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The bell above the coffee shop door chimed, entirely drowned out by the chaotic symphony of espresso machines, chattering patrons, and Taehyung’s dramatic whining.
"If I see one more defective cookie today, I'm going to scream," Taehyung groaned, draping himself heavily over Jungkook’s shoulder. "Eight hours. We have eight hours on the Oreo assembly line ahead of us. Do you know what staring at endless rows of chocolate disks does to the human brain?"
"Hyung, we haven't even clocked in yet," Jungkook pointed out, effortlessly shrugging off Taehyung’s whining to check his phone. "Besides, you're the one who applied for the 'cream-to-cookie ratio inspection' department. Drink your caffeine and endure."
Jimin wasn't listening to either of them. He was standing on his tiptoes, his eyes glued to the back of the line near the pastry case. He reached out, blindly smacking Jungkook’s arm until the younger boy swatted him away.
"Guys," Jimin hissed, leaning in conspiratorially. "Look. By the muffins. Do not make it obvious!"
Naturally, both Taehyung and Jungkook whipped their heads around very obviously.
Standing near the display was a man radiating an aura of intense, frantic exhaustion. He was dressed in a sharp, albeit slightly rumpled, dark turtleneck and blazer. A heavy leather messenger bag was slung across his shoulder, and he was tapping his foot while glaring at his wristwatch as if trying to intimidate time itself into slowing down.
"Oh, wow," Taehyung whispered, suddenly very invested. "He looks like he grades papers with a red pen and a deep sense of disappointment."
"He is so hot," Jimin breathed, adjusting his jacket. "Do I look okay? I feel like I smell like industrial vanilla extract from yesterday's shift."
"You smell fine, but he looks like he'd give you a pop quiz on your first date," Jungkook snickered, leaning against the pickup counter. "Go ask him for extra credit, Jimin-ssi. Ask him if he needs help carrying his syllabus."
"Shut up, he’s coming this way!" Jimin panicked, attempting to look casually aloof by staring intently at a napkin dispenser.
Behind the counter, the barista set down two plastic cups. "Iced Caramel Macchiato with extra drizzle and five pumps of vanilla! And a Venti Black Americano! Orders for Jimin and Yoongi!"
The trio didn't hear a word. Jungkook was too busy mimicking Jimin’s lovestruck expression, and Taehyung was currently trying to push Jimin closer to the pickup counter while Jimin fought back with entirely too much giggling.
Meanwhile, Professor Min Yoongi was going to be late for his afternoon lecture. He was under-caffeinated, overworked, and currently functioning purely on spite. Seeing the cups hit the counter, he practically shoved past the giggling trio to get to his lifeline. He didn't check the Sharpie scrawl on the plastic. He just grabbed the cup nearest to him, ripped the paper off a straw, and stabbed it through the lid.
Yoongi closed his eyes, expecting the harsh, bitter, life-giving jolt of black espresso.
He took a big gulp.
A heartbeat later, Yoongi’s eyes snapped open in absolute disgust. He choked, tearing the cup away from his mouth and sputtering the liquid on the floor.
"What is this?!" Yoongi gasped, coughing into his elbow as he glared at the cup in betrayal. "Is this just liquid sugar? Who drinks this? It's like a melted candle!"
The commotion instantly snapped Jimin, Taehyung, and Jungkook out of their wrestling match. Jimin froze, the color draining from his face as he looked from the handsome stranger to the cup in his hand.
"Wait," Jimin squeaked. "That... I think that's my Macchiato."
Yoongi wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, his sharp eyes narrowing as he took in the three wide-eyed factory workers. He looked at the cup, turning it to finally read the name written in bubbly letters: Jimin.
"It's pure sugar, is what it is," Yoongi rasped, his voice rough from coughing. He slammed the drink back down on the counter and grabbed the other cup, the pitch-black Americano. He took a cautious sip, closed his eyes in relief, and let out a long, long sigh.
"I..." Jimin stammered, his cheeks burning a brilliant shade of crimson. "I like it sweet."
Yoongi opened his eyes, adjusted his heavy bag on his shoulder, and gave Jimin a flat, unimpressed look. "You should eat your sweets and not drink them. Good luck keeping your teeth, Jimin."
Without another word, the professor spun on his heel and stormed out of the coffee shop, the bell chiming cheerfully in his wake.
For three seconds, there was dead silence at the pickup counter.
Then, Jungkook slowly turned to Jimin, an evil grin spreading across his face.
"So," Jungkook whispered loudly. "Good luck keeping your teeth. You think he's going to put that on your wedding invitations?"
Taehyung burst into hysterical laughter, clutching his stomach, while Jimin buried his face in his hands, wondering if he could just accidentally fall into one of the industrial dough mixers at the Oreo factory and end it all.
🟣🟣🟣
The harsh fluorescent lighting of the Nabisco Employee Breakroom was a stark contrast to the cozy coffee shop. Jimin, still mortified, slumped onto a plastic bench and took a sad, restorative sip of his Caramel Macchiato.
Jungkook was in the middle of lacing up his steel-toed boots when he froze, staring at the cup in Jimin's hand.
"Hyung," Jungkook said slowly, pointing a finger at the plastic lid. "Did you ever get a new straw?"
Jimin blinked, looking down at the green plastic tube currently resting between his lips. "What? No. Why?"
Taehyung gasped loudly from across the room, dropping his hairnet. "The indirect kiss!"
Jimin choked on his drink.
"He drank out of that!" Taehyung shrieked, pointing wildly. "Professor Grump drank out of that exact straw, and you just put your mouth on it! You basically made out with him in the breakroom!"
"I didn't! I forgot!" Jimin frantically pulled the straw out of the lid and threw it into the nearest trash can as if it had caught fire. His face was currently the color of a stop sign. "It's not an indirect kiss! It's a cross-contamination incident!"
"Whatever helps you sleep at night, Jimin-ssi," Jungkook cackled, ducking out of the way as Jimin threw his crumpled coffee sleeve at his head. “I’m about to call EHS and report a near-kiss… I mean near-miss.”
Before Jimin could retaliate further, the breakroom door swung open. Their floor supervisor, a grizzled man who had seen far too many cookie-related disasters, marched in holding a clipboard.
"Listen up, line workers," the boss barked, instantly silencing the trio. "Corporate sent down a new mandate. Today, we are running a limited-edition promotional batch. Purple Oreos."
"Purple?" Taehyung whispered, eyes shining with childlike wonder.
"Yes, Kim, purple. But before you three go ‘borahae-ing’ it up. listen to me very carefully," the boss warned, his expression turning grave. "The food coloring powder they sent from R&D is highly concentrated and extremely volatile. You will mix it into the main dough vat. Under no circumstances should you inhale this dye. Do you understand me? Hold your breath, keep your masks on, and do not goof off. I don't want to be filling out incident reports because one of you knuckleheads can’t do your job right."
"Yes, sir!" the three of them chorused, snapping mock salutes.
🟣🟣🟣
Ten minutes later, the three of them were stationed at the large, churning steel vat of Cookie Dough Mixer Unit 4.
Almost immediately, the concept of "extreme vigilance" was abandoned.
"Look, if you stack the defective wafers like this, they look like the Leaning Tower of Pisa," Taehyung argued, halfway down the conveyor belt.
"It's going to fall," Jungkook challenged, completely abandoning his post to grab a handful of rejected cookies. "I bet I can knock it down with one flick of a chocolate disc."
"You guys," Jimin whined, his voice muffled by his protective mask. "We have to pour the dye! The dough is getting too warm!"
"You got this, hyung! We believe in you!" Jungkook yelled over his shoulder, already initiating a cookie-flicking war with Taehyung.
Jimin sighed, resigning himself to his fate. He approached the large, intimidating sack of Ultra-Violet Formulation 7 sitting on the catwalk above the mixer. He grabbed the heavy bag, hoisted it over the edge of the vat, and began to carefully untie the thick plastic knot.
He pulled. The knot slipped.
Suddenly, the bag tore open, sending a cloud of shimmering purple dust erupting into the air directly toward Jimin's face.
Jimin's eyes went wide. Remembering the boss's strict warning, he instinctively slapped both hands over his mask, clamped his eyes shut, and threw himself backward onto the metal grated floor. The glittering purple cloud drifted over him, settling harmlessly into the churning dough below.
Jimin cracked one eye open. The air was clear. He let out a long, shaky exhale. Safe. He had averted disaster. He was, after all, a seasoned professional. Okay, well, technically, he was a ‘seasoning’ professional, but the former just sounded better on his resume.
He sat up, brushing some stray flour off his coveralls and took off his mask for just a moment to catch his breath.
But then, deep in the bridge of his nose, something stirred.
It was a tiny, imperceptible tickle. A stray, microscopic speck of purple dust had bypassed his mask.
Jimin’s breath hitched. He panicked, trying to pinch his nose shut, but his lungs were already expanding. In his panic he kicked over the bag of dye. A cartoonish cloud of dense, sparkling purple smoke engulfed the catwalk.To stop the sneeze, he gasped inward, taking a sharp, deep breath.
Ah...
The tickle exploded into a full-blown sensation.
Ah...
Jimin squeezed his eyes shut.
CHOO!
The sneeze ripped through him. But instead of the normal, somewhat embarrassing sound Jimin usually made, there was a deafening sound that echoed over the roar of the factory machinery.
POOF.
Down the line, the sound of Jungkook flicking a chocolate cookie at Taehyung’s forehead came to a sudden halt. Both boys froze, turning their heads toward Mixer Unit 4.
The purple smoke slowly cleared, sucked up by the factory's ventilation system.
"Jimin?" Taehyung called out, dropping his defective cookies.
There was no answer.
Jungkook jogged over to the catwalk, peering up. "Hyung, did you drop the bag?"
They climbed the short metal stairs, stopping dead in their tracks at the top. Jimin was gone. But right where he had been standing, there was a collapsed pile of his factory uniform, his boots, his coveralls, his mask, and his hairnet, resting empty on the grated floor.
"Uh, Taehyung?" Jungkook said, his voice trembling slightly.
"Yeah?"
"Where is Jimin?"
Before Taehyung could answer, he felt the soft tap of something small against his boot. A soft plop drew his attention downwards.
Taehyung leaned over the railing, squinting down at the fast-moving track. Riding alongside the rows of standard, freshly stamped purple cookies was one that looked distinctly... different. It was a brilliant, radiant shade of violet, the cream filling bulging just slightly at the edges in a way that was undeniably cute. And stamped right into the center of the wafer, instead of the Nabisco logo, was a tiny, perfectly rendered imprint of a pouting face.
Taehyung blinked, rubbing his eyes. "Jungkook... look at that Oreo!"
Jungkook didn't even glance down, still frantically scanning the rafters and the empty dough vat. "Are you insane? We don't have time to check the Oreos right now! Jimin just vanished into thin air!"
Taehyung grabbed Jungkook by the collar of his uniform and dragged him to the railing, pointing a finger at the belt. "NO. LOOK."
Jungkook huffed, leaning over the railing. His eyes tracked the cookie rolling merrily down the line. His jaw slowly dropped open.
Taehyung turned to him, entirely deadpan. "I think Jimin is an Oreo."
"Get him!" Jungkook screeched.
He scrambled down the metal stairs of the catwalk, Taehyung right on his heels. They vaulted over a stack of empty cardboard boxes, sprinting toward the conveyor belt to intercept the Jimin-Oreo.
Jungkook lunged, his hand outstretched like an action hero diving for a cliff edge, but he was no match for Nabisco’s state-of-the-art packaging machinery. They watched in horror as the Jimin-Oreo rolled gracefully into the dark, mechanical jaws of the sorting and wrapping machine.
"Hyung!" Jungkook yelled, pressing his face against the plexiglass casing of the machine. "Hold on! We're coming!"
"What are you two idiots doing?" their floor supervisor barked, appearing behind them with his clipboard. "Why aren't you monitoring the dough vat?! And where is Park?"
"Sir, he’s in the sorter!" Taehyung yelled, pointing wildly at the machine. "He’s an Oreo"
The supervisor stared at them, his eyes dead and devoid of joy. "Kim, I am not in the mood for your weird humor today. Get back to your station, or I'm writing you both up. And when he gets back, tell your little friend Park that if he doesn’t curb his time dawdling in the men’s room, I’m gonna to replace him with a Keebler elf!."
"But-!"
Thwack.
Out of the end of the machine popped a sleek, shiny, limited-edition pack of Oreos. Inside, nestled securely between regular purple cookies with brown sugar filling, was one Park Jimin.
Before either of them could snatch it, a mechanical arm swept the package into a shipping box, taped it shut, and sent it down the chute directly to the loading dock.
"Well," Jungkook said, staring blankly at the empty chute. "We’ve gotta catch that truck, or we’re going to have to buy a whole lot of Oreos."
🟣🟣🟣
Nine hours later, Professor Min Yoongi was standing under the bright flickering fluorescent lights of a 7-Eleven just three blocks from his university apartment.
He was running on two hours of sleep and the sheer, unadulterated rage that only comes from needing to grade fifty freshman essays. He felt like a zombie. He needed sugar, and he needed it ten minutes ago.
He shuffled down the snack aisle, his heavy leather messenger bag banging against his hip. He stared blankly at the rows of potato chips before his tired eyes drifted to a brand-new cardboard display case at the end of the aisle.
Normally, Yoongi would never buy something so colorful. He was a simple kind of man. But today, the universe had tested him. He remembered the infuriatingly sweet taste of that boy's liquid-candle coffee from earlier. A dark, spiteful part of his brain decided that if he was going to consume sugar today, he was going to consume all of it.
He snatched the pack of Oreos off the display, slapped it onto the counter, and paid the cashier without saying a single word.
🟣🟣🟣
The door to Yoongi’s apartment clicked shut. He didn't bother turning on the main lights. The soft, ambient glow of the streetlamp outside his window provided just enough light for him to drop his bag onto his armchair, loosen his tie, and collapse onto the sofa with a heavy sigh.
Silence. Beautiful silence.
He tossed the package of purple Oreos onto the coffee table. He leaned his head back, closing his eyes for just a moment to mentally prepare himself for the sugar rush he was about to inflict upon his exhausted body.
He reached out blindly, his long fingers finding the edge of the foil packaging. He found the little red pull-tab and gave it a sharp tug.
Riiiiip.
The foil split open.
Yoongi's stomach let out a loud, hollow growl in the quiet room. The professor paused, staring at the cookies, and let out another sigh. Pure sugar on an empty stomach was a guaranteed migraine. He dropped his hand, stood up from the couch, and dragged himself to the tiny kitchenette.
The harsh scrape of a metal pot and the sudden whoosh of a gas burner igniting filled the apartment. As Yoongi began opening a package of ramen, cookie-Jimin's soul melted with relief.
Oh, thank God, Jimin thought, listening to the professor mindlessly putter around the kitchen. He's making dinner. I'm saved. For the moment, at least.
🟣🟣🟣
Yoongi pushed his thick, heavy-framed glasses up the bridge of his nose, squinting at the terrible essay in front of him. His tv was on a documentary in the background for some background noise. It was late. His red pen was running dry, and after inhaling some ramen, he remembered the crinkling blue package of Oreos resting precariously on his coffee table.
He blindly reached out, his fingers brushing against a perfectly round cookie.
Inside that cookie, Jimin was screaming.
Well, internally screaming.
If Jimin had a tiny cookie heart, it was pounding. This was it. The end of the line. Death by mastication.
Please, Jimin prayed to whatever gods governed processed snacks. Please be a twister, not a biter.
But wait, he reasoned wildly as he was lifted into the air, maybe there was still a chance. A Jimin cookie, tucked inside a pack of limited-edition purple Oreos, was arguably the most limited edition. Surely, this highly educated, perceptive man would notice his unique (and flawlessly) stamped, beautiful face. Maybe the professor would save him as a weird souvenir!
Yoongi didn't look down. His eyes were glued to a documentary about deep-sea squids… squids? Is that the plural of squid? Jimin didn’t know, but it was a fact he might not get to lament his lack of knowledge for long, because the professor brought the cookie to his lips.
Jimin prepared to meet his maker.
But then, Yoongi paused. Acting on a deeply ingrained childhood habit, Yoongi pinched the textured wafers between his thumb and forefinger and gave a firm twist.
Jimin felt his top half detach with a satisfying pop, exposing his thick, sugary center to the cool apartment air.
Yoongi let out a tired sigh, brought the cream-covered half to his mouth, stuck out his tongue, and lazily swiped at the cream.
He furrowed his brows and stared down at it. They must have changed the recipe. There was a hint of salt that really brought out the sweetness. Whatever it was on his tongue, it was… stunning.
He went back in for another lick.
With Jimin’s purple wafer back cradled in the professor’s grasp, he squirmed invisibly. The wet heat of the professor's tongue dragging across his creamy center for a second time was overwhelmingly ticklish.
Unable to contain the sensation, a bubbly giggle rippled through Jimin's sugary consciousness. This manifested as a soft, neon-lavender glow pulsing from the cream like a tiny, sugar-riddled heartbeat.
Yoongi slowly lowered his hand. The cookie was vibrating. Just what kind of Oreo was this?
Fascinated, Yoongi cautiously brought the glowing, trembling confection back up to his lips. He tilted it slightly, swiping his tongue right across the center of the vibrating cream a third time.
It was too much, this tongue technology.
The ticklish sensation exploded through Jimin's core. His sugary form reached its absolute breaking point, practically overcome with giggly agony, and before he could stop it-
POOF.
There was a deafening crack, a blinding flash of violet light, and a cloud of powdered sugar.
Yoongi shrieked, tumbling backward off his sofa as a fully grown, fully naked, very human Park Jimin materialized out of thin air, crashing directly onto the coffee table. Graded papers, sticky notes, and the empty Arih ramen cup went flying.
“Holy Vongole!” Yoongi yelped as he scrambled backward against the wall, clutching a decorative throw pillow to his chest like a shield. His nerdy glasses had been knocked entirely askew, hanging precariously off his left ear. His eyes darted from the wildly grinning stranger in his living room to his empty Oreo-less hand.
For a long moment, the only sound in the apartment was the muffled narration of the squid documentary. <...Architeuthis giganticus, the mythic ‘giant-squid’ of mariners’ lore, is only one of many legendary multi-tentacled creatures rumored to be living in the darkest depths of the ocean…>
Jimin lay amidst the scattered exams, coughing up a small cloud of glittery purple dust. He looked at his own hands, wiggled his fingers, and let out a joyful laugh. "Oh my god, thank you! Do you have any idea how claustrophobic it is in that plastic sleeve?!"
Yoongi eased off the wall and back down to his couch.
"Who the hell are you?!" Yoongi gasped. "And why are you naked in my Oreos?!"
Acting purely on exhausted instinct, Yoongi tossed the throw pillow he was holding directly at Jimin.
"Ah!" Jimin yelped, fumbling to catch the pillow and clamping it over himself. His face was burning. "I- I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to-"
"You were an Oreo??" Yoongi stared at the sofa where he had just been licking that sweet little cookie, a cookie that was definitely not a man at the time. "I was eating you."
"Can I-" Jimin whined, curling his knees up to his chest to hide behind the pillow. "Could I please get some actual clothes? Before we unpack the psychological trauma of this?"
Yoongi blinked slowly. Without a word, he stood up, walked into his bedroom, and returned a moment later. He tossed a dark gray hoodie and a pair of oversized sweatpants at Jimin’s head.
"Bathroom is down the hall to the left," Yoongi muttered, rubbing his temples.
Jimin clutched the clothes to his chest, muttered another string of apologies, and sprinted down the hallway as fast as his bare feet could carry him.
The bathroom door slammed shut.
Silence descended on the apartment once more. Yoongi stared at the open package of Oreos. He reached out, picked up a regular, non-human cookie, and stared at it.
BANG. BANG. BANG.
Yoongi jumped, nearly dropping the cookie as knocking rattled his front door. He walked over, undoing the deadbolt.
Before he could even turn the knob completely, the door flew open. Jungkook and Taehyung burst into the apartment, both still wearing their factory coveralls and hairnets, panting heavily.
"Where is he?!" Taehyung demanded, grabbing Yoongi by the shoulders. "Where is our friend?!"
Before Yoongi could answer, Taehyung’s eyes locked onto the blue packaging. He saw the scattering of purple crumbs.
Taehyung gasped. He dropped to his knees. "NO!"
"Hyung, what is it-" Jungkook started, before his eyes followed Taehyung's gaze. Jungkook let out a horrified wail, clutching his chest. "You ate him! You sick, twisted bastard, you ate our best friend!"
"He had so much to live for!" Taehyung cried out to the ceiling. "He was so young! He was almost as pretty as me!"
Yoongi just stood there, entirely stunned, staring at the two wailing factory workers on his living room floor. He opened his mouth to speak, but the click of a door handle beat him to it.
Jimin stepped out of the hallway, drowning in Yoongi’s gray hoodie, the sleeves hanging past his fingertips. "Guys? How did you-"
Jungkook and Taehyung’s wailing abruptly stopped. They slowly turned their heads.
"Jimin?" Jungkook whispered.
"You're alive!" Taehyung scrambled up, but then he paused, his eyes narrowing suspiciously at the oversized clothing. "Wait a minute. You're wearing his clothes."
Jungkook gasped, pointing an accusing finger. "Did you fake the whole cookie thing?! Did you sneak out of work just to hook up with the hot professor?!"
"What?!" Jimin choked, his face instantly flushing crimson again. "No! I was an Oreo! I swear!"
"You were so hot for the professor that you just stripped entirely naked on the factory catwalk and ran all the way here?" Taehyung asked, sounding almost impressed. "That's unhinged, Jimin. I know you wanted him to eat you out, but you probably didn’t get here any faster…"
"Were you ever even an Oreo, Jimin-ssi?!" Jungkook interrogated, stepping closer. "Was the purple dust just a distraction?!"
"I didn't fake it! He licked me back to life!" Jimin yelled defensively before immediately realizing what he had just said. He clamped both hands over his mouth, his eyes widening.
Yoongi squeezed his eyes shut and pinched the bridge of his nose, contemplating moving to another country.
"Okay, wow, we don't have time for the details of your weird roleplay right now," Jungkook said, grabbing Jimin by one arm while Taehyung grabbed the other. "We have to get back before the supervisor notices we aren’t there and fires all of us."
"Wait, guys, stop, let me just explain!" Jimin protested, his heels dragging against the floor.
"No time! Now walk, you cutey little WHOReo." Taehyung ordered.
They dragged Jimin toward the open front door. Jimin looked back over his shoulder, his eyes locking with Yoongi's.
"I'm sorry!" Jimin called out as he was pulled over the threshold.
"Wait," Yoongi said.
The single word cut through the chaos. Jungkook and Taehyung stopped in the doorway.
Yoongi looked at the purple crumbs on the table, and then back up at Jimin.
"Can I get your number," Yoongi smiled shyly. "I think... I might have a bit of a sweet tooth."