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#yoongi angst
minyfic · 2 days ago
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hypnotic - MYG
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↣ your sister asked you to take care of your niece for a day, what better place to take her than the zoo? The pretty kitties seem to be her only interest and you’re not mad.
𓃮part of the zookeeper bangtan series𓃠
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pairing — zookeeper!yoongi x reader
genre/rating — R | smut, fluff, slight angst, s2l
word count — 6.1K
warnings/tags — strong language, yoongi has that scar, yoongi handles them big cats, explicit smut- dirty talk, fingering, multiple orgasms, slight overstimulation, strength kink, forest public sex, biting/scratching, hickeys, hair pulling, protected sex
a/n — oof yoongi with that scar wearing all black, *cries*
Bang.
Bang.
Bang.
Drawing in a deep breath, you scrunch your eyes shut, a feeble attempt at taming your annoyance.
Your name is squealed in a tone you wish you could ignore, however, with the way she keeps hitting her foot against the edge of the couch, you’re forced to pause the series you’ve been dying to finish. There are spoilers all over the internet and your co-workers have no mercy. You hate spoilers. Especially when it’s been ages since you’ve watched a series that has kept you this invested.
“What?”
She rolls onto her back, glossy beads in her hair matching her eyes while she continues with the incessant movement of her foot.
“I’m bored.”
You sigh, “where’s your coloring book?”
She glances around before shaking her head.
“I’m done with all of them. Even the ones at the back.”
Scrubbing a hand down your cheek, you wonder why you suggested looking after your sister’s gremlin of a daughter while she’s taking a well-deserved break with your brother-in-law. Well, maybe she isn’t as bad as other kids, but she’s still a kid.
“Well, what do you want to do?”
She jumps closer to you on the couch as if she’s been waiting for you to ask her that question.
“Can I watch Netflix with you?”
You slam your laptop shut, moving away from her with wide eyes.
“You can’t watch with me! It’s too gruesome!”
She pouts, “groosum?”
“You know blood and knives and gu—” you clamp your mouth shut when she cocks her head to the side, in interest it seems “—you can’t watch with me.”
She folds her legs under her bum to rest her head on your shoulder, speaking around a whine.
“Mummy said you were fun!”
You gasp, “I am fun!”
“No! You’re not fun!”
Knowing that it’s pointless to argue with a six-year-old, you push your laptop to the side and take her chubby hands in yours.
“What do you want to do then?”
Her face twists into a mischievous smile, reminiscent of the smile your sister has whenever she’s up to no good.
“Let’s watch Netflix. The thing you were watching,” she grins, “about the blood and the knives and and—”
“Aisha! Your mother wouldn’t allow it! I won’t allow it,” you yell, internally scolding yourself for watching when she was sitting right next to you, when she could’ve easily seen all that gore.
“I’m bored,” she repeats, dragging out the words this time which annoys you even further.
Her puffed out cheeks urge you to rack your brain for something to do on a Saturday afternoon with a six-year-old, something fun.
“Why don’t we go for a walk?”
She smashes her face into your sage throw cushion, “no. That’s so boring.”
“Mmmm,” your mouth quirks to the side, “how about ice-cream?”
That seems to catch her attention but she’s still wearing a scowl.
“What will we do after we eat the ice-cream?”
You pinch her cheeks and spring up from the couch to fetch her jacket.
“Let’s get the ice-cream first then we’ll decide.”
A part of you is glad that she spent almost half an hour choosing a flavor and ended up settling for a mix of watermelon and strawberry with extra sprinkles, but it doesn’t take her much time to finish it because now you’re sitting on a bench near the parlor and she’s still banging her foot, cheeks bouncing with the movement.
“So…where are we going?”
“Why don’t we go to the aquarium?”
Her lips sag into a frown, tiny fists being formed, “I just went there last week!”
Your ears ring at her squeal, “okay, okay. Chillax!”
“You chillax!”
Gritting your teeth, you’re going through the options in your head while mentally striking out the places she might turn down when a truck driving past catches your attention. A large image of a brown board centered around images of various animals and greens splashed on the side.
‘BANGTAN’S ZOO’
“Hey! Why don’t we go to the zoo?!”
“Zoo?”
You’re excited yourself because you’ve been wanting to visit the zoo for years now but never had the right company. Your friends aren’t too fond of either slimy critters or powerful creatures who could probably kill you in one swipe if given the freedom.
“Yes! We can see all different kinds of animals like giraffes and ostriches and cute penguins and lions!”
Light fills her eyes, “lions? And what else?”
You take her hand in yours and shuffle down the street to your car, “tigers, maybe? But I’m sure there’ll be tons of animals for us to see.”
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“You’re five, okay?”
Her head lifts, an obviously offended look on her face, “I am six!”
“Shush!”
You crouch down to her height, gripping her shoulders to help her understand.
“Children under six go in for free, so you’re five, just for today.”
She blinks, silent for a beat before she passes you a disgusted frown, “because you don’t wanna pay for me?”
“I mean,” you shrug, adjusting your handbag on your shoulder, “we gotta be thrifty and you’re short so you look five anyway.”
“You look like a grandma,” she taunts, earning a glare from you which is soon wiped off because it’s your turn next.
The tubby man in the booth says nothing as he points to the prices on the right side of his head.
“Okay, wait,” you narrow your eyes, the vast amount of ticket options puzzling you for a moment, “what’s the difference between all these?”
“We have the packages that start from Epiphany which is—”
“No, not the packages,” you exclaim, predicting that he had thoroughly rehearsed the seven different packages with the way he sighs, “I just want the wildlife tour for one adult and a kid under six?”
He blinks, typing away for a few seconds before sliding two tickets under the glass.
“For your convenience, you pay per exhibit. Please take one of our maps from the box before you enter. Enjoy.”
And just like that, his attention is drawn to the couple behind you, and you’re forced to move along to the left just outside the large bamboo gates.
The tickets have blocks with symbols of different animals on them. Interesting.
“Can I hold my ticket?”
You hand her the brown paper just as you enter the gates, not before plucking the laminated map and squinting at it.
“There’s a lion here! Can we go there first? Please please please!”
She jumps, taking your hand with her while you chuckle at her hysterics because she resembles how you feel on the inside.
“Okay okay! First, I need to check out the map,” you giggle, propping the map up on your knee to slide your finger across the winding paths, the same symbol from your ticket catches your eye.
She presses her cheek to yours then pulls it out of your hand, “let’s go see the pretty kitties!”
“Aisha! You’re being rude, I was still reading that,” you grumble, a slight breeze causing your hair to whip in front of your face.
“We need to go here,” she informs, pointing at the lion symbol.
You bend over her shoulder, “yes, we need to head to Road Y. Right now…” you trail off, rising to your full height to scan your surroundings.
“We’re here! At start,” she exasperates, her tiny fingers skating down the map.
You bonk her head with your fist, “you know you’re really smart.”
She sways, gap-toothed smile stretching her lips, “everyone says I’m like my mummy.”
You grin, “definitely.”
After a few more minutes of familiarizing yourself with the map, you trek down the sandy path which should lead you to Road Y, and it’s only when your legs begin to ache do you take in the size of this place.
“Hey,” you call your niece, concerned, “you okay? Want me to carry you the rest of the way?”
She shakes her head, skipping around the stones, “it’s okay.”
Slightly envious of her energy, you place your hands on your knees when you take a step over a small slope, more trees and shrubs lining the path. Head upturned, you absorb the sunlight peeping through the trees, the crisp air filling your lungs with a slightly floral hint. It’s been years since you took some time for yourself, work has been stressful lately and you’re sort of grateful for your little companion.
“Hi.”
Your head snaps forward when you hear a deep voice from behind you.
“Hi,” Aisha greets with a wave, obviously spotting the man before you did.
“H—” you spin around to see a man with black hair parted in the middle, a scar going straight through his right eye and when he looks at you, the words dissolve on your tongue. You did expect to see beautiful animals but beautiful human? You weren’t ready. Not at all.
Aisha tugs on your hand and your head whips down in her direction, “what?”
Her face scrunches up in confusion, “he wants your ticket.”
And it’s after she says that do you notice his outstretched arm, holding her ticket.
“Oh,” you snort, placing the ticket in his hand before busying yourself with fixing the beads on her hair to avoid drooling over this man’s muscular, toned, fleshy arms that flex as he stamps your tickets.
“I’m Yoongi,” he begins, walking toward the wooden gate and unlocking it with a few more tantalizing flexes of his arm, tone smoky, “and I’m in charge of the wild cats exhibit.”
He smiles at your niece who squeals while you’re thinking about how fitting it is for someone like him to oversee felines, because his eyes are…something else.
“What’s your name?”
You blurt out your name just as your niece says hers, eyes going large.
“He asked me!”
Your cheeks flush.
“Hi, Aisha,” he takes a step toward her, “I have to ask you a question before we go in.”
She cocks her head to the side, cutely, while you’re still recovering from your embarrassment.
“Okay.”
His lips pucker as he speaks. You haven’t seen not one feline yet but you’re already amazed.
“Are you afraid?”
“No,” she says bravely, “I’m not afraid of lions.”
He chuckles, a sound you want to burn into your brain.
“You’re gonna see much more than lions.”
“Really?” She shrieks, wonder filling her voice.
“Yep,” he pops the ‘p,’ and rises to his full height, chest stretching out the fabric of his black shirt with a small white outline of a cat on the left. “C’mon.”
As soon as he pushes open the gate, a large wooden frame wrapped with strong metal greets you, the path becoming narrower.
“We have over twenty-five different species of wild cats,” he says proudly, tucking his hands into his jeans pockets, very attractive.
“Wow,” you and Aisha say in unison.
“Mhm,” he points to the enclosure on your left, “let’s look here.”
Inside, there’s more greenery and large planks connecting one side to the next. Tt’s silent save the rustling of the leaves above you and the sounds of your footsteps, not a meow is heard.
“What’s in here?”
“If he wasn’t so good at hiding, we’d be able to see the Caracal,” he nods, head swivelling just as yours does to spot the animal.
“Where are you hiding kitty?” Aisha whispers, ducking her head to peep under the plank, “I see him!”
Yoongi comes behind you, just as his scent blocks out the fresh smell of leaves.
“You do? Do you see those tufts on his ears?”
“Yes! It looks like feathers!”
He shoots your niece a fond look and you feel needless jealousy at the sight.
“I didn’t see him,” you pout, peeking under the same wood, darkness present.
Yoongi turns around, lips in a thin line, “he moved from under there. Caracals are great at camouflage, if you look really closely behind that branch you’ll be able to see his ears.”
After squinting here and there, you do spot the large cat, sandy fur, large brown eyes.
“He’s so pretty.”
Yoongi grins, “very. He can leap high in the air to catch birds. C’mon, we have lots more to see.”
You acknowledge how lucky you are to see some of these magnificent felines, and it’s heart-breaking to hear that most of them are endangered and there’s just a few of them left in the world.
Yoongi continues to spew stories and facts about the exquisite animals as you pass them, and each one has you more intrigued, intrigued in them or him…or both? You can’t blame yourself! The way he speaks is so hot and from the passion in his voice as he provides the slightest detail about the animals, you can tell how much he loves each one of them and his job.
You knew it wouldn’t be long until your curious niece asked the question that’s been dancing on the tip of your tongue, but the way he brushes it off indicates that it’s a sensitive topic for him.
“And when we have her with the other big cats, it’s amazing to see how they interact. She prefers the company of Hyun, our black panther, who you’ll meet in a bit,” he gushes, beaming at the jaguar who paces in her enclosure.
“What happened to your eye?”
The spotted jaguar nudges her head against the enclosure, a sound which reminds you of a sneeze being heard.
“Ah, don’t worry. I’ll come back later to see you,” he soothes, voice above a whisper.
Knowing that your niece wouldn’t drop it, you rush to ask another question.
“Can you like, cuddle with them?”
He spins around, a small smile lifting his pink lips, “yeah. All the time,” he bobs his head, laughing when he notices your reaction.
Your mouth hangs open, “really?”
“Yeah,” he grins, wiping the side of his nose with his knuckle, “all the time. Well, not all the time, some need more love than others. Like with the lions, their mothers provide enough TLC because they were born here, but with the cheetah we have, she was hand-reared. So I visit her often.”
“That’s so sweet,” you coo, mirroring the flush on his cheeks when you notice the gummy smile that stretches his lips.
The sun begins to dip beneath the horizon which reminds you of the child in your care who keeps dragging you from one enclosure to the next.
“Aisha, you need to get home soon before your mother chops my head off.”
She stomps her foot, eyebrows furrowed, “but we didn’t get to see all the kitties!”
“She’s your niece?” Yoongi asks, stuffing his hands in his pockets, “I thought she was your kid.”
“Oh no no no,” you wave the idea off, giggling a bit, feeling the need to say, “I’m single.”
“Me too,” he mentions, the one fact you will surely remember from today, “you guys can come back another time to see the rest of them.”
You turn to Aisha who’s just as enthusiastic as you, nodding frantically.
“Okay, I’ll see you guys next time then.”
“Bye~” Aisha waves, grabbing your hand once again.
You offer him one last smile before he’s speaking again.
“You should…give me your number so I can hook you up with discounts,” he mumbles, scratching the back of his head in a way you find endearing.
“Yeah,” you pull out your phone, temporarily removing your hand from Aisha’s grip, “that’d be great.”
He licks his lips, “I’ll see you soon then.”
You smile, heart leaping to your throat at the slight show of gums, “yeah.”
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“Did you know that leopards are loners?”
You tilt your head to look at Yoongi who sits on the other side of the bench, hand swung over the backrest while you’re trying to keep your gaze on the feline ahead of you and not the man who resembles one next to you.
“Really?”
“Yeah, they have their own territories and mark that area to keep other leopards away. But sometimes the females leave their territories to search for a mate and constantly mark areas to attract other leopards,” Yoongi adds, eyes set on the leopard who’s crawling down one of the trees in his enclosure.
“Are you a loner?” The question spills from your lips before you can think twice.
He turns to face you, features relaxed, “me?”
“Mhm.”
He rests his cheek on his fist, staring into the dull clouds, “kind of, I prefer to be on my own, but I like company sometimes.”
You nod, staring at your lap, “I guess I’m also like a leopard.”
“Oh so you’re only out when you’re actively searching for a mate,” he jokes, shoulders shaking as he laughs.
Pink coats your cheeks, “no! I mean—”
“What’s a mate?”
You jolt, eyes lifting heavenward upon realizing that your niece has been sitting there this whole time. Your regular visits to the zoo have been nice, but with your niece around, you and Yoongi can’t speak about anything except the cats. You considered leaving her behind, but then you wouldn’t be able to use the excuse of “she wanted to see the kitties,” when it’s just you who wants to see the very sweet and intelligent zookeeper who sucks at texting but is great at holding a conversation in person.
Yoongi clears his throat, “well, animals also need partners like humans, but some of them only need one when it’s time for—”
“LOVE! They need a partner to love!” You cut Yoongi off, shooting him a berating look while he shrugs.
“Does he have a mate?” Aisha asks, pointing at the leopard whose tail flicks behind him menacingly.
“He doesn’t,” Yoongi responds, “but we’re working on it.”
It’s somewhat quiet at the zoo today, there are a few visitors pacing around but Yoongi, who’s supposed to be attending to them, tails you and Aisha during the continuation of your tour.
“You’re gonna love the next one. She’s one of the smallest in the big cat species. This is Luna, the clouded leopard,” Yoongi clasps his hands together, walking backward as he guides you in the direction of another large enclosure.
“Wow…she’s beautiful.”
Her head whips in your direction as she watches you approach the enclosure with big, hazel eyes, lazing high up on a tree, thick tail dangling.
“If I could get her to come here, you’d be able to see how big her paws are. She’s one of the cuddliest,” Yoongi cackles, patting the ground near the fence.
“I want to cuddle her!” Your impulsive niece yells, gawking at the feline whose eyes seem to hold so many tales and so much emotion. Just from the way she doesn’t even bother to climb down from her tree, you can tell she’s sassy.
“Wait till you see her teeth,” Yoongi warns, “for the size of her skull, she has the longest canines and is the only large cat that purr.”
“Awww,” both you and Aisha croon, unable to tear your gaze away from Luna.
Yoongi pats your shoulder, “come on, I want to show you guys something.”
You and Aisha follow him with hurried strides, anticipation building with each step toward the first door you’re seeing in this zoo.
“I’m not supposed to do this when we have visitors, but…,” he mumbles, “just wait out here.”
From the smile he can’t seem to suppress, you can tell that he’s thrilled for whatever he’s about to show you.
He opens the door and yells over his shoulder, “stay out here okay!”
“Okay!” You giggle, tugging your cardigan closer to your body once he disappears behind the door.
You turn to your niece, eyebrow jumping, “what do you think he’s gonna show us?”
She holds up her palms, “dunno.”
After a few minutes, you hear your name being called from the opposite side of the enclosure.
“Look who I got!”
Yoongi emerges with the most striking cat you have seen so far, yellow eyes wide with just as much curiosity as yours.
“This is the girl I’ve been telling you about! Her name’s Yoojung,” he chirps, she sits in his lap as he crosses his legs and rakes his hands down the slope of her back then up over her head, “she’s a cheetah.”
Her eyes slip shut with each head scratch, almost like she’s lulling off to sleep when he drags a finger under her chin, while Aisha is losing her mind next to you.
“I want to do that! She’s so so so so cute! Please let me touch her! Why does it look like she was crying black tears?”
You and Yoongi laugh.
“She only lets me do this because I practically knew her since she was a baby,” Yoongi shouts, both hands sliding between her shoulders, “she’s the fastest animal on Earth!”
Somehow, your mind went from admiring her spots to salivating over Yoongi’s veiny hands, how gently he strokes down her body, his knuckly fingers caressing her head and chin, dexterous, nimble digits. And the fact that she’s relaxed in his hold is sexy. But what’s even sexier is how calm he is, holding a predator. An animal that has the potential to tear him apart. Which drifts your attention back to his eye.
He kisses the top of her head, muttering lowly, too soft for you to hear.
When he’s out again, you say your goodbyes and promise yourself to ask about it the next time you see him, hoping that he’s comfortable enough to tell you.
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Without using your excuse, you visit the zoo for the fifth time that month and make your way to Road Y, eyebrows pinching together when you don’t see Yoongi standing at his usual station outside the gates.
You’re about to text him when a waft of minty breath fills your nostrils.
“Looking for me?”
“Fuck!”
Your phone clatters to the ground, relief washing down the length of your body when you see Yoongi who bends down to pick up your phone, laughing at your antics.
“It’s not funny,” you pout, shoving his shoulder.
“Why did you get such a fright?”
You hold your arms up exasperatedly, gesturing to the trees around you. “this is a literal forest and there is a possibility of that tiger escaping and creeping up on me!”
He shakes his head, smile crinkling his eyes, “Azura won’t do that to you.”
You scoff, “yeah yeah. Anyway,” your gaze travels to the bucket in his hand, “what you got there?”
He makes a circular motion with his hand, holding a pair of tongs, “you caught me during feeding time. I have the lions left to do.”
You freeze, thrusting your thumb in the direction of the exit, “should I come back later?”
He clicks his tongue, raven hair poking into his eyes, “you can tag along.”
Your heart stutters in your chest, “alright.”
Glancing at the bucket filled with meat again, like every other time you see him, you find questions arising, “what’s that white stuff in the meat?”
“Supplements. Because they live longer here in the zoo than they usually do out in the wild, we need to give them those to strengthen their bones.”
Your lips part, a soft ‘ahh’ sound filling the brisk air.
“Here we are,” he announces, picking up a piece and holding it through the gaps of the fence which is chowed down by the golden lion whose hair is more fabulous than yours.
You had asked Yoongi if he shampoos his mane during your second visit.
Standing to the side, you laud how patient Yoongi is. It’s a tough job to be a zookeeper, you don’t think you’d last a day caring for these animals, not because of fear but because you know that it’s a wearisome job.
“Didn’t bring the cub today?”
When he turns around, you realize that he’s talking about Aisha.
“Nah.”
“Why?”
“…She was tired,” a lie obviously. You didn’t tell your sister that you were visiting the zoo again today. Afraid that she might judge you.
One of the lionesses come up to the fence and holds her paw up to which Yoongi places his gloved hand against.
“You’re so sweet with them.”
He doesn’t respond, just keeps his hand up against the fence even as she moves away, back turned to you.
His head sags between his shoulders as you’re returning to the gate.
“I’m gonna clean this up. This is the kitchen,” he ushers you through a small opening in the bushes, a small truck parked off behind the gate.
“Can’t believe I didn’t see this,” you chuckle, following him into the truck, gaze flying to the knives shelved up on the wall.
He rinses the bucket in the sink and scrubs his hands while you’re surveying the small space. There’s a few drawers and a refrigerator, and a large freezer acting as a table to the side. It smells like a butchery.
“Do you prepare the meat yourself?”
He dries his hands, nodding.
“Cool.”
The fact that you haven’t heard his voice since you entered this truck is a little unnerving and the twenty knives lining the walls don’t help.
“I…I don’t like talking about my scar,” he begins, hands curled around the sink behind him while you’re hugging yourself for comfort, eyes glued to his face.
He chews on the corner of his mouth, licking his lips before he speaks which you’ve written as a habit you find…enticing. But he’s about to tell you a sad story so you shouldn’t be having those thoughts!
“When I first started working at the zoo, all we had from the big cats section were the lions, one tiger, the jaguars and the ocelot. And obviously, I didn’t think I’d be working at the zoo years later, I just thought it would be this job I had until I could save up to move away and find a proper job or even get a degree,” he continues, eyes downcast which hurts your heart because this is the first time you’re seeing him in this state, “but when Seokjin told me that they were looking to expand, I started to become more invested in the animals and even grew attached to a few.”
His eyes flicker up to yours, checking if you’re still listening which you affirm with a nod.
“There was one lioness…The first cat I named, Heejin,” he props his chin on his shoulder, a wistful smile playing on his lips, “and we were trying out different things to increase the popularity of the zoo, so we opened the zoo to a few people and at the time, we didn’t have the caged enclosure. It was this huge open space that was sectioned off. So, since I had developed a strong bond with Heejin, we decided that I would bring her out and feed her and stuff like that. But that day, she was slightly agitated, like I could sense it, and it was as if she could sense that there were new people around. So after I fed her, and she had somehow seen that the meat was finished, she started to back me into the wall and at this point I’m panicking, because I’m thinking about the zoo, like I didn’t want to show them that I wasn’t in control.”
You can hear your heart pounding in your ears, throat going dry as you envision the scene.
“But I really wasn’t in control,” he shakes his head, rubbing his bottom lip with his thumb, “and you can probably guess what happened next.”
“Yoongi…”
“At the time, I was pissed and all I thought about was how I am never going back to that zoo. The lioness I spent my days with, became the wild animal she truly is in the blink of an eye. And I still don’t know what triggered her. But the next day…after everything died down and my eye was untouched, Seokjin phoned me, while I was still in the hospital, to say that Heejin had fallen from the ledge because I didn’t close the chamber and she landed on the palisade.”
You gasp, pain brimming your eyes.
“Only I knew how to close it properly because Heejin was a sneaky girl,” he chuckles despite himself.
You walk toward him and do the one thing you can think of in a moment like this; wrapping your arms around him in a tight hug.
His palm slides up and down your back as if you needed the comforting.
“I vowed to never get attached again,” he speaks into your hair.
You pull away, ignoring the proximity to joke.
“But the chemistry between you and that cheetah though…”
He laughs, fingers settling on your waist, “we rescued her, I just give her the love she needs.”
“You’re great at your job, Yoongi.”
“Thank you,” he murmurs your name, sharp eyes connecting with yours which has your breath hitching. “Do you wanna grab something to eat?”
You scrunch up your nose, “not sure if I have an appetite after the stench in here.”
He chuckles, slotting his hand in yours as he enters the security code to lock the truck.
“Trust me, you will have an appetite after I’m done with you.”
“Wha—”
You’re rooted to the spot when he tightens his hold on your hand and presses you flush against the truck, cold meeting your back through your dress.
It’s as if the Yoongi from earlier is a different man, bottom lip snagged between his teeth as his gaze rakes down your figure in a way you would describe as predatory.
“You think I don’t see the way you look at me?”
You splutter, “what?”
He noses down your chin, a heavy breath filling his lungs, “you always smell so good.”
“Tha—Yoongi,” you gasp when his teeth catch on your ear, his own chilled earrings sliding against your face when he dips lower to lick at the skin below your ear.
“Hmm?” He grins, lips a breath away from yours, “do you know what you do to me when I catch you looking at me like that?”
“Yoongi…I’m sorry.”
A crease forms between his brows, “you’re sorry? Why?”
Heat travels to your cheeks but more between your legs with his body pressed up against yours, fingers gripping your shoulders while his other palm sits heavy on your chest.
“I don’t know…For looking at you.”
His palms slides up your neck to cup your jaw, tilting his head so his eyes are set on yours.
“Don’t apologize. I love it when you look at me like that.”
You gulp, want building as each second ticks by, “I think you’re sexy.”
“Oh,” he cocks an eyebrow, gaze falling to your lips, “I think you’re really fucking sexy too. Since day one, when I first saw you giving me those eyes.”
You feign ignorance, loving this side of him.
“Which eyes?”
“The ones you’re giving me right now, like you want me to fuck you senseless,” he growls, grip tightening on your jaw.
You moan at his words, panties dampening with each flutter of his lashes against your cheeks.
“Then fuck me.”
His fingers slide up the skirt of your dress to hook your thigh around his waist while the other hand skims up your inner thigh.
Your eyes shift from one tree to the next, fear that someone might catch you prevents you from enjoying the way he begins to kiss down your neck.
“Yoongi?”
He nips your chin, “hmm?”
“We’re doing this here?”
His head lifts, lips raised in a smirk, “then where else?”
“We could…in my car.”
As if the idea is much more ridiculous then fucking out in the golden hour when anyone could spot you if they were to poke their heads through the trees, he laughs, deep and throaty while you’re shivering as he presses his thumb against your clit, the sodden fabric sticking to your folds.
All your inhibitions fade away once he pushes your panties to the side and slides two fingers down your folds, precise, urgent swipes.
“I would love to taste you, but I’d leave that for next time,” he promises, no time wasted once he sinks his middle finger into your dripping cunt, drawing moans from your parted lips when he adds another, purposeful drags in and out of your hole.
“Yoongi,” you mewl, gripping his biceps and jutting your hips out for more of his access, relying on one foot to keep you up.
He takes your bottom lip between his teeth, the lewd squelching sound of his digits pressing into your pussy reaches your ears, along with his soft grunts, enjoying having his fingers inside just as much as you.
“So fucking wet for me, can’t wait to have you on my cock.”
Your nails pierce his skin, chasing his lips just as your hips work against his hand, crying out against his hot mouth when he starts to grind the heel of his palm into your throbbing clit, the delicious pressure has you crumbling in his arms.
He covers your mouth with his, all tongue and teeth, sloppy and warm.
“Come on, cum for me,” he wiggles his fingers inside your quivering hole, eyes glazing over when he brushes that spot with deep presses into your cunt.
You’re rolling your hips, head clanking against the truck behind you while stars dot the back of your lids as you burst onto his hand, slick dripping down his fingers to coat his wrist.
Chest heaving, you grip the back of his head to pull him in for a searing kiss, heart soaring from the light peck he gives your cheek as he undoes his belt and shoves his hand in his back pocket to produce a condom.
Your eyes widen, breaths coming out in soft pants, “we’re really doing this here.”
He grins, lips slick with saliva, “need to fuck you right now.”
Body still thrumming with your first orgasm, you yelp when he lifts up both your thighs and wraps your legs around his torso, long and girthy cock digging into your thigh.
Your hands slide down his shoulders in amazement, pussy clenching at his strong arms that hold you up against the truck, veins popping on the back of his hand as he grips his length and guides the tip to your leaking cunt. He keeps your weight up with one hand, head thrown back once he sinks into your heat, mouth parted, eyes shut. You spasm with the slight burn, still sensitive from your first high.
His head lolls forward once he’s sheathed by your walls, swallowing up every moan that puffs out of your lips when he draws his hips back and snaps forward, cock brushing that spot just as good as the way his sinewy arms feel supporting your body.
“Fuck Yoongi, faster,” you pant, teeth dragging down the slope of his shoulder, sweat building at the back of his neck.
He grips your ass, lifting you up while fucking you on his twitching length, groaning when you sink your teeth into his skin, walls fluttering around his cock.
“So fucking good, so fucking wet,” he husks, slamming you into the truck once again to pound into you, the loud smacks of skin on skin echoing in the space, not loud enough for you too care however, because you’re chanting out his name when he digs circles against your clit with his index finger, tongue thrusting into your mouth.
Your fingers twist in his hair, pleasurable drags of his cock ensuing a string of curses from both your lips, consumed by the sensation of having his buried inside you.
“I’m gonna…” you shudder, goosebumps prickling your skin when the familiar heat begins to creep up on you impossibly fast, Yoongi’s sweat mixing with yours when he presses his head into your shoulder and tugs on your pebbled nipple through the material of your dress.
“Cum for me,” he grits, nearing his end with shallow thrusts into your tightening pussy, eyes rolling to the back of your head as he continues to stretch you out, blunt nails digging into your ass cheeks.
With a few more grazes against your sweet spot, nipple snagged between his thumb and forefinger, you cum with a tremble, a drawn-out moan of his name penetrating the thick air.
“Fuck fuck fuck,” he stills his hips, growling as he empties his load into the condom, your name slipping from his lips in low moans.
You’re giggling, you literally just fucked against a truck in the forest.
His stuttered breaths mingle with yours when he kisses you again, languid and heated, palm sliding down your cheek to brush your sweaty strands of hair behind your ear, eyes sizzling with emotion.
“So…where’s your car?”
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a/n — sorry it’s taking me so long to finish this series, I just get so many ideas & can’t work on something else unless I get the other idea down. if you liked this, please drop a comment or an ask if you’re shy, it would mean a lot to me.
talk to my characters
⤺Masterlist
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taglist — @ggukkieland @moonchild1 @mwitsmejk @fancycollectormoon @bex-92br @taeslarityy @helenazbmrskai @deliciouslydisturbed365 @sweetonkookieandtae @thisisn0tal0vest0ry @hopeonysus @nglmrk @weasleyswizarding-wheezes @xxsunny-side-upxx @yealikethejelly @parkdatjimin @xjordynary @aajames217 @deliciouslydisturbed365 @sugapiie @dprssdgal @little7bitchh @chimchoom @sevenpersona @tradleystrash
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yoonpobs · 2 days ago
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back-burner | 10
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two broken hearts
PAIRING. min yoongi x reader
GENRE. sister's best friend!au, best friend to lovers!au, frenemies2lovers!au, angst, *slow burn*, eventual smut, eventual fuff
WARNINGS. angst, explosive fights, lots of crying, new revelations that break hearts, implications of poor mental health
WORDS. 6.4k
back-burner masterlist | previous chapter | next chapter
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You couldn’t keep your promises, you realised as you take a brief glance at your wall clock. It’s nearly two a.m. and your eyes are strained with the number of hours you spent in front of your laptop screen. But you suppose that what Jungkook and Yoongi don’t know, won’t hurt them. You were feeling fine, a little drowsy—but more accomplished than anything as you stare at the final draft of the proposal stare back at you when you stare down.
It’s a little rougher than you’d like, but you’d take it. It was months of hard work and persevering, even dealing with overly compassionate friends who wanted you to take a break, so you were relieved that the bulk of it was done. You could think about editing it tomorrow.
You stretch your limbs, craning your neck as you wince at the loud pop it makes. Your cup is empty, and your dining table is strewn with documents and papers like you were back in university. The visual almost makes you smile, the fond memories of pulling all-nighters for assignments and essays returning to your mind.
Then you remember how much you hated what you were studying, and how philosophy was never your thing—but Haerin’s.
You shake your head, standing up and closing your laptop as you approach the kitchen.
But your relatively quiet night (morning), gets disrupted with a rapt knock on your door.
Now, you freeze.
You rarely ever had visitors, and even if you did—they came over at socially acceptable hours, not at demon time. You think the worst for a split second, prepared to grab a knife to defend yourself in case the person behind your door decides that they were too impatient to wait for your greeting and break it down instead.
But you were tired, and lest you don’t necessarily make the best decisions when you were drowsy, so you head to your door, weaponless as you decide to take the risk by piquing your curiousity and opening your door.
Your guest surprises you more than an intruder.
“Haerin?”
“Hi,” she says meekly. She’s dressed in a hoodie and sweatpants, more unkempt than you’ve seen her in a long while. “Can I come in?”
You falter, eyes blinking as she nervously rocks on her heel. Only when your eyes refocus onto the figure before you, which was your sister, do you step aside to allow her entry to your apartment.
“Sure, I mean …” you gesture her in as she mumbles a soft thank you under her breath. You’re sleep-deprived and confused. “Is everything all right?”
“I had nowhere else to go,” she murmurs, plopping onto your couch as you shut the door behind you.
You weren’t sure if you were hallucinating because of sleep deprivation, but you were still extremely confused. The tone which Haerin takes is one you’ve never heard her adopt before, making you even more perplexed and worried, especially when she pointedly ignores your question for her vague responses.
“Are you okay? Do you need me to call someone—?”
Haerin looks up, and you’re alarmed to see her red-rimmed eyes and sunken dark circles. “Did you know I was scrolling through my contacts and I realised I had no one to call? No one that I could reach out to?”
“Haerin, you’re scaring me,” you say with a frown as you take a seat next to her. Her eyes are … empty, and it terrifies you because Haerin’s always smiling. She was the bubbly sibling, the one that lifted moods with her presence. The person before you is a reflection of the person you thought you were. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”
You repeat your question because she doesn’t seem to be responding to it, but Haerin’s eyes drop to her lap as she fiddles with her thumbs.
“I’m sorry. I just—I had no one else I knew that I could go to and you were—”
“Haerin,” you say curtly.
Her face darts up, and her eyes are wide. She looks so vulnerable that your heart aches for her. If anyone were to see the two of you, it’d look like she was the younger sister and not you, especially with the way she hunches herself into a shell you never thought she had.
“What happened?” you ask softly.
The tears in her eyes are what alarms you even further.
“We broke up.”
You take a second, no two; to process her words, and the way that her lip begins to wobble after the words have settled into the air. Your brain attempts to rationalise her statement, recalling the context of her words as your mouth falls open.
They broke up.
“Oh my God,” you say breathlessly, and you have no idea what to think or say. You wanted to be selfish but Haerin looked distraught, and you couldn’t be that person. Not when she was here, vulnerable and open. “Are you okay?”
You repeat your question, again, because you had no idea what to say or do.
Her reaction slightly frightens you, but you keep your composure.
“We broke up,” she repeats with a tight laugh as all you can do is stare at her. “Were we even together?”
“Haerin …” you say quietly, reaching out to grab her hand in a manner that was so uncharacteristic for the both of you that she seems to jump at the contact. But the lifelessness in her eyes only causes you to encase her smaller palms with your own. “I know it must hurt—”
“Is this what I’m feeling?” she asks, “I don’t know how I feel and I’m so—I’m so scared.”
She sounds so distant, and you can’t imagine the thoughts or feelings that run through her mind. You’re too preoccupied with the fact that Haerin is in front of you, confiding you when your dynamics were never like that.
So, you bring her into your arms, the only way you know how to for the time being. It felt awkward and slightly stiff when her chin meets your shoulder, but you pat her back softly in an attempt to comfort her in a way you know your words can’t.
“I thought …” she says shakily, “I thought it was the right choice. That we were going to work out. I mean, we were friends basically our entire teenage to adult life. And … it just—”
She pulls away, eyes wide when she looks at you as if you had answers.
“Why didn’t it work out?”
You say the first thing that comes to your mind.
“Sometimes, it’s easy to conflate platonic love and romantic love.”
Her eyes drop to her lap once more as you squeeze her shoulders.
“Did I?” she asks quietly.
“Sorry?”
Haerin looks up, and she looks visibly deflated as if she had failed herself. You wonder if this was her first failure, in life. One that didn’t necessarily constitute her intellect, but represented her emotional connections with people that weren’t theoretical studies in the philosophy books she loves.
“Did I get it confused?”
“I don’t know,” you reply honestly. Then, feeling like a horrible confidant, you continue, “I’m sorry.”
She laughs softly, shaking her head. “You don’t need to apologise. I just—I don’t know. I don’t know how to feel.”
“There isn’t a proper feeling you need to feel,” you say. “How do you feel?”
Haerin blinks, taking in the weight of your words as you return her gaze. The silence is suffocating, maybe only for you. You never did well in extended periods of silence because your thoughts ran wild. It allowed things to happen even if they didn’t, and your rationality to turn into irrationality. Silence was dangerous for people like you, while it allowed people like Haerin to bloom.
“I broke up with him.”
This makes you still.
“You must think your older sister is crazy, right?” she laughs, falling back into the couch as you stutter in your movements to take in her expression. Her eyes gaze up to the ceiling as she sighs. “I come to your apartment at midnight in tears about my breakup and I was the one that initiated it?”
You find your tongue after a while, shaking your head before you’re shifting closer. “No, I mean … I’m confused but your feelings are still valid. It takes a lot of courage to walk away.”
You mean it. You really do. You know that better than anyone else, yet you never found yourself practising that knowledge.
You were the coward for staying to hurt yourself because of familiarity.
She scoffs. “It sure doesn’t feel that way.”
“Can I …” you swallow, “Can I ask why—?”
“I’m a coward,” she tells you so vehemently that you nearly get whiplash. “I’m a coward, ____. I’m a coward because I walked into something fully knowing it wasn’t my place to arrive at.”
“Haerin, hold on,” you say with furrowed brows, “What do you mean?”
“Do you want to know why we broke up?” she asks softly.
“I-I mean only if you’re ready—”
“Imagine being with someone you’ve known for most of your life, thinking that he should’ve been the one only to realise that perfect utopia was an imagination crafted by your own delusions,” she says quietly.
Your breath hitches.
“Imagine being so scared of being alone that you jumped into a relationship with someone who’s familiar to you. Just because it seemed right.”
You can’t bring yourself to respond because Haerin sounds so—tired. Her words ring louder despite her tone being soft, and you can’t draw your eyes away from her. She looks so different like this, and you wonder if she’s ever allowed herself to be vulnerable—to be a step lower than perfection.
“You know he’d never hold my hand?” Haerin says.
You blink.
“What?”
Like thunder, your memory cracks back to the day at the fair. The words you heard leave Haerin’s mouth in a manner that was unlike her at all. Similar to the woman in front of you, she was frustrated, borderline frantic, but she was Haerin. The Haerin that always had her head up high, back straight and face preened to perfection.
“I thought it was just because the transition must’ve been awkward and all,” she chuckles humourlessly. “Going from a best friend to a lover. It’s weird, I get that.”
Your heart unconsciously clenches at what she referred to him as, but you purse your lips and tell yourself to not be selfish—that this wasn’t about you.
“But he’d never touch me,” she whispers, “He’d never look at me differently. Just the same way he always has.”
“That’s because he’s always loved you—” you begin to say, spewing the truth that you’ve told yourself to be true from the very first day you saw him in your home.
“—Does he?” she spits, as your eyes widen, “Do you stiffen up when the person you love tries to hold your hand? Tries to hug you?”
“Haerin …” you say slowly.
“No,” she snaps, and you see her slowly losing it. She laughs, nearly tugging at her hair as you flounder in an attempt to reason with her. “You don’t do that if you love someone, ____. You know what you do?”
“I …” you choke.
“You drive at godspeed to a place even if it’s ass o’clock to make sure that they’re safe,” she says, and you freeze. Your body locks up and you can’t say anything. You’re stunned to absolute silence but Haerin isn’t. “You buy them their favourite treats because you were thinking of them.”
You don’t know why, but your throat is dry, and Haerin looks—menacing. Her eyes are wide and frantic, and you unconsciously lean back into your sofa when she inches forward.
“You look at them like they’re the only thing you ever see,” she whispers harshly, and her forehead drops to your shoulder as you exhale shakily, her fingers are digging almost painfully into your bicep while you hold your breath. “You do all of that when you’re in love with someone.”
“H-Haerin, you need—”
“I tried to kiss him and he pushed me away,” she croaks, and there are tears in her eyes. You hear the shatter of her heart instead of seeing it. “Do you push the person you love away, ____?”
Unintentionally, you think.
“I-I—”
“And the worst part,” she says vehemently, “Is that I don’t even love him.”
Your chest constricts, and the atmosphere is heavy. Haerin is breathing heavily, chest heaving as you can only stare at her. Your mind is running at a hundred miles per hour, endlessly trying to make sense of her words—to understand why they felt so familiar and to understand why you were so intent on denying them to her face.
There was something about her confession that makes you breathless. Dizzy. She didn’t love him. She broke up with him. Why? It didn’t make sense. Nothing about this made sense—they were supposed to stay together. They were supposed to be endgame. He chose her. So why—?
“Yoongi and I were never meant to be together,” she says, laughing softly. “I’m not heartbroken,” she tells you. “I’m hurt.”
You have nothing to say, too stunned to silence.
“I’m hurt because I thought I needed to be with someone to fill this loneliness in my heart.” You hear her cry, loud and unobstructed when she basically falls into your arms. Haerin doesn’t keep her facade up, and the tears keep flowing like her dam was broken.
You don’t know why but tears well up in your eyes too, and you try to blink them away mostly in confusion but the first tear falls and you wonder how long has it been.
How long has it been since Haerin felt this way?
Since you’ve resented her for doing everything right when it seemed like she was falling apart right in front of your very eyes?
Haerin sobs uncontrollably, blubbers nonsense into your shirt while holding onto you like a child. She’s vulnerable and feral right now, uncaring of whether or not her sobs are louder than the clamour in your chest—or the thoughts that run through your mind. No, she’s uninhibited when she clings onto you like she never wants you to let go.
You won’t. Despite the hole in your chest that’s aching for answers, you don’t push Haerin away.
Because this is the first time she’s felt like a sister.
“I’m so lonely,” she whispers, “I thought—I thought being with Yoongi would fix me …”
“You don’t need to be fixed, Haerin,” you tell her honestly through your own shaky voice.
“Yoongi’s my best friend, ____,” she whimpers, “H-How could I do this to him? Be so selfish?”
“People make mistakes and that’s okay,” you say softly, wiping under her eyes to remove the flow of tears that escapes. “Yoongi would never hold this against you.”
“B-But I got in the way of what makes him happy,” she wails, clutching you harder.
“You didn’t—” you attempt to say, but she shakes her head frantically, eyes darting up so that you’d look at her desperate gaze. As if to tell you that you didn’t know what she was saying—what you were implying with the words that were better left unsaid.
“It’s because I see the way he loves and I wished it was me,” she croaks, “Not because I love him but because I’m selfish.”
“It’s not selfish to want to be loved,” you whisper.
“But it’s selfish to want that for me when it was never mine, to begin with,” she whimpers.
You don’t know what to say. You don’t understand the implications of Haerin’s words, and you think she’s blubbering nonsense in her hazy state. For a moment, you pity her. The weight of the world expecting her to be perfect all the time finally crumbling down her facade—and you wonder if the two of you shared more in common than you thought.
“You’re human, Haerin. You make mistakes, you may end up hurting people, and that’s okay. You can’t control the aftershocks of your actions,” you say softly. “No one’s going to hold being human against you. You’re going to do things right and you’re going to do things wrong. But never blame yourself for wanting to make yourself happy.”
“You know,” she suddenly chokes, “I really wanted to be close with you.”
Your heart seizes.
“I really wanted to be your older sister,” she confesses and you feel your eyes well up with tears. “I wanted to be someone you could confide in, to talk to whenever you were stressed. I wanted us to have sister fights and make up in twenty seconds. I always thought you were amazing. Just being who you were—I wanted to be your sister so badly.”
“Haerin …”
“But I was so caught up in the world that mom and dad threw me in that …” she sniffs, “That I prioritised myself and neglected you.”
“Haerin—”
“—I let mom and dad treat you the way they do even if I knew you didn’t deserve that,” she rambles on, unfiltered and loose-lipped. “I let them celebrate me when you were all alone.”
Your lips wobble as you tilt your head up to stop your tears.
“I had the world and you only had yourself.”
“I had Jungkook,” you say weakly through a smile. It was the truth. Things were tough—but you weren’t really alone, were you? “And Hobi. And Loli,” you tell her before cupping her cheek. “But now I have you too, right?”
Her lips wobble as her face crumbles.
“You have me,” she whispers, “And you have Yoongi, too.”
You smile sadly. “Yeah.”
“I mean it,” she exclaims, eyes wide, begging you to believe her with her body language. “You and Yoongi—you have each other.”
Do you? Have him? It seems like things were settling, and a selfish—human—part of you is relieved that Haerin and Yoongi were no longer together. Even if she claimed that they were never together in that way.
But if he chose her even for those moments, who were you in the grand scheme of things?
“I know,” you say, and it’s a ruse to convince yourself too.
“I’m serious,” she says manically, sitting up so abruptly that you fall back onto your elbows. Your eyes remain wide but your heart is beating rapidly against your chest. Her face is exasperated. Desperate. As if there were words too heavy that lay on her tongue, ready to propel forward like ripples of water. “You—he—you know? Right? You must know!”
“You should—”
“Yoongi doesn’t love me,” she whimpers, and you feel the sadness in her voice. Though it’s not quite heartbreak, it’s very close. It’s the sound of a lonely woman trying to navigate the world that thinks the best of her. A lonely woman on a path crafted by others while others watched. “He loves—“
“He loves you, Haerin,” you say quietly, squeezing her hands. “He loves you. Can’t you see?”
You don’t know who you’re trying to convince. Her, or yourself—even if your heart crumbles at the very thought of Yoongi being so in love with her.
“He doesn’t! Not in that way!” she roars, pushing you back as your eyes blow even wider. She’s practically on top of you, pinning you down with her tiny hands while you grab her forearms in alarm.
“Haerin—!”
“He doesn’t love me! He doesn’t,” she hisses, shaking her head, “He—”
“Haerin, stop,” you say shakily, “You don’t know what you’re saying—”
“I’ve been expected to know a lot of things in life, ____ and I never actually did. But this is something I know with my entire heart and soul,” she chuckles humourlessly.
When her eyes drop to your own, her grip loosening before she practically falls on you as if she lost the fight to keep her upright, metaphorically and literally.
Her mouth opens, and her next words make your ears ring.
“He doesn’t love me because he loves you.”
There’s silence. It’s raining now. A thunderstorm in the middle of the night and you almost want to laugh at how perfect the timing was. The lighting of your living room is dim, with the shadow of Haerin’s fatigue apparent on her face when her eyes blaze towards you. She’s breathing heavily, panting with exertion as if she ran a marathon.
But it’s deathly silent on your head. There’s no breathing. There’s no movement. There’s nothing to indicate that you’ve heard what she said. But when you register her words, and the magnitude of them—
You shove her off you, her body falling onto the plush surface next to the both of you.
“Don’t lie!” you shout, “Fuck you, Haerin!”
“Why would I lie to you!” she exasperates desperately, trying to grab your hand when you pull away from her, mind reeling at the remnants of her words.
“Why would he—why would you—? He—” you stammer, eyes rapidly blinking when you feel the tears win the flightless game as it runs down your face.
“Yoongi loves you,” she whispers vehemently, her swollen eyes glaring at you when she manages to pin you down again.
It’s almost comical. How the two of you were in tears, tired, in your apartment, fighting each other in a way that’s never happened before. Interacting with each other in a way that you could only hypothesise. You’ve never gotten mad at Haerin, and neither has she. It was because while the two of you shared the same blood, you were distant throughout your entire life.
This—your panting breaths, manic eyes, and desperation—was the closest you’ve ever been.
“He chose you!” you scream, “How could he love me when he chose you? He always chose you! He never chose—!”
“Then you’re stupid!” she screams back, equally as loud. You wonder if your neighbours were going to report you to management for a noise complaint but you couldn’t care less. “You’re stupid and you’re dumb and I hate you! I hate you because you can’t see anything that’s in front of you!”
You gasp.
“I hate you because you have everything I’ve ever wanted and you don’t see it! You don’t see how much I want to live like you! To be close to you! Why can’t you see?” she cries.
You shove at her, her eyes widening before you’re clambering on top of her with your hands on her shoulders as you use all the force you have to keep her in place.
“I’m stupid? You’re stupid!” you seethe, “You’re stupid because you have everything you could ever want and mom and dad’s validation and you think Yoongi doesn’t love you? You think I’ve got everything you want? Try being me and see how fucking shitty it is.”
“You think that matters to me? You think any of that matters to me when I’m so fucking lonely?” she sobs, trying to fight your grasp off. “You’re so fucking dumb! Yoongi never chose me! Never! If you looked close enough then you’d see!”
“See? All I saw was how he treated you,” you hiss venomously, “How he looked at you like you were his world—that he would do anything for you—!”
“Shut the fuck up!” she screeches, whining in frustration while she thrashes in your hold. “Yoongi’s so in love with you and you refuse to see it. You did this! You did this!”
“Did what?” you scream.
“This!” she wails, and you don’t even fucking know what was going on anymore when she finally kicks you off of her, as your butt lands on the floor.
She’s towering over you now. Her cheeks are blotchy and red, and so are yours. You didn’t realise how hard you were crying until the brief silence forces you to acknowledge it. To acknowledge the way your heart feels both heavy and lighter at the same time. The way Haerin is catching her breath. The way you balance yourself on your elbows.
The way how fucking stupid this all is.
“I know you love him, too,” she says softly, after too long of a silence.
Your breath hitches as your eyes dart to the ceiling.
“Fuck you,” you whisper.
“He loves you and you love him,” she hisses, “You’re so stupid.”
“He doesn’t love me, Haerin,” you seethe, tired when your eyes flutter shut. “If he did then he would’ve chosen me.”
“He chooses you. Every single day,” she sobs, “When you were stuck at that bar. When you were sick at the fair. When you needed someone to teach you how to drive. When you just wanted to hang out. When you call. If it’s you—he’ll always make that choice. Why do you refuse to see what’s right in front of you?”
“Then why did he …” you whisper.
“I’m so fucking sorry,” Haerin sobs, and she falls. She falls on top of you with her arms wrapped around your shoulder as you fall back to the ground, allowing her body to crush you. “I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry—”
“Stop fucking apologising,” you grit.
“I never should’ve brought it up—I never should’ve asked him if we should give it a shot. I should’ve never—”
“And what good will that do to us now?” you snap, “Huh? Tell me. Tell me what fucking good will apologising to do us now?”
“I don’t know!” she wails. Her eyes are so fucking swollen that it’s almost painful to look at. There’s not running down her nose and she’s unobstructed when she attempts to blubber her next set of words. “I don’t know anything anymore except for the fact that I’m so fucking lonely and I’m so fucking confused and nothing about this makes sense—”
“Nothing about this makes sense,” you repeat, eyes blinking slowly.
“Yoongi loves you,” she says defeatedly.
And somehow that makes you feel worst. Because he loves you and chose her. He loved you not enough to pick you, to try, but to want to forget. To remove the feeling of love he allegedly has for whatever fucking reason.
And it hurts. It burns. It consumes you whole.
You feel like your heart is about to give out. There’s nothing stopping you from curling into a fetal position and crying until the week ends but the fact that your sister is sobbing her eyes out in front of you. You don’t understand. You didn’t expect the night to end this way.
You didn’t expect anything.
Yoongi still chose Haerin.
He never chose you.
“Please,” she croaks, forcing her swollen eyes to peer up at you while you feel everything in you crumble. All the moments you tried to pretend that seeing Haerin and Yoongi together didn’t crush you. As friends and as more. The moments that you had to hear your parents coo over something Haerin did while silence overtook you. It all came rushing back in. And it hurts. You’re no longer numb. Now all you could do was feel and it fucking sucked.
“You don’t do this to someone you love, Haerin,” you say shakily.
She grabs your shoulders desperately, expression falling into one of anguish.
“I know he loves you. I know,” she cries, “He—it’s my fault—it’s all my fault—”
“Stop blaming yourself,” you rasp.
“You love each other,” Haerin sobs. And you really wished you could tell her to shut the fuck up. Not because you hated her. You don’t think you ever did. You don’t think you ever could. But it was hard to think. It was hard to breathe.
You don’t do this to someone you love.
You don’t want to say anything but you see her eyes droop, indicating her fatigue.
“You and Yoongi,” she mumbles, “I’ll make sure of it.”
You sigh, coming back to reality.
“Get up,” you snap.
She remains put.
“Haerin,” you scowl, “Get the fuck up.”
“No,” she huffs, “Not until you believe me.”
Your eyebrows tick in annoyance. “It’s late and I’m exhausted and everything fucking sucks right now so please—for the love of God just get up and we can talk about this tomorrow.”
“Why won’t you believe me?” she whines.
That was it.
“Because he doesn’t love me, Haerin!” you scream, yanking her up until she was eye-level with you as her eyes widened. “Because it doesn’t make any fucking sense! Because Yoongi can never love me! Because he’s meant to be with you! Because mom and dad think so too! Because of this—this fucked up situation that we’re in and how this is the only time I’ve ever felt close enough to tell you this!”
Haerin sobs, crumbling in your hold even as she tries to keep herself upright. You’re crying now, too. Loud, unobstructed. Ugly.
Maybe you were really sisters.
“You’re lonely and I get that,” you whisper. “But you don’t know how it feels like to be me. To be the other sister. The other person. To have to fight for every place in my life because there wasn’t enough space for the two of us. You don’t fucking know any of that. You want to be me? God—I wish you could. I wish you’d try living in this body and this life to see things the way I do. Then you’d know—know how fucking shitty it is being the other.”
Haerin stays silent because she can’t say anything. You don’t expect her to. You wouldn’t know what to say either. You were word-vomiting; the words that have been locked and compartmentalised in a part of your brain you never thought you’d unlock in front of anyone—especially Haerin.
"You have no idea what it's like to fight for my place in mom and dad's life when I shouldn't have to. You have no fucking idea how it feels like to never be able to amount to anything—just because my older sister is a damn prodigy. You have no idea. So yes. You're lonely—that's sad. But you never had to wonder why the fuck you weren't enough to be loved by your own damned parents."
"Mom and dad are assholes," she says weakly.
"But they're my parents," you hiss as your eyes flutter shut. "They're assholes but I want them to fucking see me. I just want to be fucking seen and—and this—all of this—doesn't make any sense. You being here. You breaking up with him. You claiming he doesn't love you. All of it! Nothing—”
“You’re free,” she interrupts you in a tiny voice. “You want validation but you’re free from it. You don’t need validation.”
“Don’t tell me what the fuck I need or don’t,” you hiss.
“And don’t tell me that you’d rather be controlled for the rest of your life!” she roars loudly, the tiny voice reaching decibels that shook your core. “That you don’t love this freedom—as fucking shitty as it is—more than the reigns that mom and dad would have on you.”
“You think I’m free?” you laugh bitterly, “You think this is freedom? Being trapped in my own thoughts? Unconsciously comparing myself to you every single fucking day of my life because that’s all I’ve been conditioned to do? You think freedom matters when I’ve lost to you in every single aspect?”
“This isn’t a competition!” You hear Haerin exasperate, tugging at her hair in frustration when her eyes blaze at you. “Why—no one wants you to compare yourself to me!”
“No one wants to but they do,” you sneer venomously, “Oh they fucking do Haerin. And I do too. And it sucks. Because when I’m safe from them I’m not safe from me.”
“You—I …”
“This shouldn’t be a competition but it is,” you say despairingly, “I hate that it is but it is. And as fucked up as it sounds you and I both know that you and I were destined to compete with each other because we’re sisters.”
“You think I’ve won this shitty competition but I feel like the biggest fucking loser,” she laughs in a self-deprecating tone, “Mom and dad only love me because of what I’ve done. Not because—not because they do.”
“At least they love you, Haerin,” you say quietly, “At least you’re loved. By them. By people—by Yoongi—”
“When will you get it through your fucking head that Yoongi doesn’t love me? Not in that way!” Haerin snaps, “We’ve been best friends for years and you think I don’t know how he looks like when he’s in love or not?”
You take a deep, shaky breath to regain balance before you're letting out an exhale.
“Yoongi doesn’t love me. He can’t. I’m—” you choke, eyes fluttering shut in defeat. “I’m unloveable—”
“Don’t you dare say that,” she hisses venomously, cupping your cheeks in her hand as you flounder back as you lose your balance. “Don’t you fucking say that.”
“You’ve always been loved!” you sob, tears soaking her fingers as she tries her best to not let new tears flow.
“And that doesn’t fucking matter but don’t you for a second think that you’re unloveable,” she snaps, “You’re not unloveable. No one is unloveable in this damned world and if there was someone it sure as fuck wouldn’t be you.”
“Stop fucking—!”
“I love you!” she screams, “I love you! I love you as your sister! As your friend! As your family!”
“You don’t fucking love me!” you scream back at her, and you’re sure your neighbours were wondering what the fuck was going on.
“Just fucking believe me! Please,” she begs, shaking you desperately as you shake your head in return. “I love you!”
“You can’t love me!” you cry, and it’s so fucking loud. It’s loud and annoying. And it still hurts. It hurts so fucking much that all you can do is cry. "Yoongi can't love me!"
“I can and I will and I do,” she whispers, “I know I’ve been a shitty sister but I’ve never not loved you."
She's forcing herself to look at you and you're forcing yourself to try. Your breathing mixes together, shaky, confused, tired.
"And Yoongi loves you no matter how much you want to deny it because no one does the things he does for you if they weren't in love."
You cry. You break down. You were crying but now you’re crying harder. There was no flow or structure to the screaming fest you just had. But did pain ever have a linear sequence? It didn’t make sense to have your sorrows be chronological.
This was pain. Years of hurt. It’s ugly and truthful, and it does not hide from the strongest. In fact, it comes at you full force. Knocking the wind out of you while you try to catch your breath in a race you were bound to lose.
Haerin holds you. You don’t know when she’s wrapped her arms around you but they’re suddenly there. The both of you are sobbing like little bitches and it’s kind of funny. But you can’t think of the finer details when she squeezes you so tightly that you can’t breathe.
Is this what having a sister feels like?
The calm after the storm is an illusion. You know this. But you’ll take it, for now.
“It’s not Yoongi’s fault,” Haerin says softly.
Your eyes are shut.
“I know.”
“It’s not your fault either.”
You clench your teeth.
“I know.”
“It’s my—”
“And it’s not your fault either,” you interject softly.
Haerin opens her mouth to say something but closes it when she realises you didn’t have the strength to continue.
“We’re fucked up humans aren’t we?” she chuckles humourlessly.
“Isn’t that just being human?”
You look up, and you’re so tired.
Haerin blinks. A smile twitches on your face for some fucked up reason.
And the both of you laugh. You laugh so hard that you’re crying again. You’re cackling, and you hear a series of bangs against your wall that you laugh even harder. You somehow ended up on the floor, staring at the ceiling while you laughed like maniacs at nothing and everything and the in-between.
“I’m sorry,” she says.
“Me too,” you reply. “For screaming at you.”
“I’m sorry for calling you stupid.”
“Me too.”
“Did we just have our first sister fight?”
You purse your lips. You turn around to see her sitting up, your night light dimly illuminating her face.
“I guess we did,” you say.
"I wished it was about something different," she says quietly.
You pause.
"Like boys?"
She looks up and there's a tilted smile on her face. Her eyes are hilariously swollen that you can't help but let out a snort through your blocked nose. Haerin almost rolls her eyes, but instead, she reaches out—she holds your hand.
And you hold hers.
“Please talk to him."
You stay silent.
“____,” she calls your name gently. Like she cares about you. It’s a tone you’d adopt with a child, a younger sibling when you were a child. It almost feels as if she was trying to speak to you as an older sister, and not just Haerin. “I don’t want you and Yoongi to be on weird terms.”
“We’re not,” you say quietly.
“But you’re thinking. Hard. And not in the good way,” she points out as you sigh, “Don’t blame him.”
Did you? Blame Yoongi? Or did you blame yourself for being this way? For feeling the way you did?
Even if Yoongi seemed like the perfect person to hate, to blame, to back into a corner and scream at him like you did to Haerin—you knew that wasn’t the truth.
Yoongi had always been himself. And despite his fleeting relationship with your sister, he’d never treated you differently. He’d been there for you in moments of true weakness.
It was you who pushed him away from him all this while.
Did you do this to someone you loved?
“I don’t.”
“Talk to him,” she encourages again, gentler. “He loves you, ____. He’d never push you away.”
Your throat hurts but you still want to scream.
He loves me but not enough to try? To ask? To hope?
"And ..." she says slowly, as if contemplating her words. "I'd never push you away. Anymore. Never. Not again."
"Okay," you say quietly.
"And you can talk to me. Because—because we're sisters, right? We're sisters aren't we?"
For the first time, in a long time, from when you knew what sisters were and were meant to be—you can agree.
"Yeah," you laugh quietly, "We are, Haerin. We are sisters."
She gives you a gentle smile, and it returns to relative silence. There are still so many things to say even after all that you've screamed. But you guess that's always going to be the case. Not everything will always be said, and that's okay. You'll grow, you'll have more things to say, to be hurt about, to be annoyed about, to laugh about—and that's only natural.
"Talk to him, ____," Haerin says through a soft mumble. "The two of you deserve to be happy."
You purse your lips.
“If you can’t believe me,” she murmurs. Then she looks up, and it’s the most earnest you’ve seen her all night when she says:
“At least believe him.”
418 notes · View notes
fluffyydumplings · 7 hours ago
Text
The Handsome Friend of a Friend
Gone - Part 4
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Summary: Jiwon, the guy who had a crush on you during elementary school is back in town. And he’s brought a friend with him. A broad-shouldered fashion illustrator with chiselled features like one of the many marble sculptures that Yoongi swears his life over. But.. ties run deeper than they appear. For aside from being a beauty he happens to be an old friend of Namjoon’s and a fellow part-timer of Yoongi’s. The fun part is, they both seem to be rather fond of him. Maybe even a little more than necessary. And you can see why. He’s one charming fellow.
Word Count: 7.7k
Genre: poly!au / painter!namjoon x sculptor!yoongi x fashion illustrator!jinx traveller!reader / angst / fluff/poetry / romance
Warnings: profanity / bad childhood memory (crying)
A/N: It barely took three days. I am flabbergasted by how quickly I was able to finish this chapter. It was calming to write. And when I reread it, I felt comforted.. This chapter is like a sip of hot tea on a rainy day, a blanket draped over your shoulder..
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Perched up by the window like a bird waiting for its morning feed, shades of olive and forest green paced back and forth against the partly rough yet ever so smooth paper of his sketchbook. A kitty in the room next to that of his, legs tall and strong as marble is broke off slightly on the sides and front - by the help of a grinder and his stable yet skilled pair of hands.
He might not be doing what the Ancient Greeks did, with all the machines that are now available, but that does not make his craft any less demanding or valuable for that matter. It speaks in how carefully yet with great pressure he is dealing with the block in his reach. For if he isn’t thorough or thoughtful enough, days of work and countless aching of muscles will go to waste. And at night, he’ll end up embracing his tired body with frowns and even sometimes tears of failure.
You?
‘Huhhhhh!’ yawning for the fucking tenth time, you struggle to move. Your body is so obsessed with the feeling of being in bed and doing nothing, it refuses to stop.
‘What a nice day-’
*ring ring*
Struggling to open your eyes, you are startled and hit the headboard.
‘Who the fuck are you?!’ you cry and scream dramatically at the same time.
‘Hello..’ it’s an unknown number, but that doesn't stop your grouchy voice from passing through to the other side.
‘Wrong number.. I’m going to hang-’
Interrupted once again, you are ready to punch whoever this bastard is. How dare they disturb your sleep like this? You aren’t done sleeping just yet! How dare they!!
‘Ahaha..’
Holy oranges.. You know who that is.
Ahdhjffhdhfhhfhdhhjndjdbtngngntjghhhgghhghgjnnghjj
‘It’s Jiwon, baby,’ you can hear him winking (not literally.. But, still) - that cocky little not-so-little bastard..!!!
Freezes up and regrets all two decades of your life. Because damn.. Your choices in terms of friends, suck.. They really fucking suck!
Okay, maybe he isn’t much of a friend. More like, that small little boy who used to trail behind your back in elementary school. Who called you Noona and once embarrassed you in front of the whole school by declaring his ‘love’ for you..
The moment still has you flushing red like a cranberry dipped in strawberry syrup. You told Namjoon and Yoongi the story a few months ago and they both flipped the fuck out and started cackling.
‘Is my pain funny to you?’ you recall yourself grimacing.
‘Yes, honey.. It is,’ Yoongi never stops, his eyes crinkling with what he calls: ‘sunshine moons’. Whatever he says? *eye roll*
Anyway..
‘Y/N, the love of my life!’
Mouth vomit.. Your feet were squirming as you prevent yourself from screaming in cringe at what your ears just witnessed.
‘What do you want, Jiwon?’
As much as Jiwon was not your favourite person ever - 100th favourite person, he has a special place in your head. Okay... Maybe heart too.
He’s the annoying small fry, that irritates the shit out of you, but you’d never get rid of for fuck’s sake.
‘Oh.. Noona! Don’t you miss me?’
This brat! You swear, if you ever see him again, you will snap his head off. Always goofing around with you.
'As if!'
'Ahhhh... My poor heart.'
'Why have you called, Ji?'
'Oh.. Aren't you going to ask about how I am doing?'
'Oh, Ji.. Fine, Fine. Yadi ya ya ya.. How are you doing, Ji?'
'Wonderful.. as you are now talking to me, Noona.'
'Flirty Ji is back at it again.'
'Oh, yes. I've got big news.'
'Did you get rid of that ridiculous bob cut of yours?'
You remember him and his yellow duckling plushy. Sometimes you'd question whether he or the inanimate cotton stuffed animal was that of the same breed. A part of you finds him more of a duck than it was. In the way he'd waddle around and continuously act cute, he was a duck in all of his glory.
The plushy was gone once adulthood reached. However, his bob cut remained the same. When you sent him off to his new job overseas, he still wore it ever so proudly - even if it made him look hideous.
'I did. How did you know? Do you have eyes on me? Are you watching from that camera over there?'
'I can't afford that. Am I a secret agent that works for the CIA or what?'
'Oooh.. Are you?'
'Want me to show you my cyanide pen?'
The beauty of knowing someone for so long is that you grow scarily comfortable with them. You can begin a conversation by talking about global warming and end the conversation by talking about clowns.
'Nooo.. Noona, Noooooo.'
'Whiny as always.'
You miss having someone to tease.
Caught in a lie~
Namjoon and Yoongi are two human beings that are constant in your life. You tease them whenever you get the chance to do so. You simply just missed Jiwon.
'So.. big news, Ji.'
'Don't tell me you are getting married too.'
You've grown into a habit of babbling non-stop. Was it because of the numbers that kept adding up every year, or was it simply because you had a lot to talk about? Perhaps it is both.
'Y/N noona. The only wedding I'll attend is ours.'
That- That- That little shit!
'Guess who's back from London?'
Holy oranges! Damn you, Min Yoongi and Kim Namjoon. One has to grow oranges and the other has to live off of oranges. What a pair! Farmer, consumer.. You? You are the fucking orange. 'We both love oranges. We both love you. You're an orange, Y/N.' Says Mr Kim Fucking Namjoon that accidentally broke his damn computer for the fucking fifth time this month. Surprisingly, it doesn't have a gigantic hole through it yet. You might have jinxed it. -ㅅ-
'Y/N berry boo blue, the love of my life.'
You're going to end up with loose teeth from all this grinding. Cringe, I tell you! Cringe!
'Is your place free?'
What the!!! Does he want to stay here? Go get a fucking hotel or motel to stay at! You don't run a resort. This place isn't even yours..
Time to pack your bags and scoot your ass out of here. You'll get a new identity, and toss your phone into the sea. Ewww.. Say no to pollution. You'll sell the phone and get money from it.
Then you'll buy a yacht. Laying down, sipping tea, two pretty and kind-hearted boys on the side, fresh air and the sound of waves crashing. Fabulous. Isn't it?'
'Noona?' pleading voice.
You are weak for that.. Your knees already ache!! fdshggfjhgfjhfjhfhvhjhhvfbhnmbhm
'Yes.. And why do you ask?'
You suck at lying.. Honesty was an aspect of a person you admired most. You couldn't lie.
'I brought a friend with me. He needs a place to stay.'
'What the!! Are you sure you didn't bring a lunatic along with you? What if he kills me?'
'No.. No.. He's a Fashion illustrator who got a job transfer to Korea.'
'And that excuses him from being a possible murderer of some sort?'
'No..'
'But still.. He's safe, I guarantee my life on it.'
They must be close. You'll consider it. 'Consider', not accept.
'Is he a foreigner? With the British accent and all?'
You can hear laughter spring deep from him. The type that has your stomach clenching and your eyes watery.
'Ahahhhaaa..' his laughter only gets louder and louder over time.
'I can't... breathe,' he really can't. By the way, his word are stuck in his throat, it is evident that he's barely breathing.
'Pure breed Korean. Can't speak English for fuck's sake. Eats Korean, inhales Korean and drinks Korean.'
Man.. He's real serious about this guy not knowing his English.
'Ayeeee!' a rather aggravated and playful voice shouts.
Yep.. Korean. That 'Ayeeeee!' screamed: "If I'm not Korean, what am I?"
'Bring him over. I'll see if I'll let him stay or not.'
You can't let your guard down. You have a profound set of trust issues. Profound set of trust issues? What the fucking oranges. (Yep.. at it again).. Trust issues towards homo sapiens, trust issues towards animals and trust issues towards objects. What?! That panda might be cute, but it can rip your face off. Oh.. Yes! Those pall point pens - they can blind you with that evily sharp tip of theirs. You are already blind.. can't risk your eyesight getting any worse than it already is.
'Are you going to interrogate him? The man's going to pee in his pants. The guy can't kill a fly.. No.. The guy starts running like superman when he sees.. You know what! Not even a fly. He starts freaking out at fruit flies. He's a scaredy-cat, and coward in one package.'
Damn.. What a fun guy! What?! He sounds fun, okay. Fun! Unlike those assholes who act strong, but are weak shit. We appreciate an honest man. Who the fuck cares? Why do men have to be strong all the time? Haven't we established that a long time ago? Fuck those stereotypes. This guy's adorable.. You feel it.. You feel it.. From your soul. And- And- And.. the oranges that Namjoon harvested this morning.
'I'll be the judge of that.’
AHAAHJAAA.. You just pictured.. You and Yoongi playing the bad cop, and Namjoon sitting there and trying to be understanding - the good cop.
'Aigo! Painters are different for sure.. Aigo!' you can hear that grumpy man fussing on and on about how kind Joon is - the grumpy old man that you love dearly.
'So.. Yes?'
'Aigo! Did I say no? Bring this friend of yours over.. I won't scare him too much.'
'Too much? The guy's ready to use spring onions to scare you away. And that's his precious baby. In his words: 'Flavour.' Go easy on him.'
'He's like the older brother I never had. When I first arrived there, I had no one. That's what I thought. Until he came out of nowhere and went: 'Do you want me to help you around.' He's pretty big over in England, you see.. He's also very much familiar with the place I'm working at.'
'He's my life saviour.. Or as he likes to call himself: the handsome angel that descended from heaven to save me.'
Full of himself.. He's quite full of himself.. Interesting.
'I'm going to miss having him around. Take good care of him.'
But if Jiwon is fond of him, you are too. Jiwon doesn't hang around with just anyone. You recall his mother suggesting he make friends with this other rather scrawny little boy when he was younger. He outright refused and cried no. That same boy then appeared on the tv one day, arrested for arson. You remember many other occurrences like this. Jiwon's got a good eye and hunch. You trust him…
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
*ding dong*
'That must be him..' you poke playfully at Yoongi.
'Honey.. Why are you hitting me? And.. Why are you pouting? I mean.. you look adorable as always. But.. Why?'
Yoongi's care for you run miles and hours and through days and nights. 525,600 minutes are in year. His love for you is beyond that. He might never name a star after you ( he probably would if you asked him to), but every day he assures you that you are his entire universe - you and Namjoon. His family.. The people he would want more than ever to spend the rest of his life with.
'Without you guys, my life would be so boring. You are like chisels that shape me into a better person every day. Without my chisels, I'm a mere marble block.' his head on your lap, and his feet on Namjoon's lap (muscular fucking thighs that Yoongi secretly loves to squeeze), he becomes all sentimental.
You tease him for that once in a while.. Any time your Yoonie is soft, your heart turns into mush. The good kind of soft fluffy cotton mush.
'He's here..' you hug onto his arm - his pretty and cuddly arm.
'I know, honey.. You told me that two hours ago.'
'We need to go open the door for him, honey... It's pretty chilly outside.'
'Okay..' you never stop holding onto him.
Even as he attempts to open the door. Yes.. attempt.. Because..
'Wu-wait! What if he hurts you?.. I don't want to hurt you,' at that he giggles.
'Y/nieee, honey.. That was why you were scared? I'll be fine. I can protect myself,' he pats you gently on the head.
His silly baby..
You might be wondering. Where in the world did sensible Ms Y/n go? Can't a person be silly for once? This is a side of you that exists. There is nothing to be ashamed of.
'I'll open the door in a count of three. Three.. two.. one..' you close your eyes, but then light shines through.
Revealing a pretty face... A really pretty face.. Like, holy oranges. So fucking pretty! jnvdjjdjjhdgjjjdjhjdvjbvdvvvbb
'Jin hyung?'
Wait a moment.. He knows him? And you were scared for a second. Forehead slap.. literally!
'Ahahahahaha. You were scared of him?' This guy used to get startled by the sound of a blender turning on.'
'And yes, I used to work part-time at a cafe. 11th grade..'
You learn something new every day. One thing for sure is, Yoongi looks beautiful with an apron wrapped around his waist. Oh, how badly you wish you could have been with him then. There's no use crying over spilt milk though. It's not like you can walk through some humongous time machine and beg him to not move away. The past is in the past. All that matters now is the fact that he is here with you.
You can now wake up every morning (except for those times where "mommy" dearest actually realises that you are missing and calls the shit out of your phone) to a kitchen wafting of bread dipped in egg and milk, pan-fried to utter perfection. The smell and thought of Yoongi's homemade french toast has your feet curling out of joy.
The best part.. Drum roll please! Yoongi wearing an apron, his morning kisses, Namjoon's back hugs and his deep yet sexy morning voice. :]..
'Yahhh! You can't embarrass me the moment I arrive here. What will Y/N think of me?' Jin's ears are flaring red.
He looks about ready to explode/run away.
'After having to endure the wrath and stupidity of countless of customers, fellow employees and employers you get an inch closer or so.'
'An inch! Yi-yahhhhhh! I'm disappointed.. I thought we were closer than that.'
So.. Is this 'Jin' guy just going to stand outside and continue with looking attractive as heck? He's going to start blending in with his background soon. With his burnt orange scarf, sweater and leggings.. He seems to love the colour. Or is this shade in trend at the moment? - whatever the kids these days say. He's a fashion illustrator.. It could be.
The leaves are pumpkin orange this month, all plummeting to the ground. To gain something you have to lose something - nature is a perfect example of that. Through the shedding of leaves, water is conserved.
Lost is a beautiful process, the trees whisper into your ear. And you admit, it speaks the truth. Lost is as beautiful just as it is painful. The last breath a person takes before they die, the struggle to speak and the sad, thankful, yet regretful smile or frown on their faces as death embraces them. The thought of such has your stomach churning, yet your lips going: 'So.. this is the beauty of life. Beauty is painful.'
But.. seriously though. That gorgeous face of his is going to start looking like a crispy orangey-brown leaf any moment soon. What are we going to do next? Grind him up into orange juice?
'You should come inside.'
You are not dragging a corpse off of your (Yoongi's) front gate. Well, technically Yoongi only inhabits one apartment in this building. Nevertheless, your house. You might not pay the bills or rent, but the fact that you consider this place home is enough. Yoongi considers you a permanent guest. What more is there to it?
‘Thank you, Y/Nshi.’
You have to admit. He isn’t anything you expected him to be. Humble and rather down to earth. Not as narcissistic as you expected him to be. You can’t judge a book till you finish it. I guess Jin will be judged according to that saying - the one you made up in a matter of five seconds.
‘I will introduce my-’
‘I think we should get you warm and cuddled up first before we get to that.’
Oh, Y/niee.. Why did you interrupt him? That wasn’t polite of you.
‘Oh- I’m sorry for interrupting you.’
‘No.. No.. No.. not at all. I should have waited till we entered the apartment first.’
‘If you say so,’ your lips meet awkwardly. It isn’t a smile, it’s an impromptu method of easing the tense air lingering above two strangers.
There are people you meet that will click with you with instantly - like Namjoon. But there will be others that you will only grow closer to within time. The puzzle pieces that once refused to meet, trimmed down to do so.
‘Go on, Yoongi..’
‘Come this way, Hyung,’ his fingers accidentally brush up Jin’s one.
Now that Yoongi realises, it would be easier this way. Thus, he intertwines his hands with that of Jin’s. Cold..
Did he eat a plate of snow for breakfast? Man.. His hands are cold. Antarctica cold~ That didn't matter though. What he was meant to do, was drag Jin’s ass inside. And that was exactly what he did.
‘Namjoon.-ah. You finished painting, Joon?’
‘Yeah...’ he nods, the mocha turtle neck he had on transforming him into the big puppy he is.
‘There is nothing to be afraid of,’ Yoongi informs Jin, patting him on the back.
‘Yahh!! I know that!’ his annoyed face is more adorable than it is annoyed.
‘Holy.. Jin Hyung!!!!’
Wait.. Wait a moment! Another one? Fucking oranges!!
Jin’s list of acquaintances never ends. Imagine Santa and his list of toys - that’s Jin and the people who know him.
Everyone seems to know him. It’s because of how friendly and loveable the twenty-year-old is. He has a lot of charm to him.
You would never accept it for the love of oranges. But.. You liked him the moment you heard Jiwon talk of him. And when Yoongi and Namjoon expressed their feelings towards the elder, you just grew to like him more. You could see the sparkles that glazed their throats upon having his name meet their lips. If a man is liked by so many, there is no way he is bad. Especially when these very people are the most heart-warming and valuable beings in your world.
‘Kim Namjoon.. If it isn’t smart cutie in the corner,’ blood trailed the corners of Namjoon’s cheeks.
‘Do you perhaps know that retired baker that now keeps on burning his bread?’
You were going to go for it. If he knew Jiwon, Yoongi and Namjoon. What are the chances of him not knowing Mr Lee?
‘Do you smell that?’
‘Oh shit.. Is Mr Lee at it again? Close the windows or something.’
‘My heart is burning for you.’
You stood there, mouth ready for birds to nest in. Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!! The cringe!!!! Aghhhhhhhhhhhdbbfhhhfhfhfhfhgh!!! Hhsjdjdjd
‘Ahhhhhhhh!!’ Yoongi is the first to scream.
If anyone heard him, they would have thought the apartment caught on fire and people were trapped inside.
‘Hehehe..’ Namjoon just giggles to his heart's content.
They were the same as he remembered them as. The one that was all flustered and shy at his jokes, and the one that started screaming like crazy at how cheesy yet absurd they were.
He misses these two. He knew a lot of people, but they never meant much to him.
And perhaps there was even a time where he used to flush over their words. Okay.. there was. Namjoon was the cute guy in the corner, with dimples and pretty caramel skin that he used to gush over and take quick glimpses of. The same guy who he soon gradually got to know through a group project - the one where they had to make a 3D solar system model. (He recalls cussing at his teachers the whole duration of the project.) The same guy he lost contact with after tenth grade.
Yoongi on the other hand. He apparently had been studying with Jin ever since sixth grade, but they never gave a fuck or tried to give a fuck about each other. Then one day, 16.. 17-ish-year-old Yoongi started showing up at all of Jin's part-time workplaces. They started off with cleaning or taking orders not so comfortably by each other's sides, and the next thing you know they are standing up for each other against unfair treatment.
Everything seems to lead to a bomb of dad jokes, whether it was Joon or Yoon. After all, Jin has a great passion for them. Plus.. They make him happy.
'So.. Do we let him stay, or do we throw him out on the streets and let him starve?'
You were messing with them. Someone like Jin would be a great addition to this home. He's all cheesy and gross. Namjoon and Yoongi have been quite out of it lately. They haven't been themselves lately.. Until now that is.
'We keep him.'
...Kitty eyes, yeehaw! Yep, we are keeping him. Just keep up with those kitty eyes, Min Yoongi.
'Can we keep him?'
...Small Namu with innocent eyes. Yipeeee! We are keeping him. WE ARE KEEPING YOU, SIR JIN!
'You do realise that Yoongs own this place, right Joon?'
'Can we keep him, Y/niee?' Yoongi sits down on the sofa and acts nonchalant, despite knowing what he did to your poor heart.
'Boo, it ain't my fault if you end up getting stabbed.'
'Ahahahaaaha.. Did we just witness the 'Y/N' using the word ain't? I should have recorded this. This is a moment that deserves to be recorded down in history..'
'Jin, do introduce yourself.'
You are not letting this man expose you like this. You are very out of date, and you know that well. But.. Min fucking Yoongi, you are getting nothing out of this.
'Kim Seokjin.. 24 years old. Fashion illustrator that is in need of a home to stay. Has extraordinary cooking skills, can't sew, and enjoys listening to the sound of birds singing.'
'I'm a fashion illustrator. I only draw, I haven't got a single clue of how fabric works.'
Straightforward and hates going on and about. Nice..
'How long are you going to be staying here for?'
'Until I find a suitable place for me to stay at.'
This was starting to sound like a job interview more than anything. Scarier even.. Jin is frankly scared of you more than he was that of those snazzy fashion designers that eyed him up and down two years ago.
'You can stay..' you assure him with a smile.
A smile that made him feel accepted and welcomed. One that prompted him to smile as well. Oh boy.. What a gentle smile it was? He's adorable..
'Thank you,' he felt a sense of gratitude towards you.
He would have ended up sleeping on the streets if it weren't for the three of you. Oh, the embarrassment he would have felt if he arrived at work the next day, covered in grime. He might end up getting fired on the spot. Appearance is pretty important over in this field - or any job for that matter. No one wants a filthy rat working for them. It isn't fun having people whisper: This company hires blah blah blah.
Jin would also hate to disappoint his younger self. He loves this job, he doesn't want to lose it. Not after all those nights spent buried under his covers, studying fashion that people preferred and liked at the moment. Not after all those days spent sketching a design over and over again, simply because he isn't satisfied yet.
'Yoonieeee.. What are we having for breakfast this time?' he turns over to look at you.
'Oatmeal.. Oatmeal soaked in almond milk overnight, honey.. Your favourite.'
Ahahahhahahaa! Yaaaaaass! You love yourself some good old oatmeal. It's filling, nutritious and delicious. You'd kill someone for a bowl of that right now. A jar.. plate.. It's oatmeal either way. Who cares?
'Eat slowly. You can't choke and die just yet. You can't leave me.'
You laugh.. The future is cruel.. Life is cruel.. You were aware of it then. But you didn't know how far life was willing to drag you down. If only-
'Why?'
'Because I love you, honey.. Now, eat your breakfast.'
'You have a shift at 12:30 pm.. Eat up.'
He says it out of nowhere,
My heart set up on fire,
My cheeks red from love,
I love this man more than ever,
Oh, my love..
I'll never leave you,
I had thought then,
But I was lying,
Lying without even knowing
'Excuse me, sir.. How dare you say that out of nowhere?'
What were you? In the musical Hamilton?
'Ayee! Ayee! Aye! Eat up, honey,' evil flares up his way.
You evil man.. How dare you! How dare you-
'Uhmm.'
Well.. This oatmeal is scrumptious. Props to Min Yoongi for making this for you. And.. Kim Namjoon who grew these strawberries.
'Yummy.. You are forgiven, sir.'
'I love you Y/Niee.. Uh- mm uhmm.. This is great, man.'
Not another one! AHhhhhhhhhhh!
'What? Morning ritual, Bae.'
Stunned! Yo, Kim Namjoon. Don't 'Bae' me, focus on the bowl.. If he drops it, he pays.. Yoongi made those. They are special.
"If he drops it, he pays." As in, you both get to attack him with tickles and kisses.
'I love you, Joonie..'
You brought a knife to a gunfight, bae.. I'm sorry, bae..
'Oh..'
Backfired! Cuteness Attack... A-i-eeek-ag-i-eek-ag
'Just eat, already.'
'Huhhh,' Jin twinkles from the way you interact with one another.
This perhaps is the beauty of love- those little banters, where you pretend you are mad when you really aren't.
Sometimes the sight of their face can drown bad days with joy and make them good, but sometimes they are the reason why you end up crying on the bathroom floor all night.
Yet, you choose to stay for a reason.. Because you believe, trust, love and care too much to even think of leaving.
Maybe Jin was meant to find his way here, after all. He has a hard time believing in fate, however, this.. It contradicts his believes.
'Jin Hyung... Do you want some pancakes instead? I know you aren't quite fond of oatmeal as Y/n over here is.'
'Yeah.. sure.. Why not?'
Eating calmly as ever, you watch over Yoongi's back. People always think of a relaxing day, as one where they are laying on a folding chair, orange juice in one hand and the breath-taking see right ahead of them. Your version of a relaxing day is this. Watching over the love of your lives was more than any beach could offer.
'Pancakes.. For a Kim Seokjin.. I'm looking for a Kim Seokjin.. Pancake 120492?'
Will you look at that? Min Yoongi just grew plane wings and is now looking for his missing passenger. Plane wings made out of pancake mix, powdered sugar and maple syrup.
'I am Pancake 120492..'
'Enjoy.. Don't choke on it.'
'Yahh! Is that a threat?'
'So.. what if it is?'
'Don't fight just yet, children..' Namjoon stuffs a spoonful of food into his mouth.
'Listen to Caretaker Joonie, children.'
'Yes, mommy,' Jin nods, speaking in a rather mocking tone.
And as time progresses, they get closer and closer. So close.. you can't help but notice the way they glance at him - because it's the same way they glance at you. The: 'I love you †o the moon and back.. and so much more,’ glance. Is it so wrong of you to feel a pang of jealousy here and there, when they always will be yours?
It's your insecurities persuading you to believe so. For now, it succeeds. Because when you look at Jin, you see perfection. When you look at yourself, you see cracks.
And to fill in those cracks, you hissed at the gold that could have fixed you up instead of the glue that is now there. You avoided him... Yet even if so, he’d treat you well.
‘We ran out of rolled oats. I’ll get some on my way to work.’
‘There’s this shop I visit often.. They were displaying this cute little brown teddy bear. I recall Yoongi telling me about your love for teddy bears. So, I bought it.. Because.. Because it reminds me of you.’
‘I was cleaning around and saw that your alarm clock was set up to the wrong time. So, I fixed it for you.’
Despite his efforts and kind acts, you remain emotionless.. You were grateful though - for every one of them. You just didn't know how to say thank you. You feel bad.. Jin was too good for words. You were nothing..
I guess by how Jin stopped interacting with you all of a sudden and how Jin tended to pretend that you were never there, your theory was proven. Then again, it’s your fault for being so terrible at expressing emotions.
Namjoon and Yoongi though? You didn't have problems with them.. How is Jin different?
Maybe.. because- he’s older? You haven’t had such pleasant experiences with those who are older than you are. And now you are applying that to him. Afraid to express what you feel.. What if he steps all over you because he’s older and ‘wiser’?
What if he- What if he-
You wish you would have the courage to engage in a conversation with him and put your past aside. You wish you could clear the air and start anew.. Jin’s a fantastic person. And you care for him and enjoy his company.
For, after Jin built a dam between the two of you. You often find yourself peeking over walls or anywhere to get a glimpse of him. To see whether he bought something for you, did something for you or wanted to tell you a bunch of cringey art jokes. Some cringey art jokes you kind of miss.. Like, a lot..
And that opportunity comes quicker than you ever thought it would - you never thought it would come to begin with. Yet here you were, caught right into their traps.
'Oatmeal cookies.. Oatmeal cookies..' you muttered innocently, wandering your way through the pantry.
Your version of a garden-like utopia.. The chocolate pies, Berlandriera Lyratas that are still yet ever so alluring. The Cheese puffs, dandelions pollinated by the wind. The red packet of ramen, fertile soil that is the foundation to everything. A packet of lollipops, green grass singing along with the wind.
There is a door in and out of this garden of yours. A door that can shut close and struggle to open any fleeting moment - that moment was now. For the two guards outside were irritated by the the stubbornness of their queen, and wanted her to fix the problem she has with the newly instated knight. He is an important figure in her life, and they do not want her to regret losing him.
'Nutella.. Nutella..'
Two birds trapped into a cage they willingly entered.
*ppupp*
You were locked inside.. With him! With the one man, you tried to avoid for so long!
'I think we're trapped in here.. No- We are trapped in here.'
Face your fears, they say. You're going to tell Jin everything you've always wanted to tell him.
'Let's keep ourselves entertained.. Shall we?' it seems like you were the only one who was trying.
'Oh- Aren't you going to talk? I can't talk all day, Mr World Wide Handsome. Ah- Ah-.. My throat already hurts,' you stress out, your lips jutted out into a pout.
This was the friendliest you have ever been to him. He likes it.. He's been envious of your attitude towards the other two for a while now. You are always so relaxed and chill around them. With him.. your eyebrows contract, your face freezes up and your hands quiver. You couldn't stand him. At first, he thought it was because he was a stranger you weren't familiar with. For that reason, he tried getting closer to you. To no avail, he concluded that you simply didn't want him around. So.. he stopped trying.
When you distance yourself from someone, it only makes you want them more. You weren't like chocolate to him, you were a bowl of raspberries. You weren't an unhealthy obsession his mother would try to hide in the cabinets. You were something he needed, wanted and craved. You were good for him.
'What do you want me to say?' the heat that branched out from his lips traced over your fingers and neck.
The cabinet was small.. You were now huddled together in the dark. You enjoyed having him close by. He was always too far away.
Having him so close like this brings a rise to certain thoughts that were buried deep underground and once out of reach. Even when you barely could see anything, his eyelashes you could count and his eyes you were intrigued with. What would it feel like to have him hold you? What would it feel like to lay against his chest?
'Whatever you want? Something you want.. uhh.. you want to get off of your chest? We could die in here for all you know.. Better die relived rather than frustrated.'
'Ahahhaa.. What type of logic is that?'
There's the Seokjin you missed.. The one you drove away..
'My logic.'
You weren't wrong. He can't do anything about it.. -ㅅ-
'Nice logic,' his eyes rolled all the way back.
This guy!
'Then follow it,' you are firm in terms of sorting things out.
How does he even start?
‘Why do you hate me so much?’ his eyes are big and pleading, he was desperate to know.
‘I don’t hate you, Jin..’
It's true.. You don't hate him. It's just- just- complicated.. Extremely complicated.
‘Then why do you treat me differently?’
‘What do you mean, by “differently”..’
You understood what he meant. You just wanted to stall a little more time.
You know how stupid you are. You know the moment Jin realises that he’ll only hate you further.
‘Unlike that of how you treat Namjoon and Yoongi.’
‘Because you’re older.’
Your father and mother were mountains. Too tall to reach, and never willing to reach down to your height or even turn their backs around. You were a hill in need of attention.. Yet you only got fed with the privilege of being alive. Your height grew over time, but the confidence in you plummeted into a void of non-existence.
‘We’re two worlds apart. I’m not supposed to talk in such a way with people who are older than I am.’
He saw how broken you were.. He saw the memories in your eyes. Your cornea a looking glass he had access to. It wasn’t yours that he saw, it was his imagination reflecting his childhood memories onto that of yours. A small girl crying in the corner, the curtain that covered her tear-stained face the only comfort she could get. He saw that.
He was born the heir to a company he never wanted. The only reason to why he is where he is now is the night his father announced his retirement. The same night he dropped down to his knees and dared to stoop so low. Clinging to his father’s feet, refusing to let go. Screaming and crying for the decision to be taken back.
‘I need a few more years.. Give me four years..’
‘So you can have a taste of that dream job of yours? You know Seok-Woo can never run the company.. He’s not like you.’
‘Yes.. That's all I need. I’ll take over after the four-year mark reaches. So, please reconsider..’
‘You better keep that promise of yours. Or I’ll have to make sure you keep it myself.’
Four years is a lot, he remembers thinking.. Somehow, two have already passed by.
‘I want you to treat me like you do everyone. I’m not anyway superior to you because of my age. You can talk to me, tease me or even make fun of me. I don’t mind.’
Was he for real?
‘Is this a joke of some kind?’ shock morphed into your eyes.
‘What the oranges?’ ‘Oh my!’ ‘Really?’ he could see it swirling in the corner and hanging onto your eyelashes. You tried to hide them, but passion fueled your gazing tool. He could read your thoughts..
‘The thought of speaking against someone that was more advanced in age than I was scared me too. Then I woke up one day and realised that it was nothing. If someone is wrong they should be corrected. Even if they are older. Humans are either wrong or right. There is no in-between.’
‘I’ll try.. I can’t promise you anything though.’
‘You don't have to promise me anything.. Just be yourself.’
You sit there, legs touching and hips attached. You could hear every breath and every gulp he took, just as he did you.
‘I don’t hate you, Jin. I quite like you actually.’
‘Hahhahaa,’ he bursts into laughter, the windows outside being wiped clean not as loud as he was.
‘Why are you laughing?’
‘I like you too..’
You smile. You are glad that he does.
You were a plain white dress buried and hidden among a pile of clothes. He picked you up and glued flowers where he thought you needed them. You are now no longer a plain white dress. You are a gown elegant enough to belong in a fashion exhibit of some sort.
‘I love the teddy bear you bought for me.. I love teddy bears.’
‘I know.. That's why I bought it, silly.’
‘Don’t call me silly,’ you pout excessively.
‘But you are silly..’ he has an evil glint and smirk sewed on his face, ‘Do you know what else is silly?’
‘What? What else is silly, Mr World Wide Handsome?’
‘My love for you.’
‘Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!!!’
‘I knew you would react like that.’
‘Tell me more?’
What a weird person you were..
‘I’m sewing you for how beautiful you are,’ his hands reenacted the sewing of fabric, stitching slowly across the surface of his shirt.
‘You can’t sew..’
‘Ayeeee!! That’s beside the point of my clever joke.’
This man and his self-esteem. How does one become so confident in themself? You ought to ask him that..
‘How are you so self-assertive?’
‘We’re all imperfect pieces of shit. If we don't accept ourselves.. Who else will?’
‘Y/N-ah.. How long are we going to be stuck in here for?’ he pulls you close to his chest.
He loves the way you smell.
‘What type of shampoo and lotion do you use?’
‘I- what?’
‘You smell nice.’
It would take even the visually impaired only a few minutes to spot the red on your cheeks.
He was so close.. He too smelt nice.. He looks so pretty.. His voice is beautiful.. He’s Jin..
You were this close to falling asleep when the door creaked open.
‘Ahaaa!! Our plans worked!’
‘Yahhhhhhh!!’ Jin is the first to scream.
‘You bastards,’ and you are the first to yank on their ears.
‘Honey, owieee..’
‘Noona.. Ouch..’
‘Don’t go owieee or ouch at me you two.’
‘Yeah.. don’t. We could have died in there!’ Jin backs you up.
Your cheeks hurt.. Oh, how happy you are to have him back.
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
You'd think pumpkins would disappear by the time November reached, but fall wouldn't be complete without one. The carved faces and bright lights might have gone away, but pumpkin lattes and pies were everywhere. The sweetness invading bakery windows and your way home. They were enticing, orange and comforting.. It was about time you picked one up.
'One pumpkin pie and two cinnamon rolls, please.'
You strolled back with great pleasure. Opening the door to a scene you soon were to treasure. They were all asleep on the couch, a bowl of a quarter-finished popcorn left dry and cold on the table nearby.
You are to cherish them for a minute or more. After.. They are to wake up.
'Pretty boys.. Wake up! Choppidy Chop Chop! Today's campfire night. Remember?’
Would anyone be angry to have to wake up to such a sweet voice? If you were being productively deep into sleep, you would. Sweet or not, some people need their sleep.
'Uhhhh! But, Yoon Yoon needs his sleep.'
'Ewwwww.. Did you just call yourself, Yoon Yoon? Ahhh- where's my Yoongi? Bring him back!'
'Ayu..Wady, yu call me - uhhhh.. Yoongi Boongi and Yunniee.'
'Nam Nam is sweepy tooo.'
'Jin-' your hands fall on his lips.
'Wood Choppidy Chop Chop, gentlemen!'
'Alright.. Alright..'
And so they began hacking down pieces of wood, as you help of course. Candidly, you were never good at this.
Namjoon wasn't any good at it either, Jin might have went off track upon the arrival of the insect kingdom, Yoongi got distracted once or twice by the kitty hiding by the trees. The camp-firing life wasn't for you. Is it for anybody though?
As the fire illuminates your faces that glisten with sweat, the moonlight casted beautifully onto the lake's surface. Embracing your tired bodies with its hovering presence. Was the fire worth building? The warmth that bubbled from your inner soul would agree.
'Jin.. Tell me one of your jokes. Because I'm about to get all sentimental,' you manoeuvre your way next to him, leaning against his head and sharing his blanket.
'I'd tell you one about the moon, but that joke is full of holes.
'Now.. proceed with what you do best, Ms Sentimental.'
'Time passes by so quickly, Jin.. It feels like I've only met you a few days ago. Yet, in reality, a year has passed by.'
'We met in October of last year. It's November of the next year.'
'Is this when you confess to me?'
Aggaagagagaaggag!
'What?!'
'Honey.. Isn't it great that no one can hear whatever the hell we say here?'
'Yeah.. it is. I can curse at my boss all I want, and he wouldn't know.'
‘Me.. too.’
'Yoon, Joon.. You don't work for anyone.'
'Yeah.. we are shouting at our work-selves.'
'Yahh! I should be the one who's doing that. I have an actual boss.'
'Go ahead, Mister..' Namjoon urges.
'Okay.. I'm shouting now! If I burst your eardrums, I take no responsibility.'
'MR JEON! I FUCKING HATE YOU! FUCK YOU, OLD MAN!' he reacts with his whole body, jumping up and down insanely.
'Yoons, is he okay?'
'Bae, he is.'
'Ewwww... You learned that from Joon. Didn't you?'
'Sorry Bae.. It isn't me.'
'Sure, it isn't Juan..'
'Ayee! My name isn't Juan.'
'Haha..'
'What do you want, Key?'
'Yahhhh!'
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
It's always the unexpected that meets with a surprise. Today marks the second year with Namjoon. Just because another ending is approaching, it doesn't mean that there is no room for new beginnings.
Closing up the flower shop, you soak up the flavours of the night.
'Here..' you were soon gifted two flowers.
One a daffodil and another a rose.
'What are they for?' you eyed your boss suspiciously.
The sweet old lady, the parent you've always wanted.
'What do they mean, Y/N dear?'
'Daffodils.. new beginnings.. roses.. love.'
'Here..' you were gifted a bouquet, a white card hanging loosely on top.
'Travel postcards and stamps?'
A bouquet of fucking travel postcards and stamps!! Hdjdjjdjf!!!
'The handsome fellow dropped by months ago and begged me to make it for him.'
*opens card*
Dear, Y/niee.. ._.
I discussed it all with Namjoon and Yoongi yesterday. They said they wouldn't mind me be being part of your relationship. They would love for me to join actually.. That's what they said.. (Is that too straightforward of me?)
We have known each other for quite a while, haven't we? Don't tell Namjoon and Yoongi this. But.. I've always had a crush on them. (pinky promise).. That's far from what the point of this letter is.. aishh! I don't know how to say this.. eek.!
I like all of you. Love.. actually.. (Is it too early for that?). It's true though. I love all of you.. Namjoon and Yoongi seem to like me in such a way too (romantically). I'm really happy they do.
There's one person I haven't asked out yet. And.. that's you..I was really nervous. I know we didn't start off well. But.. Here goes nothing. I hate how I can’t say this in person. One, because I’m busy. Two, because I know I’d turn red and up running away. And three, I'm allergic to pollen.
I wanted this to be special.. I would love to see your face right now, Y/N love. Are you smiling or are you disgusted?
Uhhh.. Y/N, will you be mine?.. (I'm so bad at this)
- Love, Jin
*holds card to heart*
'He was sneezing horribly under that mask of his. He came over to see how everything was, yesterday.'
'You can leave now, dear.. I can close the shop by myself.'
'Are you sure?'
'Yess.. yesss. I am sure! Now go!'
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
'Are they okay? My boys.. Are they okay! YAhhhhh! Where the fuck are you, Jimin!
‘Woah.. Woah.. I was busy alright.’
‘Are they okay?’ your eyes haunted him, submitting him into feelings of empathy and sorrow.
‘I can’t tell you. Those above me forbid me to do so. You'll know once you view the next window.’
‘What is the next window?’
‘You already know what it is.’
‘The future?’
‘Mhmmm..’
‘The future..’
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Menu Time!
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76 notes · View notes
kimnjss · 4 months ago
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cyberslut | myg sm au
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banner by: @dee-ehn
🖇 synopsis:
— he has no idea who you are... up front, you’re sweet and innocent - but in reality you’re the exact opposite. running your own nsfw account, where your favorite topic is his hands.
[ cyberslut: a person who will act openly sexual on the internet, yet in real life will act prudent and contained. ]
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pairing: jock(fuckboi)!yoongi x nerdy(virgin)!reader
fic type: social media au
side ships: (platonic...) vmin.
genre: smut!! college au, secret identity, tutoring au, slight themes of infidelity...
warnings: yoongi and his friends are dicks :/ - yn is way too horny all of the time... there’s a lot of sexting... no full nudity.
*BYR: yn knows yoongi is the guy she’s posting abt... yoongi does not know abt yns acct (until he finds out). yoongi nd yn have never talked before the start of this fic.
status: completed!
A/N: timestamps make sense throughout the fic. if u want to be added to the tag list, send me an ask! + if you’ve asked to be on my permanent taglist, you do not need to ask to be added to this one !!
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parts:
bonus drabbles...
prologue: homeroom hottie
character profiles: yn, her alter ego, nd besties
character profiles: yoongi nd the boyz
part one: invasion of privacy
part two: private sessions
part three: pretty prints
part four: went viral
part five: malleable substances
part six: fellow fish nerd
part seven: long night
bonus: fuck me
part eight: fucking prude
part nine: under the bleachers
part ten: buzzer beater
part eleven: mentally fucking
part twelve: deductive reasoning
bonus: turn the page
part thirteen: teachers pet
part fourteen: surprise me
part fifteen: emotion sex
part sixteen: sexy mermaid
part seventeen: not finished
time jump: untapped ass
part eighteen: give a fuck
part nineteen: not dating
part twenty: away game
part twenty-one: at your pace
bonus: nervous and excited
part twenty-two: petal
part twenty-three: too messy
part twenty-four: drunk yoongi
part twenty-five: being stupid
part twenty-six: superior couple
part twenty-seven: iconic parties
part twenty-eight: twenty minutes
part twenty-nine: risk it
part thirty: reformed fuckboy
part thirty-one: nice change
part thirty-two: public event
part thirty-three: bars and clubs 
epilogue: on purpose
epilogue: fucking nerd
end
5K notes · View notes
moonchild1 · 2 months ago
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min yoongi fic rec list (Ⅱ)
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hello everyone here's a list of all my favourite yoongi fics, please show lots of love and support to these wonderful authors and their blogs 🥺🖤 some of these fics contain smut so no minors allowed, happy reading everyone ♡
a- angst s- smut f- fluff ❣- ultimate favourite
set me free by @myooniverse f s a (arranged marriage au) ❣
noise complaints by @sugasbabiie s a (neighbour au bad boy yoongi)
earn it by @sugasbabiie f s a (college professor yoongi) ❣
you, among the others by @inkofyoongi f s a (enemies to lovers au college au) ❣
all the room in the world by @inkofyoongi f a (friends to lovers au)
the singularity theory by @dovechim s (college au) ft. Taehyung
catharsis by @dovechim s (roommate au)
does that make sense? by @floralseokjin s a (college au) ❣
aquiver by @floralseokjin f s a (idol au) ❣
undo by @yoonia s a (past lovers au post break au yoongi's pov) ❣
little do you know by @yoonia f s a (established relationship au possessive yoongi)
carousel by @yoonia s a (arranged marriage au) ❣
quirofilia by @minyfic f s (producer yoongi tutor reader)
snafu by @minyfic f (enemies to lovers au)
need to know by @minyfic f s a (sugar daddy yoongi) ❣
love roulette by @whatifyoulivelikethat f s (friends to lovers au)
backstage by @wwilloww s (idol au) ❣
noise complaints by @jkstompers s (neighbour au)
the raindrop prelude by @inktae f a (pianist au)
taxi by @honeyedhoseok s (friends to lovers au)
playing with fire by @houseofdemi-blog f s a (fake dating au) ❣
bonseong breakfast by @honeymoonjin f s a
strike a chord by @snackhobi s ❣
kiss it better by @jeojahari f a (enemies to lovers au college au)
tesselation by @grinnieyoongi f s (idol au)
somebody else by @jeonqukie s a (unrequited love au friends with benefits au) ft. Taehyung ❣
la douleur exquise by @junqkook s a (soulmate au unrequited love au ) ft. Seokjin ❣
playing with fire by @hollyxqx s a (idol au enemies to lovers au) ❣
scary love by @lysjeon s a
the equation of love by @kookingtae f s a (college au professor yoongi student reader) ❣
when the power goes out by @inkjam-moon f s (established relationship au) ❣
what am I to you? by @tayegi
all too well by @cupofteaguk s a (idol au exes au make up artist au) ❣
bad boys bring it to you by @yuengi s (tattoo artist yoongi)
Till I Met You Again by @streetlight11​ f a (soulmate au university au enemies to lovers au) ❣
let me love you by @meanyoongi f s a (enemies to lovers au) ❣
MicroWave by @btsmakesmehappy f s a (neighbour au agent yoongi)
First love by @clouditae f s a (college au tattoo artist au) ❣
americano kisses by @sunshinejunghoseokie f a (friends to lovers au coffee shop au)
34+35 by @hobiandsprite s (friends to lovers au friends with benefits au)
love language by @gukslut f s a (couple au) ❣
easy rebound by @ditzymax s a (college au) ❣
the back of your car by @joheun-saram f s (college au friends to lovers au)
miss dial by @versigny f s a (fratboy au) ❣
sugar and spice by @agustdjoon f s a (sugar daddy yoongi student reader)
love like that by @mintseesaw f (doctor au established relationship au)
stuck by @joonscypher a (arranged marriage au chaebol au) ❣
matchmaker by @suhdays f a (wedding au christmas au it's told through jungkook's pov)
heart haunting by @jamaisjoons f s a (angst okay you will probably cry but other than that it's a really good read) ❣
anyone but the groom by @yoonjinkooked f s a (based on the movie the wedding planner) ❣
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taetaespeaches · a month ago
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“Don’t ever write a cypher about me, I’ll cry.”
yoongi x reader (oc) genre: angst; fluff word count: 3.6K
a/n: Hi lovelies! Here’s part 2 to “I’m not walking out on you” in which Yoongi and reader/Kid get into a pretty major fight. This takes place that same night and the next day. I hope you all enjoy and thanks for reading! :)) 
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Sleep doesn’t come too easy for those with the weight of two aching hearts inside their chest. The throbbing of your own heart, you could handle. But knowing you were the cause of your lover’s pain sat heavy in your mind. The look of regret, hurt, defeat that was etched across Yoongi’s features was impossible to shake, hovering over you like a sleep paralysis demon of your own creation.
Your tears had stopped since you shut yourself away in your bedroom, but the regret was all the more deep and unsettling. At the sound of the washing machine beeping on the other side of the door, you rolled onto your side, facing the wooden barrier that kept you from Yoongi. You were so sick of walls, but it was all that you knew.
Lifting yourself from the mattress, you began tiptoeing across the room to move the bedding to the dryer. You couldn’t sleep anyway. However, when you carefully pulled the door open, not wanting to alert your boyfriend of your activity, you were stopped in your tracks, the air leaving your lungs as you remained completely still. Peeking through the slightly ajar door, you watched as Yoongi transferred the sheets from the washing machine to the dryer.
He didn’t hear the door open, appearing oblivious to your presence. And perhaps that was why he wasn’t more careful in concealing the sniffle that sounded in the hallway, the small fragile sound stabbing your heart. When he raised his arm to his face, using the sleeve of his hoodie to wipe across his cheek, there was no mistaking the emotional state of the man. Yoongi was crying, and it was your fault.
Feeling as though you were going to be sick, you quickly but quietly shut the door, hiding away behind the barrier once again. You should have stepped into the hallway and faced the man you loved, but your cowardice always seemed to win. Instead, you stood frozen, your back pressed against the wood, your jaw clenched, and your eyes filling with tears once again.
If only you had known that the click of the latch registered in Yoongi’s ears, the man turning to see the door closed. However, he knew you were just on the other side, he could feel your presence. Yoongi had stepped toward the door, raising his arm and nearly knocking before deciding against it. Maybe you wanted space, maybe you didn’t want to see him. Sighing, he started the dryer before returning to the couch, all while you leaned against the door wishing you had the courage to step outside.
As you remained restless in bed, you couldn’t help but think about how you had ambushed Yoongi. You could tell that as far as he knew, you and him didn’t have any issues. Replaying the fight in your head, the interaction with him earlier in his studio, the past couple weeks, you realized he was completely oblivious to how you had been feeling. How could the fight ever be fair if he had no indication of any problems? And to bring up his mistake from nearly a year ago that you knew he regretted, whether it still hurt you or not, was cruel.
You left him defenseless; the man who always lowered his defenses when it came to you.
Curiosity and your undeniable pull to Yoongi getting the best of you, you found yourself in the hallway, headed toward the living room where he was sleeping for the night. With how still everything in the apartment was, you worried for just a moment that maybe he had actually left, despite his promise not to walk out on you. You wouldn’t even blame him if he did. However, you caught a glimpse of the messy hair that sat atop his head where he rested against the arm of the sofa, once again reminding you of how foolish your misguided accusations were. Of course he didn’t leave.
Stepping closer to him, you carefully peeked over the top of the sofa to see him lying on his back, his mouth slightly ajar as he slept, his arms folded across his body as though he was trying to secure as much warmth as he could. More than ever you were regretting the fight, wishing you could wrap your arms around him and let him use up all the body warmth you had to offer.
You were surprised to find him sleeping so soundly, as he usually couldn’t find slumber when his mind was busy processing stress or conflict. His exhausted state made you feel even more guilty as you realized how little you took his current workload into consideration when targeting your attacks at him. And that’s when you realized that even more than you expected him to be late for your date that night, you wanted him to be. Because then it would validate your anger without you having to discuss how you had been feeling. It was a fix all, a get out of jail free card; finally release the anger that had been building up over the past two weeks and then move on. What you didn’t consider was the casualty you turned your boyfriend into. Nor did you expect the insecurity you still felt from the start of your relationship to surface. There was a time, one single time, when you didn’t find Yoongi asleep on your couch after a fight.
But he was there now. And you needed to find a way to let go of the past, forgive, and move forward together.
Lost in your thoughts and revelations, you were suddenly pulled back into the present moment when the dryer beeped to signal it had completed its cycle. Jumping in start, your eyes widened as you stared at Yoongi, hoping he wouldn’t wake up and catch you watching him. Frozen for just a few seconds, you waited for any sign of consciousness before quickly backing away and heading for the dryer.
Reaching into the machine, your arms were shrouded with the warmth of freshly dried blankets. Glancing over your shoulder at the sofa, you pouted, remembering how cold Yoongi looked. Without a second thought, you found yourself approaching Yoongi once more, comforter in hand. Stopping in front of the couch, you peered down at him and prepared to drape the warm blanket over him.
However, you spotted one of his yellow notepads stuck between his arm and abdomen, full of words that he must have scribbled down before falling asleep. It was lyrics, no doubt, and normally you would have read over the words with great curiosity and appreciation for Yoongi’s lyrical talent. But with the previous events of your evening with Yoongi, you felt as though that would be an invasion of privacy. Or maybe you were worried you would find harsh words about yourself, though realistically you doubted it. Whatever the reason, you gently tugged on the notepad, freeing it of his grasp before setting it aside on the coffee table, along with the pen that rolled onto his stomach.
As carefully as you could, you set the blanket over his frame, tucking it in just slightly around him, not wanting to wake the man. Satisfied with your work, you stepped back and glanced at his features, ensuring his eyes were still shut, his mouth still open signaling a deep sleep.
His cheeks were so soft and plush, his facial structure so delicate. You could stare at him for ages but you worried the unspoken love and regret that was screaming within your heart and mind would wake him. But for just a moment longer, you inspected his features, appreciating the soft gentleness that was always so present within them. If only you could be more like him. You were certain the world would be so much kinder, considerate, and serene if more people could embody the stunning nature that was your boyfriend. Yoongi had never once lashed out against you in the way that came so naturally to you. You wondered if he knew how much you appreciated that about him. Even when angry, he was always so gentle.
Sighing, you forced yourself to leave him to sleep, returning to your room where you would continue to ruminate on the mistakes that you wish you could take back.
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You didn’t know at what point you had finally succumbed to sleep but you did know that Yoongi was the only thing on your mind when you slipped into a state of slumber. Consciousness came slow at first, your mind hazy as you took your time piecing together the elements of the new morning. And then it came fast, anxiety crashing through you as you recalled the events of the previous night and realized you’d have to face Yoongi.
The sound of rummaging from outside the room alerted you that your boyfriend was awake and moving around. A part of you wanted to stay locked away, safe within the walls of your bedroom. But a larger part knew you had to emerge and try to fix the damage you had caused. Instinct and habit were battling it out with growth and trust, and you knew which you had to choose.
Emerging from your self-made cell, you sheepishly made your way toward the kitchen where the sounds of action were coming from. The smell of food cooking suddenly flooded your nostrils and when you turned into the kitchen, you found Yoongi standing at the stove as he prepared breakfast, two awaiting plates set to the side. Why was he cooking for you?
As you entered his peripheral, he turned to you, his eyes wide, his features as gentle as ever. The tension was palpable, but the slight upturn of Yoongi’s mouth helped to cut it just slightly.
“Thanks for the blanket,” he spoke to you, your heart racing at the minor interaction. Nodding at him, he returned his gaze back down to the contents within the frying pan. “Did you sleep ok?”
Scrutinizing him slightly, you stared at him as he tossed around the egg mixture, his eyes not lifting as he patiently waited for your response. “Not really,” you admitted quietly, Yoongi’s sweet orbs meeting yours once again. How could he look at you with so much understanding after last night? He should be angry and bitter, lecturing you on your behavior.
The man silently turned to the coffee pot, filling one of your mugs before adding some milk and sugar, fixing it just how you liked it. The simple gesture had tears pricking your eyes because after everything, he was still caring for you. Because he wanted to.
Walking toward you, he held the steaming ceramic cup out to you, forcing a small smile of gratitude from you. “Thanks,” you whispered as you took the coffee from him, holding back tears that Yoongi immediately noticed.
“Kid,” he whispered with a frown just as you directed your misty eyes to the contents of the mug, suddenly finding the tan coloring of the liquid fascinating. “Hey,” he called for your attention.
“I’m sorry,” you mumbled childishly. “I don’t know how to do this, I don’t know how to-” you cut yourself off as a tear fell to your thumb, your hand wrapped around the warm mug. “Why are you being so nice to me?”
“What do you mean?” Yoongi asked, stepping toward you and placing a hand to the back of your head. He dipped his face into your eye line, forcing you to meet his gaze. “I love you.”
The three words served as a reminder and an explanation, as if his love for you meant he wouldn’t want to treat you with anything but kindness. And that was new. Foreign. And overwhelming.
When he leaned forward to press his lips to your forehead, it all felt even more confusing but you were grateful. Grateful for the respect and compassion he dedicated to you, even when you didn’t feel deserving.
“You don’t know how to do what?” He asked softly, his lips ghosting over your skin.
Pulling away from you, he looked into your eyes. Yoongi was someone who was always a bit awkward with eye contact, struggling to maintain it for too long even with you, and that’s when you realized how hard he was trying to break through your walls. The man was pushing himself outside of his comfort zone in hopes of pulling you out of yours, so you could fall into him like a safety net. He wanted to be that for you.
“You’re supposed to be mad at me or giving me the silent treatment or something and I just-” you shrugged as Yoongi’s eyebrows pulled together as though he was studying you. “It feels like you’ve already forgiven me and I don’t know how to do this without the anger or feeling like I have to grovel for your love.”
The man shook his head instantly, a pout forming on his pretty lips. “You never have to grovel for my love, who taught you that, Kid?” He asked sadly, his empathy washing over you and your past. “I just love you,” he told you for the second time that morning. And as your heart pounded against your chest, Yoongi’s hand found your lower back. “We do this by talking about it. With understanding and accountability. So will you sit at the island and talk to me while I finish cooking us breakfast?”
You had never had a safe place to land, making you believe you were meant to fly, never staying in one place for too long. But Yoongi was giving you that place to land, to rest, to find shelter. Nodding at him, he gave you a small close mouthed smile, one of those ones that pushed his soft cheeks up in just the way you loved. His hand slowly dragged around to your side before sliding off your hip as he headed back to the stove. And you followed, taking a place on one of the stools, setting your mug on the island as you watched Yoongi appreciatively.
“I’m sorry for leaving in the past,” he started, your eyes popping wide open, not expecting for him to initiate the conversation there. “I’m sorry for not fighting for you, and I’m sorry that still looms over you. I had hoped that you were able to move past it but I understand the impact it made and the precedent it set.”
“I wasn’t holding it over you,” you interjected, not wanting him to think that you were hanging onto his mistakes to use against him. “I didn’t even know it still hur-” you cut yourself off, feeling guilty for bringing the word hurt into the discussion.
“It hurts you, Kid,” he looked up from the pan as he spoke. “You can say that.”
“It’s just when that happened it reaffirmed at the time everything I knew to be true about love, you know? Like, it’s fleeting and within an instant it can be removed,” you explained.
“I understand,” he nodded. “And you shouldn’t feel guilty for being affected by my actions.”
“The same can be said for you,” you pointed out, a small smile curving on Yoongi’s lips.
“Touché ,” he lightheartedly commented, making you smile in return. “But you were feeling rejected, Kid. That is on me.”
“No, because I never vocalized anything,” you disagreed.
“I should have known,” he mumbled, expressing disappointment in himself.
“Are you a mind reader?” You asked him, making him stop his inward spiral as he stared at you. “I should have told you so much sooner how I was feeling. I didn’t. That was immature of me.”
Taking a moment to think, the man shook his head at himself. “I still should have never made you feel rejected,” he said, defeat evident in his tone.
“Yoongi,” you sighed. “Baby, sometimes I worry that you make so few mistakes in our relationship that you get this standard of perfection thrown on you, and that’s not realistic. You’re going to fuck up, I’m going to fuck up, I don’t want it to be the end of the world when that happens.”
Stunned by your words, he stared at you with widened eyes, his jaw slightly opened, appearing almost frozen in place. Closing his mouth, he cleared his throat before wetting his lips just slightly, his tongue lingering in the corner of his mouth as he sorted through his thoughts.
“I just don’t want to hurt you,” he admitted softly, your lips forming into a pout as tears formed in your eyes.
“I know that,” you assured him. “Yoon, we had one of our biggest fights last night where I gave you my worst and since then I’ve caught you finishing my laundry and cooking me fucking breakfast, and you’ve been nothing but sweet to me, and- do you know how incredible that is? How much that means to me?”
Yoongi blinked quickly, an attempt to conceal the tears that had bubbled in his own eyes. You were certain that a conflict as big as the one you and Yoongi had found yourselves in should be harder to fix. There should be more conversation, more pleading, more tears, more fighting. But he presented you with a safety net, and you found yourself breaking through your own walls and falling into it.
“I love you,” you told him, wanting to assure him the way he did you.
Sighing, he stared at you, gratitude shimmering in his orbs. “Can you forgive me for the past?”
“I already did,” you told him sincerely. And you had. “It’s just a process, you know, unlearning what I thought love was and relearning it as, this,” you gestured between yourself and Yoongi. “I have to accept that this is how you love me and that you’re not going anywhere.” Shrugging at him, you huffed. “Insecurities work their way in but I trust you, Yoongi.”
“I’m still sorry. For the past, and for making you feel rejected,” he told you, making you glare at the man.
“I accept your apology, and it’s ok. But I don’t want you living in a constant state of apology, I won’t allow it,” you told him sternly.
The comment drew a breathy chuckle out of the man, Yoongi’s small gummy smile pushing out the remaining tension, and effectively filling your lungs with air.
“I’m sorry for being immature and blowing up,” you told him. “And for bringing up past shit and being mean and not vocalizing my concerns and-”
“Hey,” he smiled sweetly. “It’s all ok. Really, Kid, we’re ok.”
Nodding at him, you sighed in relief. You were still left with some remaining guilt over the fight, which you’d be making up for whether he wanted you to or not. But you felt a sense of closure to last night, the past two weeks, and the fight that nearly ended your relationship before it could truly start almost a year ago.
As Yoongi broke away from the conversation to place the finished food onto the plates, you glanced to the side of the island, noticing the yellow notepad that sat with the first page folded over the top binding. More words were scribbled than last night, indicating that Yoongi had woken up and finished jotting down lyrics before you emerged from your room.
“Did you read them?” Yoongi’s voice cut through your thoughts as he appeared beside you, setting a plate in front of you. Looking up from the notepad to meet his gaze, you shook your head.
“I didn’t feel like I had the right,” you told him, Yoongi pulling his eyebrows together in scrutiny. “Plus it was dark in there, my eyes aren’t that good,” you joked.
“Yeah you’re blind,” he humorously deadpanned.
“I am,” you easily agreed.  
“You could have read them,” he returned to the original topic as he gently dug his fingers through your slept-on hair, massaging the roots sweetly. “It’s about you.”
“A new cypher verse?” You teased, eliciting a chuckle from the man as his shoulders shook adorably.
“You’ll have to do a lot more to earn yourself a cypher verse, Kid.”
Shooting him a glare with your eyebrow raised, you smirked. “Is that a challenge?”
“No,” he shook his head, leaning down toward you. “It’s not,” he whispered just before his lips met yours, kissing you softly. Your hand found his waist, wanting to hold some piece of him as you kissed him back, pouring forgiveness and love into the act.
When he pulled away, a stupidly cute gummy grin directed to you, you couldn’t help but return the smile, a small giggle slipping from your lips. “Don’t ever write a cypher about me, I’ll cry,” you told him jokingly. “Even when I’m mean,” you added with a forced pout, Yoongi smiling just before placing a peck to your mouth once more.
“You call that mean?” He asked as he pulled away and sat down in the stool next to you. “You’re gonna have to do much better than that, I’m Min Yoongi.”
“He says Min Yoongi as if that’s not synonymous with a honey boy,” you teased as you took a bite of your food, immediately moaning at the taste. Yoongi pulled a disgusted expression at your dramatized reaction to the food, making you giggle.
“I’m your honey boy. That hasn’t changed,” he pointed out just as he took a bite himself.
And as you stared at him with a dumb smile, your eyes holding all of the love in the world, you felt excitement and gratitude that you’d get to shower him in all that love and affection for as long as he’d let you. And if that morning was any indication, he’d be letting you for your entire lives.
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lavienjin · 6 days ago
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first love | myg
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synopsis: After an incredibly long day, Yoongi found you crying in the copy room. Though he doesn't talk much, you've always found his presence comforting, and it didn't surprise you when he stayed and listen to you vent. However, while you sought comfort in his embrace, he proposed a special offer to reduce your stress with the magic of his hands. The only catch to your arrangement? You couldn't fall in love.
But wouldn't you know it, just as your friendship deepens into something more, you find an old notebook sitting on his bookshelf, and in it, a collection of poems. The last entry has you reeling because it's addressed to you. And in that page, a single line is written: Without you, I am nothing.
→ part of the virtue, vice, and everything nice collab.
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pairing: yoongi x reader
wc: 11.3k
genre/rating/au: 18+ | fwb, coworkers, f2l au | smut, angst
warnings: unprotected sex, fingering, semi public sex, multiple smut scenes, multiple orgasms, oral (m. & f. receiving), masturbation, exhibition, lots of feelings. like a lot of feelings :(
author's note: i'm fully aware that this song is about a piano but i don't want to write angsty musician yoongi since it hits a little close to home, so i put my own spin into it. thank you to the lovely @ddaechwita for the banner! this is part of @missgeniality's wings collab so please make sure to check out the rest of the authors! ♥
i wanna give a shoutout to one of my favourite authors out there! @yoonia happy heckin birthday, my love!! i tried to channel your energy when i was writing this. truly, your fics give me a lot of inspiration!!!
m.list | ao3
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You first entered Helion Game Company together as interns, assigned to comb through thousands of customer complaints while sitting across from each other.
Yoongi didn’t speak much; opting to tilt his head every time you greeted him good morning, but the way his eyes twinkled as he listened to you talk about your weekend caused a confusing array of feelings to emerge quietly in your heart. And the feelings continue to blossom whenever you return to find the occasional tangerine next to your computer after you’ve had a long day.
To you, Yoongi would always be that seemingly aloof coworker with a tight rein on his emotions, but one whose voice can command the entire room with just the simplest of words. It wasn’t surprising that he rose quickly through the ranks and you watched with quiet pride when he was inducted into the Senior Sound Engineers circle for the next version launch of the company’s hit mobile game.
Though it took you a few more months, you soon joined him in the ranks to work alongside the project with a team of Creative Directors. Introducing yourself to a room of ambitious souls was a nerve-wracking experience, but it was only made bearable when you caught Yoongi’s eyes in the back of the room as his warm presence continued to provide a quiet flow of support that strengthened your nerve. Ever since that day, you held his gaze steadfastly whenever you presented a new concept to the team, and if you’re lucky, you’d find a tangerine sitting prettily on your desk the next morning.
With the highly anticipated one-year anniversary launch coming up soon, you’re swamped with endless meetings to finalize the details that would be included, so much so that you’d find yourself reminiscing about the early days. Though combing through a never-ending list of demands from players was tedious, you relished in the quiet that surrounded you and Yoongi, the two of you lost in your own worlds with only the clicks of keyboards accompanying your routines.
As time and busyness enveloped your lives, they robbed you from seeing one another and it didn’t surprise you to learn that the sprouting feelings you once had for the ebony-haired man were eventually absorbed by the cacophony of noise around you. However, not all is lost, because you’ve gathered the scattered petals on the ground and chose to call it a different name: friendship.
And though it felt like months since you last talked or even been in the same room with each other, you couldn’t help but smile at the rare moments when you’re greeted in the morning with the comforting scent from the small, citrus fruit.
---
The day started out rather pleasant, the stifling summer air made way for a gentle breeze, cooling down the normal heatwave that lurks in the alleys of the city. You hadn’t even slept that terribly, even waking up before your alarm clock to enjoy the morning air as you sipped coffee from your favourite mug. As you smiled at the chirping birds in a nearby tree, you just can’t shake the feeling that today was going to be great.
Or so you thought.
As soon as you arrive at the office, your lifted spirits deflate as your assistant frantically calls your name in near tears.
“Dowon leaked the character concept,” she informs you in a high-pitch shriek as you shouldered your way through a sea of panicking bodies. “Namjoon wants to see you.”
From what you can gather in the few minutes you had with your assistant as you turned around to walk in the other direction towards Namjoon’s office, the newest artist in your team, Dowon, had posted a selfie of himself on Twitter that contained the early sketches of the not-yet-released Yuna in the background. He hadn’t realized his mistake until he checked his ever-buzzing phone, and upon looking at the encroaching thousands of retweets and likes, his panic was evident in his pallor. Although he deleted the tweet immediately after his discovery, the news had already spread like wildfire – with users reposting the tweets on multiple platforms outside of just Twitter.
When you enter Namjoon’s office, his back is turned towards you. He’s talking to someone on the phone in harsh whispers, though your deafening heart rate makes it hard for you to piece together the words.
“G-Good morning,” comes a timid voice from your side.
You blink in surprise at Dowon’s trembling figure. Of course, he’d be here, but your mind had been so preoccupied with the disaster that you hadn’t noticed his presence. With his shoulders raised to the skies, he sinks into himself, unable to meet your gaze. You’re suddenly parched, throat constricting around your reply, unable to push the words out, so you offered him a half-hearted smile instead.
Your attention is stolen when Namjoon clears his throat. The blue tie on his neck is slightly loose, and the way he sighs as he slumps on his dark leather chair causes a stone to drop in your stomach. When Namjoon regards you with his steel gaze, his mouth is pulled into a grim line.
“I assume you’ve been informed about what happened?”
Dowon squeaks from beside you and you steal a quick glance at the pitiful man, your heart clenching at the unshed tears in his eyes. He isn’t the best artist in your team, but he does work the hardest. If Namjoon decides to terminate his contract, it will be hard for you to hire another artist so late into the development.
You nod. “Minju told me what happened on our walk to your office, yes.”
Namjoon’s face is unreadable, a stone mask that doesn’t betray what he’s thinking. The only indication that this situation may be worse than what you’d imagine is the way Namjoon’s tongue prods the inside of his cheek, a rare expression you’ve only seen a handful of times in your employment.
You’re unable to breathe with the thick, palpable tension in the air. Namjoon studies both your figures in the silence, and you wonder if he’s quietly enjoying this.
“Dowon,” he says calmly. “What do you have to say for yourself?”
“I’m—I’m sorry, sir. It w-won’t happen again,” Dowon stammers. He bows as he balls his slacks into his fists.
Namjoon nods and returns his attention to you. “Tell me, how’s his performance as of late?”
You feel a prickling sensation as Dowon’s pleading gaze snaps to you. “His work is consistent.” You maintain the intense eye contact with Namjoon, resolute in defending your employee. “You won’t find another artist like him this late in the game, sir.”
Tension releases your body from its hold when Namjoon shifts his gaze away from you. The breath of relief you let out seems to reassure Dowon, and from the corner of your eye, you can see the way his shoulders begin to relax.
“Dowon, you may go,” Namjoon announces.
You offer a congratulatory smile at the man beside you, one he returns with a deep bow before he scurries out of Namjoon’s office. The unsettling feeling returns to your stomach when the door shuts behind you.
“Unfortunately,” Namjoon mutters, his expression turning grim once more. “I have some bad news for you.”
---
You can’t stop the hot tears from making their way down your cheeks as you barricade yourself in the copy room. Your team, possibly sensing your ire after you left Namjoon’s office without so much as a hint of a smile, has left you alone to wallow until it was time for them to go, where they quietly slip away without so much as a wave.
“Stupid thing!” you grumble, kicking the wheel of the copier in frustration.
For the past hour or so, you’ve been trying to print the incident report you’ve painstakingly typed out all afternoon. Your meeting with Namjoon has left a nasty mark on your otherwise pristine office life. You can’t blame him, knowing that the decision has been made prior to you stepping foot on the ugly navy carpet of your office, but you can’t help the anger that rises steadily towards the man either.
After Dowon left, having been dismissed by Namjoon, your boss informed you that you’ve been written up for your negligence, which, as you spat out to him that morning, was complete and utter bullshit. Namjoon patiently listened to you rant as you plead your case, but your passionate words didn’t make a dent in his armour.
“I’m sorry,” Namjoon murmured as he handed you a yellow slip. “Please have this signed along with the incident report. I expect it on my desk first thing in the morning.”
The beeping from the printer breaks you of your thoughts and you cast your gaze down to the LCD screen flashing red and yellow, signifying yet another paper jam on the side of the printer.
Defeat pulls you down on to the floor, where you bring your knees close to your chest as you bury your face into your hands.
“Hey, are you okay?”
You lift your face to meet Yoongi’s worried gaze. Great.
“Yeah,” you sniffle, wiping your tears away with the back of your hand. “Yeah, I’m okay. Just been a really long day.” You let out a half-hearted chuckle, one that Yoongi returns with a sad smile.
He makes his way to your crouched figure before sitting down next to you, both your backs leaning against the printer. “Why don’t you tell me about it?”
Though you’re touched by his sincerity, a part of you hesitates to tell him what’s wrong, especially since your interactions thus far have been minute due to your busy schedules.
Sensing your reluctance, Yoongi nudges you lightly with his shoulders, a growing smile on his face. “Come on,” he urges. “I’ve heard you talk about your weekend since we were interns. You were never shy about discussing your thoughts before, why are you hiding them from me now?”
With a shuddering sigh, you smile gratefully at Yoongi before highlighting the unfortunate moments from this morning. True to his nature, Yoongi listens closely as you speak, chiming in once or twice with a few hums. Though as you begin to retell what happened in Namjoon’s office, Yoongi tenses beside you, his once worried expression morphing into fury.
“What the fuck?” Yoongi slams his fist to the copier behind you. “That’s bullshit!”
“Yeah? Well, tell that to Namjoon,” you snicker. In all the time you’ve known Yoongi, you have never seen him so upset. “It’s fine, really. I’ve never been written up before, so it’s not the end of the world. Plus, Namjoon said that it was out of his hands,” you sigh. “I just hope it doesn’t look bad on my performance review.”
Yoongi releases his bottom lip from his teeth, but not after he tortures it to a point where you see little pricks of red peeking through the soft tissue. Your hand moves on its own as you wipe his bottom lip with your thumb, tutting at the small injury. When you realize what you’ve done, you snatch your hand away quickly, your cheeks aflame when Yoongi looks at you with wide eyes.
“I’m so sorry, force of habit!” you stammer. “I have cousins and they’re a messy bunch, always wrestling with each other and getting cuts all over.”
God! What was wrong with you? With a silent prayer for the ground to open up, you bury your face into your hands, trying to hide away the embarrassment colouring your face.
“Thank you.”
With an amused chuckle, Yoongi gingerly removes your palms from your face to force your gaze back to his. “I mean it,” he whispers as he lets go of your hands. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome,” you utter just as quietly. “Really, I should be thanking you for listening to me; not just about this fiasco, but for all the times I bugged you during our intern days.”
Yoongi tilts his head, his smile faltering slightly. “That’s assuming that you’re a bother.” At your protests, he begins to laugh, shaking his head. “Nah, I like listening to you talk,” he beams. “If I hated your voice, I wouldn’t have listened to you drone on and on about the countless awful blind dates your friends set you up with.”
“Oh my god! Why would you bring that up?” you laugh, smacking him lightly on the shoulder. “Anyway, I should probably get on with this,” you pat the printer a few times, “I still have an incident report to print out.”
Yoongi rolls his eyes at the mention of your task. “Leave it until the morning. It’s all formality anyway.”
“I would never have guessed that one of the greatest sound engineers in our company is a troublemaker.”
He chuckles at your teasing grin. Maybe it’s just your imagination, but there’s an amused glint in his eyes as he murmurs, with a voice so low that goosebumps appear on your skin, “There’s a lot you don’t know about me.”
Your thoughts slow to a crawl as he pins you with his gaze. Was his face always this close to you? Breathing becomes secondary as your heart hammers in its cage. What was he thinking behind those rich irises?
“Yoongi, I…” you begin, but you’re not sure what you wanted to say next.
The spell breaks when his lips curl up into an easygoing smile. “Come on.” Yoongi stands and offers you a hand. “I’ll help you with the printer, only if you promise to get a drink with me.”
Bewildered at his sudden offer, you can only muster a nod as he helps you stand.
“Okay, let’s see what’s going on with this thing…”
You watch Yoongi work on the printer for a few minutes, though really, your mind is drifting further away as the feelings you thought had disappeared seem to resurface back into reality. After opening two separate compartments in the printer, Yoongi’s able to find the source of the jam and removed it, instructing you to press a few buttons on the small LCD screen. Like magic, the flashing red warning sign stops and a little jingle resounds instead before the machine begins to spit out your documents into the tray.
“How did you…” you begin, staring in awe as the printer staples your report together.
“Well, the IT guys were taking a long time to appear this one time and our team really needed to print some reports. Since no one seemed to know what to do, I just rolled up my sleeves and opened it to find the issue,” he explains as he hands you the stack of paper. “Ever since then, every time this printer acts up, my team usually comes to me for help.”
Yoongi flashes an amused smirk in your direction as he wipes his toner-covered hands with a handkerchief. “So, ready for that drink?”
---
The walk to the trendy bar just a little way outside of your office is filled with a round of 20 questions. It’s strange to see Yoongi in this light, so animated and full of life. He talked about college; how he switched majors from business despite his parents’ disapproval. In return, you talk about your favourite musicians before learning that you listen to similar genres.
When you enter the mostly full bar and squeeze yourselves into the booth, the conversation never ceases, only stopping briefly when a waiter comes to take your order. Not wanting to drink on an empty stomach, you ordered a plate of appetizers – wings and nachos – to accompany your liquor.
“Good choice. They have the best nachos here,” Yoongi comments just as the waiter takes your menu and leaves.
“Oh? Do you come here often?”
“Yeah. They have live music a few times a month and my friend recently got a gig here, so I showed up to support him.” Yoongi points to the dim stage area where a microphone and a singular chair stand.
“That’s sweet of you! Okay, what else don’t I know about you, Yoongi… Do you have a secret identity? Office worker by day, criminal mastermind by night?” you tease.
Yoongi laughs into his hand, shaking his head. “Oh, if I was a criminal mastermind, I wouldn’t be stuck working at an office job. I’d just steal a bunch of money so I can live in peace.”
Just as you begin to ask about his plans for conquering the world, your food and drinks arrive, holding off the conversation for a later time. You’re too busy munching on your nachos and sipping your liquor of choice that it takes you a moment to realize that Yoongi stopped eating.
“What’s up?” you ask.
Yoongi studies you as he brings the glass of beer to his lips. “Nothing, I’m just glad you’re finally yourself again.”
“It helps that I have a friend to talk to,” you beam. “Thanks for taking me out tonight too.”
“Don’t mention it,” he smiles. “Sorry, I got a bit in my head there because I felt like I was pushing you to go when you didn’t want to.”
“Honestly? I’m glad you did. If not, I would’ve been at home alone to just drink myself under. That can’t be healthy.”
“Oh, and drinking in a relatively crowded bar is?” he fires back before bursting into laughter.
“That’s not what I meant!” you protest with a pout, stuffing your face full of nachos.
You continue to eat until only the platter empties. Through the night, the empty glasses beside you increase in quantity as you let yourself go with the flow of conversation and music. Once, Yoongi made you try something called a ‘Blue Moon’, his favourite beer imported from the Midwestern area of the United States that is served with a slice of orange.
“That reminds me, I never thanked you for the tangerines you leave on my desk,” you muse, drinking the last of the beer. The citrusy taste lingers on your tongue even as you switch over to chug a glass full of water.
Yoongi grins as he raises his glass. “Of course. A good job always deserves a reward.”
“Oh, and what kind of reward are you looking for?” You couldn’t help but snort when Yoongi chokes on his drink.
“You’ll pay for this one day,” he pouts as he cleans up his mess with a napkin.
Sure, your day was less than stellar, but after the Yoongi’s presence, you couldn’t help the smile that found its way into your face as you crawled into bed.
---
The next couple of days after the incident was just as you expected. The office is abuzz with gossip when you enter, with some brave folks asking if what transpired during Namjoon’s office was true. You confirmed what little you could, preferring to keep the details of your write up a secret, away from loose lips.
Though the energy surrounding your team has shifted, some are wary of working with Dowon in the event that another leak, your spirits lift slightly when you spy a familiar round orange fruit on top of your files this morning. Unlike all the other instances however, this one has a note attached to it.
“Drinks are on me tonight.”
And maybe… just maybe, things aren’t so bad after all.
---
“Fuck!” You slam the empty glass to the table, causing a few patrons to look over in your direction.
“Whoa, settle down there.” Yoongi’s comforting presence has not placated your anger the way it normally would.
Despite the launch happening within less than a month, your team is behind on some of the last-minute touches for the characters, making you work overtime for the past few days now. Speaking of the devil, your phone chimes and you spy the email that one of your employees sent you, asking for approval on a last-minute design change.
You type your confirmation with a low grumble under your breath, upset that even with the weekend within sight, your team is still hard at work.
“I’m sorry, Yoongi,” you mutter as you lock your phone and stash it back in your purse. “I’m sure it’s hellish on your end too and I’m taking this out on you.”
“I guess I should feel honoured?” he snickers, raising his glass to you. “When you were written up, you barely opened up to me and now look at us, drinking away our stress in the same booth every other day.”
You tap the bottom of his beer with your glass before taking a sip, grimacing as the liquor burns its way down your throat. “Well, it beats drinking alone,” you sigh.
Over the past month now, ever since the incident, you and Yoongi have made a point to meet at the bar every now and again, mostly to complain about work.
“Your blood pressure is off the charts, huh?”
“I feel like I’ll probably die before I reach 40 if this is how my team handles every launch,” you grumble, not affected by his joviality.
“Relax, tomorrow’s Friday! And then we have a long weekend ahead of us. Just bear with it for one more day, okay?”
You grumble an unintelligible response as you sip on your drink. Numb from the drinks, you’re not as perceptive as you usually are, completely missing the way he’s currently staring at you. His lips are downturned as he absentmindedly drums his fingers on the side of his beer before he finally pipes up.
“You know… I can help you with that. Your stress, I mean. I know that this was pretty much my idea – to get drunk and forget the stress” – you can’t help but raise your glass and chug as he continues to speak – “but I may have a healthier alternative.”
“Okay, spill. What do you have in mind?”
“I can always make you cum.”
As though he didn’t just drop the biggest bomb in your time together, Yoongi continues to drink his beer nonchalantly, while your mind struggles to comprehend what he just said.
“I’m sorry… what? Are you serious?”
“Of course, I am,” he shrugs. “I mean, I heard an orgasm is the best way to get over your stress and I’m pretty confident in my abilities.”
Your brain is unable to form the correct syllables to convey your thoughts.
The fact that Yoongi finds you attractive is a miracle in itself, especially when he walks around charming everyone in the office with his swoopy black hair and easy smile. Maybe your crush on him is slowly rearing its head again after all these years, but you aren’t sure if you’re willing to risk changing the relationship you currently have. Being Yoongi’s friend has been easy; he’s a great listener and you’re only scratching the surface behind the quiet exterior he presents.
However, somewhere deep inside, you must’ve wanted to change the dynamic to something more, or else why would you be questioning his proposal so intently?
While you’re busy staring into the amber liquid in your glass, Yoongi reaches out to cover the back of your hand with his, breaking you from the internal struggle in your mind. “Hey, if you’re not into it, don’t worry,” he chuckles, with a shrug of his shoulders. “I’m just offering my services. No strings attached, kind of deal.”
The question stands: why? As you stare into the hand that’s currently enveloping yours, you can’t fathom why someone like Yoongi would give you the time of day. It didn’t seem real – his proposal. But then, your gaze drifts to his face and after spending so much time with him, you know that Yoongi isn’t one to joke around.
“Don’t think about it too hard, okay?” He speaks just as he spies the waiter coming towards you with your check. “Looks like the bar’s going to close pretty soon. So, how about we get out of here and call it a night?”
---
That night, you toss and turn in your sheets, feeling a sense of emptiness. You can’t help but replay the scene from the bar – specifically Yoongi's nonchalant proposal.
Unable to sleep, you think. And then you think some more. Until your head is swimming with alcohol and something else.
And that’s when you call Yoongi at 3:22 in the morning, slightly surprised that he’s still awake.
"On the topic of what we talked about in the bar tonight…” you begin, biting your bottom lip nervously.
Yoongi groans on the other line. “I’m serious when I said you shouldn’t worry about it. We’re cool. If you’re not into the idea, I get—”
You cut him off before he could ramble further, smirking into the phone. “How confident are you?”
Instead of answering, Yoongi chuckles. “Wear a skirt and you’ll find out tomorrow, hm?”
---
It isn’t strange for you to be seated next to Yoongi during the manager’s meeting, especially since how closely you have to work with the sound department, but you can’t help but squirm in your seat as you attempt to listen to Namjoon summarizing the development reports he received in preparation for the launch.
Your seat is pushed almost flushed against the table, with the edge digging into your abdomen, to hide Yoongi’s fingers that are currently trailing ambiguous shapes into your skin. Coupled with the fact that he’s currently holding your panties hostage in the pockets of his slacks, every time you feel the cold bite of his metal rings when he travels higher, you clench around nothing while trying not to whine in front of the twenty-something people gathered in the room.
Taking a chance to look around the room, you’re only met with bored faces and yawning mouths, and there’s a subtle groan when Namjoon moves the PowerPoint slides to talk about last season’s numbers. However, whatever brilliant revelation he’s about to impart on you is drowned out by the roaring desire when Yoongi’s fingertips brush against your folds.
He whistles low while staring at the pie chart, and the few chuckles floating from the back of the room assume that he’s talking about the high numbers last season brought in, when in actuality, Yoongi’s pleasantly surprised at how wet you already are; your pussy sucking his fingers in down to the second knuckle.
The breath leaves your lungs when Namjoon raises an eyebrow when his gaze floats over to the two of you.
“Tell me about it. You really knocked it out of the park with the background music for the new area,” he chuckles, nodding his praise to Yoongi.
The corner of Yoongi’s lips twitch, a smirk threatening to take over his features. Oh, if only your coworkers knew.
Your poor bottom lip is bruised and swollen from your constant need to swallow down your moans. Sweat slicks all over your arms and back as you sit rigid, your legs pushed apart, and Yoongi’s unhurried fingers traverse your sopping cunt, taking care not to make too much noise in the otherwise quiet meeting room.
“All right, that’s pretty much all I have for you today. Thanks for letting me drone on for an hour,” he winces when he looks at the clock, “…and a half. Enjoy the rest of the day,” Namjoon chuckles as he adjourns the meeting.
You exhale gradually when Yoongi leaves your cunt as the others begin to stand. On one hand, you’re relieved, grateful that you weren’t caught because you were definitely breaking a slew of code violations while you’re getting handsy on the table. On the other, the strong need to orgasm only surges in your veins, wanting nothing more than to have Yoongi fuck you right then and there; consequences be damned.
“Aren’t you getting up?” Yoongi quips, an amused grin on his face.
You glower at his smirk, unable to form a sensible comeback with your heartbeat still steadfast on a thundering rhythm. When you do get out of your chair, the grip you hold on to the back is strong, your legs feeling like jelly after being teased for so long.
“I’m fine,” you grumble as Yoongi extends a hand – the one that was inside of you just mere moments ago.
With your shaky legs, you walk stiffly out of the meeting room, but not after stealing a glance around the remaining crowd to see if anyone noticed anything strange. Everyone, including Namjoon, seemed indifferent.
“And how was that?” Yoongi questions once you’re out of earshot.
“Unbelievably hot. I think I could’ve cum if Namjoon kept on talking,” you admit with a grin.
“Interesting,” he hums. “Do you have any meetings after this?”
Before answering his question, you look through your phone calendar. “Nope, I don’t have anything until 2pm.” That’s a lie – you meant to check in with your artists all day today, but the curiosity got the better of you and you wonder what it was he has planned.
“Come to my office in half an hour? I’ll make sure we’re undisturbed.”
Though he posed it as a question, you know it’s anything but.
Yoongi walks away with a smirk and you have to bring your legs together as you anticipate what he has planned next.
---
This is nothing like the meeting this morning.
Yoongi has you pressed up against the copier, holding your leg up as his fingers return to their rightful place inside you. The metal bits dig into your shoulders as you shift your hips, allowing him access into your deepest parts.
“Yoongi—”
The whine you let out is nothing short of pathetic as you rut in time with his thrusts. The sleeves of his dress shirt are seeped with your arousal, yet Yoongi doesn’t care, too focused on your pussy swallowing his fingers whole.
“Look at you,” he breathes, marvelling at the way your chest rises and falls rapidly. “So needy and wet. Keep your voice down, hm? We don’t want the whole office to hear us, do we?”
You inhale sharply before busying yourself with your bottom lip as he slams his hand repeatedly inside, his fingertips stroking the patch of nerves that has your body jerking in his grip. The coil has been building for some time now – your head is already swimming with desire. When his thumb presses circles on your clit, you know it’s only a matter of minutes before you come undone.
“S-So close,” you whimper. You’re arching your back as you’re practically sprawled all over the copy machine.
“Just let go, cum all over my hands,” he rasps before dipping lower to graze his teeth along your pulse point. “Cum for me.”
With a strangled moan, your body obeys his command. “Yoongi—fuck.”
While your team is out there, perfecting the project that’s due in a matter of weeks, you’re pulled apart at the seams – the orgasm slamming into you like waves as it cascades down your spine, making you shudder.
“Good girl, so good to me,” Yoongi mumbles absentmindedly into your hair. “So pretty when you cum.”
Your vision is blurry, filled with dancing lights as you attempt to calm your breathing. When Yoongi slips his fingers out of your cunt, you hiss, aching at the sensitivity. He massages your thighs with a hum, paying attention to the leg that was propped up for the entire duration of the… events.
“How’d I do?” he teases as he helps you smooth out the wrinkles from your skirt.
You’re honestly still reeling. Though your heart isn’t traveling a thousand miles an hour, it’s still clocking in the upper hundreds. Yet, your body did feel lighter, your mind also clearer somehow. You must admit, Yoongi orchestrated your body like an expert conductor – as though he’s known you all your life. No one has made you cum that quickly before.
Perhaps you should’ve kept those thoughts to yourself because you can see the way Yoongi seems to glow at your compliment: pride filling his chest along with a confident smirk on his face.
“Now, can I have my panties back, please?” you whisper as you hold out your hand.
Yoongi seemed to think for a moment, his lips turned upwards to the side. At your amusement and horror, he shakes his head. “I think I’ll hold on to these for the rest of the day.”
“Yoongi,” you state flatly, nervousness clawing up your belly, but you can’t deny the thrill either, so you don’t push it.
After he makes sure that no one seems to be paying attention to the copy room, Yoongi helps you sneak away, but not before filling your thoughts with some of his other ideas.
---
Your day passes like a blur, and you find yourself locking your legs more often as your distracted brain thinks about the events that happen this morning. The idea of Yoongi walking around the office with your lace underwear stuffed in his slacks makes poor company when you’re trying to work.
Too engrossed in your thoughts, you hadn’t realized that your assistant had let herself in until she called your name again with a cough.
“Sorry,” you smile sheepishly. “I’m a bit distracted right now.”
Your assistant merely smiled demurely as she hands you a stack of reports you requested. “Here’s the information on the developments we’ve made over the past few months and the breakdown of the new region from the programmers for next year’s launch. We can start meeting with them to talk about what they want the art team to start working on.”
You skim through the details, humming along as your assistant explains the finer points of what is written. “Thank you, Suha. This looks good,” you praise.
Suha bows to you with a proud smile, but instead of leaving, she shifts her weight as she stands. “Actually, I was wondering if I could leave in half an hour?” she requests.
A mischievous idea pops in your head and you have to thread your hands together to avoid immediately texting a certain dark-haired man. “Sure,” you chirp in a voice too high as you fail to hide your excitement. Clearing your throat, you try again. “Yes, Suha. You’ve done a good job. Please feel free to leave now if you’d like.”
Suha claps her hands together and bows. “Thank you!” she calls out before disappearing.
When the door to your office closes shut, you fire out a text and hum, fingers drumming impatiently on the oak table as you wait for Yoongi to arrive.
---
“Took you long enough,” you smirk when he opens the door.
“Well, unlike some people, I was busy managing my team.”
Poking his head one more time to make sure that no one’s noticed his arrival, Yoongi closes the door firmly behind him, locking it in place.
“Now, why have you brought me into your office, hm?” he asks rhetorically before stuffing his hands in his pockets and pulling out the familiar garment. “Could it be because of this?”
You laugh quietly with a shake of your head. “Maybe it has something to do with that,” you muse, watching him approach with your bottom lip tucked between your teeth. “Or maybe it’s because I’m just so stressed, you know?”
Yoongi chuckles at your insinuation before leaning forward until your faces are inches apart. “And,” he husks, wetting his lips with his tongue, “How can I help you?”
You hum as you grab him by the collar, crashing your lips against his as an answer to his question. In a spectacular feat, Yoongi’s strong arms lift you up from across the table, pulling you flush against his chest as he sits you down in front of him. Your legs wrap around his torso, causing your skirt to rise to display your bare pussy towards him.
Yoongi’s rough hands dig into the meat of your thighs as he grinds into your core. “Tell me. How did it feel walking around the office with no panties all day, hm?”
“Exhilarating,” you admit in a breathless moan, body aflame with desire as you feel his erection drag against your clit.
“And look at you now, so needy and ready for more. What do you think your team would say if they saw you like this?” Every few words are punctuated with Yoongi’s fingers undoing the buttons to your blouse.
“God, don’t ask me that,” you pout, arching your chest forward. “I don’t want to think about work right now.”
At this, he laughs. “Have you been thinking about work at all during the day? Some might say you’re a little distracted.”
Yoongi cuts off whatever retort you had prepared when he kisses along your jawline and down your neck, nipping the skin just harsh enough to send shivers down your spine, as he continues his mission to free your tits from their cage.
“Pretty,” he mumbles into your skin while palming your breasts.
The combined stimulation is almost too much for you to handle. With his hard cock dragging against your bare cunt and his lips attacking your neck, it doesn’t take long before your skin is riddled with goosebumps as you clamp your lips shut to stop yourself from moaning too loudly.
You find a moment of clarity when Yoongi unbuttons his pants, but just as you reach out to help him, a knock resounds at the door.
The two of you looked at each other in a momentary state of panic as you buttoned up your blouse in haste. Your hands tremble, making it hard for the plastic beads to slip into place, but somehow you managed to not wrinkle your clothes too much, though your heart thunders in your ears when you hear Namjoon, of all people, call your name from the other side of the door.
Making sure you’re both half decent, you unlock the door and yank it open, revealing a startled Namjoon in front of you.
“Uh… hey. Are you okay? Why was your door locked?”
You’re sweating and shaking, almost getting caught by your boss will do that to a person, but somehow you manage a curt nod, and when you lie, your voice actually sounded believable. “Yeah, just got a call about some interesting news from my family. How can I help you?”
Namjoon narrows his eyes in suspicion before shaking his head. “How about we talk inside?”
“That… um…” Your brain stalls for an excuse but fails. With a dejected heart, thinking that you’re probably going to get fired at this rate, you seal your fate and let your boss in… only to find yourself staring into an empty office.
Where had Yoongi gone?
Namjoon closes the door behind you and makes his way to your desk. You trail after him but before glancing around the room again. You find your answer when you sit down in your chair. Hunched under the desk is Yoongi, who has both his feet tucked under his chin as he grins at you. If Namjoon catches the way your eyes widen in surprise, he says nothing as you sit down.
“I’m just here to see how you’re doing, especially with the launch happening so soon. Is there anything I can help you with?”
You shift uncomfortably in your chair, especially when you accidentally brush against Yoongi’s leg. “I really appreciate the offer, but you really don’t have to check in on me every single time we have a launch. This isn’t my first time, sir.”
Your boss only sighs, sinking into the chair. “I know, truth be told, I wanted to tell you that I’m in the process of getting your write up to disappear from the HR records since it’s really not your fault.”
“Wait… huh?” You blink at Namjoon slowly, genuinely surprised that he’d go through such lengths.
Namjoon only shrugs. “Yeah, I mean. I feel pretty awful about it. So, I pulled some strings and you have been granted your clean record back. That’s all I wanted to say, really. It just didn’t seem right if I brought it up in the hallway,” he grins, showing off his dimpled cheeks as he finished his explanation.
“Thanks, boss,” you mumble gratefully. “It means a lot to me that you’d do that.”
“Don’t mention it.” Namjoon chuckles. “Anyway, what’s with the interesting call? Is your family okay?”
“Yeah,” you squeak, unprepared for him to call out your lie. “They’re okay, I swear. Just some trouble with my cousins…”
Namjoon seems satisfied with your response, nodding after you trailed off. The silence feels suffocating. After a few more heartbeats, Namjoon stands to leave, calling out behind his shoulder as he opens the door, “Well, if you need anything else, you know where to find me.”
The instant the door clicks shut, you jump away from your chair as you help Yoongi stand.
“You all right?” you ask, looking him up and down before deeming that he’s fine.
The easy-going smile returns to his face almost immediately, giving you a full view of his gums. “That could’ve been bad.” Yoongi checks his watch and smiles, pointing at the time. “But, it’s now technically the weekend. So, how about we pack our things and get the hell out of here, huh?”
---
Yoongi’s apartment is everything like you’d imagine, clean and monochromatic with hints of blue popping here and there. Lining the walls of his bedroom are framed jerseys from a few athletes you recognize, all of them signed and probably costing a good fortune. Besides the decoration, there’s really only one other piece of furniture aside from the bed. Standing on the wall closest to the window is a black floor-to-ceiling bookcase, filled with all sorts of books and a few random photographs of his younger years.
But you have no time to observe fully, not when Yoongi pushes you on the bed with a quiet chuckle, demanding your attention once more as he kisses the length of your throat.
“Now, where were we?” he teases into your skin.
You can only giggle before the sound turns into a groan when his hand digs into the skin of your ass. “I have no idea, but I say, let’s just fuck.”
“Good answer.”
Yoongi doesn’t care to discard your clothing, choosing to simply ruck your skirt to your waist before his hands fit between your legs.
“Yoongi—ah! Stop teasing!” you whine, pressing your back into the mattress as you writhe under his touch.
“Not until I get a taste of you first.”
With a final peck to your lips, Yoongi drops to the edge of the bed before pulling you towards him until you feel his hot breath against your pussy. He takes his time with eating you out – alternating between licking your folds and sucking on your clit – as you moan and gasp around him. Your arousal seeps out of you in a steady trickle, a puddle forming on his sheets.
“Shit…” you grunt. “Do I taste that good?”
“You do,” he mumbles, the deep vibrations from his voice causing you to arch your back. “God, I can taste you all day.”
True to his word, he drowns himself with your pussy, paying more attention to your clit as you feel the orgasm slowly spreading through your body.
“Yoongi, wait,” you breathe, tugging at his dark locks so he’d look at you.
And what a sight he is to behold.
The bottom half of his face is wet with your arousal as he smirks up at you with pupils so blown out, they’re almost black.
“I wanna cum with your cock inside of me,” you confess, sitting up to pull him into a deep kiss. “Haven’t you teased me enough today?”
Yoongi hums into the kiss, wrapping his arms around your body before pushing you back down to the mattress. “I guess that can be arranged,” he chuckles.
With your help, his slacks and underwear are thrown haphazardly on the floor. His cock stands proudly for you to admire; with a leaking reddish tip and a prominent vein running down one side of the shaft. Unable to help yourself, your hand wraps around his length, causing Yoongi to groan as his eyes flutter shut.
“I thought you wanted my cock?” he teases breathlessly.
“Not before I get a taste,” you counter.
Chuckling, he props his pillows along the headboard before settling back, making it easier for you to crawl over and swallow his length. Intent on keeping eye contact, you make short licks around the head before travelling lower, sucking on the tender skin of his balls before moving back up.
“Oh, fuck—” he grunts, hips jumping up when you wrap your lips around the tender head.
While still staring at him through your lashes, you lower yourself until about halfway, the weeping head knocking against the back of your throat making it hard for you to breathe. You hollow your cheekbones as you exit, earning a lovely, guttural groan from the dark-haired man below. Yoongi places a hand on your head as you continue, pumping him in tandem with the movements of your head as you bob up and down his length.
Your remaining hand digs into the skin of his thigh as you take him deeper down your throat, until you manage to sheathe all of him down to the base. Tears spring in your eyes as you whimper around his length, but despite this, you refuse to stop, not when you spy the satisfied smirk on his face that only aids the desire that’s already strong in your veins.
The grip around your scalp tightens as he attempts to pull you off. “I can’t… I’m going to cum if you keep this up.”
His words only add fuel to the fire and you speed up your ministrations despite Yoongi’s attempts to make you stop. Saliva collects into a wet, messy pool on the sheets as you swallow him into your throat. The tears cascade down your face, yet you can’t help but smirk proudly, especially when his lovely eyes flutter shut and his mouth hangs open as he chants your name.
“Fuuuck, I’m going to c-cum—shit!”
You inhale sharply as you push your head down, until his soft curls tickles your nose. A second later, your mouth fills with the salty, bitter taste of cum as Yoongi jerks under your touch, digging his nails into the sheets. You help Yoongi ride out his orgasm with a few pumps of your hand, making sure to collect all the excess without leaving a drop behind. When you’re sure there’s nothing left, you open your mouth to show him your reward before gulping it down with a smile.
With ragged breaths, he watches you swallow with a quirk of his lips; one of the corners pulled up into a half-smirk. “God, that was so fucking hot.”
“It’s your reward for making me feel good this morning,” you wink.
“Are you ready for round 2?” Yoongi asks with a grin.
“I should be asking you that…” But your words trail off when you notice that his dick is still very much hard. “Talk about stamina,” you mumble.
Yoongi chortles as he studies your shell-shocked face. “You look like you’ve never been properly satisfied,” he hums.
“After tonight? I have a feeling that may be the case.”
The two of you burst into laughter before he pulls you closer, kissing you unhurriedly as his hands explore your body to discard your clothes until you lay bare before him.
“You really are gorgeous,” he mumbles as he draws abstract shapes into the small of your back. Catching your eye roll, he chuckles. “I mean it.”
When he sits up to capture your lips, it’s all soft and filled with an emotion you’ve yet to name, and you wished your blood wasn't roaring in your ears because it’s making it incredibly difficult for you to hear what he’s whispering into your skin.
“What were you saying?” you ask when you part. “I think I missed it.”
Yoongi only smiles, but it’s not the brilliant grin that shows the pink of his gums, no, this one is more subdued – delicate – as he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear.
“Nothing,” he replies, voice low and airy. “I didn’t say anything you don’t already know.”
It’s a strange response, but you really can’t push it further, because in the swirling abyss that exists in the dark pool of his eyes, lies an answer that you’re uncertain you want to know just yet.
Instead, you kiss him again, gliding your lips to get his to open, so your tongues can meet and have the conversation you’re too afraid to voice – for the sake of preserving the moment. You kiss him with ferocity, pushing him back onto the pillows as your hips grind against his hard length.
And when you lower yourself onto his cock, you forget the vow you made, because in this moment, with the moonlight filtering past the sheer curtains in his room, Yoongi is breath-taking. With his soft, dark hair splaying all over the pillows and his slightly swollen lips parted open in a quiet moan; you know you’ve fallen in love. Yoongi’s sincerity is your undoing, ever since the two of you met and sat next to each other when you were interns, and now? As you learn more about him and manage to breach through the quiet exterior? You’re a goner.
And maybe you’re delusional, but you swear, when your lips find his as you begin to move, you can taste the faintest trace of oranges.
Your nails drag down his chest as you roll your hips with his thrusts. “Please,” you beg, but you’re not sure what for. “Please, Yoongi.”
Despite your lack of instructions, Yoongi seems to know exactly what you need. “I got you,” he murmurs as he holds you before flipping you over, letting your chest rest on the mattress below.
Yoongi kisses your spine as he bottoms out again, making you moan into his pillows as he begins to move. “You’re so tight, shit,” he rasps as his fingers find your clit between your legs.
He keeps a steady pace, rocking you back and forth against the bed as you writhe with every drag of his cock and fingers. The only word that exists in your vocabulary at this moment is his name and without shame, you call out to him in a series of pathetic whines. You need him to know how good you feel, but without the ability to form coherent sentences, this is all you can do.
Though just like before, it doesn’t take him long to decipher your tells and he increases his speed, driving his cock deep into your pussy.
Finally, your tongue seems to want to move again. “Feels good… Yoongi…” you manage.
“Yeah? Me too. God, me too.”
He turns you over again then, so that you’re facing him once more. Yoongi crashes his lips to yours as he begins to thrust in earnest, pushing himself deeper than before. Your vision is filled with stars as you grab hold of his neck, rutting in tandem with his drive. What little hold you have left on your sanity wanes as the pressure builds – release so close that it leaves you gasping.
“Gonna-ah c-cum,” you moan, digging your nails into his back.
“Let go,” he commands, and again, he repeats, “I got you.”
The coil snaps at the sound of his promise. “Yoongi!” you shriek, tumbling down the chasm of pleasure. Your walls tightening around his length triggers a second orgasm from him, and with a groan of your name, he floods your insides with his seed.
“Shit… I didn’t—fuck—you felt so good, that I, uhm,” he stutters. Yoongi’s body shudders with pleasure even as he comes down from his high. With a heaving gasp, he collapses next to you, arms too tired to hold himself back up.
You pull him into an embrace while shushing his mumbled speech. “It’s okay, you’re okay. I’m on the pill, so don’t worry,” you assure him. “And if you’re worried if I came, didn’t you hear me scream? My throat is so sore now, holy shit.”
The both of you chuckle, the airy sounds mingling together. In the silence that follows, you don’t think about the feelings that surged in the midst of your coupling; refusing to acknowledge that he’s the reason that has your heart running a thousand miles a second. It isn’t just because of the nature of your relationship, but you’re genuinely worried of the possibility of losing a friend… and yet… Yoongi feels so perfect in your arms like this, with his smiling face smushed slightly to your chest. In the singular day since you’ve started this relationship, he’s made a habit of trailing shapes on the small of your back while humming quietly to a song you don’t know.
The soothing action pulls you away from your overbearing thoughts for a second. While planting a kiss into his hair, you ask him, “What’s the name of this song?”
“You like it?” Yoongi nuzzles further into your skin, breathing you in. “It’s my own original piece. It’s called ‘First Love’ and I wrote it about my piano back in my mother’s house.”
In your time together, Yoongi’s never mentioned his family or much of his childhood really, though you never thought to ask about them either.
“Music will forever be my first love,” he hums, dark eyes turning glassy as he recalls the memories. “I remembered slaving so hard over the keys that by the time I managed to master my first classical piece without making any mistakes, it drove me to tears,” Yoongi chuckles. “Ever since then, I practiced like a mad man, every single day after school. Just to play one piece after the next. My mother was mad; not because I was making too much noise, but because my studies suffered a lot.”
Your silence allows him to continue, but not before he peeks at you to make sure you haven’t fallen asleep. When your eyes meet his, the two of you smile, but his is much wider, a perfect showcase displaying his pearly teeth. He rolls over so your head lies on his chest, and his hand moves to trace shapes on your shoulder instead.
“My mother threatened to take the piano away, so I ended up working extra hard, on both music and my grades, but somehow it still wasn’t enough. There’s a time when she came into my room and ripped a bunch of the music sheets that I’ve painstakingly collected,” he sighs sadly, casting a faraway look towards the ceiling.
Your heart bleeds as he recites some of the words to the song. The lyrics personifies music as though it truly was his first love, but one line leaves your heart aching and shattered: Without you, I’m nothing.
It’s the decisive and almost unhealthy, nature of the words that cuts you deep. You’re not sure if it’s intentional, but it sounded like he’s shackled to his muse; needing it solely to live.
However, Yoongi isn’t seeking validation, nor is he looking for you to disagree, so you keep your mouth shut as he continues to talk about his life – about having to work two to three jobs while going through college and once he graduated, unable to find a suitable job in his field that lead him to work with Helion today.
“And that’s when I met you,” he chuckles as he tightens his embrace. “Something about you reminds me of the day I learned Chopin for the first time.”
“Why? Because I make you want to be a better person?” you tease, poking him lightly on the cheek.
Yoongi looks down at you with a cocky smirk. “That’s for me to know and for you to find out.”
---
When you wake up the next day, the sun is peeking into the otherwise dark room through the crack in the blackout curtains. The bed next to you is empty, though the lingering warmth from its previous occupant tells you that he left not too long ago. Sure enough, you find a note on the nightstand tucked under the glass of water.
Gone out for bagels. Text me your order.
You’re smiling as you down the glass, reading the swoops of letters repeatedly before reaching for your phone.
You: just a plain bagel with cream cheese. Strong coffee. Please and thank you. Yoongi: yep.
Yep.
That one simple text turns you into a giggling mess as you shove the screen close to your face.
Setting your phone aside, your thoughts are too deeply intertwined with yesterday’s events that you can’t help the burning desire that flows through you once more. You’re satisfied; of course, you are, but the thought of spending another day with him, without having to worry about work for another day, especially with the launch being so soon, has you melting into his sheets.
Your breathing hitches as you close your eyes and lay back on the bed, caressing your own skin like Yoongi did the night before. Your fingers pale in comparison to his, yet you let the memories guide you as you tremble with every drag of touch against your clit.
“Yoongi—” you mumble into the quiet morning air.
You press your face closer to his side of the bed and the familiar scent of his cologne has you careen closer to the edge. The whine you let out is nothing short of pathetic as you rut desperately into your hand while your mind conjures up an image of Yoongi leaning against the doorway, bagels abandoned in the kitchen while he studies your actions with amusement.
“Jesus, wetting the bed so early in the morning?” He’d tut, arms crossed in front of his chest. “Guess you can’t get enough of my cock, huh?”
“N-No… need you,” you whisper, hips raised from the bed as your fingers work quicker – wetness dripping down the inside of your thighs to make their mark on the sheets below. “Fuck—need you so badly.”
You press your head into the pillow while you crowd your pussy with another finger. It isn’t enough – nothing compares to the sheer girth of his cock and how effectively it stretches you out to make a mess out of you.
Three.
It requires three of your fingers for you to feel full as you replace your hand with the veiny arms belonging to Yoongi in your mind. You imagine him leaning over you with his signature, ever-present smirk on his face as you writhe under his touch. He’d provoke you to be louder, punctuating his words with every drag of his fingers against the patch of nerves in your cunt so that everyone could hear who this pussy belongs to.
It’s sudden – how the forest fire eclipses your whole body that snaps the coil in half. All because your filthy mind conjures up a final image of Yoongi commanding you to let go.
“Shitshitshit—Fuck! Yoongi!” You cum with an embarrassingly broken whine of his name, your fingers plunging deep into your pulsing hole that causes your arousal to squirt on the bed below.
You crash back to the reality of the bed with ragged breaths. The room spins slightly when you open your eyes and you have to blink several times to get the squiggly lines to float away from your vision.
When your breath evens out, you survey the room you’ve neglected in the heat of the moment. You didn’t get a chance to see very much of it last night and with your brain so occupied this morning, this was the perfect time to snoop into your coworker’s life.
Like the vague recollections of his living room, his bedroom is mostly devoid of furniture aside from the bed and the large floor to ceiling bookshelf on the further end of the wall. With nothing else to do, you hop from the bed to take a look at the books, smiling to yourself as you survey the rare photographs in each shelf of a younger Min Yoongi.
As your fingers trail the large tomes of stories, dictionaries, and magazines, you stop when you notice a gap between the end of the shelf and a copy of Don Quixote. Curious, your finger reaches into the gap to produce a small, yellow notebook the size of your palm. The title on the front is illegible, scrawled on by a small child, so you decide to delve through the pages to see what lurks behind.
You chuckle into the book as you read through entries dating as far back as the early 2000s. It’s a collection of poems – written by the one and only Min Yoongi. The earlier pages contain stories of playing outside and ice cream along with brief glimpses of his intelligence as he laments about the fleeting nature of summer.
You’re pleasantly surprised to find that he’s continued the tradition as you study the entries, his once messy handwriting morphing into the swoop of cursive you’re familiar with. It’s interesting to see his life in small glimpses: his teenage self agonizes over his future while the Yoongi in his early twenties begin to explore topics of dreams and goals.
You read each sentence carefully in an attempt to retain all the emotions he’s spilled on the page. Who knew that Yoongi has such an artistic mind?
When you reach the more recent entries, you hesitate, wondering if it’s all right for you to read through them. Unfortunately, your curiosity outweighs the small voice of conscience, so you pressed on.
The thought of Yoongi hunched over his bed scribbling into the tiny notebook makes you smile. You imagine the way his shoulders would curve inwardly while he balances the pages on his lap and that devilish tongue of his would wet his lips occasionally as he thinks.
You suppress a groan as your treacherous mind recalls what that tongue did to you the night before.
Shaking the dirty thoughts away, you return your attention to the last entry on the page. Unlike its predecessors, this one is short, containing only a title and a single line. However, the title itself is confusing - a seemingly random mix of consonants and vowels forming a word you know for sure does not exist in the English language. You figure it’s some sort of code, but your sluggish mind refuses to piece together the anagram, still dipped in sleep and the aftereffects of your orgasm. You grab your phone with a sigh, employing trusty, old Google to do its job. When you input the title into the search bar, for once, autocorrect comes to your rescue… but at what cost?
“What?”
Disbelief exists in the knot of your eyebrows until you reread the page in its entirety. Realization kicks in slowly, but when it does, you gasp, throwing the notebook and the device away to the floor as if they burned you.
Because the anagram spells out your full name. This entry was written for you.
And the disquiet in your stomach is due to the emotion so easily evoked by a single line, one that you’re all too familiar with:
Without you, I’m nothing.
---
“I’m back. I got a bunch of bagels because I wasn’t sure which one you liked,” Yoongi calls out as he enters the apartment.
The silence that greets him makes him smile as he assumes that you’re still tired after last night, but when Yoongi walks into the bedroom, your name dies on his lips as he looks on in horror: at the yellow notebook – his yellow notebook – lying face down in front of your feet. Your shell-shocked expression tells him all he needs to know. You’ve read the latest entry.
This all feels like déjà vu; just like the first time he caught you weeping in the copy room. His own bedroom feels foreign to him as he takes a hesitant step inside. Yoongi wants nothing more than to laugh it off as a joke, but he knows you won’t buy the lie.
“Yoongi?”
His attention snaps from the swirling patterns on the carpet to your face. Instead of fear, you seem curious, could he take it as a good sign?
“How much did you read?”
The voice that comes out of his mouth sounds foreign even to his own ears.
Your eyes drift lower then, to the notebook on the floor. “All of it,” you admit in a quiet voice. “I read all of it.”
The room fills with a blanket of tension. With a heavy sigh, you stand and brush past him, heading to the living room.
Yoongi’s eyes trail after you as you sit on the cushions of his couch. With an indescribable smile, you look straight into his eyes.
“Let’s talk.”
---
Despite your invitation, it’s you that sits mum on the couch next to him, refusing to meet his eyes.
“I saw it, you know.” Yoongi begins with a humourless smile. “The discomfort you felt was written all over your face when I recited that one line.”
You wait for a bit, holding a space for him to talk should he feel the need to elaborate. “You know, I feel like I do the talking in our relationship, but I’m going to need you to listen to me again, okay?” you say as you mirror his solemn grin. After taking a shuddering breath, you explain, “I don’t want to be the sole reason you live, because without me, you should still be something. I mean, you’re so… you,” you gesture at his figure. “Funny, and kind, and sincere. Someone I can trust and even lean on after all these years.”
His face doesn’t betray his thoughts as he refuses to meet your eyes.
“Yoongi,” you reach out to envelope both his hands into your own. “I love you.”
You can tell he hadn’t expected the confession, but his surprise quickly disappears as he laughs bitterly.
“Why do I feel like there’s a ‘but’ in this confession?” Yoongi asks sarcastically and his lips twitch into a faint hint of a smile.
“But… I don’t want to be in a relationship where I feel like you’re not being true to yourself,” you advice as you squeeze his hands with your own. “That doesn’t mean that I don’t want to be with you, but I just need you to know that you are your own person first.”
Yoongi nods as he digests your words. When he finally returns his gaze to you, he seems more relaxed, a genuine smile on his face. “Thank you,” he murmurs as he squeezes your hands in return. “I think I really needed to hear that.”
“So… what happens now?” you ask meekly, despite being the cause of this whole mess.
His tongue darts out to wet his lips before he speaks, and when he does, there’s a quiet surge of confidence that you hadn’t heard from him before. “I want to be with you,” Yoongi admits. “But I think I’d also like to take things slow.”
“We can do that,” you grin.
And the following week, it’s you that leaves a tangerine on his desk; a signaling promise for tomorrow.
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moon’s notes: ah! don’t we love a semi-ambiguous ending? i didn’t have the heart to end it sadly, so i hope it still makes sense!! thank you so much for reading through this lovely little piece. i appreciate all your love!
thanks for being part of the taglist! (½): @diorejeon @hwngsgf @clumsymandu @yoongskook @bringmetheksj @wacdon @itsallabouthedetails @chimchoom @sunshinerainbowsbts @mrsparknamjoon @thedarkwinterrose @somewhereofftheglobe @typicalgenzworld @nch327 @moonchild1 @kooafraid @syazkook @kookie-vuitton @tenmonthsjay @jimilter @hoseokstrashcan @imcompletelyok @sa1ntsuga @jungkookah-lover @vantxx95 @love2luvya-blog @nochuel @yoontaethings @kookieebangtan @Madamdoue @squeakymeekster @jkbabiey @jikookiekosmos @novilara @btsis7okay @sunflwrxclouds @taecal @fancycollectormoon @Starbrightday @chimmy-licious @outrofenty @codeinebelle @hey-youre-appreciated @sugaslittlekookies @fan-ati–c @bbangtanlove95 @ppeachyttae @taebae19 @ggukkieland @mellygallagher @greezenini @gukkmoans @Jimmeojimin @koolvrr @daggersandicedcoffee @doublebunnykoo @jamlessstars @shrimpmsg @mrcleanheichou @ysltae @etherealyoonkoo @unicornbabylover @majolittlemixgurl18 @Asifihaveaclue @ionasfeelings @moonreadsfics
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gukyi · 4 months ago
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no choice (next to you) | myg
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summary: the pros of your last-minute senior year apartment sublet: cheap, furnished, close to campus, in a gorgeous old victorian conversion home, and right next to the greek takeout place.
the cons of your last-minute senior year apartment sublet: min yoongi, senior member of the beta tau sigma fraternity, and his party-throwing, vodka-loving, ruckus-making fraternity buddies, are your neighbors.
{college!au, frat boy!au, neighbor!au, enemies to lovers!au}
pairing: yoongi x reader genre: fluff, comedy est. word count: 13k warnings: alcohol consumption, frat parties, misunderstandings as a plot device, idiots being idiots, frat boys being frat boys, hawaiian pizza slander, yoongi says things that could be construed as sexist but they actually are not i promise you just need to read the fic ;-; a/n: here it is!!!! a very happy 4 years to gukyi.tumblr.com, and an even happier 8 years to the men who made it all possible, bangtan themselves! i hope you enjoy this frat party of a fic: loud, chaotic, and filled with college boys. much love to you all, always and forever <3 guyi
The first time you meet Min Yoongi you are hunched over the kitchen sink of the Beta Tau Sigma fraternity house, throwing up vodka and Sprite like it’s nobody’s business. Except it apparently is someone’s business, because from behind you, over the booming rap music and the thumping bass emanating from the speakers, you hear a voice. 
“Well, at least it’s not the floor.”
You whip your head around, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand, to find a grouchy, unimpressed boy standing a couple of feet away from you, arms crossed over his chest as he looks at you with his eyebrows raised. 
“I try to be considerate of my hosts.”
He scoffs. “I can tell. Good thing we installed a garbage disposal last year.”
“You a brother?” He doesn’t look like one. Too unapproachable and disapproving. He doesn’t even seem to want to be at this party. 
“You just puked in our sink and you’re asking me that?”
You shrug. “I’m trying to make conversation here, since you just caught me. I gotta be honest, I don’t really make it a point to know whose frat house I’m attending unless I plan on staying the night.”
Then he grins, this lopsided little smirk that matches the devilish spark in his eye. “We can arrange something like that if you’d like.”
You look him up and down and pretend that he didn’t just catch you hurling chunks into his kitchen sink. Maybe if you match his aloof disposition you can retain at least a shred of your dignity. Although, you suppose that, as a frat brother, he’s probably seen worse than some sophomore like you throwing up into a basin. There are so many people here, many of them more drunk than you are. Not all can be lost.  
“How about you tell me your name first, and then maybe I’ll consider it,” you suggest, grinning. 
He seems to appreciate the back-and-forth between the two of you. You’re probably two of the more sober people in the building right now. If the mass of dancing bodies in the room across from you is anything to go by. 
He smiles, small and muted. “Yoongi.”
“Y/N.”
“I’d shake your hand, but you just wiped your throw-up remnants on it, so I’ll hold off for now.”
“How observant of you,” you chide. “Promise I’m usually much cleaner.”
“I’d make a joke about being dirty but I don’t think either of us are drunk enough for that,” Yoongi muses. “Want me to mix you something?”
“How about a glass of water? Don’t really feel like throwing up again,” you ask, eyes glancing back to the sink. Most of your bile has gone down the drain but you can see some remnants stuck to the bottom of the basin. Yikes. 
He chuckles, shaking his head. “Sure thing. Hey, do you think you can flip that switch on the wall right by the paper towels? Turns on the garbage disposal.”
“While I’m at it, do you have any Febreeze I can spray?”
At that, Yoongi laughs as he pours you a simple glass of water in a red solo cup. Maybe you can both just pretend it’s vodka. “You’re in the Beta Tau Sigma house and you think we have Febreeze?”
“You should consider it a compliment that I thought that highly of you,” you tell him pointedly. “Other people would not be nearly as impressed.”
“Other people also don’t throw up in our kitchen sink.”
You narrow your eyes at him. Sure, that literally just happened and Yoongi straight up caught you red-handed in the act, but that was a low blow. Isn’t he trying to flirt with you?
“Are you or are you not trying to get me to sleep with you? Because right now, you’re not really on that track,” you ask him, crossing your arms in front of your chest with an eyebrow raised. 
“That depends,” Yoongi responds nonchalantly. He takes another sip of whatever the hell he’s drinking—from where you’re standing it smells like whiskey, but he’s not even flinching as it goes down his throat so either he’s an absolute tank or your sense of smell is still off from the aforementioned vomiting—and grins. “Do you want me to try to get you to sleep with me?”
“I take back my ‘are you a brother’ question. I should have just spoken to you for like, five more seconds and I would have figured that out pretty quickly,” you say, even though you’re loath to deny the attraction you feel towards him and you both know it. He’s hot, he can actually keep up a decent conversation, and he doesn’t seem like a total asshole. These are all the boxes that need to be checked when considering who and who not to sleep with. 
“Listen, I was joking earlier when I said we could arrange something, but if you actually want to then I’m down. And if you don’t, then I’ll walk you home, since it’s late and I don’t think you should be out there by yourself,” Yoongi offers, two equally nice-sounding suggestions that ultimately allow you to have the final say. 
And they said chivalry was dead. 
“You’re cool with leaving the Beta house at one in the morning just to walk me to my dorm?”
“Yeah.” Yoongi nods, completely happy with the idea. “And you don’t even have to worry about me trying to get in your pants there since I won’t be able to get past the check-in doors because I live off campus. And I forgot my access code. That, too.”
You laugh at that. Hot, conversational, not-an-asshole, and funny? You’d be an idiot if you were to just let him take you home and leave it at that. Wait until the next Beta party so you can flirt with each other all over again before letting the night end as anticlimactically as it had before.  
“Well, I don’t think you’ll need to remember your access code tonight,” you say, placing your cup on the counter as you step towards him, letting the glint in his eyes and the warmth of his body draw you towards him. 
Yoongi’s grinning, smirking, smiling at you as you approach him, looking rather pleased. “And why would that be?”
You wrap your arms around him, letting them rest on his broad shoulders as you lean in, lips hovering over his own. “Do you really need me to spell it out for you?”
There’s no alcohol in your system, but the rest of your body is on fire anyway. You feel the way his enormous hands gently brush your waist, like he’s afraid to press any harder against your skin. He seems rather pleased that this is the direction his night went in. So are you. 
“Please,” he pleads simply. 
When you close the gap between your lips, standing in the dinky old Beta Tau Sigma kitchen as the music blasts through the speakers and the bass shakes the tiled floor, sparks fly. 
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Before you go the next morning, Min Yoongi only has one request: call him later so you can arrange a proper date. 
He’s still in bed when he asks, all mixed up in the dark navy sheets of his tiny little room in the attic of the Beta house, hair a tousled mess atop his head. It’s a Monday, and clearly only one of you was masochistic enough to put a nine AM class into their weekly schedule. Yoongi looks just about as dead as anyone would be after an entire weekend of partying and binge drinking jello shots and soju bombs, but he still manages to etch out a half-smirk as he bids you goodbye, watches you pull on the same clothes you were wearing last night and wipe away the sleep in your eyes at his mirror. 
“Promise I’ll call you after my classes,” you tell him, not just to get him off your tail but because, for the first time in your short and hallowed history of one-night-stands, he is actually someone you’d like to stay in touch with. 
“Kiss me before you leave,” Yoongi begs, too tired to care about being desperate. 
You roll your eyes. “Just one.” Scurrying over to the side of his bed, you lean down and press a kiss to his lips, tasting remnants of the cherry lip gloss you were wearing last night. You should wear that more often. 
Yoongi looks instantly dissatisfied as you pull away. “One is not enough.”
“Yoongi, I have class in five minutes. If I don’t leave now, I’ll be marked absent,” you remind him. Not everyone can enjoy the luxury of sleeping in until noon. “I will call you later, I promise.”
“I’ll hold you to that,” Yoongi says, though from the look on his face, it’s clear that he’s not really worried about you flaking on him. 
You grin as you shuffle down the steps of the Beta house, trying not to stare too closely at the tornado that’s been left behind. You’ve never been in a frat house when it was light outside. It’s kind of haunting. The empty halls, the streamers and beer bottles and solo cups strewn across the floor. The indiscriminate puddles of an unspecified liquid in some of the corners. You don’t even want to know what the fuck the bathrooms must look like. You pull open the front door—totally unlocked, which must be a security concern—and dash out, completely unashamed. 
By the time you reach your lecture hall, you realize you don’t even have your goddamn laptop. 
One iced coffee and a very awkward seminar class later, you’re heading back to your dorm after spending a couple of hours in the library trying to do some work—but mostly just recovering from your brain-hammering headache—when you hear a familiar voice come from one of the tables outside of the business school. 
He’s clearer in the daytime, voice sharper and more punctuated, but after a night of hearing his breathless moans and his whispers against your skin, you’d like to say that you’re pretty familiar with the way Min Yoongi sounds. You look down at your phone. You were gonna call… but why do that when he’s right here? Plus, this is better than calling because you get to see his face, too. 
You begin speed-walking towards him, hoping to surprise him, when the clarity of his voice finally betrays him. 
“—So easy to get her, you know?”
What?
You freeze. He’s not talking about you… is he?
“Honestly, I can’t believe I didn’t do it sooner,” Yoongi continues with total disregard. “Like, it was so easy. I walked in and it was like, boom, done. Instant results.”
There’s no way he’s talking about you. Absolutely no way. The Min Yoongi you were flirting with last night is not a sexist asshole. He treated you with respect and even offered to walk you home with no expectation for a sexual favor in return. He begged for a little kiss, a mere peck, before you left his room this morning. He had broken all of the stereotypes you normally associate with frat boys and that was the whole reason you had even promised to call him again to begin with. 
“Do you think it could be, like, a house thing? You know, like we all share her?”
You don’t want to listen anymore. Trying to blink away the tears of pure and utter anger—you should have trusted your gut, why did you think he’d be any different than all of the other frat boys on campus, how could you let him string you up like this—you shut your phone off, turn around, and never look back.
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Maybe you should have rethought your senior year sublet situation. 
At the time of agreeing to the sublet, it checked all of the boxes. Cheap? Yes. Furnished? Coffee maker included. Close to campus? Barely a two minute walk. Next to the Greek takeout place? You can practically smell the gyro through your bedroom window. 
What you, however, failed to consider was the fact that on the other side of your old, refurbished Victorian-era home-turned-apartment-complex was not another fast food restaurant, or Starbucks, or even an office building. 
No. 
You are living next to the Beta Tau Sigma house. 
A house known for its near-daily parties and lack of basement, meaning all the noise goes right through the old rickety walls and right into your bedroom. Not that any of the brothers would ever care about how much noise they make, how it travels down the sidewalk and fills up the night air like radiation, an inescapable fog of pure sound. And it’s not as if any of the brothers care about who lives next door to them, either. You imagine there used to be offices in these old Victorian homes, perhaps even other fraternity and sorority houses could have sat on this block, but not anymore. Not that any of the brothers care.
On a normal, average day, you would just buy a pair of noise-cancelling headphones and move on with your life, pretending they don’t exist and that you aren’t living next to a house that sounds like a constant shitty concert venue. But this is not a normal, average day. You have a bonkers-difficult exam for Inorganic Chemistry II tomorrow morning and your rowdy, terrible, rave mosh pit group of neighbors are throwing a party. Who even parties on a Tuesday? Don’t they have class tomorrow?
You manage to tolerate it until around 1:30 in the morning, when the bass that thumps through the thin drywall of your bedroom just becomes too much to bear. So, you do what any sane person would do. You storm out of your bedroom wearing nothing but your raggedy old high school pep rally free t-shirt, shorts, and slippers, and head straight to the front door of the Beta Tau Sigma house, stomping the whole twenty-feet walk. 
One of the younger brothers, a freshman by the looks of it, stops you in your tracks. 
“Know a brother?” He grunts out, clearly not too thrilled with being put on door duty instead of getting wasted inside with everyone else. 
“Didn’t you just see me walk out of that door? I’m your neighbor,” you exclaim, indignant, motioning to your front door. 
“Know a brother?” He repeats. “You can’t go in unless you can give me a name. House orders.”
“Fuck,” you say with a sigh, rubbing your temples with your hand. Yeah, you’ve heard of a few. Are Facebook friends with a couple of them. And there was that one incident in sophomore year… but you don’t like to think about that. “Whatever. I don’t care, I’m not here to party. I have a message that I would like you to deliver to whoever is in charge of… all this.” You gesture frantically in front of you.
The boy just quirks an eyebrow, uninterested. But he doesn’t tell you that you can’t deliver that message, and if you’re being honest, he’s probably the most sober anyway, so you take your chances and continue. 
“I would like you to tell whoever is in charge that I have been putting up with all of this for—”
“Putting up with what?”
You didn’t even notice the door swing open. Peeking his head out from the open space, a very familiar face smiles lazily at the two of you, that same stupid smirk happily lacing his otherwise typically grumpy features. 
“With you, Min Yoongi!” You shout. For some reason, seeing his face has increased your irritation tenfold. It must be the sound of his voice. “You and the rest of the Betas and your stupid party. It’s Tuesday.”
“I know.” Yoongi nods. The fact that he doesn’t say anything else, just stands there, a shit-eating grin on his face, swirling a half-empty bottle of beer in his hands, pisses you off even more. 
You sputter. “Well, it’s Tuesday and I have an exam tomorrow and I would really, really appreciate it if you could just keep it down. Or shut it down. Either works.”
“And ruin the fun?” Yoongi takes another step towards you, letting the door shut behind him as the other brother bows out, clearly recognizing that this exchange is out of his hands. “Come on, Y/N. You’ve become such a stick in the mud these days. Why not loosen up before your big test?”
“Because unlike you, I actually plan on doing something with my life after college,” you hiss, wanting nothing more than to snatch that bottle of beer right out of his grasp and dump it on him. You close your eyes, taking a deep breath. “I am going to say this again nicely. I would really, really, genuinely, very much appreciate it if you could just keep it down for this one night. It would mean a lot to me because I have a very important test tomorrow that I cannot fail.”
Yoongi just smirks. “And what if we don’t?”
Oh, so that’s how he wants to play? Alright. 
“Then I will have absolutely no problem calling campus police so that they can shut down your party for me.”
Yoongi narrows his eyes. “You wouldn’t.”
“Try me.” You raise your eyebrows at him, as if egging him on. 
“Is that all? Or do you plan on threatening me with anything else if I don’t comply with your ridiculous demand?” He asks. 
“It’s not ridiculous to want some peace and quiet on a fucking Tuesday night. Actually, Wednesday, since it’s one in the morning,” you say defensively. Min Yoongi thinks he’s so much better than you because he drinks more alcohol and throws more parties. But the only people he’s really impressing anyway are the try-hard freshmen who either want to join the brotherhood, or sleep with its members. So who’s the cooler one, him or you? 
Yoongi scoffs. “You’re the one who decided living next to a frat house was a good idea. Maybe next time, before you come strutting over here to tell me and my house to be quiet, you can also reevaluate your own decisions.”
You sneer. “I had no choice. What’s your excuse?”
“My excuse?” Yoongi shakes his head like this whole damn conversation is beneath him. “I don’t care what you or anyone else thinks of me.”
“Maybe you should. Then you might actually have a future beyond college. Or are you just going to live in your frat house forever until they kick you out because you’re too old and have no job?”
Yoongi frowns at you. His dissatisfaction at the direction of this exchange isn’t even enough to cheer you up at this point. All you want to do is go to sleep. 
“Are you going to be leaving now, or—?”
“You don’t have to ask me twice,” you say, already turning on your heel to march off their front porch and back to your apartment. “And may I remind you to please, kindly, shut the fuck up, or you will be hearing from campus police shortly. Goodnight.”
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The next morning, you wake up bright and early at seven in the morning for some last-minute morning studying and find yourself relatively well-rested. Well, as well-rested as anyone can be on five hours of sleep. But surprisingly, by the time you were in bed with your eyelids drooping, you could barely hear the Betas next door. Did they actually quiet down? You weren’t actually planning on calling campus police anyway. Huh. 
At 7:50 you whip open your front door, still trying to wrestle your left foot into its shoe, to find a handle of Tito’s Handmade Vodka and a note at your door. 
Thanks for putting up with your super annoying neighbors. We have way too much alcohol, and we figured you could use this to drink so you don’t have to remember that you live next to the Beta house. Or you could celebrate after your exam. 
Your friends, the Beta Tau Sigma fraternity.
Ugh. 
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“They just gave you a whole ass bottle of vodka? For free?”
You huff as you bring over the unopened handle of Tito’s to your coffee table, clinking as it thuds against the wooden surface. 
“Well, they didn’t write their Venmo on the Post-it note so, yes, for free,” you say, trying not to complain despite it being your favorite hobby. After all, you did just swing free alcohol from your least favorite people. There could be worse circumstances in life. “But let’s drink it all tonight so that they can’t charge me, just in case.”
“That’s amazing,” Nicole says, in awe as you return from the kitchen again with cups, little stemless wine glasses from IKEA that cost ninety-nine cents each. “I want to live next to the Betas.”
“No, you don’t,” you say pointedly. Despite the free swag, living next to the rowdiest frat house on campus has far more cons than pros. In fact, you could probably name five of them right now, not the least of which is the fact that they throw parties every day of the week except the occasional Monday. 
“Y/N probably has drunk freshies banging on her door every night thinking this is the Beta house,” Seoyoon jokes as she cracks open the bottle with a satisfying pop, her brute strength coming in handy when all of you just want to get drunk and eat like shit in your little apartment on a Friday night like normal college seniors. 
You scoff. “Surprisingly, that’s, like, the one thing that hasn’t happened.”
“Yet,” Seoyoon warns. 
“Yet,” you concede. 
“Oh, come on, living next to the Betas can’t be that bad,” Neha says, pouring herself way more than a shot’s worth of vodka like it’s nobody’s business. Good thing she’s about the biggest tank you know when it comes to drinking. “All of the brothers are so hot.”
“Neha just has a fat crush on the Pres,” Nicole says with a side jab. “Namjoon, right?”
You shrug, trying to pretend like you haven’t learned all of the brothers’ names just so that you can write threatening notes and hang them in your bedroom window. 
“I do not!” Neha exclaims, aghast. “If anyone has a crush on any of the brothers, it’s you. I literally see you stalking that one junior’s Instagram every day.” 
Nicole’s face turns bright red at that revelation, caught in the act. “He’s cute!” She cries out helplessly. 
“Who’s cute?” Seoyoon asks. She has been dating the same girl since junior high. 
“Kim Taehyung,” Neha says as Nicole tries to hide her face in her hoodie, pulling the drawstrings so tightly that only her nose is left exposed. “He’s a junior in Beta. Nicole thinks he’s the best thing since sliced bread.”
“You are the worst,” Nicole says through the fabric of her hoodie. 
“I’ll drink to that,” Seoyoon says, holding up her stemless wine glass Great Gatsby-style. “To Nicole and Kim What’s-his-face!”
“To Nicole and Kim What’s-his-face!”
You all clink glasses, downing your first sips with ease. Tito’s Vodka burns your throat on the way down, definitely not your first choice drink, but it gets the job done and the taste vanishes once you help yourself to some orange juice. 
“I hate that shit,” Seoyoon says as she shakes her head, willing the burn away. “No wonder they gave it to you for free. It sucks.”
“I don’t mind it,” Neha comments, already pouring herself another shot. 
“That’s because you drink anything that people will put in front of you,” Seoyoon points out. 
“I think I might have a bottle of Trader Joe’s wine in my fridge?” You offer up as an alternative. Though, at this point you’re not sure which is the better option. Both are just barely passable for your college-student tastes. You receive a round of enthusiastic nods from everyone else, so you push yourself off of your couch and head towards the kitchen. You fish through the back of your refrigerator until you find the rosé in the far corner, bottle all frosty from sitting in your fridge for too long. You reach your hand around the neck and pull it out, knocking over a small stack of different sauces from takeout places that you’ve collected.  
That’s when you hear the buzzer. 
You ignore it for about five seconds, assuming it might just be for someone else and that they hit your button accidentally, but when it rings again, you freeze. 
“Y/N? You up there?”
“Who’s that?” Seoyoon shouts from your living room. 
“I don’t know!” You tell her. You head towards your own buzzer, pressing it. “Yes, who is this?”
“It’s Hoseok from Beta! Can you let us up? We have something for you!”
Fuck, can’t they just leave you alone for one night? One measly Friday night? Why aren’t they throwing their own party like they do every other day? Why do they have to crash yours?
“What?”
“It’s a surprise!”
You pull your finger off of the buzzer, turning to the rest of your friends to deliberate. 
“What the hell are you doing? Let them up!” Neha exclaims incredulously, like you’ve gone mad just for wanting to ask them first. 
“It could be a prank!” You remind her. 
“Who cares? They want to come upstairs! Ask him if he’s got any of the other brothers with him,” Neha orders strictly. 
You turn back to the buzzer. “Hoseok, is it just you or did you bring friends?”
“Tae and Yoongi are with me, yeah,” Hoseok returns. 
You turn back to your friends, who are all gesturing wildly for you to unlock your door and let them inside. You sigh. Your friends owe you later. Especially Nicole. 
“Fine, come on up. Leave your shoes outside, please!”
You can hear them before you see them. The walls of your apartment are about as soundproof as paper, allowing their voices to travel down the hallway, laughter and snarky comments echoing throughout the building. You hear them kicking off their shoes outside in the corridor, thuds along the creaky hardwood floor before there’s a knock at your door followed by another familiar chuckle. 
“Boys,” you say in lieu of a proper greeting, because chivalry is dead. On the other side stands Hoseok, Taehyung, and Yoongi, in a perfect little triangle formation, grinning happily at you. Hoseok, front and center, has three pizza boxes stacked on top of one another in his hands. “What’s that?”
“What does it look like?” Yoongi deadpans unhelpfully. You sneer at him. 
“Pizza!” Hoseok exclaims. “We ordered too much for a closed rush event and had some left over. Saw all your lights on so we figured we’d share the wealth!”
You narrow your eyes at him, gaze flickering back to Yoongi, whose expression is doing nothing to ease your worries. “You guys put shit in this, didn’t you?”
Hoseok looks accosted. “Oh my God, no! I swear, totally unopened. I don’t even know what kinds of pizza they are.”
Taehyung leans down to look at the sides of the boxes. “Uh, meat lovers, cheese, and… ew, who ordered Hawaiian?”
“Namjoon, he likes it,” Yoongi answers. 
“Gross.” Taehyung scrunches up his nose. 
“Yeah, I swear we haven’t put anything in them. Just thought we’d bring them over. Y’know. Being neighborly, and all,” Hoseok says, cheerful as always. Behind him, Yoongi is grinning, like he knows something you don’t. “Want them?”
“Yes!” shouts Neha from in your living room, where all your friends aren’t even bothering to pretend that they aren’t listening into the entire conversation. “Do you guys wanna join us? We’re drinking the vodka you left Y/N. And some Trader Joe’s wine.”
You turn around to shake your head jerkily at Neha, but it’s too late, because Hoseok and Taehyung are already making their way inside. 
“Ooh, sounds good! If that’s okay with all of you, since we’re kind of crashing your party.” Hoseok nods enthusiastically. He turns to you, since you’re the host and this is your goddamn apartment that he, Taehyung, and Yoongi are walking into, with a quirked eyebrow. You look back at the rest of your friends, who are already scooting over on the chairs and couches to make room for everyone else. You look back at Nicole, who looks positively frozen as Taehyung sits down next to her with a handsome little grin on his face. And you sigh. 
“Yeah, you are,” you agree, glaring at Yoongi as he traipses into your domain, clearly the haughtiest of the three of them. “But it’s whatever. There’s a lot of vodka and a lot of pizza anyway.”
“Great! Thanks for letting us stay,” Hoseok says, making his way over to the rest of your friends. “Nice of you.”
“Maybe you aren’t as much of a stick in the mud as I thought,” Yoongi muses rudely, voice quiet enough so that only you can hear him as he passes by you, sly smirk sitting devilishly on his lips. 
“Hopefully I can bore you enough into leaving,” you sneer back, narrowed eyes gazing directly at his side profile as you both head back towards your living room, trying to act like you both don’t have beef that’s been simmering between the two of you for the past two years in front of all of your friends. 
By the time you reach the circle of people, the only open spaces left are on the floor on the opposite side of the coffee table, which you and Yoongi begrudgingly take as Hoseok opens the boxes of pizza out in front of you. As you sit down, your knees bump together, making the both of you frown back at each other as you pull yourselves away, ensuring there is at least half a foot of space between the two of you. 
“Ew, who got Hawaiian? That’s the worst pizza,” Nicole says when Hoseok opens up the box.
“I know, right?” Taehyung exclaims, having finally found someone who hates it as much as he has demonstrated so far. 
“I see you’re putting the vodka we gave you to good use,” Yoongi comments snidely as he watches you pour yourself much more than a single shot’s worth into your glass. 
“I’ll need it if I have to spend the rest of the night next to you,” you fire back easily, trying to hide the way you’re already scrunching up your nose as the thought of having to drink all of what is essentially liquid death in a single go. 
Yoongi frowns. “If that’s the case then hand it over, I’d like some too.”
You pass off the handle to him, watch as he too helps himself to a rather generous serving like he’s dreading the passage of this night just as much as you are. Hey, at least there’s one thing that you can agree on. 
“Cheers,” Yoongi says, holding out his cup towards you. 
You huff. “Cheers.”
Your glasses clink together before you both down your drinks, vodka stinging your tongue and throat as it makes its way through your body. Immediately, you are grasping for the orange juice you poured yourself earlier, chasing down the alcohol with something much sweeter. When you turn to see how Yoongi’s faring, he too seems to be barely stomaching it all, having lost the ability to drink like shit and feel fine afterwards anyway. His reaction makes you feel the slightest bit better. 
“Hey, Yoongi, look at this picture Jimin just sent me,” Taehyung says from Yoongi’s other side, holding out his phone between the two of them. You can’t see what they’re looking at from here. 
“Oh, she’s so cute,” Yoongi says, turning all heart eyes the moment he sees whatever it is that’s in front of him. “Honestly, I just want to go home and sleep with her right now.”
“Why don’t you?” You mutter to yourself. Clearly Yoongi has not changed a bit since you last had a proper conversation with him two years ago. The same asshole he’s always been. 
“Because I’m here with you,” Yoongi answers cleanly, sickly sweet smile on his face.
“Never gonna pass up an opportunity to get drunk, huh?” You muse aloud. “What happened to your nightly parties?”
“Didn’t feel like holding one tonight,” Yoongi responds. “Figured you’d be a generous host and invite us to yours.”
“This is not a party,” you hiss. “And you weren’t invited.”
“Yet here I am,” Yoongi says, as if you need reminding. “You should look on the bright side. Maybe we’ll actually get to spend some quality time together.”
You scowl. “No time ever spent with you could be considered quality.”
“Ouch.”
“You seriously don’t have anything better to do than sit around my coffee table, eating cold pizza and drinking?” The fact that he’s even here in the first place infuriates you beyond belief, but at least you can already feel that buzz in your head, that perfect tipsy haze that will hopefully make this night a little more palatable. 
Yoongi grins at that, face all flushed from the drinks in his system, cheeks a watermelon pink and lips a cherry red. His black hair is pushed back off of his forehead like he’d been brushing his fingers through it all day, sitting in perfect waves atop his head. 
“Oh, Y/N,” He says, voice airy and soft and completely and utterly patronizing, “there’s no place I would rather be than with you.”
You pour yourself another shot. 
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If there’s a silver lining to any of this, it’s that whatever Min Yoongi majors in, it has zero crossover with chemistry. Maybe that’s why you’ve been able to go two relatively uneventful years without having to see him. So you can go to class with the peace of mind that there is zero chance Min Yoongi will be sitting in one of the seats, or standing behind one of the lab tables ready to deliver some terribly snarky remark. 
You actually have no idea what Yoongi’s interests are. Other than drinking and being unbearable, of course. The last few times you’ve seen him, he’s been doing both activities simultaneously. But if you had to take a guess, you would put your money on something in the arts or humanities, something that doesn’t require the same laser precision that science does, something that lets him do as he pleases, invent new ideas and create new things for him to pick apart at the seams. But it’s not as if you’ve given that much thought, or anything. 
The goal, at this point in the semester, is to just go a week without having to see him. Just one. You’ve invested in some pre-owned noise-cancelling headphones from Facebook Marketplace, taken the back way to get to your classes so you don’t have to walk in front of their house, and even bought your groceries in bits and pieces so that none of the brothers will see you struggling with five reusable grocery bags and offer to help. 
But it looks like your Yoongi-less streak will have to wait until next week. 
“Hey, Y/N!” 
Not even your sunglasses and resting bitch face are enough to deter Taehyung from calling out your name with a big old grin on his face, waving his hands excitedly. You knew you shouldn’t have left your headphones at home. Now you can’t even pretend that you didn’t hear him scream out your name from the front yard of the Beta Tau Sigma house. 
“Tae, what’s up?” You say, forcing as natural of a smile onto your face as you can muster.
“You wanna donate to a good cause and plate a Beta?” He asks cheerfully, motioning to the sign next to him. The brothers have someone managed to drive two wooden sticks into the ground in front of the Beta house, holding up a big fabric sign that says, in bright blue capital letters,
PLATE A BETA $5
and in much smaller, lowercase letters beneath it, 
fundraising for ending violence against women!!!
You scoff. What a philanthropy to be supporting, considering the beliefs of some of the members of this fraternity. You’re not naming names, but one of them rhymes with Spoon-gi. 
“All you have to do is Venmo the frat five dollars and you can pie a Beta of your choosing with this plate covered in whipped cream!” Taehyung says, holding up one such plate. From the looks of it, he’s definitely already been pied at least twice, remnants of cream on the sides of his face and the front of his muscle tank. “For a good cause!”
“You must be really desperate if you’re asking me,” you comment snidely, approaching Taehyung nonetheless because the concept of stuffing a plate of whipped cream in a certain someone’s face sounds enticing, to say the least. 
“We’ve actually already raised over three hundred dollars since we started this morning!” exclaims Taehyung happily. “I just thought I’d ask you since you’re our neighbor and you put up with so much of our shit anyway. You can pie me, I don’t mind!”
You narrow your eyes, deliberating. You’ve spent five dollars on less important things than the Plate a Beta fundraiser. Like a campus raffle for one of those shitty picnic blankets. Or grossly chewy boba. Even a ratty paperback copy of one of the required books you had to read in your freshman year English class. So what’s another five going to do?
“Alright,” you say with a sigh as Taehyung pumps his hand into the air excitedly. 
“Great! You can pretty much pie any one of the active brothers, even if you don’t see them here right now. They’re probably just inside,” Taehyung recites dutifully. He pushes a piece of paper on the fold-out table in front of him towards you. “Here’s a list, if you need—”
“I already know who I’d like,” you interrupt. “Is Yoongi available?”
Taehyung lets out this hyena cackle before grinning back at you. “Why yes, yes he is.” He turns around to shout at Hoseok, who’s leaning against the front door like he’s just waiting to go fetch the next victim of this fundraiser, “Hobi! Go get Yoongi!”
Hoseok flashes a thumbs up towards Taehyung before disappearing into the house, leaving you and Taehyung standing there, waiting awkwardly for his return. 
“Oh, by the way,” Taehyung remembers suddenly, “thanks for letting us stay and drink with you guys a couple weeks ago. It was a lot of fun.”
You purse your lips together and smile, that tense little nod you do when smiling normally is too forward. “No problem, glad you enjoyed yourself. I think my friends had fun, too.”
“Yeah, um, about that,” Taehyung says, scratching at the nape of his neck, “your one friend, Nicole—?”
“Wake up, Yoongi!”
Hoseok’s high-pitched giggle bounces across the open front lawn as he pushes Yoongi out the front door with a rough shove, shutting it behind him so he can’t go back inside. Yoongi tumbles onto the lawn carelessly, almost losing his footing on the house’s foundation, stumbling over his own feet before he finds his ground. He looks like he’s just been woken up, hair all shaggy and clothes all messy. He’s wearing some grey shorts and a white shirt that’s at least three sizes too big, the neckline hanging loosely over his collarbones and shoulder, almost falling off entirely. Yoongi rubs the sleep from his eyes with the back of his hand, looking up drowsily to the fundraiser table. 
And then he sees you. 
You’re grinning beyond belief, unwilling to restrain your excitement at getting to pie him in the face. Sounds like fun, in your opinion. Doesn’t really matter what Yoongi thinks. 
When he meets your eyes, he grins lazily, the corners of his lips turning upwards ever so slightly. 
“What a treat, Y/N,” he muses to you. 
“For me,” you add on crassly. “You look like you just walked off a zombie movie set.”
“Just for you,” Yoongi says. “Who else would I get pied in the face for?”
“Don’t think I’m doing this for you,” you warn harshly as Taehyung hands you the paper plate covered in whipped cream, ordering you both to stand in the designated pie square, demarcated by white spray paint on the grass. “I’m doing this for me. And for women.”
“How noble of you,” Yoongi commends mockingly. 
“I’m such a giver, aren’t I?”
With that, you mash the paper plate into Yoongi’s face without hesitation, making sure to rub it in particularly well before pulling away. Needless to say, Yoongi’s face is covered with the stuff, making him look like the victim of a shaving cream prank gone horribly wrong or horribly right, depending on how you see it. Yoongi wipes away the cream in his eyes before blinking back up at you, forcing a grin. 
“You look even more handsome than normal,” you sneer. “I think it’s because we can’t see your face.”
“It’s an honor to be complimented by you, Y/N,” Yoongi manages to retort out anyway, even as he grabs a nearby towel to begin wiping his face. Y’know, I can think of another scenario where we’re together but you can’t see my face. It happens at nighttime, you see—”
“I better not hear the end of that sentence, Min—”
And for once, by some strange miracle, the gods listen to your plea. 
From practically out of nowhere, Hoseok and two other brothers (Namjoon and Jimin, if you’re remembering correctly) emerge with a gigantic, neon orange cooler filled with presumably water, and dump it on Yoongi’s head before either of you can get another word in. You are, luckily, standing far enough away from him to only get some splashes on your ankles, but that doesn’t spare you in any way from the scene in front of you. 
Yoongi is drenched from head to toe, having just gotten well over several gallons of water poured on top of him football game-style, a rude wake-up call for the man who clearly rolled out of bed five minutes ago. Hair sopping wet, he brushes it out of his face with both of his hands, inadvertently displaying his terribly see-through white shirt in its full glory. The fabric sticks to the skin of his torso, the bulges of his arms, leaving very little to the imagination. You try not to look but where else can your eyes go but the waterlogged boy in front of you, standing in a puddle of water and whipped cream before your gaze. 
You eventually manage to blink hard enough to snap you out of your trance, eyes darting all over the place before they land back on a seething Yoongi, who looks about three steps into the stages of grief. Hoseok and the other two screech before skirting off, out of Yoongi’s reach so he can’t enact any immediate revenge on them. 
Yoongi, left with no other option than to dry off, begins to wring out his hair with the towel from earlier. 
“Like what you see, hmm?” He says, somehow able to bask in your alarm despite being the butt of a very spontaneous prank no less than sixty seconds ago. 
“Yes, I do like practical jokes at your expense, thank you,” you answer cheerfully, knowing damn well that that’s not what Yoongi’s talking about. 
“I’m glad I could be of entertainment to you,” Yoongi says. “You can keep looking, if you want.”
You pretend to dwell on it for a couple seconds before shaking your head. “Actually, I think I’d better start heading out.”
“Aw, come on, Y/N,” Yoongi teases. “You know, I’m gonna need some help cleaning up after this…”
“I don’t think you’ll have any problem finding someone happy to help,” you hiss, already beginning to make your way back to the main road. “Maybe some other time.”
“I’ll hold you to that!” Yoongi calls as you leave the Beta front lawn. You honk out a laugh as you go, shaking your head to yourself. 
Eh. There are worse ways to spend five dollars, you decide.
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Frat parties are beneath you. 
This is what you say to yourself whenever you get that nagging feeling in the back of your head, feel that little pull that invites you back to the sweatiest, grossest, loudest places on campus. You learned your lesson after that night in sophomore year, swore off frat parties and frat brothers themselves, and you never looked back. You are a senior. You are about to graduate and move on from your undergraduate years. Frat parties are beneath you. 
Frat parties are not beneath Nicole. 
Granted, she’s not exactly going so that she can get shitty beer and even shittier gin spilled on her Converse sneakers by freshmen who don’t understand boundaries. She’s going because Taehyung had texted her through Facebook Messenger to come because it would be “a fun night” and Nicole jumped at the chance. Nicole is going for him
So you are going for her. 
Nicole is smart enough to know her drinking limits and avoid putting herself in unsafe situations if she can help it. She also seems to trust Taehyung a fair bit, and while you wouldn’t go as far to let him catch you if you were falling, you know him well enough to reason that he’s probably fine. Emphasis on the word “probably”. You’ve been duped before. You won’t let her make the same mistakes. She’s only one year younger than you, of course, but better to be safe than sorry. 
“No sleeping over,” you mutter as you walk from your apartment to the Beta house, the ground already shaking from the music booming inside. “If you don’t feel like going back to your place then sleep at mine, alright?”
“Yes, mom,” Nicole says with a roll of her eyes as you approach the same freshman from earlier in the year, stuck on door duty for what appears to be the foreseeable future. 
“Know a brother?” He grunts out, just as unhappy as he was the last time you met him. 
“Taehyung invited me,” Nicole says cheerfully. “Hoseok and Yoongi are also here, right?”
“Yup.” 
Great, now you’ll have to try even harder to avoid Yoongi tonight. If it weren’t for the fact that you are determined to make sure Nicole doesn’t get her night ruined by any assholes, you’d leave immediately.
The boy steps aside, having been given satisfactory enough answers. Funny, how frat parties are supposed to be this selective thing, yet anybody who knows anybody can get in if they try hard enough, and it’s not as if the inside radiates the same exclusivity anyway. Why would you want to get shoved into a dark room with ear-killing music and throat-killing alcohol? 
“Hey, you guys made it!” Taehyung shouts when he sees the two of you, stumbling down from the stairs to greet the two of you, already swirling a half-empty beer bottle between his fingers. “Glad you came. It’s nice to see you.”
“You, too,” Nicole says, grinning wildly. “Thanks for inviting us.”
“Anytime! You know our door’s always open,” Taehyung answers. 
“Yeah, literally,” you mutter to yourself. No wonder it’s so loud. Have they considered shutting the door every now and then? Or is wasting money on air conditioning something they pride themselves on?
“Can I get you guys anything to drink? Beer? Shots? Lemonade? I’d offer the jungle juice but Jimin accidentally put salt in it instead of sugar and it tastes terrible,” Taehyung says, walking you around through a totally unoccupied side passageway you didn’t even realize existed until you land in the kitchen, where all the decent drinks are. 
“Just a beer is fine for me,” Nicole says. 
“Same,” you add on. You’ve had enough shots for the rest of your life. No more. 
Taehyung hands two of you some bottles from the fridge, which is clearly filled with nothing but alcohol. “You wanna come downstairs? We’re playing pool down there. Away from all the noise.”
Nicole turns to you with her eyebrows raised, waiting for your move. 
You shake your head. “Nah, I’m good. I’ll just stay up here and try not to let my ears bleed.” As much as you’d like to get away from the noise, you’ve never been a very good pool player. Besides, you want to look out for Nicole but you don’t want to look after her. She also probably does not want you lingering around her all night like a helicopter parent. “You go ahead, though.”
“You sure? It’s way more fun down there,” Taehyung asks. 
“Maybe I’ll join later. You guys have fun, though. Text me if you need anything, Nicole,” you assure them. 
As they walk away, you can see Nicole mouth the word “thanks” before disappearing into the basement, behind a locked door clearly meant for brothers and special guests only. You make a mental note to check on them in an hour or so, by which point you will undoubtedly be sick of standing in the kitchen anyway and want to head downstairs anyway. 
You settle for leaning against the counter—the same dusty grey granite, the same wobbly cupboard doors as before—and sipping your beer in relative peace, away from all of the noise in the main room two doors over. It’s boring, but you’d rather be unentertained than over-entertained, or entertained by the wrong person. Maybe, if Hoseok is the one who’s curated the nightly Spotify playlist, you can convince him to play some music that you actually like. 
The hour passes by without incident. You spend the better half of it staring at news articles on your phone, because no time is a bad time to be informed, taking small sips of your beer every now and then. It’s pretty good for beer from a frat house’s fridge, quite light and fruity. Taehyung must have saved some for the two of you. You know, you could get used to that kind of special treatment for your occasional frat brother crossover. 
Just as you’re ready to head downstairs, your relative peace and quiet gets rudely interrupted by a drunk freshman, who darts into the kitchen and throws up into the sink before you even realize what’s happening. They stand there, hunched over the sink, for a good thirty seconds. You sigh. You know what that feels like. 
“At least it’s not the floor, right?”
You’re ashamed to say you didn’t even see him coming. Yoongi laughs to himself at his little deja vu moment. 
“Hope your garbage disposal still works,” you comment snidely. 
“Yeah, it should. We just had it fixed a couple months ago. Namjoon accidentally broke a plate in the sink and some pieces of glass ended up shredding the shit out of it, so,” Yoongi tells you. 
“Cool.” It’s not. 
“Didn’t think I’d see you in here again,” Yoongi says as he takes another sip of his own beer, a different draft than yours but smelling just as pungent. 
“I’m here for a friend,” you inform him simply. “She’s downstairs.”
“Nicole, right? Tae mentioned he invited her,” Yoongi says. “Surprised you came along, though.”
“I live the closest,” you say with a bit of a huff. All this just because of your last-minute sublet. Maybe you should have just choked up the extra money and lived on campus. Your life would be so much simpler. “Why are you even up here? Thought you didn’t like all the noise.”
“I was just planning on grabbing another beer,” Yoongi says, holding up his empty bottle. “Then I saw you, and couldn’t resist stopping for a chat.”
“How thoughtful.”
“Oh, come on, Y/N,” Yoongi says, rolling his eyes at your stubbornness. “We’ve been spending a lot more time together lately. That’s gotta count for something, right?”
“You act like one pie in the face and a night in and suddenly we’re best friends,” you point out. 
“I’m just trying to make our senior year enjoyable for the both of us,” Yoongi says, clearly getting a little exasperated. “We’re neighbors, aren’t we? We’re bound to see each other. We have no choice.”
“Yes, we do,” you correct harshly. “We do have a choice. I can choose to talk to you, or not talk to you. I can choose to be next to you, or away from you.”
“You’re talking to me now.” He raises an eyebrow at you matter-of-factly. 
“Ugh!”
You throw your hands up into the air helplessly, turning on your heel and heading towards the front door. You’ll text Nicole later, make sure she’s still coming over afterwards to spend the night. You sure as hell hope she’s having more fun than you are right now. 
Unsurprisingly, Yoongi follows you outside until you’re standing on the front porch of the Beta house, so that anyone passing by can see the two of you argue with each other at one in the morning like normal, functioning adults. 
“Hit a nerve, did I?” Yoongi calls out, fighting back laughter. 
“You just have to be a big show off, don’t you?” You shout back. “I can’t go one week without you showing up randomly and inserting yourself into my life!”
“You’re the one who came to the Beta party,” Yoongi says. 
You huff. “I didn’t come for you, in case that wasn’t already perfectly clear.”
“And yet here we are anyway,” Yoongi says. 
You cross your arms in front of your chest, feeling your body boil. “Are you just going to stand there and act like a know-it-all, or—?”
“I’m just stating facts here,” Yoongi says defensively. “You’re the one acting like talking to me is the end of the world.”
“That’s because, and maybe this needs to be spelled out for you, we aren’t exactly friends, Yoongi.” You can’t believe you’re actually saying this aloud. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out that you and Yoongi aren’t on the same page. Hell, you’re not even reading the same goddamn book. “We may be neighbors, but that does not make us buddies.”
“But we’re acquaintances, aren’t we?” Yoongi asks, and the worst part about the question is how genuine it is. Like Yoongi’s trying to establish some sort of boundary between the two of you. A line so that both of you know what not to cross. “Our friends have crushes on each other. Hoseok thinks you’re the perfect person to deliver leftovers to. And you came to our party tonight.”
You stand there, silent, arms pressed against your torso. 
“Geez, and the crowd goes wild,” Yoongi says. “You don’t even consider us acquaintances? I’m hurt.”
In some ways, Yoongi is right. You have been seeing an awful lot of each other lately, whether you’d like to admit it or not. Before you moved into your spring sublet, it had been two full years since your last proper interaction, and suddenly you’re seeing each other every week like it’s nobody’s business. 
You sigh, shoulders heavy. You don’t feel like arguing with him anymore. Don’t feel like putting yourself through another unbearable exchange with your relationship as the hot button topic. Besides, Yoongi infuriates you but at least he’s not a bad conversationalist. At least you know you’ll always be entertained when he’s around. 
“I’m just keeping my distance,” you tell him sharply. “But if me saying we’re acquaintances will help you sleep better at night, then yeah, I guess we are. I pied you in the face, after all.”
“Something I will never forget,” Yoongi says with a smile. “Getting water dumped on me afterwards mustn't have been too bad for you either, hmm?”
“Oh, shut up,” you say, shaking your head. “You think too highly of yourself.”
“Come on, Y/N, I saw the way you looked at me. You can’t even deny it.” Yoongi’s lips turn up into a knowing smirk, the most irritating kind of them all. 
“I can, and I will,” you say, just as haughtily. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
Yoongi lets out a bark of laughter at that, tilting his head back with a smile. “Alright, whatever tickles your pickle. I won’t judge.”
Standing across from him, you purse your lips, fighting the urge to let the corners turn upwards into a smile. Never a dull moment, when you’re with him. 
“You still going home? Or can I convince you to stay a little longer and play some pool downstairs with me?” Yoongi takes a step backwards, towards the front door, that same smirk dancing along his lips. 
You pretend to check the non-existent watch on your wrist, thinking about it for a couple seconds just to stretch out the moment even longer. “Only if you let me win.”
“Oh, Y/N,” Yoongi says, shaking his head fondly as he opens the door for you, stands to the side to let you in first. “Not a chance.”
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Funnily enough, after all you went through that night, you don’t ever hear from Nicole how it went on her end. Granted, you assume it went well, because she would definitely tell you if it didn’t go well, but all you did after the party that night was crash in your apartment without saying a word to each other. You had a good time, surprisingly enough, despite being coerced into playing a couple of games of pool with Yoongi, who absolutely destroyed you because he has a pool table in his basement and you don’t even have a basement. You blamed your loss on the beer, too proud to admit that he’s good at anything, even though you had barely one bottle and it had worn off about an hour in anyway. Still. Yoongi didn’t need to know that. 
Strange, how things have turned out. How one week you’re screaming at Yoongi to shut up or face the wrath of campus police, and another you’re standing opposite him with cue sticks in your hands. Maybe living next to the Beta Tau Sigma house is making you soft for all the brothers. Yikes.
You and Yoongi may never see eye to eye, but when you’re standing in the basement with a billiards table in between the two of you and victory on the line, where else are you supposed to look but him?
Sighing at the peculiar turn of events, you take another sip of your iced coffee as you make your way to the campus library for a good old fashioned study session. You have another inorganic chemistry exam coming up, and you don’t even know what you don’t know. The automatic glass doors open when you step into the library, whooshing to the side as you beeline towards the elevators, hoping to snag a spot on the third floor (the best one, in your opinion) before they’re all full. But you don’t make it.
The elevator’s working fine. It’s Yoongi that distracts you. 
“Y/N!”
For a second, you don’t even know where his voice is coming from. Your eyes dart around wildly, scanning the tables and desks for that familiar tuft of black hair, until you find Yoongi standing behind the checkout counter, chuckling at your clear inability to identify him. 
“You work here?” You ask, approaching him. He’s got a whole stack of worn books in his hands, biceps bulging out of his muscle tank as he plops them down onto a shelving cart. 
“Volunteer. I just stand here and check out the occasional book,” Yoongi answers. “I saw you and just thought I’d say hi.”
You narrow your eyes in suspicion. “Really?” 
Yoongi laughs. “Okay, I actually had a question.”
You purse your lips but nod the go-ahead anyway. “This better be a real question, and not ‘would you like to sleep with me’ or something.”
“Well, if that’s where your mind is at, then we can arrange something,” Yoongi teases, making you scowl at him. He grins at your reaction, clearly having gotten what he wanted out of you. “Alright, alright, I’m kidding. It’s actually about your friend, Nicole.”
“What about her?” You say, finding yourself getting a little bit protective over her.
“Taehyung has this bonkers huge crush on her. Like, enormous. All we ever talk about is what the next thing is that we can invite her to. It’s getting a little annoying, in a nice way,” Yoongi explains all informatively, shaking his head but looking fond nonetheless. 
You don’t even bother fighting away the smile inching its way across your face. That’s definitely the cutest thing you’ve heard in a long time. Nicole’s usually more reserved about her feelings, but you can just tell that it’s obvious she likes him back. In fact, if you had to describe her current emotions, it would be overarching anxiety that he does not like her the same way she likes him. 
But it sounds like she’s got nothing to worry about. 
“And I wanted to ask you if you could help me set them up?” Yoongi poses. “You know, like matchmaking them. Except they already like each other, so I suppose it’s not really matchmaking…”
“Well, how do I know he’s not going to just use her?” You say, refusing to give in just yet. Taehyung seems like a nice guy but then again, first impressions can be deceiving. 
“What do you mean?” Yoongi furrows his brows at you, like the question you just asked him is the stupidest thing of all. “You know him, he’s the sweetest guy you’ll ever meet. Just look at these texts he sends to me.”
Yoongi holds out his phone for you to read, not even caring if you snoop through his other messages. 
[March 16th, 1:25PM]
Taehyung: OHHHH MY GOD SHE JUST SAID HI TO ME AS SHE WALKED BY Taehyung: SHE’S SO CUTE AHHHHHHHHHHHHH HER LITTLE SMILE Taehyung: i think im going to have a heart attack Taehyung: bruh what if i just proposed like on the spot like right here
Yoongi: you don’t even know your own ring size
Taehyung: I’LL GO TO PANDORA RIGHT NOW
[March 18th, 10:03PM]
Taehyung: is it too annoying if we host another party just so she can come over and we can play smash in the basement Taehyung: as in like, super smash bros not just smashing
Yoongi: why don’t you just ask her anyway we don’t need to be throwing a party for her to come you know
Taehyung: yeah but then it’s WEIRD god yoongo keep up
Yoongi: i mean if she likes you back then she’d probably just say yes anyway
Taehyung: BUT THEN IT’S AWKWARD !! WE NEED TO BE DOING SOMETHING ELSE!!!! OTHERWISE I WON’T BE ABLE TO FOCUS ON ANYTHING EXCEPT HER
Yoongi: you do that even when we are doing stuff
Taehyung: :(
[March 21st, 5:07PM]
Taehyung: hey youre friends with y/n right
Yoongi: well…
Taehyung: do you think you can ask her to ask nicole about me Taehyung: i just wanna know what im working with here
Yoongi: why don’t you just do it
Taehyung: IM TOO SHY
“Yeah,” Yoongi says as you hand his phone back to him, pretty convinced. “So.”
“I see.” You nod firmly. 
“Do you think you can help? We’re throwing another party this weekend, more exclusive than our usuals. Invites only. You and her are welcome to come.”
“You better not take advantage of her or me,” you warn sternly, because even if a smaller-scale party sounds nicer, there’s no telling what the hell could happen. “I’m warning you now, Yoongi.”
“What the heck, of course we’re not gonna do that, geez.” Yoongi puts his hands up in surrender, a little alarmed at your insistence. “Seriously, Y/N. Promise. Taehyung’s a great guy. And I’m not saying that just because. He really is.”
You sigh. Yeah, he is. He’s friendly and happy and funny and respectful. Even you can’t deny that. “Alright. I’ll see if I can get her to go.”
“Awesome, thank you so much,” Yoongi says, looking genuinely grateful. “By the way, I wanted to ask—what made you move next to our house?”
You shrug. “It was the cheapest one bedroom sublet I could find. I figured I’d better take it and just figure out what to do with you guys later on.”
Yoongi chuckles. “Guess we really gave you a run for your money, huh?”
“My freshman year, I lived in between two four-person suites filled with boys. You guys aren’t even at half the level as them,” you say. “Don’t get any ideas, though. I’m a lot less tolerable now than I was back then.”
He laughs at that. “Okay, I’ll take your word for it.”
“What are you doing, huh?” You ask, finding yourself wanting the conversation to continue. “After grad, I mean.”
Yoongi shrugs. “Not sure. I’m majoring in music production but I think I wanna go to grad school, so. We’ll see.”
That answers that. So you were right, after all, about him. 
“That sounds cool. Good for you.”
“What about you? Chem, right?”
You nod. “Unfortunately. I’ve got a job lined up at a research lab in the hospital, so I’ll do that for a bit before seeing what else there is. Just taking things as they come.”
“Research? That sounds like fun,” Yoongi says. 
You hold up your enormous inorganic chemistry textbook, worn thin from use, and sigh. “Yeah, well, I have to pass this stupid class, first.”
“Yikes. Looks rough,” Yoongi winces. “Crazy, isn’t it? How the time flies. I remember sophomore year like it was yesterday.”
So do you. “Yeah. Kind of weird to think that we’re seniors, now. So much has changed.”
Yoongi looks up at you, a little hopeful, a little optimistic, in the smallest, tiniest way. “Has it, though?”
Your eyes widen slightly at the thought. Quickly, you sputter out, “I gotta, go, Yoongi, seriously, I have another big exam coming up—”
“Oh, okay,” he responds just as fast, just as caught-off-guard. “Well, uh, thanks for the help with Tae. Promise he’ll take good care of Nicole.”
You scoff a little, already heading back towards the elevator. “Yeah, as long as he didn’t learn anything from you.”
“Wha—”
The elevator door opens ten feet away, another student exiting the library, and you dash in before you have to hear anything else come out of his mouth. Even though you’re pressing the close button, the doors have never shut so slowly. 
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Three hours, thirty-seven texts, and six missed calls. That’s how you’ve spent your night, desperately attempting to contact Nicole after she had informed you this afternoon that Taehyung had invited her to another Beta party and that she was planning on going. Which is cool. You’re not going to bar her from going to places. Nor are you going to chaperone her like an adult on a field trip. You didn’t even feel like accompanying her either, because some nights you’d rather just sit and rewatch old episodes of Brooklyn Nine-Nine in your bed. 
But how hard is it to send one text? Leave a ten-second message? You aren’t looking for an entire recount of her night out. You just want to make sure she’s not dead. Her phone might be, though. 
Perhaps if you loved sleep a little more, or if you cared about your friends a little less, you wouldn’t think too much of it. You would make sure to check on her tomorrow morning and go to sleep like anyone else. But you are not anyone else. You are you, and you live next to the Beta Tau Sigma house. 
This time you don’t even bother telling the boy at the front door the names of all the frat brothers you know. You just shove yourself by him before he even knows what’s going on, sneaking past the groups of people on their way out, laughing and giggling and smelling of nothing but alcohol. You didn’t realize it was already close to three in the morning. Have you really been awake this whole time? You must have dozed off at some point, because you think you can still feel the dried drool at the corner of your lips. 
You’ve never been inside a near-empty frat house. It’s sort of a surreal experience, if you’re being honest. The lights are still off but the music isn’t playing anymore, laptop unplugged from the speakers and sitting, forgotten, on the designated DJ table. The floor is covered in glowsticks and solo cups, a barren wasteland. Some of the brothers have congregated in the kitchen, another is passed out on the dinky leather couch in the hallway, and others are just milling around, too wasted or too tired to bother cleaning up. 
In a way, it feels haunting. Frat houses are almost always filled to the brim, bursting with noise and energy, that seeing it occupied by only its own inhabitants is horror-movie worthy. Makes you think there’s something wrong with the place. 
“Y/N?”
Yoongi spots you from halfway down the stairs, squinting just to make sure it’s you. You can’t even blame him. You’d be surprised, too. 
“Yoongi,” you say stupidly, feeling a little lost in this wide open landscape. 
“What are you doing here?” He asks as he jogs down the stairs, walking up to stand next to you. 
“Nicole told me she was here and she hasn’t been answering any of my texts, I just wanted to make sure…” You lose your train of thought when you see him come up to you, concern lacing his brows as he blinks at you, eyes wide and cheeks pink. For once he hasn’t got that stupid smug little grin on his face, that devilish glint in his eyes. He just looks… content.
“Nicole? Taehyung walked her home about an hour ago,” he explains simply. “She dropped her phone in the basement toilet so… that’s probably why you haven’t been able to contact her.”
“Oh,” you say stupidly. “Is he back?”
“Yeah, he’s—oh, there he is.” Yoongi points behind you where Taehyung is sitting on the floor by the dining room table, arms wrapped around a pillow, drunk or lovestruck, or both. As the other brothers pass by him, they ruffle his caramel hair and tease him about the lipstick on his face. Ah. 
“Okay,” you acknowledge, suddenly feeling at once very foolish for coming over. It’s so late, and there’s no doubt Yoongi will want to just pass out after this instead of talk to you, and you’ve pretty much just wasted everyone’s time. “Thanks, I guess.”
“Sure. You know Taehyung would never pull something like that, right?” Yoongi asks. 
You scoff a little. “No, but wouldn’t you?”
Yoongi frowns at that, looking too confused for his expression to be fake. “What are you talking about?”
“That night,” you begin. No need to elaborate, you both know exactly which night you’re referring to. 
“What about that night?” It’s clearly a bit of a sore spot for the both of you. 
“Well, we… spent the night together and then the next morning I overheard you talking about me,” you say awkwardly. The truth is that neither of you have really discussed what happened between the two of you since that night, preferring to just shun one another and manifest this evil version of the other in your minds. Maybe you should have, but it’s too late to go back and change that now, so you have no choice but to dredge it up here instead. 
“I wasn’t talking about you,” Yoongi says. “I mean, I was, but that was after you blew me off and refused to answer any of my messages.”
“I blew you off because of what you said about me,” you insist. Ghosting him was not the worst thing you could have done. Back then, you considered it pretty even payback after hearing the things he said. “You said that I was easy, and that—that you wanted to share me with the house.” Even just saying the words brings a vile taste into your mouth. 
Yoongi furrows his brows for a second, trying to recall that morning after, that conversation he had with that brother, before he realizes. “You mean my cat?”
What. 
“What?”
“I had just adopted my cat that morning,” Yoongi elaborates. “I went to the shelter in town and picked her up. It was really easy, and I thought she would become a nice moodmaker for our house.”
“You… you adopted a cat?” You ask again, just for clarification because you can’t actually believe it. Min Yoongi has a cat? 
“Yeah, her name is Miso,” he says. “Wait, did you think I was talking about you?”
“Well…” You trail off, feeling more and more idiotic with every second. “Maybe.”
“Oh my God, Y/N, seriously? I would never say those things about you. About anyone,” Yoongi says like it’s obvious, which, in hindsight, it very much is. 
You throw your hands up in the air. “I didn’t know! That’s what I thought, too, but then I overheard you saying that and I thought you were talking about me and that you were just another asshole looking for a cheap one-night-stand, and I assumed shit. I’m sorry.”
Yoongi doesn’t look mad. He doesn’t even look a little peeved. He just looks helpless, because there’s nothing he can do to change what’s happened between the two of you even if all it really took was just a proper conversation. You, on the other hand, must look like a goddamn fool. A very regretful one, at that. 
He forces out half of a laugh, this soft little noise that makes him shake his head. “It’s okay. I’m sorry, too. Maybe I should have told you I wanted a cat.”
You roll your eyes. “Definitely would have saved us a lot from the last two years.”
He takes a step forward, impossibly closer. “You really thought I just saw you as a one-night-stand?”
“I don’t know…” You twiddle your fingers, eyes gazing downwards at your gross old sneakers as you rock back and forth. “I… didn’t want you to think of me that way.”
“I didn’t,” he assures you, reaching out to lift your chin up, the pads of his fingers pressing against the skin of your jaw, bringing your eyes up to his own. “I wanted something more than that from the moment I saw you.”
“Saw me throwing up in your sink,” you remember fondly. 
“A man’s dream come true,” Yoongi jokes, making you both laugh. “No, I really did. I wanted to go out on dates and hold your hand and kiss you on the benches on campus.”
Well, that’s news to you. 
“Didn’t you want that, too?” A dip into the water. 
You smile softly, gazing at him through your lashes. “Maybe I did.”
And then, a jump. 
“Do you want that, still?”
How could you ever think you’d be able to resist him? How could you ever think that your attraction had faded? Min Yoongi has been next to you ever since that night. You just never realized it until he finally stood in front of you, instead. 
“Maybe I do.”
There, standing in the middle of an empty open room, littered with streamers and empty cups and glowsticks and wet puddles on the floor, he kisses you. Pulls you in like he did that very first night you met, intoxicating and electric. You aren’t drunk, you aren’t dressed all nicely, you are just you, and he is just him. Two years have gone by but the feeling is the same. That warmth that fills you up, the grinning against his lips. Sparks flew then but they are flames now, embers that burn deep within you. 
Before you tumble into his bed that night, Yoongi has to move a certain grey tabby off of his duvet. But once you finally do, it makes you never want to leave. 
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The next morning, you aren’t woken up by an alarm, or the cold air, or even Yoongi himself. Instead, what rouses you is the feeling of little paws on your body, stepping over you like you’re nothing but carpet. 
Miso seems to have decided that you’re quite alright, after careful consideration. Or maybe she just wants someone to get up so she can eat breakfast. Next to you, Yoongi sleeps soundly, little snores leaving his mouth as he curls himself up underneath the sheets. Slowly, you remove yourself from under the covers, sliding your feet off the edge of the bed as Miso comes up to rub against you. 
“You know how much grief you have caused me and him?” You ask her as she meows happily. “If I had just known you existed, we could have all saved so much time.”
“Mmrph?”
From beside you, Yoongi stirs, barely looking at you through his half-lidded eyes, grinning lazily. 
“I was just telling Miso that she’s caused us a lot of angst,” you tell him. 
“Mmm,” Yoongi hums in agreement. He pushes himself upright, the sheets falling to reveal his bare chest and messy hair, tousled and knotted from a night of sleep and a couple hours of pulling on it. Whoops. “But you’re here now, aren’t you?”
“It appears that I am,” you say, smiling down happily at Miso. 
“Hey,” he says, leaning over to give Miso a bit of a pet before turning his gaze towards you. “Kiss me before you leave?”
It sounds so familiar. But what Yoongi doesn’t know is that you aren’t leaving at all. You’ll be next to him for a long time, you hope. No choice in that. 
You raise your eyebrows at him. “What makes you think I’m going anywhere?”
When you press your lips to his once more, you feel a soft head of fur brush against the side of your face. 
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↳ thanks for reading! don’t forget to let me know if you enjoyed it!
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jimilter · a month ago
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little princess (m) | m.yg. | drabble
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pairing: yoongi x reader
rating: m (18+)
genre: smut | humor | angst | fwb minus the friends!au
summary: In his defense, his trysts with you and his job at your father’s office were initially non-mutually exclusive. 
warnings: emotional constipation, mean!reader, age-gap, explicit sexual content (dom!yoongi, sub!reader, dom-sub themes, oral (m), manhandling, unprotective penetrative sex, bondage, gagging), not a happy ending, unrequited feelings that are being denied left and right (’:
word count: 3.9 k
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submission for the September Games hosted by House Yoonus.
❂ “Fall For Romance”          ⁂ Hosted by: Professor Dia @yoonia​ through @bangtansorciere​
⤐  AU Type: Salted Caramel Ice Cream - Unrequited Love AU ⤐  Themes: Forbidden Romance | Age Gap ⤐  Kinks: Bondage, Throat Fucking, Cum Play
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note: so i saw this yoongi and lost my sanity, which resulted in this! this fic seems to have a lot of backstory bec it’s somewhat of a spin-off to a bodyguard!jk series i have in the works. i also decided to tweak it a bit and make it presentable for this month’s games for the bcs net, bec why tf not?
a very huge bucket of gratitude to ridzie, my luff @taegularities​ for beta reading this for me! y’all could never imagine the kind of typos she sifted through to stop this from turning into a whole comedy, smh. one of them was “noses” instead of “noises,” and that is a tame one. LOL. thank you so much for brushing this, and hyping me, up, bestie! 🥺 i love you! 🥺❤
↦ moodboard
— masterlist
— feedback is always appreciated!
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Yoongi runs a hand through his hair, nails scratching through the dark roots of his undercut beneath the silver locks. Sweat is collecting under the collar of his white oxford despite the air-conditioning in the room. His pants are straining so hard, it hurts. 
Maybe he should stop staring and do something about all of this.
He licks his lips, unbuttons his suit jacket and leans back on his heels, wondering if he should sit down for this. 
But then a tiny, little whimper escapes your gagged lips and he launches into action – unbuckling his belt and whipping down the zipper of his pants as he undoes the fly. He lets his pants fall down to his ankles, making the hasty decision to sit on the edge of the bed, and beckons you closer.
You immediately follow, like the obedient pet you are, crawling closer to him on your knees. Your large eyes blink up at him and when he nods to grant you your wordless permission, your face presses up against his boxers clad length. He cups your jaw in his palm, smoothing his thumb over the side of your cheek bulging under the impact of your soiled panties that he stuffed into your mouth roughly an hour ago when he had to urgently leave to take an important call. 
And you waited for him to return, sitting and waiting all pretty in the same position he left you. His dick pulses and heart thuds at the thought. He wishes he could curb the latter, though, because that is highly inconvenient.
You look so good like this, all bound and gagged and wet for him, only him. If he was a weaker man, he would nut at just the sight. Who knew that the girl he first met at an airport and hated with all his might for spilling coffee on his pristine, white shirt would some day beg him to use her body the way you daily do? He certainly didn't. 
You whimper again, and he hums. 
"What is it, princess? Got something to say?"
You sit back up to nod so violently, your chin collides into your collarbones. He laughs at your pathetic state, clicking his tongue. 
"God, look at you. So fucking desperate. So filthy. So damn unbecoming of the country's metaphorical princess, hmm?"
You bat your lashes at him, pushing your breasts out in defiance, and he bites his lips to hold back a moan. It’s funny how you love it when he calls you that, but absolutely despite the pet name’s usage in any other capacity. Especially with regards to the reality of who you are.
"You're such a nasty baby, fuck. What would your father say if he knew what his little girl is up to when she leaves with his trusted guard, hmm?"
Your eyes narrow at his goading, and Yoongi has to coo at how adorable he finds it. He reaches forward to tug your gag out of your mouth, watching your heaving breasts with rapt attention when they rise, fall and jiggle with your rapid breaths. 
A string of saliva extends from your lips and lands next to your nipple. His dick twitches at the sight, and he finally grabs his underwear to tug it off and free himself. He is fully hard, his tip angry and in dire need of friction. His eyes catch the sight of his wristwatch, a curse leaving him with the realization that he needs to get back to work in less than an hour.
"C'mon now,” he mumbles to you, “we've wasted enough time. Your dad needs me at his office by seven, let's move quickly."
You don't say a word in response, as you have been trained not to, and simply open your mouth and jut your tongue out for him.
Yoongi groans at the sight, wrapping a hand around himself, running it over a couple of times to spread the precum all over before resting his tip against your waiting tongue. You look into his eyes and start to roll your tongue around, licking him like a fucking lollipop. He can’t believe how amazing you are at this – both, giving head and listening to commands.
His other hand reaches down to rub your saliva over your boob, fingers plucking at your nipple, and he wishes he had more time so that he could feast on these the way he loves to. For now, he settles on briefly groping them before his attention is forced on the sensations in his dick when you rub your tongue all the way down from his tip to the base.
“Fuck, princess, you’ll be the death of me,” he mutters as he gathers your hair in a loose fist, later chuckling to himself when he realizes how much factual truth his lustful words actually hold.
Well, because –
Remember when he asked what your father would do if he knew what you were up to when you went away with Yoongi? Well for one, he would murder him. And then maybe lock you away at a Church, or something, for fucking around with him – Min Yoongi, the President’s most trusted security detail.
Yeah, that's him. Along with being the Leader of one of the country’s most reputed Security Agencies, one that is always working with high profile clients like your father, the President of the country, himself.
In his defense, his trysts with you and his job at your father’s office were initially non-mutually exclusive. 
But, like, maybe lusting after the President's daughter when he didn't know she was the President's daughter was alright. But fucking your face like a deranged demon after he has gained full knowledge? Yeah, that might not be very ideal for his job. Or his life. 
But what's he gotta do when you're kneeling in front of him, all naked and pretty with your hands behind your back and tongue out? Basically begging him to ruin your throat? Is he expected to say no? 
Fuck off.
Yoongi grunts in pleasure when your mouth wraps around his tip, looking down at you with shuttered eyes. How is it that you look this beautiful when his cock spreads your lips apart so obscenely? 
There's gotta be something wrong with his head for feeling the things he feels when he's with you, because going down this line of thoughts is straight up suicide. And it's stupid, too, because the only time he spends with you is when you're fucking in some or the other capacity. 
And your arrangement works fine. You need someone to push you around in bed and Yoongi needs a fucktoy. Besides, whoever heard of a dom falling for their sub? No one, that’s right. It’s always the other way round. Which is why Yoongi refuses to acknowledge all the lurches his heart gives when he’s with you.
What business does he have feeling things when he quite literally knows next to nothing about you beyond the details of your family. You can’t fall for someone you don’t even know, right? Obviously. 
His tip hits the back of your throat when you suddenly attempt to swallow him whole, and Yoongi sighs at the feel of your throat clenching over him, all unwanted thoughts cleansed off his brain.
He grins at you with his teeth clenched, lazily trailing his hands up your body to find purchase in your hair. He grips at the gorgeous curtain of your tresses—immediately mentally cursing himself for thinking of them as gorgeous like a stupid fuck—and gradually slips into directing your head over his cock, gliding the heavenly warmth of the wet cavern of your mouth all over himself.
“Oh, princess, this mouth of yours – fuck,” leaves him in a low pitched groan, his breath hitching with every brush of the back of your throat against his crown.
Finding a satisfactory rhythm, he hurriedly nods at your inquisitive eyes, reassuring you that you can relax your throat and your mind, like always, and you do just that. He grips your hair harder and thrusts into your mouth with complete abandon, throwing his head back when the knot behind his navel starts to tighten.
You gag around him, helplessly, tears dropping down your face, mixing with your spit when they run past your lips and adding onto the lubrication. Yoongi unhinges his jaw at the sight, letting all kinds of uncontrollable noises escape him.
Over the couple of months that he has been doing this with you, your body has become remarkably trained at keeping your needs and reactions in check. Yoongi cannot help but be appreciative of how you don’t fidget in your bonds for a single second even when he very nearly cuts your air supply off with the force of his thrusts down your throat. Your shoulders stay still, hands calmly crossed behind your back where he neatly tied them with your favorite, dark purple silk rope.
That is not to say your body doesn’t shake from the impact of his bruising pace, because it certainly does. You get dragged back and forth on the floor every few seconds and your knees are sure to develop abrasions after this, no matter how soft the carpet beneath you is.
Yoongi’s gaze leaves said knees to travel along the length of your folded legs to zero in between your thighs.
Your center is not as visible to him from this angle as he would like for it to be, but knowing you like the back of his hand as he does, he is certain you’re very close to dripping your arousal down on the carpet, across the couple of inches of distance between your pussy and the floor. The thought makes him groan loudly, eyes screwing shut involuntarily. 
Suddenly, he wants to check and see how right he is. 
He pulls you off his cock, hands clenching in your hair as a shudder passes through his body at the sudden change in temperature his length is exposed to. When he opens his eyes, he finds you panting and trying to maintain eye contact with him. His heart does that thing again, and he curses all deities in the world for inconveniencing him with the damn organ that he has no need for in his life.
“Come here,” he grumbles to you, frowning and projecting his anger at you for something that is not in the least your doing.
When you move to crawl closer, he shakes his head and leans down to wrap both his palms around your upper arms to lift you off the floor.
“On my lap.”
Your wide eyes meet his from less than an inch away when he situates you comfortably over his thighs, slowly unfolding your legs from their hairpin bend so as to not cause your muscles to cramp up. You still wince, and he lunges forward to pull you in a deep kiss.
Your lips are already open, and it takes him less than three seconds to win against your feebly fighting tongue and ravage your mouth with his. 
His palms run down your back to hold your ass firmly and when he pushes you towards him, your leaking cunt molds over his length.
“Fuck—” he gasps in surprise at the amount of wetness spread all over your pussy. 
Leaning away from your mouth, he runs his wondrous gaze across your face. Your eyes are closed and little and helpless whimpers stumble out of your mouth at every motion of your cunt over his length.
“Princess,” he breathes in your ear, removing one hand from your butt to cradle the back of your head, hugging you to him. “You okay?”
You nod against his neck, and the protectiveness that he feels for you in the moment makes him want to throw himself out of the closest window. He reels everything in as best as he can and instead lets your head rest against his shoulder while he uses the freed hand to guide himself towards your sopping entrance.
His fingers brush against your clit which, despite the moisture collected everywhere, is still easy to locate because of how swollen it has gotten, and it makes him go mindless with arousal that you have been this messed up from having him in your mouth.
“This okay?” he whispers in your ear, sighing happily when you nod back, and arranges himself the slightest bit before thrusting up into you.
A broken cry tears out of you, spine arching and fists clenching behind your back. Yoongi bites down on his lip to quieten his own moan of pleasure and reaches behind you to run a finger over your clenched knuckles. 
“Easy, little princess.” He brushes his mouth against your temple, covering your clenched fist with his hand.
Your fingers loosen and pride swells in Yoongi’s chest.
Just the next second, though he scowls at being stupidly soft again. Growling in irritation at himself, he twists the two of you sideways to press your back on the bed. You frown at him with worlds of confusion held in your gaze. He shakes his head to stop you from questioning him. Not that you would say a word, anyway, because he hasn’t asked you to speak up yet and you’re impossibly amazing at never faltering when he gives you instructions.
Sometimes Yoongi kinda wishes you would, just so he would have an excuse to spank your perfect, pert ass red.
He pushes into you again, now leaning over your prone form on the bed, and wraps your legs around his waist, while his own stay planted firmly on the ground. Your petite body bounces with the force of his thrusts, mouth open and eyebrows furrowed, and he swears he would profess his undying love to you if you stared at him like this for a second longer—
Not that he… feels that way. No, that’s stupid. It was, uh, hypothetical. Of course.
He moves his gaze away from yours, anyway, focusing it at the place the two of you are joined, instead. 
Your cunt looks so tiny, speared open lewdly by his cock, and paired with the whines every stroke pulls from you, it makes him lose his entire mind. Why are you so perfect for him?
“You good?” he still asks you to check if you’re hurting anywhere, given the less than comfortable position and your still bound hands.
You frantically nod back, as if annoyed at the intrusion and he huffs an incredulous chuckle.
Things get faster and louder with every passing second, and he can feel your body winding up tighter and tighter beneath him. Your eyes are finally shut, saving him from confronting things that he doesn’t want to, and head is tossed back into the mattress. Your hands must be suffering under the weight of both of your bodies, but not a single sound of complaint escapes you as he fucks into you without giving either of you any time to breathe.
“Princess,” he pants above you at the feeling of your heat gripping him tighter, reaching up to grip at your face, thumb digging into your bottom lip. “You gonna come for me, princess?”
You nod, hair flying about your head, sticking to your sweaty neck and splaying over the bedcovers. Yoongi removes his gaze when the sight starts to feel a bit too beautiful.
He, instead, focuses on digging his pelvis into yours in such a way that it presses over your clit, sighing in satisfaction when you shriek in response, and grips your body against him harder.
“Come on, then.” He nips at your thigh before leaning over the length of your body to dig his teeth into your breast, right above your nipple. “Be a good little princess and cream my cock. Clench me so hard, I lose it with you. Come on, princess, come for me.”
Your gasps are loud and saturated, body twisting around in obvious desperation, and Yoongi takes that as sign to press harder into you, stifling a moan when your soft body presses up harder against his planes, sending rushes of arousal down to his dick despite the oxford and the jacket he still has on. 
It is with one of his hands grabbing at your tit and the thumb of the other pushing into your mouth that you come apart – screaming more than just incoherent words this time, such as curses, words of gratitude, and his name. Yoongi can’t believe himself when he realizes how much he missed your voice when he finally hears it tonight.
He is being a whole moron and it’s gonna incinerate him at the end.
Your clenching walls pull him under, though, and just as he feels the plug in his lower belly about to come off, he pulls out of you, leaving your mouth to grip his length all wet with your slick, stroking a loose fist over himself twice before he comes undone. 
“Fuck fuck fuck, princess, fucking hell—”
Thick ropes of white land on you, coating your stomach, your tits, your nipples, fuck, in his release. 
Yoongi sighs long and hard when he’s done emptying himself, extremely tempted to take a picture of you painted in him. The hand he still has over your breast catches some of his release, too, and before he can move to wipe it on your body, your whimper catches his attention.
You stare up at him with huge, dilated eyes, slowly opening your mouth and extending your tongue to wordlessly invite him.
Yoongi loses his goddamn mind.
“You’re such a fucking cumslut, aren’t you?”
You give him a shy but somewhat conniving grin, your mouth still open, and Yoongi curses.
He wraps his clean hand around your waist to sit you up on the bed, offering you his soiled hand to clean it up. And you lick at it, tiny kitten licks of your tongue making his head spiral with lust again. When he feels a twitch in his spent dick, he huffs in astonishment, and cupping your jaw with one hand, slides his dirty fingers into your mouth.
“Clean them up like a good, little cumslut, princess. Don’t pretend to be demure when we both know how your throat swallows my cock, hmm?”
Your lips close around three of his fingers, head bobbing up and down like does on his dick. Yoongi hates himself for wanting to tenderly tuck your hair behind your ears when you’re being so lecherous. What the fuck is wrong with him?
His clean fingers pop out of your mouth, your lips immediately curving up in satisfaction and Yoongi gives you a pleased smile in return.
“Good girl.”
He chuckles at the way your eyes sparkle at his praise, immediately sighing when he checks the time. 
“Alright, princess, let’s clean up and leave. I only have ten minutes to spare.” You nod but still look at him expectantly. It takes him a moment to realize. “Oh, you can speak. Show’s over.”
You roll your eyes at his joke, tense shoulders relaxing, and Yoongi can almost see the way you change personalities from being his perfect, little sub to the President’s bitchy, entitled daughter. 
Aftercare? Never heard of her. Yoongi shakes his head, amazed at how harshly you divide your behavior in and out of bed. You literally never need a single word or touch of comfort from him. The first time he tried, you got so alarmed that he was trying to start something romantic with you that Yoongi laughed until he cried. When he explained the concept to you, you were so adamant at refusing it, that he laughed some more.
Who’s laughing now, huh? He certainly isn’t.
“This was so good,” you tell him, hopping off the bed on wobbly legs that make him smirk. “Even if I’ll have to wear bracelets to cover up the bruises on my wrists.”
Working on untying your bonds when you stand with your back to him, Yoongi snorts at your words. “You’re the one who insists on ropes. I could always get you softer and more comfortable bonds.”
“I’ve already told you – I love the anticipation that builds when you’re tying them.” You turn around to narrow your eyes at him, cradling your reddened wrists in your palms. “And can you not talk like a Sugar Daddy?”
Yoongi laughs aloud at that, buttoning his pants and buckling his belt firmly over it. “As if you need one.”
“You couldn’t afford me even if I needed one, Chief Min.”
Yoongi tries to mask the impact of your words by pulling on a blank face, deflecting instead of addressing your insult. “You don’t work for me, don’t call me that.”
“I won’t call you by your name outside of bed, Min. If you don’t want me to be respectful, your wish.” You roll your eyes again and disappear into the en-suite bathroom.
He looks into the mirror hanging over the back of the hotel room’s door. His hair has gotten slightly out of place, but other than that, he looks pretty put together. Not quite what he feels on the inside, though. He doesn’t like you calling him ‘Chief Min,’ because that is what literally every other person in his life calls him. Even if you choose to address him by his surname instead of his given name, he finds solace in the fact that you’re the only person who does.
Your phone suddenly gives a few successive pings on the dresser, catching his eye.
joonie <333 Don’t be late! I’ll give you a call when I get there. I swear to god if you’re late… I will KILL you!
His jaw clenches.
You exit the bathroom, sauntering up to the dresser to retrieve your phone in all your naked glory. He observes your face closely, teeth grinding when you grin at the text messages.
Yoongi clears his throat. “Going somewhere?”
“Yep!” you say, popping the ‘p’ and walk around the room to quickly get back into your thong and slip dress.
It suddenly strikes him that you’d been braless today. He frowns. “Dressed in that? Are you sure?”
“What the hell is wrong with my dress?” You give him an appalled look. “Joon is a friend, Dad trusts him. I’ll be safe.”
A friend. Yoongi scoffs.
“He goes to your college?” he asks, unlocking the door to the room as the two of you make your way out.
“Yeah.”
Yoongi hums in response, it suddenly hitting him how dumb what he’s doing with you really is. He’s definitely catching feelings and you… well, you can’t be bothered to so much as look at him when you’re done with the sex.
And why would you, when you have guys your age texting you to meet up, in perfect freaking grammar, spelling and punctuation. No matter how pliant or accepting you might be when you’re in his bed, you’re still a college sophomore — not even twenty yet, while he’s entering his mid-thirties. Nothing can ever, ever fruit from this. Your arrangement isn’t fine, the fuck? It’s messed up. Bound to get messier if he keeps feeling the things he does.
Which is so dumb because he doesn’t even know your college major! How the hell can he have feelings for you?
But he’s always been too weak against your pretty smile – ever since you had him washing his shirt in an airport toilet before his first meeting with your father. And so, no matter what becomes of him, no matter how messier things get between you two, he knows he will come running every time you call.
Some dom. Ugh.
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tagging: @shrimpmsg @codeinebelle @afangirllikeme-blog​ @jimidol​
note: DO NOT WORRY - you’ll see more of these two in the jk series! (tho i might not release it before 2022 bec LOTS to do!)
© jimilter | 2021
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hobidreams · 19 days ago
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october 1871.
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is it truly better to have loved and lost?
pairing: joseon king!yoongi x reader words: 2.3k warning: mentions of blood. historical note: “mama” is the korean equivalent of “your highness” & the proper address for a queen. her family can simply call her that, but others must add her official title as well.
moonlit throne index. this is drabble 39. start from the beginning?
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It’s a beautiful day for a wedding.
The sun is high and bright, a rare sight for autumn. The day’s breeze is pleasantly cool as it blows across the palace grounds. It drifts past the skirt of your brightly-colored hanbok as you stand in front of one of the halls, barely paying attention to the clamorous chatter of the people crowded around you. (Especially since their excited conversations have turned to the scandalous topic of you more than once already, as if they thought you did not possess ears of your own.)
Save for those few who are busy in the kitchens preparing the ritual meal, every other palace occupant has stopped their work on this auspicious day. At least where you stand, you are afforded some more room than the other spectators, for a painter has been busily constructing his workspace beside you and his materials demand space. As far as you can see down either side, people line the path that the royal palanquin had taken some time ago on its way towards the town for the ceremonial tour of the nearby grounds, to allow the regular citizens a glimpse of their esteemed ruler and his imminent wife.
Despite yourself, you’d come.
You’d looked for him as the procession passed you by, though you only managed to see a brief flash of his silk robes. Nothing of his expression. He would be smiling, you think. Not the lazy, gentle curve of his lips in the hazy light of morning, or that oft-teasing smirk you’ve come to expect before soft kisses. No, it would be that frozen grin meant to fool those who did not know him as you did. As you do, you correct in your mind to no one at all, since the distinction feels more important than you’re willing to admit.
Southward, the sound of clapping and cheers suddenly soars towards the sky. Voices near you echo in kind, exploding with exclamations. “They must be returning!”
“I hope they are slow coming back. I didn’t get to see jungjeon-mama’s hairpin last time!”
Your fingers feel empty and useless, so you clench the fabric of your skirt to stop their trembling. Yes—if you squint your eyes, you can see it now. First, the men on horseback, guiding the entire procession. Then, the guards marching in uniformity, their spears pointed towards the sky by their sides. All this ceremony. All this celebration. The first palanquin will be your king. You can see the red roof of it already, coming closer and closer at a measured pace.
“Jeonha!”
“Congratulations, jeonha!”
“May your marriage be long and prosperous!”
You close your fist tighter, knuckles turning white. Yoongi is so close, but his head is turned to the other side. You want him to look at you every bit as much as you want to avoid his eyes. It would be so satisfying to prove his feelings towards you in front of everyone if he held your gaze, but—you know only intense scrutiny from the others will linger when the moment has passed.
What will you do?
The palanquin draws near.
Will he find you in the crowd?
“Whoa!”
A loud, startled whinny. In front, one of the horses rears back, its legs kicking wildly in the air. The procession stops immediately. Thankfully, no one crashes into another as the crowd’s cheers are replaced with confused murmurings.
“Yah! Down!” The rider barks. He pulls on the reins, his grip firm until the horse has all hooves on the ground once more. Then he turns to bow his head to the king. “My sincere apologies, jeonha! It must have thought there was a creature on the ground.”
“No matter.” The king waves his hand dismissively. “Continue.”
The slow rumbling starts again as thousands of stepping feet regain their momentum. The ground shakes from the movement, mimicking the quivering of your limbs. But now, Yoongi looks only forward at the horses, towards his ultimate destination as he moves onward. Past you.
This is for the best.
Despite how your disappointment festers, you know that escaping attention is better than anything else. You try to keep your head straight instead of letting it bow like it wants to, as the dozens of high-ranking people that make up the escort follow. It will be the bride’s palanquin soon. Or, jungjeon-mama, as you will soon be calling her. She follows close behind, as if visually presenting herself as his fated pair.
You press your lips firmly together even as the women around you turn to delighted shouts. “Look at her jeogori! The embroidery!”
“I wish I could wear such a thing.” This, an envious whisper from your left.
A snort. “You would have to marry the king first!”
But you are no longer listening to them.
Seong-min has found you all on her own.
Her eyes lock straight on yours as her procession is pulled slowly past. From her position, raised by so many hands, she is literally looking down her nose at you and what a sharpness you find there. Like a quick blade, her stare glimmers with ice. It makes you deadly certain she knows all about you and who you really are. Cold sweat drips down your spine, your knees shivering even as the palanquin moves on, followed by an entire slew of well-dressed personnel.
But you, rooted in place, you can only replay the look in her eyes. The triumph. Now it’s harder to breathe. The world around you, despite all the festivities, the voices, the colors—it all feels muted, as if your ears are stuffed with fabric. This is happening. It is really, truly happening. And you came to watch, as if to carry out the finishing blow yourself. Should you go now? Have you seen enough? You know what comes next. You are so afraid of what comes next.
“Wouldn’t you say they look rather suited for one another, uinyeo-nim?”
The question forcibly snatches your attention. Your chest still constricting, you slowly turn to face the question-asker, the very painter who has been sketching away on his canvas. He looks away from his work towards you with round, dark eyes that light with mirth. He is the only other person today who has been willing to meet your gaze, as everyone else is much too occupied with pretending you don’t exist while watching you furtively anyway, for later gossip.
“Y-Yes,” you manage, the word sticking in the back of your throat. “Quite.” You urge a smile to come up, plastering it across your red lips.
He turns back; swipes his brush across the page. “Yet your smile does not quite reflect in your eyes.”
You are instantly and instinctively offended at his brashness. How dare he be so direct when he already knows exactly why you are feeling this way?
Then you realize—he must be from outside the palace. Of course. He does not know who you are, or your relation to the king. How could he? You are no one of importance.
When you do not respond, he exclaims in that easy way of his, “Ah! Perhaps it is because you are unmarried, and thus feeling lonely on such a day like this?”
You force out something meant to resemble a casual laugh. “Y-You have caught me, master-nim! That is correct.”
His smile is wide and boxy, flashing a hint of teeth. “I’d thought as much. Though, I am surprised a beautiful woman like you remains unwed.”
You are so surprised you actually jerk back. You don’t know what to make of this bold man, who seems as if he is making advances on you despite your rank. He must know that as an uinyeo, no matter your employer, you are a cheonmin. And he must be far, far above you as a chungin, especially considering his mastery of the arts. You can see his skill for yourself. His painting, though it is far from finished, is a beautiful smattering of regal color and ink.
“Um, were you invited here to paint the scene, master-nim?” You hurriedly ask, hoping he will drop the previous subject. Before you both, the ceremonial march continues.
“Oh, yes. One of the ministers requested I paint something he intends to give jeonha as a present. Though I think it would be much more fun to give the king some of my writings instead.”
“The king does do much reading,” you say. “He would probably like that.” Then it strikes you that you are revealing information that someone of your station should not be privy to.
Thankfully, the painter does not seem to notice. Instead, he laughs loudly in that deep voice of his. “Alright, then you may gift this to him yourself. I am certainly not risking my head!” He reaches into his hanbok and pulls out a small, bound book.
You take the small volume in hand, reading the beautifully-written letters inked on the front. Beneath the Blossoming Trees, by Taehyun. One of the newest releases, and one you have yet to find time to purchase from the store with all that has been going on. Your lips split into a smile at the sight. Wait. But then—this means—
“You are Master Taehyun?”
He laughs again, this time at your wide, shocked eyes. “Taehyung, actually. But for a bit of protection, I publish with a different last syllable. After all, some of the yangban disapprove of my… let’s say scandalous works. I take it you read my novels?”
“Yes, I’ve read all of them!” You clutch the book he’s just given you like it’s gold, thinking you might just refuse to give it back if he asks for such. “This is… Ah, I have so many questions to ask you, Master Taehyung!”
He dots a rich scarlet dye onto the scene, filling in a robe. “And I am very happy to answer, uinyeo-nim. But only if you are willing to meet me at a teahouse and pose your questions over a plate of yakgwa.”
“O-Oh.”
His eyes wane as he beams at you.
You must admit that he is a very attractive man, what with his easy manner and his enchanting eyes. And you have spent countless hours dreamily lost inside creations from his mind, so you already feel a sense of intimacy, of trust with him. If you were with him… If you were to fall in love with a man like this, wouldn’t your life be so much simpler? If you lived outside of the palace, perhaps close to Chun-ja and her family. Your friends. If you left this court and its stifling politics behind…
“Jeonha and his bride have reached the royal chambers!”
The announcement, spread by countless voices echoing the words, slices through your imagination. You shake yourself, pressing your fingertips into the book’s thin cover as you turn your head north.
From here, you can just barely make out the stopped palanquins, the silk-clad figures of the king and soon-to-be-queen as they are helped down from their seats. Seeing them like this, you think Master Taehyung was right. They look so natural together. A fated pair. Even if it could be you beside him, you wonder if even an eighth of these people would be celebrating as they do now if it were.
Before the regal pair, servants open the doors, bowing at the waist as they gesture for the two to enter. Though the king takes his steps slowly, he does not hestitate, nor does he stutter. The pressure on your chest is back, pressing down, down, down. Seong-min follows him inside, the gold accessories in her hairstyle so heavy and decadent they wobble with every move.
Finally, with a flourish, the doors are shut behind them.
No one is allowed to witness the rituals that come next, but you already know what the ceremony calls for. You know what they should do. It’s why the damned thing is part of the rites at all. They must attempt to produce an heir on this auspicious night. Yes… They will exchange bows. They will take a meal together. Then he will take her into his arms and press himself into another heat that isn’t yours and then, when it is over—he’ll spill inside her what he has never allowed you to have.
Tears build behind your eyes, threatening to flood but you won’t let them. Won’t give any of the spectators the satisfaction of watching you break in the light of day. You tense your muscles, tightening everything as you stare right at the wooden doors as if you could see past them if you try hard enough.
“Uinyeo-nim!” Master Taehyung’s voice is soft, but you can hear sudden alarm in his tone. “Are you alright?!”
“Wha—?” You follow his gaze down and only then do you realize you have unconsciously clenched the book so hard that the pages have sliced into your skin. Dark blood begins to trickle down your fingers towards your skirt as you hurriedly take the tome with your other hand, holding out your injured one to avoid stains. You can hardly feel the pain with how numb your entire body has become. But the blood proves you are still alive after all, that this is reality no matter how you wish otherwise.
“Let me help you!”
But you can only shake your head. “I’m sorry.” You cannot lead him on. Even on a day like this, you can only reject everything he offers. Even the slightest heat of his body this close to you feels wrong when your entire heart is currently behind those closed doors, promised to another woman for the rest of his life.
You still want to trust in the man you love. It’s all you have left.
“I’m so sorry,” you say again and again, as much to him as to your withering self.
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a/n: it finally happened. inevitably. but this story isn’t over yet, is it?
chat with me | support me on kofi ♡
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taegularities · 24 days ago
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over jeweled hills | myg (m)
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Summary: Alone in the woods and waiting for the queen to hunt you down, the last thing you expect is to be lured in by an enchanting tune; one that has you following the trail of the melody until you're met with the eyes of the love of your life who, to your misery, turns out to be the selected huntsman by your mother's command.
pairing: Huntsman!Yoongi x Snow White!reader (no skin colour defined though)
genre: (secret) established relationship, fantasy!au; angst, smut
warnings: themes of murder and death (cos yeah, the queen wants snow white!oc d*ad), past minor character death by poison (yep, the king), oc is on the run + indicated anxiety; explicit sexual content: very soft!dom yoongi, big dick!yoongi, outdoor sex, fingering, teasing, marking/biting, unprotected sex (magic <3), soft sex, breast play, kissing and some love confessions; he calls her princess :3
word count: 6.6k
a/n: this fic draws inspiration & lends elements from the fairytales “pied piper of hamelin” & “snow white” and was written for @hobeemin​​​‘s lovely grimm event. also, a huge thank you to @kookdiaries​​​ for this absolutely stunning banner, it’s perfect !! i really wanna write a long oneshot for him one day, but UNTIL THEN - i hope you guys enjoy my first ever yoongi fic (unbeta’d and slightly unedited, i’m sowwy) <3 
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➳ listen to: Castle by Halsey | Rescue Me by Kerrie Roberts | Power is Power by SZA
MASTERLIST | WIPs
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Under tree canopies is where you seek refuge on gloomy days.
Usually, the isolated rays of sunshine that warm your face soothe your thumping heart too, struggles becoming distant and nature kissing your skin as if to ease your pain. On other days, it works. The soft splashing of the calm river water, the colourful birds chirping, odorous flowers blooming.
But as the sun sets in the horizon hidden behind the forest tonight, you don’t feel the inner peace you crave so desperately, and the darkness that the absence of the moon here under this tree brings, does nothing to calm the terrifying fear.
You think you’ve found shelter under the big oak tree, the bushes a little more congested here as your head darts from left to right and up and down. Since you’ve been on the run, you’ve learned to distinguish the sound of rabbits and other small animals from actual footsteps, though you can’t deny that you’ve forgotten what actual shoes on leaves sound like.
Because you’re wearing your skin as protection and nothing else, your soles hardened to cornea and wounds scattered over your toes and heels. Walking on forest ground hurts, but the thought of getting caught hurts more.
There’s no way, though. Absolutely no way that you can keep going – you’re exhausted, eyelids falling, head drooping and body aching. You need to rest, just for a few minutes… just for a couple of hours.
You don’t want to run anymore, don’t want your ears to perk up anytime you hear the sounds of wind moving a bush near you. Really don’t want your feet to carry you through the neverending woods anymore; and least of all, you don’t want to hear this odd melody anymore.
You know it.
You’ve heard it before. You’re sure it just started some seconds ago, an enticing, mysterious sound of a flute that you’ve listened to in action before. While it may sound beautiful and enchanting to others, however, it’s a dangerous and veiled poison for the target – a thought that used to scare you back when you tried to imagine what hypnosis might feel like for the victim.
Now that you’re the one lured in, you don’t want to imagine anymore; you want to keep the feeling distant, unknown and foreign. Not just because it’s your body moving towards the flute now, but because you know the owner, the merciless musician who’s calling you so affectionately from a distance.
“It’s not affection this time,” you assure yourself with a heavy breath, your heart threatening to burst out of your chest as you try to stop your steps in concentration. But it doesn’t work; the whisper of the song is too alluring to halt.
“No,” you whisper, swallowing your sobs as you press a hand against your sinking stomach, “don’t.”
But your attempts to beg are in vain; he can’t hear you and neither can you turn around to run away. The realisation that it might be over for you however, doesn’t dawn on you when you round the thick oak tree and pass more bushes and beeches. 
It arrives when you meet eye to eye with him, his form leaning against another tree coming to view as he watches you near your body to his in slow-motion. You wonder how he found you here, considering that you’ve already run past the castle walls and seven hills to hide from the Queen’s and her servants’ eyes.
“I never,” you begin, your voice hushed, quiet, cautious, “thought you’d use this on me.”
As the words leave your tongue, his hands fall to his side, lips forming a half-genuine smile as he admits, “Me neither.”
“I could run away again.”
“I wouldn’t, Y/N. You know you can’t.”
You can. But you won’t get far. There’s nowhere to hide from him; he’s long taken over your body, mind and soul, every waking thought and every single dream. You wish you could go back to when you watched him lure away rats from your castle grounds, sitting on the steps to soak in the sun as the wind tickled your skin.
These days are over now; your days might be over soon.
“I don’t want it to end like this either,” Yoongi tells you, tilting his head as his face twists in pain and regret.
“Then walk away,” you plead, coming closer to him despite knowing what near proximity might mean. “Let me walk away.”
“I can’t,” he breathes, stepping to you as you place a palm on a thin tree, breath hitching when he’s only inches away from you and your body. “She wants you dead. She… won’t rest until you are. And if you stay alive, it’ll be me going.”
You let him cage you against the tree as he closes in, pressing his hand on the wood right above your head as his dark eyes gaze into yours imploringly. For some reason, your fear seems to fade in the thick, crisp night air, giving way to an aching yearning to fall into old habits and walk home with him hand in hand instead.
Only this time, he won’t be kissing you good night and wish you the sweetest dreams of him.
And somehow, he sees the calmness in your pupils; it looks like you’re silently beseeching him to listen to what his heart wants, and somehow, you seem to know that it’s working – even if it shouldn’t. And yet, he shakes his head in frustration.
“You’ve never been selfish,” you tell him quietly, fingers searching for his hand and finding the paling knuckles of his fist with a gentle touch. “I didn’t think you’d ever be ready to see me dead to spare your own life. Are you this scared of her?”
“Are you not?”
Of course you are – and you understand if he is, too. But still, something about the thought that he’s prepared to live without you hurts in the deepest chambers of your falling heart.
“Don’t do it,” you beg once again. You have to try; attempt to convince the man who’s taught you how to love to let you go. Your thumb lifts to touch his parted lips, a visible tremble taking over his body as he registers the electricity in your fingertips. “Let me leave. And then go.”
“I’m her huntsman,” Yoongi keeps arguing, the tension so intense that you feel like the whole forest is holding its breath. “I don’t want to lose you, but…”
His eyes grow damp, a soft shimmer glowing in the faint moon light that makes its way through the leaves above. He places a finger under your chin, lifting your head as his chest nearly presses against yours. Teeth capture his lower lip as he watches the question in your eyes grow, and then, he explains, “But I’d rather want you dead than fleeing all your life. There’s nothing out there...”
He says these words – but for some reason, you don’t want to believe him. Something in his eyes indicates that he knows things about the world that you don’t. Like he’s seen something, but doesn’t want to tell you just yet, fearing he might spike up your hopes just to shatter them again.
“How do you know?”
“I do know. It’s where I came from. There’s nothing, just more misery and void than in afterlife, and I-”
As he utters his words, a new thought forms in your mind, hope overcoming your heart and mind as you blurt out, “Have you ever heard of a kiss out of true love?”
He blinks at you in confusion, gripping his flute tighter as he shifts from one leg to another. You know he’s growing nervous, can see his chest rise and fall heavily even through the thin sort-of-leathery jacket he’s wearing.
“The true love’s kiss doesn’t exist.”
He presses his lips into a thin line as you deflate in front of him again, quotes and explanations from books coming to the surface of your memory as you recite, “From the slumber she shall wake. When true love’s kiss, the spell shall break.”
“Y/N-”
“It’s there. In those words, Yoongi…”
He shakes his head in protest, reluctant to believe children’s stories that you delved into way too enthusiastically, always the dreamy, delusional girl he grew up with. “It’s not real, princess, please…”
“How do you know?” you ask again, watching him grow more and more frustrated as he sighs deeply, eyes falling to the ground.
“I don’t,” he confesses, his hair falling into his sight and body shivering, “I just don’t want to risk it.”
You’re confused. But then again, you’re not. You feared he’d set an end to you the moment he saw you, but when you stare into his face and watch his expression change now, you know he’s too weak for all of this – too weak for you.
“You don’t want to risk… my death? Isn’t this what you’re here for?”
He looks like a distraught doe, battling his mind and decisions as he feels his thoughts spiral into untravelled, dangerous territory that urges him to act on impulse. You’re not sure what he will do next; but if your words affect him anyhow, you want to keep trying.
“Do it then,” you challenge, fully aware that this might backfire – but to your relief, it doesn’t.
Instead, he says, “Give me a reason not to.”
And with your feelings written in your gaze, you finally come alive, spurting with certainty and softness in your voice, “Because I love you.”
Yoongi falls silent, gulping hard as the inner conflict grows. “And you love me, too,” you continue, adding the cherry on top as you wrap your palm around the hilt of his sword and add, “but if you think that’s the right thing to do, then kill me.”
“Y/N-”
“No, you’re right.”
“Please…”
“I can’t live a life out there, right? It’s better to-”
He removes your hand from the sword, veins popping to the surface of his skin as he grips your wrist tightly enough for it to pain, “Please, just please-”
“It’s better to just stop.”
And then, he traps you between his body and the tree, his form pressing into you as he whispers, “Then stop… stop talking. Please…”
Yoongi’s lips always feel like an intoxicating venom disguised as honey, ruining you through and through as you fall into him every time he touches you as vigorously as he does now. You’ve long learned to stop questioning how someone can make you feel like this, instead giving in to secret nights and hidden lust for years that you’ve been in love with him.
Even now, his kiss feels dangerous. Like it shouldn’t happen; like it’s a forbidden fruit. Like he’s temptation, the embodiment of the sin itself as he swallows your sounds and whimpers.
After all this time, however, you’ve finally learned that he was never the poison you believed him to be; the sinner and tempter who traced your skin until you were under him and mewling. Now, you know that it’s you – you’re the problem; the menace; the threat.
Because as soon as anyone in the castle catches a glimpse of how close you actually are to him, it’ll be him to vanish first, leaving his blood on your hands.
You want to push his body away from where it presses against yours, but his sizzling touch renders you unsurprisingly weak. He shreds the doubts and lets them morph into yearning, soft moans instead.
As he kisses every spot of your face and neck, he realises that there’s something on the top of your tongue that you want to get rid of. But with the sight your expressions grace him with, he can’t help but give in to his deepest desires to mark you, claim you forever, no matter what the future might entail.
You gasp when he bites into the flesh of your neck lightly and soothes the sting with his warm tongue, tangling one of your legs around him as your dress shifts up your body. Through the thick fog of your consciousness, your thoughts fight their way to your mouth, your sweet, quiet voice whispering, “You can’t do this, Yoongi, I-”
“Why can’t I?”
Yoongi knows every answer to almost every existing question – a simple one like this cannot be an inquiry too complex and bewildering to grasp for him, you’re sure.
“You shouldn’t,” you try instead, fully aware that the lustful tone of your voice is too telling. Like this, there’s no way he’d give up – and somehow, you don’t want him to. And yet, you continue, “Please, she will kill us…” You feel the arousal throbbing through his pants, your breath hitching in your throat. “...kill us both.”
You catch your breath somewhat before he empties your lungs yet again. He dismisses your warning with an open-mouthed kiss above your clavicles, his tongue dancing deliciously before he tells you, “I don’t care what she does to me. She won’t get to you.” You’re not sure where the absolute certainty in his words comes from; maybe he’s delirious.
And somehow, you feel like he confirms your theory with his next, heated admission. “I love you.” His voice is hushed, his head lifting from your skin as he looks at you in genuine affection; fondness laced with a certain melancholy that you feel just as intensely as his touch. “I’ve always loved you. Why’s that not enough?”
The half-sob constricts your throat in a way that not even running away could. And when he tilts his head and places a palm on your cheek, you’re close to caving in to the sadness tumulating inside you.
Instead, reality dawns on you, and you state carefully, clearly, “Maybe it would be enough in another life. But I don’t want any harm on you because of me.”
He brushes your hair from your face with a caution that you haven’t seen or felt in ages. It hurts you and blocks your train of thoughts – because you love him, want him, don’t want to live or die without him. But the pain that his fingertips bring on your heated skin makes you dizzy and tired; almost like he’s still luring you in with his enchanting flute again.
Leaning closer, his lips brush the tip of your nose, and he presses the slightest, softest kiss onto the button before he suggests, “What if we ran away?”
And again.
Your theory of his ingenuity blooms when he whispers his words, his hopeful tone clearly suggesting something you still don’t know – you want to ask, want to read his thoughts. Want to know where he desires to go that might save you from your torment.
Before your grip around him loosens, he closes in further, longing, lust and ache swirling in his crescent eyes as you tell him, “I want to.” His hands wander further down, and a breathy moan escapes your parted lips when he presses his nails into the mounds of your ass. “I told you, I…”
But he doesn’t want to hear your words anymore – wants to forget where you are, what he’s supposed to do and what can and cannot be. He ignores the pain that comes with knowing that somewhere, people are happy and content – and that they’re not you two, never you two.
No, right now, he just wants to feel every inch of you and hear everything your heart wants him to know. Perhaps your moans are enough – the tenderness and fondness it pumps through your veins runs deep and turns your unspoken words to sounds that topple off your tongue so effortlessly.
Yoongi’s hands pull your dress up; up and up until your soaking wet panties damp the fabric of his clothes. Your heart might be crying, but your body is screaming for him – and with the telltale way you look at him through your eyelids, he understands this much.
You’ve always loved the protruding veins on the back of his hands when he took your palm into his; when he made you colourful, beautiful flower crowns on lovely spring afternoons; when he touched you like he wasn’t supposed to, exploring your skin, your curves and your edges. And when he pushes your panties away and lets the pad of his fingers slide between your delicate folds slowly, you’re reminded of them again.
The soft massages on your clit make you spiral endlessly as thoughts in your mind start fighting battles – you want to speak up again. Need to tell him that all of this will hurt later; that he needs to be careful and not risk his life, not for this, not for you.
But then you realise that this might be his strategy of saying goodbye to you one last time. Maybe he doesn’t want to use words anymore when he can have you like this just once more – there’s nothing left to utter anyway. The end is the end, no matter how much you try to twist and sugarcoat it.
“I love you,” he repeats, his voice deep, gravelly, a little hurt but steady anyway. “I’d rather die than miss your touch, princess.”
Two deft fingers slide into your aching entrance slowly, buried knuckles-deep before he pulls back and starts his actions anew. His voice is still a sweet mutter; like he’s afraid the nearly jet black night merely lit by the stars might hear and whisper secrets to the walls of the castle miles away.
Your eyes roll back when he curves his digits inside your clenching walls, stretching you so deliciously and effectively that you’re certain your nails are leaving deep marks on his arm. Instead of hurting him, however, you shift your focus to where his pants constrict and tighten, your fingers fiddling with his belt and clothes as he pumps into you faster.
You’re nothing but a victim to his tempting ministrations, forgetting the motions in your hands as your head falls onto his shoulders and blends out every fear you harbour inside your chest. Incoherent, cut sentences float through your mind as it drops into an abyss and grows insane, and with the moans that accompany your fucked out state, Yoongi can’t help but want you more.
“I missed you so much,” he declares, his mouth touching yours and his warm breath soothing and healing against your face, “I was so scared. So fucking scared of losing you…”
And suddenly, his touch vanishes – the emptiness that you hate so profoundly every time he leaves you returns; and you don’t want it to be over just yet. You want to tell him and beg; but then, your eyes fix on the impatient way he pulls down his pants to his knees, baring his thighs and letting his mouth-watering cock spring free.
He’s as ready for you as he was the first time you touched each other. The first night you tasted him and his tongue against yours, moving feverishly and unleashing all the yearning that had haunted you for seemingly endless months and years.
Pulling down the dress from your shoulders and your chest, he exposes your tits for him to admire and cherish. The night air might be cold enough to make you both shiver, but your touches and kisses heat your inside like a hot beverage on a snowy, icy December evening.
“I missed you... too,” you say, aiming to keep your voice steady and devoid of shaking, telling sobs; you don’t want this to feel more desperate than it already is. You don’t know if you can take it. And yet, words overlap and come out in hesitation and with a tremble as he places his hands behind your knees, pulling you up and letting your legs straddle him swiftly.
His tongue darts out to form circles around your nipple, driving you crazy and to the border of madness before his teeth pull at the little nub before letting your flesh bounce back again. Yoongi always seems to have a method behind his actions – like he has trained to focus on multiple parts of your body until you can’t fathom what to concentrate on the most.
“I wish we weren’t here,” he murmurs, teasing your pussy with his generous length as he watches you drown in your own desire for him. “Wish I had my own little cottage with you.” He pushes his tip in, eliciting a sharp gasp out of you before he pulls out again and repeats the tease between your nether lips.
“Please, Yoongi,” you finally beg, giving in to the pleas that swim in some chamber of your brain and that you know he loves too fondly.
“My cottage with you,” he repeats as you grip his shoulders tightly, “have my own little children with you.” You breathe heavily against his lips, taking them captive between your teeth just for a moment before you let loose again. When he glides in this time, he stays between your warm, velvety walls, his deep, dark eyes staring into yours as he adds, “Want this life with you and live with you and… die with you…”
His words are almost like an echo of your own, frustrated thoughts; like you’re mirroring yours onto him or duplicating them in his mind. Shared thoughts that you want to hold onto, but can’t anyway. Not with the way he splits you open as he buries himself to the hilt, drawing out a cry out of you as your slick coats his thick cock.
His member seems to always demand your patience and endurance when you find yourself in a lewd position with Yoongi as you do now. And just like on any other day, the crease between your eyebrows deepens and you worry your lower lip with a thrown back head. Yoongi coos, kissing you softly to relieve the tension to his best abilities.
Licking your lower lip, he pleads for you to open your mouth, meeting your tongue for a mere, crazying moment as he whispers, “It’s okay, baby. You can take it. You always can.”
The dark eyes covered by individual strands of hair shouldn’t look as soft and innocent as they are right now – something in you wishes for him to stare you down until you run away and leave this patch of the forest behind. They aren’t supposed to make you want to stay.
And he doesn’t stop looking at you with this painful, infinitely adoring gaze – not even when he starts moving in earnest, his hips steering towards yours just a little harder and faster than when he started to rob your senses.
It’s a soft affair; despite the lewd nature of the situation and your fucked out, sinful sounds, he fucks you tenderly. Like you’re a broken glass sculpture; like you’re turning to sand right here in his tight and possessive grip. He doesn’t know that you’re not broken but breaking; doesn’t know that you’ll drop to tiny grains of ashes once he’s gone.
“I don’t want this to end,” you voice, hissing at the feeling of the raw tree rubbing through the fabric that somewhat protects the skin of your back. But the scars don’t matter anyway – there are so much worse on and inside your body already. “I want you. Just… you… for the rest of my life.”
“Away from here,” he finishes, his pelvic bone rubbing your clit torturously and his cock fucking into you without missing a single sensitive spot. You don’t know if it’s the deprivation you suffered by being away from him for so long or if he’s giving his all particularly tonight.
But when your orgasm washes over you without a notice and in giant, pleasant waves, your body grows limp, drowning in what he makes you feel as he holds you upright. You’re thankful – you might drop to the ground if it wasn’t for the firm hold he has on you.
“You’re my beautiful princess,” Yoongi assures, kissing and licking your earlobe before his tongue wanders to your jaw. The curve of his cock hits you into oversensitivity soon, but from the way his breathing stagnates and his hips stutter, you realise he might follow you into blissful oblivion all too soon. “My beautiful girl – how could I hurt, least of all… kill you, baby?”
You know he can’t; his actions demonstrate that he’d rather perish and vanish than rip even a single hair strand off your scalp. His fervent roaming of his hands demonstrates it; his constant and genuine love confessions demonstrate it; and the way he kisses you like you’re about to fade demonstrates it, too.
With the last thrusts of his slowly stilling hips, he trips over the edge ultimately, shooting his white, hot cum into you with breathy, low groans until he’s empty.
And then, everything goes quiet again. Gives way to the same upcoming storm that you felt in all these nights that you ran; a confusing headspace that you find yourself in that only gets worse with his presence right here, in front of you.
You want to ask several questions that your mind urges to query through the thick mist of tiredness. You let your eyes fill with curiosity laced with fear, hoping that he’ll understand and give you answers somehow, magically – answers that can prevent the terrible ending you might be steering towards.
But as he sees your raised eyebrows and watches your breath steady, he merely shakes his head – a clear response that he won’t be addressing anything that you’re fearing so intensely; not here, not now.
Instead, he pulls out of you with a hiss, taking out a cloth from the back of his pants as he helps you clean up and covers you in your warm, soft dress again. The soiled tree standing tall behind you serves as your shelter for the night when Yoongi wraps you in his embrace wordlessly.
He pulls you both down to the ground before he kisses your hair and lets silence befall the forest until the questions come to a still in your head – giving way to serenity and exhaustion instead. His soothing fingertips graze your skin until it’s covered in goosebumps, and you soon relax enough to let your consciousness pull you into dreamland and a sleep you haven’t had for days and weeks.
The last words you hear are his slight whisper, a timid little confession coated in his soothing, honeyed voice, “This is not how the story ends.”
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When you take your next deep breath, you understand soon that you’re dreaming.
It’s a vivid dream of when summer still meant soaking in the sun on the staircase of Heaven – or at least that’s how you and Yoongi used to perceive the castle standing tall and proud on the enormous acre of land.
Back then, silence wasn’t dreadful but a quiet sign of peace. The kingdom soared, wrapped in soft, hushed laughter and loving interactions; despite the evil that sat on her throne at all times, a mirror her best friend in a way your father never could be.
The memory belongs to a warm, pleasant day when the King was still alive and healthy. Though, love had still brought a bitter sickness to his mind – he was trapped in the fog that infiltrated his senses and, somehow, made him believe that the woman sharing the bedroom with him was sent from above. A lovely, kind Queen that had promised she’d bring prosperity and raise his young daughter in the most motherly way possible.
But if she was the angel he always liked to brag about – why did she guard her private chamber like it was home to the most poisonous spells, a secret hiding inside that she kept well hidden at all times?
If she was the beloved leader of the kingdom, why did she shoot you such mirthy stares, her eyes boring into yours like she was sending a silent, gloomy warning your way? Why did she need dozens of guardians when she walked from the dining room to the dancing hall? And why did she hire a huntsman who spent hours with her, conversing about something she would never whisper outside her walls?
You used to ask Yoongi what they talked about – but he would never budge, despite his expression falling endlessly. He’d tell you it wasn’t anything you needed to worry about; that he had it under control, and that it wouldn’t affect you as long as you trusted him.
“Why do I feel like I shouldn’t trust you, though?” you laughed, throwing your head back to let the sun shine down onto you directly. “The Queen isn’t my favourite person around here, and I think you know.”
“Well,” he started, one of his legs bending and settling on two steps higher than the other that was resting firmly on the ground. He leaned down, placing his arm on his thigh. “It’s not like there’s anyone else around you could trust, now, is there?”
You knew he didn’t mean it to hurt you – but something in your fragile heart still registered the aching truth in his words. He was right; there was no one’s hands you could place your trust into, and Yoongi was the only one who captivated you in a way no one had ever before.
Perhaps his touches were at fault when it came to your naivety towards him. Perhaps you shouldn’t have followed him blindly wherever he went; but now that you realise that this dream is nothing more but your brain trying to conjure better days, you’re certain you’d be gone without him by now. Despite being the huntsman, he protected you in some ways. That must count for something – you must know.
“You might be the death of me,” you told him, raising your torso to him slightly as you pressed your palm against the stairs. “Quite literally.”
When you stared at him like that, his heart cried out in the crucial way a hunter’s heart shouldn’t. It was too late to escape anyway; the ringing in his ears and the nervous drop in his stomach were no longer worth ignoring. Maybe he didn’t want to anymore either.
He brought a finger to your chin and lifted it further to him, nearly forcing you to leave your seat on your light dress before he leaned down more. With an inch-wide distance between his smirk and your smile, his eyes sought out the affection that hid somewhere behind your teasing words.
And when he found it and saw your pupils melt, he said, “There will be nothing left to do in this world when you leave. I don’t give a damn about her highest orders, princess.” He brushed a stray hair off your face before his thumb grazed your lower lip softly.
With a slight shake of his head and the tender touch of his palm on your cheek, he added, “I love you. You know that, right? You just keep…”
His lips kissed the corner of yours with a featherlight brush, but your insides still burned like the forest fire you saw coming already; things wouldn’t stay like this. They would fall and shamble and become irreparable – you knew and you kept telling him.
“You keep haunting me somehow,” he finished, seeing your chest fall and rise heavily just once before you stretched your chin towards him by the distance that separated you.
“Why did you fall in love with me then… Min Yoongi?” you questioned as you kissed him just once again, a slight, fleeting peck leaving him longing for more sensual, passionate nights that he’d gotten used to by now.
Yoongi couldn’t quite recall when he’d given in to the constant push and pull you brought. He should’ve known that the innocence written in your expressions would be the doom to him eventually; and before he knew, you became his personal source of comfort. A place so safe, without a single tear, happiness blooming and sadness never developing.
“Y/N,” he whispered, breathing against you, “you can rewind time and change history any way you want. But there will never be an alternate world in which I don’t fall in love with you.”
These were things that made you crave his touch and presence when he was still here. Like running around the gardens, letting him press your body against the firm wood of the trees. When he touched your skin tenderly, his fingers tracing your sides and the trail of goosebumps building as he went.
Or when he brushed his digits through the curtain of your tresses when you laid naked in your bed, whispering sweet promises and careful reassurances to you. You couldn’t get used to what you felt for him, even if you’d wanted to.
You’re dreaming – everything might feel real and palpable, but somewhere in your mind, your consciousness registers that none of this is truly happening. You know that in truth, you’ve just given in to his body and his words yet again; somewhere deep in the forest, over seven jeweled hills, behind anything that a common human being would ever step into.
You don’t want the memory of better days to commence; the soft kiss you shared that day and the affectionate night you spent hours later had to stay just like that. You don’t want to think about how your world crashed when she dropped poison between your father’s parted lips, and don’t want to think about your feet running through leaves, eyes looking over your shoulders in alarm over and over again.
When you closed your eyes, you saw him. Thought of the last moments you spent with him, wondered about his thoughts that your disappearance brought, dreamed of his eyes and smile and his lips on yours. Then, your eyelids would flutter open again and realise that he was gone. That he was never there.
No, that you were gone – but always there.
But when you open your eyes this morning, you’re met with the blurred sight of his jaw, your brain registering slowly but surely that last night was real. That he wasn’t a phantom; a ghost of your imagination that’d vanish as soon as you woke up.
He’s awake. Staring at a spot that holds no significance to either of you before his gaze darts to your shifting form, still wrapped tightly in his embrace. With a nimble, soft finger, he lifts your chin to explore the depths of your stare carefully; you wonder what he’s searching for and concluding as you gulp, opening your dry mouth slowly.
“We need to-” you start, stopping mid-sentence when he suddenly smiles. The same, childish gummy smile he used to give you when you were little; even when he chased you around the castle grounds merely months ago. Cautious to not let other guards or the Queen catch your lovesick state before he’d pull you into a vacuous room to kiss you for hours.
“I need to tell you something. Show you something. Come with me,” he demands, brushing the back of his fingers against your cheek before he gets to his feet and pulls you up with him.
You’re wobbly on your legs and your heels are aching, the urge to fall again strong before he wraps an arm around your waist and kisses your temple affectionately. You don’t know what he’s thought of or seen, but somehow, you trust him, let him guide you between the trees and bushes anyway.
Maybe you shouldn’t trust your surroundings as much as you are; maybe you should lock your naivety somewhere back in your mind and become careful even around him. But when you halt just minutes later, you realise that Yoongi might be, in fact, leading you to an unknown and uncharted patch of the woods that exudes a light resembling Heaven.
You reckon that it’s just that you saw glinting in his eyes last night – the mysterious answer he didn’t want to tell you, but is now delivering to you anyway.
“Here,” he says, pointing a finger to the clearing that peeks through the branches and thin space between the trees. You’re still uncertain what he wants to hint at; but when curiosity wins over your primal instincts to run away, you wind out of his grip and step closer to the hope he might be trying to show you.
“I saw it when I was looking for you,” you hear his voice declare from behind you, growing louder as you hear his footsteps on the dried leaves. “I don’t think anyone knows that this place even exists. But I’m ready to take the risk and hide here until we find a better solution.”
One last step onto the sunlit clearing and you see what he’s talking about.
A small cottage stands dirty but proud on the small, perfectly round ground of the deep, quiet forest. It seems too small to inhabit more than two lives; ideal if you want to signal as few existences as possible of your whereabouts and your current state.
You flinch when you hear glass clink from the inside, excited but muffled voices conversing in a way that sounds like they’re indulging in a heated daily-life argument. And then, you register a lovely laugh – soft, authentic, like it could do no harm to even a single fly.
“We can’t hide forever, Yoongi,” you tell him as he closes in and finds his spot next to you again. “She’ll find us and we’ll need to… fight.”
Your words don’t seem to scare him off like you think they might – instead, he intertwines his fingers with yours, squeezing your hand just once before he says, “Then we’ll prepare to fight. I’m not going back to her.”
You turn to look at him, his pitch black hair covering parts of his eyes yet again as his rosy, soft lips pout. “I’m not leaving you behind again. And if she wants to use power, we’ll defend ourselves with our own.”
Shifting your focus back to the voices coming from inside, you gulp. You’re not sure where the future might bring you when you give in to his suggestion; the idea might backfire and start new wars. But then again, isn’t defenselessly dying without at least trying monumentally worse? 
Your father, your people, Yoongi. Are you going to give up everything you’ve cherished and every relationship you’ve built just like that – because an evil entity decided to haunt your mind in a way she never should’ve?
When the door of the run-down cottage opens with a loud, unexpected sound, your eyes meet the wrinkled ones of an old man. He’s wearing a cotton hat on his head, his beard as white as the beaming light of the sun before he takes the same step forward that you take back.
He looks at you like you’re a creature from a different world – tilting his head, staring at you in confusion, ramming the pointy end of his handicraft tool into the grass before… he shoots you the most radiant smile you’ve ever seen.
Should you really destroy everything you’ve cherished and built because of the demon who sits on her undeserved throne? The one that spells your name?
“Hello, there, pretty people. Pleasure to meet you on this beautiful day!”
As the small but enthusiastic voice calls out for you, his body walking closer with a stretched-out hand, you realise that no – you might hold onto the blooming hope for just a bit longer.
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this was partly not that easy to write, gotta say lol. and i know i left it open, but the kiss of true love and a giant fight might be -- somewhere waiting for these two :3 in good, old snow-white-fashion
if you guys liked the fic, please consider liking, reblogging and sending me an ask <3 any kind of feedback and convo is appreciated and i’d love to know what you thought about this one !! thank you for reading and ilyyy <3
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minyfic · 2 months ago
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not around - MYG | M
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↣ Min Yoongi, one of your closest friends, the popular guy, funny and charming, captain of the basketball team, aspiring rapper and producer, incredibly handsome and your crush for a long time, ALSO your best friend’s (head cheerleader) new boyfriend. Trouble begins.
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pairing: basketball player!yoongi x cheerleader!reader
based on this request.
genre: angst, fluff, smut, f2l
word count: 19.8K (when I write Yoongi I can’t stop)
play: not around by nova
warnings/tags: college au, heavy angst, Yoongi is so sweet, kind and oblivious, strong language, insecurities about body image, Y/N overthinks, Y/N's best friend is mean but Y/N turns into a ~savage~, mentions of infidelity, mentions of bullying, Y/N and her mum lowkey gossip, Y/N has big 🍒, Yoongi has a breast kink, 171229 Yoongi oof, slight Hobi action, explicit smut- slight public action, dirty talk, heavy petting, fingering, oral (f & m), titty fuck, brief handjob, spitting, riding, hickeys, protected sex
a/n: pleaseee listen to that song when they’re playing basketball together (if you remember). I cry each time I listen to it, it reminds me of Yoongi somehow.
“BANGTAN! BANGTAN! BANGTAN!”
Waving your pom poms in the air, you watch Yoongi dash along the side of the court, with a flick of his wrist, the crowd goes wild.
Suhee begins to chant Yoongi’s name, you and the squad join in. Yoongi waves at the crowd then winks in your direction, maybe you could pretend, that it was directed at you but Suhee’s squeal pierces straight through that thought.
“Love you, babe!”
She shouts over the jubilant whoops of the crowd, then gestures for everyone to begin the routine for the last time tonight, you sway your hips along with everyone else. It isn’t a surprise that your college has made it to the semi-finals, thanks to their captain, Min Yoongi.
The crowd chants along, his shy gummy smile makes your heart soar as he continues to wave and thank the audience.
The ruckus dies down, the team and your squad walk back inside the building to shower. You brush past Suhee and Yoongi who start to make out as soon as you’re inside, it doesn’t bother you anymore, you’ve gotten used to it, but the pit of your stomach does twist a bit at the sight.
You grab your black jacket from the bench and put it on, the skimpy black and gold outfit exposing your body to the cool air from the AC above you, goosebumps prickling your skin. Walking down the hallway, you feel someone sling their arm around your shoulder, her sweet scent surrounding you.
“Coming to the party tonight? Hoseok will be there~,” she pinches your shoulder, but you shrug her off and stuff your hands in your jacket pocket.
“I’m not in the mood tonight, Suhee.”
“Ah come on, you’re always such a grump.”
You roll your eyes, “I’m not a grump, I just have my priorities straight. I need the sleep for Monday’s test.”
“You can get all the sleep you need on Sunday night. It’s a Friday! Don’t be so fucking boring!”
“Yeah, Y/N,” Yoongi sidles up to Suhee’s other side, she wraps her arms around his torso as he kisses her forehead, you avert your gaze to the shiny floors and tighten your grip on your bag, “come have fun.”
You clear your throat, “I have a test on Monday.”
“And you say you aren’t boring…” she nudges Yoongi with her elbow and you swallow the lump forming in your throat when they both snigger.
“I’ll come, but I didn’t pack an outfit.”
“That’s okay, I’d rather you wear this skirt than those horrible flair pants.”
“Hey,” you can feel your cheeks heat up in embarrassment, eyes flickering to Yoongi who stares straight ahead, “we have different tastes you know.”
She rolls her eyes, “you mean bad taste,” you open your mouth to protest but she cuts you off, “come to the party, you can be DD,” she gives Yoongi the most seductive wink she can manage, “Yoongi’s coming over tonight and we’re gonna have fun.”
You whip your head to stare at them, “you’re coming over after the party?”
“Ugh of course, Y/N,” Suhee runs her palm down Yoongi’s chest, “Yoongi needs his prize after he played so well tonight.”
Resisting the urge to gag, you walk a little faster away from them, “okay”
That could only mean one thing.
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You regret ever agreeing to come to this shitty party. You’re sat in a corner, you have no choice because Suhee continues to nudge and shove you with her body as she climbs on Yoongi like he’s some sort of jungle gym, while you hold your cup filled with juice, because that’s all they had other than alcohol and you’re DD, as per usual.
Suhee moans and you sit up from the couch abruptly, walking to the kitchen because that’s the only place you can actually go to, you’re sure to walk in on a couple going at it if you dare to enter one of the rooms in this house of sin.
As you stand at the table filled with drinks, you shut your eyes and try to drown out the noise.
How did you even end up here?
You’d have to start from the beginning to answer that question.
Ahn Suhee, your best friend since preschool. Your mothers were friends, so naturally, you would hang out and play together while they gossiped and complained about their lives. It was fun, you remember, you were like the PowerPuff Girls, except you had missed a member so your cat, MiMi, took the role of the Buttercup.
She was Blossom and you were Bubbles, their characters fit your personalities even as you grew up.
Suhee, being the leader and always knowing what to do, where to play, all the new toys that you needed to nag your parents to buy for you because she got whatever she wanted with the snap of her fingers. You weren’t so lucky, your parents were working class people while hers were a pair of franchise owners.
She was kind and sweet, she would always share her toys with you, always made you feel included.
But as you grew up and got to high school, she evolved, while you were still ‘Bubbles’. Sensitive, easily taken advantage of and bullied. She had even abandoned you at one stage and joined a group of girls who were part of the reason why you had begged your mother not to send you to school. They had made the rest of your schooling career a misery. Your parents, being heavily involved in your academics had contacted the school when they noticed that your grades were dropping. And that drew attention to the fact that you were being bullied, because obviously, teachers don’t pay attention until you point something out.
Your mother was furious. She contacted Suhee’s mother, and everything was solved between the two of you. She had apologized and you were glad that you had your friend back.
“You don’t go to school for friends.”
“Focus on your academics and everything will fall into place.”
“You need to go to college and get a better job than me.”
You had listened to your parents, because you wanted a better life for yourself and them too. You wanted to make them proud.
So, you did just that, spending night after night studying for finals, securing your place in college and pretended not to care about your social life. You had no time to focus on anything else. Suhee had introduced you to the group of girls, they were…nice, but you didn’t miss their sniggering and light giggles behind your back.
You didn’t care, because it didn’t matter. But it did hurt.
Then, puberty hit. Hormones all over the place.
Kim Taehyung, fellow nerd who sat behind you in physics, handsome and funny. You wanted him to ask you to prom, and your hopes were up because he started hanging out with you and Suhee, talking to you frequently in class.
It was going to happen, you were excited. Going to prom with the most charming guy in your grade?
Until one day, while you were sitting next to Suhee at the lunch table, he had asked her instead, and she said yes without a second thought. Despite knowing that you had a crush on him. You didn’t think much of it. It hurt like a bitch to see them at prom together, but they suited each other. They were crowned Prom King and Queen and Best Dressed. She lost her virginity that same night.
You attended prom with your other fellow nerd, Kim Namjoon.
You admit that you were a little guarded after that, you had kept your secrets to yourself. There were occasions where you wanted to spill everything to your best friend. But you bottled it all up. Until one night, after ages, you had a girls’ night in. You sang like a bird, telling her everything you felt. Your new crush and friend, Park Jimin, the dancer that just moved in across your house.
Fickle, you were fickle.
It was the summer after graduation, and you were chilling outside your house, enjoying ice lollies, when you noticed that Suhee was laying down on the grass near the driveway, you used to do that when you were kids, so you joined her. Obviously.
She had taken off her jacket and was wearing a crop top with shorts. You were wearing a short summer dress when she had pointed something out, something that you didn’t even acknowledge yourself.
“Damn, them boobies are really coming in huh. Don’t let them get too big or you’ll just look chubby.”
That didn’t make sense to you or your mother when you had repeated her words later that evening.
Let’s just say, every insecurity you have up to this day, was created by her. Your best friend.
That night, mentioning that they’ve been chatting on Twitter for the past two weeks, she ditched you to visit Jiminie. She came over for breakfast the next morning with a massive purple bruise on her neck.
That was that, you learned your lesson.
You got to college and her parents had set you up with an apartment that you both could share. She couldn’t wait to party and meet all the hot guys there. Every second night, there would be a different guy in her bed, each one with the sense of humor similar to a celery stick.
She dragged you to a few parties and you ended up losing your virginity to a final year student named Kim Seokjin, he was hilarious and gentle, from what you can remember. You still chat to him now and again but he’s too busy in the working world.
Your first year at college was fun, both you and Suhee had joined the cheer squad. She had submitted a few routines and ended up becoming head cheerleader. She was good at her thing.
Then, like a warm blanket on a cold Winter’s day, draped across your figure, tucking you in. You had seen Min Yoongi, he had mint-colored hair back then, cat-like eyes focused as he ran across the court. You hardly heard him talk when the coach would discuss tactics with the team, you were there, practicing Suhee’s choreography.
You had been sitting on the bench, fixing your laces when he sat down next to you. Your heart was thundering in your chest. You were shy, you obviously didn’t have the guts to make conversation. But he spoke and everything just flowed from then on, he was as soft as his features, kind as he talked. You never would’ve guessed that he was friendly, and comical, his stoic exterior set an impression as you watched him before, but a friendship was formed.
One introvert to another.
Weak, you were weak.
Actually, you didn’t learn your lesson at all.
You had spilled all the information a few weeks ago. You would’ve given yourself a pat on the back for keeping it in for two years if you weren’t so angry.
You spoke about your crush to Suhee, and she was shocked because you guys were just friends. She had seen you talk to him on the court. The first game of the season was that night, and she had butted in on your conversation after the game. You refused to believe it when her flirt mode was activated, and, Yoongi, knowing that she was the leader of the squad, and how popular she was with the guys, had asked her out. And you lived up to your name of being her shadow.
You cried that night, because once again, they suited each other, the captain of the basketball team and the head cheerleader.
And here you are, gaze fixed on the way Yoongi grabs her chest with his veiny hand. Disgust rising in your throat. What if that were you?
You kick out that thought as fast as it entered your mind. Yoongi would never see you as anything beyond his friend, his girlfriend’s best friend. Always the third wheel.
“Y/N!”
Jungkook, one of the guys from your calculus class, potential nerd if he didn’t party so much, grabs your hand, and pulls you in for a hug. His strong chest pressing into yours.
“Nice to see you out for once,” his breath is thick with alcohol, his words slurred as they leave his mouth.
You nod and fold your arms across your chest, he leans in close, his breath tickling your ear.
“Wanna get out of here?”
Code for: wanna fuck in my car.
You place your palm on his chest and push him away, his smirk still in place. He has been trying to fuck you for the past three months now. He’s incredibly hot, one of the hottest guys on campus, but you wouldn’t, because he fucked Suhee and every person in this vicinity.
“No thanks.”
“Come on, don’t be boring.”
There it is, that word, boring. It seems to have replaced your first name.
Jungkook is yanked out of your sight, a smile graces your features when you see who makes his way toward you.
“Hoseok.”
He wraps his arms around your shoulders and dances a bit with you in his hold, “Y/N, how are you?”
You chuckle and break out of his hold, a strand of your hair getting caught on your chapstick, he lifts a finger to pull it away.
“I’m good. You?”
“Awesome.”
“Great game tonight!”
He smiles, the apples of his cheeks prominent, “thank you and great moves tonight!”
You’re forced to yell over the music, “we follow a routine!”
He snorts, “I know, you do them the best!”
Your cheeks heat, Hoseok is sweet. If only he was your type.
“Well well well,” Suhee walks into the kitchen with Yoongi’s hand clasped in hers, “it’s the lovebirds.”
Suhee has been trying to set you and Hoseok up, just because he’s Yoongi’s best friend. She said it would be fun to go on double dates. You had told her multiple times, that he’s just your friend and you don’t see him romantically. She insists that he likes you and that you should seize the opportunity. You’re not the type of person to date someone for the sake of it, you’re also not the type of person to lead someone on. She kept repeating that you should just hook up with him if you didn’t want to date him, but you know, if she isn’t lying about the fact that he has feelings for you, then the sex would mean more to him.
“Can I get you a drink?” Hoseok looks into your cup.
“No thanks,” you smile, “I’m DD.”
“Again?! You hardly leave the house and you’re DD.”
You shrug and he spins around to look at Yoongi, whose eyes are half-lidded, lopsided smile on his face. You can tell that both he and Suhee are drunk.
“You guys need to get your shit together,” Hoseok scolds, “let her have some fun.”
“Oh please,” Suhee cackles, “she doesn’t know how to have fun. Besides,”
She places her hand on the back of your head and pushes yours and Hoseok’s faces together.
“You two need to kiss already!”
“Suhee!” Adjusting your jacket in embarrassment, you grip her wrist and drag her out of the house, “time to get you home. Bye Hobi!”
“Need help getting them in the car?” He shouts to your retreating figure, but you wave him off, telling him that you’ll be fine.
The only thing you hear during the drive home is giggling and the sloppy sounds of lips on lips. You glance at the rear-view mirror to see Suhee with her hands in Yoongi’s blonde hair, his tongue down her throat. You focus on the road and with a few more agonizing minutes, you make it to your apartment with them stumbling behind you.
They don’t even take off their shoes as they run into Suhee’s room, you sigh and walk into the kitchen. Preparing a peanut butter sandwich for yourself.
Suhee’s moans begin, the sound echoing in the apartment as you get ready for bed. You cover your head with your blanket to block out her sounds, but the walls are thin and she’s being particularly loud tonight. You can hear the slaps of skin on skin but not a peep from Yoongi, he’s always quiet when they have sex.
As her moans get higher in pitch, you listen, listen closely, attempting to keep her sounds out of your head to hear that one particular groan. Deep and raspy, you imagine that’s when he cums, his long fingers gripping her body as he spills into the condom, body dripping with sweat.
Opening your eyes, wanting to kick yourself for thinking about them having sex, you turn the pillow over and fluff it up. You don’t really blame yourself, the only barrier is a white wall.
They’re quiet now, but your mind isn’t. It hurts to watch someone you developed feelings for love someone else, someone that is also close to your heart. A tear rolls down the side of your cheek.
Tired, you were tired.
Despite being aware of Suhee’s ways, you still empty your thoughts to her. You could call her your sister, you’ve known each other since you were five years old. You have this weird attachment to her, and she knows exactly how to get you to talk. You don’t realize you’re falling into her trap until it’s too late.
Suhee was there for you when MiMi died, you celebrated almost every birthday together, she calmed you down when you were panicking because you had gotten your period while you were on holiday together, she was there for you, just like you were there for her. But she has her bad habits, her flaws that she doesn’t consider an issue because the only person it affects is you.
You’re left with an even bigger chasm each time.
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The next morning, you walk to the kitchen, having already showered and done your skin care routine, you see Yoongi sitting at the kitchen table.
Adjusting your short, you make your way to the cupboard in the kitchen, “good morning.”
“Morning.”
God, his fucking morning voice? You feel a shiver run down the length of your spine. Fingers twitching to run your hands through his soft blond strands.
Get it together.
“How did you sleep?”
“Does it matter? I have a fucking hangover,” he chuckles, “and I have practice in ten minutes.”
You also have practice in ten minutes. His long fingers curl around the mug, and as always, your throat goes dry when you catch sight of the veins that branches up to his arm. You take a deep breath and sit opposite him as you peel your banana. His eye flicker to the yellow fruit then back to your face.
Taking a bite, you try to sound nonchalant, “I have practice in ten minutes too, I can give you a ride.”
Your lips hover over the fruit as he answers, “thanks…”
Peeling back a strand from the flesh, you stare at it as you chew.
“Would you just eat the damn thing? You’re making me nervous!”
You splutter, looking at the harmless fruit in your hand then back at him, “how am I making you nervous?!”
“I don’t know?! It looks like a dick!”
Choking, you cover your hand with your mouth, your heart quickens its pace. You made him nervous by eating a banana…because it looks like a dick?
“That is rude, Min Yoongi. A woman should be allowed to eat a banana whenever she wants.”
Biting off another piece, you see his eyes watch your movement, your palms feeling a little sweaty.
“I’m sorry, okay. I just- have a dirty mind and it doesn’t help that it’s a phallic shaped fruit!”
Your words die on your tongue when Suhee walks into the kitchen and buries her face in Yoongi’s neck.
He rubs her arm, “good morning baby.”
You stand up to toss the banana peel in the trash, then place your hands on your hips when you notice that Suhee hasn’t showered yet and you have practice in less than ten minutes.
“We have practice in five minutes, Suhee.”
She groans, and rubs her temples, “I might be a bit late, is that fine? You can take over for me, just for a bit.”
Yoongi stands up from the table to wash his mug while she’s still latched onto him.
“I’m gonna catch a ride with Y/N.”
She looks at you, then back at him, then shrugs, “okay, see you guys later,” with a peck on his lips, she trots down the hallway and into her room.
Grabbing your keys and bag from the lounge, you wait for Yoongi as he ties his laces, your heart skipping a beat when he stands up to his full height and puffs out his chest.
“Let’s go.”
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Yoongi hums along to the song on the radio, you’re trying to focus on the road and not his toned thighs that peek out of his shorts. You’ve given Yoongi a ride before, but never without Suhee, this is the first. You drum your fingers on the steering wheel as you begin to sing under your breath too. From the corner of your eye, you see him whip his head to look at you as you continue, head bobbing with the beat.
“You like this song?”
You nod, “yeah.”
He smiles, “me too. I listen to hip hop mostly, sometimes R&B,” he looks down at his fingers, “Suhee doesn’t like R&B.”
Chuckling, your eyes scan the parking lot, “I know. She hates it. I love it.”
He points to an empty space on your right, “thanks. Do you listen to hip hop?”
You begin to reverse in the parking space, “hmm, not all the time but I do have a few tracks on my playlist.”
“Ah I see. It’s so funny, you and Suhee are best friends, but you’re like the complete opposite,” his shoulders shake as he laughs, you turn your head to look at him at his statement.
The complete opposite?
He unclicks his seatbelt, “I mean, you have different tastes in music, in dressing, even in food. You like meat but she doesn’t, right?”
You nod, unable to speak as he continues to compare the two of you.
“She likes to party, you don’t. You’re like a ner- I mean, studious but she isn’t.”
Gripping the wheel a little tighter, you try to keep your voice stable as you speak, “so? I’m my own person. Just because we’re best friends, doesn’t mean we have to be each other’s carbon copy.”
“I know, I know,” he turns his body to look at you fully, “how did you two become best friends anyway? Just curious.”
She didn’t tell him. Of course, she wouldn’t. It isn’t important to discuss your best friend with your boyfriend.
Clearing your throat, you keep your eyes on the field in front of you to avoid meeting his gaze that seems so attentive, “our mothers were friends, so we like, know each other since preschool.”
“Really? Wow,” he pulls a strap on his bag, “she didn’t tell me that.”
You unclick your seatbelt and open the door, but he keeps talking, “must be fun to be friends with someone like her for such a long time.”
Yeah. Fun.
“Should I give you a ride home after?”
It seems like you broke into his thoughts because he takes a minute to answer, “uhm, I’ll let you know.”
He opens his door and jogs off to the court while shouting ‘see you later’ over his shoulder.
That conversation had effectively dampened your mood. The complete opposite? What did he mean by that? She’s attractive, you aren’t? She’s interesting and fun, you aren’t? He described being friends with her as fun, if anything, being friends with someone like Suhee is tiring. And the conversation you just had with him proves it.
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Practice ends and Suhee didn’t show up. It isn’t like her to abandon her squad, unless she was really suffering, after partying so hard last night. She looked fine this morning. You try to call her, but she doesn’t answer her phone.
“Hey, Y/N,” Naya runs up to you, her ponytail swinging behind her.
“Hey, what’s up?”
“Just came over to tell you what a good job you did today,” you feel your cheeks flush, “you’re so strategic and like,” she searches for the word with a finger on her chin, “calm, with us.”
Giggling, you wrap your arms around her shoulders, “thank you, but I don’t think anyone could take Suhee’s place as head cheer.”
She pats your back, “the squad and I think you can. I mean, if Suhee were to ditch us, we won’t even worry.”
A nervous chuckle leaves your lips as you pack your bag, the sun dipping beneath the horizon, “she can be a bit…strict.”
“Overly strict if you ask me. Anyway,” she gives you another hug, “I’ll see you on Monday, enjoy the rest of your weekend!”
“Bye~”
Suhee might be your best friend, but you do admit that she can be a bitch sometimes. Not only to you but especially to girls you know she thinks might be a threat. Her nasty attitude toward them worsens when her superiority is challenged, the rest of the squad can’t even express their opinions without an eyeroll from her. But you try to find a common ground if an issue arises.
You hold up your hand to block the sunlight as you scan the court, seeing a lone figure bouncing the basketball before shooting. Shoving your hands into your jacket pockets, you make your way to him, admiring his silhouette from behind.
“Hey,” you call out to him, he turns around and smiles at you, “need a ride?”
The ball hits the ground once before you catch it in your palms, looking up to be met with a mischievous grin.
“Wanna play?”
You match his grin, “sure.”
Bending your knees, you bounce the ball behind your back and catch it in your other hand, before moving around him. His eyebrows raise in amusement, his mouth forming an ‘o’.
“Ooooh, someone’s got moves,” he crab-walks in your direction.
You giggle, “you ain’t seen nothin’ yet.”
Gaze fixated on the hoop, ball bouncing in your left hand as you run in its direction. Bending your knees as far as it can go, you catch the ball in both your hands and spring up to dunk it, when two hands grip your waist and pull you down, you yelp as the ball leaves your hands and misses the basket, bouncing away dimly.
You spin around and bang your fist on Yoongi’s chest, “that was a violation!”
His eyes crinkle with mirth, “I know, but you looked so focused and cute. I couldn’t resist.”
You swallow, chest heaving. Cute?
He walks to the ball that now bounces weakly off the ground then thrusts it in your direction, “free-throw.”
Wordlessly making your way to the foul line, you bounce the ball twice before holding in your palms, squinting as you bend your knees.
You feel him come up behind you and touch the backs of your knees which almost buckles at the contact.
“Bend these a little more,” he speaks directly into your ear, you can feel the blood rush to your head.
Ignoring the way he still hovers behind you, the ball leaves your hold with a strong throw, it hits the backboard and goes straight through the basket.
You throw your arms up in the air and twirl around to see Yoongi with his gummy smile lighting up his face.
“Okay,” he walks over to the ball again and dribbles, “defend.”
Rushing over to him, the ball still bouncing off the ground, you make grabby hands at him while he spins around, his back hitting your chest, an ‘oof’ sound coming from you.
Arms still flailing around, you try to move around him but his back keeps bumping into your chest, you whine.
“Yoongi!”
He tilts his head to the side, his eyes almost half-lidded as he smirks, “what’s wrong, princess?”
Huffing, you press your shoe into his calf.
“OW!”
An evil laugh spills from your lips when you get a hold of the ball and dribble in the direction of the basket.
“Not so fast!”
He places his hands on your hips and spins you around, giggling as he continues to spin in circles. The ball slips from your hands when he finally sets you on the ground but attacks you with tickles.
“Yoongi! Stop!”
“Never!”
Crying out and trying to push his hands away from your sides, you fall backwards while his fingers continue with their assault. Gasps echoing in the empty court, he places his knees on either side of you and moves his hands up to your armpits.
“NO YOONGI STOP PLEASE!”
Tears begin to prickle your eyes and he finally relents, his palms placed near your face as his chain dangles over you.
The laughter dies down and you stare up at him, his eyes seem to twinkle in this lighting.
His phone rings and you’re suddenly hyperaware of the position you’re in, he seems to realize too, and he moves off your body while reaching for his phone.
“Hey babe.”
You dust off your skirt and stand up on shaky legs, heart not catching a break as you run to your bag.
“Suhee.”
Jumping in fright when you hear his voice behind you, you place your palm over your chest.
You catch up to what he said, “oh okay. Do you still need a ride?”
He shakes his head, “nah. I’m meeting Hoseok at the barbecue place a few streets away.”
Nodding, you hold your bag under your arm as you wave at him, he does too, a little awkwardly.
“I’ll see you on Monday,” you smile.
His lips stretch but the corners don’t lift, he wipes the side of his nose with his knuckle, looking down at his shoes, then somewhere behind you.
“Monday.”
That night, you hope to dream of a pretty boy who spun you around in the air, like you were the only two people who existed in that moment.
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“Could you drop me off here?”
Your eyebrows furrow, “why? The court is on the other side of campus.”
“Fuck, Y/N.”
Pulling over on the side of the road, you park outside the swim stadium building.
Without even informing you about the plans for today’s cheer practice, she jumps out of the car and blows you a kiss as she runs into the building.
Maybe she’ll be a little late for practice today.
As you’re walking toward the rest of the squad who are already warming up, you wave.
“Hey guys.”
“Hey Y/N.”
“Hi.”
“Hey girl.”
“Heyyy.”
“Y/N,” Naya grips your arm as you’re trying your hair into a ponytail, a serious expression on her face, “I need to talk to you.”
“Okay.”
She pulls you into a corner away from the rest of the girls who chatter and giggle.
“Where’s Suhee?”
“She’ll be here in a bit she told me to leave her at the-“
“Pools?” She cocks an eyebrow while yours pinch together.
“How did you know?”
She sighs and looks around, making sure that no one can hear what she’s about to say.
“I heard something, I don’t know if it’s true. But I thought I’d tell you…”
You lean in closer to hear her better, palms sweating in suspense.
“Suhee is dating Youngsik from the swim team.”
Stepping away from her, your eyes dart all around her face in disbelief, “Youngsik? She’s with Yoongi!”
Her manicured nails glitter as she curls her hand around your wrist, “yes. She is cheating on Yoongi.”
No.
That can’t be true.
Looking away from Naya, you see Yoongi on the other side of the court, goofing around with Hoseok.
“I-“
“Look,” your gaze locks with hers, “if you don’t believe me. Go see for yourself. Today after practice. I know that she won’t even turn up today.”
With that, her eyebrow jumps as she walks away from you, a sad smile on her face.
You feel your throat begin to constrict when you notice Yoongi running toward you.
“Hey, Y/N.”
Busying yourself with tying your laces, you mumble a ‘hello.’
“Where’s Suhee?”
Undoing your laces and retying them, you shrug, “don’t know.”
“You don’t know?”
“Yes.”
He laughs, “you should know where she is. You’re always following her around.”
Whipping your head up to stare at him, his eyes almost shut with how he continues to laugh. And mock.
“I’m not her fucking PA, okay? I said I don’t know where she is,” you grit your teeth, slamming your other shoe on the bench as you begin to tie its laces.
He backs away from you, “geez, okay Y/N.”
You watch him jog over to the center of the court then glancing back at you before he joins the rest of the team.
“You shouldn’t be mad at him,” Naya whispers.
Taking off your jacket and tightening your ponytail, you begin warming up, “I know.”
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Naya raises an eyebrow in your direction as she walks away, one that you know is an ‘I told you so.’
Like she said, Suhee didn’t show up for practice, and you had to take her position yet again. The rest of the squad didn’t seem to mind. But you know that you shouldn’t get comfortable.
Taking a deep breath, you park outside the building and switch off your car.
You hope, desperately, that what Naya had told you earlier was just a rumor. Suhee might’ve had a lot of flings, but she isn’t a cheater. And she’d be stupid to cheat on someone like Yoongi who treats her so well.
Heart pounding in your chest, you walk up the small pathway when a couple sitting on a bench near a large tree catches your attention. You’d recognize that bright pink scrunchie anywhere.
Their backs are facing you as you hide behind a wall, trying extremely hard to figure out if it’s Suhee.
The girl turns her head to look at the boy next to her and your shoulders sag in relief when you see that it isn’t Suhee. Bright pink scrunchies are popular. You’re about to turn away when the sound of giggling urges you to stop and listen. Following the sound, you try to press your foot softly on the ground so as to not alert whoever it is of your presence lest you add another weird name to the list, like ‘stalker’ or ‘perv.’
As you’re walking further behind the building, you jump back when you see a guy pressing a girl in a familiar black and gold skirt against the brick wall. Chewing on the corner of your mouth, you move a little closer and sprint behind a tree.
Catching your breath, you peek over the trunk when you catch sight of Suhee, one leg secured around the guy’s, Youngsik’s waist as she kisses him shamelessly. You can almost hear her moans from where you’re standing.
Jaw touching the grass in shock, you gather yourself and realize that it’s pointless to be watching them like this. When you reach your car, you grip the steering wheel and hold in your screams for when you’re in the privacy of your room.
What the fuck.
How could she?
No matter the type of person she is, you’d never think she would do something like that.
You’re so on edge that your soul almost leaves your body when your phone rings. Cursing when you see that it’s Yoongi calling. Swallowing the lump in your throat, you answer the call and put on the fakest smile, despite him not being able to see you.
“Hey, Yoongi!”
“Hey, uh, Y/N.”
“What’s up?”
“Uhm…Are you still on campus?”
You look around, clutching the phone a little tighter, “yeah. Why?”
“Where are you?”
“Library! I’m…at the library. Yeah.”
“Oh, uhm, could you give me a ride?”
“Sure!”
With that, you hang up and switch the car on, pulling onto the narrow road as fast as you can as you drive back to the court.
Wait.
Why are you driving fast?
The quicker you get there, the quicker you’d have to face Yoongi. Shit.
Before you know it, you reach the court to see Yoongi standing on the side of the road.
“Thanks,” he buckles in, and you drive off, keeping your bottom lip secured between your teeth as the image of Youngsik and Suhee keeps flashing in your mind.
“I’m sorry.”
“For what?” Your voice is a little high-pitched. More than usual.
“For what I said earlier about you always being with Suhee. I just meant that-“
“It’s fine. Yoongi.”
You can see him nod in your periphery.
The sun has set, and the sky is shrouded in a dark blue hue, stars dotting the sky as you drive. You’re glad that he chooses to be silent for the rest of the drive, you still need to work through what you just saw.
Your best friend ditching cheerleading practice to canoodle with a guy that is not her boyfriend. You’re ashamed and…heartbroken, you don’t know how to place your thoughts. She seems to be so in love with Yoongi, as he is with her, any person of sound mind would know that he cares for her deeply. One thing you’d never forgive is cheating, she’s shrewd and cruel and-
“Hey, what’s going on there?”
Glancing out his window, you see that there’s a crowd near the lake on your right, beams dancing in the air, loud music reaching your ears.
“Let’s check it out.”
“What?” You step on the gas, so you pass the road that leads down to the lake.
“Come on, Y/N. It looks fun. We could do with some fun.”
Groaning, you turn onto the dirt road, eyes flickering to his face to see him sport his gummy smile as you approach the dancing bodies.
Parking off a safe distance away, you step out of the car and follow him to the edge, your eyes catch on the moon, its reflection on the water makes your breath hitch.
“Y/N!”
Yoongi waves you over to follow him, the light breeze whipping your hair in front of your face, you tuck it behind you ear as you take each step cautiously.
He sits down near the edge, his knees held up to his chest. You stand near his seated figure, he pats the space next to him. Rolling your eyes, you sit down, rocks poking into your butt. The people around you laugh and chatter, swaying with the music as they enjoy the evening’s serenity.
“It’s beautiful,” he speaks, hands clasped in front of him as he stares up at the moon.
Your heart clenches in your chest at his soft tone, stars twinkling in his eyes as he tilts his head up. Admiring the curve of his jaw, his puckered lips and buttery skin, you look straight ahead when he tilts his head to look at you.
His raspy chuckle catches your attention, “I come here often.”
“Really?”
“Yeah,” he sits back on his palms, his chest puffs out while you hold your knees to yours, “to clear my thoughts.”
Looking back at him, he has a blank expression on his face, his eyes following the flow of the water, he meets your gaze, and you have the desire to tell him everything. He doesn’t deserve to be cheated on when he’s such a good guy. Obviously, you have a crush on him, but even if you didn’t and you found yourself in this situation, you would’ve still had the urge. Because no one deserves to be cheated on, especially someone like him.
“Did Suhee respond to your message?”
Groaning inwardly, you shake your head and divert your attention back to the moon, “I called her, but she didn’t pick up.”
“She didn’t reply to mine,” he sighs, tipping his head back.
“Should I try calling her again?”
He shakes his head, “nah, she’ll reply to me soon.”
Nodding to yourself, you shut your eyes and breathe in the fresh air, the thick smell of wet grass fills your nostrils. Music still playing behind you, your foot taps to the rhythm, letting it drown out your thoughts.
“Do you want to do dance?”
Eyes flying open to look at the boy who has a goofy smile on his face, he gestures with his eyes to the gyrating bodies behind you, wiggling his eyebrows. You shove his shoulder, his body shakes as he laughs.
“You know I don’t like to dance.”
He holds his stomach, “me too, that’s why I asked.”
Laughter bubbling to the surface, you join in, cheeks aching with how hard you’re laughing.
“Don’t you miss those days, like your childhood I mean, running around without a care in the world? I miss it, especially when I come here…I miss my parents.”
You’re still looking at him as he continues.
“They weren’t happy with the choice I made, you know, music. I miss them in times like these. When I’m happy.”
He’s happy right now? Laughing with you? You feel a lump form in your throat.
Chuckling, he shakes his head, “sorry, this lake has a weird effect on me.”
“It’s okay…I miss the person I want to be.”
“What?”
Clearing your throat, you kick some sand into the water, “I mean, I…have this uninhibited version of myself in my head, for as long as I can remember, but I don’t think I’ll ever be her.”
Silence settles between the two of you, the wind creating ripples on the water. It’s too quiet and you’re about to make a joke out of what you just said when he cuts you off.
“Work on your inhibitions.”
Your eyes flicker back to him, an unfamiliar expression on his face.
“You said you have an ‘uninhibited’ version of yourself, get rid of what’s preventing you from being her.”
His words replay in your head, and you’re thinking of everything that might be holding you back. Your self-image? Your insecurities? Suhee?
“In my opinion,” he nudges your shoulder with his, “I like this version of you.”
He laughs, while your heart drops to your stomach. How can one guy be this sweet?
You giggle and he nudges you again, you realize that he’s this comfortable with you, because you’re his friend.
When it dies down, the reality of the situation hits you. It’s wrong to crush on your best friend’s boyfriend. Clearing your throat, you stand up and dust off your skirt, checking the time on your phone, 7:17PM.
“We should get going.”
He nods, then lifts his arms up in your direction, “pick me up.”
Heart working overtime in your chest, you ignore the tingling feeling you get when you grab his palms, planting your feet on the ground to yank him up, only for him to pull you down even harder. With a cry, you fall flat on his body, hands splayed on his chest.
Hair covering your eyes, you look up at him, his eyes wide, “I’m sorry.”
You realize that your body is pressing down on his and you move your palms from his chest to place them on either side of his shoulders so you can sit up, when his hand comes up to move your hair away from your eyes, gaze locked on yours.
Lump still in your throat, you stand up abruptly and spin around, running back to your car.
Heart beating erratically, you want to bang your head on the window. Why why why is life so cruel to you?
The car door opening makes you snap your eyes open, trying to calm your breathing. When you hear his seatbelt clicking in, you start the car and drive as fast as you can to his apartment.
“Goodnight,” he pulls out his bag from the backseat.
“Night.”
Zooming off into the distance, you don’t even notice the figure watching you as drive off, a frown on his face.
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You unlock the front door, utterly exhausted after today’s events. Why does it suddenly feel like the weight of the world is on your shoulders?
Kicking off your shoes, you startle when you see Suhee sitting at the kitchen table, yoghurt container in her hands.
“Hey, Y/N.”
“Fuck, you scared me.”
She cocks an eyebrow, “saw your reflection probably.”
“Ha ha,” you place your keys on the counter and walk over to her, seeing a sandwich placed on a plate.
“Is that mine?”
“Yep,” she shoves the spoon into her mouth.
She usually makes you food when she-
Oh no.
She wants to talk.
“I think I’ll take this to my room.”
“Nope,” she stares into the half empty container, “you’re gonna eat here. Don’t want to drop any crumbs in your room. Plus, I know you’re hungry.”
Sighing, you pull out the chair and sit next to her, unwrapping the sandwich and taking a bite.
If your mouth is full, you won’t have to answer, right?
“I always knew you were a voyeur.”
Choking, you bang your fist on your chest and she tsks, walking to the sink to fill a glass with water then places it in front of you.
“What?”
“You think I didn’t see you, spying on me today.”
Swallowing the last chunk of bread in your mouth, you raise an eyebrow, “I wasn’t spying. I just needed to-“
“To what? Gather evidence so you can tell Yoongi, and he’ll break up with me so you both can live happily ever after?!”
You bristle at her tone, “what the fuck are you talking about? I heard a rumor, and I refused to believe it, so I decided to see for myself.”
“Okay,” she folds her arms, “you saw? Now what?”
“How could you, Suhee? He’s such a g-“
“Oh please,” she scoffs, “guys like him are good to play the boyfriend role. Nothing else.”
“Boyfriend role? So, one dick isn’t enough for you?”
She laughs, her teeth on show as she throws her head back, “correction. His dick isn’t enough for me.”
“You seem to thoroughly enjoy it though!”
“Damn, you keep proving me right, I knew you listen in on us while we have sex!”
“That’s because I live here, and you scream like a banshee!”
She sits down on the table, rubbing her temples as if you’re the cheater and you need a scolding.
“Listen, don’t tell Yoongi.”
Scoffing, you stand up to rinse your plate at the sink, “he’ll find out soon enough, I’m pretty sure everyone knows since it managed to reach me, and I hardly speak to anyone.”
“So, who did tell you?”
“A little birdie,” you dry your hands and walk down the hallway, she follows you into your room, socked feet pressing into the carpeted floor.
“Someone from the squad then?”
You busy yourself with looking for pyjamas, “no…”
“Come on, I know when you’re lying to me, plus they’re literally the only girls who you talk to other than me.”
“Yeah, one of them told me. But it won’t be long until Yoongi finds out.”
“Is that a threat, Y/N?”
You toss a sleepshirt onto your bed, “no it isn’t. I’m just saying, rumors spread like wildfire around here.”
“It won’t, if I’m careful enough.”
Pulling out a pair of socks and pink sleep shorts, you narrow your eyes at her, “why are you even doing it?”
“Youngsik is nice, but so is Yoongi. It’s complicated Y/N, I don’t expect you to understand when you didn’t even have one boyfriend in your entire life.”
Tears prickle your eyes at her jab, but you blink it away.
“Stop cheating on Yoongi, Suhee. He’s gonna-“
She steps into your personal space, “he won’t find out, unless you tell him. I’m being careful. You cannot tell him.”
Taking a step back, you look up at her with wide eyes. She kisses your head, “now why did you get home so late? Usually, you’re back home before 6PM.”
She lingers at your doorway, while you grab a clean towel from your drawer.
“I was with Yoongi.”
“Keeping my boyfriend entertained. Nice.”
“Someone has to do it since he has a lousy girlfriend.”
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Staring out your bedroom window, you tap the end of your pen on your desk, fist placed under your cheek as you watch the leaves float in the air.
Maybe if you weren’t so shy, if you weren’t so quiet and reserved, if you weren’t you, Yoongi would’ve been spared the hurt that is inevitable. You know it won’t be long before he finds out, but you definitely won’t be the one to break it to him.
He’s so clueless and in love, bile rises in your throat.
There’s nothing you can do about it either, Suhee will hate you forever if you had to tell Yoongi and you don’t even know how Yoongi would react if you told him. Would he yell and shout? Would he pretend not to care? Would he break up with Suhee? Would he forgive her?
How does someone react when they find out that they’re being cheated on?
It hurts, yes it does, of course, they’re going behind your back when you were supposed to be the only one for them.
You still don’t know what goes on in Suhee’s head, and you won’t pretend that you do know. She’s playing some sick game, while you sit back and watch.
She’s right, if you tell Yoongi, she can easily say that you have a crush on him and you just want to tear them apart. Which would end terribly, Yoongi will probably never speak to you again.
Suhee is manipulative and Yoongi will listen to her over your reasoning.
Girls like Suhee get their way, that’s the reality of life.
Your phone rings and your mood brightens a bit when you notice that it’s your mother calling.
“Hey, mom.”
“Heyyy, how are you doing? What are you up to?”
Shuffling over to your bed, you fall back on the plush covers, “I’m good. Not much, was just studying.”
“Oh no. Something’s up. Something’s bothering you.”
Rubbing your palm down your cheek, you nod even though she can’t see you, “it’s Suhee.”
“Ugh Suhee? You’re still friends with her? I told you a thousand times before, you’re not kids anymore. You’re in college! You can be friends with whoever you want! Fight whoever you want! Kiss whoever you want! Fu-“
“Mother!”
“I’m just saying, Y/N. You aren’t forced to be her friend anymore, even if you live together.”
You throw an arm over your eyes, “I know, I just…I’ve known her my whole life and I-“
“I know, I know. It’s hard because you’ve been friends for so long.”
“Mhm…”
“So what’s the issue with her?”
You sigh, “she’s cheating on Yoongi.”
“Goodness, didn’t think she was the cheating type.”
You spring up from the bed, “I know!”
You hear your mother sigh over the phone, “she’s cheating on Yoongi with who?”
“Some guy from the swim team.”
“Ooh, athletic. Yoongi is athletic too. Doesn’t he play basketball?”
“Yeah, he’s super athletic.”
“He’s also the guy you had a massive crush on since you started college?”
“Yes! I mean, yeah,” you clear your throat, “he was.”
“You’re friends with him, am I right?”
“Yep.”
“If I were you, I’d snatch that boy for myself.”
Groaning, you stand at your door to check if Suhee came home, “Suhee is my best friend.”
“Still don’t know why…” She mumbles under her breath, but you caught what she said.
“You aren’t helping mum!”
“I’m sorry! I’m just saying.”
You sigh and flop back down on your bed, cheek pressed against your cat plushie, “I asked her about it.”
“Wait, you asked her about what?”
“Why she’s cheating on him.”
She gasps so loud that you have to pull the phone away from your ear, “that is a big change! Calling her out on her shit!”
Rolling your eyes, you bring the phone back to your ear. Your mother needs to stop watching so much Netflix.
“She said I shouldn’t tell him because she’ll just tell Yoongi that I’m lying, and I just want to break them up.”
“That is manipulative behavior, Y/N, ditch the bitch.”
“MUM!”
“Dad just got home. I’ll talk to you later. Bye~”
“Bye~”
As you set your phone back down on your desk, you realize that your mother is right.
You recall Yoongi’s words from last night, about your inhibitions, the things that hold you back. It’s time you get rid of them, one by one, no matter how difficult it might be.
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“I’m thinking of going on a 3-day fruit diet before the Halloween party.”
You swirl your straw around in your milkshake, watching the milky froth bubble up.
“Yah! Y/N! I’m talking to you!” Suhee snaps her fingers in front of your face, her loud voice grabbing the attention of a few people who sit near you in the coffee shop.
“What did you say?”
She sighs, “I said, I think I’m gonna go on a 3-day fruit diet before the Halloween party. Wanna join me?”
You shake your head, “I’m happy with my figure right now.”
“Really? Why did I even ask you?”
She flicks her hair over her shoulder, “so, what costume are you gonna wear?”
“Hmm not sure.”
“Well, Yoongi and I are going to match our outfits. You know like a sexy nurse and hot doctor. Or even better, school teacher and naughty student.”
You look up to see her daydreaming, twirling her red hair around her index finger.
“Seriously? School teacher and naughty student?”
She shrugs, “we haven’t found the outfits yet, we’re still figuring it out.”
You chuckle as a thought crosses your mind, taking a sip of your milkshake.
“What’s so funny?”
“Nothing,” you giggle.
“Tell me!”
“I was just wondering why you aren’t pairing up your outfit with Youngsik’s.”
You can see the anger build up in her black eyes and you know she’s about to blow up until a deep voice makes the both of you whip your heads around.
“Y/N.”
The tall, dimpled man makes his way toward you, you stand up from your chair to pull him in for a hug when you recognize who it is.
“Joon!”
“Ahh,” he bends down to cover your body with his, “it feels like ages since I last saw you.”
Pulling away from him, he looks you up and down, you blush under his gaze, “you look great!”
“You too,” you giggle, hand coming up to pinch his bicep, “beefing up I see.”
He rubs the back of his neck, an old habit you’re all too familiar with, “yeah.”
“How’s chemical engineering going?”
He raises his eyebrows, “I won’t lie, tough. But I’m managing, I chose that career path for a reason.”
You nod, “true true.”
“Anyway, I’ll see you around,” he hugs you again, “and I’ll text you! Was so good to see you again!”
Smiling to yourself, you sit down in your chair, humming happily, ignoring Suhee who gawks at Namjoon’s retreating figure.
“Okay. Who the fuck was that?”
“Why am I not surprised that you don’t remember him,” you lean forward, “that’s Kim Namjoon, he was in high school with us.”
She stares up at the ceiling, trying to remember, her face lights up, “ahhhh! He had the mushroom haircut, right? Damn, he’s so hot now.”
Scoffing, your straw makes a loud sound as you slurp up the last bit of ice-cream, “is anyone safe around you?”
She shoots you a glare, “someone has a bit of a big mouth these days.”
You direct your attention to the barista as she stacks the cups near the coffee machine.
“Anyway,” she throws some change on the table and adjusts her dress that just makes it to cover her ass, “I have to go meet my boyfriend now. Can’t wait to see your boring costume this year. Love ya!”
Yoongi or Youngsik?
You have no idea.
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One goal: choose un-boring Halloween outfit.
You’re sitting with a mug of piping hot tea, browsing a costume site. You find one that you think is cute, but the price urges you to keep scrolling.
You want to wear something sexy this year, you’re into it.
Last year you wore a (now that you look back) horrible checkered, pink and white dress. You were Mary and Suhee was the sexy little lamb.
Bonnet tied under your chin, you shiver at the memory.
You’re definitely going sexy this year. You want to pick something that suits you, something that correlates with your personality and interests.
A full black latex outfit catches your attention. It reminds you of-
CATWOMAN!
It’s perfect, you like superhero movies, you watch them almost every weekend.
Yoongi likes Batman…
The outfit you found on the site is way too expensive, but you think you can gather black pieces here and there and put together an outfit. All you need is cat ears. And a utility belt. Thigh high boots? You already own leather tights…
It’s going to cost a lot, you might have to use some of your savings.
Not wasting any time, you add the desired pieces to your cart.
Great. Delivery a week before the 30th of October.
Enough time if you change your mind.
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Placing your leg on the bench as you stretch, you watch Suhee and Yoongi cuddle across the court.
“Funny she’s here today,” Naya speaks up from her spot next to you, “must be Yoongi’s turn.”
Sucking your lips in, you hold in your laugh as you roll your shoulders back, “glad I get a break from pretending to be head cheer.”
Suhee runs in your direction, Yoongi watching her as she goes.
Naya places a hand on your shoulder, “I’m not.”
“Okay guys, come on. That’s enough stretching and warming up.”
She clasps her hands together as you and the rest of the squad gather in front of her, she turns a bucket upside down and stands on it so she’s higher than the rest of you.
“I wanted to make an announcement,” she begins, “I know, I haven’t been here for the last two practice sessions but it’s okay! You won’t have to deal with Y/N any longer,” she laughs.
“Anyway, I wanted to say,” her fake smile disappears, “I think we should direct our attention to other things. More important things, like focusing on the routine and choreography and studying, or whatever. What I’m trying to say is…refrain from spreading rumors and gossiping. We don’t waste our precious time here.”
Naya’s gaze is set on you as Suhee continues to talk.
“The semi-final is on Saturday, and we need to work!”
She punctuates each sentence with a clap of her hands.
“Now let’s go!”
Everyone cheers except for you and Naya who’s still watching you closely, her pretty face contorted into a frown.
You hope she doesn’t think that you told Suhee…You did, but you didn’t say who told you.
After the game, you grab your bag and run to Naya who ignores your shouts of her name.
“Naya. I just wanted to-“
“Save it, Y/N. Why don’t you go suck Suhee’s ass some more.”
You feel a pang in your chest.
Gripping her shoulder, you spin her around, “I didn’t tell Suhee that you told me about her…cheating.”
She folds her arms, “great.”
“She said she saw me spying on her and I told her that I knew, and she obviously knows that the only girls I talk to are the cheer squad.”
You take a deep breath, “I didn’t tell her who told me, I sw-“
“Y/N,” she places a hand on your arm, “relax. It’s okay. I get it now.”
Looking at her a little wide-eyed, chest heaving, she chuckles.
“So wait. You were spying on her?”
You point to the road, “the day you told me, I decided to find out for myself, and I saw her and Youngsik making out.”
“Really?”
“Yeah.”
“Wow, she’s a real bitch,” she gestures behind you with her eyes.
Your heart sinks to the pit of your stomach when you see Suhee sitting on Yoongi’s lap, her hand in his hair as she kisses him.
Guess he won’t need a ride today.
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“This game will determine who goes to the final round. So, girls, I wanna hear you cheer our boys like your life depends on it!”
Suhee can be so dramatic, but you all do your job and cheer them on.
Hoseok winks at you as he runs past the group of squealing girls.
Naya nudges you, “I think he likes you~”
You watch the icy blond, slender physique appearing feather light as he jumps in the air.
Next, Yoongi runs past you, and he smiles at Suhee, his eyes meet yours for a millisecond and your heart skips a beat.
“But you like him,” Naya says, her voice a little dim.
You turn your head to look at her, mouth open.
Suhee blows kisses at him, his gummy smile in place as his friends shove him around and tease him.
You pick up your pom poms, “does it matter?”
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Twenty minutes pass and the team take a break, Suhee hands Yoongi a towel while you hand out juice to the guys.
“Thank you, Y/N.”
Hoseok beams at you. When you get to Yoongi, Suhee grabs the bottle and waves you off as she feeds him.
Sitting down on the bench, Naya taps your shoulder and points somewhere behind you, you see Youngsik watching Suhee and Yoongi, his hands gripping the bar in front of him. When your gaze travels back to Suhee, you notice that she keeps looking back at him, glaring while she runs her fingers through Yoongi’s sweaty strands of hair.
Shaking your head, you take a swig of juice and stand up from your seat, joining the rest of the squad as the second half begins. This part of the evening is when your heart starts to pump a little faster, hair raising at the back of your neck as the crowd roars, coaches cussing and screeching at the players.
You stop dancing with the rest of the girls when Hoseok searches for an open pass, Yoongi comes rushing in and with a quick throw, the ball goes flying through the basket.
Without thinking, you yell Yoongi’s name, he whips his head around to see you jumping up and down. He smiles then shoots you a thumbs up, like you’ve just scored for the team. Smiling back at him, you gesture for the squad to join in, keeping one arm propped on your hip while the other stands high in the air, waving back and forth.
A bit delayed, Suhee joins in, chanting with the crowd.
When the clock nears zero, you feel the blood rush to your ears when Yoongi faces off with his opponent. He bounces the ball to Hoseok, your eyes darting from the clock to the players, panting as they try to block Hoseok, who beats the buzzer and dunks the ball into the basket.
Screams echo in the vicinity, crowd cheering as Bangtan’s team makes it to the finals. They shout Hoseok’s name, picking him up on their shoulders while he holds his fists in the air. When they put him down, he runs to the crowd dramatically, giving each of them high fives.
The coach’s tie comes loose with how high he’s springing up in the air. You giggle, hugging the girls around you. Hoseok stands in front of you, you yank his hand and pull him in for a hug.
He wraps his arms around your shoulders as tight as possible, squeezing the air from your lungs.
When you break away from his hold, he keeps his hands on your elbows, staring down at you.
To your horror, everyone begins to chant kiss kiss kiss while you look around awkwardly, seeing Suhee laugh and point at you.
“You’re boring.”
“Why did I even ask you?”
“You’ll never do it!”
Taking a deep breath, you see Naya give you a smile that appears encouraging, eyes still scanning the crowd, Yoongi comes in your line of sight, his eyes darting between you and Hoseok.
Holding Hoseok’s cheeks in your hands, you lean up on your tippy toes and press your lips to his, feeling his hands settle on your waist. The crowd goes even crazier, hearing your name fill the air. His soft lips move over yours, without thinking twice, you wrap your arms around his neck, bringing him down as your tongue rolls over his. When you pull away, a string of spit connects your lips, you purse the flesh to break the line that connects the two of you.
Hoseok seems a little shocked, his teammates nudging him, his cheeks tinted red. The squad does the same to you, giggling as you hide your face behind your palms.
You miss the look of disbelief on both Yoongi’s and Suhee’s face.
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The kiss might’ve spiked your confidence, it felt good to be at the center of attention for once.
Hoseok messaged you later that night to ask what the kiss meant, you had said it was a celebratory kiss, as simple as that. You haven’t stopped texting since that night.
You’re dotting black near your upper lip, eyeliner held tightly in your hand as you draw on whiskers to complete your costume that hangs up in your cupboard.
The image of Yoongi watching you and Hoseok is etched in your mind, his lips were shut, an indecipherable look on his face. You’ve had enough time to think about it, he had that reaction because Hoseok probably didn’t tell him that he had feelings for you. They’re best friends, they talk about everything. The kiss must’ve been a surprise to him.
You have no idea what outfit Suhee is wearing for tonight’s party.
“Y/N,” she stands at your doorway, “I’m heading to Yoongi’s to change.”
You hum.
She picks up your glass filled with your smoothie mix, “is there almond milk in this?”
“Yep.”
“God, Y/N,” she sets it back down with a clink, “I told you almond milk makes your boobs bigger!”
You apply mascara, “maybe you should have some.”
She stomps down the hallway, you heart the front door slam shut. Laughing to yourself, you take off your gown and put on your outfit.
Looking at yourself in the mirror, you smooth your palms down your hips. You feel a little nervous, you’ve never really worn an outfit like this before, each curve and dip of your body is accentuated.
Shaking your doubts away, you grab the black cat-ears and place it on your head, cocking your head to the side as you survey your outfit. You had practiced your makeup thrice before tonight and you think it came out pretty good this fourth time.
When you get to the party, all eyes are on you, you feel extremely exposed, heads turn as you walk deeper into the house. You’re having an internal battle, keeping your arms at your sides instead of crossing them over your chest like you usually would when you’re feeling uncomfortable.
“Oh my God, Y/N,” Naya sidles up to your side, you don’t even look at her outfit because you’re too busy staring down at the tip of your boot, “you look so damn cute!”
Blushing, you tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, “uh, thank you. Have you seen Suhee?”
She points to the balcony, you see her leaning over the railing, she’s wearing what seems to be uniform? She turns around and waves at you, as you’re approaching her, you squint your eyes and look her up and down while she does the same.
“Are you supposed to be catwoman? Cute.”
Nodding, you point at her collar, “and you’re…?”
“Sexy air hostess,” she twirls around.
“Ah.”
“Y/N,” she holds your arms and pulls you close so her lips are pressed to your ear, “I need a favor.”
You catch a whiff of alcohol. Meeting her gaze, you nod for her to continue.
“I need you to keep Yoongi occupied for a while.”
Your eyebrows furrow, “why?”
“Because,” she whispers, “Youngsik is here and he’s kind of not talking to me. I need to make it up to him.”
You’re about to walk away but she grips your hand, “please, Y/N. Don’t you wanna show Yoongi your outfit?”
Shoving her away, she calls to your retreating figure, “thanks, Y/N!”
As you’re turning around to tell her that you are NOT going to do her that favor, you watch her pull Youngsik into a room, giving him all the bedroom eyes.
Cursing internally, you walk out of the stuffy house. How does Suhee manage to drag you into her bullshit, every single time?
“Y/N?”
You could recognize that voice anywhere. Spinning around, your jaw touches the floor when you see his outfit.
Decked out in uniform, he’s wearing a pilot costume.
That’s all that registers in your brain because he looks so fucking hot in his outfit. A single silver earring dangling from his ear, silver rings on each finger.
His mouth is open as his eyes rake down your figure, he takes a step closer to you, you do the same.
“You look-“
“You-“
You both speak at the same time, and you gesture for him to continue but he mirrors your action.
“No,” you laugh, “what were you gonna say?”
“If I say what I really want to say,” he sucks his bottom lip into his mouth, “then I might be in trouble.”
Cheeks heating up, you tilt your head to the side, feeling particularly bold tonight, “why?”
He sucks a breath in, gaze lingering on your chest. Typical male.
“Promise you won’t tell Suhee?”
You want to laugh on his face, his girlfriend is literally fucking someone else right now and he’s worried about giving you a compliment.
“Yeah,” you shrug, “I promise.”
Taking another step closer to you, his chest is a few inches away from your face.
He leans down to whisper, hands tucked in his pockets, “you look fucking sexy.”
You almost choke on your own spit when his tongue darts out to wet his bottom lip.
Oh.
You were expecting a:
“You look nice.”
“You look good.”
“You look pretty.”
But “you look fucking sexy”? Nope, your pussy is not throbbing right now.
Clearing your throat, you’re trying extremely hard not to push your thighs together because he’s still watching you. Giving him a tight-lipped smile, you mumble a thanks.
“You’re welcome.”
Why is he still whispering in that sexy deep tone?
You see him take a sip of his drink in your peripheral vision. Silence, except for music and noisy chatter coming from inside the house, settles between the two of you.
“So, you and Hoseok huh?”
You turn your head to look at him, “what do you mean?”
“You guys are dating? I was there…at the game…I saw the kiss.”
“Really?” You hold your chin, “Didn’t see you there.”
His eyes widen, “I was there! I assisted his-“
“I was being sarcastic, Yoongi.”
“Oh,” he laughs dryly, “so…the kiss?”
“What about it?” You tease.
“What’s going on with the two of you?”
You shrug, fixing the cat-ears atop your head, “it was just a celebratory kiss.”
“A celebratory kiss,” he repeats.
“Yep.”
“Why didn’t you kiss the whole team and coach if it was celebratory?”
You chuckle, “what?”
“I’m just saying, if it was celebratory,” he drags out each syllable, “and the whole team won. Why didn’t you give everyone a ‘celebratory kiss’?”
Someone might think he’s discussing basketball tactics with the way his hands track his words, a serious expression on his face.
You don’t say anything, fiddling with your utility belt.
“I miss the old Y/N.”
You whip your head to look at him, “what?”
He stares straight ahead, repeating his words, “I miss the old Y/N.”
“What are you-“
“I miss the Y/N who doesn’t give out ‘celebratory’ kisses, the Y/N who dresses up as a ghost for Halloween, the Y/N who-“
“Yoongi,” you interrupt, unsure of where he’s going with his rant.
He misses the ‘old you’?
The one who let Suhee walk all over her, the one who had not an ounce of confidence even in her own home.
“What are you talking about, Yoongi? This is me. This is who I am. I’m sorry if there’s a certain ‘Y/N’ standard that I need to follow.”
To be honest, you spent all week gathering the courage to wear this costume, to come out of the apartment wearing a full face of makeup and done up hair. And here he is referring to the old you, the you that you liked the least.
“I didn’t mean it like that, Y/N. I just-“ he sucks in a breath “-I was talking about the Y/N that I first met. You know the cute, quiet one?”
“Cute. That’s all everyone ever says, cute.”
You smack your palm on the railing, bracelets jingling.
“Yes, because it’s true Y/N. The same cute girl that I had feelings for!”
Your eyes bug out of your head, “what,” voice like a puff of air.
“I know you don’t see me like that,” he’s twisting at his rings, not looking at you, “Suhee told me. But I caught feelings for you…since our first year. You were shy and it made sense that you wouldn’t have feelings for someone like me. But I did. And I wanted to ask you out, but I was hesitant, so I asked Suhee for advice and she told me that you see me as a friend. I guess I saved myself from embarrassment but here we are.”
Blinking at him, what he just said doesn’t seem to sink into your brain until a few moments later.
“Still embarrassing myself,” he chuckles nervously.
“S-Suhee told you that I didn’t have feelings for you?”
He nods.
Anger bubbles to the surface. Because she knew, she knew how much you liked him, and she lied.
“Anyway,” he brings up his hand to rub a knuckle on the side of his nose, “did you see her? She said she needed to use the restroom half an hour ago.”
You’re babbling, nails digging into your palms.
“She went in one of the rooms.”
“Alright, I’ll see you later.”
As he walks back into the house, you see Hoseok near the doorway.
“Hey,” you walk up to him and pull him out of the house, “you look great.”
“Wow, Y/N,” his gaze travels from your face down to your shoes, “you look so cute,” he pinches your cat ears.
“Thanks, uhm, do you wanna talk?”
You gesture to the poolside, and he nods, “yeah yeah sure.”
He’s talking, handing you his drink, throwing an arm around your shoulder, but you aren’t listening.
“You’re so pretty, Y/N,” he leans in closer, and you smile at him, hands clasped in your lap, “can I kiss you?”
You place your palm on his chest and shake your head.
“I-“
“Y/N!”
You turn around to see Suhee running down the stairs and in your direction, heels in her hand, tears streaming down her face.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?”
You stand up and Hoseok follows you, hand lingering on your back.
“What are you-“
“I told you to keep him occupied!”
Her hair is messed up, mascara streaking her cheeks. You look at Hoseok, awkwardly, then hold your palms up placatingly.
“Suhee, we-“
“Shut the fuck up! You’re so fucking useless,” she pokes your forehead with her index finger, you stumble in your heels, Hoseok catches you by your elbows, “because of you I lost him!”
“Suhee, what is your problem? Is that any way to treat your best friend?”
“Oh shut the hell up Hoseok! She doesn’t fucking like you!”
You look up to see Hoseok staring at you with wide eyes.
“Hobi, I-“ you hiccup.
“Let’s see if he still sticks by your side like this,” Suhee shouts as she stomps off to her car.
Tears are brimming over, the lump in your throat burns as you try to take a breath.
“Hey, Y/N,” his voice is soft, finger swiping a tear that rolls down your cheek, “it’s okay. You’re okay.”
He pulls you into his embrace, your tears staining his white shirt.
“I’ll still be your friend,” he giggles.
You look up at him, when another booming voice cuts through your thoughts, leaves crunching under their hurried footsteps.
“Did you know?”
Stepping away from Hoseok, you see Yoongi staring at you, blood trickling down the side of his lip.
“Yoongi, you’re-“
“Did,” he shuts his eyes and inhales a shaky breath, “you know?”
His eyes are wild when he opens them again, piercing into your own.
“Did she know what, Yoongi?”
He looks between you and Hoseok, poking his tongue into his cheek.
“Did she know that Suhee was cheating on me?”
You can feel Hoseok’s gaze burning the side of your face.
Your eye twitches, “Yoongi…”
He laughs, running his fingers through his air as he walks away, “some fucking friend you are Y/N.”
“Yoongi!” Your chest feels like its closing up, panting as you call after him, but he doesn’t stop running.
“I’ll…text you,” Hoseok runs after him, leaving you with the stagnant pool, no breeze waving the leaves around, even the crickets are silent.
Silence.
The opposite of what’s happening inside your head.
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Struggling to open your front door with your heels and purse in hand, your cat-ears fall forward and blocks your vision. Cursing, you finally get the key in the lock and twist, huffing as you stumble into the dark space.
Sniffing, you check your phone for any response from Yoongi. He hasn’t answered any of your calls or texts.
You place your keys on the counter when the lamp in the lounge goes on, startling you.
“Y/N,” Suhee’s voice is nasally, her eyes puffy. A state you’ve never seen her in before.
Sighing, you throw your heels on the floor and sit down on the couch in front of her.
“How could you do that to me? How could you?”
Eyes the size of saucers, you turn your head to stare at her, hands dropping from your face.
“How could I?”
You throw your head back as you cackle, not sure if you heard her correctly.
Facing her, you point a finger in her direction, “how could you? You told Yoongi lies, all you ever told him was fucking lies! About me, about yourself, about your whole fucking relationship!”
She bangs a fist on the table, “don’t fucking talk about my relationship!”
“I think I fucking can! The whole reason why you were even together was because of me! You lied your way into that relationship!”
She stands up from the chair to tower over you, “you would’ve never been enough for someone like him! He-“
Matching her height, you place a hand on her shoulder to push her out of your personal space, “how the fuck do you know that? You knew how much I fucking liked him! But you didn’t even give me a chance! That’s what you always do! Hogging all the guys that give me a bit of attention!”
“Wait wait wait, you’re mad at me right now?” She places a hand on her chest as she laughs, “you fucking ruined my relationship!”
“No,” you take a step forward, “you ruined your relationship. He was bound to find out eventually.”
“You know what, Y/N. I never knew you could be such a fucking bitch. What happened to you? Suddenly grew a pair?!”
Shoving her away from you, you walk down the hallway, “I’m fucking done with you Suhee!”
You’re bawling, but she doesn’t give up, still shouting at you from your doorway.
“Without me, you’re no one!”
You’re about to slam the door in her face, when she shoves her foot between the door and doorframe and overpowers you, backing you up in the room until you fall on the bed.
“My parents pay for this place, and I want you and your pathetic ass out!”
“Fine by me! I won’t have to keep up with your whoring around anymore!”
She gasps, while you lay back on your elbows and with a huff, she leaves your room and slams the door shut behind her.
When it’s quiet, you sink down on your bed and cover your face with your palms, heart pounding in your ears as you unzip your jacket and fling it across the room.
You are done.
You don’t need her. You’re done with her manipulation and games.
With blurry vision, you grab your laptop from your desk and search up cheap apartments around campus. Fingers trembling as you type.
Hand searching the blankets for your phone desperately, you search for a contact, snivelling when they answer the call.
“Mum…”
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Cheerleading practice rolls around and you don’t miss the whispers and sniggers directed at Suhee. She looks drained, hair up in a bun as she warms up.
“Hey,” Naya sits down next to you on the grass.
“Hey,” you smile, playing with the cap of your water bottle.
“I heard about what happened on Saturday at the party.”
“Yeah,” you take a sip of water.
“I guess you’re finally free of her,” she gestures to Suhee who is now staring at her phone screen.
“I also need to find a new place.”
“What? She kicked you out?”
“Yeah,” you sigh, indifference painting your features.
“Don’t you guys like, split the bill?”
“It’s complicated.”
She nods then taps your knee to get you to look at her, “I actually live with Taehee and Sooyeon, but Sooyeon is moving in with her boyfriend who literally lives right next door. If you want, you could take her room.”
You blink at her.
“I mean, if you want to, or until you find a better place.”
“Why are you so nice to me?”
She laughs and stands up, dusting the grass off her skirt, “pay it forward.”
Suhee doesn’t even glance at you as everyone practices the choreography for the final and once practice is over, she speeds off in the direction of the swim stadium.
“I’ll text you the details,” Naya runs off with Taehee and Sooyeon, the other girls that you might be living with soon.
You can hear the thud of the basketball echo, when you turn around, as expected, Yoongi stands at the center, the golden hour hue makes his blond hair appear like a halo.
Chest puffing out as you take a deep breath, you walk over to him.
Without turning around, he greets, “hey, Y/N.”
“Hey,” voice soft.
Finally, he spins around to look at you, looking a little brighter than the last time you saw him.
“How are you?”
Drawing circles on the ground with your shoe, you keep your eyes on the movement, “Good.”
You hear him sigh, “I’m sorry,” you meet his gaze, “for how I reacted at the party. You’re not the one I should’ve been mad at.”
“Don’t be. I should’ve said something.”
The ball bounces from his hand to be caught in the other, “nah, she’s your best friend. Best friends keep your secrets, right?”
“Was.”
“What?”
“She was my best friend.”
He blinks at you, scratching his ear, “oh.”
The ball bounces twice before you catch it in your hands.
“Wanna play?”
Despite being exhausted after such a long day, you’re glad to see him in a completely different mood than you expected him to be, you nod.
Bending your knees, you dribble and move away from him. He comes up in front of you and snatches the ball from your hands, flying as he dunks it.
He runs back to you, while you try, sluggishly, to get the ball back.
“What?” He pants, “no fancy moves today?”
Rolling your eyes, you grab the ball from him and back him up, his black eyes, lit by the molten sun, fixed on yours. Turning on your left foot, you press your back to his chest and shoot, going straight through the basket.
He claps, lips sticking out exaggeratedly, pretending to be impressed.
The ball bounces in front of you again and you’re about to grab it when he beats you to it and grabs your wrist, dragging you a few feet away from the basket.
Looking at him a little confused, he pulls up his shorts and bends his knees, ball leaving his hand with heavy touches.
He bounces it to you, “go go.”
Springing off the floor, the ball is in your control as you step to the side away from him, in a flash, he snatches it from you and dunks it again, swinging from the basket, flaunting his strength as he pulls himself up then jumps down.
Heart pounding in your chest, you grab the ball and jump up to shoot when he yanks you away from the basket, squeals tumbling from your lips as he spins you around and sets you down, reminiscent of the last time you played together.
He stands behind you, hands still of your hips. You turn your head around to look at him, face a few inches away from his, eyes flickering to your lips.
Your palms are sweaty, chest beginning to hurt with each breath. His eyelashes flutter as he shuts his eyes, you watch the pretty strands, his breath tickling your lips.
Abruptly, you break out of his hold, no matter how much you wanted to connect your lips and kiss him like it’s the last thing you’ll do. You can’t.
He watches you intently, almost like he’s trying to figure out why you didn’t kiss him.
“I-“ you swallow “-I don’t want to be a rebound.”
He picks the ball up from the ground, tossing it from one hand to the other, “a rebound?”
You nod, “yeah.”
“I’ll show you what’s a rebound.”
Moving swiftly across the court, the ball soars in the air and leaves his hands only for it to bounce of the backboard, then the rim of the basket. But before it can touch the ground, he springs up and dunks it, legs dangling off the ground.
You watch the ball bounce away somewhere toward the trees behind the court. He picks his bag up off the floor and slings it around his shoulder as he makes his way to you.
He moves your hair away from your face to whisper in your ear, his musky scent clouding your mind, “that’s a rebound.”
Palm still on your face, he kisses your other cheek, lips lingering on your skin, heat spreading all over your body. When he pulls away, he winks at you and delivers his blinding gummy smile.
He puts on his black cap and runs across the road, leaving you gobsmacked with your palms pressed to your cheeks. Heart growing wings, threatening to leave your chest with how fast it’s pumping.
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“We’re having an afterparty whether we win or lose,” Taehee holds a finger up in front of Naya’s face.
You laugh, tying your hair up as you watch them in the reflection.
It’s another Saturday night and the final game of the season, it’s also five days since you moved in with Taehee and Naya, their apartment is always buzzing with good energy. You thank Naya everyday for letting you move in.
“You guys ready?”
“Yep,” you grab your water bottle and car keys from the coffee table.
You moved to a new apartment and coined new friends with it, they’re all so sweet and caring and they flood your days with positive affirmations while you do the same.
As you’re walking down the stairs of the pavilion, you catch sight of Suhee and Youngsik. Her arms are wrapped around his head as she sits on his lap. When she sees you’re watching, she dips her head to kiss him.
Coach Kim is busy talking to the team. Hoseok stands with an arm over Yoongi’s chest, they listen attentively to him as he bangs his fist on his palm.
They disperse and sit down on the bench while the others warm up.
You’re rolling your neck back when Yoongi stands in front of you, smile in place.
“Hey, Y/N.”
“Hey, Yoongi.”
“You look pretty,” you’re about to thank him until he adds, “cute. Pretty cute.”
His shoulders shake while you roll your eyes, “good luck out there.”
Finger reaching up, he pushes a strand of hair behind your ear, gaze tracking the movement, “I have my good luck charm right here.”
Face probably as red as your seat, you shove him away from you, “you’re so cheesy.”
He cups his hands around his mouth as he yells, “you love it, Y/N.”
Naya and Taehee’s elbows are digging into your sides the whole time, so when you finally look at them, you find yourself blushing extremely hard.
“Oh my God~”
They’re mumbling under their breaths, and you try to shush them.
“You and Yoongi huh?”
Both you and Naya turn around to see Suhee sitting behind you, her chest pressed to her thighs as she leans down to whisper, “enjoy his small dick.”
With a giggle, she trots away to grab her pom poms and starts the routine without the rest of the squad while you and Naya glare at her.
When your gaze travels back to Yoongi, you see him glance at Suhee, his mouth in a thin line.
“Come on,” Naya tosses your pom poms in your lap.
Bangtan is off to a good start, 16-6 after the first half ends.
You’re about to pick up the crate of water when Suhee steps in front of you, handing water bottles to each of the players. You watch her closely when she gets to Yoongi, bending down far too much as her cleavage becomes exposed to him. He’s too busy talking to Hoseok to even look at her.
“If he has a small dick,” Naya imitates Suhee’s voice, making you laugh, “why is she doing the most to get his attention?”
Suhee is now crouched down in front of him as she ties her shoelaces then stretches her arms over her head to fix her ponytail, her stomach peeking out.
You know that Suhee never backs down that easily.
Getting back in position, the crowd chants along with your squad as the players work on quick feet, coach Kim yelling defense as the opposing team tries to shoot. The crazed audience hangs on to the edge of their seats when the clock nears zero, securing the fate of Bangtan’s basketball team.
Your hand comes up to chew on your nail when a player from the other college’s team grabs at Yoongi’s hand while he tries to spring up to shoot, yanking him away from his initial spot. The referee awards Bangtan with two free throws. Yoongi moves away from the backboard to stand at the free throw line.
The crowd goes silent as Yoongi cracks his neck. You can only see the back of his head but you can picture the intense look he must have on his face. With a flick of his wrist, the ball hits the backboard and bounces off the ground, ‘oohs’ and ‘ahhs’ filling the air. Yoongi’s shoulders slump in what you think is disappointment, but he gets the ball again and prepares for his final shot.
The air is thick with tension, you can’t even pretend to imagine what it must be like to have all the pressure on you, how it would feel to have the fate of your entire team in your hands, whether or not you win this season.
Yoongi bends his knees, bobbing up and down slightly before the ball cuts through the thick air and with a satisfying whoosh, it proceeds straight through the basket.
Everyone jumps for joy, the team wastes no time in picking Yoongi up, almost tossing him in the air. Your cheeks hurt from how hard you’re smiling, hugging each of the squad members.
“We did it!”
Coach Kim fist bumps the air, tie swinging around wildly as he does some weird dance.
A shower of black and gold confetti comes down, ear ringing with all the noise and fuss.
Your palms are aching and red, sore as you continue to slam them together, pom poms lost somewhere on the ground.
Feeling a pat on your shoulder, you spin around to see Yoongi with a goofy smile on his face.
“Do I get a celebratory kiss?”
You’re about to nudge him away with your hip when you notice him lick his lips, the corners of his eyes crinkled as he moves a little closer to you.
Nervously, you look around to see everyone watching you. Much like the night of the semi-finals which wasn’t too long ago, except you kissed Hoseok, who is now the on-looker.
Bile rising in your throat, you curl your fingers around Yoongi’s wrist and pull him through the double doors, the light from inside hits the shiny floors as you drag him into a dark corner.
You don’t want to be named someone that kisses a different guy each week, but you really want to kiss Yoongi.
Slamming him into a nearby wall, he looks down at you with a perplexed look on his face.
“What are hmmf-“
You grab his cheeks and smash your lips to his, moving fervently, tasting his cherry-flavored chapstick. His tongue runs along your bottom lip, hands pulling your hips against his. Moaning, your weave your fingers through his hair, head moving this way and that as your tongues clash. You can still feel the confetti raining down on you, the muscle in your chest pumping with a thunderous beat.
Breathlessly, you pull away, eyes struggling to open, so immersed in his touch.
“Wow,” he pants, and you finally look up at him, half of his face illuminated.
Smile splitting your face, you realize that you kissed Min Yoongi, the guy you’ve been crushing on for the past two years. The guy that has feelings fo-
Wait.
“Wait,” your eyebrows furrow.
His thumb rubs over your hip and you realize that your bodies are still packed together, you try to move away but his iron grip keeps you in place.
“What is it,” his voice is just above a whisper, so gruff.
“Do you have feelings for me?”
He sucks his bottom lip into his mouth, “yes I do,” you gasp when he presses his hips against you, feeling his very large bulge dig into your stomach.
“I have so much feelings for you.”
He keeps rocking his hips against you all while bringing your own forward, his leg slotting between your thighs.
“Yoongi,” you squeal, “someone could see us.”
“Did you get here with your car?”
You nod, jolting when the skin of your thigh rubs against the material of his shorts, “with Taehee and Naya.”
“Text them,” you purse your lips when his thigh meets your center, feeling the wetness pool there, “tell them that they need to find another ride.”
Head falling forward to his shoulder, you nod again.
“Let them know that you’ll be coming home with me.”
Unable to speak, he moves you away from his body and drags you down the hallway toward the exit, feeling your pussy clench, panties damp with your arousal.
He shoves his hand into your jacket pocket and pulls out your keys. Hand still enclosed around yours, he opens the passenger side door and buckles you in, despite your protests. As soon as he closes the driver side door, his lips are on your neck, teeth nipping on your soft flesh. His hand comes up to close around your breast, each press in time with his suckles on the column of your throat.
You hear muffled talking, and you tighten your hold on his hair to pull him away, but he just groans, the sound reverberating through your body.
“Yoongi,” you gasp, his hand squeezing your other breast. Tugging on his hair a little harder, you pull him away from your neck, he looks up at you with blown out pupils and puckered lips.
Looking out the window, you point to a few people who are walking to their car, “people might see us.”
“Fuck,” his thumb and forefinger pinch your stiffened nipple through the fabric, “I want you.”
Grinning at him, the throb between your legs makes you clench your thighs together, “I want you too.”
Begrudgingly, he switches on the engine and drives onto the road. You can’t tear your eyes away from his posture, streetlights casting a glow on his features, flexed arm gripping the steering wheel.
“What are you thinking?”
Resting your hands in your lap, you shake you head, “nothing, you just look incredibly sexy when you drive.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“Hand me your panties.”
“What?”
“Hand me your panties, princess.”
His eyes stay on the road as he repeats his request, no, order. Your hands lay flat on your thighs, as if by his words, your undergarments would magically come off.
“I’m- I’m wearing shorts underneath my skirt.”
He turns onto his apartment street, “hand me those too then.”
“We’re almost-“
“I’m waiting, princess.”
Staring at the side of his face, you pull off the black shorts and place it in his awaiting palm, which closes twice to indicate that you aren’t done.
With flushed cheeks, you drop your white cotton panties into his hand. He hums and keeps it in his enclosed fist while you avert your gaze to the road.
Wordlessly, he parks your car and steps out. When you join him on the pavement, he grabs your hand and pulls you all the way up the stairs and in front of his apartment door. Your other hand holds the hem of your skirt down uselessly, you still feel the cold night air touch your soaking folds.
You’ve never been to his apartment before, you know he shares the place with Hoseok. But you don’t even have time to explore, he pulls you into the first room down the hallway and locks the door behind him. Hands on your hips, he pushes you down to sit on the bed then pulls off his jersey, skin glistening with sweat.
“I should shower, I’m sweaty.”
Shaking your head, your greedy hands smooth up his chest, “I’m sweaty too.”
He bends down and places a finger under your chin, lips hovering over yours, “I like you sweaty.”
Spreading your legs so he can fit between them, you pull him down with you on the bed, “me too.”
The kiss is all tongue and teeth, spit mixing when he swirls his tongue around yours, grunts coming from him when your twist your fingers in his hair. You feel his hand run up your inner thigh, arousal seeping out of you when he thrusts his tongue into your mouth. Suckling on his bottom lip, you moan when you feel a finger run up your slit, collecting your juices on the pads of his fingers.
Squirming under his weight, he breaks away from you, teeth tugging on your upper lip.
You sit up a bit as he pulls off your vest, sighing when you let your hair loose from the tight ponytail.
His eyes stay glued to your chest as he reaches behind you to unclasp your bra and once the material is nowhere in sight, his mouth is latched onto your nipple, hand coming up to pinch the other. He’s merciless with his tugs and suckles, teeth grazing your perked buds, cries of his name joining his satisfied sighs.
His hand continues with its ministrations, earning moan after moan when he begins to swirl his index and middle finger around your clit, his hand unseen as he works you under your skirt, your legs spreading wider.
Happy with the way your nipple turns a bright red as he tugs it between his lips, he moves on to the other, gaze locking with yours when he sticks his tongue out of his mouth and flicks the tip over your hardened bud, spit coating it, lapping and sucking, moaning like he’s the one being stimulated.
You feel his fingers prod at your entrance, his thumb pressing against your clit. He pushes two of his fingers inside your pulsating hole, his thumb flicking your clit from side to side, drawing moans from your swollen lips.
His mouth stays enclosed around your nipple and with a final nip, he moves up to suckle on the tops of your breasts, his fingers building a steady pace, your walls squeezing around him. Purple blooms on your supple skin, he seems proud of his work as he moves to your other breast, teeth sinking into the flesh, his tongue lapping at the skin to soothe the burn.
“You’re squeezing my fingers in,” he speaks against your body, hair sticking to his forehead, “so fucking tight.”
He picks up the pace, the sounds of squelching reaching your ears as he hooks his fingers on each push in, your hand flies down to grab his wrist when he touches the spot inside of you that has you twitching. Your dreams couldn’t compare to the sight of his flushed cheeks and glistening lips, fire swirling in his eyes.
“Fuck, right there, princess?”
Eyes closing, you nod, whimpering when he twists his fingers inside of you, his thumb moving languidly over your clit. You feel the pressure build, walls hugging his fingers with each drag and press.
He seems to notice, and he begins to kiss down your stomach, his head disappearing under your bothersome skirt.
His fingers still plunge into your sopping pussy, mewls tumbling from your lips with each thrust. The first swipe of his hot tongue has your back arching off the bed, high approaching a lot faster when he wiggles it against your clit.
“Yoongi, fuck.”
His other hand comes up to fondle your breasts, fingers massaging your walls, tongue curling around your clit. When his lips wrap around your pulsating bud, he suckles, thumb pressing down on your abused nipple, you cum, seeing stars behind your eyes, heat enveloping your body.
Chuckling tiredly, your hips move against his face to ride out your high.
When he reappears, his face is bright red, sweat collecting at his temples. You notice the purple marks that dust your chest, marks made by him.
He pulls down your skirt, you see his cock pressing against his shorts. Hand going down to rub his massive erection through the fabric, his eyes shut, grunting, leaning into your touch.
Sitting up, you push him down on the bed, pecking every inch of his skin. Holding eye contact, you curl your fingers around the edge of his shorts, licking your lips when his length springs free. He tangles his fingers in your hair, watching your every move.
“Y/N,” he rasps, “wanna fuck your tits.”
Gripping the base of his cock, your mouth falls open at his request. You’ve never done that before, your gaze flickers from his girthy length to his face.
Noticing your slightly puzzled expression, his thumb rubs your cheek, “get it nice and wet first, princess.”
Taking a deep breath, your lips hover over his dusty pink tip, he hisses when you squeeze a bit around the base. Tongue darting out, you massage the head with the wet muscle, spit trickling down his length.
“That’s it,” he bucks his hips, “spit on it.”
Gathering a pool of saliva, you purse your lips and let the liquid drip, fist pumping once to spread it all over his cock.
“Come on, Y/N,” he taps your cheek with his thumb, and you look up at him, the sight makes your breath hitch, his eyes are half-lidded, staring down at you, lips swollen.
“Spit on it.”
Shutting your eyes, you hold the tip to your mouth and let the spittle fly out of your mouth with a noisy sound, flattening out your tongue to lick the vein that runs on the side.
“Fuck yes, love it when you’re dirty for me.”
Moaning at his words, you wrap your lips around the head, sinking down, hollowing out your cheeks, taking him as far as you can before you’re pulling back, taking a deep breath, then sinking back down, his fingers tug at your strands, making you moan around his length.
Twisting the base, your tongue presses against the underside as you take each inch, his hips lift off the bed when you place your palms on his thighs and take him all the way to the back of your throat, swallowing around his length, breathing through your nose.
“Shit, fuck,” he yanks you up by your hair, away from his length, “you’re gonna make me cum, still wanna fuck those pretty tits.”
Wiping your chin with the back of your hand, you bite your lip at his words.
He leans down to press a kiss to your lips, your tongue traces his cupid’s bow, hands rubbing up and down his sides.
You adjust your position as you kneel in front of him, his cock slick with precum and saliva.
His hands smooth down your neck then to the sides of your breasts, keeping his gaze on your mounds, he pushes them together, thumbs rubbing over your nipples, still sore from his earlier attack.
“Keep them like that for me, princess.”
Obliging, you place your hands on either side of your breasts to keep them together while he pumps his cock, the slick sounds reaching your ears. Your eyes meet and he gestures for you to move closer. He places the head of his cock under your breasts and when it pushes through the top, he lets out a guttural moan, neck being exposed as he leans back on the bed, his palms holding him up.
Getting the gist, you move your breasts up and down over his length, seeing the slit dribble out precum, smearing over your skin. His groans of pleasure urge you to move faster, bouncing over his length, you press them together as much as you can, spitting down on his twitching cock.
“Fuck, Y/N, just like that, ah fuuuuck,” he slips down to his elbows, hips lifting up off the bed as he thrusts.
You don’t know where to look; his cock that’s fucking into your boobs or his expression of pure bliss.
Moving a little faster, your tongue darts out to split his slit on each thrust, tasting the salty beads that collected.
“Fuck fuck fuck,” he paints your skin with white, gasping, some enters your mouth, some hits your chin. You slow your movements, stroking his softening dick as he gives you a fucked-out smile that has your cheeks flushing even more.
You don’t even have time to survey the mess before he’s pulling you up and wrapping his arms around your body. You feel sticky with sweat and cum.
“You have no idea…I wanted to do that for so long,” his hand runs down the back of your hair.
Your arms encircle his torso, still a little shocked at what just happened.
Min Yoongi is cuddling you, you’re cuddling him. Nuzzling into his chest, his sweet yet musty scent surrounds you. You grimace when you feel his cum drying on your chest.
“Yoongi,” he hums in answer, and you look up to see him almost dozing off.
“Where’s the bathroom?”
“Down the hall,” he mumbles.
Giggling at his sleepy state, you look around to find your clothes when you see a T-shirt of his hanging on a chair. Putting on the grey piece of clothing, you pad down the hall and head to the bathroom.
On your way back, you think he might be fast asleep with the way he lays motionless, blanket lifting with his steady breaths, until he speaks.
“Y/N?”
You see him pat the space next to him. Moving under the blankets, you push his hair away from his face, his eyes are still closed.
“Hmm?”
“Spend the night,” he slurs.
Settling next to him, you press your back to his chest, his arm wraps around your waist and tugs you closer.
“Goodnight,” you intertwine your fingers and bring your hands up to your lips, kissing the back of his hand.
He does the same, kissing the back of your hand, “goodnight.”
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You wake up the next morning, stomach crying for food.
Kissing Yoongi’s forehead, you take a moment to appreciate how cute he is as he sleeps, you’d never say it’s the same guy from last night with hungry touches and wild eyes. You fight the urge to pinch yourself, almost like you’re living a dream. Waking to Min Yoongi’s angelic face feels surreal to you. It felt impossible for the longest time.
As quiet as you can be, you open his room door and walk to the bathroom to freshen up. Closing the bathroom door behind you, you turn around the corner to find the kitchen, seeing Hoseok who is sitting at the table. You tug the hem of Yoongi’s shirt down when he looks up at you, crossing an arm over your chest.
“Hey, Y/N. OH! I’m not looking, I promise,” he spins around so his back is facing you while you walk further into the kitchen with heated cheeks.
“There’s coffee over there,” he points to the counter on the left, mugs next to the machine for convenience.
You fill a cup and sit on the other side of the table, sliding down a bit in the chair.
“You can…turn around now.”
You glance at him when he calls your name, feeling a little awkward in his presence. You hope you weren’t too loud last night.
“I’m happy for you and Yoongi.”
Your lips hover over the rim of the mug, feeling guilty for everything that happened between the two of you.
“You were Yoongi’s before I even knew you.”
You stare at him, eyes narrowing in confusion.
He shrugs, “Yoongi liked you way before I even knew you existed. I honestly didn’t know until recently.”
You listen to him, placing the mug on the table.
“If I had known…I’m just really mad at Suhee. She cheats on Yoongi then tries to win him back by telling him the truth. Like that’s going to solve anything.”
“The truth?”
“Yeah…She told Yoongi that you liked him from our first year, but she said she loves him now. Even though I saw Youngsik with her that same afternoon,” he scoffs.
That doesn’t surprise you at all, she will stop at nothing to get what she wants. Maybe she did love Yoongi? No. That can’t be. You’re faithful to the person you love.
“Anyway,” he drums his fingers on the table, “I have to be somewhere, I’ll see you guys later.”
His lips stretch, small dimples forming in his cheeks.
“Bye, Hobi…Thank you.”
He salutes, then steps out of the apartment.
You drain the mug and return to Yoongi’s room, seeing him sitting up with his back leaning on the headboard.
He smiles at you as you enter, his gaze lingering on your (his) T-shirt.
“Morning, princess.”
“Morning,” you smile, sitting down next to him and pressing a kiss to his cheek, like this is completely normal, like you’ve been doing this for years.
“How did you sleep?”
You rest your cheek on his bare chest, “haven’t slept like that in years.”
“You look good wearing my T-shirt.”
Tilting your head, you place a kiss on his chin, “thank you.”
He clears his throat and takes both your hands in his, nudging you to sit up.
“I know it might seem a little too soon,” he begins, your eyes search his, “but I’ve had feelings for you since the first year.”
You grin, “I know.”
“Yes, and what I wanted to say is- I mean, what I wanted to ask…” He trails off. Your heart begins to race.
You poke his cheek, “go on~”
His thumbs rub the back of your hand, “will you be my girlfriend?”
Deciding to tease him as well as get a little clarification, you stare up at the ceiling, “weren’t you dating Ahn Suhee a week ago?”
“If you’re talking about Y/L/N Y/N’s best friend then yes, yes I was.”
“Former,” you correct.
“Right, right.”
“Hmm, I don’t know if he still has feelings for her.”
He shakes his head frantically, “none, none at all. Might seem hard to believe but when someone proves to be a terrible person, they make it easy to un-love them.”
“Un-love?”
You tap your chin.
“Is that a thing?”
“You know what I mean, Y/N!”
He tackles you and you yelp, falling back on the bed, your hair sprawled across the sheets.
Gazing into his black orbs, you lift a hand to cup his cheeks, checking if he’s real and not a figment of your imagination.
He places his hand over yours, “if you have doubts…then we can take it slow.”
You think about what that could mean, “take it slow?”
“Yes, princess. Take it slow, I don’t want to rush you into anything and fuck up this whole thing.”
“I don’t want to fuck it up,” you pout.
He presses his thumb to your bottom lip, “then we’ll take it slow, okay?”
“Okay.”
His eyes stay glued to the way his thumb rubs on the flesh, “but right now…”
“Right now?”
You’re breathing a little heavier, seeing the lust-filled look in his eyes return.
“I want- no, I need to fuck you. Keep thinking about those pretty sounds you made.”
His gaze travels down to your clothed breasts, one of the bruises he made visible to his eyes.
“Want to make you mine, cover your body in this,” you hiss when he touches the sore spot.
Grabbing your waist, he pulls you onto his lap, his hands settle on your bare thighs, pushing the grey material up. The familiar thrill gathers between your legs, spread open and waiting. Memories from last night flood your mind, how he pleasured you, how good he made you feel, it all collects in your core, and you rock your hips against his bulge, whining when he doesn’t make a move, observing you.
“So needy for my cock,” he grips your hair harshly and captures your lips in a heated kiss, your hands smoothing up his shoulders to rest on his neck.
You feel his fingers tickle your inner thighs, ascending to your folds, he licks into your mouth as his tongue swipes up your folds, moaning as you jerk your hips forward wantonly.
Kissing down his jaw, your tongue traces the outer shell of his ear, hearing him gasp and press two fingers into you at once. You nip on his earlobe, mewling when he scissors your ridged walls, prepping you for his cock that presses into your thigh. Hard and throbbing, all for you.
He removes his fingers, and you watch as he pops them into his mouth, your pussy clenching involuntarily when he groans. Pushing you back down on the bed, you grip onto his shoulders, ravenous with the way he pulls off your shirt.
“Wanna eat you out,” he wraps his arms around your thighs, yanking you further down on the bed.
“Yoongi, I need you,” you sit up on your elbows, suckling on his neck, tongue darting out to lap at his Adam’s apple.
The ache between your legs is becoming unbearable, “want your-,” feeling a little shy despite being stark naked. He chuckles at your sudden change in character.
“Want my cock?”
You feel more of your juices leak out of you, his raspy chuckle sending tingles down your spine.
Nodding meekly, you wrap your legs around his waist and run your fingers through his hair, pushing him against the headboard, your nipples rubbing against his muscular chest.
One hand stays on your ass as he reaches over to pull out a condom from his nightstand, mind fogging up with desire, you had almost forgotten. He rolls the latex down his length and guides it through your folds, his hand squeezing your ass when you lift your hips and sink down inch by inch, burying your face in his neck.
“So fucking tight,” he grits out, your mouth hangs open, the tip reaching deep inside of you, you feel stuffed full with his cock.
He sinks his fingers into your hips and lifts you up, only for you slam back down, your moans muffled by his sloppy kisses.
He begins to thrust into you, knocking the air from your lungs while you sink your teeth into the junction between his neck and shoulder, tears prickling your eyes with how good he’s stretching you out, how good it feels to have him massage your walls. He guides your body in time with his thrust, setting a pace that has you crying out, his cock brushing that spot with each drag.
The pull out of your walls seems electrifying, but each time, you change your mind when it pushes back in, your brain seems to short-circuit.
Body going limp in his hold, you let him guide you over his cock, panting and grunting, pressing into you, each lift of his hips, each rub of his cock has you close to unravelling and when he keeps himself buried deep inside of you and you roll your hips around, when he adds his thumb to your clit, flicking at break-neck speed, and leans down to capture your nipple in his mouth, you feel a wave of goosebumps prickle your skin, walls closing around him with a vicelike grip, you cum around his twitching length.
Spasming in his hold as you collapse onto his chest, he helps ride out your orgasm, riding out his own too. You’re unable to form a coherent thought, muttering ‘wow’ and ‘thank you’ as he pulls out of you and discards of the condom, using his grey shirt to wipe you down.
You feel a blanket being draped over your figure, sleep washing over you once again.
Mumbling, you don’t know what you might be saying. The last thing you see are two cat-like eyes blinking at you, and the last thing you hear, is an “I love you too.”
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a/n: feedback is appreciated.
⤺Masterlist
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taglist: @ggukkieland @moonchild1 @mwitsmejk @fancycollectormoon
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yoonpobs · 2 months ago
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back-burner | myg
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sometimes you felt like you were the back-burner of a two-decade-long friendship. how could you ever compete?
PAIRING. min yoongi x reader
GENRE. sister's best friend!au, best friend to lovers!au, sorta frenemies?to lovers!au, angst, *slow burn*, smut, fluff
WARNINGS. one-sided pining (?), longing, sibling jealousy, insecurities, miscommunication, family trauma (it's not as bad as it sounds!!!), explicit language, eventual smut, eventual fluff, MAJOR ANGST, sexual harassment, mentions of poor mental health, alcohol as a coping mechanism (minor), mentions of poor health, neglecting one's health [warnings to be added!!!]
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01: drunk words can get you in trouble
02: some shine brighter than the rest but it gets dark sometimes
03: use your words
04: just for tonight, you'll try to forget
05: you give and you give until you have nothing left for people to take
06: you were a fire, and you burnt anything that came in your way
07: what you know, isn't always the truth
08: hidden conversations and truths
09: how much would you let yourself go?
10: two broken hearts
11: you were the sun; he'd burn to keep himself close
12: tba
13: tba
14: tba
15: tba
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fluffyydumplings · 7 hours ago
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━━━━━━━━━━━
Gone (방탄소년단) - Part 4
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Window Four: The Handsome Friend of a Friend - poly!au / sculptor!yoongi x painter!namjoon x fashion illustrator!jin x traveller!reader / friends to lovers / strangers to lovers
Summary: Jiwon, the guy who had a crush on you during elementary school is back in town. And he’s brought a friend with him. A broad-shouldered fashion illustrator with chiselled features like one of the many marble sculptures that Yoongi swears his life over. But.. ties run deeper than they appear. For aside from being a beauty he happens to be an old friend of Namjoon’s and a fellow part-timer of Yoongi’s. The fun part is, they both seem to be rather fond of him. Maybe even a little more than necessary. And you can see why. He’s one charming fellow.
Series Masterlist
Fluffy Dumpling’s Masterlist
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moonchild1 · 4 months ago
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min yoongi fic rec list (Ⅰ)
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hello everyone as promised here's a list of all my favourite yoongi fics part two is coming soon I hope you enjoy them, please show love and support to these wonderful authors and their blogs 🥺🖤 some of these fics contain smut so no minors allowed, happy reading everyone ♡
s- smut a- angst f- fluff
First love, last love by @kithtaehyung s a (uni au pianist yoongi bad boy)
cyberslut by @kimnjss f a (fuck boy)
the truth between us by @jimlingss f a (enemies to lovers au)
somebody else by @jjkthclub a (husband au)
desolation by @yoonglespringles10 f s a (marriage au infidelity au)
the early shift by @hobidreams f s a (enemies to lovers au)
chasing the sunrise by @jjkthclub s (established relationship au)
are you still with him by @joonsgalaxy f a (roommate au friends to lovers au)
Baby, can I? by @btssmutgalore s
Ocean Drive by @btssmutgalore s a
take me home by @minyfic f a (neighbour au bad boy au)
put two and two together by @mingoyeob f a
intimidation by @luxekook f s (college au)
intensity by @luxekook f s a (established relationship au sequel to intimidation)
number 14 by @bubmyg f (basketball yoongi)
favorite player by @bubmyg f s (basketball yoongi)
show by @httpjeon s (boyfriend yoongi)
love grows where you go by @hueseok f s a (arranged marriage au)
the reality of falling in love by @hueseok a (best friends au one sided love)
away from you by @personasintro f s a (divorce au)
speak now by @vminity21 f a (groom yoongi best friend au)
Speak Now {Re-imagined} by @vminity21 f a (groom yoongi bride reader)
Can I touch your heart by @infireation f (neighbour au)
Cherry Blossom Trees by @borathae f s a (love triangle au) ft. Hoseok
Someone you loved by @borathae a
akrasia by @thelillzmonster s a (friends with benefits au bad boy au)
Skin Deep by @aquaminwrites f s (friends to lovers au)
shoot your shot @taesinferno s (college au fuck buddies)
fiend by @xpeachesncream s (ceo au)
Tell Me U Luv Me by @sxdmoonchxld s
not your fairytale by @yeojaa f a (brother's best friend au)
Tip of the Iceberg by @fortunexkookie f s a (Tattoo artist new relationship)
Redamancy by @delightfulserendipity f a (high school au)
is there someone else by @hisunshiine s
House of balloons by @moonnightyoongi a
I don't wanna love you by @moonnightyoongi f s a (college au)
fuck up by @thotantics s a (friends with benefits au) ft. Taehyung
Little Black Book: The One You Trust by @bluewhale52 s (strangers to lovers au)
be in love by @yoonpobs f s a (established relationship au)
first and last and always by @floralseokjin f s a (exes au holiday au)
Love yourself by @floralseokjin a (exes au)
Please be naked by @floralseokjin s a (fuckbuddies rebound au unrequited love) ft. Namjoon
Vehement by @bangtsblossom f s a (established relationship au)
No more by @gyukult f s a (one sided love secret relationship college au)
what we are not ; soulmates by @taecalikook fa (soulmate au established relationship au) ft. taehyung
Heartbreaker by @farfromsugafanfic f a (bad boy yoongi idiots to lovers au)
Like cat and dog by @army-author f
If you weren't my first love by @army-author a (friends au)
Forget me not by @jinfizz f s a (idol au)
sangria by @minstrivia s (marriage au)
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taetaespeaches · a month ago
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“I’m not walking out on you.”
yoongi x reader (oc) genre: angst beta readers: @aurorassadprosee; @stayjimin​  word count: 6.3K
a/n: Ok lovelies, there’s no resolution to the fight in this yet lol. Reader/Kid is experiencing frustration along with a confusing mix of emotions and Yoongi is trying to keep up and make amends and yeah. I guess it’s just like sad? and frustrating? Anyways, here’s 6.3K words of Kid denying her emotions and pretending to not care nearly as much as she does. I hope you all enjoy and thanks for reading! :)) 
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Staring at the back of your boyfriend’s head, you picked at your nails nervously. He was busy, you knew that, but he was always busy these days. One cancelled plan is understandable, hell even the second cancellation was valid with his line of work, but that didn’t keep you from feeling a bit rejected. You wanted to spend time with him and those desires were starting to take over your impulses as well as your emotions.
As he clicked away on his keyboard, one headphone over his ear as the other was pulled off in case you called for his attention, you worked up the courage to do just that. It’s just Yoongi, you thought to yourself. The worst he would do is tell you he can’t spare the time for you later, you could handle that, even if you didn’t want to hear any variation of rejection from him. Sighing at yourself, you sat up straight on his studio couch. “Hey, Yoongi?”
A hum met your ears as he quickly clicked a few more things on his monitor before pulling the headphones down to rest around his neck. “What’s up, Kid?” He asked, turning around in his chair to face you. He was so clueless to everything swirling around your head, and that was both assuring and frustrating. If he wasn’t concerned then that should be a good sign, right? But then again, if there was no problems on his horizon then why were you so stressed from your point of view?
“Are you gonna be busy tonight?” You asked, an edge of tentativeness in your tone that Yoongi easily picked up on. A pout slowly formed on his lips as he looked back at his monitor and thought for a moment.
“I don’t have to be,” he mumbled, looking back to you with a soft gaze.
“Yeah?” You questioned, staring at him intently. “It’s ok if you need to work, it’s just, I was thinking we could hang out just the two of us. Without work.” You waited for him to respond but he made no move to speak, simply watching you carefully instead. “It’s just you’ve been so busy and it’s been a few weeks since we hung out just us two without some sort of work invol-” you began to ramble on, over-explaining yourself out of nervousness.
“Kid, it’s ok, we can have a date night,” he interrupted you, flashing you a small gummy grin, entertained by your almost shy behavior. It was rare that he saw you act this way. Normally, you adored that smile, always wanting to see more of it. But the situation was becoming humiliating for you, as though you were begging for his attention; as though you weren’t ok without it. The smile taunted you and your vulnerability. “Wanna go out, or just at your place?”
Biting back your frustration, you smirked. “I was just thinking at my place. Maybe some takeout? A movie?”
“Sounds great,” he replied simply, nodding once in agreement. “That all you wanted to talk about?” He asked, already turning back toward the screen. If there was more you wanted to discuss, did he even care? You didn’t come here to waste your time on talking to the back of his head. Chewing on your lip, you nodded in reply, despite him not seeing it. Not getting a verbal response from you, however, had him looking over his shoulder at you. You nodded again upon making eye contact with him.  
The man watched you for a moment longer before settling back into his chair, his hand hovering over the music equipment that he had explained to you how to use before, though you remained mostly clueless. As though he was listening for action from you, not hearing any movement, he shifted his hand off of the soundboard.
“You ok?” He asked. You wanted to believe his attention was mostly directed to you, despite his eyes facing the monitor on his desk.
Resisting the urge to roll your eyes at his question, you glared at the back of his head. Were you ok? What a dumb question, you thought. You were feeling smaller than ever, all but begging your own boyfriend to take a break from work to spend some time with you. You were embarrassed and if you were being honest with yourself, you were feeling a bit neglected by him. He loved you, you weren’t silly enough to doubt that. But you doubted how much of his time he was willing to dedicate to you. And you didn’t appreciate feeling needy.
You slowly stood from the couch, grabbing your bag as you looked around quickly. “Yeah, I’m fine,” you said simply with a small sigh, walking toward him. “I’ll let you get some work done,” you told him as you neared him, your hands finding the back of his chair. Lowering your lips to the back of his head, you kissed his hair softly.
“You’re leaving?” He asked, craning his neck slightly to look back at you. Nodding at him, you watched as a small pout formed on his lips, which you were sure he didn’t even realize he was doing. The man had an adorable natural pout that just planted itself on his lips, making him utterly endearing. “Ok, well I’ll see you tonight, what time should I be there?”
“Uh, 8?” You suggested, watching him carefully as he turned back to his computer, as though he was thinking about how much work he could fit in between now and then.
“Is 8:30 ok?” He asked, his eyes searching your features as you forced a small smile.
“Sure,” you smiled as assuringly as you could. “Whatever you want,” you nodded, just as the man reached for your waist, your stomach tingling at his touch. It hadn’t even been that long since you’d been intimate, but any sign of interest from him had you reeling for more over the past couple weeks. It was the feeling of being wanted; that feeling of your heart swelling within your chest with the knowledge that someone desires the nearness of you. That he desires you.
“I can’t wait,” he told you, puckering his lips, a light chuckle sounding from you as you lowered your mouth to his. The kiss was gentle and quick, and when you stepped away, you were already missing his touch as his hand slid from your frame and landed in his lap. Leaving the studio, you flashed a peace sign back at him, hearing the scoff he let out at the action. Taking one look back at him as you opened his studio door, you saw him watch you as you left.
“Don’t be late, Min,” you sassed teasingly as you stepped into the hallway, Yoongi chuckling as you left his studio.
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He’s not even late yet, you tried to point out to yourself. It was only 8:25. However, you couldn’t help the nagging in your mind that repeatedly told you, he’ll be late.
Just a month ago you would have never felt nervous asking your boyfriend to spend time with you but there you were, hours earlier, feeling small in his presence as though you were begging for his attention. Thinking back on the interaction, the way he smiled at your nerves, you felt yourself become angry. Maybe you were overreacting, especially since you hadn’t spoken to him regarding your recent feelings, but was he not missing you the way you were him? You didn’t like being made to feel like you needed his time. I don’t need anyone. As you worked yourself up through nothing but your own thoughts, a little fire in the pit of your stomach started growing with every passing minute that you sat alone in your apartment. Waiting for him.
I should relax. He was coming over to see you, afterall. But why did it feel like such a burden for him to do so? You had no interest in being anyone’s burden, and especially not Yoongi’s.
Tired of sitting there with your mind overtaken by your boyfriend, you tried to busy yourself with random tasks around your bedroom. Locking your eyes on the bed, you began ripping pillows and blankets off of it, throwing them to the ground with huffs and grunts. Bunching all of the sheets and blankets and pillowcases in your arms, you hauled them to the washer, dropping them on top of it before going to retrieve new sheets.
Walking back into your room, tossing the bedding onto the mattress, you quickly checked your phone to find the screen displaying 8:34 and absolutely no messages. Late. And not a word about it, you thought. Pushing him out of your mind, though it was impossible, you continued making the bed in anger. You let out yells of frustration as the fitted sheet pulled off the corner of the mattress one too many times for your level of patience before halting your actions altogether and taking a moment to simply glare at the bed.
As your anger bubbled up within you, you wondered if you even had reason to be so upset. Giving him the benefit of the doubt, work is busy right now, he’s up against deadlines, he wants to be here, you’re just drawing conclusions that aren’t there, you finished making the bed as you calmed your rage. The last thing you wanted was for this night to be ruined, you needed to get your emotions under control.
Checking your phone once more, you read the time; 8:41 p.m. He was officially over ten minutes late, and you weren’t really in the mood to grant a grace period. Before you could process your feelings, however, a knock sounded on the door and instead of anger you just felt relief as you rushed to open it. Swinging the door ajar, the anger was back within a second. Letting out an involuntary huff, your skin felt like it was burning due to the fire within you reigniting instantly. Because it wasn’t Yoongi on the other side of the door, but rather the takeout you had ordered, and your boyfriend still hadn’t arrived at your place.
Forcing a smile and friendly demeanor, you paid the man before taking the food from his hands. “Thanks,” you smiled, and just before closing the door, you spotted Yoongi a few feet away, giving a polite nod to the delivery man before his eyes found yours.
“Hey, sorry I’m late,” he smiled at you as you stared at him. Stepping back inside your apartment, your hands full with the bags of food, Yoongi had to quickly start into a jog to catch the door before it closed on him. When you heard him take his shoes off in the entry, you rolled your eyes, finding annoyance in the fact that he made it inside before the door slammed in his face. With your back to the man, you took a deep breath, preparing to let all of your anger go to save the evening that you had been craving so much. You wanted this date, don’t let it get ruined, you thought.
Rounding the kitchen island, you turned to face him, immediately meeting his gaze. You hated the way your heart swelled in response to how adorable he looked. It wasn’t fair that he still looked so soft and kind even when you were mad at him.
“Let me pay you back for that,” he nodded to the food you had just set on the counter. No fucking way. There was no way in hell he was paying for the food on the date that he didn’t even seem excited to come to.
Shaking your head, you forced another smile, trying your best to appear happy and unbothered. “No, that’s fine, this was my idea anyway, I asked you here,” you reminded him.
And had Yoongi known how the feelings of rejection had been building up within you, those words would have been his first indication of the anger you felt, and he would have tried to make amends right then and there. But you hadn’t been communicating your disappointment over the past couple weeks, and he had been too busy and oblivious to notice, leaving both of you in the dark with each other.
“Alright,” he quietly and skeptically agreed, inspecting your posture, your features, the way you avoided his eye contact. He knew you much too well to still be oblivious to your mood, the man clocking the front of feigned positivity you were presenting to him. “Well, next time then,” Yoongi told you gently, trying to assure you without directly addressing the issue, knowing it could trigger more anger from you. “It’s on me.”
Smiling just slightly, feigned once again, as you dug the food out of the bags, you nodded. “Sure,” you quietly agreed, the man noticing your distant behavior but choosing not to comment on it quite yet. “Next time.” When exactly there would be a next time, you weren’t sure, as alone time outside of the man’s studio had become quite rare for the two of you. “What do you wanna watch?” You lifted your gaze to look at the television screen that displayed your Netflix profile, Yoongi’s attention following the direction of yours.
As your eyes slowly returned to the food that you set out, Yoongi’s eyes shifted from the screen to you. “Whatever you want, Kid,” he said gently, watching you carefully.
You nearly scoffed at the comment, finding it almost humorous that suddenly your opinions and desires mattered. “Oh, my wants matter to you now?” You asked, wearing a charming as ever smile as the man’s eyebrows scrunched in response. Just as he opened his mouth to reply, you turned your back on him and the containers of food to grab a few plates from the cupboard.
“What was that?” He asked, already tired of tiptoeing around your passive aggressiveness.
Sighing, you shook your head. “It was nothing, Yoongi,” you replied, pulling two plates from the cupboard and setting them on the counter. “Grab some food, I’ll just pick something,” you told him, leaving him alone in the kitchen as you started toward the living room, picking up the remote. Sitting down on the couch, you began clicking through titles as Yoongi stood in the kitchen watching you. With his hands pressed against the edge of the counter, he tried to figure out how to handle the situation between you both.
Ducking his head toward the smooth surface, he let out a sigh of his own before reluctantly pushing himself from the counter and following you into the living room. “Hey, are you upset with me?” He called out to you, appearing at the side of the couch before you could answer.
“No, I’m not,” you told him, keeping your eyes on the screen as you continued to scan through titles while Yoongi continued looking at you. Sitting in silence for a moment, you hovered over some comedy that you had hardly even heard of. “How about this one?” You asked, Yoongi’s eyes slowly drifting from you to look at the movie.
“Yeah sure, that sounds fine,” he replied, only partially interested, and you both had a feeling neither of you would even be watching the film anymore. You were too busy stewing in your frustration, and Yoongi was occupied with trying to make things right with you.
After starting the film and setting the remote on the coffee table, you turned to look up at Yoongi, inspecting him. “You didn’t grab any food?” You asked, Yoongi shaking his head slowly.
“I will in a minute, just,” he started, his eyes searching your face before he shuffled toward you and took a seat. Setting his hand on your thigh just above your knee, he tilted his head just slightly as his eyes met yours. “I’m sorry I was late,” he apologized once again, this time with intention and truth. “I got caught up, and that’s not an excuse, it’s my bad, and I’m sorry I kept you waiting.”
Staring at the sincerity in his gaze, you couldn’t figure out if the expression relieved your anger or just made it more severe. Sitting there with your jaw clenched, Yoongi chewed slightly on the inside of his bottom lip.
“I really am sorry,” he continued. “I’ve been excited for this all day, I promise,” he assured you, his body tense as he awaited your response. “My tardiness was just me being dumb, it had nothing to do with you or how badly I want to be here with you.”
You were tentative, but you found yourself believing his words. Yoongi’s stare was studying your features carefully when the tension in your face and shoulders relaxed just slightly. Taking the change in your demeanor as a small sign of forgiveness, he moved his hand from your leg to take yours in it. Bringing it to his mouth, he left a sweet kiss to your knuckles.
“Hey,” he whispered to you, a small sorry smile curving on his lips. “I’ve missed you.” His thumb ran soothingly along your thumb and you felt the anger melt off of you just slightly. Fights were rarely serious between you both, and a simple conclusion almost always solved things. An apology, an acceptance, a sweet gummy smile and a soft kiss and things usually returned back to normal.
Sighing, you broke eye contact as you looked down at your hand in his. Just let it go. “I missed you too,” you whispered, the man not knowing just how deeply you meant it. You missed him, you missed feeling wanted, you missed feeling like a priority, you missed the nearness of him. You were still upset, but you would give him the night to make it up to you.
Just as you prepared to lean into him to cuddle up against his side, you were interrupted by a vibration from his pocket. When the man dropped your hand to check the phone, your jaw clenched once again. And when he chose to begin replying to the text rather than ignoring it and setting the device aside, you scoffed.
Barely looking up at you, he mumbled a half-assed apology before quickly typing on the device. “It’s one of the producers I’m working with for this song, just one sec,” he told you as he tried to type out his reply as quickly as possible, his attention divided.
Nodding, you turned your face from him and locked your eyes on the remote as he texted away. No longer concerned with saving the evening, you grabbed the remote and clicked the tv off before standing up, Yoongi’s eyes darting first to the television screen, and then to you, his gaze wide as confusion etched across his features.
“Hey, what are you doing?” He asked, worry evident in his tone as he sat up and dropped the phone mid-text to grab your hand before you could walk away. “I’m sorry, the text was just going to take a second, I’ll shut my phone off if you want.”
“You shouldn’t have to shut your phone off to be present with me, you should just want to be here together,” you told him bitterly, Yoongi staring up at you as he tried to think of what to say.
“I’m sorry I upset you, Kid, I didn’t mean to,” he apologized again, you shaking your head as you looked away from him. He didn’t upset you, he didn’t have the power to upset you, you stubbornly told yourself.
“I’m not upset,” you refuted sternly. Yoongi’s eyebrows pulled together in question at your comment, as your behavior certainly stated otherwise.
“You definitely act upset,” he replied, causing you to glare down at him. Of course you were upset but you found yourself not wanting to admit that to him, not wanting to give him that power over your emotions.
“So now you’re gonna tell me what I am?” You questioned him, deflecting from the actual issues at hand and instead targeting your anger at him in petty ways. It wasn’t constructive but you didn’t care about that in the moment.
“I’m not trying to tell you what you are- I just-” He struggled to find a response as you tugged on your hand to have him let go of it, which he did reluctantly. However, he stood up with you so you were face to face as the man tried to sort through the issue. “I fucked up, you have every right to be pissed at me.”
“I know that, I don’t need your permission to be mad,” you replied back bitterly, still directing the argument from where he wanted it to be, and where it needed to be.
“That’s not what I meant,” he quickly defended, sighing as he tried to re-focus you both back to why you were upset. He was late and he wasn’t present enough, that’s where you needed to let your anger out.
However, instead of getting into what had upset you in the first place, you chose to step away from him, starting toward the kitchen. A sigh sounded from Yoongi just before the man stood and followed you. “Kid, please talk to me.”
“Look, I just think that if you don’t want to spend time with me you should just say that rather than showing up late and then being disconnected,” you turned around and told him angrily, a look of surprise overtaking your boyfriend’s face as he took the comment to heart.
“What?” He simply asked, halting halfway to the kitchen, too stunned to say anything more.
“I had to work up the courage to even ask you to spend time with me tonight and it’s not a good feeling for you to act like you’re being burdened by being here,” you ranted to him, feeling nothing but embarrassment, anger, and shame. If you had just told him you missed him and wished he made more time for you, you were sure he would have taken your words to heart and made sure to try harder. But you were pissed, and in the moment, you didn’t care about actually fixing the issue. You just wanted to release your irritation, and Yoongi became your target. “I’m not a fucking burden.”
“Of course you’re not a burden,” he quickly replied. “What do you mean you had to work up the courage?” He asked in confusion and concern. Looking at the sadness that resided in his eyes, you knew you should have approached this conversation differently, but it was as though you couldn’t stop yourself from digging yourself deeper. You could see yourself making things worse, but all you cared about was getting your anger out. “I’m not burdened by being here, and I’m not burdened by you. Ever. I want to be here, I love you,” he told you sadly.
Of course he loved you, you knew that. But love wasn’t some fix all emotion that erased your feelings of neglect and rejection. And from your experience, love was conditional, and it was wavering, and it didn’t always mean the person who loved you enjoyed being in your presence. If Yoongi didn’t want to spend time with you, then you didn’t need him.
“Actions speak louder than words, you know,” you told him, feigning disinterest as you began placing the food containers in the fridge, fully aware that neither of you would be eating it any time soon.
“I’m here,” he pointed out, staring you down as you evaded meeting his gaze. Closing the refrigerator door, you chewed on your lip as your body began nearly trembling with anxiety and anger. You were regretting the whole fight, you wanted to go back to the start of the night. If you could start over, you would push down your feelings and none of this would have had to be discussed.
Refusing to reveal any of that to him though, you scoffed and nodded unconvincingly. “Right, yeah, you’re so right,” you sarcastically started. “And I suppose I should get on my knees and thank you for gracing me with your presence-”
“Jesus christ,” he sighed overtop of you, causing you to turn and look at him, making eye contact with the frustration written all over his features. “I’m sorry I was late, I’m sorry I answered the text, I’m sorry-”
“Stop apologizing,” you demanded, your tone full of spite and your voice raised. “I’m sure you’re sorry for cancelling our last two dates too, right?” You met his eyes, the man’s angry expression instantly dropping as guilt rushed over him, as he realized that was why you were nervous to ask him to spend time with you. You’d been rejected. “Don’t be sorry, it doesn’t even matter.”
Before he could respond to you, you left down the hallway, Yoongi rushing around the island to follow you. “Don’t walk away, we have to talk about stuff like this,” he insisted. The conflict was reaching a point where you knew you were going to say something you’d regret, but he was pushing and you had no self-restraint left.
“There’s nothing to talk about,” you replied, stopping in front of the washer and dryer. As you began loading the sheets into the machine for no real reason beyond trying to play indifferent, Yoongi appeared beside you.
“Kid,” he pleaded. “Baby, we can’t fix anything if we don’t talk,” Yoongi pointed out. You could tell he was trying to salvage the fight, find and correct the root cause, and make amends. Fights were so rare in your relationship, you could tell he was reeling over the fact that it was happening at all, and that a conclusion hadn’t been met yet. And though he tried to remain calm, you could see and hear the panic rushing through him.
However, though you weren’t a fan of conflict and fighting, it wasn’t easy for you to lower your guard to allow amends to be made. You were mad, and though you didn’t want to hurt him, you had pride. Stupid fucking pride. “Whatever,” you breathed out, a final attempt to leave the argument be and call it a night.
Yoongi sighed after you spoke the single word. “Don’t say whatever,” he shook his head in defeat. “Don’t throw out words that mean nothing, say what you want to say.”
“I don’t want to say anything anymore, I don’t want to get into this,” you continued to resist addressing your actual feelings. How could you backtrack now and simply say I’ve missed you, I just want more of your time, I want more of your attention? I feel rejected.
“You have nothing to say?” He asked, getting nothing but your silence in return. “Well bullshit, whether you want to get into it or not we need to fix this.” As you poured detergent into the washing machine, Yoongi huffed. “Jesus christ, Kid.” He was becoming more and more frustrated with you, and had you been in a more calm state of mind, you wouldn’t have blamed him for his growing impatience. In the moment, however, as Yoongi was feeling a mixture of confusion, frustration, and sorrow, you were simply angry and embarrassed. Embarrassed for letting your anger show through; for the piece of you that very much did want and maybe even need Yoongi to be around.
“What?” You asked, your tone full of malice as you turned to look at him. As your next words clung to the tip of your tongue, you tried to stop yourself from speaking them. His features were so soft, the pout sitting cutely and pitifully on his lips. But it was as though you were trying to self-destruct, your emotions too high, your pride too overbearing. “Why are you even still here? Now you want to stay and fight?”
“What?” The way his eyes filled with an expression of shame, you knew he was aware of what you were alluding to. And it tugged at your heart. You wanted to stop. So why didn’t you?
“I’m just surprised you’re not halfway out the door already,” you told him angrily. As the words struck the man, you felt a rush of guilt and regret for having said them, but also a sense of relief.
When you and Yoongi first started seeing each other, you had a major conflict, a tentativeness to commit on his behalf, which led to him walking out on you before the fight could escalate too far, or really even get started. Nothing was truly addressed before he gave up. And though he came back eventually and you told him he was forgiven, you knew it took a long time for him to forgive himself for that. He admitted that he should have stayed and had the fight with you, and he promised he wouldn’t leave again. But there you were, not even giving him a chance to prove that as you brought up past ghosts that haunted the man more than you even realized. But despite the hurt that was evident in Yoongi’s eyes, there was still that relief within you.
“What are you talking about?” He asked, wanting confirmation that you were on the same page. You were backing him up against the blade. And with one more comment, you were pushing him to the hilt.
“You haven’t always been the type to stick it out and fight for me, that’s all,” you spoke with spite.
“Are you still hurt by the past?” He asked through a hoarse voice. It sounded as though his emotions were lodged in his throat, and he was struggling to keep them at bay. Walking out that night and effectively hurting you was one of his biggest mistakes, and there he was, learning just then almost a year later, that it was still hurting you.
“No,” you said simply. But was that the honest answer? Attempting to sort through your own emotions, you weren’t sure how you felt. You had thought you were over it, Yoongi earned your forgiveness long ago. Yet, there was still that relief, as though speaking the words into existence lifted a weight off your shoulders that you didn’t even know you were carrying. You were still hurt.
And that realization was all the more embarrassing, putting you even more on the defense.
“No?” He asked, gaging your feelings as he watched you carefully. “It sounds like you’re hurt, Kid,” he commented, studying your features as you glared at him.
“Stop telling me what I am,” you bit back.
“Fine, if you’re not hurt by it then what? Have you just been holding on to that to throw in my face?” He asked, this time with his own malice lacing his tone. With a clearer mind, you would have understood his anger. If you weren’t hurt by it, then what was your goal with digging up the past? Bringing up the mistake that the man deeply regretted, and using it against him in an unrelated fight was cruel. But with your judgement clouded by your high emotions and even more so, the presence of your ego and pride, you failed to see his side of things and instead became angrier than before.
“I haven’t been holding onto anything,” you argued, “and you don’t have the power over me to hurt me, especially over something that happened almost a year ago,” you informed him. But it was a lie. Of course he had the power to hurt you, he held your heart within his palm. Lucky for you, Yoongi was always gentle, never too caught up in his own pain or feelings to squeeze too hard. Your heart was safe with him. And that’s what you realized in that moment, when he responded with empathy and sorrow, rather than swinging back at you with anger of his own. Even angry and hurt by you, he refused to return the blow.
“I care about you,” he told you simply, the man’s face tense as though he was concealing his emotions. “I’m sorry if my actions, past and present, have made it difficult for you to feel that. That’s on me,” he nodded at his own words. Everything from his sad expression to his slumped posture displayed defeat. As you were standing there stubborn and prideful, refusing to lower your defenses, he was dropping all masks and walls.
As you watched him direct his gaze to the floor, as though he felt too much shame to meet your eyes, you realized how much you hated this entire situation you dragged you both in. He was late and maybe he wasn’t as present as you wanted him to be, and being upset about that was valid, but you let yourself get caught up in feelings that weren’t entirely related to him. Love had always been conditional in your life, much like a transaction.
Though they didn’t always realize it, your parents only showed love, only wanted you around, when you were doing something for them. When you were fulfilling their image of what a perfect daughter was. It had been your experience in past relationships as well. When Yoongi stopped coming around as much, despite having valid reasons of deadlines and pressure of an intense and involved career, you took it as a sign of him pulling away or not caring as much, because you weren’t doing enough or being enough. It made you feel as though you were no longer what he wanted as you were, and you had to start being something different or giving something more to keep his interest. And that pissed you off. You refused to be treated like that by Yoongi, because he never had treated you like that. But that’s when you realized, he still wasn’t loving you in the way you’d experienced in the past. That wasn’t Yoongi.
There he was completely defenseless, full of shame and heartbroken for making you feel anything less than loved sincerely, making you realize that your assumptions were wrong. He loved you for you. There was validity to your concerns and your anger with his recent actions, but you should have addressed the whole thing differently. Why didn’t you just talk to him about it?
With your lack of response, Yoongi sighed once again before stepping away from you. “I’ll sleep on the couch,” he told you before turning around. However, halfway down the hall, he rotated his body to face you. “I’m not walking out on you,” he noted, defending himself while assuring you. “But this isn’t constructive and I’m not letting us hurt each other more than we already have.” At the word hurt leaving his lips, it fully hit you how much damage you may have just inflicted upon the security in your relationship, and it felt like you just threw yourself onto the blade you had backed him into.
“I love you,” he whispered, looking to the wall to evade your gaze. “I’m sorry you haven’t been feeling that.”
With those words, the mask you had been sporting all evening was gone, and the anger within you that was scorching previously had completely burned out, leaving you cold and regretful. Feeling your emotions rise within you, it was only a matter of moments until you would be crying, and you had no right to shed tears in front of Yoongi right then. It would only make him feel worse than he already did. So without a word, you gave him a single nod, holding onto your last shred of indifference before turning away from him and exiting into your room, shutting the door behind you without a single look back.
Yoongi watched you depart, the man swallowing in an attempt to hold in his own mix of emotions. You were good at concealing what you felt, but you exhibited small gives that Yoongi could pick up on to read your true emotions. He saw the way guilt flooded your eyes when he told you he loved you, he noticed how your jaw clenched and you held your breath as you stubbornly halted your tears. He knew you already regretted everything. And he therefore knew that you would start convincing yourself that your behavior drove a wedge between you both, and that he would start removing his love from you. But it didn’t work that way, and he needed you to know that.
Making his way to your door, he placed his hands on each side of the frame, his head hung down as he directed his gaze to the floor. “My love for you isn’t conditional,” he called out through the wood, your head snapping toward the closed door as you listened to him intently. His voice was muffled but his intentions were clear. He was swallowing every last bit of his pride to assure you. “I hate how things escalated tonight, but I’m not going anywhere. I’ll see you in the morning.”
The words lodged a sob in the center of your throat at the pure sincerity of them. He loved you, even through your fight and your clear attempts at hurting him, he just fucking loved you. And now you felt even more guilty because you weren’t sure you were deserving of that kind of love. He was there, in your apartment, offering you this unadulterated affection that you had never experienced before Yoongi, and you didn’t feel worthy of it. But he was giving it to you anyway.
Sitting at the edge of your bed, all you could do was regret and cry as Yoongi’s broken appearance sat at the forefront of your mind. There were no winners in this. And you missed Yoongi more than ever.
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xpeachesncream · a month ago
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daydream (myg) | masterlist
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⇢ series playlist ☽ 
summary: after losing his wife, all yoongi had was his 5 year old daughter, suki, and his mother-in-law by his side. he was sure he didn’t need anyone else, especially after many people near & dear to him doubted in his ability to take care of his daughter on his own. that is, until he met you— someone who unexpectedly came and changed his world for the better, bringing in new highs and lows to experience on this journey with suki.
pairing: nurse!reader x single dad!myg
genre: single dad au, strangers to lovers au | fluff, angst, smut
warnings: cussing, mature language/implied sexual content, unprotected sex, insecurities, anxiety, trauma from past events, alcohol consumption, death/mentions of death, crying, etc. (individual warnings for each chapter will be included)
updates: weekly - day/time may vary by week.
taglist: [closed]
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RELEASE DATE: 09/19/2021
special thank you to @invisiblefortoday​, @jimidol​, @vantezza​ and @lovelytaes-blog​ for letting me ramble on about this series and cry over daydream!yoongi 😭♥️ you all gave me the push and support i needed to move on with this. i love you!
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btsarmy9593 · a month ago
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Part 13 - Home
pairing: yoongi x reader
genre: one night stand, early relationship, noona, smut, angst, fluff
rating: M
word count: about 6.5k
warnings: SMUT (of course) in the form of penetrative sex w/o protection, hand job, oral f. receiving; language, FEELINGS, alcohol intake (we know everyone is way of age here), FEELINGS, talking about feelings, yoongi being way too amazing for words
a/n: hahaha, so um, thanks for not you know...hurting me for last chapter's cliffhanger. i swear it's the last one. speaking of last, this is the penultimate chapter, but really, it wraps up things (I think and hope). I will do an epilogue and i already have a few drabble ideas in mind, but this....holy shit....this is it. hugs to my support team of @sasseone, @deoxyribonucleicacidworld, @xjoonchildx, @hobi-gif for encouragement and critique. to my patreon ppl who support me with some finances and lovely comments.
and to you dear readers, wow and expletive (i have no idea what to put here). this has been a real journey for me as a writer and me as a person. you all have sent me the kindest asks, comments, messages about birthday girl and this yoongi; and how much they mean to you. i can't express what that does for me. thank you. from the bottom of my cynical, dried-up heart: thank you. i hope this doesn't disappoint.
if you like my writings, consider Patreon. supporters there get an early look at my stuff. :D
series list
part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4 part 5 part 6 part 7 part 8 part 9 part 10 part 11 part 12
---
yoongi:: i’m so so sorry, jagi. I can’t get off work to pick you up. I’ll bring the car the moment i can tonight.
You don’t mind. Not really. You’re gross from being on a plane for over thirteen hours, never mind living out of a suitcase for nearly a month. The idea of going home to an empty house to take a shower and do laundry and possibly nap for seventy hours sounds like heaven.
The best friend and her husband have no problem dropping you off, with a travel-weary hug and a promise to have a meal together soon. It doesn’t matter that you’ve been with them this whole time. You always have it in you to spend time with them.
You find the spare key under the deck chair and let yourself in. It smells clean. Not that you live in a disaster, but it’s a very nice lemon-clean smell that you recognize as one of your bottles of cleaner.
Did he clean?
You lock the door and set your keys on the table, pulling your suitcase and carry on with you down the hall to your bedroom. Before you’d left, you’d emptied a drawer in your dresser (no easy feat as you hated to throw things away that were mildly functional) for Yoongi if he needed it if/when he stayed.
You didn’t mention it to him before you left, your mind and body too occupied with other thoughts and actions.
You set your case on your bed and pull open the once empty drawer.
It’s dumb, right? Dumb to feel so much at a drawer full of black and grey t-shirts, black boxer briefs and a few rolled up pairs of socks (he really doesn’t do much color, does he)?
Dumb to touch one of the shirts and sigh at its softness?
You close the drawer, shaking your head and move to do the unpleasant task of unpacking. You make sure that the first load is going before you turn on your shower. Your phone beeps at you.
yoongi:: home?
:: yes, thank you. The place looks better than how I left it.
yoongi:: i wanna claim responsibility but a lot of it was hoseok.
You laugh at the honesty.
yoongi:: it’ll be late when I get in.
:: if you need to stay in the city, that’s fine. I’m not planning on leaving for at least 24 hours.
Was that okay? Yes, you needed, wanted to see him, but you’re nervous. And when you’re nervous you procrastinate.
What a great adult you are.
yoongi:: i might like your bed better than mine.
Your face heats. Even if it really just means that you chose your mattress well and it’s a delight to sleep on.
You take a shower, washing off the hours of canned air and so much human interaction, and enjoying your own loofah and large bottles (no more travel size). You have one of the longest showers you’ve probably ever taken.
You resist falling into your bed in your towel, knowing it’s still a little too early to go to sleep, even though it’s six hours later according to your body. You reluctantly dry yourself off, leaving your hair a wet and tangled mess.
It’s dinner time, so you scrounge in your own kitchen to come up with leftover fried rice. The idea that he has just chilled here and had takeout gives you way too many feelings. It smells okay and all of a sudden you’re starving.
Most of the hours pass in a whirl of laundry and going through a month of mail. Yoongi didn’t throw away anything. Not even the obvious ‘or resident’ mail. It amuses you that he didn’t, that you are now stuck with life insurance offers, and realtors wanting to ‘be the one’ to sell your house. The pile of pointless and rather wasteful mail is much taller than the bills, one letter from your surrogate grandmother, and two ‘this much off if you spend more than you should’ coupons.
You can be gone for a month and very little has changed.
And yet… a lot has changed.
You glance out the window of your back door as though your car and Yoongi will suddenly be there.
Fuck, you’re really anxious.
Which part do you say first? It doesn’t matter that you’ve thought of nothing else on the entire way back. Probably why your dreams had been so unsettling when you dozed on the plane.
As you sit on the couch, exhaustion falls, making you yawn. You glance at the clock over your television. It could be hours with what Yoongi considered ‘late’.
Maybe closing your eyes isn’t the worst idea.
“Jagi?”
It’s amazing to hear his voice, even in your dreams. You’ve never been really great at remembering too much of your nightly imagines, only the emotions stirred. To hear the low rasp of his voice makes you hum.
“Jagiya?”
You think if you reached out you could actually touch him.
“I can’t carry you to bed. I’d probably drop you.”
Your eyes open and there he is, sitting on the end of the couch, looking at you with messy hair (did he get a haircut?) and his glasses fogged up.
“Yoongi.” You’re up and moving over to him before your brain can catch up, your hands seeking to touch. “You’re here.” His skin barely feels real in your hazy state. You brush your thumbs over the apples of his cheeks. You can feel his skin heat under your hands.
“Yep.”
“I missed you,” you say, wanting to infuse those three words with everything you’re feeling. Every time you thought of him while halfway across the world. Every time you wanted to hold his hand, to kiss him.
You can see that he is holding a takeout bag and his messenger bag, so he’s not touching you back. But he’s looking.
What are you so nervous for?
“I missed you too.” He leans in and presses his forehead to yours. “You smell good.”
“You smell like fast food.”
He chuckles and you close your eyes to soak in that laugh of his. The one that always sounds like he didn’t mean to.
“What do you mean you’d drop me?” you ask, eyes opening again. “Are you calling me fat?”
You can’t stop smiling. He’s here. You’re here. A month apart felt like ages but also only two seconds. He bumps noses with you.
“You did say you ate your way through Europe.”
You laugh and playfully push his shoulder, drawing back from him. All you want to do is stare at him. He looks great, but tired. The messy hair is adorable, but the smudges under his eyes make you want to wrap him in your arms.
“How’s work?”
He sighs and then sets down both bags, right on the coffee table. He brushes back your still wet hair.
“I’m exhausted.”
“You look it.”
“My honest girl.”
You feel your eyes well up. You have to tell him.
“I need to talk to you.”
Something flickers in his eyes, noticeable even though the lights aren’t bright in your living room.
But he nods, slowly. “Okay. But I'm honestly half-dead and you look like you might conk out in three seconds.”
“You’re just full of compliments tonight.” Your quick answer covers your disappointment that he wants to wait. You need to get it all out. Right? “Okay.”
He smiles, a slow sexy stretch of his lips. “Can I sleep in your bed?”
You make a face at him, wrinkling your nose. “Only if you shower first.”
He rolls his eyes. “So no kiss?”
Your lips part, eyes dropping to his as though the mere mention makes them a target. The smirk is back.
“Not even a little one?” he whispers, moving closer, reminding you how much you need to tell him. You gently place your hand over his face, pushing him away.
“Nope.”
He huffs, but his grin is sly. “You’ll probably be asleep by the time I get into bed.” He gets up off the sofa, stretching
“Probably.” You reach out to grab his bag, but you’re startled by a kiss to your temple. You look up at him and he gives you a lopsided smile. But he doesn’t say anything, just takes his stuff and leaves you in the living room.
You press your hand over your heart like a southern belle in a bad period film. You’re not sure what your heart is doing. You’re not sure your heart knows what it's doing.
You eventually make your way to your bedroom, checking the doors and turning off lights. It’s more early than late for bed, but jet lag is a bitch. You curl up under the sheets, inhaling the scent of your laundry detergent (who knew that felt like home). The sound of water running in your bathroom causes your eyes to drift shut.
It’s in that sleepy fog that you feel your bed dip with his weight. You reach out, almost instinctively now. His hand clasps yours.
“Okay, jagiya?”
“Okay,” you whisper, tired enough that your inhibitions are almost gone. But you’re too aware of the power of the words you wish to say.
It’s about timing, right?
--
He wakes you with another kiss. This time, on your nose. The softness of it, the sweetness draws you out of whatever dream island you were on.
“Yoongi?”
“Morning.” His voice is effectively rumbly and despite the heaviness of your limbs, you feel much more alert.
You squint your eyes open to see him right above you, looking down as though this is normal. Waking you up after a night by your side is just… normal.
You immediately cover your mouth with your hand and he smiles.
“I really don’t care.” Never mind that you can smell the mint of your toothpaste on him.
“I do.” You maneuver away from him, trying not to laugh as his lips chase your covered ones. He lands a kiss on your fingers, not too far off from where your lips are. You roll out of your bed, avoiding his legitimate grabby hands and hurry to the bathroom. You attempt to tame your hair before brushing the morning out of your mouth. You look like you’ve been sleeping and as you spit and rinse, you remember all the things you’ve been turning over in your brain for what feels like days and weeks, maybe even months. Turning over like those rock tumblers, smoothing the rough edges away until something acceptable is left.
You really hope it’s acceptable.
When you return to your bedroom, he’s slipping on a t-shirt. You pause and he catches your gaze. He sighs, making a sheepish face.
“I couldn’t get off work today.”
Of course he couldn’t. It’s a very important ‘last step’ of his schooling. He needs to be there.
You nod. “Of course. You’re going in early?”
He sits up, opening his drawer and grabbing a pair of clean boxer-briefs. With his eyes squarely on you, he strips the underwear he slept in and puts on the new ones.
Your cheeks heat at his ease stripping in front of you, especially when there’s no aim for sex.
“If I go in early, I can get off early. And come home to you.” He runs a hand through his hair, messing it up even more.
His words are so powerful. Does he understand how much his words mean to you?
“Oh.”
He approaches you, still clad in just a t-shirt and his underwear. He tilts his head to the side.
“That okay?”
“Yes.”
Your response has him grinning wide, all teeth, and moving in to kiss you.
You have to tell him.
“Yoongi.”
He stops. “What is it?”
You open your mouth, but close it. Maybe you’re really aware of everything or maybe you read him better, but is he nervous? Is that the little shake in his voice?
“When do you have to leave?” You look beyond him at the clock on your vanity. He turns too.
“Like 15 minutes.” He looks back at you. “Bad timing.”
Isn’t it just?
You press your lips together. You can tell him this much. Let him decide what to do with the information.
“The night I called you.” You watch him take a step back as you begin. “Um, when I was drunk?”
“You said you were tipsy.” The teasing is in his voice, there beneath the worry.
You force a smile to your face. “Same thing. I ended the call.”
He lets out a long breath before backing up to sit on the bed. “You know it doesn’t matter, right?”
You blink at him, taken out of your carefully thought-out, though rather dumb, speech. “Huh?”
“Whatever happened. With that guy. It doesn’t matter.”
You don’t feel very impressive in your pajamas, standing in your bedroom. But you cross your arms anyway.
“How could it not matter?”
“I mean, to me. Whatever happened. You still–” He swallows. “I mean, you aren’t acting like you want to break up.”
Your eyes widen. “I’m sorry?” You can hear your voice drift into that shrill range and you work to keep it even. “Why would I share my bed with–? No. No. I’m not, but you–”
His head lifts at that, having dropped after his bombshell. “But me?”
You drop your arms. “Can I just… get this out?”
His smile is tiny, but encouraging, like he can’t help but be fond. “Go on, sweetheart.”
The endearment makes you falter, but you strive on, determined. “I kissed him.”
He waits as though you plan to say more. “And?”
“That’s it. I was a little drunk, and he was nice and handsome and I figured, maybe you had a point. Maybe I just want you because you want me. So I kissed him.”
He swallows again and you watch the movement of his throat. “I see.”
“Do you?” You walk to him, intent on finding the right words to make him understand. “Do you understand that the kiss was nice, but it wasn’t you? Kissing him was like… eating my favorite meal, but not made right. He wasn’t right.” You stop walking when your legs touch his bent ones. You don’t know what to do with your hands, so you just lay them lightly on his knees. “He wasn’t you.”
Yoongi’s face can be completely unreadable, but at the moment, you think he’s in shock. He thought you’d slept with Val, which is both frustrating (you’ll never agree with him) and sad.
“I wasn’t sure you’d want to kiss me if you knew I’d kissed someone else.”
He encircles your wrists with his fingers, a little too tight. “I thought you had slept with him. And I still wanted you. A kiss…”
You interrupt him. “Do not say a kiss is nothing.”
His hold loosens. “I won’t. I just… “ His head drops and rests on your upper chest. “When you hung up, I hated myself for saying it. For encouraging you to be with someone else.”
Well, that is satisfying.
“Really?”
“Don’t sound so smug,” he replies, not looking up. “I still think–”
“No.”
He sighs. “I know.” He runs his hands up and down your forearms, raising up his head.
“Promise me you’ll never suggest it again?”
He purses his lips. “Yeah.” He glanced over at the clock, halting you from continuing. “I have to go.” He stands up, causing you to back up a few steps. Without hesitation, he cups your face in his hands and kisses you.
You melt.
There’s no other way to describe kissing him. It’s the same motions, the same body parts touching as anyone else you’d ever kissed, but it was different. It is different.
You realize you’ve rarely kissed anyone, loaded with feelings as you are right now. A sad commentary on your love life, but even the first night, kissing Yoongi was different.
Better.
“I’ll be home before supper, okay?” he says against your mouth. You kiss him again, gripping his t-shirt. “Can I use your car?”
“Yes. I plan to not do anything all day.”
He smiles, making you open your eyes to gaze at him. “I’m jealous.”
“You wanna stay and ‘not do,’ with me?”
“If I stay, we’re definitely doing something.” He punctuates the suggestion with another kiss, lingering this time, his fingers tracing along the curve of your ears.
“You might want to put on pants before you go.”
“You think?” he says, chuckling before letting go of you. He walks around to your closet. You watch as he pulls a haphazardly folded pair of jeans off the shelf in the corner. As he puts them on, he speaks again: “You emptied a drawer.”
“Yes. I thought you might need one.” You don’t say that you debated it for about three days before clearing out the ridiculous amount of t-shirts you own (how many is too many?). You don’t say that you’ve never made space in your home for someone. A guest room is one thing. A drawer is something else entirely.
“Thanks.” He buttons his jeans, allowing him to slide his hands into his pockets. “You sure about the car?”
“Of course. I might sleep more.”
He bites his lower lip to keep from grinning too wide before pulling you in for a hug. “I’ll hurry home.”
“Okay.”
“Thank you for telling me. Even if it doesn’t matter.”
“It does.”
“It matters to you. But it doesn’t change anything for me.” He rubs his cheek on the top of your head. “You can show me all your pictures when I get back.”
You just nod, holding him closer.
“Jagiya?” He notices. He notices everything.
“It was a long month.”
His breath catches before he replies. “Yeah.” He draws back. “Go back to bed.” Another kiss to your forehead and he heads out of the bedroom. You don’t move for several seconds, listening to him gather his things, including your keys. When the door closes, you mouth the words you want to say, trying them out.
You don’t give them voice. Not yet.
---
You doze for an hour or so after he leaves, your nose buried in his pillow before drifting off, wondering how he smells both comforting and desirable (much like the man himself). It takes a little while, your brain back to dissecting your plans, thoughts, feelings, and in general, the very makeup of you.
But jet lag is stronger than your ability to overanalyze and sleep does come. When you wake again, you feel better; maybe not emotionally, but your brain is less hazy. Enough to go through work emails that you avoided during your trip (out of sight, out of mind), learning that someone left suddenly and you are now no longer an assistant professor.
You pause, staring at the email.
You send a quick text.
:: I just got promoted.
It’s several minutes before a response comes in.
bff:: bout damn time
yoongi:: while you were gone? that’s talent
You smile at both texts.
:: I’m kinda still in shock.
yoongi:: i’ll bring home something to celebrate, okay? gotta go. congrats, birthday girl
The moniker surprises you. He seems to prefer ‘jagiya’ to anything else, saying it like it’s your real name. Does he still think of you like that? The bold but naive woman who approached him in a club, resulting in a one-night stand that has now lasted almost half a year, at least in communication.
You grab the book you’d taken with you on the trip, that you’d never gotten round to finishing and decide that maybe you’ll forget for a few hours, enough to finish the book and perhaps Yoongi will be home.
You close your eyes at your own thoughts. Home.
It’s not completely gone from your mind, but the book is entertaining enough to make two hours pass relatively quickly. You haven’t moved for those two hours and you can feel it. So, you close your laptop and walk back to your bedroom, standing in the doorway to see the stack of jeans on your closet shelf.
You’ve lived most of your life alone, and often in your own thoughts and feelings. Many times someone you offered your heart to wasn’t interested, citing reasons that you fall short. Making you feel like you misinterpreted anything that had appeared like affection, fondness, or interest.
You aren’t making this up now, right? You’re not alone in this. You can’t be.
Inclined to picture the worst scenario, you comfort yourself that this might be devastating, but you risked it. You won’t play it safe.
“Hey.”
You jump, so completely in your thoughts that you didn’t hear the car approach, the door or even his footsteps. You spin around to see him at the end of the short hall. He holds up a bottle.
“What’s that?”
“Something sweet and bubbly. You like that.”
“You’re home for lunch?”
“Yeah.” He shrugs, walking toward you, glancing at his watch. “A late lunch. It’s nearly three, jagiya.”
Your grasp of time is really off currently. He leans in to kiss you.
“You didn’t hear me?”
“I was… thinking.”
He draws back, eyebrows raised. “That sounds ominous.”
He’s not wrong.
“You’re not denying it.” He sets the bottle on the washing machine, placing his hands on your shoulders. “What’s going on? You just got promoted. I thought I could take you out for dinner. I’d really like to see you tipsy when I can actually touch you.” His smirk is mischievous and when you don’t smile back, his eyes lose their mirth. “I thought we were good.”
“We are. I just…” You should wait, right? For the right moment, for the perfect setting. “I need to tell you something.”
His hands drop from you, a glaze over his eyes. “That’s… not good.”
“It could be.” Why are you talking? Just say it. He’s taking you out to dinner for a tiny promotion, something that no one but those who care for you would do: your parents, your bff.
“Jagiya… I really don’t want you–”
“I love you.”
Your confession would interrupt the man you love who almost sounds like he’s saying he doesn’t want you. But you’re trusting him. And yourself.
“What?” You had no idea his voice could go that high.
You take a deep breath, deciding to relish the words because who knew when you’d get to say them again.
“I love you.”
Gobsmacked.
You’ve never actually seen the expression so clearly on someone’s face, but Yoongi is gobsmacked.
Which makes your confidence teeter just a little.
Maybe you should have waited for a nice dinner, the setting and atmosphere all romantic. Maybe not in the middle of your hallway, the bottle of something sweet and bubbly dripping condensation onto the white metal lid of your washing machine. Maybe wearing something a little nicer than yoga pants and a t-shirt. Maybe with Yoongi having styled his hair, not under a beanie.
Maybe you fucked it all up.
He still hasn’t said anything.
“You don’t have to say it back.” That’s what they say in the movies, right? Even though that is probably the only thing you want to hear in this very moment of your rather uneventful, certainly boring life.
What would it be like to hear someone say ‘I love you’ and not because it’s family or friends? The love; eros, romantic, the wanting of someone for life. A partner. A person you choose.
A person who chooses you. Chooses you first. Not last, or in second place. You’re the one he chooses.
“Yoongi?” You reach out to put your hand near his nose, just to make sure he’s breathing. It’s silly, but he really looks frozen.
“You love me.”
Can you get an allergic reaction from words? Your face feels so hot, like the sun is beneath your skin, blasting outward.
“Yes.”
Is this what it means when writers write ‘time stopped’? You always thought it might be a good thing. The world disappears and time stops. But right now, all you feel is a weird combination of both relief (you finally said it) and anxiety (what the fuck is going to happen now?).
“You… love me.”
This is not how you saw this going in any imagined scenario.
“Yes.” You move your hand to rest on his cheek. His eyes close. “I think you are one of the most wonderful men I’ve ever met. Ever known. I know I always seem nervous or jumpy, but being with you is so safe. You are–” Oh great, you’re gonna tear up. How many times has he seen you cry by now? “You’re the person I always want to be with.”
He releases a shuddery breath before turning his head to press his lips to the inside of your palm. Your heart rate, already rather staccato, speeds up. He meets your eyes and you curse how not helpful the one hall light is in revealing anything about his gaze.
Like a brighter light could help you understand this man.
“Yoongi?”
He shakes his head, moving in toward you, ushering you backwards and into your room. You stumble against the side of your bed. His hands fit round your waist to help you sit on the edge.
Perhaps you are now gobsmacked.
The hand kiss meant something good, right? He wouldn’t do that if he was bothered, or burdened, or just in it for sex, right?
You want to speak again, but you press your lips together and wait. Hoping that he’ll say something to ease the marathon of thoughts in your head.
“I am so fucking in love with you.” It comes out of him like water released from a dam, bursting and gushing. His head is dropped, as though the mere act of speaking has exhausted him.
Now time stops.
He looks up, those dark eyes sharp and burning.
You can’t speak.
“You’re so giving and warm. You have your shit together. You don’t need a barely-making-it-by grad student, almost out of school, with no secure job in a completely unstable industry. I live with guys, pretty much everything I own fits into one tiny bedroom.” He swallows and you see his fingers dig into your bedspread on either side of your hips. “You don’t need me.” He tilts his head to the side, half-smiling at you. “You’re crying.”
You hadn’t noticed. You wipe your eyes, mostly so he doesn’t go blurry. This is the moment of all moments to be savored. To be remembered.
“You’re also the person I always want to be with.” His hands find your hips, one thumb dipping under the waistband to touch your skin.
He waits, that little half-smile never wavering. You try to stop crying. You are more or less unsuccessful.
“Please say it again.”
“Which part?”
“Any.”
He chuckles, low and deep, before leaning in to kiss you softly. “I love you.” He cuts off any reply, mouth back on yours, not softly. You open to him, your hands eagerly seeking his hair as he nudges your knees apart with his leg.
Can you hold him closer? Can you hold him too tightly? You want to be so close that not even air can separate you. He groans when you tug his hair after dislodging his beanie.
His mouth leaves yours only to trail down to your neck. You gasp and he chuckles into your skin.
“My pretty, sensitive girl.” He looks up at you, frowning. “You’re still crying.”
“I’m… overwhelmed.”
He makes a face at you. “You’re dumb. How could I not fall in love with you?” He gently pushes you so you fall back on the bed, letting him climb over you, his arms bracing so only his lower half touches yours.
You shudder.
He smirks.
“I thought… we were doing dinner?” he asks playfully, sliding his leg back between yours, pressing his knee right against your core. “Aren’t you hungry?”
You glare at him, even though you’re trembling with need right now.
“Now you say something like ‘Yes, I'm hungry. Hungry for you’ or you know, some variation.” He looks so pleased with himself that you grab his shirt by the collar, pulling him down so you can kiss that stupid smirking mouth. He grunts at the move, but acquiesces to sliding his tongue along yours, one hand guiding your leg to bend and wrap around him. His other hand slips under your t-shirt, calloused fingers pleasant against the soft skin of your stomach.
Then your stomach growls.
He breaks the kiss, rolling over and laughing hysterically. You can feel your face burn with embarrassment and you cover your betraying body part with your arms. He’s still giggling when he rolls to his side to stare at you.
“Let’s go out.”
You stare back. “Us?”
“Yeah. Let me take you out. We’ll eat, drink, be merry.” He leans in, nosing and kissing the curve of your shoulder. “I took tomorrow off.”
“You did?”
He reaches out to lace his fingers with yours, resting both hands on your stomach. Which growls again, making him grin.
“Well, my sort of boss made me.” His eyes move away from your clasped hands to your face. “When I asked off early to be with my partner who’d been gone a month, she told me to take tomorrow off too.”
Partner.
“Is that what you call me?”
He shrugs. “Girlfriend always seemed so…”
“Young?”
He rolls his eyes. “Kinda. Just not right for what we are.” He brings your clasped hands up to his mouth, kissing yours lightly. “Partner.”
“If I say that with a southern accent, it’ll be weird.”
He grins and kisses you. “Pardner.” It’s an atrocious attempt at the dialect and you snicker.
“Keep your day job, Min Yoongi.”
He opens his mouth to respond, but once again your stomach makes noise.
“I’m gonna shower. We’ll leave in thirty?”
It’s much later. After he takes you to his favorite Cajun restaurant. After he slides in next to you in the booth, hip to hip. After he teases you for your sensitive mouth, but makes sure you have plenty of water and cocktails to drink to abate the burn. Afterwards you order crème brulée for the both of you, but you eat all of it as he grins and sips his whiskey.
It’s later. After you get an Uber, swaying slightly as he ushers you into the backseat, giving your address to the driver. You know you’re tipsy, drunk more on him and his presence than anything you consumed. He kisses you once in the back seat, squeezing your thigh to get you to stop. Which does nothing to lessen the new kind of burn. You just want him so much.
It’s after all that that you’re back home in your bedroom. He’s pulling off his army jacket (never mind that it’s midsummer and hot outside) to hook on the back of your bedroom door.
“Yoongi.”
He turns to give you his attention.
“I love you a lot.”
His smile is so soft. Almost like he doesn’t realize he’s smiling.
“Yeah?” He walks toward you. You’ve planted yourself on your bed for safety as you are still spinny from everything. “Cause I’m pretty?” He wears arrogance so well.
You nod, enjoying his face so close. You cradle his face in your hands once he’s on the bed with you.
“Pretty. Inside and out.”
The smile goes back to soft. He kisses your nose.
“You too, birthday girl.” He moves to kiss you solidly, pressing you back onto your pillows. “I really, really want to be inside you right now.” He meets your eyes. “That okay?”
You nod, taken with the gruffness of his tone, the lower register giving you tingles. He starts to peel away the simple sundress you’d put on for dinner. He starts to tug it down your frame, but you shake your head.
“What’s wrong?”
“Won’t go over my hips.”
His flash of smile is dark and tempting. He reverses, sliding it up, his hands along your sides, making you tremble. When it’s over your head, he kisses you leisurely, letting the fabric keep your arms above your head, restrained. You have a moment of doubt, of fear that he’ll leave you like this, unable to touch him.
He continues to kiss you, biting your lower lip as he removes the dress from you entirely, letting it fall on the side of the bed.
“I won’t ever do anything without asking, or checking in with you, jagiya.”
You’re so easy to read.
“I’m sorry.”
He shakes his head, looking down at your underwear-clad body. “No apologies.” He sits up on his knees, his hands running back down your sides until he’s at your waist, his thumbs right under your ribs.
You squirm.
“Ticklish?” He doesn’t really want an answer, continuing his path now at your hips, his fingers brushing along the width and roundness of them, where the bone protrudes slightly, where it’s all cushioned because you will never be skinny. “I had dreams of your body, its shape when you were gone.”
You try and sit up, but he hooks a finger in your underwear, tugging it down just a bit. He chuckles when you squeeze your legs together.
“You did?”
“I keep thinking I can somehow get that into my music. But no effect quite works.” He raises up off of you, removing your underwear completely. “Fuck, I have missed every part of you.”
You turn your head, unable to watch him stare at your cunt like that.
“Embarrassed, jagiya?”
“I’m still adjusting to someone wanting my body… and me.”
He waits until you look back at him, eyes both heated and soft before sliding down to kiss and lick your folds. You make an indescribable noise and he laughs against your skin. You try and squeeze again, but he has one hand on your inner thigh and he’s holding you open.
A month is a long time and you hardly feel like you have time to enjoy his gifted mouth when you come, your body shuddering with waves of release. He doesn’t move away until you push at his head, causing him to sit back up and wink at you. He removes his shirt, wiping his face on it and letting it fall, probably next to your discarded dress. He’s quiet when you sit up, shaky from your orgasm, but determined to get rid of his pants and underwear. He idly traces his finger along the cups of your bra.
You shove down his pants to his thighs, then his boxer briefs. He hisses when you take him in hand.
“Too harsh?” you ask, worried you gripped him too hard in your eagerness to make him feel good.
“No…” He grins sheepishly at you. “Just really missed your hand.”
You roll your eyes. “It’s a hand.”
He wraps his own around yours as you stroke him, smearing his precum to make him slick. His hand tightens around yours making you look up.
“It’s yours.”
You feel tears again, so you lift up to your knees to kiss him. He sighs into your mouth, his free hand sliding to the back of your head, fingers in your hair. He pulls firmly, making you bare your throat to him. The sounds his mouth makes against your skin only add to the already obscene soundtrack.
Then his hand stops yours from moving.
“You good?” you ask as he loosens his hold on your hair. His face is flushed, glistening with exertion, lips shiny and pink. You kiss him, breathing him in. He inhales sharply, hands on your shoulders to push you back on the bed. He moves some of your pillows, propping you up some, his hand gently keeping your head from hitting the headboard. “I love you.”
He looks up. “I love you. Saranghae.”
You mouth the foreign word back.
He smiles, eyes bright before he puts one more pillow behind your head. He lifts one of your legs and slides in. You both moan in tandem.
“Oh fuck,” he mutters. “Fuck, you feel good.”
“Absence makes the heart grow fonder?” You barely can speak, but you get that out. His nose flares at your teasing and his only retort is to pull out and push back in, rendering you silent.
No matter how long you get this, you know it won’t ever be ‘just sex’ to you. It still mystifies you: both the ordinariness of it, and the sacredness of it. It’s just bodies, doing something that bodies have been doing for millenia. And yet.
Yet.
There’s no way to put it into words, just how much having Yoongi this close affects you. You won’t come from this. You don’t. But it doesn’t matter. He will. Tugging on his hair, kissing his jaw, his neck, moving in rhythm with him will make him feel good.
Just like he makes you feel good.
You hope you make him feel as good, cared for, and loved as he does for you. That’s what love is, right? Just giving and giving to the other person as they give and give to you.
You hope so. You can’t wait to know for sure.
When he falls on top of you, exhausted and spent, you play with his hair, feeling his rough breath panting against your chest. You kiss the top of his head.
“You good?” you ask after a few minutes.
“Yeah, jagiya.” He kisses your collarbone. “I’m good. I might fall asleep like this.”
“Okay.”
You feel his body vibrate with his chuckles. “I don’t think it’ll be comfortable for you.”
“I don’t care.”
He pushes himself up and off you, pulling out and you both wince. “Come on. Let’s clean up and go to bed. We can sleep in tomorrow.”
You nod tiredly and take his proffered hand and get off the bed too. You clean yourself up in the bathroom as he strips the bed. You pull on one of his t-shirts from his drawer and he smirks at the sight of you in it. While he pops into the shower, you put on new sheets.
Your phone, discarded on the dresser, flashes with a message. You smooth out the comforter before opening your phone to see.
bff:: hell yeah he loves you! don’t forget to hydrate while having marathon sex. you don’t want to pass out.
You show Yoongi the text when he comes back in and you’re laughing. He smiles wide, gums and teeth showing.
“Should I tell her we’re about to go to sleep?”
He takes your phone from you, setting it back on the dresser. He wraps his arm around your waist, pulling you under the clean sheets and against him.
“Let her think that and I’ll make it up to you with marathon sex and water to drink in the morning.” He buries his face in your hair, holding you close. You turn to face him, hands resting on his chest. His eyes already shut, face smooth in repose.
“Do you think you can say ‘I love you’ too many times?” you ask quietly. He scrunches his nose, telling you that he heard you.
“Don’t know. Let’s find out.”
—–
part 14
---
crossposted to ao3
—-
© 2020-21 btsarmy9593: BTS belongs to BigHit and they are just inspiration. I am fully aware that my stories are not them, in any way. They are far better than any thing I could write. The rest is from my little brain. Please do not steal. Why would you do that?
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hobidreams · a month ago
Text
summer 1871.
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not you. not you. not you.
pairing: joseon king!yoongi x reader words: 2.4k contains: explicit sexual content, brief talk of miscarriage
moonlit throne index. this is drabble 38. start from the beginning?
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JULY
Her name is Seong-min.
She is to be the bandage pressed onto the disaster the Americans have left behind in their hasty retreat to China, after the king redirected forces and sent further reinforcements to Jakyak Island to fully drive them out of Joseon waters. Indeed, while the foreign soldiers might physically be elsewhere, the threat of them, bolstered by fresh memories of the initial brutality at Ganghwa, continues to leer over the country you love.
Thus, a royal marriage, with all the festivities it brings, becomes the perfect distraction.
It’s an all-encompassing way to reinforce the people’s pride in Joseon and the ruling family, while providing a needed boost to the economy. Even the royal advisors on Yoongi’s side have to admit this. Even you must admit this, even though the taste of it lingers unbearably bitter in your mouth.
These days, Yoongi is kept far too occupied with his duties, all the international politics, to visit you. It is just as well, you think as you crush herbs to smithereens in your stone bowl. The distance will prepare you, ease you into the life you will have after the official ceremony. An existence without him, since you cannot ever be an official concubine. Besides, he has never suggested such an arrangement in the first place. (And you are smart enough to understand what that implies all on your own.)
The smallest blessing is that so far, you have managed to mostly stay away from Seong-min. She tends to spend her time in her own quarters, the temporary ones allotted to her pending a move to Gyotaejeon Hall after she officially becomes queen. You’ve caught a glance of her only once, by accident, when you were walking across the grounds to treat one of the palace maids. She was surrounded by attendants, draped in luxurious clothes. You purposefully turned your head away then, not knowing if she would recognize you. Afraid of what she might do if she did, with all the power she now has.
The bowl in your hands slips. It clatters, spinning away on the table as it nearly plummets to the ground. “Ah—!” You fumble for it, catching it just in time to save its contents from spilling everywhere.
But then a small knock sounds, interrupting your relief. You brace. What now? What could come for you now?
“Uinyeo-nim?”
The soft, calming voice sends a new ripple of comfort through you.
“Come in.”
Scholar Park pads into your workspace clutching books, one of which being a volume of Master Taehyun’s work that he borrowed a few days prior. He sets it down on the table. “Thank you for letting me borrow this! I was scolded by the head scholar when I overslept this morning but…” The darkness under his eyes can’t stop his mischievous glimmer. “I couldn’t stop reading.”
“Glad you enjoyed it,” you say, trying for a smile but you can feel how your face strains from the small effort. Your tone is no more cheerful either, despite your want to put on at least the illusion of normalcy.
Scholar Park smiles, but falls quiet as he slides into a chair. He watches you work for a few minutes, his tiny hand tucked under his chin. Then, to your surprise, he gets up and slides the door closed behind him.
“Um,” you start. Confucius convention dictates that you and him, being unmarried and of opposite genders, are never to be alone in the same room as each other. The door, at the very least, must remain open to prove the lack of wrongdoing, that he is not taking advantage of one of the palace women.
“I won’t stay long,” Scholar Park says at the alarm in your expression. “I just didn’t want to be overheard.” He takes his gat off his head, holding it in his hands. “I just… Are you… Are you alright?”
In this moment, he looks so much like the young boy you often forget he is, his eyes huge and full of worry. You almost want to lie to him anyway, to not involve him in this mess of your own making but there are so few people you can confide in. Even less you can fully trust.
You shake your head. Even though you told yourself no more just a few hours ago, the prickle of tears threatens to crest. “No.” Your body feels so heavy, suddenly fatigued as if it were the fault of the admittance itself. “Not even in the slightest.”
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AUGUST
Trapped in the sticky throes of a summer afternoon, you lie in bed and imagine what it would be like to simply fade away. Wouldn’t it be cool and quiet if you could just let your mind drift into the royal gardens’ pond? If you could float in its clear waters and forget everything?
You have just come from meeting Seong-min.
It was part of your duties as the su-uinyeo, of course. Who else but you would be better suited for taking care of such an important woman? A most cruel punishment, that it will have to be you to aid her for the rest of your lives. You squeeze your eyes shut at the haunting thought.
The first thing you’d noticed when you entered her chambers was that she was different from Beom-su. Whereas the daughter of the Minister of Taxation had been a young girl, fragile and delicate in her beautiful elegance, Seong-min was strong. She demanded attention with her presence alone as she sat upright on her chair, her hanbok a vibrant, almost bloody red.
“Su-uineyo-nim.” She’d greeted you politely, with a nod. Her voice was deeper than you’d expected, and carried a confidence that was fitting for a future queen. “Thank you for coming to see me.”
“It is my honor,” you said, bowing to her, reminding yourself to keep your face neutral. “Please let me know if you have any medical needs or concerns in the future.”
“Certainly.” Her made-up face revealed nothing of the answers you desperately sought. How much did she know? How much had she been told? Did she know that her betrothed still came to your door at his whim, leaving invisible traces of himself like fingerprints all over your life and soul?
Your short visit soon ended like this, unanswered questions simmering in your mind like they had been for months. A new puzzlement was in there too: one about Seong-min herself. You hadn’t been able to read her whatsoever. Her red-dyed lips had been smiling, but it didn’t feel friendly. But it hadn’t felt vicious or fraudulent either. It remained a mystery you could not solve, for your brain felt as jittery as your legs.
You have no idea how you made your way back to your room. And though you carried a vague idea to continue your work on the returning journey, you somehow ended up here: on your back, limbs useless by your side, as if they’ve lost the will to animate altogether.
“You’ve done this before,” you say out loud to the empty room, as if that could convince yourself more effectively. “You’ve let him go.”
But even as your mouth forms the words, lungs forcing the sounds out into the air, you know it’s a lie. You know damn well what Beom-su had done to you. You still carry that fear around with you like a knot, one that refuses to unravel no matter how you pick at it in the late hours of night.
“Let him go,” you repeat, voice thickening with each syllable. You press the bottom of your palms into your eyelids, push harder until all you know is the pressure of oncoming darkness. “Let him go.”
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SEPTEMBER
Because you have now admitted that love makes you foolish, you don’t protest when Yoongi comes to your door bathed in evening’s moonlight, even though he is to be wed in a few short weeks.
Because you have always been weak, you let him strip you wordlessly even though the fingers that stroke down your body are the same that were bestowing royal regalia upon Seong-min a few days prior at the coronation ceremony you could not bring yourself to attend. The mouth that kisses you is one that declared another woman his formal queen to most of the palace. And yet, you want him.
Atop a mess of silk bedsheets, he rocks into you, naked skin sliding against skin. Your noises are louder than usual, his heavier next to your ear. He takes pleasure and returns it to you here, the only place where the line is made somewhat equal between you both. His broad hand links into yours, fingers entwining as he thrusts with a lazy, easy pace. As if you had time.
“You are mine,” he says, gasping it as he takes you so deeply you can feel him in your stomach.
And yes, yes, you have always been his, but he is about to be someone else’s. You cling to him anyway, let the petty part of you dream about scoring his back with your nail marks again as you greedily accept all he is willing to give.
Even after he has driven you both to a rough, noisy climax, after his seed is sent into a handkerchief and all you can do is pant, he doesn’t move from his knees. He looks down at you, chest pumping as he regains his breath. He looks like he wants to say something, so you wait. You are accustomed to waiting.
The king clears his throat.
“How I feel towards you,” he starts carefully, his voice soft, “that will not change. Even after the ceremonies have finished.”
Won’t it?
Hasn’t it already?
“Oh, jeonha…”
From beneath, you cup his face. Run your thumb lightly over the jagged scar, feeling the proof of how much he has already suffered for his crown. Can you truly add more, another complication, to his life? He is so warm under your touch, as you try to chisel this feeling into your palm. This is always the way it has had to go. Still, your voice shivers violently, uncontrollably when you whisper, “shall we end this? End us?”
He stiffens. Shock, and maybe hurt, crosses his expression when he straightens, but doesn’t rear back or away. He grabs your wrist. You expect him to yank your hand away from his vulnerability but instead he holds your skin flush against his scar. “Do you know how I got this?”
Your ignored question still rattling in your mind, you fight the tears that threaten to resurface. “N-Not the details, no.” What does he mean by this pivot? Is he trying to distract you, knowing that you don’t have anything near the strength needed to ask him again?
“It was one of my father’s concubines. She was pregnant, and the soothsayers predicted it would be a son.”
You say your realization out loud. “She wanted the throne.”
“Yes. So she hired assassins. Five of them, to ensure it was done.”
Gods. He was only nine. To have grown men looking to slaughter him simply for being born royalty. And Queen Jeonghui had faced them on her own to protect her child.
“My father covered it up. Even though it was rare for a viable pregnancy, he exiled the concubine. Renounced the child. Couldn’t have there be a precedent for such actions going unpunished, since I was his only guaranteed successor. The child was lost soon after anyway, before birth could occur.” He can’t stop anger and pain from seeping into his voice. “But even with her gone… She was far from the only one who hated my mother for being the official queen.”
You’ve never told Yoongi about what you have endured from his father’s concubines and certain palace women, but from the way he looks at you now… you get the sense he somehow already knows.
His fingers constrict around your wrist. “I’ve said it before.” He looks down, blonde hair waterfalling around you both. “I don’t want to put you in that position. Even though… Even though at one point, at my worst, I thought that was the only way I could have you. If I told myself to think of you as…”
“A whore.”
He exhales. Pushes back onto his knees. You miss his warmth almost immediately, a poor sign for how well you’ll be able to bear this loss when the night is over. For now, you let your instincts draw you up onto your elbows. Closer.
“Yes.” He shakes his head. “I… I was misguided. And I refuse to do that to you again.”
You think, absently, that you didn’t need to know this truth. That it only adds yet another reason why you could never truly be together. In the end, your luck could only carry your skipping stone so far and as you look at him, you can almost hear the thunk of rock plunging down and down into the icy depths of that hidden pond. Never to be seen again.
“Okay,” you say, quietly, because there is nothing else you could say. “I understand.” This is the end.
“No. No, you don’t.” His voice is rushed and if you didn’t know better, you’d think him nervous. “Despite all this. Fuck.” Formal language gives way to the casual, to the vulnerable. “Even though I know what a king should do, I— I want to ask you to stay. I want to promise that I won’t do the same things my father did.”
Your heart leaps. He’s looking at you, full of expectancy. He holds so much of you in his hands. Let him go. Staying in this ambiguous thing means endless uncertainty. You would be stuck in limbo, having none of the respect of an official concubine but still subject to the cruelty, the judgments of the entire palace. Wouldn’t you truly become a whore then? Let him go.
You push up all the way now, the biggest fool in the universe. “Jeonha.” You think you know now what flowers must feel like at the onset of winter, how they cling to their last petals so desperately even though it all must fall. “I am yours.”
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a/n: a long-awaited conversation... do you think our king will keep his promises?
chat with me | support me on kofi ♡
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jiminrings · 2 months ago
Text
take five
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pairing: yoongi x reader
wordcount: 10k
glimpse: dr. min yoongi’s a board-certified dermatologist; skilled, renowned, and in-demand — oh and also, he’s divorced.
alternatively, you’re yoongi’s nurse and you have a crush on him, and he gives you five chances to ask him out — he never said anything about accepting though.
[ angst, fluff, unrequited love, so much pining ]
notes: inspired by yang seok-hyeong and choo min-ha’s dynamic from hospital playlist!! you don’t necessarily have to watch it in order to read this :D this idea has been sitting in my notes for like a year now (yikes) and i’ve only found the wILL to do it now!! took a short break because i’ve been mostly just pumping out stem koo for the past months, but here’s a yoongi piece to cleanse everyone’s palate!! this has got to be one of my favorite pieces ever hee-hee
as always, lmk what you think <3 send in feedback/requests/love to my askbox anytime!!
[ part two ]
“Now where the hell did you hear that?”
Yoongi looks at you incredulously and for a moment, you think you’ve actually hit homerun with your stupid myth of the day because not only does he roll his eyes at you, he also scoffs and stops in his tracks.
“Just somewhere,” you mumble under your breath and hope that Yoongi doesn’t ask you for the exact source and citation because he already looks irked with what he just heard. “But they say it’s true though! If you don’t immediately drink water when you start having hiccups, you would have a breakout the next day or hours later, even.”
There is bliss in ignorance.
There is bliss and beauty in ignorance and it comes in the form of knitted brows and an agape mouth on Dr. Min, his eyes trained on you as if you asked him the stupidest question he's ever heard (you probably did) in his career and perhaps his lifetime.
Every week, from Monday to Saturday, Yoongi comes to his own clinic between the window of 8 to 8:15 in the morning wearing a bucket hat and his choice of clothing to wear under his white coat. Only his right hand would be occupied by the Louis Vuitton Keepall Bandoulière 45 bag, which he later tosses as soon as he enters the clinic and see his employees scramble to catch and save it, just to give himself a little chuckle every morning. He really couldn't care less if none of them manage to catch it, but it's kind of nice having a pointless yet joyful routine.
Additionally, every week, from Monday to Saturday, you come to Serendipity Aesthetics at 7:00 AM to drop off your things so you could walk to the expensive coffee shop to buy equally overrated coffee because after all, your place of work is in the heart of the luxury district. Between the window of 8 to 8:15, Dr. Min walks in and throws his designer bag into the air, to which every employee tries to catch so there wouldn't be a single scratch (but everyone knows that he literally wouldn't care if nobody could save it), and every single time, you're the one who catches his bag.
Also, every week, from Monday to Saturday, you make sure that you're Dr. Min's first interaction of the day.
It always starts with a pathetic skincare myth that you ask him to verify while he either confirms or denies it for you while walking to his office, giving him his coffee that you buy with your own money. It originally started with you searching compilations online and eventually, they got so boring and repetitive that you started making up your own.
The more ridiculous it is, the more reaction you get from Yoongi.
You quickly learned that by now and every morning, you get to see the way he furrows his eyebrows and you're convinced that if you say your myth in a defensive and completely-swayed tone, Dr. Min would actually look at you to deadpan.
This time, however, you probably struck gold.
"I would actually fire you if you even thought for a second that it would be true."
Granted, maybe the gold you thought you've struck is just plated and would turn green overnight.
"Very funny, Dr. Min. No explanation today?" you try to coax one from him because the door to his office is looking especially near and he doesn't allow you to enter anyway.
"I think it's pretty self-explanatory that I studied to be a doctor for more than a decade, have my own clinic, and threatened to fire you for your useless myth of the day, don't you think?" he hums lowly, wiping his finger to press his code onto his door.
"You do have a point," you sheepishly mumble at being outed more harshly for your tactics, "can I ask you something else though?"
Yoongi's eyes are glued on his phone as he just waves you off to both shoo and acknowledge you at the same time, leaning his weight to the door so he could both watch the highlight reel of a show he watched just last week and carry his bag.
"Later. I'm busy."
"No problem!" you stammer because you're not sure if you're ready to ask him anyway, wordlessly pushing the door open for him because he's deeply immersed on his phone. "Can I ask you over lunch? I-..."
... know a place.
Yoongi's door already closes on your face as the result of him kicking it backwards as he enters, making you take a step back to gather yourself.
You are not ready at all to ask him.
It's no secret that you have a crush on Dr. Min. Not at all. Practically everyone knows how head-over-heels you are for him; even the man himself actually.
It was embarrassing at first when it sinked into you that everyone collectively knows how you trail after him like a stray kitten whose gotten their first feed of the day, but later on, it’s something you actively and unnecessarily took pride in.
That way, you could ward off any other people in the clinic who has an eye on him! Dr. Park says that it’s the equivalent of a dog peeing on a fire hydrant within a street that nobody likes to walk in, but you just dismiss his comment as per usual. You’re sure that it’s impossible that no one likes him a little more than usual as an employee would, but perhaps they’re just not as showy as you are.
You can't pinpoint exactly why you have a crush on him because truth be told, you liked him in entirety. It was gradual, sure, but you liked him as a whole even from the start. Something about him’s so pulling that you find yourself complaining silently sometimes.
Liking him is easy. The variables aren't.
It just so happens that Dr. Min doesn't like you in that way, or in any way at all, but that’s okay. There’s nothing wrong with that. Everybody starts from zero at one point.
"Not to burst your bubble, buttercup, but you do know that Yoongi used to have a wife, right?"
Jimin, the cosmetic surgeon of Serendipity Aesthetics and Yoongi's business partner, asks you. He has no ill intent — he actually finds it adorable to see you pining after his best friend who's done nothing but turn you down.
It’s harsh, entertaining, but not laughable. Even the secondhand embarrassment and heartbreak makes Jimin look away whenever you ask Yoongi about his weekend. It’s a game of cat and mouse, but the only difference is that the mouse is unfazed and untouchable, and the cat's scared yet determined.
Coincidentally, Jimin's your childhood friend. Both his and your parents would assign him to watch over you even if he's just some years ahead of you. It even strengthened the bond of you treating him as an older brother and him fulfilling the role well, just as annoyingly.
Your communication hasn't been consistent especially when he entered medical school, which is why you've rarely ever heard about Yoongi before you even worked here. None of it matters though because it feels that you’ve been with Jimin for a lifetime in a literal sense, feeling a stroke of fate because somehow, he’s the common string that bridged you and Dr. Min unknowingly.
You like him a healthy amount. In a very respectful, healthy, almost pitiful amount.
"Yeah. I knew that," you sigh dejectedly, stirring your iced coffee that’s already gotten too watered-down for your taste. “She’s the model, right?"
How could you not?
How could you not know who Dr. Min’s ex-wife is because even before you worked in his and Jimin’s clinic, you’ve already heard of her?
You once saw her in an LED billboard once at a prime spot in a busy street. You saw her face on a promotional liquor poster in a convenience store without knowing that she was the wife of your then-crush (who you didn’t know yet) at the time. You see her large signature on the wall at a restaurant you regularly eat at but don’t have the appetite for nowadays.
"Mhmm, Jihye."
Jimin hums in agreement, spooning a portion from your plate and into his mouth because you’re too preoccupied to swat his hand away.
"Is she your best friend?"
Jimin rolls his eyes playful at the tone of your voice who’s suddenly gotten meek. "No, that's you, buttercup.”
You atleast feel comforted that Dr. Min’s ex-wife, whom you barely know, hasn’t managed to snatch perhaps your favorite person in the whole world. She once had Yoongi and that’s something you can stomach because it’s their life you’re not a part of, but something tells you that you’d be a little more bummed to know that Jimin and her are close just like the two of you.
“We were friends at best because I'm close to Yoongi and well... y'know..." He coughs awkwardly, eyes hesitantly looking up at you before he buries his face to the noodles to the point he could feel the steam rise to his face. "I was the best man at their wedding."
Jimin notices the way your mouth is just fixed on your dumpling, unmoving. It's only rare that you ask him about Dr. Min because there's always the guilt that you're just using your friendship with Jimin as leverage to know more about his colleague, but in the few times that you do ask about him, it always has something to do with major facts you can't immediately grasp your head around.
"Don't worry! They were in a relationship for three years, and only married for one. They knew each other even before Yoongi became a resident."
"That does not help me, Jimin. At all."
He only sheepishly scratches the back of his head, going back to his words which he now realizes did nothing to make you feel better.
"Relax. If you say something superlatively dumb enough for your skincare myths, he'll probably take the hint and date you out of pity."
You unclench your mouth on the dumpling, finding no will to chew it now that Jimin, once again, opened his mouth. "Made it even worse, actually."
He's no stranger to you feeling bummed but he knows that he's somehow in a bind because he's in a point of conflict between you and Yoongi, both his best friends. He can't exactly give you false hope in order to cheer you up, but he can't lie either and say that you don't have a solid fighting chance with Yoongi.
You're frowning but he knows you understand, well-aware that you'd recuperate soon enough.
"Cheer up. Just ask him out and if he denies you, then be it! I had a hand in designing this clinic, remember? It's big enough for you to avoid him."
"Not sure if I should feel inspired or discouraged," you tut under your breath, pressing your forehead down the table so you could ignore him while he leaves you alone. "Thanks, Dr. Park."
Jimin rolls his eyes at the nickname you use to spite him and only call him when the other employees are around, in which case there aren't, just because he did the equivalent of making you gulp orange juice after brushing your teeth like his sudden "I was the best man at Yoongi's wedding" revelation.
You don't know how long your forehead's been pressed to the table but it feels long enough to the point you hear a familiar set of footsteps you didn't anticipate to come this soon, immediately straightening your posture.
"Dr. Min! You're here!"
Yoongi looks up from his phone and nods, completely unsurprised that you're here in the breakroom at the exact moment that he comes in.
"Dr. Park bought everyone lunch today, yours is in this bag," you gesture to the meal you've separated and took the initiative of writing his name on so no one would "accidentally" claim it for themselves because it's always the one with the extra sauce and napkins.
He only hums as he plops down to the seat parallel to the paper bag, not registering it at all that you did it on purpose so he'd be sitting beside you. You didn't actually think he'd fall for it, but it's one of the times you feel indebted to his eager attention to his phone because he doesn't notice.
Yoongi sets his phone down on the table as it's held up by his convenient popsocket, immersed in slurping his own noodles to be oblivious of you who's close to losing your shit right beside him.
The opportunity is sitting right next to you and you didn't expect it to come this soon because if you knew that Dr. Min would be setting off your tentative plans unknowingly with how everything's coming to place, you probably would've rehearsed endlessly in front of a mirror.
"Can I ask my question now?"
Dr. Min's in the middle of chewing when you ask but he doesn't flinch, already aware that you ask him so much questions within a day that he feels like he's working with a nosey toddler.
"Go. You're gonna ask it anyway," he replies monotonously and continues chewing, bringing more noodles to his mouth even if his cheeks haven't deflated yet.
His nonchalance is what simultaneously intimidates and eggs you on, finding the words leaving your mouth with no filter at all.
"Can I ask you to go out with me? I'll only ask you five times and after that, I'm gonna get off your tail."
There's no beat of silence because Yoongi keeps chewing and you're sure you heard a chuckle in-between, looking at his side profile while holding your breath. You're just about to apologize for crossing a line you've been toeing for the better portion of a year when he looks at you once, briefly and lazily.
"Okay."
The word doesn't immediately click in your mind as you stumble with spelling out the letters in your head. Are you hearing it right? Is this just a side-effect of Jimin randomly clapping his hands beside your ears when you're getting groggy?
"O-okay? As in, yes?"
"Okay as in yes, you can ask me to go out with you," Dr. Min clarifies calmly, a ghost of a smile appearing on his lips when he sees the favorite part of his show appear on-screen. "Asking me to go out with you is different from going out with you."
You're shell-shocked because that's exactly what you asked of him and you're even more surprised that he interpreted it as such, the weight of his approval now dawning on you.
"Of course."
Yoongi only hums but he can't bring himself to get another bite because you don't let a second go to waste, seeing your face plead closer to his peripheral vision that he only manages to give you a side-eye.
“Can we go out later, Dr. Min? I actually checked your schedule and you have nothing booked past 4 PM!”
You try to tone down your excitement and you're glad that the expectation of him answering you in the first try is only an afterthought, because he shoots you down twice as quick as you asked.
“No.”
“Do you have plans tonight then?” you prod with a gentle smile, trying to see if you can sway him even in the slightest.
“Nope.”
“Then why don't you wanna go out with me?” there's a light-hearted frown on your face and as much as you know that it won't elicit a reaction from Dr. Min, it's only playful. There's no real accusation nor anger behind your tone.
“Because I don’t, Y/N," Yoongi actually chuckles and he looks at you as if you're the silliest goose he's ever come across a pond. "You’re on closing duty later, bye!”
( ♡ )
“Good morning to my favorite dermatologist in this whole wide world!”
Yoongi hears you greet him cheerily and it almost makes him flinch because you materialized out of nowhere. He's about to scold you for doing that because who knows if you get mistaken and accidentally give a faint-hearted client with the shock of their lifetime, he really was about to — but he sees his cinnamon bun on your hand (courtesy of Jimin telling you his favorite dessert for the price of one cheek kiss), and all the words melt from his mouth.
“Good morning.”
Dr. Min almost snatches what you're holding and you almost huff, trailing beside him as his fingers quickly undo the familiar teal box packaging of his favorite pastry.
“You forgot 'Y/N, my favorite nurse in this whole wide world'.”
“No, I’m pretty sure I didn’t forget anything," he adds for good measure but something doesn't quite fit because as much as his hand is holding a box that houses his favorite type of sweet, his other hand doesn't feel warm. There's no cylindrical cup on his hand that makes his palm just the right amount of toasty and he realizes it the hard way because he raises his hand, ready to take a sip of a whole lot of nothing.
"Where's my-"
“Here’s your coffee.”
"Thanks," Yoongi feels the familiar warmth in his hand in a second and he sighs in relief inwardly, but there's just something off. Feels that there's something actively off because it's definitely more warm than what he'd feel in his regular cup. "Huh? Why is it in a mug?"
He wonders out loud and the sight of the ceramic mug is enough culture shock from the usual lidded paper cup he sees almost every morning, looking at you as if you've told him the worst insult known to man.
You didn't exactly think that Dr. Min would react as differently as this because Jimin said that coffee is still coffee to him, but in the process, you've directly forgotten that your friend told you right after Yoongi's coffee preferences — is that he tends to be a creature of habit.
“From the shop. I-I also bought the mug from the coffee shop so I can present it as this.”
You thought Dr. Min would be pleasantly surprised as he holds the too-expensive ceramic excuse for a coffee mug, but you don't know what to anticipate as he casts his eyes down.
GO OUT WITH ME? :), written in cocoa powder amongst the white froth, a product of going to the coffee shop extra early and having to fend off the red-haired barista with the bunny smile because he thought you were asking him out.
"Mhmm," Yoongi spends a second longer looking at the foam art before he takes a big gulp and effectively washes away what you significantly paid higher for than his usual coffee, trapping your wince at the back of your throat. You're looking at his Adam's apple and he looks just one gulp away from finishing it all, and he does right in front of you. "Can't. I'm taking my mom to go shopping."
You awe unconsciously as it's a known fact within the clinic that Yoongi adores his mom a lot and you see her quite often, having extra snacks being delivered personally to the employees each time because she's a nice and sincere woman.
“I can carry the bags?" you're only half-joking, a cheesy grin on your face, but Dr. Min only shakes his head at you and disappears into his office.
That's your second chance gone as quick as the latte disappeared into Yoongi's throat, but atleast you know that he doesn't hate the beverage and he can reuse the mug.
There's still some merit in your attempt somewhere.
There's never an empty instance in the clinic. It's always full. It's a little more high-end than most clinics and you could see it in the design and layout of the clinic itself, but it doesn't mean it's fully-exclusive. You see celebrities and socialites every other day and with the hands-on nature of your work, you're not as starstruck and bothered as you used to be.
There would always be more than a handful of VIP clients but that doesn't mean they're the only clientele. Serendipity Aesthetics isn't that snooty, and it's something you can manage with.
Your work's just as tiring as the doctors' and not a lot of people credit you for it, but it's something you shove to the back of your mind at the end of the day. You only scrunch your nose under your mask when you see the 73rd trustfund baby come into the clinic for the day, unfocus your eyes so you couldn't roll them when they manage to bring in their wealth that wasn't questioned into the conversation, and move on to your next patient.
You've just finished giving a diamond peel to a breadwinner mother (whom you've had a nice chat and laugh with throughout the process) when your eyes immediately lock in to the figure that knows no queues nor other clients as she walks past, walking straight to Dr. Min's procedure room.
And of course, you don't know whether fate is on your side or not, but you're the only assistant available to assist so naturally, Hoseok, the secretary, looks at you with a knowing nod.
You don't know what to expect when you come inside the procedure room, making yourself as small as possible when you knock twice briefly and enter, standing in the corner with your eyes trained on your clipboard.
Yoongi nods at you once in acknowledgement as his attending assistant, and you can barely acknowledge him back because the Jihye, who was Mrs. Min at one point, is in your direct line of sight.
She's sitting down but you can still see her graceful posture then with her shoulders pulled back and her hair framing her face perfectly. The casual sweater ensemble she wears is probably more expensive than your whole closet could be, but the gray of it doesn't dull her out at all. There's creases on the material since she's sitting down and is therefore not taut, but the wrinkles look poised on her figure nonetheless.
Her manicured hands sit prim and proper on Dr. Min's desk and you can't help but think how they used to look with a wedding band on her ring finger, your thought process making you look at his hands that are clasped right in front of him.
She smells expensive and important, just like how Dr. Min does. Not only do they have a figurative scent of gravitas surrounding them, but they also carry it literally. When they shared a home, have they started smelling like each other at one point? Does the intoxicating smell of daisies on Jihye become Yoongi's scent on his white coat at one point?
"What do you want, Jihye?"
You find yourself holding your breath in anticipation of hearing her voice in-person, and it's everything you've ever expected.
"Undereye fillers, please. I have campaigns and Fashion Week back to back so I need a touch-up."
Expensive, important, elegant, sweet.
Yoongi sighs under his breath, standing up from his seat to examine closer. You almost move to stand beside him to assist but you forget that of course, Dr. Min has his own penlight. You're paralyzed at your corner but you can't help but watch.
You watch him press Jihye's undereyes lightly with the pad of his thumb and then with his ring finger, assessing intensively but holding her lightly as if she's made of glass.
"They're not that sunken-in like usual. You still want a touch-up?"
Jihye laughs sweetly, putting a hand on her chest as she tilts her head up at Yoongi.
"Ah. You're still so sweet to me."
Yoongi doesn't indulge her with a laugh but instead just rolls his eyes, going back to his seat as he types into his chart. "Would that be all?"
"That's it for now," Jihye grins, clutching her purse to her chest as she rocks back and forth on her heels even if she's sat down. "Always down for a facial from you though."
"Jihye."
Yoongi clicks his tongue and gives his ex-wife a warning gaze, and just for the slightest fraction, you feel him turning his gaze to you. His gaze that's not for the purpose of feeling sorry you had to hear that, but rather for the purpose of telling his ex-wife that the two of them aren't alone.
"Yoongi."
She drawls sweetly and you could only look away because this banter of theirs doesn't concern you at all.
Dr. Min ignores her and looks at you, a firm line on his lips.
"Get me the materials, Y/N."
"Extra ice too! I wanna munch on some," Jihye adds as you're on your way out and you make the note of getting more ice from the freezer because she asked so, filling up a champagne glass neatly.
You wheel in your cart and you could only reply with a stiff nod when she thanks you eagerly, already plopping an ice cube to her mouth.
You wait as you see Yoongi become gentle, all from the way he injects the filler to massaging the skin underneath Jihye's eyes.
They're divorced and yet they look casual as they've always done this. They probably did and still continue to. They look like they still belong to each other.
You can't deny that Jihye's pretty and although you're not privy to details if she has work done or not, it doesn't change the fact that she's pretty. She must and is the prettiest girl in the world for Yoongi because obviously, he married her. Loved her. Maybe even currently love her even.
You feel silly. A little more silly than usual like what Yoongi points you out to be because after all, you're an assistant at work who's holding the tissues and the icepack, feeling as if you have the right to intrude or even be jealous of the fact that your boss, the one you have a pathetically huge crush on, is laughing with his ex-wife over an inside joke like what all couples have.
Like what all couples, divorced or not, have.
( ♡ )
Yoongi thinks he's actually managed to escape you.
He's in his procedure room simply because the airconditioner blows colder and not because he has a patient to meet at the moment. It's his favorite kind of quiet; no one's daring to knock on his door, no shoes squeaking, no you who keeps asking him questions at every waking moment you could find.
Come to think of it, not only did he barely see you today, but he also barely saw everyone in the clinic. It's unusual to say the least because for the hundred times that he passes by Hoseok, he now realizes that he barely occupies his position at the front desk. He's heard nothing from Jimin either whose office is just right next to his, unaccustomed to not having someone knock on his door until he budges and lets him in because the guy just wanted to hang out even in silence.
Actually, he doesn't know anyone's whereabouts at the moment. The clinic's full even at lunchbreak but it oddly feels quiet, making him put his phone down and debate to whether or not he should check up on everyone.
“Give me a facial, please.”
Yoongi practically jumps out of his seat when he hears someone pipe up from right behind him, goosebumps forming at the back of his neck as he automatically flinches.
He knows it's you but he didn't know it would be you who's sneaked up on him out of nowhere. Sometime in his whole thought process, you've already opened the door to his room without him noticing and he's badly reaping the consequence of not being perceptible enough.
"Holy fuck," he clutches at his chest from the shock upon seeing you that's slowly simmering down, throwing his head back, only to see you smiling at him gently as if you didn't age him atleast two years faster. "A facial?"
Yoongi grimaces at your crude plead, snickering to himself, but when he registers the weirded-out look on your face, he immediately remembers his profession and what you're actually asking from him.
“Yup! A facial.”
You seem to have no qualms about repeating your request and that's because you don't have any, feeling fully confident in yourself because you're certain that he can't deny such a trivial request at the time.
“Do you have a schedule with me? Have you paid to the front desk already?” Dr. Min asks you in succession and tilts his head at you, making his newly-dyed blonde hair bounce from side to side intentionally.
It's cute, really, but you didn't come here unprepared. After all, you believe that it's Dr. Min this time who owes you something.
“But it’s my birthday — you didn’t know?“
That throws him off the loop for a second and he doesn't even actually believe that it's your birthday at first, especially coming from you whom he believes is a big fan of bogus skincare myths and probably eats them for dinner.
He's about to ask you for some ID but the dots connect in his mind before he polices his employee over their own birthday; why everyone's been missing, why Jimin couldn't stay still the whole morning, why he's been seeing random balloons being held by patients in the waiting area, and why there's some bit of frosting left on the side of your jaw.
“Why would I know when your birthday is?”
“You hired me.”
You blink owlishly at what’s supposed to be an obvious answer but Yoongi reads it as being a smart-ass.
“I hired you for your credentials, not your birthday,” he rolls his eyes and you already know he’s fully recovered from the unintentional spook you’ve given him. "Actually, scratch that — Jimin told me to hire you."
You'd like to think that you'd get hired nonetheless if not for Jimin, but the thought lingers heavily on you. It leaves a bad taste on your tongue and you’re unaware that it shows on your face because for a second, Yoongi feels as if he should apologize because he may have took it too far. In full honesty, the whole concept of it only struck you now and you don’t know what to think of it, especially in a day you swore you’d only be self-indulgent.
You miss a single beat and the needier part of Yoongi’s guilt feels compelled.
“I’m-…”
“Nevermind. It’s okay! But it’s my birthday, and you told me that you give your employees a free facial as a birthday gift!”
Yoongi feels saved with your smooth transitioning but his eyes narrow once he recognizes the gist of what you’re saying, deeming it to be a little too demanding because all he wanted to do this afternoon was to lay back in between appointments.
"I can just give you a gift card,” he offers and he thinks you’re gonna accept the upgrade which is why he’s about to stand up and retrieve it from his office right this instant, being stopped abruptly when you block his way out of his chair.
“No. I want a facial.”
He hasn’t even started telling you that he has some designer gift cards in his drawer as well but you already shake your head no to what he was about to say, unrelenting when he tries to walk past you that only prompts you to hold your arms out horizontally.
“Fine. It’ll just be a quick one after the last patient and-...”
“Actually, your patient for this hour just cancelled because she has to appear in court for evading taxes or something.”
He blinks once, clearly unnerved. “Oh. Naeun? Again?”
Dr. Min hums to himself about taxes and turns his back on you silently, making you stammer in place because you don’t know if you’d accept rejection at your birthday this early into your attempt. You want to ask one more time if he’s still giving you a facial or not because you’re just standing there as still as an idle video game character, waiting for a prompt that would directly address you.
“What are you doing?” he asks you and you look straight to the mirror that’s in front of him, wide-eyed at being guilty for simply just standing in his presence. “Lie down already. I thought you wanted your birthday present?”
You realize belatedly that Dr. Min’s standing by his employee benefit because while he had his back turned on you because it turns out he was just preparing the tools and equipment he needed for your facial, not because he was annoyed at you and wanted you to take a hint by making you look at his back.
You've never been in this position, actually — the one where you're lying on the patient's bed and Dr. Min's looking down on you, the mix of a scowl and a small smile on his face just to appease you.
He's gentle. Much more gentle that you thought now that you're on the receiving end of his hands. Puts the least amount of pressure in holding up your head to put on a headband before setting you back down, his hands close enough to your face that you could smell the familiar scent of the clinic's hand soap.
You surprisingly melt when Dr. Min dots the cold cleanser to your face and rubs gently in small circles, expecting to flinch because of the overwhelmingly new experience, but there's just something in the way he caresses your face that puts you into ease.
“Jimin and the others prepared me a cake in the breakroom awhile ago.”
Your eyes are closed and you're relaxed and you don't entirely know if it's still a good look on you because Dr. Min's still rubbing in the cleanser, not entirely lying when he says that he's considering on rubbing in the lather to your mouth because he expected you not to talk this much considering he's already in the midst of giving you a facial.
“I pay all of you and you didn’t offer me any,” he mumbles in faux dejection, but the thought of having cake with the chocolate icing he's swiped from your jaw does sound appetizing.
“You were out on lunchbreak.”
You were out on lunchbreak with your ex-wife.
You withhold the last bit that you came to know because of Jimin, since he was on the way to Yoongi's office to invite him for your impromptu birthday lunch but couldn't even finish his invitation because Yoongi already uttered urgent lunch and Jihyo in the same sentence.
“Do you know what my wish was?” you speak meekly but Dr. Min doesn't notice the dimming hope behind it, one that's about to wear off sooner or later.
“Humor me,” he murmurs and that's when you hear the familiar beep of the steamer in your side, knowing that it would grant him 20 minutes of separation from you which he probably craves.
You've memorized it by now — steaming your face doesn't actually open your pores, and neither does washing your face with cold water close them. Steaming just loosens the pores which therefore allows products to seep in deeper and further.
Apart from that, there's one thing you've also come to memorize.
“That you’ll go on a date with me.”
Dr. Min chuckles and atleast you know that it'll soften the blow you expect by now.
“Nope. I’m watching a movie in the cinema with my friends tonight.”
You open your eyes and he closes them right back because it'll hurt to open with the hot steam, unconsciously doing it with a tut on his lips.
“It’s my birthday," you weakly offer with a pout on your mouth and you're oblivious to the half-smile Dr. Min has on his face because of course, your eyes are closed and have been threatened once again to be fired if you don't keep them closed.
“It’s my movie time.”
( ♡ )
Nothing’s going right.
You watched a movie last night with Jimin and it ended up having a cameo of Jihye, making the remaining thirty minutes in the cinema become a darkroom for all of your doubts and insecurities, while Jimin chews your remaining popcorn as silently as he could (because it would be a waste) while rubbing circles on your forearm.
You drank with him all night but he's counting his shots because he obviously has some clients to attend to the next day. It's not exactly a good look of being hung-over with his eye twitching as he completes a rhinoplasty at 1 in the afternoon.
Your car wouldn't be fixed for another week and when you hitched a ride with Jimin and passed by the shop, it's because your car's in the corner and everyone's working on a flashy blue Maserati, in which he made the off-hand comment that it looks like Jihye's but he isn't entirely sure.
Everything from last night until today makes you feel like you don't have control over anything at all. It's deflating and pitying and it adds to the ever-growing con list of what it's like to have a crush on your divorced boss.
So while Dr. Min's standing in his gown since he's assisting Jimin, and in turn you're assisting them and the two of you are alone because Jimin's still washing his hands outside, you ask.
“Go out with me?”
“Can’t.”
“Okay.”
Yoongi's eyes widen at your straightforward reply, cutting to the chase. There's no pleas, no rebuttals and most of all, there's no underlying curiosity. No sneak-handed question that inquires what exactly were his plans.
It's just a plain okay that he can't wrap his head around, making him look at you whose gaze is set on the patient's gown.
“It’s Jihye’s grandmother’s birthday today. She’s old-old — you get the point. Still thinks we’re together and we don’t wanna break her heart.”
He feels compelled to explain even if you haven't asked him remotely, preparing himself for any added questions you might have.
“M’kay. Have fun tonight.”
The question marks visibly float on top of his head and he doesn't know what he's missing, the opening of the door to the surgery suite signifying Jimin's entrance furthermore making his head cloudy.
“Yup. Gonna have a blast with my ex’s family," he says it either as a snide remark or a half-attempt in getting a reaction from you; either way, it dissipates into the air and he gets nothing.
You accept that nothing's going your way and it rarely does otherwise.
Yoongi keeps looking at you like he's never met you before.
( ♡ )
Yoongi enters the clinic, throws his bag into the air, and his eyes practically pop out of his head when he sees that it's Hoseok who's holding it.
Where are you?
It's emptying, almost. He's not hearing a skincare myth first thing in the morning and he doesn't have a warm cup of coffee on his hand, be it in a regular cup or a mug.
In fact, he's walking alone to his office and he feels the need to keep darting his head around because you must be hiding in one of the many vantage points you could spring out of.
There's a shadow set on the large couch, and he feigns his surprise that it's you who's gonna jump beside him any moment now, but it turns out to be the fake plant in the corner.
It's the big green fake plant they bought for accessories in the event that a patient of theirs would be allergic to a real one, and Yoongi's never felt this much annoyance towards an overpriced leafy hunk of plastic.
Jimin hasn't arrived yet but he assumes that it's because you're with him. You've got to be.
Jimin arrives sooner than anticipated as if to calm the curiosity in Yoongi's mind but immediately furrows his brows at him because he actually looks disappointed that he's here.
Yoongi peers at the empty spot beside his friend, even trying to peer his head further for the familiar package deal named you that he carried in mornings.
"Is Y/N with you?"
"No...?" Jimin tilts his head, genuinely confused that he's asking him about you, but is even more confused to learn that you're not here. "Is she with you?"
"No," Yoongi shakes his head no somberly, awkwardly standing as he tries to look behind him to see if you've already creeped your way there. "Weird."
He exits himself from the situation even before Jimin can question him and they both think it's the logical thing to do, especially since it's concerning you and they've been dancing around the topic of you for some time now — from the perspective of the one being crushed on and a potential love interest, the other being your best friend.
You come in some time later, still early before opening but Yoongi's not used to it at all. This is perhaps the first time he's seen you arrive later than he does, but he's conflicted if he ever wants that to happen again.
He's looking at his schedule for the day yet he can't help but peek at his window, anticipating a you who's trying to steal a glance but there's no attempts made, just walking straight past his office and into Jimin's next door.
Weird.
His whole day started off weird and his first interaction is basically omitted from his book because it doesn't start with his usual habit of fact-checking your myth, leaving a bitter taste on his mouth.
He has his own stash of his favorite snacks in his office but he plans to drop by the breakroom nonetheless after flying through all of his appointments before noon, instead accidentally (but thankfully) walking out to the whiff of your perfume because you just walked in front of him, entertaining a client that must be a walk-in.
"Taehyung?"
You walk to the familiar face you probably last saw just a few weeks ago, seeing his face register you belatedly in warmth and relief.
"Y/N, there you are! I was about to start knocking on every door to look for you," he sighs and you know he sincerely means it, thankful you've showed up just in time because he probably would've caused a ruckus by doing that.
"What do you need? I fell asleep early last night so I didn't get to answer your call."
Yoongi thinks that if he stands still enough, he could be mistaken for a fake plant with a white coat. He tries his best to fix his eyes and not be caught eavesdropping and looking, but that doesn't necessarily mean he's the best at it.
This guy calls you? At night too?
"Just my lobes. I need you to stitch them up back to normal. Tried the rubbing oil method for like a month but it barely did anything."
"Ah," you hum in recognition, gently taking Taehyung's earlobe into your fingers that makes him tilt his head to you in obedience so you could examine it closely. "You only had small gauges. 10G, right? 2.5mm is something I can work on alone."
Yoongi manages to conclude that you're somehow familiar and acquainted with this Taehyung guy, easily taking him under your wing and into an empty procedure room as if the two of you do this everyday.
It's a minor procedure. Local anesthesia and some stitches and Taehyung could walk out in less than an hour. Normally, if the gauges are bigger and therefore the earlobe's more stretched out, Jimin's called in to operate but 10G is something you can do without supervision, meaning that you and said guy would be alone together in the procedure room.
“Need help?”
As a doctor, Yoongi's just offering his supervision and guidance — that's all.
Taehyung's already well-acquainted in his position and so are you, the past fifteen minutes he's spent talking and hyping himself up to stroll in as casually as he could already meant giving you much leeway in between.
“No need doc," surprisingly, it's Taehyung who answers, a warm smile on his face which makes his shoulders vibrate in the slightest to which you tut at him. "Y/N’s used to this already.”
Yoongi's surprised but he doesn't let it show, clicking in his mind that the guy seems like a familiar face he's seen before but he can't place it exactly.
“Oh. Are you a regular in my clinic?”
“Hmm? Oh, no! I’m a first-timer here. I just meant that Y/N’s-“ he gets cut off and it's because you bump your knee into his to stop talking and moving, your voice finishing up his small explanation. "Used to stitching him up."
Tae's kind of scared to talk even more because after all, you're the one who's holding the needle to his ear, not wanting to unintentionally test you further so he just whispers to Yoongi instead.
“Exactly what she said.”
Yoongi feels like he's barging into a couple's business whom he's not a part of. He's seeing you in action as you reconstruct Taehyung's earlobes and that's where the familiarity hits him, quietly awing to himself.
Isn't this Taehyung guy famous?
You didn't take his offer up for help but he still shadows you, maneuvering himself behind you instead of standing by the door alone, not even pretending to give you pointers to fill up the uncomfortable silence (for him) because you both know you're doing a great job.
“Hey, remember when I thought that guy was flirting with you in the bakery?”
Taehyung suddenly pipes up and you have to hold still with the needle in your hand, shoulders shaking in a slight laugh.
“Of course. You ended up punching my brother.”
The two of you fondly laugh and it feels extra humorous because the two of you are trying not to move your bodies to the best of your abilities, seeing his cheeks turn red from trying to stifle his laughs as much as he could.
“He didn’t know whether he’d feel mad or proud of me that time.”
Yoongi turns up the light brighter that focuses on his earlobes that makes Taehyung squint. Normally, that's his non-verbal way of saying that the two of you should not be a having a moment right now, especially with him in the room.
He quips his lips to the side but stays quiet, his once-stable breaths dragging out extra slow.
“You free tonight? Minhyung’s staying with me for a week," he complies when you ask him to turn his head slightly, getting a response to his offer just as quick.
“Yeah, sure! Missed him anyway. He’s how old now?”
“Seven. He pokes fun at me now.”
The reminder of meeting Minhyung when he was barely a toddler versus the comparison of bullying his older brother now makes you laugh, remembering all the fond interactions you've had and continue to have with him. Just last month, Tae called you in the middle of the afternoon because Minhyung was suddenly looking for you.
You wrap up quickly and you wouldn't realize if not for Dr. Min who's been standing behind you almost the entire time, a barely-audible bite to his words. "He's finished."
Dr. Min beats you into relaying the aftercare instructions and follow-up check-up, the lax nature of how he usually explains being a stark contrast to how he sounds quick right now.
Taehyung's oblivious to the difference you could notice but he listens nonetheless, bidding you with a sweet warm smile as he exits the room.
“Thanks Y/N, see you later!”
Dr. Min shuts the door behind him and proceeds to clean up the station you've worked on, getting you into work because you don't quite understand why he even came in here in the first place.
“You didn’t tell me you had Kim Taehyung the model for a boyfriend.”
He passive-aggressively murmurs but you catch it, thinking nothing of the unusual nature your superior is exhibiting.
“You know him? He’s that famous now, huh?”
Yoongi, however, freezes. It's far from your easy chuckle and way further from the territory of peace because his face morphs into confusion. “What? I was kidding with you. He is your boyfriend?”
"What?" your eyes glaze at the odd joke you wouldn't have bothered correcting in the first place because you didn't think he'd ask, much less assume, in the first place anyway. “Oh no, he’s my ex-boyfriend.”
Yoongi genuinely doesn't know what to feel about that.
Is he frustrated over the fact that Taehyung isn't your boyfriend at the moment, or is it over the fact that you're exes and therefore share history together in a way he can't decipher?
He doesn't meet your gaze, the pettiness running through his bones before he could register it as such.
“I don’t believe that. Pretty sure no one would go to their ex’s place especially at night.”
The words he's just uttered basically tells you that he's eavesdropped well and even added his own analysis to it, feeling offended because as what you can recall, you didn't even ask him for his own take.
“I’m hanging out with him and his little brother.”
“Still. No one does that.”
You play off the offense you feel into nonchalance, gritting your teeth as you disinfect the area for the next patient.
“You can be friends with an ex, it’s possible, Dr. Min,” you wipe extra hard at the bed, not even knowing why you feel defensive for a situation that doesn't even involve him. “We didn’t break up in bad terms anyways so it was more than plausible that we would be friends.”
He looks up inhumanely fast, eyes trained on you as if you've grown two heads within a second.
“That’s impossible.”
You humorlessly chuckle and that's the end of it, choosing to tune him out while you clean up as quick as you could because you don't even know if you could stay in a space with him any longer.
Yoongi finds it odd that you're not searching for his gaze, stopping right in front of you when you retrieve the remaining sanitary equipment.
“Have you even checked the schedule? You agreed to him so quick. Who knows, we’d probably do overtime.”
“Then I’m reminding you that I’ve never been absent ever since I started working here, and if we need to do overtime, I’m using my leave.
Dr. Min hardens his glare at you. “That’s against the law, I’m pretty sure.”
“I can ask Tae later, his mom’s a lawyer.”
You add harmlessly as it's the truth and it does make you curious if it's just his unknown pettiness or the law that's talking, seeing his eyes roll at your quip.
“Heh," he narrows his eyes and turns his back on you, quick hands moving into a blur while he goes on his way out. “The gauze’s contaminated now. Get a new one.”
Yoongi can't explain it but he feels like something's changed in his routine and in some way, it has something to do with you.
His entrance every morning feels weird and his arm wants to give out every time he throws his bag into the air because it's not your familiar face that squeezes in so close beside him even if there's plenty of space for you to walk on.
He finds himself looking through windows and wandering through hallways just to look for a trace of you, even if it's the little chocolate nibs you snack throughout the whole day or if it's your extra handkerchief that Jimin uses because he forgets his all the time.
You’re supposed to ask him anytime now, aren't you?
You've used four of your chances in four different occasions with no exact pattern to it, but Yoongi knows. He knows and feels that it's been too long ever since the last time you asked him out (that was two weeks ago) in the procedure room and he doesn't know when the next would be.
He's sure it's a tactic of yours. It must be. You must've been doing it in a certain method that trains him to miss you and look for you unconsciously, even if he's at home and not in the clinic.
Yoongi finds himself lingering around you and he doesn't know if he could just continue hovering and hovering in this way; in a way that's unlike yours because you're unafraid to stand so close to him, talk to him whenever you please, and trail around him like a lost puppy.
He thinks he's had enough when he sees you enter the clinic, just thirty minutes away from opening and goes straight to Jimin's office, walking out later in your scrubs that makes him audibly gasp in surprise.
You enter the breakroom and he finds himself tailing after you unceremoniously, not being able to wait atleast five minutes to enter.
You're just now eating your breakfast because you've had a late start to your morning, also waiting a little later for you to retrieve your car from the shop that took longer than what you initially expected.
You're mid-bite into your cereal when you see a shadow cast onto the table, looking up to see Dr. Min who avoids your gaze as soon as you catch him.
“Yes.”
You chew slowly and cover your mouth when he turns to you, arms across his chest while you try to swallow. “I’m not following...?”
He sighs heavily, not knowing he had to spell it out for you.
Yoongi sits beside you and scoots his chair closer to yours, leaning his face onto his hand that makes you confused even more on how he's willingly sitting this close beside you.
“Yes, I’m going on a date with you.”
You swallow your cereal without a fuss as it registers in your head collectively, a curious and inquisitive quirk to your lips that throws him off.
“I didn’t ask, though.”
“No, this is the part where you use your fifth chance to ask me out and I accept.”
It's quite entertaining to see Dr. Min act and talk so impulsively, not used to seeing him this frustratedly determined. “But I haven’t asked.”
Yoongi closes his eyes once, his shoulders relaxing.
“Then I’m saying yes for the four previous times you asked me.”
You snort to your cereal and you're thankful that it happens before you scoop another spoonful to your mouth, shaking your head somberly.
“That doesn’t count.”
Yoongi pouts childishly, his brows furrowing at the concept of you denying him this time and not getting what he wants.
“Yes it does.”
“I can’t take you out, Dr. Min. I’m actually a little short on some date money because I’ve been buying you expensive coffee every single morning.”
"Just Yoongi," he corrects but doesn't choose to comment on the fact that you haven't been buying him coffee for two weeks now and he's unknowingly formed a dependency on the coffee and you. “Then I’ll pay for the date.”
“Then that means you’re taking me out on a date.”
“I know, which is why I’m saying yes, I’m accepting-“
You stop the flow of words that makes Dr. Min frown even deeper, looking severely dejected but the guilt doesn't hit you as much. “You can’t. That wasn’t our deal.”
“Then ask me to go out with you.”
It's a suggestion he brings up softly, uncertainty lacing his features because actually, it doesn't sound like a suggestion at all — sounds more of a plead than anything.
“Hmmm,” you pretend to think even if you already had a concrete plan for the day. “I’m busy. Dr. Park needs me.”
Dr. Min clears his throat, sitting up straighter and looks at you.
“Please ask me to go on a date with you.”
“Dr. Park needs me.”
Yoongi exhales through his nose and stands up, straightening his shirt and rearranging the bucket hat on his head before he relents, leaving you alone.
You think that's just about the end of it, but you're wrong because you see Dr. Min pop into the breakroom the moment lunchbreak starts, picking up Jimin who's sitting beside you and ushering him out of the door.
"The fuck? Yoongi! Stop — stop pushing me! You seriously can't just throw me out of the-"
Your eyes are still fixed on the door that Dr. Min just pushed Jimin out of and locked him out entirely, barely glancing to the paper bag that he put in front of you.
He occupies the chair beside you and clears his throat once again, clasping his hands tightly.
“Five takes.”
"Huh? Dr. Min, did you seriously just-..."
Yoongi pokes your cheek to get you to look at him, effectively taking your gaze out of the door.
“Give me five chances to ask you out.”
You thought he wouldn't push it to this because you swore you know him — know him well-enough that he doesn't like you and wouldn't care enough to pursue you once you've stopped.
“Why?”
He blinks owlishly because you're still asking him why when he thought he couldn't make his intentions any more clear, the two weeks without the usual you making him realize it further.
“I could say that I’m asking you this so you could give me a taste of my own medicine,” his attempt at what's supposed to be a joke makes you scoff, later chuckling when he waves his hands around desperately to clarify. “But as much as my pride would like that,” he murmurs. “I uh, I do want to go out with you.”
Hearing it from him is surreal, to say the least. It's something you've never thought to hear and it's admittedly something you've given up on trying to hear not too long ago.
“No.”
“No?”
“I’m going grocery shopping later,” you tell him and it makes his eyebrows knit in confusion, lips opening apart as he understands.
Yoongi grabs the prescription pad that fits snugly to his white coat, handing it to you as he explains it could be something for you to write your grocery list on.
“Thank you Dr. Min,” you chuckle at the wholesome gesture, a lot of pages left when you could've settled for a single leaflet.
“Great! I’ll be seeing you-“ he stands up and claps his hands, effectively being stopped when you reach out for him.
Then he understands.
“No.”
“I have a rewards card that’s been accumulating points for years now! You can use it," he offers gingerly, a grin on his face.
“Thoughtful, but no.”
“I can drive the cart really smoothly and I can promise you that I won’t even bump to your foot once," he nods for a convicting effect, thinking if he'd pass this time.
“Talented, but no.”
“I can lift all the grocery bags in one trip.”
“Nice try, but no.”
“No?” Yoongi parrots you with a tilt on his head, a slight pout on his face that makes him look warmer.
“No."
Yoongi accepts it and nod his head, pulling himself out of his chair before he convictedly talks again.
“M’kay. That was take one,” he says it out loud to console himself, earning a surprised gaze from you. “Four more chances left, right?”
Yoongi wordlessly stands and grabs a plate from the cupboard, taking out the lunch he's bought for you from the paper bag and sets your favorite food (courtesy of Jimin for a price of one hug) there instead, setting and plating it in front of you.
He taps two fingers on your cheeks, a cozy smile on his face as he tries to earn himself a loving smile from you before he exits the breakroom.
“Four more chances.”
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