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there are many things the witches and warlocks of the world know about the greatest warlock since merlin. they know he's of the 7th order, the highest potential of magick since medieval times. they know there are prophecies that marvel at his unmatched power, the stuff of legends. they know that he was born in a snowstorm in a small town in korea, born to a couple without a drop of magick in his blood. they know that he was able to perform transmutation at the mere age of six, alchemy at nine. most teenagers go through a goth phase, but it's nothing compared to mastering necromancy at the age of sixteen. they know that the greatest warlock saved the world twelve times in the twenty eight years of his life, and that just last summer he defeated a legion of sea demons that terrorised the coast of japan.
what they don't know is that the greatest warlock, appointed mage of greater seoul five years ago, is just like every other twenty something year old: tired, cranky in the mornings, and in desperate need of a day off. or in his case, perhaps a year.
so he disappears.
°°°
“holly-ah,” yoongi sighs, tugging on the ends of his scarf. “holly, no.”
holly just continues to state up at his owner, brown eyes wide and unblinking. he turns back to the window of the shop, and stands up on his hindlegs to place a paw against the glass. holly glances forlornly inside, at the warmth of the bakery, particularly a large glazed doughnut that rests on the counter under a glass display case.
yoongi shakes his head, tugging at the dog’s leash. “you know what happens when you eat too many sweet things. taehyung-ssi can't heal you again, he's busy with the dragon flu this time of the year.”
holly pays no heed, and yoongi wonders of all the beings that live in seoul, he had to be stuck living with the one that doesn't treat him like the great warlock that he is.
“fine,” yoongi huffs, stomach twisting at the thought of being subjected to holly's wanton expression any longer. there's a poster at the door, proclaiming that pets are very much welcome. “i guess we can go inside. but you're only getting one doughnut.”
holly lets out a delighted yip, bouncing at yoongi's heels as he turns to push the door open. he wrinkles his nose, not because it smells, but because it smells too much. the bakery itself smells lovely, a mixture of slowly baking bread that's infused with cinnamon and ginger, frosting against fluffy cupcakes, the tang of lemons grated into a meringue. it's the smell of the people that overwhelm yoongi, or rather their emotions, an amalgamation that makes him dizzy for a moment. it always happens when he walks into somewhere new, and it helps to focus on one scent, so he focuses on holly, who's tugging him towards the counter. holly smells like buttered scones, which is what he ate for breakfast hours ago, but holly's emotions always smell like what he eats. he's driven by her stomach, and just smelling him makes yoongi's stomach rumble a little.
when he sits down, he knows he should take off his coat and scarf and hat, all pulled close to his face. it's polite, yoongi thinks, yet he is reluctant to. he reminds himself that he's in a neighbourhood with a low magick to human ratio, and although humans know of witches and warlocks, they're less likely to ask yoongi to sign their breasts or kiss their children.
he pulls off his hat and sets it on the table, shaking his hair. it's always the first giveaway, the midnight blue tinged with silver at the ends. as well as his eyes, silver like the snow he was born in. his face is everywhere in greater seoul, a picture of him in every magick owned building, on their clothes and toys and novelty mugs. he hopes no one here owns a mug with his face on it.
“what can i get you?” a voice pipes up to his side. yoongi turns to the boy, floppy haired with a warm smile, teeth poking his bottom lip. he looks a little like holly, but yoongi feels bad for thinking it. namely because the boy is definitely part werewolf, yoongi can smell it, and he knows how much they hate being compared to dogs. a cream apron is tied around the boy's torso, and his sleeves are pulled up, tattoo ink tangled on his forearms.
yoongi squints at the menu in his hands, ears pink. the greatest warlock in the world needs reading glasses, which he left at home. “could i have the uh…caramel 'i like you a latte'? and a strawberry 'you drive me glazy'... doughnut?”
the boy scribbles this all down the inside of his left elbow, grinning up at yoongi apologetically. “judging by your face, you're new around here.”
yoongi frowns, touching his cheek. “what's wrong with my face?”
“nothing! you just seem surprised by the names on the menu. you'd have to thank seokjin hyung for that. he thinks he's hilarious.” he rolls his eyes, but they're warm with fondness. “i'll get that ready for you, sir.”
holly yaps, insistent for attention, and the boy laughs, reaching down to scratch behind the dog's ears.
“i see you're the one with the sweet tooth,” he laughs, and stands up, giving yoongi a gentle smile before ducking back behind the counter.
yoongi lets holly jump to the seat opposite him, watching him rest her head on the table. “admit it. you have a problem,” he says, to which he ignores him, closing her eyes.
“excuse me?”
yoongi turns, expecting the boy again, but instead is a woman in a large coat, brushing wisps of hair out her eyes. she's foreign, and a tourist, from the camera hanging around her neck. when he meets her eyes she clasps her hands to her chest, blue eyes lit in delight. “i knew it was you!”
she speaks perfect korean, which isn't a hard feat for a witch, a simple language switching spell. yoongi tries not to deflate, but holly whines, and appears to bury his head in her paws. yoongi agrees silently. the woman seems undeterred, smiling brightly. “oh gosh, i can't believe i'm in the presence of the min yoongi!”
“yes. that is…i,” he finishes lamely, skin prickling with heat. “um, I'm sort of busy, so–”
“would it be alright if i could have your autograph? oh please, it would be a dream for you to sign my first edition copy of your book!” she starts fishing around in her coat. “a picture too? you know, for my friends back home! they won't believe i were able to meet min yoongi, everyone back home thinks you're some weird recluse who hardly ever goes out–”
“excuse me,” a voice says from behind the woman. yoongi can't see as she turns around, but he can make out the slope of shoulders, and two feet on the ground. “but if you're here to upset customers, then i have to ask if you can leave.”
the witch freezes. “but it's min yoon–”
“this man clearly doesn't want your presence, and neither do i. please leave.”
the witch's shoulders stiffen, and yoongi can smell the shift in her demeanour, sour and bitter. “don't you know what i am? what i can do?”
“do you have a license?” the voice is calm, a low baritone smoothness that yoongi probably stems from the fact that they don't realise they're talking to an order four witch, five at best. “every person in possession of magic has to have a license, even tourists. if you have proof of a license for performing magick, then you can hex me or turn me into a frog, whatever you like. if not, then i'd like you to leave, because i have a license to bar anyone causing a disturbance in my store, magick or not.”
the witch is silent, and yoongi can tell she's backed into a corner. “fine,” she huffs, turning to look down at yoongi from an upturned nose. “i don't know why you'd come here. there are plenty of magick owned bakeries with higher standards than this.”
she stomps off, and throws the door open, intending for it to slam. it doesn't; with a tap of yoongi's finger against the table the door closes slowly, and the patrons of the bakery barely blink before returning to the plates in front of them, casting a glance or two in yoongi's direction.
“well, that was exciting!” the voice from before exclaims, followed by a short laugh. yoongi glances up, up and up at the man in front of him, practically towering over his table. hoseok always teases that everyone towers over yoongi, but this man isn't just tall, but he holds his height well, shoulder broad and settled under a fitted shirt, apron tied around a toned waist. the man's face looks like it's made to smile, not in a bakery but on the front cover of a magazine, with sweeping cheekbones and a golden jaw, his lips plush and pink, eyes a delicate brown. like cinnamon, yoongi thinks.
“you could've turned into a frog, jin hyung,” the boy from before whines, elbows propped on the counter.
the man—angel, jin hyung—laughs again, a warm sound that makes yoongi feel fuzzy all over. “don't be silly, jeonggukkie. most tourists hardly ever have a license. and even if she did, we're in good hands.” the man turns back to yoongi, eyes sparkling. “min yoongi, right? the famous warlock of seoul.”
yoongi's always tongue tied when someone approaches him and addresses him like that, but with this man, he's practically speechless, so he just nods.
“kim seokjin,” the man grins, and yoongi wishes he could stop smiling like that, his eyes crinkling a little. “i own this bakery. and that's gukkie.” jeongguk replies with a wave, pushing a plate and mug in seokjin's direction. seokjin places them on yoongi's table, bending forward and near yoongi's face, so he can catch a whiff of seokjin's warm and floury scent. what confuses yoongi, is that despite the smells of the kitchen, seokjin smells perfectly normal. he's human.
except yoongi's sure he's never met a human that looks like this.
“you…” are clearly the most beautiful thing i've ever laid my eyes on, and i've met the mermaid queen of europe. “your….these uh, puns,” yoongi fishes for, cheeks hot. “you…made them?”
seokjin smiles, preening a little. “i know, i am quite the comedian. and it brightens up a customer's day.”
“well, uh, holly likes them,” yoongi offers, and holly gives a bark of agreement, spraying doughnut crumbs everywhere. yoongi picks one out of his coffee cup, a little disgusted but very endeared.
seokjin seems to have the same reaction, cooing as he bends down to pat holly on his head. “well, she has great taste. and she's adorable.” seokjin turns to yoongi, eyes set on his face. “just like his owner.”
yoongi nearly chokes, eyes bulging as he attempts to swallow around his coffee. he glances back at seokjin, who smiles innocently as he turns back towards the kitchen, and yoongi reasons he must've heard it wrong. he tugs at the ends of his hair, covering his pink ears. there's no reason for someone like seokjin to compliment yoongi. unless he wants an enchantment or something, yoongi thinks, and he suppresses the disappointment in his stomach, swallowing his coffee. holly's finishing his doughnut, licking the crumbs off the seat.
he figures he should leave before another witch or warlock approaches him again, grabbing his scarf and hat before approaching the counter. “how much for the drink and treat?” he asks, bending to clip holly's leash back on her collar.
“free of charge,” seokjin's voice calls out, and yoongi straightens to find himself eye to eye with the man, who's still smiling. up close, yoongi can see how long his eyelashes are, the gloss of his lips, the mole on his cheekbone.
yoongi frowns, heart seizing. “i know i'm…who i am, but i can pay.”
“i don't want you to pay because you're the greatest warlock. thanks for the save last july by the way,” he adds, then leans forward, pursing his lips. “i never let cute guys pay on their first time here.”
yoongi freezes. not like he did when that ice wraith hit him with a blast that left him frozen in an iceberg for a week, but close enough. “i…pardon?”
seokjin smiles, teeth tugging at his bottom lip before looking up under his eyelashes. “you're cute, yoongi-ssi.”
from behind him, jeongguk gags. from below yoongi, holly barks in what yoongi thinks is amusement. and from outside, a dog drifts down onto the pavement.
yoongi blinks, once at seokjin, then turns his head to the window to blink at what is exactly happening. seokjin called him cute. and now…now there are cats and dogs drifting down from the sky. poodles and persians, dachshunds and calicos. an alaskian husky lands in the arms of a very bewildered old lady. a pair of siamese cats land on the roof of the building opposite, and stretch back into an interrupted nap.
“shit,” yoongi says, and dashes out of the shop, holly yapping excitedly at his heels. he bounds off down the street, towards a terrier, happy to play with newfound friends.
yoongi sniffs the air, frowns, then sniffs again.
frost and thyme.
“shit,” yoongi repeats, because he recognises the smell. he'd be stupid not to.
it's his own magic.
°°°
“so just to recap,” taehyung's voice chirrups from yoongi's phone. “a cute baker called you pretty and your magic responded by…making it rain cats and dogs.”
yoongi sighs, leaning against a bookcase. he's standing in between the shelves of namu's nook, a bookshop owned by a non magick named kim namjoon. the store stands not exactly on the opposite side of seokjin's bakery, but yoongi can make out the corner of its sign from where he stands, leaning against a shelf nearest to the window. “for the last time, yes. it gets more embarrassing each time you tell me to repeat it.”
“that's why we're getting you to repeat it, hyung,” hoseok chortles, taehyung's nymph boyfriend. taehyung cackles with him, and yoongi wishes he wasn't born so socially inept that these two are his only friends.
“could you please concentrate? jihyo from the seoul commission told me it happened across the whole city. those pets could've got seriously hurt,” yoongi presses.
“hyung, they were fine,” taehyung says dismissively. “it probably made their day, floating in the streets like that. besides, we got everything sorted here, every pet returned. don't worry about the commission.”
“don't you own the commission, being the mage of seoul and all?” hoseok ponders. “you don't have to tell the truth about what happened.”
“i serve the commission, i don't own it,” yoongi corrects, pinching the bridge of his nose and exhaling deeply. “i can't lie about what happened.”
“and what are you gonna tell them, the greatest warlock ever had a magic freak out because of a compliment?”
“don't call me that,” yoongi says automatically, rubbing his eyelids. he's tired. he spent half of the night coordinating with jihyo and others from the commission in different parts of seoul. when it was all over, he spent the rest of the night frowning at the marks on his bedroom ceiling that looked exactly like seokjin's smile.
“hyung, seriously chill. everyone's too busy worried about the dragon flu this year, and trying to catch that gremlin in the sewers. which is not pretty work,” taehyung scowls, and proceeds to tell yoongi his story about chasing the creature through knee deep sewer water. yoongi smiles at the mental image, and a small part wishes he was back in the heart of the city at taehyung's side. he has to remind himself he disappeared for a reason, hidden himself away in the smallest part of seoul to breathe. to a take a breath as min yoongi, not the high mage of seoul, or the only 7th order warlock in the world.
the door opens, and in walks a pink haired pixie, brushing dirt off his knees and shaking petals out of his hair. park jimin, owner of the flower shop serendipity, gives him a smile that smells of marigolds, before heading towards the counter. namjoon straightens from behind it, bringing his hand up to wave at jimin, ears already pink. yoongi sighs.
“damage control calls,” yoongi says into his phone, and hangs up before taehyung and hoseok can reply. just in time too. namjoon's hand crashes into the large stack of books, which are saved from toppling to the floor by yoongi. they stay suspended in the air as they shimmer with a blue hue, settling back on the counter with a slow sweep of yoongi's hand.
namjoon grins sheepishly as yoongi approaches, pushing his blonde fringe back. “thanks, hyung. again.”
yoongi nods, biting back an amused smile. after the first few times of being in namjoon's bookstore, yoongi deduced the younger is very clumsy. particularly with jimin around.
“hyung, do you want some?” jimin opens his hand, and moonseeds glitter in his palm. “namjoonie always asks for a bag when i harvest them. they help with bad dreams, and they make good tea as well!”
“thanks jimin-ah,” yoongi smiles politely, taking two and slipping them in his pocket.
“speaking of tea, the one you made for me last week really helped with my forgetfulness,” namjoon says, pushing his glasses up his face with an eager smile. “i haven't been locked out of my apartment since!”
jimin blushes, pleased by the compliment, but yoongi can tell he's more pleased from who it came from. “thanks, joon hyung.”
“you're um…you're really magic! i mean, i know you're magic, you're a pixie. b-but that's not the reason why your tea was so good! i mean, it could be, but–”
“jimin-ah,” yoongi starts, desperate to change the subject. “the owner of the bakery down the street. is he human?”
jimin turns from namjoon, head tilted to the side with a confused smile. “of course, hyung. can't you tell?”
yoongi shifts on his feet. “yes, but i thought…doesn't he have any magick in him? a.. .a nymph, o-or a siren?”
“ahhh,” jimin nods, and his face twists with mischief, eyes twinkling. “you think he's too pretty for a human.”
yoongi frowns, trying to will his blush away. “no, that's not what i–”
“jin-hyung is definitely human, even though he doesn't look it. i thought he was too good looking to be real as well. everyone does.” jimin looks back at him, raising an eyebrow. “now that you've mentioned it, i suppose it won't hurt to tell you that jin hyung was talking about you the other day.”
“really? about yoongi? what did he say?” namjoon asks, and yoongi scowls as he smirks. it's not being socially inept that matters. it's his bad luck that he befriends the only people on earth who enjoy teasing him.
jimin hums, amusement in his eyes. “something about a blue haired customer being, and i quote, like a meringue, short and sweet.”
“there's plenty of blue haired people about,” yoongi mumbles, tugging the ends of his hair surreptitiously. he looks around, expecting something to happen out of the blue. maybe the store will turn upside down, or jimin might turn into a frog. neither of the sort happens, and yoongi wonders if it was all a fluke. that the spike in his chest and the flutter of his stomach was just a silly fluke, a reaction to the coffee he had drank before seokjin had smiled at him that way.
still, he avoids the bakery for a few days. not actively: holly does in fact get sick, not from the doughnut, but the packet of marshmallows he manages to steal from the kitchen. yoongi stays at home with holly groaning in his lap, feeding him medicine from taehyung and chastising him again. it falls on deaf ears, he knows, and considers locking up all the sweet treats in his house. although he wouldn't put it past holly to find a way to break into it.
so yoongi's occupied with holly, and a bunch of paperwork from his official job, and he's pushed the seokjin incident to the back of his head. he's heading back from the grocery, the sunlight weak against the september chill. there's a lot of vegetables in the bag that bounce against his leg, and he can already see how holly will deflate after smelling them, hopeful for something packed with sugar. he shakes his head, bowed into his scarf from the cold and anonymity.
there's a sharp screech, and yoongi turns his head in time to see a cart wobbling down the pavement, plates clattering on top. it bumps against the curb, and is about to topple over, but yoongi stops it, palm pushed out quickly. the plates settle in the cart as it wheels to a stop, and yoongi sighs, wondering how clumsy the people from this part of seoul are. the sound of feet slapping against the pavement is heard, followed by an exhausted wheeze.
“yoongi-ssi!” seokjin appears behind the cart, grabbing its handles. he's dressed in a long navy coat, more elegant than the frumpy coat yoongi wears over his sweatpants, and yoongi tears his eyes from seokjin's legs that look longer in that coat to his face, hair brushed to fall perfectly near his eyes, warm with recognition. “sorry, i let go for one second, and it went racing down the hill! are you alright?”
“i'm fine,” yoongi mumbles, glancing at the cart. “i didn't know you did deliveries.”
“why, is your puppy daydreaming about my baked goods?” seokjin grins, cheeks flushed from the run over. he looks like an autumn dream, hair windswept but not in a ragged way, like yoongi's would look. yoongi looks down at his feet, stomach flipping.
“holly's not a pup. he's three years old,” yoongi explains, voice even. he can do this, talking about holly. it's safe territory. “but he's on a diet now. too many marshmallows.”
“ah,” seokjin nods. “well, we do deliveries anyways, for future reference. but this isn't from a delivery. there's a community centre up on that hill. i teach a baking class for the elderly home there.”
yoongi blinks, and his stomach squeezes. “that's…very nice of you.”
seokjin snorts, leaning against the cart. “i know, it's not life saving work.”
“no, it's…” yoongi chews on his lip, furrowing his brow. “it's nice that you went out of your way to help people. most people don't actually feel affected by what i do, they just acknowledge that i'm saving them from a doom that they'll never see, which is fortunate. but giving someone a small piece of happiness that they'll remember is…sweet.” yoongi burrows his nose in his scarf, cheeks warm. “sorry. i…i rambled.”
“it's perfectly fine, yoongi-ssi. but i think you're the sweet one, saying stuff like that,” seokjin hums, lips curving upwards.
oh no, yoongi thinks, cheeks on fire. he feels a chill in his spine, a shiver that sends his stomach into somersaults. he whips his head around, waiting for something to happen. but the street stays quiet, and seokjin stays smiling at him, so yoongi exhales slowly.
“i should um…i should get back to holly. and i don't want to waste your time,” he coughs, stepping aside to let seokjin pass.
“you could never be a waste of time. quite the opposite,” seokjin murmurs, eyes still on yoongi, and he has to strain himself from squirming. “but holly awaits. and so does jeongguk. he gets crabby when i leave him alone on wednesday afternoons, even though he says he hates me. stop by sometime soon, okay? promise me, yoongi-ssi.”
“o-okay,” yoongi nods, clamping his lips to stop himself from smiling. he lifts his fingers in a jerky wave, and seokjin beams back before heading down the street, coat swishing past his legs. yoongi watches him, a little dazed, and a little triumphant. he did it. he managed to go through a conversation with seokjin without anything happening. the idea of it being a fluke, a one time accident becomes less of a theory and more of a fact as he walks home, humming under his breath.
until taehyung calls.
“hyung!” taehyung bursts into laughter when yoongi answers. “hyung, what did you do?”
“get my groceries?” yoongi frowns, peeling his shoes off his feet. there's a sound on taehyung's side of the phone, and yoongi frowns. “tae is that…is that an elephant?”
“multiple elephants. elephantii? what's the plural of elephants? a horde sounds too negative and unfriendly. they're lovely. other than the fact that one ate hoseok's hat. he's crying in the bathroom about it.”
“taehyung!”
“what? it was his favourite hat?”
yoongi sighs, setting his bag down. “why are there elephants in your apartment?”
“they escaped!” taehyung says brightly.
“from the zoo?”
“of course not. from the book i brought home the other day. hyung, all of them escaped.”
yoongi feels queasy. “all the…elephants?”
taehyung laughs again. “all the characters from the books in the grand library. they all escaped. hyung, your magic…hoseok could see it.”
holly appears at his feet, jumping up towards the bag, eager to see inside. yoongi leans down to open it for her, watching her ears droop as she peers inside. “huh,” he manages to say, voice faint. “all…all of them?”
“don't worry. everyone's got it under control. we've put out tracking spells everywhere, and it's only that one library. granted, it has hundreds of books, but that's a lot less than the whole of seoul. i mean, could you believe it? that would be amazing–”
“awful,” yoongi corrects, running a hand through his hair and down his face. “i thought i had it under control.”
“so you did talk to your baker boy? what did he say this time?”
“none of your business,” yoongi replies, but there's no bite, only fatigue.
“hey, don't beat yourself up over it,” taehyung says softly. “this is probably you adjusting to normal life. i mean, your magic has had to deal with being on all the time, and now with your time off, maybe it feels confused. it'll straighten itself out.”
yoongi hums in distant agreement, and taehyung hangs up to deal with a supposed skirmish between a golden goose and mr darcy. he hopes taehyung is right, and not just because of how much paperwork and questions jihyo will send his way.
because deep down he wants to see seokjin again. and even further down, he knows he wouldn't mind if the elder said something like that again.
°°°
to yoongi's dismay, it doesn't get better. or it does, objectively: nothing out of the ordinary happens when he just talks to seokjin. the following week is a quiet one, raining non stop, which means less customers venturing out in the storm. yoongi doesn't mind, and holly doesn't either, shaking his wet fur despite yoongi's strict warning not to. it makes jeongguk laugh though, always leaving the kitchen to greet holly with a rub on his belly. they’ve become somewhat friends, and yoongi turns a blind eye to the boy feeding holly treats when he smiles with all his teeth at the dog, tugging strings in yoongi's heart.
the whole place has become familiar, and yoongi relishes in the quiet of the week, curled up in his favourite booth near the counter, rain against the window and the hum of music warming his senses. he reads a book sometimes, but after the first day seokjin had wound his way around the bakery, smiling at customers before sliding in the seat opposite yoongi.
yoongi raised an eyebrow, folding the page of his book. “don't you have a bakery to run?”
seokjin waves his hand dismissively, smiling warmly. he always looks warm, from his golden skin to the fluffy sweaters and cardigans he wears. today it's a deep teal, the collar clinging to his neck. “i'm the owner. i can do anything i want. and i like to see my customers enjoying themselves, like you are.”
seokjin grins, and it has a funny thing of making yoongi smile too, a little like an enchantment. “i am enjoying myself, actually. in this whole neighbourhood as well. it's…it reminds me of home.”
“what's that like?” seokjin asks, leaning back in his seat. “daegu, not seoul.”
yoongi works the bottom of his lip thoughtfully. not many people ask him that; the whole magic community have read his many biographies, so they know everything there is to know about yoongi. what they don't know is what yoongi decides to say instead. how his room had stickers of famous baseball players on the ceiling. how his mother used to wash his eyes with warm water whenever he got soap in them, or when he cried. how the food always tasted a little like the sea. how he used to hide in trees with taehyung, his only real friend at the time, and they'd dare each other to eat mud pies or run into the lake behind yoongi's house.
seokjin talks of his childhood in return, of always living in seoul but visiting jeju at chuseok, of reading newspapers with his father and accompanying his mother to the tailor shop. he gets called up back to the kitchen a few times, but each time he comes back and they return their conversation, even if they stop mid sentence.
yoongi leaves that day in the late afternoon to walk holly as the rain stops for a brief moment, but he's back the next day, and the day after that. seokjin always makes his way to yoongi's table, and yoongi's heart warms at how easy it is to talk to seokjin like this, about their favourite foods or their most embarrassing moments.
it's only in a moment like this, when seokjin leans forward with his hand on the table, and says something like:
“has anyone told you how adorable you look when you laugh, yoongi-ssi?”
or:
“ah, yoongi-ssi, you look so cute today.”
in those moments, things go wrong.
the first time, yoongi's cheeks had flamed red, and his stomach flipped, and a man stood at the counter suddenly started speaking backwards. taehyung then informed him, when yoongi had made some excuse to leave, that his magic had caused everyone who had birthdays in june to start speaking gibberish. the next time it happened yoongi had choked on his drink, and taehyung's report had said all the doors of greater seoul were jinxed to come right off their hinges and lead a jig down the street. the seoul commission spent the better part of an evening chasing them down, and yoongi made a note to send them all a fruit basket.
a logical part of himself told him that this was selfish, that this could be fixed by just not visiting the bakery anymore. but then the larger part of his brain, the one directly linked to his heart, would remind him how it felt when seokjin smiled at him, how his eyes looked when yoongi would talk about himself, regarding him not with the shiny eyed admiration he's used to, but a profound sincerity, like he was listening to yoongi because of who he was, not who the greatest warlock was.
yoongi decides to not visit the bakery for a while, telling himself it'd be easier to focus on work at home for a while. he does have a lot to do; he had promised to help a professor on a study about the spike of magical occurrences in eastern asia, and the daily flow of paperwork from the commission, and letters and letters from diplomats across the world that think just because he's the most powerful warlock in the world he can help with their problems. by the end of the week, he feels dead on his feet, and his apartment feels too suffocating, so he takes holly for a walk, sitting on a bench in the park and watching his dog run around in circles.
he doesn't realise he's made his way to the bakery until he pushes the door open, startled by the sound of the bell above the door. seokjin is behind the counter, and beams at him, the sides of his mouth turning down a little as yoongi nears his own booth, rubbing at the side of his head.
“rough day?” seokjin asks, and he sounds so concerned yoongi wants to just slump in his chair and say rough week, rough life. instead he just nods, swallowing hard.
“could i…” he winces at the croak in his voice, then clears his throat. “just get mine and holly's usual?”
“no problem,” seokjin nods, and gives him a small smile, reaching to squeeze yoongi's shoulder.
yoongi watches him leave blearily, the sleeves of his pink sweater pushed up to his forearms. it makes yoongi's stomach flutter at the sight of his exposed arms, but he's more warmed at how soft seokjin still looks, his fringe falling in front of his eyes. the bakery is so warm, and it smells like ginger and sugar, and yoongi thinks it wouldn't hurt to rest his head on the table for a bit, just while his order gets ready. he turns his head so he can watch the comings and goings of the bakery, his eyelids drooping.
when they open again, it's dark.
yoongi blinks open, head muggy with confusion and suddenly very warm. something brushes his neck, and when he focuses he realised there's a blanket draped over his shoulders. yoongi rubs his eyes, looking around the bakery. it's practically empty, save for jeongguk who wipes down the tables, holly at his heels. seokjin stands in front of the till, glasses resting in his nose and scribbling in a large ledger. he looks up at yoongi, the soft lights of the kitchen basking one side of his face in a golden glow, illuminating the shine of his lips.
yoongi shakes his head, stretching his legs. “i…how long was i asleep?”
“only a few hours,” seokjin replies, pushing up his glasses. yoongi's heart trips.
“ah,” he says, voice raspy. “sorry. i shouldn't have…i probably lost you a few customers.”
“you shouldn't apologise,” seokjin frowns, sliding off his stool. he leans down to yoongi, smiling as he pats his shoulder. “you looked like you needed it. besides, you look cute when you sleep.” seokjin drops his hand as yoongi blushes, laughing awkwardly. “sorry, i know you get…uncomfortable when i say stuff like that.”
yoongi frowns, and wants to say something in return, but seokjin is stepping back, giving him a refreshed smile. “don't worry, holly was well looked after by guk.”
“yeah, i think he prefers him to me,” yoongi grumbles, and seokjin laughs, teeth catching on his lip.
“well, i don't think that's possible. he…likes you very much.”
it's still dark, but yoongi can see one side of seokjin's ear, and it's a bright pink. he should say something now, but he can't find the words, throat flooded with butterflies. seokjin clears his throat, then reaches behind the counter. “you'll probably get going then. here, take this.”
in one hand there's a bag of sweet treats, and yoongi blushes when his stomach growls in appreciation. the other holds out a scarf, and seokjin smiles, stepping forward to press the bag in yoongi's hand as he stands. “it's cold at night, and i always leave a spare scarf here in case guk forgets his. no catching colds of my watch, okay?”
“okay,” yoongi whispers finally, and wraps the scarf around his neck, the smell of baked bread filling his nostrils. and something sweeter, like frosting or cinnamon, and yoongi realises it's seokjin's scent. it takes everything in him not to inhale even deeper. “thanks, hyung,” he says, then freezes, cheeks stinging. “i mean seokjin-ssi! sorry, i just–”
“hyung is fine,” seokjin smiles. “it's okay to call me that if it's okay to drop the honorifics…yoongi-yah.”
yoongi's glad the scarf is bundled near his face, his pink cheeks hidden from view. “yeah, that's…i don't mind. well. i-i'll see you later…jin hyung.”
seokjin smiles again, pleased, and yoongi ducks out of the bakery with an awkward nod, holly reluctant at his heels as jeongguk waves goodbye.
he's struggling to open the door with his keys when he just realises he didn't need the scarf in the first place. there's a spell he learned when he was nine for temporary warmth, one of the first spells he learned. he's the greatest warlock after all, and seokjin still gave him the scarf.
he feels a bit guilty then, and resolves to give it back as early as possible. quite literally, waking up with the sun still rising and slipping out of the house in his pyjamas, a woolly jumper his mother had made for him last christmas and his old basketball shorts. he catches seokjin just as he's unlocking the front door of the bakery, and yoongi calls his name with a slight wheeze, out of breath from running.
seokjin looks alarmed, then amused, pushing open the door. “yoongi. you're never up this early.”
“ha ha,” yoongi says, the sarcastic laugh sounding more of a tired wheeze from the running. “i wanted to return this to you. i felt bad for staying behind and taking it. i should've just a spell to keep me from getting cold.”
seokjin pauses, looking at yoongi oddly. “is that what you think, yoongi-yah? that people don't need to care about you because you can do it yourself?”
yoongi pauses, and he flushes from embarrassment, looking down at his feet. “sorry, i…that sounded arrogant. sorry, hyung.”
seokjin shakes his head, and places his hands on yoongi's shoulders, leaning down to make eye contact with yoongi. “you're a person before you're a warlock, yoongi-yah. you can lean on other people, too.”
yoongi blinks, a little stunned, still blushing. “um…thanks, hyung.” he clears his throat, and he hopes his eyes aren't as watery as they feel when he looks at seokjin. he exhales, and there's a warm anchoring feeling under his skin, spreading from where seokjin's hands are on his shoulders to his toes. “really, i…no one's said something like that to me before.”
“well, they should.” seokjin lets go, and he smiles again, a familiarity that yoongi takes comfort in. “besides, if you feel that bad about yesterday i could forgive you with a…with a date.”
yoongi stares, lips falling open. “pardon?”
“i'd like a date with you, yoon–” seokjin halts in his words, squinting behind yoongi. “are those clouds...dancing?”
yoongi looks up in dread, at the clouds that have started what appears to be a breakdancing battle, a few others paired off in waltzes and tangos. “i should– i have to go,” yoongi says, and he turns on his heel, cheeks aflame and heart sinking when seokjin calls his name again.
when he gets home, the clouds have stopped moving, but his work phone is ringing, and there's a buzzing of messages from taehyung. yoongi leaves his phone in the kitchen, stepping over holly and curling up on the sofa, a telephone in his hand.
he calls his mother.
when he tells her everything the first thing she does is laugh, her big rich laugh that yoongi should be cross about, but just reminds him of eating lunch at the kitchen table and getting tomato soup all over his trousers. he can hear her rustling about, and imagines her in his father's chair near the fireplace, a crocheted blanket around her shoulders and the family cat moonpaw on her lap.
“sounds like a crush, yoongi-yah,” she tells him gently, and he huffs, as he didn't know already. he can hear smiling down the phone. “despite everything you're good at, matters of the heart isn't one of them, witchy one.”
yoongi relaxes at that, it's what she used to call him when he was younger, and it always filled him admiration, for keeping him as his son despite the numerous offers from magical families to take 'proper care' of him. “it's my magic, not my heart.”
“for you, there one and the same. your heart is so guarded, yoongi-yah. it's scared to let someone else in, and i think your magic is scared too. you used to be scared of losing control of your magic, and your heart knows that too. they are both connected, more deeper than anyone else. to me, that's why you're who you are.”
yoongi sighs, tucking his feet under his legs. “i don't know how to fix it. i…i don't want this to keep happening, i…i like him. a lot,” yoongi whispers, and it's scary just to admit to himself.
“there's nothing to fix. you are not broken,” she says firmly. “just…vulnerable. but if you trust him, then your heart will trust him too, and your magic will follow suit.”
he thinks of seokjin's words, his hands over the fluff of yoongi's sweater. “thank you, eomma. i don't think i say it enough.”
she snorts. “you don't.”
he sits and talks with her for a while, and promises to use his break to visit her soon before he hangs up. holly is awake, running circles in the kitchen the way he does when he's hungry. yoongi makes them both breakfast, and when he's scraping the dishes clean he notices the bag from seokjin's bakery in the trash, empty and flattened at the bottom.
when he gets to the bakery, jeongguk is at the counter, and greets holly per usual. before yoongi opens his mouth jeongguk gives him a mischievous grin. “you can go in the kitchen, if you're looking for hyung.”
yoongi's ears burn, and he avoids jeongguk's knowing eyes. “thanks.”
seokjin is standing with his back turned from yoongi, but yoongi can tell he's elbows deep in dough, and when yoongi nears him he notices the pull of his eyebrows knitted together, a fierce determination on his face that makes yoongi smile to himself. he clears his throat, and seokjin jumps, eyes widening slightly as he spots yoongi. he gives him a smile, and yoongi feels guilty when it doesn't reach his eyes.
“i need to tell you something,” yoongi says, and his fingers play with the end of his sleeves, picking at a loose thread. “it's about my magic. it…it goes…a little haywire– a lot actually, because…um, when i'm around you.”
seokjin nods, removing his hands from the dough and not looking at yoongi. “because you're uncomfortable?”
yoongi shifts on his feet, cheeks warm. “yes, but not in…that way. my magic goes crazy because you drive me crazy, hyung. and i don't know what to do when someone…nice and kind and funny, in an embarrassing and sweet way, and very good looking as you say….the things you say.” yoongi exhales, chest thudding as he meets seokjin's eyes. “so if you don't mind the potential of it raining cats and dogs again, then i'd…like to say yes. to the date.”
seokjin stares at him silently, and yoongi waits for him to back away, or to laugh. instead seokjin exhales, wiping a hand on his forehead. “wow. okay. i thought you were doing it on purpose, because you wanted me stop. that's…a relief,” seokjin sighs, then smiles, better this time, his own cheeks pink. “uh, yeah, yes, yes i very much still want you to say yes. animal rain and all.”
yoongi breaks into a grin, and he looks down at the floor to check if he isn't floating. “okay. um, do you mind if…if we do something really…normal?”
seokjin hums. “what do you have in mind?”
“well, i…i'd like to cook you dinner. tonight. here, in your kitchen if you'll have me,” yoongi offers.
“yeah, i…” seokjin clears his throat, and yoongi is relieved and endeared to see that seokjin is just as flustered as he is, ears pink. “i'd like that very much.”
“oh.” despite everything, yoongi is still surprised when seokjin acquiesces, and he closes his open mouth to give a soft smile. “okay then. i’ll see you tonight?”
seokjin nods, biting back a smile that makes yoongi’s heart cartwheel up to his mouth. “yes i’ll...i’ll see you then.”
°°°
yoongi has charged into a nest of spider flies alone, each creature the size of a car. he’s battled a pirate demon who threatened to swallow islands whole. he’s even travelled to the fifth realm of hell, and managed to come back in one piece. so he doesn’t know why it’s now, standing outside the side door to seokjin’s bakery, a bag of ingredients in one hand and a bouquet of flowers in the other, that he feels the most scared he has in his entire life.
seokjin opens the door, work apron stained and flour in his hair, but the glow of the kitchen behind him warms his skin and smoothes over his face, making him look more ethereal than ever. he smiles, and yoongi’s knees stop shaking. “you’re here,” seokjin breathes, and steps to the side, inviting yoongi in.
the bakery’s quiet, since seokjin had locked up an hour ago, with only the lights of the kitchen on, making yoongi feel more cornered than he ever felt. he exhales shakily, holding out the flowers for seokjin. “these are for you,” he mumbles, throat tight. “jimin helped me pick them out.”
jimin also didn’t fail to tease him constantly throughout the whole process, making kissy faces and giving a very lewd description of what seokjin should really eat tonight. yoongi doesn’t mention it though, and seokjin takes the flowers with a pleased smile, eyes bright.
“i’ll get a vase for them. do you wanna start cooking?” seokjin offers, heading towards the sink. “i can help if you need.”
yoongi shakes his head, placing the bag on the counter. “you’ve always made me sweet treats, so it’s my turn to return the favour.”
“so what’s on the menu, baek jong won-ssi?” seokjin asks with a grin, sliding into a chair next to the large worktop.
“chicken and mushroom florentine pasta, with pan seared scallops in cream sauce,” yoongi says firmly, and seokjin’s eyes widen slightly.
“that’s...very gourmet. how do you know how to cook stuff like that?”
yoongi grins. “when i was nineteen, i was sent to italy to help with the selkie conflicts on the coast. there was a couple i stayed with, that lived in a lighthouse, and people all around the country would travel all the way to their rickety turret of a restaurant to try their food. i wanted to know why, and they taught me a few things.” yoongi spreads the ingredients out, biting his lip. “i...i haven’t told much people about this, but when i was younger i...i wanted to a be a chef.”
seokjin doesn’t laugh, like the other kids did when he told them his dream of opening a restaurant, or look at him in distaste like his teachers did. too much wasted potential, they said. wouldn’t you feel bad that you could’ve used your powers instead to save the world?
instead, seokjin says, “tell me.”
so yoongi does. he tells him of the drawing he made when he was six, much too detailed for a child, of a restaurant in the sky (seokjin laughs at that), with floating chairs and dishes from around the world. he tells him how he used to get scolded for using the stove without his mother’s permission, but always loved the food he’d make from it. “i never use magic when i’m cooking,” yoongi explains near the stove. “so it feels...good, to know i can do something amazing without being what everyone wants to be. i’m not the greatest warlock of all the time when i’m in the kitchen. i’m just min yoongi, culinary extraordinaire.”
seokjin scoffs. “bit of a high horse, calling yourself an extraordinaire.”
yoongi laughs then, and seokjin’s pout disappears, eyes softening at the sound. yoongi ducks his head when seokjin’s stare becomes too intense. “what about you? what made you open this bakery?”
seokjin shrugs. “my parents, really. my father and my brothers are all...high end business people, and my mother loves being a seoul socialite. but i wanted out. i wanted to be seokjin, not kim seokjin, from a line of wealth. they only let me go to culinary school because i got into the best in the country.” seokjin’s lips twist into a wry smile. “imagine their surprise when i took that top degree and opened a hole in the wall cake shop in a lost neighbourhood of seoul. i...haven’t talked to them since.”
seokjin turns away. “do you…” yoongi starts tentatively, “do you miss them?”
“i suppose,” seokjin muses. “i thought at least they’d contact me once but…” seokjin shakes his head, forcing a smile. “anyways, i have gukkie, and namjoon and jimin. they’re my family now.”
yoongi looks at seokjin staring at the counter, and lifts his spoon. “do you want to try some of the sauce? a good chef always asks for opinion.”
seokjin smiles then, pushing himself off the chair and nearing the stove. he takes the spoon from yoongi, sipping delicately from it, and his eyes widen, smile breaking into a grin. “yah, you never told me you were this good! this is amazing, yoongi!”
yoongi grins, ears burning. “i should probably add more salt,” he mumbles, and seokjin laughs, reaching to poke yoongi’s cheek.
“you’re too modest, yoongi-yah,” seokjin teases, eyes brightening as yoongi flushes.
seokjin leans against the counter as yoongi busies himself around the stove, and when seokjin asks him a question about his travels, he doesn’t ask about the dangers he faced or the powers he used to overcome them. instead, seokjin asks about who he met, about where he went, what he ate and saw and heard. yoongi talks more about himself than he was with anyone except taehyung and hoseok, even the writer who wrote his autobiography. the real things, like the way he felt shivering on cliffs of scotland, or sweating under the mongolian sun. the witch who showed him how to capture the lights of the aurora borealis in a bottle, or the little boy he had huddled in a igloo with and helped nurture his pet polar bear back to good health. seokjin tells him his own travelling stories, stopping across europe to fill a blog he used to make back in the day.
“it was called eat jin,” seokjin explains, cheeks a little flushed from the wine they’ve both been drinking, and yoongi thinks he looks cute like this, lips wine red, leaning comfortably behind yoongi. “and it was very popular if i say so myself, and i do say so.” he giggles a little, and yoongi holds back a grin. “but i put it on hold while i was opening the bakery, and then i never had the time to open it again. jeongguk wants me to make a youtube eating channel, though. he’s taking a filmmaking degree, and he wants the practise.”
“that’s a good idea,” yoongi says, and seokjin smiles, leaning forward. “you have the face for it.”
seokjin raises an eyebrow, leaning forward. “whatever do you mean, yoongi-yah?” he asks, and yoongi shrinks back against the counter as seokjin takes a step forward, eyes sparkling with amusement.
“i just mean…” yoongi stammers, then huffs, looking seokjin in the eye. “you know what i mean. you know i think you’re...good looking,” he mumbles, cheeks burning.
“well, i know now,” seokjin breathes, hands on either side of yoongi. “anything else you want to add?”
“you’re ridiculous,” yoongi mutters.
“ridiculously handsome?”
“no.” yoongi flicks his nose, smirking when seokjin yelps in surprise. “just ridiculous. now let me finish this sauce so we can eat. and set the table.”
“i’m still the hyung, you know,” seokjin grumbles.
“and right now, i’m the chef, so who has the superiority here?”
“you and guk are cut from the same bratty cloth,” seokjin retorts, but there’s no bite to it, and he rummages in the cupboards for plates, bringing the unfinished wine bottle with him.
yoongi follows after he’s ladled the sauce into a bowl, setting down the plates with a flourish. “bon appetit,” he grins, taking the chair on the right of seokjin. his smile fades as seokjin takes a bite, chewing his bottom lip. “well?”
seokjin chews with a frown, swallowing slowly. “yoongi-yah,” he starts, raising his head to meet yoongi’s eyes. “how much do i have to pay you to work for me?”
yoongi blinks, then laughs nervously, tugging his strands of hair. “hyung,” he mumbles, cheeks pink.
“i’m serious!” seokjin squawks in between shovelling the food in his mouth. yoongi does the same, albeit more delicately. “it could be the next step of my bakery. you could serve lunch, or make cute little bento boxes. and then we could close up and have dinner together with guk and everyone else. i’d probably promote you to deputy chef in less than a year.”
yoongi hums around his glass of wine, warm in his stomach. “it sounds nice,” he admits, and he hates how wistful he sounds. shaking head with a smile, he raises an eyebrow. “but the salary of being the greatest warlock this century lies very much in the seven figure bracket.”
seokjin chokes, eyes wide, and points his fork at yoongi accusatively. “yah! you made me give you all those free cakes when you’re that loaded?”
“i didn’t make you do anything,” yoongi points out with a wicked smirk. “you said and i quote, i only give free food to cute guys. i can’t help being this way,” he shrugs, pouting for extra effect. it does wonders to seokjin’s flushing cheeks, and yoongi can’t help but feel pleased.
“seriously,” seokjin says, voice a little softer. “whenever you want, i’d take your help around the bakery. as small and insignificant it is,” he jokes.
“it’s not insignificant,” yoongi counters, hands laced in his lap. “you’re...you’re not insignificant, hyung. you...you’re a older brother to jeongguk. you give classes to the elderly, just so they don’t feel lonely. you give treats to holly, even though it makes him sick, but it makes him happy. you greet all your customers with a smile and you listen to their stories like they matter, because to you, they do matter. and...and you've made me feel the most at ease i’ve felt for a long time. you...you’re magic, seokjin.”
yoongi’s face is bright red as he stutters through this, and when he’s finished he lets out an embarrassingly long exhale. he stares at seokjin, wishing the elder would laugh it off or tease yoongi at how corny it sounds, because it is. it’s cheesy, but yoongi doesn’t know how else to word the truth of it all, of how seokjin makes him feel, how much in the space of a few weeks the elder has meant to him.
“huh,” seokjin says finally, and turns his head to look around the kitchen. “no flying dogs or dancing clouds.” he turns back to yoongi, giving him a wide smile. “that’s a good sign, right?”
yoongi nods jerkily, a little stunned, even more so when seokjin takes one of yoongi’s hands from under the table and laces his fingers through it, squeezing gently. he continues to eat in silence, hands linked, and after a while of staring, yoongi does the same, although he can’t really taste anything, the rest of his senses dulled with the feel of seokjin’s hands in his.
“i know you said you wanted a normal date,” seokjin says, as they finish up with a glass of wine, hands still joined. “but...do you think you could do a spell for the dishes? i’d rather spend time walking you home instead.”
yoongi rolls his eyes. “don’t cover your laziness with chivalry, hyung,” he retorts, but stands up all the same, flicking his hand over the table. a stream of sparkling blue carries the dishes from the table to the sink, where a pair of sponges get doused in soap by themselves, scrubbing against the plates. yoongi watches with a satisfied smile, leaning against the counter.
“you’re magic too, yoongi-yah,” seokjin says quietly, eyes fixed on the moving dishes.
yoongi snorts. “it’s a spell mostly everyone learns in their first year. it’s nothing special.”
“not this,” seokjin says, eyes back on yoongi. “your cooking. how you treat jeongguk, and holly.”
“treating someone nice isn’t magic,” yoongi mumbles, squirming under seokjin’s gaze.
seokjin hums, taking the steps towards yoongi so yoongi has to tilt his head upwards to look at him, noses inches apart. “i think it’s the rarest and best magic there is.” he takes a strand of yoongi’s hair between his fingers, rubbing the silver at the end. “you’re magic not because of your magic, yoongi. it’s just who you are.”
he lets go of yoongi’s hair, tucking it behind his ear and cupping his jaw. yoongi sucks in a breath as seokjin presses their foreheads together. “yoongi-yah,” he murmurs, breath warm against yoongi’s cheek. “can i kiss you?”
yoongi can’t speak, heart in his throat, so he nods instead, eyes closing as seokjin presses his lips against yoongi’s mouth. he shudders at the touch, at being suddenly enveloped by seokjin, who has his other hand on yoongi’s waist, rubbing circles into yoongi’s hip. seokjin tastes like wine and smells like sugar, and yoongi feels it all at once, the pleasant buzz of alcohol and the sated warmth of eating something sweet. it blooms in his chest, pressed against seokjin’s, trembles at his lips that part and pant as seokjin slips his tongue inside, shakes down his fingers that clutch the front of seokjin’s shirt and runs them through his golden brown hair.
“jin hyung,” he gasps in between kisses, and seokjin hums in his mouth, hands sliding down to cup the back of yoongi’s thighs and pull him up to sit on the counter. yoongi’s body responds quickly, driven by the need for seokjin’s closeness. his legs wrap around seokjin’s waist, hands looping around his neck and scratch at the bottom of his scalp. seokjin whines, and yoongi feels satisfaction curling in his belly like flames, gratified with each pull on his lips.
seokjin pulls away, lips shining with spit, eyes flashing and cheeks pink. “no freak accidents so far?”
yoongi scoffs, breathless and shaking. “if there was, i’d probably get a thousand texts from taehyung by now. besides,” he murmurs, leaning forward to press a kiss against seokjin’s jawline. “i think i’ve got a handle on it.”
“r-really?” seokjin stammers as yoongi mouths down his neck, jumping as yoongi nips at his collarbone, pushing seokjin’s shirt down to press kisses on his shoulder. “and if i —ah, yoongi— if i wanted to do more, what would happen?”
yoongi pauses, breath hitching as seokjin’s hands play with the buttons of his shirt, brushing against the hem. “more like...l-like what?”
“i don’t know,” seokjin muses, eyes bright with mischief. he pushes yoongi’s hair from his neck, mouth latching at the skin there. “if i wanted to touch you, work you open with my fingers…” seokjin sucks hard at yoongi’s neck, and yoongi jolts, fire sparking down his spine.
“hyung,” he whines, yelping as seokjin continues to bruise him, teeth against his skin, hands still dancing over his abdomen. “fuck, seokjin.”
“if i bent you over, right here,” seokjin murmurs, and yoongi moans, hips jerking upwards. “would anything happen?”
“i don’t...know,” yoongi replies, hands gripping seokjin’s hips and pulling them flush against his, the want for friction fuelled by seokjin’s words. seokjin circles his hips downwards once, and yoongi cries as their crotches grind against each other. “ah, hyung, more, p-please— ah!”
seokjin hums, then steps back, much to yoongi’s dismay. “i promised i’d walk you home. and as much as i’d love to,” his eyes rove down yoongi’s body, clothes rumpled and still hard, and he swallows weakly. “i want our first time to be...you know.. special.”
yoongi glares at him, but seokjin’s smile is earnest, so he sighs, frustration dissipating. “okay.”
seokjin tilts his head up, pressing a kiss on yoongi’s cheek. “okay?”
“mhmm,” yoongi nods, and seokjin grins. “you didn’t have to tease, though.”
“i had to give you a sneak preview, didn’t i?” seokjin winks, and yoongi hates how he blushes, mind still feverish. the dishes have stopped moving, settled to dry, and yoongi grabs his coat to wait at the door as seokjin finishes locking up. when he’s closed the last light and locked the door, he turns to yoongi, pulling him by the arm and into the night.
and if yoongi thought kissing seokjin, being held by him felt wondrous, it somehow doesn’t compare to this: walking next to seokjin, hands held in the large pocket of seokjin’s coat. he pushes seokjin away in jest as the elder places a kiss on his cheek before each road they cross, rolling his eyes as seokjin pulls him under each lamppost they pass just to touch his face or rub their noses together.
“who knew how disgustingly into pda you were,” yoongi comments dryly, pushing seokjin away from crowding him against the wall of an empty alley.
seokjin flashes him a grin, skin shadowed so his cheekbones look deeper, his jawline sharper. “you love it, yoongi-yah.”
“debatable,” yoongi mutters, but lets seokjin press kisses in his hair, squeezing his waist gently.
they finally reach yoongi’s apartment, and seokjin even accompanies him up the stairs to the front door, tugging yoongi close before he reaches for his keys. “you don’t mind, do you?” seokjin says, and yoongi hears the slight uncertainty in his voice. “i don’t...want to scare you off, or force you into doing anything.”
yoongi drops his keys back into his pocket, giving a reassuring smile. “i think i was scared before. that’s why all that stuff kept happening. but i trust you because you’re a good person, not just cause i like you. it is new, though. being liked as...well, me. and a little overwhelming,” yoongi says, eyes dropping the floor.
“hey, don’t give me that guilty look,” seokjin says, rubbing at yoongi’s cheekbone. “you’re entitled to feel however you want to feel.” seokjin grins, wiggling his eyebrows. “how much will it take for a second date?”
yoongi hums, a smile playing on his lips. “well, what are you offering?”
seokjin pulls him in for a kiss then, hand around yoongi’s waist and fingers still resting on his cheek, pulling at yoongi’s smile. “how about that?” seokjin smirks after, licking his lips.
“if that’s your currency,” yoongi starts, brushing his nose against seokjin’s. “i should remind you of that seven figure salary i have.”
seokjin gives a pleased smile, leaning in again. “i suppose we could come to an arrangement, o’ mage of mighty.”
°°°
there are many things the witches and warlocks of the world know about the greatest non-magick, kim seokjin. they know he faced off a fourth level witch in his bakery outside of greater seoul, in the defense of his boyfriend min yoongi, the high mage of seoul. they know he prevented a duel between said boyfriend and a member of the royal vampire clan by offering him half price off macarons each wednesday. they also know he baked a cake as large as a gold feathered eagle for the wedding of kim taehyung, a fifth order mage and woodland nymph jung hoseok.
but what they don’t know is that kim seokjin is like very few non-magicks in their twenties: terribly bad at baking puns, hopelessly in love, and, surprisingly, full of magic.