Now Im Not Going To Lie To You But I Started Crying When I Read Jungkooks Part Mainly Because Of How

Now I’m not going to lie to you but I started crying when I read Jungkook’s part mainly because of how real it would be ahhdkahdmsbdmab g JEON JUNGKOOK FUCK YOU’RE SO HOT 🥵

...𝙩𝙪𝙜𝙜𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙖𝙩 𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙝𝙖𝙞𝙧...

━ type: bts x gn! reader ━ masterlist

━ about: angst, fluff, (themes of) smut, the holy trifecta  ━ pictures taken from Pinterest

━ a/n: may or may not have seen Yoongi's insta pic...may or may not be feeling very normal about it

NAMJOON: Atypically, your boyfriend was actually quite the whiny guy. Friday evening, time - 20:30. Thanks to some uncanny miracle, Namjoon was free this night and you’d been eager to soak up each other’s company. You sat largely silent, tucked into his side and openly staring, merely breathing an infrequent “yeah” and “no way” so he wouldn’t suspect you were not listening. Though you were not listening, catching the jumping cadence of his offended voice only with the tip of your ears. Far too engrossed in admiring the glowing shade of his skin and furiously working cheeks, you felt your mind slip. Never before have you thought that someone resting on the couch, passively aggressively minding on chips could make your heart bleed with love. But everything about Namjoon was soft and comfortable. 

Unwittingly, you zeroed in on the tuft of his hair, poking out from underneath his hoodie. Without fully registering, you trailed your fingers down the hood, pulling it down and proceeded to tug at the back of his hair. Namjoon’s cheeks froze and with mouth full, he glanced at your side. 

“What are you doing?” 

“Don’t know,” you shrugged. “You’re compelling like that.”

He returned back to the chips, completely unperturbed by the looks of it. 

“You need to condition them more,” noting absent-mindedly, you played with whatever strand called your fancy. He rolled his eyes, pinching your bare thigh. 

“Ow!

“You should be whispering sweet nothings in my ear,” he grumbled. “Confess how much you adore me, how hot I am.”

“Right,” you agreed, leaning into his expectant expression. “Your hair is also greasy as fuck. You should shower more.”

Violently, he hurled you into the decorative pillows scrunched from your combined weight, frowning at the easy laughter bubbling from your throat.

“I’m dating a bully,” he muttered bitterly, yet when you nosed at his neck, he craned it with no small amount of enthusiasm, playing with the hem of your shirt. 

“Sure are,” you purred. “Can I play with your greasy hair more? Pretty please?” His eyes lingered, firmly set on the playing movie, but you reckoned his neck did grow increasingly warmer. 

“You’ll do it no matter what I say.” 

“‘Cause you’ve never said “no” to me.”

At that, he heaved a tormented sigh. 

“True. I’m but a lowly servant of love.”

You chuckled, pushing the black hair away from his forehead, messing it up. after a moment, with a barely concealed grin, he offered:

“Maybe now I can card through your leg hair.”

“Not funny,” you glared at him but Namjoon merely sniggered further on. 

“A little funny.”

YOONGI: Your hand was practically aching as it laid listlessly by your side, partially sinking into the plush sofa of his studio. Fully drowned in work, he sat by the monitor, one hand coming to rest by his lips, the other - tinkering with the beat. And his hair - the hair - curled around him like a ring of halo. He drew a heavy sigh, reaching up to muss the chief objects of unease further. Yet you couldn’t just follow the delirious caprice. Yoongi was a guarded man, he liked his personal space and, despite how much you longed for it, you couldn’t just tug at his long hair. The relationship was still fresh and had to be trodden like a melting glacier - nice and easy. Crossing the itching arms over your stomach, you huffed in discontent. 

“What?” he suddenly hummed, and you recoiled, assuming he was blissfully ignorant of your lingering stare. 

“Nothing,” you replied, but his chair turned, a pair of disbelieving eyes falling your way.

“Just say it.”

“I want to tug at your hair,” the sentence practically rushed out as though your body was actively disregarding your own orders. 

“Why don’t you just do it?”

You nibbled with your fingers suddenly feeling rather foolish. 

“I want to be respectful,” you muttered underneath the nose, and a second later, you grasped what sound Yoongi was making. Laughing.

He was laughing at you.

Resting his forehead against the desk, you saw his shoulders wag in muffled glee. 

“You know,” he faced you, eyes twinkling in amusement. “Most couples grope each other the first chance they get.”

“Oh, shut it,” groaning, you sank into the sofa, only for all objections to wither into the ether once Yoongi lowered his head with a soft “come ‘ere”. 

Cautiously, fearing the dream could shatter at the moment’s passing, you made your way to where he sat and with bated breath curled your palm around his fluffy curls, giving them a tender yet generous pull, something akin to instant relief flooded your system, making the tips of your fingers tingle. 

“Enjoying yourself?” Yoongi wondered, the curve of his smile suggesting he was barely holding himself back from teasing you into oblivion. You tugged at his hair once more, this time harder, and a prolonged moan left his lips, startling you both. 

“Not as much as you, it seems,” you smirked down at him, enjoying how his eyes flitted away from you, self-conscious red dusting his cheeks. 

“Just go for it next time,” he grumbled shyly, making no move to pull away. “Before you give yourself an IBS.”

JIN: He knew what you wanted by the frankly terrifying gleam hidden behind your eye. There was something entirely transfixed passing your expression as we stared at his head with steely determination. Ordinarily, Jin was content with your inexplicable obsession. Rather this than pulling at his cheeks, he reckoned, however, now…

“I won’t pry ________ off of me,” he whined, gazing into a mirror. Even to his completely normal and unscrambled brain, the permed curls resting atop his forehead seemed inviting. Fluffy. Moussed. Reasonably asking to be tugged. 

“Oh, what a torture,” Namjoon dragged aridly, perched in the corner, not unlike a sullen owl. “You have someone to go home to who loves to play with your hair. Poor you.”

Graciously ignoring the seeping sarcasm, JIn breathed a tormented sigh. 

“I know right.”

Namjoon merely rolled his eyes, returning back to his quiet moping. 

When Jin crossed the threshold, he found you immersed in laundry, folding it and turning to greet him home like always.

“Hello!” you exclaimed cheerfully. “How was your da-”

Frightfully, he swallowed. Your expression grew distant and in spite of his jerky movements, your attention never wavered from the top of his head. 

“May I eat at least?” he mewled weakly and you nodded just not before actually thinking about it. 

After eating in peace, the last one he’d get for the evening, Jin slowly trodded to the bedroom, shoulders hung low in premature defeat. On the other side of the door, you were waiting for him already, blinking expectantly from underneath the covers. After a prolonged groan, he obliged your whims and settled his head on your lap. To get it over with. 

Instantly, your fingers delved deep into his curls, tugging and twirling them to your heart’s strange desire. 

“How cute,” you gushed. “So fluffy!”

Jin closed his eyes, trying to suppress the blossoming smile. Perhaps, he didn’t entirely hate being coddled in such a fashion but you didn’t need to know that. Unbeknownst, to him, you were more than aware as, in spite of his efforts to mask the pleased grimace, he failed to conceal the ears burning bright red. 

HOSEOK: “Sorry,” he said, squirming and glancing to the side. “But no.”

Well, no was no and you just had to learn how to live with it. Every time your hand subconsciously reached to grasp a strand of his hair between your fingers, not really meaning anything good or bad, just doing so out of instinct, you reigned it back, forcing the treasonous hand to ultimately fall unused. It may or may not have taken you a whole year to timidly wonder aloud:

“Why don’t you like for me to touch your hair?” 

Hoseok was practically asleep - his voice came crackling from the other side of the bed. 

“It’s nothing personal,” he sighed, cracking one eye open, glancing at your demure expression through the dark. “It’s just…” then he fell silent. Only after a pregnant pause, one long enough for you to assume he’d succumbed to sleep, he casually brushed it off:

“It’s just a preference.”

He rolled on the side and the conversation ended there. 

“Hey, ______________!” Jimin greeted you brightly the second you took a step inside the partially hidden makeup studio. Being nearly four in the morning, filming’s end, sparsely anyone was present and even those few people didn’t bother acknowledging you through the haze of insomnia. 

“What are you doing here?” 

He smirked, all cheek as always. 

“Could ask the same for you. It’s really late.”

You shrugged, enjoying the distraction of easy chatter. 

“Couldn’t sleep. Supposed Hoseok would appreciate some company home.”

“Ah, dear ______________,” Jimin snaked a hand around your shoulder. “Geniuses think alike.”

“Oh no,” you laughed, scurrying away from his treacherous hold. “Don’t try to seduce me into being your fangirl. It won’t happen.”

What was with Jimin and his tenacious will to make himself your bias you did not know and you never quite asked either, although it provided plenty of icebreakers across the slew of accidental meetings. 

“Shame,” he drawled. “Maybe better though. Hoseok would kill me.”

To properly lament the wretched situation, Jimin sighed and reached to rake a hand through his hair. Hair that had been growing out and now sat shining with silver highlights. Unwittingly, your hand jolted by the side of your thigh. 

“You want to touch?” he offered, sporting a grin too devious for your peace of mind. You probably shouldn’t but what’s the big deal…It’s just hair…

Doors to the room sprang open with a great bang and you crossed gazes with Hoseok, instantly swallowing in guilt. With expression previously lax, now growing cloudy, he flitted between you and Jimin. 

“What’s going on?” with narrowed glare, he questioned, voice falling in a carefully curated tone which was, of course, far more menacing. 

“Just waiting for you superstar,” Jimin laughed thinly only to wither when placed underneath Hoseok’s chilling frown. “On second thought, I’ll get home on my lonesome. Goodbye!”

And without giving anyone the time to even blink, Jimin had already disappeared into thin air. No, he was definitely not winning any favours from you.  

The drive back home was spent in fraught silence, with Hoseok]’s hands gripping the wheel so tight, every now and then it heaved a maltreated scream. Any minute soon the wrath bubbling underneath his skin would surge like pressurised water out of a geyser. However, Hoseok wasn’t a jealous person, even less when it came to the members. Both were trusted explicitly. Was it stress perhaps? 

Finally, he crumbled. 

“What is it with you and hair?” he sneered sharply. Straight away you bristled at the unspoken accusation. 

“Nothing. Better yet what’s with you? I can’t even talk to Jimin now?”

“You went to him with the one thing, I couldn’t give you,” he countered as the car surged with tension.

“I did not go to him!” you squalled in frustration. “Are you even hearing yourself?!”

“It’s our thing!”

“No, it’s mine! You hate -!”

“It’s because of my ex, okay?!”

An awkward silence settled in the space between you. Red light pooled through the windshield.

“She liked to play with my hair,” he explained, anger abating as it was quickly seized by contrite embarrassment. “And I was afraid that if you’d do it, I would unwillingly think of her. You deserve better than that.” 

You bit your lip to stop the growing smile, simply breathing: “I see.” Then - 

“However, how would I know what you’re thinking?”

He stared ahead, lips thinning identical to yours. 

“Probably wouldn’t,” he sighed. “But I’d feel at blame.”

You hummed and gazed outside the window, still battling the blossoming smile, though it was nothing compared to the warmth churning within your chest. A hand reached for yours and Hoseok guided your fingers towards his hair. It was finer than you realized but nice. It was Hoseok after all. 

“Are you thinking of her?” you gently pondered. 

“Not at all,” he whispered in a breathy voice, eyes briefly falling shut. “You’re the only one for me.”

JIMIN: Instead of happiness, his lips pursed into a thin line, gaze becoming evasive. 

“Thank you, but I’m too tired.”

“I’ll help you.”

“I…I’m not in the mood for sex either.”

“It’s not that,” you sighed forlornly, literally feeling him slip through the cracks of your fingers. “Just…get in, and I’ll take care of you,” in a smaller voice, you added. “Like you do of me.”

Standing in the cracked gap of the bathroom door, he contemplated for a second, before breathing a heavy exhale, one expressing the entire weight of the world. Water sloshed as he got in the bath you drew up, and the window soon was covered by a thick layer of condensation, the deep black night growing matted behind it. 

“You don’t have to do this,” he tossed over the bare shoulder, but you brushed his concerns away. 

“I want to.”

“If it's because what I said -”

“It’s not.”

“- then I was out of line.”

“You were not.”

“I take it back.”

“You shouldn’t.”

“But -”

Every time he spoke, his head turned to steal a glimpse of you, perhaps entirely on instinct, the water doused you with a heavy wave, drenching the floor and dumping the rose petals out with it. You grasped his head between your palms, keeping him still at least long enough to apologize sans the pain of his scrutinising gaze. 

“I’m sorry,” you confessed, letting your forehead rest on the back of his neck. “I won’t ever let you feel like taken for granted.” 

He sat unmoving for a long time and you gasped shakily, trying to swallow the budding tears. Well, obviously you would self-sabotage the only good thing in your life. Only naturally at this point in life...

…but this was Jimin and it didn’t matter whether you tucked yourself away in a locked room or an ocean away, he’d extend you the same kindness you were so eager to return. Pulling your arms around his neck, he smiled, laying a tender kiss upon your trembling knuckles. 

“Nothing to forgive,” he muttered. “We were never in the wrong.”

You choked back a sob. Nonetheless, the night was still about him. 

“Right,” you sobered up, pushing him lower in the water. “Just try to relax.”

“Are you planning to kill me?” he teased tiredly. “Besides, it’s a bit difficult given that my cock is just…out here,” he gestured vaguely at his lower part and you chuckled thinly. 

“Nothing new to me. This is just…romantic.”

“Well, you certainly know the befitting aesthetic,” pointedly, he peered across the dozens of scent-free candles littered over every available surface of the bathroom and the pink petals now displayed haphazardly between the bath and the grey mat beside it. 

Pressing a handful of shampoo in his hair, you hissed with mock annoyance: “oh, zip it.”

You kept working in now pleasant silence. Peace was in the house, at least it was until…

His groan was near explicit and watching Jimin throw his head back, nuzzling deeper into your hands, you knew you’d never forget the sight. It didn’t even seem like he’d registered it and soon enough the curiosity overwhelmed you. You rinsed his hair and then scratched lightly across the scalp. Another moan, even longer and somehow so filthy you could swear your entire body flushed. 

“So…” he chuckled, strangely nervous. “Did I just give you a quick way to control my entire nervous system?”

You laid a kiss on his nape and the water rippled from his shudder.

“Sure did.”

The moons now adorning his spine were entirely at fault here or so you insisted, tugging his styled hair between your fingers, occasionally scratching just to see the struggle to keep his eyes open. 

“The stylist is going to kill you,” he warned breathily but Jimin was never more grateful for losing his composure, that day in the bath than he was at this moment. Like grime washed away by a wet towel, your presence eased his worry into the void, while your fingers twirling his hair kept him there. How strange that such a small thing could do so much but then again if it did not, then would Jimin have bought a ring that now laid in his jacket pocket, heavy and searing like the infinite weight of Cosmos.

“Worth it,” you hummed. He couldn’t agree more. 

TAEHYUNG: Frankly, the question of your enjoyment never made it into the equation as before you could even wonder of the idea, Taehyung had shamelessly thrust his head into your lap. 

“I don’t wanna,” you whined by now not needing a verbal order to know what he craved. 

“Too bad,” retorting without so much as an ounce of empathy, he grasped your fingers, bringing them down upon his head. Five minutes later he was snoring on your legs and no amount of force could rouse him, divine or otherwise. It was a language of his, one he talked exclusively with you. 

Trees breezed past the rolling car and sitting still, you watched them blur into wide, rushing lines. At first innocent, his palm intertwined with yours, gaze locked on the road ahead. You hummed. He liked to hold hands, and so did you, only for yours to suddenly be submerged within his dark curls. 

“Seriously?!” you yelped, and he chuckled with no small amount of glee. 

The door smacked behind, or it would have if Taehyung had not been hot on your heels the entire way home. 

“I’m sorry,” Taehyung mumbled, by now so many times it didn’t remotely even sound like a proper sentence. 

“Not accepted,” you sneered, yanking off the jacket, maybe tearing a button or two in the process. “You embarrassed me! And for what?! Some childish caveman display of jealousy?” 

The rest of the insult is expressed through a hardened scowl. As you jostled, enraged and unthinking, to peel off the stifling layers, Taehyung enclosed you into a hug, towering above you, his head lowered into the crook of your neck. 

“Please, don’t be mad at me,” pitifully he muttered, a warm breath ghosting over your collarbone. “Take it out on me but promise you won’t be mad afterwards.”

Without even quite thinking, you wrenched out of his grasp and seized his hair, yanking it harshly towards you. At the back of your mind, panic took root - were you hurting him? Was this not wrong? But Taehyung grew positively limp, pliant, Adam’s apple bobbing nervously as his widened eyes tracked your every movement. 

“I’m really angry,” you whispered with a frown. 

“I’m sorry,” uselessly, he whimpered when you grasped at his locks. “It’s just…”

All you have to do is tug again for a high-pitched squeal to rip from the depths of his chest. “Don’t want to lose you.”

Something in the near incoherent way he breathed it, made your heart soften. 

“Why are you crying?” you asked quietly, wiping the stray tear off his cheek. 

Early morning hued the sky pink as you lay beside each other, relishing in the muted stillness of the room. 

“Don’t know,” Taehyung sniffled. “Felt like it.”

You reached to brush his hair and soon enough he was slumbering again - all tears faded into the dawning cold. 

JUNGKOOK: Frankly, you didn’t grasp why in situations such as these the other partner always offered sex. You were far more willing to simply lug this nightstand at Jungkook’s head. Without knocking you cracked open the doors to his gaming room, discerning the explosive sounds of combat swirling around the room. 

“Jungkook, you promised!” you complained and he held out a hand, gaze locked on the game. 

“I’ll be there soon, babe,” he lied in between strangled curses. “Just one more round.”

He’d muttered that already two fruitless hours ago. 

“No, now!” you threatened, coming to stand by his chair, watching the battle unfold, thoroughly unimpressed by it. He offered some incoherent noise that lacked any meaning, and in a flash of swirling annoyance, you yanked at his hair, forcing his eyes to land upside down upon your face. 

“Now.”

Most people would hastily become upset at such a gesture but the little masochist grinned from cheek to cheek, expression gaining a certain twinkle. You groaned at his satisfaction. Couldn’t even playfully torment him. The brat enjoyed it. 

“Okay, folks,” he spoke into the headset, with your hand still firmly latched in his shaggy hair. “It’s been a pleasure, but I’ve got to go.”

Someone hollered in the chat but it went entirely unheard. Pushing the chair away from the desk, he reached to pull your other arm to rest on top of his thundering heart. 

“What’s up, babe?”

For someone who was jerked by the roots of his hair, Jungkook appeared entirely too delighted. 

“I need you -”

“Oh, you need me?”

“To hammer in the nails to the nightstand. Brat,” saying so, your grip on his hair grew harsher. All that came of it was Jungkook’s raspy laughter, eyes briefly fluttering shut and lips carving a sharp line in his dimpled cheeks. 

“Couldn’t you just do it yourself?”

“Well if injury is to happen, I’d prefer it is you, not me.”

“Liar,” he smirked. “You cried when I tripped.”

Traitorous heat snuck its way onto your cheeks. 

“I thought your leg broke,” you muttered before nudging him outside. “Now get to working.”

“Yes, my liege,” he curtsied, proceeding then to wring his tattooed hands around your waist, making you hobble like some sort of overtly humped creature. His nose quickly delved into its reserved spot in the crook of your neck. 

“Always smell so good,” hazily, Jungkook muttered and you shook your head at his antics. 

“You’re so weird.”

“Says the one who's constantly trying to dom me by hair pulling.”

“It’s not a dom thing!”

“Sure, baby,” he rasped, planting a wet kiss against your neck. “Whatever you say. Just remember you now owe me three hair pulls in return.”

© soraviii, 2022

tagging: @introlxv; @pinkcherrybombs; @devilsbooksworld; @btsiguess-kpop; @mwitsmejk; @belladaises; @halesandy; @seok-jinnies; @themochiverse; @cuteipat; @ratherbefangirling; @manchuria; @chimchimmarie; @smalliechelle; @koostarcandy; @personaarmy; @flitzerj; @love-bug121; @bloodline1632; @royallyjjk;

⋅ GENRES: Flower Shop & Strangers to Lovers AU; the purest fluff!

⋅ PAIRING: Florist!Jongseong x Fem!Reader

⋅ WORD COUNT: 2.8K

⋅ WARNINGS: None

Park Jongseong had only two problems: his inability to confess his feelings to Y/N and her obliviousness to the flower’s language.

It’s not that nothing ever happens in Maeul, but that nothing new ever happens there. Although the charming village brings the promise of new beginnings together with the coldish breeze of the calm seas, it’s the only thing it has to offer: a new day and then, the repetition of it. Jongseong blamed its localization, built between the vast ocean and a steady mountain chain, giving the sensation of not only being trapped between nature but somehow in time. For him, its news ended a few weeks after he had established himself with his parents there, and problems were something far away from his knowledge.

Until Y/N happened to appear in the small flower shop his parents owned, of course.

‪Since the very first day, Jongseong hated the bright yellow walls the previous owner chose for the antiquated building of the flower shop. Even though it was chipped and faded as if each person who passed through the long years of its existence took a little bit of the shade with themselves, the color still easily stood out from the whole main avenue, dismissing everything else to a plain and boring background. It was too showy yet too fixed for his liking. The bright yellow seemed to never follow the changing seasons but just to the bloomed flowers, always in their glass vases, always attached in the same spring.

However, after that particular winter — after her, Jongseong had learned how to be fond of not only the showy yellow walls but the unchanging village as well.

A fluttering of crystals and bells clanked against the door as it was pushed, allowing the cold breeze to trickle over the delicate flowers, lightly mixing with the floral scent until it reached Jongseong and caused him to lazily turn around.

He had done it a dozen times ever since his parents purchased the shop, and for the last few years, he always encountered a familiar face, someone who he already had heard about their whole life, sometimes more than once, or maybe twice. But he never expected to instead, noticed how not always Maeul was so monotone.

Afternoon sunlight filtered through the tall windows in a soft yet dazzling glow, falling over her as if they had forgotten it was still winter and the day was supposed to be monochromatic outside. As if it decided to shine a little brighter just because the world itself couldn’t stay away from her; every beam of light wanted to be with her, every particle of air belonged to her, and maybe that’s why Jongseong felt so breathless.

She wasn’t from there. He was sure about it not only because by the five years he had lived in Maeul he came to know, to remember all his neighbors and she was someone he would be sure to have engraved in his mind, but because everything about her still has the feeling of the unsettled city by the other side of the mountains, where time still ticking, where things still happening.

“Welcome.” Jongseong started, more as a memorized speech than an actual conversation. “How can I help you?”

“I just moved in with my grandma and I was searching for a gift for her.” She answered. “I saw the flower shop and thought it could be a great idea.”

“It was the yellow walls, wasn’t it?” He asked, still stumbling in his thoughts. “It stands out from the whole avenue, perhaps the whole village. Not that it’s hard to take over such a small thing.”

“The yellow walls indeed helped.” She admitted, her hand lifting to her lips as if she was embarrassed to let her emotions burst through the small smile she carried even though Jongseong could still reach all of it just by glimpsing at her eyes. And just like the whole universe, he ached for her.

The first flower Y/N ever received was a lilac rose from an unknown florist. It was a welcoming gift he clarified as he offered the delicate blossom to her, gently brushing his fingertips through her palm and invisible painting it with the pollen always stuck in his digits in the process. It was an innocent move, perhaps accidental, just like the twinkle he had in his eyes, yet it was enough to cause a rush of heat to spread on her previously cold cheeks.

However, she believed that was just how the village labored. The difference between Seoul and Maeul goes way further than the absence of skyscrapers or any type of modernism through the vast fields. There’s something more in the simply built village between the steady mountains and the endless seas. It was almost like bringing a city out of a fairy tale, carefully molding it to fit the reality, but still, allowing it to carry the gentle and ethereal pace of a story.

Everyone knew everyone, and there were no exceptions. It took Y/N less than a walk to find out his name was Jongseong, Park Jongseong. It was a name plucked from a breeze, overheard from a small conversation, but it seemed to suit him so right that she couldn’t help but echo it, tasting its softness through her memory like a wish — conceded only on an unusual morning of winter.

He came with a delicate breeze of spring, a sudden warm wind at the beginning of January, and laden by his floral perfume along with the early smell of the just-baked bread by the roadside. Everything felt so warm that it was impossible to believe they were still in the middle of the winter, and she blamed it on the twinkle he still had in his eyes as their gazes encountered. It could never belong to the cold season.

“Jongseong.” She called, the already familiar name rolling out of her tongue loudly before she couldn’t even prevent it and causing whatever he had planned to say to slip from his mind, allowing it to solemnly focus on her voice, on how it had called for him, leaving no space for anything else for some long and uncounted time.

“It makes me feel less guilty that I know yours without a proper introduction too, Y/N.” He finally said, a hint of a smile playing on his lips as he spoke her name so carefreely, almost as if he had been reciting it as well.

“I was going to suggest you try the strawberry pie.” Jongseong continued, slightly pointing at the bakery. “It’s surely the best pie of Maeul.”

“He is just saying it for me to continue weekly purchasing flowers from his family’s shop.” The unfamiliar voice came along with the sound of heavy doors being hurriedly pulled.

Y/N only let go of Jongseong’s gaze to search for the source of it, looking around to see the royal blue doors of the bakery wide open and revealing an old lady.

She had the same lightness of all Maeul residents’ on her being and a contagious smile on her lips. But what truly caught Y/N’s attention was her hair: speckled by sugar, just like her dark apron and making it impossible to not acknowledge she was the one responsible for the delightful scent mixing with Jongseong’s perfume through the street.

“That’s not true ma’am Kim.” He protested in a light tone. “Even if you decide not to purchase from me, where else would you?”

“Don’t doubt me Jongseong.” She teased.

“I would never.”

“But how could I help you two?”

“A strawberry pie?” Y/N muttered, slowly finding Jongseong’s gaze and watching his whole face illuminating as he smiled at her in perhaps approbation. His eyes were shining and the view already felt so familiar inside of her soul that she couldn’t imagine a Jongseong without it. As if the twinkle he held in his eyes would be something she could take for granted because she wanted to take it for granted, she wanted his eyes to never stop sparkling at her.

“That’s a good choice! Let’s get inside so I can spare a generous piece for you!” Madam Kim exclaimed, quickly receiving a gentle nod from Y/N in return.

“Aren’t you coming?” She asked as she looked back at him. Jongseong could swear Y/N’s cheeks seemed a little bit warmer in the vastness of the winter but she didn’t give him time to ponder about it, she didn’t even wait for him to reply before she turned on her heels to the lady and her small bakery, unintendedly leaving just her question to resonate between them and it sounded so genuine that Jongseong couldn’t help but let a laugh escape through his lips in complete and pure adoration as he followed her in.

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

“So,” Jongseong started. “What’s your verdict?”

“So,” She smiled at him. “It’s surely the best pie I have eaten, but I will have to try all the other pies of Maeul to confirm your statement. Especially Madam Kim’s”

“You will have time. Clocks tick slower here, seasons take too long to change.”

“I believe I will like it.” Y/N admitted as she quietly transferred her gaze to the village at the other side of the large windows, observing as it seemed to twink beneath the blue sky, almost like the stars had never hidden under the morning light. “It’s that type of place.”

“What do you mean?”

“The type of place described in poems, where people find their homes, their loves, where I could live forever, by the sound of church’s bells, warm breezes, and you.”

“Except for the fact we don’t have a church here.” He remembered.

Her laugh echoed with no previous warning, enmeshing through the space between them and fulfilling it in such a way that made Jongseong feel like he finally understood what Y/N meant. For some more than a blissful moment, he could get a glimpse of it as he glanced at her: the sound of church bells running across the winds, the warm breeze against his skin, and then the deliberate will of staying there, watching each sun disappearing through the immensity of the horizon.

“It’s indeed a small town.” She said. For a second he seemed to want to reply, but instead, Jongseong just looked at his jacket, quietly drawing both of their attention to his pockets before he removed a dozen of flowers from it and extended them to her.

“Do you always walk with flowers in your pockets?” She gasped.

“Only on unpacking days.” Jongseong replied as he bent into her side of the table. Y/N watched as his hands moved closer to hers once again, slightly brushing his fingertips through her skin as he carefully pointed at the minor damages on the blooms. “When the stems are broken like this we cannot sell, so once in a while, I keep them. I particularly like this one.”

“What’s their name?”

“Pansies.” Jongseong said, meeting her gaze. “Do you know what they mean in the language of flowers?”

“Think of me.” He said in a whisper, so quiet that it could have been just another faded waft passing between them.

Jongseong was right — clocks ticked slower and seasons took too long to change at the sea coast village.

For the first time, Y/N could sense the world’s tempo, its patience and its unhurriedness to change — to love. Each morning she could feel the wind brushing a little warmer across her skin and could contemplate the flowers slowly growing together with the feeling inside of her heart.

As if Jongseong wanted the eternal spring to accompany her throughout the still lasting winter, there was not a day he didn’t carry flowers in his pocket. He simply loved how the bright colors never failed to illuminate her cheeks as he extended the delicate blooms at her, brushing his fingertips through her skin and feeling how warm she felt under his digits.

He only had two problems: each flower had a meaning which Y/N was oblivious to and which he felt unable to speak out loud. Jongseong expected this dynamic to someday go wrong, but he didn’t expect that it would be so soon.

Day has not quite given way to the night when Jongseong watched Y/N fling the flower shop’s door open, causing the crystals and bells to clank against it and allowing a cold flush to fill the place, just like the first time they ever encountered. The red tulip he had given her just a few hours before was still on her hands, and her cheeks had the same reddish tone reflected on it as their gazes encounter. However, he noticed how Y/N didn’t carry the unsettled feeling of the city on the other side of the mountains anymore. Instead, she carried an emotion Jongseong couldn’t pin on no matter how much he studied her already so known features.

“I need your help.” She said. “I want to make a bouquet of ambrosia.”

“They mean love returned, don’t they?”

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

The last sunlight sprinkled through the large windows, coloring the whole place in the most ethereal shades of orange and pink as Jongseong watched Y/N focused on the variety of wrapping items over the wooden table and completely unaware of how wonderstruck she was to him. Before he could do anything about it, his hand moved, hastily tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear, silently hoping for someone to open the door, allowing a flush of cold wind to storm through just for her hair to slip again — just for him to do it all over again.

“Let me do it.” He requested, taking his attention back to what she was doing. His hand silently traveled to hers in order to take the scissor away, but both of them noticed how unnecessary long his fingertips took brushing through her bare skin before he reached the object. “You are going to hurt yourself.”

“I was just going to cut the paper.” Y/N smiled as she encountered his gaze, but the sight caused her to freeze. The twinkle he always held in his eyes was nowhere to be seen, and his stare felt as empty as the small space in between them.

“Still.” He said. “I don’t want you to hurt yourself.”

Jongseong could feel her hand on his, a deliberate act to make his gaze meet hers just one more time, but he couldn’t. He knew that if she looked too long, if she looked too deep into his eyes, she would encounter all his jealousy and selfishness creeping through the corners of his soul and taking all the emptiness like air.

When did he lose her in between the changing seasons? He couldn’t find the right moment to regret it, to stubbornly want to erase it now.

Her eyes followed him throughout the whole course, watching how tenderly his fingers worked despite all his essence, but not once Jongseong allowed his eyes to encounter hers. Not even when he quietly slipped the ready bouquet through the table and into her direction he looked at her side.

“It is on me.” He murmured. “My wishes of good luck.”

“Jongseong.” She called. “I need to pay for it. How can you give me the bouquet that is for you?”

“Excuse me?”

“It’s for you.”

“Lilac roses for love at first sight, pansies to think of you, daisies representing growing affection, tulips for love — ambrosia to love returned.” Y/N said in a whisper. “Did I get it all right?”

“You did.” He breathed out, quietly exhaling all the jealously he had drawn into his lungs together. “You truly did.”

Jongseong gave no warning before embracing her, allowing her to feel every detail of him as his hands found the right places on her waist to bring her impossible close. His floral perfume matched with the never gone pollen scent from his skin tickled through her lungs as he rested his forehead against hers.

“It wasn’t nice.” He whimpered. “I almost died out of jealousy.”

“I am sorry.” Y/N laughed. “I thought I should confess in your language plus ma’am Kim agreed it was a good idea.”

“Don’t you ever listen to her again.” Jongseong smiled. “But do you mean it? The ambrosia?”

“I do.” She whispered, her head shifting a little bit under his touch, just enough for her breath to brush against his lips before he took it away.

“Maeul is that type of place, right?” He teased, drawing back to meet her gaze and unintentionally allowing her to contemplate the twinkle she extraordinarily treasured for. “Where people find their loves, where I could live forever, by the sound of church’s bells, warm breezes, and you.”

JOIN MY TAGLIST!

@enhypenova @adoredbyjay @baeksofty @iwuvjay @jaeyunnsworld @hakunonushi @vatterie @duolingofanaccount @enhafika @parkjongseongswife @zeesondiary @dstarsz

damn he's tall TALL

Blessing.

A/N: this is a repost because the feedback was vvvvv low so i took it down and to be honest i am still reluctant to repost it but alas here it is.

Summary: it’s filth babes.

Word Count: 5.7k (of filth)

Warnings: um so. possessive! heeseung (not in yandere way but like he’s VERY protective over reader and whatnot), some minor corruption kink, MONSTER COCK HEESEUNG, SIZE KINK, SIZE KINK, SIZE KINK, multiple orgasms, nipple play, um. lots of dirty talk, fingering to stretch ya out, i think that’s it, ITS DIRTY OKAY? oh yeah he cums inside <3

_______________________________________

It had to have been you.

He was almost positive.

Keep reading

JAKE + ENHYPEN MVS ↳ Happy Birthday Jake Sim!

this time

synopsis: you confessed to jake sim in your senior year of high school but got rejected. now you’re a single mom in need of a math tutor to help your daughter pass math class. you happen to stumble upon jake’s profile and end up hiring him.

pairing: math tutor!jake x single mom!reader

genre: childhood acquaintances to lovers, single parent au, fluff, little bit of angst but happy ending

warnings: unrequited love (only at the beginning), mentions of early pregnancy, abandonment, fear of being in a relationship, one suggestive scene, short argument about career

word count: 11,359 words

note: THIS WHOLE STORY IS RUSHED AND NOT HEAVILY PROOFREAD, SORRY :((((

the first day you saw jake sim was at your school’s library. you were reading “anne of green gables” while he was reading a physics textbook. a freakin’ physics textbook. who reads a physics textbook at eight years old? apparently, jake sim does.

he looked so invested in reading formulas and his glasses were thick black-framed ones. you thought it was cute when he was sticking his tongue out as he was reading probably some formulas and terms. you forgot about gilbert blythe because that day, jake sim became number one in your “the cutest boys i’ve ever seen” list.

word was sent out that you had a huge, massive crush on jake sim. who wouldn’t know when you shout his name every time he passes by your way? you’d give him love notes saying how cute he looked with his glasses and how he has the cutest smile. every cringey, embarrassing thing a girl can do and call her crush just for him to notice her. yes, you’ve done it all.

Keep reading