#u rly need to be inspired or to practice bc its been yrs since I touched my document and I rly kinda lost the fluff touch..

[syubits]

fake dating au bc fake dating aus will never ever go wrong  ∞ roommate yoongi

“No.” 

“Yoongiiiiiiiiiii –”

“No.” His back is turned to you as he scours for some instant coffee in the pantry, but you can hear the flat-out rejection of your suggestion loud and clear, making you scowl.

Min Yoongi can predict a major sulk fest coming on like a storm, and sure enough the glance he sneaks to where you are sitting on the couch showed the telltale signs; a dark cloud settling down and casting a heavy glum look on your face. He controls the twitch of his lips and conceals it under a mask of what would be called apathy – knowing all too well any hint of a smile or amusement would bring the simmering anger to a full blown volcanic explosion on your side.

“Pleeeease. I only have you.”

If his heart stuttered at your words, Yoongi was sure not to let it show in his explicit movements as nimble, pianist fingers curling around the mug that he brings to his lips for a sip of the strong drink. Yoongi lets the warm caramel coloured rivulets course down his throat, eyes closed in deep rumination. Out of all the wacky ideas you had, this way by far the one that clinched the golden trophy. Although Yoongi wasn’t sure if he really disliked the notion of being your boyfriend, even if it was a pretend one for a period of two weeks.

“What do I get?”

You huff. “I don’t know. Whatever you want.” As soon as the words carelessly tumble from your lips you grimace, knowing you’ve practically sold your soul to the devil by letting Yoongi decide on the price.

“Whatever I want?” Yoongi repeats the tempting offer, interest piqued.

A groan sounds from the couch. “Yeeees.”

“You must be really desperate,” Yoongi lightly comments, setting the mug on the counter.

“I am,” you retort. “My ex-BF and my ex-crush will be there and I accidentally revealed I didn’t have plans for the week so…”

This makes Min Yoongi perk a brow. “I didn’t know you had a boyfriend.” Your face pops up from the back of the couch, arms waving the misunderstanding away.

“No no, ex-best friend. Who is currently going out with my cr– err.. ex-crush.”

“Yikes,” is all Yoongi has to offer.

“I know,” you respond, slumping back into the cushions. You’re already racking your brain for ideas on how to bail, but with your mind a tangled mess like your hair, searching for a shred of an idea was equivalent to looking for a needle in a haystack. You groan out loud, flopping back into the cushions, almost missing Yoongi’s quiet sigh of fine.

Almost.

You jackknife up into a sitting position, grabbing the edge of the couch so hard your knuckles turn white. You were pretty sure you heard it, but you needed to hear it one more time just in case.

“What did you just say?”

Yoongi downs the rest of his coffee, wiping the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand before turning to place the mug in the sink. “I’m not saying it again.”

He hears some trampling going on and before he can wonder what the fuck is going on, you’ve launched yourself towards his back in a hug, almost making the small man stumble at the sheer force of it. “Thank you thank you thank you thank you, I could kiss you right now,” you squeaked into the back of your roommate’s shirt, and Yoongi thanks the heavens because you can’t see how he shifts his gaze like he does when he’s shy.

“We don’t have to, though.” You quickly interject, almost placatingly. The most we have to do is hold hands in front of them, I think that should be enough,” you add.  “So don’t worry about doing anything you’re not comfortable with.”

Yoongi just hums boredly in acknowledgment at the same time your phone rings. He doesn’t miss the roll of your eyes when you read the caller ID before you swipe right to pick up the call.

You hang up after a brief string of ‘yeahs’, turning to Yoongi who just  gives you a curious look.

“So. When is it?” He drawls out as lazily as he starts to lay on his side on the couch.  The sheepish look that crosses your features never indicated a good thing, and Yoongi pauses in the middle of retrieving his phone from the small coffee table to narrow his eyes suspiciously.

“Tomorrow.”

//

“I can’t fucking believe you,” Yoongi grumbles as he shoves the remaining stash of clothes into his duffel bag. The zipper looks almost ready to pop with the way he forces it over the other end of the bag, and you wince pitifully for the innocent thing.

“It’s the same thing, we’re gonna stay together and all, except this time it’s going to be in a nice little resort in the hills. Just consider it like a getaway,” you say, stringing the sentence as sweetly as possible. The dark haired boy just glares at you from his spot on the floor, and you immediately purse your lips.

“Fucking finally,” he rolls his eyes when the bag zips all the way. “What are you standing there for, kid? Don’t we have a train to catch?”

You frown at the nickname he’s plastered on you for the past year, shaking your head in response to his question. “They’re picking us up. And stop calling me that, we’re supposed to be a couple.” You remind him with a flick to his forehead.

“What’s wrong with someone calling their significant other kid?”

//

Yoongi never liked people. He didn’t like small spaces either. He definitely didn’t like small spaces full of people.

Which was why there was no rational explanation to how he ended up in a 4-seater car crammed with 6 people. Yoongi was never one for technicalities, didn’t give a shit about them, but at the moment he has a headache because right about everything didn’t make sense, but he’s hanging in there with at least Namjoon isn’t here to preach about how nothing in the world makes sense. That with a side of 5 chaotic boys to add on to the dull throbbing in his head, amidst the background of music booming in the car – these people should be banned from getting aux cords – but. At least you were here to agree.  Even if you had fallen asleep on his shoulder a for little more than half a hour, and he regretfully had no one to talk to now. It was a little disappointing, even for Yoongi who didn’t particularly enjoy talking.

Yoongi tilts his head in some sort of reaction to his inner monologue, a sudden pang of damn, he really doesn’t like a lot of things hitting him like a flick to the forehead. He would’ve pondered on about any rational, logical possible explanation to why he was in this shithole of an idea, but a niggling, all too-knowing echo of an answer in the back of his mind was all it took and Yoongi quickly decided he didn’t like to think. Especially if it was going to involve you.

He feels you shift slightly in your seat, huddling closer to his arm that you had claimed for yourself. If Yoongi leaned back far enough, he can see your lashes fanning over and lightly dusting the apples of your cheeks with how tightly shut your lids are, down the slope of your nose to your parted lips where your breath escapes in small, even, warm puffs.

For some reason, a sigh swells up in his chest, and it escapes the seam of his lips quietly just as he tears his gaze away to focus on the moving scenery out the window.

At least he was given the window seat. This was going to be a long ride.

//

“Wake up, sleepyheads.”

You’re being shaken awake, not all too gently by Yuna, who then moves to nudge Yoongi in a significantly softer manner. It takes a while for you to get your bearings, because all you can see is greenery around, and after a few minutes you stop caring and let your head fall on Yoongi again, who appeared to be fast asleep. The boy had waken up the first time he was told to, eyes instantly searching for your sleepy figure that was still latched onto his arm. He swears internally when he sees your sleepy eyes and right cheek lined with creases from the sleeve of the jacket you had slept on, because that has got to be the cutest fucking thing he had ever seen and he thinks he’s probably still dreaming, and decides to continue sleeping a little bit more.

“Yoongiii.” His brow twitches. “We’re here. Wake up.”

He feels a soft, terribly aimed poke near the corner of his bottom lip, and with much difficulty opens his dreadfully heavy eyelids to see you regarding him with droopy eyes, laced with almost lazy catlike curiosity.

Before Yoongi can gulp down the sudden lump that had formed in his throat for whatever reason, you blink out of it and grab his hand to tug him out of the car. There’s a chill in the air, not so sharp it pierces through bones but just enough to tickle your cheeks pink and make your breath fog – something that you’re entertaining yourself with, as Yoongi notes. He takes it upon himself to unload your baggage and his combined, frowning extra hard to hide the smile tugging at his lips when you come running like an excited puppy upon his summon to retreat towards the luxurious lodge up front.

//

Dinner was all too dreaded. It also came all too soon. That was how you and Yoongi found yourselves sat at a table opposite two other couples, Yura with Hyunsik, and your two ex classmates Mina and Jin (whose parents owned the lodge).  You had done introductions a while back, and Yoongi remained pretty neutral until he was introduced to Hyunsik. He had the gall to give you a disapproving look, even showing a three out of ten under the table and then shrugging when you give him a death glare.

“So, how did you two meet?” With a cock of her head, Yuna twirls a perfectly curled lock of hair around a perfectly manicured finger. Yoongi pays her no mind, continuing  to stuff some chicken into his mouth with no intentions of answering. You resist giving him the stinkeye for leaving it all up to you, but then again you considered yourself lucky he was even sitting next to you at this table.

“Well, we met at school,” you start off promisingly, slowly munching on a piece of meat in a way of stalling some time while your mind quickly worked on pieceing together a story.  “I didn’t like him at first.” A snort was all that was elicited from the boy next to you, which you trampled down on by stomping on his foot. “But we had to spend some time together on a project… and everything just kind of hit off from there…?”

From the corner of your eye you see as Yoongi shoots you a look of wow, so very convincing before shoving an entire lettucewrap in his mouth, and you grind your heel into his toes harder.

“Romantic,” the word drips from her lips, sickly sweet, with a maraschino cherry on top. The colour painted on her lips was of the same shade as well, pulled into a smile to show a set of perfectly lined teeth. “I would tell about how me and Hyunsik met, but everyone knows it’s all thanks to you.”

Despite being over Hyunsik for a few months, Yura’s words sent a bitter twinge of discomfort in your chest that had you tightening the grip on your spoon.

“Can you pass the fish?”

All heads, yours included, turned to Yoongi, whose tone, while not overbearing, cuts through the conversation like ice. Jin is polite, and so hands over the plate of grilled fish with all mannerisms of the perfect gentlemen. Yoongi stabs at the content on the plate with his chopsticks and puts a tantamount too much for someone his size, but no one says anything. He picks the meat apart from the bones, handing you the better portion of the fish, before picking up an eggroll and plopping it into your bowl of rice.

As always, his expression is unreadable when you turn to regard him, a quizzical look on your face. He finally looks up when he thinks you’ve stared long enough to burn a hole into the side of his face.

“What? Eat.”

You quickly gobble up the rest of your food.

//

“Thanks for that.” You murmur, suddenly wanting to swallows your words and hoping your voice was small enough to drown under the sound of running water and dishes clanking.

“For what?”

“Back there,” you hesitate, looking down at your hands after passing the plates to Yoongi for him wipe dry. You and Yoongi were stuck in the kitchen with the dishes, only because you both that agreed that you would choke from the noose of thick, awkward air if you hung around in the living room any longer, and then Yoongi whacked you in the head with an empty bottle for making a stupid pun.

Yoongi doesn’t respond to your mention of thanks, only looks down when he feels you tug at the bottom of his shirt. You signal for him to come close enough so he can hear you whisper, and he bends down in an uncharacteristically compliant manner.

“Hyunsik’s watching us right now.”

At the mention of his name, Yoongi feels a something akin to irritation crawl up his neck like an annoying gnat.  

“And…?” Yoongi is close enough that his breath tickles the shell of your ear and makes the hair on your skin rise in goosebumps.

“And… I don’t think he’s buying our little act.”

“…And…?” You whine at his blatant disinterest in the conversation and where it was going.

“And…!! I don’t know,” you sigh, feeling all sorts of unmotivated and hopeless as you draw away from Yoongi. He can practically see the life whoosh out of your frame with  how deeply you sighed. Hyunsik wasn’t wrong to be curious – the two of you had barely done anything that bordered on romantic – just sat next to each other the whole day, although Yoongi had ardently insisted that was actually, quite romantic as hell.

But Yoongi also sees the way your brows are wrinkled with worry, and guesses you’re probably thinking about how stupid you are and being regretful and guilty for dragging him into this. That first part he would agree with, but something uneasy stirs inside him knowing you’re probably thinking up a storm about feeling like a burden to him because you never have been and never will be. Something cool touches your forehead, and you can barely restrain the soft gasp that slips from your mouth as you look up. Yoongi is pressing his forehead to yours in the most innocent but affectionate gesture, arms surrounding you, depthless eyes dark as ink fully focused on yours.

“Don’t worry so much.”

“I know.” You hear him tsk at your stubborn reply. “I just…”

“You’re overthinking again. Stop it.” He expects a retort, but is presented with a pleasant surprise when you lean into his warmth submissively, burying your nose in the front of his jacket that held a faint lingering scent of his familiar, musky cologne.

Yoongi doesn’t get to decide in time what to do with your sudden display of need for affection before your names are called from the hall. You pull away as Yoongi internally groans how he just missed his chance to run his fingers through your very soft-looking hair, appearing from the kitchen with a deep scowl on his face.  

“Truth or dare? What are we, 16?” This was Yoongi’s 142nd complaint in just a span of four hours, and the 143rd time you had shushed him. You pull him down to sit next to you on the floor, making a circle with the others around the beer bottle in the middle.

Yura spins the bottle, and of fucking course it lands on Yoongi first, whose lips cannot get any more pursed.

“Truth.”

“Boooring,” you jeer and Yoongi wants to gag you, and then kind of swallows because actually, actually. That is kind of hot. And the images that begin to play in his artistic, creative and predominantly detail-oriented mind is enough to make his mouth go dry.

“How far have you gotten...with _______?” Yuna asks,  a little glint in her eye.

He answers with the calm before a storm.

“We went on a trip to Daegu together once?”

It’s so silent you can hear Jin blink from the spot opposite from where you are sitting, before your laughter ripples through the room. It echoes off the walls of this too-large house, and you can’t really tell whether Yoongi is answering seriously or just smartly avoiding the prying question, and because it’s Yoongi it could mean either and that just makes you laugh until you’re panting for help and clutching your belly.

“What I mean is, how far have you gone…intimately…” Yura huffs, obviously not finding it as funny as you do. Wet blanket.

“That’s another question that you could ask me at the next turn,” Yoongi winks, and you noisily shoot him some finger guns for that snarky comeback. He says nothing, just spins the bottle, which slows down to halt arrowing straight at Hyunsik.

He smirks, jaw set in challenge. “Dare.”

Everyone looks expectantly at Yoongi, who is sitting and looking like he gives zero fucks about this game.  

“What? I don’t know, someone else dare him.”

Mina giggles, and she sounds like a spirited forest dryad in comparison to your previous werewolf howling on a full moon kind of a laugh. “Okay, I dare Hyunsik to kiss whoever the bottle points to next. But not on the cheek,” she adds quickly with an impish grin.

Hyunsik just perks a brow, moving to spin the bottle.

Sometimes, you had premonitions about imminent inconveniences. Like the sinking feeling in your gut you get in class when the professor’s eyes land upon you when no one else wants to answer his question. This was one of those times.

For once, you hated being right when the bottle comes to a halt pointing right at you. Your first instinct was to turn towards Yoongi, who just gives a little nod. You don’t know what you wanted him to do, but somehow that was all the assurance you needed. There’s a rush of thrill, nervousness and a little bit of everything shooting up your spine as you slide over to Hyunsik.

“Where do you want me to kiss you?” You balk at the question that leaves his mouth so  casually, as if he’s asking where you want him to place some books he’d helped you carry.

“Uh…” you toy with the sleeves of your sweatshirt, mind full of nothing but white, static buzz. He chuckles, rich and velvety smooth drizzling like fondue from his lips and – lips. Was he going to kiss you on the lips? There wasn’t time to think, because Hyunsik dips down, eyes fluttering shut as he plants his lips on the curve of your shoulder.

His eyes flick up to yours, deep brown piercing yours and you feel something settle in the pit of your stomach.

Yura is the first to speak up, clipped tone breaking the silence. “Well then.”

//

“Yoooongi.” Everything was spinning, and your legs felt like jello.

“You’re so noisy when you’re drunk,” Yoongi groans, there to catch you anyway when you sprawl your limbs all over him. While standing up.

“You’re shooo noisy even when your sho-shoober,” you hiccup into his shoulder, head lolling back far enough to look at his unamused expression. A stream of giggles bursts through your lips, the sound muffled into fabric when you smoosh your face into the front of his jacket. Somehow, Yoongi makes it to your shared room with you still hanging on to his side and you roll off him, landing with a loud oompfh on the bed.

Yoongi pauses to catch a breath before he perches on the edge of the bed next to your flimsy mess of limbs, listening to your incoherent mumbles stringed from jumbled thoughts and driven from vodka. He only left to grab some punch. Who knew you could’ve been dared to down four shots in that time, but there you were, giggling and halfway hanging off the end of the couch dangerously when he came back with two mugs in hand.

“Yoongiii. Yoongi Yoongiyooooooongmffgf—” something soft suddenly covers your face, effectively muffling any noise from you but you were quick to swipe the offending item away, right back into the face of the boy you were calling out for.

The pillow slides off his face, but the narrowed eyes beneath pinched eyebrows and his frown remains intact. “I heard you the first time, didn’t have to be so noisy about it.”

“You’re always so grumpy,” you complain, sitting up to and poking both corners of his lips upwards in a smile before the room spins and you crash down into his chest. “Wanna play truth or dare?”

“No, I do not,” his answer is sure and immediate as two strong hands wrap around your forearms, prying you off of him. Most of your hair falls into your face, but you stick your lower lip out far enough for Yoongi to see the pout. “Go play with Hyunsik or something.” Yoongi didn’t mean for it to sound snippy, or like he was annoyed or like anything, but he figures it’s fine because you’re drunk and you won’t pick up on it anyway.

Apparently, he was wrong. Having been roommates for over a year, you were bound to tell apart every tone, pick apart every line or crease in his features and piece them together back again. And right now, he seemed ticked about something. You frown and say the first thing that comes to mind, no matter how ridiculous it sounded. But you were ridiculously drunk at the moment so –  “Are you jealous?”

Yoongi rolls his eyes, and you smile dizzily.

“I choose truth.”

“I told you I don’t want to play.”

“It’s just a game, Yoongi.” Somehow, it felt like you were talking about what happened. He watches as you try sitting up on your own and end up flopping backwards with a groan. Your head’s pounding and fuck – you have no filter on your mouth whatsover so you blurt it out: “I wish it was you.”

He pauses mid shrugging the jacket off his shoulder.

“What?”

“Your turn now.”

“__________.”

“Hm?”

“What did you say?”

You roll over to regard him through bleary eyes. “I don’t remember.”

A sigh draws from his throat, long and tired.

“Are you mad at me?”

“No.”

“Liar,” you say. The alcohol is starting to fade, but it still humming in your veins like white noise, faint but still present. “You’re always mad at me. Why?”

This time Yoongi really does frown. “What are you talking about?”

Your mouth really doesn’t have its filter on now, and you’re still drunk, but you speak with unwavering certainty as you stare hard into the creamy whitewash of the ceiling. “I know you care about me… sometimes…but… I don’t know…” You trail off, and for a second Yoongi thinks you’ve fallen asleep, with your eyes open.

And then you blink. “I don’t know why I like you so much.”

Yoongi suddenly felt all the air leave his lungs all at once. “I thought you liked Hyunsik?”

“I liked him a year ago, you dim ass lightbulb.” Yoongi bristles at that, but you speak again before he can complain. “And then Yura dug her claws in and whatever and then we lived together and I had to see your sleepy soft eyes and hair every morning even though you’re so grumpy and always forget your coffee but I still like you so much and-“

“You look like you liked it when he kissed you,” Yoongi mutters, but it’s drowned out by your howling and rambling.

“Iiiiiii just want to take care of you.. and kiss you and bang and all that..but not necessarily in that order…”

“Bang?” Yoongi quirks a brow, not quite knowing what to make of that expression or in this situation, what expression to make.

“You’re so pretty when you smile.”

Yoongi bites down on the inside of his cheek, tamping down the smile and the blush spreading up his neck and fanning out to his cheeks. “You’re so drunk.”

“Maybe,” you laugh drily, the empty sound ringing hollow. 

“Will you remember in the morning?”

“Remember what?” Your head lolls to the side to face him, another sob-groan coming from you when your balance goes off kilter and your head drops heavily onto the sheets, blunt sharpness shooting through your head. “God my head hurts…”

“Truth.”

“Truth?” you echo. What was going on again?

Yoongi’s voice sounded so faded, the image of him blurring into splotches of colours under your lids as you try keeping your eyes open. You see Yoongi’s mouth move and form words that you don’t hear as everything dulls out.

//

Morning rolls around too fast and bright, and you wake up the opposite of how you fell asleep with sunlight bursting across your lids and the hangover screaming in your head.

Yoongi was the first name your voice found, eyes looking for him. You find his arm draped around your waist, face pressed into the back of your shoulder. Yoongi looked ethereal sleeping, moondust still swept on his lashes and mouth parted slightly where his breaths buzzed out softly.

Attempting to sit up right away was probably not a good idea, but you were known for making questionable decisions, so. You tipped over, landing on Yoongi’s stomach and effectively punching the air out of his gut.

“Fuck,” he wheezes, coughing out the word as you mumble out a flurry of apologies, still crossed over his body like a limp noodle.

Yoongi groans, struggling under the combined weight of hefting the pair of you up.

“You’re heavy,” he complains. His voice is gravelly and rough with unuse, but you have no time to think about it as something twists in your stomach, acid rising in your throat before you make a run for it to the washroom.

You feel your stomach contract and flip and slingshot all of its content out into the toilet, tears pricking at your eyes at the bad taste and mostly disgusting sight that you quickly flush down.

Everything was shitty, and the only source of comfort you wished for was Yoongi, but you also wished he took the liberty to leave the room and save you and himself of the embarrassment you are. Tears and throat burning, you feel the warmth of a hand on the small of your back, then another gathering back your hair by the base of your neck to keep it away from your face.

“Yoongi? I feel gross. Don’t-” you lurch into the into the toilet again. Yoongi’s reply comes in the shape of a toilet roll that you can wipe your mouth with.

“I’m- don’t feel good.”

Again, he says nothing, just rubs the hand on your back up and down as you try not to throw up solely from the foul taste in your mouth. “I want to go home.”

“Okay.”

//

The next time you opened your eyes, you find yourself wrapped in familiar floral sheets in your dimly lit room, while your head is wrapped in a band of metal feeling like it is constantly drummed with a percussion mallet.

“Yoongi?” You call, not actually expecting a response in the form of a groan coming from the floor. “Yoongi? Why are you down there?”

“Because you kicked me off the bed,” he mutters, eyeing you from under a messily swept fringe. You barely take in the familiarity of the grey rug and the parquet floor, to your own workdesk and Yoong’s pair of headphones sitting there that you borrowed (Yoongi considers it stolen) before you realise you were back home.

“When did we get back?” ask, squinting through the sleep to get a good look at the small clock sitting on your dresser, and then scraping the idea because it’s been months since you remembered to change the battery.

Yoongi doesn’t even try before he’s already lazily replying with an I don’t remember.

“…Thanks.”

“For what?”

You slump back into the warmth of your bedsheets, slowly exhaling. He’s good at pretending to not know what you’re on about and like he literally does not give two shits, but you know better.

“I decided what I want.” Just like that, the topic is dropped and forgotten and you’re blinking at Yoongi.

“Huh?”

“You owe me a favour.”

That effectively makes you roll over and away from the boy, a groan deflating out of you.

“I need you to be my date. Uh.. for my sister’s wedding.”

Yoongi feels his stomach churn when your reply is a heartbeat later than he expects. For an alarming nanosecond, he thinks you’ve figured it, figured him all out. A peripheral glance showed that you were squinting at your phone between the curtain of hair frazzling in your eyes, scrolling down and seemingly distracted and he averts his gaze just in time before you switch your attention to the raven-haired boy sitting on the floor.  

“Sorry? Sure, I’ll go with you,” you nod, and he hears the papery click of you locking your phone. The following groan was muffled from your burying your face into the sheets and when Min Yoongi sees a chance, he takes it.

Yoongi flees the room. The excuse of going to shower isn’t even utilised because you are too busy curled up in your blankets and wallowing in misery, rambling to yourself about being a fool for drinking when you know you have low tolerance.

::::::::

“Yoongi?! You don’t have a sister??!?!”

#yoongi scenario #yoongi fluff #bts scenario #bts fluff #writing #yoongi fake dating #bts fake dating #bts au #erm. how do u tag properly idk but have this. #oh wait he looks so sweet in the gif... #its so embarrassing to post gifs like that bc op wld get notified #bc it happened to me and was like oh we get notified DAMN?? #man I miss giffing #I miss being on Tumblr but I'm too busy !!! AHHH #but I think I'm gonna slowly put up all my old but completed works! #u rly need to be inspired or to practice bc its been yrs since I touched my document and I rly kinda lost the fluff touch..