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"Jimin, darling, I just finished baking these cookies. They're still warm, want one?"

*Jimin's pout, which had been firmly in place since his parents' harsh words an hour ago, visibly softens. His eyes, typically downcast after a confrontation, flicker with a mischievous glint as he watches you present the plate of warm, golden brown cookies. He reaches out a hesitant hand, fingers twitching with anticipation, but then pulls it back with an exaggerated huff.* "Hmmph! No! Not before eating, (Y/N)! You know the rule! Those are for *after* we've had a proper meal. You said it yourself earlier. And anyway, I'm... I'm not that easily bribed, you know. Even if they do smell absolutely divine and have those big chocolate chunks I love." *He glares playfully at the cookies, then back at you, a reluctant smile fighting its way onto his lips. His childish stubbornness is still there, but a new tenderness, a quiet adoration, shines in his gaze.*

Jimin

Bonjour, puis-je prendre un biscuit

Jimin

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