Bella’s Corner

Three Fingers, One Promise

AN: Hello I am back but not for long this past semester has been rough on me. But I bring you my fourth fic on this blog in honor of me losing the ticket war. I hope you all enjoy.

Pairing: Kim Namjoon x Wife Reader fluff

Warnings: mentions of cheating, a small fight (someone throws one punch), and spiraling thoughts.

Summary: When you both said “I do” at the alter your husband Namjoon swore to himself to protect you from anything. That promise grew bigger when the public gets a little too nosey for their own good.

Side note: This is super late but this fic is dedicated to @mocharacha my best friend and one of the biggest Bang Chan simps I know. Love you lots my dear and happy belated birthday! 🤗

**

Water cup? Cold.

Ice cup? Filled.

Pillow? Fluffed.

Blanket? Warm.

Snacks? Ready.

And TV? On.

Running through your checklist again, you ensured everything you would need was ready and waiting for you on the couch, where you planned to spend the next four hours. Today was a special day, and you refused to miss even one second of the program you had planned to watch.

Running to the bathroom, well actually, waddling to the bathroom one last time you emptied your bladder then made your way to the couch to watch the awards show.

“Alright little one. It’s just you and me, so let’s see what dad looks like. I bet he looks so cute with his dimples poking out.” You rubbed a hand over your belly, feeling a foot press back into your hand.

You were currently seven, approaching eight months pregnant and you couldn’t wait to give birth. Despite what everyone around you said about glowing and other such nonsense, you were ready to get your body back to yourself again. Your husband, however, seemed to enjoy your pregnant state. He ran to rub your feet and sides whenever he could, and a night didn’t pass that he didn’t read your child a book before bed.

“And BTS has arrived! Listen to those cheers.” The reporter on the TV exclaimed, snapping you out of your daydream.

You turned your focus back to the TV watching as each member was shown one by one. You laughed softly at the shy smile on Jimin’s face until the camera switched to Suga with a soft smile on his face causing you to melt in your spot. How could two humans be so cute?

The moment your husband's face appeared, you were sixteen again, heart fluttering like when you first glimpsed a crush across the hallway. Taking in his red-carpet presence, your heart skipped a beat, his eyes sparkled, his dimples carved deeper than ever. Kim Namjoon was a vision of beauty tonight. Your cheeks curved into soft roundness as he touched three fingers to his lips, sealing them with a kiss before sending it off with a graceful flick, looking directly into the camera.

To some it would seem as if he was showing affection, but you knew that he was really sending back a message of love to his tiny family at home.

What used to be a two fingers kiss to represent the two of you has become a three fingers kiss to include your unborn child, including the life you both awaited.

“Welcome guys! It’s nice to have BTS here as a full group!” The reporter beamed at them, trying to keep her professional demeanor.

“Thank you. We’re happy to be here as seven.” Namjoon smiled bigger, gesturing to the others behind him.

“You guys are supposed to be performing tonight. Is there anything you can share with us about your upcoming performance?” The reporter asked, remaining professional.

“What I am allowed to say is that if you’ve been ARMY since the beginning, then this performance will be special to you.” Namjoon smiled politely, moving away from the mic.

“Now I see some of you have brought guests with you, but I don’t see (y/n)-nim anywhere. Is she not here tonight?” The reporter asked, looking at the different family members behind the cameras waiting to go in with their respective members.

“She wasn’t feeling well, so she couldn’t make it today, sadly but if she’s feeling better she should be watching.” Namjoon answered smoothly, his voice calm but with a warning beneath the softness.

“She’s not feeling well? That’s too bad, but you can tell the truth here.” The reporter asked, keeping her smile friendly, “Where is she really?”

Namjoon chuckled, “I wish I could say something else, but that’s the truth, she wasn’t feeling well so she stayed home.”

The truth was far more private, the world had yet to know about your pregnancy. When you first discovered you were expecting, you made a decision, you wanted to savor your first pregnancy with your husband, just the two of you, away from the public eye.

The past seven months had been exhausting in their own ways, but living them quietly, shielded from the media's gaze, had been a comfort and a relief. Every milestone, every flutter, every little change had been yours alone to cherish. Your husband has been a rock in these times shielding you from unforgiving flashes and the heartless words of “fans”.

“Then”, The reporter pressed, her smile twisting into a small smirk as the camera pointed back at him, “can you speak on the rumors that suggest she’s cheated on you which is why we don’t see you two together anymore?”

Namjoon’s shoulders tensed as the question processed in his mind and the expression on his face fell to a neutral one. How dare this woman who knew nothing about you slander you like this and in front of him no less. His jaw clenched and his tongue poked his cheek for a second as his mind quickly worked out his next statement. He took a deep breath grounding himself then gave a response calmer than he himself expected.

“Tonight… BTS will be performing for ARMY, who is excitedly waiting for us. Please stick around for our performance.” Namjoon bowed at the camera then moved away from the reporter without a second glance.

The patter of feet signaled that the rest of the members followed him. A breath escaped him when a warm hand touched his shoulder and Namjoon looked to his left to find Jin looking at him worried. A silent conversation passed between them prompting Jin to give his shoulder a reassuring squeeze before he moved away revealing a similar worried look on everyone else’s faces.

“Don’t worry guys, I'm fine. The question meant nothing and that’s as far as it’ll go. We have people waiting to see us perform tonight. Besides, we're bulletproof.”

Jimin who was closest to him after Jin responded promptly, “Stick to writing lyrics hyung.”

With a round of laughter the group slowly made their way in.

*~*

What started as a positive night with excitement to perform for ARMY has now left a sour taste in his mouth. All night that one question played through his mind distracting him from what was happening on stage and around him. How dare people smear filth across your name? What gave them that right? As his mind spiraled into more unanswered questions a camera would focus on him forcing him to school his expression to one less hostile than he felt inside.

The sound of applause broke him out of his endless thoughts and forced him to focus on the night. A dull ache built up in his head as his team of staff came to retrieve the group for their performance. Left up to him at this moment Kim Namjoon would rather be at home holding onto you than stuck in a room filled with people who possibly thought the worst about his wife. Nevertheless, he pushed on trying to salvage the night.

The lights dimmed and the familiar intro playing from the speakers automatically triggered muscle memory in not just him but the entire group. The familiarity of moving around on stage didn’t help his mood and he knew a scolding from J-Hope wasn’t too far away when he missed a major step in the dance break. Finally the ending pose came and his mind could finally rest. He hadn’t made it three steps backstage when he caught sight of the reporter who had dampened his mood and Namjoon headed straight for the dressing room to get into something more comfortable.

A loud swear from the door with Kim Namjoon taped to it alerted everyone present that BTS would return back to their seats as six rather than seven. When Namjoon emerged from his dressing room dressed down in more casual clothes the members who had changed quickly made eye contact with him engaging in another silent conversation. At the sound of his frustrated sigh a path to the exit door cleared and on his way out he was given a bottle of water by Jimin and a bar of chocolate for you was placed in his hand by Jungkook. Namjoon said his goodbyes then made his way to the door to leave.

“RM! RM over here!” Cameras flashed blinding him momentarily as he stepped out the door.

Paparazzi hounding him was something he grew accustomed to since his debut days many years ago. This time however the questions being thrown at him were wild and far away. He was used to the storm ever since debut but today, it felt different, gathering just beyond the horizon, the wind tightening its grip. Every laugh, every shouted question, added another swirl of pressure, another dark cloud forming over his composed exterior.

“When can we expect a new album?!”

“Is this the last public appearance of BTS as a group?!”

“What’s the next favorite food of the leader of BTS?!”

“What hand cream does BTS use?!”

Weird questions were normal as they were used to drowning out offensive questions being thrown at them. Unfortunately for the poor reporter who asked the million dollar question, Namjoon was on his final straw.

“Is it true your wife is a no good cheater?!”

The words cut through the chaos, and the storm broke. As the last word of the question left the reporter Namjoon dropped his bag and turned quicker than his security personnel could see and punched the reporter square in the face. The hit felt good to take his anger out and Namjoon almost smiled at the feeling of relief punching the guy had given him until he was brought back to reality by his bodyguard and unceremoniously shoved into a car. Before he could sit properly the car sped away sending Namjoon tumbling into a seat.

*~*

The ride home was silent as he inspected his bruising knuckles. Flexing his fingers revealed how hard he had punched the reporter but the feeling of satisfaction far outweighed his feelings of guilt. Maybe if he’s lucky the guy will appear on his broadcast station with an apology for you. When he arrived home Namjoon threw his bag aside and kicked his shoes off and immediately went to look for you.

“Button?” Namjoon called entering the living room.

“On the couch. Why are you back already? I liked the performance.” You responded pushing yourself into a sitting position.

“I just wanted to get back to you as quickly as possible. Is there room for me on there?” Namjoon slid onto the couch behind you before you could shuffle up. “I missed you while I was gone. Both of you.”

You laughed as his hands rubbing your belly tickled your skin softly. Immediately warmth filled you both as you settled in each other’s arms. The peace was broken however when you took his hand in yours.

“Joonie what happened to your hand?! Your knuckles are all bruised. Did you break something again?” You lifted his hand above the blanket to get a better look at it.

Namjoon took hold of your hand instead and placed a soft kiss on your palm. “That’s not important right now. Let me enjoy having my favorite girl back in my arms.”

“Like hell! You’re a musician. Your hands are what make you money. Stay here.” You wriggled out of his grasp and pushed yourself off the couch.

Namjoon pouted until his face lit up watching you waddle into the bathroom. He loved the fact that you were pregnant and so round now. From the many things he can do for you like rubbing your feet and rubbing oil on your belly. Feeling his unborn child kick while he sings. Even watching you having to waddle every moment has brought him an unspeakable amount of joy and unforgettable memories. His reminisce was cut short when you returned with the first aid kit in hand.

“Come give me your hand. Let me make it better.” You said plopping back onto the couch beside him.

Namjoon watched as you patched up his hand before placing an ice pack on his bruises. Seeing this side of you in your current state gave him visions of the future once you were no longer pregnant and his excitement spiked once again.

Warmth spread across the back of your hands as Namjoon’s free hand enveloped both of yours. His touch was so tender it caused a spark of pain to flash across your back. Your child sensing the change in your hormones wiggled trying to get their father’s attention. Namjoon’s eyes grew bigger the longer he looked at you and his hand trailed from under yours to the back of your neck tickling the hairs there.

“I appreciate you so much. You’re working so hard to prepare our mini for this world, and even then you find time to take care of me.” Namjoon whispered as his hand moved from your neck to your cheek.

“You’re my husband. I’ll always take care of you. No matter what happens.” Your response was just as soft as his as the weight of your cheek pressed into his hand.

Namjoon chuckled and pulled you into a short sweet kiss, just a small taste. He placed another kiss on your cheek, one on your nose, one on your temple and finally one last kiss on your forehead.

Home Is Where The Tulips Grow

AN: Hi there this is my first story on this blog so please be nice.

Yoongi x reader domestic fluff

Warning: a brief mention of blood but this is pure tooth rotting fluff so enjoy.

~*~*~*

It was that time of year again. The sun was shining and the birds were singing their morning song. The only thing that could make today an even more perfect day would be peacefully waking up from a lovely dream, but no here you are instead in your kitchen cooking a meal big enough to feed seven hungry men and yourself.

You sighed as you checked the beef that was busy simmering on the back of the stove before you went to cut more veggies for the stir fry. A soft grunt interrupted your thoughts as arms wrapped around your waist and a head lowered itself into your neck. Ah your husband was finally awake.

Smiling softly you put down the knife you were using and turned in his hold chuckling to yourself a little when you felt his heartbeat increase.

“Good morning darling.”

Responding to your greeting with a grunt and a small groan your husband buried his face back into the crook of your neck clearly not ready to start the day yet. Since the day you two met it was made clear that Min Yoongi was not a morning person and would do anything to stay in bed for as long as possible. In the beginning stages of your relationship quick morning cuddles were met with write ups at your job since you would show up late from constant promises of just five more minutes. But how could you say no to that sleepy face?

The absence of his warmth surrounding you brought you back to the present where a sneaky Yoongi was trying to sneak some beef out of the pot.

“Yoongi! No! Bad boy. Go eat a proper breakfast.”

Yoongi pouted at you, upset at being stopped from tasting what you were currently cooking. But still threw the piece of beef into his mouth blushing a bit at the savory taste.

“There’s a proper breakfast being cooked now.”

“No that’s for the annual dinner we host for your friends. Go eat a bowl of cereal or something if you’re hungry.” you resumed chopping the last of the veggies hoping Yoongi would distract himself with breakfast.

“Jagiya should I use a bowl or a cup?”

“Whichever holds the amount you want darling.”

Yoongi smirked to himself hearing you answer his ridiculous question and decided to see how far he could push you.

“Jagiya should I pour the milk or the cereal first?”

“Whichever one feels right to you darling.”

“Jagiya should I use a spoon?”

“Yes darling you should use a spoon.”

“Jagiya which cereal should I eat?”

“Yoongi my dear husband please stop asking me such questions.” you turned to face Yoongi with a grin on your face and the knife in your hand held high.

“Yes ma’am.” Yoongi’s questions stopped for now but you could still feel his eyes on you. “Jagiya?”

“Min Yoongi I swear-“

“I love you.”

The surprise lay in the way those three simple words completely shattered your focus. One second, you were slicing through a crisp carrot, and the next, the knife slipped.

Time seemed to slow as the blade grazed your skin, a sharp, burning sting radiating through your finger. Your breath hitched, and the knife clattered against the counter, the metallic clang echoing through the room.

A sharp gasp escaped your lips, and in an instant, Yoongi dropped everything, rushing to your side. A crimson drop welled up, pooling at the edge of your fingertip before sliding down to the cutting board. His eyes scanned you with a mix of worry and urgency, his warm hands gently cradling yours as he inspected the wound. His affectionate words caught you off guard, not because he said them, Yoongi was far more loving than he let on mostly shown through gestures. A soft hiss slipped from your mouth as the cool water rushed over the cut, washing away the sting and any lingering traces of blood. Once satisfied, Yoongi reached for a bandaid, a bright pink one adorned with playful butterflies, and carefully wrapped it around your finger, his brows furrowed in concentration.

"Is that better?" he asked, eyes searching your face, his thumb brushing softly over the back of your hand as he waited for your answer.

“I’ll be ok. It’s a small cut.”

“I’ve never heard you scream like that. I was worried you cut your finger off or something worse. Please don’t give me another heart attack like that again please.”

“I’ve never cut my finger while cooking before. This is my first.”

Yoongi sighs and shakes his head with an amused expression on his face, “Yeah? So I took another of your firsts. With the rate we’re going at you won’t have any left over soon.”

The expression you found on his face was akin to the ones he had while performing but the effect it had on you was not subtle. With hurting cheeks you raised your hands determined to get revenge on your husband only to bury your face in chest as shyness took over. “You’re insufferable I swear!”

Yoongi laughed at your outburst and caught the hand you were trying to hit him with placing a delicate kiss on your palm.

“Go take a shower love. I’ll finish up in here.” The pout on your face made your husband’s smile grow wider and instantly he knew he had won when you looked away from him. “Gonna be a good girl and listen to me for once?”

“I can’t move if you’re holding me.”

“I would have to be a fool to let you walk away from me.”

His words always had a special effect on you no matter how many times you heard him say them. In the public eye your husband seemed like a crass and emotionally unavailable man but what they never got to see in the privacy of your home was the man who would move mountains to see you smile. And as you looked back into his eyes, finding the endless pools of love he had for you, Yoongi couldn’t help but place one more kiss on your hand.

“I love you.”

One final chuckle escaped Yoongi as he released you and took your spot in the kitchen, “I love you too my Tulip.”

*~*~*~*

Home Is Where The Tulips Grow

AN: Hi there this is my first story on this blog so please be nice.

Yoongi x reader domestic fluff

Warning: a brief mention of blood but this is pure tooth rotting fluff so enjoy.

~*~*~*

It was that time of year again. The sun was shining and the birds were singing their morning song. The only thing that could make today an even more perfect day would be peacefully waking up from a lovely dream, but no here you are instead in your kitchen cooking a meal big enough to feed seven hungry men and yourself.

You sighed as you checked the beef that was busy simmering on the back of the stove before you went to cut more veggies for the stir fry. A soft grunt interrupted your thoughts as arms wrapped around your waist and a head lowered itself into your neck. Ah your husband was finally awake.

Smiling softly you put down the knife you were using and turned in his hold chuckling to yourself a little when you felt his heartbeat increase.

“Good morning darling.”

Responding to your greeting with a grunt and a small groan your husband buried his face back into the crook of your neck clearly not ready to start the day yet. Since the day you two met it was made clear that Min Yoongi was not a morning person and would do anything to stay in bed for as long as possible. In the beginning stages of your relationship quick morning cuddles were met with write ups at your job since you would show up late from constant promises of just five more minutes. But how could you say no to that sleepy face?

The absence of his warmth surrounding you brought you back to the present where a sneaky Yoongi was trying to sneak some beef out of the pot.

“Yoongi! No! Bad boy. Go eat a proper breakfast.”

Yoongi pouted at you, upset at being stopped from tasting what you were currently cooking. But still threw the piece of beef into his mouth blushing a bit at the savory taste.

“There’s a proper breakfast being cooked now.”

“No that’s for the annual dinner we host for your friends. Go eat a bowl of cereal or something if you’re hungry.” you resumed chopping the last of the veggies hoping Yoongi would distract himself with breakfast.

“Jagiya should I use a bowl or a cup?”

“Whichever holds the amount you want darling.”

Yoongi smirked to himself hearing you answer his ridiculous question and decided to see how far he could push you.

“Jagiya should I pour the milk or the cereal first?”

“Whichever one feels right to you darling.”

“Jagiya should I use a spoon?”

“Yes darling you should use a spoon.”

“Jagiya which cereal should I eat?”

“Yoongi my dear husband please stop asking me such questions.” you turned to face Yoongi with a grin on your face and the knife in your hand held high.

“Yes ma’am.” Yoongi’s questions stopped for now but you could still feel his eyes on you. “Jagiya?”

“Min Yoongi I swear-“

“I love you.”

The surprise lay in the way those three simple words completely shattered your focus. One second, you were slicing through a crisp carrot, and the next, the knife slipped.

Time seemed to slow as the blade grazed your skin, a sharp, burning sting radiating through your finger. Your breath hitched, and the knife clattered against the counter, the metallic clang echoing through the room.

A sharp gasp escaped your lips, and in an instant, Yoongi dropped everything, rushing to your side. A crimson drop welled up, pooling at the edge of your fingertip before sliding down to the cutting board. His eyes scanned you with a mix of worry and urgency, his warm hands gently cradling yours as he inspected the wound. His affectionate words caught you off guard, not because he said them, Yoongi was far more loving than he let on mostly shown through gestures. A soft hiss slipped from your mouth as the cool water rushed over the cut, washing away the sting and any lingering traces of blood. Once satisfied, Yoongi reached for a bandaid, a bright pink one adorned with playful butterflies, and carefully wrapped it around your finger, his brows furrowed in concentration.

"Is that better?" he asked, eyes searching your face, his thumb brushing softly over the back of your hand as he waited for your answer.

“I’ll be ok. It’s a small cut.”

“I’ve never heard you scream like that. I was worried you cut your finger off or something worse. Please don’t give me another heart attack like that again please.”

“I’ve never cut my finger while cooking before. This is my first.”

Yoongi sighs and shakes his head with an amused expression on his face, “Yeah? So I took another of your firsts. With the rate we’re going at you won’t have any left over soon.”

The expression you found on his face was akin to the ones he had while performing but the effect it had on you was not subtle. With hurting cheeks you raised your hands determined to get revenge on your husband only to bury your face in chest as shyness took over. “You’re insufferable I swear!”

Yoongi laughed at your outburst and caught the hand you were trying to hit him with placing a delicate kiss on your palm.

“Go take a shower love. I’ll finish up in here.” The pout on your face made your husband’s smile grow wider and instantly he knew he had won when you looked away from him. “Gonna be a good girl and listen to me for once?”

“I can’t move if you’re holding me.”

“I would have to be a fool to let you walk away from me.”

His words always had a special effect on you no matter how many times you heard him say them. In the public eye your husband seemed like a crass and emotionally unavailable man but what they never got to see in the privacy of your home was the man who would move mountains to see you smile. And as you looked back into his eyes, finding the endless pools of love he had for you, Yoongi couldn’t help but place one more kiss on your hand.

“I love you.”

One final chuckle escaped Yoongi as he released you and took your spot in the kitchen, “I love you too my Tulip.”

*~*~*~*

AN: Hi this is my second fic on this blog 🥺 and I’m sensitive so please be nice

Pairing: Taehyung x black female reader

Warnings: dork Taehyung, scissors, mentions of hair care, White Chicks (the movie), very fluffy

Summary: Your husband offers to help you take your braids out. You thought this was the perfect time to show him a favorite movie of yours.

**

“Hey too…much!”

“Is…that good?”

“Y-yeah…Keep going.”

“Sorry, I’m nervous because it’s my first time.”

The laugh that escaped you surprised you and the man whose legs you sat in between.

“I know it’s your first time, that’s why I’m guiding you.”

“How do you do this every time?”

“Years of practice. Look, this one is easier to tell the difference.”

You took the braid you were holding, which was a different color from your actual hair color, and gave it to Taehyung to cut. Three years of marriage filled with happiness and two years of dating beforehand filled with shared secrets and longing touches, yet this was his first time helping you take out your braids. In fact this was Taehyung‘s first time touching your hair in its natural state.

“This is kind of therapeutic and your hair is so soft. I love it.” Taehyung said, humming while he fumbled with the braid in his hand, opting instead to use the comb with the long tail to help him out. “You should let me help you more often. Just think, all of those wasted years because you refused to let me touch your hair.”

You snorted at his audacity and rolled your eyes, choosing to engage in battle with him.

“You have yourself to blame for that. You first asked me when we hadn’t even been dating for a year yet.”

“And?” Your husband asked with a tight smile, rolling his head back and forth before his expression dropped, and he stared at you with his lips in a thin line and his eyes were wide. Did he just give you the Tata mic face?

“And I wasn’t ready for you to see that side of me yet.”

“Jagiya… at that time, I had already known what the bathroom smells like when you’re done.”

“Ok, no need to bring up trauma. It’s not my fault that the restaurant had bad food.”

Taehyung doubled over and squeezed his eyes shut as his rich voice filled your home with more warmth. Tears sprang to his eyes as his giggles continued and forced him to fall backwards on the sofa. He leaned over after wiping his cheeks and placed a kiss on your temple as a silent apology for the reminder. His smile grew bigger as he saw your flustered expression from his show of love. With a final chuckle, he picked up the comb and started on another braid.

You both worked in a comfortable silence, only broken by you answering any questions he had about your hair. You began to wonder how much help he really was when you noticed him distracted by the curls left behind by the braids.

“It’s like you get a whole other hairstyle from the first hairstyle.” The movie playing on the TV caught his attention as a familiar song played, “People really can’t tell those are men in wigs?”

“No not really. Or maybe they’re trying to be nice.”

“Maybe….Yah! They’re just giving up like that? Oh! It’s them. Oh! I know this song! Hyung played it once while we were filming a documentary.” Taehyung sat closer to the edge of his seat, more focused on the movie than your hair again.

“I’m not surprised, but don’t blink, or you’ll miss it.” you urged him, trying to slip the braid back into his hand.

Taehyung stared at the screen, mesmerized by the dance battle. Your hair long forgotten in his hands as the grin on his face only widened. As the scene came to an end, Taehyung sat back with an exhausted sigh, as if he had been the one dancing.

“Be honest, do you think V could do any of that?”

The pout that met you nearly melted your heart and had you reaching to pinch your husband’s cheeks.

“V can do some of that…..I think.” his pout deepened as he tried to focus on your hair again.

“Care to give a demonstration?” you asked, pointing to the open space in front of you.

“Sorry, I’ve got to help my wife take her braids out while we watch White Chicks. Maybe you can make an appointment if it’s so urgent.” His smirk made your eye twitch, but two could play that game.

“This is why Yoongi is superior. Yoongi marry me!”

“Yoongi-hyung isn’t even here.” he deadpanned.

You laughed as Taehyung pinched your cheek for your terrible joke, before a comfortable silence settled around you both. A few more snips of the scissors later, and all of the braids in your hair were out. Soft fingers massaged your scalp immediately afterwards, causing you to melt into their touch.

“All done?” your husband asks, stretching and watching the credits of the movie roll.

“Nope. We’re just getting started. Now I’ve got to wash and treat and deep condition and then detangle and then moisturize and then figure out what to do with my hair after.” You listed off, prepared to spend the next five hours showing your hair the love it deserves.

“Come on,” Taehyung took you by the hand before throwing you over his shoulder, “I can help with the washing part.” He ignored your squeal of surprise, landing a playful swat to your behind.

AN: Hi this is my second fic on this blog 🥺 and I’m sensitive so please be nice

Pairing: Taehyung x black female reader

Warnings: dork Taehyung, scissors, mentions of hair care, White Chicks (the movie), very fluffy

Summary: Your husband offers to help you take your braids out. You thought this was the perfect time to show him a favorite movie of yours.

**

“Hey too…much!”

“Is…that good?”

“Y-yeah…Keep going.”

“Sorry, I’m nervous because it’s my first time.”

The laugh that escaped you surprised you and the man whose legs you sat in between.

“I know it’s your first time, that’s why I’m guiding you.”

“How do you do this every time?”

“Years of practice. Look, this one is easier to tell the difference.”

You took the braid you were holding, which was a different color from your actual hair color, and gave it to Taehyung to cut. Three years of marriage filled with happiness and two years of dating beforehand filled with shared secrets and longing touches, yet this was his first time helping you take out your braids. In fact this was Taehyung‘s first time touching your hair in its natural state.

“This is kind of therapeutic and your hair is so soft. I love it.” Taehyung said, humming while he fumbled with the braid in his hand, opting instead to use the comb with the long tail to help him out. “You should let me help you more often. Just think, all of those wasted years because you refused to let me touch your hair.”

You snorted at his audacity and rolled your eyes, choosing to engage in battle with him.

“You have yourself to blame for that. You first asked me when we hadn’t even been dating for a year yet.”

“And?” Your husband asked with a tight smile, rolling his head back and forth before his expression dropped, and he stared at you with his lips in a thin line and his eyes were wide. Did he just give you the Tata mic face?

“And I wasn’t ready for you to see that side of me yet.”

“Jagiya… at that time, I had already known what the bathroom smells like when you’re done.”

“Ok, no need to bring up trauma. It’s not my fault that the restaurant had bad food.”

Taehyung doubled over and squeezed his eyes shut as his rich voice filled your home with more warmth. Tears sprang to his eyes as his giggles continued and forced him to fall backwards on the sofa. He leaned over after wiping his cheeks and placed a kiss on your temple as a silent apology for the reminder. His smile grew bigger as he saw your flustered expression from his show of love. With a final chuckle, he picked up the comb and started on another braid.

You both worked in a comfortable silence, only broken by you answering any questions he had about your hair. You began to wonder how much help he really was when you noticed him distracted by the curls left behind by the braids.

“It’s like you get a whole other hairstyle from the first hairstyle.” The movie playing on the TV caught his attention as a familiar song played, “People really can’t tell those are men in wigs?”

“No not really. Or maybe they’re trying to be nice.”

“Maybe….Yah! They’re just giving up like that? Oh! It’s them. Oh! I know this song! Hyung played it once while we were filming a documentary.” Taehyung sat closer to the edge of his seat, more focused on the movie than your hair again.

“I’m not surprised, but don’t blink, or you’ll miss it.” you urged him, trying to slip the braid back into his hand.

Taehyung stared at the screen, mesmerized by the dance battle. Your hair long forgotten in his hands as the grin on his face only widened. As the scene came to an end, Taehyung sat back with an exhausted sigh, as if he had been the one dancing.

“Be honest, do you think V could do any of that?”

The pout that met you nearly melted your heart and had you reaching to pinch your husband’s cheeks.

“V can do some of that…..I think.” his pout deepened as he tried to focus on your hair again.

“Care to give a demonstration?” you asked, pointing to the open space in front of you.

“Sorry, I’ve got to help my wife take her braids out while we watch White Chicks. Maybe you can make an appointment if it’s so urgent.” His smirk made your eye twitch, but two could play that game.

“This is why Yoongi is superior. Yoongi marry me!”

“Yoongi-hyung isn’t even here.” he deadpanned.

You laughed as Taehyung pinched your cheek for your terrible joke, before a comfortable silence settled around you both. A few more snips of the scissors later, and all of the braids in your hair were out. Soft fingers massaged your scalp immediately afterwards, causing you to melt into their touch.

“All done?” your husband asks, stretching and watching the credits of the movie roll.

“Nope. We’re just getting started. Now I’ve got to wash and treat and deep condition and then detangle and then moisturize and then figure out what to do with my hair after.” You listed off, prepared to spend the next five hours showing your hair the love it deserves.

“Come on,” Taehyung took you by the hand before throwing you over his shoulder, “I can help with the washing part.” He ignored your squeal of surprise, landing a playful swat to your behind.

AN: Hi this is my third fic on this blog. I hope you all enjoy All Bark And A Little Bite.

Paring: Jungkook x reader (fluff with slight angst if you squint)

Warning: brief mention of panic attack, saesang, desperate Jungkook, carrots (let me know if I forgot anything please)

Summary: You decided to make your boyfriend his favorite food to welcome him home when an unexpected visitor shows up for dinner.

**

The smile on your face was as permanent as the excitement you’ve felt for the past few days. Your crops are watered, your bed is warm, your pillow is cold, and more recently, your favorite person has been released from military duty. And what better way to celebrate his coming home than to make his favorite food?

After confirming you had the necessary ingredients, you set to work cutting the veggies first. With a yellow shirt too big to be yours and Butter playing in the background, your hips swayed as you prepped to make japchae. As the song ended and another began, you chopped the last of the veggies and set them aside to check on the meat, you left to marinate overnight.

House sitting for Jungkook for the past week had been very interesting, from having to navigate the many mattresses throughout the apartment, down to clearing away the laundry Jungkook left sitting on the dining room table. But the best part would definitely be the good boy who has kept you company the entire time. Bam refused to leave your side for too long, lest you get lonely or his dad decided to video call you again. Speaking of Bam, however, he was comfortably lying on the couch watching you work and praying that you would drop something he could taste.

The moment was short-lived, however, as Bam perked up, focused, and trained on the front door, much to your obliviousness. The socks on your feet slid against the ground as you launched yourself into the chorus of That That. A deep growl from Bam brought you back to reality, and you turned down the music playing to check on him.

“Bam? What’s wrong, baby?” you went to check on him when you stopped in place, noticing his hackles were raised. Something wasn’t right.

Before you could investigate further, a deep bark echoed through the house as Bam stood his ground, ready to defend his home. The beep of the keypad, followed by the wrong code alert, sounded, causing Bam to bark more.

Weird….

Jungkook wasn’t the type to forget the password to his own house, so what was going on here?

“Bam….s-stop. Calm down.” You kept your voice low and steady, one hand hovering near his back as you held his collar gently, trying to ground him with your calm.

But his barking got louder as whoever was outside tried code after code to open the door. Through the chaos of sounds floating through the house, your phone’s ringtone rang through, startling you further. Checking the caller ID revealed the man of the hour himself was calling you.

Jungkook’s frantic voice made your ears ring.

“Y/n-ah don’t answer the door! I need you to go into my bedroom with Bam and lock the door.”

“Jungkook? What? What do you mean? Isn’t that you at the door, trying to come inside?”

“No!” His voice was frantic as he spoke; “I’m still at the company, and with what’s happening, I can’t leave yet. Listen Carrot, and don’t freak out too badly, but right now there’s a saesang at the door trying to get inside, and I’m terrified she’ll hurt you if she sees you.”

The desperation in his voice grew as he continued, “Please, I’m begging you, take Bam and lock yourselves in my bedroom. There's a bat in there if you need it.”

As if someone threw a bucket of water on you, everything around you froze. The room grew colder as a ringing in your ear grew louder. Your breathing picked up, and it felt like the world around you had started spinning. Someone potentially dangerous was at the door, and if they got in, then….. Your chest tightened , thoughts racing of what might happen if the door gave way, you let go of Bam’s collar momentarily, he shot forward his bark sharpening into a savage snarl.

“I can’t get Bam to move away from the door. He’s been barking at it nonstop.” You ran a shaking hand over Bam’s head, he looked back at you, then at the door, determined and protective , which only encouraged him to bark more.

A curse escaped Jungkook’s lips, and you can picture him running a frustrated hand through his hair, “Alright, put the phone on speaker.”

The line crackled in the silence. You fumbled to hit speaker, and only then did Jungkooks’s voice cut through, low, firm and steady, “Bam house.”

At the sound of his father’s voice Bam lets out a whine, calming down instantly and turning to you to confirm he heard correctly. When the command came again, he made his way into Jungkook’s room and straight into his kennel.

“Incredible…” you aknowleged.

“Compliment me later.” Jungkook interrupted, “For now, get into my room and lock the door. The police are on their way, but if they don’t arrive in time, then under the bed you’ll find a shiny metal bat. I want you to swing the bat full force if it comes to that.”

“Jungkookie, no…” your voice cracked, the phone trembling in your hand. “I… I can’t do that.”

“Hey, hey, listen to me, Carrot.” His voice softened, each word slower than the last, like he was coaxing your pulse to settle, “You’re a beautiful and strong woman, so I know you can do this. You waited 18 months for me to leave the military, and I’m not letting some intense fan stop me from holding you while we sleep tonight. Just imagine you’re having a pillow fight with me and swing.”

HIs efforts didn’t help much as your breathing picked up, which didn’t go unheard by Jungkook, “No, no no. I can’t.”

“Baby breathe. Calm down. Let’s talk about that dress you sent me yesterday. The one you wanted to buy but didn't. The pretty white one with the flowers. Go lie on my bed and get comfy, then tell me why you want it. Lock the door behind you.”

Like on autopilot, you followed his instructions, momentarily distracted from what’s outside. Once Jungkook heard the click of a lock, he sighed, slightly relieved that you were a little safer than before.

“Carrot? Get comfy. I left your favorite blanket of mine on the bed. Make yourself a cute burrito and tell me all about that pretty dress.”

“Well, it’s a summer dress, but you can tell by the sleeves.” You shuffled under the blanket, wrapping yourself up tightly. “I thought it would be cute to get dressed up and move the coffee table in your living room so we could have an indoor picnic. Well, that’s what I thought about when I saw the dress.”

“You’re cute, you know.” Jungkook chuckled, straining his ear to hear anything else happening in the surrounding background. “We can do that. I’ll get you that dress as a gift. Which shoes would look good with them? Oh! And the purse. Can’t forget the purse Carrot.”

“Well, one of the flowers is red …so maybe some… red flats and… a pretty red bag.” Your timid mumbling sent a pang of sadness straight into Jungkook’s heart.

“It’ll never be prettier than you.” He joked, hoping it could lighten the mood a bit.

“You flirt too much, Jungkookie.” You snorted, smiling for the first time since the saseang arrived.

Jungkook laughed, “I don’t hear any complaints from my girlfriend.”

The conversation between you two continued, lighthearted, the storm outside fading to nothing more than background noise. Time passed by as Jungkook continued making you laugh until a loud knock frightened you. A gruff voice outside confirmed the police had arrived, and you were finally safe at last.

“Go answer the door, Carrot. I’ll start heading home now.” Jungkook sighed, then the line cut, leaving you staring at the dark screen before you could reply.

You left Jungkook’s room, careful to leave Bam inside so you could answer the front door. After a few questions and reassurances, the police left, their taillights fading down the street. That’s when a sleek black car pulled up to the curb.

“Carrot!” You heard him before you saw him.

His voice reached you before he did. The door flew open, and Jungkook sprinted toward you, pulling you into a crushing embrace. His warmth closed around you, and only then did the weight of everything hit, your chest heaved, tears welling faster than you could blink them back. You tried to fight it, but the sobs broke free anyway.

“You’re so strong, Carrot.” he murmured, brushing away the tears before pressing a kiss to your forehead, “ And you went through such a scary ordeal all by yourself. I’m sorry I wasn’t here with you.”

“It’s ok. It wasn’t your fault.” You tried to reassure him, but you knew better. “I was just scared, is all.”

“I was so worried about you. I’m glad you’re safe angel.” Jungkook confessed, squeezing you tighter, taking in your scent to ground himself “I don’t think I’d be able to forgive myself if something had happened to you.”

He buried his face against your hair like he needed proof you were real. His hands traced every inch of your face as if relearning the shape and feel of you. In one last desperate attempt to convince himself you really were ok Jungkook kissed you tender yet desperate again.

He exhaled, steadying himself, then eased back just enough to look at you, “Come on, let’s go inside.”

Jungkook took your hand in his and dragged you inside, shutting the door firmly behind him. He looked around, noticing someone was missing. Before he could ask, a scratching at his bedroom door caught his attention, and he opened it, revealing Bam wagging his tail in excitement, and dramatically flopping over ready to receive praise.

“Bam! Good boy protecting your mom like that.” Jungkook laughs, complimenting Bam while rubbing his stomach, the pups tail wagging with even more excitement.

Both of them jumping aroung while you had gone back to salvage dinner

Wait….You glanced up from the stove, spatula in hand, eyes narrowing at him. Mom? What did he mean by that? You two had been together for months, sure, but that didn’t suddenly make you the mom of his dog.

“Um….mom?”

Jungkook’s hand paused on Bam’s head before it continued showering the beloved pooch in love. A flustered smile spreading on his cheeks as he giggled nervously.

“Sorry it slipped out. I didn’t mean anything bad by it, though.”

“Well, actually…” you swallowed before finding your courage to continue, “I don’t mind you calling me his mom. I know he’s your dog, but I do love him a lot. And he did protect me today.”

You scratched Bam’s ear as the apples of your cheeks twinged a bit. Were you blushing?

“So you don’t mind?” Jungkook asked, moving over to where you were in the kitchen.

He took your hand in his, rubbing his thumb over the back of your hand, and searched your face for the third time today.

You shook your head in confirmation, then giggled at the thought before continuing to make dinner.

Jungkook stared at you fondly, then leaned in, slotting his lips over yours while mentally creating a checklist for himself:

1. Buy the pretty white dress you want for your picnic.

2. Buy supplies for said picnic, and

AN: Hi this is my second fic on this blog 🥺 and I’m sensitive so please be nice

“Hey too…much!”

“Is…that good?”

“Y-yeah…Keep going.”

“Sorry, I’m nervous because it’s my first time.”

The laugh that escaped you surprised you and the man whose legs you sat in between.

“I know it’s your first time, that’s why I’m guiding you.”

“How do you do this every time?”

“Years of practice. Look, this one is easier to tell the difference.”

You took the braid you were holding, which was a different color from your actual hair color, and gave it to Taehyung to cut. Three years of marriage filled with happiness and two years of dating beforehand filled with shared secrets and longing touches, yet this was his first time helping you take out your braids. In fact this was Taehyung‘s first time touching your hair in its natural state.

“This is kind of therapeutic and your hair is so soft. I love it.” Taehyung said, humming while he fumbled with the braid in his hand, opting instead to use the comb with the long tail to help him out. “You should let me help you more often. Just think, all of those wasted years because you refused to let me touch your hair.”

You snorted at his audacity and rolled your eyes, choosing to engage in battle with him.

“You have yourself to blame for that. You first asked me when we hadn’t even been dating for a year yet.”

“And?” Your husband asked with a tight smile, rolling his head back and forth before his expression dropped, and he stared at you with his lips in a thin line and his eyes were wide. Did he just give you the Tata mic face?

“And I wasn’t ready for you to see that side of me yet.”

“Jagiya… at that time, I had already known what the bathroom smells like when you’re done.”

“Ok, no need to bring up trauma. It’s not my fault that the restaurant had bad food.”

Taehyung doubled over and squeezed his eyes shut as his rich voice filled your home with more warmth. Tears sprang to his eyes as his giggles continued and forced him to fall backwards on the sofa. He leaned over after wiping his cheeks and placed a kiss on your temple as a silent apology for the reminder. His smile grew bigger as he saw your flustered expression from his show of love. With a final chuckle, he picked up the comb and started on another braid.

You both worked in a comfortable silence, only broken by you answering any questions he had about your hair. You began to wonder how much help he really was when you noticed him distracted by the curls left behind by the braids.

“It’s like you get a whole other hairstyle from the first hairstyle.” The movie playing on the TV caught his attention as a familiar song played, “People really can’t tell those are men in wigs?”

“No not really. Or maybe they’re trying to be nice.”

“Maybe….Yah! They’re just giving up like that? Oh! It’s them. Oh! I know this song! Hyung played it once while we were filming a documentary.” Taehyung sat closer to the edge of his seat, more focused on the movie than your hair again.

“I’m not surprised, but don’t blink, or you’ll miss it.” you urged him, trying to slip the braid back into his hand.

Taehyung stared at the screen, mesmerized by the dance battle. Your hair long forgotten in his hands as the grin on his face only widened. As the scene came to an end, Taehyung sat back with an exhausted sigh, as if he had been the one dancing.

“Be honest, do you think V could do any of that?”

The pout that met you nearly melted your heart and had you reaching to pinch your husband’s cheeks.

“V can do some of that…..I think.” his pout deepened as he tried to focus on your hair again.

“Care to give a demonstration?” you asked, pointing to the open space in front of you.

“Sorry, I’ve got to help my wife take her braids out while we watch White Chicks. Maybe you can make an appointment if it’s so urgent.” His smirk made your eye twitch, but two could play that game.

“This is why Yoongi is superior. Yoongi marry me!”

“Yoongi-hyung isn’t even here.” he deadpanned.

You laughed as Taehyung pinched your cheek for your terrible joke, before a comfortable silence settled around you both. A few more snips of the scissors later, and all of the braids in your hair were out. Soft fingers massaged your scalp immediately afterwards, causing you to melt into their touch.

“All done?” your husband asks, stretching and watching the credits of the movie roll.

“Nope. We’re just getting started. Now I’ve got to wash and treat and deep condition and then detangle and then moisturize and then figure out what to do with my hair after.” You listed off, prepared to spend the next five hours showing your hair the love it deserves.

“Come on,” Taehyung took you by the hand before throwing you over his shoulder, “I can help with the washing part.” He ignored your squeal of surprise, landing a playful swat to your behind.

💕: Bang Chan [Dad!Bangchan ] x Reader[ Mom!Reader]

✍️Synopsis: Parenting is Teamwork. Especially when Y/N and Chan juggle family life and upcoming birthday party preparations for their energetic toddler, as they balance work, parenting, and their relationship, they find joy in the simple, everyday moments that make their little family special.

🔢Wordcount: 3,8k

📖Genre: Marriage AU, Family AU, Domestic Fluff, mildly suggestive ❗Warnings: The romantic/sexual innuendos are mild and non-explicit. food mentions, parenthood/parenting themes/ mentions of family planning and pregnancy, Chan calls the reader "sweetheart", reader is called "eomma" by the kid, mentions of sharks

☕A/n:  This started with imagining Bang Chan holding a toddler while also holding a grocery bag, biceps, and forearms…. Can you blame me?

Reader is an Event Manager (who recently started working part-time again) and a former idol! Chan (now music producer for the new Generation of Idols), their son, Dae-min is a toddler and likes sharks.

-[Masterlist]-

The distant squeak of the semi-broken shopping cartwheel told you that Chan and Dae-min weren’t far off, that and the race car noises, your toddler omitted from their lips, while your husband pushed the cart through the aisles of the grocery store. 

You glanced up from the instructions of the vanilla butter crème mix, checking the ingredients you needed to add, and decided to add it to your shopping. Just in case, a backup if your homemade recipe didn’t work in the early August heat.

It was Sunday, barely past noon and since your husband was home and not stuck in the studio producing the newest hit for the recently debuted girl group, you decided to use his muscle strength to get the monthly groceries done early before you got busy during the week to prep for your little boy’s big day next weekend.

The bouncy castle would arrive the day before, and the grandparents were flying in the same day to help with preparations. You need to check on the guest rooms and possibly call the pool guy to confirm the water quality by Wednesday, and also deep clean the second freezer.

Party planning had been your livelihood before you had Dae-min, and what use would that be if not for your son’s birthday party?

Masterlist

I know it took forever to post this, but I wanted it to be perfect. Bold writing is Korean.

𝒔𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚 — One art gallery. Two familiar strangers. The first time was a coincidence. The second time feels like something more. And this time, Taehyung isn’t going to let her walk away.

𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 — Kim Taehyung x black!reader

𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 — 6.8k

Warnings! FLUFF! nothing but soft, sweet fluff here, shy eye contact, Tae is a shy boi, unexpected run-ins, matchmaker best friends, emotional chaos, language barrier softness, gentle strangers-to-something-more, tension, soulmate vibes, 'casual' physical touch, and two people trying not to fall too fast—but failing just a little.

There’s something deeply humbling about being the only person in a gallery who doesn’t quite get the art.

You're trying—really. You’ve tilted your head. Squinted. Stepped back. Moved closer. You’ve done everything short of consulting Google for an artistic explanation of why a pile of shoes stacked in a circle makes you feel weirdly emotional.

Maybe that’s the point. Or maybe you're overthinking it. You do that sometimes. Especially lately.

You turn slightly, trying to catch Hani’s eye across the gallery. She’s in her element, radiant and glowing in a loose cream blouse and linen pants, deep in conversation with a couple you don’t recognize. Her laugh echoes lightly across the space, and you can’t help but smile. Seeing her like this—comfortable, creative, home—makes your chest feel full.

You’re proud of her. Like, obnoxiously so.

The whole reason you’re in Korea at all is because of her. She practically begged you to come visit the second her exhibit was confirmed. "I want you to see it with your own eyes,” she’d said on FaceTime a few weeks ago, “before I’m too famous to have time for you.” Then she’d winked, which made you laugh, and you knew you couldn’t say no.

So here you are, a week off work, a temporary sub covering your classes, your little carry-on bag living half-unpacked in Hani’s guest room. You’ve been in Seoul for four days now—mostly catching up, trying not to get lost on the metro, and marveling at how amazing this city is.

The gallery event tonight is Hani’s big debut. You’ve been counting down the hours, building up the excitement like a kid waiting for Christmas morning. And now that it’s here, it’s more beautiful than you’d imagined.

The gallery is sleek and modern, floor-to-ceiling windows looking out over a glittering cityscape, lights dimmed just enough to make the art pop against the stark white walls. The space hums with a mix of Korean and English, laughter intermingling with clinking glasses and soft music.

You take a sip of your drink—something sparkling and faintly citrus—then let your gaze drift back to the shoe sculpture. It’s… striking. Not necessarily in a “this is beautiful” way, but in a “I think this is making me feel feelings” way. Something about of the amount present makes you feel sad.

You’re contemplating whether or not you need another drink to handle those feelings.

And also… thinking about a certain vending machine stranger.

Because of course you are.

It’s been three days since your chance encounter with Tae—the man with the bucket hat, soft eyes, and the uncanny ability to make your heart do weird things. Three days, and yet you keep catching yourself replaying his laugh, his smile, the way he’d blushed when you thanked him.

He’d stayed on your mind the entire walk back to Hani’s apartment. You’d found yourself wondering where he’d been headed, what he did for work, if he liked dogs, if he took his coffee black or with sugar—

The next morning, you’d almost walked to that same vending machine on purpose. Just in case he’d be there. Just in case.

But you didn’t.

Because that would be weird, right? That would make you the weird one. And you’ve worked really hard to not be the weird one.

But it still lingers. That question. That what-if.

You haven’t even told Hani the full story. Just called him “the vending machine guy” and left it at that. You didn’t want to make it a thing. But it was a thing, wasn’t it?

You shake your head softly, trying to clear your thoughts. You’re here to celebrate Hani, not to daydream about some guy you met once. Even if he did make your stomach feel like it was full of butterflies. Even if you can still picture his smile in the dim streetlights.

Even if—

“Enjoying yourself?”

The voice startles you, and you nearly spill your drink. You spin around to find Hani grinning at you mischievously, a champagne flute held delicately between her fingers. She looks radiant—always radiant—her blouse hugging her curves, her hair swept up in a sleek updo.

You roll your eyes fondly, teasing, “What, you’re just now talking to me?”

“Busy mingling with the rich and famous, you know how it is,” she says with a wink, then gestures to the art around you. “But seriously, what do you think?”

You scan the gallery, taking it all in. “It’s amazing,” you say honestly, turning back to her with a smile. “And you look… like you belong here.”

She laughs, a soft, self-conscious sound. “You think?”

“I know.”

You’re about to ask her about the shoe piece—because honestly, you need answers—when a small group of guests approaches, all smiles, bows and enthusiastic handshakes. Hani’s expression shifts into something professional and poised, and she glances at you apologetically.

“Duty calls,” she murmurs before getting pulled into another conversation. You nod your understanding and watch her go, marveling once again at how she thrives in these settings. She’s always been that way—confident, charismatic, the kind of person who lights up a room just by being in it. You’re the quieter one. Always have been.

A waiter passes by, offering you another drink. You accept gratefully and take a long sip. The bubbles dance on your tongue, a sweet, effervescent distraction from your wandering thoughts.

You wander the gallery, listening to snippets of conversation and marveling at the creativity around you. The art is eclectic—some pieces loud and bold, others quiet and intimate. It makes you wonder about the artists, about what they were feeling when they created these works.

You pause in front of a particularly striking piece—a photo of a bustling subway station, the people blurred into streaks of color and motion while a single person stands still in the center. You tilt your head, trying to make sense of it. Why this moment? Who is that person? What’s the story?

There’s something about the stillness of that one figure amidst the chaos that hits you right in the chest. A lonely feeling, but not a sad one. Just… quiet. Solitary.

Being surrounded by people and still feeling alone. You can relate.

You take another sip of your drink, letting the bubbles dance on your tongue, turning around to face Hani's direction, who's standing with two men now. One of them is tall with kind eyes and dimples that could charm a brick wall. The other—your breath catches—is him.

Tae.

You stop walking. Like, physically stop. Mid-stride. Feet rooted to the floor like when you’re in a dream and your brain doesn't cooperate with your body.

He’s facing slightly away, head tilted as he listens to Hani, bucket hat swapped for a beanie this time, brown sweater sleeves rolled to his forearms. He still has that soft, slightly offbeat energy to him. That same quiet, unassuming presence.

Your mind races. He’s here. How? Why? Is this a joke?

Then he turns, as if sensing your gaze. Their eyes meet, and everything else fades away.

His expression flickers from confused to surprised to unmistakably pleased in the space of a single heartbeat. And maybe you imagine it, but you think you see his posture shift, just a little straighter, like seeing you pulled something taut inside him. The way the corners of his lips twitch before breaking into a shy grin mirrors the butterflies you feel.

He’s as caught off guard as you are.

This time, you’re the one to make the first move, weaving through the crowd toward them. You feel a little dizzy. A little out of your depth. But mostly, you just feel… curious.

Hani sees you first, her face lighting up with excitement. “Y/N!” she calls out, waving you over. “There you are.”

You make your way through the small cluster of people, balancing your drink and your composure as best you can. “Sorry,” you say with an easy smile. “I got distracted by all the art,” you say, feeling Tae's gaze on the side of your face.

Hani grins, already slipping her arm around your waist as she turns you slightly toward the two men she’s been standing with. “Y/N, I want you to meet a couple friends of mine.”

You glance up politely, offering a small, awkward wave. “Hi, I’m Y/N.”

“Namjoon,” the taller one says, bowing slightly. “Nice to meet you.”

You smile automatically, dipping your head in return. “Nice to meet you too.”

Then Hani gestures toward the second man—the one whose eyes are already on you, warm and quietly stunned. He hadn’t quite convinced himself you were real until just now, standing in front of him like this. He doesn't think he's ever seen anyone more beautiful. “And this,” she says, her tone lighter but with just enough emphasis to make you pause, “is Taehyung.”

Your breath catches.

Tae.

He gives a small nod, that same soft smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Hey.”

Your heartbeat thuds once—loud, ungraceful, immediate.

Hani continues, “Um..have you two have already met?” Her eyes bounce between the two of you the way it does when she’s watching a tennis match.

You nod slowly, mouth twitching into a half-smile as you meet Taehyung’s gaze again. “Yeah… we have. A few nights ago, actually.”

Taehyung’s voice is soft—shy, even—but still melodic. “Nice…to—uh, see you again.”

Your lips part just slightly. You don’t know what you were expecting, but it wasn’t that. His voice sounds just like you remember—deep and smooth, as it curls around the edges of his words before letting them go. It makes you want to tell him things. A million things.

“You too,” you say gently, blinking at him. “I didn’t think I’d—well… hi.” You laugh softly, embarrassed by how breathless you sound.

Hani exchanges a quick look with Namjoon before she looks at Taehyung, piecing it all together. She turns to you, eyes wide with glee, clearly delighted. “Wait. This is vending machine guy?” Her voice is just a tad too loud, and you catch Namjoon flinching slightly beside her.

You nod slowly, watching Taehyung, waiting for him to dissolve into smoke and mirrors. Waiting for the universe to explain why he's here. Now. In this gallery. In this moment. Again. “Yep,” you say, your voice small but sure. “Apparently.”

“Ah!” Hani squeals, clearly pleased with this new information. She claps her hands together once like a giddy kid. “I can't believe this!” Then, because she can’t resist, she looks between the two of you, her eyes sparkling. “I mean, what are the odds?!”

Namjoon glances around, subtly shushing her. “Hani,” he says gently, nodding toward a few guests who’d turned at the sound. “You’re going to attract a crowd.”

She waves a hand dismissively, not taking her eyes off you and Taehyung. “Let them watch,” she declares. “This is too good.”

Taehyung lets out a quiet laugh, eyes crinkling at the edges. You catch the sound, feel it like a tug in your chest, and something inside you loosens. You hadn’t realized how tense you were until just now.

“So…” Hani says, eyes lighting up like she’s just had a brilliant idea. “Since you two already know each other, why don't we all catch up for a bit? You know, reminisce about snack machines and whatnot.”

You blink, mouth falling open slightly. "Hani, no—I mean, we don’t have to—” You shoot her a look that’s equal parts don’t do this and Shut up. But her smile only widens.

And then, Hani—traitor that she is—shoots you both a knowing look and says. “Nonsense!” She makes a shooing motion with her hand as she turns to the boys. "There's this little restaurant downstairs. A sort of museum café,” Hani says brightly, already sliding her hand into the crook of Namjoon’s arm. “I was just thinking of going there. We should go check it out. Right?” Her eyes flick to Namjoon, who nods along, clearly used to this. "Joon’s paying.”

Namjoon huffs out a soft laugh. “Am I?”

“You owe me lunch,” she reminds him.

“Since when?”

“Since always.” She winks at him. “Come on, you two.” She starts walking away, dragging Namjoon along with her, her voice carrying across the gallery like she owns the place. Which, for tonight, she kind of does. "Let's go, let's go!"

You hesitate, eyes flicking briefly to Taehyung. He’s watching the two of them with something like fond amusement, his hands tucked into the pockets of his black pants, fingers fidgeting subtly in the fabric because he’s unsure what to do with them.

Here he is with the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen, and he's blowing it. Again. He should be saying something charming. He should be confident. He should—

He’s not.

He’s a man who likes routines, who likes knowing what’s next, who’s only ever felt comfortable in his own skin when it’s just him and his thoughts. But now, his thoughts are a mess of “should I move closer?” and “what if she doesn’t like me?” and “why is my heart beating so fast?”

And you—sweet, patient you—don’t say anything. Just wait. Give him time. Let him catch up.

When he glances back at you, his eyes brighten slightly. He has to do this. He won't let you escape him again. “You come?” he asks, soft and hopeful, the words shaped carefully on his tongue. His cheeks flush pink almost instantly, but you can tell he’s trying to play it cool.

Your stomach does a little flip—subtle but insistent. The butterflies are back.

“Sure,” you say quickly—maybe too quickly. “Yes. I’d like that.”

“Okay,” he breathes, looking almost relieved. He glances ahead, where Namjoon and Hani are already disappearing toward the back of the gallery. “Let’s…go?”

You nod, and together you start walking, trailing after your friends who are already wrapped up in conversation, laughing about something you didn’t catch.

It’s dim and airy downstairs, all marble tables and hanging greenery, a far cry from the sleek, modern space upstairs. The café hums with quiet chatter and the clink of silverware, the smell of coffee and fresh bread hanging in the air. It’s cozy here—inviting and warm. And private. There's barely anyone around.

Hani leads the group to a quiet corner table in the back, away from everyone, chatting excitedly about her work and how surreal it feels to see it all displayed. Namjoon listens attentively, nodding along and adding little anecdotes here and there.

Taehyung and you hang back a little, falling into a comfortable pace just a few steps behind. His presence beside you feels strangely familiar now—like slipping into an old sweatshirt on a cold night.

He keeps stealing glances at you when he thinks you’re not looking. But you can feel it. It's cute. Kind of endearing, even.

Hani and Namjoon slide into the booth first, leaving the opposite side for you and Taehyung.

You hesitate, glancing at the open space. There’s plenty of room for the two of you—enough that you wouldn’t even need to touch—and you try to ignore the slight annoyance that feel at how big the table is.

Taehyung doesn’t seem to share your concern. Without missing a beat, he slides in first—leaving you plenty of space—his arm brushing yours lightly as he shifts to get comfortable, his movements unhurried.

You settle in next to him, hyperaware of the heat radiating from his side, the gentle scent of his cologne—something warm and subtly sweet—mingling with the café's aroma. It makes your head feel a bit fuzzy.

Hani leans in with a mischievous grin, eyes bouncing between you and Taehyung with undisguised glee. “So,” she says, voice low but excited. “Wasn’t this a great idea?”

You give Hani a look—equal parts annoyed and threatening—but she just bats her lashes innocently and picks up the menu like she’s not actively trying to orchestrate your love life. But it wouldn't be the first time.

Taehyung’s shoulder brushes yours again as he shifts slightly to open his own menu. And you realize he's moved closer. It’s a small thing, barely noticeable to anyone else. But to you…

You steal a glance at him from the corner of your eye. He looks calm—hands resting loosely on the table, face relaxed as he scans the options—except for his knee. His left knee is jiggling ever so slightly under the table. A nervous habit.

He notices you looking and quickly stills his leg, a faint blush creeping across the bridge of his nose. “Sorry,” he murmurs, not quite meeting your gaze.

“It’s okay,” you assure him softly, taking the opportunity to turn your body slightly towards him. “I don't mind.” You flash him a reassuring smile.

He nods, not quite convinced, but he returns your smile with one that’s hesitant and sweet.

Namjoon clears his throat softly, breaking the spell. “So,” he says, looking to you and Taehyung, “what are we thinking?”

The menu is a mix of café staples—coffees, pastries, sandwiches—with a few Korean dishes that you don’t recognize. Taehyung frowns slightly at one section, muttering something under his breath, his lips forming silent words as he reads.

“What do you recommend?” you ask, looking at him curiously.

He glances up, almost startled, like he hadn’t expected you to ask. “Ah… um,” he pauses, eyes scanning the menu again, “This. This one.” His finger lands on a dish you can’t pronounce, but it looks good—something savory with noodles and vegetables, topped with a bright, sunny-side-up egg. “Good?”

“Perfect,” you agree with a smile. Then you lean in a bit, voice lowered conspiratorially, “Can you order it for me? I’d never get the pronunciation right.” You laugh, a little nervously, a little hopefully.

He nods once, eager to be of assistance. “Yes, okay.”

You sit back, letting the conversation flow around you as Hani and Namjoon banter back and forth, teasing each other good-naturedly, while you and Taehyung settle into a quiet rhythm of glancing at each other when the other isn’t looking.

It’s… nice.

A part of you had been worried it would be awkward. That you’d run out of things to say or that the silence would feel heavy. But somehow, it’s the opposite.

Taehyung has a quiet kind of confidence to him now. He still gets shy when you catch his eye, ducking his head and blushing. But when you ask him a question, he lights up, leaning in slightly and talking animatedly about whatever it is—his favorite coffee order, his favorite place in the city, his favorite time of year in Seoul (spring, he tells you, because of the cherry blossoms. He can’t wait).

His English is hesitant but sincere, and you find yourself hanging onto every word, smiling at his expressions and laughing at his jokes. He’s… endearing. Like a golden retriever puppy who's just now realizing he has a tail. You can’t help but want to be the one who makes him light up.

Every now and then, you catch Hani watching you with a knowing glint in her eye, and you can practically see the wheels turning in her head. You make a mental note to warn Taehyung about her later, if this… whatever this is… goes anywhere.

The food takes a little while, which is fine. The conversation is easy. Somehow, it turns to music—Namjoon’s favorite topic, apparently.

“What kind of stuff do you like?” he asks, sipping his iced tea as he looks at you. The drinks arrived a few minutes ago.

You think for a second. “Hmm… mostly R&B. A lot of jazz lately, actually. I’ve been listening to that when I lesson plan.” You shrug. “It’s calming.”

Taehyung perks up beside you. “Jazz?”

You nod. “Yeah. Coltrane. Chet Baker. Esperanza Spalding.”

His eyes widen slightly—just for a second—and then he smiles. “Nice.”

You tilt your head, teasing. “You like jazz too?”

He nods once. “A lot. Sometimes… I paint with jazz.”

You blink. “You paint?”

He looks a little shy about it now, like he didn’t mean to admit that out loud. He shrugs modestly. “Little. For fun.” Hani catches your eye and wiggles her brows from across the table. You ignore her.

“What kind?” you press, genuinely curious.

He rubs the back of his neck. “Not normal. Different. Uh—Abstract. Feeling.” He searches for the right word. “Mood.” You imagine him in a studio somewhere—paint-splattered jeans, old shirt, headphones on as he loses himself in the strokes of his brush.

“Still,” you say softly, “that’s cool. I’ve always wanted to paint, but I’m not artistic at all.” You laugh a little sheepishly, leaning back. “I’d love to see it sometime,” you say, almost without thinking. The words are out before you realize what you’ve said. You hesitate slightly and add, “If… if that’s okay.”

He looks surprised for a moment—just for a beat—and then his expression shifts into something pleased. He nods once, “I show you,” he says. “Promise.” He holds your gaze, eyes melting into yours.

Before you can ask him what else he likes to do, the food arrives—a steaming plate of the dish he’d ordered for you, the egg glistening and the vegetables perfectly cooked. He ordered the same for himself.

Soon, the four of you are laughing like old friends.

Hani’s telling a dramatic story, flailing her arms and mimicking whatever poor soul she tortured that day. Namjoon nearly chokes on his drink several times. Even Taehyung laughs freely now, that deep, warm sound that makes his eyes scrunch at the corners in the most endearing way.

You find yourself leaning in a little closer each time you hear it.

Somewhere in the midst of this—between bites of food, sips of coffee, and conversation that flows easily—your knee bumps his under the table.

And neither of you moves it.

Instead, you press your weight into it, just the slightest bit. Just enough to let him know it’s not an accident.

His hand pauses on its way to his cup, just for a second, and you wonder if you’ve read this all wrong. If maybe you’ve crossed a line. But then—

He presses back.

************

You’re fading fast.

It hits you somewhere between Namjoon describing his favorite painting from tonight and Hani detailing the worst date she ever went on.

The food was amazing. The company? Even better. But the constant low-key anxiety of trying not to embarrass yourself in front of the cutest guy you’ve ever met has caught up to you. That kind of thing is exhausting.

Your eyes sting, your shoulders droop, and when you yawn behind your hand for the third time in ten minutes, Taehyung takes courage to say something.

“Sleepy?” he asks quietly, leaning in just a little, his knee is still pressed against yours.

You nod, embarrassed. “Sorry, yeah,” you murmur, stifling another yawn. “I haven’t been sleeping well here.”

His eyebrows furrow slightly with concern. “Not sleep? Why?”

You shrug, playing with the hem of your shirt absently. “Just… adjusting. Different time zones.”

He nods slowly, understanding. “Ah.”

Namjoon, ever the voice of reason, chimes in. “We should probably call it a night anyway. It’s getting late.” He glances at his watch for emphasis. You didn’t realize it’d been over two hours already. It’d flown by.

You’re about to agree when Hani perks up from across the table, looking up from her phone. “I can’t leave yet,” she says apologetically. “There are still some people upstairs I haven’t greeted. One of the gallery owners just arrived—he flew in late.”

You nod, even as the fatigue creeps into your bones. Of course. It’s her big night, and she’s still working. You can't expect her to ditch everything to walk you back.

Hani’s gaze shifts to Taehyung and she switches to Korean. You catch just a few words—help. home. and tired. maybe? You struggle to understand what she’s saying, but Taehyung is already nodding, before answering in Korean. Something that sounds like 'Yes, okay, I can.'

Hani turns to you with a cheeky smile, “Y/N, Taehyung can take you back to my apartment. Since you’re tired. And he knows the way.” She says it like it’s a logical conclusion. Like she hadn’t orchestrated this from the start.

You blink, looking to him. He meets your gaze evenly, expression neutral, waiting for your reaction. A small part of him is worried you’ll say no. That he's overstepped. But another part—a growing, hopeful part—wants this. Wishes you’d say yes.

Your heart skips a little beat.

“Only if okay,” he reassures. “I drive. Safe.” He adds.

You glance at Hani, then back at him, weighing the options. “Um… are you sure?” you ask.

He nods.

You hesitate only a moment longer before smiling. “Okay. Yeah, that would be great, thanks.” Your voice comes out a little breathier than you intended, and you hope no one notices.

“Perfect!” Hani declares, clapping her hands together once as she slides out of the booth. “Namjoon and I will stay a bit longer. You two go ahead and head out.”

She doesn’t wait for a response, already turning away to walk off with her usual grace and poise. Namjoon offers you a sympathetic smile as he stands, reaching for the check before Taehyung can even think to grab it. “Have a good night,” he says with a nod. "It was nice to meet you, Y/N."

Then it’s just the two of you again.

Taehyung stands first, offering you a hand. It’s warm and slightly calloused as it folds around yours, helping you from the booth. You feel the contact all the way to your toes. “Ready?” he asks.

You nod, not quite trusting yourself to speak yet.

***********

He leads you through the gallery, one hand gently pressing against your lower back to guide you—a light, respectful touch that sends your pulse skittering. You try not to think about how much you like it. How natural it feels. How right.

The air outside is cool and crisp, and it makes your cheeks tingle, but not in a bad way. It feels good—refreshing, even. You take a deep breath, letting it fill your lungs, and find Taehyung watching you when you open your eyes.

“What?” you ask, suddenly self-conscious.

He smiles, and it makes your stomach go all warm and wobbly. “Happy,” he says simply. “You… look happy.” His cheeks pinken again, but he doesn’t look away this time.

“Thanks,” you finally manage, your voice soft.

He nods. “Okay…uh—car is far…so…um…” He pauses, searching for the right words, and you can't bear to watch him struggle anymore. You love the way he's been trying all night to speak your language. You do.

But you can’t take it anymore.

"Tae," you start, then pause, letting the sound of his name hang in the air between you. He looks at you, his expression open and curious. "You speak to me in Korean, you know?" You chew your bottom lip, nerves making your voice quieter than you mean it to be. "I mean… I don’t understand much, but I want to learn. You don’t have to work so hard just to talk to me.” You don't want him to struggle to impress you.

You don't need to be impressed. You already are.

He blinks at you, eyes widening just slightly. He opens his mouth, then closes it again. He hadn’t expected that. But that's who you are, isn't it? Understanding and kind and—

He clears his throat, looking a little dazed. “Yeah?”

You nod slowly, letting your smile spread. “Yeah,” you echo, stepping a little closer. "Just go slow." Then you pause, teasing just a little. “And if I mess up, you can teach me.” You wink, and his breath catches.

He’s still processing your request. "Okay," he says in Korean, softly, testing it. "Okay, yeah. I… yes." He nods again, more firmly this time, as if convincing himself.

“Good. Thank you,” you say warmly. “Now. Where's your car?” You gesture down the street, brows raised in question.

Taehyung glances up the street, then back at you. “I have to go get it,” he says slowly, tilting his head a little. “Can you wait here for me? It's just around the corner. I'll come right back.” He looks worried you'll say no, so he hurries to add, "It’s cold. You stay inside if you want?"

You blink. “Oh—why?”

He chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck. “If people see…” He gestures vaguely to himself, then to you. “…they could take pictures.”

Oh.

Your eyes widen in sudden understanding. Of course. You’d been so caught up in the moment that you’d forgotten who he actually was. Kim Taehyung. Idol. Icon. One of the most recognizable faces in K-pop.

“Right. Yeah, sorry,” you murmur, stepping back instinctively. “I didn’t think—”

He cuts you off with a soft smile, stepping forward again. “Don’t apologize. It’s… okay. Just… wait here?” He reaches out, tucking a coil of hair behind your ear before he can stop himself. It’s a gentle, intimate gesture that makes your breath hitch. “Five minutes,” he adds.

“Okay,” you say quickly, trying to play it cool despite the butterflies doing cartwheels in your stomach. “I’ll wait here.”

He nods once, holding your gaze for just a moment longer, then turns and jogs off up the street. You watch him go until he disappears around the corner, leaving you with a pounding heart, mind reeling from what just happened. From what’s been happening all night.

This was supposed to be about supporting Hani. About having a good time at an art exhibit. You weren't supposed to find him here. You weren't supposed to see him again. You weren't supposed to feel this way.

But you do.

You take a deep breath, hands curling around your arms as you lean against the wall of the building. The concrete is cool against your back, grounding you. You close your eyes briefly, letting the night air wash over you and clear your head.

It takes exactly five minutes and fourteen seconds for Taehyung to come back. You know, because you counted.

He pulls up quietly in a sleek, black Genesis SUV, engine purring as he rolls to a stop at the curb. The tinted passenger window slides down, revealing him in the driver’s seat, looking impossibly attractive in the dim light.

“Hi,” you say, bending down to peer inside, unable to hide your smile.

“Get in.” He nods toward the passenger door, and you don’t hesitate.

The door unlocks with a soft click. You open it, slide in, and are immediately greeted by the gentle hum of music playing low through the speakers—something soft and familiar, but not something you can place.

The car smells like him—fresh, clean, and subtly masculine. You buckle your seatbelt as he pulls away from the curb, merging smoothly onto the road. He glances over at you before turning his attention back to face forward. “Comfortable?”

You nod. “Very. Thank you.”

The city lights glide past in blurred golds and blues, soft music filling the space between you. It’s nice. Comfortable. Easy. He drives smoothly, one hand on the wheel, the other draped lazily over the console. For a few minutes, neither of you speaks.

Then—

“Um, Y/N?” Taehyung says softly, his voice pulling you from your thoughts. He doesn’t take his eyes off the road, but you can feel the nerves rolling off of him.

“Yes?” you say, turning toward him, letting your knee press against the console as you shift.

He hesitates, as if gathering his thoughts. “I… have a question.” It's now or never, he thinks. He can't lose you again. Not after the universe has granted him a second chance.

“Okay. Shoot.”

He takes a breath, then dives in. “Would it be alright if… we, uh…” He trails off, fidgeting with his grip on the steering wheel. His knuckles go white before he eases up again.

You wait, watching him quietly. When he doesn’t continue, you prompt him gently. “If what?”

His eyes flick to you for just a second, then back to the road. “If… maybe… I could get your number. To text you. If… that’s okay.” He hurries through the words, ripping off the band-aid, Korean words blurring together. You barely understand him. His ears are pink with embarrassment.

"Only if you want,” he hurries to clarify. It's cute. The way he’s so nervous. "No pressure."

Your pulse flutters in your throat, and it’s hard to swallow around it. You clear your throat softly and nod slowly. “Yes,” you say. “Yeah, I’d… I’d like that.” You take a breath, steadying yourself.

He glances over at you, surprised by your easy acceptance. You smile at him, and he nearly misses the next red light, slowing to a stop.

“Okay.” Then he's reaching into his pocket, pulling out his phone with the most adorable look of concentration on his face as he taps through it. Finally, he hands it to you, unlocked and open to a new contact screen. “Here.”

“Thank you,” you say, taking the phone carefully, your fingers brushing his in the process. You resist the urge to linger and instead focus on typing in your number. It takes a few tries—his keyboard is in Korean and you keep hitting the wrong letters—but eventually, you manage it.

You pause for a moment, wondering if you should add your name. In the end, you type Y/N in English, then add a little emoji smiley face because why not?

When you hand the phone back to him, he quickly sends a text to your phone to make sure he has the right number.

You pull your phone out, opening the text. There’s just one word—Hi—followed by a Korean character. You quickly reply, glancing down at his phone, where your name shows up on the lock screen, and smile. “Looks like it worked.”

He beams, slipping the phone back into his pocket just before the light turns green. The car glides forward, picking up speed smoothly as he navigates the colorful streets.

*************

The rest of the drive passes in a comfortable hum of music and muted streetlights. You catch yourself stealing glances at him every now and then, watching the way the shadows shift across his face, highlighting the sharp lines of his jaw, the curve of his cheekbones. He’s beautiful. And you’re in big trouble.

Too soon, the car slows to a stop in front of Hani’s building. You hadn’t realized you were already here until he’d put on the blinker. Time flies when you’re having fun.

Taehyung shifts into park and turns off the engine, but makes no move to get out. You hesitate too, hands gripping your seatbelt as you look over at him.

Well… this is it. This is the part where you say goodbye, get out of the car, and go back to being two people who aren’t even from the same country. This is the part where whatever this was ends.

Except…

He clears his throat softly, interrupting your thoughts. “Thank you. For tonight,” he says, turning toward you, leaning against the door, one arm draped over the wheel.

You smile. “No, thank you. I had a really nice time.” It comes out quieter than you expected, but the words feel right.

He nods, then pauses, like he’s debating what to say. You wait, giving him space to find the words he’s looking for.

Finally, he takes a breath. “I… was afraid that you… that I wouldn’t see you again. After the first time.” His words are slow, measured, so you can understand him clearly. You realize you want to hug him. “I’m glad that I was wrong.”

You tilt your head slightly, looking at him. “Me too,” you say softly. “I’d… I’d been hoping to run into you again.”

A comfortable silence settles between you, punctuated only by the distant hum of the city and the faint sound of music still playing. You don't know how long you sit there, just staring at each other, but you don't care.

Then, Taehyung clears his throat again, a soft blush coloring his cheeks. “Well… I should probably—”

You reach for him without thinking.

Your fingers find his first—just a gentle brush of your hand against his, palm to palm—before curling around his wrist. It’s soft, tentative, an apology for interrupting him, an excuse to touch him. Your heart is suddenly loud in your ears.

Taehyung goes very, very still, his eyes dropping to where your fingers are now wrapped around his wrist. His breath hitches, just once, but you catch it.

“I… I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—”

Shit. Shit. That was stupid. He probably thinks you’re some kind of crazy bitch, throwing yourself at him—

He turns his hand over, catches yours in his, and pulls it to his mouth. His lips brush across your knuckles, soft and warm and—

Your breath catches, your heart doing a funny little flip in your chest.

When he looks up at you, his eyes are dark, full of an emotion you don't recognize. But whatever it is, it makes your blood feel like warm honey in your veins.

You watch, transfixed, as he places a second kiss to the inside of your wrist. And a third. Each one softer than the last, lips barely brushing skin.

You feel lightheaded. “Tae…,” you whisper, not even sure what you’re asking for. More of that? All of that. Everything.

He presses your hand against his cheek, lets you feel the heat of his skin, the roughness of stubble on his jaw. His eyes never leave yours. When he finally speaks, it’s a whisper. “Y/N,” he murmurs, and your name sounds like a promise on his lips. “I want to see you again. Before you leave. If… if you want.”

You’re nodding before he’s even finished. “Yes,” you breathe, leaning in without thinking. “Yes, I want—” Your voice is breathless, a little shaky.

Taehyung nods once, twice, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Friday,” he says quietly. “Are you… free? Can I… see you Friday?” He’s still holding your hand against his face, his thumb stroking small circles on your skin. It’s distracting.

You think for a moment, then nod. “Friday works,” you agree, letting the words spill out. “Yeah, Friday is great.”

He beams at you, and the sight of it sends lightning bolts to your toes. “Good,” he murmurs, pressing another kiss to your knuckles. And you know you have to get out of the car before you do something stupid, like kiss him.

You clear your throat softly. “I, um… should probably go.” The words feel like a betrayal as soon as you say them.

Taehyung doesn’t let go right away.

Instead, his thumb lingers against the inside of your wrist, like he’s memorizing the shape of you through touch alone. His eyes hold yours for a breath longer—just long enough to make your pulse flutter again—then he gently, reluctantly, lets your hand slip from his.

You feel the loss immediately.

“Okay,” he says quietly, his voice a little hoarse.

You reach for the door handle, fingers trembling slightly. The moment you step out, the cool night air hits you full-on, nipping at your skin and snapping the spell in two. You pause, one foot on the curb, and look back at him.

He’s still watching you. Still in the driver’s seat, lips parted like he might say something else. But he doesn’t.

So you do.

“Thank you,” you say again, softer this time. “For the ride. And the food. And…” For showing up again.

You close the door gently behind you.

He waits until you’re at the entrance of the building before pulling off.

And he knows he’s in trouble.

He’s still thinking about the way your hand felt in his. The way your voice softened when you said his name. The way your smile made something inside him ache with a feeling he hasn't felt in a long time. If ever.

He drives slowly, almost reluctantly, as if speed might erase the memory of you too soon. His hand tightens around the steering wheel. There’s a smile pulling at his mouth—soft, dazed, completely uncontainable. He doesn’t try to stop it.

He's in too deep and, for the first time, he lets himself drown.

AN: Hi there this is my first story on this blog so please be nice.

Warning: a brief mention of blood but this is pure tooth rotting fluff so enjoy.

~*~*~*

It was that time of year again. The sun was shining and the birds were singing their morning song. The only thing that could make today an even more perfect day would be peacefully waking up from a lovely dream, but no here you are instead in your kitchen cooking a meal big enough to feed seven hungry men and yourself.

You sighed as you checked the beef that was busy simmering on the back of the stove before you went to cut more veggies for the stir fry. A soft grunt interrupted your thoughts as arms wrapped around your waist and a head lowered itself into your neck. Ah your husband was finally awake.

Smiling softly you put down the knife you were using and turned in his hold chuckling to yourself a little when you felt his heartbeat increase.

“Good morning darling.”

Responding to your greeting with a grunt and a small groan your husband buried his face back into the crook of your neck clearly not ready to start the day yet. Since the day you two met it was made clear that Min Yoongi was not a morning person and would do anything to stay in bed for as long as possible. In the beginning stages of your relationship quick morning cuddles were met with write ups at your job since you would show up late from constant promises of just five more minutes. But how could you say no to that sleepy face?

The absence of his warmth surrounding you brought you back to the present where a sneaky Yoongi was trying to sneak some beef out of the pot.

“Yoongi! No! Bad boy. Go eat a proper breakfast.”

Yoongi pouted at you, upset at being stopped from tasting what you were currently cooking. But still threw the piece of beef into his mouth blushing a bit at the savory taste.

“There’s a proper breakfast being cooked now.”

“No that’s for the annual dinner we host for your friends. Go eat a bowl of cereal or something if you’re hungry.” you resumed chopping the last of the veggies hoping Yoongi would distract himself with breakfast.

“Jagiya should I use a bowl or a cup?”

“Whichever holds the amount you want darling.”

Yoongi smirked to himself hearing you answer his ridiculous question and decided to see how far he could push you.

“Jagiya should I pour the milk or the cereal first?”

“Whichever one feels right to you darling.”

“Jagiya should I use a spoon?”

“Yes darling you should use a spoon.”

“Jagiya which cereal should I eat?”

“Yoongi my dear husband please stop asking me such questions.” you turned to face Yoongi with a grin on your face and the knife in your hand held high.

“Yes ma’am.” Yoongi’s questions stopped for now but you could still feel his eyes on you. “Jagiya?”

“Min Yoongi I swear-“

“I love you.”

The surprise lay in the way those three simple words completely shattered your focus. One second, you were slicing through a crisp carrot, and the next, the knife slipped.

Time seemed to slow as the blade grazed your skin, a sharp, burning sting radiating through your finger. Your breath hitched, and the knife clattered against the counter, the metallic clang echoing through the room.

A sharp gasp escaped your lips, and in an instant, Yoongi dropped everything, rushing to your side. A crimson drop welled up, pooling at the edge of your fingertip before sliding down to the cutting board. His eyes scanned you with a mix of worry and urgency, his warm hands gently cradling yours as he inspected the wound. His affectionate words caught you off guard, not because he said them, Yoongi was far more loving than he let on mostly shown through gestures. A soft hiss slipped from your mouth as the cool water rushed over the cut, washing away the sting and any lingering traces of blood. Once satisfied, Yoongi reached for a bandaid, a bright pink one adorned with playful butterflies, and carefully wrapped it around your finger, his brows furrowed in concentration.

"Is that better?" he asked, eyes searching your face, his thumb brushing softly over the back of your hand as he waited for your answer.

“I’ll be ok. It’s a small cut.”

“I’ve never heard you scream like that. I was worried you cut your finger off or something worse. Please don’t give me another heart attack like that again please.”

“I’ve never cut my finger while cooking before. This is my first.”

Yoongi sighs and shakes his head with an amused expression on his face, “Yeah? So I took another of your firsts. With the rate we’re going at you won’t have any left over soon.”

The expression you found on his face was akin to the ones he had while performing but the effect it had on you was not subtle. With hurting cheeks you raised your hands determined to get revenge on your husband only to bury your face in chest as shyness took over. “You’re insufferable I swear!”

Yoongi laughed at your outburst and caught the hand you were trying to hit him with placing a delicate kiss on your palm.

“Go take a shower love. I’ll finish up in here.” The pout on your face made your husband’s smile grow wider and instantly he knew he had won when you looked away from him. “Gonna be a good girl and listen to me for once?”

“I can’t move if you’re holding me.”

“I would have to be a fool to let you walk away from me.”

His words always had a special effect on you no matter how many times you heard him say them. In the public eye your husband seemed like a crass and emotionally unavailable man but what they never got to see in the privacy of your home was the man who would move mountains to see you smile. And as you looked back into his eyes, finding the endless pools of love he had for you, Yoongi couldn’t help but place one more kiss on your hand.

“I love you.”

One final chuckle escaped Yoongi as he released you and took your spot in the kitchen, “I love you too my Tulip.”

*~*~*~*