. His dark eyes continued to roam your face once you put your phone away. “Was that your boyfriend?”
“No!” You inhaled sharply, shaken by your unnecessarily loud tone.
“I apologize if that was too forward.” Yoongi’s gaze lowered. “I saw your tattoo and made an assumption.”
He reached across the table to rest his hand on yours and gently turned it over to expose your palm. On the inside of your wrist was a small tattoo of the letter “J”. Most people rarely noticed it.
“Oh,” you said with a nervous laugh. Yoongi still gripped your wrist and his thumb lightly grazed over the tattoo, making you shiver slightly. “That’s for my little sister, Janae. She has a tattoo of the first letter of my name, too.”
With a hum of understanding, Yoongi retracted his hand and reached for his coffee mug instead. “That’s sweet.”
“Thank you.” You took another deep breath and willed your body to relax. “I don’t have a boyfriend. Jungkook is just a friend.”
It felt weird to say, even though it was true… to an extent. “Friend” might have been a deceiving term. Maybe it was weird because you were eager to deny Yoongi’s claims today when the day before you were fighting to justify wanting to talk to Jungkook outside of work. Fickleness wasn’t a trait you’d attribute to yourself, yet here you were, fickle, fickle, fickle.
“That’s surprising to me. If you don’t mind me saying so.” Though still tired, Yoongi’s eyes flashed brightly in the dim cafe lighting.
“Why do you think so?” You couldn’t help but ask even as your anxiety began to spike.
“Ahh, you must know?” There was that glint in his eyes again as his lips curled slightly. “You’re talented. Intelligent. Kind. Gorgeous,” he drawled the praise, lingering on the last attribute for a moment. “I believe most would say you’re a catch.”
His tongue briefly poked out of the corner of his mouth and you squirmed in your seat. First Jimin, now Jungkook. You felt like you should ask Yoongi to be the manager of your dating apps; it seemed like he was more invested in your love life than you were.
No, no, no, that was not what was happening. No, he was just being polite. He was being an attentive conversation partner.
There was no need to overthink your love life. It was a nonissue. He was married.
“Well, thank you…” you responded shyly. You weren’t used to being given such intense compliments. “I don’t have time for a relationship. I can’t imagine how you manage it, with Binna and everything.”
Yoongi’s expression hardened. His eyes fell from your face to the empty cups that sat on the table between the two of you.
“It’s not easy.” The smile he gave you was tight. It was an Academy smile, not a Rosebud Cafe smile.
When he reached for his jacket your heart fell. You’d fucked it up. Whatever you’d said had been a one-way ticket out of here. You searched for an apology (despite his insistence that you stop apologizing), coming up empty-handed.
“Yoongi, I-”
“I’m not quite ready to go home. Are you?” Standing with his hands in his pockets, Yoongi cocked his head to the side.
You blinked, unsure of the correct response to his question. Or maybe you were reading into his proposal to spend more time with you. He was just being polite.
“Umm, where would you like to go?”
You struggled to keep up with the man’s strides as he made his way out of the cafe and into the chill summer air. Despite the sun high in the sky, a breeze brought cool air from the lake into the city. Luckily, it was warmer in Yoongi’s car. You leaned back into the seat and dared to stare at Yoongi head-on, feeling a bit braver now that you’d spent some time getting to know him.
Your bravery faltered a bit when Yoongi pulled into the parking lot of Ddaeng Records. He’d forgotten his laptop in his office, and you’d agreed to go along for the ride since it was on the way to your apartment. Because, since he was such a gentleman, he offered to drive you home.
Of course.
It was the polite thing to do.
Ddaeng Records was just as intimidating as Yoongi’s penthouse, if not more. Somehow the fact that there was no one in the office made it even worse. The sound of your shoes clicking against the marble floors echoed through the halls as Yoongi led you to his office. Just as he’d done at his apartment, Yoongi requested that you wait in the hallway.
Again, he was only gone for a moment, this time returning with his laptop tucked under his arm.
“I really shouldn’t be doing work this weekend,” he said with a huff. “But I had-”
A man’s voice reverberated through the hall, accompanied by the click-clack of dress shoes against the marble. The sounds grew closer, indicating that the person would soon be heading toward Yoongi’s office.
“Fuck,” Yoongi cursed. His head swiveled like an owl’s, scoping out both ends of the hallway. You stood with wide eyes, completely ignorant of whatever was stressing him. Was he not the CEO? Why was he acting like he shouldn’t have been there?
“Taehyung cannot know I’m here.”
You didn’t have the chance to inquire about this mysterious Taehyung because Yoongi quickly grabbed your hand and began pulling you down the hall. The first door he tried was locked and Yoongi cursed again when his key didn’t work.
“What the fuck is the point of having a fucking master key if the damn thing doesn’t fucking unlock every door in the goddamn building.”
You then went on to the next door, this one giving in when Yoongi twisted his key into the lock. He pushed you inside and slipped in after you, quietly closing the door behind him.
“What is going on…?”
When Yoongi turned to answer you, he hissed a sharp inhale. You were backed up against a large printer in what appeared to be a storage room for office supplies. With Yoongi standing in front of you, there was nowhere for you to move. This meant the two of you were crammed into each other’s space. Yoongi’s sharp inhale was likely because you were so abruptly close that your chests were touching. You weren’t sure if you should look forward at his chest, tilt your head up to look at his face, look to the side, or… maybe just throw up on his sneakers.
Attempting to adjust his position, Yoongi nearly knocked over a stack of boxes that already leaned at a dangerous angle. He reached forward to grab the printer to steady himself. With his hands on either side of you, Yoongi effectively caged you in and accidentally forced the two of you even closer.
Yeah, you’d probably throw up. That seemed like the best option.
The man, Taehyung, passed by the storage room the moment Yoongi opened his mouth to speak. You could hear him talk as he walked by and it sounded as though he was on the phone.
“Yoongi didn’t come into the office again yesterday.”
You saw Yoongi scowl, probably at the informal language and accusatory tone the other man was using.
“Well, no, I haven’t heard from her. Yes, sir, I understand. Am I wrong for worrying about him, though? Someone has to…”
Taehyung’s voice faded down the hallway and you finally let out a quiet puff of air, willing yourself to breathe normally. You weren’t sure what was more embarrassing, being stuck against your ballet student’s father or being forced to listen to gossip about him from his coworker while he stood pressed against you.
Honestly, you were having the worst time being forced to experience both of those things.
“He’s such an ass,” Yoongi huffed. His breath tickled the top of your head. You kept your head turned to the side to avoid looking at him.
“I apologize for tossing you in here like that.” Yoongi’s voice was already attractive, but the deep, gravelly tone that came out from his throat when he whispered was doing something to your body that you would prefer it not to do to you. “I am not in the mood to talk to him right now.”
You gave him a curt nod. “It’s alright.”
Yoongi shifted and his leg accidentally slotted in between yours. You felt him tense against you. Suddenly, you were entirely too warm. Suddenly, the silence was entirely too deafening. You fought the urge to make some kind of stupid noise, like clear your throat or have your voice crack.
“Yoongi.”
“Hmm?”
“You dropped your keys.” You kept your gaze cast downward. Why wasn’t he making any move to leave? Taehyung was long gone by this point.
Another hum. More shifting.
Then Yoongi was crouching in front of you to reach his keyring that had skidded nearly underneath the printer. You held your breath, sucking in your stomach as tightly as you could, and tried not to think about how Yoongi’s face was practically in your crotch as he eased himself back up. Without another word, Yoongi turned to open the door.
Except, it didn’t open. He jiggled it, pressed his shoulder into it, and kicked it. Nothing. You peered around his shoulder to see that the doorknob didn’t even have a keyhole on the inside.
“Motherfucker.” Who would have known Yoongi had such a dirty mouth?
Nope, nope. You were not going to think like that.
He turned around with an expression so pissed off that you were legitimately worried. It didn’t help that his movement made your leg brush against his crotch and you bit back the scream you wanted to let out.
“We’re having such great luck today.” Yoongi was rather huffy. “I’m going to have to fucking call him.” Whatever beef he had with Taehyung seemed to really bust his balls.
No, you were not thinking about his balls. No matter how sizable his crotch had felt when it brushed against your leg. Absolutely not.
You were frozen in place as Yoongi directed his huffy attitude into his phone where poor Taehyung was on the other end agreeing to release the two of you. It was art the way Yoongi so craftily avoided the questions Taehyung was asking him, like why he was in a fucking storage room midday on a Saturday.
The questions only increased when Taehyung opened the door to find not just Yoongi, but you, too.
“Umm, hello.” You gave the man a small wave while you waited for Yoongi to step out of the storage room first.
Taehyung shot Yoongi a hard look, jaw set and eyes squinted. “What are you doing?”
Yoongi stared Taehyung in the face as he procured a cigarette from his pocket. He slipped it in between his lips and brought a lighter to the tip.
“Smoking.” Puffing a large cloud of smoke into the air between the two men, Yoongi beckoned for you to follow him.
You hurried after him, waving goodbye to a red-faced Taehyung on the way to the elevators. Yoongi continued puffing away on the cigarette, causing you to fall into a coughing fit inside the elevator. It was a wonder he didn’t manage to set off the smoke alarms.
At least he drove with the windows down as he sped through the city, although continuing your coughing fit inside the car might have been nice. It would have broken up the awkward silence that had fallen between the two of you. All you had was the whoosh of air passing through the car that became increasingly louder with how fast Yoongi was driving. Whereas his driving from earlier in the day was almost overly cautious, now he was speeding like a bat out of hell.
Yoongi didn’t speak until the cigarette was down to the butt. Long fingers flicked it out of the window. You couldn’t help but watch them return to wrap around the steering wheel.
“I’m sorry,” he said bluntly. For what? It could be a million things.
“Please stop apologizing.”
Yoongi’s eyes briefly flitted over to look at you. His gaze dropped to your bitten bottom lip, an action you took in an attempt to hide the grin your body wanted to flash his way for repeating his own request back to him.
His eyes returned to the intersection where he needed to turn to reach your street. “Alright.”
Triumphant, you smiled to yourself and directed Yoongi to your apartment, almost smug enough to not feel self-conscious about the ancient, unimpressive apartment complex you resided in. Unlike Yoongi, there was no Midas touch in your world.
“Thank you. For dropping me off. And the latte. And, well, yeah. Everything was really nice.” You stumbled through your gratitude, unsure of where you were trying to end things. The irritation bubbling under Yoongi’s surface had subsided; now, all he had for you was an amused smile.
“I enjoyed our time together, Y/N.” How could he say it so simply? So effortlessly?
“Me too.”
It took you far too long to fumble with the door handle until you could throw yourself out of Yoongi’s car. He watched you with the same amused look but stayed silent until you were halfway up the sidewalk.
“Y/N!”
“Yeah?” You quickly spun around to see Yoongi leaning with his arm resting out of the window.
“See you Monday.” The grin he gifted you was enough to make you melt into a puddle.
You forced yourself up the stairs to your apartment complex without looking back to watch Yoongi speed away. Back to his bougie neighborhood with the sweet vanilla latte coffee shops and the gold crown moulding and the fast cars.
And his kid.
And his wife.
“Bitch, what was that?”
Jimin stood with his hands on his hips directly in front of the door. You tried to maneuver around him but he wrapped his arms around your waist and dragged you backward.
“Park Jimin!” you screeched, attempting to pry his arms from your body. “Let me go! I don’t know what you’re talking about!”
“The fuck you don’t!”
“Go away!”
You dropped to the floor, effectively slipping out of Jimin’s embrace. He was quick to scramble after you as you attempted to crawl down the hallway, unable to get your feet underneath you to run. It was a shame your roommate was so strong. He grabbed your ankles and pulled you toward him and there was nothing for you to do but be dragged across the floor.
“Why do you treat me like this?” you groaned when you felt your roommate’s weight come down on your back. He was sitting on your ass, terrorizing you like the brother you never had nor asked for.
“Why are you hanging out with that man? I thought you were concerned about his wife. Now he’s driving you around in, in,” Jimin searched for car knowledge he didn’t have. “In whatever the fuck that sexy ass car was. God, he’s hot Y/N, what are you doing?”
You folded your arms and buried your face as you grumbled at the man.
“Bestie, what?”
You twisted your head to look back at him. “I said he’s bisexual!”
Jimin’s eyebrows flew up.
With that distraction, you shoved him off of you and stood up. “Thank you for sweeping the floor with my body. I’m going to go take a shower.”
Jimin rolled his eyes as you sprinted down the hallway before he could snatch you up again. “Go wash the filthiness off of you, you harlot!”
You knew Jimin didn’t mean anything by it, and probably didn’t even stop to consider just exactly what the word meant, but the insult stung anyway. Most days you did feel filthy. Even when you weren’t giving your body over to whoever it was at The Gates, just simply working the stage was enough to make you feel like you had an extra layer of grime to scrub off. And no matter how much you scrubbed, it never seemed to be enough. Touches lingered. Words lingered. Feelings lingered.
And it didn’t help when you had fifteen unread texts and two missed calls from Jungkook, all in an effort to convince you to give yourself up to him after hours, too.
Sometimes you wondered if you were playing the part of a harlot, or if the harlot was who you were.
You stripped in front of the bathroom mirror and tried not to pick apart what you saw staring back at you. Maybe you could see if Jungkook would pay for nudes if you wouldn’t fuck him on your time off. Maybe that would be fueling a fire you weren’t equipped to put out.
When you opened your text messages, an unknown number greeted you before you had the chance to look at Jungkook’s messages.
[Unknown] You can text me next time you’d like to give Binna cookies
[Unknown] They’re delicious, by the way. She may never know they ever existed
In the mirror your reflection smiled like an idiot into your phone.
None of it meant anything. But a reason to smile was always welcomed, right?

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