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#yoongi fanfic
suga-kookiemonster · a year ago
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want a taste? | myg
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part of the you never shop alone (ynsa) collab with @underthejoon and @kpopfanfictrash, based on this post!
summary⇢ pretzel pro. most skillful tongue in the food court world. allegedly. that’s what yoongi keeps telling you, anyway. of course, you’re reasonably skeptical of his claims—but if there’s one thing that motivates the notoriously-lethargic man, it’s proving skeptics wrong. pairing⇢ yoongi/reader word count⇢ 18.3k 😱😱😭😭😭 rating⇢ 18+ genre⇢ smut | humor | friends to lovers | shopping mall!au  warnings⇢ oral (female receiving), fingering, overstimulation, dirty talk, inappropriate and semi-public canoodling, very brief mention of suicide and depression (because this is a yoongific), taehyung is yoongi’s biggest fan but oc is coming for him lbrh 😌
a/n⇢ everybody thank @underthejoon for this gorgeous header 💖💖
THIS TOOK ME SO FUCKING LONG, i have NEVER written anything this long without splitting it up before in my entire life, omg. writing something this long in one go honestly made me wanna pull my hair out lmao. but we here!! we made it and it’s done and i hope you enjoy it 😩😭💕 mood for this fic is this song. HAPPY BIRTHDAY YOONGI, ILY 🤧💖
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A wave of exhaustion rolls over you as you stand in front of one of the mall’s many entrances. You are, in fact, exhausted, grad school and its many requirements taking a toll on your body, but what you feel now, now that you’ve made the conscious decision to pile even more on top of your heaping plate—what you feel now is a different type of tired. A kind of tired that promises to nestle deep in your bones, promises to linger.
It almost makes you want to turn around. Almost makes you walk right back to your car and fire up the engine, turning your radio all the way up so it’s easy to ignore the ominous rattling you’ve been hearing lately.
But unfortunately, no matter how loud you turn up the volume, the screaming of your bank account won’t be drowned out. So here you are.
It’s easy, your friend Mariah had promised you. I mean, it is retail, but. The hours are pretty flexible and the job itself is pretty relaxed. And so she put in a good word for you, and next thing you know, you’re here. Standing in front of your local mall.
You sigh, attempting to smooth out tension from your brow with your fingers. This would cut into what little free time you have in your schedule, but the tiny stipend you get from teaching doesn’t cover much, and extra income really would be nice for your peace of mind. So, resolve strengthened, you push through the doors.
It’s a strange thing, being here so early. You are one of the only people trudging your way over the gleaming tiles, most of the shops still dark and blocked by their chain-link gates. But you purposely arrived a little earlier than you needed to, mind set on finding more caffeine to inject into your bloodstream. That’s one thing that you refuse to bend on—if a ridiculously-priced coffee is what you need to physically and mentally get through the day, then you are going to pay for it. Besides, isn't that why you had agreed to this job in the first place? So something as small and necessary as a cup of coffee won’t break the bank?
Still, as you turn the corner, you quickly realize that the universe isn’t on your side—won’t allow you to have this single, reasonable mercy. The line to Java Joe’s, the mall’s resident cafe, is snaking out the door, and your heart sinks. There’s no way you will be able to wait for your order without being late for your first day on the job.
You groan, inwardly hoping that this isn’t a sign from the universe that you’re making a dumb ass life decision. Not a big deal, you tell yourself, turning on your heel and heading for the food court instead. Surely some other restaurant has coffee on their menu in a fruitless attempt to steal Java Joe’s business. Surely.
But today is apparently a day your luck is shit. To your continued irritation, the only things open at this time of day are the Auntie Anne’s, and, bizarrely, a rather sketchy gyro place. One look at the gyro place has your asshole clenching reflexively in fear.
Auntie Anne’s it is, then.
You walk up to the counter, rightfully grumpy because now you’ll have to get a fucking lemonade or something. Spend the next few hours jonesing for caffeine and pretending like the universe doesn’t hate you. But what you’re not expecting is for the cashier to be just as grumpy.
He’s clad in his Auntie Anne’s best—blue tshirt under a branded apron— and the way his bleached-blond hair is messily stuffed under the visor hides his eyes from you a bit. Still, there is nothing to disguise the clear way his mouth settles into a scowl as soon as you approach.
“I don’t know him,” he tells you flatly.
You blink. “Sorry, what?”
“The guy who sent you,” he deadpans, completely unamused. Frankly, so are you. “I don’t know him.”
“Neither do I,” you reply, brow furrowing in bafflement. What, is he expecting a hitman or something? Should you step to the side to give the sniper a clear shot? “No one sent me. I just wanted to purchase a questionable meal.”
He looks you over for a moment, weighing the validity of your claims. You must pass his scrutiny, because he visibly drops his guard, posture sinking into a bit more of a slouch, lips quirking into a small, apologetic smile. “Ah, sorry about that. What can I get you?” Gone is the irritated, slightly-intimidating edge to his tone, deep voice now laced with an obvious, falsely-friendly customer service lilt.
“Can I get a cinnamon sugar?”
“Sure. Pretzel or nuggets?”
“Pretzel.”
You watch him as he reaches for your requested snack. You’re tired, but you find yourself intrigued by him anyway, your sleep-deprived brain reluctant to let your previous exchange pass so easily. “So. Who did you think had sent me?”
He looks mildly embarrassed at his mistake. “My roommate,” he acquiesces, putting your pretzel in a bag, handing it to you, and ringing it up at the register. “He does stupid shit sometimes. Lately he’s been using me for pretzel clout and telling pretty girls that I’ll give them free stuff.” Your body tingles at his implied remark that you’re pretty, but either he doesn’t notice he said it or he doesn’t care, as he keeps right on muttering to himself. “As if that’s going to get them to date him.”
“I don’t know,” you say, lips quirked in amusement. “A free pretzel sounds date-worthy in my book.”
“Yeah, well.” His lips quirk too. “Don’t tell him that—he’s irritating enough as it is. Any dips? A beverage?”
“No, just the pretzel is fine.”
You pay and thank him, choosing to take a seat at a table not too far away to eat your makeshift breakfast. You have a little bit of time before the start of your shift, so you spend it scrolling Twitter and licking sugar from your fingertips.
A few more people cycle through the food court, but it’s relatively quiet this early in the morning, and you finish up without being interrupted, balling up your trash and tossing it into the garbage. The Claire’s storefront faces directly out to the food court, so it’s an extremely short walk to your new job. You pass the cashier again on your way out, but this time, he’s further in the kitchen, using the lull to prep for the influx of customers that is sure to come. Your eyes linger a bit on the almost elegant way his surprisingly-large hands roll out and separate the dough, but you turn away without thinking much of it.
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“Thank god you’re here,” Raquel squeals. She’s visibly younger than you—and clearly a morning person. To be honest, she’s exactly who you would expect to work at Claire’s—chipper, bubbly, and genuinely excited to help you find the perfect glitter nail polish or flower crown. You muster up the energy to send her a small smile, unwilling to rain on her parade with the skepticism of someone who has been tainted by adulthood and forced responsibility. Her time will come soon enough. “My schedule this semester is a bit heavier on early classes, so I’m excited to have someone to cover morning shifts.” She pauses, as if she’s afraid of scaring you off. “Not that you’d only do mornings! It’d just be nice to spread them out, is all.”
“No problem,” you assure her. “Mornings tend to work better for me anyway.” That would give you enough time to complete some of your own assignments once you got home.
“Perfect!”
Raquel, your friend Mariah’s cousin, is actually your new manager. While most people cycle in and out of mall jobs, she’s worked at Claire’s since she was in high school, and her tenure has by default somehow moved her a little bit further up the totem pole than you. Mariah suggested the position to you because it's a chill job where more times than not, you’d be allowed to catch up on your reading whenever it’s a little slow. It seemed like the perfect solution for your little time, little cash problem.
So you bite your tongue as Raquel keeps chattering, and from what she's saying, your job seems relatively simple. She tells you about the current in-store deals (which you're pretty sure are always the "deals"...buy three low-quality things and get a fourth low-quality thing of equal or lesser value sounds just like when you used to shop here, years and years ago). She shows you how to use the register, and she hands you a packet that details how to use the piercing gun ("There's a video I’ll have you watch that'll help, and then we'll whip out the foam ear for practice!"). But mostly, your first shift is filled with necessary clerical paperwork and shadowing your new boss.
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Your next few shifts at the mall are markedly unremarkable.
The first one is another early shift, and you're smart enough to pad in enough time to get a proper coffee this time. You almost regret it, coming face to face with one of the most attractive men you have ever seen in your life and rendered embarrassingly mute for a solid couple seconds before he smiles a knowing, boxy smile and asks for your order with a wink. (His coworker, unamused, rolls her eyes at his antics.)
The two shifts after that are both late shifts, which are a bit annoying schedule-wise, but you work around them.
It's another week and a half before you run into Pretzel Boy again.
By law, you’re entitled to a thirty-minute lunch break, and your first two shifts you spend it in the food court, too easily distracted by the bustling people around you to truly relax or pay attention to the assigned reading you brought with you. By the time the third one rolls around, you’ve learned your lesson. You roam the halls instead, easily blending in with the midday shoppers and familiarizing yourself with the floor plan. This is how you find the set of paid massage chairs, hidden in a corner that used to house a Carson’s and a Payless. A corner occupied by department stores that went bankrupt means there is little to no foot traffic—and that this, therefore, is the perfect place to sneak in a power nap.
It’s during your fourth shift, just as you’re closing your eyes in that deserted hallway, starting to melt into the leather seat, that the blond cashier makes a reappearance.
“You.”
You jump a bit, weary body startled from its powering down at the sign of a potential threat. You open your eyes blearily, only to be met by who you immediately recognize as the dude who sold you a soft pretzel last week.
His Auntie Anne’s shirt is gray today, and now that he’s not behind a counter, nor wearing his apron, you can see that he’s wearing slim-fit jeans too. The two of you lock eyes, but you only observe him for a moment before you’re shutting your own again, deeming him relatively harmless and hoping he’ll go away.
“Me.”
“What are you doing here?”
“Sleeping,” you answer shortly.
“This is my spot,” he drawls, tone markedly reasonable. As if he harbors no ill will for you encroaching on his space, because you didn’t know better.
Except now you do, and you don’t give a shit.
“Oh, I’m sorry. I guess I missed the sign,” you deadpan, resisting the urge to let out a frustrated noise. You are too fucking tired for this. “There’s a whole other chair, my guy. You’re welcome to it.”
He doesn’t answer you, and, though your eyes are still closed, you find yourself focused entirely on him. Ears trained in his direction, curious what he’s going to do. For a few moments, you’re left in complete silence, and you wonder if he had simply turned around and left you to your own devices. But then you hear a heavy sigh. Rustling as the leather seat next to you is disturbed.
You peek from between your lashes to confirm your suspicions. Pretzel Boy is in the massage chair next to yours, mere feet away. Eyes closed, arms crossed over his chest.
“I thought you were sleeping,” he says, voice startling you. His eyes are still closed, but you dart yours away in surprise.
You consider not responding, pretending you are asleep already, but you know he’ll never buy it. Not many people can fall asleep that quickly. “I-I am.”
“Mmm.”
You turn away from him, squeezing your eyes shut again. But, though you are still as tired as you were when you sat down a few minutes ago, you find yourself unable to properly tip yourself over into dreamland, too aware of the body next to you. Pretzel Boy seems to have no such hangups, another peek at him minutes into your shared silence producing him, body relaxed, head rolled comfortably into the leather.
You sit there, essentially doing no more than resting your eyes, until the alarm on your phone signals the end of your break. Your companion stirs too, but you don’t feel too bad about disturbing him, as his break is surely up too.
Without giving him a passing glance, you slip from your seat and trudge back to Claire’s.
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A bizarre pattern is formed after that.
The two of you don’t always share a shift, but Pretzel Boy is often scheduled mornings, just like you, so you see him around at least once a week. And, after your first massage chair encounter, it becomes almost a sort of unspoken agreement between the two of you that your breaks will be spent, in relative silence, side by side.
During the break of your next morning shift, you find him already in his designated seat. He nods at you in greeting, and you give him a small smile back, settling into the chair beside him. Once again, neither of you says very much, and Pretzel Boy, just like last time, quickly falls asleep.
Despite the lethargy in your limbs, this time isn’t much different than last—you sit there, eyes closed, but unable to sleep. With no distractions, your mind roams as the minutes tick by, pondering why you are still awake. Is it the public location? The man asleep next to you? You peek at him, a small smile tugging at your lips from how his face is surprisingly round and cherubic in his slumber, his mouth slack. His hair is a bit tousled—likely disturbed originally by his uniform visor when he took it off—and blond bangs are mussed over dark eyebrows that pinch a little as he sleeps.
You wonder how he's able to fall asleep so easily when you can’t seem to do the same. You wonder what he dreams about. What his story is. Why he's so tired, like you.
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Weeks of this goes by before it occurs to you, one night while you’re catching up on reading and sprinkling shredded cheese into your mouth—because you’re kinda hungry but that’s the only thing in your fridge that currently speaks to you—that you don't even know his name.
Surely his birth certificate does not say that his given name is Pretzel. Surely. (Though, if it does, he’s certainly found the perfect career.)
But in your defense, neither of you has ever bothered to break the companionable silence too much—both of you too busy trying to get time away from rude customers and the constant hustle and bustle—so it has just never occurred to you to ask! Honestly, you haven't really felt the urge to know before now, but at this point, it seems extremely bizarre to spend a decent amount of time with someone without even getting their name, whether that time is mostly spent unconscious or not. Resolutely, you decide to bring it up the next time your breaks collide.
But it turns out, you don't even have to wait that long.
While you've been making sure to stop by each shift for your necessary coffee, one morning you find yourself also craving the sugary dough whose scent permanently permeates the air of the entire second floor of the mall. You’ve stopped by Auntie Anne’s a handful of times over the weeks, but with your shift varying—random times on random days—your newfound nap buddy is never there when you buy your pretzel. Today, however, you show up, intending to get a little snack before your early shift, and find him behind the register again.
He straightens a bit when he sees you approach, but you find yourself too bewildered by something else to notice.
Usually this early, the mall is quiet—the annoyingly-pleasant elevator music that often plays over the loudspeakers doesn’t usually get switched on until around 1:30 or so (even though, with all the people filling the hallways and chattering as they shopped, it was hard to hear). Today, however, there is distinct bass booming from Auntie Anne’s. You hear the person on the track threaten to turn your girl into a supersoaker, and your brows reach for your hairline as you approach the register. “...Are you guys really allowed to play this?” you ask in wonder, a surprised laugh slipping past your lips.
Pretzel Boy’s coworker, Lindsay, is busy Windexing the glass of the display. She was actually one of the first fellow employees to introduce themselves to you, sometimes popping into Claire’s to say hi because she’s good friends with Raquel. Now, she shakes her head, inclining it towards her coworker in explanation. “He somehow convinced our manager Sejin to let him play it. But only during the first few hours of the morning shift.” She rolls her eyes. “The only people here this early are the elderly speedwalkers, and they can’t hear it anyway.”
“Convinced Sejin to let him play what?” you ask, amused. Your eyes slide to the man in front of you. “What are we listening to?"
"Oh god, don't encourage him," Lindsay moans, but it's too late. He smirks, leans over the counter a little and further in your direction. “Yoongi, please no.”
The blond cashier—Yoongi, apparently—ignores her. “My mixtape,” he tells you with a straight face, and you’re only just able to swallow down your reflexive incredulous laughter when you realize that he’s serious.
“Your mixtape,” you repeat, quirking an eyebrow.
“Well, parts of it anyway. It’s still a work in progress.” Your befuddled stare only evokes an amused quirk of his lips. “What, did you think my passion was selling pretzel dogs? I’m only here to tide me over until my music takes off. In all honesty, I’m a little surprised you haven’t heard it yet. I’m kind of a big deal around these parts.”
Lindsay rolls her eyes so hard, you’re pretty sure you can actually hear them rotating in her skull. You can’t help the puff of laughter that escapes your lips now. “And by these parts,” you clarify, “you’re referring to our place of employment. The local mall.”
“I have a pretty decent online following too,” Yoongi mumbles. The shape of his mouth is almost reminiscent of a pout, and you’re openly smiling at him now. He reaches into his back pocket and produces his phone. “What’s your number?”
“Why?” you ask, amused.
“I’m going to send you the link.”
“…To your mixtape.”
He’s amused too. You can tell. “Why do you keep saying it like that?”
“No reason,” you reply airily, cocking your head in thought for a moment before giving him your number out of nothing but pure curiosity.
Lindsay shakes her head at you. “Oh, you’ve done it now.”
Yoongi pays her no attention—a dynamic you’re starting to realize is the usual for them. He types out a message, and you feel a responding vibration in your purse. “That’s the link to my Soundcloud. Let me know what you think.”
The Yoongi on the speakers is boasting about getting to lick up all the cream, and you’d bet money it’s not the kind you put in your coffee. What you think, indeed. “Are you sure the speedwalkers can’t hear this?” you ask incredulously.
“Positive,” he answers, and his smile would be kinda cute if you hadn’t just become recently aware of just how filthy his mouth can get.
…Who are you kidding? That doesn’t detract from his attractiveness at all. An attractiveness that you have always been too tired to properly pay attention to, but now is impossible to ignore. You clear your throat. “Anyway. Can I get a cinnamon sugar please?”
“Pretzel or nuggets?”
“Pretzel.”
It’s not until you’re sitting down at a table feet away, scarfing down your makeshift breakfast that you bother to read his text.
[10:37am] Unknown Hey, _____, it’s Yoongi
[10:37am] Unknown Lmk what you think! 😉
You look up at him on reflex. He and Lindsay are chatting, Yoongi dumping more mix into the lemonade machine.
He is more observant than you, you realize then. Before this, you had barely exchanged more than two words with the man. And yet—
You wipe your mouth, hiding the way your lips inch into a smile behind a napkin.  
He’s somehow learned your name before you’ve learned his.
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The next week goes by quickly, school taking up so much of your attention that mixtapes are the last thing on your mind. It isn’t until one day, as you’re getting back into your car, that you happen to spot Yoongi across the parking lot and remember the link waiting patiently for you on your phone.
You forgot your headphones in the Claire’s backroom the day before, and were completely unwilling to wait the two days until your next shift to retrieve them. So, since the mall is on your way to campus anyway, you stop by. It’s simply intended to be an in and out situation—you don’t even give Momo, who is manning the store today, the proper opportunity to be her bubbly, talkative self. In and out, and you’re unlocking your car when you notice Yoongi.
He’s getting out of the passenger side of a car, in conversation with the tall, dark-haired driver. He doesn’t see you, too busy narrowing his eyes at his companion in irritation. He says something, too quietly for you to hear over the distance, before a sudden yell of “You’ll all be sorry!” startles you a bit. The other man just laughs, giving him a consoling pat on the back as the two of them trudge towards the building.
Huh. That was the most emotion you have ever seen him show. Well, except for when he had been telling you about his—
Shit, his mixtape! It’s not like he’s not going to follow up on it. You get in your car, turning the key in the ignition as you think. In theory, you can just lie and say that you listened to it, give him some bullshit answer. But to be honest...you’re curious. Curious about this man who talks big game and isn’t above rolling soft pretzels for his craft.
And that’s exactly why, that night, after you’re back home and huddled on your couch for the foreseeable future, you click on the link.
Agust D—whatever that means. Yoongi’s face stares back at you, and when you tap the icon to blow it up a bit more, you come to the conclusion that he somehow looks different than how you’re used to seeing him under the florescent mall lighting. Harder, more intimidating.
He had said it was a work in progress, but there are already a good four songs available to stream, the one entitled SuperSoaker making you shake your head in amused recognition. Still, you make sure to pop in your headphones so you will be able to make a proper judgment.
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You had been right in your assumption. Yoongi finds you almost immediately.
Today, you’re scheduled to close. You’re a little irritated by it, because closing means you have to show up in the middle of the afternoon and that you don’t get to leave until at least an hour after the mall doors are locked, because you have to get the store in order for the next day. But Raquel has been super generous and has kept to her word—most of your shifts are morning ones—so you can’t fault her too much for having you close occasionally.
You’re in the food court, chowing down on a pizza slice from Sbarro before your shift. This is where Yoongi finds you. He apparently had a morning shift today, as he’s already in his apron and was half-heartedly handing out samples to food court passersby when you first arrived. He’s still holding the tray of pretzel bites when he approaches your table, which is a bit too far from the pretzel shop for it to be happenstance.
“Want a taste?” he asks casually, holding the tray out to you. You take one, lips quirked in the knowledge of what you know is coming.
“So,” he drawls. “Did you listen to it?”
You think about teasing him—playing coy, asking him to clarify, dragging the whole thing out—but you decide instead to just give him a slow nod as you chew. Mmm, almond. “I did.”
“And?” His dark eyes study you, curious but relaxed. As if he’s used to getting one answer, and he’s comfortable that you will be giving him the same. “What’d you think? Be honest.”
“Honest, huh?” You look to the ceiling in thought, pondering your phrasing. “It was…it was fine. You’re talented—it’ll make you a lot of money.”
“Fine?” An eyebrow raises, incredulously, prompting you to elaborate.
“Yes, fine. If you’re trying to make music for Instagram thots to have on repeat, then you’ve definitely succeeded.”
He had asked you to be honest, though even as the words left your mouth, you were sure he would be offended. But Yoongi surprises you by cracking a smile. He sets the tray down on the table and reaches for the chair across from you, turning it around so he can sit down, arms crossed over the back. “Instagram thots?”
You shrug, taking another bite of pizza. “Or for all of Thotdom, if you want me to get technical. You know Thottimus Prime? That one dude from Foot Locker downstairs?”
“Hobi?” Yoongi huffs out what sounds suspiciously like a laugh. “Yeah.”
“He really likes it, doesn’t he?”
His lips quirk, and that is all the answer you need.
“I rest my case.” Yoongi laughs outright then, smile wide and gummy, and you realize that he might not be as sensitive to criticism as you had feared. “Like I said, there is a definite market for that, and it will make you a lot of money.”
“But?” he prods.
“But…it won’t hold anyone’s attention for very long. You’ll probably end up regurgitating variations of the same song over and over and none of them will leave a lasting impression.”
“Why do you say that?” When you shift in your seat at the question, Yoongi pins you with a focused stare that makes it expressly clear that he is genuinely interested in your answer.
So you decide to freely give it.
“You’re not really saying anything. People nowadays forget the roots, forget that rap is actually an artform. Rap is poetry, and rappers should be poets.” You take a sip from your drink, the liquid low enough that your straw makes an obnoxious noise as air passes through it.  “You definitely have the lyricism and flow down, without question. But you’re not really doing anything with it.”
Yoongi isn’t smiling anymore, face slowly smoothing out as he considers you. “Can you elaborate?”
For a moment, you worry again about how much criticism he’s willing to hear. But he doesn’t seem angry—merely seems to be weighing your words. So you choose not to hold back, using your fingers to count off rappers universally considered great. “Biggie, Tupac, Nas, Kendrick, Cole, Wayne. Em, Jay, Lupe—even Kanye before he got stuck in the Sunken Place. Do they all have songs about pussy? Yes, yes they do. But what sets them apart from other artists in the industry is that they can all be considered true poets. They are master storytellers, lyricists who wrote their own material and used their 16 bars to make us give a shit about what they were saying. Made us shake our asses for sure, but also actually think. Made us care. They told their hardships, led us on a journey through their truths. Through their families’ truths, their communities’ truths. Their ancestors’ truths. Hip hop is all about speaking your truth.” You shrug. “Who are you, Yoongi? What is your truth? What do you know? This tape tells me that you know pussy, but hopefully that’s not all you know. Because a lot of other people also know pussy, and a hot beat can only get you so far.” A pause. “Your beats are hot, by the way. Pure fire. Clappin’ Cheeks is gonna go hard in the club.”
Yoongi doesn’t say anything. Just sits there in his Auntie Anne’s visor and apron and stares at you. It makes you bite your lip, coming to the self-conscious realization that you had gone off on a rant. You clear your throat, if only to fill the silence. “So...yeah. I thought your mixtape was fine.”
He still doesn’t say anything, eyes widening slightly. As if seeing you for the first time. For a few moments, he merely observes you silently, tilting his head in thought. But then, a slow smile spreads across his face. “Huh. That was brutal.”
“I—I didn’t say what you had was bad!” you cut in, feeling kind of shitty for raining all over his parade. “Just that you might want to add in a few songs to round it out as a whole.”
“No, don’t try to soften it. You said what you meant and meant what you said. I asked for honesty and I got it—that’s kind of refreshing.”
“...I’m glad you think so.”
“Yeah.” He nods, and you feel like it’s more to himself than to you. He stands, turns the chair back the right way around. “Hey, I gotta get rid of everything on this tray or Brandon will narc on me to Sejin.”
You follow his line of sight to his coworker for the day, eyes darting to the two of you suspiciously as he rings up a customer.
“You wouldn’t happen to want twenty-seven samples, would you?”
A smile touches your lips. You shake your head.
“Then I gotta go. I just got morning speaker privileges, and I’d like to keep them.” He picks up his tray easily, and moves to walk away before pausing to look back over his shoulder at you. “See you around?”
Of course he will. The two of you work in the same mall, are stationed mere feet from each other. Often break around the same time, and spend it side by side. Still, the question makes something soft and small bloom in your stomach.
“Yeah. See you.”
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After that, something is different.
Now, you find yourself strangely no longer dreading coming to work. Instead, you’re starting to soften to your circumstance, not as guarded. More open to reciprocating when Momo goes on one of her chatty monologues as the two of you close up shop. To engaging in small talk with Taehyung, the friendly barista who has long since memorized your order and, if he’s not on register duty, starts making it as soon as he sees you.
To catching yourself looking for Yoongi, eyes automatically roving over the food court whenever you have a shift, in search of his familiar mop of blond hair and slow smile. To not thinking twice when he sometimes roams over to chat with you while you scarf down lunch before a shift.
No longer do you simply clock in and clock out; now, you’re present. And it’s not a quick change. No, it happens so gradually that you can’t really pinpoint the exact moment you stopped seeing this place as cruel and unusual punishment.
One day, to your surprise, the alarm on your phone jolts both of you awake from your nap, and you fumble for the device, completely disoriented. This is the first time that you’re actually able to do what you had intended weeks ago—fall asleep—and you’re baffled that you finally have. Confused as to why you’re all of a sudden able to. It’s almost as if your always-racing brain has finally calmed—has finally accepted Yoongi’s presence, has finally accepted that you’re no longer in danger—and can relax.
He blinks slowly for a few moments, but he’s much quicker to consciousness than you are, and he shoots you a gummy grin when he sees that you have to wipe at your mouth.
"Shut up," you grumble, reaching for your things.
"I didn't say anything," he replies, voice gravely with sleep.
Usually, one of you wakes before the other—and leaves before the other too. This time, Yoongi pauses while you gather your things, and the two of you walk back together. Still in companionable silence, but, unlike previous times, it's side by side. No longer simply strangers who are forced to share prime napping real estate, but instead acquaintances who are comfortable in doing so.
When you finally near the food court, you both hesitate—just slightly, just enough for your eyes to meet. You shift.
Yoongi turns left into the food court, away from you, and leaves you looking at his back. But to your surprise, he raises a hand in goodbye. "See you around."
"See you," you acknowledge. Claire’s is feet away. You turn right.
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“Hey.”
You’re in the food court again. For some reason, today you had woken up early, but you suspected the culprit to be your slow-rising anxiety over an upcoming test. So, you figured, since your bed didn’t have the best track record of helping you study, you might as well just arrive to work a little early. Sip on your coffee and quiz yourself before your shift. You knew Yoongi might appear, and he does.
He’s raising a curious eyebrow at you at the number of books you have crowded on the table, but just as he opens his mouth again, an arm is thrown over his shoulder, and there’s someone behind him.
“Yoongi, who’s this?” asks the most beautiful man you have ever seen in your life. You’re trying really hard not to stare, but in all honesty, you’re baffled how the universe could have allowed one person to look so good.
Yoongi lets out a sigh, and the taller man only smiles wider in response. “This is _____,” the blond grumbles. “And _____, this is Seokjin, my—”
“Fishing buddy?” Seokjin supplies helpfully. “Emergency contact? Bestest friend?”
“…roommate,” Yoongi finishes, eyes rolling to the ceiling.
You purse your lips, trying not to laugh. “Nice to meet you, Seokjin.”
He gives you a small bow. “Likewise, milady.”
“For fuck’s sake.” Yoongi sends him a flat stare. “I thought you said you had to get back to Bertha.”
Seokjin waves a hand, unconcerned. “I will, in a minute. So.” He looks between the two of you, smirking. “How do you guys know each other?”
“We sleep together,” Yoongi says, and you immediately feel the heat creep up your neck at his boldness.
“We nap at the same time,” you correct quickly. “Occasionally. In adjacent, but separate massage chairs.”
The brunette looks like the cat who ate the canary. “Interestingggg.”
You blink. “Um—”
“Weren’t you going to brainstorm the details for that app idea you had?” Yoongi is as subtle as a sledgehammer, and you can’t help but snort at that. Still, your interest is piqued.
“App?” you ask curiously. “You make apps?”
Seokjin smiles a genuine smile, and your breath catches at the beautiful sight. “That’s definitely the endgoal. But right now I’m mulling over a couple ideas. Listen to this one! Came to me in the shower this morning. Most good ideas usually do, am I right?”
“Seokjin,” Yoongi huffs.
“Lights Out, an app that tells you exactly how much you need of whatever you’re drinking in order to get happily tipsy, casually drunk, or stupidly blackout. Without alcohol poisoning, of course.”
“That sounds…” you pause. “Like multiple lawsuits waiting to happen.”
“I know, I know, I still have to work out the kinks. But I really think that one could be a contender!”
“Whatever you say,” Yoongi deadpans.
The two of them share a long look, having some sort of silent conversation. You clear your throat awkwardly.
“Fine. I see where I’m not wanted. I’ll go,” Seokjin sniffs. “But only because I want to practice my routine one more time.”
You blink. “Routine?”
Seokjin opens his mouth again, but Yoongi sets a hand on your shoulder. You startle a bit, surprised at the contact. “Shhh...Just let him go.”
You both watch him leave, laughing obnoxiously as he goes. You turn to Yoongi slyly. “He seems nice.”
He rolls his eyes, choosing to ignore you. “What are you reading?”
“Just some research papers. I was trying to study for a test, but to be honest…now I’m a bit too afraid of what Seokjin’s gonna unleash onto society to focus.”
“He talks a lot, but he’s harmless,” he dismisses easily, much more interested in you. “You’re still in school?”
“Unfortunately,” you gripe. “I made the dumbass decision to go back. Getting a Master’s in sociology that I’m not really sure what I want to do with it yet. But I’m leaning towards social work.”
“Really?” He’s surprised, you can tell. Surprised and curious. And you don’t blame him—this is not a field in which you’ll be treated to sparkles or rainbows or even decent pay for what you’ll be subjecting yourself to. But it’s always been hard to explain that smothering feeling you get in your chest whenever you watch the news.
Still, you try.
“It’s just...this world is burning. It’s burning, and as a society, we’re the ones who lit the match, and we’re standing around idly and watching the fire spread. Watching other people suffer, watching them lose everything in that fire. And I just…I wanna do something. I wanna help. So I figured the best way to do that would be to understand why we struck the match in the first place. What caused all this, what really makes society tick. And then…then maybe I can help smother the flames. Help those who have been burned and protect those who haven’t yet.”
Yoongi tilts his head as he looks at you, lips quirking. “You just keep the surprises coming, huh.”
“What?”
“Nothing.” He shakes his head. “So is that why you’re always so tired all the time? Just casually getting a Master’s degree?”
“Yeah, real casual.” A small smile touches your lips, flattered at his implied praise. “What’s your excuse? You look like you got four hours of sleep last night.”
“I only got two, so thanks for the compliment,” Yoongi replies. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out his phone, tapping on the screen as he roots around for his earbuds. He hands both to you. “I was working on this.”
Raising an eyebrow, you dutifully put the earbuds in your ears.
After you had been so brutally honest over the songs on his Soundcloud, Yoongi has been asking you listen to some of the beats he’s been working on, curious about your opinion. Trusting that you wouldn’t blow smoke up his ass, but that you would also freely tell him what was working. And you don’t mind at all, because you hadn’t been lying before—his beats are fire.
(“I can tell that you have great taste,” he had shrugged when you had asked him about it. “Here, listen to this one. I’m trying to decide if the triplets on the hi-hat at the end are too much.”)
Now, when you press play, you can’t help but let out a long exhale. “Those 808s,” you moan to yourself. But Yoongi, watching you carefully for any and all reactions, grins gummily in response. After a few moments, you see his lips moving, and reluctantly stop the track.
“That good, huh?”
“...Yes,” you admit, holding the phone out to him.
“I’ll put that in the yes pile then.” He reaches for the phone, glancing at it when the movement causes the screen to illuminate. He frowns. “I...My shift’s about to start, and I gotta go roll out the dough. See you later?”
“Yeah,” you reply, biting your lip to subdue the smile threatening to take over your face. “Yeah, see you later.”
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The rest of the day is a bit slow, only a handful of girls walking in, and even fewer actually buying anything. It’s a bit of a relief, as that means you have even more of an opportunity to study for your looming exam, the raised walls of the register desk obscuring your scattered papers. It isn’t until you hear footsteps much heavier than your usual clientele that you look up.
There’s a man here. Not unusual—sometimes dads are dragged inside by their daughters, or come in of their own volition in search of the perfect sparkly gift. This guy seems a bit on the young side, but it’s his tight tshirt branded with the logo of the gym on the mall’s lower level that cements your suspicions.
He’s tall, and when he approaches you, you’re forced to look up to meet his large, doe-like eyes.
“Can I help you?” you ask, sliding your assigned reading out of the way. He smiles at you, a friendly, boyish smile that masks his true intentions for a solid two seconds before he leans on the counter, closer to you.
“I heard they hired someone new.” His smile widens.
Oh lord, here we go. He’s hot, you’ll give him that. But he also doesn’t look like the sharpest tool in the shed, and you’re not particularly interested in getting hit on at your workplace—where you technically aren’t supposed to cuss him out, if need be.
Technically.
“Yeah,” you reply, tone neutrally-friendly. Deciding to give him the benefit of the doubt. “I started a few weeks ago?”
“Cool! I just hadn’t seen you around, so I wanted to introduce myself. I’m Jungkook,” he tells you, pausing pointedly as if that means something to you. He leans closer, still at a distance that can be considered acceptable, though he’s certainly toeing the line. “I work at the gym downstairs.”
“You don’t say.” You never would have guessed, what with the branded tee and the way he looks one exhale away from hulking out of it.
Jungkook notices your accidental attention to his chest and pointedly flexes his pecs. His arms flex too. His shirt screams bloody murder.
You look back up at his face, raising an eyebrow. He’s smug, clearly used to that type of attention and more than happy to bask in it. Honestly, you can’t help but be amused by such a textbook, primitive display of machismo, and you bite down a smile.
“You know, you haven’t told me your name,” he flirts. “Since we’re getting to know each other.”
You tap your nametag pointedly. “Is there anything I can help you with, Jungkook? If not, I have to get back to work.”
He grins. “No one’s here but me, though.”
“You and that giant ego.”
“Ouch,” he laughs. He tilts his head in thought. “Hmm. Well, what if I want to get pierced? Could you help me with that?”
You blink, not expecting that. He’s got a good amount of jewelry trailing up his ears already, and he points to an untouched stretch of cartilage.
What the hell?
“...You heard me say that I literally just started a few weeks ago, right?” You eye him suspiciously, your confusion making you immediately throw everything your employee handbook taught you out the window.
“Yup!”
“And you still want to do it? Even though I can see you have multiple piercings and I know you’re fully aware that you should really be getting pierced by a professional piercer with a needle, and not me and this gun.”
“Yeah.” God, his teeth are a touch too big for his mouth, and fuck if it isn’t endearing. “Can you help me?”
“...Sure,” you shrug. Hey, it's his body.
You pull out the binder of earrings, ready to show him all of the options, but he merely gives an uninterested tap to a blue butterfly stud on the first page. “Okay, then,” you blink. “Have a seat over there. Let me set up.”
Jungkook looks rather ridiculous in your opinion, his giant, muscly man body squishing on the small stool that is usually occupied by nine-year-olds. You can’t help but exhale laughter through your nose as you approach him, setting your tools on the counter beside you. What makes it funnier to you is that pretty much everyone can see what’s going on, because, in an effort to bring more foot traffic into the store, corporate felt it best to put piercing stations right by the window, so all passersby could get a front row seat. As it is, there aren’t that many people walking past today, though from here you can see Yoongi staring at you from his spot in the Auntie Anne’s kitchen.
God, you hope this situation looks as ridiculous as you think it does.
You give him a salute in greeting before turning your complete attention back to your customer. You pick up a marker and lean closer to Jungkook, carefully placing a small dot on the unmarked skin of his left ear that he had pointed out earlier. You feel him still at your proximity, but you’re backing away before he can get too used to it, handing him a mirror. “How’s the placement?”
He barely glances at it, eyes drifting back to your face. “Looks great.”
“Great.” You shake your head, but dutifully snap on gloves and reach for your gun, focused completely on getting an accurate shot. “Don’t move.”
“So. _____,” he murmurs, only partially attempting to heed your warning. “That’s a pretty name.”
You huff out a small laugh, amazed at his tenacity. “You’re really gonna get slick with me when I have a piercing gun in my hand?”
Jungkook smirks. “I love a woman in power.”
You roll your eyes, pulling the trigger. The earring pushes through the cartilage of his ear, and he only flinches a little. “Yeah, okay, Casanova,” you snort. “That’ll be forty bucks. Here’s your complimentary cleaning solution. Don’t fiddle with the piercing or it’ll get infected.”
He takes it from you, but he frowns, following you back to the register. “...You don’t really seem to be into this.”
“Into what?” you ask distractedly as you try to remember the correct code to punch into the register. “You, or the whole piercing thing? Because you’d be right on both accounts.”
“Fucking Hobi,” he mutters, and you look up at him, question unspoken. Now he looks a little embarrassed, ears red in areas you never touched. “He told me—never mind.”
You want to press him on it, but decide that by the way he’s now averting his eyes, he’s unlikely to elaborate. So you shrug, accepting his credit card and handing him the aftercare instructions. “Do you have any other questions? You know, ones related to the piercing you just got.”
The butterfly piercing which, by all definition, should have made him look silly, but instead somehow raises his hotness level by a noticeable amount. Life really is unfair, isn’t it.
“No.” He smiles again, but it is much smaller than the others. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome, Jungkook. Have a great day!”
He leaves, your bizarre encounter ending just as bizarrely as it had begun. But it seems the surprises keep coming, because not minutes after, Yoongi walks into your store next.
“What are you doing here?” you ask, pushing your reading aside again. “I thought we weren’t going on break for another fifteen minutes.” You still have to wait for Raquel to come in—though someone is always working in the backroom, shifts for the front of the store overlap so the store will never be left unattended.
Yoongi shrugs, his stride towards you the epitome of cool and nonchalance. Well, as cool as he can look while wearing an apron with a pretzel embroidered on it. He leans against the counter, avoiding your gaze. “I took it a little early. Who was that?”
You tilt your head, wondering where he’s going with this. “Who, the guy who just left? Jungkook. Apparently works at the gym downstairs.”
“Huh. Thought so.” His tongue pokes through his cheek, then disappears. “You should be careful around guys like him.”
What. Is that really what all this is about? Your eyebrows raise incredulously, a snort escaping you. “Like you’re any better, Mr. Tongue Technology. I think I’ll be just fine.”
He turns to you properly then, holds up placating hands. “Listen, I’m just speaking facts. Not trying to get into your pants. Unlike Jungkook.”
“You’re not trying to get into my pants,” you repeat disbelievingly, lips quirked in amusement.
Yoongi smirks. “I never try to get into anyone’s pants. I merely accept invitations.”
You can’t help but laugh at that, shaking your head. “Yeah, okay, whatever you say, hotshot. To what do I owe your presence in my lovely place of employment? Do you actually need anything? Or did you just come here to scare off the gym rats?”
“For your information,” he sniffs. “I’m here to make a purchase.”
“You wanna buy something.” You look around pointedly at all the pink, glittery merchandise stamped with variations of Girls Rule! “Here?”
“Is that judgment I hear in your tone?”
“Oh no. I just never pegged you for the type to buy a hat with an attached unicorn horn.” You pause, giving him a quick look-over. “But you know what? Now, I can kinda see it.”
“I don’t want a unicorn hat,” Yoongi deadpans. “I want friendship bracelets.”
“Friendship bracelets?” You slide off your stool, intrigued. “Well, our friendship jewelry is over here.”
He follows you to the display. There are bracelets, but also a nice variety of necklaces and keychains. Yoongi still seems dead set on bracelets though, fingering through some brightly-colored rubber ones before he pauses on a much classier-looking set (if you can call anything in Claire’s classy).
The bracelets each have a silver chain and half of the same heart charm, the words Best Friends Forever split between the halves. There’s also a disgustingly cute animal charm hanging from each bracelet, but that only seems to draw the blond man in more. He rifles through the whole stack before he slides out a pink set from the middle.
“I’ll take the cat and the llama.”
“Weirdly enough, that’s an alpaca,” you tell him. “Not that you can really tell, because it’s made of plastic. But that’s what comes up in the system when I ring it up.”
Yoongi grins at this bizarre fun fact. “I’ll take the cat and the alpaca then.”
“You just want the one? Just so you know, if you buy three, you get the fourth one free.”
“Why would I want three more sets?” he scoffs. “Who even has that many friends?”
“…A lot of people, believe it or not.”
“Why would I waste extra money trying to get a ‘free’ item that I likely just paid for twice over? Might as well just buy the damn unicorn hat.”
“Our hats are currently BOGO,” you inform him helpfully.
“I don’t want the unicorn hat,” he huffs rather irritably, and you try not to be endeared by the small pout of his lips.
“Suit yourself,” you say with a shrug, moving back to the register. You pause to look back at him over your shoulder. “Sure I can’t interest you in a sparkly rainbow scepter?”
He pretends to think about it. “You drive a hard bargain. But no.”
“Let me know if you change your mind,” you say as you start to ring up his purchase. You give him a conspiratorial wink. “I can give you my employee discount.”
“Can’t you give it to me now?”
“No. I’ll only do it for the scepter.” You pause. “Or the unicorn hat.”
“Why are you so focused on that hat?”
“I think it’ll look cute on you.”
The look he gives you is wholly unamused. You force down a laugh. “No.”
“Well,” you sniff, “since you clearly have zero regard for fashion, that’ll be full-price.”
“I thought we were friends,” he pouts, dutifully slipping his card out of his wallet.
Something warm blooms in your chest at the words, and you clear your throat. “Really?” you tease, tone deceptively innocent. “Is this bracelet for me?”
He pauses, considering his options. “...do you want it to be?”
“God no,” you laugh. “But knowing you were willing to give it to me is enough. So I guess we’re friends.”
He offers you a slow smile, and you can’t help but return it.
“So that discount—”
“Not a chance, buddy.”
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Something shifts between you after that.
It’s barely noticeable—so minute that you wonder if you’re the only one who feels it. Yoongi doesn’t really act much differently towards you, still joining you at the massage chairs whenever you both have the morning shift. But at the same time, it is different.
There’s an unspoken assumption that you’ll spend your breaks together if you can, and though your nap sessions used to be more or less coincidental, now, you both somehow know each other’s work schedules. And you casually plan around them.
Even when you’re on different shifts, you somehow manage to seek each other out. Yoongi likes to pretend to buss relatively-clean tables in your vicinity when you’re studying in the food court just so he can give his two cents about whatever social construct you’re raging about that week. And you like to pretend you can actually study in a crowded food court, solely so he can come over and pretend to buss tables.
Because there’s no denying it at this point. You most definitely have a crush on him.
You’re not quite sure when your feelings bloomed, but you’re also not surprised that they did. You would think that him being a whole ass Soundcloud rapper who works at a pretzel stand and promotes his music to anyone who will listen would turn you off—and it would, on paper. But the kicker is that Yoongi is a relatively quiet and extremely chill person. You are well-aware that stress can make you rather intense at times, but Yoongi doesn’t seem put-off by this at all, often actively seeking you out. He is a great listener, and has calmly talked you down on multiple occasions from slowly-mounting, caffeine-and-anxiety-fueled meltdowns over your thesis. He is also the type to really consider his words carefully before he says them, a trait that you would never expect from someone whose mouth —according to his music—is absolutely filthy. But whenever he listens to your sleep-deprived rants, you can see the wheels turning behind his eyes, thoughts lining up properly before he voices them. And his dry humor always manages to make you smile, even on your shittiest of days.
Despite the fact that he often whines about how tired he is or how soft pretzels are stupid or how somebody forgot to include mustard on the list of supplies they were running low on, so now he’ll have to spend the next week constantly explaining to people that he is out of mustard—despite all that, you see him clearly. No amount of complaining on his part can disguise the fact that he’s an extremely hard-worker—a hustler—and you have no doubt that he’s going to succeed in whatever he puts his mind to. He’s a living, breathing example of always being sure to look beneath the surface.
And you have a crush.
For now, you see no reason to act on it. He hasn’t given off any solid vibes that he would be open to you acting on it, or even like you to. So for now, you are content with simply being fond.
You can’t help but be fond even when he pauses in handing you your pretzel to straight up cackle, attention solely on the sudden commotion happening just outside the food court. You follow his line of sight, and above the crowds of nosy onlookers, you can distinctly see a dark-haired man leaping into the air. Having some sort of contest with an equally-scrambling woman over who can catch an erratically-flying toy helicopter. There’s intelligible shouting, and then they both chase the drone out of view.
“What the...” you blink, baffled. “Yoongi, wasn’t that your best friend?”
He’s still chuckling lowly, even as he shakes his head. “I don’t claim that guy.”
“You are literally wearing one half of the friendship bracelets you bought for him a couple weeks ago.”
And? he challenges you with a quirk of an eyebrow. He makes no move to obscure the cat bracelet on his wrist as he hands you your pretzel. “Want any dips?”
“Yeah, mustard.”
He huffs out a laugh. “You got jokes, huh? Cute.”
You ignore the fluttering.
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You’re on break, scarfing down a Subway sandwich and scrolling Twitter, when he walks up to you. A noise of surprise leaves your throat as you take out your headphones, confused. “Hey. What are you doing here?” you ask, carefully swallowing. “You’re not scheduled today.”
Yoongi looks different when he’s not wearing his uniform. His bleached hair is still mussed, but the way his bangs messily fall seems more the distracted work of his hands than his visor. He’s dressed in head-to-toe black, simply in a zipup hoodie and jeans. He shifts his weight from foot to foot, hands deep in his pockets, and clears his throat.
“I know you’re off for the rest of the week. And I was in the area so...”
You raise an eyebrow at his mumbling, at the way he can’t quite meet your eye. Is that...is that pink dusted across his cheeks? What can he possibly have to say that couldn’t wait until next week? He could have even simply texted you. “Is your phone broken?”
“No, I just…” He lets out a visible exhale. “I wanted you to listen to something.”
Oh, so that’s it. Yoongi gets like this sometimes when he’s working on something that he’s excited about. But his vibe’s a little off as he pulls out the chair next to yours and hands you his phone. It’s almost as if he’s…
Nervous.  
Your eyes widen at this revelation. Yoongi has never been nervous to show you his work before. No, he has always been cocky, at times a little subdued if he wasn’t sure if a part was working. But he has always been sure in himself, in his abilities. This is new territory.
You glance down at the screen, interest piqued.
The Last.mp3
“Sure,” you murmur, more to yourself than to him. You put the earbuds in your ears and tap the play button.
The dragging beat pulls you in immediately, everything around you fading away as Yoongi’s raspy vocals swallow everything. At first your brows pinch a bit in thought as you listen—this is so completely different from everything else that he’s shown you that you’re trying to make sense of where the song is going. But it’s not long until the Yoongi on the track tells you.
The doctor asks me if I’ve ever tried to kill myself. I answer without any hesitation that I have.
Your eyes snap up to him in shock, taken completely off-guard. You find him already looking back at you. The restless way his fingers tap the tabletop tells you he’s wary of your reaction. But the determined look in his eye tells you he’s not the least bit ashamed.
Your lips part, but you’re quickly drawn further into the song as it continues.
As time goes by, I feel like I’m turning into a monster.
If my misfortune is your happiness, I’ll happily stay unfortunate.
Jesus.
You can’t help it—emotion builds, rising in your chest, getting caught in your throat. By the time the song hits its crescendo and cuts out, you’re struggling to blink tears from your eyes, willing them not to fall. You sit there in silence for an extra minute, trying to corral your emotions into something manageable, until finally, with a shuddery exhale, you slowly pull the earbuds out one by one.
Yoongi watches you carefully, shuffles in his seat while he waits for you to find words. His nervousness means he finds them before you do. “You asked me what my truth was.”
“What?” you say faintly, voice thick.
“Before. You said I needed to speak my truth. You asked who I was.” You must be making a worrying expression, because he immediately holds up reassuring hands. “It’s okay—I’m in a much better place now. But you asked who I was…that was me.”
You’re overwhelmed. The song is beautiful—so full of heart and pain and grit and raw honesty, and it knocks the breath clean out of you. It’s as if Yoongi has given you himself in song form, has just laid it all out there. And you feel honored and humbled that he has chosen to share this with you.
“It’s perfect,” you finally push out. “This is...it’s perfect, Yoongi. And I know it doesn’t fit with your other songs, but it would seriously be a disservice to yourself to not include it on your mixtape. I just...wow.”
Yoongi’s posture immediately relaxes. He smiles a shy smile at your praise, ducks his head a bit to hide it. “I’ve been working on some other songs too,” he informs you. “To help round out the project, like you suggested. But this is the first one that’s presentable.”
The two of you sit quietly for a few moments, not really looking at each other. Your thumb lightly trails along the edge of the phone. You exhale.
“Do you mind if I listen to it again?”
When Yoongi smiles at you this time, you can’t help but smile back.      
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One of the things you find interesting about working at the mall is that, despite being decently-sized and staffed almost entirely by part-time employees, everyone seems to know everyone else (or, at the very least, know of them). You expected to become familiar with the other Claire’s employees, to maybe branch out and be friendly with a few of the stores closest to you. Befriending Yoongi was a pleasant surprise, but seeing as everyone is essentially using these jobs as a necessary means to an end, you never expected anyone to actually socialize with anyone else outside of the building. Soon enough, you find out this apparently isn’t the case.
Kim Taehyung works at Java Joe’s, the mall’s resident café. Kim Taehyung is also one of the friendliest humans on the planet, the definition of a social butterfly. So, seeing as everyone and their mother has come into Java Joe’s at some point, it’s safe to say that Taehyung knows—and is on good terms with—pretty much everyone who works in the mall. This is probably why, when he decides to throw a party, he thinks nothing of inviting pretty much everyone.
He catches you one day, at Java Joe’s right on time to get some much-needed caffeine before a shift. He smiles at you when you enter, but his attention is quickly stolen by an exchange happening between his coworker and the girl you’ve heard works at Kay Jewelers. (From your one and only interaction with her, you’ve deduced that she’s a bitch.)
“A grande Pink Drink,” you hear the Kay’s Bitch say.
You can practically see a vein pop out of the poor cashier’s forehead. “For the last time,” she says through teeth clenched into a semblance of a smile. “This is not a Starbucks.”
“It’s okay,” Taehyung calls, sending the Kay’s Bitch a wink. “I can still make it. Just ring it up for a large latte with soy.”
The Kay’s Bitch looks at the female cashier smugly before turning to bat her eyelashes at Taehyung. “Thank you, Tae,” she says, voice sickeningly sweet.
“Anytime, gorgeous.”
The female cashier visibly fumes, but doesn’t say anything, just punches some buttons on the register and waits for the Kay’s Bitch to swipe her card and move down the counter. She still manages to put on her best customer-service face when you step up. “Hey, ____. What can I get you?”
“I actually want a large latte, please. But vanilla.”
“No problem.”
You notice Taehyung hand the Kay’s Bitch her drink, and she smiles coyly at him. “See you on Saturday, Tae.”
“Yeah, see you!”
You pay, scooting down closer to Taehyung, where you’ll be able to pick up your order. You were the last person in line, so the cashier scoots down too, livid.
“Taehyung. Why do you insist on continuing to undermine me!? We aren’t a fucking Starbucks!”
“You know I didn’t mean it like that,” he whines, turning away from the milk he’s steaming to send her a pleading look. “It’s just easier.”
“I don’t care if it’s easier,” she fumes. “If you would just stop making these drinks for people, they’d stop asking!”
“She wouldn’t,” he points out. “And this way, she goes away faster.”
She bites her lip at that, likely realizing the validity in his claim, but turns away from him, arms crossed. “Yeah, okay. Whatever.”
Taehyung pouts, sending her multiple glances even as he finishes up your drink. “If it makes you feel better,” he continues, “we don’t carry any of that strawberry acai mix you need for the drink, so I just squeeze in a Kool-Aid Jammer every time she orders it. Cherry.”
His coworker fights down a smile, clearly still trying to be mad. “Why do you have a usable supply of Kool-Aid Jammers?”
“They really hit the spot with Panda Express,” he informs her as she shakes her head. The little bell above the door that leads to the parking lot dings, and she moves back to the register to greet the new customers. Taehyung’s eyes trail after her, locked on her form for a second too long before he turns away.
“Dude.” You finally speak up, having silently watched the entire interaction. “You’ve got it bad.”
“I know,” Tae replies miserably, handing you your completed latte.  “I’m trying. But she won’t believe me. It’s like talking to a brick wall.” He pauses, suddenly remembering something. “Hey, are you off on Saturday?”
You mentally pull up your work schedule. “I have a morning shift, why?”
“There’s gonna be a party at my place Saturday night,” he says loudly. You gather that he wants his coworker to hear. You’re pretty sure even the middle-aged lady who works at that one weird store at the end of the hallway that exclusively sells robotic dogs hears him. “You should definitely stop by! Great tunes, free booze—everything you could want.”
The Kay’s Bitch is invited too, you realize. He must be inviting the whole mall. But the smile he sends you is genuine, so you can tell he hasn’t offered you a pity invite—though you’re not sure you can say the same for the girl to who he just sold an overpriced Kool-Aid Jammer.
“You know what? I’ve been kind of stressed lately,” you say. “I think I will.”
Taehyung grins, and his mouth is an endearing square. “Great! It starts at 9, but come whenever.”
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It’s a good thing that you ended up making your coffee a large today—work ends up being absolutely nonstop. Raquel had warned you ahead of time that today was going to be nuts—two birthday parties means both you and Momo had been scheduled for the register during the same time slot to accommodate. But for some reason, you hadn’t expected it to be this bad. Clearly, you were naive.
You barely have enough time to breathe, let alone take a break, and it’s an hour after you were supposed to meet Yoongi that you see him simply walking into your store, a bag and lemonade in hand.
You’re in the middle of ringing up a customer so he casually waits for you to finish. From her spot at the piercing station, you see Momo send you an astonished look, eyes darting between you.
The customer leaves, and Yoongi steps up to the register. “I’m sorry,” you tell him, frazzled. “Shit, did you text me? I haven’t been able to look at my phone—”
“It’s okay,” he interrupts, holding the bag towards you. The heavenly scent of cinnamony dough wafts out. “I figured you might be hungry. They’re really making you work for your fifty cents an hour, huh?”
There’s only one mom and daughter left in the store, and Momo has them covered, so you feel no shame in breaking a piece of pretzel off and stuffing it into your mouth, a little groan rumbling in your throat. Yoongi’s lips twitch in response. “We had two birthday parties today,” you tell him around the buttery dough. “Did you know that you can host your birthday party at Claire’s? Neither did I. But I damn sure learned today. When I had two. Two, Yoongi.”
Yoongi just lets you complain, though it goes without saying that your job is pretty chill 98% of the time and Auntie Anne’s undoubtedly gets more foot traffic than you do. But a one-minute exchange doesn’t compare to having to deal with large groups of preteens for hours on end. You are exhausted, and your cheeks hurt from all the fake smiling you’ve been forced to do to sell more overpriced jewelry.
“Hey.” You suddenly remember the conversation you had this morning. “Did you hear Taehyung’s having a party?”
He rolls his eyes. “He’s only told me about five times.”
“Huh.” You pull off another pretzel piece and pop it in your mouth, sucking the sugar from your fingertips. You don’t notice Yoongi’s eyes follow the motion. “He must like you more than me—he’s only told me once.” You chew in thought. “But I guess I technically haven’t seen him in a few days, so maybe that’s why...anyway, I think I’m gonna go.”
You see him open this mouth to respond, but your conversation is derailed by a sudden, high-pitched voice.
“Mommy! Is that DJ Flossy Gloss?”
Yoongi stiffens.
“DJ Flossy Gloss,” you repeat slowly, looking between the blond man and the little girl who has just finished getting her ears pierced. “…You know her?”
Yoongi blinks, refusing to turn around. “Who?”
The little girl tugs on her mother’s arm, trying to get her attention while her eyes stay firmly in your direction. You incline your head. “That little girl ten feet away and pointing at you.”
“What little girl,” he deadpans easily. You snort out a laugh, intrigued by his bizarre behavior, but he pays you no mind. “I should go—I told Lindsay I’d only be a few. But make sure you take your break, okay? Don’t let those bastards trick you into working for free. They legally owe you one.”
Your heart warms at his obvious concern over you. “Will do. Thanks for the pretzel.”
As he walks out, the little girl waves excitedly at him. He shyly waves back before, looking over his shoulder and realizing you’re still watching, ducking out of the store.
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(Later, when you pass Seokjin’s kiosk on your way to the bathroom, you decide to pause.
“Hey,” you say, making him look up from the notepad that he is presumably using to take inventory. He’s been kind of sulking around ever since that day he fell into the fountain, but lately he’s seemed to be getting back to his friendly self. “Quick question: who is DJ Flossy Gloss?”
For a second, you assume someone is washing windows nearby. But then you realize that the noise is coming from Seokjin and he’s laughing. Dear god is that bizarre.
“Yoongi’s second gig is deejaying,” he informs you, clearly delighted to be able to relay this information to you. “He goes by DJ Flossy Gloss. Mostly does Kidz Bop mixes for birthday parties and bat mitzvahs.”
That...was unexpected. Unexpected and wholesome, and a smile stretches across your face and mirrors Seokjin’s. He raises his hand to wave at someone over your shoulder, and when you turn your head to look, there’s Yoongi. Too far away to hear what the two of you are talking about, but able to glare at you suspiciously from where he’s rolling out dough.
“Good to know,” you smirk. Seokjin waggles his fingers at his roommate tauntingly.)
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When your Uber stops in front of the building, you can’t help but triple-check the address that Taehyung had given you. Because the apartment building is nice, and there’s no fucking way that Java Joe’s pays that much—and if they do, well, shit.
You might need to see if they’re hiring.
The sparkling tiles of the lobby (because yes, Taehyung’s building has a lobby with sparkling tiles. And a doorman. What.) lead you to the elevators, which you dutifully take to the 14th floor. The door to the apartment is unlocked, which is just as well, because even though you’ve shown up at 9:30, the party is clearly already in full-swing, the bass from the music thrumming through the hallway walls. When you swing the door open, the music only gets louder and clearer, mixed with the sounds of laughter and intelligible chattering.
As you expected from downstairs, the apartment is big, with an open floorplan that allows you to see from the living room to the kitchen to the balcony, and people are slowly starting to fill every inch. Just that easily, the mystery of how Taehyung was able to invite damn near the whole fucking mall has been solved. You hover a bit near the entrance, recognizing that one dude that you’re pretty sure works at The Gap as he passes by you but still feeling a bit out of place amongst all the people you don’t know.
Fuck, you should have pregamed before this.
While most people are too busy chatting and drinking to notice or care about you standing there like an idiot, your dawdling does end up attracting attention. A man sidles over, and in the back of your mind, you think you may have seen him hanging around Java Joe’s during your coffee runs before your morning shift.
“Hi,” he says, and his eyes turn into half-moons when he smiles at you. Yup. Definitely should have pregamed. “I’m Jimin! Tae’s roommate.”
“_____—nice to meet you.” Your eyes scan the room. “You guys have a really nice place.”
“Thanks,” he smiles. “You work in the mall, right? Where?”
“Claire’s.”
“Whew. So you definitely can use a drink,” he says knowingly, placing a light hand on your shoulder to guide you further into the apartment. “Come on, I’ll show you where everything is.”
Jimin leads you through the clusters of people, and from over by the speakers, Taehyung waves at you excitedly. You send him a smile and a much more reserved wave back, continuing to follow his roommate straight into the kitchen, where bottles litter the countertop.
“What’s your poison?” he asks. “We have hard liquor and mixers here and beers in the fridge.”
“I’m kind of a ‘drinks whole bottles of cheap wine in one sitting’ type of girl,” you inform him, and he lets out a bubbly laugh that entices a laugh out of you, too. You wonder if you should keep it to yourself that you’re not joking, but the opportunity to fess up passes when Jimin bends down and opens a cabinet door, procuring a bottle of wine for you. When he waves it teasingly at you, you can see that it is not of the cheap variety.
“How’s this?” He saucily waggles his eyebrows, taking a few seconds to expertly uncork the bottle before pushing it into your hands before you can react. He pulls the proper glass from one of his cabinets. “There you go—you’re all set!”
“_____! You came!” a familiar voice says, and there is Momo, grinning happily at you. “I wasn’t sure you would!” She has clearly already had a drink or two, somehow even more giggly than usual. Still, in the spirit of all fun parties with free alcohol, she doesn’t hesitate to make a beeline for the Costco-sized vodka bottle next to you, starting to mix herself another one.
“Well, I was off today so.” You shrug easily. “Taehyung asked me and I figured why not.”
“I’m gonna keep being the gracious host,” Jimin tells you with a wink. “But there’s another bottle down there if you want one. Have fun, okay?” You nod, and he moves to mingle with the other guests now that you’re no longer alone and boozeless.
When her beverage is liquored up to her satisfaction, Momo moves a bit closer to you so you can hear her over the music. “This place is crazy, right? Do you think Tae is secretly a millionaire and only works at the mall for funsies?”
“If that’s the case, I think I need to start chatting him up more. Maybe he’ll find paying off my student loans just as fun.” You pour yourself a glass of wine, setting the bottle on the counter directly behind you. That was for you, and you were sure that if you dropped your guard, it would be emptied by other partygoers in an instant.
The two of you chat a bit more—or, at least, Momo does, and you nod your head to indicate that you’re listening. One thing about Momo is that she can talk your ear clean off, which is certainly helpful when she’s trying to make a sale, but not so much when you’re just trying to drink and vibe. She chatters on long enough for you to finish your glass of wine and pour another one.
“Hey, what’s the deal with you and that pretzel guy?” Momo asks suddenly, the keywords making you stop zoning out and snap to attention. She takes a noisy slurp from her cup. “You know, the blond one who’s always giving you eyes?”
You clear your throat, a bit startled at the unexpected question. Your insides are warm, and you’re not sure if it’s solely because of the wine. “We’re friends,” you concede. “And, for the record, Yoongi does not give me eyes.”
“Ehhh, he totally does. He’s even doing it right now.”
You blink in surprise, head whipping around to scan the room for familiar bleached hair. You don’t have to look very far—he’s near the doorway to the kitchen, coming towards you. Or the alcohol, and therefore you. His tshirt once again betrays his affinity for black, but this time, he pairs it with jeans that are ripped at the knees and an olive-green jacket.
Yoongi slows when he approaches you, casually stuffing his hands into the pockets of said jacket. “Hey.”
“Hey,” you reply, a bit breathily.
“Hi!” Momo cuts in cheerily, slurping loudly from her cup. You sigh internally, unconsciously taking a rather large swallow of your drink as Yoongi greets your mouthy coworker.
His eyes catch the action, lips twitching amusedly. “What you got there?”
“Some sort of fancy wine that Tae’s roommate gave me. It’s pretty good.” You pause. “Want some? We can share if you want.”
The gleam in his eye tells you his interest is piqued. But that doesn’t prepare you for the feeling of his fingers ghosting over yours as he guides your glass closer to him. The move is so unexpected that you don’t let go, don’t refuse the question in his gaze, so it’s both of you who tip the liquid into his mouth. Your eyes lock for a moment that feels much longer than it probably is, and when Yoongi finally lets go, his lips are stained a delectable berry.
The alcohol has already loosened you up, has knocked down a few mental barriers, so it is easy for the thought of licking the color off him to flit through your mind, uninhibited. You shake it away, clear your throat. “Good, right?”
“Yeah,” he says, smiling at you. “Good.” He doesn’t bother looking for a real glass, like yours—just reaches for one of the plastic ones on the counter next to you and tips it in your direction for you to fill. It’s only then that you remember that the two of you are not alone, but it appears Momo had wandered off while you were resisting the urge to jump the man in front of you. So now you are.
“Did you just get here?” you ask, giving him a healthy pour that empties the rest of the bottle.
”Yeah.” He takes a sip from his cup.
“I’m surprised to see you, to be honest. This doesn’t really feel like your scene.”
Yoongi huffs out a laugh. “Doesn’t feel like yours, either.”
“Hey, that’s not true!” You point a saucy finger at him. “Anywhere where there’s free wine is definitely my scene.”
“Mine too,” he counters. “Want me to show up to an event? Have alcohol and or puppies.”
The visual of Min Yoongi, self-proclaimed hardcore rapper, showing up somewhere with the hope of playing with puppies has you laughing out loud. But all the time you’ve spent with him has already alerted you to the fact that his hard persona is all a front. Beneath his rather stoic exterior is a soft-spoken man who gets sparkly-eyed at puppies and makes playlists for little kids and enjoys napping and a good merlot.
“Why are you laughing at me?” he whines, but he’s laughing too, despite his supposed irritation with you. “Everybody loves puppies! And if they don’t, they’re lying.”
“That’s true,” you concede.
A random dude approaches the two of you, stumbling towards the alcohol, and Yoongi steps out of the way, and therefore a bit closer to you. You look up at him, raising an amused eyebrow at the annoyed look on his face, but Yoongi waits until the guy makes his drink and leaves again to answer your unspoken question.
“Can’t fucking stand that guy,” he mutters. He hasn’t stepped back, and you’re fully aware of it.
“Why, what’d he do? I’ve literally never seen him before in my life.”
“Count yourself lucky. He works at Abercrombie downstairs, so that should give you a good sense of what he’s like.”
“You can’t judge people based on where they ended up working,” you point out with a laugh.
“Pretty sure in this case you definitely can.”
The two of you stay there a while, in your own little bubble, sipping on wine and lowkey gossiping about other mall employees, many of whom happen to be at the very same party. And that bubble is only broken by a familiar beat thumping through the speakers. You both turn to the living room in recognition, the excited shouts coming from the partygoers making you let out a put-upon sigh while Yoongi shoots you a cocky grin.
“What’s the matter?” he asks smugly. And he has every right to be smug—that’s his song Taehyung is currently and enthusiastically rapping along to from on top of the coffee table. “Really gonna act like you don’t like it?”
“I never said I didn’t like it,” you sniff. But your heart isn’t in upkeeping your disinterested facade, and the alcohol has you fighting the upturn of your lips. “I just don’t understand why everybody gets so hype over this track when Clappin’ Cheeks is clearly superior.”
Yoongi opens his mouth, but whatever he says is completely drowned out by Taehyung’s loud, echoing voice gleefully saying, “Turned your girl into a supersoaker, them panties now Niagara Falls!”
Dear lord, where in the hell did that man get a microphone?
You can’t help it—you burst out laughing at the ridiculousness of it all, and though he tries to fight it, Yoongi ultimately joins you, your hilarity contagious.
“Look at you! Big man on campus,” you tease. Your cheeks hurt from smiling so hard. “Causing impromptu karaoke sessions and making all the bitches wet.”
The blond doesn’t say anything right away, simply smirking at you. Then, his head tilts to the side, considering you. “You know, you always do that.”
“Do what?”
“Make some sly insinuation that I’m overhyping my skills.” His tongue rolls playfully in his cheek. “That’s slander.”
You huff out a laugh. “Is it now?”
“It is,” he insists. “You have no idea whether I’m lying or not. You’re hurting my brand.”
“I guess you’re right,” you agree with a shrug. “I don’t know.”
A beat passes. Two. Then, he moves imperceptibly closer to you. Imperceptible, but...
You notice.
“You could,” he says casually.
He’s not speaking particularly loudly, his tone the same as if he’s merely talking about the weather, but your body vibrates all the same. SuperSoaker has since morphed into some other song that neither of you pays any attention to, eyes locked solidly on each other.
Everything is technically the same between you. Everything is still light and friendly and teasing. But—
There is a difference, and you both feel it.  
Liquor has you bold, a challenging eyebrow raising. “Is that an offer?”
He’s just as bold. “It’s always been an offer.”
You shift towards him, and he takes it as the invitation it is, pushing more solidly into your space. You step backwards, allowing him to crowd you against the kitchen counter. Your cups have long been forgotten, leaving his hands free to lightly grip the countertop behind you, caging you in with his body. You look up at him expectantly, heart hammering in your ears.
This close, you can feel the heat radiating off him. You’re able to count each of his eyelashes, able to see the way his pupils expand as he regards you. The way his tongue dips out to wet his lips, drawing your gaze.
Those lips get closer and closer, the anticipation causing your breath to unconsciously still. And then they finally meet yours—softly at first, warm. Eager, but hesitant, as if expecting you to pull away. And, of course, you don’t. So they get more insistent, pressing against you more securely. And when Yoongi brings that infamous tongue into the mix, a slow swipe against your lips asking for entrance, you easily grant it.
His breath is hot when he exhales against you, and the flavor of the wine you’ve both been drinking lingers between you. When you introduce your tongue to his, it’s extremely easy to forget your surroundings, to forget that an apartment full of people can easily look over and see the two of you. Everything around you fades out, and all you can focus on is Yoongi Yoongi Yoongi, can only focus on the way the wet heat of his mouth makes you want to press yourself impossibly closer to him, the way it drags a quiet, but needy, moan from you.
The sound makes him freeze, pulling back. Your eyes flutter open at the loss of him—when they had closed, you have no idea—and, unthinkingly, your lips chase his. But even as he relents a bit, gifting you with additional, more chaste pecks, he is still determined to leave the comfort of your mouth.
You blink up at him, dazed and confused. He has not stepped back, has not restored the respectable distance between you. No, he still traps you with his body, with his burning gaze.
“Still think I’ve been lying?” he asks, and his voice is low and raspy. Your thighs squeeze together in response.
“I don’t know,” you say breathily. “I can’t quite tell. That could have been a fluke.”
His lips quirk. His eyes are blown. “A fluke?”
“Yeah.” You swallow, the liquid courage coursing through your veins coaxing your next words out. He’s bold, but so are you. “I think I’ll need more evidence.”
Yoongi doesn’t respond—not verbally, anyway. He merely looks at you, his gaze burning impossibly hotter, growing impossibly darker. His exhale is audible when he finally pulls away from you, and you’re not even given a moment to miss him before he’s reaching for your hand and tugging you away.
The wine has you properly tipsy but it’s him who has you drunk—the lingering ghost of his expert tongue, the easy way his fingers slot between yours making you float. More than happy to follow him wherever he may take you.
There are more people in the room than the last time you checked, but no one pays the two of you any attention as Yoongi snakes you through the crowd, everyone too intoxicated and in their own world. He leads you down a relatively-deserted hallway, the first two doors he attempts to open locked. Third time’s the charm—that handle turns obediently, allowing him to pull you into a small bathroom.
Yoongi kicks the door shut without looking, distractedly turns the lock. His eyes almost look completely black under the florescent lighting. Hungry. And a thrill shoots through you as he backs you up against the sink, long fingers sliding along your waist.
“Up,” he says huskily, and you blink dazedly at him for a second, only realizing what he means when his hands grasp you more securely and your feet leave the ground, your ass now resting on the countertop. Your knees part reflexively for him, and he pushes forward into the space, only having to lean down a bit to lick into your awaiting mouth.
This is different from when you were in the kitchen. Urgency blooms within you this time, eager hands scrabbling for his hair, trying to get as close as possible. Despite your clear impatience, Yoongi chooses not match your blazing flames, instead preferring a more languid slide, a more slow burn. An exasperated whine escapes you, and you can feel him smile against you in response.
“What’s the matter?” His thumbs rub slow circles into your waist, and you noticeably shudder. “Still not convinced?”
“Yoongi,” you groan, frustrated.
He shushes you, one of his hands moving to your thigh, and, when you make no move to stop him, up your skirt.
You inhale sharply at the feeling of him on your bare skin, body reflexively encouraging him with a jerk of your hips forward, his knuckles brushing the side of your core. Yoongi smirks, and you can’t even be too embarrassed by your purely instinctual actions when he looks at you like that. Like you’re slowly making him lose his cool, slowly making him succumb to his more primal instincts too.
His fingers touch you properly, then. Solidly pressing against you through your now-damp underwear, ghosting around your clit. You rut against him, whining into his mouth, and Yoongi inhales, clearly done teasing when he pulls away from you and drops to his knees.
You blink down at him, breathless at the sight of him. Blond strands in proper disarray, thanks to you. His hands move a determined, focused glide up your legs, starting at your knees and headed right for the prize, pushing your skirt out of the way, curving around your thighs. Lips swollen, thanks to you. You let out a surprised noise when he pulls you closer to the edge by your ass, gaze moving from between your legs, from what you know must be a visible dark patch on your panties, to your face.
Eyes blown, thanks to you.
“Yoongi,” you murmur, and he answers with a crooked finger, effectively pulling your panties to the side and properly revealing you to his feasting eyes. You resist the urge to squirm at his hot breath misting over you, right where you need him most, but you can’t help the way you grip the edge of the counter in anticipation.
Any humor fades from his face then, expression steeling over in lust and concentration. Yoongi leans forward, his nose brushing against you, and when you shiver, he follows it with a wide swipe of his tongue that has you shuttering out a moan. He hums in answer, shifting your legs over his shoulders so he can get as close as possible, hot tongue lapping at your slick folds before his mouth travels up to suckle on your clit.
“Shit,” you groan, the quiet exclamation extending several syllables as you start to grind down on his face. One of your hands moving to properly hold your panties out of the way for him, giving him better access. The other holding on to the countertop for dear life, keeping you somewhat balanced as you start to slump against the mirror behind you, ass sliding forward in an instinctual effort to get closer to his delicious stimulation.
He has not been lying. You know now—now that he’s nibbling and licking and sucking, now that he’s eating you like a starved man seeing his first meal in months—you know now that Yoongi has every right to be cocky, that he most certainly can back up his claims. Your thighs shake in evidence of this, your breath hollows, and you have to bite down on your lip to smother some of the noise threatening to escape you. The speed at which he’s unraveling you would be embarrassing if you weren’t so busy enjoying it.
It’s right as your eyes are starting to roll back that someone bangs on the door, startling you so much that you immediately try to sit up, arm partially stumbling into the sink in the process. Yoongi pauses, but otherwise doesn’t react. He keeps nipping at you, unbothered. Another bang has you most definitely bothered, and him mildly irritated.
“Occupied,” he says gruffly, moving to continue where he left off. But you push him away, scrambling to a more upright position. He looks at you in confusion. “What?”
Your slick is glistening across his mouth and chin, and you immediately clench at the sight. Still, you hurriedly push your skirt down, hopping off the counter. “Someone’s outside.”
“So?” Yoongi scoffs. “They can wait. I’m not finished. I won’t be remotely done with you until you cum on my face.”
Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. Your thighs squeeze together, arousal flashing through you like lightning. Still, you somehow manage to stick to your guns. “You can finish,” you say breathlessly. “Let’s just get out of here.”
Your suggestion appeases him, a pleased smile crossing his face before being obscured when he casually wipes away the remnants of you with the back of his hand. He opens the door, and a tall, peach-haired man is standing on the other side. You huddle a bit behind Yoongi, embarrassed.
“Hey Joon,” Yoongi says casually.
Joon is not amused. “Fucking really, man?”
“All yours,” the blond shrugs, a hand at the small of your back leading you through the doorway and around the intruder. You hear the taller man muttering to himself, but Yoongi continues to push further into the hallway until you’re alone again. “Don’t worry about him. He’s been kind of a piss baby lately,” he tells you, pulling out his phone and presumably checking whatever notification prompted him to do so. He looks back up at you. “Okay if we go to your place?”
“Yes, come on, let’s go.” You’re too worked up to think straight, not caring that he immediately shoots you a cocky grin at your flustered answer. All you can think about is how badly you need to cum on his face, like he wants you to.
Yoongi types on his phone for a few moments, and then he slides it back into his pocket. “Let’s go.”
Now that he’s had his hands on you, he can’t seem to keep them off. On your lower back, guiding you out of the party. Drifting teasingly lower in the elevator, curving over your ass as you wait for your Uber to pull up. Casually resting on your thigh the whole car ride, his thumb rubbing absent circles into the skin and sending jolts of electricity straight to your core.
This is his brand of foreplay, there’s no doubt in your mind. An extension of before. You had been dangerously close to orgasm in that bathroom, and though neither of you says it, you both are fully aware. Now, he’s actively edging you while pretending he’s not. Two seconds from ripping the clothes off you while pretending he’s not, making small talk with the driver with a tick in his jaw, unable to help repeatedly roving his dark, dark eyes over you.
You breathe out a sigh of relief when you finally reach your apartment, sure that you’re going to combust at any moment. In your opinion, it takes much too long for you to scramble out of the car and climb the two flights of stairs. You’re all too aware of the man shadowing you, body on high-alert. You fumble for your keys, so wired that you almost drop them multiple times while unlocking your door.
Yoongi waits until the two of you are inside and you’re tossing said keys onto your bedroom dresser to touch you again. His hands slide around your middle from behind, and this time, there is nothing teasing about him. No, instead, he makes his intentions expressly clear when a hand wanders down, breaching the waistband of your skirt.
You gasp, your legs almost giving out at the feeling of him firmly cupping you. Ass pressing solidly into him as he drags his fingers back up, one of them playfully tapping your clit. You let out a loud moan, jerking in his hold, and it makes you both pause. Surprised by the strength of your reaction.
Yoongi is the first to move, this time rubbing delicious circles that result in shuddering breaths from you. “You’re so responsive, baby,” he murmurs approvingly into your ear, nipping at the cartilage. His fingers glide over you, spreading your essence up and down your folds. Making everything nice and slick. “Are you always this sensitive? Or is it just me?”
“Y-You,” you exhale, hips swiveling restlessly. Grinding down hard into his hand, against the noticeable bulge in his pants. “Yoongi…shit.”
He cusses under his breath, his steady ministrations rapidly building the heat within you to a roaring flame ready to explode any second. But just when you’re about to start seeing stars, he’s gone from the heat of your underwear, gone from behind you. You whip around, frazzled.
“I told you,” he says thickly, shrugging out of his jacket and tossing it uncaringly to the floor. Impatiently pulling his shirt over his head and giving it the same treatment. “I need you to cum on my tongue. Think you can do that?”
You’re silent, momentarily distracted by the expanse of his newly-revealed skin, the dusk of his pebbled nipples. But your brain catches up to his question and you’re nodding, scrambling to remove your own clothes. Shirt pulled overhead, skirt pushed over your ass. Underwear hastily discarded.
Yoongi watches you with eyes blown out and lips slightly-parted. “Get on the bed,” he instructs huskily, already moving to join you as you hurriedly do what he says. You scoot back on the mattress to make room, and he crawls toward you, advancing almost as if he’s a predator and you’re set to be his dinner.
Which, you suppose, you are.
A thrill goes through you when his hands return to your knees, thumbs circling the skin before gentle pressure pulls them apart. He groans, zeroing in immediately on the mess he’s made of your cunt.
“Look at you,” he breathes. “All wet and swollen for me.”
“Yeah,” you reply with a huff, officially done with the games. You need to cum, and you need to cum now. “What are you going to do about it?”
Yoongi responds with an audible exhale, lifting your feet off the bed and subsequently causing you to fall on your back. You let out a yelp of surprise, but he ignores you, pushing on your knees again until they fold against your chest. “I’ve been telling you what I’m going to do,” he says gruffly, raising a dark eyebrow. “Haven’t you been paying attention?”
“Yoongi, come on—”
The introduction of a finger has you cutting yourself off with a gasp. The position he’s forced you into means the digit hits deep, pushing eye-rolling sparks into the softness of you.
Yoongi shoots you a cocky grin. “Hmm?”
“Ungh.” Unable to form proper words when one finger becomes two, stretching you deliciously and dragging against that usually-elusive spot. “Fuckkk…”
“Were you saying something?” he continues to goad, leaning down to suck on your clit, his fingers never stopping their pumping. Tongue flattening, whipping his head back and forth like a dog.
It’s too much. You’ve been edged for too long and it’s all fantastically too much, your hands flying down to tangle in his blond mane, not entirely sure whether to hold him to you or push him away. Settling instead for tightly gripping the strands as if they’re the only thing that can tether you to reality. Your walls pulse around his digits and Yoongi looks up at you in response, expression utterly feral.
“That’s it. Fucking drown me baby,” he growls. Wrist snapping against you as he doubles his efforts. Raising his voice to be heard over the obscene squelching and your increasingly-louder cries. “Come on, gonna be a good girl for me? Gonna soak through the sheets?”
You can only whine in answer, hips restlessly jutting further into his hand before you’re finally thrown off the precipice. Pussy clamping down, hard. Broken sobs erupting from your throat.
“There you go,” he moans, hand pounding you through it as you wail. “Ah, look at that. Guess I was wrong. You’re a creamer, not a squirter. Even better.” He leans back in to lap up the fruits of his efforts and you jolt, sensitive and delirious.
“Ba—by,” you gasp, hands scrabbling to push him away. But Yoongi pays you no mind, continuing to suckle on your clit and make you tremor. “No…no more,” you plead. “Cock.”
He pauses then, looks up from where he has made himself comfortable between your thighs.
“I want your cock,” you try again. Mentally proud of yourself for coming across more coherent. “Want your cock so fucking bad—”
Yoongi scoots away from you immediately. “And you’re gonna get it,” he hisses, hurried hands unbuttoning his jeans. “I can eat that pussy all fucking night, but if you want my cock, you’re gonna get it. Fuck.” Said cock springs free when he pushes his pants down his legs, the head already weeping and angry. He wraps a hand around himself, cussing under his breath through a couple pumps, and your pussy flutters in anticipation. “Don’t move, baby. Stay just like that for me.”
You eagerly do as he says, knees obediently pulled to your chest, dripping cunt on full display for his wild, feasting eyes. And feast he does, never looking away from you, even as he pulls his wallet out of his pants and roots around for a condom.  
You only have to wait a few moments for him to rip open the procured foil packet, a few more for him to slip the rubber over himself. He returns to you, eagerly crowding into your space. Fitting between your knees, hovering over you. His rock-hard member slips over you and you both groan at the feeling, a shiver going through you at the overstimulation.
“Don’t tease,” you breathe, enjoying it nonetheless as he slowly rocks into you, sliding himself through your slippery folds.
“I would never,” he smirks. Continuing to tease. But he captures your lips as he does, leisurely slipping his tongue inside. And on the next upstroke, he lines himself up properly with your clenching hole, slipping inside there too.
The intrusion makes you gasp into his mouth, eyes rolling at the divine stretch.
“Shit,” he exhales, gritting his teeth. Pushing further and further in until he’s fully-sheathed in you. Deep, deep. Shifting his hips a bit and starting a steady grind.
“Oh my god…”
“How are you still this fucking tight, shit, shit—”
He’s silenced when your tongue scrambles for his and he eagerly meets you halfway. He’s close—his chest knocks into your knees, arms on either side of your head, and your arms loop around his neck, ensuring that as much of his sweaty skin touches yours as possible.
The leisurely pumping of his hips steadily gets more and more rough the longer he goes on. Less and less controlled. It’s only after a particularly hard thrust knocks all breath out of you that it starts to dawn on you. Yoongi has been actively working you up all night, but as he pounds into you, his balls slapping against your ass, your kiss nothing more than the brushing of teeth at this point—
You realize that you have been unknowingly doing the same.
Just like with his fingers, this position ensures that he’s able to plunge into you, able to set the softest, most sensitive parts of you alight. But his cock is much bigger than fingers, much thicker, and therefore this way it is able to scrape against your spongy nerves with near-devastating accuracy.  
Yoongi notices your mounting distress, leans back to observe the twisted agony on your face. “Gonna cream again?” he demands. Voice deep, deep. Just like his cock. “Gonna cream all over this dick?”
“Yes,” you gasp, breath hollowing. “Yes, yesyesyes—”
Somehow, you cum even harder this time, which you hadn’t realized was even possible. It hits you like a freight train, a high-pitched noise ringing through your ears that you only belatedly realize is being made by you. You clamp down so hard on Yoongi that he has no choice but to follow you, giving you a few more ferocious strokes before he shudders, releasing into the condom with a long groan.
The two of you lie there, still joined and exhausted, forehead to forehead. It is with great effort that Yoongi pushes his weary body off of you, slips out and leaves you still hollow and wanting. Your stare at the ceiling, dazed. Spots dancing across your vision and sweat cooling against your skin.
You hear him toss the condom in the trash, and then he’s back. Yoongi crawls onto the bed next to you and guides you onto your side, an arm pulling you into his chest. The big spoon to your little spoon.
You have to clear your throat in order to speak. “Okay, you’ve convinced me,” you pretend to sigh, breaking the silence. “Carry on with your obnoxious but factual bragging, oh Master of the Tongue.”
He laughs, his arms tightening a bit more around you. A beat, two, and then you feel him exhale. “I like you,” he murmurs against the back of your neck.
You still, not quite sure you have heard him right. Convinced that your enamored and thoroughly-sexed brain has projected onto him. But when your silence causes him to shift nervously behind you, you decide to take that leap of faith. “I like you too,” you reply shyly.
You feel him smile against you, and you’re smiling too, elation bubbling up within you.
“I like you a lot,” Yoongi decides to clarify.
You turn in his hold so you can see him properly. For a few seconds, you merely study him. Try to memorize the soft way he’s looking at you, clear affection in his satiated eyes, his flushed cheeks. You sling a leg over his hip, card a hand through his sweaty blond bangs. “I like you a lot too, DJ Flossy Gloss.”
He can’t help but huff out a laugh at the unexpected jibe. “So damn disrespectful. You’re lucky I like you.”
“A lot,” you tag on helpfully.
Yoongi’s hand slowly ghosts down your back, your ass, then creeps up again. You hum. “A lot,” he easily agrees.
You’re both quiet then, content to breathe each other’s air and share each other’s balmy heat. His eyes flutter shut, and you burrow your face further into his neck.
“…Enough to wear the unicorn hat?”
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⇢collab masterlist | my masterlist
6K notes · View notes
joonbird · 2 years ago
Text
Punch Drunk
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➭ “Min Yoongi talks with his fists, and the only language he knows is one of anger and pain. He’s damaged, untouchable, a boxing underdog with something to prove. You are the sister of Yoongi’s rival - Jeon Jungkook, the number one elite boxer in your prefecture - and as Yoongi soon discovers, you are also his one and only weakness.”
pairing: yoongi x reader
genre: boxer au, smut, angst
wordcount: 33k
❀ 6 / 8 of my oneshot requests ❀
** warnings: violence, descriptions of blood and injury, gambling references, heavy themes, mentions of death, drug references, slow burn, rough sex, breathplay, unprotected sex, cumplay, facial, light analplay, derogatory language during sex
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Three seconds of silence. 
Silence that stretches out heavy and slow, amongst an audience with lungs squeezed breathless in anticipation. All eyes are locked on the two people facing each other in the centre of the ring. 
In these three seconds, all focus is whittled down onto the two bodies circling one another, waiting for the first strike to fall.
Three seconds is what takes for even the most elite to still their shaken thoughts, to slow their heartbeat enough to locate that opening. It also takes approximately three seconds for the gear to make its own assessment of the situation, to lock even tighter around strained muscles and aching bones before it tells the boxer what to do.
Jeon Jungkook doesn’t wait for three seconds to pass. He doesn’t need three seconds. 
He lashes forward with enough speed and brutality to catch his opponent completely offguard. The amassed crowd falls apart in roars of shock and excitement, like a fresh buzz of electricity has jolted through them. 
Jungkook feeds off of that energy, he recoils, and slams up with an uppercut punch right to his opponent’s jaw. The chrome finish of his gear glints in the bright light of the boxing ring, and it feels as though everybody sitting in the audience is holding a collective breath. 
Crunch. 
Jungkook’s glove connects squarely with bone. His opponent, a reputable fighter named Kim Taehyung, known for his agility and speed in the boxing ring, collides to the ground with a loud thump.
Three.
The electronic counter rings loud and clear through the ring. The crowd falls into hushed whispers, Taehyung lets out a choked groan.
From your seat in the VIP box, you can see it clearly – Taehyung is struggling to get up. He has three seconds to stand, or the match is finished. 
The metallic gear laced over his back is helping him, you can see his arms twitching with effort as he finally rolls onto his side. His face is bruised, one eye already swollen closed, his bruised jaw causing his mouth to loll open. You shudder.
Two. 
Taehyung hoists himself up onto his elbows. The crowd falls silent, so silent that you can hear the electronic click and whir of Taehyung’s gear as it forces his muscles to cooperate. 
Jungkook’s eyes flicker over to him, his jaw tightens. You can hear Seokjin hiss in sharply, mutter out a brisk, “Jungkook, don’t-”
One. 
Jungkook lowers his foot on Taehyung’s back, wedging it between his shoulder blades. Taehyung’s gear cracks under the weight, Taehyung lets out a brief, warbled scream. He swallows it down, his face contorted as he desperately tries to conceal the pain that he is clearly feeling. 
In this world, pain is pride. To openly show your pain is worse than any defeat in the ring. Dealing with pain is strength, showing suffering is weakness.
Your hands curl into tight, uncomfortable fists. You want to look away, but you cant – no one in the audience can. 
It’s a spectacle. The entire ring that you are sitting around has been designed to cater to the spectacle of the fight. The buzz of the crowd, the bright lights that shine crystalline onto the fighters, the screens hung up on every wall to capture every micro-emotion that flickers over Taehyung’s face while his body is pinned under Jungkook’s foot.
Winner of the Olympia Qualifiers Round Three: Bloodhawk. 
The electronic voice calls out, and the silence is finally shattered. 
The audience erupts into shouts, the screen switches to Jungkook. His face is blown up on all of the screens as he steps off of Taehyung’s body and walks to the centre of the ring. 
All of the lights beam on him, the Bloodhawk. A bloody, vicious, glorified fighter, with gear so expertly fused into his bare back that it looks like a second skeleton. 
Jungkook raises one glove in the air, the audience screams in delight. Jungkook is relishing in it, but you pick up on the other details. The way he is exerted, heaving for breath, bruises beginning to blossom on his ribs from the first half of the fight. Taehyung, who has tucked his legs into his chest, the referees and medical staff rushing over to examine him. 
It’s a bloody, gory spectacle… and you are in the eye of the storm. 
“Your brother is an idiot,” Seokjin mutters to you, sighing heavily as he leans back in his seat. “It doesn’t matter how good of a fighter you are, if you fight like that.”
You don’t respond, your hands still curled into tight fists in your lap.
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The Olympia Boxing Championship is held once a year. It’s an event that the annual boxing calendar revolves around, the most highly revered boxing event in current rotation. 
Olympia was originally intended to be a celebration of the marriage of boxing and robotics, an avenue for boxers to show how robotic gear enhanced their fighting skill. This meant that Olympia was nearly always a celebration of boxing’s elite class, those who possessed the means to acquire the highest tech and undergo rigorous training. Olympia saw the top of the food chain fighting it out, all to establish the king of the boxing world.
This year however, in celebration of the 100 year anniversary of the Olympia Championship, the qualifiers were opened to anyone. The prize - $1 million bit and a lifetime membership to the Olympia association – attracted fighters from every prefecture. 
This year, the hype of Olympia and technoboxing have increased tenfold. It feels like your entire city was crawling with it, a feverish excitement soaking through the bones of your town.
The qualifiers this year are different too. Due to the high numbers of entrants, the qualifying matches have been stretched out over several weeks. 
At the very top of the pack is Jungkook, your older brother.
“You were not fighting smart. He got in too many hits at the beginning, and you left too many openings when you went for that uppercut. Not to mention that ending the fight like that is going to deter our sponsors and tarnish your name.” Seokjin is speaking to Jungook now, voice steeped in disappointment.
Jungkook is draped over a chair, the sweat being dabbed off his forehead by one of the many assistants hired by your parents. 
Jungkook just grunts in response to Seokjin’s lecture, and the older man lets out a long, defeated sigh. “How’s your gear?”
“Yeah, it’s holding up alright.”
Another assistant is tending to it, examining the robotics carefully for any damage. 
It’s one of the key rules of Olympia and technoboxing in general that all fighters are required to be equipped with gear. The gear is akin to a metal skeleton, protecting the most vulnerable parts of the body – the spine, the back of the skull, the ribs – and it has embedded technology that enhances the boxer’s movements and muscular capabilities. 
Furthermore, the gear acts as artificial intelligence in several ways, physically stopping boxers from going too far in their fighting, and ultimately preventing in-ring depths and permanent boxing injuries. Gear represents the more economical future of boxing by creating boxing that is more glorious to watch, more extreme to watch, thanks to the gear that pushes the human body to peak performance without the risk of death. 
Seokjin sighs heavily.
“Your gear could have gotten seriously damaged with the way you were moving-”
“I won, didn’t I?” Jungkook interrupts, he waves off the assistants hovering around him and stretches out his limbs lazily. Seokjin just lets out an irritated “tch”.
“You didn’t have to step on his gear like that, Jungkook.”
Jungkook just shrugs. “I didn’t expect it to break apart so easily.”
Seokjin opens his mouth to respond, but is interrupted by a knock on the door. It swings open. A woman dressed in a crisp black suit enters, she nods politely at Jungkook, the grey teardrop etched on her jacket pocket indicates that she is a member of the Olympia Association.
“Mr. Jeon, are you ready for the post match interview?”
Seokjin falls silent, crossing his arms over his chest as Jungkook nods and smiles, standing up and following the woman out of the room. Seokjin follows suit, a few paces behind. You hurry, falling in step with Seokjin as you both enter a busy room filled to the brim with impatient reporters.
Jungkook is ushered to the centre of the room, while you and Seokjin wait silently in the wings.
“He’s pushing himself too hard.” Seokjin sighs out, pinching the bridge of his nose. You glance at him but he isn’t looking at you, eyes focused on Jungkook who is preparing for the interview.
“He’s wanted to win the Olympia since he was a kid, you know that.” You respond softly, looking at your brother. 
Your brother has been in boxing gloves for as long as you can remember. The expectation had always been made clear that Jungkook was expected to follow in your father and grandfather’s footsteps. 
Your family is boxing blood and Jungkook has always accepted that fate, knowing his purpose was to make full use of that which ran in his veins. As soon as his spine had finished growing, he was already being fitted for his first set of gear, and while you had been in school, Jungkook was training in the ring. 
You had been close to your brother when you were younger, always looked up to him in awe, listening to his excited rambles about what he was going to do once he was an Olympia champion. But as time had passed and as Jungkook crawled up the ranks, you had noticed the light fading from your brother’s eyes. The distance between you grew until it wasn’t a crack but a chasm. 
You can still pinpoint the moment you realized that Jungkook’s childlike enthusiasm for boxing hadn’t merged with your family’s expectations of him, but had been overtaken completely.
“If he keeps at it like this, he’s going to unravel.” Seokjin whispers to you. “I don’t-”
His sentence is cut off by a reporter, clearing her throat into a microphone. Both you and Seokjin fall silent, attentions piqued by the interviewer who is now turning to Jungkook, a smile pasted on her face.
“Congratulations on yet another overwhelming win, Bloodhawk.” She says sweetly. “The odds were in your favour of course, but to take down a member of the Kim family in just one round is very impressive. Nothing less from one of the top picks of this Championship.”
Jungkook smiles thinly in response. “I’ve wanted to fight one of the Kims for a while, it’s a shame that it ended so quickly.” His smile twists at the edge of his lips, “I didn’t expect to defeat him so easily, so I’m sorry if the match wasn’t as exciting as people hoped.”
The room titters with laughter and you roll your eyes, knowing full well that Jungkook had trained to defeat him in one round, that he had strategized the best way to manoeuvre around Kim Taehyung’s specific fighting style. It was this that gave Jungkook his fighting nickname of ‘Bloodhawk’ –He gripped his opponent with talons and went for the killshot, with no mercy whatsoever.
“Well, like I said, we expected nothing less,” The reporter lets out a soft, tinkling laugh, “Given that you’re a Jeon, and your coach being a former Olympia finalist.”
Jungkook nods his head, but you can see it in the tiniest tense of his jaw that the reporter’s statement has frustrated him. You know your brother well, you know how much he despises it when his hard work and training is talked down as a byproduct of his family ties and connections.
“Seokjin is a great coach.” Jungkook just responds in a slightly strained tone, ignoring the first half of her statement completely. The reporter leans forward, her eyes glinting. You can tell she has picked up on the tension, and you bite your lip, knowing that she is going to tease it out, play on it, stir him up even more.
“It’s nice to hear that you put so much faith in him,” Her tone is syrupy, “Given his history in the ring. He was blacklisted from boxing for life, wasn’t he? If I’m remembering that correctly…”
Jungkook’s mouth tightens into a straight line.
“That’s irrelevant.” He grits out. The reporter leans in even closer, her eyes widening.
“Is it, though?”
Jungkook’s jaw twitches.
You can hear the shutter of cameras capturing the stormy expression on his face. Your eyes flicker over to Seokjin, who lets out a heavy sigh.
“He lets himself get wound up too easily.” He mutters. “And the press knows it.”
You just hum softly in agreement, this is something that often happens during post match interviews with your brother – they find something to pick at, to pull at, to create the construction of Jeon Jungkook, Bloodhawk, as a merciless fighter. This, fused with his tendency for violence in the ring, have earned him countless rivals, fighters desperate to fight and overtake him. 
It all makes for better boxing, more betting money, more sponsorship and marketing. You can tell by Seokjin’s grim expression that he knows it too, he knows how easily Jungkook plays into their hands and feeds their narrative – and moreover, that Seokjin feels guilty for being the cause of it this time. 
Seokjin was at the peak of his boxing career only five years ago, a finalist in the 95th Olympia. His blacklisting, coupled with an injury that riddled him unable to walk without the assistance of mechanical gear that wrapped around his hips and through his femur bones, had come as a huge shock to the boxing world.
“He was one of technoboxing’s greats,” The reporter continues now, she pushes her glasses up her nose and smiles. “As are you now, Bloodhawk.” Her flattery lingers off in the air. Her eyes narrow. “And by now, I’m sure you’ve heard of another name that has recently been associated with boxing greats such as yourself. You’ve heard of Scorpius? He’s a strong contender to take the Olympia title this year.”
The room falls silent. You nudge Seokjin, voice lowering into a hiss.
“Who’s that?”
“Don’t know. Haven’t heard of him. Whoever he is, he isn’t a seeded boxer.”
Seokjin’s face is apprehensive. The fact that this year’s Olympia is open to all boxers has seen to an influx of names and faces that are unfamiliar, but this is the first you’ve heard of him – Scorpius.
Scorpius. The name is familiar to you, thanks to astronomy classes that you had taken in your school years – from you recollection, Scorpius is one of the constellations of the Zodiac.
“Haven’t heard of him.” Jungkook answers in a brusque voice, and the reporter tuts her tongue condescendingly.
“Well. Now you have,” She leans back on her chair, eyes locked on Jungkook. “He’s an excellent fighter. And he has no high tech gear, no… infamous coach…” Her voice slows. The room tenses, cameras pinned on Jungkook’s face, which is tight in irritation. “…And some people say that even without a boxing legacy backing him up, he might just end up beating everyone. Including you. And you didn’t even know who he was before today. The world of technoboxing is changing.”
Jungkook doesn’t answer, but his face is furious. He opens his mouth to speak, but the reporter cuts in, voice gliding smoothly over whatever Jungkook is about to say.
“Anyway, that’s all we have time for today. It was lovely to speak to you again, we’ll see you in the semi-finals.” She stands and raises her hand, offering it to Jungkook. 
Jungkook rises, shoulders braced, and turns – leaving the reporter’s hand hanging. She clicks her tongue, you hear Seokjin groan beside you. You both know full well that this is the last thing you need- the press having a field day about Jungkook’s reaction to the mention of this new boxer, his refusal to shake the hand of the reporter who had been needling him for a reaction.
Scorpius. The name is definitely familiar; you are deep in concentration trying to remember the exact story behind the zodiac constellation.
“He did not like what that reporter said.” Seokjin murmurs to you. “He’s probably going to want to go check out one of that Scorpius guy’s matches now, fucking hell.”
“Probably,” You echo.
“Hey, what does Scorpius even mean? Like, a scorpion?”
You blink. The word clicks in your head. Scorpius.
“It’s Scorpius constellation, there’s a whole story behind it,” You murmur. Seokjin glances over at you, an expression of mild interest on his face. “There was a Greek God named Orion who boasted that he was going to destroy every living being on earth. A scorpion was dispatched from the heavens to battle him. It was a fight to the death, and the winner was put into the heavens after his victory.”
Seokjin raises an eyebrow and turns, walking towards the locker room. You follow him, biting down on your bottom lip. 
“So… who was the winner?”
As you approach the locker room where Jungkook is waiting, your brother immediately leaps to his feat, furious. He is talking in a fast, angry voice – ranting about the reporter, about how the actual fight hadn’t even been discussed, about why Scorpius was at all relevant to him. Seokjin steps forward, voice flat in intonation as he calmly addresses Jungkook, your conversation about Scorpius forgotten.
Who was the winner of the fight to the death?
Your eyes land on Jungkook, you suddenly feel a knot of uncertainty in the pit of your belly.
Scorpius.
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True to Seokjin’s prediction, Jungkook insists on sitting in on one of Scorpius’s matches. The next one is coincidentally the qualifiers for the Olympia semi finals, and after some initial resistance from Seokjin, you, Jungkook and Seokjin set out to observe Scorpius in action. 
Jungkook reasons that it’s the best course of action for him as he may gain some information on his potential future opponent, Seokjin reasons that once Jungkook has made up his mind, it’s impossible to stop him.
Jungkook has been wound up tight ever since the interview, ever since that match really. You haven’t pressed the issue, merely observing with watchful eyes. Even now, as you weave your way through the heaving crowd outside the ring, Jungkook is on edge.
This qualifying match is different to any other you have been to before. You had heard that the ring itself was requested by Scorpius, and that it’s actually his training ring. 
It’s surprising now that you are in the space – the ring is inside a warehouse, a huge cavernous warehouse structured like a shipping container. It’s dark inside, the light broken with plumes of smoke. It’s a far cry from the polished lights of the training rings that you and your brother had grown up in, and that distinction between the two is evident in the gathered crowd too. This crowd is different – more intense, more frenetic, almost as if there is a different blend of energy that flows through the ground here. 
Jungkook is keeping a low profile tonight, clad in a black hoodie. Seokjin too is wearing a cap slung low over his face. You’re feeling overwhelmed by it all – the scent of tobacco that kisses the air, the grittiness of the boxing ring. 
“You go ahead,” You reach out, prodding Seokjin, “I’m gonna step outside for a bit before the match starts.”
He nods at you, he and Jungkook slope off to find your seats, talking in low hushed tones.
You carefully pick your way through the heaving crowd, slipping outside. With most of the people waiting to go into the warehouse, there are only a handful of people standing outside, clustered in small groups, chatting around drags of their cigarettes. It seems like every second word in the conversations that you overhear is Scorpius. You wonder idly who exactly he is - the scorpion who in such a short amount of time has already caused such an impact.
You wander until you reach the side of the building, where it is quieter. You don’t have long, perhaps ten minutes, until you have to go back inside. 
You lean your back against the serrated metal wall, breathe in deeply. You can hear from here the faint sounds of the crowd from the other side of the wall. 
You tip your head back and stare at the sky, exhaling out slowly. There isn’t a cloud in sight, just inky black and the occasional splash of stars. A clear night, a rarity in this city, when so often fumes from the robotic plants pollute the thick velvet of the evening sky.
You hear footsteps and you tear your eyes away, canvassing over to the person who has emerged from a door a few paces down. He stumbles out with a loud, defeated sigh, back crashing against the wall beside you with a thump. 
You do your best to hide your stare – he’s frustrated, irritated by something, it’s evident in the way he wrings his fingers out, scuffs restlessly at the dirt beneath his feet. He’s dressed in a white track jacket that’s zipped up all the way under his chin, a bandana is tied around his forehead, a shock of icy blonde hair flopping over it and into his eyes.
As if he’s sensing your stare, his head snaps to the side, eyes surveying you. He has dainty features and pillowy lips, they juxtapose sharply against his eyes which are intense and piercing.
“Didn’t anyone ever tell you that it’s rude to stare at people?” He asks in a dry voice. His facial expression is even, controlled, and he accompanies his words with a raised eyebrow. There’s something in the huskiness of his voice and the directness of his stare that has you momentarily taken aback. 
You don’t respond, his lips curl into a smirk. “Questions usually warrant answers, you know.”
His eyes still are intent on you and you finally feel your mouth catch up with your brain.
“And just what exactly makes you think I was staring at you?”
You just let out a scoff that’s not as derisive as you would have liked. Still, it catches him by surprise, and turns until he is leaning shoulder against the wall, completely facing you.
“Questions usually warrant answers, you know.” You throw the words right back in his face and for a second he looks momentarily stunned. His face splits into a slow smile. 
Eyes narrowed, he laughs, a deliberate, throaty chuckle.
“Touché.” He says lightly. He tils his head, then takes a step closer. His face is suddenly closer to yours, and you blink at him. 
This close, you can see that his eyes are actually a dark, espresso brown. Your eyes trace over him, the casual, thoughtful look on his face. This close, he smells like bergamot and cedar.
“You know, you look familiar.”
Your nose wrinkles, your cheeks flush in heat under the scrutiny of his stare.
“Yeah? Well you don’t,” You retort, and his eyes crinkle like he’s suppressing a laugh.
“Really, now?” His voice lilts with amusement. He’s still standing close to you, face peering into yours. His eyes are searching and you realize that you are holding your breath.
“What’s your name?” You stammer out, because they’re the first coherent words that fall into your head.
You can see him fighting a smile.
“Yoongi. And you?”
“____.”
He nods, slowly. You are still staring at him. Somehow, you don’t want to look away. 
He leans in even closer, and you hold in your breath even harder, your lungs ache but you can’t breathe, your eyes widening. His face dips down. His eyelashes flutter slow, blinking purposefully, lips inches away from yours, arm outstretched on the wall above your head. 
He leans in until his body crooked over yours, face a mix of emotions. Amusement, interest, and something else, something fixed and determined that makes your thighs suddenly ache.
“I think I’ve figured out where I recognize you from.” He whispers. 
You want him to kiss you. Oh my God, you want this complete stranger to kiss you. You swallow, hard. Your mind wonders fleetingly what it would be like to kiss him. You have the sudden image of him closing the spaces between your bodies by just a few centimetres, enough to have his body keening into yours, pressing you into the cold metal wall.
“You recognize me? From what?” You breathe back instead. 
He just gazes at you long and hard. The thought screams louder in your head. Kiss me.
He pushes off of the wall and you release a breath. He shoves his hands into his pockets, assesses you attentively before turning around.
“You’re the Bloodhawk’s little sister.” He muses. He turns his head, catches your surprised expression. He smirks. 
“Like I said,” He rests a hand on the handle of the door he had come spilling out of just a few minutes ago, opening it and walking back inside. 
“I knew you looked familiar.”
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You have a thousand questions swirling in your mind as you find your seat inside the warehouse. 
The stranger, Yoongi, he said his name was, knew that you're Jungkook’s sister. The only logical explanation that comes to mind is that he’s a boxer too. 
You frown to yourself, reflecting on your initial impression of him – his frame which was slighter than that of all the boxers you knew. He didn’t have the typical build of a boxer. 
Maybe he’s a coach or a trainer, you muse silently as you settle into your seat.
Seokjin and Jungkook are still talking in low voices. They are talking strategy, Jungkook staring straight ahead and nodding briskly every now and then. You watch them, Seokjin speaking with his hands in the way he does when he’s enthusiastic about something. 
He’s a good trainer, Jungkook says that he’s the best trainer he’s ever had. It’s exactly that which keeps Seokjin around, because you know your father doesn’t like having the weighty presence of a blacklisted ex Olympia finalist associated with the family name. 
Seokjin is the very example of how hard and fast someone can fall once they reach the top. 
Everyone knows the story of Seokjin, the elite fighter who had taken part in a gearless fight with one of his boxing rivals. Without the protection of gear, and with all of that pent up rage being granted a path to flow freely, the fight had been brutal. 
After that night, Seokjin had permanent spinal damage and was partially paralyzed from the waist down. 
He couldn’t walk, he couldn’t fight, and news of him committing the ultimate technoboxing sin - defying the invention of gear and fighting gearless - spread like wildfire. 
It all happened like dominoes falling after that. His public blacklisting from the Olympia Association, his boxing wins being stripped from him, the ban for life. Seokjin fell, all the way from his pedestal at the top. 
He lost the fight. 
It’s a surprise to most that your family allows someone with his reputation into their gym, let alone so close to Jungkook, a prized boxer. However, Seokjin delivers results. He knows the business, the knows the fighters, the gear, and most of all, he knows the innerworkings of a boxer’s mind. And as much as your family relies on Seokjin’s cunning ability to draw the very best fighting potential out of Jungkook, Seokjin relies on your family too. 
Your eyes tick down to Seokjin’s legs, which are bound in paper-thin needles of metal. His repurposed gear is expensive, and difficult to both obtain and maintain… but it allows him to walk again. Yes, Seokjin definitely relies on your family.
The lights start to dim, the crowd begins to practically vibrate with excitement.
The match is starting. 
“Welcome to the ring: Scorpius!” The electronic announcer bellows out, and is almost drowned by the shouts of the crowd. 
A figure walks into the centre of the ring. White blonde hair, kept pushed back by a crimson red bandana. A taut frame, a build like a leopard, lean and compact. Two battered black boxing gloves. Gear that is old and outdated. 
You inhale sharply.
“That’s Scorpius?” You hear Jungkook scoff. 
There, in the centre of the ring, a smirk twisted at the edge of his lips, is Yoongi.
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You don’t have time to dwell in your surprise, because the fight starts immediately. 
Scorpius, Yoongi, is up against another fighter - a heavyweight boxer who is stocky and tall, all sinewy muscle and leering flashes of teeth. Yoongi’s frame is unassuming beside his, and you watch as he weaves away from the fighter, evading each blow with an airy, unbothered ease.
The fight so far is unimpressive. The beauty of technoboxing is its violence, its gratuity of the extreme. Most fighters go all out, knowing that the gear is intelligent enough to prevent fatal damage from occurring. 
They don’t fight like this – eyes watchful and even bored, body darting around the ring as effortlessly as water. That isn’t Yoongi’s gear either, if anything, his gear is holding him back. 
Yoongi is just that quick in his defense.
It’s getting on Yoongi’s opponent’s nerves. His punches are getting harsher, the gear hisses as it reins back on the aggression lashing behind his jabs. Still, Yoongi dodges around them effortlessly. 
It’s not exactly exciting to watch. It’s not intimidating, either. You can tell by the slump of Jungkook’s shoulders that he’s unimpressed. 
Fighters who rely on a strong defense eventually crumble in the world of technoboxing- there’s only so much that stamina and defense can give you, before you fall prey to one particularly ruthless punch.
Yoongi is still irritatingly calm in the ring. He blinks slowly and lazily and you can’t help but feel a little twinge in your stomach from it. Even you are getting frustrated by him, how unruffled his face is even when he dodges punch after punch, missing some by sheer millimetres. 
On the contrary, his opponent is getting more riled up, growling and huffing in between snappy movements of his body. 
Yoongi doesn’t even seem to be acknowledging the other man in the ring. He is cool as ice, while the other man is uncomfortably flaring with heat, boiling with it. He charges towards Yoongi, his arm lashes forward severe and fast. For a moment, you are convinced that it is going to crash into Yoongi’s nose.
Then, so quickly that you almost miss it, Yoongi ducks. His opponent’s fist goes flying disconcertedly through the air. 
Yoongi’s body bobs up behind him, his opponent stumbles forward, clumsy and uneven, while Yoongi is controlled. 
Yoongi’s fist recoils. 
His eyes, previously so bored and distant, are now focused. They are so sharp, that you feel a chill trickle down your spine. 
The realization snaps inside of you like a firecracker. Yoongi has his opponent right where he wants him. And before you can release the breath you are holding in, before the other man can react, Yoongi’s fist connects with a loud crunch into his face. 
The angle is just right. The timing is just right. There is a shuddering amount of strength behind the punch, more strength than you had guessed was capable from Yoongi. 
The crowd is silent. Time slows. Blood sprays out into the air directly from where Yoongi’s fist connected with his opponent’s jaw and mouth, his body crashes to the floor. 
The crowd roars. Time speeds up again, the referee dashes over. The other man is out cold.
“Winner of the Olympia Qualifiers Round Nine: Scorpius.” 
The crowd is bursting apart, almost. You understand, because you too feel exhilarated as you stare at Yoongi. 
He smirks, he doesn’t raise a fist in the air, announce his victory – he just shrugs off his gloves, they fall to the floor. The crowd rumbles, chants of his name. Yoongi turns and walks away. 
He is unscathed. You haven’t seen something like that in all your years of attending technoboxing matches. Y
ou let out a shaky breath.
You realize then that Jungkook and Seokjin haven’t exchanged a single word. They are sitting frozen, staring at the now empty ring. Jungkook’s shoulders are stiff, he has a look on his face that you don’t recognize, can’t fully comprehend.
Is he intimidated by him?
Jungkook senses your stare and stands up suddenly.
“Let’s go.”
His voice is cold, irritated, and Seokjin stands up too. He starts talking, dissecting Yoongi’s fighting style in a rambling voice, but Jungkook isn’t listening, his jaw tensed in annoyance.
You linger behind them by a few paces as they shoulder their way through the bustling crowd. Finally, you are outside, and you gaze up at the sky. It’s as clear as it was before, not a single cloud wrapped around the moon.
“Enjoy the fight?” 
You are pulled back to earth in time to hear a familiar slow, raspy drawl. Sure enough, you spot Yoongi, strolling up to your small group. He’s by himself, and you see Jungkook stiffen, Seokjin placing a warning hand on his shoulder.
“That’s Scorpius!” 
“What’s he doing out here?” 
“Who’s he talking to?” 
“I think that’s Bloodhawk-” 
“Bloodhawk is here?“
Onlookers start to press in closer, encircling around your group like vultures. Jungkook just meets Yoongi’s gaze.
“Yep.”
His voice is clipped. Yoongi’s face stays passive, unflappable as ever. 
“Entertaining?” Yoongi asks, his voice collected. Jungkook’s jaw tightens, and he doesn’t respond. Yoongi’s eyes tick past Jungkook to you, his lips twitch upward.
“Hello again, ____,” He addresses, and you feel Seokjin and Jungkook stare at you, surprised. You don’t answer, averting Yoongi’s gaze and trying to ignore the sudden skip in your throat.
Yoongi steps up closer to Jungkook until they are only a few strides apart. 
“I’ll see you in the semifinals, Bloodhawk.” 
You’ve put your finger on what makes Yoongi such a potent fighter, what lends him the title of Scorpius. He knows how to push at precise buttons, how to slice cleanly through an exposed nerve, all in the moments before he strikes. 
He’s dangerous in his calculated intelligence, his composure, his ability to pick at the tiny threads of weakness and insecurity, before he tugs them out whole.
Your brother doesn’t answer. Yoongi leans in closer, and murmurs something to Jungkook. You don’t catch what he says, it’s spoken too softly, but you see the anger flash over Jungkook’s face before he reaches out and pushes Yoongi, hard. Yoongi stumbles back, deftly catching his footing. Even as he staggers, he’s watching Jungkook closely. 
“You fucking-” Jungkook spits out, hand rising in a fist, but Seokjin is already behind him, grabbing his arms and muttering in his ear to walk away. 
Jungkook is livid, you can tell in the twitch of his jawbone as he finally relents, allowing Seokjin to pull him through the crowd. Everyone gathered is excited by what they just witnessed, whispering to each other, speculating as to what exactly had just gone down.
You hesitate. You look at Yoongi, who has an indecipherable expression on his face. As if sensing your gaze, his stare moves to you. 
You shiver, feeling a prickle of intrigue and uncertainty in your belly before you cast your eyes downward and turn, hurrying behind your brother and Seokjin, walking away from Yoongi.
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A week later the Olympia association holds their semi-finalist press conference. It is a requirement of all Olympia semi finalists to attend, as a public display of their sportsmanship. 
More discreetly, it is also a way for the Olympia association to see the dynamic between the boxers, to decide the line up of the semi finals and who will be pitted against the other.
You are attending this year’s press conference, along with your parents and Seokjin. The room that the press conference is being held in is small, filled only with select esteemed journalists and reporters. The eight semi finalists are sitting at a long table, all dressed in their training gear. While your parents are sitting up in the VIP box, you choose to stand in the wings with Seokjin and the other trainers.
The atmosphere is tense. The semi finalist press conference is always tense, but this year has kicked it up a notch. There are two unseeded rookie fighters in the mix of semi finalists this year – a young boxer named Jimin who had hacked into his gear’s software to make improvements, obliterating his opponent in the qualifiers, and of course none other than Min Yoongi, the boxer who arose from the concrete.
The addition of these boxers has thrown a spanner in the works and created a clear tension between the elite and the newcomers. They’re anomalies, and their presence is noticeable.
You can practically see the irritation falling off of Jungkook as he sits rigidly in his seat. Jungkook has never been good at concealing his emotions, he’s one to wear every single shade of his thoughts on his sleeve, and you can tell by Seokjin’s fidgeting beside you that he is nervous.
The press conference starts smoothly. Questions are peppered to each off the semi finalists, each answered with no issue. 
Finally, a question is directed towards Yoongi.
“You’re a newcomer to the technoboxing scene. I hear you don’t even have a coach. Is this true?”
Yoongi lifts his head, confirms the statement with a nod. There is a slight commotion in the crowd from his affirmation. Yoongi surveys the room, one eyebrow raised before he speaks.
“I have a mechanic who helps me when my gear needs maintenance. I don’t need a coach.”
A stir travels through the room.
“Do you think that even without the experience, without a coach, you can win the Olympia tournament?”
Yoongi takes a moment to consider the question. That, or he purposefully leaves a pause to ensure that everyone in the room is hanging off of the silence and waiting for him to fill it. You aren’t sure when it comes to him. He’s intelligent, assured and cool hearted in a way that as much as you want to pretend it doesn’t, makes you ache with intrigue.
“I don’t need experience or a coach,” Yoongi answers, his voice is like silk, “And yes. I can win.” 
His response, calmly confident, sends a louder flurry throughout the room. He has that effect on a crowd, you think. The interviewer leans in, presses further,
“Even against fighters who have been training to win for years?”
Yoongi smiles faintly. “Of course.”
Your eyes are locked on him, even when the interviewer moves on to the next person. Somehow, you don’t doubt his words. You’ve seen him fight, you know that he’s good, but there’s something in the assured tone of his voice, the measured weight in his eyes that makes you think Min Yoongi has been fighting for a long time.
“...I suppose the question that everyone is asking is whether you have what it takes to win the Olympia.” 
The reporter’s question tugs you from your thoughts, he’s now turned to Jungkook. You wince, of all the questions, of course they had to start with this one.
“That’s a pointless question. Absolutely, I have what it takes.”
Jungkook’s blunt answer causes another stir to ripple through the crowd. The interviewer nods, absorbing this information, before he clears her throat.
“Make no mistake, you have a very distinctive and aggressive style of boxing. It’s what’s earned you your reputation. I think where the question comes from is whether your way of fighting, and your gear, will be victorious over say… another semifinalist with a very different fighting style. Scorpius, for example.”
The question is asked casually but you know it’s hardly a spur of the moment question. Jungkook and Yoongi have been pitted against each other in the press non stop for the last week. It’s a combination of factors - their opposing fighting styles, their different backgrounds, and of course, their very public moment of tension last week after Yoongi’s match. 
“Like I said,” Jungkook grits out, “That’s a pointless question. My fighting and my gear would beat his anyday.” 
You glance at Yoongi, who is looking down the line at Jungkook, a mildly interested look on his face. 
Jungkook meets Yoongi’s gaze and his eyes darken.
“In fact,” He continues, voice rising, “Even without the gear. If I was to take him on in a fight, gear or gearless, I would win.”
Silence.
The interviewer looks stunned. Your eyes widen, Jungkook has a defiant, angry set to his eyes. 
One of the greatest taboos of technoboxing is gearless matches, gearless fighting. It’s the cardinal sin of this world, and even mentioning gearless boxing is seen as deeply controversial.
Yoongi stands up, his eyes are flashing. The sound of his chair clattering to the ground is all it takes, Jungkook too pushes out of his chair and lunges at Yoongi. 
The room erupts into chaos, security detail rushing in to pull the two men apart.
You and Seokjin jump up, but everything happens quickly. It’s a rough tumble, and in the commotion, you hear the sound of a fist connecting with bone. 
It isn’t until Jungkook is dragged away that you see Yoongi violently shrugging off the security guard, a cut in his eyebrow from where Jungkook’s fist had collided with it. 
Yoongi, for the first time since you’ve known him, looks vexed. The composure you’re so used to seeing on him has cracked. 
The press conference is effectively over, dismantled by the brief window of calamity.
“Your fucking brother,” Seokjin mutters, pulling his ringing phone out, “It’s your father, Jesus Christ. Just what we need.”
“I’ll go get Jungkook,” You say to Seokjin, who nods distractedly, face curt as he answers the phone.
You shoulder your way through the crowd and beeline to the athlete entrance.
As you hurry down the hallway, you spot Yoongi, who is in an intense conversation with someone you don’t recognize, a guy with round glasses and curly red hair. Yoongi is frustrated, arms crossed tightly over his chest, and you feel a prickle over your skin when he glances up, eyes meeting yours. You ignore him, breezing past until you reach the locker room.
You push open the door to see Jungkook sitting on one of the benches, glowering at the wall.
“What the fuck was that?” You demand. Jungkook’s head snaps up when he sees you, his glare deepens.
“I don’t need to hear this right no-”
“How stupid are you, Jungkook? You punched him?”
Jungkook’s eyebrows furrow, he stays silent. 
“Why would you do that? Bring up gearless boxing? Make the situation so much worse with Scorpius than it needs to be?”
Jungkook just scowls. 
“Look,” You sigh, folding your arms over your chest. “Maybe you should smooth things over with him. Having this, whatever it is, rivalry, isn’t doing anything but add stress and drama-”
“No.” Jungkook bites out the word distastefully and you frown.
“Why not?”
“You don’t fucking get it!” Jungkook suddenly shouts, spinning around, his fist slamming into a locker. 
You flinch at the noise, but keep your gaze evenly on your brother.
“I don’t get what?”
Jungkook is breathing in heavier, he doesn’t respond. His fist is still pressed against the metal locker.
“I don’t feel in control.” Jungkook finally says. His voice is ragged, and for a moment you don’t know how to respond. Jungkook’s shoulders are shaking, breath laboured. 
He lowers another fist and drives it slowly against the metal, it connects with a heavy thud.
“Do you know how heavy it feels?” He finally whispers. You let out a shaky breath, knowing he’s not talking about gear.
“Jungkook…”
“I can’t lose to him.” Jungkook chokes out. “I can’t. I’m not smoothing anything over. Not over my dead body.”
He lifts his head and stares at you. His eyes are brimming with tears. 
You haven’t seen Jungkook cry since he was fifteen, back when he was first getting trial fitted for gear. But these tears are different. They’re simmering in anger, in rage, in hate. 
Hatred of the situation he’s in, the gear on his back, of Scorpius, of himself.
“You’ve never learned how to hold back your anger.” You speak finally. 
ungkook doesn’t respond, he just turns his head, stares at the two fists he has up against the locker. His left fist is beginning to bleed, the blood trickles down along the grey slate. 
“You were never told to hold back your anger.” You continue. Jungkook is silent, and you feel a sudden ache in your chest.
“You need to learn how to do that.”
You words hang heavy in the air. Jungkook is still staring at the ground, and you feel your own eyes prick with tears. 
“Jungkook!” Your head snaps up to see Seokjin standing in the doorway of the locker room, “Let’s go..”
Seokjin’s eyes widen as he takes in the situation, his mouth opens and closes. Jungkook stands, blood still dripping from his fist. He doesn’t speak, his face guarded, the tears wiped from his eyes. 
He doesn’t look at you, as he squares his shoulders and walks out of the room.
You sit alone on the bench, staring down at your hands. They are smooth, no bruises or cuts or tape wrapped around your fingers. Still, you curl your fingers until they form a fist. 
If Jungkook won’t smooth things over with Yoongi, you think to yourself as you rise, then I will.
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“Again. Harder.”
Jungkook is heaving for breath. 
Seokjin falters backward, lowers the boxing pads, glances behind him where he knows Jungkook’s father, his gear specialist, the vice president of the Olympia association, are all observing. For whatever reason, they insisted on watching Jungkook’s training session today. 
Seokjin assumes it’s aftermath from the press conference. It was mostly smoothed over by Jungkook’s father, who assured the press in a statement that it was just a tactic employed by Jungkook to rile up a potential future opponent, and that there was no true intent to harm behind his punch. 
Still, the press had a field day with Jungkook, with the punch, his mention of a gearless fight. The media dragged Jungkook’s name and Seokjin’s through the mud, and the Olympia association put a warning under both Jungkook and Yoongi’s names. Three warnings, and they are blacklisted for life. 
Since then, Jungkook has been different, unreachable, training with every inch of his spirit, pouring all of him into the gloves and the gear until he resembles a shell. 
Seokjin is worried.
“Jungkook, take a rest-”
“I said again.”
Jungkook’s voice rings out clear across the boxing ring, his words hardened at the edges. 
Seokjin freezes. 
He doesn’t have to look in the direction of the viewing box to know what their onlookers want. 
Jungkook is fired up, delivering more punishing punches, feet moving quickly with each powerful slice of his arm. He’s at peak performance, moving flawlessly in sync with his gear. He’s fighting at his prime right now, but Seokjin can feel the anger leaking out of the younger man’s fists, he recognizes that blue black rage all too well.
“Jungkook-” Seokjin murmurs it quietly enough for just Jungkook to hear.
Jungkook doesn’t respond, arm darting out in a punch that almost catches Seokjin offguard. Almost. His reflexes kick in before his mind does, lifting the pad in seconds, catching Jungkook’s fist. 
Still, he stumbles, his weight unsupported on the gear that keeps him standing. Seokjin meets Jungkook’s eyes. They are cold, flat. That anger is like an old friend, and that’s what scares him.
The only accompanying sound is a rattled breath, the shuffling of feet, Seokjin straightening. Jungkook, muttering out, “Again.” and then the heavy thwack of a boxing glove hitting a mat, again and again, until the onlookers in the viewing box shuffle out, satisfied with the show.
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Yoongi’s gym is dimly lit when you walk in. At first, your eyes strain in the muted light that filters through the room, until you spot him. 
He is a lone figure in the middle of the ring, a heavy, old punching bag in front of him. It’s a far cry from how this ring had looked during the qualifying match you had watched. 
Yoongi is wearing a black pair of boxing shorts with a maroon red stripe down the thighs, shirtless, his skin gleams with sweat under the light. He doesn’t notice you slip inside, and for a moment you watch him. 
His body is tensed, he cuts through the air with a slice of his fist, ducking down and then up quickly. You are mesmerized watching him, transfixed by how he stands still, lazily almost, like he can’t be bothered to put his fists in front of his face, too light to be weighed down even by the atmosphere. 
And then he’s striking, fist darting out so hard and fast that the only indication that Yoongi has struck is the loud thwack of his boxing glove against the punching bag.
“What are you doing here?”
Yoongi suddenly calls out, his fists held in front of his face. You freeze, unsure of what to answer, unsure if he’s even talking to you, and then he glances carelessly over his shoulder. 
His dark eyes meet yours, and through the veil of the hazy light in the gym, you swallow hard.
“I came to find you. I want to talk.”
You walk up to the ring, Yoongi is still crooked over, his fists held in front of his face. He doesn’t respond, he weaves back and forth, punches the bag again, thwack.
You clear your throat uncomfortably, watching the dust that rises from the bag, floating up into the orange light that hangs above his head.
“About what my brother did in the press conference-”
“I’m not interested in talking about your brother.”
Yoongi’s voice is steely, you see the muscles in his jaw clench. 
“Yeah, I get it, I just wanted to-”
“I said, I’m not fucking interested.” 
His voice hinges on venomous and you reel backwards, feeling awkward. Yoongi all but ignores you, continuing to jab into the punching bag with angry fists. 
Plumes of dust continue to rise from the bag.
“Oh um, okay. I’ll…” You mumble, biting your lip. 
Yoongi glances over his shoulder again at you and his face is cold. 
“Get out.”
Your shoulders stiffen and a burn of humiliation and disappointment flashes over you, a low burn right in the pit of your belly. Yoongi has already turned his head, no longer looking at you, no longer interested.
You turn on your heel, breath pitched in sharply, but when you reach the door, you pause.
“You’re a fucking asshole, you know that?”
Your voice rings out clear and sharp across the room, even though your legs are shaking. You see Yoongi pause, and then he lets out a low, disinterested scoff.
Anger sears hot in your veins because of this Yoongi, this cold, mean, flat eyed Yoongi, as unreachable as ever while he is in the ring.
“You can act as pissed off as you want, but you wanted this. You’re the one who’s been pushing my brother, prodding him-”
“Shut up.” Yoongi’s voice is harsh and he straightens, his fists lower to his sides. 
He turns to face you, his eyes narrowed in anger. Something switches inside of you, and you step towards him, eyes flashing.
“What, you can dish it out but you can’t take it? It’s true. You know, I actually came over here to try and smooth things over on his behalf, make things easier for the both of you, but you know what? You both deserve it.”
You hiss out the words and Yoongi’s eyes darken, he reaches up and swings his body over the boxing ring’s barriers, drops effortlessly onto the ground like a cat. 
He stalks towards you until he is standing opposite you. His chest is heaving, sweat dotted on his bare shoulders and on his pecs, headband pushing his hair out of his eyes.
“Get out. You don’t know what you’re talking about. You don’t get it.”
You let out a loud, bitter scoff. “So everybody keeps telling me.” 
Yoongi just stares. 
“Get-”
“Get out? Yeah. Got it.” You spin on your heel and feel a wave of emotion cresting up in your chest, disappointment, anger, hurt.
“Hey.” Yoongi’s voice, hoarse and loud, cuts through the air. You pause. “You didn’t have to come here and apologize on his behalf.” Yoongi’s voice calls out from behind you, and you turn your head. 
Your eyes meet his, dark, unreadable as always. His chest is still heaving with exerted breaths, red boxing gloves on his hands.
“I know.” You response in a short, abrupt voice. ”I wanted to, okay?”
The two of you stare at each other before Yoongi lets out a dry snort.
“What are you, Jeon’s spokesperson?” 
You narrow your eyes but your shoulders relax a touch. “No, I just… he took it too far at the press conference, alright? I felt like I had to say something on his behalf, I mean he is my brother.”
Yoongi just lets out another sarcastic click of his tongue and you roll your eyes.
“I probably shouldn’t have bothered though, I mean you’re being such a delight right now-”
“You really came all this way just to tell me that?” Yoongi crosses his arms, gazes at you, his head cocked to one side. 
You bite your lip.
“Mm.” You mumble out noncommittally, and Yoongi just raises an eyebrow.
“Mm?” He asks in a pointed tone and you feel a swell of irritation bloom inside of you, irritation at Yoongi picking up on everything as he always does in the confines of the boxing ring, at how Yoongi manages to read between the lines even though he hardly knows you.
You almost flinch when Yoongi steps closer towards you, crooks his head closer until you can smell him, his dark eyes searching yours.
That same flash of irritation sears inside of you like a white hot flame, and you grind your teeth together, grind them together because you want to grind that smirk on his face with your fist. You think about it, how satisfying it would feel to punch him square in the face, imagining the expression of surprise that would ghost over his features if you really drove your knuckles right into that calm, unreadable face. 
Another thought trespasses in your mind - the thought of that same face hovering above yours, those bruised knuckles curled around bedsheets, those shoulder blades dipping your bodies together and the heaviness of his body lurching into yours-
“What’s with you?” Yoongi’s voice, low and slightly amused, cuts through your thoughts and your face burns with embarrassment and you shake your head, trying to distract yourself from the sudden, dangerous heat rising up in your face, in your body, between your legs.
Get yourself together. You chide yourself, your eyes meeting with Yoongi’s yet again, you repeat that mantra in your mind but it doesn’t have much weight when his dark eyes are inches from yours, his skin, glowing with sweat and his muscles shaking with exertion are so close to yours. 
Something flickers across Yoongi’s face, he leans in closer.
Fuck.
“You’re- you’re bleeding.” You stammer out the words and for a moment the two of you just stand completely still, bodies centimetres apart.
“Oh,” Yoongi finally says. He retreats, and you exhale, letting out a breath you hadn’t even known you were keeping in. “Yeah, that would be thanks to your brother.”
You avoid his gaze, looking closely at his eyebrow. He has the faint marks of a black eye forming there, and a split of skin is slowly bleeding in his brow. 
“Have you got a medical kit here?” You ask, and Yoongi just smirks.
“What, you’re a doctor are you?”
You ignore him pointedly. “Do you, or don’t you?”
Yoongi just nods, lifts his eyes. “Mm yeah, I think so. It’s not a big deal-”
“Just shut up and get it, it’ll take two seconds to clean it up and put a bandaid on it.”
Your voice comes out sterner than expected and a smile flickers over Yoongi’s lips before he nods, a bemused, lazy smile dancing over his lips. 
“Alright then.”
He retreats into one of the side rooms of the gym, leaving you alone. You shake your head slightly, trying not to think about how close he had been standing to you earlier, trying to ignore the stirrings of want that seem to be carved in your consciousness right now.
You walk over to the boxing ring, which coincidentally, is the brightest lit area in the gym at this time in the evening. Gingerly, you hoist yourself up, ducking under the ropes until you are standing at the centre of the ring. The ground is hard beneath your flat soled sneakers, it smells faintly like chalk and dust in the air.
You hear the sound of footsteps and turn to see Yoongi deftly hoisting himself up and over the ropes, his muscles rippling under his skin as he lands on his feet, a battered medical kit in one hand.
“Here.” He tosses it to you and you fumble as you catch it, opening it up. There’s a small bottle of antiseptic, wrapping tape, ice packs, bandages. You nod, more to yourself than to anyone else, and then you sit cross legged on the floor of the ring. 
You glance up expectantly, Yoongi watches you with a slightly bemused expression on his face before he too sits opposite you.
“It’s gonna get infected if you just let chalk or whatever get into it, idiot.” You mutter, and Yoongi doesn’t answer, he just hums in response. You pick up a cotton swab and douse it in antiseptic, it’s sharp and acidic in scent and carefully, you inch closer to Yoongi.
“Don’t move.”
You swipe the cotton over the cut, it’s deeper than you expected, your mind flashes to the silver rings Jungkook sports on his fingers and you wince. 
Yoongi however has a completely passive face as you carefully clean out the cut.
“Doesn’t hurt?” You ask finally, breaking the silence. Yoongi levels his gaze with yours.
“I’ve been through a lot worse than this.” He says wryly, and he smirks, but his smirk is split, his eyes a little far away, and you bite your lip.
You rummage in the medical kit until you find a small bandage. Yoongi clicks his tongue, you can feel his gaze heavy on you.
“Not your first time patching up an injured boxer?” He quips in a low voice. 
You glance up and you meet his gaze. He is so close to you that you can feel the heat of his body radiating off of him, feel the pressure of his stare. 
“No,” You say faintly, “It isn’t.”
Yoongi doesn’t reply, he just keeps his eyes on yours and you feel a hum start to race through your body from him being so close, so intense, so focused on you. Clearing your throat, you lift the bandage. 
“Stay still.”
Carefully, you smoothen the fabric over his eyebrow. 
“Done,” You murmur.
“Thanks,” Yoongi says gruffly, and you know you should shift away, back into your own personal space, but something keeps you there, with your fingertips skimming over his skin, travelling the canvas of his face. 
They brush over the swollen bruise on his eye just underneath his eyebrow, then to his jaw, which you can tell has been dislocated in the past, to his nose, which has a tiny crook in the centre. 
All the imperfections, up close, marks and battle scars. 
You snap out of your reverie, your eyes focus on him. He too, is intent on you, his own eyes scanning your face just as closely as you had been with his. Your eyes find his and you swallow.
“Ah,” He starts, and you’re so close to him that you can feel the hum of his voice, the vibrations of his words. “Seriously… thanks.”
He doesn’t specify what he’s thanking you for, he doesn’t need to, and your eyes widen a little in surprise.
“Um,” You whisper. “It’s okay.” 
You’re barely aware of what words are coming out of your mouth, too conscious of how close he is to you, of the electricity that is crackling like a film over your skin, the heat mounting in your chest and spilling up into your cheeks. 
It feels like your heart has gone into overdrive, your brain in overdrive too, thoughts and heavy thumps of your heart an incoherent, incorrigible mess. 
The thought occurs to you that is isn’t just your heart rate and your ability to form a thought that’s a mess, but rather you- you’re a mess, and it’s all due to Min Yoongi.
He’s still in front of you, body crooked above yours. Your palms are flat on the ground of the boxing ring, it’s the only thing tying you to reality. 
Yoongi leans in even closer. His face dips towards yours, his eyes searching the map of your face. His lips hover, inches away from yours, so close that if he leaned forward his mouth would brush a seal over yours.
“Yoongi,” You whimper out his name, and Yoongi doesn’t move. 
“Hm?” He murmurs, questioningly. 
Impatience and urgency twine together in your bloodstream, and you respond by pressing your lips against his.
Something dark and intense unfurls in your chest when you kiss him, it’s a clumsy collision of your lips against his, your palms resting on his thighs, your body hooking into his. Your hear at the back of his throat, a sound of surprise, a groan, and then Yoongi’s hands are curling around your hips.
He deepens the kiss, sliding his tongue into your mouth, making you moan. His arms hooked around your lower waist, he tugs you firmly until you are in his lap, you wrap your legs around his waist until you are straddling him, keening your body into him hungrily as his thumbs begin to knead long, teasing circles into the fleshy part of your hip. 
He kisses you deeper and harder with every kiss, his mouth dominating, his lips slightly chapped, he barely gives you time to breathe as his hands roam from your hips to the small of your back up to your shoulders. 
Your heart is ricocheting in your chest, blood rushing to your face and there, like the staccato of a hummingbird’s wings knotted up in the core of you, a gnawing desperation starts to knock hard and heavy.
His hands knot into your hair, fingertips light on your scalp as he tugs on your hair, your kisses break apart as Yoongi mouths at your jaw, your ear. His breathing is uneven, his breath sending delicious shivers down your spine, you arch your hips into his, grinding yourself into his lap, as he murmurs into the shell of your ear, “I’ve wanted to fuck you from the moment I laid eyes on you.”
You let out a moan at his words, his lips nibble against your earlobe before they start a trail down the slope of your neck. He nibbles at the sensitive skin there, hard enough to elicit sharp breaths from you, he washes over each bite with a swirl of his tongue, sparking heat that pools in your core.
Yoongi is confident, in control, his hand still tugging at the base of your head, hair wrapped around his fingers, his mouth territorial on your neck, his other hand stroking the front of your belly. 
You on the other hand feel like you are unravelling, bucking your hips into him, grinding into him deeper and more desperately. 
You can feel the erection beneath your now throbbing cunt, and when you hear Yoongi’s breath grow more shallow, the hoarseness in the moan that he lets out against your collarbones, it grants you some relief that Yoongi is growing as feverishly desperate as you.
Yoongi starts kissing you again, messy, sloppy, wanting kisses, his palm intentfully grazing underneath the hem of your shirt and over your belly. You hiss in for breath, whine against his mouth, as the tips of his fingers brush the very underside of your breath, a teasing touch that has you coming undone even more than before.
Yoongi chuckles, a dark laugh against your mouth, murmurs into your kisses, “I love hearing how needy you are for me.”
“Yoongi,” You pant out, “God, I want you.”
Yoongi lets out a hum, drawing one finger up between your breasts, his other hand trailing down from your hair to the flat of your back, holding you close to him. 
You arch your back, your hair falls in your eyes, as you meet his stare. His lips are swollen, cheeks flushed, eyes dilated with want and you feel a fresh spark of lust as he draws his finger back down between your breasts, his tongue licking his bottom lip.
“Yoongi, please. I’ll do anything.”
The begging words that fall out your mouth are out of character for you but you don’t care, stepping into a new role and a new self as you infuse your words with as much desperation and submission as possible.
“Fuck,” Yoongi groans, “I love hearing you say my name.”
His fingers stop at the bottom of your breast and you pin your hips forward, roll against his erection, enjoy the way his eyelids flutter. 
“Yoongi, please.” You murmur.
His groan is hoarse with lust as his fingers trace around your breast, you moan louder, swell your hips upward so that you can feel the friction of his cock against your wet cunt. 
You are so wet that you can feel it, the ache throbbing and emanating from your pussy all the way up to your belly. 
His fingers finally stroke over your nipple, you let out a staggered, soft moan at the tingling pleasure it feeds you as his fingers deftly pinch your hard nipple. He glides over to your other breast, squeezing hard before he grips the bottom of your shirt.
You hold your arms above your head obediently as he pulls it over your head, you shiver involuntarily when he tosses it to the ground. His eyes lock on you, glossing over you and you watch as his Adams apple bobs in his throat, his jaw twitches, drinking in the sight of you, wrapped around his waist, topless.
You watch, mesmerized, as Yoongi grips the hem of his tank top and pulls it off his head, in one fluid motion, tugging his headband off as well. His hair is messy and sweaty, and you can’t hold the throaty hum that escapes your lips. 
The muscles in Yoongi’s shoulders ripple as they grip at your waist, his abs are cut and his stomach lean and taut, and there at the band of his boxing shorts you can see angled lines that disappear beneath the fabric. 
The thin fabric of his shorts, and the denim of your jeans are the only fabrics in between Yoongi’s hard cock and your wet, throbbing slit and you inhale sharply at that thought.
The thought doesn’t stay coherent for long, because Yoongi’s mouth is on yours again, teasing out long, hungry kisses. He tastes good, he smells good, and you press yourself close to him and shiver at the feeling of his warm skin against yours. 
His body is soft to touch, muscles firm and solid beneath you, and your fingers curl at the nape of Yoongi’s neck as you kiss him harder, urgently, communicating to him through ruts of your hips and whines against his mouth that you want him.
Yoongi reads the ministrations of your hips and pulls you off of him, untangling your woven bodies as his fingers unzip your jeans. You feel a spark of eagerness shoot through you as you wiggle your waist, helping Yoongi pull the denim and your underwear off of your skin until you are sitting on the floor of the boxing ring naked.
Yoongi tosses your clothes to the side carelessly, his eyes locked on you possessively. You can see it, there in the glint of his eyes, the lick of his lips, the tent in his shorts, that he wants you and he wants to claim you. 
Your tongue darts over your bottom lip shamelessly, the fire between your legs licking hot flames up your thighs as you lower your eyes, stare at Yoongi from beneath your lashes. There is a heavy, all consuming throb between your legs and it’s making you dizzy with need.
“I want you to fuck me.” You whisper.
Yoongi’s eyes flash, his fingers are tugging off his shorts and then he’s naked.
Your breath ceases into a whine at the sight of his cock, hard and thick, the tip moist with his precum. His blonde hair falls into his eyes as he gazes down at you, swallows thickly.
“Look at you, on the ground begging for me to fuck you,” He murmurs and you nod, feeling anticipation knot inside of you as he lowers his body on top of yours. His arms support him so that he’s hovering above you, the weight of his body restrained and serving a reminder of how strong he is, how close he is to dominating you.
He angles his hips and you feel the tip of his cock brush against your slit, you whine, spreading your legs wider, tilting your hips higher. 
Yoongi lets out a growl, and reaches between your bodies, presses his palm against your hipbone and pushes you back onto the ground firmly. You let out a sharp chirp at the feeling of it, the flash in Yoongi’s face and the smirk that flickers over his lips at the sound of your surprise.
“Why should I give it to you?”
His voice is low and confident, syrupy as he slowly rolls his hips. The tip of his cock drags over your slit and you wince at how close he is, how badly you want it. You clench your fists, fight to not rut your hips upwards, feel more of him.
Yoongi smirks and you feel heat flash in your belly.
“I want it so badly, please Yoongi,” You pant, loving the soft hums he lets out at your words, the warmth of his body held over yours, skin on skin.
“You’re such a good needy little slut for me, aren’t you,” Yoongi murmurs and you can hear his breath, ragged, feel his cock twitch as it grazes against your slit. Each touch against you has you growing wetter, your folds getting slicker.
Anticipation is coiled tight inside of you as finally, his eyes locked on you, he pushes in, hard.
Your wetness helps him ease his entire cock inside of you, and you let out a yelp at the sensation of him stretching out your walls, the feeling of his entire length buried deep inside of your wetness. 
Your yelp softens into a long, drawn out moan as Yoongi stays still for a moment, adjusting to how you feel. The satisfaction of the feeling of him, filling you, sends a fresh wave of tension and want skimming over your skin, as Yoongi starts to rock his cock in and out of you.
He doesn’t start slow or gentle, riding into you with long, intense, punishing thrusts. The sounds of his hips snapping against your body echo throughout the empty gym, the ground is hard beneath your bare back, your palms are flat on Yoongi’s back, your fingernails digging desperately into his skin, and it feels as if everything is amplified. 
The dewy sweat on your skin and Yoongi’s, the complete lack of space separating your bodies, the grunts he lets out as he fucks into you, hard. 
The dust rising from the ring, the loudness of your moans and screams of his name, the sound of each, hard, intense thrust of his cock deep into you. It is drawing something deeply embedded out of you, a whimpering, shattering kind of want, a gnawing ache that is slowed and given release with each forceful push of Yoongi’s cock deep inside of you.
Yoongi’s hands flutter at the side of your face, he brushes the hair out of your eyes and lowers even closer, lips at your ear, a growl of “Say my name.”
You gasp out his name, a broken “Yoongi”, and Yoongi lets out a moan that is rough and sends shivers up your spine and makes your core clench hard and tight, as a throb begins to ring hard and fast deep inside of you.
Your body stiffens, your fingers claw into Yoongi’s shoulder blades, your eyelids flutter.
“Yoongi, I’m…” You whimper out breathlessly, Yoongi’s eyes dart down at you and he fucks into you particularly hard, coaxing out a loud cry from your lips.
“Look at me,” He demands in a low, rough voice. “I want to watch you cum.” The feeling is climbing harder and faster, it’s the deepness of Yoongi’s fucking, the intensity, how everything seems to be exaggerated tenfold, the angle of him inside of you. 
You are so wet that you can hear the slick sounds of him pushing in and out of you, harder, faster, and you can feel it climbing up rapidly inside of your chest.
The throbbing grows harder, and it feels as if every muscle is locking in place.
“Look at me,” Yoongi snaps out and your eyelids flutter open, focusing on Yoongi’s face. His eyes are dilated, he is staring at you, and he murmurs out, “I want to think about your pretty face cumming around my cock and your lips saying my name when I win my next match.”
His words bring out a cry from deep inside of your chest, your thighs quiver and the throbs heighten until they melt away, they crumble, until you feel nothing but blissful waves of satisfaction that pour over your skin. 
You moan, your lips curving around his name, whimpers and mewls of Yoongi spoken out into the thick, heady air as you curl around his cock. You can feel Yoongi’s cock twitching from it while still buried deep inside of you, the pleasure is still cascading inside of you as Yoongi slows his thrusts.
“God,” You whimper out, Yoongi slows down even more when you wince at the feeling of it, the rawness that slightly stings through the euphoric afterglow that is beginning to sink into you. “Wow.”
Yoongi hums, and your eyes focus on him again, on his face which is pleased and self-confident, eyes widened in arousal.
“You’re not actually going to think about that during your next match, are you?” You pant out, letting out a soft, tired moan. Yoongi smirks, you don’t see it but you can feel it in the air.
“Oh, I definitely will be.”
His words send a fresh, muted shiver of pleasure through you and you place your palms on Yoongi’s lower abdomnen, push upwards and he follows, slipping out of you. 
The sudden ache of emptiness fills you when he pulls away, and you can see the question forming on his lips but you move quickly, shifting your body until you are on your knees.
Yoongi’s eyes widen in understanding, swallows thickly, eyes searching your face. Your eyes are full of want, your cunt beginning to feel sore, the high from your orgasm still riding inside of you as he stands up, your face level with his hard cock.
You wrap your hand around his length, hard and still slick with your juices, run your hand up and down, pumping his shaft and enjoying the staggered moan that escapes his lips. Your eyes flicker upwards, feeling a rush of satisfaction when you see that he is staring straight down at you with wide, hungry eyes. A flame of heat ignites in your stomach as you continue to glide your hand over his cock in long, teasing strokes, lowering your mouth until it is at the very base of his cock.
You run your tongue flat alongside his length, slowly, shift in place until the tip of his cock is positioned at your lips. You move your hips, your legs tremble with the movement and serve as a reminder of how good he had fucked you, and you feel that carnal need to please him, to submit to him, as you wrap your mouth around the head of his cock.
Carefully, you lower yourself until you are taking his entire cock in your mouth, you gag slightly against his length and then begin to bob your head up and down. You feel Yoongi’s legs start to shake, hear the staggered moan that is drawn out from his lips.
“Jesus fuck,” You hear him mutter, “God you feel so fucking good…” his voice breaks around the words, you feel him tilt his hips against your mouth, slowly, carefully, fucking himself against your mouth. 
You moan against it, feel a tingle of satisfaction at the huskiness in his voice as he moans out your name.
His body jerks, you glance up to see him gazing down at you with glassy, fevered eyes. “Fuck if you keep… God I’m gonna…” his voice is stuttered, far from the pieced together Yoongi who had been fucking into you just a few moments ago, and you take him in even deeper, hum against his cock, Yoongi lets out a long, ragged moan and you pull your mouth away from his cock, replacing it with your hand.
You keep your face where it is, continuing to tease his cock with long strokes, staring up at Yoongi from where you are bent on your knees. 
“I want you to cum all over my face,” You whisper out the words like they’re a secret, something dark jumps in your stomach. This is unlike you, but there’s something about being with Yoongi that unlocks a part of you that you didn’t know existed, a part that is raw and animalistic and that feels so fucking good that you don’t want to stop feeling it.
“Fuck.” He musters out, and you smile, continuing to tease at him, “Something else to think about in the ring next time.”
He cries out your name, his eyes blown and blackened with desire, his body jerks and as your hand pumps down his shaft, he cums. It hits your face, the ropes of his seed on your cheek and your forehead, and you relish in the sight of Yoongi staring at you with widened eyes, trembling lips, wonder and pleasure and desperation and neediness snapping over his face with the rise and fall of his orgasm. 
You memorize it, the expression on his face, his lips curled around your name, the orgasm evident in the shake of his thighs.
You stay still for a moment, the two of you staring at each other, both breathless. 
“Hey,” You murmur, to break the silence. It’s the first thing that pops in your head. 
Yoongi smiles, and it’s the first genuine smile that you’ve seen on his face - unadulterated, blissful, eyes softening and creasing in the corners, sweaty hair falling in his eyes, head tilting to one side.
“Hey.”
His voice breaks as he sits down, legs shaking. He leans across the floor, grabs his white tank and is in front of you. 
His thighs are still trembling as he cups the back of your neck and carefully wipes away his cum from your face. When he’s done, he pulls away, tossing the discarded shirt to the side of the ring.
You sit facing each other for a moment, breathing heavily, and you turn to face him, a lazy smile dissolving over your face.
“How you feeling?” Yoongi asks, he has a lazy satisfaction on his lips, his words drawled out. 
You just smile in response, you can still feel the hazy glow from your orgasm in your toes, you nod at him. “Good.” 
Yoongi smiles.
“I wasn’t expecting that to happen between you and me.” You confess, and the smile on Yoongi’s face falters slightly, he blinks at you and then he diverts his gaze.
“Yeah,” He mutters. You blink, as Yoongi stands up, his face suddenly closed off.
“Hey, everything okay?” You ask as Yoongi bends, he scoops his shorts off of the floor and slides them on, grabs your jeans and your shirt.
“Uh huh.” He throws your clothes towards you, they land in a discarded pile and you blink. “Thanks, but I’ve gotta go back to training.” 
His voice is clipped, distant, his eyes averted from meeting yours. You feel a sting of confusion as you stare blankly at him before you clear your throat, grabbing your clothes. 
You stand up, your legs ache but you ignore them as you slide into your jeans, roughly put your top over your head.
Annoyance and hurt mingle with the high you’re still feeling from the sex as you wordlessly walk to the edge of the ring, ducking over the rope and landing neatly on the ground on the other side. 
Hesitating, you turn, only to see Yoongi staring down at the ground, putting his gloves back on, an unreadable expression on his face. 
It’s like a light has switched, daytime has turned back into night, Yoongi is no longer reachable. If it weren’t for the burn between your legs and the glow from your orgasm, you would’ve been convinced you imagined the whole thing.
Your mouth opens and closes, forming around words that you consider briefly saying. His name, asking him if everything is okay. But you hesitate, your hurt and rejection stops you. 
You stare at him, he walks up to the punching bag. You close your mouth, feel a flash of upset in your belly and you turn. 
You don’t look back as you walk out of the gym, but you hear it as you push open the door, the sound of Yoongi pressing his forehead against the punching bag and weakly driving his fist into its leather belly.
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Logically, you know that you shouldn’t care about Yoongi, about the coldness that had been etched into his features last night when you walked away from the ring. The rational side of you tells you that it doesn’t matter, that what happened last night was just a once off. That you shouldn’t have slept with him anyway, given the nature of his relationship with Jungkook. 
But no matter how many times you try to soothe the ragged sting of rejection over with rationality, it fails. You can’t stop thinking about it, can’t stop replaying that string of events in your mind as though you’ll somehow find that one loose thread to tell you what exactly went wrong. 
You cross your legs, angle your head, wonder idly if it was something you did, something you said, before you tell yourself to stop thinking about him.
You’ve been doing just that on loop for the past two hours. No matter how many times you try to cast Yoongi out of your thoughts, he lingers still, weighing heavily in between the spaces of your heart beat, like he has a finger on your sternum to remind you of him every five minutes.
You let out a restless sigh because this isn’t you. You aren’t the person to be wound up tight with question marks after a one night stand. 
This has never been you. But it’s you now – sitting in your room, half heartedly tapping away on your laptop clicking onto links and trying to distract yourself.
What is it about Yoongi? Your fingers pause from where they are hovering above the keyboard, mind racing thanks to that new stray thought that’s flitted, unwelcome, into the forefront of your thoughts. 
It’s not just with you – it’s like he knows exactly what buttons to push with all the people that cross his path. He’s ragged around the edges and dangerous too, like the serrated edges of a rusty blade.
Everything in your world is polished. The advancements of new technology and the growing divide between the upper class and the lower class have seen to the wall of ignorance that has divided your world from everything else out there, everything that Yoongi represents. 
You grew up blind and oblivious, an outsider floating in the fringes of the boxing world, unsettled and uncertain of your place yet never thinking to look beyond those walls. And why would you? Everything in your life was pristinely kept together. Even the things that were supposed to be messy, broken, violent – boxing, for example – were kept clean and orderly thanks to gear, the metallic skeletons that fused to fighter’s bones and kept them in check. 
Now though, you realize that perhaps things aren’t as perfect as they seem. Things are fraying apart, so slowly that an outsider couldn’t be able to tell, seams splitting and cracks fissuring. 
Your brother, eyes growing darker and more distant, a storm brewing inside of him like a storm in a teacup. 
Seokjin, who pushes down the pain and the loss you knew he feels, because showing pain is weakness. 
Even you – lingering behind your brother like another member of his boxing posse because you have no other semblance of identity. 
Things have been falling apart, they have been doing so for a long time. 
You shake your head. You stand up abruptly, closing the lid of your laptop. You can’t think like this, seesawing in your own mind. You grab your coat from where it is hanging on the back of your door, headed to one place where you’ve always been able to gather your thoughts, a place that as much as you hate to admit it, is familiar to you.
The boxing ring.
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Being next to the ring clears your thoughts, or at least, it serves as a willing distraction for them. Seokjin doesn’t say anything when you slip into the large, airy room, leaning against one of the pillars and folding your arms over your chest as you watch your brother train. 
As you watch Jungkook drive his fists methodically into his punching bag, Seokjin barking out instructions with each punch, time ticks on.
Eventually, you stretch your body out like a cat, slipping outside of the training gym for a breath of fresh air. You are standing outside, feeling the brisk air kiss your skin, when you hear the crunch of footsteps on gravel. 
Something in your head whispers to you that it’s Yoongi. Instinct, hope, rationality - you aren’t sure, you dont have time to dwell on it, eyes carding up to confirm that Yoongi is indeed standing in front of you. 
He doesn’t have his headband on, his hair hanging long in his eyes, fine and floppy and damp, he’s clearly just stepped out of the shower. He looks softer than you’ve ever seen him before, and you hesitate.
“What are you doing here?” You ask, blinking once and then again in succession. “You’re not here to get under my brother’s skin again, are you?” Your words are pointed and Yoongi just stares at you, his face blank.
“No, I’m not here to do that,” He responds.
“Really, because that seems to be something that you enjoy doing.” You retort. Yoongi’s eyebrow twitches.
“I’m here to talk to you, actually.”
You expression falters a little under his heavy stare, you shift your weight and wring your fingers together.
“Um. Okay. So then, talk.”
You suddenly feel nervous, you attempt to mask it by folding your arms tight across your chest, but Yoongi’s stare is as intense as ever. Somehow, you have the suspicion that you’re not doing a very good job of acting nonchalant.
“Can we talk somewhere else? I don’t exactly want your brother coming out of practice and seeing us having a conversation.”
He has a point. You glance at the gym, you can hear the faint sounds of gloves against punching bags, before you look furtively at Yoongi. He is still staring at you, and you swallow.
“Yeah, alright.”
Yoongi nods. “I’ve got my car parked down the street. Let’s go for a drive?”
He shoves his hands in his pockets and you bite the corner of your lip uncertainly, not sure of what exactly he wants from you, what he’s doing here.
“Er, sure.”
He turns and begins walking briskly in the opposite direction, for a beat you stare at his retreating back before you follow. The two of you walk side by side in silence, the nerves growing in your chest before you finally reach an old, battered grey car.
As you climb into the passenger seat, Yoongi turning the key in the ignition, you sneak a glance at Yoongi. His face is like stone.
“So… where are we going?”
Yoongi looks over at you, he swallows hard and it’s an expression that you’re not used to seeing on him.
Is he… nervous?
“There’s this spot not too far from here that I go to sometimes. Maybe we can talk there for a bit.”
You slowly nod, Yoongi’s eyes are still trained on you, “-If you’re okay with that, that is.”
“Uh huh.”
Yoongi just nods his head, pulls away from the street. 
You sit in silence, you fight the urge not to look at him, running through the entire scenario in your head. 
The last thing you expected was for Yoongi to appear at your brother’s gym. It was risky for him to be waiting around there, yet, you suppose, it’s the only place that he knew where you might’ve been.
What was it that he wanted to talk to you about so badly? You sneak a glance at him, he has one hand on the steering wheel, face indecipherable as always. 
Yoongi? Nervous? The concept seems impossible, but it’s a thought that you have swirling around in your thoughts as Yoongi drives.
He eventually pulls into a side road, car slowing, and he clears his throat.
“Hey so uh…. About yesterday. When you left.”
“Yeah?” You answer, purposefully not looking over at Yoongi.
“I was acting weird and I’m… I’m sorry.”
Your mouth falls open, you can’t hold it any longer, eyeing Yoongi. He has his eyes on the road, but you can tell by the twitch of his lips that he’s paying close attention to you.
“It’s okay.” You respond, your voice a little unsteady. “It just caught me offguard. Was everything alright? We can forget last night happened, if you want. We probably shouldn’t have done it, to be honest.” Your words spill out and there is a moment of nothing, of silence.
“I don’t want to forget about it,” Yoongi finally speaks. “I just… I panicked. You said you weren’t expecting last night to happen.” His words end in a sigh and he shrugs. “I wasn’t expecting things to happen like they did either.” 
His voice quiets until it is barely audible. “I guess I was trying to fight it.”
He pulls up at a small lookout spot and turns the ignition. The car lapses into silence and you are aware of the fact that you are holding your breath, uncertain of how to react or what to say.
“Fighting is all I’m good at, after all.” Yoongi tilts his face to you and smiles, a wry, slightly sad smile. 
He holds your gaze for a long, heavy moment. “I… If you want to forget about last night we can.” Yoongi stammers out suddenly. 
“No, I-” Your voice is shaken, you can’t pull away from Yoongi’s gaze. You don’t know what it is about him, that has you like this - breath held so tight that you can feel it heavy in your chest, pulse thrumming in your veins. 
It’s a feeling like nothing you’ve felt before. Yoongi is like nothing you’ve known before.
“I don’t want to forget either.” You finally speak. 
Yoongi’s eyes soften.
“Where are we anyway?” You ask suddenly, breaking your eye contact with him to glance around, taking in your surroundings. His car is the only one perched on the edge of a cliff, a makeshift observation deck of sorts.
“We are at my place.” Yoongi says. He sighs, tipping his head back. Your eyes are on him, and you can’t look away. 
This, here, him - limbs stretched out in the seat of his car, window rolled down, face tipped up to the night sky. His hair flutters in the breeze, eyes closed, and it occurs to you that all the sides of Yoongi that you’ve seen, you haven’t seen this – his face so utterly serene. 
You pull your gaze away from him out to the view in front of you. 
“I love it here.” Yoongi says suddenly, his eyes still closed. “The view, you know?”
He opens one eye, reaches out and cards a hand through his hair. “It feels like that, there, is my life. When I’m here I feel like I can see it clearly. The past, the future… all of that.”
You follow his nod to the view stretched out in front of you. You are no stranger to beautiful city views, having one in your living room at home. But this is different – this isn’t the showcasing of the bejewelled, glittery lights of your city. From this spot, sure, you can see the glinting lights and commotion of the inner city, but you can also see the dark patches of the areas that aren’t technologically advanced. 
This view is like shades of light and dark. Yoongi’s words, that this is his life – the light juxtaposed so sharply and unapologetically against the darkness, has something inside of you stirring.
“Why do you box?” You ask.
Yoongi clicks his tongue, tucks both legs in and rests his chin on top of his knees. Like this, his frame is smaller, his face pensive as he drops his shoulders up and down in a shrug.
“It’s the only thing I’ve ever been good at.” Yoongi is staring straight ahead, at the cityscape in front of you. “Fighting to survive.” The corners of his lips twist up into a wry smile, like he’s thinking of a joke that you haven’t heard the punch line to yet. 
“I grew up without a family. I was raised in a home, me in a sea of kids without any kind of real identity, I guess. The only way to get any kind of sense of who you were was to stay alive and figure it out. And the only way to stay alive was to fight. And I mean real fighting. No gear, or any of that.”
You’re staring at him. His words are passive, cool – but you can see it in the barest flicker of his lids and the twist of his lips that there’s something painful buried there, nestled deep under the hard shell he always carries on his back.
“When Father -the guy who ran my home, we had to call him that- realized I was pretty good at the fighting thing, he got me into boxing.” Yoongi’s eyes move over his words, he curls in a little closer into his body. Perhaps without realizing it. “I was practically a kid and he had me in the underground ring.” His eyes flick up to you. “It’s nothing like whatever Championship rings you and your brother are familiar with. The underground ring is different. You wear gear, but it’s modified gear, so there are no other regulations or rules or protection over bodies. Half of the fighters are junked up on all kinds of drugs. Speed, ket, whatever it takes to get the fighters agitated and bloodthirsty. And take it from somebody who knows… that shit is addictive.” He scoffs out an empty laugh.
You don’t know whether he means that the fighting was addictive, or the drugs. Guessing from the faraway look in his eyes, you suppose both.
“Anyway… when he realized there was more money in it for a boxer to throw a game rather than win a game, he had me lose them on purpose. That didn’t exactly win me very many favours with the other boxers, who threatened to kill me if I kept throwing matches. Then there was Father, the fucking asshole, who threatened to kill me if I didn’t throw matches.”
“You threw matches?” You breathe. 
You know how professional fighters feel about those who throw matches intentionally – they’re viewed as the worst of scum. While the Olympia Association has strict rules on gearless fights and underground fighting rings, when it comes to the fighters who were ousted for throwing matches on purpose... it's an entirely different story. When their bodies turn up battered and lifeless outside of their gyms, the Association turn a blind eye. It was an unwritten rule of boxing that if you were to throw a match, anything was on the table for you. You had committed a crime, the lowest of low, so you were expected to be willing to pay the price.
“Mm. Didn’t feel like I had much of a choice. I didn’t have anyone. I didn’t have anything. I wanted more drugs, more money, I wanted his approval, God knows why…” His voice stutters and he halts mid sentence. “Anyway. I got out of there. Somehow. Met Hoseok, my mechanic, who for whatever reason, took me in.  Beat a few guys who wanted to take revenge for my past, got beaten up bad by a few others. Started fighting for real.  And now I’m here.” He stretches out his legs, lets out a sigh, turns his head to you.
You mull over his words for a moment. You have so many questions, but moreover, you can’t get the image out of your head of Yoongi, the impenetrable, unpredictable Scorpius, clawing his way from the shadows to this. The Olympia Semifinals, the gear on his back, the run down gym that he owns and fights in.
He’s worlds away from your brother, from Seokjin, from every other elite fighter you’ve known and witnessed in the ring – but he has that same drive written in the lines of his face. 
The drive to survive, to fight, the addiction to adrenaline and victory that you’ve never understood, but can recognize when it’s written all over a man’s face and in his heart.
“So why do you want to win so badly? The money? The protection from becoming a member of the Association?”
Yoongi turns his head fully to regard you. His eyes search yours, you feel your heart skip a beat. 
In this limited light, and the complexity of Yoongi’s stare- assessing, soft, contemplative – you don’t know how to think, how to feel.
“The money and the protection are tempting,” Yoongi supplies. It’s true – the amount of money offered to the winner is baffling in it’s extravagance, and the guaranteed status and protection from the Olympia Association is priceless.
Especially to, you muse, a boxer born from the concrete such as Yoongi.
“But actually I want to win because ‘Father”-” Yoongi’s lips twist around the words, “Always said I couldn’t. That I wouldn’t. That I would die young and alone. Winning the Olympia would be my way of winning that fight.”
Yoongi’s face is simmering with anger, with hate.
“He sounds like a prick.”
Yoongi’s face splits into a smile at your words.  
“He is.”
Yoongi shakes his head, the laughter dying from his lips. His eyes meet yours, you see hesitation flicker across his face before he swallows.
“I’ve never told anybody all of that before.”
You tilt your head to the side, looking at him, trying to decipher if he’s being serious. 
“Wait, really?”
Yoongi just shrugs, and nods. “Really.”
You try not to dwell on what that means, attempt to stop your mind and your nerves from unravelling. You look down at your hands, folded in your lap, try and slow the rate at which your heart is pounding. 
When you look up again, you catch Yoongi’s gaze - and whatever conviction you had in keeping yourself locked up tight unravels, spools apart like loose thread, because Yoongi is staring at you with eyes softened and sweet and open. 
He isn’t smiling, he isn’t saying anything, he’s just looking at you, and with that look alone, you feel yourself coming completely undone.
You open your mouth to tell him that, tell him something, anything, but all that comes out from your mouth is a soft “Oh”. 
Yoongi’s eyes crease, his lips twitch, and he leans a fraction closer - barely an inch, but you notice him closing the distance between you two and your heartbeat, earlier a rapid, terrifying staccato, slows in your chest into a hypnotic languid beat.
Neither of you speak, heads dipped slightly to one another. It’s dark in Yoongi’s car, it smells distinctly like him - like his cologne, like his gym clothes, and most of all like him. Woody and masculine and clean, all at once. 
You can make out the lines of Yoongi’s face in the darkness of his car, the slope of his nose, the curve of his lips, the flash of his silver earring when it catches the light. 
His entire face is open, a mixture of emotion, so far from the Min Yoongi the world sees that your heart beats slower, deeper in your chest, vibrating through your bones. 
The thought flits in your mind that he is possibly the most beautiful person you’ve seen in your life when he’s like this, vulnerable, open, and it feels like you’re part of the world’s best kept secret.
And then he kisses you.
His lips are slow, a touch awkward, uncertainty behind his lips like this is his first time. Your pulse is still slow, stirring in your veins as you let out a small sound of surprise against his lips, your hand instinctively curling around the rest on the nape of his neck. 
His skin is warm beneath your fingers and you find yourself pulling him closer into you, your body shifting so that you’re closer to him, nearer to him. Your fingers card through his hair, and you feel Yoongi’s muscles relaxing at your touch, his kiss deepening as his tongue licks over your bottom lip, seeking entrance. 
You let out a sigh at the feeling of him lazily, slowly swirling his tongue with yours, his hand reaching out to rest at the side of your neck, fingertips resting on your jaw.
It feels as if your muscles are unwinding, your spine lengthening, your legs melting into the beat up seat of Yoongi’s car. You have felt like you’ve been moving so fast the last few weeks, like everything has been rushing by, blurred faces and moments, but this right here, Yoongi kissing you slowly and deeply like he’s memorizing the feeling of you held against him in his car, your face cupped in his palm, has time slowing down. This was what you needed - things to be slower, easier, for the slip of time to be irrelevant. 
Right now, all the matters is this - the boy who is kissing you, the boy who is dismantling your sense of equilibrium and reality with the simple press of his lips against yours, the boy who, right now, pulls away from your mouth to plant a breathy kiss at your ear.
You shiver at it, think distractedly to yourself that you can’t remember the last time you were kissing somebody like this, evenly paced, with no intention other than to kiss. Yoongi plants another kiss on your earlobe.
“I like kissing you.” His voice is low, almost rough with shyness and before you can respond, he kisses against the side of your neck, mumbles something you don’t quite hear against your skin.
“C’mere,” He says as he pulls away, gazing at you. 
You move, bringing your legs up and swinging them over until you move, pushing your body off of the seat so that you can slide onto Yoongi’s lap. He’s watching you with a slightly bemused expression on his face, letting out a soft laugh when you fall clumsily onto him. 
His palms glide up from your upper thighs, caressing over your hips until they press against your lower back. You oblige, leaning closer to him and lacing your fingers around the nape of his neck. 
You kiss him again, Yoongi lets out a husky, barely audible sigh into your lips and runs his tongue across your bottom lip, seeking entrance. His face is tilted up to meet yours, your back arched, his palms gliding slowly over your thighs to your hips. 
He kisses you deeper, and you let out a soft whine when his hands curve around your ass, cupping you and pulling you even closer to him. 
You break free from his kiss, tilt your head back with shallow breaths escaping your lips as you feel Yoongi's eyes on you, watching you on top of him.
A rush of confidence and exhilaration works its way up your spine as you look down at Yoongi, cheeks ever so slightly flushed, hair messy, teeth biting down on his lower lip as he gazes up at you with a slow, intense expression. 
You begin to grind your hips against him, gyrating your lower body as slowly and tantalizingly as you can, feeling a rush when Yoongi's eyes flicker dark, his breath sharpens, and his hands grip at you harder, more desperately. 
It occurs to you as a fleeting thought that perhaps this is what has got you so hooked on Min Yoongi - the softness underneath the shell, the hands that betray his attempt to stay tough when they grip at you harder, the eyes that stare up at you wide and full of lust and tinges of wonder.
You roll your hips against him and he lets out another choked moan, you can feel the stirrings of his erection from beneath you as his hands squeeze your ass, massaging the cheeks slowly in circular motions. 
Your own breathing is starting to grow stuttered, as Yoongi groans, tilts his head back as you push yourself against his hardened cock.
“C’mere,” he mutters, and you meet his lips in a kiss, satisfying his demands as his hands shift from your ass to your hips, moving you in time as you continue to glide your now sensitive, swelling pussy against him. 
The friction is starting to make you heady with arousal, and you suck in for breath when Yoongi reaches up to your neck, his fingers brush down over your lips, pulling the bottom lip down, hands gliding a dangerous, seductive trail from your neck to your throat to the top of your shirt dress. 
He undoes the buttons slowly, with each giving of the fabric more skin is exposed, and you find yourself clenching your thighs together, pressing yourself more firmly against him in an attempt to speed it up somehow. 
Finally, your dress is off, leaving you all but naked on top of him.
Yoongi lets out a hum, smirks. “Let me look at you.” He says in a soft, husky voice and your cheeks flush with heat as you lean back, feeling the heaviness of Yoongi’s eyes on your bare breasts, your body, before he reaches out and laces his fingers around your waist, pulling you on top of him.
He immediately presses quick, feverish kisses to your collarbones, his tongue and his lips working as they trace a pattern down your clavicles, his tongue lapping at your skin as he reaches your breasts. 
You hiss in, as his lips kiss the top of your right breast. Your fingers curl, grasping at Yoongi’s waist, slipping underneath his hoodie until your palms touch his warm skin. You let out a whimper as Yoongi kisses down your breast in a straight line, his lips so close to your hard nipple that every inch of you shakes.
Your fingers keep roaming underneath his hoodie, feeling the hardened muscles of his abdomen, enjoying the way he tenses at your touch. 
Yoongi stops, his mouth still so close to you, breathes out, “I’m so fucking hard right now.”
His breath, softly ghosting over your nipple has you pressing your body against him harder, and Yoongi chuckles.
“You like that, don’t you?” He all but purrs, his voice teasing, your breath shaky and broken as he finally, finally presses his tongue flat against your nipple.
You cry out at the sudden feeling of his warm, wet tongue teasing slow strokes over your sensitive nipple. Yoongi is torturously slow, tongue intently and sinfully pulling out and heightening your need, until finally, his lips latch and it, teeth catching on it gently, enough to have your hips bucking forward a fraction, your head jerking forward, a stuttered moan falling out of your lips.
Your core is throbbing so desperately that you press yourself harder against Yoongi, your hand, which was lying flat against Yoongi's stomach, trails down until it finds his erection. 
You feel Yoongi stiffen at your touch, Yoongi moves his head and his tongue swirls around your other nipple, starting off slow and languid yet again as you begin to palm at Yoongi’s hard cock from on top of his pants.
Yoongi lets out a growl as he sucks hard on your left nipple, hard enough to cause a bit of a sting, it sends a fiery need coursing through your veins as Yoongi pulls away from your chest, eyes darkened in lust.
“You’re so fucking needy for me,” He whispers in a low voice, you feel completely wound up, hips pressed against him, your cunt throbbing and so in need of stimulation that you feel like you are on the verge of falling apart, your nipples wet from Yoongi’s mouth and erect, Yoongi’s cock hard underneath your palm.
You nod, clamping your lips together because you know that if you speak, a moan will be ripped from your lips. Yoongi pulls away from your breasts, kissing up your neck until his lips catch on your jaw, your ear, finding your mouth and kissing you long and wet and hard. You moan weakly into his kiss, he pulls apart and you whimper.
“That sound drives me fucking crazy,” He mutters in a throaty voice as his fingers hook around your hip, you hiss in for breath as he leans in, his lips hovering above yours as his fingers begin to slowly, torturously trail down to the apex between your thighs. 
“Everything you do drives me crazy, you know that?”
All you can do is nod, you are flushed with heat and desperation and so completely aware of Yoongi's fingers lingering on your inner thigh. You meet his gaze, your lashes flutter, your breath comes out softly and desperately in a hushed murmur, “Yoongi, please touch me, please.”
His hand slips between your thighs and his fingers, two of them, brush slowly up your slit. 
Your hips buck at the feeling of it, the release of finally being touched. You are so wound up and desperate that even this - the slowest, briefest teasings of Yoongi's fingers against you have your back arching in need. 
You hear Yoongi let out a groan, a sound like a ‘tch’ in the back of his throat. 
You're so wet,” He moans out, his voice is thick and you hear him swallow as he pushes his finger inside of you.
The feeling of his finger pushing inside of your walls, sliding in without protest thanks to how wet and slick you are, has your back arching, your chest so full of want that it feels like your sternum is going to shatter into pieces. 
You are moaning, soft and rushed whimpers of praise and curling around Yoongi's name as he starts to slide his finger in and out of you, fucking you out until you are writhing beneath him.
You can feel it, him pushing himself inside of you until he is knuckle deep, but still, you want more. 
As if he is reading your mind, Yoongi pushes in a second finger, eyes latched on you, breathing growing uneven as you hiss out an affirmative cry. 
Your hands are shaking, they glide distractedly over the expanse of his smooth skin and unfasten the buttons on his shirt as quickly as they can manage while Yoongi is pumping two fingers in and out of you clean and fast and filling you whole, leaving you wanting more with each ministration of his hand.
Finally, all the buttons are off and you pull the shirt off of him, Yoongi pulls out of you to shrug off the shirt and then his fingers are back, this time teasing and toying with your clit. 
You whine out louder, you can feel it climbing inside of you like a wave, Yoongi's body pinning you down, the air in his car is thick and heavy and you can feel your back arching, toes curling. 
Lust is thrashing through your blood, as Yoongi's fingers continue to slide in and out of the seams of your cunt, the rhythm intense and pulling every inch of want out of you.
You buck your hips forward, feeling your breath start to tighten, you core start to squeeze, you slant your body upwards, forcing yourself even closer to Yoongi. 
Yoongi lets out a choked moan and then you feel it. His thumb, slick with you, brushing over your rim.
You gasp, your breath breaks as it shudders out of you and your eyes widen, a fresh, new flush of pleasure racing through your body. 
Yoongis eyes are searching your face, and your fingers slip under the waistband of his pants and curl around his hard cock. You can feel it - the moist precum that is over the tip of his hard dick, the way his body stiffens when you wrap your fingers around him. 
You cant focus enough to move your hand, your lips tremble and you whisper, “Again, please.”
Yoongi hooks his two fingers and his thumb brushes again over the edge of your hole. 
“God, yes,” You moan out, you see Yoongis eyes widen as you squeeze your eyes shut, and then you feel it, him easing his thumb in until he is just barely inside of you. 
You let out a groan as he continues to push, slowly, carefully, until you are full of a delicious heat and your jaw grows slack and all you feel is him.
Its almost too much at once, but then it settles and you start to feel waves of pleasure ebbing and washing over you. It feels good, and you feel good, a wicked kind of good that you feel hooked on and addicted to, and your breath stutters at the sensation of it, of him. 
Your eyes flutter open and you see Yoongi gazing down at you, he reaches forward and he kisses you-  a breathy kiss that you gasp into, his skin against yours, his fingers stuffing you full and then his fingers hook. 
You can feel it - a deep seated, indescribable kind of pleasure, the hum of desire crackling over your skin, because this feels so good and it feels sexy and you feel unbelievably good. 
Yoongi pulls away from your mouth, gazes at you and his eyes are full of lust and your breath hitches, your toes curl, and then it breaks apart over you in waves.
You moan out Yoongi's name, it becomes muffled as you bury your face in his neck, you feel Yoongi shaking on top of you as your body twitches with your orgasm. You can feel it, the satisfying, warm glow that seeps over your skin.
“Fuck,” You whisper, as Yoongi pulls his fingers out of you, you cling to him and rake your fingers through his hair, pulling his face towards you in a long kiss that you swoon into, still high off of him and how it he had made you feel.
“You look so hot when you cum like that.” Yoongi sighs, you smile. “Thank you,” you whisper as you pull away and Yoongis eyes crease in the corners, soft and amused, you can practically hear his unspoken response, a dry, light, “Any time,” but you don't give him time to respond, hooking your fingers through his hair, bringing him closer to you. 
He lets out a soft growl as you draw his body closer to yours, tightening the space as you pull lightly on his hair, it’s long enough for you to wrap it around your fingers. You gaze at Yoongi, picking up on the flash of his eyes as you let out a soft, breathy whine, right there in the briefest of spaces that separates your lips from his.
“I want to ride you.”
Yoongi's eyes widen a touch, his jaw grows slack and he swallows, you can see it thick in his eyes the arousal as he nods, and then his hands are on your waist, maneuvering your bodies in the small confined space of his car until he is underneath you. 
Your fingers skim over the waist of his pants, hearing the hiss in of his breath when the bottom of your palm brushes against the hard tent in his pants. 
You grasp at the hem of his hoodie, tugging it off of him. You look down at him, take him in - his hair, ruffled and falling in his eyes, face lit up by the moonlight, the slope of his collarbones, each curve of his abs. 
You feel a shiver of desire as your fingers trace over his collarbones. You keep your eyes latched on his as you start to slowly skim your hand down his chest, over his nipples, his taut stomach, down until you are toying with the waistband of his pants.
You can see the flex of his jaw perfectly in this lighting, the bob of his Adams apple as you press your palm against his hard cock. He lets out a tiny moan, a slippery “You’re enjoying this, arent you?” 
You flash him a quick, wicked smile to answer that you are, you are enjoying every twitch of his jaw and lustful flash of his eyes, the jerk of his cock under your palm.
You are still wet, you can feel it as you shift your hips and tug his pants and boxers down until they are down at his knees. Yoongi takes over from there, kicking them off until he is completely naked beneath you. Your eyes tick down to the lower half of his body - he has two, chiselled lines like a perfect V sloping in until they meet the top of his thighs, which are strong and muscled, tensed with anticipation. 
Your eyes fall onto his cock. It’s hard, so hard that you can see the head of his cock moist with precum, and you feel a hard, heavy knock of arousal sear through your core.
“You look so sexy from this angle.” Yoongi grunts, you feel a hum of pleasure and affirmation at his words as he reaches up, palms cupping your breasts before they loop around the nape of your neck and draw you into him. 
Your lips find his, in a messy kiss, his tongue sliding into your mouth and kissing you hot and wet and deep. You settle your palms onto his chest, moving slowly until you are positioned directly on top of him. Your hand reaches behind you, wraps around his length. 
You lower yourself until you can feel just the tip against your wet slit, and you can’t help the breath of desperation that races out of you as you feel the tip of his moist cock against your soaking wet entrance. 
You can’t tease anymore, prolong it further when you want it so badly. You lower yourself, slowly, until you can feel his cock entering you, stretching you out. 
You are slick with wetness enough and you sink lower onto him, until finally, he is all the way inside of you. A tiny mewl escapes your throat as you settle around him, feeling the ache of his cock deep inside of you. 
It feels so good to have him inside of you like this, filling you whole, but you dont wait to bask in the feeling - a crimson red lust has begun to lick at your insides and you need more. 
Your eyes focus on Yoongi, his head his tipped back on the car headrest, eyes blown out, staring at you with an expression that is completely open, lust traced in his features. 
It fills you with a whiter hot sense of neediness, desperation, as you start to rock your hips back and forth.
You are filled with it- a desire to fuck Yoongi. To ride him as hard as he had fucked you the other day in the boxing ring, to render him as breathless as he had made you. 
Each of your undulations has his hard cock pushing deeper inside of you, and you hear Yoongi moaning. You look down at him, seeing his hand reach up, he bites down on the flesh of his palm, eyes wide and tracked on you. 
You preen, twisting your body a little, fucking against him harder. His eyes are locked on you, hypnotized by the bounce of your breasts, eyes squeezing shut with a muttered fuck as you slide into him deeper. 
Your body tips forward a little as you lean closer to Yoongi, palms flat against his chest as you push against him, sliding up until you are nearly all the way out of him. 
Yoongi lets out a tiny hiss, a whine, and he buries his face against your neck, his mouth leaving hungry kisses down your collarbone and shoulder, groaning out begging sounds of “please give me your pussy, fuck”, until you sink back down onto him. 
This time, a louder whine if pleasure rips out of your throat. Your face is flushed with heat, you are so full of want that you feel like you’re brimming with it. 
“You’re driving me crazy,” Yoongi moans, his voice his husky, “God, you’re so fucking good, how…” He stumbles over his words as he squeezes his eyes shut, jaw clenching, hips tilting forward as you grind your hips upward, letting out a broken moan as you feel the contact sting deep inside of you, granting you some release.
Yoongi’s hand cards up, snaking over your spine until it entangles into your hair.
The other hand finds your hip, fingers digging into your flesh as he helps you bounce up and down on his cock, fucking yourself against his length. 
The car is hot, the windows steaming up, you and Yoongi are both flushed, sweaty, breaths coming out in desperate pants as his hand digs even harder into your hip, fingers pull even tighter against your hair. 
“I’m so close,” Yoongi groans out, “Let me get on top of you. I want to fuck you until you can't walk straight, baby girl.” 
His rushed term of endearment has you pausing for a moment, you look down at him and he smirks at you. He is all dark eyes and flushed cheeks and blonde hair turning brown with sweat. 
You are so wet, so hot with the heat filling his car, so needy for him, and you nod breathlessly as you pull away from him. He weaves around you in the tight space in his car, and before you can settle down so that you are facing him, he pushes down on your back. 
Your breath rushes out in a gasp as your belly presses against the back of the car seat, you feel Yoongi’s body curve down around yours, lips pressing at the base of your ear. 
“I can’t wait to sink my cock deep into this pretty cunt.”
Yoongi’s voice is low, uninhibited, almost animalistic as he growls around his words. You can feel his palm gliding along the slope of your back, caressing your skin, drawing it all out even more. 
It’s heightening inside of you, the desperation and anticipation clustering into an inescapable heat.
“Yoongi,” You breathe out his name, your voice raspens around the word as you feel Yoongi’s skin on yours. The tip of cock grazes over your slit and you hiss in at the sensation of it, the ache between your legs is growing unbearable.
“Yoongi, please,” The words that spill out of your lips are shaken, and Yoongi teases in closer, his cock dragging along your wet cunt. You let out a choked whine, your hands tightening around the headrest of the carseat. 
Your breathing is ragged, and just when you start to feel like you can’t take it anymore, Yoongi’s hips press forward, his cock pushing inside of you hard and fast with no relent.
You let out a cry that quickly melts into a moan, Yoongi’s body presses against yours. The air in the car was warm, crackling with heat almost, and you feel it rolling over your skin - pure satisfaction from finally being granted this release, the feeling of Yoongi’s cock buried deep inside of you. 
Yoongi doesn’t give you time to bask in it, letting out a husky purr of dominance before he pulls away, cock sliding out of you, nearly all the way before with a firm, intense snap of his hips, he fucks into you again hard and slow. 
It’s like a symphony of moans, yours entangling with Yoongi’s, the dirty, illicit sound of skin slapping against skin, his car almost rocking from the intensity of his thrust.
“Yoongi,” You moan out his name, “God, yes.” 
The affirmation spurs Yoongi on, you can sense it in the hum of anticipation, and then he fucks into you again, rocking his hips against you, swelling upwards so that you can feel every ridge of his hard cock. 
You preen under it, arch your back so you can feel the sensation of him fucking you long and deep, coy moans falling from your lips. 
You’re playing into it, the submissive murmurs of his name falling out of your mouth in an effort to spur him on, get him to fuck you even harder. It occurs to you faintly that this is something about Yoongi that has you so completely fixated, his ability to pull out a side to you that you didnt even know existed.
This - you, legs spread on your stomach against the front seat of his car, begging him to fuck you through your words, the sway of your hips and waist, the flutter of your eyelids. 
There is something about Yoongi, his hips snapping into you even harder, thrusting into you like he wants to own you, claim you, that has a hypnotic, dark heat spreading over your skin like melting butter. It entwines with the carnal satisfaction from having him fuck deep into your walls, his body pressed against yours.
“Fuck me, Yoongi.” You breathe out, and Yoongi just lets out a slow laugh, his lips at your ear.
“Believe me, I haven't even started. You’re mine tonight, baby girl.”
He carves his words out by placing one hand at the base of your throat. He is supporting his weight with the other arm, and you can feel his muscles flexing as he holds himself on top of you, the heaviness of his fingers settled right there at the base of your throat. 
You are so aroused that it feels as if you are consumed in it, Yoongi’s fingers tighten, just enough to send a thrill rushing through you and a strange noise like a rough moan of pleasure vibrate out against his palm. 
And then Yoongi starts to fuck you.
He is almost punishing with his thrusts, grinding his hips upward so that you can feel the friction against your clit, like a teasing staccato rhythm. His palm is still wrapped around your neck, the pressure just enough for you to feel a rush, your voice trilling breathy moans in sync with each of his thrusts. 
“You feel so good,” Yoongi moans out, “Your pussy is fucking amazing.” He accentuates his words by holding your even closer, fucking you even deeper.
This time he doesn't tease, he rolls his hips up and you can feel it pressing against your clit, teasing deep inside of you. You tip your head back, relishing in it - and then Yoongi returns to the rhythm from earlier. 
Your hands tighten around the headrest, a “Fuck” that is wrapped up in desire and frustration slips out of your mouth. You are a mess, falling apart under each dominant thrust, each powerful fuck of Yoongi deep inside of you, breath quickening under Yoongi’s fingers, pulse racing even faster at each of Yoongi’s praising murmurs, his groans. 
You are close. You can feel it, mounting inside of you - each teasing time Yoongi hits your spot you feel it lingering, approaching, the pressure of pleasure that is about to spill over you. 
You are all quickened, desperate breaths, Yoongi is all panting moans and ragged grunts, his voice against your ear, lips, littering messy kisses and bites to your cheek and neck in between thrusts of his hips against yours. 
The two of you are fevered, desperate for each other, desperate to feel more skin against skin, you desperate to feel the clench of pleasure that is so close you can almost taste it. 
Yoongi’s hand falls from your throat to your chin, he tilts your head to the side and his lips connect with yours. He kisses you deep and rough, your tongue against his, gliding desperate and hot. 
Your hands clutch at the seat harder, your back arches against Yoongi’s and you whine soundlessly into his kisses with each of his thrusts. You are losing yourself in this, in the feeling of him, it’s like you are about to break apart at any moment. You are helpless to it, the crescendo of desperation, and you kiss Yoongi deeper, hungrier, until finally your core clenches. 
You let out a sharp moan, your vision hazes, Yoongi pulls away and presses his lips against the pulsepoint of your neck as you let out a broken moan, he angles his hips up a fraction and fucks you again, this time slow and tantalizing so that you can feel it right there and everywhere. 
You can’t think about anything, you are saturated in it, soaked in the euphoric, dizzying pleasure. It’s like you are being devoured by it, and you tip your head back, toes curling as Yoongi moans encouragement against your skin.
“I’m close,” Yoongi murmurs and you can hardly form a response, you just nod, body stuttering forward as you feel pleasure radiating through every inch of you. It’s less intense now but you can still feel it, satisfaction carnal and seared red pulsating through you. 
Yoongi starts to fuck you harder and faster, fucking you out as your eyes flutter with pleasure, still high off of your orgasm. You know Yoongi is close, you can sense it in the tenseness of his breath, the guttural whispers of your name. You feel drunk on your orgasm still and you tilt your head back.
“I want you to cum in me, Yoongi.”
You hear Yoongi intake for breath, his hips snapping into you a little harder, a little more desperately.
“Yeah?”
You hum, arch your back coquettishly, vision still hazy from the slowing waves of pleasure that are ebbing through your body.
“Uh huh. I want you to make me cum drunk, baby.”
With your words, Yoongi lets out a tiny yelp, hips bucking as he fucks into you, cum flowing hot deep inside of you. 
His head falls forward, face burying into the crook of your shoulder and you can feel his hips twitching. “Fuck,” he groans, his cock still pulsating, still coming, until you are filled with Yoongi’s cum.
Your bodies are still wound together, and you let out a shaky sigh of content.
You stay completely still for a second, the two of you still basking in it, aftershocks of pleasure causing you to press even closer to one another. 
You don't speak, both completely drunk on pleasure, strung out on the glowing fire of your consecutive orgasms. 
Finally, Yoongi straightens, pushes his body off of you. You can feel it, that you are stuffed with his cum, and you let out a shaky sigh as you shift over. 
The seat in his car barely fits the two of you together, but you curl your body into his, he slots his arm around your neck, hand curled around your shoulder as he pulls you in. He presses his lips against your forehead, his face flushed and sticky with sweat.
For a long moment, the two of you just lie there, faces tilted to one another, eyes closed. You are nothing but heavy breaths, slowing pulses, clutching one another and just shivering intermittently as you wind down. 
You feel drowsy, so relaxed and heavy and euphoric. Your eyes flutter open, only to see Yoongi’s dark ones staring directly at you. 
His entire face is open, soft, and something twists inside of your chest, something sweet and hypnotic. It feels almost dreamlike, your skin glossy with sweat, palms curled into fists that are pressed against Yoongi’s chest, his arm tucked around your shoulders. 
He gazes down at you with an expression that is so soft and full of a wry fondness unmistakably Yoongi that you feel your heart start to pound faster. His car’s windows are completely fogged up, the air thick and hazy between you.
You think that you have never felt this before, you have never felt so connected to someone, and then Yoongi leans forward and kisses you so delicately that you stop thinking anything at all.
You lie there until your breathing slows to normal, bodies cooling down. You don’t speak, your body still curled into Yoongi’s. The car seat is uncomfortable, cramped, but neither of you make any movement.
“I wasn’t lying when I said I didn’t think this would happen.” Yoongi whispers suddenly. His voice is hoarse and you look at him. He has an expression on his face like something you’ve never seen on him before, features twisted uncertainly.
“Hm?” You respond slowly.
Yoongi gazes at you, shifts his body. This close to him, you can see the flecks of amber in his eyes, the small chestnut brown freckles that dust over some corners of his face. He is staring at you just as hard, like he too is finding tiny features written in the map of your skin.
“I didn’t think that I…” his voice trails off and then he just exhales. “I just…” He breaks off again. His eyes card up to yours roughly. “I’m not good at words, but I…” 
His face twists and you wriggle closer, you hear his breath pitch in seconds before you press your lips against his. A kiss like you're kissing glass, careful, gentle. You hear his chest rumbling underneath your kiss, his body relaxing, and then you pull away.
“I know.” 
He blinks, hard. He doesn’t respond, he just pulls you in even tighter until your limbs slot together. It’s impractical, it’s uncomfortable, but you press even closer, feeling the tension spooling out of his body as he holds you to his frame.
After a beat of quiet, you disentange from him, craning your head to look at the time on Yoongi’s car clock.
“Hey,” You murmur, breaking the nice stillness that had settled between the two of you, “Don’t you have to train soon?”
Yoongi glances at the clock. 
“Yeah,” He mutters, “I do.” You straighten, Yoongi, still lying down, looks at you before he too hoists his body up. His hair is messy, chest bare as he grabs your clothes from where they are crumpled in the front compartment of his car.
“Hey,” He says suddenly, clothes scooped in his arms. “Do you want to come?”
You can’t keep the surprise out of your voice. “To your training?”
Yoongi shrugs, passes your clothes back to you.
“Yeah. It won’t be too long, and… maybe we can do something after. Get food or whatever. I’m always starving after I train.”
You are watching him, he speaks as he tugs his shirt over his head, pulls his trackpants on. He pushes his blonde hair off his face as his eyes lock with yours, seeing the hesitation that traces over your features.
“I mean, you don’t have to, it’s not a big deal-“
“No, i...” Your voice trails off and you stare at him, you swallow hard. You aren’t hesitating because you dont want to, you are hesitating because of the feeling that is mounting in your chest and swirling through you. 
“I’d love to come.”
Yoongi’s jaw twitches, he nods, a smile fighting at the edge of his lips before he turns his attention ahead of him, turning the key in the ignition. 
“Cool.” Yoongi says. The car roars to life and you pull your top over your head, trying to settle the flutter of your heart.
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Yoongi is dripping in sweat. His icy blonde hair is darkened with it, pushed off of his forehead with a sweatband. 
His chest is bare, his skin glossy with sweat, droplets of it in gathered in the dips of his clavicles and running down the slopes of his abdomen. 
It is one of the few indicators that he is actually physically exerting himself - How sweaty he is, that, and the slightly laboured breaths he takes, like he's sipping for air.
If somebody wasn't looking closely at either of those, they wouldn't be able to tell that Yoongi was even pushing himself. He holds his body almost loosely, arms dangling, a light, cocky expression on his lips. There I s no tension in his body, rather, he is completely at ease- relaxed as if he was just standing around, waiting for something to happen. 
He stays that way, comfortable, frustratingly calm, until an opening appears and then he strikes. He moves fast, with a deadly kind of precision, calculated and quick and smooth, all at once. 
He gives it all with one hit, and it is that one hit that has Yoongi's practice partner stumbling, falling, hand falling to his mouth with a wince and a grimace as Yoongi closes in and double in hard against his ribs, until the other man is splayed on the floor.
It's oddly mesmerising, the way he moves, how each time his partner falls, Yoongi smiles to himself and calls out, "Again." 
You pick up on different things about him as you watch - how even though he looks so relaxed, how he's alert, eyes twitching when his practice partner moves a certain way, tongue darting out to lick his lips as if he' starting the changes in the air. 
The gleam that flashes in his eyes when a punch lands, the predatory narrowing of his gaze as he hones in and finishes them off. He's so different to what you've grown up around, the way he practices, the way he holds himself, the way he fights - this isn't about accuracy, or technique, or resources. this is all about instinct. 
His gear isn't as synchronised to his body and his movement as Jungkook's, or any of the other elite fighters, but it doesn't matter when Yoongi is moving around the ring, slowly and languidly like a panther about to pounce, unreadable and untouchable in every manner of the word. 
He is always composed, always stitched together so tightly even on the rare occasion that his practice partner lands a blow, and it occurs to you that the only time you've seen him coming undone is when his body is hovering on top of yours, skin brushing skin and pupils blown, breath heavy with his lips curved around your name.
"He's good, isn't he?"
You jump in place at the sound of the voice, Hoseok's, flushing with embarrassment even though it's not like he can read your thoughts. Yoongi's friend and mechanic has come up beside you, hands shoved low in his pockets, eyes locked on Yoongi. 
Yoongi had introduced you to him when you arrived together at the gym, Hoseok’s face had split open in a grin, rushing forward to sling one arm over your shoulder in a greeting. He had wavy, messy red hair and he wore wire frames, he was sunny and optimistic and distracted, and so completely different to Yoongi that you had initially been taken aback. You soon realized though that their friendship made total sense, even in its seeming unlikeliness - there was a deep level of trust and care there.
"He is good," you affirm, turning your eyes back to Yoongi. He zip lines in across the ring, and punches his partner up in a southpaw, so hard that the other man jerks, his body flung to the ground.
"Yoongi, fuck, take it easy man," The other man grumbles, groaning as Yoongi lets out a sheepish laugh, bending down to give him a hand. 
"Sorry, Hyungwon. Got carried away."
You watch the exchange, when Hoseok clears his throat, pulling you out of your thoughts. You glance over to him, he's watching you with a thoughtful look on his face.
"You know, Yoongi doesn't let anyone watch him train." He says, "And he's been in a better mood lately, or something. Less 'I hate the world' vibes than usual. Wonder what the correlation is there." He smiles wryly at you and you feel a flutter in your veins at his words, trying desperately not to let yourself wonder what that means.
"Oh?" You respond instead, keeping your voice as without expression as possible.
"Hmm," Hoseok just answers, eyebrow twitching upward, "He didn't even let me watch him practice for the longest time, and I'm his damn mechanic. I fix his gear, for fuck’s sake."
His voice is light, and you turn to him, voice airy and teasing.
"You jealous or something, Jung?"
Hoseok's face melts into a grin as he folds his arms, returning his attention to the ring, where Yoongi and Hyungwon have begun another practice round,
"Naw. I'm just saying, its like a whole different Yoongi. It's nice."
You just hum in response, fighting to control the dusting of heat that wants to spread across your face at the words and the blossoming of warmth in your chest.
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You and Yoongi slip into somewhat of a rhythm. 
You spend your days apart, and like clockwork, find each other after the sun sinks into the horizon. 
Some evenings are spent with you cross legged on the floor of Yoongi's gym, listening to Hoseok lamenting about his haphazard dating life with cups of instant ramen and beers, Yoongi slinking up to you once practice is over, an arm slipping around your waist and his chin leaning comfortably on your shoulder as he listens to Hoseok's stories. 
Other evenings are spent differently, you and Yoongi going for long drives, his hand on your thigh and the other on the wheel until he finds a spot with a good view. On those evenings, the two of you sit in his car and talk, sometimes about the most obscure of topics that Yoongi just snorts softly at, others, he slips into a quiet, pensive mood and feeds you tiny tidbits of his childhood, his life, giving you small pieces of the puzzle that make up the enigma of Min Yoongi. 
You talk to him about your life too, about your fading relationship with your brother, about the dreams and hopes you harbour, about everything grey and tangled you feel inside of your chest at the bleakest point of lonely nights - and Yoongi listens with those eyes cool and catlike and completely centred on you.
Other nights end up with you tangled in Yoongi's bedsheets, in his tiny flat that is run down and decrepit, but it doesn't matter because you and Yoongi don't leave his bed. 
The mattress is lumpy, the springs squeak with protest at every movement and his curtains are threadbare, allowing moonlight to spill mottled and splotchy against his bedroom walls. 
Those nights, however, are your favourites - Yoongi with his arm crooked around you, holding your body tucked into his, his face completely unguarded and softened in every corner and edge as he drifts to sleep.
Every morning, you slip out of that world and re-enter yours, sneaking back into your house with swollen lips and a heart so full it feels like it's going to burst out of your chest. 
It's a whole different slice of the universe that you didn't know existed- Yoongi is so utterly different to anything else that you thought existed. 
It's on one of those mornings when you quietly slip into your house from the back door, closing it behind you, when you find yourself pausing and basking in it. 
You feel like you're simmering in warmth, your fingers shake as you think about Yoongi, who tonight, had been a little drunk, tipsy off of beers and one of Hoseok's ridiculous, sprawling stories - and how he had held you close, arms looped around our waist, fingers hooked on your hips, as he murmured in the shell of your ear, "I want to keep you."
You are still thinking about it when a voice cuts through your thoughts.
"What are you doing up at this time?" You jerk in place, blinking before you adjust to your environment - you're in the hallway of your house, wake up, hello - and see your brother squinting suspiciously at you, a towel draped around his neck. 
You stutter out the first words that pop in your head.
"I uh, went for a walk. Couldn't sleep."
Jungkook's frown grows steeper.
"At 5:30AM?"
You just nod mutely, wondering if he'll push the issue, press it further when it's so obvious you're lying. Your eyes dart down to his hands, his knuckles are bruised, his wrist bandaged up tightly. 
How hard has he been pushing himself?
Jungkook just nods and brushes past you, headed to the kitchen. You stand there numbly for a moment, surprised he let it go that quickly, that easily, before you shrug to yourself and head up the stairs to your room, trying to push down the stirrings of unease in your stomach.
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A few nights later, you, Seokjin and Jungkook find yourselves at a match in a gym a few towns over. The semi finals for the Olympia are only two weeks away, and this is the last of the qualifiers - a renowned strength boxer and an agility boxer, both adorning high technology gear, battling it out for the last spot in the semis.
Seokjin and Jungkook are there to observe the competition, and you're there because Seokjin has more or less dragged you out. It's the same as any other match - heaving crowds, a bloodthirsty energy surging through their shouts and cries, all culminating to the final moment when the stronger boxer overpowers his opponent. 
Jungkook immediately murmurs to Seokjin, discussions on the techniques on how to get around his sheer strength and power, Seokjin is responding with soft hums of agreement as the winner of the match lifts his gloves in the air, a triumphant snarl ripping from his lips as he turns to his collapsed opponent. 
The crowd roars as the stronger boxer goes in for another punch, a kill hit, and his gear stops him, his fist frozen in the air. Everyone can see it- the struggle on the boxer's face, the twitch of his muscles as he attempts to fight the gear, to drive his fist once more into his already unconscious opponent's skull. 
The crowd bellows, and both Jungkook and Seokjin still for a moment, eyes locked on the scene. 
It's a surreal experience, one you've forgotten - people's enthused, hungry grins as they watch a man attempt to pummel the other to a bloody pulp, the cold, calculating look on Jungkook's face juxtaposed with Seokjin's sober one. 
You shiver.
Soon after, the crowds thin out and you follow Jungkook and Seokjin as they walk towards the exit. They're a few paces in front of you, Jungkook has a hoodie low over his head to avoid attention, and you're lingering behind, the bloodthirsty look on the boxer's face seared into your thoughts as you distractedly pick your way through the crowd. 
Something feels decidedly off tonight, you can't shake the unsettled feeling that is sinking into your bones. You stare at the ground, the chattering of the crowd around you serving a distraction, brusque voices discussing who the strongest fighters are in your prefecture. 
You shudder, you cannot shake it tonight, the prickle of unease, an instinct telling you that something is wrong, something is awry. It had started settling over you in those few seconds of silence before the boxer in the match tonight had crunched his fist into his opponent's face, those few seconds of false, luring stillness. 
It's a lake with a surface like spun glass, completely untouched and moving, air still and silent, the calm before the storm, perhaps.
You feel fingers brush against yours and your head jerks up, heart pounding until you see a familiar smirk. It's Yoongi, bandana underneath his signature icy blonde hair.
"Hey you." He says in a low voice. "What are you doing here? Did you come with your brother and his coach? Can't see them anywhere."
He raises an eyebrow at you and you feel your earlier frayed nerves settling as you nod in affirmation. You glance around the crowd, frowning when you can't pick out Seokjin's bulky frame in the mix of people.
"Yeah, I think I lost them though-"
Yoongi's face splits into a grin. "Perfect. Wanna get out of here?"
You look at him, eyes raised, that light smile dancing on his lips. You almost ask him what he was going here tonight, but you know the answer before you can ask the question - he's here to scope out the competition too, to place the man he might be fighting in a few weeks time. The thought makes you feel uncomfortable and Yoongi frowns.
"Hey. Everything ok-"
Before you can register what is happening, a body pushes past you, bumping your shoulder hard. 
You stumble, hand instinctively claps up to your shoulder but whatever protests you have die at your lips. 
Jungkook, shoving past you, lifts his hands and pushes Yoongi, hard. Yoongi, taken aback, slighter in stature, stumbles on his feet, eyes flashing.
"What the fuck-"
Jungkook doesn't give him time to finish his sentence, his fist withdraws sharp and fast, striking towards Yoongi's abdomen, like a cobra. You hear Yoongi grunt sharply, body doubling over as Jungkook leans closer, uses his other hand to sucker punch Yoongi in the face.
The entire exchange is rapidfire, and the crowd is as stunned as you are, conversations ebbing away as all eyes fall on the two men. It's only when Yoongi's body completely falls to the ground that the onlookers realise what's happening, forming a small exploitative circle, whispering to each other in excitement.
You feel frozen in place, shock rendering you unable to move. The still lake you had been so fearful of from before has now been dismantled, pebbles rippling and breaking through its surface. 
You watch as Jungkook draws his fist back, Yoongi is still on the ground, heaving himself up with his elbows. For some reason, he isn’t fighting back.
"Jungkook!" Your voice screams out before you can even tell it to, you rush forward blindly and grab your brother's arms. 
He's stronger than you, and he growls in irritation, pushing you off. You catch yourself before you fall to the ground, eyes wide with anger and disbelief as you stare at him. His eyes are flat and black, furious, you glance at Yoongi who has pulled himself upwards. His mouth is bloody, he spits a mouthful of blood out onto the ground and lets out a low, flat laugh. 
Jungkook's eyes flash like blackened steel.
"What the fuck are you doing?" You snap at your brother, his eyes pin on you.
You're faintly aware of the jeers from the crowd that has gathered, you wonder where Seokjin is, why Jungkook has taken it upon himself to attack Yoongi like this yet again when he already has one mark against his name.
"He-" Jungkook lifts his hand, jabs a finger at Yoongi, who is wiping a hand across his blood stained lips, "Is fucking my little sister, I think a king punch is more than justified."
You're momentarily lost for words, you begin to stammer out an excuse, a lie, but Jungkook's voice cuts over yours, harsh and unrelenting.
"What, do you think I'm a fucking idiot?" 
You fall silent, you can feel your heart throbbing loudly in your head, in your blood, your ears. Your mind is racing, thinking of something to say, something to do, to say. 
"Jungkook, this is between me and Yoongi-"
Jungkook finally drags his eyes up, meeting your worried gaze with harsh eyes. 
"This has nothing to do with you."
His words are stony and you open and close your mouth.
"I-"
"You know he's just sleeping with you to get to me, right?" Jungkook's voice quiet ens into a cold, icy tone. "He told me he was going to do it after his qualifying match." 
You freeze in place. It feels like you have been drenched in ice. Your mouth goes dry, your eyes flicker to Yoongi, who is staring at Jungkook with eyes that finally have fire, are finally angry.
"Shut the fuck up, Jeon."
Jungkook just lets out a short laugh. "I can't believe you got her to fall for you too. You really have it out for me, huh, you fucking scorpion? Gotta get to me and take my place at the top at any means necessary, right?"
Yoongi's body darts forward and pummels into Jungkook's frame.
The gathering of people surrounding you burst into loud, hungry roars as Jungkook lets out a grunt of pain, Yoongi's fist landing in a uppercut up on Jungkook's jaw, a loud crack only causing the stirrings of the crowd to grow more frenzied. 
You whirl around, eyes frantic, picking through the crowd until you spot him- Seokjin, who has finally arrived at the scene, eyes widening as he takes it all in.
"Jin-" Your voice is high, pitchy, and Seokjin pushes past a few of the gathered men.
"Jungkook, stop it!" His voice is loud, angry, but both Yoongi and Jungkook are blind to his words, you can only see limbs and the sounds of fists crunching.
You hear feet behind you, turning to see two of the neatly dressed official representatives from Olympia running up. 
Seokjin pushes Yoongi hard, hard enough for him to topple to the ground, and he turns to Jungkook, punching him in the face. The younger man stumbles back, palm darting up to cover his nose, which has started bleeding.
"What is going on here?" One of the officials, a man in a starchy suit, calls out. Seokjin is breathing heavily, he stares at Jungkook, eyes hard.
"Just a small disagreement." He responds in a stiff, cool voice. The official just raises an eyebrow, eyes traveling from Yoongi, who is on the ground, blood trickling from his lip, hair mussed and eyes cold, to Jungkook, who is still cupping his nose, eyes flashing with heat and fire.
"Do I need to remind you both of the no external fighting condition of the Olympia?" The official's voice is hard and unforgiving, Seokjin nods, "I know, we're sorry for the disruption." He bows, and the official nods.
"Show's over, people." He flits his hands around, eyeing the gathered crowd, who reluctantly, begin to disperse. Finally, the official leaves too, giving Seokjin a warning stare as he walks away. 
You breathe out a sigh of relief, knowing how easily they could have dragged the three men in for questioning, placed a second mark against Yoongi and Jungkook’s names.
"What the fuck are you doing Jungkook? You know you could get disqualified from the Championship or get another mark against you for being in a public street fight?" Seokjin hisses, his voice is poisonous. Jungkook finally casts his eyes downward. You can see the twitch of his jaw that he's still furious, like a hurricane, only momentarily restrained. 
You glance at Yoongi, who is wincing in pain, he looks up and his eyes meet yours. 
"Is it true?" You ask. Your voice is numb, quiet. You don't know how to feel, it's like every inch of you is cold, not working correctly, you’ve forgotten how to breathe.
Yoongi's face crumples, just a fraction. His mouth opens, and closes, before he whispers out, "Let me expl-"
It feels like a knife has been plunged right between your ribs, through your stomach. You shudder and look away from Yoongi, closing your eyes.
"Yoongi!" You hear Hoseok's voice, you open your eyes to see Hoseok pushing his way through the thinning crowd, reaches Yoongi, who shrugs him off bluntly, eyes tracked on you.
"...Let's get out of here." Seokjin says in a clipped voice, he doesn't acknowledge Yoongi, glancing briefly at you. 
You don't look at Yoongi, you turn your body, arms instinctively wrapping around yourself. Your heart is thumping hard in your chest, you feel fragile, cold, like you are wading in a bad dream.
"Jungkook." Seokjin snaps. 
Jungkook hasn't looked at you once, eyes locked on Yoongi still, pupils burning with hate.
"Hey. Scorpius." Jungkook barks out, the five of you stop moving. "I'm not finished with you."
Yoongi just ignores him. You see it bristling over Jungkook's face, irritation, but before you can intervene and settle it somehow, Jungkook narrows his eyes.
"How about I take you on in a gearless fight?"
There’s a stunned silence, Seokjin grabs the back of Jungkook's neck, you can hear him swearing under his breath, telling Jungkook to shut up, to walk away.
You can't help it, your eyes flicker up to Yoongi, who is still staring straight at you.
You tear your eyes away from him, feeling a twist in your chest. You turn until you can't see Yoongi at all anymore, your hand claps to your mouth to hold in the sound that wants to come out, something halfway between a sob and a gasp.
You hear Yoongi's voice, resigned, throaty. 
"Fine."
You still don't turn around. You don't move, until you feel a hand on your shoulder and you glance up to see Seokjin.
"Come on, let's go."
You still don't turn around. You ignore the heavy, laboured breaths that you can hear and recognise as Yoongi's. 
You block out the sound of Hoseok's voice, worried, and Yoongi's reply, saying he doesn't care, he needs to talk to you, saying your name, calling it out.
You close your eyes. You nod, and still not turning around, you follow Seokjin and Jungkook in silence until you can no longer hear Yoongi’s voice.
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You feel your heart thumping in your rib cage at an erratic pace as you pull up to Yoongi's training ring later that evening. It is as if every nerve in your body is on edge, tinged and blackened at the edges with fear and impatience. 
As soon as your car stills, you are out, slamming the door and rushing to the entrance of the now familiar gym.
The moment you push open the door, it’s like sensory overload - the darkness of the gym, the scent of chalk in the air, and most of all, the silence. It’s unfamiliar, you were so used to hearing the shuffling of feet, the soft sharp gasps of breath, fists against the punching bag that for a moment you halt.
Then your eyes focus on him, Yoongi, who is leaning with arms dangling over the boxing ring ropes.
Fear skips loud in your heart for a minute, thoughts fighting in your mind - telling you that you were overreacting, a creeping, more sinister voice telling you that maybe your brother was right. 
There is only one way to find out.
"Yoongi." Your voice rings out clearer and steadier than how you feel. It’s like every inch of you is trembling, the exhilaration of confrontation buzzing through your veins like you have downed six shots of espresso. 
Yoongi glances up at you and for a moment your heart tugs painfully. He has a purple bruise blooming down from his eye socket to his cheekbone, his bottom lip cut and swollen. 
"I need to ask you something."
Yoongi doesn't respond and you take hisi silence as encouragement to forge on, the words spilling bravely from your lips.
"Why did you sleep with me?"
Your question takes Yoongi by surprise, you can see it in the twitch of his eyes, the melting of the stony, cold expression on his face.
"What-"
"Why did you pursue me? Why did you kiss me? Was it because you wanted me?"
Yoongi's eyes flicker and a shadow of guilt crosses over his face. You feel like you are being plunged in ice.
"I-" He starts but you don't hear him.
"Or was it because you wanted to get to my brother?"
The words slip out and linger in the space between you two. Yoongi doesn't speak but the answer is clear in the way his face cracks, his lips relent in their corners, his hand reaching out to you.
It feels like you can't breathe. 
You are being crushed, pressed down into the very earth beneath your feet, your heart has stilled. 
Everything is stilled - and all you can feel is the horrible, sinking feeling that you were wrong all along.
"I'm an idiot." you whisper. Tears are pooling in your eyes, your mouth is so dry that you can't swallow. Your eyes, blurring with wetness, focus away from Yoongi because you can't look at him anymore, you can't see that expression on his face- guilt and regret, intermingled with pity and fear. 
Your eyes focus on the boxing ring that sits empty behind Yoongi, the same very place where he had kissed you weeks ago.
Your mind flits back unkindly to every moment, every kiss, every touch. Your heart gives in as you think about how you had felt your heart soar an inch at every soft caress of Yoongi's, over the silent celebration you felt when you believed he was opening up. 
It was all a lie, you think to yourself, he never really wanted you. He was using you.
You squeeze your eyes shut and tears spill from your eyes and down your cheeks. It's a sting that sears hot into your gut, a lash of rejection, and most of all anger because you have no one to blame but yourself. 
"____," Yoongi's voice is tinged in desperation, "It's not like that anymore, I never thought I was actually going to be with you, I was just trying to get under Jungkook’s skin-“
“Don’t.”
“-I got to know you, it became so much more than revenge or a boxing tactic-"
"I said, don't." Your voice is not the ice you try to pull it out as, instead, your voice shakes, your words are thick with tears. 
"You have to listen to me," Yoongi's voice is desperate, rushed. "I... I didn't think things would become what they are with us, I didn't think I'd care about you, I didn't think I would-"
"Yoongi, I said don't-"
"I didn't think I would fall in love with you."
Silence settles between the two of you and you look at him. Yoongi, with a bruised face, eyes that are teary. He looks so broken like this, desperation etched on his face, his frame hesitant as he battles internally whether to reach out to you, touch you.
Your arms have curled around your frame subconsciously, holding yourself together and preventing yourself from reaching out to him. 
Because, you hate yourself for it, but you so badly want to. You can't stand that even now, with the harsh sting of rejection and betrayal rushing through your blood, your heart sings with hope at his words, you want to fall into his arms. 
"I'm so weak." You whisper out and Yoongi's eyes crumble, his mouth opens.
"I don't want to lose you. You're the first... The only person who's made me feel this way."
His voice is thickened and breaking around each word, and you realise with a dulling throb of pain that he's crying too. You wonder why he's crying - whether he's crying for everything in his past, everything he is today that led him to make these decisions and pursue you in the first place. 
How can you forgive him? How can you fall back into his arms like nothing has changed, like it wasn't your own brother who drove his fists into his face, it wasn't your brother who spurred him on to use you as a vessel of achieving violence? Hurt is screaming through your veins as you shake your head. You love him, so wholly that it makes this hurt more, because doubt and a horrible, unshakeable feeling of questioning now permeates the future you had longed for with Yoongi.
"I... I need some time."
A stuttering of silence, and then Yoongi, clearing this throat uncertainly.
"Time? How... How long?"
"I don't know."
You feel it, the finality of your words settling between the spaces between you and Yoongi. Yoongi steps forward now, his hands reaching out, desperation infusing his words.
"I... I just... please," His last words are broken and you step away.
Yoongi freezes and you stare at him. You open your mouth, different words and sentences linger at the tip of your tongue - I can't, I'm done, I love you, how could you, I'm sorry. But nothing fits, nothing works, and with that, you close your eyes and turn.
Yoongi doesn't follow you, but you hear it - a sharp, broken intake of breath like the preface before a sob, as you push on the door, leave the darkness of the gym, leave Yoongi's corner.
As you step outside, you let your composure crumble. Tears spill down your cheeks and you clamp your hand to your mouth to contain the keening sounds that fight to escape from your lips. 
You are crying for everything, for him, for everything that had built up to this. You tell yourself not to cry, swallow back the sobs and feel your heart beating in your throat. 
You can feel it, sinking and settling into the very pit of your stomach. The feeling. 
The feeling, of being so desperate for somebody you can't have, that it sears through your skin and your blood. 
The feeling crawls over your skin and grips around your heart, holding it hostage, as you walk back to your car, fighting every urge in your body to turn around and walk back into that gym.
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You turn the key in the ignition, the car elapses into darkness and you sit there in silence. The silence is deafeningly loud, and you sit there for a moment, muscles locked. Your hands grip the steering wheel until your knuckles are alabaster white, your forearms trembling.
“Fuck,” You whisper, so softly that it wisps into the air and disappears. “Fuck,” You repeat, louder, angrier, untli your body folds over the steering wheel. 
Your shoulders are tensed, you feel a rawness in your throat, an ache in your chest so heavy it feels as if an anchor is pulling it down. 
Tears threaten to spill down your cheeks, heat and pain welling in the pit of your stomach, but you press it down, refuse to let it take over. 
You keep your hands on the steering wheel and grip harder, until your knuckles hurt, you tell yourself to breathe, until finally, finally, it feels as if you are regaining some semblance of self again.
You straighten, your hands relax and then you open the car door. The night air is dewy and fresh, the scent of rain lingering in the air as you walk up to your front door. Your house is still as you quietly let yourself in.
There, standing in the middle of your hallway, bare feet on marble floor, you think about Min Yoongi. 
His face flashes in your mind - the plea in his eyes when you had walked away from him, the sense of hopelessness you had felt sitting in your car outside his boxing ring wondering if the shadow of his frame would come spilling out. 
You straighten your shoulders and walk down the corridor, through past the kitchen, slipping down the stairs to the basement. Surely enough, a dim golden light spills over the stairs, the soft, rhythmic sounds of leather against leather fill the small space.
“Jungkook.” You reach the bottom stair and call out your brother’s name, he doesn’t respond. He is breathless with exertion, punching into the heavy boxing bag in front of him with careful, precise taps of his glove.
“What?” He finally mutters back, keeps punching, eyes intent and focused on the bag in front of him.
“Can you stop for a second?” You ask, frustration seeping into your tone.
Jungkook doesn’t respond, bounces on the balls of his feet and coils backwards, striking a punch clean and fast into the centre of the boxing bag.
You step forward, saying his name once more, “Jungkook-”
Thwack.
You step forward and place your hand on the boxing bag, palm flattening over it and Jungkook finally freezes.
“Stop it. I need to talk to you.”
Jungkook lets out a long sigh, straightening. He shrugs off his boxing gloves and they fall with a heavy clatter to the ground, he massages his knuckles and lets out another defiant sigh.
“Fine. What do you want?”
For a moment you stand there, palm still flat against his boxing bag, your brother irately massaging his knuckles. 
There is a distance between you and your brother, between your brother and the rest of the world. A distance that you’ve never known how to close, a gap you’ve never fully understood.
“Call off the gearless match, Jungkook.”
He lets out a scoff, and you rush in, “Please. Just call it off. There’s no point going through with this-”
Jungkook barks out a laugh, your words die on your lips. “There’s no point?” He repeats sarcastically.
“Yeah. If you go through with this, one of you will end up dead or permanently injured-”
“Good, I hope so.”
Jungkook is as stubborn as ever, his eyes flash with his words and you feel irritation prickle at the tip of your tongue as you speak over him.
“This isn’t a game, Jungkook. It’s serious - it’s not only illegal, but it’s dangerous, you’re a fucking idiot if-”
“Why are you getting involved anyway? Don’t want your boyfriend to get hurt?”
Jungkook infuses his words with a sneer and the words die from your lips as you meet his gaze, narrowing your eyes.
“He’s… he’s not- that’s not the fucking point, and you know it. It could be you that could end up dead or permanently injured, you know.”
Jungkook just rolls his eyes.
“If there’s anyone who should be worried about that, it’s him-”
“Haven’t you learned anything from Seokjin? Do you think he was worried before he entered the ring, gearless? Then left it, unable to walk?”
Your words ring through the room and for a moment Jungkook’s face tightens, his jaw clenches. 
“That’s not going to happen to me-”
“Jungkook-”
“Stop it.” He cuts in. “I’m doing this.”
You stare at your brother and feel something pang in your chest. You wonder when this happened, when Jungkook went from being just a little kid with oversized boxing gloves on his tiny fists, to this - a hardened expression on his face, determination and anger flashing in his eyes. 
You glance behind him, at the gloves perched on the shelves, the blackboards filled out with words dictating Jungkook’s training schedule, his nutrition schedule, his supplements schedule. You wonder when Jungkook stopped being a part of this world, and when this world started becoming a part of him.
“What is this all about, Jungkook? Getting revenge? Winning? Jealousy?” 
The anger has faded from your tone and you meet your brother’s gaze, seeking something in his eyes to pull him back to earth. To tell him not to go through with this, because the thought of your brother, or Yoongi, with mechanic legs or lying in a hospital bed attached to tubes makes your chest constrict.
Jungkook’s face twitches. His lip trembles and he tears his gaze away from you, looking down at his knuckles, at the fading green and purple splotches that paint his skin.
“I’m not calling it off.”
You deflate, step back, feel the tears from earlier crest up inside of you like a wave. 
You think about Seokjin, late at night when he takes off the gear on his legs and lies in bed staring at the ceiling with hollow, broken eyes. You think about Yoongi and his voice, raspy and feathery, telling you he loves you. You think about your family, this house, your brother who is standing in front of you now as hard as steel. 
You nod, and turn. A tear rolls down your cheek as you start walking back up the basement stairs, and by the time you’ve reached the top stair, the rhythmic beat of Jungkook’s fists against the boxing bag have started again, filling your ears like a deep, inescapable drumbeat.
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The next morning, discomfort is still wedged in your chest. You awaken suddenly, your eyes snapping open to stare up at the ceiling you have woken up to every day for as long as can remember. 
You lay still under the covers, wondering if it was all a bad dream. You squeeze your eyes shut, so hard that colours start sparking vibrant beneath your eyelids, as if to somehow convince yourself that all of this is just a terrible joke, a figment of your imagination gone wrong. 
You open your eyes and for a moment your mind flits to what it would be like if you were in an alternate universe- if you woke up, to this same ceiling, with an arm crooked around your belly and him fast asleep beside you, long eyelashes fluttering with every breath, that jagged scar on his eyebrow quivering as he mumbles in his sleep and pulls you into his arms.
I want you all to myself, I wanna keep you, I love you.
You crook your head to the side. The space beside you on the bed is, of course, empty. Still, you let out a soft, disappointed exhale and pull yourself out of bed.
When you are all freshened up for the day, you make your way downstairs. The house is quiet, a hum of everyday activity and conversations in the air - your father making a business call in his office, the tinkling of laughter coming from the living room where you mother has friends over. It was like any other day, really. 
Still, your chest aches because this isn’t any other day and once again it feels jarring how mechanically you are capable of going through the motions.
You walk into the kitchen and for a moment you tense when you see a figure with his back to you, mixing together in a large bowl. His broad shoulders and dark hair deceive you and your mouth curves around your brother’s name before you relax, walking over instead to sit up at the kitchen counter.
Seokjin glances behind his shoulder when he hears the sound of you shifting in your chair, he nods a greeting and you nod one back.
“Want some?” He asks, he’s tossing what looks to be a stirfry. You shrug and let out an agreeable hum. Seokjin pulls out an extra plate for you, piles on the salad.
“You’re up late.”
He pushes the plate across the counter to you, along with a fork. You nod, stabbing into your noodles.
“Couldn’t sleep last night.”
Seokjin leans across the counter. “You and I both.”
For a moment, the two of you lapse into a companionable silence. Just the sounds of cutlery against bowls, chewing, and then Seokjin sighs.
“I tried talking some sense into him last night.” He shakes his head ruefully and clicks his tongue. “No luck. He’s so fucking stubborn.”
You eye your brother’s coach, he has his usual guarded expression cast over his features, a rueful twist on his lips.
“You talked to him?”
Seokjin just nods in response, delicately takes a big bite of his stir fry. Your brow creases as you try and imagine how that conversation would have gone down - mild mannered, perpetually fractured Seokjin confronting your equally broken brother.
“I did too. He won’t… he won’t call it off and I just can’t understand why.”
Frustration rings clear in your words and Seokjin is eyeing you closely, carefully. 
“Have you…” His voice trails off and you can hear the uncertainty in his tone before he forges on. “...Talked to him? Scorpius, I mean?”
Something akin to a bitter laugh rises in your throat and you think back on your conversation last night with Yoongi, the words he had left you with, the look in his eyes when you had walked away. 
You swallow it down, compress it, and nod.
“And just what exactly is he to you?”
Your mouth opens and closes a few times before you look down at your hands.
“He is… he was… I don’t know.” The words spill out. “It hurts.” The words come out of your mouth before you can stop them. That wedge of discomfort shifts under your ribs, cracks at the composure you are struggling to keep over your face.
Because it does, it does hurt. It hurts, to think back on every touch of Yoongi’s, his dark eyes and smile as pretty as the moon, and wonder how much of it was real. 
It hurts even more to think about each of his kisses and the words he had whispered to you, that he loves you, and that that right there is real, so tangibly real that you can feel it inside of you like a sixth sense. 
It hurts to think that you love him.
“Yeah,” Seokjin says quietly, “I know. It’s hard to love somebody broken.” His voice is calm, and it pricks at you, your eyes suddenly sting. 
You push the bowl away, will yourself not to cry, not now, not here.
“You know what I think?” Seokjin begins, he doesn’t wait for a response from you, continuing on. “Your brother and him, Min Yoongi, all they have to live for is boxing. Your brother - his whole life revolves around it. It’s all he knows. He’s been told all his life that it’s all he’s good for. He’s sacrificed everything for it, including himself. And now he doesn’t know if he loves it or if he’s doing it because he doesn’t know anything else.” Seokjin sighs. 
“I can’t speak on behalf of your Min Yoongi in that sense but… Jungkook’s there. I’ve been there. When you’re in it, you can’t see out of it. And you’ll keep on going, keep fighting, until you die or until you don’t care anymore and you want to die. You get drunk on the pain, addicted to the feeling of winning, hooked on the ring and the gear and the fame, and the rush you get when you knock out a guy and hear people screaming your name.” Seokjin’s words are infused with a dull bitterness, like the muted edges of an old knife. 
“You start to hate yourself for it. For feeling empty and broken when you’re not in the ring. For the times when you want to take it further, when you want to push past the limits that gear sets for you. For when you start losing, slipping from your place at the top. Then gearless fights start becoming more and more of an option, an easy way for you to gain it all back, the rush. Really though, they’re just a way for you to fight against everything you hate about yourself, by channelling it into another person. By beating them the hell up when the person you really want to beat up is yourself.”
You glance up, Seokjin is leaning against the kitchen counter, his arms folded. He has a faraway, distant look in his eyes, when he senses you looking at him, he shakes his head, snaps out of it.
“Anyway, that’s just my take on it, I-”
“Jin…” Your voice is hoarse, you clear it, Seokjin glances at you questioningly.
“Hm?”
“If you could go back, would you do it differently?”
Seokjin looks down. At his legs, which shift in place, creaking the floorboards beneath.
“I don’t know,” He says honestly. 
You nod slowly, absorbing that, thinking about his words. About Min Yoongi, who is splintered and broken, bandaged together with boxing tape, hardened eyes that soften when they meet yours. 
You wonder if you could go back and do things differently- if you would pull your brother out of the path of Scorpius, if you would knowingly avert your gaze from Yoongi’s that first night when you were stargazing outside of his gym.
Would you have done things differently?
“Are you... coming to the fight tonight?”
Seokjin’s voice breaks you out of your thoughts. Seokjin is placing the question carefully, you can sense it in his words, like he’s treading around you. 
He’s good at this, you think - peppering you with questions and conversation masked in a casual tone, trying to ease you to open up. There’s no wonder that most of the time the only person who can reach Jungkook when he’s in one of his moods, is Jin.
You think about Seokjin’s words, about Min Yoongi, the man you love, the man who is drunk on boxing, punch drunk. 
You think about the alternate universe you imagined this morning, with Yoongi’s arm heavy around you, his breath slowly and evenly ghosting over your skin, his body warm and huddled beside yours. 
You think about that same question, that question of, would you have done things differently.
You look up at Seokjin.
“Yeah, I’ll go.”
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The gearless fight is being held in a small abandoned factory that has since been converted into a makeshift boxing ring. It’s one of several that are scattered throughout your city, built to be discreet locations for boxers and fighters to engage in gearless fights. 
The gearless fights are more often than not self-elected, two fighters sloughing it out until one is crippled or dead, their broken bodies left for whoever is there as their support to drag away and tend to. 
Once two fighters have agreed to a gearless match, they have committed, and the match can only be called off if both fighters agree on it. It’s the one and only rule of gearless matches, Seokjin explains to you during the drive, nothing else is off limits. Other times, these makeshift rings are used in illegal gambling matches, or for a sick form of underground entertainment, sometimes even, Seokjin says, people sell themselves to stand in that ring gearless so that other boxers can fight them, pummel their bodies senseless. 
Seokjin tells you all of this as he drives, and although his voice is calm, even, you can tell by the tenseness in his jaw and the way he fidgets with the radio that he’s on edge.
You pull up into a parking lot at the side of the factory, Seokjin doesn’t waste any time and is out of the car. You scramble to follow suit, closely behind him as he weaves his way around the back and through a small door that is marked Employees Only.
The space is dark, a few old crates and boxes littered around the room. There, at the centre of it all, is the ring. It’s far from the gleaming, monochrome spaces of the Olympia Championship, instead, pieces of rope and wire mark out a slightly lopsided elevated platform, two stools on opposite corners. 
The space is nearly empty, you recognize Hoseok standing to one side of the ring, his lips pressed together in a terse line. There is another man beside him, one you don’t recognize, but at the stiffening of Seokjin’s shoulders, it’s evident that he does.
The taller man glances over at Seokjin and you, recognition lighting up his features as he strolls over. He has long limbs, a lean, tall frame and Seokjin mutters to you that he’s the guy who sets up these hidden rings, somewhat of a business mogul in his own right.
“Namjoon,” Seokjin greets, there is tightness in his voice as the two men speak in low, rushed tones. 
You stop paying attention to the two of them when your eyes fall on a man sitting on one of the crates at the sides of the room.
It’s Yoongi. Your breath catches in your throat as you gaze at him. 
He’s wearing his usual, thick white headband, his fists curled into balls as he hunches forward on the crate. He looks tired, and you feel something spark in your chest.
“...He tried to talk it out with Jungkook? The Min kid?” Seokjin’s voice rises in disbelief and your head snaps away from Yoongi. Seokjin has an incredulous expression on his face, the taller man, Namjoon, just shrugs and nods. 
“Uh huh. He approached Jeon as soon as he walked through the door, tried to talk things out, was talking about working it out outside of the ring or something along those lines.”
Seokjin lets out a soft whistle. You are momentarily stunned.
“And how did the kid take it?”
Namjoon just scoffs. “What do you think? He lost it, was furious. Said there’s no backing out of it now, et cetera… then wanted to start the fight right then and there. I escorted him out of the building, he’s out the main entrance right now if you want to talk to him.”
Seokjin nods, and glances at you.
“Will you-”
“I’ll be okay, Seokjin. Go.”
Your head is still reeling from the information as Seokjin nods tightly and walks away. He’s only a few steps away when Namjoon calls out, “Let the kid know the match is going to start in fifteen sharp.”
You feel momentarily locked in place, and before you can stop yourself, your legs are moving, walking towards Yoongi who is still crooked forward on the wooden crate. 
At the sound of footsteps, he lifts his head, his eyes meet yours and you feel all of your reservations, that steely wedge of discomfort locked inside of you, all of it - slip away. 
“___.,” Yoongi says your name, his voice is hoarse. He straightens, stands up, his jaw slack, and you swallow hard, suddenly nervous.
“You tried to call it off?” You ask, it’s the first thing that comes to mind, and Yoongi blinks a few times before he nods.
“Why?”
You want to hear it from him, want to know why he tried to talk things out with your brother when they have been like fire fighting fire from the start. Yoongi pauses, his eyes intent on you.
“Why do you think?” He says finally, softly. 
It feels as if something breaks inside of you, and tears spring in your eyes, your shoulders slump forward into a sob. 
Yoongi’s arms encircle around you, and then you are there, smelling him, he smells like cedar and driftwood, and feeling his arms tight around you, his hands stroking your hair, has you holding on tighter. 
Tears spill down your cheeks, and your heart twists so painfully in your chest that a sob arises in your throat.
“Don’t cry ‘kay?” Yoongi’s voice is hoarse, thickened with emotion as you pull away. 
You look at him, tears wet on your cheeks and see that his eyes too are glossy with tears.
“Even if… even if you win this fight, it’s not the end of all of this. There’s still the Olympia semi finals. And other boxing matches after this. You know that, right?” You whisper and Yoongi just nods. Tears gather at the corner of his eyes. 
“Yoongi, I…” Your voice shakes, “I love you. Don’t do this.”
Yoongi blinks, and a tear rolls down his cheek.
“I have to,” He says in a low voice. Roughly, he reaches up, wiping it away with jerky movements.
“I know, I just…” Your voice breaks off, you press your face into his chest. “I can’t...”
Yoongi rests his chin on the top of your head, holds you tighter to him. His arms are trembling.
“I love you, okay? Just don’t… just don’t….” Your voice breaks off and your shoulders shake, and Yoongi steps back into you and he’s holding you again.
“Okay,” He murmurs, his palm strokes your back, his voice is by your ear, “Okay. Okay. Okay.”
You are crying because of this, how solid he feels in front of you, crying because you don’t want to lose him, you don’t want him to lose himself. 
You cry tears for your brother, who you don’t want to lose either. 
You cry because you, torn in two different directions, have made your choice. You know whose side of the ring you will be standing on.
“I love you too.” Yoongi whispers it in your ear. “So… so god damn fucking much. Okay?” His voice is fierce, and you pull away to see the intensity in his eyes. 
Your lips touch his, he kisses you - slow, sad, sweet, and you can taste tears in your kisses and feel the desperation in his hands, cupping your jaw, his mouth, kissing you tenderly and slowly and with restraint, even though you can feel it beneath the surface, simmering, how badly he wants this, how badly he wants you, all of you.
“Yoongi, it’s time.” Hoseok’s voice cuts in and Yoongi ignores him, you ignore him. He kisses you deeper, more desperate, and then he’s pulling away. His eyes, still teary, are focused on you. 
He doesn’t say anything, perhaps because there are no more words to be said.
He turns, faces the ring. You turn too, see Hoseok standing there, watching the two of you with a pained look on his face. 
You and Yoongi walk towards the ring, Yoongi continues until he climbs up, deftly ducking over the ring’s barriers until he is there in his corner. You walk up until you are beside Hoseok, who puts an arm around your shoulders for support. 
You are crying, open, salty tears trickling down your cheeks. 
There, in the ring, is Jungkook. 
Your eyes meet your brother’s. He is staring at you with a hurt expression on his face, his body coiled and tensed. He has his gloves on, the same gloves he was wearing last night. 
You wonder if your brother will forgive you, for choosing to stand on the opposite side of the ring. Behind him, Seokjin stands still, his arms folded, a stressed expression on his face, eyes locked on the ring. 
You stare at them. Two fighters, in their corners. 
Jeon Jungkook, the Bloodhawk, shifting slowly from side to side like the hypnotic dance of a rattlesnake, his muscles tensed, his jaw clenched. 
Min Yoongi, the Scorpion, standing perfectly still, muscles rippling under his skin, a void, terrifying focus settling over his face. 
Orion versus Scorpius.
And then the bell rings.
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amynote: *the concept of ‘gear’ and the Olympia Championships, are both loosely inspired by the anime Megalo Box (it’s amazing, btw!)  Re: the ending, i wanted it ultimately to be open-ended and up to reader choice who the winner of the fight was. i may write a sequel to this... maybe!!! we’ll see. i sort of like the ending as is, but also, i really enjoyed creating and writing this universe and these characters. so we’ll see!! edit 18/08 - I am definitely writing a sequel to this! stay tuned!
→ Access my moodboard for this fic here. ALSO, check out this incredible fanart by the super wonderful @syukatsu​! 
thank you for reading! ♡
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httpjeon · 2 years ago
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❝keep the change❞ myg ― m.            
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― summary: typically an old man works the night shift at Greg’s Place. however, it seems there’s a new cute guy working the register at night now. and it just so happens it’s finals week...
yoongi/reader | cashier!yoongi | light humor, fluff, smut | 5.3k ↬ content warnings: unprotected sex, squirting, blow job, cunnilingus, dirty talk
a/n: this fic is based off of the yoongi from my fic 1-800-Music-Street, although it can be read stand alone!
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Your whole life was an instance of mental breakdowns and running on caffeine induced autopilot. Your eyes were burning, probably bloodshot as you stared blankly at your laptop. Sitting in a dark room with the screen on full brightness, 'that's how you'll go blind' -- you can hear your best friend ranting about it now.
As you reached into the Cheetos bag that sat on your table, you dreadfully realized that you were completely out of them. You sighed, laying your head on the cool desk to think. You wouldn't be able to continue without feeding your addiction; but it was late.
Glancing at the clock on your laptop, the little numbers read 3:52am.
The only place that was open was the little convenience store located a couple blocks away. It was a privately owned shop named Greg's Place -- sounded more like a weird frat club to you. You'd go there frequently during finals week, it was kind of a sign that the stress to maintain your 4.0GPA had arrived.
You pushed yourself away from your desk and stood up. You were dressed in loose sweats and a black t-shirt that was much too big for your frame and quite frankly you looked like a slob but -- who cares? It's finals season, you had an excuse.
You slipped on a pair of shoes and grabbed a fuzzy jacket that was hung up beside your door. It was getting chilly, especially at night and since you were walking, you'd get much colder.
By the time you reached the little shop, you were regretting exiting your house. This was the most you'd been out of your house in the past week and it'd only been 10 minutes.
The little ring of the bell alerted the worker inside, which you assumed to be Youngho -- a middle aged man who you'd had the pleasure to know over the course of his 2 years working. He was a terribly boring fellow and you were positive he was going senile, not that you minded -- he didn't judge you and that's what was important.
You made a beeline for the aisle you knew contained what you were looking for; Cheetos. Just for kicks, you decided to grab the Flamin' Hot kind along with the original -- spice things up a little. You grabbed an extra monster and coffe since you were here. You were well stocked at home but more definitely wouldn't hurt.
As you made your way to the counter, you blew a stray strand of of hair that fell out of your bun from your face. You placed your things on the counter and that's when you noticed. You noticed the fact that Youngho was not the worker that was behind the counter.
No.
You wouldn't be that lucky!
While you were standing at 4am looking like the devil had drug you to hell himself, there was an incredibly good looking man about your age sitting on a stool. His eyes were glued to his phone screen and he hadn't even acknowledged the fact you were standing there.
Usually, you would have held your tongue and perhaps it was sleep deprivation, the caffeine, or maybe both mixed with your sudden racing heart -- but you spoke to him.
"Shouldn't you not be on your phone with customers in the store?"
And then, without missing a beat or even looking up from his phone...he spoke.
"File a customer service complaint, Cheeto-Girl," You nearly bristled at the name he called you before you realized the fact that his voice was fucking hot. It was deep and melodic, holding a calm and slow tempo to it. Then, he finally looked up, placing his phone on the counter and you got a look at his face; dark bangs hanging in sharp cat-like eyes and incredibly soft, pink lips. You licked your lips subconsciously at the sight, watching how he scanned your items and god, his hands! They were the kind of hands that were meant to be wrapped around your thigh in the car or wrapped around your
throat
while he --
"₩16,000.00," He spoke, sounding unbelievably bored. With trembling hands, you pulled out your wallet. You felt impossibly small underneath his intense gaze and you couldn't help but think he found you a complete idiot. This idea was solidified by your final moments of interaction with the hot guy.
You thought you had handed him the correct amount, naturally. Then, as he handed you your receipt, you made
physical contact
with his hand and you felt like you were going to throw up -- he was so warm and he smelled so good. So, you quickly scrambled to grab your bag and haul ass out of the shop but he called after you.
"Wait--"
"Keep the change!" You whined, chancing a glance back at him to see him shrugging and shoving the extra bills in his pocket. You were pretty sure that was illegal but you didn't care as you tucked tail and booked it back home.
-----You wanted to spend a nice lunch with your best friend and try to forget the fact you had embarrassed yourself and that the hot guy probably called up his friends to make fun of you after his shift.
But as you relayed your story to Junkook, his wide doe-eyes fixed on you as you spoke. You felt your cheeks heating up as you revealed the way you actually ran away from him and Jungkook had the audacity to burst out laughing.
It took him far too long to pull his shit together and look at you with clear eyes again. It took him even longer to be able to respond to your story of pure shame;
“So, what you’re saying is,” Jungkook took a liberal sip of his bubble tea, obnoxiously gulping the liquid as you glared at him from across the grated table. “You made a fool of yourself?”
“You’re such a jerk!” You cried, resting your head on your arms as you folded them beneath you, trying to block out his giggles that erupted again.
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The moon was full, casting light over the outside world along with the normal glow of the city. You felt the lull of sleep biting at you and you stared at your empty can of Java Monster sighing. You needed to go get some more before you ended passing out before you could complete your self made study-guide.
Giving in, you pushed yourself off the chair and made your way to the front door.
The walk to Greg’s felt disgustingly short and sure enough, just like you feared, Mr. Hot Guy was behind the counter. Maybe you’d at least get his name today, you thought.
You placed your items on the counter, having thrown an extra bag of Cheetos in the mix.
“Hi,” You ventured, standing awkwardly as Mr. Hot Guy stared at his phone screen still.
“Hey there, Cheeto-Girl,” He replied, once again not veering from the device.
“My name is _____,” You offered and this time, he looked up.
“Min Yoongi,”
You mentally did a little happy dance -- you got his name!
However, your excitement was cut short when he scanned your items and it was time to hand him the money. Anxiety kicked in and before you knew it, you were overpaying him...again.As much as you would have loved to not make a fool of yourself again, naturally you couldn't even do that.Attempting to take the change resulted in physical contact with him, making you jump and before you knew it change was scattered along the counter making deafening noises in the otherwise silent shop. The look in his eyes was almost dead, staring blankly at the coins on the counter.“K-Keep the change!” You squeaked and, once again, tucked tail and booked it.
You were such a coward!
You’d dated guys before -- plenty in fact! But there was something about Min Yoongi that had your heart racing and you were pretty sure he saw you as nothing more than a weird girl who shows up at 3am to get Cheetos and coffee; just a wreck.Then again you were positive you'd never even seen a guy as hot as him in your entire life.
What was a girl to do?
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One thing was for certain in your life; and that was finals sucked. You felt the mounting strain of stress on your shoulders and you could barely get through a practice question without tearing up in frustration. You had bottled it up and now it was ready to burst.
Perhaps a break would help.
The second you stepped outside, you felt the relief wash over you as the cool night air touched your flushed skin.
You took your time walking to Greg’s Place, wanting to extend your break from studying for as long as possible.
The shock of seeing Min Yoongi working had long since passed and faded from your system. However, the heart palpitations his stupidly good looking face and careless aura gave you were still very much alive. You collected the things you usually got but also added a nice little bag of M&Ms to your list.
When you get to the counter, Yoongi is for once actually ready at attention behind it, eyes burning holes into you as you placed your items down. You, however, couldn't be bothered to even form a smile, just watching blankly as he rang up your items.
You pulled out your wallet, ready to pay when he suddenly slammed his palms down on the counter, leaning close to you.
"Alright," He sighed, shaking his head to get his bangs out of his eyes, looking straight at you with sharp eyes. "What's the matter?"
"W-What?" Your wide, startled gaze met his stern one.
"Something's bothering you," He stated, leaning onto his elbows now.
"How do you know?" You asked, poking your bottom lip out in a pout -- trying to make yourself seem more cheerful than you felt. He seemed to see right through it, however.
"Usually you're a stuttering, cute little mess," He scoffed and rolled his eyes. "Now you're dead-eyed and...sad. It's gross."
You completely missed the fact he called you cute as you found yourself in a crying fit. Yoongi's eyes widened as he watched the tears travel down your cheeks, at a loss of what to do.
"Wh-Hey, no...don't cry, come on," He rounded the counter, heaving a sigh and awkwardly patting your back. It was almost laughable how bad he was at comforting you.
"I'm s-sorry," You sniffled, wiping your tears away; it was futile as more simply took their place. "I always make such an idiot of myself!"
"Huh?" Yoongi leaned down to look at your face, moving some of your hair out of the way to get a look at you.
"Y-You're cute and you make me nervous and every time I come in here I end up doing something silly like overpaying, dropping the change, running away, and now I'm crying in a convenience store at 3 in the morning!"
"We'll come back to the fact you called me cute," He chuckled, making your face heat up at your own slip up. "Don't worry, I know finals suck."
"How did you know it was finals?"
"I have a friend in college, he's been grinding like hell to prepare," Yoongi shrugged, shoving his hands in his pockets. The mention of finals had your eyes tearing up again, which made him flounder once again. "Alright, look, how about I take you out and we can stuff ourselves silly, huh?"
"What about the store?" You asked, straightening yourself up now that you'd stopped sobbing.
"Ah, I don't give a fuck. I hate working the night shift anyway," He leaned over the counter and grabbed the keys to the store. "I know a place that's open at this time."
The place Yoongi took you to was just down the street from the store. He opened the door for you, the inside of the building smelling deliciously of bacon and syrup.
"Choose a seat," Yoongi commanded, waving his hand around the small restaurant.
You decided on a booth that was situated in the corner of the place, free from prying eyes and away from windows. To your surprise, there were a few more people inside, enjoying some late-night breakfast food; the scent of this place had you stomach grumbling eagerly.
"There's a menu," You mumbled, realizing there was already one sitting on the table. However, Yoongi didn't make any move to try and look over the menus, making you raise your brow at him in question.
"I'm here pretty much every night, I know what I want," He explained with a shrug.
"Night shift is pretty brutal, huh?" You chuckled, eyeing the breakfast platter on the menu; your mouth practically watering at the idea of that delicious bacon.
"Oh yeah, I used to just work the day shift," He fought down a smirk as he began to tell the tale. "I may have made a post on Twitter about him when Greg came to inspect and he put me on the night shift as punishment."
"Something tells me, this isn't going to make you stop posting on Twitter," Your words drew a laugh from him, giving you a glimpse of a cute gummy smile and you swear your heart stopped.
"Absolutely not,"
"Hey, Yoongi," A deep voice brought your attention to a tall bespectacled man wearing a red apron. "The usual?"
"Yeah, thanks Seokjin,"
"And for the lady?" Seokjin flashed you a charming smile as he waited for your order.
"I'll just take the House Special Breakfast, please," Seokjin nodded, smiling softly as he wrote down your order. "And orange juice to drink, please,"
"You got it," He tucked away his pad and patted Yoongi on the shoulder. "It'll just be a minute."
"Thanks," Yoongi mumbled, giving Seokjin a small smile before he walked away.
"Do you know him from your nights here or..?"
"Actually, we run in the same friend group," He replied with another casual shrug.
"Here you go, you two," Seokjin returned quickly with the prepared food, placing your plates down in front of you.
The two of you ate, making small talk. You were surprised how absolutely not-intimidating he was; from his sharp gaze and sharp tongue when you met him shortly behind the counter, you had the impression he would be terrifying. But now that you witnessed him laughing and joking, you could see the spark of life in his eyes.
"So beside eating Cheetos and studying until you cry, what other things do you do?" He asked, chuckling when you rolled your eyes.
"I go to convenience stores at 3am frequently," You responded cheekily, making him squint playfully at you. "What's your hobby?"
"Well, I like to make music," He seemed almost sheepish as he replied, ducking his head down. "It's a kind of expensive hobby so I work at the convenience store to make money. Producing underground only pays a few bucks...only enough for a package of noodles."
"I think that's really cool," Your words seemed to surprise him, his head shooting up to look at you. "I'm so absorbed in schoolwork I can't even enjoy my major anymore. It's really nice that you're following what you like even though you don't get much money for it."
You could swear his cheeks were dusted pink up to his ears at your words. But before you could really get a look, he was standing up, tossing a few bills on the table as tip.
"I'll pay, you go wait outside," He turned his back to you, shoving his hands in his pockets again. You didn't bother arguing, your college student ass needed to save any money you could.
"Let me walk you home," Yoongi said once he joined you outside. "You can't live far, right?"
"Correct," You folded your arms over your chest, tucking your hands under your jacket to keep them warm as you walked.
"It was really cool that you agreed to come out with me," He said, once you two stopped in front of your home.
"Thank you for taking me out," You could feel your face heating up at her met your gaze. "Even though I consistently make a fool of myself."
"I think it's endearing," He grinned, showing his gummy smile again.
"I think you called me cute earlier,"
"Hey," He turned his head away to hide what you assumed was a blush. "You called me cute too."
"Me and my loud mouth," You mumbled. "But...do you...want to come inside?"
"Sure," He replied quickly before he realized how fast he was. "I mean...I already closed the shop so...I'll need a place to hide when Greg comes hunting for me."
You laughed, the way he said 'Greg' sounding particularly hostile. You opened your door, allowing him inside first. When you stepped in, he was already shedding his jacket and hanging it on the coat rack as if he owned the place. He seemed oddly comfortable, not that you minded. You watched him as you shed your own coat, he peeked into your kitchen and living room, giving a small nod of approval.
"So, what do you want to do now that you have me vulnerable and alone in your apartment?" He asked, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.
"Wh--" You squinted, rolling your eyes but cut yourself off from engaging. From the look on his face, he was probably jumping at the opportunity to make fun of you. So you gracefully turned on your heels and began to sprint up the stairs, knowing he was hot on your tail.
"Oh, so this is your hermit hole?" Yoongi tucked his hands in his pockets, looking at the mess that was your desk; textbook, laptop and notebook open with pens and highlighters scattered around.
"Don't call it a hermit hole," You whined, flopping back onto your bed with a huff. "It makes me feel like a loser,"
"Hey, don't feel like that," You felt the weight shift as he sat beside you on the edge of the bed. "It's really great that you're tryin' so hard. You're gonna get far in life, better than me anyway,"
"Yoongi," You sat up and placed a hand on his back, comforting. "You're doing what you love. I'm just studying when in the end my degree won't mean shit and I'll end up having a shitty office job in corporate,"
"Why do you do it then? Why don't you do what you want?" He asked, looking at you face to face now.
"Mostly to make my parents happy, to be honest," You admitted, shrugging one of your shoulders halfheartedly.
"Hmm," He leaned back on his hands and looked up at the ceiling. "My parents...threw me out after finding out I wanted to pursue music. I could barely afford to live properly let alone actually try to get an education, I spent a couple years living on the streets. I managed to get a few gigs to produce a track and got some money; I used it to buy clothes and get an interview at Gregs."
"Holy crap," You mumbled, shaking your head in surprise. "You're doing well now though?"
"Well enough," He mumbled. "Things are a lot better than they used to be, that's for sure. I had a couple friends who lived on the street and I kind of had to take care of them...Taehyung and Hoseok. They managed to get jobs and better they lives and so I did the same. I'm certainly not rolling in the cash but I got a little apartment, clothes on my back, and food to eat. That's about all I could ask for,"
"What if Greg fires you!?" You cried, suddenly remembering the fact he shut the store down to take you out.
"Honestly," A small smile played on his lips as he looked at you. "Greg likes me more than he lets on, he won't fire me. I've charmed my way into his bitter little heart,"
His words had you laughing, tossing your head back while he smiles.
"Can I kiss you?" The abruptness of his word cut your laughing short to stare at him wide-eyed. He was staring at you as if he hadn't just asked to kiss you, instead looking like he had just asked what you had for breakfast. Quite the bold man.
"Y-Yes?" Your response came out choked, still not fully over the shock of his sudden proposal.
His fingers were warm and a little rough as he cupped you cheek, angling your head so he could easily slot his lips against yours. His lips were incredibly soft and the few guys you had kissed in the past were nothing compared to the skillful way he pulled you into the passion. You allowed him to ease you onto your back, laying beside you as he continued to kiss you, lightly nipping your bottom lip before he laved over it with his tongue. You clenched your thighs together, feeling a pressure settling in your core the longer he kissed you.
"You're so pretty," He whispered as he pulled away, licking his lips as he gazed down at you; his pupils were blown wide and you could feel the faint hardness of his member against your hip.
He was getting turned on too.
"Yoongi," You whispered, leaning up to brush your lips against his as he hummed in response."Can I...suck you off?"
"Holy shit," He choked, flopping onto his back beside you, covering his face with his hands. "Fuck yeah,"
You felt excitement flow through you and you forced yourself to not fist pump the air in victory. You shuffled your way between his thighs, the both of you scooting up the bed to get comfortable. You reached up, holding your breath as you unbuttoned his jeans, already feeling the way he was steadily hardening beneath the fabric of his jeans.
He spread his legs to make more room for you as you tugged the waistband of his boxer-briefs down enough so his cock popped out, slapping against his stomach.
He wasn't completely hard yet but the sight of him already had your mouth watering. The tip was a pretty pink and a vein on the underside; when you wrapped your hand around the base of him, he let out a soft sigh of pleasure. Giving him a few experimental squeezes, you could feel him harden the rest of the way, his thighs trembling at the pleasure. You couldn't hold yourself back anymore, you needed to taste him.
The tip of his cock was like velvet on your tongue, warm and a slightly bitter taste of his precum melting on your taste buds. As you swirled your tongue around his tip, his fingers tangled in you hair with a groan.
"F-Fuck, sensitive there, baby," He nearly whined and you could have creamed your panties right then and there at the sound. You didn't torture him with over stimulation, instead taking the head of him into your mouth, sucking him generously to hear his moans. At the urging of fingering in your hair, you took him deeper into your mouth. He wasn't incredibly long but the thickness of him was causing your jaw to ache already. The thought of having him stretch you out, coating him in your cum had your cunt clenching painfully around nothing.
You whined around his cock, making him stiffen and groan, biting his lip to keep himself a little quieter. You could feel how his hips twitched faintly, as if he wanted to thrust into your mouth but was holding himself back. Relaxing your throat, you allowed him to slip deeper -- your gag reflex fought a bit but you managed to sink down to the base. Tears trickled down your cheeks but Yoongi was in bliss, tugging at your hair and groaning as you swallowed thrice around him before pulling off.
"Fuck!" He growled, sitting up suddenly, fist wrapped in your hair before he pressed his lips to yours to share a sloppy kiss. "One day, I'll fuck your throat,"
The idea and tone of his voice had you gushing into your panties; the promise of a next time making you squirm.
"Will you let me return the favor?" He asked, voice deep and dark in his words. "Will you let me eat your little cunt?"
"F-Fuck," You whined, his hand that was in your hair traveling to your neck to push you onto the bed.
As he took his position between your thighs, he reached behind himself to tug his shirt up and off his body. Your eyes soaked in the sight of his lean body with pebbled pink nipples that you longed to wrap your lips around to test the sensitivity. You lifted your hips when he tucked his fingers into the waistband of your sweats, pulling them down along with your panties.
"God, so fucking pretty," He growled, dropping onto his stomach and hissing when his cock was trapped between him and the bed. You spread your legs for him, tucking your hands beneath your thighs to expose your soaked slit to him. He groaned, using both of his thumb to spread the glossy lips of your cunt, hissing when you gushed. Any self control he was trying to exhibit snapped his tongue was suddenly sliding into your entrance to taste you. You cried out, tangling your fingers in his raven locks; his hair was incredibly soft you noted through your haze.
Yoongi was way too fucking good with his mouth, swirling his tongue around your clit and sucking the little bud into his mouth. You were trembling, your back arching in pure pleasure as he very abruptly introduced two fingers; sliding them into your clenching hole, making your nearly scream at the feeling of
finally
being filled. He seemed to know exactly what to do to find your g-spot, crooking his fingers up, making your hips arch as you whined.
"Ah, right there?" He cooed, lips detaching from your clit for a moment to watch his fingers fuck you. He spread his fingers, making you groan as he stretched you out.
"Yoongi, please," You whimpered, tugging his hair. He took the hint and kissed his way up your body to meet your lips; making you taste yourself as he slid his tongue into your mouth. His fingers didn't stop abusing your sweet spot, making you whimper into his mouth.
"Fuck," He groaned as he pulled away from you. "Can I fuck you, babygirl?"
You nodded, eyes rolling back in your head as he gave your spot one last stroke before pulling his fingers out.
"Use your words, sweetheart," He cooed, squeezing your cheeks between his fingers, making your lips pout.
"Y-Yes, please fuck me,"
"Good girl,"
He slid off the bed to shed his jeans and underwear; you took the hint and sat up to rip off your shirt, leaving your completely nude on your bed.
"Such pretty tits," He groaned, cupping one in his hand and pinching the nipple generously, taking the moment to indulge himself.
He climbed back onto the bed, grinning when you immediately spread yourself for him. Slowly pumping his cock, he got himself comfortable on his knees. Once he was situated, you sat up on your elbows to watch the way he spread your folds with his cockhead. You sighed in pleasure as he brushed against your clit, lightly slapping the bud to watch your thighs jump.
Finally, you couldn't take it anymore and reached down to wrap your fingers around him, directing him to finally sink into your entrance. He didn't stop you, following your lead and sinking into you until your hips were flush together. The girth of him stretched you to the point it burned, making you whine and moan. You clenched around him, arching your hips to fuck yourself on him.
"Fuck," Yoongi cursed, leaning over you to support himself on hands beside your head. He watched the way you ground up against him, your eyes rolling back into your head at the pleasure. "Dirty girl,"
Finally, he took over, pulling back and slamming himself back in, barely grazing your cervix in the process. His pelvic bone abused your clit every time he sheathed himself inside you. The way he caught your g-spot with every move had you tumbling incredibly fast to what you knew would be a mind blowing orgasm. Your thighs were threatening to close to save yourself from the overstimulation you were beginning to feel.
Yoongi, however, was having none of it. Strong hands gripped the backs of your knees and forcefully spread your legs, leaving your soaking cunt vulnerable to the torture his cock put on it. Your eyes filled with tears, your mouth falling open; you were teetering on an edge that you'd never felt before; he was going to make you cum without having to touch your clit.
It was becoming too much, the coil inside you winding tighter and tighter but not releasing. Your hands pressed against Yoongi's chest to slow him down, but he only grinned and grabbed your wrists with one hand and pinned them above your head.
"Fucking take it," He growled, leaning closer to you to make you look directly into his eyes. "You're gonna cum all over this cock, babygirl, go ahead. Give it to me,"
With him staring into your eyes, watching you, you finally came undone. You tossed your head back but Yoongi tangled his fingers into your hair to force you to look at him again; his hips never stopping as he fucked the forced orgasm out of you. Your walls spasmed and gushed, covering him with cum that he'd love to taste one day. The sight of you cumming so hard for him sent him off of his own end and suddenly, he was pulling out of you before he came inside.
However, having him pull out so suddenly had your orgasm flying to new heights and before you even realized what was going on, the both of you were being drenched in more of your cum as you squirted. Yoongi cursed, using the head of his cock against your clit to keep your squirting as he came messily all over your cunt. You couldn't take anymore and reached down desperately to stop him, trembling all over from the pure force of pleasure you had experienced.
As you were coming down, Yoongi leaned over your exhausted body and kissed you lazily. Neither of you really moved your lips, just enjoyed the feeling.
"You wanna shower?" He asked, voice breathy from his own panting. You peeked out of one eyes and saw the tiny smile on his lips as he regarded you.
"L-Let me...rest for a minute..."
"Damn, fucked you that good, huh?" He asked, growing visibly cocky.
As much as you didn't want to boost his already apparently inflated ego, you couldn't help but admit it with a nod.
"I don't think anyone's ever made me cum like that," You admitted, looking down at your body at the complete mess that covered your skin; both his and your cum.
"The first of many, babygirl," He promised, making you shiver.
If he could fuck you like that every time then you would be a very happy girl.
"Seriously, this cum is starting to dry so let's shower," He grumbled, rolling off the bed to stand naked before you.
"Geez, you're so pushy," You mumbled, letting him pull you to your feet no matter how much like literal jelly you felt like.
"I think you like me being pushy,"
"Don't hold yourself so highly,"
"I knew the second you looked at me, you'd be smitten with me, babe,"
"H-Hey! Me smitten with you?!"
"Don't worry," He cooed, wrapping his arms around your waist to kiss your nose. "I'm pretty smitten with you too,"
"Aw," You giggled, looking up at him through your lashes.
"...Cheeto-Girl,"
"Hey!"
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floralseokjin · 3 years ago
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↳ the index [ #1 rebound ]
Recently heartbroken, it feels like you’ll never be able to get over it. But a chance encounter with a guy you haven’t seen in months changes everything…  
pairing; min yoongi x reader (past kim namjoon x reader) au/genre/warnings; (semi) fuck buddies au, rebound au, unrequited feelings, angst, smut; oral (f receiving), fingering, penetrative sex  words; 9,026
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“I can make you forget him.” 
By the confidence in Yoongi’s voice you thought he must have had this in mind when he’d first invited you over tonight. 
Clutching the tub of ice cream between your palms tightly, the sound of his spoon clanked against yours. It was loud in your ears, very much like his suggestion. His laptop lied open, the show you were watching still playing, although to itself now. Yoongi’s attention was purely on you. Your brain was too muddled to pay attention to anything, trying to make sense of his words. You could honestly say, hand on heart, that you had not been expecting such a turn in events when you’d agreed to join him tonight.  
Bumping into Yoongi at the store was chance. You hadn’t seen him in such a long time you’d almost felt shy. Filled with dread when he’d brought up your breakup with Namjoon. You’d known it was coming, guessing he’d heard it from Seokjin or Hoseok maybe, but that still didn’t stop you from feeling embarrassed, giving him a sheepish smile and a gaze that didn’t meet his eyes. Without a doubt he’d seen your bottom lip quiver, watching the way you held your carton of ice cream to your chest. Emergency supplies. The only time you could bear to leave the house. 
By choice you ended up eating it at his place. You didn’t know why you’d agreed, just had. You and Yoongi had never had much of a friendship, you hardly knew him, not really, acquaintance at best, especially since his fall out with Namjoon a while back. You liked him though. He’d never done anything to you, and you were still a little unsure why he and your ex-boyfriend – it still hurt to call him that – had bad blood. 
Something about Yoongi’s familiar face tonight made you say yes. Maybe it was a nostalgia thing, reminding you of when you’d first began dating Namjoon, hanging out with his friends, getting drunk and having fun. But more than that, maybe it was just Yoongi’s friendly smile. It was nice to just be with someone that wasn’t your concerned parents or your worried best friend. Maybe you could just forget about your heartache tonight and hang out with someone who wasn’t going to baby you. 
Yoongi assured you that you weren’t interrupting anything if you agreed. He was just getting some beer before heading home for a Netflix binge. Nothing exciting at all. You could both be alone together. He knew it was a random offer, he’d said so with a laugh, but what the hell, it was there if you wanted it. 
So here you were, sat on his bed in a bedroom you were unfamiliar with, and truthfully, it wasn’t awkward at all. 
Yoongi had gotten two spoons after you’d offered to share your chocolate brownie ice cream. You refused his offer of a beer though, hated the taste, but he’d insisted you take at least one sip just because he’d feel rude otherwise. He’d chuckled when you swallowed and winced, sticking your tongue out as you shuddered. It was a reaction that had made you sad briefly. By the look in his eyes he’d found it cute. Namjoon used to chuckle like that at you once upon a time… It had been so long you couldn’t even remember properly. Your relationship already dying for a while before he’d finally had enough and ended it. 
It’s not you, it’s me, that’s what you’d been so sure he was going to say. So positive in fact, you’d shouted it accusingly at him the night he’d broken your heart only three weeks ago. It felt like three months with the way the days were dragging into one. However, he’d just giving you another bullshit excuse. One that had hurt even more. It’s both of us, we’ve changed. He was wrong, on one account. You hadn’t changed. You still loved him just as strongly as you had the first time you’d confessed. 
You kept doing this, falling in and out of tainted memories, that twisted and cut at your heart. Namjoon was never supposed to be that guy. The one who broke your heart. He was considerate, loving, perfect… So what went wrong? Why did he no longer want to be with you? Why did he no longer love you? You still didn’t understand. 
Yoongi had told you it would all be okay as he took his third spoon of ice cream. It hurt now, but it would go away eventually. The heartache would fade and you wouldn’t care about Namjoon anymore. In a way that scared you. You didn’t want to get over it, because that meant forgetting about him, giving up on him. You didn’t tell Yoongi that though, just thanked him. The way he spoke, it had sounded like he’d been through something similar, so you’d told yourself to think hopeful. If Yoongi had been through it and come out the other side, then you could too. 
He’d told you one last thing before he’d grabbed his laptop from the floor. Namjoon is a fool and he’ll live to regret what he’s let slip away. You’d felt your bottom lip quiver but hid it, busying yourself with asking what he planned on watching. This was supposed to be a distraction and you didn’t want to talk about your ex any longer. 
Yoongi was watching something called Black Mirror, something you’d heard of but never watched. You’d fallen into silence while it played, just the accidental clanging of your spoons once in a while or the sound of Yoongi drinking his beer. You’d liked it though, the distraction working. Alone together, it had fit well. His presence had been enough to stop you getting lost in your own thoughts. 
Then he’d made such a bold suggestion. A claim…? Who knew…
It hadn’t come entirely out of the blue maybe. Your shoulders had been pressed against one another all night, backs against his headboard, and when his arm had reached behind you to settle his empty can on the bedside table, he’d just casually kept it there, hand resting on the side of the pillow. You’d been confused when you realise you’d like it. It felt good to have a different kind of comfort, a different kind of warmth. 
But that had made you confused in a different way. How come you were so relaxed in his apartment? His bedroom? You hardly knew him, not really, but something just felt nice about tonight. What you did know about Yoongi, you liked. He was quiet, didn’t do small talk but from what you could remember was incredibly funny. A couple of years ago, when you’d first found your way into his circle of friends, he’d always have you laughing regularly. 
It was a dry sense of humour, your favourite kind, something Namjoon never had… or maybe he’d just lost his ability to have fun around you… It was hard to tell what got lost and destroyed over the last few months… 
Yoongi had started looking over at you about half an hour ago, attention getting distracted from the screen gradually. At first you’d pretended like you hadn’t noticed, but eventually you’d given in. It was what he wanted, you guessed. You’d shared a small smile, then another the second time, and then a third one. It was dark in his room, just the glow of his lamp in the corner doing a shitty job at illuminating it. It had started making your heart begin to race. For what, you didn’t have a clue. Or maybe you did… 
His room had started to feel stuffier then, the touch of his body beside yours heightened, and then ever so slowly, his hand had started to trace little circles against your shoulder. It had felt nice, sending light shivers up your spine. It had been so long since you’d been touched so affectionately. Yoongi had guessed this, so maybe that was why he’d made such a brazen proposition. You had seen the glint in his eyes as he’d smiled at you for the fourth time, more of a smirk, and then your belly had flipped, but still, you hadn’t guessed what was coming and then the words were casually rolling off his tongue… 
“I can make you forget him.” 
You blinked, doing a terrible job of piecing together the loud words. When you didn’t reply, he pressed on. “Just for a little while. Distractions are good, and you’re single, so.” He gave a little shrug of his shoulders as he continued. “You have nothing to feel guilty about.” 
“But Namjoon was your friend…” 
That should not have been the first thing out of your mouth. You should have laughed at him in disbelief, asked him if he was messing with you because it wasn’t funny. However, by his blasé attitude you could tell he was being deadly serious. Your first thought should be to refuse, but instead it seemed as if you were looking for an excuse not to say yes. 
“Was being the key word there, babe,” he chuckled lowly. It made your thighs squeeze together without you realising. He had such a sexy voice, how come you’d never noticed? And babe? Where had that come from, and why did you like it? “We haven’t been close in months – hell, longer even. A year.” 
You let his words sink in, slightly aware of him pausing the screen in front of you. You were surprised when you realised that yes, they hadn’t been friends for a long time, you’d just been slow on the uptake. With Namjoon busy with his last year of college, hanging out with his friends had become less frequent, so you hadn’t noticed at first when their fall out had happened. 
It had been a little weird to find out, they had been close after all, but you received no explanation from your boyfriend. Why hadn’t he told you? If you and Seulgi had randomly stopped being friends all of a sudden, he would have been the first to hear the news. But you’d just written it off as boys being boys and dropped it. Namjoon hadn’t seemed phased and it wasn’t exactly affecting your life, so…
“I’m sorry.” Yoongi’s voice broke you out of your thoughts immediately, his arm sliding away from the pillow behind you as he created some distance. “I don’t know what’s up with me, the beer has gone straight to my head. I’m acting like an insensitive assho –” 
“N-no.” The panic inside you came as a shock, your hand reaching out to grab for his wrist as he reached for his laptop. He paused, eyes a little wide, eyebrows raising. “You’re not an asshole.” 
He chuckled, gaze falling to your fingers still wrapped around his wrist. “Thanks.” 
“I…” You found yourself trailing off, feeling awkward. The moment seemed over, you’d missed your chance, so you dropped his hand. 
He noticed you struggling, moving closer again, ever so slightly, as he murmured your name. “What is it?” He asked softly. You looked into his eyes, feeling your throat constrict when you noticed how dark they’d gotten. “Do you wanna do this?” 
You had been wrong. The moment wasn’t over. Swallowing, you responded, “I’m not opposed to it.” 
He chuckled again, practically cracked up. “You’re cute.”  
He wasn’t being a prick about it, he sounded actually quite fond. It made your belly flutter. It felt great to be called cute. Namjoon used to call that. He hadn’t in so long…
“So, you wanna do this?” He repeated, making sure. 
“I do.” You didn’t need a second longer to decide. 
“You do?” He cocked an eyebrow as you nodded – probably a little too animatedly, but whatever. Your body was in charge now, not your brain, which was probably why you felt so calm right now, considering the turn of events. Your mind was slow on the uptake. 
But you did want this. Whatever he was insinuating right now. He was offering to help you forget for a little while and you wanted that more than anything. You wanted to stop hurting, even if it was only temporary. 
You watched Yoongi lick his bottom lip, tip of his pink tongue sliding out to coat the slightly chapped skin. His lips shone in the shitty lighting as he asked you another question. “What do you wanna do?” 
You felt your face heat up instantly. You’d never been good at spelling out things so explicitly, but this was even worse. It was Yoongi, for crying out loud. You were in over your head. You hadn’t had sex with someone else in so long. You’d been with Namjoon for two years. You didn’t want to look stupid. 
“What do you mean?” You asked, sounding exactly that. 
He smirked, but it wasn’t arrogant. He was amused, found your reply funny as he chuckled under his breath. He leaned in closer. “What do you want me to do? The decision’s on you.” 
You could feel something inside your chest, you didn’t want to call it excitement, but what else could it be? “Anything,” you breathed. 
“Anything?” He repeated. 
You were being vague, you knew that, but your face still burned, you couldn’t spell things out so blatantly. You were shy. You hoped he wouldn’t initiate a kiss. The thought made you feel a little nauseous. The act was so intimate, you didn’t think you could do it. However, you could go for something else. You wanted this distraction. Anything to temporarily knock the painful thoughts from your mind. 
“Babe, help me out here,” Yoongi said, voice low and gentle. “We can just go back to the show if you’re unsure.” 
“I’m not unsure,” you insisted, surprising yourself by how certain you sounded. “I’m just – I’m just not used to this kind of thing.” 
Honesty was probably the best policy right now. It was weird, but you felt comfortable enough around Yoongi to not worry about being judged. You trusted him. Something about him felt very familiar, which helped given that you were maybe going to sleep with him tonight… 
“That’s okay.” When you looked at him he was smiling. You instantly relaxed. “It’s just me. There’s no need to be nervous.” 
“I’m not nervous,” you found yourself chuckling. The sound was alien, but you welcomed it. “I’m…shy.” 
Yoongi moved in closer at your words, his eyes never leaving yours and for a second you thought he was going to kiss you. You held your breath, praying he wouldn’t. Thankfully, he was only talking. “Not gonna lie but hearing that is kinda hot.” 
“Pffft,” you scoffed, trying to brush him off casually, but inside you were getting fidgety. Heart beginning to race. You watched him close his laptop, bending to place it on the floor, and now your heart was beginning to pound against your ribcage. It echoed in your ears as you waited for his next step. 
“How about,” he grinned, rolling onto his stomach as he carried on, his legs stretching down the bed. Yours were curled to your frame, you hadn’t even realised, one hand still clutching the carton of ice cream. “I give you the best fucking orgasm of your life.” 
Your eyes widened at his words, excitement spiking. The word orgasm had floated so freely from his lips it was enough to get your blood pumping, and don’t get you started when you began to imagine what such a bold statement would entail… Desire twisted and turned in the pit of your stomach, something you hadn’t felt in a long time. Sex with Namjoon had long grown stale. 
Yoongi wanted you. The thought popped into your head, eradicating the memories of your ex. Right now Yoongi wanted to make you feel good, and you wanted to let him. It was a win-win. 
“What, don’t think I should be talkin’ so big?” The tilt of his head told you he’d taken your silence as doubt. 
If he was talking big, it was fine. You liked this vibe. He seemed so sure of himself, it was…hot. You didn’t know he could be like this, but then again you didn’t know him very well, did you, and especially not in this type of way. 
On cue, your belly flipped as he sat up and leaned over, grabbing the ice cream to place it on his nightstand. “Relax.” He murmured, his palms landing around your knees as he gently pushed your legs down, the rest of your body with it. You felt yourself heat up instantly, mind still dubious, but getting foggier by the second. Should you really be doing this, you asked yourself, but excitement was seeping in more, diminishing your anxieties. You wanted this. You did. 
“Let’s warm you up,” he hummed, beginning to rub against your sides. Up and down, fingers brushing under your baggy shirt every now and then, goosebumps spreading along the skin.
“Kinda the opposite effect of what I was going for,” he chuckled, moving down your hips now, the sides of your thighs, his fingers digging into your ass a little. 
“No, it’s fine,” you whispered, unable to stop when you arched your back. “I like it.” 
Yoongi smiled down at you. It was lopsided and his dark hair fell into his eyes. Something inside your belly squeezed. You’d always thought he was good looking. Passively of course, and it had never stuck in your mind long enough. It wasn’t the first thing you thought of when you looked at him, it was just one of those things. However tonight, you were really letting it sink in. 
He had a really nice smile, pretty eyes too. His jaw was peppered with little blemishes, his cheeks flushed a little with the sudden excitement of what was to come. You’d never been this close before and you let your eyes wonder curiously. Down his neck, Adam’s apple visible, and then over his chest, white t-shirt riding down at the neck, exposing his collarbones as he stayed bent over you. His hands kept stroking your body, as if he was trying to ease any nerves you might have, his touch warm and good – extremely good. 
“Can I take these off?” He asked finally, thumbs hooking under the waistband of your leggings. You nodded, propping yourself up with your elbows to help him as he dragged the fabric away from your body. He got to your calves, gaze dropping to your feet with a playful grin. “Socks ‘n all.” 
You let out a little laugh, watching him rip them away too before your leggings followed. 
The cool air of his room hit your body, more goosebumps appearing, and you liked it. You liked it a lot. 
You watched as he crawled over your body, eyes raking up and down your bottom half, and it took everything not to curl your legs back into you. You were glad the light in here was dim, you weren’t used to being this shy. Yoongi was virtually a stranger you kept reminding yourself. With Namjoon things were totally different. 
Namjoon. 
The thought of him made your heart clench and you gritted your teeth, willing him away. It was working. Your mind was too busy to think of him, but you still needed to try a little harder. You really needed to concentrate on the guy in front of you. The one who was staring down at you in awe right now… 
“Now this is a sight,” he murmured, hands brushing your sides again, pushing up your shirt to grip your waist. You bumped your hips upwards unconsciously, his touch doing things to you, his voice affecting you even more. It rasped almost, and you could hear the stickiness of his lips as they pried apart, wet from his tongue that constantly brushed across them.
“Didn’t ever think I’d have you on my bed like this,” he continued, watching you intently, desperate to spot a reaction. Your mouth fell open, eyes staring up at him just as fiercely. He smiled slightly. “I guess dreams can come true.”
The moan that fell from you was a quiet one, head pushing back into the pillows, his words starting an inferno inside your body, trying to make sense of them all. He’d imagined this? Wanted this? Or was he just playing, determined to make you feel better. You didn’t even mind that you’d probably never get answers. You didn’t even care if he was making it up. It was working regardless. It was making you hot for him, desperate for him, twisting in his grip as you whined for something more. 
“Want me to touch you now?” 
He knew. He could feel how much you wanted him, and he loved it, a large smirk spreading across his face as you stuttered out a reply. “Y-yes.” 
He moved quickly after that, pulling your legs apart so he could kneel in between them, one hand still on your waist, pinning you in place as the other dragged over your abdomen, fingertips making you shudder before they landed against the cotton of your underwear. This is pretty embarrassing, you thought to yourself, panties bland and uninviting without the knowledge of how the night would end, but Yoongi didn’t seem to mind at all. He couldn’t take his eyes off your covered core, dragging his pointer finger down the centre of your folds lazily. 
“Yoongi,” you breathed, a hand coming out to grip the sheets, needing to latch onto something. His name fell from your mouth so sinfully, so compliant, it was hard to get your head around. 
“That’s it, relax for me,” he murmured, feeling your body dip into the bed. He cupped your heat, encasing the sensitive flesh in warmth, and you wriggled impatiently. You wanted him to touch you properly, make you feel good. Heat was rushing through your body at an alarming rate, your conscience practically disappearing with each dirty thought that came your way. 
When you felt his thumb search for your clit, you exhaled in relief. He found it pretty quickly, applying a pressure that made your toes curl, mouth opening, but you couldn’t seem to make a noise. Instead, you stared up at the ceiling, finding pictures in the patterns. You could hear how wet you were becoming, the crude sounds sopping your underwear, and you closed your eyes, letting the pleasure take over. 
“You feel fucking perfect.” Yoongi was rasping heavier now, into it, moving faster as the sounds got louder, moving to your clothed entrance to rub a little harder. “—and wet, so fucking wet already.” 
You finally moaned, letting his words echo in your mind. It was good to feel again. You’d thought the dead feeling in your body would never leave.  
“Did all this talk make you wet for me?” 
All you could do was nod, and his eyes flashed with something – a deep need. 
“Let’s get rid of these…” 
He was getting restless, impatient, tugging at the cotton to peel it from your core. The air hit your swollen flesh instantly, clit sensitive, desperate for more, and you could feel your arousal caking the inside of your thighs, panties having spread it about as they got removed. Naked from the waist down seemed a peculiar turn of events, but by now your timidness was subsiding, a haze of lust left in its wake. 
“As if it couldn’t get any better,” Yoongi chuckled, but it tore in his throat, as if he was finding it hard to vocalise right now. Too turned on. 
For a split second you panicked, suddenly remembering you hadn’t shaved in a while, but once you heard him speak again, your worries disappeared. 
“You look fucking perfect too.” 
Lowering back on his knees to come face to face with your core, you found yourself spreading your legs even further, his praise giving you confidence and he groaned. 
“I can go down on you, right?” He asked, looking up briefly to see you nod. 
A strained noise left your throat, his hot breath tickling you and both your hands curled into the sheets in anticipation as he held one thigh down, his mouth lowering towards you. You closed your eyes when you felt his tongue curling against your clit, lips pressed into your mound. It was so gentle, almost like a first kiss, and as he pulled away, he sucked the sensitive bud into his mouth, humming loudly. 
“Delicious.” He licked his lips, growing taller on his knees as he moved away, “—so fucking tasty.” 
You watched him eagerly, wondering what he would do next. Your whole body was vibrating, desperate for more, but he seemed fidgety, as if he couldn’t keep his mind clear. As if he wanted to do so much to you he didn’t know where to start. 
You gasped when you felt his fingers at your entrance, playing with the swollen flesh, the bed creaking under him as he leaned towards your face. 
“Namjoon really didn’t appreciate what he had, huh.” 
One of his fingers, middle you thought, pushed inside you as he spoke, your pelvis tensing up at the intrusion, head racing at the mention of your ex-boyfriend’s name. Yoongi began to move, curling his digit, before straightening it up. His head fell, watching down your body as he moved in and out of you, hair hanging in his face, shrouding your view of him. 
“He should be worshiping a cunt like this, not giving it away.” 
Another finger. Index. They both curled together, making your feet flail about on the bed. They slid, nothing to grip onto, and you soon realised you were gasping out. His dirty mouth came as a surprise. He seemed to be losing himself, words rushing out, driven by his need to make you feel good. At least that was what it seemed like. He was uncontrollable.
“To me,” he added with gritted teeth, head snapping up to watch how you writhed around for him. “He’s given you away to me.” He snickered suddenly, adding, “I wonder how he’d feel about that.” 
“Fuck, Yoongi—” you cried, feeling him straighten his digits again to fuck you with them at such a driven force you were moving up the bed, headboard banging against the wall. 
You gripped onto his forearm, needing to hold onto him – not to stop him, but just to feel him. The veins bulged against his skin, and you clenched your eyes shut, a little scared with how much this was turning you on. The way he spoke about Namjoon should tear at your heart, but instead it was pounding harder against your ribcage, your arousal soaking Yoongi’s hand, probably dripping down his wrist. The visual set you off again, walls squeezing around him uncontrollably. 
“That’s right, me,” he panted. 
His words were a blur now, you couldn’t even begin to make sense of them. He seemed to be getting turned on by your sheer want for him. And you did want him. You wanted him at this very moment in time. Your body screaming out for him, hips bucking wildly into his hand. 
Your eyes snapped open when he noticeably slowed down. 
“Shit, look at you go,” he commented, shuffling down the bed, getting a better view between your legs. Your hand slid from his arm, finding the edge of your shirt instead, riding it up to reveal your stomach as you held onto it. Yoongi admired the sight, an eyebrow cocked. “Squirming all over the place.” 
He was right. Your hips were still wriggling around, enticing him to go faster again but he didn’t budge. His thumb found your clit, rubbing figure eights against it, his two fingers now pumping in and out of you slowly. You moaned, pushing your head into the pillows, your eyes closing. You were sensitive, movements too insistent, and you tried to push your trembling thighs together, wanting to ease the intense pleasure that was making your body jerk and react disorderly, but he spanked the inside of your thigh lightly, the sound ringing in your ears. “Stay still, let me watch how wet you are.” 
You complied, just because him ordering you to do something was too hot to comprehend fully, but luckily his circles slowed down, letting you catch your breath. He viewed you with a soft smile on his face, as if he was amused by something. You’d probably ask him what if you weren’t so fucked out. 
“You’re so pretty.” 
Your heart swelled at his sudden compliment. It felt weird. A good weird because it told you it was still alive. You began to get greedy, body and mind now working together. You wanted this feeling to take over you. Like this your heartbreak was non-existent. Namjoon didn’t exist. Being with another man felt fine, it felt good. You’d never been one for casual sex, but this felt invigorating, especially because the man in question knew how to pleasure you so well. Especially because the man in question was Yoongi. He was right, how would Namjoon feel if he knew right now? 
You wanted to hurt him, like he hurt you. 
“A-are—are you going to?” Your voice was trembling so much, much like your body. 
“What, babe?” Yoongi asked. By the smirk on his face, you could tell he was playing dumb.
He fingered you a little deeper to press his question. Your back arched. He liked that. 
“Mhmm—you said you were gonna eat me out.” 
He chuckled. “I am, I am.” He sounded so casual, as if he had all the time in the world. 
You watched as he laid down between your legs, breath against your folds, thumb still rubbing your clit lightly, fingers still stuffed inside you. Your body jerked. 
“You close already?” 
“Y-yeah.” 
You were more than close; you were hanging on by a tiny thread. The only thing that kept you going was the thought of Yoongi’s mouth against your core. You wanted to cum like that. Against his tongue. 
“He really neglected you that badly?” Yoongi’s voice snapped you back to attention, his words only making you act in crazy ways, walls squeezing around his digits. “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you now…” 
You panicked when you felt his fingers begin to retract, hand finding his wrist as you held him to you. He shot up an amused eyebrow. “Keep going,” you pleaded, “want you to keep fingering me.” 
“What if you cum,” he grinned. 
You shook your head. “Don’t care—keep going, just wanna feel your mouth, tongue—everything.” 
He grunted, your words affecting him. “I like it when you’re like this,” he said, curling his fingers inside of you. “Horny.” His mouth latched onto your clit without warning, and he gave it a good suck before pulling away. “—for me.” 
That you were, moaning like there was no tomorrow as he went back down on you. He kept moving between precise flicks and determined sucks, wrist still snapping against your heat. But as if he couldn’t help himself, he licked a strip up your entire core, groaning as he pulled back to catch his breath. “You taste so good, seriously.” He curled his fingers, rubbing against your g-spot. “Fucking addictive.”
You were so close, you could feel it, but each time he attached his mouth he slowed down, as if he was teasing you. In the end you tangled your fingers in his hair, burying his face into your heat to roll your hips against his mouth, desperate for him to speed up. Desperate to cum. Your chest rose up and down visibly, gasping for breath, practically hyperventilating. 
“Do this for me,” he asked, pulling away one last time. His chin was coated in your juices and his voice sounded weak, shaky; his eyes blown out. “You want to cum real good?” 
You nodded wildly, fingers tightening in his hair. 
“Hold your breath,” he told you, his free hand reaching for your pelvis as he pressed down, restricting your movement a little. “Let the feeling build up and then let go.” 
He was right. You needed to concentrate on the feeling more, let it become so intense it took over your entire body. 
You trapped the air in your lungs, back arching as he sucked hard on your clit and your walls constricted around his fingers. “Can’t wait until you cum all over my tongue, mmm, shit,” he hissed, hearing you choke out a moan. 
You fixed your eyes to his face, dark fringe soaked at the ends. You couldn’t tell if it was sweat or your arousal – probably both. The muscles in your stomach twitched, pelvis burning as your pleasure began to rise. 
He hummed against your core, and you twisted your fingers in his hair, each brush of his tongue guiding you to your release. 
Let go, let go, let go. 
Your whole lower half felt like it was on fire, ecstasy exploding through your veins and up your body as you finally let out a breath, a moan coming from deep within your chest. 
The orgasm seemed to last for eternity, pleasure unrelenting as Yoongi carried on lapping at your heat, digits still rubbing your velvety walls. You didn’t know when you closed your eyes, but you were seeing stars they were clenched so tight. 
“Fuck, fuck—fuuck,” you let out, hips grinding against his face, unable to stop. 
He kissed your core messily, loudly, getting as much as he could before he inevitably had to pull away. 
“That’s my girl.” His mouth stopped first, your hands falling from his hair as he knelt up slowly, but his fingers still stroked inside of you. Your head was spinning so you didn’t catch his praise fully. 
“Still want more,” he chuckled, having to physically stop your hips himself so he could slide his fingers away with a squelch.  
“Shit, Yoongi,” you grunted, bringing your hands to your face and then running them through your hair. Your body felt limp but in a good way. Your shirt stuck to your back with sweat, but it was fine. Your body and mind felt at ease. Distraction successful. 
“You soaked through my sheets, babe.” 
Yoongi sounded amazed, and you didn’t even feel embarrassed anymore. You grinned up at him and he tilted his head. “So, best orgasm of your life, or?” 
“I think my brain exploded,” you giggled, the sound foreign to your ears. He watched you with amusement. 
Fuck, he looked so hot, you thought, gut twisting with fresh desire. His hair was a mess, strands in his face wet, the rest tousled and pulled out at odd angles – your doing. 
“That really was something,” he laughed in disbelief, panting a little. 
His mouth and chin shone, coated in your arousal, and your stomach clenched when you watched him wipe it away with his hand. It was the same one he’d used to finger you, and he wiped it on his sweatpants once he was done, staining them with a translucent trail. That’s when you noticed the tent in his pants. 
You were speaking before you had time to think. He just had that type of effect on you. 
“What about you?” 
He followed your gaze to his dick, cupping it and tugging, attempting to readjust himself. “I’m okay,” he shrugged his shoulders, “just wanted to make you feel good.” 
“You sure?” You pressed, unable to stop yourself when you lifted your foot up and dragged it across his hand. He dropped it, letting you curl your toes against his erection. It felt solid, painful probably. 
He was hard for you. The thought had your heart rate spiking. 
“I don’t mind feeling good again,” you shrugged back, trying not to sound desperate. 
His eyes darkened instantly, narrowing as he looked down at you, half naked on his bed, already so fucked out, but somehow still desperate for more. “Mean it?” He asked. “You want me to fuck you?” 
“I really do, Yoongi.” 
You’d never meant anything more, in this moment in time, with the desire still flowing through your veins. You wanted more of him. You wanted him to feel good too. You wanted him to get his full share. You wanted to feel his body against yours, feel him inside you. You wanted to push Namjoon away. You wanted to escape him. 
“Shit,” Yoongi muttered, hands already landing on the bed to crawl over you. “Yeah?” 
You nodded, wrapping your legs around his hips, pulling him to you. 
“Tell me how much you want it.”
He needed this. You could tell by his voice. He needed to know how much you wanted him to fuck you. For whatever reason. 
“I want it really badly,” you began, his head falling to your chest as his hands danced over your hips, riding up your shirt. “You can’t just eat me out and leave me. It doesn’t work like that, finish what you started.” 
He groaned, chapped lips kissing down your chest sloppily, trying to find as much skin as possible. You helped him by undoing some of the buttons of your shirt. His hands travelled further up your torso until they were cupping the underneath of your boobs, his thumbs grazing over your nipples. A thrill shot up your spine and you grew impatient. You wanted his hands all over you. Sitting up slightly you pulled the plaid over your head. When Yoongi saw you fully bare in front of him he froze slightly, mouth falling open, and then he pounced, your head falling back into the pillows. 
“Look at these tits,” he grunted, mouth on them not long after, sucking loudly. You tangled your legs around his, hands in his hair, latching him to you. “How can you be this perfect?” There was a look of sheer disbelief in his eyes as he pulled away to look at you. 
You didn’t know how it happened, but next thing you knew his mouth was on yours. The kiss was rough, desperate, but it felt good, especially when he pushed his tongue into your mouth. He tasted like you, but it was merged with the chocolate ice cream you’d shared earlier, maybe a hint of his beer too. You didn’t feel nauseous at all, in fact you just got even more turned on, moaning loudly. He was such a great kisser. 
“I finally get to have my hands on you,” he rasped against you. “I finally get to be inside you, fuck you?” 
You moaned louder, his words whirring inside your head. He was really committed to making you feel wanted, you’d give him that… 
His mouth moved to your neck, teeth nipping against the skin as your hands found his crotch, one squeezing his dick tightly and he choked, burying his face into your throat, breathing heavily. He stayed like that as you snuck into his sweatpants, gleeing quietly when you found he wasn’t wearing underwear. His flesh was hot to the touch, painfully solid. 
“I’m going to fuck you so good, babe,” he grunted when you pulled him out and began to stroke him. “Just you wait.” 
You felt yourself pulse at the thought, feeling how girthy he was in your palm, you couldn’t wait to feel the squeeze as he pushed inside you.  
“Your fucking hands,” he groaned, lifting his face again to place a kiss to your mouth. You grinned, pulling back when he went in for a second one.   
“Off,” you demanded cutely, tugging at his sweatpants. You needed him to fuck you right this instant. He’d kept you waiting long enough. 
He listened immediately, pulling away to free himself. He reached for a condom straight after, hand in the top drawer of his nightstand and you watched as he ripped the wrapper open. Your eyes stayed glued on him as he rolled it on, making sure it was secure before giving himself a quick squeeze. You were practically salivating by the time he crawled back to you, but instead of slotting himself between your legs, he flipped you over. A playful squeal left your mouth. You liked the way it sounded. 
“I’m going to fuck you so good,” he repeated, wrapping his arms around your waist to kneel you up. You pressed down on the palms of your hands, forehead against the headboard as you waited. 
“Better than him…” 
Your stomach did a flip, heart too busy racing to think about hurting, besides, Yoongi’s hands were already distracting you, running down your spine. “Your ass,” he growled, giving it a firm squeeze. You squealed again, giggling loudly as you wiggled it about.
“Gotta get you ready for my cock,” he hummed, fingers prodding at your entrance again before he pushed two inside, scissoring them. You moaned, the cool of the wood against your forehead heavenly as you tried to control your breathing. Your body already boiling hot again. 
You jumped when you felt his mouth against one of your ass cheeks, giving the flesh a slight bite. “Or maybe I just want tease you.” He continued to stretch you out, your arousal growing. “So wet—listen,” he gleed, words blending into one another, above the squelching between your legs. 
“Yoongi,” you whined, arching your back. 
“Did he ever get you this wet?” 
His question stalled you for a moment. Maybe it was because you hadn’t been expecting it, so it caught you off guard. You jumped when he spanked you. “Can’t hear you.” 
“N-no,” you stammered, closing your eyes, just feeling the pleasure that Yoongi was giving you right now. Maybe it wasn’t a lie… “Shit—Yoongi,” you gasped when he scissored you once more, your hips bucking, but he held you up. “Please fuck me now.” 
You were so desperate, but he wouldn’t give in. He wasn’t done yet. “When’s the last time he was inside you?” 
“I-I can’t remember.” 
It was the truth. You couldn’t think straight right now, and you hated the fact that this was only turning you on even more. You shouldn’t be thinking of Namjoon, you were supposed to be forgetting him. But Yoongi sounded so fucked out right now. He was getting off on all this too. What did that make you both? 
“Try for me.” 
“Weeks—like a month, m-maybe more,” you blurted, rushing because you were feeling uncontrollable. You needed Yoongi to fuck you this instant. “Please.” 
You felt his fingers stop dead inside of you, his voice sounding slightly hesitant when he spoke again. He murmured your name. “Do you really want to do this?”
You panicked, thinking he was having second thoughts. Maybe this was too much for him, but you couldn’t bear the thought of stopping now. You more than wanted to do this – you needed to do this. 
“Yes, Yoongi,” you reassured desperately. “I want you. Please just fuck me.” 
He let out a long, guttural groan, verging on a moan really, and it shot straight between your legs. You pushed your ass into him, spurred on, and you felt him pull his fingers out of your heat quickly to press the blunt head of his cock to your entrance. 
You were practically hyperventilating as he pushed in slowly, filling you up bit by bit. 
“Jesus fucking Christ,” he breathed as he stretched you open, feeling you squeeze around him. “You feel amazing, babe.” 
You hummed in agreement as he bottomed out, letting your head lull back as your palms sunk into the mattress. 
“Finally,” you heard him mutter, gently pushing his hips against your ass to get used to the feeling, but it wasn’t long before he was thrusting into you, hands gripping your hips tightly. You moaned freely, letting yourself get lost in the pleasure, begging him to go harder, until finally he was slamming his hips against you and you were quivering under him. The burn made you feel alive.
“Babe, you have to cum again,” he groaned, not oblivious to the way you mewled and panted with each pound, the way you squeezed around him.
He rammed himself inside deep, stopping dead, feeling your walls pulse in desperation. “I won’t stop until you do,” he warned, stretching his arms forward to press against the wall in front of you both, crowding your knelt form. He churned his cock ever so slowly, trying to pry words out of you. You were too busy trying to catch your breath. 
“Do you want that—” This time he dragged his cock out fully, just to push back in just as slowly, the feeling so delightful it sent a shudder up your spine. “—me to fuck you all night, huh?” 
You groaned, letting your head fall forward. 
He twitched inside of you. “C’mon.” Grabbing one of your hands, he guided it between your legs, beginning to thrust into you once more, because even he didn’t have that type of self-control. “Touch yourself, make yourself cum all over my cock.” 
That did it. The filth that spewed from his lips ignited a fresh hunger inside of you. You rubbed furiously at your clit, crying out, and he gripped your hips once more. 
“Imagine Namjoon,” he grunted, speeding up, “—imagine him seeing this—it’d kill him.” You moaned louder, unable to stop yourself. The need to spite your ex-boyfriend was stronger than the heartbreak he’d put you through these past few weeks. You worked faster, imagining the shock on Namjoon’s face. The hurt…
“You like that, I can feel you squeezing,” Yoongi chuckled, spreading your ass cheeks apart so he could get deeper. You groaned. “Did he ever fuck you like this?”  
“N—shit,” you tried to speak but the pleasure was too much. “Nghh Yoongi. No—no, he didn’t!” 
At this moment in time, it was the absolute truth. You’d never felt this good; you didn’t think you’d ever feel this good again. You couldn’t think straight, your mind spinning, all that was clear was the need to cum. Again. 
He was going to make you cum again. 
“Please don’t stop, please don’t stop—I’m gonna—fuck—I’m gonna cum.” 
“Not planning on it,” he reassured, his ego well and truly stroked now as he snapped his hips, cock drilling into you, over and over again. His breath shuddered. “Cum, babe. Cum on my cock. I wanna feel how tight this pussy can get for me.” 
Whimpering at his words, it was game over. The final straw. Your relief was much shorter than the first, but shockingly harder. Much, much harder. 
He grunted, feeling your walls clamp around him, squeezing him tight, and he stopped thrusting immediately, his palms sliding up your back as he held you still. 
“Tight, tight, tight, so fucking tight,” he growled. A mantra of sorts, as he tried to control himself. “You want me to cum too, huh,” he continued, panting loudly, his t-shirt floating against your back as he hung over you, kissing your spine. “Not yet, not yet, don’t want it to be over yet…”
You were gasping for breath still, burning up, but you didn’t want him to stop yet either. With one last spurt of energy, you pushed your ass into his hips, forcing his cock to move, and he groaned, blunt fingernails digging into your ass. 
“Fuck” he hissed. “You want me to keep going, haven’t had enough yet?”  
You moaned in response. “You feel so good, fuck me more.” 
You heard him take a shaky breath, straightening his back, dick lodging further inside you, and you could tell he was gritting his teeth as he spoke, trying to control himself, so he could fuck you for a little while longer, just as you asked. 
“Okay, but remember, you asked for it…” 
And with that, he flew into you at a terrific pace, one of his feet pressing into the mattress to give him leverage. The bed groaned, as if about to collapse under the force, and you cried out, tired but still desperate for his release. He gave it his all, grinding his cock into you every time he bottomed out. 
“Shit, Yoongi.” 
“Say my name again,” he demanded – or was it begging? It was hard to tell. “Say—it,” he urged with a particularly large thrust. You complied, but he was moaning over you, losing himself, still babbling on. “Shout it, fucking yell it.” 
A hand pulled and pried at one or your ass cheeks, his breath rattling inside his chest as his name fell from your lips over and over again, until finally, he couldn’t take any more. 
“Fuck, I’m about to cum,” he rushed, thrusts getting messy. “You want my cum?” 
“Y-yeah.” 
“Where?” 
“Anywhere, anywhere. Just please, Yoongi.” 
Your begging did it. He groaned as he pulled out of you in a rush, the tear of the condom filling your ears as he tugged it off, and then his hands were on your waist, tugging you up. 
“Turn around, turn around—quickly!” 
You rolled onto your back, letting him climb on top of you, face flushed, and his cock… it was red and angry, held tightly in his fist as he desperately tried to keep his release at bay. 
“Shit, shit, shit,” he muttered, unable to stop from giving himself a quick stroke. “Mouth, open it.” 
You listened instantly, feeling him shove the sticky tip between your lips. “Wanna feel your mouth…” 
You sucked dutifully, eyes never leaving his face as his thighs trembled around your shoulders. You tasted yourself and the saltiness of his pre-cum, swirling your tongue around him and digging it into the slit. 
He couldn’t take much more, beside himself. “Tongue out, tongue out,” he begged, pulling away to watch you lay the muscle before him. He began to jerk his wrist, panting heavily. “Fuck, you sure?” 
You nodded, moaning loudly, unable to vocalise properly but hoping it would be enough to show him how much you wanted to taste him. 
It was. 
“Gonna c-cum.” 
His eyes practically rolled back into his head as he painted your tongue with white, a surprisingly good aim for such a shaky hand, and when you were sure the last spurts had landed, you took him back in your mouth, covering the head with his cum as you sucked greedily. 
“Mhmm. Fuckkk,” he moaned, letting go of the base to let his cock rest against your tongue, already beginning to soften. 
You swallowed his arousal greedily, head spinning, before you sucked one last time. He hissed, letting his length now fall from between your lips and down your chin. 
“Shit,” he muttered under his breath, running a hand through his hair as the other one pulled at the neck of his t-shirt, trying to cool himself down. “I think I just had the best orgasm of my fucking life too.”
You let out a breathless chuckle, feeling the bed dip as he began to back away. He pulled on his sweats, stained with your dried arousal, and you watched him throw the condom in the trash. He picked up your clothes on the way back and handed them to you. 
You slowly sat up, quickly putting your shirt on, feeling cold. That, and you felt a little awkward being naked now the moment was over. You tugged your underwear on, leggings too. You were exhausted, plopping against the headboard as Yoongi sat on the edge of the bed, a little cautious. 
“You okay?” He asked, smiling at you sheepishly. A far cry from a few minutes ago, but you guessed that was his dick talking. Now he was back to the Yoongi you were familiar with. 
“Yup,” you smiled back, unable to stop yourself from yawning. “Sleepy.” 
“Here,” he said, handing your ice cream back to you, spoons sliding around and clanging together. “It’s a little melted now but I like it better that way.” 
“Thanks.” 
He got comfier on the bed, stretching his legs out and automatically he put his arm behind your head, your sides brushing against one another. He smelled like sex. You probably did too, but you liked it. 
“Wanna still watch?” He asked, reaching for his laptop again. “Unless you want to leave?” 
You turned to look at him, feeling a little awkward. You didn’t want to outstay your welcome. Maybe he was too nice to ask you to leave outright and this was his way of softening the blow. 
“I’m not kicking you out or anything,” he added, looking a little worried. As if he’d realised how it’d sounded. 
“You don’t mind if I stay?” 
“No,” he chuckled. “Why would I mind? I invited you here, right?” 
You nodded; it was all you could do. He had invited you here… To watch Netflix… or to have sex with you? You were still a little confused, but you didn’t mind. The latter had done a good job at distracting you. Even now, as Yoongi hit resume, your mind was a little lighter – heart too. It probably wouldn’t be like this come morning, but for now it was a sweet release. You wanted to tell Yoongi thanks but stopped yourself. It was probably too weird. 
The episode was nearly over when he spoke again, looking your way with a slight awkwardness in his tone. “If you ever want to come over again that’s fine. We can watch other shit, something you’re into…” 
You found yourself grinning, eating the last spoonful of ice cream. “I’m into this,” you assured, making sure to hold his gaze for long enough. Just so he could notice the hidden meaning in your words. Just like you were sure there was one in his suggestion… 
He grinned back. You were both on the same page. 
Maybe a regular distraction would do you good. Maybe you needed to loosen up a little, realise there was more to life than being hung up over a guy that didn’t love you anymore… 
You didn’t owe Namjoon anything. It was over. You were single, and you should start enjoying it… 
Right? 
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Written 2018 - 2021. Reworked/re-edited 2021. Please refrain from posting my work elsewhere. No translations allowed. © floralseokjin 2021
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taeguks · a year ago
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I’m a king I’m a boss
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bloomsuga · a year ago
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➳ GHOSTED
╰ your new roommate is everything you could ask for: quiet, never makes any messes, a killer dry sense of humor... and oh yeah—he’s dead.
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pairing: ghost!yoongi x ballerina!reader
genre: sm au, crack humor, horror (but it’s not that scary i promise lol), fluff, smut, slight angst
series: spookiverse
playlist: listen here
status: completed
a/n: hey there demons it’s me, ya boi ahshdjdk are y’all ready to get spooky?? bc this halloween we’re going real ghostly hours ✈️🤭 i hope you enjoy this crackhead supernatural adventure!! x
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👻 part one - profiles
👻 part two - spooky sluts
👻 part three - cheeto-fingered twerp
👻 part four - who’s joe?
👻 part five - seriously freaky shit
👻 part six - danny devidough
👻 part seven - rat king
👻 part eight - rise and shine
👻 part nine - soggy bottom
👻 part ten - incel ghost
👻 part eleven - frankenloaf
👻 part twelve - ghost daddy
👻 part thirteen - the ghoul boyz
👻 part fourteen - sexy dracula
👻 part fifteen - bros
👻 part sixteen - peppa pigs in a blanket
👻 part seventeen - daddy issues
👻 part eighteen - magic 8-ball
👻 part nineteen - dumb bitch heart
👻 part twenty - dancing with your ghost (m)
👻 part twenty-one - stale baguette
👻 part twenty-two - can i get a hoyaaa?
👻 part twenty-three - pillsbury dough boy
👻 part twenty-four - chili’s
👻 part twenty-five - danny phantom
👻 part twenty-six - legalize it
👻 part twenty-seven - ass leaking
👻 part twenty-eight - mcrib/mcjin
👻 part twenty-nine - a heavenly way to die (m)
👻 part thirty - epilogue
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:: bonus part - validation
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httpjeon · 2 years ago
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— show | yoongi (m.)
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min yoongi/reader | smut | boyfriend!yoongi
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wordcount: 2.1k
contents: pure PWP, voyeurism, cunnilingus, dirty talk, daddy kink, light praise kink
― synopsis: yoongi decides to show the boys how he makes his girl cum with his mouth alone
note: this is a repost from my old blog byleo. it has been edited.
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blog masterlist
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©  httpjeon 2019. do not repost, modify, or translate.
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His lips were soft and warm against yours, sweet with the taste of Bacardi on his tongue. His fingers were tangled in your hair as you straddled his lap, desperate to pull you closer to his body. You were dressed in just a pair of shorts and a sports bra to fight the heat your almost-drunk stupor had caused over your body. Yoongi’s shirt was crumpled on the couch beside you two, forgotten in a desperate haste, paired with a pair of loose gray sweats on his hips, giving a subtle tease to what was beneath.
He was a vision of fucked out with a light sheen of sweat on his body and his hair a mess from you tugging on it constantly. His lips were swollen, red and pretty and he had several hickies already blossoming on his smooth skin.
He was rock hard beneath you, occasionally groaning into your kiss when you would grind down on him as you were desperate for some friction on your aching clit. Your blood was pounding in your ears, blocking out all other sounds in the room. Whimpering, Yoongi’s teeth caught your bottom lip, pulling it away before it popped back in place causing you to shiver in pleasure.
“You two sure know how to put on show,” You could barely register the voice through your haze, but you assumed it was Jimin.
Yoongi grunted in response, his hand not in your hair travelled down to cup your ass to hold your more against his cock. Whining, the soaked fabric of your shorts providing sinful friction against your pussy. You dipped your head down to trail yout tongue down Yoongi’s neck, nipping at the spot below his ear that made him hiss.
“Get your bra off, baby,” Yoongi growled, desperate to get his mouth on you.
You quickly discarded to fabric, barely having time to drop it off before Yoongi was cupping your breasts in his hands with his mouth attached to a pert nipple. His fingers pinched the other one, rolling it as to not leave it neglected while his mouth gave pleasurable friction to your other one. You pushed your chest closer to him, your head falling back as you moan his name as a shiver travelled down your spine.
Yoongi was gifted with his tongue, that was something you could not deny -- it was even better between your thighs.
“She sounds so sexy when she moans,” Namjoon’s whisper floats through your fog, making you smirk.
“When’s hyung gonna make her feel good?” Jungkook mumbled, tone almost having a biting edge to it, desperate to see some action.
“I think…she’s feeling pretty good already Jungkook…” Jin whispered, licking his lips as he watched Yoongi slip his hand into the back of your shorts to cup your ass directly.
“Filthy girl,” Yoongi growled when he pulled away from your breast. “You’re not wearing fucking panties.”
You heard various sounds of surprise and approval from the audience in the room. You bit your lip, gripping Yoongi’s hair to direct him to the nipple his mouth hadn’t given attention to yet. Adding a snarky, “Just for you, baby.”
With a smirk, his lips immediately wrapped the pert bud, his tongue lashing at it and his teeth scraped deliciously, sending shivers down your spine. He gave a firm suck, relishing in the low whimper you let out in response. His hand in your shorts slid further down until his fingers met your wet entrance. He pushed his fingers through your folds, enjoying the feeling of you soaking yourself and him. You whimpered, grinding down against his fingers as you eyes rolled back in your head at the teasing he was giving.
“Take your shorts off for me, babygirl,” Yoongi commanded, tone leaving no room to argue, so you quickly obeyed.
You stood up, the room spinning slightly from your intoxication. Yoongi sat on the couch, his legs spread, and his hands holding your waist to steady you. You could clearly see his cock hard in his sweats, causing your cunt to clench pathetically in your shorts. You hooked your thumbs into your shorts, tugging them down until they pooled around your feet with a string of arousal following and clinging to your inner thigh. The action gave the boys in the room a view of your ass and a peek at your cunt; you could hear their intakes of breath and a few groans.
Before you could crawl back into Yoongi’s lap to continue where you left off, a deep voice interrupted.
“You know, Yoongi-hyung, you talk all that shit about your ‘tongue technology’…but you haven’t…shown us,” Taehyung muttered, faint teasing in his tone. “Why don’t you uh…’take her to Hong Kong’.”
Jungkook made a soft noise reminiscent of a grumble before adding, “It can’t be that easy to make her cum with your tongue…”
“I’ve never been able to,” Jin muttered, earning a nod of agreement from Hoseok.
“I’ve been able to if I use my fingers,” Namjoon said.
“I’ve never even tried eating my girl out,” Jimin whispered, his cheeks a little pink.
Before the conversation could ruin the mood by turning into some long-winded story session, Yoongi spoke.
“Well, boys, enjoy the show. Maybe you’ll learn something,” Yoongi got close to you, his lips brushing your ear. “What do you say, baby? Wanna give them something to jerk off to for the rest of their lives?”
Whether it was the alcohol in your system or just being desperate to feel Yoongi’s tongue on you, you nod either way. You could feel your juice dripping down your thigh, so needy already.
“Lay down for me then, baby,” He whispered, giving a light slap to your ass which made you squeal and giggle.
You dropped onto the sofa, immediately sitting with your back against the back of the couch and spreading your legs with your feet on either side of you on the couch. All the men in the room zeroed their gaze to your cunt, dripping wet; your entire cunt was glossy with your juice. Yoongi licked his lips and dropped onto the floor between your legs, pupils blown wide in lust.
His hands gripped your inner thighs, forcing your legs to stay open -- not that you had any intentions of closing them. You could sense the boys were getting closer to you to watch what Yoongi was doing better. Without missing a beat, Yoongi licked up the creaming wetness that gathered at your entrance, moaning softly at your taste. His cock was throbbing in his sweats, precum wetting the fabric.
“Fuck, please Yoongi…” You whimpered. “Make me cum.”
Yoongi cursed softly, “Yeah baby? Want Daddy to make you cum?”
You nodded frantically, tangling both hands in his soft locks and tugging. He chuckled softly, dark eyes glancing up at you through his messy bangs. “Tell Daddy, baby,”
“Puh-Please Daddy…make me cum.” You whined, arching your hips towards him to entice him. “Make me cum in your mouth…”
“Shit baby, so pretty when you beg for me,” Yoongi whispered. All the other members in the room were tuned out, it became just you and Yoongi.
He held your cunt open with his thumbs, taking another lick up your entrance. He moaned again, your taste one of the most delicious things he’s ever experienced on his taste buds. His tongue quickly found its way to your clit, his lips capturing the sensitive bud and sucking. You whined, trembling beneath his tongue work. He released your nub from his mouth, using his tongue to begin licking slowly around your clit.
“Fuck baby, your little clit is so swollen. You’ve been wanting this this whole time huh? Wanting me to eat your fucking cunt in front of everyone?”
You couldn’t respond because he was already swirling his tongue around your bud over and over again. His tempo was slow, he was taking his time. He was building your pleasure up to new heights, making your body tense, trembling underneath every move he made.
He nipped your clit with his lips, licking your entrance again to get a taste of your juices. Suddenly, he sunk his teeth into your thigh making you cry out, yanking his hair so hard you were sure he lost some of it. Yoongi didn’t mind, the pain making his cock twitch in his sweats.
He was sure he would cum in his pants by the end of this, wouldn’t even need to touch his cock, he’d make a mess without ever being touched. Just your taste, along with being watched by his best friends was incredibly hot.
“This is…the hottest thing I’ve ever seen,” Taehyung whispered, voice raw with arousal.
All of them were shamelessly palming themselves either over their pants or had their hands stuffed inside to jerk themselves off. Yoongi smirked at that fact, knowing this was all they’d ever get to see of you in this way. Yoongi also knew they’d jerk themselves off for months using this as material.
Yoongi heard to rise of your cries, knowing that sound so very well; he alternated between hot swirls of his tongue, nips and sucks with his lips. Your back was arching off the couch and your fingers had found your breasts where you were pinching and rolling your nipples between your fingers. Usually Yoongi would punish you for touching yourself like that, but it was giving the guys one hell of a show so he let it slide.
“Daddy…it feels so good…” You whined, tears stinging the back of your eyes at the pleasure.
He pulled back slightly, licking his lips as he did to gather the lingering juices. “Fuck baby, Daddy’s gonna make you cum now,” He turned back to the boys, with a smirk, who were watching with lustful eyes. “Watch this, boys.”
He pinned your thighs open, leaving you unable to move them at all while also leaving you incredibly exposed. Then his tongue was on you again.,except this time, his pace was completely different since last time. His mouth was punishing, intent on pushing you to your orgasm terrifyingly fast.
It was going to be an intense one, you could feel it. Your body was instinctually locking up, fighting the orgasm. Yoongi always liked to give you the command to cum. But he didn’t take a second to pull away from you. He continued to lash your clit with his tongue, making disgustingly lewd slurping sounds as he sucked your juice from your dripping hole.
His lips wrapped around your clit, isolating it in his mouth so his tongue could swirl around it.
Then you were cumming-- hard.
Lights exploded behind your eyes as you squeezed them shut tight. His lips stayed wrapped around your bud as it throbbed in his mouth though your release.
“God, look at that,” Jin mumbled,bewildered as he watched, biting his lip.
“That’s so fucking hot,” Namjoon added, voice breaking off in a moan.
“I’ve never seen a girl cum so hard from being eaten out,” Hoseok commented, surprise obvious in his voice.
Your body was trembling, fingers tugging at Yoongi’s soft locks. His mouth released your bud, using his tongue to lick up the cum that leaked out of you to ease you through the ecstasy. You were whimpering and crying out, his name mixed with curses and pleads. When your orgasm finally began to subside, your eyes fluttered open, greeted with the sight of Yoongi slowly lick you, cleaning up every drop of cum off your sensitive cunt, which sent another wave of heat through you.
Finally, he placed a soft kiss against your clit, making you jump slightly and whine at the sensitivity you felt. You released his hair, petting it softly. He nuzzled his face into your stomach, smiling softly up at you.
There was someone clearing their throat in the room helping you zoned back into the fact that there were 6 other men in the room. Some had an obvious hard-on that they were trying to cover and others had clearly cum to the sight of your orgasm.
“Well uh…thanks for the…uh…how to…” Jimin mumbled, scurrying down the hall to his room.
“That was a sexy show, maybe we can have a rerun sometime,” Namjoon added, much less embarrassed than Jimin, before he and the rest filed out of the room.
You made eye contact with Yoongi and smiled slyly. “Want me to suck you off, babe?”
Yoongi chuckled at your crass way of asking and shook his head.
“It was so hot that…uh…I came in my pants to be honest babe,”
Fuck.
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floralseokjin · 3 years ago
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;boy.girl (m)
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pairing— min yoongi x reader genre/warnings— smut, slight angst, romance, friends with benefits au, roommate! yoongi words— 14,139
summary— Boy. Girl. It’s as simple as that. Girl can’t get a good date—scrap that—girl can’t get a good lay, and boy is willing to help out with that... Friends with benefits seems the perfect solution, except for the fact, it’s not. It never is. Not when boy already has feelings for girl...
Listen to— boy | offonoff
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“What the fuck,” Yoongi astounds. “That’s some insane shit if I ever did read some.”
“Shut up,” you groan, attempting to grab your phone from him.
“No, come on!” He exclaims, holding it away from you before turning his back, beginning to read the message once more.
“I feel like my hand or leg has been cut off and I keep thinking maybe I can get it re-attached or maybe I’m going to bleed out.”
You wince as he repeats it, wishing you’d never shown him the damn thing now, not if he was going to rub it in…and in…
“That’s the wackiest shit ever—how many dates did you guys go on?” Yoongi continues, turning back to you, and after another little reach, you successfully have your phone back in your hands.
“Three,” you answer begrudgingly.
Yoongi bursts out laughing. “Fucking three and he said that to you. I’d be scared, stalker alert,” he tells you, wide eyed, and you push at his shoulder.
“You need to stop looking for men on Tinder,” he continues, as if he’s some kind of expert.
“Yoongi, it’s not funny,” you whine. “I broke the guy’s heart.”
You feel guilty, while Yoongi just finds it even more amusing, snorting so loud it hurts your ears.
“The funniest thing is that you only ever kissed the dude, like what the fuck,” he continues, and you’re sure there’s tears in his eyes. “How can he be so whipped already?”
“Yoongi,” you warn, voice annoyingly high pitched.
He stops laughing for a moment, as if he’s finally realising how serious you are about this and holds up his hands in apology. “Sorry, I’m sorry,” he repeats.
You sigh dramatically, letting your back fall to the couch you’re both sitting on, eyes staring at the ceiling. “Honestly, is it that hard to get someone to have sex with me?”
“Well, Mr. No hand would have jumped at the offer, clearly,” Yoongi states, and you can sense that he’s trying to hold back a smirk.
“Stop,” you roll your eyes, turning to look at him again. “That’s offensive.”
“To who?” He asks, pulling a face. “The guy only lost his hand hypothetically.”
You ignore him, because if there’s one thing to know about Min Yoongi, he always has to be clever about something.
“Besides,” you sigh, you know what I mean. Why can’t a normal person have sex with me?”
“Now who’s being offensive,” he quips, and you pout, folding your arms across your chest.
He shifts in his seat, facing you as he nudges your shoulder. “But okay, answer me this,” he begins, and you look at him from the corner of your eyes, feeling a little nervous.
“What was wrong with that one guy? I can’t remember his name—Jack, was it?” He asks, and you inwardly groan. “Y’know, the one with that hippy look and smelt like he was carrying about two tonne of weed on him.”
“You know what was wrong with him,” you snap, and no, it wasn’t the drug habit surprisingly.
“Oh yeah,” Yoongi glees, face brightening up, “he was balding.”
You groan loudly, hands coming out in the air like a child having a tantrum. “How was I supposed to know? He wore a beanie on every single date!”
The memory still made you shudder a little, how you found out…and it wasn’t even like going bald was a problem, you knew it happened, it was just a terrible surprise, one you couldn’t get past. Kissing him one night, beanie finally off (all your dreams come true,) you’d run your hands through his hair only to feel the cool, bare sensation of his scalp. The texture was enough to make you scarper, and you hadn’t seen the guy since. He was probably glad he’d had a lucky escape from such a superficial bitch.
“There is nothing wrong with being bald,” you can hear Yoongi emphasising—rubbing it in more like. “I would date a balding person.”
“Good for you,” you mutter, having done with this conversion, but Yoongi continues.
“You could’ve just fucked him anyway,” he shrugs, “ignored the bald patch.”
“Stop being an idiot,” you say, unable to add expression to your tone. “Really though,” you groan, dramatic as ever as you drop your head into your hands. “I guess now’s the time to accept I’m going to be alone forever and live with a shit ton of cats.”
“—and a housemate called Min Yoongi,” you hear him glee, nudging your shoulder.
“Oh great,” you say sarcastically, lifting your head back up. “I’m stuck with you too?”
“Hey, don’t be like that,” he grouches, and you giggle, your gaze lingering for a moment.
Despite how annoying, and sometimes incredibly unhelpful Yoongi was, it was nice to have him around for the most part. You’d only been living together for six months, a blessing for him because his old roommate had bailed on him two months into their year long lease. You’d recently moved back into the area and knew of Yoongi in passing, never this close though, these months together had changed that… You should probably start calling him a friend by now, instead of just thinking it…
Unless he now wants to chance it all…
“Come on, no, tell me this,” he begins, a grin on his face, as if he’s excited, maybe a little apprehensive when you catch the glint in his eye, and you’re instantly curious, waiting for him to continue.
“Am I a “normal” guy?”
You pull a face, confused by his strange question, but he’s looking at you so…hopefully, you feel the need to answer him.
“Er, yeah…”
“So given the choice, you’d fuck me?”
“YOONG!” You are well aware you’re shouting, but it’s your first reaction. You can’t help it, the shock flying up your body like a lightning bolt. “What the hell,” you manage next, voice now weaker as the surprise settles in.
He shrugs. As if he just asked the world’s most normal question.
“Well you just said you want a normal guy to have sex with you, and correct me if I’m wrong, but you just said I’m normal, so…”
He can’t be getting at what you think he is. He’s crazy, or drunk… But you haven’t even had much, a bottle of rosé between you… He’s also seriously looking for a response, gaze unwavering from your face. You’re careful to make each word as clear as you can, just to knock some sense back into him.
“Yeah, but I live with you, you’re my roommate! It would just be super weird.”
“Oh? So I’m not your friend? Just someone you live with?” He asks, and you instantly panic.
“I didn’t mean it like that—
“Because that’s great, it won’t be weird at all,” he carries on with a grin.
You’re frazzled, eyes flickering across the coffee table just to make sure you were of sound mind. You are. There’s just one empty bottle of wine. Why is this happening? How is this happening?
“I’m not having sex with you,” you insist. Not really a refusal, just a statement, because he must be crazy.
“What? Because we’re friends, or because you don’t find me attractive?”
“Yoongi!” You exclaim. His tone is light, and Yoongi is known for being sarcastic at the best of times, so you can’t tell what’s serious and what’s not. Is he joking around, or is he actually offering himself right now?
“I’m just wondering,” he shrugs, head dipping down as he mumbles, “my feelings are kinda hurt, that’s all.”
“I-I—no!” You’re flustered now, not making sense. “You are good looking,” you insist, and he perks up, a smirk on his face, but you’re not done. “I just, I know you too well—you’re my friend.”
He ignores you, of course he does.  
“Okay so, if we didn’t know each other? Met in a different setting, how about then?”
You’re too confused to contemplate why he’s so adamant, feeling propelled to think this through and give him an answer. Because yes, probably if you didn’t know him, you’d sleep with him. Why wouldn’t you? He was good looking, charming, funny… If you didn’t know him as well as you did right now maybe there would be no holding you back…or maybe this dry spell had turned you deluded.
“Well, sure, I guess… If we met at the club, or I don’t know, the library—
“—the library?” He interrupts, looking confused, but he has a smirk on his face that makes you feel kind of funny, nervous…because you’re looking at him differently.  
“Yeah, I don’t know,” you shake your head, feeling flustered. Your cheeks are probably red, and if so, he’ll definitely notice. That makes you panic even more.
“Quit putting me on the spot—what are you doing now?”
You’re distracted when you notice him reaching for the coffee table, your forehead scrunched in confusion when he picks up one of the books you keep on there. He opens it up on a random page, pretending to read it before he glances at you, taking a double take before grinning, and then he’s holding his hand out to you, grabbing yours when you don’t take it, opening his mouth to spiel absolute crap.
“Hi, I’m Min Yoongi, and I was just reading, er,” he pauses, closing the hardback to read the title. He pulls a face. “How to be more cat.”
You and he both know he’s more of a dog lover. Min Yoongi would never want to awaken his inner cat, no matter how much alike they already are.
“What brings you to the library?”
“Yoongi, quit it!” You explode, finally realising what he’s up to. “How much have you had to drink?”
He must’ve had more before you came home, that’s the only logical reason as to why he would be role playing fake meetings right now.
“The same as you,” he shrugs, before getting back into character, one eyebrow cocked. “So, what’s your name? Do you think I’m normal?”
You roll your eyes, unable to see the funny side. He’s just making things uncomfortable now.
“You’re being as weird as Mr. No hand,” you tell him.
“Uh, uh, uh,” he scolds playfully, wagging his finger in the air. Your breath hitches when he bops your nose, his breath breezing across your face as he whispers, “offensive,” but you’re not paying any attention to that.
You’re caught up in his face, the mood that’s filled its way into the room. You feel uncomfortable because you’re effected by this, and it’s not fair, because if he’s joking around, you’re going to end up getting hurt.
“Yoongi,” you whine lowly, silently begging him to be out rightly serious.
“When’s the last time you got some?” He asks instead, and for some reason you find yourself answering him.
“Eight months ago”
“That’s a long ass time, you must be feeling a little desperate,” he grins.
It’s not that long. You and he both know it, but he seems adamant on riling you up.
“All I’m saying is, I’m here—I can help you. No strings attached.”
“You’re out of your mind,” you shake your head. What is he, some kind of service? You don’t need help, just sex.
“Maybe so,” he shrugs, “but what’s the worst thing that you can do, turn me down?”
He wants to have sex with me, you tell yourself, watching his face carefully. He’s not joking anymore, expression as serious as you’re going to get. He’s here, he’s offering, and it would just be some fun…but you can’t—
“I can’t have sex with you,” you whisper, almost as if you’re trying to convince yourself it’s a bad idea. “It’ll be like having sex with a brother, or something.”
“A brother?!” He exclaims, and for the first time tonight he looks genuinely offended.
You fluster. “Well, maybe, I don’t know,” you backtrack, because if truth be told, that wasn’t the case.
You saw Yoongi as a roommate, a friend, and someone who was out of bounds for just those reasons… But maybe it wouldn’t matter after all…  
“Since when have I ever acted like a brother towards you?” He asks, and you shake him off, because truth was, he’d never.
However, you’re too busy thinking things through to reply, your mind racing ninety to the dozen. It’s just sex. If you’d wanted to have sex with all those men you’d gone on dates with, you could have sex with Yoongi. Thinking about it, Yoongi was definitely the most normal, and seeing as all those other men had failed, what did you have to lose?
“You want to have sex with me?”
The question comes out a bit more forward than you’d have liked, and you feel a little mortified at yourself, but he’s nodding along unfazed.
“Why wouldn’t I?” He asks you. “You fail to realise that a lot of men—women too, would gladly bed you.”
You go to open your mouth, touched by his sentiment, but then—
“You’re just too fussy to see…”
“I am not fussy,” you exclaim, instantly offended when Yoongi rolls his eyes and pulls a face. He doesn’t believe you? What the fuck.
“I’m not, really!” You insist. “How should I prove it?”
He still won’t listen to you, and you’re desperate. You don’t know why, because you know it’s all those other guys’ fault, not yours. But you’re not fussy, especially when it comes to Yoongi, because he’s alright, he’s okay, and maybe having sex with him wouldn’t be so bad…
You launch at him. It’s now or never, but you only have a second to feel his lips against yours before he’s pushing you away at arm’s length, looking shocked.
“Woahwoahwoah—
“You just said you wanted to have sex with me,” you half-shout, immediately scared that you’d read it all wrong and he had in fact been messing around.
“I know I did,” he smiles, eyes darting to your mouth, and you’re suddenly nervous. “I just need to be the one in charge here.”
“Why?” You ask, your mind beginning to jumble up, especially when he grips your waist and pulls you closer, excitement bubbling away in the pit of your stomach.
“Because you haven’t gotten a good lay in eight months and you deserve it,” he tells you absentmindedly, as if he’s helping you with a work project, and then he continues and you’re a puddle of mush in his hands.
“You deserve for me to fuck you senseless.”
Kissing Yoongi is nothing like you imagined.  Not that you had imagined such a thing—well, not kissing anyway… His lips are much softer than they look, his movements rugged but somehow gentle at the same time. His hands grip your waist as he lies over your body, the pressure budding the first signs of arousal between your legs. It’s almost impossible to be unaffected. It’s been so long since you’ve even kissed anyone like this, and surprisingly, even though it’s Yoongi, you don’t bat an eyelid. It feels way more natural than it did with limb analogy guy anyway…
“Bedroom,” he grunts, when he just about can’t take it anymore, your hands in his hair, tugging at his dark roots.
By now the question of morality is out the door, you’re just there for the moment, aimlessly stumbling to his room (because his is closest,) still connected to one another, hands and mouths too busy to notice you’re bumping into furniture and door frames.
Well he finally gets you to his bed, the back of your knees hitting the mattress, you fall down with a tumble, him following suit. It’s amazing how his mouth never leaves yours, hands reaching for your shirt buttons as he fights to release your body. You could swear he hasn’t been lucky in months and months with the way he’s acting. You guess that’s just the way men are, but you don’t mind, not when his hands are on your breasts and he’s grinding his crotch into yours.
Getting you naked takes seconds, him not so much. He’s only shirtless when he gets distracted between your legs. He’s like a man possessed, and you’re too dazed with pleasure to reach for him again, especially if he’s putting his plan to good use.
He strokes a finger down your core, and that’s it, he has you. His breath against you is enough, sending a shiver up your body, but then he speaks and it’s game over.
“Let me get you nice and wet first,” he murmurs, spreading your legs further apart.
“Fuck,” you groan quietly, head falling back against the pillows, unable to think clearly because why was that the hottest thing ever?
“What?” He wonders out loud, and you try to look forward to see him but you’re too strung out to gain the energy.
“Nothing,” you shake your head slightly. “It’s just I wasn’t expecting you to be like this.”
There’s something about Yoongi that makes you comfortable in this situation, having a conversation like normal when you’re naked under him, your vagina in his line of eye sight. You just weren’t expecting him to be so forward.
“Oh,” he begins to smirk, rubbing his palms up and your thighs, making you keen into him. “So you’ve been imagining having sex with me?”
“No!” You exclaim, head shooting up before you groan and drop it back down again, hands running through your hair. “Fuck, I don’t know, my head’s a mess right now.”
You wouldn’t admit to it (well, watch this space because you seem a little lax on the self-humiliation right now,) but there had been a couple of instances where Yoongi had brought a girl back to the house and you’d…heard some things. It hadn’t happened in a long time though, but you had found yourself wondering what he’d be like in bed, maybe wishing it was even you for a spilt second… Life with no sex was confusing, and it made you have zero self-control. Hence this moment right now…
“Relax,” he tells you softly, it almost takes you by surprise, and you keen into him once again when he runs his hand down your stomach before his palm is lying flat on your pelvis, even pressure applied which has you squirming a bit.
“Lie back and enjoy yourself,” he continues, and you nod to yourself, trying to calm the impatience that’s formed.
You jump a little when you feel his fingers rub at your entrance, hearing the tell-tale sticky noises of your arousal. He’s too slow, probably purposely teasing you, but one look down and you’re surprised to see he’s watching your face, studying your reaction.
He smiles slightly when he sees you watching and you can’t help but return it, almost as if you’re sharing the most obscure moment.
“I don’t think I have to try too hard,” he says, smile morphing into a grin.
“I’m horny, what do you expect,” you pout, because you are, and you just want him to do something, just to elevate the pressure.
“I’m horny, too,” he agrees with a jerk of his hips, and you’re stomach does a flip.
It’s hard to process this moment, but you know one thing for sure, it’s not awkward at all—quite the opposite actually.
You lift a leg up, nudging his shoulder with your foot. “Just get on with it,” you giggle, and so he does.
You honestly can’t remember the last time you got eaten out… Definitely more than eight months ago that was for sure, seeing as your ex hated doing it. Yoongi seems the exact opposite. He’s enthusiastic, precise, and most of all, diligent. He watches for your reactions eagerly, repeating actions that get you moaning. Each flick of his tongue, each pop of his lips as he sucks at your clit, and each curl of his fingers gets you riled up, and it’s not long before you’re biting down on your bottom lip, inhaling sharply as you try to brace yourself for your impending orgasm.
However, it seems like Yoongi has other ideas…
“Yoongi? What the fuck,” you exclaim when he stops.
At first you think he’s just coming up for air, but before you can blink he’s crawling his way back up your body, face directly above yours, mouth open, panting, glistening with your arousal. He looks hot, but you’re mad.
“I was about to cum,” you bark, feeling the disappoint heavily in your chest as the sensation begins to ebb away. “Get back down there and finish what you started,” you press, pushing at his shoulders.
“No,” he refuses simply, and you can’t believe your ears.
“No?” You repeat, flabbergasted. “Yoongi, you were supposed to be giving me the night of my life.”
The last word is muffled because he begins kissing you again. You want to push him away and have it out with him—you’re due a good orgasm and he’s just ruined it, but you’re keening, his lips feel so good against yours it’s hard not to. Soft, sticky, warm. He tastes like you, and you find it surprising how much that turns you on.
“No,” he continues in between kisses, voice deep, gravelly, rumbling through your body. “I was supposed to fuck you senseless.
Shit. You wish he’d stop saying such a thing. You’re hot and sweaty underneath him, desperate, and he keeps on teasing you like it’s his fucking hobby—it is, most probably.
You kiss him a little more aggressively, fingers pulling at his roots again. “Come on then,” you almost goad. “Fuck me.”
He grunts, immediately pulling away to grip the waistband of his sweats.
“I fucking can’t wait,” he grins widely, and you watch, hearing your heart pound in your ears as he gets just as naked too.
Your unable to take your eyes off his dick, in the back of your mind wondering how this situation came to be, but mostly just really imagining what it’s going to feel like when he’s finally inside of you.
“Like what you see, huh?” He asks, sounding pleased with himself.
You smirk, letting your hands rest on the top of his thighs as he grips his hard—surprisingly thick—member.
“I’ll like it better once I know what it can do,” you tell him.
He laughs at that, amused by your rebuff, but you’re soon distracted when he leans over to open up a drawer on his nightstand, one hand rummaging around for something you can only guess correctly, the other wrapped around his cock.
“Oh shit,” he intones suddenly, looking back at you with devastation.
“What?” You ask, although you already know.
“I don’t have any condoms.”
“Oh my god,” you groan, running your hands through your hair. “Yoongi!”
“Sorry,” he apologies, a slight whine in his tone as he removes the fist from around his dick. “What about you?”
You pull a face, getting more annoyed by the second. “Clearly I don’t.”
“Relax,” he soothes, rubbing your shoulder, but you have good enough hearing to not miss the tiny groan that left him a moment after your answer.
You can’t let this be the end now. You’re in Yoongi’s room, both naked, you’re fucking arousal dried around his lips, his now limp (great) dick in your line of sight. If you give up now, you’re both never getting over this. That’s it, roommates cancelled, friendship over. You know it doesn’t make sense, but the only way to cancel this out is to have sex. It needs to happen, and not just because of your dry spell.
“When’s the last time you had sex?”
He looks dumb at your question, but when you raise your eyebrows he understands your serious and stumbles a little, trying to answer quickly.
“About two months ago, something like that.”
“And you haven’t experienced any weird symptoms since? Irritated skin? Burning sensation when you pee? Discharge?”
If he was confused before, now everything’s perfectly clear, (and if he wasn’t soft before, now he definitely is).
“Ew, shut the fuck up,” he bursts in disgust. “I’m clean.”
That’s like music to your ears.
“Well, fuck me then,” you shrug.
His eyes go wide, unsure on his gauge the situation. His mouth opens to speak a couple of times before he has to swallow, and then he tries again.
“Sure?”
You nod. “I’m clean too, and I’m on the pill.”
He swallows again, gaze shifting down between your legs, almost apprehensively, but not because he’s worried or nervous, maybe something else…because his dick’s stiffening again right in front of your eyes.
“You want me to fuck you bare?” He asks, but his voice doesn’t sound like him. It’s gruff, croaky, and it makes you so desperate for him it almost hurts.
“I want you to fuck me, period,” you tell him simply.
This time he doesn’t even balk, and before you know it he’s kissing you again, hasty and hard. Your hands slide down his thighs and your fingers glide along his cock, your belly twisting in more pleasure as you take him in your palm, working him until he’s at his full and bursting in your fist. It’s not that difficult, and before long he’s buried deep inside of you, stretching you out.
“You good?” He asks, panting above you slightly, hands either side of your head.
“Yeah, I’m really good—shit,” you end up gasping when he thrusts a little. “I feel so full.”
You thought you’d never feel like this ever again the way your dry spell and shitty dates had been going, but now, woah, you were practically vibrating in pleasure.
“Yeah, full with my dick,” he returns smugly, and you can’t even roll your eyes, not now, not ever—well, not when he’s correct.
“Mhm,” you moan, hands travelling down his back to grab his ass, pushing him further into you, wanting more. He’s going too slow.  
“What?” He grins, leaning back, out of your reach. “Want me to go faster? Harder?”
“Both,” you moan, not even realising how compliant you’re being right now.
“Reckon you can take it?” He shoots cockily, languidly beginning to rock his hips into yours, eyes raking up and down your naked body. “Wouldn’t want to break you.”  
“In your dreams,” you fight back, to which he chuckles, finally beginning to move harder.
By now it doesn’t even register that you’re having sex with your roommate—your friend. It doesn’t feel like it at all. The jump you’ve taken doesn’t seem to be a big one, it doesn’t feel abnormal, but you tell yourself it must be because you’re so needy. It must be.
He fucks with intent, watching for each reaction you give him, speeding up and slowing down in patterns, having fun as he tries to work out what gets you going. It’s not hard right now, he realises that and you hear him chuckling to himself quietly when you lie your head back dramatically, covering your face with your hands as you whine.
“Don’t be like that,” he says playfully, dipping down to pull them away. “I want to see your face.”
Your belly brings to flip in excitement, his words having some strange effect on you, and before you know it you’re kissing him again, hands in his hair, because he seems to like that as much as you, his thrusts speeding up, his grunts getting louder, and then your name is falling from his mouth.
“Fuck,” he groans, breaking away from you one final time, his eyes dropping to your breasts as he watches them jiggle up and down as he fucks you. “Say my name for me.”
“Is this some ego thing?” You ask, cocking an eyebrow.
“No,” he insists, before smirking slightly. “It’ll just help when I’m jerking off to memories of this in the future.”
“Yoongi,” you scold with a whine, bashing his arm a little with your fist.
“Ah, kinda like that,” he winces, slowing down each jerk of his hips. “But more like a moan.”
You want to answer him back, to chide him more, but each thrust he gives you gains deeper, and the pleasure makes your toes curl, your body heat up, and you space out, giving him what he wants.
“Fuck, Yoongi,” you moan loudly, digging your nails into his shoulders, and then you’re begging. “Shit—more—give me more.”
He likes that, a glint in his eyes that wasn’t there before, and he’s moving faster, chasing your reaction.
“Fuck me harder,” you add, pushing down on his lower back, wanting to feel the burn you’ve missed greatly.
He complies, but he has a questioning look on his face, as if he’s bemused. “You’re nothing like I imagined either,” he explains.
“What? Think I’m gonna lie back and take your dick silently?”
“True,” he shrugs, and then his infuriating smirk’s back. “It’s impossible to take my dick silently.”
You want to shut him up now, definitely, but he has other ideas…
“I didn’t mean it like th—argh, fuck! Holy shit.”
Each sound of the slap of skin that fills your ears after that tells you he’s going harder than before, grunting as he bottoms out over and over again, and you welcome the burn that travels up your pelvis, your body getting hotter than ever, veins feeling like they’re going to burst.  
“Fucking you bare is so fucking good,” he grunts, dropping his head into the crook of your neck. “I can feel everything.”
“So good,” you agree, because yes, the friction is like nothing, the heat of his skin, the sound of each thrust.
“You like it, huh?” He grits out, but something tells you he doesn’t want an answer. He already knows, and by the sound of it he’s getting off on it.
“Feeling my cock stretch you out?” He continues, and you moan loudly.
If he keeps going like this you’ll probably come—fuck, you really want to come. You can’t remember the last time someone made you come…
“You’re so hot around me, tight—it’s so long since you last got some,” he murmurs in your ear, but there’s an edge to his voice, as if he’s holding his breath.
His hips move messily now, but it doesn’t matter, the pressure of his pelvis against your clit is enough, the heat and sweatiness of his body against yours just adding to the sensation that’s building up inside of you, and the sounds, oh, the sounds are what make it the best, the sticky wet squelches that coat his dick as he enters in and out of you—like music to your ears.
“Don’t you want to cum?”
“Uh huh,” you groan, twisting under him, feeling your orgasm reach breaking point.
“You gonna?” He grunts.
You can’t even form a coherent sentence anymore, all you can do is moan loudly, fingers sliding up and down his back pathetically.
“All over my cock, yeah? Yeah?”
Shit, that’s it. That’s the finishing blow.
“Ah, Yoongi, Yoongi, Yoon—”
His name chokes in your throat as the pleasure blitzes through your body, back arching, and you’re so overcome it takes you a moment to realise he’s reached his end too. The second spurt of his come bringing you to as it fills you up. With the third spurt you notice how hot it is, and with the last he’s already fallen out of you, panting over your body as he tries to catch his breath.
“Holy shit,” is the first thing you can say, and you’re sure that’s a good five minutes later when Yoongi’s rolled on his back next to you.
“You good?” He chuckles.
You nod manically, looking over at him, “you?”
“I’m great,” he agrees, rubbing a hand through his sweaty fringe.
It’s not the only thing that’s sweaty, and your eyes glaze over his chest, glistening in
perspiration.
Your mind tells you, you like that sight, and just like that you’re speaking without thinking. It’s so much easier to make a fool of yourself when you’re still on a high from an orgasm.
“You should’ve asked me to do that ages ago.”
Thankfully, he doesn’t seem to care, laughing loudly as he pushes at your shoulder fondly.
He thinks you’re joking, but the funny thing is, you’re not.
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After that things go back to normal. A week passes and you and Yoongi don’t see each other that much anyway, work is busy for you both and most of your interactions are done in the morning at breakfast time, or before one of you is coming home after a long day, running straight to your room to pass out. However, surprisingly things aren’t awkward.
You can make eye contact with him no problem, whine at him when he hasn’t washed the dishes from the night before, not even bat an eyelid when he walks around shirtless—because he likes to do that a lot. Nothing’s awkward aside from fact you think about that night most days—scrap that, every day.
One night doesn’t relieve eight months of pent up sexual frustration. It doesn’t just magic it all away, and it definitely doesn’t cure it. That night was just that, one night, and you quickly realise you probably have another eight months ahead of you without sex. That’s the awkward situation you find yourself in now…and you don’t know what to do about it.
.
.
“I thought it would be more awkward.”
You really like speaking before you think lately, you don’t know what’s up with you.  
“Hm?” Yoongi hums, looking over at you slightly as he tries to keep one eye on the TV.
This, exactly. This is what you mean. Things have just gotten back to how they were, like nothing’s changed. Well, you guess they haven’t.
You and Yoongi have finally found time to hang out, if you can call it that. You’re usually just sat next to each other on the sofa as you read a book and he watches whatever he can find as he switches channels. Only tonight you can’t seem to switch your mind off.
“Me and you, hanging out like usual, after, y’know…” you trail off with a small shrug.
No awkwardness in sight for nearly ten days. Not even when you’d made your way out of his room that night into the shower to rinse his come from between your legs. It was truly astounding and made little to no sense.
“Is someone blushing?” He teases, making you jump a little because you’d dazed out for a moment…thinking back to that night again…
“No,” you shoot defensively, grabbing whatever you can find (a cushion,) and throwing it at him. “It’s just…” you fall short again, shrugging once more. If was like you didn’t know how to explain it.
“It shouldn’t be awkward anyway,” he tells you, clutching the cushion to his lap now, arms crossed over it. “I helped you out, and to be honest, you helped me out,” he watches you seriously, and you raise your eyebrows, intrigued.
“I was getting a serious case of blue balls.”
Elegant as ever, huh.
You ignore his confession and change position on the sofa, hugging your legs to your body, and it makes you remember something.
“I kinda forgot how sore you can get after sex.”
Probably too much information, but it’s Yoongi, it feels like it doesn’t matter with him.
“Same,” he agrees, leaving you a little quizzical. “I think I did my back in a little trying to fuck you as hard as you were begging for.”
You gasp, maybe a little too melodramatically, but you can’t stop yourself. “I was not!”
“Were to,” he smirks. “But it helped, right?” He asks, turning semi-serious for a moment. “Your dry spell’s finally over.”
“Well, yeah, but…” you stop yourself, unsure if you should say it. There’s no harm in it, but you don’t want to come across as ungrateful… However Yoongi’s waiting patiently for your reply.
Just what’s not to say another eight months won’t pass by again,” you begin. “I mean, it was a great idea on your part, but well, I should’ve realised once wouldn’t be enough to end my misery.”
He scoffs loudly, taking you aback. “Quit being so dramatic.”
It’s true, you guess, but before you can whine about it some more he’s carrying on, leaving you mortified.
“Look, are you trying to say you want to fuck me again?”
“No,” you exclaim, eyes wide. Shit, can he sense that all you’ve been thinking about is that night? You feel like a pervert.
Yoongi shrugs. “Want to have sex again, want to have sex with me again—same thing really.”
You frown softly, getting a strong sense of déjà vu, and all this talk of sex is making you het up again.
“I’m not opposed to the idea if you really want to,” he smiles. “A no strings attached basis, friends with benefits—or better yet, roommates with benefits, even less awkward!”
“Really?”
Why are you so intrigued? Roommates with benefits, it sounds like some lame movie that failed at the box office, but…it’s real life, your real life, and it’s pretty shitty if you do say so yourself, so you may as well try and brighten it up a little.
“It’s a win-win situation,” Yoongi nods.
“I guess…” you agree slowly.
“No guessing, facts only.”
“But no funny business, okay?”
You don’t even know what you’re trying to say right now, maybe something along the lines of, let’s keep this strictly sexual, make sure no feelings get in the way… but you’re too awkward for that.
He looks at you pointedly. “My dick’s already been in your vagina, we can’t get more whack than that.”
“That’s not what I meant…” you begin but cut yourself off. “Nevermind.”
It’s you and Yoongi after all, why would it ever come to that? Imagining Yoongi catching feelings—especially for you, is laughable. You haven’t known him to be interested in anymore since you’ve lived with him. A date here and there, a couple of hook ups, and that’s all. You’re safe, you can almost bet on it.
“Fine, it’s a deal,” you nod, holding out your hand like it’s one of the business kind.
“Deal,” he smirks, gripping it with his own as he gives it two hefty shakes.
There’s silence for a moment as you get comfy on the sofa again, but now you’re curious, needing things to be explained a bit more.
“So how does this work?”
Yoongi shrugs, taking no less than two seconds to come up with an answer. “When you’re horny tell me, and I can see what I can do.”
“Isn’t that a bit one sided?” You frown. It doesn’t seem fair? What about him?
Yoongi’s eyes go wide for a moment, but he quickly shakes himself. “If you want, when I’m horny I can let you know too.”
You nod slowly, staring at him a little too long. “That sounds…good.”
You weren’t lying, it did. It was just kind of funny how casual you were both taking this.
You were talking about exchanging sex for favours…other sexual favours—almost like you both were human sex toys… Well, actually, you’d take Yoongi over your vibrator any day, but you wouldn’t admit that to him of course.
“Good,” he agrees, looking back at the TV, and you look down at the abounded book on your lap, you hadn’t even read a page yet. You begin again.
You’re on the last line, ready to flip the page when Yoongi speaks once more.
“I’m horny.”
“What?” You ask him to repeat, looking over at him again.
“I’m horny,” he whines slightly.  “I had a pretty stressful day at work and I just need some kind of relief.”
Shit. This soon? You’re suddenly coming over all hot and bothered.
“My hand was going to suffice but…well…”
You take a deep breath, trying to calm your pounding heart, nudging a little closer to him, your knee sitting on top of his.
“So, do you want me to help you out with that?” You ask, purposely innocent.
You notice Yoongi let out a shaky exhale, eyes watching your mouth carefully. “If you’re free,” he just about murmurs, and then you’re kissing him.
This time you feel a little more in charge, seeing as he’s the one who’s horny tonight, and before long you’re in his lap, his hands on your ass as he massages your hips into his dick under his sweats, your lips never leaving one another, until you’ve subconsciously made the decision to slide off him and crawl between his open legs.
“What you doing?” He asks, semi-dazed, lips kiss bitten and wet.
“I wanna suck your dick,” you murmur, fingers already digging under his waistband to pull him free.
“Fuck, o-kay,” he groans, lifting his hips up so you can pull his sweats over the curve of his ass.
“It’s been ages since I last did it,” you tell him, taking his member in your hand to jerk him a couple of times, moving closer. “Tell me if I’m doing okay, yeah?”
He goes to reply but you’re impatient and before he can blink again, he’s in the warmth of your mouth. You notice his hands grip the edge of the sofa, knuckles white, and it feels good to have this kind of effect on him.
“Your mouth is wrapped around my cock—you’re doing okay,” he chuckles breathlessly, his hands automatically reaching for the hair that’s fallen in your face, pinning it out the way.
“Mhm,” you hum around him, enjoying yourself a little too much.
It had been so long, you’re enjoying getting familiar with the almost foreign body part. You bob your head, you suckle, you slurp, almost acting as if it’s some kind of delicacy, not that Yoongi minds at all.
“You taste good,” you murmur, pulling away to lick a line up the underside of his length, before popping him back into your mouth.
“Thanks,” he chuckles throatily.  “Ah—fuck,” he gasps when take him deeper, and his grip tightens around your head.
You innocently look up at him, soaking in the way his mouth’s open in a silent moan, hips jerking a little into you as you suckle.
“I could honestly cum from the view right now,” he admits, relaxing his head back against the sofa, but you have other ideas.
“Wait, what are you doing?” He asks when you stop and begin to straddle him.
“You can’t cum,” you tease. “I want to get some too.”
His face instantly lights up. “Yeah?” He murmurs, watching you fiddle a leg from your shorts, and you nod, hovering over his dick. “Shit, like this?”
“Hm,” you hum, grabbing him by the base quickly. You’re wet already, of course you are, and slowly you push down on him. “Shii-ittt,” you gasp, swallowing him inch by inch.
“Be my guest,” he smirks, grabbing your ass as he pushes you forward, his cock pressing against your walls. “Take me for a ride.”
With a jerk of his hips you squeal, mouth landing on his before you’re moaning, beginning to rock your hips…
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And that’s how it continues for a while. It’s surprisingly easy to fall back into a routine where sex is concerned, and just knowing that it’s so easy with Yoongi makes everything so much better. Sex is like another language for the two of you now, it’s done as easily as fingering you while you watch a movie or jerking him off in the hallway before work. It just seems to happen as easy as that. When you’re bored, he’s there, when you’re joking around, it always leads to something a little more serious, and when you’re arguing it’s always resolved with sex. You feel like a horny teenager again, or a couple of lovers that have just moved in together. It’s like a habit, but a good one, so far…
That is until your bestfriend finds out.
Maybe you both should have been more inconspicuous. It makes sense, because everyone else in the world knows friends with benefits is a bad idea, except for the fools who try it out. It was all fine until you and Yoongi decided to both go clubbing together with your respective friends...
“Who was that?”
You shrug, feeling Yoongi’s presence behind you at the bar, watching the guy you’d had a brief conversion with walk back to his group of friends.
“I don’t know, just some dude.”
“He was kinda ugly,” Yoongi comments.
“Yoongi!” You turn around, but can’t help but laugh, and before you know it he’s dragging you onto the dance floor with him.
Yoongi is hardly the dancing type, at least you haven’t seen him like this before, but he doesn’t leave you alone, hands on your hips as he moves behind you, circling his crotch into your ass. You’re not one to miss an opportunity, taking great pleasure when you feel him begin to grow hard as you tease him.
“Are you horny, Mr. Min?” You ask, your hand creeping behind you to squeeze his dick.
“You’re grinding your ass into my crotch, of course I’m horny,” he whispers in your ear, and you giggle, purposely doing it some more.  
He groans, catching ahold of your hips. “C’mon, let’s get out of here before I do something really gross, like fuck you in a bathroom stall.”
Your belly begins to do somersaults, his vulgar words stirring something up inside you, and it isn’t long before you’re agreeing.
He’s impatient tonight, restless almost, as he tears at your clothes practically a second after you enter the apartment. You just about make it to his bed when he’s entering you, each thrust a little bit rougher than the next, a determined look on his face, as if he’s adamant to pleasure you. He doesn’t need to try this hard, and you try to slow him down, but he pushes his hand between your legs, thumb finding your clit, and then it’s game over.
“Sorry that was so quick,” he apologises afterwards, spread out on his back, chest heaving.
“Hm, don’t be,” you murmur, still a little dazed from your orgasm.  “You still made me cum,” you say with a smile as you turn on your side to face him.
He looks a little pensive in thought, and you frown a little. “You okay?”
He shakes his head, almost as if he’s coming to, noticing you’re staring at him and he slowly smiles, nodding as he moves closer, flipping you over so that he’s spooning you.
“Stay the night?” He asks.
“This is my house too,” you wonder slowly, confused to what he means.
“No, I mean, here with me.”
He chooses his words carefully, almost as if he’s unsure. You’ve never spent the night in the same bed like this, no matter how comfortable you both are with each other now. However, the idea doesn’t seem like a bad one, so you agree…
.
.
Waking up to Yoongi spread eagled on the bed is a change. He had no bad sleeping habits but you’d prefer to have a bit more space while you slept, that was for sure, but it’s kind of nice to wake up next to someone, to feel someone else’s body heat warm you in the night… It takes him an extra half hour to wake up fully, and in the midst of making breakfast for you (his apology,) your phone buzzes, and it’s not good news at all.
Sanah: what the hell was with you and yoongi last night???
Oh shit, you think to yourself.
.
.
“It’s a bad idea.”
“No it’s not,” you insist with a shake of your head.
Sanah had organised an emergency meeting at Starbucks, not the type of place you’d want to discuss your personal life at, but you didn’t have a choice. She was adamant and telling her the full details had made it even worse.
Your name falls from her lips disapprovingly, her stare trying to burn into you it seemed, knock some sense into you. “This kind of stuff never works out because someone always catches feelings.”
You go to shake your head, ready to disagree, but then she’s adding something that makes you gasp.
“—and by someone I mean you.”
“Why me?!”
“Well, no offence to Yoongi, but…I just don’t see him as the…caring type—
“That’s not true,” you interrupted.
Sure, maybe to other people upon first glance he could seem unfazed by a lot of things, but actually, Yoongi was one of the most caring people you knew. After all, you had confided in him regarding all those failed dates you’d had. In fact, maybe he was too caring if he’d agreed to have sex with you on the regular—or maybe you were reaching with that one…
“Okay, maybe wrong word,” she backtracks, “but I can’t see him wanting any more than just sex.”
You frown, whispering a little furiously. “I want just sex too.”
“Do you though?” She asks, looking at you pointedly. “If that was the case you would’ve slept with all those other guys—” you go to cut in but she stops you. “Yeah, okay, maybe you didn’t like their personality or their looks or whatever, but you don’t need to like the guy to bang him, you can just close your eyes if you don’t want to see a bald patch or whatever,” she shrugs, and you’re a little offended—mostly because maybe it’s a little true.
If what you’d been after was just sex, those guys’ you’d dated were perfectly acceptable… So what was it that you did want?
“You obviously want something more, otherwise you wouldn’t keep going back to Yoongi.”
You feel a little sick, hating how a second opinion made so much more sense than yours. Your mind instantly goes back to this morning when you’d woken up next to Yoongi, how nice it had felt, and how you’d realised how much you’d missed such a thing…
Shaking your head, you snap out of your thoughts. “Me and Yoongi are just friends.”
“For now,” Sanah emphasises. “I give it another month before you start feeling things for him.”
That most definitely can’t be correct at all. You’ve known Yoongi for a while now, there would be nothing that could happen to change your mind that he’s anything more than a friend. Even having sex with him… Sure, it feels good, and you’re comfortable, and yeah, sometimes you think wow, why haven’t we done this before now, but that’s just because it’s good… You groan inwardly, like you’ve already said…and now you’re just going around in circles…
Sensing your dilemma, your silence not a good sign, Sanah reaches across the small table to clasp one of your hands.  
“C’mon, you’re already shutting down any chances you have with other guys—that one last night was perfectly alright but no, you ended up going home with Yoongi.”
That’s true, right? The guy at the bar was polite, funny, hell, if you wanted to be shallow, he was good looking too, even if Yoongi called him ugly for no reason…
“Gah, I don’t know,” you groan, dropping your head into your other hand.
Now you’re more confused than anything. What if you do start falling for Yoongi? Or, what if you already have? You had no interest in other people anymore because you knew back at home you had Yoongi. What did that mean? Since when had it become so hard to decipher your emotions?
“Just calm down,” your bestfriend tells you, her tone a little worried, and you look up at her with a pout on your face. Woe is you, and yes, you’re that dramatic.
“Look, how about this?” She suggests, looking excited for a moment, and you perk up. “I know a guy, we work together…”
Oh god, where’s this going, you think to yourself.
“…he’s sweet, you’ll like him.”
Define ‘like’ because you have no clue anymore, not after this conversation.
“I’ll give him your number and get him to message you,” she finishes with a nod, like she’s happy she’s becoming matchmaker extraordinaire.
“I don’t know…” you mumble, pulling a face.
It was probably a bad idea, and you didn’t need any more stress right now. Not when you had to try and work out your feelings towards Yoongi.
“It’ll be good for you,” she insists.
You fricking hope so…
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Four days later you find yourself getting ready for a date. You’re more apprehensive than excited though, nerves filling your body, especially when you find Yoongi sitting in the living room just as you’re about to leave. It’s stupid really, to feel like this, you and Yoongi are only having sex. Well, were having sex. You haven’t since the night at the club. You know you shouldn’t take Sanah’s words seriously, after all she’s just mostly worried for you, but after your talk you just can’t seem to shake away the looming doubt hanging over your head. There’s no way you could be falling for Yoongi, it’s impossible, laughable…you think… You’re tired of thinking too much, which is why you should be thankful for this date… Only you didn’t imagine having to let Yoongi know like this…
He looks up from his phone as you walk past the sofa, eyes widening when he notices you in a dress and not your usual pyjamas that grace your body on a Thursday night. Your heart flutters for a second as you look at him, his beanie on indoors for no reason at all, blonde fringe parted against his forehead. It’s moments like these you remember how good looking he actually is. Since sleeping with him repeatedly the realisations keep happening more frequently. You wonder if he feels the same towards you—nope, on second thoughts, bad idea, you shouldn’t be wondering that at all. This is probably exactly what Sanah meant…
“Where you going?” He asks, and you wince a little, unsure why you’re so nervous to say such two little words.
“A date?” He repeats, once you finally pluck up the courage.  “Why?”
That’s something you weren’t expecting. He looks puzzled, his brows furrowed together.
“What do you mean why?” You giggle awkwardly, fidgeting with the skirt of your dress.
“Well, our…arrangement,” he says slowly, as if he’s trying to figure something out. “I just thought…nevermind,” he shakes his head, looking back at his phone and mumbling, “enjoy your date.”
You leave the apartment wondering if that could’ve gone better or worse…
.
.
You arrive back at the apartment a little more chirpier, a little more lighter. Sanah was right, Jungwoo is sweet, and funny, a little dorky, but you like that. He’s handsome too, tall and dresses smart, and you wonder why couldn’t Sanah have set you up a month or two back…because despite all that, Yoongi still played in the back of your mind throughout the entire dinner. His face kept popping into your mind, thoughts creeping in, wondering if he was mad at you…even though he shouldn’t be, right? You hadn’t done anything wrong, he probably didn’t even care you’d gone out with another guy. You were the one overthinking things once again…
Surprisingly, Yoongi’s still in the living room when you let yourself in, only now he’s watching the TV, looking up at the door when he hears your key.
“Hey,” you greet him, “you still up?”
He ignores your question to ask one of his own. “How was your date?”  
You watch as he stands up from the sofa, yawning and stretching his arms behind his head, but before you can reply, he’s talking again.
“Was he normal?”
You chuckle a little, amused by his stupid question, even though you guess he’s using your own words against you…
“Yeah, he was normal,” you nod. “It was nice.”
“That’s good then.” Yoongi’s stare is little more intense than you’d like, as if he’s judging you, and when he speaks he doesn’t sound happy for you at all, despite what he’s saying.
“Mmm hm,” you hum, feeling a little awkward. It’s like he wants to say more but he isn’t, and you’re too confused and chicken to ask him what his problem is, so you take a step forward, wanting your bedroom. “Okay, I’m going to change, I may actually go to bed…” you trail off, waiting for him to say something. He doesn’t, so you begin moving, calling goodnight over your shoulder.
You’re in the middle of pulling the zipper down on your dress when he appears in your doorway.
“So, will you be seeing him again? Another date on the horizon?”
You pause, trying to read the situation. Is that jealousy you read in his tone? Why’s he acting like this, but also, why do you feel a spark of excitement rush through your body? You’ve never seen him like this, for obvious reasons, and you hate that it’s having such an effect on you.
“I don’t know, maybe,” you shrug, stretching one last time to break free the zip all the way, and you turn your back to him, revealing the expanse of your back as you push the dress around your shoulders. “Why the sudden questions?”
“Was just wondering what would happen to our arrangement, that’s all,” you hear him say matter of factly.
You’re surprised he’s so outright, glad your back is turned to him so he can’t see your expression. Delaying your reply you shimmy out of your dress.
“Well, me and this guy aren’t about to get married or anything so I think we’re okay for now.”
You only speak when the garment is pooled at your feet. There’s a silence, and you turn around slowly, noticing immediately how Yoongi’s gaze casts over your body, jaw taunt, as if he’s holding his breath. He’s checking you out so blatantly, but it’s as if he’s on edge, a fire burning in his eyes, and suddenly you want him. You’re done teasing, because that’s exactly what you were doing, even if you would never admit it.
“Are you just going to stand there or?” You smirk, cocking an eyebrow.
He’s in front of you in four long strides, a man on a mission it seems, no need to ask him twice. He grips your hips, mouth on yours roughly before he’s pawing at your body. It feels so long since you’ve kissed him, but in reality it’s only been a few days. It’s almost surprising how well he knows your body by now, and you make a mental note to tally how many times you’ve had sex since the agreement was formed. But maybe that’s a bad idea, you’re already acting strange, sure that he’s jealous right now and loving it.
He pulls away from you with a chuckle, and you clasp one hand around his neck, playing with the ends of his hair. He’s pulled his beanie off since you went on your date, and his fringe lies flat to his forehead. You take your other hand to fluff it up with your fingers, staring into his eyes that twinkle a little with mischief.
“What’s so funny?” You ask curiously.
“Nothing,” he shakes his head with a smirk. “You just went on a date with a guy but you’ve ended up back home, with me.”
He looks like the cat that got the cream, smug as he grins, and you roll your eyes, playfully, stealing another kiss. “I do live here,” you inform him.
“What’s his name?” He asks with another kiss.
“Why do you want to know?” You retort playfully but tell him anyway.
“Did you kiss him?”
Your belly does a little jump, his jealousy having an adverse effect on you, but you can’t seem to shake away how excited it makes you, even more so when you shake your head and notice the mild relief that flashes over his face.
His hands slide down to your ass, squeezing the flesh harshly, pushing you into his body. “Did you want to?”
You can feel how hard his dick is already inside his pants, your body heating up a little, just knowing he’s as turned on as you, and you take a deep breath, smirking as you move millimetres from his mouth. “Maybe,” you murmur. “I didn’t really think about it.”
He purses his lips together instantly, eyes studying your face, before he’s suddenly groaning, torso tensing as you grab his cock through his sweats.  
“Will you fuck me now?” You whine, and then he’s kissing you again, as if he can’t help it, low moans leaving him.
With his hands moving to grip your shoulders, he pushes you to the bed, crawling over you as his tongue explores your mouth.
“Mhm, like this,” he grunts, pulling away to flip you over, your knees pressing into the mattress.
He tugs at the lace of your underwear, something he’s rarely seen you in, managing to piss him off even more as he growls, and then he’s circling his crotch into your ass, spanking the flesh lightly with one hand causing you to squeal playfully, your arousal growing between your legs.
“I really want to like this,” he mutters.
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Soon, jealously doesn’t seem so exciting anymore. Well, at least you think it’s jealousy, you can’t even tell a lot of the time. Over the weeks you realise Yoongi’s becoming a little disinterested with you, these days he’s hardly initiating sex with you, and now you’ve grown bored of trying to do the same…
If he was jealous wouldn’t he say something more outright? Or maybe you’re just wrong. Maybe he’s a different kind of jealous, one that includes wanting you all to himself, just for sex, nothing else, and that’s where your confusion lies. Why do you feel so miserable and unwanted now you’re not hooking up together? Even when you continue to date Jungwoo, it’s not the same. He’s a nice guy don’t get you wrong, but after four dates it still hasn’t gotten past kissing, and you’re pretty sure a large part of that is down to you.
There’s something holding you back. Yoongi, and you can’t let yourself think why, because deep down you know, Sanah’s right, you’ve probably fallen for him, or at least have crossed wires somewhere. You forget, so long without sex, that the act is never that simple. Especially if you’re fooling around with your roommate. The only option is to push on through and try to forget the mess that is your thoughts right now…
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On your fifth date with Jungwoo you’re kissing him on the doorstep, toying with the idea of asking him in. It’s petty, because you know Yoongi’s home, you’d seen enough of him before you’d left tonight, and had enough of his passive-aggressive attitude. His actions aren’t making any sense, and you want to piss him off purposely, but you know you’re not that petty—or at least, you shouldn’t be that petty.
Yoongi on the other hand…
“What’s going on?” Jungwoo chuckles, looking a little confused as the porch light repeatedly switches on and off above your heads.
At first you’d both tried to ignore it, but it was getting harder now, and you knew exactly who was responsible.
“Ugh,” you groan lightly to yourself before forcing a grin on your face. “Faulty light maybe.”
Jungwoo frowns to himself, “sounds like someone’s clicking it on and off…”
With that the light turns off completely, surrounding you both in semi-darkness, just the glow from the streetlights illuminating your faces.
“I should probably go inside anyway,” you sigh, unable to hide the anger from your voice, and as if Jungwoo senses something he nods, agreeing with you. “Thanks, Jungwoo, tonight was really nice.”
“I’m glad you enjoyed,” he smiles. “I’ll message you tomorrow, okay?”
Once again you’re left wishing things were simple. Wishing you could forget about Yoongi, and just try to have fun with Jungwoo. But, that wasn’t going to happen until you’ve sorted things out once and for all.
.
.
However, maybe you shouldn’t try sorting things out when you’re this mad, the anger seeping through your body, unable to control it.
“What the fuck was that?” You half-shout as you slam the front door behind you, spotting Yoongi sat on the sofa, ‘watching’ the TV.
“What?” He asks, playing dumb.
“You!” You yell, throwing your purse to the floor in frustration. “Flicking the light on and off!”
“I have no idea what you mean,” he shrugs, standing up. “Maybe it’s faulty or something,” but you’re not blind, you can see the slight smirk on his face.
“Pull the other one, Yoongi!” You bite. “What the fuck is your problem?”
You need to have it out with one another, right now. No beating around the bush, just being straight up and honest, because he obviously does have a problem and it’s frustrating you, confusing you.
He frowns. “Me? I don’t have one.”
You scoff immediately, ready to explode. Why is he being like this? So closed off, so hard to talk to. He’s never acted like this before.
“You do though,” he shoots back, and you pull a face, taken back. “Why haven’t you brought Jungwoo inside for me to meet him?”
You stare at him, unable to believe he’s being so childish right now.
“Or would it be too awkward, don’t want to introduce him to the guy you’re fucking?”
Yoongi’s words repeat inside your head like a broken record, and suddenly everything makes sense. How stupid you’ve been, you’re an idiot.
“I knew this would happen,” you whisper, before raising your voice again. “Why are you such a dickhead?”
“Me?” He scoffs, laughing bitterly.
“Yes, you,” you snap. “Is this some kind of ego thing, huh?”
It has to be.
“You don’t want anyone else to have me? So you’re ruining things?” You demand.
He never liked you, he’ll never like you, and now you’ve probably fallen for him, just like Sanah said you would, messing up everything in the process.
Catching you off guard, Yoongi closes his eyes, hanging his head for a moment as silence falls around you both. When he finally looks up, he stares you down, sneering as he speaks.
“You really have no clue, do you?”
And then he’s storming off to his bedroom, you hear the door slam behind him, the loud bang ringing in your ears. You’re confused for a moment, maybe even feeling a little guilty, but that doesn’t last long. He doesn’t have the right to do this, manipulate you like this. It’s all on him, he’s the one with the problem, the one who’s almost led you on, and for what? To keep his ego in touch?
“What don’t I have a clue about?”
You can’t help yourself, you’re storming into his room before you can stop, too past it to care that you’re yelling.
You find him sitting in his desk chair, head in his hands. He groans when he hears you, sighing your name quietly, as if he’s exhausted. “Just go away, I can’t do this right now.”
You’re a little taken back by his demeanour, but stand your ground, needing answers. It was now or never.
“I’m not going anyway until you tell me what the hell your problem is,” you hiss.
He scoffs, lifting his head up to look at you.  “My problem? Do you really want to know?”
You nod quickly, jaw clenched.
“My problem is you.”
What? Nothing can prepare you for that answer, and you reel back, feeling hurt and upset. “So why have you been sleeping with me then?” You whisper, unable to look him in the eyes long enough.
“Oh my god,” he groans neck falling back in frustration. “I like you!” He exclaims suddenly, loudly too, making you jump.
You listen in confusion, nothing making sense. He has to be playing with you.
“This whole time I’ve fucking liked you, well, more fool me,” he half-shouts, making you jump. “I’m just sat at home waiting like a fucking loser while you go on dates with some ‘perfect’ guy.”
Shit. This can’t be happening. You were sure that wasn’t the case. You were sure he was just jealous because he wanted you all to himself, but not like this… It was you. You were the one who’d been hurting someone, not the other way around, and you’d carried on seeing Jungwoo, oblivious to Yoongi’s feelings.
No. Yoongi couldn’t like you. You would’ve known… You would’ve—
“See?” He yells, interrupting your thoughts. “You don’t even have anything to say! I’ve told you my problem—you’re my problem! I was hoping I was making it painstakingly obvious I like you, but you really don’t care, do you? Either that or you’re a dumb bitch—
“A dumb bitch?” You interrupt, eyes flashing with anger.
“Fuck, I didn’t mean that,” he panics instantly, realising what he’s said and he goes to stand up, hands out. “Wait—I’m sorry, shit—
“Well fuck you Min Yoongi,” you snap, “that’s not how you talk to someone you supposedly like.”
He’s lying. He’s trying to make you feel guilty for whatever reason. If he truly liked you why would he want to hurt you like that? Say such a mean thing? You’re the one who likes him, because this hurts too much, hearing him say such venomous words.
“Don’t be like this, wait—
“I’m leaving,” you rush, taking a step backwards. You don’t want to be around him anymore.
“To where?” He asks.
“I don’t know,” you shrug, and in that moment you want to hurt him, just like he’s hurt you. “Maybe I can drive to Jungwoo’s—
“Well that’s just great, so fucking romantic,” he erupts suddenly, Jungwoo’s name setting him off. “I’m so glad I could help you run into the arms of another man!”
You’re so mad your chest’s heaving uncontrollably, and you sneer, rushing out of his room quickly, yelling a childish bye over your shoulder. That’s when you hear him kick something that sounds suspiciously like his chair, curse words spilling from his mouth.
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You didn’t end up at Jungwoo’s. You toyed with the idea, out of pettiness and anger. Imagined arriving at his and having sex with him, just to spite Yoongi, but the truth was you couldn’t do it. If you did, you’d regret it forever. You were mad at him, yes, but you were also worried to ruin things, well, ruin them more than they already were.
You spent the night in your car, not getting a wink of sleep, but at least you had valuable time to think things through, to see how maybe you’d overreacted a little too much. The truth was, you were mad at Yoongi for keeping his feelings for you a secret for so long. You were mad at him for agreeing to this arrangement—no, proposing the stupid roommates with benefits idea if he liked you. Why would he do that? Why couldn’t he just confess like a normal person? You were mad because of all the confusion, but most of all you were mad at yourself. You were mad at yourself for not just asking him why he was acting so weird once you started seeing Jungwoo. You were mad at yourself for goading him that first time, knowing he was jealous. You were mad at yourself for enjoying it, when deep down it was probably ruining Yoongi.
You were mad at both of you. You were mad at Sanah too, and she’d heard all about it the next day, when you’d arrived at her home fresh from breaking things off with Jungwoo—the only person innocent in all of this. Sanah apologised of course, said her judgement was always iffy and that you shouldn’t have listened to her, (you mean, is that even an apology?) but what’s done is done. You accepted that you’d messed up all on your own, it’s not like she made you go on a date with Jungwoo holding a gun to your head…
You and Yoongi don’t speak for two weeks. It’s awkward, really awkward. You can’t tell if he’s still mad at you, or if he thinks you’re still mad at him, and you’re too nervous to ask, so that’s how things stay. It’s fine when you both have work, but in the evenings it’s a game of avoiding one another, most of the time Yoongi decides to stay in his room. On the weekends it’s a little more difficult, and tonight you’ve chosen to stay out until pretty late, Sanah attempting to buy your apology with snacks and cocktails at the bar… It’s 1am when you creep through the front door, praying to god Yoongi’s already asleep, or at the most, hiding in his room.
The stars aren’t that kind though…
“Oh my god,” you gasp when you turn the overhead light on just to see Yoongi kissing a girl on the sofa. “Shit, fuck,” you mutter under your breath, eyes wide in shock, trying to ignore the stabbing pain in your chest.
The light interrupts them obviously, as do you standing in the middle of the room, and Yoongi looks up, looking confused for a second, to see you standing there. He’s drunk. You can tell by the way his gaze is unfocused, cheeks rosy, and if that wasn’t enough to tell you, he stumbles as he crawls off the sofa, slurring your name.  
“I’m sorry,” he apologises for absolutely no reason, walking towards you, the girl spread out on the sofa sitting up and tidying her hair.
“Yoongi,” you reach for him. “How much have you had to drink?”
“Sorry,” the girls apologies too, standing up now. “You’re not his girlfriend, are you?”
You scoff and shake your head, that question hurting you more than you thought it would. “I’m his roommate,” you explain.
She looks relieved instantly, shoving her heels on. “I think I should go home,” she tells you. “He’s had a lot to drink,” she adds, side-eyeing him. “Er, bye Yoongi, bye,” she nods at you, before letting herself out.
You’re left standing there, holding onto Yoongi’s arm, the image of finding him and the girl still fresh in your mind, and you feel a little sick.
“I’m so sorry, I don’t get what happened,” he tries to tell you, but it doesn’t matter. He doesn’t owe you anything. “I just wanted to get drunk and forget about this mess,” he mumbles.
The stabbing sensation in your chest is back, your emotions out of control. Does he mean forget about you…?
“It’s okay, let’s just get you to bed,” you murmur.
He listens, and you help him to his room, getting him a glass of water once you’ve sat him down, just to make him drink it. As an afterthought you grab his trash can too, just in case he needs to chuck up in the middle of the night. You turn of his lamp, turning to leave, but he grabs your wrist.
“Stay with me,” he asks.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” you pull a face.
“Please,” he begs quietly, and of course you give in.
“Fine, but just until you get to sleep,” you say, rounding his bed to lie down on the other side.
He settles down beside you, lying on his back, staring up at the ceiling. You copy him, feeling a little awkward, but it does feel nice to be beside him again. It’s been a long two weeks, and this isn’t something you imagined doing for some time, if ever.
“I’m sorry for calling you a dumb bitch, I didn’t mean it,” he says into the darkness.
“It’s okay,” you whisper.
Truth is you’re not even hurt by it anymore. Things are said in the heat of the moment, you get it. You’ve hurt him too.
“No, it’s really not,” he insists, turning to face you. He’s drowsy, you can tell so by the way his words blur together. “—and I’m sorry for inviting that girl back and I’m sorry that you caught us, even if you don’t like me the way I like you, I’m sorry,” he continues, hurting your heart a little. “I’m also sorry that I acted like a jealous idiot and that I made you feel maybe guilty.”
He’s speaking so simply, it flows from him, as if he’s been thinking about it nonstop. It’s cute, you think to yourself, your chest blooming.
“...and I’m sorry that you have to see me like this, and hear me…”
“Yoongi?” You call, and he hums, eyes trying to focus on your face. “Shut up,” you tell him gently, trying to hold in a giggle. “Just go to sleep and we can talk about it in the morning.”
“Okay,” he agrees simply, closing his eyes immediately.
“No, like this,” you chuckle, using your arm to flip him on his side, the recovery position always a good bet. “Just in case,” you whisper, going to pull your hand back.
“Can you keep your arm around me?” He asks, his fingers clutching your own, and you pause, watching him for a moment. His eyes are still closed, as if he’s adamant to obey you, and you nod to yourself, settling beside him again.
“Sure,” you smile, curling your body to his, and without thinking too much you end up falling asleep, just like a baby, having missed everything about him. It’s simple to be relaxed in his company, even if he is rolling drunk and stinks.
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“Morning, sleepyhead,” you greet him the next morning as he groans. You’d already woken up half an hour previous, showering and brushing your teeth, because no one likes sleeping in their clothes from the night before.
Now you’re stood over him with another glass of water, two aspirins in your palm.
“How’s the hangover?” You ask, watching him wince as he finally opens his eyes, groaning again as he clutches his forehead.
“I feel like I have a hundred of those little orange men stampeding against my brain right now,” he finally speaks, voice hoarse.
“Little orange men?” You repeat, worried he’s delirious.
“Y’know,” he whines, “what do you call them? Oompa Loompas!” He exclaims, finally remembering, but regretting the loudness instantly.
“You’re such a weirdo,” you chuckle, forgetting any awkwardness from the past two weeks. “Here, take these,” you order, pushing the pills towards him.
He swallows them silently, leaning his back against the headboard when he’s done. “Shit,” he utters, staring ahead. “All of last night is coming back to me in broken memories.”
You awkwardly stay silent, unsure of what to say back, so instead you sit on the edge of his bed gingerly, waiting for him to continue, if he will.
“That fucking girl,” he mutters, dropping his head into his hands.
“Yeah, sorry about that,” you apologise awkwardly, looking down at your lap. “I interrupted you both.”
“Thank god,” he chuckles. “I would’ve regretted it forever.”
“You would?” You frown, looking up again, just to see him give you a lopsided smile.
“I’m kinda hung up on someone else…”
You can feel yourself blushing, but unable to break eye contact. He does first. “Look, er,” he begins awkwardly, picking at his t-shirt. “I’m sorry for calling you, y’know…”
“A dumb bitch?” You finish for him, but more amused than anything. It’s funny how sober, he’s like ten times more awkward.
“Ah, yeah, that,” he says slowly.
“You already apologised last night, don’t worry about it,” you laugh.
“I did?” He asks, looking surprised.  “I’m sorry, that part can’t have come back to me yet.”
“You apologised quite a lot last night,” you inform him.
“God,” he groans, looking embarrassed. “Well, depending on what I actually said, I meant all of it—unless it was bad, and then I meant done of it.”
You laugh again, feeling more comfortable, and sit back, hugging your legs to your body. Silence washes over you both for a moment, but it’s fine now, it’s not awkward.
“How did we get ourselves into this mess?” You finally ask, thinking back to the past few weeks, and how things would’ve been much simpler if you’d just been truthful with one another from the beginning.
“I’m probably to blame,” he admits, leaning forward to be closer to you.  “I should’ve never asked you to, y’know…”
“Yoongi, we both agreed to this like adults, I wanted to as well,” you tell him, because it’s the truth. It wasn’t like he had been concocting some mastermind plan all this time.
“Yeah, but my intentions were different…” he winces, looking apologetic, and he reaches for your hand, holding it loosely. “I’m sorry if I fucked things up with you and Jungwoo. I promise I’ll work on my own shit in silence.” He insists, gaze determined. “It might be awkward for a while but I won’t let you deal with it, it’s all on me…and if I can’t deal, I’ll just move out or something.”
“Don’t do that,” you say, hating the thought. “I ended things with Jungwoo,” you finally tell him, because you’ve been wanting to for days now. “Well, if they’d even started to begin with.”
Yoongi looks a little shocked, and you can tell he’s holding his breath, waiting for you to continue.
“I began dating him because I was trying to distract myself. I thought it was the best thing to do, find someone who could potentially like me…back…” you explain slowly, feeling weird now this was all coming out. You’d thought about this moment constantly since your argument.
“—but then I had to like him first, and while yeah, he was sweet, and cute and kinda perfect,” you chuckle with a wrinkle of your nose before carrying on. “He wasn’t you.”
“Wait,” is all he says, looking perplexed, and you’re too impatient to wait until he finally gets it.
“I like you back, you dumb bitch,” you exclaim, whacking his arm gently.
He gasps, mouth open. “Did you just call me a dumb bitch?”
“Well—
“Wait, my mistake, that doesn’t matter right now,” he interrupts almost immediately. “You like me?”
It’s like he needs to make sure, and you nod quickly, a small “mm hm,” leaving your mouth. “I don’t know how, or when—well actually, I do know when, it was probably when you stuck your dick in me that first time…”
He scoffs in amusement at your crude choice of explanation, shoulders relaxing with every other word that comes from you.
“These feelings have been building, and I tried to run away from them because I didn’t think you would ever like me back that way…”
“I already did though,” he says simply.
“I know that now,” you smile coyly, gaze lingering on his.
“So? Where does this leave everything…?” He asks carefully, and you shuffle up the bed, plonking yourself next to him, shoulders rubbing up against one another.
“Well, I was thinking maybe we could try something a little more serious…?” You suggest, excitement bubbling up at the future possibilities between you both.
“Yeah,” Yoongi grins, nodding his head, “I’d like that a lot.”
You lean forward, kissing his temple because you can’t control yourself, but when he tries to reach for your lips with his, you avoid him playfully.
“I like you, but not enough yet to kiss you on the mouth after you’ve just woken up,” you giggle.
“But I like you enough,” he whines, trying to reach for your waist, and you squeal as he pulls you to him, trying to hide your head in his t-shirt.
“Of course you would say that, you’re the one with the morning breath,” you tease, feeling his mouth on your hair as he places kisses on your head, the only place he can reach.
“Fine,” he gives in finally, letting you go, and you watch as he jumps out of bed. “I’ll brush my teeth then.”
“Oh, has your hangover miraculously been cured?” You ask, surprised.
“That’s what a forehead kiss from a beautiful lady will do to a man,” he brags, stretching his arms over his head.
“Ew, please shut the fuck up,” you pull a face, grabbing one of his pillows to throw it at him. It bounces off his ass as he walks away, laughing all the way to the bathroom.
The sound is like music to your ears, and you lie back against his headboard, a grin on your face, your heart beating happily in your chest.
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4K notes · View notes
readyplayerhobi · 2 years ago
Text
Fortuna
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; Yoongi x Hoseok x Reader x Jimin
; Genre: Smut, fluff
; Word Count: 10.3k
; Warnings: Poly relationship, dom!Hoseok, sub!reader, switch!Jimin, dom!Yoongi, mentioned mxm, unprotected sex, impregnation kink, multiple creampies, oral sex, fingering, voyeurism, filmed sex, deep throating, cumplay, dirty talk, almost pwp
; Synopsis: 300 years ago, half the world’s population died when the experimental Fortuna virus escaped. The remaining male population has been rendered infertile with one loophole that has meant polyamorous relationships have become the norm.
; A/N: This has almost a plot. Also...dedicated to @yminie because she knows why!
-
The soft whining that echoes through the room when you start to shuffle around in bed causes you to blink blearily, the early morning light giving everything an almost hazy glow. Apart from that sound, it’s quiet in your bedroom and you sigh softly, not wanting to get out of bed.
As you stretch, toes pointed underneath the covers while your hands hit the headboard gingerly, you feel a solid arm wrap around your waist. Tugging you closer, Jimin whines once more before nuzzling his head closer into you, nestling it in the warm place where your neck meets your shoulder.
The soft tickling of his breath causes you to shiver before laughing lightly, bringing down one hand to run your fingers through his soft and fluffy blonde hair. His roots are beginning to show, you note idly as you examine the darkened strands with a bemused smile.
“You need to dye your hair again baby.” You whisper, pressing your lips to the crown of his head while he grumbles endearingly. Your boyfriend has never been a morning person, and he probably never will be.
Gently reaching down, you press on the hard bone of his jaw to push his chin up until he’s looking at you. His hair has gone crazy as usual, and you stifle a laugh at the combined look of that and his puffy, sleep-ridden eyes.
He always whined that he looked like a kid when he was sleepy, but he just looked beautifully vulnerable and you appreciated that he was comfortable enough with you to do that. Jimin licks at his lips slowly, blinking through the slits he’s narrowed his eyes into at the bright light suddenly.
“Mmmm, ‘kay. Can we go back to sleep? Yoongi and Hoseok are working and we’re not.” He groans, flopping his head back onto the pillow with a soft sigh. You smile and kiss his forehead before sitting up, ignoring his annoyed mumble as the cool air hits his body.
“Yes, we’re not working. But you know Yoongi will give us the cold shoulder if we don’t at least attempt to do something around the house and Hoseok will pout at us. And you know I can’t handle sunshine pouting. You have laundry and groceries to do, and I have cleaning to do. You know what they say baby.” You tease him, running your fingertips lightly down his toned stomach as he shivers.
“Yeah, yeah. A co-operative relationship is a communicative relationship and a communicative relationship gives birth.” He pouts, moving his hands till they’re resting behind his head. You have to ignore the sight of his firmly muscled biceps that show clearly from the position and get out of bed, ready to start your day.
It wouldn’t be fair, to Yoongi or Hoseok, if you had sex with Jimin now. Particularly as the two of you had fucked at least three times this week without the presence of the older men. They was forgiving to a degree, but once more and they likely wouldn’t be.
Which was particularly important given that you were all trying for a baby right now, and as such you definitely needed at least Yoongi or Hoseok to be happy and co-operative with you. Babies were exceptionally important to the world now, and almost everyone backed the efforts to produce more children to repopulate the planet.
Three hundred years ago, an experimental virus had escaped a lab in the United States. It had almost no symptoms to begin with, and before a test could be created that gave an accurate reading, over three-quarters of the world’s population had been infected with it.
Due to it being an early experiment, no vaccine had been created as they hadn’t even had chance to do main tests on it. As such, by the time the vaccine was finally created five years later, the entire population had been infected and it had proven futile anyway.
Half the world’s population had died, while the other half had shown immunity. The virus took twice as many women as it did men and seemed to attack at random. They named it the Fortuna virus, because it was pure luck who would survive.
It took another five years before the remnants of governments across the globe had declared the outbreak over. It took another year before people realised that something was wrong with those who had survived.
The terror of so much death and disease had masked an incredibly important fact, something which people had noticed independently but failed to acknowledge as a whole.
No children had been born since the population had been infected. And it was only once everyone tried to return to normality, educating the remaining population to take up jobs that they would have never considered before, that it became obvious.
Couples who had no issue conceiving beforehand suddenly found themselves barren and even the young were unable to conceive. Scientists soon turned their efforts from the Fortuna virus to the infertility crisis.
What they discovered, is that those who had proven immune to the Fortuna virus had not actually been ‘immune’ in the traditional sense. They had the infection, and it was still active despite the vaccine. But it did not cause harm or death.
In women, they still had their monthly menstrual cycles and were found to be completely fertile. But men were found to be shooting blanks, their sperm dead and unusable. A global panic ensued as humanity saw the writing on the wall.
Some took the imminent end of humanity as permission to engage in promiscuous behaviour and with men outnumbering women at least two to one there were plenty of multiple sex scenarios that were had.
And suddenly, women found themselves pregnant out of nowhere.
This baffled everyone, and even when they tested the men the women had slept with, their sperm was still found to be infertile. It was only with further investigation that the scientists discovered that the Fortuna virus had genetically manipulated the remaining men on Earth.
Pregnancy was impossible with a single man, but if two men’s sperm was combined then it somehow reactivated them. No one had ever managed to figure out why. As such, the only way to have a child was to combine the sperm of two men The resulting information was met with simultaneous joy and disbelief.
A world that had near enough rejected polyamory now had to embrace it.
Three hundred years later, and polyamorous relationships had become the norm. Most people chose to be in a two male and one female relationship, though there were those who opted for larger family units. Many still chose monogamy, simply having children through IVF.
You had met Yoongi and Hoseok when you had been in college. Yoongi had been a biochemical engineering major, which had immediately confused the hell out of you. Particularly as you had been a history major, interested in learning about cultures pre-Fortuna.
The two of you had to share an English language class for some god forsaken reason. Your mutual dislike of it had led to you both becoming friends. That had led to meeting his best friend, Jung Hoseok, whom you’d been immediately attracted to. Your mutual attraction had in turn evolved into a relationship in your final year.
Hoseok had almost immediately asked if you would accept Yoongi into your relationship, and you’d happily said yes. It had been one of the least stressful and most fortuitous decisions you’d ever made.
Jimin had been the surprise in your relationship, the one that none of you had been expecting.
You’d all met Jimin when you’d been dating three years, the younger man a recent college graduate who was close friends with one of Yoongi’s friends. He’d gotten a degree in education and had taken up a role as a teacher in the local school.
All three of your careers had become important in the world, with Yoongi actively researching as a biochemical engineer, Hoseok a paediatrics doctor, you curating history as an assistant to your university’s professor and Jimin educating the youth of tomorrow.
Upon finding out that you would be meeting Jimin, you hadn’t been sure what to expect. He was Taehyung’s best friend, Yoongi’s eccentric hometown friend who had the most unusual tastes. Taehyung worked currently as a fashion designer, a job that had once held a lot of prestige but had decreased in value significantly since Fortuna.
The three of you had gone to the group outing with no expectations, and all of you had come away with the biggest crushes on Park Jimin. His bright and sweet smile had made butterflies flutter in your stomach like a tiny storm of wings, something that you hadn’t felt since the very beginning of your relationship.
An infectious laugh that resulted in his entire body folding over wherever he was, whether he was sat or stood up, had you laughing along softly while his squeaking giggle made you smile fondly.
Hoseok had watched your expression with amusement, teasing you on the way home with Yoongi over the whole issue.
“Hey babe, I think angel here fell a little bit in love with Jimin in there.” Hoseok says suddenly in the quietness of the car. You jerk slightly at the noise, eyes glazed slightly with the alcohol you’d been drinking.
Yoongi can hold his a little better than you, so he sounds entirely sober when he responds. “Yeah, I noticed that too. What do you think, kitten? What’s going on in that pretty head of yours?” His tone is filled with gentle merriment that prods at you softly, causing you to frown drunkenly.
“He’s hot. I wanna fuck him.” You blurt out without thinking, causing your two boyfriends to burst out with laughter. Hoseok bites at his fingers as he drives with one hand, bright eyes glancing back into the mirror to look at you.
“Yeah? Does angel think she can handle three men at once?” He doesn’t sound offended, but in today’s society he wouldn’t be. One more man in a relationship just meant a higher chance of eventual pregnancy to be honest. It also meant more pleasure for you, and just the thought of having three attractive men all seeking to make you happy made you feel hot and bothered.
Squirming in your seat, your eyelids flutter shut as your drunk mind begins to throw up elaborate scenarios with all three of them. The soft moan that leaves you is unheard to your own ears, but the look that Yoongi and Hoseok give each other says that they heard it loud and clear.
“Okay. We understand.” Is all Yoongi responds with, tone carefully neutral as they share a secretive smile.
Neither you nor Jimin had quite realised what they were doing when they kept arranging for opportunities for him to spend time with not only the three of you, but also more personal time with just you. Mainly because you didn’t remember the conversation in the car, but also because you’d become a little infatuated with the cute guy.
He was kind and overly affectionate, latching onto you once he’d deemed you friend material over the months you spent together. It had even gotten to the point that you’d had to have a meeting with Hoseok and Yoongi, tearfully admitting that you liked Jimin as more than a friend.
You’d been upset at the thought that they would feel angry or possessive over you and had become worried sick at the thought of losing your relationship with them both. Only for them to stare incredulously with shocked faces.
“No kitten! God no, we’ve been putting you together with him for a reason. And bringing him round. You said you liked him in the car so we thought we’d see if he felt the same about us. We both like him too, that’s why we’ve been inviting him over more.” Yoongi had told you, hands holding onto your insistently as he stroked at the soft skin there.
You’d sniffled in response, lip trembling as Hoseok wrapped his arms around your shoulders and squeezed tightly. “Angel, don’t feel bad. I’m sorry, we’re stupid obviously. We thought you remembered and figured out what we were doing. We’d be happy to have Jimin with us if he’d accept us. I know it might be hard for him to say yes though.”
And it had been, with Jimin unsure about whether or not he wanted to be a part of a relationship that had been established for over three years at that point. Not to mention that relationships with more than three weren’t the most common, though still found.
You’d all invited him over for dinner to break the question to him, each one saying what they liked before asking him if he’d like to be part of your relationship. It had been awkward and slightly tense, the three of you concerned that you might scare him off.
He’d been gracious, and asked for time to think about it. If you were being honest, you’d thought that you would never see him again and that you’d not only lost a potential partner, but a good friend.
But Jimin was a man who knew his own mind and was quite stubborn when he wanted to be. Which was why he’d turned up on your doorstep three days later with a solid yes. Well, solid before going back to being shy.
Turns out that being the object of desire and affection for three people made him a blushing mess. And that was before you’d all had sex for the first time, making sure to worship every inch of his body and make sure he knew that he really was wanted in your relationship.
Which had all led to now, four years later down the line. With your full time jobs, you’d all fallen into the steady role of adulthood with ease and all the trials and tribulations that came with it. A benefit of having three boyfriends was that you all had a ridiculous amount of disposable income.
Hoseok’s wage paid the mortgage on the house that you’d all bought two years ago, while Yoongi’s paid for the monthly bills. Yours and Jimin’s paid for all the cars, which still left a lot of money left over, ensuring that you could live comfortably.
You also had all mellowed into your relationship, the sparks and excitement of getting together smouldering into a comfortable and warming fire that was not only reliable, but trustworthy. The odd argument was to be expected with so many people, particularly with three guys, but you’d learnt each other quirks and ticks.
Which was you’d suggested a few months ago to start trying for a baby. Though the world had found a way to have children, it was still a lot harder to conceive than it had once been. Most women were lucky to have more than two children, and male children were still far more prevalent because of Fortuna.
After assessing your lives, they had all agreed that it was the natural progression of your relationship and so you had started trying. Each one of them read up on ways to make conceiving easier post-Fortuna, along with information on pregnancy and children themselves.
You’d asked it of them, to make sure that your child had parents who were knowledgeable and that you would be prepared for almost anything. Hoseok and Yoongi had been quite mature about it and were quietly looking forward to their future child. Jimin had been an excited little bean though, bouncing around and practically vibrating whenever he threw out random names.
It was still wonderful though to know that they were all looking forward to the shift in your relationship and impending parenthood. Even if it was a little harder to find time to get at least two of them together at once like you needed. But you’d all agreed that it would be worth it.
-
You’d finished doing your household chores for the day by the time 3pm rolls around, feeling only a little guilty about not getting up until 10am. But at least the house looks sparkling clean. It was almost relaxing to see everything become tidy, causing you to smile as you finally finished Yoongi’s room.
Hoseok, Jimin and you all chose to sleep in the same bed, liking being close to each other. Yoongi had long ago decided that he liked his own space, opting for his own room and bed. You occasionally slept with him, not wanting him to feel left out. But it also helped to save on space, leaving you all with three spare bedrooms in the house for what you all hoped was future children.
Jimin had spent the day dancing and singing around the house, his airy and light voice sounding beautiful and sweet as he completed his own chores and even started dinner cooking. He may be the baby of the relationship, which means he gets away with far more than he should, but he was still a responsible adult.
Sneaking into the kitchen once you’d put away the vacuum cleaner, you watch as Jimin’s hips shake in time to the music that’s blasting from his phone as he finishes washing up the items he’d used to prepare dinner.
Laughing softly, you tip-toe forward before wrapping your arms around his waist tightly, causing him to yelp and jump. Spinning around, he raises a dark brow at you before tickling at your waist with soap laden hands.
You squeal and jump away, shouting out expletives as he follows you around the kitchen while laughing loudly himself. It’s only when you let him catch you that you manage to catch your own breath, enjoying the feeling of him pressed to your back as he gives you over exaggerated kisses to your neck.
He starts to get a little more amorous about them, the playful movements become more seductive as he sucks an open mouthed kiss onto the exposed flesh. You gasp softly, eyes closing before pulling away from him sharply.
“Baby, we can’t. Not without one of the others. It’s not fair to them.” Your words are firm but gentle as you take his hands, squeezing them lightly.
Jimin leans against the counter and pouts, his plush lower lip sticking out adorably while he looks down at the floor. Sighing deeply, you walk over to him and rest your hands on his hips. Even though he has the most muscular body out of all your boyfriends and his hips are actually almost non-existent.
The cotton fabric of his shirt gives him a little softness as your fingers stroke up and down his toned sides, peering up at him under his fringe. He’s giving you puppy dog eyes, the brown irises clearly visible as looks at you.
“Don’t give me that look baby.” You tease him, squeezing at the firm flesh beneath your fingertips. He watches you intently for a moment before the corner of his lips kick up and he shakes his head.
“Sorry. I know, we have to wait for them.” Jimin says, bringing his own hands up to cup your cheeks. Smiling at you, he leans down and presses a kiss to your mouth, his own lips soft and gentle.
It starts sweet, and when he pulls away he give you one of his heart wrenching grins that light up his entire face with his eyes creasing from happiness. Leaning up on your tip-toes, you chase his lips and capture them between your own, sucking on his lower lip before teasing at it with your teeth.
He lets you carry on for a moment before he takes over, shifting his head slightly to the right and angling his mouth to get the perfect position to kiss you even deeper. A low moan vibrates from his throat as he slips past your lips, his tongue darting inside to play with your own for a few moments before exploring at his own leisure.
Your fingers clench at his shirt as his hands dance down your back slowly until he’s palming your ass, pulling your hips into his own. The movement has your crotch brushing against his and you can feel his semi-hard penis pressing against your thigh underneath his own sweats and your leggings.
The two of you lose all awareness of anything else as you kiss, simply focused on the supple movements of your tongues or the slow grinding of your hips against each other. Which is why neither of hears the front door, nor the footsteps that lead to the kitchen.
In fact, it’s only when you hear a familiar throat clearing that you jerk away from each other with wide eyes, feeling almost like teenagers being caught by your parents.
It’s just Hoseok though, leaning against the doorframe with his arms folded as he watches you both with amusement. Brows raised, he looks between the two of you before gesturing with a finger.
“Having fun without me? Whatever would Yoongi say?” The older man says with a smirk, loping over to you in his long, self-assured stride that has you smiling. Jimin and Yoongi like to tease him for his walk, even though Jimin walks like a man who just conquered an entire sorority all the time.
Hoseok’s wearing a pair of dark jeans and a plain white t-shirt, with his hair still damp from the shower he probably took at the hospital once finishing his shift. He worked as a paediatrician, helping sick kids while supporting their parents. It was a highly coveted and respected job now, and you knew that with his gentle and kind personality he was probably a phenomenal doctor.
Right now however, he’s looking incredibly delectable and you almost purr at the sight of his golden skin, the inky black strands of his hair making it stand out even more. Out of all of you, Hoseok worked the most.
As a doctor at the hospital, Hoseok’s shifts rotated on a schedule. It meant he never got the same time off, and he often worked 12 hour shifts as a minimum. And sometimes he even ended up stuck working a double, which meant you didn’t see your beloved sunshine for over a whole day.
He’d just finished a 12 hour shift, and you know that he’s probably exhausted but he’s looking at you with both love and a spark of lust as his gaze flickers between you and Jimin. What you should be doing, is offering to relax him with a massage or a cuddle before dinner but you can’t help the aching clench between your thighs at the thought of being with him.
You’d had sex with Jimin yesterday. The last time you’d had sex with Yoongi had been three days ago, with Jimin. But Hoseok? Hoseok had been over two weeks ago, with his schedule just too busy to allow him time and leaving him so tired he often just fell asleep as soon as he got home.
And then your work interrupted, leaving him to get his pleasure with the other two. So you were more than a little desperate for the feel of Hoseok between your legs once more.
He looks away from Jimin and back at you, the sheer lust that’s dilating your pupils evident to him. Almost immediately, a catlike grin takes over as he stops in front of you, looking down with a quirked brow.
You’ve always found it immensely attractive Hoseok is taller than you all, with Jimin and Yoongi being a similar height to each other. That attraction manifests itself into liquid desire between your legs as he looks down at you and you can almost feel his dominant persona taking over.
With three boyfriends, it’s a little hard to engage in any dominance games in the bedroom but you’d all eventually established that Hoseok was the one in charge. The man simply did not like to be told what to do, whereas the other two would accept it with varying stages of complaint.
Yoongi cared the least and made only minor complaints, and if anything he was the softer one who just liked to have sex. When Hoseok wasn’t there, Jimin liked to take over the dominant role but when his boyfriend was there, he grudgingly acquiesced to the older man.
Leaning down slightly, you can feel Hoseok’s breath tickle the baby hairs on your face as you smell the mint gum he’d obviously eaten before coming in. Lips kicking up into a wide grin that brings his dimples out, your heart flutters at the sight and you go to kiss him.
Only he bypasses you entirely and wraps a hand around Jimin’s neck, tugging the blonde in for a surprise kiss. You watch with a pout as their mouths slot together perfectly and Jimin moans softly into Hoseok’s mouth before he’s pulling away.
“I thought Yoongi told you no funny business without one of us?” He murmurs, eyes flickering down to the tented groin of Jimin’s grey sweats. Immediately, the apples of Jimin’s cheeks flush a rosy pink and you giggle lightly.
“We didn’t do anything! We were just kissing.” Jimin pouts, stuffing his hands into his pockets and grumbling quietly. Leaning into Hoseok’s warm body, you smile before mouthing at his shoulder in an insistent way. He twists slightly to look at you, the corner of his mouth turned up before his fingers press on your chin, lifting it up till you’re staring directly into his dark eyes.
Without saying a word, he bends over to meet you and you sigh internally with delight at the feel of his firm yet plush lips. It feels like it’s been forever since you’ve been intimate with Hoseok, and you crave the feel of his body against yours so badly.
You pull away before he can get too involved in the devouring of your mouth, causing him to pout cutely. Biting your lower lip, you kiss along his jaw softly and nibble at the sharp edges there, enjoying the tremble that moves through him.
“We were good. We didn’t do anything. But please Hobi, sunshine, sweetheart. Please. It’s been so long since I’ve had you.” You plead, pressing your hips against his lightly to let him know that you were receptive to any attention he may give you.
His eyes dart down to where your groin is pressed to his thigh and he sighs deeply, turning and running his fingers through your hair. “Has my angel missed me?” He jokes, leaning in until his nose brushes against yours. “I’ve missed you. I’ve missed your legs wrapped around my waist, I’ve missed that mouth on my cock and I’ve missed my cock in you.”
His use of dirty talk lets you know that he’s acquiescing to your needs and you squeeze your thighs together with excitement. Running your hands over his chest and stomach, you push against him as you lift yourself up to meet his lips once more.
The sharp exhale lets you know that Jimin is probably getting more than aroused watching the both of you and the knowledge of him watching has the liquid heat in your veins feeling even hotter. Hoseok is practically devouring you now, and you can feel the frustration he must have had not being able to be with you.
He presses against you suddenly and you let out a muffled noise against his lips before suddenly his hands are squeezing your thighs. In a show of strength that has you gasping, he lifts you up and immediately you thighs wrap against his waist.
Moving away from him to let him navigate to your bedroom without any danger, you grin over Hoseok’s shoulder at Jimin who follows quietly. Locking eyes with him, he smirks and licks his lips before his brows wiggle at you enticingly.
As Hoseok moves into the room, you whisper into his ear quietly. “We should film it, and send it to Yoongi to let him know what he’s missing out on.” You don’t even need to hear Hoseok’s low groan as you can feel it vibrate through his body.
One of the things you all enjoyed doing was filming each other, providing excellent material when one of you had to go away for work reasons or was left alone in the house. The videos you got sent from them when you were aware on a research trip got you hot just thinking about it. It was also the perfect way to rile you up, which is why you enjoyed it.
Yoongi had sent Hoseok a video the other week, and quite evidently Hoseok was happy to get revenge.
“What a good idea angel. How about it little prince?” Hoseok calls over his shoulder as he lays you down on the bed, following you quickly to nuzzle into the crook of your neck with an open mouthed kiss.
Jimin walks over and sits on the other side of you, running his hand along your outer thigh before dipping inside with a mischievous smile. You don’t even need to look at his eyes to note that the dark orbs are practically sparkling with the idea of setting Yoongi off.
As the youngest of you all, he was a little bit spoilt and was doted on by all three of you. Which did wonders for his praise kink but he knew damn well that you all found it almost impossible to be annoyed at him for long periods of time.
“I’ll record it for you babe, make sure to get the good angles.” He smirks, lowering himself to your stomach while he lifts your shirt, pressing gentle kisses to the sensitive flesh there. Skin goosebumping at the sensation, your gasp is swallowed by Hoseok as he takes over your mouth once more.
The feeling of both men lavishing attention is almost overwhelming, with their hands stroking over any exposed skin they can reach. Hoseok breaks contact with you to grasp the hem of your shirt, pulling it over your head before he’s mouthing at the exposed mounds of flesh eagerly, the look in his eyes as he glances up hungry.
Biting your lip, you pant out a needy noise that causes to him to chuckle as he takes off your bra with expert hands, mouth latching onto your nipple and sucking deeply to cause prickles of pleasured tinged with pain. Without even looking away from you, he reaches down to grasp his fingers in Jimin’s hair before he pulls away slightly and pushes the younger man further down your body till he’s nosing the waistband of your leggings.
“Get her ready for me, little prince.” He mumbles, causing Jimin to make a grunt of acknowledgement before his fingers dip underneath, tugging the skin tight material down your legs and taking your panties with them.
The sudden cold air on your centre has you gasping, your legs attempting to close at the feeling. Jimin stops you immediately, his hands pressing on your inner thighs till you’re spread for him as he nestles between them happily.
You’re not sure how Hoseok can tell what’s happening when he’s not even looking, but he kisses you fiercely at the same time that Jimin licks a long, slow stretch from your entrance to your clit. Mouth dropping open, you moan out as your eyelids flutter shut at the sensation and Hoseok takes the opportunity to plunder your mouth, tongue dipping inside as he simulates exactly what Jimin is doing below.
Jimin gives you a few licks before his lips wrap around your clit, suckling intensely on the stiffened bundle of nerves and causing you to writhe in need. One of your hands moves to clutch at Hoseok’s shirt, gripping at the fabric tightly while your other tugs at the roots of Jimin’s hair desperately.
Pulling away from you, Hoseok breathes heavily as he watches you through half lidded eyes, his lips swollen and glossy from the intense kiss. He smirks before looking down at Jimin, glancing back with a raised brow.
“He’s doing good, isn’t he?” He whispers, grinning broadly as you both watch Jimin eat you with a desperate hunger. The younger man loves oral, and you whine quietly as he does a particularly delightful thing with his tongue that has you shuddering on the bed.
“Baby...baby, look at me.” You whisper, voice straining slightly as Hoseok runs his fingers through the blonde hair. With one, deep suck that has your head hitting the pillow, he looks up with innocent, wide eyes whilst his lips and chin gleam in the afternoon light from your juices.
Hoseok gives a tiny sigh, shifting on the bed till their heads are close enough to bump noses. He says nothing, just watching the way Jimin’s eyes are blown out from lust before he slowly licks along the edge of his jaw, moving up till he’s licking away your very essence from Jimin’s face.
Jimin moans softly, and the quiet sound has Hoseok taking advantage, taking Jimin’s mouth and kissing him deeply. A hushed groan escapes Hoseok’s own throat at the combined taste of you and Jimin before he’s moving away, licking his lips before looking back at you with intent.
“I want you, on my cock. Now.” He hisses, standing up to undress furiously, movements quick and filled with a furious need. Both you and Jimin watch as lean muscles and golden skin becomes quickly exposed, your legs squeezing around Jimin as subconscious want floods your veins while Jimin grips in turn.
At a gesture from Hoseok, Jimin presses a final kiss to your pubic mound before he’s standing and undressing himself, only a lot more quietly and with less intensity. You wish that you could say you were watching him, but your eyes are firmly on Hoseok as he fists his cock slowly, dragging the hard shaft in firm motions while a beautiful drop of pearlescent pre-cum beads at his tip.
Looking back up at him, you watch as he runs his other hand through his dark hair, his forehead clearly visible while delicate strands fly away aimlessly. A tiny whimper leaves you at the sight of him, looking like an x-rated version of a timeless marble statue and he can’t help the tiny smirk at your blatant desire.
“Don’t worry angel, Daddy will make you feel really good.” He states plainly, his tone confident and you practically pant as he slips into one of your favourite personas. The excited grin from Jimin tells you that he’s equally as ready for this, his phone held in his hands while he stands in only boxers that do nothing to hide the tented erection.
Hoseok ignores all this though and climbs onto the bed next to you, pausing to press a deep and loving, yet incredibly possessive kiss on your lips. “We’re going to do this a little different. This is a present for Yoongi, so I want you on top. I want to see this lush ass bouncing, and I want you to put on the world’s best fucking show for the camera. I want you to suck Jimin’s cock until he’s whining, and I want you to fuck me until I’m filling this pretty pussy up with my cum.”
He runs a finger along your drenched slit, dipping it inside you for a moment before pulling it back out and circling your clit with just enough pressure to have you moaning. “Make it look good. I want him to see my cum dripping out of you, knowing that he’s not here to enjoy it or add to it. Do you understand me angel?”
You nod frantically, your internal muscles literally aching with the need to have him filling up the empty space inside you. A dark laugh reverberates around the room and has your skin goosebumping as he shifts to the side, plumping up the pillows and laying back comfortably.
Once done, he looks at you with an expectant before jerking his head towards his thick shaft, resting against his stomach and leaking a slow pool of pre-cum onto the sparse hair there. Licking your lips, you eye it firmly before sitting up and grasping him with one hand.
Hoseok hisses immediately, his head falling back and revealing the delicious, sharp angles of his jawline. You stroke him a few times before throwing a leg over his lap, giving him a prime view of your ass and the long, exposed skin of your back.
He lets out a content sigh as his hands grip at your hips, fingers stroking along the flesh before he’s parting your ass cheeks to get a perfect view. “That’s it angel, slide down on me.” You stroke the head of him along your slickness to coat him before positioning him just right.
It’s with incredibly restraint and control that you slide down him slowly, each delicious, thick inch slipping into you as your thighs practically tremble from the effort of holding yourself above him and moving so slowly. The both of you let out a low groan, eyes squeezing shut at the sensation until finally you’re seated firmly on him, his cock as deep as you can get it.
Staying still for a moment, you let your head drop back as you enjoy the sensation of him filling you, teasingly squeezing your muscles around him until he growls. “Move angel.” Is all he says, but his hands are tight on you with an unspoken desire.
Bringing your head back, you open your eyes to see Jimin standing at the end of the bed with his phone firmly in his hand. The younger man is grinning, with his eyes focused firmly on his screen and you glance at the tiny camera before smirking yourself.
Tracing your hand up your body, you reach your breasts and squeeze one of them firmly while your hips begin to rock on top of Hoseok. Each movement has him sliding in and out of you, the movement divine as he presses against your g-spot so intensely in this position that you don’t even intend the choked moan that escapes your throat.
Moving slowly so that the camera gets the perfect shot, you roll your nipples between your fingers and shift your body in alluring ways that has a pained expression taking over Jimin’s mouth. Grinning slightly, you shift slightly till you have one hand pressed against Hoseok’s chest to give you support as you begin to rock faster.
Hoseok lets out a quiet groan while you run your hand down your stomach till you reach your clit and slowly circle it in firm and confident strokes. The bolt of pleasure has you jerking on top of your boyfriend, muscles clamping down on him inadvertently as you gasp out.
Eyes closing, you continue to pleasure yourself while your hips keep up a steady rhythm, Hoseok’s own hips jerking up to meet yours occasionally. The only sounds in the room are your panting moans and the slick sound of Hoseok sliding in and out of you before you feel his hands press against your lower back.
Opening your eyes, you look over your shoulder to see his fucked out face watching you intently, mouth open while the apples of his cheeks flush red. “Suck him angel, we don’t want our little prince feeling left out.”
Nodding, you maneuver yourself forwards before gesturing for Jimin to come closer. He grins brightly, that beautiful smile lighting up his face adorably and you can’t help but grin in turn. “You look so fucking gorgeous.” He whispers, causing you to preen at him before reaching out for his cock now that he’s naked.
His erection is standing proudly, bobbing slightly in the air as if to get your attention and you make appreciative noises to him as you stroke along the firm length. He’s not as long as the other two, but he’s pretty girthy which is always a benefit.
“You’re beautiful.” You say pointedly, eyes flickering up to the camera before you take him into your mouth slowly. His laugh dissolves into a deep groan at the sensation, phone jerking slightly as he fists his other hand to prevent him from ruining the shot.
Peering up, you make sure to give the camera the perfect view of you as you blink innocently, lips wrapped around Jimin’s cock tightly as you tongue his underside lavishly. Bobbing your head down, you relax your throat and take him as far as you can go, the hairs at his base tickling your nose before you pull back up with a gasp.
“Oh fucking hell. Hoseok, she’s so hot. You should see her.” Jimin moans out, not caring about the shot anymore as he runs his fingers through your hair and grips it tightly. Eyes closing, you continue to suck on him in long strokes that has your tongue dancing along his shaft with each movement before the tip of him hits the back of your throat.
Hoseok responds by bucking his hips up into you, the sudden pressure and friction causing you to whimper at the pleasure that cascades through your body. Almost immediately Jimin is wriggling, the vibrations from being so far in your mouth probably causing him unbelievable sensations.
“She’s got a good mouth does our angel, don’t you? You’re being such a good girl for daddy and little prince.” Hoseok groans out, the sharp slap of skin on skin loud in the quietness of the room and you mewl softly around Jimin’s cock at his praise.
The sudden tightness of Jimin’s hand in your hair has you wincing and you pull off him, grimacing slightly at the sensation before licking the tip of him affectionately. Deep throating him has left strings of excess saliva that link from his cock to your mouth and you kiss along his cock, nuzzling at his defined hip bone.
“Come back here angel, Move back.” Hoseok says suddenly, his voice strained and you can tell by the way his movements are becoming sloppier that he’s reaching his limit. He normally lasts much longer than this, but it’s been a while for you both and the idea of being filmed is evidently a huge turn on for him.
Letting go of Jimin, you reach back and place your hands on either side of Hoseok on the bed before moving your legs until you’re almost in a crouching position over him, thighs trembling at the sensation of holding yourself up. It’s the position he evidently wants you in, as this will give the camera the best view and the very thought has you tingling.
“Good angel.” He whispers, moving forward suddenly to press a kiss to your shoulder before he’s dropping back against the pillows.
Looking forwards, you make direct eye contact with Jimin as he moves around to get the perfect shot of Hoseok’s slick cock as it slides into you with each thrust of his hips. Moaning lowly, you maintain the contact as you bring gyrate your hips enticingly, spreading your legs as far as you feel comfortable to make sure it’s the perfect show.
Jimin lets out a soft groan of his own, his free hand stroking his firm erection in lazy moves that has you squeezing tight around Hoseok. It results in a deep growl erupting from his chest and his hands on your hips tighten, holding you in place while he shifts his legs into a bracing position to help with his movements.
“Moan for us angel. Let Yoongi know what he’s missing out on.” Hoseok whispers into your ear, hot breath tickling the fine hairs there and you shiver in response to his words. The sounds and cries of pleasure fall from your lips like honey, not a care in the world at your volume as Hoseok’s dick hits every spot that makes your body spark.
“Oh fuck, Hoseok. Harder, please. Please, daddy, please harder.” You gasp out, eyes rolling into your head as he snaps his hips up into yours with forceful grunts. Clenching your internal muscles around him in rhythmic waves, he chokes out a moan before slamming into you one final time, holding himself firmly in place.
As his orgasm takes over, you feel the exhilarating sensation of his cock pulsating inside you, each twitch likely spurting streams of cum into you. Glancing back at him, you watch as he gazes back through slitted eyes that are glazed with pleasure before you slowly rock your hips on him.
He hisses in response, hips making tiny movements up into you until the overstimulation is too much for him to bear and he slips out of you. The movement causes his release to drip out of your pussy, leaking white streaks onto his cock and you smirk at the camera.
Jimin’s watching intently before he lets out a curse, moving closer to get a shot before pressing something. “Oh fuck sweetheart, that’s so hot. Look at you, creaming all over Hoseok like that. But you’re being a bad girl.” He tuts, throwing his phone to the side of the bed before running his fingers through his hair.
The blonde locks part in the most appealing way, giving him the princely look that you adore so much. Tilting his head to the side, his sharp jaw juts out as he grins enticingly while his hand pulls at his cock.
“We’re supposed to be getting you pregnant. Filling you up with our cum till you’re fat with our baby, but how can we do that when you keep leaking Hobi everywhere like a naughty girl?” He shakes his head, reaching down and running a finger through your slippery folds.
Lifting it up, you take in his index finger with greedy eyes, looking over the gleaming wetness that’s coating it along with the white of Hoseok’s release. Crawling onto the bed, Jimin trails his fingertip along your lips, spreading the lewd mixture liberally before pushing it into your mouth.
The taste of yourself and Hoseok floods your mouth immediately and you suck deeply, increasing the pressure as he pulls his finger out slowly with an amused smile. “Such a dirty girl. I guess I’m going to have to make sure you stay filled up, hmm?” He whispers, darting closer to press his lips to yours.
You haven’t managed to move away from Hoseok, and the sudden movement of Jimin has you laying on the older man, your head resting against his shoulder. He doesn’t complain though, simply chuckles tiredly into your neck before pressing a gentle kiss there.
Jimin doesn’t move from his own kiss, his tongue delving into your mouth and exploring leisurely while he strokes the tip of his cock along your pussy, the fat head rubbing against your clit pleasingly before sliding along your entrance.
Without any warning, his hips move forward and he surges into you, seating himself in one swift movement that has you crying out into his mouth. Your hand automatically comes up to grip at his hair, while your other somehow finds itself in Hoseok’s hair.
His thrusts are immediate, giving you no time to get used to him. The impatience of his orgasm, already so close because of your earlier blowjob, the sexy video and his own hand, makes him reckless and almost uncaring.
Under normal circumstances, you would be number one in his mind but all he can think about is the heavenly way you feel around his cock. Moving away from his lips, you look down to see the unbelievable sight of Jimin’s cock sliding in and out of you at a furious pace, coated in your juices and streaked white in a combination of you and Hoseok.
“Little prince, you’re being rather rude right now.” Hoseok murmurs, his lips barely moving away from your skin. You quiver as you make breathy whimpers from Jimin’s fast pace before mewling desperately when Hoseok’s hand reaches around to play with the needy bundle of nerves between your legs.
He’s hot against your back, both of you sweating and sticking to each other and yet you can’t focus on anything properly apart from the feel of Jimin inside you and Hoseok’s fingers on you. The overwhelming dual sensations that your boyfriends are providing, their mouths pressing hot and wet kisses to either side of your neck has you bursting into orgasm before you even realise it’s happening.
Jerking wildly on top of Hoseok, your muscles spasm wildly as your orgasm hits you like a train. Pussy clenching around Jimin like a vice, tiny muscles convulsing in waves, he cries out and shudders himself as he reaches his climax. Biting down on your neck, he tries to quieten his moans as he jerks into you while you stroke his back tiredly, arms shaking from the tiring sensations.
The only sounds in the room now are gasps from the three of you, Hoseok a little more relaxed as he’s already had time to recover. Jimin rests against you for a moment before Hoseok shifts and makes a soft noise of complaint underneath you.
Rolling to the side, Jimin lays quietly in your large bed with arms outstretched. Laughing softly, you roll off Hoseok to lay in-between them both, imitating the way you all normally sleep.
Laying on your side, you blink tiredly at Jimin as he watches you with a fond smile before his eyes shift behind you. Hoseok moves, his arm wrapping around your waist before he’s kissing your shoulder.
“Stay here for five minutes but then go to the toilet. We want a baby, we don’t want a UTI.” He says, his doctor head appearing suddenly causing you to laugh lovingly. Shifting your head to look at him, you smile softly at his endearingly soft expression that’s tinged with more than a little concern and love.
You could take him out of his job, but you couldn’t take his job out of him. Reaching to twine your fingers through his strands, you tug him down for a quick kiss before nodding. “Yes, Doctor Jung.”
Jimin snorts with laughter before the sudden sound of a door downstairs makes you all look at the door with intent. “Did you send Yoongi the video?” Hoseok asks, confusion in his voice as you all stare.
The blonde nods slowly, brows creased together. “Yeah, but that was only like..ten minutes ago? He can’t have watched it and got home that fast? Unless he’s developed teleportation.” Which he obviously hadn’t, and Yoongi’s place of work was a twenty minute drive away.
“Oh...oh. It’s Sunday. He gets home early on Sunday right?” You whisper, not entirely sure you want Yoongi to hear you all mildly freaking out. It’s not that he’d punish you all, there’s not a chance on Earth that Hoseok would let that happen, but it’s more the fact that you’ve all literally just had fun without him.
Their cum is still leaking out of you for god’s sake.
As if on cue, the door to your bedroom swings open and you watch as Yoongi stands there with a brow raised. Arms crossed over his chest, his pale blonde hair looks a little haphazard as he chews his lip before licking at it slowly. Without a word, he brings out his phone and gestures to it calmly.
“So, I pulled up ten minutes ago outside. And I saw I got a text from our beloved Jiminie. Imagine my shock when I saw our kitten getting bred so beautifully. And it was beautiful. But a shame. Because I wasn’t there.” His eyes narrow at that and you watch the blonde haired man with a wince.
“Sugar...baby...we’re sorry.” You start, moving up onto your knees while the other two remain both silent and motionless next to you. Yoongi’s eyes focus on you intently and despite the fantastic orgasm that has just destroyed your body and the release of two men that trails down your thighs slowly, your inner muscles spasm once more at the sight.
“If you’re sorry, then you’ll use your mouth well won’t you?” He says simply, walking into the room with a dark brow raised high. You can’t help but whimper at his carefully neutral tone. It’s not as intense as Hoseok, nor is it as teasing as Jimin. But it does it’s job and already you can feel the uncomfortable sensation of yet more cum dripping out of you as you get even wetter at the thought of Yoongi.
He smirks at your reaction, throwing his phone to meet Jimin’s before he begins to unbuckle his belt slowly. The low sound of the leather slipping free of its bounds has the hairs on your skin rising before you swallow thickly as he unzips his trousers.
Your eyes are firmly on his hands as he doesn’t even bother to remove his clothes, simply pulls his erection out and gives himself a firm stroke. Yoongi’s shaft is already straining to go, thick veins tracing along the length of him before his mushroom head is beading with a drop of pre-cum that has your mouth watering.
“I want you to suck me like you did Jimin. You did so well with him, I heard the way he was whimpering.” Yoongi states quietly, running his hand along his length in a measured move that has you clenching.
Moving forward, you kitten lick at his tip and taste the saltiness of him on your tongue. Flicking your tongue underneath his head, you take your time to trail unidentifiable symbols on his frenulum which has him exhaling sharply.
Mouthing down his cock, you nuzzle the soft skin at his base before pressing wet, open kisses along him as you make your way back up. He gently taps his dick against your mouth once you reach the top. “Open that pretty little mouth for me kitten.”
Immediately your mouth is dropping open, allowing him to slip between your swollen lips that are plush from the kissing and blowjob earlier. Yoongi’s groan is immediate and he slides his fingers into your hair, gripping at the roots tightly and encouraging you to go even further.
He’s obviously not interested in going slow or being too gentle and you presume it’s because the video has riled him up. Yoongi is just a man after all, and being left out is something they all hate.
Relaxing your throat as you tongue the underside of him while he thrusts, you make an acknowledging noise that has him hissing from the vibration while you tap his hip. It’s the sign all three know that you’re okay with what they’re doing and he takes it as acceptance that he can go further.
He does so with unhidden glee, hips jerking at an even more furious pace and your throat feels positively raw with how his tip keeps hitting it. You just know that Hoseok’s going to complain about that later when he’s feeding you honey tea, but you can’t find it in yourself to care.
Particularly when you feel long, experienced fingers slipping into your soaking channel and stroking at all the right spots to make you cry out. You don’t even have to look back to know it’s Hoseok, his fascination with cumplay causing him to rub the release of both himself and Jimin into your clit before delving those knowledgeable fingers back into your pussy.
Eyes closed, you moan with pleasure at the feeling and wish he was using his cock instead, but you can’t even attempt to vocalise your request when you have a mouth full of Yoongi. “Good kitten, using that mouth so well on me. Maybe I should be recording this too?” He muses to himself and you open your eyes in time to see him shake his head negatively.
Abruptly, he pulls out of your mouth and you gasp out noisily, saliva dribbling from your lips from his intensive mouth fucking and you can’t help but wheeze slightly. Yoongi just watches with a smirk, running a hand along his wet erection before gesturing for you to move backwards.
“Back on the bed kitten. I think I’ve been deprived of this sloppy pussy long enough.” He murmurs and you shuffle, back landing on the pillows inbetween Hoseok and Jimin who watch you with barely contained lust. Before you can even say anything, Hoseok is lifting his cum streaked fingers and sliding them into your mouth, letting you lick them clean for him while he lets out a breathy sigh.
“Look at this!” Yoongi exclaims, spreading your legs so that your needy pussy is displayed perfectly for him. “They bred you so well, but our kitten is being very bad right now as it looks like there’s more cum on her thighs and the bed than inside her. How are you supposed to get pregnant with that?”
He tuts lightly, kneeling between your legs without even removing any of his clothing. It’s a power move, and you can’t help but let out a breathy moan at the sight of him as he jerks himself slowly.
“I guess I better plug the leak hmm? We want you swollen with a baby, so be a good kitten and take it well.” Is the only thing he says before he’s sliding into you, his length pushing through swollen and sensitive walls and immediately pressing against pleasurable spots that has your thighs squeezing and back arching.
“Oh fuck, Yoongi. Oh god.” You gasp, one hand grasping Hoseok’s wrist tightly while the other claws at Jimin’s chest. The younger man giggles in your ear before he’s nosing along the soft skin, pressing featherlight kisses along your neck before sucking in deep bruises onto your collarbone.
Hoseok turns your head towards him, capturing your used lips between his own while he lets his hand dance along your stomach before reaching the bundle of nerves between your legs that’s crying out for attention. All the while, Yoongi is fucking at a furious pace, his hips snapping into yours almost brutally while the sound of skin slapping against skin and the lewd noises of wetness coming from you reign over everything else.
The sheet assault of pleasure as your boyfriends all work together in a unified front has your body igniting, limbs spasming without a thought while Hoseok catches every one of your desperate noises in his mouth.
“Come on kitten, cum for me. Cum for us.” Yoongi whispers, his hands gripping onto your thighs tightly as he stretches you as far as you can go, each slam of his hips causing his balls to hit your ass beautifully. His choked words and frenzied thrusts combine with Jimin’s mouth sucking tightly on a nipple and Hoseok’s fingers pressing in firm and assured circles on your clit.
The reaction is exactly what they wanted and it’s beautiful, ripping away from Hoseok’s lips to slam your head back into the pillow while a strained wail of pleasure is ripped from your throat brutally. All three hold your body firmly in place, feeling the way your muscles twitch uncontrollably while your inner muscles spasm frantically around Yoongi’s cock, causing him to grunt out from the feeling.
Yoongi continues on, fucking you through the orgasm and only intensifying it further as you mewl almost pathetically, chest heaving. A few more sloppy thrusts from him result in him pressing into you firmly, his pubic bone brushing against your abused clit and causing pained whimpers to leave your mouth from the over stimulation while he releases inside you.
Once he stops twitching, he simply kneels there for a moment and watches the three of you with lazy eyes before a slow smile winds its way onto his face. “Did not expect this when I came home. Or the video. But much appreciated.”
Jimin laughs and leans up to press a kiss to Yoongi’s mouth, running his hand affectionately through the pale blonde hair to tame it before settling back down and resting his head on your shoulder. Hoseok just watches with a smile, lips pressing to your other shoulder in reassurance while his hand strokes at your stomach slowly.
“Well you know...we haven’t done it all of us in a while. And the more cum, the better right?” His words are meaningful while he rubs at your belly and they all watch quietly, causing you to laugh.
“Yes, yes. But you all just like getting off, don’t lie.” None of them deny it, simply shrugging with amused smiles. “Oh, and Jimin? I think you need to send that video to us too. There’s no way you and Yoongi are keeping that to yourselves.”
Hoseok nods beside you firmly, causing Jimin to grin. “Yes ma’am. Wouldn’t want to deprive you of the depravity of Hoseok.” The sudden movement from behind you has you laughing as Hoseok lunges for the younger man, Yoongi moving away from you all and heading to the bathroom with an endearing gaze.
“Come on, let’s get you cleaned up while those two fight it out. I’m not sure how you’re supposed to be dad’s when you get into such dumb fights!” Yoongi calls out as he helps you off the bed, the gushing sensation of liquid leaving you causing you to grimace.
“Leave them alone. It’s cute. Besides, someone needs to put Jimin in his place occasionally.” You muse, leaning up to press a kiss to Yoongi’s mouth. He watches you quietly before nodding with amusement, a hand on your back as you both enter the bathroom.
Three guys is definitely a handful sometimes, but you’d be a liar if you said that you weren’t content with your lot in life. And hopefully, your little family of four would soon turn into a happy family of five.
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kpopfanfictrash · 2 years ago
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Romancing the Tome (M)
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Author: kpopfanfictrash
Contributors: @baebae-goodnight​ for this moodboard aka Bee’s death.
Pairing: You / Yoongi
Rating: 18+
Warnings: bondage, dirty talk, switch!Yoongi, obscene levels of sarcasm
Word Count: 22,306
Summary:  Min Yoongi is many things: renowned archaeologist, versatile hat-wearer, on a bit of an unlucky streak with his work and kind of an ass. What he isn’t, is fluent in Latin. Meaning, Yoongi can’t quite determine if he’s being led astray on his most recent archaelogical expedition. Enter you, cultural linguist and all-around badass. The goal? Treasure. The means? Your teensy, tiny car. The problem? Min Yoongi is so damn annoying, you might just kill him first. (HAPPY BIRTHDAY @m00nk1ld !!)
Trying not to yawn, you stir creamer into your mug. As a general rule, you do not speak to others before nine in the morning – or, at least until you have your first cup of coffee. Whichever comes first. Today seems to be the exception to both rules. Not only did you have an 8:00 AM meeting this morning but the trains were running late, so you were forced to go without coffee until now. Ten in the morning.
Eyes closing, you lift the mug to your lips. The first, heavenly sip brings a sigh – bliss. The heat reaches your toes, warming your entire body as you lower the cup to the counter. The red surface stares back at you, the words ‘Don’t Panic’ emblazoned clear on the side. Your lip quirks at the reminder; the words a nod to Douglas Adams and the daily stress of a college work environment. You have been a professor at Mandelan University for almost a year now.
It has taken a while to catch up to speed, given that you are the youngest professor by far. Your career in the field was short but accomplished – at least, this is what people say about you. To you, your experience still seems woefully inadequate compared to the tenured men and women you work with. Taking another long sip of your coffee, you turn on your heel and walk out of the break room.
Returning to your office, your steps slow as you survey the green quad before you. It is barely the end of September – students still have free time to lounge, throwing the Frisbee and reading their books. Your building is fairly open to the outside – full of large, airy archways (read: incredibly drafty in the winter) which provide entry to both the north and south quads.
After a few moments of observation, you continue your walk. Somewhat wistfully, you wish you had that sort of free time. Life since college has rushed by too quickly. 
The door to your shared office stands ajar and walking inside, you pause. Your receptionist, Jimin, types frantically on his computer – he barely even notices your entrance, so intense is his concentration. When you nudge the door shut with your hip, the noise makes him looks up.
“Miss Y/N.” Jimin pushes glasses further up his nose. “Please, let me help you!”
He attempts to stand but you laugh, shooing him away. You share Jimin as a receptionist with the other three professors in the office. He is currently a graduate student at the University, as well as the sweetest soul you have ever met.
“Please, Jimin.” Trying not to laugh, you walk away. “I can open a door and carry coffee at the same time. I’m ambidextrous, I use both hands.”
Jimin smiles, a tiny dimple furrowing in his brow. “An advantageous adaptation,” he states, sitting back down. Pushing hair back from his face, Jimin offers a grin. “It’s a trait affecting less than one percent of the general population.”
“I know,” you say, smiling in acknowledgement. Jimin is currently studying biological anthropology – different from your specialty, linguistics but still rooted in the same place. Anthropology is the study and learning of what makes you both human. “I’ve never found it to be disadvantageous,” you tease.
Jimin laughs and leans back in his seat. “Oh,” he says, shuffling papers before him. “I almost forgot – your 10:30 appointment arrived early. I told him to go ahead and wait in your office.”
“Him?” Frowning, you pause. “My 10:30 AM, you said?”
Jimin nods. “He came in five minutes ago and apologized for being early, but said it was urgent. That’s… okay, right?” Jimin looks up at you, worried. “Oh, shoot. I didn’t screw up your day, did I? It’s just,” he hastens, pushing back his chair. “Darn. I can go make him wait out here?”
“No, no,” you say, waving a hand. Glancing at your office door, you frown. “No, it’s fine. Don’t worry, Jimin – I’ll go talk to him now.” When Jimin still does not sit, you smile. “It’s fine,” you insist, striding forward. “Thank you for telling me!”
“Anytime,” Jimin calls – followed by the soft thud of him sitting down in his chair.
When you glance at your watch, you see the time is 10:15 AM. Your next appointment is twenty minutes early, which is unusual. Then again, your field is not exactly filled with usual people. 
Reaching your door brings a second surprise, though – feet faltering, you come to a stop at the wood.
The door to your office is closed.
Glancing over your shoulder, you frown. Typically, your door remains shut but not if someone is waiting inside. It is odd, for you 10:30 AM to enter your office – entirely alone – and shut the door to the hall. Peering through the frosted windowpane of glass, you see no one inside. Concern growing, you slowly push open the frame.
Nothing seems amiss – because your office is empty. Taking a careful step forward, your gaze sweeps the corners. No one sits at your desk, no one sits behind it. No one stands at the windows, nor by the wall.
Just as you start to grow worried, the sound of a toilet flushing reaches your ears. 
It was sheer force of luck that your office has its own bathroom. It is the only one like it on the floor; you inherited it when the previous occupant vacated for a two-year dig in Cairo. None of the other professors use your bathroom though, which is how you know the incumbent is your mysterious guest.
The door flies open, hitting the wall – as though the man exiting did not realize its weight. 
The man looks up, meeting your gaze from beneath dark, unruly hair. His expression is quizzical, which is something you are accustomed to – you work daily with librarians and scholars. He stares at you strangely though, as though you are the one trespassing in his office, not the other way around.
“I…” You glance past him, running out of words. “What on earth were you doing in there?”
The man comes to a stop, quirking a brow. “I was using the bathroom,” he explains with a shrug. Walking forward, he comes to a stop at your desk. “What did it look like I was doing?”
He sits in your chair while you remain frozen, thrown by his conversation. Forcing yourself to move, you cross until you stand behind the leather of your desk. 
“It looked,” you say, “as though you invited yourself into my office to use the bathroom. An act which is typically frowned upon in most social situations.”
“Ah.” The man holds up a finger. “Not true. In Scotland, it used to be law that if a stranger knocked on the door to your toilet – you were obligated to let him enter. How’s that, for societal norms regarding bathroom privacy?”
You stare at him in disbelief. “Debunked,” you say, lowering into your chair. “Complete nonsense, probably stemming from the fact that Scotland has the reputation of being overly hospitable. Where have you been,” you ask, incredulous, “that you believe hogwash like that?”
The corner of his mouth lifts. “The Amazon doing fieldwork. Strange, right, how urban legends are spread?”
Again, you are stunned by his rhetoric. “But – you’re the one spreading the rumors,” you cry, unable to contain yourself. “People like you spread the rumors! They waltz into the offices of strangers, sit down and spout nonsense, pretending its fact!”
His smile widens. “Ah, right. I did do that – didn’t I?” Shrugging, he leans back in his seat. “Nice place.”
“Okay,” you say, waving a hand and cutting him off. “Why are you here?”
“Your receptionist didn’t tell you?”
“No.” Annoyed, you tap your fingers on top of the desk. “I ask Jimin not to. I’ve found it more productive to ask people what they want.”
The man seems to find this amusing. “A valid point,” he says. Steepling his fingers beneath his chin, he narrows his eyes. “Then, let me get right to the point. I have five questions for you today, Mrs. Y/L/N.”
“Miss,” you correct. “And proceed.”
His dark eyes gleam at your response. “Ah, you’ve answered my first question.”
Stifling a groan, you take a large sip of coffee. Your cheeks heat despite yourself, uncertain why he has this effect on you. The man is impertinent, annoying and much too confident for his own good – which is oddly attractive, in all the worst ways.
“My second question,” the man continues, leaning forward. “Is about your most recent work. How did you discover the error?”
The work he references is your most famous publication to date. It is what landed you this job at the University. You found a document translated from Latin in the thirteenth century and realized the most cited version contained a horrible error of verb choice – one which changed the entire meaning of the paper. This discovery, brought to the light of academia, sparked much controversy and discussion.
“Well.” You shrug, trying to remain modest. “It was an accident, really. Few people nowadays bother to read the original document. There’s this tendency towards universal academic language which I honestly find crippling. Whenever possible, I prefer to read the document in its original language. That’s how I uncovered the error.”
The man’s eyes gleam in satisfaction. “I see. So, on to my second question –”
“Third.”
“Third question,” he corrects with a smile. “You read Latin?”
“Fluently.”
“Hm.” The man leans back in his chair. “Outside of the University, what kind of hobbies do you pursue?”
“Why?” you ask, frowning. “Are you looking for a tennis partner, Mr. Brooks?”
The man barely blinks at the name. “Hardly,” he laughs. “The answer to my question…?”
Tapping your chin, you frown. “Oh, this and that,” you say, not wanting to give anything away. “I like to be active. I read a lot, transcribe a bit. The usual.”
“Indeed.” He pokes his cheek with his tongue, seeming to war with his next and final question.
“One more question,” you remind him, pleasant.
His smile sharpens. “My last question, then. Why did you leave the Enlightened?”
Not having expected this, you freeze. “That,” you blink, stumbling over the words. The man notices your slip-up; you see him catalogue the mistake. “I don’t know what organization you’re talking about.”
“I see.” Sitting back, the man smoothly crosses one leg over the other. “My mistake, I apologize.”
His gaze is shrewd, though – letting you know that he knows. You are not telling the truth. A moment passes, perhaps two while you recover yourself. Running a finger over the rim of your mug, you pull yourself together. It is impossible for this man to know about your connection to the Enlightened. The Enlightened is a fabled group of knowledge-seekers whom no one – living nor dead – has ever been able to prove.
Still, the uncertainty of his statement replaces your many questions with one. “Now,” you say, cocking your head. “If you’re done with your questions, I have one of my own.”
“Go on,” he says, seemingly unconcerned.
Running your tongue over your teeth, you glance at the door – then back to him. “Who the fuck are you?” you demand.
His eyebrows shoot upwards, unable to conceal his surprise. “Excuse me?” he says.
“Who,” you say, placing both hands on the desk, “are you? My 10:30 AM appointment was Professor Lilac Brooks. You are neither female, nor is your first name Lilac.”
His lips twitch, much to your amazement. “A wild assumption on your part.”
“Is it a wrong one?”
“Well, no.”
“I rest my case.” Sitting back down, you fold your arms over your chest.
“Case?” he repeats, oddly amused. “I wasn’t aware I was on trial.”
“You are now,” you say, picking up your coffee. “You’re being tried for lack of common decency, ridiculous deception and – well, using other people’s bathrooms!”
His lips press tightly together, as though to keep in his laughter. “You’re unusually concerned with that last part, aren’t you?”
“Unusually?” you repeat. “Ugh, never mind. Just – cut the crap and tell me who you are.”
He laughs under his breath. “Alright,” he nods. “I’m Professor Min Yoongi, at your service.”
“Min Yoongi...” Trailing off, you frown. "The archaeologist, Min Yoongi?”
His smile widens. “Ah, so you have heard of me?”
Rolling your eyes, you place your mug on your desk. “You didn’t tell me who you were,” you point out. “How would I have known if I had or hadn’t heard of you?”
“Another excellent point!” Yoongi agrees. “See, this is why I’m seeking your help in the first place.” 
“Right.” Wearily, you rub your brow. “Which brings me to my next question –”
“I thought you only had one?”
“Shut up, Professor. Which brings me to my next question – why are you here?”
Some of his cockiness disappears. “I wasn’t lying,” Yoongi says, voice dropping a tad. “I really do need your help.”
“Uh-huh.” Remaining skeptical, you tap your desk. “You couldn’t have made an appointment like a normal person? Speaking of which,” you blanch, looking over his shoulder. “Where is Professor Brooks?”
Yoongi shrugs. “I stopped her in the parking lot and reminded her that your meeting was next Thursday, not today. She was incredibly grateful for the correction from your assistant. Aka, me.”
Your mouth drops open. “You did what?”
“You’re welcome.”
“I’m – I’m not thanking you, you idiot!”
“Not yet,” Yoongi corrects hopefully. “You will be, once I describe to you this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.”
Groaning, you lower your head to your hands. Your headache from earlier, once gone, is now back with a vengeance.
“Headache again?”
Abruptly, you stop rubbing your temples. You did not speak to a soul on your way into the office. After finishing the Motrin in your bathroom cabinet, you headed straight to your eight ‘o’clock meeting, meaning – incredulously, your gaze lifts to Yoongi.
“Did you…” Blinking, you stare. “Did you go through my trash can while you were waiting for me to come back?”
For the first time today, Yoongi appears somewhat chagrined. “Uh. Well, define trash.”
“Out.” Exhaling loudly, you rise from your chair. “Out,” you demand, pointing at the door. “Now! Get out of my office!”
Yoongi stands quickly, nearly capsizing his chair. “Okay – okay, sorry for the trash thing. It was an accident,” he insists, even as you march around the front of your desk. “I was throwing out my gum and saw the empty canister on top. I notice things, I can’t help it!”
“Don’t care,” you huff, grabbing him by the elbow. “Get out of my office before I call my receptionist to come throw you out.”
Yoongi pauses, eyes bright with amusement. “Your receptionist?” he asks. “He’s what – 5’8”?”
“I,” you exhale, glancing from the doorway to him. “You and Jimin are the same height!”
Yoongi’s face darkens. “We are not.”
“Lord.” Dropping his arm, you pretend this is because you are uncomfortable – not because the way Min Yoongi smells is distracting. Like coffee and some kind of mint soap. “You have five minutes,” you say, “to convince me of this ‘once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.’”
Yoongi pauses. “Can I have six?”
“Oh, look at that. Ten seconds wasted.”
“Okay, okay.” Yoongi pushes a hand through his hair. “Have you ever heard of the Pirate Barbaras? You know – demon of the seas, scourge of the Spanish Armada and British Navy? They say he accumulated the most treasure of any pirate of his time.”
Hearing the name Barbaras, it is difficult to contain your skepticism. As soon as Yoongi said the word ‘pirate,’ your expression shuttered. Min Yoongi is – how shall you put this? – infamous in the archaeological world. He is capable of great brilliance, but equally capable of folly. His accomplishments are many and varied: the Mesa Sierra treasure, the lost Arc of the Binding, the famed Grail of Abetan. Along the way though, he also suffered a tremendous amount of mishaps. Bad luck follows him lately, with each of his searches turning into wild goose chases.
“Listen.” Yoongi sighs, as though knowing what you are thinking. “The treasure is real; I can promise you that. And,” he says, placing both hands on the desk, “I have a map to prove it.”
Butterflies flutter at his proximity – traitorous bastards, the lot of them. “If you have a map,” you say, as though this should be obvious. “What do you need me for?”
Yoongi hesitates. It is clear he is not accustomed to asking for help. “Well,” he mutters, looking at his hands. “There’s this one part of the map I’m stuck on.”
“Oh?” 
Yoongi’s gaze lifts to yours. “Alright,” he sighs, defeated. “I keep arriving at the same conclusion and each time I visit the location – nothing. I’m all out of ideas and I – well, I need your help.”
For the wildest moment, you consider saying yes. Of course, the answer is no. Of course, it is – you cannot seriously be considering a harebrained scheme like this one. You cannot just leave here; give up everything you have worked for and go off on some treasure hunt with a laughingstock of the field. Besides, fieldwork is something you swore off long ago, no matter how tempting the offer is.
Still, you hesitate, weighing the options. “Why my help, though?”
“I’m so glad that you asked.” Reaching grandly into his bag, Yoongi’s fingers close around something – then he stops. “Actually, you know what – we just met.” Quickly, he shuts the flap of his bag. “The clue I need help deciphering is in Latin.”
“Latin?” you repeat.
Yoongi nods. “Apparently, Barbaras was a bit of a scholar before he became a crime lord of the seas. He wrote a clue in Latin, because –”
“– it was the universal academic language of the time,” you finish, realization dawning. The map has been translated for Yoongi – apparently, poorly – and he needs your help to understand. But no, you cannot. This kind of work no longer concerns you.
Yoongi’s expression falls watching yours. “You’re going to say no,” he states, as though you have already told him your answer.
“Stop doing that!”
“Sorry.” Yoongi smiles, but the gesture is smaller than before. “I’m a dual social and archaeological specialist. I can’t help but analyze, it’s in my nature.”
Turning away, you stare out your office windows. In your mind, the conversation has ended. Min Yoongi needs your help – help which you cannot give him, meaning you are no longer of use. Picking up your mug, you drain the last of your coffee.
“I’m sorry,” you say, turning around. It is strange to find that you genuinely are. “Your six minutes are up, and I’m still not convinced.”
Yoongi’s gaze flicks to the mug that you hold. “You started counting too early,” he insists, walking forward. “By my count, I still have thirty seconds.”
“Yoongi…”
“No, no,” he says, suddenly earnest. “This will be fast, I swear.” When you say nothing, he takes this as a sign to continue. “Here’s my offer – no bullshit. You help me find the treasure and we split the recognition 50/50. You get half, I get half. And,” he adds, seeing your mouth open, “before you say no. Before you dismiss me and go on with your life, let me ask – haven’t you ever wanted to do something more? Something amazing, unique and unprecedented? Your life is tempting because it’s safe. But…” Trailing off, Yoongi glances at the words on your mug.
Taking a step forward, he nearly touches your hand. “I may not have gone where I intended to go, but I think I have ended up where I needed to be,” Yoongi quotes. “Douglas Adams, though not the same novel as the one on your mug. All I’m trying to say is that sometimes, you need to take risks to get the reward. Get lost to get found. Y/N,” he says, meeting your gaze. “Do something crazy. Take a risk with me.”
Silence stretching between you, you find yourself at a loss. There is something here, some unspoken understanding which makes you want to say yes – but you know this to be crazy.
“I,” you hesitate, swallowing hard. “That was longer than thirty seconds.”
Yoongi stares at you. After a long moment, he nods. “Right.” Adjusting his bag, Yoongi turns towards the door. “I understand. Thanks for letting me use your bathroom, anyways.”
When he starts to leave, your heartbeat turns erratic. Yoongi’s hand wraps around the doorknob, ready to leave when you suddenly blurt, “Wait!” 
Yoongi freezes in place.
“I,” you hesitate, staring at him. “50/50, you said?”
Carefully, Yoongi releases the knob. “You drive a hard bargain, Y/N,” he says carefully, turning around.
Breathless, you nod. “I’m in,” you say, swallowing your worries. “I’ll help you.”
Yoongi’s smile reappears, as though it never left in the first place. “Excellent,” he grins, twisting the knob and pushing open the door. “I’ll send you an email with the details.”
“An email?” 
Yoongi arches a brow, retracting a hat from his bag. He squashes this on top of his head – a tropical pattern; odd, given your academic surroundings. “Of course,” he nods. “All of my carrier pigeons are occupied.”
Already, you find yourself regretting the decision. With a wink, Yoongi steps into the hall and disappears from view. His boots echo away from you, calling goodbye to Jimin as the door bangs shut behind him. When he is gone, you slowly collapse, sinking down on your seat.
This is a horrible idea.
Yet somehow, you cannot contain your excitement.
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It is 5:06 AM when your phone beeps. Normally, you would not hear something so early, but you are right in that sweet spot between REM cycles, so you crack open an eye. The night sky is still dark, city asleep outside the window when you tentatively poke a hand out from the warmth of your covers.
Grabbing your phone, you roll onto your back and peer up at the screen. The words are blurry – your contacts are not in yet – but you manage to read.
From: Min Yoongi
To: Y/L/N Y/N
Subject: Confidential Things
Hey. It’s me, Yoongi. Although if you didn’t deduce that from my email address, I’d question whether I really need your help on this case after all.
No, I’m just kidding – I need your help.
Anyways, meet me tonight at 11:00 PM at the crossroad of Interstate 39 and Juniper Knoll. I’ll be the guy in the super cool hat.
Cheers, Yoongi
Trying not to yawn, you return your phone to the table. Scrunching under the covers, you attempt to fall back asleep but find this to be impossible, given the context and hour. Min Yoongi is the devil, sending an email at such an ungodly time of day. His words continue to run through your mind, disturbing all other thoughts you dare have. Interstate 39 and Juniper Knoll – a flicker of memory emerges, recognizing the place.
You have been up that Interstate before – camping and whatnot – and the name Juniper Knoll rings a bell. You likely passed it on the way, but you cannot recall where. It must be far north, since it is not numbered and all the lanes near the city are. Worry uncurling in your stomach, you wonder what Yoongi has gotten you into. That far north, there is nothing but wilderness and wild animals.
Perfect for treasure-hunting, you guess.
Once it is clear you are not returning to sleep, you fling off your comforter and tumble from bed. Placing both feet on the floor, you fight back a yawn. Light begins to stain the easternmost edge of the world, stretching its way upwards with peach-tinged fingers. Watching the visual is peaceful, more so than thinking about tonight.
Yoongi’s questions weigh in your mind – mainly, his nonchalant mention of the Enlightened. Walking to your bathroom, you turn on the faucet and stare at yourself in the mirror. No one knows about the Enlightened – not unless they are in it and Min Yoongi does not strike you as the recruitment type.
The Enlightened are dedicated to exactly what their moniker details. An elite group of knowledge seekers searching to uncover the bones of the world. Many academics belong, not just anthropologists, like yourself – the one thing all have in common is secrecy. It is impossible to interfere with business you do not know exists. When you left their ranks, you were the exception, not the rule.
Pausing mid-brush, you let your toothbrush hang from your mouth. Yoongi was not in the Enlightened when you were – that much is certain. You would have remembered him. Resuming brushing, you try not to blush at the thought. Yoongi is cute, that’s all, it is hardly a crime to think so. Spitting into the sink, you wipe your mouth with one hand. You two are work partners now though, meaning nothing can happen. Beyond that, he is annoying – annoying, weird… and mildly brilliant to boot.
This was something you realized last night after copious amounts of research. Waking up yesterday morning, you had heard of Yoongi’s infamy. Waking up this morning, you know of much more. Even with his recent streak of bad luck, Yoongi is still regarded as one of the best in his field. This fact is remarkable, given he is only one year older than you are.
His smirk flashes again through your mind and you scowl, dropping your toothbrush into the bowl. Min Yoongi’s brilliance can wait until tonight, you decide. If you decide to go at all, that is.
All day long, you debate this. You even go so far as to make a pro-con list on your lunch break. Pro – the idea of treasure hunting is intriguing; you must admit. A treasure hunt with a renowned archaeologist is something most people would not think twice about accepting. Another pro is the flattery of Min Yoongi seeking you out in the first place. Much of your recent research has been subdued, focused on the evolution of language in the Middle East – you have had no breakthroughs yet though, so Yoongi seeking you out is a compliment.
Con – it will be dangerous. Fieldwork always is. There are people in this world   – bad people – who seek to profit off society. Anthropologists wish to uncover knowledge for the good of humanity, but some only take knowledge for themselves. These kinds of people do not care who they hurt in the process.
Glancing at the clock, your stomach twists when you recognize the time. Nearly six ‘o’clock, meaning you need to get going if you want to meet Min Yoongi. The place he suggested is nearly four hours north, just far enough to be seen on the edge of the map. The closest gas station is an hour before that and tapping your pen to the desk, you continue to worry.
You do not have to go. There is nothing forcing you to meet him besides your word – you could go home, sink into a bubble bath and wash all thoughts of hot archaeologists from mind. By this time tomorrow, Yoongi could be nothing more than a distant memory – oddly enough though, this is which makes you stand up. You have had enough of what-ifs. Flipping your keys in one hand, you decide it is time for something more – what was it Yoongi said? Something amazing, unique and unprecedented.
Barging into the reception area, you nearly give Jimin a heart attack. “Y/N!” he squeaks, looking up from his desk. “Are you going so soon? There’s a man who came here earlier, wanting to talk –”
“Sorry, Jimin!” you call, pushing open the door. “I have something which can’t wait – send me an email, I’ll call them on Monday!”
“You got it, boss!”
The sun sinks as you exit, not yet sunset but near enough. Slamming the driver’s side door, you stick the keys into the ignition and grip the wheel tightly. Head spinning with excitement, you start to feel a bit nauseous – this lessens, once you are out on the road. Cool air whips your face, easing your worries as you lower the window of your classic silver Prius.
Hours pass this way, shadows lengthening on the highway until the sun slips behind the mountains. Eventually, you close the window when the night air gets too cold for comfort. The miles until your destination dwindle – changing to double, then single-digit numbers. Five miles before you are supposed to turn, you slow to a crawl. You have not passed another car in hours; the speed limit here does not seem to matter.
The trees thicken on either side, sloping up the sides of the mountains – it is hard to tell where the turn-off is, or if there is one. Perhaps Yoongi was wrong, perhaps Juniper Knoll is flooded or closed or turned into a forest preserve. It is just as you think this your headlights flash over a sign.
Slamming on the brakes, your tires screech turning onto dusty, forgotten Juniper Knoll drive. There are no lights on the road. It is hard for you to see, headlights bouncing over rocks to illuminate small swaths of forest. Uncertainty enters your stomach after five minutes of driving. Yoongi told you the crossroads, but he did not tell you in which direction to travel.
Just as you start to panic, your headlights bounce over a smooth, white boulder in the middle of the road. Slamming on your breaks, you jerk forward – only to gasp when you see Min Yoongi perched on the top. Your lights flood his silhouette and he winces, lifting a hand to shield himself from the glare. 
Turning off your engine, you think you hear someone yelling and indeed, when you push open the door, Yoongi’s voice becomes audible.
“– what do you think you’re doing, blinding people like that? I had my mouth open and everything – a fly nearly flew in! Now I’m blind and nauseous.”
“Hello, Yoongi,” you sigh, shutting the door.
Clicking your keys, you turn off the headlights and plunge the woods into darkness. For a split-second, the darkness is as blinding as the light – and then you adjust. Slowly, the stars become visible, the moon breaking through to illuminate the path.
Yoongi exhales, sliding down from the rock with one hand on his hat. He was right, it is obnoxious – some sort of flat-brimmed contraption built for the sun. “Hey,” he huffs, walking towards you. “See, look what you’ve done. You scared the birds away.”
Arching a brow, you look up at the sky. “Birds?” you echo. “At night?”
Yoongi returns his notebook to his backpack. “Alright, bats. What’s the difference?”
Without waiting for your answer, Yoongi turns and strides into the forest.
“Well, for one,” you call after him. “Bats are mammals!”
He does not respond and after a minute, you glance at the road. The Interstate is no longer visible, but neither is Yoongi and – curiosity outweighing your judgment – you follow him forward. It’s not hard to tell where he is; Yoongi isn’t exactly being subtle, breaking branches as he walks.
“Hey,” you hiss, catching up to him quickly. “Where are we even going? And,” you add, the thought just occurring to you, “how did you get here – where’s your car?”
Ignoring you, Yoongi continues. “I parked it on the other side of the ridge somewhere,” he says. “I needed to scout out that side of the mountain, but I didn’t need you there for that.” Yoongi half-smiles, as though the thought is ridiculous. “That’s why I told you to meet me here.”
Trying to conceal how out of breath you already are, you nod. “Right,” you huff, staring in concentration at the forest floor. It would be just your luck to twist your ankle on a rock. “So, why are we out in the middle of nowhere?”
Tugging his backpack higher, Yoongi glances at the sky. “Like I said to you in your office,” he drawls. “I need your help with something.”
“A map,” you agree, looking around. “You said you needed help translating a map.”
“No,” Yoongi says, grabbing onto a branch. “I said the clue I need help with is written in Latin. Where, exactly, do you think the map leads, Y/N?”
“Hopefully to your point.”
Yoongi snorts, turning to look at you. “I’ve deciphered several clues already, detailed on the map. This one leads to an obelisk set on the mountain – settlers placed it there not long after their arrival. There’s writing on one side,” he explains, arching a brow. “Latin.”
“Ah,” you exhale, afraid to say more. The terrain is steeper, more slippery and you wonder how Yoongi is adjusting so easily. He seems to know the trail without looking, stepping in exactly the right spot not to fall. “How are you doing this?”
“Doing what?”
“Leading so easily,” you pant, giving up on pretending to be in shape.
Yoongi chuckles and points over his head. “The stars,” he says. “We’re heading northwest – it’s pretty easy to navigate once you know what you’re looking for.”
“Oh.” Having nothing more to add to this discussion, you fall into Yoongi’s footsteps as you make your way up the hill. He has clearly done this before, given his choice of attire: sturdy, brown hiking boots, a wrinkled button-down shirt and that god-awful hat.
Your gaze lingers as you climb. “Why the hat?”
Yoongi does not react. “Do you know how painful sunburn can be?” he asks. “I aim to avoid the sensation whenever possible.”
“But it’s nighttime.”
“Nothing gets past you, does it?” Yoongi says drily. “This hat,” he states, touching the edge, “was for when I hiked in the daytime.”
Scowling at his dig, you continue to climb. The trees are wilder, thicker and grown closer together. It takes most of your concentration not to fall. “So, this obelisk,” you huff, chest tightening with each breath. The air is thinner up here, which is something you are not used to. “You said there was writing on it. Is that all you need translated?”
“Maybe,” Yoongi shrugs, squinting into the gloom. “For now, I guess.”
“For now?” you repeat, feet faltering beneath you. Stomach sinking, you realize he has not told you everything. “Min Yoongi – stop right there!”
His feet falter, holding back a branch while turning to look at you. “What?”
Folding both arms over your chest, you try to seem tough. It is hard, when you are so sweaty, and your feet are this tired – you should have worn regular sneakers. “Tell me,” you say to him sternly. “Tell me what else you need me for.”
Yoongi moves fast, reversing his path down the mountain. When he comes to a stop, he quickly scans your body. “You’re tired, aren’t you?” he asks.
“I – what? No! Don’t be ridiculous, I – okay, fine,” you sigh. “Yes.”
Grinning, Yoongi adjusts the straps of his pack and for the first time, you notice the strip of oiled leather beneath it. “What’s that?” you ask, curious. It seems too well-groomed to be rope.
Yoongi moves quickly, pushing the loop out of sight. “You ask too many questions,” he states, blithely turning around. “It’s annoying.”
“Well, that’s ironic,” you retort, scrambling after him. “Coming from you.”
The corner of his lips lift. “It’s a whip,” he says, offering no further explanation.
You stare at him, speechless for a moment. “A – a whip?”
“Yeah, call me Mindiana Jones.”
“Oh my god, shut up.”
Yoongi laughs, adjusting his hat. “Yes, it’s a whip and before you ask – no, it’s not for sexual stuff. And no, I don’t have a horse. Besides – that would be a riding crop, not a whip. I’ve just found it handy, you know. You don’t have to sharpen a whip; it rarely breaks while you fight and it’s super handy when in need of a rope.”
This only makes you more curious. “Why would you need to fight someone?” you ask. Quickly, you glance over your shoulder. “You’re an archaeologist, Yoongi, not an action hero.”
“Wrong,” Yoongi declares, yanking a knife free from his pack. He begins to hack through the thicket of bushes before him. “I’m an archaeologist, yes – one whose work demands complete,” he grunts, swinging wildly, “athletic ability. OOF!”
Breaking through, Yoongi stumbles into the bushes. “Yoongi!” you gasp, hastening after him – only to yelp, running into his back. “Fuck.”
“Maybe later,” Yoongi whispers, scanning the clearing before you.
Before you can retort, you notice your surroundings and pause. Directly before you, less than one hundred yards away, lies the obelisk. It seems strange, out of place in the wild of your surroundings. Yoongi’s gaze sweeps the perimeter, searching the circumference of the circle.
Nothing moves and taking a careful step forward, he enters the clearing. “Come on,” Yoongi whispers, gesturing you forward.
“Why are you whispering?” you hiss, shadowing his footsteps in a strange, half-crouch.
“Oh.” Straightening, Yoongi flashes a smile. “Sorry, didn’t realize I was.”
Rolling your eyes, you walk past – until Yoongi’s hand reaches out to stop you. “Wait,” he blurts, moving before you. “I should go first.”
Normally, you would reject his proposal, but there is something about the landscape which makes you uneasy. You are all too happy to let Yoongi go first – glancing over your shoulder, you stare at the darkness from whence you came. The forest grows wild here, tangled vines and trees threatening to converge any second – except for the lawn that you walk on, which is surprisingly well-kept. The obelisk sits in the middle, between you and the cliffs falling to the sea on the other side.
Yoongi wanders forward, pushing his hat back from his head. He ignores the ocean, choosing instead to examine the markings on the sleek, stone obelisk. “Do you see?” he asks – blinking, when he realizes he is talking to no one. “Y/N! Get over here!”
Grumbling under your breath, you walk towards him. “It’s a bit spooky out here, yeah?” you ask, coming to a stop beside Yoongi. “All alone, no one for miles – aren’t you worried?”
“Of what,” Yoongi queries, pressing his palm to the stone. “Am I worried you’ll trip and fall of a cliff, or something? Yeah, I’m a little bit worried.”
Despite yourself, you scowl. “Can it,” you huff. Peering up at the stone, your eyes slowly widen. “How did this thing get here, anyways?”
Yoongi brightens. “That’s an interesting story. It was supposed to be delivered to the city,” he says, pointing over the hills. Yoongi’s arm brushes yours in the process and you fight back a shiver. “It was going to stand in the center of town, or something until there was a shipwreck – there – and the Santa Theresa sank off the cove. The obelisk washed ashore, and some fisherman decided to drag it up here. They thought it would be a helpful marker to spot their home from the sea.”
“Oh,” you say, taking in the massive monument once more. It must have taken them a long time to haul up here – the thing is easily hundreds of pounds, if not more. “So, this is the writing?” you ask, reaching out for the stone.
Yoongi nods. “Yeah. The top is Latin, the bottom is a translation into English – but,” he sighs, running a hand through his hair. “I think the translation is wrong.”
“Wrong?” you frown, skimming the stone. “What makes you think that?”
Yoongi shrugs a shoulder free from his backpack. Unzipping the pouch, he hesitates before revealing the thin scroll of parchment. “Okay. Here,” Yoongi nods, unrolling. “The obelisk is here. I deciphered the clues up until… here, and now I don’t know.” Sighing, he squints at the English translation above you. “It doesn’t make sense – nothing is connected between this stone, and the map.”
Frowning, you lean in to peer at the scroll – only for Yoongi to pointedly tilt it back. “Hey,” you blurt, frowning.
Yoongi winces. “Shit, I’m sorry,” he apologizes. “It’s just – I’ve been to this point before, have been tricked before.” Slowly, he returns the map to his bag. “I’d rather keep this in my possession as much as possible.’
You stare at him for a moment before nodding. The academic world is a curious place, in that regard. Despite a shared common goal, the landscape is fiercely competitive. There are battles for grant money, sponsorship, donors and time. Money goes to research with the catchiest headline, the most interesting results for the general population. People go to great lengths to gain recognition – even screwing over a partner should the need arise.
Stomach twisting, you turn to look at the obelisk. It would make sense, given Yoongi’s recent string of bad luck that someone is following his footsteps. It happens often, you are afraid – people piggybacking off the work of other scholars, in the hopes of finding the punch line first. It is probably why Yoongi is so closed-off, you realize – probably why he keeps people away at arms-length, with all that cockiness and sarcasm.
Torn from your thoughts, something important catches your eye. “Yoongi,” you state, tilting your head.
Yoongi looks up, zipping shut his bag. “Yeah?”
“I thought,” you pause, retracing the stone. “I thought you said you needed help translating from Latin?”
“Yeah,” Yoongi nods, not understanding. “So?”
Rolling your eyes, you meet his gaze. “This is in Hebrew.”
Yoongi pulls a face. “Are you sure?”
“Lord,” you say, tapping the stone. “Didn’t you notice the entirely different alphabet?”
Yoongi shrugs. “I just thought it was Roman Latin, or something… I failed linguistics in University, oddly enough.”
“I would never had guessed,” you mutter, scanning the rock. “Why would a pirate from the seventeenth century write in a long-dead alphabet from the time of Christ, Yoongi?”
“I don’t know,” he counters. “Why would he write it in Hebrew? Latin seemed a more logical guess.”
“He would write it in Hebrew,” you blurt – lowering your voice when you realize you are near-shouting, “if he were quoting from the Bible! Which he is!”
“Oh.” Yoongi frowns, glancing up at the obelisk. “Well, that does make sense, then.”
“Wow.” Shaking your head, you return to the letters. It is difficult to read in the dark, with only the moon for illumination. Still – “It’s the ten commandments,” you say, recognizing the structure. “Honestly, Yoongi,” you scold. “Didn’t you recognize the English translation?”
“How rude,” Yoongi says, “for you to assume I recognize your God’s scripture.”
“Not my God, Yoongi,” you groan. “I more meant, didn’t you recognize the words as an anthropologist – the Ten Commandments had a pretty big impact on history. Look it up. Anyways,” you say. “You said this was supposed to go in the town square? Makes sense. Very judicial.”
“Yeah.” Yoongi’s gaze flicks from you to the tree line. “Y/N…”
“Aha!” you grin, lifting on your toes. “This is interesting. Do you see here, where the translation reads, ‘Thou shalt not take thy neighbor’s wife’?”
Yoongi nods, looking at where your finger points. “Uh-huh. So?”
“So,” you state, as though it should be obvious. “That’s not the typical English translation. The most common is, “Thou shalt not covet thy neighbor’s wife’ – which is actually a mistranslation. It’s rare to find the true wording…” Trailing off, you tilt your head. “That’s odd.”
“What is?” Yoongi exhales, pressing closer. “What’s odd?”
“Crowd control,” you mutter, elbowing him until he steps back. “What’s odd is the fact that this word,” you point to the Hebrew word for take, “is underlined. Nothing else on the stone is.”
Yoongi’s eyes widen – then his gaze drifts towards the sea. “What if,” he ponders, staring off the cliff. “What if that’s the clue?”
Your forehead furrows. “What do you mean?’
“How rare is it,” Yoongi continues, growing excited. “To find a translation which says ‘take’ and not ‘covet’?”
“Rarer than finding a cat in your hot tub.”
Yoongi stares.
“What,” you blink, embarrassed. “Cats hate water!”
“Uh,” Yoongi shakes his head. “Okay. That’s just a very specific analogy. Anyways,” he says, “what if that’s the clue? Take, not covet? The clue is the word covet. The cove,” Yoongi explains, jabbing his finger at the ocean. “What if the next clue lies in the cove?”
Eyes widening, you stare. Waves crash far below you, barely audible from this high up in the mountains. You stare at the sea and imagine the possibility – something about his logic feels right. You open your mouth, ready to confirm when Yoongi swears.
“Oh, shit,” he gasps, slinging his bag on his back.
“Yoongi, wh –”
A shot rings out, clear in the forest.
“Come on, we have to go!” Yoongi yells, making a break for the trees.
When another shot echoes, you follow. Yoongi runs zigzag, zipping to the shelter of trees while you scramble behind him. There is shouting in the clearing, along with more gunshots – you scream, nearly falling when a shell hits the tree to your left.
“Fuck,” you gasp, darting into the woods – Yoongi pauses to look behind him, but you wave him on. “Keep running, you lousy asshole!”
Yoongi’s lip twitches, even as he twists back around. You continue to run, stampeding into the depths of the forest – the trees swallow you whole, forming an impenetrable barrier to skid down the mountain. Voices and gunshots fade in the distance, seemingly unable to follow the path that you take. If this is even a path, that is. Yoongi keeps slipping – half-running, half-falling down the slope with you not far behind. He laughs, whooping a little – until you grab a rock and throw it straight at his head.
“Hey!” Yoongi yelps, dodging the missile. “What was that for?”
“Stop whooping,” you yell, finally catching up. “Why are there people shooting at us?”
“Oh.” Yoongi’s feet catch beneath him, chest rising and falling. “Well, this might be private government property.”
“This might be what?”
“And,” Yoongi yelps, when you elbow his side, “the rangers might have already caught me scoping out the place two nights ago. They’re kind of pissed about it.”
“Yoongi!” you yelp, crashing through to the road.
Righting yourself, you fight to catch your breath. Looking up, you frown. This is the right place – you know it is from the large, white rock in the middle of the road. There are the tire tracks to your left, leading towards the interstate but there, where you know you parked your car, is nothing.
“Oh, holy shit,” you half-whisper.
Yoongi skids into view, smacking a tree branch back into place. “Take that!” he yells, before noticing the empty spot where your car used to be. “Oh.”
“Oh?” you blurt, whirling around.
“It looks like your car has been stolen, Y/N.”
Your vision turns red at the corners. “You think?” you cry, stomping over to poke him hard in the chest.
Yoongi winces, rubbing the spot. “Ouch, that’s going to bruise.”
“I’ll tell you what’s about to be bruised, Min Yoongi,” you growl, “if you don’t find my car in exactly twenty seconds!”
“That’s… a specific amount of time.”
“YOONGI.”
“Okay, okay,” he hastens, unzipping his backpack. “Calm down, I’ll just call for help. We can file a police report about the car and be back in no time.” Yoongi flashes you a smile, pulling out his phone. “It was probably a ranger. You’re not really supposed to park on these back roads, you know –”
“Yoongi, I am going to kill you.”
“– okay, clearly you didn’t know.” Yoongi squints, lifting his cell phone overhead. “Only problem is… there doesn’t seem to be service…”
Slowly, you lower your face to your palms. Right now, you are so fucking angry there is no point in yelling because it would not be coherent. As you stand there, a tiny bubble of doubt enters your thoughts. If the rangers were up there on the mountain, shooting at you, it does not make sense for them to be the ones who towed your car.
“Yoongi,” you exhale, lowering your hands.
Pausing, Yoongi turns and to your satisfaction, he seems nervous. “Yes, Y/N?”
“My purse was in my car,” you mutter. “Along with my keys. Right now, I have nothing but,” you fish around in your pockets, “twenty dollars and some Chapstick. What do you have?”
Yoongi pats his bag. “I have a spare change of clothes, a first-aid kit, my wallet, keys, cell phone, charger, some brushes, water, a Swiss Army knife, a translation book, some bug spray and…” Yoongi frowns. “I think I also have a deck of cards.”
You choose to gloss over this fact. “Okay,” you nod, staring in the direction of the Interstate. “What about this? We walk until you get service, and then we call the police.”
“Sure.” Yoongi nods, falling into step beside you. “Even if we don’t get service by the Interstate – these mountain roads can be bad – there’s a motel we can stay at less than a half-mile up the road. Worst case scenario.”
Lips thinning, you nod. “Fine,” you say, crossing your arms. “I hope you know that you’re paying, should it come to that.”
“Splitsies?’
“No. You’re paying.”
Yoongi laughs under his breath. “I know, I’m kidding. I’m also sorry,” he adds, quieter.
Taken aback, you meet his gaze. “You are?”
“Yeah, I am.” Appearing contrite, Yoongi slips both hands under the straps of his backpack. “I should have – well, I should have considered the possibility that someone could be following us.”
Gravel crunches as you walk down the Interstate. You keep coming back to the events of tonight, considering them as a part of the bigger picture. Yoongi mentioned having a partner, one who screwed him over and stole his work. He also mentioned being paranoid about anyone else seeing his work. He did not seem surprised by your car being stolen, just disappointed for not having realized it sooner. Dimly, you wonder if this has happened before.
Suddenly, Yoongi’s streak of bad luck does not seem so mysterious.
Reaching the smooth pavement of the Interstate, you sigh. “There were footsteps,” you announce, breaking the silence. “Footsteps – not tire tracks, leading up to my car.”
Yoongi nods, rubbing the back of his neck. “I noticed,” he mutters, rather dejectedly. “The person who stole your car was on foot, meaning they were either lost hikers who got really lucky, or…”
“Or…?”
“They knew where we were,” Yoongi finishes quietly.
“Hm,” you note, falling back into silence. From the look on Yoongi’s face, he does not wish to discuss this further – you can hardly blame him, if his past is what you suspect. Wind whistles through the tops of the treetops, a forlorn sound that sends shivers down your spine.
“It’s… fine,” you state, somewhat begrudgingly. It is not fine, your car has been stolen, but that is not Yoongi’s fault – not really. “We figured out the next clue, at least.”
Though Yoongi nods, he does not seem convinced. “Well,” exhales, pointing across the road. “The good news is – there’s the motel.”
Following his finger, you see the trees start to thin. The corner of a building comes into view as you walk, shadowed by a sole, flickering light in the parking lot. Two or three cars sit in the front, nearly forgotten in the dimness of the yard.
“It looks,” Yoongi squints, “worse than I remember.”
“Oh, good.” Light flickers over your face, walking beneath the sign. “For a second there, I was worried you were taking advantage of me. This seems like the place in a horror movie where everyone starts to die.”
Yoongi snorts, turning this into a cough. “Don’t worry. If I wanted to kill you, I would have done it long ago.
“That’s… not comforting in the slightest.”
Shushing you with a grin, Yoongi opens the door and ushers you into the lobby. The entryway is dark, barely brighter than outside as the door falls shut behind you. It thuds, overly loud as the desk clerk looks up.
“Hello?” Rubbing his eyes, the man pushes a notebook before him. “Are you here for a room?”
“Just your phone,” Yoongi clarifies, laying both palms on the counter. “Could we make a call?”
The man tries – and fails – to hide his yawn. “I’d love to help,” he sighs. “But our landlines are down, knocked out by the earlier storm. We’ve got a repair crew coming in the morning to fix it.”
“Oh.” Brow furrowing, Yoongi taps his hand on the desk. “In that case – two of your finest rooms for the night.”
“Oh.” The man pulls his lower lip between his teeth. “That’s kind of a problem, man. Most of our rooms are being tented right now. Termites.”
Wrinkling his nose, Yoongi almost does not notice when you begin tugging on his sleeve. “Termites?” you whisper, trying to keep your voice down. “No way in hell am I sleeping here tonight.”
“Oh, you shouldn’t worry,” the man interrupts, overhearing your comment. “The sections are separated. The Exterminator cleared all the available rooms. Which,” he winces, returning to Yoongi, “is only one room.”
Yoongi hesitates. “How far away is the nearest hotel?”
“Twenty miles, man.”
“I see.” Yoongi nods. “And,” he adds, lowering his arm to the counter, “what are the odds of borrowing your car for the night?”
The man stares. “I’d say pretty slim.”
“Right.” Turning to face you, Yoongi shrugs. “I think we should stay, Y/N.”
“Nope,” you respond, already turning around. “No, thanks, I’ll walk!”
Yoongi groans, grabbing your elbow and turning you to face him. “Alone?” he asks, forcing you to see reason. “At one in the morning in the middle of nowhere, with no money and no cell phone?”
Though you tug your arm free from his grasp, you do not move any farther. He’s right, that is a stupid plan.
“Listen,” Yoongi exhales, pushing a hand through his hair. His hat remains hung on the back of his neck by a string. “I promise to get us back to the city tomorrow, but it’s late and – hey,” he blurts, turning. “Are there two beds in that bedroom?”
“Yeah, man. Two beds.”
Yoongi returns to you. “What do you say?” he asks, eyes drooping with exhaustion. “You can push a wardrobe between us if you like.”
It takes a few moments to realize you have no better option. “Fine,” you acquiesce. “Let’s go. I want to take a shower before bed.”
Wisely choosing to remain silent, Yoongi says nothing when the man throws him the keys. The room number is 203, which you reach via a rickety staircase set against the motel. You wait for him on the landing, arms crossed as Yoongi pushes open the door.
He stumbles across the threshold, flipping on the overhead light. “It’s all good,” he yells; a soft glow illuminates two full-sized beds with sheets of dubious age and quality. “Huh,” Yoongi muses, coming to a stop. “This is… nice,” he allows, dropping his backpack to the floor.
Snorting, you close the door as you enter. “It’s nice,” you correct, “in that it’s not crawling with termites. That’s about the highest praise I can muster.”
“Beggars can’t be choosers, Y/N.”
Shooting him a glare, you walk into the bathroom. “And whose fault,” you call back, shutting the door, “is it that I’m a beggar right now?”
“Listen,” Yoongi drawls, bed squeaking as he collapses onto the mattress. “I don’t know your personal finances.”
Slamming the door, you attempt to shut him out only to realize the walls are ridiculously thin. Every noise is still audible, made painfully obvious by the sound of Yoongi unzipping his backpack. “You,” you declare, stripping your shirt overhead. “It’s your fault, asshole!”
Dropping your clothes to the ground, you pull back the shower curtain. The water is scalding, hotter than anticipated but after a few seconds of discomfort, you sink into the spray. Exhaling, you massage the base of your scalp and in the process, find your mind wandering elsewhere. It is hard to hear over the sound of the water, but you know Yoongi is out there, lying flat on his bed.
It is unsettling how appealing the image is. What is worse is how badly you want to stay with him here, how interested you are in what happens next. This is exactly why you stay away from work like this, exactly why you left the Enlightened in the first place. There are too many risks here, too much danger – you found you could not take it, risking the lives of the people you loved.
But then – you pause, fingers digging into your roots. You cannot deny it felt good today, solving that clue. It is hard to describe the rush accompanying hard-won effort. Your research at the University is interesting, valuable and all but it is not the same thrill as solving out in the field. If only your partner was not such a total asshat.
Turning off the water, you step from the tub and wrap a towel around you. The counters of the bathroom are bare, not a hair dryer in sight as you sigh. You stopped wanting to ‘rough it’ when you were twelve and realized the idea of camping meant no make-up or cell phones.
“Yoongi?” you call, pushing open the door. “Did you see a hair dryer out there? Or toothpaste, for that matter because I – oh, shit!” you yelp, stumbling over the motel carpet and smacking straight into Yoongi.
Yoongi grunts, catching you as you freeze, pressed to him in nothing but a towel. The silence is deafening, fat drops of water dripping from your hair to the floor. Yoongi’s hands tighten on your waist, holding the towel in place as you slowly, hesitantly look up at him.
His eyes darken, heady with an intensity you cannot quite place. The pads of his fingertips are rough, brushing skin exposed with each passing second of gravity. It is hard to breathe, your heart thrumming in a way which must sound obvious. Yoongi does not seem deterred – if anything, he seems caught in the same spell that you are. His head dips lower, closer and – as though shocked into your senses – you take a hasty step backwards.
Hands scrambling to hold your towel in place, you nearly trip on the carpet for the second time. “I,” you stammer, fabric pressed to your chest. Yoongi’s cheeks redden, staring at you in the dark. “The water was getting cold at the end. You should probably take a shower if you want one.”
Yoongi stares at you, then nods in response. “Alright,” he agrees, pushing past. The door closes behind him with a thud, making you wince when you are left staring at the doorway in silence.
Well, relative silence. The door is thin enough for you to hear. You hear when his clothes hit the ground, hear when he rips open the curtain – hear when he steps into the tub and turns on the water. Swallowing, you force yourself to walk away from the door. Yoongi has already chosen his bed, backpack left at one end, so you choose the one closest and shakily sit.
It takes a few moments to realize your clothes are still on the floor of the bathroom. When Yoongi finally exits, dressed in the same clothing from earlier, you spring up from the mattress. “I have to change,” you blurt, rushing past. Your clothes are fine – slightly sweaty, but there is nothing to be done about that. When you are fully clothed once again, you reappear in the door.
Yoongi lounges on the bed, his ankles crossed with one arm behind his head. He flips casually through TV channels, each one filled entirely with static. “Not much on,” Yoongi mutters, face flickering in the light of the TV. “It seems the cable is out, along with the phones.”
“Oh,” you nod, hovering for a moment before lowering yourself to the bed. “Sure.”
A long moment passes before his gaze flicks to yours. Ignoring him, you settle back on your pillows – pillows is a loose term. More accurate would be small piles of rocks in bags. Making yourself as comfortable as you can, you draw both legs upwards to wrap your arms around them.
Several channels later, Yoongi sighs in defeat. “Alright,” he exhales, clicking the off button. “I give up. Are you tired?”
The easy answer to that would be yes – you could tell Yoongi you are, pretend to go to sleep and stare at the wall in relative silence. You are not tired, though. “No,” you admit, shifting to face him on the bed.
Yoongi’s eyes darken. His hair is damp, freshly showered strands falling into his face. “Me neither,” he admits, lower than normal. “I couldn’t help but notice,” Yoongi starts to say – then stops. “I couldn’t help but notice you didn’t look in my bag.”
Slowly, your gaze moves to the dark bag at his feet. “No,” you shrug. “Should I have?”
“I suppose not.” Yoongi remains silent for a moment. “It’s just – most people would have. I have a fucking treasure map, for god’s sake. I was naked, locked in a bathroom and you didn’t even think to look at the map. Weird.”
“Why,” you blurt, heat rising to your cheeks. “Does you being naked have to do with anything?”
“It indicates vulnerability,” Yoongi explains, eyes wide. “That’s all I meant. I was in another room, in the most vulnerable state a human can be, and you did nothing.”
Cheeks still warm at the thought, you shake your head vehemently. “I don’t know,” you say. “I’m not interested in peeping at your life’s work, I guess. I – well, I trust you.”
At first, Yoongi does not respond to this. He stares at the dilapidated bedspread for a moment, toying with the threads of the comforter. “Thank you,” he says at last, voice soft.
“You’re welcome.” Sliding lower on top of your bed, you bite you lip and look at the TV. “What did you mean earlier,” you say, curious. “When you realized someone had stolen my car – you said something about how you should have realized.”
“Ah,” Yoongi exhales, tipping his head back. “That.”
He does not speak for a moment, gathering his thoughts. “Let’s just say,” he mutters, opening an eye. “It’s not the first time my work has been stolen. I love doing this – finding new locations to dig, determining where history might be buried and lost. Sometimes I stick around for the dig, sometimes I don’t. Recently, though,” Yoongi hesitates. “Someone keeps swooping in, taking my treasure before I can find it.”
Pushing yourself higher, you openly stare. “The same person?”
“I don’t know,” Yoongi admits. “Could be the same person, could be a group of people – all I know is that my last five projects have ended in nothing. The treasure disappears, history vanishes only to reappear on the black market.” Frowning, Yoongi reveals how much it bothers him. “I don’t know what to make of it.”
“Hm,” you muse, lying down on the comforter. Yoongi is intelligent, meticulously so – it is hard to believe someone would repeatedly best him like that. “Have you considered it could be someone you know?” you query. “Someone with access to your materials, who knows how you work?”
Yoongi makes a small humming noise. “I have,” he admits. “Unfortunately, I have no idea who that could be. It’s part of why I sought your help,” Yoongi says, looking at you. “I’m hoping your insight will help throw them off the trail. They know how I work alone – maybe they won’t with a partner.”
The word partner sends warmth down your spine. Nodding to yourself, you stare at the ceiling and consider the options.
“What about you?” Yoongi asks, interrupting your thoughts.
“What about me?” you ask.
Yoongi’s eyes glint in the darkness. “Why did you leave the Enlightened?”
Having forgotten he knew about that, a chill crosses your spine. “I don’t know,” you mutter, turning to the ceiling. “I just left, it’s not that hard to do. It isn’t as though they’re the Illuminati, or something.”
“They kind of are,” Yoongi snorts.
The corner of your mouth lifts. “Fine,” you say. “They’re a little bit like the Illuminati. Well,” you hesitate, unsure where to begin. “I was young when they found me – or rather, when they found my boyfriend.”
“Oh.” Yoongi shifts uncomfortably on the bed. “You have a boyfriend?”
“Ex,” you clarify, unsure why this is important. “He was recruited early on – me by default, when they realized I was the top of our class. I was in the organization for four years and – well, it was exciting. Like what you do, just in secret. Seeking the most forbidden of treasures, the most rumored of artifacts – nothing was too crazy, and I liked that,” you confess, toying with the fabric of your jeans.
“I understand,” Yoongi adds, sounding as though he does.
You sigh. “The thing was… there are reasons why some of those sites are off-limits. Why some topics are to be carefully pursued, some artifacts remain lost – politics, war, that kind of thing. My boyfriend got himself into a bad situation, searching for one treasure. Bad people threatened him, told him to stop – and kidnapped my sister by mistake,” you whisper. “They thought she was me.”
Yoongi swears under his breath. “What happened next?” he asks, unusually gentle.
“We got her back,” you confirm, still staring at the ceiling. “The Enlightened helped, but,” you hesitate, “it wasn’t the same. My ex wouldn’t stop, even after all that had happened. He said finding the treasure was worth all the risks he had to take.”
Yoongi hisses, almost inaudible.
“Even,” you manage to choke out, “the lives of my sister and me. I left him,” you admit. “That’s the problem with groups like that. They’re so focused on ‘knowledge above all,’ they forget what it means in the context of living.”
The motel room falls silent as Yoongi shifts on the bed. “For what it’s worth,” he offers, oddly intent. “I think you did the right thing, leaving him.”
Turning on your side, you meet his gaze head-on. “Do you?” you respond, arching a brow. “I fail to see how you’re different than him. To me, you seem just as reckless, just as caustic.”
Yoongi winces, though he does not protest. “Fair enough,” he exhales. “I deserve that after tonight. You’re free to leave anytime, though – you know that, right? I appreciate your help, Y/N but I would never hold you hostage to get what I want.”
“Thanks,” you respond, trying not to smile. “That’s the very lowest bar of expectation, not kidnapping me.”
Yoongi pauses, then bursts into laughter. It stretches his face, transforming his expression. “Shut up,” he grins – the truest gesture you have seen from him yet. “It came from a good place, and you know it.”
“I do know it,” you state softly. Chest rising and falling, you feel more even in his presence. “Thank you.”
Yoongi stares at you for a moment. “Anytime,” he says.
Warmth blossoms on your skin, where his gaze dares to linger. He traces the curve of your throat, the lift of your chest – sliding down to your knees curled on the bed. Pressing your legs together, you find yourself wishing he would stop and at the same time, hoping he does not. Yoongi inhales, the slightest hitch to his breath.
For the second time this evening, you freeze. Yoongi is your colleague, co-worker and still, you are not sure if you like him. Tugging the comforter downward, you break the spell to slide under the covers. “Goodnight,” you murmur, pulling these up to your chin
Yoongi hovers before nodding, simultaneously moving to pull back his sheets. “Goodnight,” he grunts, sounding rougher. Turning out the light overhead, he plunges the room into darkness.
Crickets chirp in the distance, wind whistles in between the rafters and your pulse remains deafening, in blatant disregard to your wishes. Curling inwards, you close your eyes tightly. Even so, it takes a long time for you to drift off to sleep.
When Yoongi sleeps, if he does, you do not know.
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The next morning, you are awoken by the sound of the door closing. The lock is soft, gentle but you hear it anyways and bolt upright in your bed. The fact that you are alone is the first thing you notice, swinging legs free from the covers. Yoongi is gone; his bed firmly made, and panic begins to set in, stumbling into the bathroom.
It is empty, Yoongi is not there and – spinning around – you realize his backpack is gone, too. Cursing the dick under your breath, you turn on the faucet to finger-brush your teeth and splash water on your face. A few minutes pass before you fling open the door, praying without hope that Yoongi paid on his way out.
It will be awkward, asking the bellhop for a favor when Yoongi skipped out on the bill. Halfway down the narrow flight of stairs, you nearly crash into Yoongi on his way up.
“You!” you declare, pointing a finger. “How dare you leave me?”
Yoongi stares at you wide-eyed, juggling two cups of coffee. “What are you talking about,” he protests, looking over your shoulder. “I went to call a taxi; what did you think I was doing? Did you…” Yoongi’s brow furrows. “Did you think I left you, or something?”
Instead of answering, you stare at the hot coffee he holds – two cups. One for him and presumably, one for you. “Oh,” you blink, some of your anger deflating. “I – maybe. I don’t know.”
Yoongi merely arches a brow. “Wow. Your opinion of me is truly abysmal, isn’t it?”
Huffing in response, you grab a cup from his hand. “Is this for me?”
“No, both are mine,” Yoongi blinks. “I have an addiction.”
Scowling at this, you turn to trudge up the stairs. “You ever just answer a question, Yoongi?’
“Wait,” he calls, hurrying after. “You’re right, I’m sorry. One of those cups was for you – the one you’re holding, actually. Please accept my gift, along with the knowledge that a cab is on its way.”
Paused on the landing, you turn suddenly around. Yoongi stumbles back a step, stopped at the top. “What?” he asks, concerned by your immediate proximity. “Do I have something on my face?”
Swatting at nothing, Yoongi wrinkles his nose and you cannot help but smile. There is nothing wrong with his face – as a matter of fact, he looks ridiculously beautiful this early in the morning. Despite the slight bedhead, the wrinkled clothing, Min Yoongi is still devastating.
“No.” Shaking your head, you wait until he stops swatting his face. “I was just wondering where you told the cab we were headed.”
Yoongi pauses. “I told them your University,” he confesses. “We can go somewhere else if you want. You probably want to file a police report for your car.”
“That’s true,” you agree, although you hesitate. “But, Yoongi – isn’t the city in the opposite direction of the cove?”
Stiffening, Yoongi tilts his head. “Well, sure. I’ll just drop you off – then circle back to find my car. I forget where I parked it,” Yoongi admits, sheepish. “Otherwise, I’d say we should just take a taxi there.”
“But,” you hesitate, fingers tight on your cup. Yoongi still looks confused, while you struggle to spit out the words. “What if, whoever is following catches up? They could have overheard us at the obelisk talking about the cove.”
Yoongi’s smile falters. “I guess it’s a risk I just have to take.”
The silence grows, until you sigh. “Or, we could both go to the cove – today.”
“But,” his brow furrows. “Then you wouldn’t get back to the city today.”
“I know this, yes.”
“You’d be stuck here with me, searching for treasure.”
“Another excellent observation. One I already made.”
Yoongi tilts his head. “You would want that?”
Several responses run through your mind, most of them colorfully worded, but you push them all aside. “Yes,” you answer simply, honestly.
His eyes widen. “I – okay, then. Yeah, we can stay. I’ll, uh,” he runs a hand through his hair, glancing at the parking lot. “I’ll tell the cab to take us to the nearest car rental place – how’s that? We’ll need a car either way, to get down to the cove.”
“Sounds good,” you nod. Not wanting to seem eager, you fold both arms over your chest. You are not sure why you want to stay either – just that, once faced with the decision, your choice is clear.
Yoongi nods. Over his shoulder, you see a cab turn into the parking lot. “Cabs are here,” you grin, pushing past down the stairs. “Don’t want to be late!”
He laughs quietly, following. “Guess not.”
Settling into the yellow hull of the cab, Yoongi clarifies the change in direction before sinking back on the seat. He tries to keep his distance but even so, it is impossible to stay wholly apart. His right leg continues to brush yours, despite his best attempt to stay separate.
“Can I see the map?” you ask at last, turning to face him.
Yoongi’s gaze darts to the cab driver. “Uh, the hiking map? From the mountain? Sure, Y/N,” he nods, unzipping his pack to pull the weathered scroll free.
Rolling your eyes at his caution, you accept the scroll. Yoongi has placed some sort of plastic over it to conceal the weathered material from the elements. Even with this, there is still a large tear on one side and the colors bleed, tinged into the next.
“What’s this part – here?” you ask, squinting. When you look up, you catch Yoongi wincing. “What?”
“It’s just,” Yoongi inhales, gently removing the map from your hands. “You’re jabbing it, like it’s a menu from Pizza Hut.”
“Oh, lord,” you complain, allowing him to regain control. “There’s fucking plastic over it, Yoongi. What am I going to do?”
“What kind of logic is that,” Yoongi mutters. “Just because a shirt says ‘stain-resistant,’ doesn’t mean you drop an entire glass of Merlot on it.”
Snorting, you cover your mouth with a hand. He has a point. “Okay,” you nod, pointing again – this time, your hand hovers over the plastic. “What’s that, here?”
Yoongi follows your hand. “Ah,” he nods. “A piece of the map was torn before I acquired it. Mostly the legend, which is why it took me so long to find the obelisk.”
“I see.” Leaning in, you examine the topography before you. Swirling lines mark rivers, bleeding down to the sea. At the edge is the obelisk and opposite, near the bottom, is the cove. “Hm,” you muse, returning to the center. To the right you see a rock labeled Chisen, though you are unsure why this catches your eye. “Do you think the cove is where the treasure is buried?”
Sighing, Yoongi stares at the surface. “I don’t know,” he admits. “The cove is a large area. I think it could be just another clue, something to help find the end location.”
Nodding, you settle back as Yoongi re-rolls the scroll. The ride turns into silence, sipping on coffee and staring out at the scenery. Something about the map bothers you, though you cannot put a finger on what. There is no use worrying about that now though, so you gaze out at the road. The view is misty, fog and clouds obscuring the top of the mountains. Green firs poke through, reaching for the car but before you can look, they are gone. As you wind into the valley, you barely notice the location until you pass a bright yellow Hertz sign.
“Damn,” you complain, unbuckling your seat belt. “If only I had my wallet – I’m a Hertz loyalty customer.”
Yoongi presses his lips together, as though trying hard not to laugh. “Yeah, bummer,” he grins, paying the driver. Pushing open his door, he stretches both arms overhead. Yoongi wears his hat once again, even though there is no sun in sight. “You could’ve had dibs on that Toyota Corolla over there.”
Sticking your chin in the air, you walk past. “I won’t dignify that with a response,” you huff. “The Corolla is an excellent car.”
Yoongi laughs, countering and – still arguing – he pushes open the door. It is lucky they are open so early, judging by the otherwise empty shop. Wait, no – there is another couple here; ironically enough, looking at the Corolla Yoongi pointed out. The two men stand at the edge of the parking lot, haggling with the Hertz rep over some dings in the bumper.
Your gaze hovers only a moment before returning to Yoongi. He hands over his credit card and license with a smile, tapping the counter. “Is there any way we can upgrade?” he asks the man sweetly. “My wife and I are on our honeymoon.”
Despite your eyes widening with panic, Yoongi reaches out for your hand. His fingertips are rough, his calloused palm brushing gently over your own.
“Honeymoon?” the man repeats, glancing out the window. “Here?”
Yoongi nods, his smile remaining plastered in place. “We’re hiking aficionados,” he confesses. “We just love the mountain… er, climbing. You know. Nature… Leaves... Mud.”
Sighing, you lean your head to the crook of his shoulder. “We went to Prophet’s Leap the other day,” you explain, naming a site you saw on the map. “It was just lovely, though I lost my pack on the way down.”
The man’s expression turns sympathetic. “Wow, that sucks. Tell you what,” he exhales, glancing over your shoulder. “I really shouldn’t do this but… here,” he winks, placing a different set of keys in Yoongi’s hand. “Take the Jeep, man. Treat her well.”
Grin broadening, Yoongi tightens his arm around your waist. “Wow, thanks. We will, we will.” Grabbing his pack from the counter, Yoongi nods at the door. “You first, beautiful.”
Pushing aside the tingle which follows the nickname, you push open the door. “Thank you,” you call back to the salesman.
“Anytime!”
The door bangs shut as Yoongi lets go of your waist. He coughs, stepping away and you cannot help but frown, wishing he would have stayed.
“Sorry,” Yoongi exhales, re-adjusting his hat. Slipping his pack over his shoulders, he ensures his whip is securely in place. “Figured that was worth a shot.”
“I played along, didn’t I?” you ask, wriggling your eyebrows. Yoongi laughs, leading the way through the parking lot – he is halfway to the car when he stops, spotting the two men at the Corolla. “Let’s get going,” you smile, “before – ah! Yoongi!” you help, when he darts forward and shoves your back to the car.
“Sh,” Yoongi hisses, crouching low. He keeps you held to the vehicle, edging higher to peer through the window. Yoongi’s eyes widen, before ducking back down. “Holy shit.”
“What?” you exhale, attempting to look – only to find that you cannot move, caged in by his arms. “Yoongi, what the hell is going on?”
“Okay.” Yoongi shifts, body pressed to yours. “You know how I mentioned being screwed over by a former partner?”
“Yes.”
“Well, his name is Namjoon. I recognize those two,” Yoongi explains, glancing up, “because they work for him.”
“Okay.” Shifting, you try not to touch anything compromising on Yoongi’s body. “And what, exactly, does that have to do with right now?”
Yoongi’s stare finds yours. “Namjoon didn’t just screw me over,” he explains. “He tied me up and left me stranded in the middle of the Amazon. Then he stole the artifacts we were looking for. I almost didn’t make it back and once I did, everything had been sold. He’s a fake,” Yoongi hisses, furious. “He’s not an archaeologist at all, but a fraud and a thief.”
Eyes widening, you understand the danger you two are in. “Oh,” you whisper, gaze darting upwards. “You think they’re also after the treasure?”
Yoongi nods, closing his eyes. “At least,” he offers after a moment, “it seems as though we know who stole your car.”
Red tinges the corners of your vision. “Not helping,” you hiss, punching his arm. “But wait – they don’t have my car with them! Did they ditch it?” you ask, trying to peer through the window. “What – was Royce not good enough for them, or something?”
“Royce?” Yoongi repeats, opening his eyes.
“My car,” you explain, pushing Yoongi hard enough for him to fall back. “Honestly,” you hiss, standing to look, “how fucking dare they, why I ought to –”
Yoongi grabs your hand, attempting to halt your movement but it is too late – the men look your way. Seeing you, their gazes drop to your hand and see Yoongi. When they do a double take, you realize your folly.
“Oh, shit,” you mutter.
The first man shouts, waving the other man forward and when he reaches into his pants, he pulls out a –
“Gun!” Yoongi yells, pushing you into the car. “Get in, Y/N – get in, now! Get the hell in the car,” he roars, snapping his whip free from his pack. Yoongi moves, darting around the vehicle and you do not waste any time, yanking open the door.
Metal slams metal and you yelp, twisting to see a bullet lodged in the frame. Holy shit. Yoongi yanks open the driver’s side door as you slide inside, racing while the two men run towards you. Unluckily for you, the parking lot is not that big – Yoongi very nearly does not make it, slamming the door shut behind him.
He moves fast, sticking the key in the ignition and slamming his foot on the gas when the first man reaches the car. “Fuck,” Yoongi swears, shooting forward. He barely reacts when the man’s head hits the side mirror, dropping him down to the ground.
Yoongi does not pause, since the other man is still shooting – a bullet hits the tailpipe, making a rattling sound. “Yoongi,” you whimper, twisting around in your seat. “He’s getting in his car.”
Glancing up, Yoongi confirms this in the rearview mirror. Cursing, he uncoils the whip from his arm and as you exit the parking lot, snaps the length out the window. The rope coils, snaring the edge of the bright yellow Hertz sign and pulling. Tires screech, followed by the sound of metal crushing metal as the sign falls on the car following behind. Yoongi’s wheels protest, turning onto the Interstate but he does not let up, stepping hard on the gas.
The Jeep shoots onto the road, dust settling in the distance behind you. Staring at this, you watch the disappearing mess of the car rental before collapsing back in your seat, reassured that no one is following.
“Holy shit!” you gasp, turning to face him. Yoongi’s teeth remain gritted, eyes fierce as you throw both arms around his neck. “Thank you!” you blurt, kissing the side of his face. “That was fucking amazing!”
Yoongi’s eyes widen, shock replacing his fear. Your lips linger, soft on his cheek and when you pull back, fingers grazing his clavicle, he swallows.
Yoongi turns to look at you. Electricity crackles between you, despite the cool mountain air. The weight of it is palpable, heavy on your tongue and warm in your stomach while you slowly shift on the seat.
“Shit,” Yoongi curses, slamming hard on the brakes. He makes a turn, sharp enough to throw you suddenly sideways. “I – I didn’t notice the sign for the cove.”
It breaks the moment, dampens the heat between you. Folding your hands in your lap, you bite down on your lip. That was idiotic – you were just shot at, for fuck’s sake. Yoongi is currently driving a getaway vehicle; this is clearly not the time for a kiss. But then, it certainly did not seem like he was pulling away.
Sighing, Yoongi rolls up the car window. “Good thing I got the damage waiver,” he mutters, which is so unexpectedly Yoongi, you smile.
“Good thing,” you agree, sinking low in your seat.
The entire, winding way to the cove, you try not to look at him. The cool air turns to salt, replacing the musk of the forest as you look pointedly forward. Yoongi is quiet as well; continually glancing in the rearview mirror to ensure no one is following. You know he is concerned about his former partners – so are you – but there is nothing to do about it now, except find the treasure before they do.
“He won’t get his hands on it.” Your next words are quiet, spoken straight at the dashboard.
Yoongi’s grip tightens on the wheel. “Sorry, what?”
“Namjoon,” you affirm, lifting a brow. “I won’t let him steal from you a second time.”
Almost unwittingly, Yoongi’s lip quirks. “You won’t let him?” he repeats, softer.
“Nope.”
“Oh?” Pulling onto a dirt road, Yoongi cannot help but smile. “What would you do?”
“I don’t know,” you shrug. “Teach me how to do that thing with your whip and the sign.”
Now, Yoongi does laugh. The car starts to slow, rumbling to a stop at the edge of the forest and unbuckling his seatbelt, Yoongi turns to face you. “Y/N,” he states, arching a brow. “That was a professional move. Try it at home and you might get seriously injured.”
Gaze dropping to the whip, you swallow. “Try it at home, you said?”
When you look up, it is to the immense satisfaction of Min Yoongi seeming flustered. His eyes drop slow to your lips – and then falter, noticing his backpack at your feet.
“Shit,” he whispers, expression tortured. Yoongi’s grip tightens, before releasing the steering wheel. “We should go. We can’t let them catch up.
He says this tightly, as though warring with himself and you nod. Slowly pushing open your door, you hop down to the forest and breathe in the air. It is saltier here, the dirt springier beneath your feet than the mountainside. Sand breaks between the wood while you squint into the woods, analyzing your surroundings.
“Where should we start?” you ask, ignoring the way your stomach twists when Yoongi steps beside you.
Exhaling, he unfurls the map. “I was thinking about here,” Yoongi mumbles, pointing his finger to a path. “According to the journals Barbaras kept, he landed at low tide. This means the causeway would have been open, giving him a path to these caves,” Yoongi explains, tracing his words. “At any other time of day, they’re cut off from land. I think that’d be a good place to start.”
Nodding, you understand his logic but for some reason your gaze shifts to another corner of the map. “Okay,” you agree, waiting while Yoongi rolls up the map. “Let’s go.”
Yoongi leads the way, traipsing down the trail while you follow in his footsteps. The way down is difficult, even more so than last night. You keep slipping in the mixture of sand and mud, grabbing onto the trees in the process. You are so focused on the path and keeping your balance, you do not even notice Yoongi has stopped.
“Oh,” you blurt, grabbing his arm so as not to fall. “Shit, what’s wrong?”
Yoongi slowly shakes his head, scanning the horizon. “I don’t know,” he admits, worrying his bottom lip. “I just have this feeling we’re being watched.”
A chill snakes your spine. Twisting around, you attempt to see what he does but still – nothing. “I don’t see anyone,” you respond, turning back.
Yoongi’s gaze flicks to yours. “Right,” he nods, resuming his pace. “It’s probably nothing. Let’s keep going.”
Even so, you notice Yoongi’s hand twitching as you walk – as though lying in wait to yank his whip from his pack. The forest thickens the further you go, waves crashing on the steep cliffs to your right. The path narrows, growing steeper until you are panting with effort.
“How much,” you gasp, skidding down some rocks, “longer?”
Yoongi bounds ahead, undeterred. “Just through those trees, I think,” he calls, pushing branches aside. “There should be a small inlet. We can wait for the –” He disappears through the shrubs, effectively cutting him off.
“Yoongi?” you frown, scrambling forward. “Where we can wait for the what? The tide?”
Pushing your way through the wood, the other side becomes suddenly visible – and when it does, you freeze. Yoongi was right. There is the ocean, the caves and in between you lies a wet inlet of sand. The tide is low, waves retreated far enough that the path is clear.
Between you and the caves stands Yoongi, both hands in the air. A gun is pointed at his head, held by a man on the brink of the tide. No, make that three men – the two assholes from Hertz have joined, stumbling free from the bushes. You come up short, feet faltering when the man holding the gun chuckles.
“Hello, Y/N,” he chuckles, cocking his head. “How lovely to meet you. Horrible circumstances, I’m afraid.”
Though you cannot see Yoongi’s face, you imagine him scowling. “Namjoon,” Yoongi grunts. Stomach twisting, you realize this is his former partner. The man is handsome, with dark hair and smooth features – they are currently twisted into a scowl though, making it hard to feel anything for him. “Let her go,” Yoongi demands. “She has nothing to do with this.”
“On the contrary.” Namjoon says this pleasantly, beckoning his henchmen forward. “She’s seen the map, meaning she’s involved. She even helped you solve a clue, it seems.”
“The map?” Yoongi scoffs, giving away nothing. “You truly think I would show anyone the full extent of my work after you?”
Uncertainty crosses Namjoon’s features. “Hm,” he muses, gaze sliding to yours. “Perhaps not. Still,” he shrugs, removing the safety from his gun. “Can never be too careful. Now, tell me – where is the treasure?”
Yoongi exhales, fingers twitching.
Namjoon’s gaze darts to the motion. “And don’t,” he grows, taking a half-step closer, “even think about grabbing that whip, asshat – or I’ll blow your girl’s head off, I swear.”
Yoongi sighs. “Is such language necessary? What do you want from me, Namjoon?”
Wind buffets Namjoon’s hair, betraying the changing tide. “I want you to hand over the map,” he explains – calmly, pleasantly. “We’ve managed so far without it, but I think it would be best now if we’re in control.”
“That reminds me.” Yoongi frowns. “How did you find us in the first place?”
Namjoon smiles. “No, no,” he chuckles. “You won’t get me monologuing, Min Yoongi. But,” he pauses, tilting his head. “Then again, you don’t have anywhere to run, do you? I’ve been following you for some time now.”
Part of you listens to Namjoon but another part looks, assessing your surroundings. Namjoon’s two henchmen stand on either side, effectively blocking all paths of escape. Even if you were to turn and run back the way you came, you are sure they would catch up to you quickly. You are out of shape and these men look athletic. Besides, that would not solve the current issue of Yoongi having a gun to his head
Silently, you curse yourself for not being more pro-active. You should have brought supplies, weapons; you should not be standing here, feeling helpless and weak.
Namjoon smiles before he continues. “I followed you to Y/N’s office. The next day I returned, pretended I needed an appointment – and while her receptionist went to the bathroom, I searched through her email.” Namjoon shrugs. “We followed you to the location that night.”
Almost relieved, you release a sigh. For a brief period last night, you were concerned Jimin was somehow involved. It seems he is not – just another victim, in the crimes of these men.
“And the car?” Yoongi prompts, not removing his gaze from Namjoon.
Namjoon narrows his eyes down the barrel of the gun. “A stroke of brilliance on behalf of my companions. They followed you to the obelisk, overhead you solving the clue – and on their way back decided to hinder your journey.”
You hiss, barely audible as Namjoon turns. “Sorry about that,” he shrugs. “It’s just business, love.”
Yoongi snorts. “Business, ha. You’re a thief, Namjoon.”
“Yes, and thievery is my business,” Namjoon explains, waving a hand. “Jas, tie the woman up.”
Nodding, Jas moves forward but only makes it four steps before all hell breaks loose. Yoongi inhales, throwing out his arm and Namjoon swears, squeezing the trigger and firing. The bullet just misses him, grazing Yoongi’s side as he twists, fingers alive on his whip. It uncoils mercilessly, wrapping Jas’ ankle beneath him and yanking him suddenly backwards. His face hits ground, blood spurting from something which breaks, likely his nose. Yoongi does not stop there, already twisting to aim for Namjoon’s bare wrist. The rope coils, jerking upwards and Namjoon’s gun shoots harmlessly into the air. Yoongi rolls to the ground, kicking the gun from Namjoon’s grip and into the ocean.
He pops up, dodging Namjoon’s first blow, then his second. The two are so busy fighting and you, so busy watching that none of you notice the third man sneaking off to the side. The moment you realize is the moment the gun clicks, loud in your ear.
Heart hammering, you gasp when an arm wraps around you. “Ahem,” the voice purrs.
Somehow Yoongi hears and freezes. His whip falls limp to the dirt as Namjoon, breathing heavily, pauses as well. Blood trickles from his lip, gaze darting past Yoongi to you. His smile widens, seeing the stalemate before him.
“Ah,” Namjoon sighs, looking at Yoongi. “It seems we’re at an impasse, my friend. Your girl has a gun to her head and I, well – I need a map in my hand. Give me it,” he implores, “and she lives.”
The gun digs into your temple. “Yoongi,” you whisper, unable to help yourself.
Before you, his shoulders droop in defeat. There is no way out, both of you can see that – already, the waves begin to crash in from the left. The tide is rising, and it will not be long before the entire causeway is flooded. Yoongi’s gaze darts to the caves, then to you.
His jaw tightens as he releases.
“Give him the map,” you plead, hands clenched. A sudden, wild thought occurs to you and you decide to go with it. “Give him the map, Yoongi. They’ve already figured out the treasure is buried inside the caves.”
Namjoon’s eyes widen, darting to Yoongi in disbelief. “The caves,” he breathes, half-turning to look. “Of course.”
Yoongi’s mouth sags, crestfallen. Clearly, Namjoon had not worked that bit out for himself yet and here you are, giving him the final hint. Though Yoongi does not speak, you can tell that he is furious. His back is ramrod straight, firm, solid as his hands curl into fists.
The man holding you chuckles, releasing his grip. He begins to back away, gun still firmly trained on your head – as with his other hand, he grabs a second gun from his pocket and hands this to Namjoon.
“Well,” Namjoon grins, grabbing this to flick off the safety. “This changes things, doesn’t it?” he observes, pointing his weapon at Yoongi. “The map,” he demands, “and we’ll be on our way.”
Slowly, Yoongi lowers his pack to the ground. His whip remains coiled, but he does not use it, unzipping the compartment. Gaze like ice, Yoongi tugs free the piece of rolled-up plastic.
Namjoon’s eyes gleam when Yoongi hands him the scroll. “Fuck,” he exhales, pushing a hand through his hair. After staring at him for a moment, Namjoon waves Jas – who has managed to push himself up from the dirt – on. “Go and scope out the caves. Lucas and I are right behind you.”
Jas nods, breaking out in a jog over the sand. Yoongi watches him leave and Namjoon laughs, shoving the map into his pants. “It’s been a pleasure,” he grins, slowly backing away. “We’ll be sure to keep you in mind when we find the treasure.”
Yoongi does not respond, staring icily while Namjoon crosses the sand. Lucas follows, keeping his gun trained on your head and, once they are a suitable distance away, they both turn and run. They disappear into the caves, you lose sight when the ocean rolls in, freezing waves licking your soles.
“Yoongi,” you begin, straining to be heard over the sound of the water.
Yoongi inhales, measured and slow. “Don’t,” he mutters, turning on his heel to stride into the woods. “Don’t talk to me right now, Y/N.”
The waves crest, cutting the caves off from the rest of the mainland. Seeing this, you smile and turn around to follow suit. “Wait,” you gasp, scrambling after him, “Yoongi!”
It takes several minutes to reach him; he is hiking so fast. When Yoongi finally hears you calling his name, the laugh he gives you is mirthless. “What,” he blurts, whirling around. Damp hair hangs in his eyes – from sweat, water or mist, you do not know. “What, exactly do you have to say? I would’ve turned the map over – I swear I would have. No human life is worth a fucking treasure hunt, obviously! But,” Yoongi hisses, taking a step forward so you now stand nose-to-nose. “You had to go and blurt out the location of the treasure!”
When he swallows, you wince and nearly take a step backwards. “No,” you whisper, shaking your head. “No, I didn’t tell Namjoon the location, Yoongi. I gave him a false lead.”
Yoongi stops, staring at you for a moment. “What… what do you mean?”
“A false lead,” you explain, eyes wide. “The more I think about it, the less convinced I am the treasure is in the caves.”
Yoongi’s chest rises and falls, unclenching his hands at his sides. “Five minutes,” he states, flat. “You have five minutes to explain.”
“Right,” you exhale, adjusting your stance on the slippery slope. “The map,” you begin. “It was written by Barbaras, yes?”
“Yes.” Yoongi’s words are direct, clipped.
“He was a scholar,” you repeat, raising your brows. “He knew multiple languages, yes?”
Yoongi sighs. “Yes.”
“Okay,” you nod. “So, then why were the Greek letters out of place on the map?” 
Tilting his head, Yoongi considers. “What do you mean?” he asks. For the first time, he sounds curious.
“The letters,” you insist, spreading both hands before you. “I noticed it the first time I saw the map but thought nothing of it. Every now and then, Barbaras would use a Greek letter instead of the Romanized equivalent. For example – Pitter Cliff had the Greek letter Pi, instead of the letters P and I.”
The furrow in Yoongi’s brow deepens. “I,” he hesitates. “I noticed that too, but I thought it was nothing – an odd quirk of preference. So, what,” Yoongi queries, meeting your gaze, “you think it’s a clue?”
Taking a deep breath, you nod. “I think,” you say, stepping closer, “it wasn’t a clue, it was the clue. Everything else – the map, the obelisk, the caves – they’re red herrings. Meant to deter the reader from the true location of the treasure, which is just under their nose.”
Yoongi’s mouth sags, looking at your surroundings. “Which… is?”
Noticing the change in expression, you smile. “Chisen rock,” you repeat, breathless. “It was the only place on the entire map marked with–”
“X,” Yoongi finishes, quiet. “It was disguised as the Greek letter X but really, it stands for –”
“X marks the spot,” you nod, not wanting him to have all the glory.
Yoongi stares for a moment, before starting to laugh. “Holy shit,” he swears, lowering his face to his palms. “Shit, Y/N. This is just Barbaras’ style, hiding the treasure in plain sight – I, wow,” he exhales, lifting his gaze. “And Namjoon,” Yoongi realizes, piecing it together, “is currently digging around in some cave.”
“Not just that,” you insist, biting down on your smile. “The tide rolled in as he entered. Namjoon and his cronies won’t be leaving there for another twelve hours.”
Disbelief crosses Yoongi’s expression. “I – you,” he mutters before suddenly, recklessly, launching himself forward.
His lips are fiery, descending on yours. You gasp, mouth parting while his hands wind into your hair. Yoongi groans, nipping into your mouth with hurried kisses and licks. His hands hold you hostage, keeping you close while they wander your hair, your arms, down the backs of your thighs and over the curve of your waist.
The kiss only lasts for a moment; a hot, delirious moment before Yoongi wrenches himself free. He stares at you, slightly wild-eyed while catching his breath. Yoongi’s chest rises and falls against his shirt – you are sure you must look equally fucked up, hair messy and lips bruised from his kiss.
“Y/N,” he starts – then stops, licking his lips. “I shouldn’t… we should…”
Stomach dropping, you realize what he means. The way Yoongi looks at you now, the sudden silence between you – he regrets the kiss. It was a one-time thing, a moment of delirium and excitement. Swallowing, you cross both arms over your chest.
“We should go?” you supply, expression shuttering. “Yeah, we should. Don’t want Namjoon catching up to the treasure.”
Yoongi opens his mouth but before he can respond, you brush past. Whatever he wanted to say dies, lost to the wind while you start to climb upwards. When you reach the road, the rental car is still parked there – thank goodness, honestly. You do not think you could handle another long hike.
Unlocking the car, Yoongi remains silent when you slide into the front. He drives quickly, on a mission with a renewed sense of purpose. 
“Do you have to drive like a maniac?” you gripe, grabbing the door when he makes a particularly dangerous turn.
You can still taste the salt on his lips; still feel the warmth of his skin pressed to yours. It is driving you crazy, sitting beside him and saying nothing.
Yoongi exhales – a small, little huff. “I have to drive fast enough to keep us on time, don’t I?”
“We’re not on a schedule, Yoongi. Grab treasure at dusk, or something like that.”
Yoongi’s hands tighten on the wheel. “We’re on the schedule of get-there-before-the-others-do-or-die, Y/N. How about that?”
Refusing to answer, you stare out the window. In the corner of your eye, you see Yoongi keeps looking your way. Every now and then, he opens his mouth as if to speak – before slowly stopping himself and sinking back in his seat. Whatever urge overcame him on the cliff it’s is now gone. Your stomach shrinks at the thought, cringing with humiliation as you avoid eye contact.
Gravel crunches beneath the wheels of the car, climbing higher into the mountains. Chisen rock is on the other side of the ridge, down by the sea. By your estimation, it should take about an hour to reach there. You are wrong – with Yoongi driving, it takes forty minutes. You arrive vaguely carsick, pushing open your door to stumble outside. The wind takes away your breath, whipping at your face to clear air from the car.
Staring at the rock in the sand, it is almost possible to imagine Barbaras washing ashore. Yoongi steps beside you, holding two shovels as you wearily accept the one handed your way.
“These were in the back,” he grunts, as you nod.
The walk to the beach is silent, filled with tension thick on your chest. Both with the words unsaid and the ever-increasing worry that you were wrong. Perhaps Yoongi was correct and the way Barabas wrote was just a quirk of the alphabet. Perhaps you were reading too much into things, perhaps the map was a map and you just gave Namjoon the answer. Perhaps he will find the treasure first, sell it on the black market and –
Clank. Your shovel thuds, striking something other than dirt as Yoongi pauses, head swiveling your way. Glancing up from your hole, you meet Yoongi’s gaze in awe. He moves quickly, scrambling out of his hole to leap into yours.
“Was that,” he exhales, readjusting his hat. “Was that wood?”
You nod. “I think so,” you whisper, shoving the shovel into the same place once again – another thunk, unmistakable this time. The irrefutable sound of metal on wood.
Yoongi’s eyes widen, staring down at the ground. “Here,” he gasps, gripping his shovel and starting to dig. “I’ll help.”
Nodding, you work around him and in record time, bronze latches and wood are being uncovered. When the top is visible, Yoongi lays down his shovel to disappear – his butt scrambles over the edge and disappears into twilight. When he reemerges, sliding down, he carries more finite brushes and tools. He sets to work on the chest, uncovering the cask from muck it has laid in for over three hundred years.
When he is done, the chest fully uncovered, Yoongi sits back on his heels. He stares at the treasure, wiping sweat from his brow and rather shakily, you kneel beside him.
“Holy shit,” you whisper, unable to look away. “Yoongi – the mark, the one in the center. It was also on the treasure map.”
“I know,” Yoongi exhales in awe. “I see it, Y/N. This is it – we found it.”
As the sun sinks towards the horizon, casting the beach in shadow, you glance at this worriedly and wonder how much time you have left. The tide comes and goes twice a day – eventually, Namjoon and his men will get free.
Yoongi reaches out, laying a trembling hand to the chest. “Damn,” he mutters, still in disbelief. Yoongi looks at you and despite the oddness since the kiss – fuck, what a kiss – it all seems to fade. “Thank you,” he whispers, cockiness gone. “I couldn’t have done it without you, Y/N. The credit is all yours.”
Cheeks heating, you look away from his gaze. Gold glints between the slats of the chest, meeting your eye. “No,” you state, shaking your head. “This is your treasure, Yoongi. You deserve this moment – you’ve done a shit-ton to get here.”
The corner of his lip twitches. “It’s not often I’m complimented using the word shit-ton.”
“Well,” you shrug, standing up from the dirt. “How did it feel?”
“Pretty fucking great,” Yoongi states quietly, looking at you.
You stare back for a moment, sweat trickling down your neck before you slowly look at the road. “We should get the treasure out of here,” you state quietly. “Before Namjoon and his men get free and figure it out.”
Yoongi nods, trance broken as he dusts off his hands. “Okay,” he grunts, adjusting his sleeves. “I’m going to need your help moving this thing, though.”
Your smile disappears.
It takes nearly an hour to get the trunk loaded into the Jeep – lots of panting, sweating and countless maneuvers before the treasure is packed away into the car. You wince at the bullets embedded in the bumper, before slamming the door shut.
“Good to go,” you call out, hopping into the passenger side.
Yoongi nods, sticking the key in the ignition and stepping hard on the gas. Wind blows through his hair, beginning to cruise up the mountain – sometime between digging and the car, Yoongi removed his hat from his head. You keep glancing at the trunk as you drive; suddenly understanding that you hold millions of dollars of treasure.
“What museum are you going to donate to,” you ask, turning to Yoongi.
He stares at the road. “I’m not sure yet,” Yoongi confesses, running his thumb over a ridge in the wheel. “I suppose that depends on what’s in the chest.”
Nodding, you settle back in the seat. Every muscle in your body is aching, taut from effort and frustration. Not to mention the emotional turmoil of having a gun aimed at your head. There was a moment earlier when you were not sure you would make it out alive – let alone find the treasure.
Shifting, you watch moonlight play over Yoongi’s features. It makes him seem almost inhuman and you suppose that he is, in a way. He is completely untouchable, in every meaning of the word – brilliant, gorgeous, fierce and your co-worker. Stomach sinking, you turn back to the road. You cannot take one kiss as a sign that anything has changed.
At least an hour passes before Yoongi sighs. “Y/N,” he mumbles, stifling a yawn. “I don’t think we’re going to make it back to the city before dawn.”
“Oh,” you blink, staring out at the woods. “I see.”
“We could stop?” Yoongi offers, sounding tentative. “We could find a motel, stay the night?”
Your shoulders are halfway to shrugging when in the corner of your eye, you see Yoongi yawn. His eyes droop, torso hunching and you sit suddenly upwards. “Yoongi!” you blurt, causing him to blink. “You’re exhausted. Yes, let’s stop – let’s rest and finish the trip home tomorrow.”
Slowly nodding, Yoongi looks at you. “Thanks, Y/N.”
“No problem.”
Yoongi turns into the first place he sees – a slightly less seedy motel than last night, though still a far cry from any hotel in the city. You suppose this is a good thing, leaving the car – there is less chance of you being seen here, of you being recognized. Yoongi parks all the way in the back, so your Jeep will not be recognized from the road.
Piling out of his side, Yoongi stares at the trunk. “I can’t leave it here, Y/N, I can’t. It would be irresponsible,” he declares, rubbing the back of his neck.
“Alright,” you sigh, slamming the door. “How about this – I go in, get us a room on the ground floor and,” you sigh deeply, “help you drag it in from there. Happy?”
Yoongi looks at you gratefully. “Happier than I am with the idea of leaving priceless antiques in a bullet-riddled rental car.”
“Whatever,” you grunt, turning to the hotel. Secretly, you agree – you keep scanning the parking lot for Namjoon, even though you know that logically, there is no way he knows where you are. Several minutes later, you return to the car with a room key in hand.
Yoongi leans against the side of the Jeep, one ankle crossed over the other and whip firmly in hand. “What’re you going to do,” you grunt, tossing him the keys. “Slap a thief on the wrist with that?”
“Please,” Yoongi scoffs, winding it around the length of his arm. “You saw me fight with this earlier; you know that I’m capable.”
Rather than respond to this, you open the trunk of the car. It takes both of your strength to lug the full chest to room 107 – once it is inside, you let go of the handle and let it drop to the ground, nearly crushing Yoongi’s toes in the process.
“Shit!” he yelps, jumping backwards. “Warn a guy next time, will you, Y/N?”
“Sorry,” you wince, flipping on overhead lights. Pale illumination floods the room, revealing Yoongi standing too close for your liking. His face is matted with sweat, dirt and – dried blood, on his temple. “Yoongi,” you blurt, forgetting yourself as you take a step closer. “There’s blood on your forehead.”
Yoongi freezes, staring while your fingertips brush skin. “Uh,” he breathes, leaning away. “That’s okay. It’s just a scratch. I’ll go wash it off in the shower.” Dropping his pack to the ground, Yoongi whirls around and fairly sprints towards the bathroom. “I’ll be quick!” he yells, slamming the door.
You stand there for a second, staring at the closed door before lowering yourself onto the closest bed. Much like Yoongi, your own clothes are filthy. Even when you shower, there will be limited options to change into unless you wear a towel to sleep in. You are debating this choice – sitting as still as you possibly can, to not muck up the comforter – when the water turns off and the door opens a crack.
“Y/N,” Yoongi sighs, sounding utterly defeated.
“Yes?” Head snapping up, you look his way. “What is it?”
“Could you hand me the change of clothing from my backpack? I left it in the room on accident.”
“Oh, sure.”
Rolling from the bed, you stretch both arms overhead. Yoongi’s clothes are buried deep in his pack – you dig for several minutes before locating them. Even then, walking to the bathroom, you pause.
“Yoongi,” you hesitate, staring at the partially open door. “Can I ask you a favor, in turn?”
Yoongi snorts. “Can’t it wait until I’m fully clothed?”
“No, not really. It has to do with your clothes.” When Yoongi does not respond, you say, “Could I borrow your t-shirt to sleep in? I know it’s your clothing but, I didn’t bring anything with me and I’m all muddy, and –”
“Yeah,” Yoongi interrupts before you can get any further. His voice softens. “You can wear my t-shirt, Y/N. Just hand over the boxers.”
Disentangling these from the pile, you hand them through the opening of the door. Yoongi snatches them fast, disappearing inside and when he finally opens the door, you freeze. A towel hangs from his neck, hair damp and pushed back, while the rest of him – you flush – is bare but for his boxers. Keeping your gaze trained on his face, you do not allow yourself to look at the slim lines of muscle.
Instead, you look past him to the tub. “Are you done with the shower?” you ask, higher pitched than normal.
Yoongi nods, walking past. “Go crazy.”
The bathroom is small, barely enough room to stand in as you sink onto the toilet. Lowering your head to your hands, you groan. Fuck are you in trouble. After a minute of steady breathing, you force yourself to stand, strip and step into the shower. The warm water feels heavenly, washing away the stress of today to send it straight down the drain.
Tipping your head back, you lather yourself until your skin is clean, thoughts lighter than before. Your temple is bruised from how hard that man pressed his gun to your head – you ghost over this with your fingers, pushing thoughts of him from your mind. Once suitably cleansed, you pull back the curtain to step onto the tile.
Outside, the bedroom is silent – not that you expected anything different, really. You dress quickly, pulling Yoongi’s t-shirt over your torso and replacing your panties. Everything else, you wash the best you can in the tub and hang from the towel rack to dry.
When you step into the room, Yoongi looks up from his bed. The towel still hangs around his neck as his lips part, gaze jerking to the spot where his shirt hits your thighs. Yoongi blinks, forcing himself to breathe before looking up. He makes a small noise, as though wanting to speak – before he thinks better of it and scoots back on the bed.
You stare at him for a moment, before dropping into a scowl. “Alright,” you huff, crossing the room. Sinking one knee to his mattress, you decide enough is enough. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”
Yoongi’s head snaps up. “I – what are you talking about?” There is no conviction to his tone and from the way his gaze darts over your shoulder, you know he understands.
“This,” you explain, gesturing between the two of you as you sink down on his bed. Yoongi swallows, not looking at how his t-shirt rides up on your body. “You’ve been weird and quiet ever since leaving the cove.”
His hands tighten on the sheets, exhaling. “No, I haven’t been.”
“Yes, you have.”
“Don’t tell me if I’m being weird or not, Y/N.”
“I’ll tell you when you’re being weird if you’re being weird,” you huff. “I have eyes, Yoongi, I can see.”
“It would appear you can’t.”
“I can!”
“Wrong!”
“Yoongi!”
“Alright!” he finally blurts, grabbing your arms. Somehow during the argument, the space between you has evaporated – you are practically sitting in Yoongi’s lap as he yanks the towel free from his neck. “Fuck, Y/N – do you really want to know why I’m being weird?”
Slowly, you nod. “That’s what I asked, isn’t it?”
“Because,” Yoongi sighs. “I’m really fucking into you, and I can’t do anything about it.”
“Can’t – can’t,” you freeze, unable to look away. “What?”
“You’re my co-worker,” Yoongi explains, almost pleading. “I asked for your help and then, what – I make a move on you? I’m sorry I lost control earlier. I kissed you without thinking; I just... I wanted you so badly, I couldn’t think. You make me not think – I mean, wait,” Yoongi winces. “That came out wrong.”
“I make you not… think?” Blinking, you repeat what is quite possibly the most confusing compliment you have ever been paid.
“And then,” Yoongi groans, lowering his head. “For Namjoon to show up like that. I asked for your help and then put you in danger. It’s – not forgivable, I know. I would understand if you hated me, which is why I don’t want to push you. I totally get it, Y/N.”
“Yoongi.”
“Don’t,” he exhales, still staring at the bed. “Don’t think that me telling you this is some way to convince you to be with me. I’m only explaining because you asked and because well, you deserve the truth.”
“Yoongi…”
“I just –”
“Yoongi!” you interrupt, grabbing the sides of his face and forcing him to see you. Yoongi’s eyes widen, mouth forcibly squished. “Do you ever stop talking?”
“I don’t know if I should answer,” Yoongi mumbles. “Given the context of the question.”
Releasing his cheeks, you fight the urge to roll your eyes. “I like you too, dumbass.”
Yoongi stares. “Wait, really?”
“No, no – I’m kidding. I was just pretending when I kissed you back, and –”
Without letting you finish, Yoongi crushes your lips to his. The noise you make is muffled by the sudden clash of teeth and tongue between you. Yoongi gasps, pulling you closer and for a minute, the kiss is hot and needy. Gradually, he softens; lips slowly relaxing, he slides both hands up your neck.
You trade soft, earnest kisses while Yoongi’s hands work through the knotted kinks in your hair. He begins losing control at the end, when you bite down on his lip hard enough to bruise. “Come here,” Yoongi growls, collapsing to the headboard and pulling you with. His hands grip your waist – whether to steady you, or himself is uncertain.
“Shit,” Yoongi whispers, gaze heated.
His length is obvious, hardening with every second you stay here. Yoongi’s hands skim your waist, sliding under his t-shirt – his gaze darkens at this knowledge, leaning in. “My fucking clothing,” he whispers, pressing his lips to your jaw. “You had to ask to wear my fucking t-shirt? Just that – oh, and these,” Yoongi moans, thumb stroking your panties. “What were you trying to do to me, Y/N?”
“N-nothing,” you whimper, arms sliding around him. “I just needed clean clothes.”
Yoongi growls, returning his lips to yours. “Clean clothes,” he murmurs in between kisses. “I don’t want you in any clothes, Y/N. I want you naked, beneath me all fucking night.”
“Fine,” you gasp, grinding your hips on his cock. “Then undress me, you ass.”
Yoongi chuckles, breath ghosting your lips. “No,” he responds, sweetness incarnate. His fingers trail lower to the clothed folds of your slit. You clutch at his arms, shifting because even from here you can tell you are soaked. The way Yoongi’s pupils dilate confirms this, fingers pressing lower for another, eager swipe.
“Y/N,” Yoongi groans, dropping his head to your shoulder. “Why are you so fucking wet?”
“You make me wet, Yoongi,” you purr, brushing his ear with your lips.
Yoongi stiffens, even as your lips continue moving against him. His hands tighten on your waist, digging in. “Did you,” he swallows, closing his eyes. “Did you mean it, earlier when you said you wanted to try my whip out at home?”
Heat spirals to your core, molten and needy. “Fuck,” you murmur, fingers scrambling to find purchase in the panes of his body. “Yes,” you nod, rocking over his cock. “Yes, Yoongi, please.”
Eyes glinting as he opens them, he smiles. “Good,” Yoongi murmurs, reaching sideways to grab for his pack on the floor. Dragging it close, his fingers wrap around leather and pull it back to the bed.
Yoongi kisses you slowly, mouth working in a way which just does not seem fair. Each stroke of his tongue is timed with his hips, rolling and shifting so that you feel every inch of him. Driven crazy by the feel of him, the need to have him inside you – you groan in desperation, biting down on his lip.
Yoongi chuckles, stroking your side with his thumb. “Lie down,” he commands, lifting you off. As you sink down on the pillows, you watch Yoongi position himself between your legs. His whip remains coiled beside him on the bed sheets, sleek and innocent until he reaches out. The cord reacts to his touch, jerking forward to land in the palm of his hand.
He arches a brow. “Lie back all the way,” Yoongi clarifies, smooth as velvet.
You do as he asks, finding the mattress while Yoongi’s hands graze your thighs. He has beautiful hands, you realize – large, calloused with thick veins you want more of. Yoongi holds you open, staring down at your core before inhaling shakily. He looks up, and the moment seems to extend – Yoongi, in nothing but boxers with that look in his eyes. That look which says he wants to devour you whole, lose you both to the edge.
Leaning in, he slides both hands under your shirt – his shirt – to push the length upwards. Inch by inch, your skin is revealed. Yoongi drinks it all in, lowering his lips to brush over your hips. He makes his way upwards, alternating between nipping and kissing in a way which makes you fall flat.
You do not expect it when his lips close over a breast. Yoongi is near your belly button, swirling his tongue when he suddenly shifts, sucking your nipple to make you moan out his name. His lips are soft, tongue flicking as you harden beneath him.
“Shit,” you gasp, breathing catching. Lifting your hips, your legs cage his torso and Yoongi growls, dropping further against you. He does not stop, switching his mouth to your other breast and leaving his thumb at the first. Teasing and flicking, Yoongi brings soft moans to your throat. Once he is satisfied with the mess left before him, he pulls back to sit on his heels.
“Arms up,” Yoongi demands, waiting until you obey. Grabbing his whip, Yoongi ties your wrists firmly into place. He does this efficiently, tight enough to be uncomfortable but not enough to cause pain. Seeing you with your wrists tied and legs wrapped about him, Yoongi’s gaze darkens. “Good,” he murmurs, dropping back to his elbows.
He flicks his tongue down your body, curling in the hollows of your hips and keeping you still on the bed. When Yoongi finds your panties, you cannot help but groan. He drags his nose down your slit, back up, only to grab the sides of your panties and yank them down to your ankles. Tossing these to the floor, Yoongi sits back and parts your thighs with his hands.
He inhales greedily. “Shit,” Yoongi mutters, seeing you open before him. He lowers himself, shoulders bunching when he drops a kiss to your hip. You expect Yoongi to continue, expect his mouth to go where you need him most – but he does not.
Instead, Yoongi meets your gaze and slips a finger inside. You groan, arching against the confinement of your bonds. With your hands tied, you cannot move his mouth where you want it. You just have to lie there and take it, while Yoongi sinks a finger into your cunt. Fuck, does it feel good, but he is barely giving you the pressure you need. He thrusts into you slowly, each brush more agonizing than the last.
You whimper, toes curled on the mattress when Yoongi inserts a second finger. Clit throbbing, you ache for more but Yoongi ignores you, keeping his fingers spread carefully apart. He does this again as he exits, trailing higher without touching you – never touching exactly where you need it.
“What’s wrong,” Yoongi murmurs, sliding your wetness up and down. “Did you want to be touched – here?” he asks, tapping the raised mound of your clit.
Arching upwards, you pull on your restraints and Yoongi swears, reaching down to palm himself over his boxers. “Fuck,” he mutters, pulling his lower lip between teeth. “You look so hot like that, so naked and needy.”
Unable to take it any longer, you flip your hips upwards to cage both legs around him. Yoongi’s eyes widen when you drag him forward, hissing when his clothed cock rubs against your wet pussy. “Ah,” you gasp, head thrown back from the release. You grind eagerly against him, wet and sloppy but Yoongi does not seem to mind, allowing you to take the lead.
He stares at your cunt, soaking his boxers and then grabs your wrists, helping you along. “Fuck, babe,” Yoongi pants, hair falling into his gaze. He watches your hips roll over his cock, teasing the shaft until he presses, rock-hard against you.
“Yoongi,” you croon, arching against him. “Please, I want your dick in me.”
This time Yoongi does not hesitate, reaching into his boxers to pull out his cock. He does not fully undress, letting his dick hang over the fabric. “You want this,” Yoongi murmurs, grabbing himself. He presses his dick to your slit, dragging slowly upwards.
Massaging your clit with his cock, Yoongi forces you helpless beneath him. Falling back, you do not move when he parts your lips with his fingers and ruts up against you. His cock slides up and down and you gasp at the lewd sound this produces.
Yoongi reaches lower, spreading you so his tip briefly aligns to your cunt. “Yoongi,” you whimper, pushing your hips upwards. “Do you have a condom?”
He freezes before nodding, throwing himself sideways to make a grab for his pack. He returns after a moment, condom in hand and ripping it open. Yoongi rolls this over himself and then he is back at your entrance, still dripping wet for his body. He groans at the sight, hands sliding the mess he has made down your thighs.
“Shit,” he mutters, positioning himself. Yoongi hovers, nearly slipping inside before he changes his mind, grabbing your ass in both hands. He sits back on the bed, bringing you with so you land awkwardly on your knees above him.
You yelp, giggling when your hands – still tied – fall around to his neck. Yoongi exhales, nuzzling your throat before grabbing your ass to sink you down on his cock.
“O-oh,” you moan, head tipping back from the pleasure. It takes a while to fully take him inside you – he feels so good, you want to savor the moment. Each inch is maddening, stretching you thoroughly. It is hard to stay focused when Yoongi’s hands play with your ass, keeping you firmly in place.
He slowly lifts you off, thrusting upwards as you groan. “Fuck,” you mutter, before – all in one motion – you sit down on his dick.
“Shit,” Yoongi pants, gripping you tighter. He pushes you further, grinding his hips and it is earth-shattering, the feeling of him so deep inside you. It takes a minute to get used to but once you do, you cannot breathe.
“Yoongi,” you groan, hands clasped behind him in prayer. “Please, please move.”
He nods, lips brushing your shoulder. Lifting you higher, Yoongi thrusts upwards to fill you. His hips start out slow but before long, he is dropping you onto his cock with an urgency you cannot help but match. He moves harder, faster when you tug on his hair – messy, harsh motions which force his dick deep inside you.
“Fuck,” you gasp, giving up on patience to shove him back on the bed. Yoongi’s eyes widen when both your palms are placed on his chest. Dropping your body, you fuck yourself on his length. He groans, arching as you ride his dick into the mattress. Thighs flexing, your fingernails dig into his chest as you throw your head back in pleasure.
Now, you are the one in control, moving harder and faster to fuck him. Yoongi grunts, grabbing your waist while his other hand flicks your clit. “Oh, shit, shit, shit,” you mutter, already tightening. “Yoongi,” you whine, changing the angle. “I’m going to come soon.”
“Already?” he murmurs, eyes dark on the mattress.
“Yes,” you gasp, grinding your hips on his cock. “Oh, fuck, Yoongi, you’re too good. Too big, it’s too much – I, I, Yoongi.”
He groans, panting while he fights to keep still. “That’s it, baby,” he coos, sliding your slickness to your clit. “Use my dick how you want, come on my cock.”
“Shit,” you choke out, half-collapsing. Body starting to shake, you slam yourself down, forcing Yoongi deeper, harder as everything tightens to a breaking point. Then you cry out, shuddering apart as your orgasm tears through you.
Yoongi sits suddenly upright, holding you to him as you come. He continues to fuck you, hard and fast until he releases as well. “Y/N,” he chokes out, burying his face in your hair. His motions slow, gradually softening until you both come to a stop.
Stilling above him, you brush your lips to the warmth of his shoulder. Yoongi sighs at your touch, pulling away despite the tone of your protests.
“Shh,” he smiles, reaching to untangle his whip. Yoongi lets the coils fall to the ground – before lifting you off him, dick falling limp to his lap. “How,” he blurts, stopping mid-sentence. “How was that?”
Still catching your breath, you stare at him incredulously. “Are you fucking kidding me?”
Yoongi frowns, removing his condom to throw this into the trash. “Yeah. Was it, uh, good for you?”
“Good?”
Brow furrowed, Yoongi cannot help but look concerned. “Y/N,” he huffs. “Just tell me – did I do something, or – oof!” he grunts, when you tackle him onto the mattress.
“Did you do something wrong,” you mutter, pressing kisses to his neck. Wriggling closer, you laugh when Yoongi grabs your ass and deposits you next to him. “Yeah, you did something wrong. You stopped fucking me – that was a huge mistake.”
Chuckling softly, Yoongi drags his hand down your side. “We still have the rest of tonight,” he reminds you, eyes gleaming. “Along with the next one, and the next…”
“We do have to get the treasure to the museum sometime, though.”
“Stop talking about your ass that way, Y/N. I won’t stand for it.”
“Yoongi, I’m going to punch you in the dick.”
“Not if I –”
He stops talking when you kiss him. Smiling against the press of his lips, you decide this will be a very useful technique in the future.
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Leaning back in your chair, you stare at the article pulled up on your monitors.
Rare Pirate Treasure Unearthed; Donated to Local Museum by World-Renowned Anthropologists
There is a picture of Yoongi beneath it, lugging the treasure with you through the doors of the museum. Somewhere in the back of the newspaper is a snippet on the upcoming trial of Kim Namjoon, wanted smuggler and con man. All it took from Yoongi was a few phone calls, some local police work before there was enough evidence to lock Namjoon and his cronies away.
The treasure is safe, which is the most important thing. Yoongi also broke his recent lucky streak as well, which is wonderful and you, well –
“Y/N?” Jimin asks, poking his head through the door. “Am I interrupting anything?”
“Not at all,” you respond, closing your laptop. Standing up from the chair, you move to dust off your skirt. “Can I help you with something, Jimin?”
Smile broadening, Jimin pushes open the door. “I just came by to inform you that your twelve-thirty appointment is here.”
Paused mid-motion, you look up. “I don’t have a lunch appointment today, Jimin.”
Jimin’s brow furrows. “Oh? Are you sure?” His expression is deceptively innocent. “It’s with a Miss Professor Brooks. They’re uh, waiting for you out in the lobby.”
Stomach flipping, you cannot help the smile spreading over your face. “Oh, that lunch appointment.”
“Yes,” Jimin grins, fixing his glasses. “That one.”
As if on cue, your phone buzzes in your hand.
Yoongi: hey hurry up, the sandwiches are getting cold [12:26 PM]
Rolling your eyes, you quickly text back.
Y/N: they’re sandwiches. They can be cold [12:26 PM]
Yoongi: oh, right [12:26 pm]
Yoongi: then, hurry up because I desperately miss my girlfriend. Better? [12:27 PM]
Y/N: much : ) [12:27 PM]
Unable to stop smiling, you drop your phone in your bag. “Jimin,” you call, hurrying out the door. “Reschedule all my afternoon appointments, will you?”
Author’s Note: thank you for reading this monster!! mindiana jonas thanks you. This is a one shot. Disclaimer: it’s woefully inaccurate that an archaeologist would just pull treasure from the ground. Please take that plot point with a grain of salt, for the sake of moving the story along. Thanks!
© kpopfanfictrash, 2018. Do not copy or repost without permission.
4K notes · View notes
fortunexkookie · a year ago
Text
From the Ashes (M) | MYG
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Pairing: Yoongi x Reader | AU: Historical + Royalty AU + Star-crossed Lovers
Genre: Angst With a Happy Ending!!! / Smut / Drama 
Summary: Someone is sobbing ugly, wrecked sounds that shatter the silence in the room. You need them to stop; it’s distracting and you need to focus. You need to clean the ash from his skin. You need to comb the knots from his hair. You need to dress his beautiful body in something befitting the king you know he is… but the sobbing is too loud, and your vision is blurry. It takes Yoongi wiping your tears away for you to realize that the gasping cries echoing off the stone are coming from you.
Rating: Explicit / 18+
Word Count: 7.4k
CW: violence (pillaging, off-screen execution of non-named characters, mentions of weapons, insinuated non-major character death; wound-mention/Yoongi’s scar); sexual content (vaginal fingering, cunnilingus, vaginal sex, creampie); other cw (pregnancy, vague historical/political/royalty drama)
A/N: This fic was commissioned by @athenakyle​! Banner and moodboard were made by @stutterfly​. Huge shout-out to @gukslut​ for helping me out with this piece so much. 😭 Historical AUs are hard, guys. Wow. 
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The night sky has always been beautiful, but it’s even more incredible when you’re in love. Even if miles of distance separate you from your beloved, there’s comfort in knowing he’s looking up at the same moon and stars as you. You try to quell the butterflies in your stomach by swaying from side to side and chewing on your bottom lip, but it’s hopeless with your wedding just around the corner. Finding that just the thought of stargazing with Yoongi makes you giddy, you stifle a giggle with the back of your hand and step out onto your bedroom balcony.
Falling in love has transformed a few of the places around your palace into something special, something more. Your balcony is one of them, and it’s the first place you go when you’re missing him. On nights when it’s dark enough and the weather is just right, the vantage point it offers allows you to see his kingdom’s lights. They look beautiful, sparkling along the mountainside like a second set of stars. They are what you are hoping to see tonight — what you’re hoping will connect you to him.
Instead you see something even more incredible: a vibrant gold light streaking across the night sky.
You curl your fingers into the silks at your waist and hum in amusement. Would Yoongi think you’re foolish for wishing on a shooting star? He absolutely would, but knowing him, he’d laugh and tell you to do it anyway just so he could ask what you wished for. Closing your eyes to make the wish, you imagine the way he’d smile and blush when you confess you wished for him.
But when you open your eyes, a second star cuts a path across the sky, and your smile fades. It’s improbable but still possible.
When a third star follows immediately afterward, your stomach drops. The fourth ‘star’ brings dozens more with it, and you finally realize your mistake.
What cruel universe would make flaming arrows look like shooting stars?
You want to spin on your heels and run away. You want to lay down and forget you ever saw this. You want to pinch your arms as hard as you can and wake up to a world that promises Yoongi will still be in it. But no matter how hard you try, you can’t move, you can’t look away, you can’t wake up from this. All you can do is stare, transfixed by the nightmare on the mountainside, until your legs buckle.
Morning doesn’t bring any peace — only hellfire and smoldering remains that blot out the sun with their smoke.
You never thought you’d watch wishes burn your future to the ground.
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Hurried footsteps from below your balcony snap you out of your daze, alerting you to the teartracks staining your still-damp cheeks. It’s the push you need to tear your gaze away from the wildfires across the way. Shifting in place, you focus on your bedroom door instead. As soon as you do, your thoughts hit as suddenly and violently as the sobs wracking your body.
Bolt it shut. Lock them out.
You crawl over to the door and palm your way up its frame. The force with which you need to pull yourself up causes your nails to crack and splinter the wood.
Even if you’re in mourning, you can’t afford to let your court or family see you as weak. They don’t deserve to see you cry.
With trembling fingers, you slide the lock into place.
A queen must wear her tears in her crown.
Still grasping the deadbolt, you freeze in place. Your crown — you might have greater influence over current events than you originally thought. You cross the room and run your fingertips over the decorative box atop your nightstand before opening it. Index finger hooking underneath the metal, you admire the teardrop gemstones set within.
If dead, Yoongi and his family’s remains are likely buried in the rubble of their fallen kingdom. With the fire burning that hot, would you even be able to recognize them if you found their bodies? And if, by some chance, they’re still alive, they’ve probably been captured by their enemies. If that’s the case, then you’ll likely never find them at all. Either way, you’ll never know the truth. No one would blame you for accepting things as they are — as they appear to be.
More than that, your family and advisors would never approve of the wasted resources and manpower you could invest into finding them. With Yoongi’s kingdom turned to ash, the Min family serves no purpose anymore. Your people would protest mobilizing your troops in search of them — with the threat of your kingdom being attacked next, there’s too much risk and not enough reward.
But is any of that enough to stop you from doing it anyway — from trying to find them?
After wiping your face clean with the heel of your palm, you smooth out the wrinkles in your gown and then lift your crown from its box. As soon as it’s set upon your head, you have your answer.
Nothing will ever stop you from finding him.
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“Alive!” Nari cries, shaking you awake. “They found him alive!”
The rest of your lady-in-waiting’s words are lost to you as you take off down the hall in your nightclothes.
Listening for familiar voices, you follow the sound to a small gathering of people just outside a closed door. You immediately recognize them: your parents, Yoongi’s mother, and one of his court’s advisors. They’re arguing in hushed, worried tones, but what strikes you the most is Yoongi and his father’s absence. As soon as they notice your approach, they drop into an eerie silence. All you can do is pray that Yoongi and his father are on the other side of the door, safe and waiting for you.
“Y/N,” your mother quietly warns, putting herself between you and the door. The way her voice wavers, cracking as she speaks strikes such visceral terror into you that you can feel it in your bones, and although the panic threatens to bring you to your knees, there isn’t a force in the universe that could keep you from pushing past her and into that room.
The door swings shut behind you with a soft thud, and after that, silence.
Golden light creeps in through the billowing curtains in the window. A guard you recognize as one of your own stands beside it, and another is stationed by the door behind you. There’s a servant you don’t recognize stacking logs in the fireplace, and a medic packing up their kit on a small table to the side. Despite your sudden entrance, no one makes a sound.
Your beloved stands hunched over the desk in the center of the room. His long, blonde hair hangs down his back in tangles that are matted with ash and debris. His clothes are filthy and torn. His bare feet are so thickly covered in soot that they stain the carpet black. It’s potent enough that you can retrace every step he has taken while pacing the room.
Yoongi doesn’t turn to see who came through the door, but he doesn’t need to. He can feel presence surrounding him long before your arms do. He shakes violently in your hold as adrenaline, fear, and heavy sobs wrack his body.
“Yoongi,” you call softly, pressing your face into his ash-covered hair. “Look at me.”
You nuzzle into him even more, frowning when you realize there’s no hint of the usual scent you associate with him. He smells of fire, of a kingdom burned to the ground, of ruin.
“Look at me,” you repeat, trying to coax him around. He doesn’t move, and the panic you felt before increases tenfold for every second he resists.
WHen he finally turns in your arms and meets your eyes, time stops, and you feel your world crashing to the ground. His face and hands are coated with as much ash as the rest of him, but it’s streaked through with sweat, tears, and worse. Dried blood stains his cheek in a clear line that extends down his throat. The neckline of his robe is colored dark where it pooled in the fabric. A raw gash cuts over his right eye, from just above his eyebrow to the apple of his cheek. The skin around the wound is angry and red; it weeps whatever salve the medic just swiped over it.
“Yoongi?” you whisper, reaching for his face.
He pulls away, letting your hands fall between you. For the first time since entering, you realize his father is nowhere to be seen. Behind you, another servant enters, carrying clean clothes and a basin of hot water. You barely see them from the corner of your tear-filled eyes; you’re too focused on the agony standing right in front of you.
Your future crumbles all around you like embers sizzling with the love they still hold.
A king can’t have scars. Yoongi can’t be your king.
“You need to leave,” he commands, turning his back to you again.
You step away and cross over to the servant with the basin in clothes. Scooping them up in your arms, you carry them back to the table yourself. You can fix this. You can wash him and dress him in the finest silk your family owns. Then you can go on, just like you planned. He will be your husband and rule beside you. You can fix this. You must.
“Please leave us,” you tell the servants. Anger flashes in Yoongi’s dark eyes when he turns to face you.
With the exception of the guard stationed at the window, the room empties. He turns his back when you glare at him, and then you reach for Yoongi once more. You can fix this.
“Don’t touch me,” he snaps, teeth clenched to keep the pain in.
“Shh,” you soothe, nudging him to sit in a nearby chair. Kneeling at his feet, you dip a clean cloth into the steaming basin and wring it out.
“Y/N, don’t,” he says, with less conviction. New tears track fresh lines down his cheeks. They skirt alongside the gaping wound in his cheek and drip down from his chin.
“I can fix it.” You cup his face in your hands and wipe it clean, carefully avoiding the tender red streaks on his cheek. You trace the damp cloth with your lips as you do so, kissing every inch of golden skin revealed. “I can fix it,” you repeat. “I love you. I can fix it.”
“Love can’t fix this,” Yoongi growls, grabbing your wrists in his shaking hands.
Someone is sobbing ugly, wrecked sounds that shatter the silence in the room. You need them to stop; it’s distracting and you need to focus. You need to clean the ash from his skin. You need to comb the knots from his hair. You need to dress his beautiful body in something befitting the king you know he is… but the sobbing is too loud, and your vision is blurry.
It takes Yoongi wiping your tears away for you to realize that the gasping cries echoing off the stone are coming from you.
“It can,” you insist, choking on the words. “I-I’ll prove it to you.”
“You need to leave.” He shakes his head, pushing his chair back and away from you. It screeches against the floor as you fall forward onto your hands.
“I won’t leave you,” you cry, prostrating yourself before him.
It breaks him to see you like this. Even if your words are strong, you’re still begging. He wants so, so badly to give you everything you could ever ask for — everything you could ever ask of him.
But he can’t give you this.
He can’t be your king.
A king can’t have scars.
“Y/N,” your mother calls, forcing you to realize that you’ve been so focused on Yoongi that you didn’t even notice her entry. “Get out of here.”
“No!” you growl, gritting your teeth. “I won’t leave him.”
“Go,” Yoongi says in the commanding, powerful voice of a king. It’s not the tender sweetness he normally reserves just for you. It’s an order.
“I will not. Yoongi, you are mine, and I am yours.”
Your mother reaches for your arm and tries to pull you onto your feet, but you remain rooted in place at his feet. “Yoongi,” you plead, reaching for him.
“Do you love me?” he asks, boring into you with his gaze.
Your mother’s hold on you tightens, and she calls a servant back in to finish the job you started. You don’t want anyone else to touch him; he is yours. With trembling hands, you clasp his ankles.
“More than my own life,” you answer.
“Then don’t make this harder,” he pleads. “Don’t make me watch your heart break. Leave.”
It’s only the threat of hurting him more that gets you to cave into your mother’s pull. Your eyes don’t leave his until the door closes between you, cutting you off from him.
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Hoarfrost dusts the ground you’re kneeling on. Clinging to grass and stone alike, it tempts you into swiping your fingers through it. If you wanted to, you could scrawl a message for Yoongi. A real one for once — something more than the vague symbols you string together in the pond using fallen leaves and plucked petals. You could write a revelation, a confession, a promise.
It’s early enough in the morning that only the first trickles of dawn have crossed over the courtyard. Although those pink and orange beams catch on the ice crystals, sparkling through the garden, they lack the warmth needed to melt them. You want to do it. You want to explain to him what happened and go over what’s going to happen, if only to ease the burden he shoulders. No one else is awake — Yoongi could read your message and wipe it away long before the new shift of guards make their rounds.
He could, but he won’t.
Your eyelids are heavy with sleep. Shifting your weight from one knee to the other reveals just how stiff your joints have gotten overnight. A poignant ache throbs across your knees, making you realize you’ve been kneeling long enough for them to bruise too. Long past the point of stinging from the cold, your fingertips burn.
There’s this incessant voice chipping away at your resolve to stay put. It tells you that you need to go inside and return to the safety and warmth of your bed. It tells you that if he hasn’t come by now, he won’t come at all. It tells you to give up, accept your fate, and move on.
It needs to be silenced.
It’s been a fortnight since you saw Yoongi last. He’s pulling away from you more and more with each passing day. If you don’t hold on, you’ll lose him for good. Forever. The increasingly familiar ache in your chest swells beyond capacity, growing until you’re clutching and clawing at the silks covering you as if you could burrow straight down to your heart and rip it out.
Yoongi descends upon you long before your nails ever threaten to break the skin. He heaves a sigh as he wraps his arms around your waist. “What are you doing?” he asks, gently gripping your wrists to tug your hands away from your chest.
Has he been here the entire time? Has he been here the entire time, night after night, just watching as you cry yourself to sleep?
Trying to shove him off, you roll your shoulders back. It only makes him hold you tighter.
“Please, Y/N,” Yoongi pleads, voice low and soft. “One mistake is all it takes.”
You go rigid in his arms but turn your head enough that you can watch him out of your peripheral vision. One mistake is all it takes. One mistake, one moment of carelessness, one second of letting your guard down, and everything you thought you had gets stripped away. But you know that already. You know what it takes to strip a king of his title and reduce him to a swordsman. You know it as well as he does.
“I’ve needed you, Yoongi.” Your tone is far more cutting and accusatory than you intend it to be. “I have needed you for weeks, and you’ve been missing as if you’re still out there, as if-” you choke up and squeeze your eyes shut. “I still need you. I need you, more than ever before.”
“What you need is to finally choose a husband,” Yoongi says, but his shuddering breath betrays his words.
You lean backward, pressing yourself into the firm wall of his chest. To your surprise, he doesn’t pull away. You pounce on the opportunity to sway him by folding your arms across yourself and making him hold you tighter.
“I already chose one.”
Instead of answering you right away, Yoongi covers your hand with his own and presses your palm to his cheek. You feel it — his answer — in the form of the angry, raised gash marring his perfect face.
“Someone else, my love.”
When another sob wracks your body, he buries his face in your neck and wraps his arms around you again. The softness of his lips as they move against your skin isn’t enough to distract you from the tight, desperate curl of his fingers as he bunches your gown into his fists. You know, now, why he hasn’t come. He was already just as broken as you — there’s no doubt that the pressure from your court to host a royal dinner and pick a new suitor has made things worse.
Tears — not your own — drop to your shoulders as Yoongi kisses along your jawline.
“You need to choose someone else.”
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Yoongi moves like a river flows.
Before his blade ever leaves its sheathe, he bewitches both your suitors and your servants with the strength of his presence — with the strength of a king — and no one in your court is unaffected. The air in the room is charged with static-like energy as they watch him through wide, eager eyes and bated breath.
Even before Yoongi lost his status, he was a gifted swordsman. Now, he's perfected his talent. They're in for a show — he fights like water.
Once he reaches the center of the room, Yoongi reaches up and curls his fingers around the grip of his sword. He turns his head as if looking for you, his queen, but keeps his gaze lowered, fixed to a spot on the floor beside himself. To anyone else, it looks as if he knows his place beneath you. He looks calm, composed, even serene.
You squeeze your armrests tight enough that your grip causes the wood to creak. His place is beside you, so if he thinks he's showing support for your new engagement, if he's waiting for your approval, if he's waiting for an order, then he can keep waiting. Even if he waited a lifetime, he'd never get it. He was supposed to be your equal. He is your equal.
Spurred to action by your silence, Yoongi glances up from the floorboards and unabashedly meets your gaze. The look in his eyes is as piercing as a river frozen over, but you know him too well for it to have any real impact. Yoongi's stoicism acts like a sheet of ice, masking the turmoil raging just beneath the surface.
He's either angry or hurt, but you want him to crack. You want to tear down his walls and break the dam holding back his emotions. You want to get swept up in the strength of his devotion to you just as you used to. You want your lover, your fighter, your king. You want him.
Instead of giving him an order, you say nothing. Nothing at all.
Whatever Yoongi is feeling, he hides it by clenching his jaw and drawing his blade. Lunging forward, he pours ferocity into every swath he cuts through the air and weaves his heart into every slow, deliberate pause. There's a warrior's soul inside him, and there always has been. He strips it bare just for you.
Though you've never seen it perfected like this, you know this ceremonial dance, and you know it well. You've memorized every step and flourish. Even if you blew out every lantern in this hall, painted the room in shadow, and begged the universe to pluck the moon and stars from the sky, you would still be able to see his movements perfectly. You know this performance like you know how to breathe. and you know Yoongi like you know yourself: intuitively.
Yoongi has a warrior's soul, and so do you. If things go as planned, he'll learn that for himself soon enough.
Despite the distractions preoccupying your mind and despite your familiarity with the blade dancer, he still enthralls you in ways your new suitors could never hope to match. You know it, Yoongi knows it, and now another wave of potential kings know it too.
The seat beside you is theirs for the taking, but your heart will never be.
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After Yoongi's performance, you gesture for your handmaidens to resume entertaining your guests. While you don't find them as captivating as your swordsman, they're loyal and undeniably talented in both the musical and social arts. It sends a loud, clear message to your suitors: you are powerful and wealthy enough that even your servants are highly trained.
The goal is for them to create enough of a distraction that you're able to slip away unnoticed, but you can't quite do that yet. There's a fine line between being proud and being outright dismissive, so you need to make smalltalk with each of your prospective suitors before you turn in — it'll smooth out the edges of your plan.
Eager to get on with the night, you don your most beguiling smile and make your way through the room. There will be an opening sooner or later, and when there is, you'll disappear.
Nari and your most trusted handmaidens will handle the rest.
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There's a shrine just outside the palace walls that's nestled into a grove of cherry blossom trees. It's a place of quiet reflection and prayer — a place where you can come to be alone.
Yoongi knows it very well. He has spent long hours on his knees just tracing the carved stone with his fingertips. He likes it here because no one ever bothers him; no one wants to interrupt a man in prayer.
And there is so, so much that Yoongi has to pray on.
You can tell from his posture that he's focused. The same sword he used during the ceremonial dance lies in its sheath at his side, and his shoulders are straight and firm. His hands rest palms down on his thighs as he kneels before the shrine.
Petals rain down on him like snow, plucked from the branches by the chilly spring air. That same breeze seeps through the thin silk of your gown. You shiver as goosebumps prickle your legs but take a step forward anyway.
He knows you're here. Of course he knows you're here. But he does nothing to acknowledge your presence.
"What are you praying for?" you ask, kneeling beside him.
Yoongi doesn't even open his eyes. Only his lips move when he answers, "you. Always you."
"I'm yours, Yoongi. I was promised to you," you remind him, laying your hand over his where it rests on his thigh.
Exasperated that you haven't given up yet, he sighs. You're endangering his life coming to him like this — especially now, the night of your engagement dinner. He could be killed just for touching you. "I pray for your safety, for your happiness, for a long and beautiful life. You're not promised to me anymore."
You count the petals caught in his hair. Their soft pink hue almost matches the scar over his cheek. They neither improve nor sully his appearance to you — they're merely decorations. He has never been anything other than ethereal in your eyes.
"It's not for anyone to choose but me. I have promised myself to you."
Yoongi opens his eyes and looks at you without turning his head. His silence speaks volumes. He's done talking about this, and since you know arguing is futile, you turn to action. His eyes track your movements as you untie the belt around your waist by tugging it free and getting to work at the knots underneath.
"What are you doing? he asks. His tone is irritated, but he can't hide himself from you. The hint of desperation there betrays his true feelings: you're breaking his heart.
"Answering your prayers," you tell him firmly. "I have always been yours. I will always be yours, and yours are the only hands I want to touch me for the rest of my life. You prayed for my safety? Protect me. You prayed for my happiness? It does not exist without you. You prayed for my long, beautiful life? It belongs to you, and without you, I won't live one."
You drag the sides of your gown open, letting them pool around you and hang in the crooks of your elbows. "Please, Yoongi. Take what was promised to you."
Yoongi stares, taking you in. He has seen you all his life; he has seen you at your best, worst, and everything in between, but he has never seen you bare. Not even his dreams of you could've prepared him for all the soft beauty you possess.
His hands curl into fists in his lap as he fights against the instinct to reach out and touch you. His fingers itch to cup the soft curve of your breasts, and his lips tingle with the need to taste you. He longs to drag you closer and feel your skin in his hands — to kiss and love and have you the way he was meant to.
But it's impossible.
"I can't," he says. That hint of desperation overwhelms him, painting his voice with agony. "Your new king would have me killed."
Moving closer, you push his folded legs apart and kneel between them. "Yoongi," you breathe, taking his hands into your own. "You are my king. You, and only you. If the world can't accept you as my king, then we'll make a new one."
His hands are so warm in yours. It's a beautiful comparison to the way he has always softened the sharpest parts of you. They're rough too — calloused and work-worn from their last few months spent with a sword. He lets you lead them towards your body. Closing his eyes shut, he wraps his arms around your waist and drops his forehead against yours.
"Let this be our vow," you whisper, guiding his hand between your thighs. "You are mine," you tell him, reaching for the tie on his robes. "I am yours. Take me, Yoongi. Take me."
Able to feel the heat radiating off of you as he cups your core, he keens a pained sound. It hurts him that you've waited — that you've saved this for him when he can never really have it. Once could never be enough. His heart hammers in his chest as he weighs the feel of you in his hands now against the reality of never feeling you again.
"Yoongi, please," you beg, grabbing at the fabric on his chest. You trace the scar on his face and follow your fingertip up with your lips. "We are wasting precious time. Take me."
All hesitation gone, he stands a moment later. Pulling your robes back over your shoulders, he leads you away from the shrine and deeper into the grove of trees. Petals continue falling all around you, blanketing the ground in white and soft pink as he presses your back against the widest tree he can find.
His lips find yours quickly, and he pours his heart out in kisses, deeper than you've ever felt and more desperate than you've ever imagined. He stops your hands from pulling at his robes.
"There's no time," he whispers, "anyone could be looking for you right now."
"I want to touch you," you whine, trying to slip your hands under the fabric. "I need to feel you."
He shakes his head and buries his face into the crook of your neck. Lips roaming across your skin, he covers you in kisses. Frustrated, you sink your fingers into his hair instead.
Spreading your thighs with his own, Yoongi dips his hand back between them and rubs lightly until you’re rocking against him. "Are you certain?" he asks, ghosting a finger over your entrance.
"I am," you swear, and then he pushes inside you. You squeeze your eyes shut at the intrusion as your walls clamp down around him.
"I'm sorry," he whispers, not wanting to hurt you. "Breathe," he reminds you, dragging his finger in and out of you. "Breathe, my love."
You do as he says, and with every smooth pump, the stretch gives way to pleasure. When he slips another finger in alongside the first, you instinctually spread your legs open even wider, and he drops to his knees between them.
"I love you," you whisper, reaching down to touch his face. "I love you."
He doesn't say it back; it hurts too much. Instead, he licks a hot stripe over your slit, dipping his tongue inside you before swirling around your clit. It's hurried and frantic — it only goes on for as long as it takes to have you dripping for him, and then he stands again.
"You taste like honey," he whines, looking near tears. Heartbreak is written in every line on his beautiful face. "I could spend a lifetime on my knees for you."
“And I for you," you tearfully confess. "Please hurry."
It only takes a moment for Yoongi to free his cock from his robes. You barely have time to glance at it before he's lifting your leg over his hip and parting your folds with the tip.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers, pushing just enough to get it in place. “Breathe,” he reminds you once more.
He pushes in so slowly that you wouldn’t even realize he was moving if it wasn't for the overwhelming stretch you feel. He’s as gentle as he can be, and he keeps his hands on your waist and his lips on your neck.
Your bite your bottom lip in hopes of sparing him from the cries that threaten to spill out. They aren't the kind he wants to hear. This isn't the way you wanted to have him. This should be happening in your marital bed, his skin on your skin, his body over yours. This should be taken slowly and savored. Your tears are borne of the burning between your legs, but they carry the ache in your heart as well.
Keeping his face pressed to your neck, Yoongi stills once he’s buried fully inside you. He ignores your pleading to keep going, to move, to do anything. The threat of being found makes you frantic. He wishes it was only the need to feel him that drove you to beg instead of this agonizing mix of fear and despair.
When he finally moves again, it’s as though a new crack forms in his heart with every thrust of his hips. You are everything to him. He wanted this forever. How could he be so foolish to think that once could ever be enough? He knows unequivocally that he will spend the rest of his life remembering the sweet heat of your body, the wet warmth that pulled him in and held him tight.
“I’m sorry,” he says again when your head drops back with a quiet whimper.
“Look at me,” you whisper. “Please.”
Finally lifting his face to yours, he kisses your lips and quickens his pace.
“Tell me you love me,” you beg, cradling his face in your hands.
“You know I do,” he huffs out, reaching for your other leg. He lifts you higher and wraps your legs around his waist. His breathing is erratic, peppered with quiet grunts and gasps. He nuzzles against you and holds you tightly, as if saying what you ask of him with his body instead of his voice.
Wishing you could tear it from him, you grab at the fabric covering his body. All you want is to claim him with your teeth and lips and tongue. You work them over his neck instead. You can’t have marks from this, but he can. He can wear your bruises like an emblem, press his fingers into them later to feel the ghost of your kiss on his skin.
Hands slipping over your ass, he holds you up and kneads your flesh while he pounds into you. The stretch gives way to delirium as pleasure lights you up like the blaze that stole everything from you. You will take it back.
Hooking your ankles in the small of his back, you pull his hair free and twist it up in your fingers. Your hungry kisses move from his neck to his lips, and he moans so soft against them when you bite, tugging his bottom lip between your teeth.
“You are mine,” you tell him. It was supposed to sound strong, commanding, possessive, but it comes out a weak cry, buried in longing.
“Yours,” he agrees, dropping his head back to your shoulder. You notice the stutter in his rhythm, the swell of his cock inside you, and then you feel the warmth of his cum filling you. He growls, clenching the fabric of your robes in his teeth while he works himself through it.
For a moment after, the only sound is the wind rustling the branches above you. More petals rain down over you and float softly to the ground. Yoongi lowers your legs and wraps his arms around your waist again. His face remains buried against your neck where you can feel wet, hot tears stream from his eyes and run in a perfect rivulet down your collarbone. He shatters the silence with a sob, gripping you tightly in his hands. “I love you,” he weeps. “I love you.”
Your own tears are silent, resolved, determined as you hold onto your king, reminding him of your promise.
“We’ll make a new one.”
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Body spent and emotions running high, you allow yourself to sleep in a little bit later than usual. Eventually Nari comes to collect you from your room. There's an undeniable, palpable energy about her from the moment she enters your room. The air thrums with excitement, and there's a wicked glint in her eye.
Swallowing hard, you quietly watch her sort through your clothes and choose your outfit for the day. Your eyes widen when you see the silks she chose. Jumping to your feet, you cross the room and run your fingers over the fabric. Nari picked out your most expensive pieces, which can only mean one thing.
"Have you found me a husband?" you ask, lips slightly parted as you stare at her in awe.
Nari dips her head, nodding deeply. "We have, your highness. In fact, based on the details you provided us, I think we've found a perfect match."
Letting go of the gown, you clasp your hands over hers. Nari lets out a startled gasp when you drag her forward. Excited, she laces her fingers with yours and giggles.
"Whom?"
"Lord Shiwoo," she answers, smiling like a shark as she squeezes your hands. As Yoongi's orphaned cousin, the Min family raised her for most of her life, and while she knew loss from before, her uncle's death has made her intimately familiar with it. As your best friend and lady-in-waiting, she might be the only person besides Yoongi who truly understands what you've endured.
"You're certain?"
Nari nods. "After last night, it's clear that Lord Shiwoo should be your husband. I think he'll make you very happy. His proposal still stands."
You match her smile with one of your own and snatch the gown off the table. "Then let's hurry and gather everyone into the main hall," you say. "We have a very important announcement to make."
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A month has passed since you first announced your engagement to Lord Shiwoo. In the hopes of capitalizing on every second since, you've poured every ounce of energy you have into playing the doting, blushing bride for him and the rest of the world to see. Your performance is so convincing, in fact, that Yoongi won't even meet your gaze whenever you pass him by. You hope he knows the truth — that you're doing all of this for him. You're afraid that by the time your plan finally comes to fruition, by the time you've finally secured a future with your king, there won't be any pieces of his heart left to piece together. But you can't let yourself fret on that for long; you simply don't have enough time to waste on it.
So you bury yourself in making arrangements for the wedding. You send hand-written invitations to hundreds of guests. You work closely with your chefs to create the courses for the royal banquet. You personally labor over wedding gown designs with your seamstress. You even plan an entire festival's worth of celebrations for your kingdom so that even the common folk can, in some way, partake in your special day. You've worked tirelessly to ensure that your wedding is one for the history books.
Of course, it's all a front to disguise what you've really been up to. There are countless pawns you've put in place, and all of them need to perform perfectly to ensure your success. You're exhausted and terrified but need to hold out for just a little bit longer.
For him, no task is too difficult. For him, no price is too high. For him, you can endure. For him. It's all for him.
You'll be with him soon enough.
That's the only thought that gets you through.
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There are no happy tears on the morning of your wedding. The tears you shed are done in secret or alone in your room with Nari. She doesn’t ask for an explanation as she helps you into your bridal robes — she doesn’t need one. By the time you meet Shiwoo for your ceremony, your tears have dried. Only you and Nari know that the smile you wear is a mask.
Your heart breaks as you light your unity candle and promise to be a fair and just queen with Shiwoo at your side. The vows you make taste like ash in your mouth, and Shiwoo’s kiss is even worse.
Is Yoongi somewhere in the hall? Is he aching how you’re aching? Is the anger you feel that he isn’t the one beside you matched by his own fiery rage? It should have been him. It should have been him! But you are far past that now… this is the first step. Yoongi will be in your arms come sunrise, and by then, not even the heavens themselves will be able to tear you apart.
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When evening comes, you’re meant to be preparing to consummate your marriage. Instead, you’re finalizing the details of your plan. Nari shakes her head when you approach your chamber doors. Checking that the halls are empty, she leads you away.
“Your bed is currently occupied,” she says, squeezing your hand tight as she leads you towards the end of the hall. “I’ll head for the stables now. You already know where you’ll find your king.”
Yoongi kneels before the shrine in a full bow with his forehead pressed to the stone ground. It’s impossible to miss the way his shoulders shake — the way his fingers claw against stone.
“Yoongi,” you whisper, quickly kneeling beside him. “Get up. We have to go.”
“You shouldn’t be here,” he tells you, ignoring your urgency as he slowly rises. “Go to your king.”
“I am with my king,” you say with absolute conviction.
“Shiwoo is your king,” he insists, swiping angrily at the tears that roll down his cheeks. “Go to him.”
You shake your head, grabbing Yoongi’s hands and pulling him into the grove of cherry trees with you. The blossoms are gone now, and sweet ripe fruit has taken their place. “Shiwoo is a cruel, wicked man. I chose him for a reason.”
Feeling sick to his stomach at the idea of you choosing someone who would be cruel to you, Yoongi narrows his eyes. “Are you crazy?” he growls, masking his fear for you with anger, but you know him better than that. His body may as well be made of glass for how clearly you can see through to the heart of him.
“We are leaving here together tonight, and we are never looking back.”
“You need to go back inside and forget me, Y/N. You’re talking nonsense.” He pulls his hands from yours, but you grab them back immediately.
“Shiwoo attacked your kingdom. Shiwoo had it burned to the ground.” You give him a moment to let that sink in. Rage flashes in his eyes as he relives the memories. “Imagine how our people would riot if they found out he killed us both too.”
“What are you saying?” he whispers, finally understanding the weight of this moment.
“I’m saying that there are two very guilty bodies wearing our clothes in my bed right now: an arsonist and an archer. The moment we leave, they’ll be set ablaze, and no one but you, Nari, and I will ever know the truth. The rest of the world will think a mad king found his new bride in bed with her lover and killed them both is a jealous rage. A kingdom will fall, someone else will be there to raise a new one, and you and I will finally be free.”
Stunned, furious, and terrified, Yoongi stares at you.
“We don’t have time,” you tell him as you tug him along the stone wall until you reach the door you’re looking for. He goes willingly, letting you lead him forward in silence. The wind hits you hard when you pull the door open. Nari waits for you on the other side with a black horse and as much money, food, and plain clothes as she could carry packed on its saddle.
Yoongi spins you around when you move to climb on the horse’s back. “Is this our new world?” he asks, cupping your face in his hands.
You answer him with a kiss that bears all the love you’d held back since he last touched you.
Nari slips back through the door as you ride off. When you look back at your palace, you can see the fire burning through your bedroom window. In the darkness, it glows like the sun; somehow it’s even more brilliant than the flaming arrows you mistook for shooting stars.
Revenge burns brighter and more beautifully than you ever could’ve imagined.
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Far, far away from the horrors of your past lies a tiny village. Your kingdom has transformed from towering stone walls into a quaint, tidy farm. Instead of a crown, your king wears a simple straw hat, and the only weapon he wields is a scythe. You don’t miss his long, blond hair as much as you thought you would; in fact, you’ve grown quite fond of the short, jet-black locks that frame his beautiful face. Enough time has passed that his scar has started to fade.
With harvest coming, Yoongi has worked himself to the bone to prepare. You want to beckon him closer, but he looks so beautiful standing in the fields, bathed in a lovely orange glow as the sun sets, that it steals your breath away.
“Come inside,” you finally manage to call. “It’s late, and I miss my beloved’s company.”
Yoongi comes to you slowly and presses a gentle kiss to your lips and lays a warm hand on the swell of your stomach. You can feel the heat of his palm radiating through the thin fabric of your dress. Seeming to think better of his actions, he leans down instead and kisses your belly before leading the way inside. Behind him, the sun drops below the horizon in a blaze of golden light, and it becomes clear that this isn’t the life or kingdom you were promised.
It’s even better.
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main masterlist | yoongi masterlist
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A/N: Thank you for reading! If you enjoyed the fic, please consider reblogging so that other people can see/read it too. I would love it if you send a message (reply or ask box - I keep anon on if you’re shy!) too. I love to know what parts stood out to you, what you felt, etc. @athenakyle​ I hope you like the banner, moodboard, and fic! 
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© fortunexkookie, 2019 - 2020. Do not copy, repost, or modify. Do not translate without permission. Banner and moodboard by @stutterfly​.
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floralseokjin · a year ago
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;first and last and always (m)
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You and Yoongi broke up two months ago. It was mutual, you’re positive, but there’s one teeny tiny issue... You never told your parents, and now they’ve invited you back home for Christmas. Both of you. You can’t say no, but you also can’t bear to go alone, so you do the only thing you can think of, plead with Yoongi to come with you and pretend like everything’s okay...
pairing; min yoongi x reader genre/warnings; holiday/christmas au, exes au, tame(?) angst with a fluffy ending, mentions of masturbation words; 15,405
⇶ read the accompanying drabble
⤑ Part of the ‘A Very, Merry Fic-mas!’ collab with @lamourche, @kpopfanfictrash, @kittae, @underthejoon, @hobidreams and @winetae 🎄   
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For as long as you could remember, the Christmas season had always been your favourite time of year. Age tended to put a dampener on things. Y’know, after finding out Santa didn’t exist it usually went downhill from there, but not for you. You were one of those people who started decorating the house in the middle of November. Had done since you left college and moved out for real. Meaning, with that in mind, it just made this year even more depressing than it already was. Because it was the December 18th and there still wasn’t a single piece of tinsel or a string of fairy lights in sight, let alone a Christmas tree. 
This year had been tough to say the least. You mean, it started off okay. Like it usually did. You and Yoongi seeing the New Year in tucked up all cosy in bed. You nodding off and he already lightly snoring after one glass of red wine too many. January 1st you didn’t have a clue what was to come. It’s funny how your whole life can turn to shit in just a few months. How a near eight year relationship can just disintegrate in the blink of an eye… 
You and Yoongi broke up two months ago. It didn’t seem that long ago, but then again, eight weeks seemed like such a short amount of time to try and get over the love of your life. The holiday period just made everything worse. 
You met back in college, second year to be exact. He was the brooding barista that served you a hot chocolate every Monday and Thursday morning, right before your 8am class. You couldn’t tell if he just hated early mornings or perhaps you’d done to something to him you couldn’t put your finger on. Forgot to say thank you? Gave him the wrong money? Maybe he just really hated making hot chocolates… Anyway, in the end racking your brains for answers didn’t matter because it was definitely the former reason. He hated mornings. Had to be, because he definitely didn’t hate you. Not if an exchange in numbers and saliva was anything to go by one night at a club. Brooding barista had game. You’d pretty much been inseparable ever since. He was your first love. First boyfriend. Like serious and official. First a lot of things actually. Nearly everything. You’d lost your virginity to him. He was all you’d ever known in too many ways to count. After you both graduated college, moving in together seemed the obvious next step. Inseparable like you said, which made you sad now because all that was left were memories, and even they were beginning to fade. 
It was to be expected. That’s what you kept telling yourself. Not the memories fading thing, but the whole break up in general. Eight years was a long time. Not to be pessimistic, but what long term relationships lasted anymore? Especially after getting together at such a young age… It was obvious something like that would grow stale. Right? You didn’t know anymore. Your outlook on life wasn’t all that positive. This year had gone from bad to worse. With work, issues with your own happiness and then the slow but sudden breakdown of your relationship, it was hard to stay optimistic. 
You were quite honestly lost without Yoongi. Hard adjusting to life alone. It was a foreign concept. You were in perpetual regret most of them, even though the breakup was supposed to be mutual. You’d both agreed to end it before it got any worse, but why had you been in despair ever since? It was supposed to be a weight off your shoulders. No more walking on eggshells. No more unexplainable irritation. No more stoney silences. You’d soon realised the silence that followed from living alone was much, much worse. You felt like you were crazy most days. Eating dinner alone, talking to yourself, what used to be his side of the bed freezing cold… You’d thought about getting a cat. Yoongi had never been keen, so childishly this would be your way of spiting him. It’s what your friends had suggested—not the spiting Yoongi thing of course. They just thought the company would do you good. You couldn’t go through with it in the end. Felt like you were replacing him. 
Your friends had also tried to set you up on dates with random guys they knew. You’d declined. Couldn’t think of anything worse, no matter how innocent they insisted it was. Another “distraction” that could do you some good. They didn’t understand. Not really. It was ungrateful of you to say, but how could they be of help? They all already had their happily ever afters. If they weren’t engaged, they were married. Beginning to pop out kids. And here you were flaked out on the sofa every night after work in front of Netflix… Sleeping alone every night… 
That’s what chipped away at you in the end. What changed things between you and Yoongi and your views on your relationship. Comparing yourself to others. Even his friends had started settling down, and instead of being happy for them, you felt bitter. It was crazy. You and Yoongi had been together for years. The longest of all your friends, his included, yet you were the ones that stayed unchanged. Relationship halting to a standstill. No marriage. Hell, not even an engagement. No babies. For the longest time that didn’t bother you at all. You loved him and things like that would happen when they happened, but this year that had changed… 
You think it was your sister getting engaged to her boyfriend that did it. She was three years younger than you, but you’d always felt like you lived in her shadow. Seeing her so happy this summer had just furthered your spiral. Made you even more withdrawn. Like you said, stale. Things had grown stale between you and Yoongi, and you had no choice but to think he wanted none of what everybody else was experiencing around you. He didn’t want to marry you. He didn’t want your children. 
Your worries, your doubts, they ate up at you, until you’d convinced yourself you were unhappy. Maybe you had been unhappy, but it sure felt like you were even unhappier now. Frustratingly you had no idea if Yoongi felt the same. The thing was, despite breaking up, no argument had triggered the separation. Yoongi shielded away from confrontation at the best of times, so did you. That was your downfall in the end. It only made it worse. The silence, the distance is what happened. A loss of connection, wondering what went wrong but not actively discussing it, because what was the point in your eyes? He didn’t want you anymore, and maybe you didn’t want him. But then again, maybe if you’d talked things over properly you wouldn’t be here right now... That’s what you kept thinking over and over again in your head. Along with yes, relationships from such a young age were always doomed. Had to be. 
You’d both said you’d stay friends but that hadn’t happened. It wasn’t like you hated his guts or anything, far from it, but the idea of talking to him so casually, as if nothing had happened. As if the past eight years hadn’t happened, tore you apart. If truth be told you wouldn’t be able to handle basic small talk. You couldn’t play pretend. Not when your heart was broken. Besides from calling to pick up some stuff he’d accidentally left behind a couple of times, you hadn’t seen him since he’d moved out. You knew he was still staying at Jin’s place, which couldn’t be too much fun seeing as Jin and his girlfriend had recently moved in together, but what did you know? Maybe Yoongi liked being a third wheel. You heard little updates every now and again from the few shared friends you had, sometimes saw his tweets when you had the guts to scroll through twitter, but other than that you really had no clue what he was up to. You were living your own lives, as if they’d never been so intimately tangled. 
Scrolling through twitter is where you found yourself tonight. It had just gone 11pm, late for you, but you knew you wouldn’t be able to sleep if you got into bed. Instead you were curled up on the couch in the dark, the glow of your cellphone screen hurting you eyes, but you couldn’t seem to care. Not when you were so riddled with anxiety. Had been for a few days now. In less than two days you were due at your parents’ place for the holidays. With everything you’d totally forgotten the promise you’d made in January to spend Christmas with them and your sister. You hadn’t spent it with your family for a few years now. Either choosing to celebrate it with Yoongi at home, or at his parents who lived a little closer. When you’d made the promise you’d actually been really excited, still not aware of what was to come this year. You loved Christmas so much because of your family. All the traditions you’d followed over your younger years had stayed with you, and in turn you’d shared them with Yoongi. 
However now, on this depressing night of December 18th you felt sick with nerves. You couldn’t bear it this year, and not just because it was your first Christmas without Yoongi. No, it was more than that. 
You hadn’t told your parents about the breakup. Nor your sister. Come Friday evening they were expecting Yoongi to turn up too. You were an idiot. An idiot who’d had two months to tell them, and if not that, definitely the last three weeks when your mom had called and reminded you about the Christmas plans. But nope! Hiding from your problems is what you did best, and that was most definitely why you and Yoongi broke up. 
Did you know how hard it was to pretend you were still together? The calls with your mom, your sister… Making up shit every time they asked how he was. Signing the Christmas cards from both of you even though you’d been signing them alone for everyone else. It was painful. Like physically painful, and you were just glad they lived three hours away. You’d tried to think of excuses to get out spending it with them but they all seemed lame and you didn’t have the heart to disappoint your parents. You hadn’t seen them in over a year and missed them terribly. You were really just going to have to turn up alone and tell them the embarrassing truth… 
But then you saw Yoongi tweeting and things changed. The cogs started turning in that dumb brain of yours. 
Yoongi @YunkiMin Getting out of the office early for christmas isn’t exactly the best when you’re spending it alone this year. Thanks parents for celebrating this christmas abroad and thanks big bro for having a wife and kids 
In reply to Yoongi 
Yoongi @YunkiMin  Sarcasm with no ill will intended  
In reply to Yoongi 
JIN @K1mSeokjin  And thanks best friend and his girlfriend for ditching you 
In reply to Yoongi and JIN
JIN @K1mSeokjin Sorry I don’t actually know why I joked about that I feel super guilty. Please come and have dinner with us and Sooyoung’s parents 
In reply to JIN 
Yoongi @YunkiMin No thanks 
A deep sense of sadness filled you with the knowledge that Yoongi would be spending Christmas alone this year. You couldn’t bear imagining it, and you told yourself that was why the idea hit you. He could spend Christmas with you this year after all. Pretending to still be together for a week was better than celebrating it alone, right? Right? Okay, it was definitely crazy. You were definitely crazy. He was bound to refuse but you needed to try. You would be lying if it wasn’t fuelled by your own selfishness though. Maybe that was another issue with you. Something else that caused the break down of your relationship.
But you acted without another thought. Couldn’t risk talking yourself out of it. You thought about dming him first but reading the last message you sent him nine months ago made you think twice. (Come upstairs I want 🍆). It didn’t feel right bringing unwanted attention to that, the memory had already made your heart heavy. Really, what had gone wrong so suddenly? It was like you’d never stop racking your brain. 
Maybe a text would be better? But you ended up reading the previous ones back too. Three weeks ago. That’s when you’d last spoken to him. You’d asked him if he’d taken your SD card by accident. It had some files from work you needed on it. You really hadn’t wanted to ask him, but you were desperate. You reread his reply a few times, just like you had the first time. It still sounded just as blunt. Just checked don’t have it. Hope you find it soon. God. When had you become like strangers? Even reading his tweets made you feel like you didn’t know him anymore. Like you were scrolling through a stranger’s feed. You used to be a part of that. You used to be able to joke around, talk freely. Now you felt awkward. Over thinking every tiny move. 
You quickly decided against the text. It didn’t seem appropriate. No, calling him would be the only way. If you wanted to propose such an extreme idea, it had to be while you could hear his voice. Besides, you were so desperate right now all rationality was out the window. You were too eager to realise Yoongi would shoot you down with sense straight away. It rang for a long time, surely about to ring off and you were seconds away from ending the call when he finally picked up. The click and then the pause before he said hello made your heart stop and then it kicked right back in, full force and in your throat, beating madly. 
“Hello?” 
He sounded unsure. Hesitant. Maybe something else, but you couldn’t put your finger on it. 
“Yoongi,” you breathed, before swallowing quickly. Desperate to keep your voice steady. It had been a long time since you’d heard his voice. Over a month ago. And you didn’t know how it was possible, but every time you said his name your heart felt like it was getting stabbed. “Hi.” You froze. Throat tightening. Fuck. You were getting second thoughts. This was stupid. You were stupid. “I just…” Oh god. This was a mistake. 
“Is everything okay?” He pressed, sounding concerned. “It’s kinda late. What’re you doing up?” 
It was nearly half eleven now. Seriously past your bedtime considering the grandma you were. It hurt knowing he knew you so well. All those years for it to come to this. “I couldn’t sleep.” Which was true. “Everything’s fine.” Okay, that was a lie. Nothing had been fine since he’d packed his things and moved out. You took a breath, psyching yourself up just to chicken out instantly. “I just called–How are you?” 
There was a pause. “You called to ask how I am?” 
You sounded desperate. It was embarrassing. You guess you were in some ways. You heard the clicking of a computer mouse in the background. You visualised him at his desk, like he was most nights. Only problem was it wasn’t in this house. You didn’t know where he was sat right now, and that made you feel sad. He really was a stranger. You tried to hold it together. “I was just scrolling twitter. I saw your tweet.” 
Your heart clenched when he murmured your name softly. It flowed through you, gripped on for dear life but eventually drifted away. Almost like he’d never said it. “There’s no need to feel sorry for me. It is what it is.” Christ. Now he thought this was a pity phone call. “I’m fine. Honest.” 
“I believe you.” You said. Yoongi was never dramatic, so you did genuinely believe he was okay but that didn’t mean he wasn’t feeling slightly down over the idea. He didn’t tell you that though. Obviously. “I’m spending Christmas at home.” 
“Oh.” Another pause. “Thought you might. You there right now?” 
“Uh, no. I’m leaving Friday.” Time was running out. It was either let the conversation die and hang up feeling like an idiot or go for it and probably hang up feeling equally as idiotic. Which one seemed like the best option? You thought of having to tell your family you’d broken up… Thought about your mom fussing over you with pity in her eyes. Your dad too shocked and probably awkward to say anything, and Dahee, your sister… Well, she’d want to know why you’d kept this from them for so long. You felt like crying just imagining it. 
“Yoongi…” There was no turning back. 
“Mm?” 
“I’m calling because of that.” He kept silent. Probably confused. You sighed. “I know this is stupid. I know I’m stupid. Why I didn’t just tell them is beyond me but I didn’t and well, it’s too late now and…” You didn’t know where you were going with this. Babbling. Making no sense, yet he understood perfectly. 
“You mean– No,” He stopped himself, sucking in air. He couldn’t believe it, uttering your name in disbelief. “You didn’t tell them we broke up?” 
“I didn’t.” There wasn’t much else you could say. 
He repeated your name. “Jesus. It’s been two months.” 
“I know.” There was no point in him going on, you already knew how stupid it was. 
“So what? They still think we’re together? Living together?” 
“Yeah.” Your voice was barely there. 
There was silence on his side. Almost like he was releasing something. And then– “Please don’t tell me they think I’m coming with you.” 
“I’m sorry.” 
“How the hell did you just gloss over the fact we’re not together anymore?” You tried to make out anger in his tone. His voice had raised a few levels yes, but if anything he just sounded bewildered. 
“I don’t know, okay?” Your voice was a little louder too now. Not wanting to explain yourself. Explain how shitty these past few weeks had been. “It was hard, Yoongi. Really fucking hard, but it’s done now.” 
You heard him breathe down the line. Taking a moment. “You want me to still come, don’t you?” 
At least you didn’t have to say it out loud. “It’s just for a week.” There was a slight begging to your voice. How embarrassing. “I promise I’ll tell them in January. I really will.” 
Yoongi scoffed. “That’s crazy talk. Do you know how impossible that’ll be? Pretending to be together still?” 
Your heart clenched. As if he had his hand wrapped around it physically. Choking it to death. He made it seem like the worst thing in the world. Being with you. Loving you. Unimaginable. Your throat felt tight. Eyes began to sting, pricking with tears. 
“You’re just going to have to tell them. It’s not a good idea, trust me.” He continued. It sounded like you were underwater. His voice felt far away. He was far away. He wasn’t here anyway. “They’ll understand. They’re not going to judge you. You can blame it all on me if it makes it easier.” 
God. Now he was trying to make you feel better? You didn’t want his pity. You’d have enough of that once you told your parents. Yoongi murmured your name again. It hurt even more. “You still there?” 
The fuzz inside your ears knocked off at that. You were still close to tears, but you were determined to make your voice sound normal. You cleared your throat. “You’re right. It was a crazy idea.” 
“Yeah,” he agreed quietly. Sounded guilty. “I’m sorry.” 
“It’s alright.” How could you even be mad at him? He should be mad at you. 
There was an awkward pause before he spoke again. “Have a nice Christmas, okay?”
This was it. Conversation ending. Probably the last. You nodded your head. “Will do.” Your voice sounded thick and strained. Close to bursting into tears. “And you.” 
He chuckled dryly. “Yeah, I’ll try.” You guess despite everything, even the idea of spending Christmas alone was better than spending it with you… “Goodnight.” 
You tried to savour his last goodnight, but it was no use. You just wanted this to end so you could be alone to cry like a baby. “Night. Bye.” You were quick as anything, hanging up almost immediately. The silence around you now almost deafening. Made your crying sound louder. 
You cried a lot lately. Not necessarily over the breakup but you were sure that was to blame. Broke a nail? Cry. Get a papercut? Cry. Burn your dinner? Cry. It was a never ending circle. But tonight seemed the worst. You were crying because reality continued to kick you in the face. You were crying because everywhere you looked you were reminded of him. Surrounded by memories. You felt like you were suffocating. 
.
.
You woke up late. You must’ve forgotten to set your alarm last night, not really remembering what time you’d crawled into bed, and when you did it felt like it took hours to drop off to sleep. Your head still whirring. Now your face felt painful. Swollen. Eyes probably red and puffy from all that crying last night. You had just under an hour to get ready and leave for work, but you just couldn’t drag yourself out of bed. Your curtains were closed tight, not allowing any sunlight in. Good. It fit your mood. You were dreading today. Knowing this evening you’d have to call your mom and tell her the truth. 
You let out a heavy sigh and turned to your side, trying to get comfy again. That proved a mistake. Even though it had been weeks, plus multiple bed spread changes, you were still so sure you could smell Yoongi on the sheets. Glutton for punishment you closed your eyes and pushed your face into the pillow, inhaling deeply. That’s when your cellphone started to ring. What fresh hell. You left it for a few seconds, not wanting to know who it was. It was only when the vibrations began to get annoying against the hardwood of your bedside table did you finally reach for it. 
Your heart nearly fell out of your chest when you saw who it was, sitting up abruptly. Yoongi’s name bolded across the screen. You weren’t prepared, but you answered hastily. Scared he’d ring off. 
“Yoongi?” Your confusion was evident in your tone. 
“Hey.” His voice was scratchy. Like he hadn’t gotten much sleep either. Yours must’ve sounded the same. “Have you told your family yet?” 
That caught you off guard. Jesus, was he that desperate for you to tell the truth? Okay, that was a little defensive. Maybe he was just checking up on you. “No. I promise I will tonight.” 
“Don’t.” 
You froze. Everything froze. What? You did hear right? He was saying not to tell them? You fought to get your words out. “What do mean?” 
He sighed slightly. You couldn’t place it. Maybe he was psyching himself up? “I’ll come. We can pretend we’re still together for the week.” 
You felt like you were hearing things. How come he’d changed his mind so easily? So suddenly… “No, you don’t have to if you don’t want to, Yoongi.” Now you felt bad. Like you guilted him into it. You were big girl. You could tell your family the truth. “I know it was a lot to ask. It was stupid of me to even try.” 
“I mean, it was,” he began, “but it’s also pretty stupid of me to agree. But I am.” 
You paused, unsure of what to say to that. “You sure?” 
“Yes.” 
“Thank you.” Despite knowing it wasn’t as easy as a simple yes, your heart did feel instantly lighter. For what reason you did not know. Relief at not having to tell your parents? Selfishly yes. Happiness at the thought of seeing Yoongi again? Foolishly yes. 
“There’s one condition though,” he added. You waited patiently. “You tell them in the new year. Give it few weeks and then just say we broke up. I am not doing this again next year.”
You knew he was trying to make a joke of it. To bring some humour into an otherwise shitty situation, but the reminder just made you feel a little sick. You nodded anyway. “I promise I’ll tell them.” 
“Alright.” He said, sounding a little lighter. “So when are we leaving?”
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You left the next day, decided around early afternoon. Day 1. Yoongi wasn’t in work and you had already planned skipping that last day at the office anyway. It was the same every year, they’d have a little Christmas party, most brought their families. S/Os, spouses, children. For obvious reasons you couldn’t bear it. They understood. Wished you a Merry Christmas yesterday and handed you a bottle of wine that was now in Yoongi’s trunk. Thank god they didn’t ask for details on your plans. “Spending it with my parents,” was enough. Just imagine “Spending it with my parents, but oh, Yoongi’s coming and we have to pretend to be together still because I never told them”…
You’d spent the whole day a little frenzied, of course having left everything like packing and wrapping gifts to the last minute. With good reason, but at least you’d found time out of depression hole to buy them anyway. Realising you didn’t have a present for Yoongi for obvious reasons sent you into a little bit of a panic. You’d both have to think up some kind of excuse as to why you weren’t exchanging gifts this year. God. There’d probably be a lot of that. Thinking up excuses for random things that hinted you weren’t together anymore… What had you done…
However, for some reason you couldn’t find yourself caring about that too much. The idea of seeing Yoongi again, being around him, overrode any stress and upset you had. It was dumb, really dumb. In the back of your mind you knew that. But you at least deserved the tiniest teeniest bit of happiness after the year you’d had. You never know, maybe this trip would help you get closure. Therapeutic… Maybe you were just wishful thinking. 
“This is crazy.” Yoongi said out loud just as you were setting off. 
Chat had been practically non-existent since he’d pulled up in the driveway, which you’d been expecting, but you weren’t prepared for three hours of stone cold silence. Your trip a few years ago had been nothing like this. You were happy then. Fooling around and singing Christmas songs. The memory made you sad. And mad. You were five minutes in and maybe you wouldn’t even say no to an argument if it passed the time. Which was stupid of you. You were both exactly the same. Magically peace-making your way out of the relationship. 
“I know it is.” There wasn’t much else you could do but agree. You looked over at him, watching him adjust his seat. “I could’ve driven us, y’know.” 
You’d already had this conversation yesterday evening. He’d had to wait for you to call him back since the morning because you were dangerously late for work, not that your boss really cared, but still. It was only fair you’d drive because you were the one that wanted (needed) him to come. He refused immediately. He was driving. He always drove. Done. 
“And risk getting twisted around an electric pole? No thanks.” 
You tightened your jaw at his snarky reply. Your driving was definitely not horrendous, you just panicked on things like highways. Thinking about it, how had you been you planning on getting home on your own? You’d been so stressed these past couple of weeks you hadn’t even thought about that. 
When Yoongi spoke again, his voice was softer. Like he felt guilty for his earlier comment. “You hate driving long distance anyway.” 
For some reason his guilt pissed you off. “Yeah but you don’t owe me anything anymore. We’re not together.” 
“We are for this week.” 
You both may hate arguing but you were experts in passive aggressiveness. You let him have the last word though. Too exhausted to keep going. You didn’t want things to be tense. Surely if you and Yoongi had agreed to stay friends this week could turn out fine? But the friendship thing hasn’t come into effect yet, so who knew. It could be a disaster. 
It was already strange being next to him again. You hadn’t really thought that through. Past you from a few hours ago had been dumb. She’d even called it. Yoongi looked good. Really good. He’d let his hair grow a little longer, dyed it a couple shades lighter too. Looked like he had new clothes on. You’d never seen them before anyway. He looked effortlessly good looking, while you… You shook yourself out of it. Your insecurities were all in your head. They weren’t real. 
It was while your mind was racing your eyes began to get heavy. You couldn’t help it. You hadn’t been sleeping well these past few days and the soothing motion of a moving car had always been a weakness. You only fell asleep for an hour, could’ve gone for longer, but you woke with a start and instantly felt guilty. 
“Sorry. Didn’t mean to fall asleep.” 
Yoongi shrugged, looking over at you for a split second. “Don’t mind. Seemed like you needed it.” 
You rubbed your eyes, fingers underneath your glasses, explaining even though he probably didn’t want to hear it. “I haven’t been sleeping well for a while. Couldn’t stop thinking about this trip.” 
He looked at you sympathetically. You couldn’t bear it and looked away. “Why didn’t you just tell them?” He asked, but his attention was back on the road now. 
You inwardly sighed. You didn’t want to talk about it, but you guessed you owed him that at least. “I just… I didn’t want it to come out of the blue.” 
Yoongi snickered. “What? They’d die of shock?” 
You sighed out loud this time. Pissed he was finding this all so amusing. “Can we just drop it, please.” Truth be told, you didn’t really know why you hadn’t told them. It was a mixture of things of which you definitely didn’t want to confess to Yoongi. “It’s done now. I can’t go back. Besides, you already agreed so quit making me feel guilty.” 
“I’m not making you feel guilty,” he insisted. A few moments passed before he spoke again. “I told my parents straight away” 
“That’s great. Bet they were over the moon.” You muttered. 
“As if.” Okay, you were being childish now. Yoongi’s parents had always liked you. The idea you’d probably never see them again made you feel funny. “I’m just saying, it wasn’t that hard. I didn’t want to do it, but I had to.” 
Brilliant for him. It was just great that he couldn’t wait to get rid of you and be free. You crossed your arms; very aware your defensive was up. “Look, Yoongi. I just want a nice christmas. I haven’t seen my parents for over a year. Dahee for nearly six months. I just want it to be a happy occasion.” 
You felt selfish, but like you’d already pointed out, he’d agreed to this. He’d called you and changed his mind. You hadn’t done anything. He kept quiet. “We just have to pretend to be together for 7 days. It can’t be that hard. They don’t know any different and besides, we were together for nearly eight years. It’ll be easy to just smile and suck it up.” You couldn’t help it. Had to get that last dig in. 
If he noticed he didn’t bat an eyelid. Just nodded his head, hands firm on the steering wheel. “You’re right.” That hurt more than it should, but you didn’t let it show. Was he insinuating your whole relationship had been a lie? A waste of time? Or were you just too sensitive…
He turned the radio on then, conversation over for the most part until you got closer to your parents’ house. You spent a good fifteen minutes reassuring him and insisting there was no way your parents or sister could know, or find out, about your breakup. Social media wasn’t your thing apart from Twitter, which none of your family were on. Your sister was a big fan of flashing her life over Facebook, but you wouldn’t be seen dead there, and your parents, well your parents didn’t even know how to work a computer properly. The only people who knew you and he had broken up were close friends and work colleagues. Oh, and Yoongi’s family who had met your parents a grand total of once. Hundreds of miles separated your life from your family’s. You were more than safe.
.
.
“Two cases this time? Don’t you usually share?” Your mom asked as Yoongi walked through the door behind you. You’d tried to tell him you’d carry your own case in but he insisted he’d do it. 
“Uh,” you began, instantly caught off guard. Trust her to catch on to something as small as that. Was this going to be more difficult than you’d thought? “The one we always use broke so we had to go separate.” 
“Yoongi, just leave them by the staircase. You can take them upstairs later.” She told him, not paying attention to your reply. Success. Your little white lie was believable. 
Before you could say anything else she pulled you into a big hug. It caught you off guard. Not just because you’d missed your mom, but because it was greatly needed. To feel some warmth. Some love. 
She pulled back and cupped your cheeks, studying your face. “Tsk. Your skin is bad. Have you not been caring for it lately,” she asked, concerned. You rolled your eyes. Yes, you were well aware you’d had a major breakout for the last two months. “No makeup. No moisturiser by the look of it either.” She had that right. You definitely weren’t moisturising as much as you should be.
“We’ve been traveling for 3 hours, there was no need to put makeup on,” Yoongi spoke up, pushing the cases side by side. That surprised you. Made your chest feel a little funny. 
“I know that.” Your mom chuckled. “She just looks pale, that’s all. I want my daughter shining.” She gave your cheeks a loving squeeze. “Glasses too? I can’t see your beautiful eyes.” 
“It’s not like she chose to have poor eyesight.” 
“Ah, Yoongi,” your mom tinkered. “He never changes. So fiercely loyal. Your dad could learn a thing or two.”
You heart soared. It was such an odd feeling. Hadn’t felt it in a while, and you went to look in his direction to shoot him a grateful smile. He didn’t see it though, your family dog, Bella, bounding from the kitchen straight into him. 
“Hello, girl. Miss me?” Yoongi laughed, instantly fussing over her. 
Your momentarily happiness disappeared, twinges of sadness coming back. Reality setting in. This wasn’t real. It would be over soon. You would be alone again. 
Shortly after that you dad cornered Yoongi, asking if he wanted to see his new campervan residing in the garage. He’d recently retired and was enjoying his newfound freedom. You helped your mom prepare dinner, taking the time to catch up. Your sister would be finishing work soon, her fiancé, Josh picking her up. She worked in retail, merchandiser at a clothing store you couldn’t remember the name of. He was a pilates instructor. They’d met a year and a half ago at one of his classes. Been glued together ever since. You’d heard him say a total of five words in that time period. Granted you’d only met him twice, but still. He seemed like a nice guy though.  
At the moment they were both living here, saving up enough money for a deposit on a house. They were hoping that come mid next year they’d be in their own home ready for marriage. You and Yoongi had been renting for years. In fact, you’d spent nearly a decade away from home already since moving away for college. Dahee had decided to stay local. For that, you’d always felt like she was closer to your parents. It couldn’t be helped. You knew they loved you both the same, but sometimes it was hard living so far away. Did nothing for your insecurities. Being jealous of your own sibling sometimes wasn’t a nice feeling. Especially now that she was so in love and engaged while your life had fallen apart months ago. 
Still, you were looking forward to spending Christmas here. Hanging onto that one last strand of happiness… Even if it did come with its fair share of problems and inconveniences… 
“I uh,” Yoongi stammered, stopping by the door of your childhood bedroom, suitcase in hand a few hours later. “I actually forgot we’d have to share a bed.” He chuckled awkwardly now, scratching the back of his head as you zipped open your case on the floor, needing your washbag and pyjamas. 
You didn’t say anything. You couldn’t. The thought hadn’t crossed your mind either. You were so busy fretting about not telling your family about the breakup and then so relieved when Yoongi had agreed to your stupid plan the finer details of this trip had slipped your mind completely. 
You zipped up your case, pushing it into the corner of the room—you’d unpack properly tomorrow, and watched Yoongi now spread his out on the floor, finding his things too. He shrugged slightly. “No worries. I’ll sleep on the floor.” 
“You can’t do that.” You exclaimed. 
“It’s fine,” he reassured, zipping up his luggage and pushing it next to yours. “Your mom always puts out extra blankets, I’ll use them.” You knew him well enough to know the breeziness in his voice was fake. He glanced at you. “You’re not going to shower tonight, are you?” 
You shook your head. “No.” And he knew you well enough to know you liked to shower in the morning. Being together for nearly eight years would do that. 
“Okay.” He nodded, clutching his pyjamas and toothbrush to his chest. “I’ll come back and sort everything out.” 
By the time he came back twenty minutes later you were getting serious second thoughts. This wasn’t fair on either of you. Yoongi felt forced to sleep on the floor and you were beginning to feel trapped from your own doing. You were near Yoongi, could talk to him and smell his aftershave, but it was horrible. It wasn’t the same. You’d done this to yourself, and now you had to last the rest of the week. 
You watched him as you sat on the bed, taking the extra blankets your mom had left on the end. His hair was damp, cheeks pink from the heat of the shower. He may have been physically close but you were as distant as ever. Your heart hurt. He wasn’t yours anymore. You cleared your throat, hoping you didn’t sound as upset as you felt. “I think there’s a spare comforter in the towel closet. You can use that as a mattress.” 
“I’ll get it.” 
You stood up. “No, I’ll get it.” 
He looked at you. “I know where the closet is.” 
You held his gaze. “I said I’ll go.” Stubborn as always. Yoongi had always said it. “Here,” you said, holding the comforter out for him once you’d come back, especially careful while out in the hallway just in case you disturbed your parents and they came out and caught you. 
“Thanks,” he muttered taking it. He began setting up his makeshift bed immediately. You couldn’t bear to watch. 
“I’m gonna get ready for bed,” you said aloud, not that he gave you much acknowledgement. When you came back Yoongi was already tucked in, head propped up with the pillows he’d taken from what was once his side of the bed. He was on his phone, overhead light still on. You switched it off in favour of the lamp on the dresser, stepping over him to do so. You got into bed quietly, feeling slightly sick. “Are you sure you’re okay with sleeping on the floor?” You couldn’t help but ask. 
“Yup.” He didn’t even bother to look up from his phone.  
“We can swap if you want?” 
“No.” 
“I’m the one who put you in this situation.” You whispered. Guilt was overcoming you now. Amongst other things. 
“I coulda said no.” 
“What if you get cold?” 
Yoongi sighed at your incessant questions, looking over at you. “It’s fine, honestly. What’s the other option? Share a bed?” He scoffed. “I’d rather not.”
You stared at him; shock clearly visible on your face. Maybe hurt too. You didn’t reply. Just rolled over to face the wall. He couldn’t see the tears that pricked your eyes. You wouldn’t let him. The thought of sharing a bed hadn’t exactly filled you with joy either, but only because you knew it would break your heart. For Yoongi it seemed like his worst nightmare. 
“I’m turning off the light,” he mumbled. 
You kept silent, not feeling any better when darkness covered you. How foolish you were. Tonight at dinner you’d even been a little bit hopeful that things would run smoothly. Yoongi was upbeat, talking with your parents like he wasn’t hiding a big secret. Teasing Dahee too like he’d always done. But that’s where you were wrong. It wasn’t them who were the problem. It was you. It was you he didn’t want to be alone with. You he didn’t want to have a conversation with. 
That did it. Hot fat tears beginning to roll down your cheeks. You bit down on your bottom lip, desperate to stay quiet. You felt lonelier than ever. Yoongi only a couple of feet away from you. 
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“God. You two really aren’t romantic in the slightest,” Dahee commented, sounding puzzlingly offended. 
It was just gone one in the afternoon of Day 2 of what you had now named “The Christmas Trip from Hell,” and you and Yoongi had been roped in by Dahee to accompany her and Josh with walking Bella. Well, more like trekking. This route was totally off road and you weren’t used to the cold of your hometown anymore. You were fricking freezing. What had spurred your sister’s remark was the way you and Yoongi trudged along at least a metre apart from one another. While she and Josh walked hand in hand. 
“Wait for it,” Yoongi snarked. “That’s what happens, Dahee. Do you think it’s possible for every couple to stay happy and in love?” You accidentally caught his eyes when that slipped and he immediately trying to backtrack. “I mean, after years together it’s not all about hand holding and saying I love you.” 
You didn’t miss the way Dahee’s eyes narrowed in your direction before she shook her head and laughed obnoxiously. “Well, that’s never gonna happen to us. Is it, Josh?” Josh stayed silent but nodded his head obediently. He reminded you of a dog. In fact, he was better trained than Bella. 
Yoongi scoffed, and you shot him a look. He better watch it. His distaste for you was becoming visible. Your sister was sharp. She’d pick up on the slightest thing instantly. He was making it obvious. 
Today had been bearable. More bearable that last night anyway. You both hadn’t acknowledged this morning, which you weren’t surprised about. You definitely weren’t going to anyway, and well, Yoongi may have not noticed in the first place. You were just happy the days seemed to be going fast. If this kept up you’d be on Day 7 in no time. Yoongi was free to do whatever he wanted then. Run, most probably. 
It was while you were ranting in your own head, you felt his hand attempt to slip inside yours. You looked up at him in surprise, pushing it away. “There’s no need to do that.” You didn’t want to hold his hand just like he didn’t want to hold yours. 
“I just thought—
“It’s fine,” you whispered furiously, desperate not to bring attention to yourselves. Dahee and Josh were a little ahead, throwing the ball for Bella to chase and bring back. “You said so yourself. We’re not happy nor in love anymore. You don’t need to hold my hand.” 
Yoongi watched you carefully. Thinking something you couldn’t put your finger on. His face was unreadable as always. Maybe yours was too. You gave up and trudged ahead. 
He caught up with you, hand cupping your elbow to stop you from going any further. “At least wear my gloves. Your hands are freezing.” He took them out of his pocket and you grabbed them without another word. You were too exhausted to keep up this passive aggressive arguing. 
You were on your way back, now both in front of your sister, when you slipped along some hidden icy mud. Luckily Yoongi was close by your side, had been ever since Dahee’s remarks, and he caught you before you could fall down. “Thanks,” you muttered, steadying yourself, and you hadn’t realised his arm was around your waist until he moved it away, satisfied you were on your feet. 
“Be careful,” he said gently. Sounding concerned. It fried your brain. “Don’t wanna end up with a twisted ankle.” 
“Yes, be careful,” your sister tutted as her and Josh caught up with you. “I’m not waiting in the emergency room with you during the Christmas period.” 
It was exactly 0.3 seconds later when she fell on her ass. That icy mud was a bitch, huh? Any other occasion and you wouldn’t have laughed but the irony had you rolling. Yoongi too. Even more so when Bella bounded over, jumping all over her. “Josh!” She shrieked, her fiancé just stood there like a spare part. “Help me up!” 
“Who’ll be needing that emergency room?” Yoongi remarked, causing you to buckle once more. You met one another’s gaze through the laughter. Something in your chest glowed. 
Dahee scowled, finally getting helped up, and shot you both a look. “Well, I’m glad you two find joy in others’ misfortune.” 
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“Yoongi?” You murmured, barely awake. It was the next morning, sun beginning to rise, but very early morning, and Yoongi was stood by the door, blankets around his shoulders. 
“Sorry.” He whispered, creeping back to his floor bed. “Didn’t mean to wake you. Go back to sleep.” 
“What are you doing?” You were most definitely still pretty much asleep. Speaking almost casually. “Did you go pee? Are you cold?” 
“No, I um…” You waited, eyes getting heavier. “I couldn’t get to sleep last night. Floor’s too hard. Went downstairs. On the couch.” 
That woke you up, eyes snapping open. “Oh.” 
“Sorry for waking you up. I just didn’t want to risk getting caught and I know your sister was getting up early for work.” 
You tried to sound normal. If you were instantly on his case about sleeping on the living room couch it might make things tense again. Yesterday afternoon onwards things had been okay. Who’d have thought your sister falling would’ve dissolved the tension between you? Not you. “It’s okay. Was stirring anyway.” You rubbed your eyes. “What time is it?” 
“Nearly six.” You groaned and stretched. He chuckled. “I’m gonna clean up and make breakfast. Want anything?” 
You shook your head, hoping he could see you. “I’m going to try and get another hour or two.” 
“Okay.” He dropped the blankets at your feet. “See you later.”
.
.
“Hey.” You greeted Yoongi, rounding the arch that led into the dining room. 
You’d had the house to yourselves all morning. Family either in work or out running errands. You hadn’t seen Yoongi at all, finding him sat at the table where he must’ve been working from his laptop. You’d been in your room getting ready to go shopping. Not that you wanted anything in particular, you just liked walking around the Christmas market they had in town. Made you feel in the festive mood. You’d ask Yoongi to join you, but you were almost certain he’d pass. 
He looked up at your voice. “Can I use your car to go into town? It’s okay if not. I understand.” You had no problem getting the bus, but that took an extra twenty minutes. 
He gave you a bemused smile. “Of course you can take it. Keys are in the dish by the door.” 
“Really?” You were shocked for some reason. Maybe you’d been a little harsh guessing he’d refuse you instantly. 
He shrugged slightly. “No need to ask.” 
That made you a little sad. While together you never used to. You had separate cars of course, but you’d jump into his without a second thought. You shared things. Shared everything, and now…
You smiled at him, trying to banish your sadness. “Thanks. Want anything?” Maybe that was your way of hoping he’d ask to come with you. He didn’t. 
He shook his head. “Mm. Can’t think of nothing. Thanks though.” 
And that was that. He went back to his laptop. You paused for brief moment, just watching him and then you walked away. 
Day 3 was dragging. You’d cursed yourself. 
.
.
While out Dahee called telling you she’d booked dinner for tonight. Double dating sent a terror down your spine but you couldn’t very well say no. You text Yoongi straight away, but surprisingly he was fine with it. Maybe you were on edge for no reason. You’d survived the dog walk, dinner couldn’t be much worse. So here you were, sat in restaurant way too fancy for the clothing you were in. 
“Me and Yoongi don’t really do dinner out like this,” you admitted when the starter was placed in front of you. 
“I know,” your sister simply said. “Your idea of dining out is at McDonalds.” 
Yoongi chuckled, sounding offended enough for the both of you. “Okay, we’re a little  fancier than that.” 
Dahee didn’t acknowledge him, reaching over to grab your hand. She shook it encouragingly. “We have to use this time to get to know one another properly.” 
You frowned. Okay, you may see her one or two times a year, but you were fairly certain you knew your sister by now. “Properly? Dahee, you’re my sister. You’ve known Yoongi for years.” 
She rolled her eyes, going back to her brie and cranberry bites. Meanwhile, Yoongi stared down at his plate, looking a little revolted. Josh ate and said nothing as usual. “I didn’t mean it like that.” She paused for affect. As if emphasising how dumb you were. “I mean, us as couples. Josh’s going to be your brother in law very soon.” 
Yoongi looked up, scoffing in amusement. “He’s not her brother in law yet?” 
Dahee stared at him. She thought you were both dumb. “Marriage, Yoongi,” she said slowly. “Technically I shouldn’t call you my brother in law but I do anyway.” 
Yoongi laughed, picking up his fork to stab at his food. You copied. “I feel so blessed you wavered the rules for me.” She did not believe him. Her jaw tightening in annoyance. Yoongi sighed. “Dahee, I’m still your brother in law. Marriage or not.” 
The present tense made your gut feel weird. A slip up, or was he now really good at pretending? 
.
.
“Josh’s not much of talker, is he?” Yoongi commented, one elbow on the edge of the bar, drink in his hand. 
You chuckled. Somehow you’d found yourselves at a bar after dinner. “A couple of drinks” turned into a few more, Dahee now dropping it low on the small dance floor while Josh stood there looking severely out of place. You and Yoongi stayed sat at the bar, making awkward small talk. Although the more you knocked back, the easier it became. 
“Not even alcohol can loosen him up.” Yoongi leaned in closer. Your gaze fell to his mouth as it moved. “Have you even heard him say one word since we’ve gotten here?” 
You got ahold of yourself, turning your head to watch your sister attempt to back it up on her fiancé. Her hoe side always did come out after a couple shots of tequila. “I don’t think he can get a word in edge ways.” Dahee loved the sound of her own voice. Loved to talk. You on the other hand were more of the silent type. You preferred to listen. 
“Do you think it’ll last?” Yoongi asked, voice pretty quiet. You only just heard him. “They’ve been together what, 2 years? That’s nothing.” 
Less actually, but it didn’t matter. “Who knows.” You shrugged. “Maybe it’ll be happy ever after.” Who knew what was going on inside Josh’s head, but you hoped it worked out. 
Yoongi laughed out loud suddenly and you turned to him in confusion. He was rubbing his temples. “I forgot about the headaches she gives me. Not only the squeak of her voice but the utter garbage she speaks too.” 
He was drunk. If not, very near. It had been a long time since you’d seen him like this. Almost reminded you of college. You laughed along. “Don’t be mean. That’s my sister you’re talking about.” 
He tilted his head, studying you carefully, a smile curling the corners of his mouth. “Can we get out of here?” You were sure he’d asked you that too many times to count back when you were younger. Now it wasn’t quite the same. You weren’t together anymore for a start. He groaned, swigging the last of his drink. “It’s late and we’re old.” 
.
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You got in at around 12am. Your sister and Josh came with you in the end. All four of you sneaking up the staircase like kids late for curfew. 
“I’ll sleep on the floor tonight. We’ll take it in turns,” you whispered to Yoongi when he came back from the bathroom. You’d all had to take it in turns, Yoongi offering to go last. 
“No, no,” he refused. “I can’t let you do that. I’ll take the couch again. It’s surprisingly comfy.” 
“Yoongi, I really don’t feel good letting you do that.” 
“Don’t act like that,” he said softly. He was stood right in front of you. You waited for him to explain. “Overly polite, like I’m a stranger. You never used to think twice about kicking my ass to the sofa when I came home drunk,” he finished with a chuckle. 
You gave him a little shrug. “That was different back then.” Your head was getting dizzy. Could be the alcohol. Could’ve been the nostalgia. 
“Well don’t let it be.” He said simply. “For this week we’re together so let’s make the most of it.” 
You blinked. His words were heavy. Like maybe there was a double meaning somewhere. If you looked hard enough. Or maybe you were just wishful thinking. Yearning. “Okay.” You smiled softly. “Please sleep on the couch because when you’re drunk you snore.” 
Yoongi snorted before grinning. “Semi better.” Your whole body was warm. Tingly almost. Damn alcohol. He took a step backwards, grabbing the blankets from the bed. “Goodnight. I’ll try not to wake you up in the morning.” 
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Day 4 and you found yourself awake quite early. Daylight was peeking through the curtains and all you could do was lie there. It had been a while since you’d drunk even at all. Your head was pounding. You could hear someone flushing the toilet, washing their hands and then opening the bathroom door. Maybe it was Yoongi. He’d probably been up for a while because of the couch. You could hear whoever it was walking down the stairs. If it was Yoongi he was probably going to make breakfast. 
You should get up too. It was only fair. Was better than replaying last night in your head. It was beginning to get you hopeful. Out in the hallway you could hear muffled voices. Your mom. Yoongi. Walking down the stairs you could make some of it out. Couch. Snoring. Drunk. 
“What’s going on?” You asked, walking through into the living room. 
Yoongi was stood in front of the sofa, blankets still draped over it. Your mom was beside him, turning at the sound of your voice. “Poor Yoongi was on the sofa.” 
“It fine.” He insisted. “Like I said, I snore after a few drinks.” He shot you an apologetic glance. You stayed silent. For some reason frozen with panic. Reality hitting you. How easily you could be caught out in your string of lies. You were too hungover for this. 
“I doubt it’s that loud.” Your mom laughed. 
Yoongi chuckled along. Sounded awkward and forced. “Just in case though.” 
Your mom glanced at you, maybe a little suspicion in her eyes before she smiled, joking around. “Well, no getting drunk under my roof again. Poor thing will get a bad back sleeping down here.” 
“It wasn’t that bad. Honest.” Yoongi reassured, grabbing the blankets. “I’m gonna shower.” 
“Can I pee real quick?” You asked. More than anything just wanting to escape your mother. 
“Sorry,” Yoongi whispered as you made it up the stairs. “I must’ve gone back to sleep after I knocked off my alarm.” 
“No big deal,” you shrugged. It was bound to happen. Hopefully your mom bought the excuse. Technically it wasn’t one. Yoongi did really snore when he was drunk. “You okay?” You asked hearing him groan a little. 
He clutched his head. “Feel like I’ve been hit by a truck. We didn’t drink that much, right?” 
You laughed. “I don’t know. I feel like shit too. I’ll look for some aspirin in the bathroom.” 
.
.
“Hey love,” your mom smiled, entering the living room where you were curled up on the couch in front of the TV. 
“Hey mom.” You moved your feet a little so she could sit next to you, pausing your show. 
“What you up to?” 
“Just watching some Netflix. Enjoying an empty house.” Today was your dad’s annual Christmas fishing trip. It was tradition for him, and of course he had to take Yoongi and Josh. Yoongi had already been a couple of times, had enjoyed it too. He loved fishing, just couldn’t do it much living in the city. The sea air was probably doing his hangover a world of good. Your sister was in work—poor her, she looked rough this morning, so it was just you and your mom, who had been finding her own things to do in the peace and quiet. 
She hummed in agreement. “The silence is lovely, isn’t it.” You nodded. The pause that followed made you slightly nervous. Especially with the way she was looking at you. She hesitated before going through with whatever it was she wasn’t to ask. “Everything okay?” 
“Mhm.” You nodded, tense as hell. “Why’d you ask?” 
“I don’t know.” She paused. Hesitating again. “Your sister pointed it out to me. Noticed things were strained a little.” Oh god. “I can see what she means. Something seems a little off with you. Yoongi too.” You were foolish to even think this week could work out. “I know I haven’t seen you in while but I don’t know, you seem a little sad.” 
You shook your head, determined to make her believe nothing was wrong. “I’m not sad.” 
She said your name carefully, reaching over to cup your hand. “I know my little girl. She may not be little anymore and I might not see her as often as I like, but I know her.” And that did it. Opened the waterworks. You were crying before you even knew it. Loud and ugly. Every emotion you’d tried to repress over the past few days, few months even, bursting out. 
“Oh, love.” Your mom exclaimed, hugging you. “What’s up? Are you and Yoongi having some problems?” You cried on her shoulder. How could you talk it out when she didn’t know the truth? You and Yoongi were past problems. “You had a fight last night, right? That’s why he was on the sofa.” 
Ironically, last night had been the best night yet. The one that had given you false hope. Who were you kidding? If your family could notice a change then what you once had with Yoongi was gone. You lifted your head from her shoulder, wiping your eyes and attempting to compose yourself. You could tell her the truth. You should tell her the truth. She was your mom and she loved you. She had never judged you. Fear was all in your head. But then you thought about how awkward that would make Christmas. Selfishly, you wanted one last happiness. One last Christmas with Yoongi. Even if it was built on lies. 
“I’m being silly,” you sniffed. “It’s just really hard.” She had no idea. 
She looked at you sadly. “I knew something was wrong. You two just don’t act the same.” 
Your bottom lip wobbled, but you held strong. “I don’t know what to do, mom.” 
“Do you still love him?” 
“Yes.” The answer needed no thought. Yet, it was the first time you’d heard it. It was true? You had never stopped loving him. “Of course I do.” 
She cupped your face. “Then fight.” She sounded determined. Determined enough to fill you with hope. “Every couple goes through blips. When you’ve been together for so long, how can you not? Hell, me and your father have been through multiple.” 
You wiped your eyes again. Maybe this was just a blip. Had been a blip until you two had given up. Thinking about it, neither of you had put up a fight. Just accepted it was over without talking it through. There were still so many things left unsaid. And you still loved him so much. You hoped he felt the same. You hoped he’d never stopped loving you. 
“You’re right. It’s just this whole shitty year.” Everything about it had gotten on top of you. There were so many things that had brought you stress and upset. Yoongi had never been one of them until it had all gotten too much. Spreading like some sort of disease. 
“There’s a new one just around the corner,” your mom smiled, embracing you again. “I love you. Never forget that.” 
You closed your eyes, letting your chest fill with warmth. “I love you too, mom.” You were a fool to keep her in the dark. However now you were determined. You’d make this Christmas happy and then when it was all done, you’d talk to Yoongi. Everything you should’ve said months ago. If it was too late, it was too late, but at least you could say you tried. 
Pulling away, your mom pushed some strands of hair away from your eyes, admiring you for moment before she spoke again. “Ignore your sister by the way. She’s just really excited about the wedding.” 
You chuckled. “I know.”  
“She means well, just… She does care about you a lot.” 
In her own Dahee way, you knew that too. 
.
.
“The boys are back!” Your dad boomed coming through the front door. You and your mom, who had spent the rest of the afternoon watching Netflix jumped up to great them. 
“Did you have fun?” She asked taking your dad’s backpack from him. 
“Josh!” Your sister shrieked, rushing down the stairs. She’d come home from work about a half an hour ago, jumping straight into the shower attempting to blast the lingering hangover away. “You’ve got mud all over the pants I bought you!” 
Josh stayed silent, apples of his cheeks reddening just as Yoongi snorted. You looked at him curiously. Your dad tapped Josh on the back. “He had a little bit of an accident. Didn’t you, son?” 
“What do you mean?” Dahee demanded, rushing forward. 
“He slipped and nearly fell in the pond,” Yoongi burst. Almost as if he couldn’t help himself. He caught your eye, he was so close to laughing you could tell. That just made you want to start too. You clenched down on your tongue, unable to look at Yoongi any longer. 
“Oh, my god,” Dahee gasped, pulling Josh into a hug. “I knew you shouldn’t have gone!” 
“Nonsense,” your dad scoffed. “It was great fun. Wasn’t it Yoongi?” 
“Yeah.” He nodded, smiling genuinely. “Forgot how much I love it.” 
“Yoongi caught the biggest fish,” your dad praised, rubbing his shoulder. “We’re eating goood tonight!” 
“You did?” You asked. 
“Yeah. I’ll show you after I get out of these clothes and shower.” He was already pulling off his boots, before holding out his hands in measurement.“It’s like THIS!” 
“Shouldn’t Josh clean up first?” Dahee asked. 
“He can use our en suite. I’ll shower last.” Dad replied. 
Your mom called your name and you turned your head. “Help Yoongi and then pass his clothes down for me. I’ll put them in the machine.” You nodded, very aware of what she was doing. You didn’t know if helping him out of fishy clothes would get you guys back on track, but the thought was there. 
“Was it really fun?” You asked once you’d made it up the stairs. 
“Yeah. It was,” he laughed. “But probably more so because Josh was there. That guy can’t fish for shit. Wait ‘til I tell Jin.” 
You laughed along, before pouting. “I wish I’d seen him fall.” 
“So do I. You would’ve died. I wanted to laugh so hard. He landed on his ass and slid down the embankment. When me and your dad found him he was trying to drag himself up.” Yoongi was finding it hard to whisper, which made you laugh harder. Hushed, of course. “He didn’t even make a sound! I’m starting to think your sister is holding him against his will.” 
“Shut up,” you scoffed, whacking him lightly on the shoulder, before whining. “Oh, I wish I’d seen it.” 
He stopped by the bathroom, unzipping his jacket and handed it to you. “You okay?” He asked, looking at you. Oh shit. You hoped your eyes weren’t still red from all the crying. You nodded. “What did you get up to?” 
You lifted your shoulder. “Not much. Got my mom into Brooklyn nine nine.” 
“You did? I haven’t watched since–” He stopped himself. He hadn’t watched since you broke up. “I should catch up.” He went to lift his sweatshirt up over his head before realising.  “Uhh. I’ll pass these out to you.” 
“Okay.” You watched him enter the bathroom. “Want me to get you some clean clothes?” 
“Yeh, please,” he nodded. “Something comfy.” 
You walked into your bedroom, immediately rifling through Yoongi’s side of the closet in search of something suitable. The act was so familiar. You’d done this hundreds of times before. You felt something in your chest again as you picked something out and made your way back to the bathroom. Hope. You weren’t letting go of it. 
You tapped on the door, he stuck his head around. “Here you go.” 
“Thanks,” he smiled, taking them from you and passing his dirty ones out. 
You stood there for a moment, after he’d shut the door and after you heard the shower kick in, just thinking. Maybe something had changed after last night. You didn’t know what, but it felt like something had. You smiled to yourself as you walked down the stairs. 
.
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That evening was a good one. You had dinner—the fish that Yoongi had caught, and then watched a movie as a family. You and Yoongi sat close, sharing a box of chocolates, and for the first time since you got here—for the first time in months and months, you could’ve probably passed as a genuine couple. You mom seemed to think so anyway, smiling across at you every now and then. 
You were in such a good mood you decided to have a soak in the bath. Leaving Yoongi downstairs with your parents while you pampered yourself. It was about forty five minutes when you resurfaced, body wrapped in a towel, skin rosy, super smooth. When you opened the door to your bedroom you jumped, Yoongi sat on the bed, laptop on his thighs. “Oh, I didn’t know you’d be in here.” You gasped, clutching your chest. 
“Sorry.” He was startled too. “Sorry. I didn’t realise you’d come back in here like…” He trailed off, eyes running down your body. You froze and then heated up “That.” He swallowed. “I, um…” 
“It’s fine.” Your rushed. “I’ll just grab my stuff and get dressed in the bathroom.” 
“You sure?” He asked. “I can go downstairs.” 
“No, you stay.” You walked to the dresser, grabbing some underwear. You looked over your shoulder, back at Yoongi who was watching you. “Answering emails the day before Christmas Eve?” 
A smile played on his mouth and he dropped his head back to the screen. “You know me.”
Yes. You still did. You walked towards the bed, reaching for your pyjamas to leave and as you walked by him, he grabbed your wrist. Electricity spiked through your body. You looked down at him. “You forgot the pants.” He murmured, directing his head to where they lied left on the pillow. You rushed for them quickly, needing to get out of there before you tried to do something stupid.
Not like masturbating in the bathroom because your ex-boyfriend had touched your wrist wasn’t stupid. In your defence, you hadn’t had an orgasm in a while. None of them were good anyway. They were usually tinged with sadness. Not this one though. This one blew the roof off and then some. It was twenty minutes later when you left the bathroom again. You were shameless.
“Is it okay if I share the bed tonight?” Yoongi asked as he put his laptop away. 
You froze, folding over the comforter to get inside. You weren’t expecting that. “Of course. I can sleep on the floor instead if you want.” 
“Don’t be silly. You won’t get any sleep.” You stayed silent, still a little in shock. “Don’t worry. I’ll keep to my side. Kick me if I steal the blankets.” He joked. You laughed almost forcibly. Oh boy… 
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You didn’t get much sleep in the end. Something about being so close to Yoongi had your brain unable to switch off. You kept waking up through the night. The first time your legs were accidentally tangled together, as if your sleep heavy bodies didn’t get the memo you weren’t together anymore. You pulled yours free, instantly feeling cold. The second time you woke up facing him. Not really able to make out his face, but it didn’t matter. You turned around. The last time both your backs were to one another. You realised once you’d woken up and looked back at the bed. It was still early but you couldn’t stay there and will more sleep to come, so you went downstairs. Christmas Eve. You’d made it to Day 5 already, but now you were counting down for something totally different. Would you really confess all to Yoongi when this was all over?  
December 24th had always been a lazy day with your family. Preparing some of the food for tomorrow and then playing board games in the afternoon before dinner. Everyone was in an upbeat mood, including you and Yoongi, and after you’d eaten all six of you stayed around the table, animatedly chatting before clean up began. 
“I can’t believe this time next year I’ll be married,” your sister beamed, cuddling into Josh. “Aren’t you excited, babe?” He nodded quickly. 
Yoongi leant into you, whispering into your ear. “Josh, speak now or forever hold your peace.” You giggled together, catching the attention of Dahee.
“What about you two?” 
“Us two?” You asked, a little confused. 
She looked annoyed she had to spell it out. “Can we expect an engagement next year?” 
Your mom sighed. “Dahee, will you give it a rest, please.” She was trying her best to halt the conversion, but surprisingly, it was Yoongi who continued it. 
“It’s fine,” he shrugged before shooting a grin Dahee’s direction. “Actually, we’ve decided to get engaged on your big day. We thought it’ll be great, right? Double the celebration.” 
You shook your head, laughing quietly. Teasing your sister was what Yoongi had always done best. It took a brave man. She scowled. “Not funny, Yoongi.” Eyes widening in disbelief when by the side of her Josh laughed. “Josh, it’s not funny.” 
“It’s just a joke. Lighten up,” your dad chuckled. 
She huffed but went back into interview mode fairly quickly. “I just don’t understand why you haven’t gotten engaged yet. You’ve been together for years.” 
You were about to tell her to drop it when Yoongi spoke up, rendering you speechless. “Soon.” 
“Really?” Dahee amazed. You were seconds away from doing the same. What was he playing at? Did he really want to shut her up that badly? 
Yoongi nodded. “Mm. We’ve discussed it. We’ll get engaged soon.” 
“Oh, well,” your mom began, looking at you a little unsure. You stayed silent but smiled her way. That seemed to do the trick. Satisfied and totally believing you, she beamed. “That’s great news. Both my daughters getting married.” 
Oh, god. What had you done? What had Yoongi done? Did he not remember the part where he’d told you that come next month you had to tell your parents it was over… Unless… Warmth crept back inside your chest. Hope. Why would he say all that if he didn’t mean it? Yoongi wasn’t a liar. Maybe he had some confessing of his own too… 
“Not for our bank balance,” your dad whined. Still carrying on the conversation while you were lost in thought. “Can we just lay off on the grandkids for a little while?” 
Yoongi laughed. “Sure thing.” 
At the mention of kids, Dahee bounced in straight away. “Josh and I want a big family. Don’t we?” 
.
.
You and Yoongi stayed up a little later. Everyone else had gone to bed but you didn’t feel tired. You’d expected Yoongi to follow up after them, but he stayed with you. You ended up watching some Netflix together, reminded you of the good old days. After an hour or so he told you he was going for a shower. You went upstairs with him, saying you’ll brush your teeth after he was out. It was gone midnight by now. Day 6 was here. 
You were sat on the edge of your bed, scrolling through your phone when Yoongi’s buzzed on the nightstand. You glanced over, not really thinking, and the name caught your eye. It wasn’t one you recognised. It was a woman’s name. Your stomach dropped, and like you couldn’t help it, you had to read the message still flashed up on the screen. 
Carly — Hey, Yoongi. Merry Christmas! How have you been xx 
Stupid. You were really fricking stupid. Stupid to think that you and Yoongi could ever reconcile. Stupid to think something was going on, that something had changed between you two these past few days. If he hadn’t moved on already with someone else, he was casually enjoying himself, just like any other single man would. Stupid. You were stupid. Deluded. Heartbroken. 
Yoongi walked in at that precise moment, drying his hair with a towel. “I didn’t know if this was my towel or yours. It doesn’t matter, right?” 
You stood up, not really sure what you were doing. You weren’t even sure if you could speak, but you somehow managed it. “You’ve got a text.” You fled forward, having to push passed him a little, and ran down the stairs. 
He found you in the kitchen. Not even two minutes later. He called your name, walking closer. Your back was too him, facing the sink. “That wasn’t what it looked like, okay?” He explained. “I’ve spoken to her like a handful of times. Haven’t for weeks.” He sounded desperate for you to believe him. “It was always casual. Friend stuff. Not even that, just shitty small talk.” 
You were breathing heavily, your mind racing. But you couldn’t let him see how much this had affected you. You spun around. “I don’t care, Yoongi. We’re not together anymore. You can do whatever you want.” 
He frowned. He knew something wasn’t adding up. Besides, why else had you ran away from him? He knew you cared. “Yeah, but I’m sorry.” He said slowly. Then took a breath. “I know this thing between us is complicated. These past few days have—
“Please just go back upstairs.” You couldn’t listen to this. You couldn’t listen to what he may or may not say. Too scared. 
“Come on—
“I want to be alone.” 
He was growing restless, voice raising a little. The last thing you wanted to do was wake your family. “I’ve never even met her. It was on—
“Please,” you begged. “I can’t have this conversation. I can’t bear to look at you right now.” 
His stared at you, hurt creasing his face. “You put yourself in this situation.” He snapped. “You invited me here.” 
“You agreed.” 
He shook his head, scoffing in frustration. “I agreed because I didn’t want to be alone over the holidays. Couldn’t bear to spend Christmas without you.” Silence followed. His words heavy in the air, and then he dealt something much more hurtful. “You only wanted me here to save face.” 
“That’s not true,” you murmured. That wasn’t the truth. Did he really think that? 
He watched you for a moment. You waited for him to disprove your claim, but instead he sighed softly, turning to walk away. “Just come to bed soon. It’s getting late.” 
.
.
You stayed downstairs for an hour or so, your head whirring. A hot drink didn’t do it any better. You thought about staying on the couch tonight but were too scared incase someone woke up and found you. No, you just needed to suck it up and go back upstairs. Tomorrow was Christmas Day and you weren’t going to ruin it for yourself. You had two days left. After that you and Yoongi could go your separate ways. Gone was your hope. Reality setting in. 
You crept up the stairs, bedroom pitch black. You could make out Yoongi’s figure in bed, his back to you, and you carefully curled the comforter up and got under. 
“Are you okay?” Yoongi wasn’t asleep. He moved, sitting up to face you, and for the second time this week, you burst into tears. You tried your hardest to keep quite, desperate to not wake anyone up. You hid your face into the pillow. 
“Don’t cry,” he begged. You felt fingers stroke through your hair. “Please don’t cry. I’m not worth it.” 
“How can you say that,” you whimpered, lifting your head up. “Yoongi, this was a mistake. It hurts too much being around you, having to pretend everything is fine.” 
“I know.” He admitted. 
“Hearing you talk like we’re still together, it got my hopes up.” Sniffling, you wiped your eyes. “We’re over. You’ve moved on.” 
“I haven’t.” He was adamant. Your eyes were beginning to adjust to the darkness. You could make out his face a little. “I haven’t moved on. How can I?” You stayed silent. “I don’t know that girl at all. We met on Tinder.” Your heart sunk a little. Just imagining Yoongi dating other people. “It was right at the beginning. Some guys from work persuaded me to get it one night during drinks. She was one of the girls I spoke to briefly. We exchanged numbers. I haven’t replied to her in weeks. I’m not going to reply to her.” He sounded so firm. Desperate to make you see. “I don’t want to. I don’t want her, or anyone else. There hasn’t been anyone else since we broke up.” 
“Really?” You murmured. 
“Really.” A warm arm snaked around your waist. He pulled you close. 
“I don’t want anyone else either.” You rested your head on his chest, feeling his heart beat. 
“What do you want?” 
What, not who. You shrugged. Too afraid to confess the whole truth. “I don’t know. I just want to have a nice Christmas.” 
“Then we will.” He said simply. 
You sniffed again, eyes a little sticky. “I didn’t invite you here to save face.”
He squeezed you gently. “I’m sorry I said that. I know you didn’t. It’s more complicated than that.” 
You closed your eyes. “I just want everything to be okay.” 
He hummed softly. “Then it will.” 
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You woke up tangled together, still embracing, having slept the whole night through. You think Yoongi had been awake for a little time longer, because when he saw you were awake he smiled. “Merry Christmas.”
You smiled back. “Merry Christmas.” 
He stretched and sniffed the air. “Mm. I smell bacon.” 
Your mother always spoiled on the Christmas morning breakfast, so you and Yoongi had a lot to look forward to when you made it downstairs. Then it was time to open presents. You never went overboard—a present each. You hadn’t known what to gift Josh so you’d panic bought a pair of matching pyjamas for him and Dahee last minute. By the smile he gave you, you guessed he liked them. She was overjoyed. Once you were all done, Yoongi stood up, walking towards the Christmas tree to pull out a silver paper wrapped present from behind it. He walked back to you, looking a little sheepish. “Here you go.” 
You opened your mouth in surprise. “I thought we said we weren’t buying presents this year.” You’d dropped that little tidbit when you’d first arrived, reasoning there was no need to anymore…y’know, after so many years together… 
Yoongi shrugged and sat back down. “I got it before we decided. It seemed wrong to return it.” You smiled at him sadly. You knew what that meant. He’d bought it before you’d broken up. 
“Hm. Box is definitely too big to be an engagement ring,” Dahee commented as you tore off the paper, revealing a large rectangular box. 
“Knock it off, Dahee,” your dad chided. 
You ignored her and opened it up, gasping in awe at the contents. “Yoongi, they’re beautiful.” A vintage mirror and brush laid in the box. You’d always wanted something like this as a kid. You were touched Yoongi had remembered such a small detail. You think you’d told him once while watching Titantic. “Where did you find them?” 
He laughed. “Let’s just say I came out the champion of a bidding war.” 
You smiled, truly taken back, leaning into him. “Thank you.” 
He wrapped his arm around your shoulders, kissing the top of your head. “No problem.” 
.
.
True to his word, you did have a very nice Christmas. It was so nice in fact, you didn’t really have time to think about last night. About what he’d said, and how he’d held you. About how you’d woken up in one another’s arms. You couldn’t think about it. Not yet anyway. Maybe tomorrow, when Christmas was over. 
However, of course, you being you couldn’t do that. It was close to midnight when you slipped outside, sitting on the bench in the backyard, looking up at the sky. Your sister was on the karaoke machine, thinking she was Celine Dion. You just wanted to take a moment. Think of all the good things that had come from today. The gift Yoongi had given you and the way he’d kissed your head. The way you’d helped prepare dinner together and the way you’d held hands while going for a walk with the rest of your family. He’d even worn the pyjamas you’d bought him last year—because after 5pm on Christmas no one in this household wore anything but—the ones he’d complained about, said the colour didn’t suit him. 
And despite all that had happened today, none of it felt forced. It didn’t feel like Yoongi was just pretending to make you happy. Not after what he’d said last night… Yet you couldn’t get your hopes up. Too scared that once yesterday was done, that would be it. Maybe too much time had passed, too many things left unsaid, for you to ever go back to how you were. Even though that’s what you wanted more than anything. 
“There you are.” 
You raised your head at the sound of Yoongi’s voice. He shuffled over to you, probably feeling the cold just like you. You definitely should’ve grabbed a coat. You smiled softly. “Sorry, just wanted some air.” He sat next to you, not saying a word. It was okay though. Silence was golden sometimes. Or maybe he and you’d had too much of that. 
“Hey,” you started, reaching for the tiny box by the side of you. “I didn’t say this morning but I got you a present too.” You grabbed it before going outside, chickening out when it came to giving it to him. Right here seemed perfect though. 
“You did?” He was surprised. It was cute. 
“The other day when I went into town.” You handed it to him. “I saw it and thought it was really pretty.” He opened the box up revealing a silver plated necklace, embossed with the pisces symbol, two little fish. How fitting considering he loved fishing so much. “I know you like jewellery and it always looks good on you, so,” you have a little shrug, embarrassed now. “You don’t have to wear it if you want. I just got the urge to buy it. Didn’t know when or how to give it to you.” 
“I love it,” he beamed. “I’ll put it on right now.” 
“Need help?” You asked, watching him trying to clip it in place. 
“Please.” 
“There,” you said, patting his back once you’d done. 
“Thanks.” 
You went back to looking at the sky, resting your head on his shoulder. “The stars are really pretty tonight.” 
He hummed in agreement. “What you thinking about?” 
You hesitated but decided to tell him anyway. You’d spent too long keeping your thoughts to yourself. “About how today was amazing and how it’s nearly over now.”
He nudged his shoulder a little, lightly teasing you. “We still have tomorrow left.” You smiled, stomach flipping a little when he wrapped his arm around you. “Even longer if you want it?” 
You froze before lifting your head to look at him. “Do you mean that?” 
“Of course I do,” he murmured. “I can’t go. Not now.” Shaking his head slightly he chuckled.  “The thought of going back and sleeping on a futon in Jin’s office makes me want to cry, and not just because it was painfully uncomfy.” He looked at you. “It’s because I won’t be able to see you. Hear you. Be near you. To… feel you like this.” He murmured your name, you just sat there staring at him, trying to make sense of what he was saying. It was everything you’d been wanting to hear. 
“I miss you so much. I wanted to tell you last night but I was scared, and I didn’t want to ruin today for you.” Nonsense. He could never ruin anything. “I’m sick of being scared. Scared cost us our relationship.” 
Your eyes were welling up. “Yoongi, I still love you. I never stopped.” 
“You don’t know how good that is to hear,” he grinned. He reached for you, cupping your face in his palms. “I love you too. Always have, always will.” 
You kissed him first. Couldn’t help it. It had been so long since you’d felt the warmth. He kissed you back slowly, savouring it. “I never wanted to let you go,” you admitted, pulling away. There was more to say. You both needed this. “It’s just this year… It was tough.” You exhaled. He moved his hand to the back of head, playing with your hair. As if he couldn’t bear to not touch you for even one second. “There was so much making me unhappy and I didn’t know how to deal with it. Life’s supposed to get easier as we get older but this year really seemed to be the worst of my life.” 
You understood that now. Next year you needed to really think about the things weighing you down and making you unhappy. If that meant getting a new job, then so be it. If that meant dropping some of the people in your life, then you’d do that too. If that meant seeing a therapist, then you’d be brave and follow through. Your relationship wasn’t the problem. Yoongi had never been the problem. He’d just been collateral damage because of your sadness. 
“I understand. We let things get on top of us. Didn’t share or help one another when we should.” 
You nodded, agreeing with him. Along the way, you’d forgotten what you guys had, what you were, and had become selfish and disinterested in the process. Breaking up was never the answer, not when you loved one another as much as you did. You just needed to talk. 
“I was miserable and got caught up in everyone else’s happiness. I forgot the good things I had. Forgot what I had because I thought it wasn’t perfect.” There was no such thing as picture perfect. Perfect was in the eye of the beholder. 
Yoongi hummed. “We let it all go stale when we should’ve just talked it out. I didn’t want us to break up but I thought you did. I thought–” He hesitated. “I went along with it when I should’ve fought for us.” 
You were fighting now, that was the main thing. Fighting the right way. For one another. For your relationship. 
“I think I never told my family it was over because I didn’t want it to be true.” Telling your friends and coworkers had been bad enough. “I wanted to hide. I didn’t want them to feel sorry for me. I didn’t want my whole life to be a mess.” You scoffed. “Is that selfish of me?” It seemed a little. 
“No. Of course it isn’t. I was the selfish one. I agreed to come because it was an excuse to be near you again. To hear your voice, y’know, all that stuff…” He chuckled bashfully. “I thought maybe I could try to change your mind about us…” 
“Really?” 
“Yeah.” He chuckled again before kissing you. “I thought it was going shit but I don’t know, somewhere along the way things started changing.” He paused. “That Tinder thing really wasn’t serious by the way. I had no interest in dating other people. I’m sorry.” 
“It’s okay. Honestly, Yoongi,” you reassured. “Dating wasn’t on my to do list either. I only want you.” You kissed him, speaking against his lips. “Only ever wanted you.” 
“Well I’m not going anywhere now,” he hummed. “For the rest of my life, you’ll always be the only one I want.” 
“Big ball of cheese.” Inside you were beaming. 
He scoffed. Playing with your hair, he tilted his head a little. “Hm. Maybe we can finally shut Dahee up next year?” Your eyes widened. “I’ve always wanted to marry you. I just…never got round to asking.” You kissed him in response, hugging him tight. So happy and over the moon you didn’t know what to say.  
“I’m under pressure now. Gotta think of a romantic way to propose.” 
“Shut up,” you whined. You didn’t care how he did it. Any way would be special. 
He hugged you this time. It felt good to be in his arms again. Properly. “I missed you.” 
“I love you. So much,” he said, face in your hair. “Never stopped loving you. Never will.”
Always.  
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btsiguess · 2 years ago
Text
Helping Hands (m) - Oneshot
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Summary: Yoongi thought it was funny, the man who couldn’t stand living once, being forced to live twice. But he does have to say, being stuck inside your body does make things a little more interesting.
Pairing: Yoongi X Reader
Genre: Fluff, smut, angst
Word Count: 8k
Warnings: Mentions of depression, suicide, bad family situations, smut, masturbation, idk,,,, maybe slurs? 
A/Ns: No one asked for ghost Yoongi smut but I still provide. I started writing this for like halloween but I never ended up finishing but!!!! Here she is. I’m quite proud of this one tbh.
Yoongi sighs as he stares up at the building before him. The tacky purple draping and mystical star sticker decals on  the window mocking him, laughing at his choice to come here in the first place.
He’s heard of this place before. He’s pretty sure every ghost in the area has. He remembers vaguely that he heard about this store years ago, when he would still interact with other spirits. They would very often direct him here, urging him to go see the psychic within. They said she could help with any issue that he might have. Any problem at all. There were even rumors that she was the keeper of life.
Min Yoongi had never thought of life. Not even when he had been alive. In his opinion, death had suited him… that’s why he was dead, after all.
He tries not to think about it.
Things had become the same as they were before. He rarely spoke to anyone. He didn’t go anywhere. He had seen all he could think to see, and so now there was the same heavy nothing that he had known in life. Things had been this way for years, except this time there had been no way to escape.
But recently, his body had been burning. Truly. Desperately.
Originally, it hadn’t been noticeable. Uncomfortable maybe, but not anything he couldn’t handle. But last night he had awoken with a start to find his chest engulfed in flames. Flames so hot that he had sobbed and screamed. There was no relief for him. No flesh to char and burn away, and so he had burned for hours, until the light of dawn had come to chase away his pain.
So here he was. Standing in front of this psychic’s shop, this foretold healer. Ready, for the first time in his life, to ask for help.
Yoongi inhales deeply before pressing inside. He doesn’t bother to open the door - he really couldn’t have even if he wanted to - but the chime gives a little jingle regardless.
A woman emerges from what Yoongi assumes is a private back room. She’s draped in black, specks of glitter woven throughout. She eyes him for a moment, and Yoongi is surprised at the focus that she gives him. He hasn’t been seen by a human in years.
“Min Yoongi.” The woman says, jarring him again, “how is your chest?”
Yoongi feels like he should have seen this coming, but he hadn’t. Still, he tries to compose himself as quickly as possible.
“Clearly bad,” He finally responds, “since I’m coming to you.”
“You know, it’s not often that I’m surprised anymore.” She says. “But I have to be honest, when I saw that you would be here today I was truly shocked. The recluse mute of the ghost world, finally at my doorstep. What problem could be so big?”
“I’m not a mute.” Yoongi responds, but doesn’t offer more information.
“Sure sure. A perfect voice but no desire at all to use it. The afterlife has truly taught you nothing.”
His teeth grind together unconsciously, angry at the judgement flowing from the woman in waves. He was an adult. He could live in life and death however he chose.
“You are not going to like what I have to say, Min Yoongi.” She walks back the way she came, motioning for him to follow. They make their way into the back room, and while the woman sits, Yoongi simply pulls his legs up off the floor to hover comfortably in midair.
“What is it you have to say?” Is Yoongi’s simple rebuttal.
“You, Min Yoongi, are going to die.”
Yoongi cocks his head to the side. If he were any less controlled he’s sure he would have smirked. He wants to be snarky. Wants to remind this woman that he is already dead. But he doesn’t.
“You’re going to disappear.” She clarifies. “There’s nothing after this Yoongi. You will cease to exist.”
If Yoongi still had blood, he’s sure it would’ve drained from his face.
“W-What?”
“You heard what I said. The fire… it means you are going to die, for all intents and purposes. But that shouldn’t be a problem for you, hmm? Isn’t that what you’ve always wanted? To cease to exist?”
Yoongi’s heart clenches with fear.
“I don’t want to die.” Yoongi says, panic rising in his throat. “Not if you say there’s nothing after.”
All he receives is a smirk in return.
“Did you think this could last forever Mr. Min?” Yoongi’s mouth drops open. He had thought that, if he were being honest. He had accepted it.
“You’re a fool then, young man. Nothing can last forever.”
“There must be something you can do.” He begs. Yoongi is surprised by his own will to survive. He chalks it up less as wanting to live, and more as not truly wanting to die. Call him crazy, but he can’t imagine a world that doesn’t have him in it. Not anymore.
“I can’t do anything for you, I’m afraid.” The same smile passes across her face, full of cruelty and satisfaction.
“Please… Something I can do then? Anything.”
For a moment the room is silent.
“There is one thing.” She says, as if she had simply been waiting for Yoongi to ask the right question.
“What is it?” He pleads.
“The way to avoid this final death,” She says, standing and walking over to the foremost wall - the wall which housed a collection of very old, very worn books - “is to cheat death itself. To live again.” She selects a book from off of the shelf in front of her, opening it in search of something specific.
Yoongi does not know which God he had crossed for a fate so cruel. The man who could not stand to live his life, forced to live two.
“There is no other way?” He asks?
“This is it. Die or live again.”
“Who will I be, if I live again?”
“You. You will keep on living as if you had never died. Judging by your appearance, you’ll be a young man once again. There is no fixing your past through this spell. Only learning to move forward.”
“It sounds terrible.”
She smiles.
“More terrible than not existing at all?
Yoongi ponders this. There had been a time, in life, when he had been able to comprehend clearly the idea of his own non-existence. In fact, he had welcomed the idea with relish. Then there was this. The afterlife. And it had stretched on for so long that Yoongi had gotten used to being around; dare he’d say, he’d become rather fond of existing. Even if it were only for himself.
“Mr. Min, time is running out.” The woman says.
“I’ll do it, I’ll live again. Just tell me how.” There he was. Being impulsive again on things he really shouldn’t be.
“It’s simple really. Just a spell. The problem you’ll have is gathering the ingredients.” She begins to write, copying down the writing in the worn book in her hand, having found what she had been originally looking for.
“You’re not going to help me?” He laments, and his complaining leaves the woman unimpressed.
“No. You are, and have always been in control of your own life.”
“Then what should I do?” He asks.
“I’d say a standard possession should do the trick. And I’d also choose someone today, unless you are interested in a repeat of last night’s performance.”
Yoongi pales at that. No. He definitely is not interested in that.
So a possession it is.
“You’re in luck young man.” The woman smiles, “Some people are approaching now. One will not speak. I think she is your best bet.”
Yoongi nods dumbly. He wasn’t all too fond of possessing people. Something about having to be human again sat poorly with him, not to mention the way he was forcing someone else not to exist for a little while. It felt wrong.
But this was a life or death situation. Literally. So he figured he’d do what he could, while he could.
The door chimes again and three women file in. One looks excited, the other two look like the only reason they were there was to support their friend.
“You’re here to have a session, ladies?” The girls look nervously between them as the psychic speaks.
“Yes! Of course!” The first says, brightly. The psychic motions for the three to sit and they do, one of them passing through Yoongi as she goes. He reforms, watching the girls closely. Which one was the quiet one? Two of them seemed quiet. The other seemed to be their leader. Directing the flow of conversation as she and the psychic determined the session time and payment method. Once the details were worked out and all of you had settled once again in the back room, things officially began.
“What are your names, ladies?” The woman asks.
“Shouldn’t we not have to tell you?” The leader accuses, an eyebrow raising.
Yoongi smirks at that. What a troublesome thing this girl seemed to be. He eyes the other two girls down, took in their appearances with a lazy gaze. One of these two women would be his home for the next few days, he suspected. As the session continued, Yoongi took the time to spare a glance at the list of items he would need for the spell. It seemed simple enough. The items looked like anything you could get at a flower shop… maybe some kitschy shop for wiccans and white women who used pinterest.
“I don’t think that’s right.” A different girl speaks this time, the blond closest to him.
That leaves the last girl, furthest from him as the quiet one.
Yoongi briefly debates whether he should wait until the young woman was home to possess her, but thought that the prolonging of the inevitable would only cause issues down the line. With this in mind, Yoongi hops down from his perch in the air, and makes his way over to the girl. He’s halfway there, behind the leader girl’s back when the psychic speaks.
“Spirits!” The woman cries loudly, surprising him, “if there are any spirits here, please let your presence be known!” She gives him a pointed look at that and he sighs. She’d done him a favor. This was the least he could do.
Yoongi reaches over in front of the leader, stealing himself for physical touch, and pulls the tablecloth slightly. The contents of the table slide toward the girl in front of him rapidly, and in her shock she jumps backwards.
Yoongi feels it before he realizes what’s actually happened. He feels the sucking, uncomfortable feeling in the pit of his gut, the strain of being held inside somewhere too small, and the shock of two minds fighting for one space. Suddenly. He’s inside a human body. He feels the weight of her form and gasps for breath.
“Oh that scared me!” He hears her - his - voice say, but it’s not him who says it. This is alarming.
What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck a voice screams in the back of his - her? - head. Who are you? What’s happening?
Yoongi thinks hard, asks the girl if she can hear his thoughts as well, but she can’t. At least, she doesn’t answer him if she does.
“I have to go to the bathroom!” He cries, cringing at the feminine quality of his voice. The psychic looks shocked, as if the fusion between Yoongi’s soul and your own had been unexpected even by her future seeing eyes. However, Yoongi can’t spare the time to contemplate this fact any further, a voice that wasn’t his own panicking in the background of his mind as he hastily retreats to the bathroom.
Having a physical form isn’t as easy as Yoongi remembers. He stumbles the entire way to the washroom, cursing at the unfamiliar weight of a body, and the even more unfamiliar dispersal of your feminine limbs. When he makes it, and stares into the mirror, gazing at the face that was simultaneously his and someone else’s, your voice seems to have quieted down a tad. The reflection of your own, uninjured face in the mirror pacifying you.
What the fuck are you? You ask. And a heavy guilt weighs down on Yoongi’s conscious.
“I’m Yoongi. You’re not supposed to be here.” The resulting scoff echoes through his mind.
I’m not supposed to be here? This is my body!
“No, I mean…” Yoongi starts, “during a possession. I’m not supposed to hear you.”
A POSSESSION? You shriek and Yoongi’s hands fly up to his ears, as if that could stop the sound inside his brain. You seem to feel the pain too though, quieting immediately at the insane feeling of both having and causing the headache.
“Yes. A possession. Don’t do that again.” He hisses. “I don’t want this anymore than you do.”
Then get out. Is your simple response.
“If it’s not you then it’s going to be one of your friends back there, are you cool with that?” He assumes based on your aggressive nature that you wouldn’t want him to subject any of your friends to this. He knows he wouldn’t.
Why don’t you just fuck off completely instead? You’re angry. It’s expected. Yoongi can’t help the sneer that passes across his face, twisting your features angrily in the mirror.
“I can’t I need this. I just need a real body for a few days and then I’ll be out of your hair forever.” He hopes you understand. Mostly because this is the longest conversation he’s had in weeks and he isn’t finding it too pleasant.
I don’t care what you need me for, I want you out.  
“Listen,” Yoongi starts, “I just need to gather some materials and perform a spell so that I can avoid ceasing to exist forever so I don’t know what to tell you.” He lets sarcasm and venom seep into his tone, tired of judgement from the girl.
Why can’t you just get them on your own, and leave me out of it. It’s less of a question and more of a demand.
“What do you think I just have a ghost credit card lying around? Don’t be ridiculous.” He watches your face in the mirror as familiar facial expressions flicker over it.
Suddenly his hand flies through the air, landing a swift slap on his on cheek. The hit is hard and both Yoongi and you cringe, wincing in pain.  
At least I still have some control. You say, and Yoongi can hear the smirk in your voice. You’re such a prick, you know? You just think you have the right to spend my money? Get fucked, Casper.
“It’s weird that you’re more angry about the money than you are about me literally possessing your body.” Yoongi groans. “And it’s Yoongi, thanks.”
Well, money is tight, you know. You seem a bit defensive, so Yoongi decides to let it drop. We have to go back soon or Kayoung and Eunjeong will get nervous.
“Just, tell me what to say alright? I’m not here to ruin your life. I just… I need this. When we have more time I’ll try to explain it.”
You scoff quietly as he makes his way back to the others. It’s awkward, he stumbles over his words for a few minutes, as you both try to get the hang of things. The back and forth of the voices inside of him and around him making his head begin to throb. You notice of course, you can feel it. You’re both absolutely fed up by the time the session ends. And Yoongi feels blessed to hear that you and your friends had no plans to spend time together after this.
Before he can leave though, the psychic presses the list of materials and directions into his hand.
“Don’t take too long, Min Yoongi. You’re not getting any younger.” The woman smirks, and then shoves him out the door.
She’s intense. You mutter, less to Yoongi than to yourself. Still though, he gives a small hum of agreement, one which you seem to appreciate.
“I’ve been avoiding her for as long as I’ve been a ghost.” He says. That turns the heads of people on the street walking by him, and you make a small panicking noise.
Oh my god, Casper, put headphones in or something so it looks like you’re on the phone. Good God. He hums, and you direct him into your front pocket. He untangles the strings and plugs them into his ears, placing the other end secretly in his pocket despite it not being plugged into anything.
“Sorry.” He said. “It’s been a long time since I needed to think about the humans around me.”
Try to talk less weird. You say. But also… If you’ve been avoiding that psychic for so long then why did you go?
Yoongi explains in a soft voice. The way his heart had burned. The unavoidable pain, and the decision to see the woman. He’s surprised by the soft voice you use when asking him questions, as if he’s something fragile.
Soon, the two of you arrive at your home.
The key is at the bottom of the mailbox. You instruct. I always forget to bring it so I just keep it in there now.
“Noted.”
Your apartment isn’t big by any means. It’s just one room, the kitchenette and bed all shoved closely together, as if your sleeping arrangement had been an afterthought.
Listen, I know it’s not much but--
“Don’t worry about it. I haven’t had the pleasure to sleep on a real bed in… as long as I can remember…” He sinks down onto the mattress, letting out a soft groan at the feeling of the sheets under his skin. He’s momentarily surprised by the sinful sound of your voice, and Yoongi is suddenly glad that you can’t hear his thoughts.
Tomorrow, you think, tomorrow we’ll start gathering materials…
And before the both of you know it, the world has faded to black.
***
Inside your head, you see him in your dreams. He’s beautiful, and the smirk on his face shows that he knows what you’re thinking.
“You’re not supposed to be in here.” You tell him and he just laughs.
“Well, Princess, I am here. And you’re preaching to the choir, anyway. You weren’t ever supposed to be the one, and yet… here we are.” You try not to be offended at the idea of being some sort of sloppy second, instead focusing on how grateful you are that you were the one possessed and not either of your weaker-willed friends.
“I meant…” you hesitate.
“In your dreams, princess?” He chuckles. “I guess you don’t hate me as much as you’re letting on.”
You look at him again. Taking in his dark eyes and button nose. Watching the way his doll-like lips quirk up at the sides, as if he’s pleased to know you’re watching him.
“Is this really you?” You ask.
“In the flesh.” He cocks his head to the side. “Do you think I’m handsome?” You don’t respond, don’t have time to before he suddenly turns his head.
“Princess,” he says, “time to wake up.”
***
You’re walking to the closest craft store. It’s around midday, you had begrudgingly let Yoongi shower you, but had forced him to keep his eyes closed the entire time. He had thought, privately of course, that the demand was cute. How very coy of you, not to let the man that was you see you. (Outwardly he had called you an uptight prude. “It’s presumptuous of you to think I even want to see you!” He had scolded. But he did want to see you, more than he was willing to admit.)
It’s cool out, the perfect autumn day, and Yoongi shivers slightly as the wind blows. It’s been years since he last felt the wind. And he has to admit that colors seem to be brighter now too… the leaves that danced along the sidewalk awed him. The red and yellow hues reminding him of life’s transience.
“The spell is simple,” Yoongi says out loud, trying to break himself out of his own chaotic thoughts. “We just have to get—”
I know. You chide. Your eyes are actually my eyes remember, Casper? Five candles: blue, green, red, black, and white, a photo of you, a red ribbon, human blood, and a silver dagger—which I presume is to get said blood. Combine all in a nice little creepy seance under the full moon at your grave and then voila. A new Yoongi, and I get my body back.
“Sounds about right.” Yoongi mutters.
Well? Have you checked when the next full moon is going to be? Your voice is condescending, as always.
“Not yet. I haven’t found a calendar.” He responds.
Why don’t you just check my phone? You ask. And Yoongi pauses, causing an awkward hindrance in the flow of traffic around him. He hadn’t considered that before. He vaguely remembered that cell phones had the capability to get on the internet now, and that everyone had cell phones. So damn different. Being alive was so damn different now. He runs his hands through his hair, eye twitching in frustration when the hair seems endless, reminding him of the body he’s stuck in for the foreseeable future.
It’s in my front pocket. You say quietly, as if you can sense Yoongi’s confusion and anger.
Yoongi checks quickly, with a few instructions from you and releases a relieved breath when the next full moon is only three days away, including today. Just three more days of this. Of being stuck with you.
Okay, cool. Three days is enough time. Probably…
“It will be. There’s no way I’m staying put here for another month.” He cringes at the prospect.
Yeah, plus, you’re already using basically all my sick days at work. It’s fucking insane. I had to work so hard for those… He can feel the aggravation seeping into your tone, and he almost feels guilty. He wonders what he would have done if this had happened to him when he was alive. He’s almost positive he would not be fairing as well.
We’re almost to the craft store. We’ll be able to buy the candles there definitely. And the ribbon too, I think.
Yoongi nods. He can see the store up ahead, and he walks slightly faster as the wind blows around him once more.
He’s a bit overwhelmed by the interior of the store. It’s large and the entire place seems to smell like pumpkin spice. You berate him as he scoffs, letting him know that being basic is nice and Uggs are comfortable. He’s not sure what you mean by ‘Uggs’ but he hates them on principle if it’ll piss you off.
Still though, he has you to thank for not looking like a complete fool in the middle of this kitschy hell. You direct him where to go, and he can’t help but smile at the fact that you already know. You must come here quite a bit, to know the store like the back of your hand.
Here. you say, the candles.
“I have eyes, actually, thanks.” He quips, but the smile on his face lets you know he’s only joking. “These are all scented…” he says. “You don’t think that’ll change the outcome of the spell do you?”
If the twisted God making you do this doesn’t like the smell of a vanilla latte, then what’s the point of coming back anyway? Yoongi feels your shoulders nudge a little, as you push past his defenses and shrug.
He laughs at your point, out loud. The other patrons in the candle aisle glance at you, and Yoongi is grateful you reminded him to put your headphones in.
He gathers the candles at your instruction, begrudgingly picking the candle scents that you pick out. The process takes forever in Yoongi’s opinion, as you make him pick up each candle individually and smell them. You like the heavier scents, Yoongi discovers. Nothing fruity or flowery, but instead the smells that remind you of baking, like caramel. Or of cleanliness, like fresh linen and mowed grass.
Eventually, you have your favorites. They’re Midsummer’s Night, Christmas Tree, Life’s A Breeze--which Yoongi thought was ironic--Clean Cotton, and Sparkling Cinnamon (which Yoongi couldn’t help but talk you into buying two of, loving the way the spice had relaxed him.) You’d also talked him into buying an intricate red ribbon, silk with slight frills, saying that it would add pizazz.
Yoongi isn’t sure he should be tempting the hands of fate like this, but he has to admit that the sound of your excited laughter in his head makes the idea much easier to succumb to.
The woman smiles at you as you check out.
“Doing some Holiday decorating?” She asks, smiling a retail smile.
Yoongi hates small talk.
“I’m performing a seance actually.” He deadpans and the woman stifles a shocked cough, then bags the rest of your candles in silence.
Yoongi! You scold, but he can hear you laughing in his head. It doesn’t go unnoticed by him that this is the first time you’ve actually used his name. You’re going to make them think I’m insane. I come here all the time.
“You’re the one who’s been trying to convince me to have more fun anyway. Frilly ribbon? Really?” He laughs too, and quickly he hears you wonder what his laugh might sound like coming from him.
He’s sure you feel his cheeks flush at the thought of you wondering about him, but luckily you don’t mention it.
You let him take a taxi home, noticing how cold he was on the walk up. He can hear your thoughts. He knows why you’ve done it, but he likes that you blame it on the fact that you’re starving and want to be home now.
He’s lucky--he thinks for what feels like the thousandth time today--that you can’t hear his thoughts. Because if you could, you would know just how soft he was getting for you.
If Yoongi had to blame it on one thing, he would blame it on the fact that he hasn’t had genuine human contact in years. He would also know that that was complete bullshit. But you’d never catch him admitting that out loud.
You ordered lamb skewers for dinner. Or… well, you let him order lamb skewers for dinner. And Yoongi is nearly vibrating with excitement by the time they arrive at your apartment. He had merely shoved a granola bar in his mouth this morning, feeling very odd about having to eat again. His excitement is infectious and you laugh as he clumsily pays the delivery driver.
He munches away happily, some tears leaking out of your eyes as he eats. You’re ridiculously charmed by this, in Yoongi’s opinion, and he’s sure if you were there you’d be teasing him relentlessly, stealing bites as you go about your own business.
You’re quite surprised by how little Yoongi ends up eating, but you don’t comment, instead giving Yoongi another offer he can’t refuse.
Yoongi, how about a bath?
He’s tongue tied.
“Just this morning I wasn’t allowed to keep my eyes open during your shower.”
Yeah well. You bought that… lame candle thing, you might as well use it. I have some bath bombs somewhere…
Yoongi is out of his seat before you get another second to think.
He knows you can’t help it, when he hears your private thoughts. He knows you don’t mean to let him hear what he hears.
If this spell doesn’t work, I want to make him happy while I can.
His poker face must be incredible, because you simply go on worrying about it for several minutes. Yoongi has been trying desperately hard not to think of what might happen if the spell doesn’t succeed. He can’t even let himself fathom it. But your voice inside his head makes the thoughts unavoidable. Would he hurt you? If the spell didn’t work? Would he be ripped from your body? He cared less about not existing than he did about that. As much of a nuisance as you were, he didn’t want anything bad to happen to you. You hadn’t asked for any of this.
As he ran the bath, he became trapped in these thoughts, trapped until the smell of cinnamon flooded the room and he sunk down into the bubbly water, letting it drain away his stress.
I care about this weirdo… you thought, and Yoongi smiled.
He cared about you too. Funny, how things work out.  
As he sunk down into the bath he let out the most obscene groan. Both of you noticed and laughed.
It’s weird that you know what I… sound like.
“I can’t say I mind.” He smirks. He wishes you couldn’t see through his eyes. Wishes he could look down at your naked form wrapped in the bubbles provided by the bath bomb. He briefly wishes you could see him as well. You didn’t know what he looked like, now that he thought about it. He wonders if you would think he was handsome.
God he hoped so.
“I literally have never felt this nice in my entire life.” He mutters.
You’re cute. I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself.
“Can you feel it too?”
Yeah. I feel everything you do.
“I’m glad we can enjoy this together then.”
Me too, Yoongi. Me too.
***
I’ve never had to go shopping for a dagger before! I’m super excited.
“You’re super weird, is what you are.” Yoongi glances down at your phone briefly, eyes lingering on the way your soft hands wrap around the slightly too large screen. Your fingers are pretty, and he wonders what the would look like wrapped around his--
You have to turn left now.
Yoongi follows your instructions without a second thought. He’s grateful that you interrupted him. He’s getting far too attached to you. But he decides it’s really only fair, since he’s genuinely stuck inside your body. How could he not get attached to you?
I’m pretty sure it should be up on the right a little bit, oh. You pause. That’s definitely it.
Yoongi lets himself focus on something other than the sound of your voice and lo and behold, before him stands a beautifully intricate blade shop.
This is going to cost me so much fucking money! You lament.
“Shit, I’m sorry…” Yoongi says biting his lip.
No no no, it’s all good. You need this. You can pay me back when you’re human right?
Yoongi nods. The two of you had never discussed whether or not you would meet again if the spell worked. It had never been agreed upon before. He hopes that you mean it. Prays to any and every God that might be out there that you’ll let him see you, really see you.
He presses into the store and the burly man behind the counter gives a jovial smile. Like he’s delighted to help someone.
“What can I do for you, miss?” The man asks, and Yoongi momentarily forgets who he is and what he is.
“Miss?” The man asks again at your confused expression.
“I need a silver dagger.” Your voice pushes out, and Yoongi reels at the amount of control you have in that moment. He’s pressed to the back of your mind, merely watching through the window of your eyes. It’s only a brief moment. But it reminds him how much you’re doing for him.
“A silver dagger? That’s a steep demand. It might be cheaper to buy a fake silver one?” The man gestures to the case beneath his palms.
“It’s alright, it’s really important that it be genuine silver!” Yoongi says, in control again. “It’s for…” He hesitates.
“Larping!” You push through again.
The man laughs. It’s a hearty and full sound and Yoongi notes the way your entire being within his mind seems to light up at the praise.
“A larper huh? I get it. Gotta have those costumes be authentic. Just don’t kill anyone with it.”
Yoongi nods, and follows the man to where he stands. The daggers are beautiful. Elegant.
“These are our silver ones. If you want completely pure silver you can choose from these two.”
Yoongi lets you direct him, guide him through the selection and purchase. You had chosen the more expensive of the two. Expensive, because it had a shimmering ruby in the handle. Real, if what the man said was true.
Holy fuckkkkk. You cry, on the bus home. I’m never going to be able to eat again. That was so much money.
“Oh shush, we have lamb skewers at home still.” Yoongi chastises. He hears, he thinks, you quickly perk up at the mention of ‘we’, as if you liked the sound.
Yoongi did too.
Yoongs, you say, let’s watch a movie when we get home.
“That sounds nice, yeah. You pick the movie though.” You hum in agreement.
***
In all honesty, Yoongi hadn’t really been paying attention while you were selecting the film. He was happy just to sit curled up in your bed with his mind blank as he watched the screen. He wasn’t even following the plot, but he enjoyed your commentary. He liked the soft laughs or scoffs you gave, liked the way the sound seeped into his mind and made him feel warm.
It wasn’t until the main actor on the screen had his leading lady pressed up against the wall that he even knew what was happening.
“What the fuck?” Yoongi whispers, feeling his stomach clench unnaturally as scene unfolds. He feels his cheeks heat up and there’s a quiet chuckle from the back of his mind.
What, you say, can’t remember what being horny feels like?
He blushes harder at your crass words, but somehow it only fuels the feeling running through him. Desire. He hasn’t felt this way in as long as he can remember. A downside of being a ghost was never feeling this way. Can’t really jerk off if you’re dead… and after the first few years he’d forgotten what it felt like completely.
Movies have gotten much more risque since he was alive, the woman was moaning. And Yoongi couldn’t help but compare it to the soft way your voice slipped around moans. Fuck.
“You feel it too?” He asks quietly.
Yes. This is my body after all.
Even the thought was arousing, somehow. Knowing that you were in the back of his head, feeling yourself get wet, all the while he was in your body. Your nipples tighten, rubbing softly against your bra.
What are you thinking of, Yoongi?! You’re making it worse!
“I can’t help it!” He tells you. “I haven’t felt this way since I was alive!”
You’re quiet for a moment.
Really? You ask, surprised.
“Yes.”
That must be horrible, you continue, not being able to masturbate…
The way the words slip into his mind has him absentmindedly running his hand over the front of your pants. When it brings him no relief he remembers that this body is female, and he sighs, exasperated.
Yoongi please, you start to beg, stop! It’s getting really bad.
Yoongi can tell, can feel your underwear sticking to you, rubbing slightly against you. You let out a soft sigh in the back of your mind, and Yoongi imagines what it would be like to be with you. Hearing those soft sighs in his ear instead of in his head, running his hands all over your body as you cling to him. God, he wants you.
It made the situation a bit difficult, since he was currently trapped inside of your body.
“We need to calm down.” He says aloud. He’s going crazy even thinking about touching you. Touching himself?
Just… You start, hesitating.
“What is it?” Yoongi asks, praying that you have some secret solution to your joint suffering.
Yoongi… you…
So shy. So hot. Fuck he had to stop.
Just do it! You finally manage.
“What does that mean? Do you want me to…”
Touch me, yes!
He’s not going to turn down such a gracious gift. Yoongi can’t breathe as he lets himself lay back in your bed, movie forgotten. He’s touched a woman before, of course. But now he’s unsure of himself. He’s never... been the woman before. His hands slide down your shirt, over your sensitive breasts. He squeezes briefly, and his mind reels. He can feel how good it feels. To have his hands on himself. But more than that he is grateful that he can finally satisfy his desire for you.
You hum and he feels you clench around nothing. Feels himself clench around nothing. His mouth is dry.
He’s too excited to wait any longer, and he trails his hand down into your shorts. You’re wet. He feels you through your underwear, and shivers as his fingers brush up and down your sex.
“If this were real,” he admits, “I’d tease you more, but…”
Yoongi hurry!
He presses his fingers inside of you. Two. With hardly any prep. The stretch stings but Yoongi can’t help but gush at your tightness. He scooches up, leaning on your elbows as he lets your legs fall open so he can fuck you deep.
Oh god, I’ve never done it this way, you sigh It feels good, don’t stop.
Yoongi smirks, curling his fingers inside of you. It’s all coming back to him now, and this time he can feel the pleasure coursing through him with each thrust.
“How do you usually do it then?”
J-Just clit stuff, I guess.
He pulls your sticky fingers out of you and you whimper. Yoongi sucks your fingers into your mouth, groaning at the taste of you. He wishes more than anything he could trap himself between your thighs for hours, until all he could remember was the tangy taste of your slick.
G-God this is filthy. You mutter. Like, I know it’s you, but it’s also… me.
“I know.” he moans out with your voice. “I wish I could have you properly. Your pussy is so tight. So wet.”
You keen inside his mind and Yoongi dips inside you briefly again. He does this merely to wet his fingers as he pulls your shirt up to tweak at your nipples.
“Mmm, what a bad girl.” He let’s slip, “Covering herself with her own juices… What would people say if they saw?”
B-But--
He doesn’t let you finish your sentence, interrupting you by pressing down hard on your clit. Circling two fingers around your swollen bud.
Yoongi has to admit that it is much easier from this angle. And it feels much better. His hips are lifting unconsciously with each twirl of his fingers, and while normally he stays quiet, this time he lets his moans break free. Anything to have the sound of your groaning and panting in his memory.
Oh, Yoongi~ your voice breaks through.
Yoongi feels like he’s losing it, pressing to fingers back into your sopping pussy as he fucks you hard and fast with your own hand.
Your fingers are shorter than his, and he wonders how hard you would cum if it really was him making you feel good.
“I’m gonna cum” I’m gonna cum The two of you groan simultaneously.
“C’mon princess,” Yoongi pants out, “let me feel how tight this pussy can get.”
He flicks his thumb against your clit as he fingers you. Everything is hard and fast and when the coil in your stomach snaps, you press to the forefront of his mind.
“Yoongi!” You cry, voice echoing through your small apartment and your entire body tenses up.
“It’s so hot.” He groans low, as he regains control of you, fucking you through your orgasm. Yoongi hasn’t felt this good in years. When you both can’t take the movement of his hand anymore, he presses your hand to your lips once again. Sucking your fingers clean.
“God, I can’t get enough of this…” He says. You’re about to tease him, when he slides his fingers against your core again, quickly sheathing them in your mouth once more.
Yoongi, you groan weakly.
“You’re perfect baby.” He says. “So perfect for me.”
When you come back, we should do this for real.
Yoongi feels his heart thunder in his chest at your suggestion.
The two of you are lulled into sleep before he can even clean up properly.
***
He’s grateful that you don’t act weird about it the next morning. Simply teasing him about his obsession with your taste. You don’t make him close his eyes when he showers this time, and so he’s able to get a good look at you.
Yoongi finds out the hard way that it’s not easy to masturbate in the shower as a girl. But he’s satisfied with working you up. Tweaking your nipples and watching as the rivulets of water cascade down your entire body. He wants to stay here forever.
You, however, don’t let him. Chastising him about how if he ever wants to get out of your body, he has to go find a picture of himself.
Yoongi had suggested the library almost immediately. The only place he could think of that might have a photograph of him. You had to travel far to get to the library that might have his obituary. Around 3 hours, by the time you get there, it’s already nearly night.
You didn’t ask about his family or friends, and he was grateful.
When he had located the binder full of newspapers from the year he died, Yoongi felt his heart rate increase. You had never talked about this before. But he had to do what he had to do. And so he began flipping through.
Yoongi had stared at the news article for a long time. The newspaper in his hands trembled as he held it. Trembled as your eyes read what he had hoped you would never know.
His obituary wasn’t a pleasant one. ‘Min Yoongi, 26, took his own life last night. Parents are confused as to why. No note was left. Funeral services to be held Friday morning. No wake will be held.’
That’s it. That’s all it said. The picture was beautiful though. One of him sitting at a piano in his mother’s den. It was one of the only things he did that she really enjoyed. He always liked the picture, but he hated the memory now. The article didn’t tell you how he had agonized over the decision. Hadn’t told you that he couldn’t stand delivering pizzas anymore. Couldn’t handle the rejection he felt as letter after letter poured in. “I’m sorry, Mr. Min, but your music is just not what we are looking for at this time.” It didn’t tell you that his mother and father hadn’t spoken to him since he dropped out of college to pursue his dreams three years ago. It didn’t tell you that he had called his father for advice the night before, for the first time in three years, praying that he could find solace, and all his father said was that he was an embarrassment.
A tear fell onto the page in front of him, and he hurriedly wiped his eyes in shame.
You’re beautiful, Yoongi. I didn’t know you could play piano.
He noticed that you made sure not to mention anything about the obituary.
Your gravesite is around an hour away, right? We ought to leave soon…
He could feel that you were scared. Scared and avoiding the topic. He felt the same. He can feel that you didn’t want him to leave at all. He felt the same. You didn’t want to lose this. Whatever this was. There hadn’t been enough time. He felt the same.
He carefully ripped the newspaper article out of the binder it had been glued into and shoved it into his bag.
Ooooh. Look at us bad kids. Doing bad stuff. He chuckles quietly, thinking your deflection a bit cute.
“This isn’t the kind of bad stuff I’d like to be doing.” Thinking about how tight you had felt around his fingers last night. He licked his lips as he felt arousal stir in the pit of his gut.
Yoongi! You scold, but you’re laughing in your head. The two of you book it out of the library, not pausing when the alarm sounds. The librarian doesn’t even look up at you though. Fair enough.
The laughter in the air doesn’t last long though, and the two of you are silent on the way to the cemetery. Yoongi wishes he could think of something to say. It might be the last time he ever gets to speak with you. But he’s never been able to express himself clearly. He was just as useless as always.
It’s dark when you begin making your way towards his plot. It’s not difficult to find, really. And Yoongi hears your anger as you see how bare his headstone is; unkempt, moss covered. Clearly no one had visited in ages.
Suddenly, he’s not in control of his hands anymore. You kneel down, brushing the moss off of the front, until it’s as clean as you can make it. Then you dig in your pocket, catching the loose change there and placing it on top of the headstone itself.
It’s the longest you’d been able to takeover the body at once, and Yoongi would’ve cried at the gesture if he could’ve.
The two of you quietly follow the instructions. Placing the candles in a pentagram, outlining the candles in a swirling shape with your ridiculous frilly ribbon. Yoongi swears he can feel the holistic nature of the world set in. It all feels right. And it’s terrifying.
The moon is high as you light the candles. Placing Yoongi’s photograph in the center. Yoongi hesitates as he brings the dagger to your skin. He can’t bring himself to do it. He could never hurt you, even if it meant disappearing completely. This was all a mistake.
Yoongi, you have to do it now. You say. We don’t have much time.
“I can’t… it’s not fair. This isn’t fair.”
I swear to God Yoongi. If you don’t come see me again when you’re back, I’ll find you and kill you again myself.
With that you push passed his consciousness, and slid the dagger across your palm.
“I’ll miss you.” You say. And as the first drop of blood lands on Yoongi’s image you can feel your soul splitting in two.
Everything goes black.
***
When you awake once more, you’re back home. You’re not sure how it happens by any means, and you briefly wonder if perhaps this entire crazy scenario wasn’t just an elaborate and realistic dream. It’s only as you bring your hand to your face that you notice the scar. Angrily burned over, almost as if Satan himself had come to cauterize your wound.
Yoongi isn’t with you, that much is clear. And your heart burns in agony at the thought. Even if he never showed up again, you hoped he was alright.
***
It had been a week. An entire week. And there was no sign of Yoongi. You hadn’t gone to work, sighting a death in the family as your reason. Even if you were going without pay, it didn’t matter. You didn’t care.
You hadn’t gotten out of your bed in two days. It all felt too heavy. What was there to live for now? Now that you had had a taste of magic and then had it snatched away. You couldn’t even confide in anyone. Even if you didn’t tell them Yoongi had been trapped inside your head, it just wouldn’t make any sense for you to be so attached and worked up over a boy you’d only known for three days. It all felt like too much.
You had been without him longer than you had even been with him at this point.
Your eyes fill with tears, and you cry. You sob. You’re angry and lonely. You cry long and hard. You don’t even hear the key turning in the lock.
You hear the door slam though, and you look up.
It’s him.
In the flesh. He’s more beautiful than you could possibly imagine, and he smiles at you. He looks exhausted, but happily so.
Your tears are falling now, but for a different reason.
“Yoongi? You’re here?” You ask.
“Yeah, princess. I’m here.” Is all he responds.
A/N: The end!!! It’s not as smutty as my usual stuff, but I felt like writing flufffffff. Did you like it? I’ve missed you all. 
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hobiorbit · 2 years ago
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sugar sugar, honey honey (m.)
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pairing: min yoongi x reader, kim taehyung x reader, min yoongi x kim taehyung warnings: threesomes, dirty talk, abo dynamics, knotting, impregnation kink? summary: in which omega/omega relationships are looked down upon, and taehyung is happy to take care of both you and your boyfriend.
Two omegas are not supposed to love each other.
This kind of love goes against not only all biological norms, but societal norms as well. Omega-omega couples are looked down upon an disapproved of.
In spite of all of this, you did not care. And neither did your omegan boyfriend, Yoongi. Being in a relationship with another was hard, with the constant backlash you got, but you wouldn’t have it any other way
Even now, sitting next to your boyfriend in the lecture hall with alphas and betas alike sending you looks of discomfort of disgust, you felt happy. Happy from just being so close to him, feeling entirely safe.
“That’ll be all for today. Remember that your papers are due next Tuesday, everyone.” Your professor said suddenly, sitting down at his desk and paying no mind to the students now exiting the hall. You and Yoongi got up hastily, trying to leave the room as soon as you could to avoid trouble.
He shoved his laptop into his bag and grabbed your hand, weaving the both of you through multiple seats as you got closer to the door. You were about to walk out when a alpha behind you made a crude comment, his alpha friends giggling with him.
“If you ever need a heat partner, I’m here. Omegan dudes aren’t meant for fucking, they’re supposed to be fucked. Didn’t you know that, princess?” He said, his scent clouding your senses as your face morphed into disgust. Yoongi grunted in anger, and you knew he was getting ready to pick a fight.
“Let’s just go.” You whispered softly, leaning closer to him as he took a deep breath, calming down before nodding. He didn’t speak as you quickly walked away, and you knew that not only was Yoongi angry, but insecure as well.
When you finally got to the courtyard, you allowed yourself to breathe in the scent of nature. Immediately, you could feel relaxation seep through your veins. “Yoonie,” You sighed, pouting at him. His gaze was still hard, and you knew he was battling his emotions internally.
“What, sweetheart?” He asked you, trying to keep the usual calm and soft voice he used when talking to you, but you could hear the gruff undertone caused by his anger. Yoongi wasn’t like most omegas, and it was easy to see. His behavior easily reflected that of a beta or even an alpha, and sometimes you’d even forget about his status until his heat came around.
“Don’t listen to them…” You softly responded, clenching his hand in your usual genuine fashion. Your words made a soft smile appear on his lips as he turned to look at you, admiring every single one of your features.
He leaned down to press a soft kiss onto your lips, one that had you deflating and sighing into him. Yoongi never failed to take your breath away, and even though you weren’t a fan of the attention you got from the PDA, you still allowed him to do it every time.
“You’re so cute.” He told you as he detached himself from your lips, smirking at your shy face. Covering your face with your free hand, you allowed him to walk you in the direction of your apartment.
Little did you know, an infatuated alpha had watched your display, and he walked away wondering why his heart was beating so fast.
-
“Those knotheads have no idea how to treat an omega. I can fuck you better than they could ever dream of.” Yoongi whispered into the heat of your neck, licking over your scent gland and nibbling at it, causing you to keen and buck your hips up into him.
“Isn’t that right, baby? Your omega boyfriend makes you feel better than any alpha, right?” Yoongi asked you, lifting your shirt up your chest and pulling your bra down to tend to your nipples. You whimpered shyly, and nodded. He leaned down to nip at you, causing you to jolt in surprise.
“Answer with your words, Y/N.” Yoongi reprimanded you. “Yes Yoongi, you do it better. Always do.” You mewled, putting a hand over your mouth as he continued his assault on your nipples, lathering them with his tongue as your whole continued to become wet with slick, filling the room with the scent of your arousal. Yoongi loved it.
“Please, Yoonie,” You whined, showing him your neck as you writhed below him. Your words set a fire in the other omega’s stomach, filling him with the need to fill you up and take care of you.
He leaned down to scent at your neck. In these moments his omegan nature showed completely, the need for closeness and genuine love peeking out through his special actions. You moved your head upward, baring yourself to him as he scented you, kissing and licking at your neck.
“You’ve got it, baby.” Yoongi muttered when he thought you smelled enough like his soft scent of linen and cloves. You opened your thighs to him, exposing your heat, feeling far too gone to even feel a bit shy. Yoongi loved teasing you to that point, loved to see you unabashedly giving into the throes of pleasure he was willing to give to you.
Yoongi leaned down, flattening his tongue over your wet cunt and flicking the tip of his tongue over your clit. You keened, bucking your hips up into his touch as a way of begging for more. He smiled at you from your mound, almond eyes narrowing into slits as he continued his abrasive assault on your pussy. He tongued at you, never fully giving you what you wanted, enjoying the way you writhed around while trying to get as much pleasure he would lend you.
“Yoonie- please, oh god, fill me up.” You whined, tears flooding your eyes. Yoongi shushed you, taking a hand and sliding it down the side of your body in a gesture of comfort. Nonetheless, he got onto his knees, pulling down at his boxers, allowing his erection to spring free.
While his stature definitely was not very alpha like, Yoongi never failed to satisfy you. Never in your life had you found yourself wishing for something Yoongi didn’t have. Even in moments like these, where some people were convinced only an alpha could excel, Yoongi managed to take stereotypes and stomp on them.
He sheathed himself inside you quickly and harshly, knocking the air from from your lungs. Your mouth opened as short, quick moans left your lips, in time with Yoongi’s quick thrusts. On days he managed to tease you the most he tended to lose a bit of control, fucking you fast and hard.
You could never complain, managing to take it as sounds of pleasure fell from your lips, head tossed back as he continued his assault. Yoongi was grunting, bending over your body and mouthing at your neck as he fucked you.
“So fucking good for me. You’re so beautiful, I love you.” Yoongi moaned into your ear, bringing a hand down to rub at your clit as he tried to get you closer to your release. Your arms were wrapped around his shoulders, legs spread wide to accommodate the body in between them.
“I love you, Yoonie,” You whimpered into his ear, panting as you felt yourself reaching your high. You clenched around his cock erratically, whimpering as you came. Yoongi grunted in your ear, following along not too far behind you. When you’d both ridden out your highs, Yoongi rolled you over, pressing his face into your neck and wrapping his arms tightly around your body.
Even in your tired, sex induced haze, you pat your boyfriend’s head and ran your fingers through his hair. “Don’t listen to those alphas… You do everything they can do and more.” You whispered, knowing exactly what was on his mind. Yoongi nosed at your neck, drinking your scent in. “I know, sweetheart. Just wish I could protect you and myself the way some of them can. It’s okay, we make it work.” Yoongi assured you, closing his eyes as he allowed himself to bask in your presence, already on his way to sleep.
You didn’t bother saying anything else, knowing that even though you hated it, Yoongi was right. Other people’s opinions and societal stigmas were always going to plague your relationship- and that was alright. You loved Yoongi, and he loved you.
-
“Are you okay? You look pale.” Jungkook asked Taehyung. Taehyung looked at the other, effectively having forgotten his daydream. He nodded, thought Jungkook could tell Taehyung was thinking about something pretty concerning.
“Yeah, I’m fine.” Taehyung sighed, throwing his head back on his old, plush couch. Jungkook stared him down from his spot on their recliner, his unofficial-official claimed spot in their shared apartment. “You’re a horrible liar.” The younger stated. Taehyung rolled his eyes. “Yeah? And you’re noisy.” He rubuttled. Jungkook pouted.
“What’s so troubling to you that you can’t even tell your dear old roommate? I won’t judge.” Jungkook stated, shrugging his shoulders. Taehyung contemplated his words for a moment, before speaking slowly.
“What do you think about two omegas in a relationship?” Taehyung asked. The question seemed to catch the beta off guard, as his eyes widened and he coughed.
“I’m not one to judge other people’s preferences. I’m sure it’d be tough and all, considering everyone’s opinions on omegas. It’d probably just get worse if they were in a relationship together. Why?” Jungkook asked the alpha. Taehyung shrugged.
“I just… Saw two omegas kiss today. N-not that I was spying or anything! It just struck me as odd. I know omegan relationships existed, I’ve just never seen any.” taehyung explained, clasping his hands together.
Jungkook observed his friend, a sly smile on his face. “Is Taehyungie getting greedy, wanting two alphas? Leave some for the betas. It’s hard enough to score anyone as it is.” Jungkook complained, though his words were all in good fun. Taehyung scoffed at the younger’s notion. He’d barely seen you or Yoongi- there was no way he had a crush on either of you. Just wanted you guys to be safe, like any decent alpha.
“Whatever. I don’t even know their names, never even seen ‘em before. I just… thought about how hard it’d be to be in a relationship like that.” Taehyung said. Jungkook nodded in understanding. “Yeah, I’d be worried too. I hope they have an alpha friend or something- to keep an eye on them.” Jungkook states. Taehyung nodded absentmindedly, hoping the best for the two omegas he’d seen in passing.
“Hey, now that you brought it up, I think I know who you’re talking about. Well, at least one person. His name’s Min Yoongi, and he’s a junior I think. He’s an omega and he’s dating a girl in my grade- Her name’s Y/N, I think.” Jungkook said thoughtfully, gnawing on his bottom lip.
Taehyung’s eyes lit up at the aspect of receiving new information. “Really? How do you know them?” Taehyung asked, tilting his head to the side in confusion. Jungkook laughed shyly. “Saying I know either of them is a longshot. Yoongi is friends with Namjoon hyung. I’ve heard of Y/N cause she’s in my grade, but apparently she’s pretty shy so ‘s hard to get to know her.” Jungkook explained. Your shy face flashed through Taehyung’s mind, your wide eyes looking up at Yoongi after he’d stolen a kiss from you. Shy was definitely a word that could describe you.
Yoongi, however- if it weren’t for his scent, Taehyung would’ve mistaken him for a beta. Maybe even an alpha. But his softer omegan scent and pheromones were definitely his downfall, outing his status to anyone who could smell him. That didn’t make him any less threatening, that was for sure.
“It’s hard to believe that guy’s an omega. He’s scary.” Taehyung said matter of factly. Jungkook snorted. “Yeah, I guess you could say that. Namjoon hyung likes him, so he can’t be that bad. Probably just a bit standoffish or whatever, but nice when you get to know ‘im.” Jungkook thought aloud.
-
It was very rare that Yoongi didn’t make full recovery after being taunted by some alphas. It would usually take him a day- two at most. And yet here he was, a full week later, sulking over the offhanded comments alphas had made to you.
Of course, Yoongi didn’t mention it, but due to your nature you had no problems picking up on his discomfort.
It made you sad that no matter what you said or did, you couldn’t seem to get him to shake off whatever thoughts were clouding his head. Before, you were convinced that Yoongi knew he was all you could ever need. Now, you weren’t so sure. It hurt that you hadn’t made him secure in his position as your boyfriend.
As you walked to your lecture together, you held his hand extra tightly, and walked closer to him that usual. You could tell he was inhaling your scent diligently, something that didn’t come as a surprise. Yoongi had always used you as his little stress reliever, not that you ever minded. You took pride in the fact that just your scent alone could calm the other omega down.
You kept looking at him from the corner of your eye, peeking up to see his face, only to see his usual frown he tended to unknowingly wear in public. Some would say it made him quite unapproachable, and you just found it absolutely adorable, with his plush lips pouting outward- making you want to give him a kiss. Not that you would. Public affection had never been your thing.
So you two walked in silence as you occupied yourself with observing your school’s courtyard. Spring had finally began to throttle fully, and trees along with other plants had fully bloomed.
Your lecture hall had been unusually full considering the time you arrived. You and Yoongi tended to arrive the same time every day, wanting to get your usual seats. However, it seemed like multiple other people had the same idea- and as much as you were perturbed by it, your usual seats had been taken.
Not only that, but there weren’t any spots with two seats open for you and your boyfriend. You frowned at the sight in front of you, searching frantically for a place that you and Yoongi could sit down. Yoongi squeezed your hand, sensing your distress. He pointed at an open seat.
“Go sit there, baby. I’ll sit in the one behind you so I can keep an eye on you.” Yoongi murmured into your ear, not looking at your face because he knew you were pouting. He wasn’t happy with how the day unfolded either, but he figured this would be the best bet. You sighed but nodded, timidly gripping your shoulder straps and walking over to the seat.
On your right was a beta girl, seemingly nice enough. She hadn’t bothered to greet you but she’d sent you a smile in passing before turning to speak with her omegan friend.
On your right was something you were much more worried about. He was an alpha, no doubt, his scent of sandalwood almost stuffing your nose as if it were tangible. He had shaggy, ash blonde hair and wore a delicate, long earring accompanied with what looked to be a comfortable but fashionable outfit.
You sat down, looking over your shoulder at Yoongi only for him to nod at you. His seat seemed far less alarming. From the looks of it he sat between two betas, both of which who looked to be extremely kind. Turning back around, you accidentally locked eyes with the alpha beside you.
His gaze was not cold, but it was sharp. Not in a purposefully intimidating way, but in a way that made him seem like all of his attention was on you- like it had been for a while. It made your heart beat faster and for some reason you didn’t look away, almost frozen in place until he spoke to you, breaking you out of your trance.
“Hello. I haven’t seen you in here before. My name’s Taehyung.” He spoke easily. His voice was smooth and low, almost rumbling through your ears as you received every word. You mulled over each of the syllables he spoke in your head, almost encoding them delicately within your mind, having no intentions of forgetting the way he sounded.
“Hi… I uh, I usually don’t sit here, it’s just… Everyone seemed to get here a little earlier today, I guess,” You mumbled, laughing softly in embarrassment. You could feel your hands warming, a sign of how flustered you were becoming from the alpha beside you. Never had someone of his status had such an effect on you. You usually tended to stay away from alphas due to their somewhat genetically predisposed abrasive natures, something you couldn’t say you were too fond of.
“But it’s nice to meet you, um, Taehyung. I’m Y/N.” You spoke finally. Part of you wanted to mention Yoongi, behind you, but you felt it would’ve made the conversation awkward even though you could feel his gaze burning into you. It made you sweat.
Taehyung gave you a gentle, almost seductive smile. Everything about him seemed to be sensual. From the way he looked to the way he spoke to the way he moved, everything was slow and steady but so very encapsulating. If it weren’t for your professor signalling class was beginning, you might’ve tried to speak with him all day.
Throughout your lecture, Taehyung had given you small tips on how to write your notes, as well as drawing funny things and giving you small messages on the pad of sticky notes he’d brought along with them. You received his attention easily, allowing yourself small giggles here and there to show your appreciation for his actions.
Yoongi watched you from behind the entire time, the teacher’s words proving to be nothing but background noise for his feelings of jealousy and anger. Who was this alpha all over you? It was clear you’d never met before, and yet here he was, all over you, as if you didn’t already have a boyfriend.
Except, for all the alpha knew, you didn’t have a boyfriend. Just a close, omegan friend- because who in their right mind would automatically assume that an omega was taken by another omega? This only fuelled Yoongi’s feelings of inferiority that had been blooming ever since the week before.
What made things worse was how Yoongi could see you were clearly enjoying the alpha, paying no mind to his flirtatious or overly friendly nature. Either you didn’t notice it, or you took it in stride. Yoongi just hoped you were oblivious.
When class was finally over, Yoongi sighed a breath of relief. He weaved his way out of the table he was sitting at, avoiding the overly friendly beta that had been sitting next to him. Yoongi’s eyes were on you, travelling down and over to where you stood, still in the alpha’s clutches. Not that you really seemed to mind, you were listening to him intently.
“Are you ready?” Yoongi said, tone much colder than he intended. The alpha in front of you looked up in surprise, before an enthusiastic smile overtook his lips. “You must be Yoongi! Good to meet you, man.” Taehyung said thoughtfully, thrusting his hand out toward Yoongi for your boyfriend to shake. Yoongi stared at it for a moment before awkwardly taking it, shaking it slowly. You tried not to giggle at the other omega’s actions.
“Nice to meet you, uh…” Yoongi paused, waiting for Taehyung to tell him his name. Taehyung nodded and retracted his hand. “Taehyung. Y/N here was telling me all about you, you know. My friends and I are actually heading out to lunch after this, did you two want to come?” Yoongi’s eyes widened, wondering just how friendly this guy could get. Just about all the students had filtered out of the lecture hall now, leaving just your tiny group along with a couple other people.
Yoongi saw you begin to nod, but he decided he’d need a bit more information before going to lunch with an unknown alpha- who most likely had unknown alpha friends.
“Who’re your friends?” Yoongi inquired. Taehyung hummed, and if he was offended by Yoongi’s words he didn’t show it. “Ah, this guy named Namjoon, another guy named Hoseok, his friend Jin, my roommate Jungkook… And I think my friend Jimin might be able to make it too.” Taehyung said happily. Your eyes widened at the mention of Jungkook, a friendly beta in your year. You’d hardly ever talked to him but if you did, you were sure you would’ve been best of friends by now.
“I know Jungkook.” you piped up, looking to Yoongi more than anything, hoping that he would at least find solace in the fact that you wouldn’t be surrounded by complete strangers. Taehyung cocked his head to the side and smiled. “So you’re in the same grade as him! Kookie is great, he can just be a lot sometimes. Loves to annoy his hyungs.” Taehyung said, an appreciative smile on his face.
“I haven’t seen Namjoon in a while. I guess we can go.” Yoongi relented, hoping he wouldn’t regret this decision. How could he say no to you, when you were clearly excited to go? Your shy nature had definitely inhibited you in multiple ways, so whenever someone actually invited you out it was like a godsend. Yoongi refused to ruin that for you because he was jealous- and insecure.
Taehyung clapped his hands and bounced on his feet, clearly showing his excitement. “Really? Great! I’m sure my friends will love you guys. Do you just want to ride with me or did you plan on driving yourself? I can always text the address.” Taehyung said.
You looked to the floor sheepishly. “Neither Yoongi or I drive, so… We’d really appreciate it if you wanted to give us a ride.” You spoke, feeling yourself heat up about having to admit that you didn’t drive. It was scary!
“No problem at all! I’d love to drive you guys. We’re sorta meeting soon so… Wanna go?” Taehyung asked with wide eyes, jabbing his thumb over his shoulder to signal to the door. You and Yoongi nodded, you a bit more excitedly than the latter.
Yoongi had taken it upon himself to call shotgun on the way to the restaurant. You really didn’t have any problems with it, opting to lean back and stare out the window while you let Taehyung’s phenomenal taste in music flood your ears. In that moment, you decided life was good.
Taehyung ended parking at a local ramen shop, claiming they had the best food and service he’d ever received. You hardly registered his words, already excited for some good, warm food with your boyfriend and your new friend. Yoongi grabbed your hand as soon as you got out of the car, leading you into the restaurant behind Taehyung.
It seemed like his friends were already there, sitting at a large table in the corner with three open seats for the missing guests. You followed everyone older, sitting between Yoongi and a very smiley man. Only when you were given your menus did Yoongi let go of your hand.
“What’s your name, cutie? I’m Hoseok.” The smiley man, who you now identified as an alpha, said from next to you. You smiled shyly, eyes widening at the nickname he used for you. Yoongi sucked some air in through his teeth before looking around to see if anyone had caught his display of irritation. If they did, they didn’t show it.
“Nice to meet you, Hoseok… I’m Y/N and this is Yoongi.” You introduced yourself and Yoongi next to you, who leaned over to make eye contact with Hoseok. Hoseok hardly seemed threatened by Yoongi’s face, leaning forward to get closer to him, effectively coming in contact with you.
“Hi Yoongi, nice to meet ya!” Hoseok said, closing his eyes and giving Yoongi a wide smile. Yoongi nodded stiffly. “Ditto.” He nodded, turning toward Taehyung who was on his right, cringing at his friend’s behavior.
“Hoseok is a bit out of the lines, if you will. He means no harm, I promise. He just likes everyone.” Taehyung whispered to Yoongi, breath fanning across Yoongi’s lips due to how close the alpha was. He smelled like mint. The omega realized he didn’t mind if the alpha decided to get even closer, and when the realization hit him he leaned back. “It’s all good. It’s pretty obvious he doesn’t anything by it.” Yoongi said coolly.
Taehyung faltered for a moment, peeking at Yoongi’s lips before licking at his own and turning away. Yoongi felt appalled for a moment, letting his hand search for your thigh under the table for comfort.
You looked at him in curiosity. He refused to meet your gaze even though he knew you were looking.
The man across from you caught your gaze, smiling. Despite his somewhat omegan appearance- fluffy hair, puffy lips, kind eyes- he was by all means an alpha. You wondered just how many alpha friends Taehyung had. You knew Omegas were the least common group in society- but even then, it was rare to not know even a couple.
“Hi, Y/N. I’m Jimin. Taehyungie makes friends everywhere he goes, doesn’t he? So, what’s your major?” The man, Jimin, asked kindly. You laughed at his statement- wondering just how many times Taehyung had quickly made friends only to bring them into different outings he already had with the current group. Even though you barely knew him, it seemed very plausible.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you. I currently don’t have a decided major, mostly just floating around and testing the waters. I’m a fan of the arts, though! Space is cool too- Yoongi and I met Taehyung in our astronomy class.” You nodded your head to the omega beside you and the alpha beside him. Jimin tilted his head thoughtfully, sending a sly smile to Yoongi, who had been observing Taehyung’s side profile. Your boyfriend puffed his cheeks out in embarrassment and mild annoyance.
“Astrology, huh? You like it?” The beta beside Jimin- Jungkook, as you knew- asked both you and Yoongi. You gave a shrug and a smile. “It’s definitely interesting sometimes. Although, it does bring out some existential crises.” Jungkook laughed at your statement, nodding. “That’s exactly why I didn’t take the class!” He exclaimed. You nodded, leaning into Yoongi.
“It’s not so bad once you get over it. Becomes sorta normal.” Yoongi said, trying to put both of you at ease. He’d witnessed you have minor freak outs in class whenever your professor said something particularly alarming more than enough times.
“How’s music theory going, Yoongi?” A man with glasses on the other side of Jimin asked your boyfriend. You cocked your head to the side in confusion before piecing together that this must be Namjoon, the man Yoongi had known prior.
A deep sigh left the other omega’s lips at the reminder of his class. “I love it, I really do. It’s just a lot of work. A devastating amount.” Yoongi said, nodding along with his own words. Namjoon hummed. “I hear you. The information is great, everything else is a complete drag.” Namjoon said in agreement.
Yoongi was about to respond when the waitress came over, a pretty beta girl. Jungkook shied away from where she stood between he and Jimin, even though she hadn’t even glanced at him.
“I come bearing gifts!” She joked, signalling to the tray of food she’d brought along with her. She busied herself with setting down the multitude of bowls down in front of everyone, sweetly asking if anyone needed anything else before strutting away.
“Geeze, Jungkook, make yourself more obvious why don’t you.” The oldest, Jin, piped up after seeing Jungkook watch the waitress’ every step until she was out of sight. The younger flushed a rosy color, eyes darting to you in panic. You offered him a nice smile as a way to calm him down.
“Sh-shut up, hyung! Don’t embarrass me like that!” Jungkook said indignantly, bringing his mouth down to stuff it full of noddles as a way to avoid any more conversation. Jin laughed and shook his head, eating his own food.
-
“Thank you guys for coming with me. I know it was short notice and all, but I hope you had as much fun as I did.” Taehyung said warmly as all three of you walked back to his car. You smiled happily, as Yoongi nodded.
“I had a lot of fun. Thanks for inviting us out, Taehyung.” You said politely. “Likewise. I’m usually not a fan of last second stuff like that but… It was nice.” Yoongi admitted. You smiled, wanting to kiss his puffy cheeks. Usually, you didn’t go so long without some sort of affection, but due to your last minute lunch things didn’t advance as they usually did.
Taehyung turned back to you, smiling so widely his mouth took shape of a rectangle. “I’m glad to hear it! You know, I’d love to hang out again sometime. Maybe study for astronomy together, or just go out for lunch again. Only if you guys want to, though.” Taehyung said, scratching at the back of his neck.
You almost agreed immediately, but faltered, looking up at Yoongi. He bit his lip and stared down at you, before releasing air through his nostrils and nodding. “I don’t see why not.” Yoongi said nonchalantly. Taehyung clapped his hands, dropping himself into the driver’s seat of his car as he waited for the two of you to get in. He dug around in his pocket and thrust out his phone to you.
“Why don’t you put your number in then? You can do both, or one. Just so I can get ahold of you guys.” Taehyung offered. Yoongi caught how Taehyung hadn’t given his phone to him, despite him being the one sat in the front seat. You fiddled around with Taehyung’s phone for a second before unlocking it and inputting your number, your contact name identifiable by the cute emojis you’d put beside it. Then you worked on putting Yoongi’s in before setting it on the center console, not wanting to bother Taehyung while he was driving.
“All done.” You said cutely, fiddling with the hem of the skirt that laid against your legs. Yoongi smiled at your mannerisms, the image of your face enough to make him happy. Taehyung didn’t miss this, happy that he was able to see at least one genuine smile from Yoongi that day. He definitely did have a hard exterior, but he wasn’t bad at all. Just shy in a different way.
“Do you guys live on or off campus? Just so I know where to drop you off.” Taehyung piped up.
“We live in an apartment off campus.” Yoongi answered, rambling off your shared address as Taehyung tweaked his route accordingly. With the soft purr of Taehyung’s engine accompanied by the food in your stomach, you quickly found your eyelids getting heavy. Silently, you hoped you’d get home soon so you didn’t have to face the embarrassment of falling asleep in Taehyung’s car.
Unfortunately, hope isn’t necessarily enough sometimes. Because the next thing you knew, you were waking up in Taehyung’s arms as he carried you with ease while Yoongi led him to your apartment door.
Sensing your change in state, Taehyung looked down at you and smiled fondly.
“What’s up, sleepyhead?” He asked you cutely, causing Yoongi to look back at the scene with wide eyes. You were very obviously still trying to wake up, blinking the sleep away and yawning in Taehyung’s arms. “Hi.” You said in a cute, small voice as you rubbed at your eyes, causing Taehyung to coo at you. He couldn’t help it, you were absolutely adorable.
“Erm, thanks for carrying her. She can get super tired sometimes.” Yoongi broke the small moment the two of you were having, feeling negativity crawling up his spine. There was no doubt Taehyung could smell Yoongi’s change in scent, getting the idea. He followed after Yoongi into your shared apartment, taking in the space as Yoongi led him to the couch, where he sat you down.
The place was very obviously your own, even if he hadn’t known you for very long. From looks alone everything reflected both of your personalities, colors and decorations suiting to both of your tastes. Not only this, but both scents were thick and palpable, making Taehyung lick his lips. Surely, other alphas were jealous of your relationship- two no doubt sought after omegas taking each other into their arms. As empowering as it was, it also made Taehyung wonder if he’d ever get a chance to be with someone as cool as either of you.
“I’ll see you guys later. Text me, alright? I had a fun time today.” Taehyung smiled widely, making eye contact with both you and Yoongi before seeing himself out. Yoongi observed as you stared after the alpha, eyes glazed over as you lost yourself in your thoughts.
Yoongi felt as if a weight was lifted from his shoulders as he left. He’d experienced too many emotions and now he would sit and contemplate them, probably with you to see it and intervene.
Flopping onto the opposite, shorter couch, he stared at the ceiling while you stared at him. “How are you feeling?” You asked softly, yawning into the throw pillow you’d grabbed onto. His gaze shifted to yours, offering a small smile.
“Okay.” he said simply, causing you to raise your eyebrows in response- a silent way of saying you didn’t believe him. He huffed some laughter out of his nose in response. “I don’t think you’re being truthful.” You said softly, eyelashes touching the highest parts of your cheeks as your eyes fluttered open and shut.
Yoongi scoffed playfully. “Of course you don’t,” He paused. “I’m just thinking.” Yoongi sighed. “About what?” You countered almost immediately.
“About Taehyung.” Yoongi said, more resigned this time. You smiled. “Yeah, he’s nice isn’t he?” You said innocently, causing insecurity and jealousy to flare up in your boyfriend’s stomach. “More than nice.” He muttered, tearing his gaze away from you so he could glare at the ceiling instead of your pretty face.
You hummed in question. “What do you mean?” You asked, wanting him to explain. Usually, whenever Yoongi tended to have issues you were forced to pry everything out of him in order to get to the root of the problem. Very rarely did you ever go to far, Yoongi only yelling at you twice in his entire life over you trying to help him out. While it scared you and made you cry, he immediately comforted you and told you how sorry he was- that he’d tell you things, it was just a matter of time.
“He’s pretty much courting you right in front of me, you know. I know you probably didn’t notice, but he’s insanely interested in you. It’s sort of a dick move on his part.” Yoongi said simply, trying not to sound as affected as he really was. Your eyebrows creased together in worry and confusion.
“Yoonie, what’re you talking about? He’s just nice. I think he treated you and I pretty much the same… I think he just caught onto your annoyance and tried to back off a little, that’s all.” You offered, hoping Yoongi would reason with what you said. Sure, Taehyung was somewhat affectionate, but that seemed to just be his disposition. It didn’t seem like the way he treated you was out of the ordinary, especially when you saw him interact with his friends.
Yoongi bit at his lip, chewing it between his teeth as he tried to gather what he was going to say next. He felt himself getting worked up, now doubt about it- his chest was growing tight and his breathing was coming closer together.
“I don’t think so, Y/N. I think he’s interested in you. I hate to admit it, but the thought of that is kind of scary- knowing a perfectly capable and friendly alpha is dangled right in front of you, offering you everything that I can and more- I couldn’t even be mad if you chose him somewhere along the line.” Yoongi admitted, causing you to gasp in horror. Hurriedly, you scrambled over to him and kneeled on the ground beside him, interlocking your hands with his. His words did hurt you a bit, but this wasn’t about you.
“Yoonie, I need you to know that I like him as a friend- and that’s all. I’d never leave you for him, ever! Alpha or not, he’s not what I need. You are.” You told him with big eyes, searching his own.
“But he is what you need, Y/N. I always say that I can give you everything you need but it’s just not true. I can’t protect you like an alpha could, I can’t give you social comfort like an alpha could- for fuck’s sake, your heat’s coming up and it hurts so fucking bad that no matter how hard I try I can’t satisfy you the way you need to be.” Yoongi poured his heart out to you, eyes glistening with emotion as your own tears began to make their way down your cheeks. You shook your head at his words.
“Don’t say that about yourself…” You whined. “So what if you’re not an alpha? My heat, and other people’s opinions will not affect my feelings about you. A heat is only for a couple of days, and I’m going to love you for forever.” You said with finality, a hard gaze in your eyes. Yoongi felt his heart flutter and squeeze at your words, filling him with chills as he realized just how much he loved you.
“I love you so much, baby.” He said softly, leaning over to smooth your hair down and cover his lips with your own. You sighed, happy to finally get some affection from him after being out the entire day.
“I love you too, Yoonie… Don’t forget that.” You said, scooting backward before standing up. “As much as I’d love to get to sleep already, we have some homework to do. Come on, sleepyhead!” You giggled, eyes closing with a wide smile as you sauntered over to where you’d set your backpacks down.
Despite the unexcited groan that left his lips, he followed suit.
-
Yoongi thought his jealous phase was over after you’d declared your love for him. Everything was fine for the next couple of days, until both of you returned back to astronomy class and he realized that Taehyung had the potential to become a constant for the both of you.
And become a constant he did. Over the course of a couple of weeks he’d been over to your apartment multiple times, whether it was for having dinner, studying, or even just having a movie night. Taehyung would be there, and his favorite spot was in the middle of the two of you.
He was a nice guy. Yoongi had loosened up around him, concluding that maybe you were right about a couple things, and that he wasn’t out to steal you- at least not outright. As Yoongi became less hostile Taehyung talked to him more, and became equally as affectionate with him as he was with you. A nuzzle in the neck was not uncommon, despite the embarrassment yet shy appreciation both you and Yoongi would display in response.
However, tensions were running high currently, and that was because of what time it was. Your heat was coming up and fast, hormones and pheromones being produced in excess and having a noticeable effect on your scent.
Usually, you smelled heavenly. When your heat was coming up you smelled like heaven with a dash of sin, completely obscured by your innocence and confusing both Yoongi and anyone else around you.
“Yoonie,” You whimpered, digging into his side and wiggling your hips, basking yourself in his scent unabashedly even though Taehyung was right behind you. Yoongi couldn’t help but notice the way the other man’s gaze went to your ass before darting away. Your boyfriend couldn’t even be mad, with the way you were practically put on a platter for him.
“Sweetheart, calm down.” Yoongi told you quietly, slight alarm in his gaze at your behavior. Your heats had a tendency to be a bit irregular, never quite falling on the same day which left him floundering when they finally hit. It was obvious that this one would be a bit earlier than they usually were.
You pouted