#I don't think makes it any better but at least is an explanation 💀

[tsukiyo-7]

Very, uhm... interesting search history

[here2bbtstrash]

look down on me like that - 9 (explicit)

genre: slow burn enemies to lovers hatefucking coworkers au, smut, angst

pairing: yoongi x reader

summary: your asshole coworker min yoongi has made it his personal mission to ruin your life.

word count: 16k 🙈

contains: explicit sexual content 👀 literally jumps immediately into it (well.... you'll see 🤭) so buckle up!!! also features: hotel drama, reader being v dumb in classic reader fashion but she gets there, a whole lotta tension and angst and misplaced anger, some new friends!!! and yes they're 3 idols see if you can figure out who 🤪, erotic bed sharing and handholding lmfao, probably the most drinking that has happened in a chapter yet (which is saying a lot honestly), of course the GRAMMY RESULTS.... oh yeah and yoongi in glasses, yoongi in a suit, yoongi playing piano, yoongi almost getting in a fight, yoongi rapping, yoongi WEARING CAT EARS (yes these are all warnings!!!!!! 😩) - ok and here are ur smut specific warnings: semi-public sex (mile high club anyone ✈️), cunnilingus, fingering, sex dreams, nipple play, dirty talk, reader has a voice kink 🥴, clit stim, unprotected sex AGAIN 💀, she squirts again don't @ me lmao, aaaaand some lovely mouth/throat fuckin 🫡

A/N: i feel like i have nothing to say that isn't just overwhelming gratitude to you all for being here 🥺 so i'll keep it short!!! sit back and get comfy bc this one's a lot, here we go y'all..... you ready?? 💜

A/N 2: as of 5/27, this chapter has been updated to remove the instances of anti-asian discrimination. i want to expressly state how sorry i am to those who were hurt or otherwise upset by the original content. please know that i mean it when i say i am fully committed to listening and doing better moving forward. 💜

an eternal thank you to @haliiimede and @monimonimoon for their help betaing!!!

read on AO3!

chapter eight | masterlist | chapter ten

~*~

You don’t know how you let Yoongi talk you into this.

You honestly can’t remember, at least not right now, not with your ass perched on the edge of the sink counter and his hands making quick work to tug your sweats and underwear down and off, one ankle at a time.

The place is cleaner than any airplane bathroom you’ve ever been in, and certainly much less cramped. First class really spares no expense, you’ve learned. It’s an upgrade Yoongi made for both of you at the check-in counter unprompted, his only explanation mumbled into the rim of his iced Americano once you’d settled at a table in the fancy lounge: “Economy seats fuck my back up, and I figured if I left you behind you’d push me into LA traffic at your first opportunity.”

You might still do it, if only because he’s managed to convince you to do this again. Weren’t you supposed to be mad at him?

“I’m starting to think you have a bathroom fetish,” you murmur, not quite managing to keep your voice steady. Your fingers rake through Yoongi’s long dark hair as he situates himself properly on his knees between your legs, his hands pressing your thighs to spread you wider.

“Are you complaining?” he grunts back, and you lose the ability to form a coherent response as he leans in and traces his tongue up your folds.

You nearly bang your head on the mirror with the way your spine instinctively arches at the feeling, your hips tilting up for as much of his mouth as you can get.

“Shit,” you hiss as he starts to fuck the muscle of his tongue into your entrance, his thumb swiping up through your wetness before settling into rough circles over your clit. “Why are you so fucking good at this?”

Once he’s thoroughly tasted you, Yoongi quickly replaces his tongue with his fingers, flexing against your front wall at a brutal pace, like he’s realized you can’t take too long in here. His lips close around your clit as his tongue laps over it in thick strokes, and your hips circle hungrily, grinding on him.

“That’s it,” he pulls off just enough to gasp. “Ride my face. Wanna make you come so I can fuck this tight little pussy.” Just the rough tone of his voice is nearly enough to send you over the edge.

When his lips and tongue return to your cunt, you don’t hold back.

You fist the hand tangled in his hair, your other palm smacking flat to the counter for balance as you throw a leg over his shoulder, and you swear you can hear him laughing while you press your heel into his back to pull him even closer. His mouth is warm and wet and divine, the way he licks and sucks at your throbbing clit overwhelming. He strokes his fingers deftly into your g-spot, working up enough arousal that it’s started to run down the crux of your thighs. You roll your hips again and gasp at the way his tongue drags just right over you.

“Oh god, Yoongi,” you groan, squeezing your eyes shut, too lost in it to worry about being quiet. You can feel it as he keeps his tongue laid out flat for you to use as you please. Everything in you pulls tight as you rut yourself against his face in time to the building pressure worked up in your core by his unrelenting fingers. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, I’m gonna—”

The plane dips sharply, and you lurch upright with a gasp as your eyes snap open. There’s a few more seconds of shuddering bumps, and then you seem to find clear skies again.

Your heart hammers in your chest as you sit back and try to steady your breathing, the world slowly coming into focus: the TV screen in front of you, your purse tucked into the shelf beneath it, beige privacy walls surrounding you on all sides.

Fuck. You lean forward, letting your head drop between your knees as reality sinks in. You’re not in the bathroom. You’re in your stupid first-class seat. It was a dream. A fucking airplane sex dream.

Panic carves through you like a knife as questions bubble up in your mind: What if you said something in your sleep? Did Yoongi hear you? Is he sitting on the other side of the wall with that fucking smirk on his face, endlessly smug in the knowledge that he haunts you even in your dreams?

Immediately convinced that he is, you can’t help yourself. You press your hands flat to the divider between you and just barely lift out of your seat so you can peek over it.

But Yoongi looks entirely unchanged from the last time you saw him several hours earlier: he’s got his headphones on and is slouched over his laptop, frowning down at the screen, thoroughly engrossed in work.

Just as you’re breathing a sigh of relief, he glances up, and your eyes widen.

“Can I help you?” he grunts, not even bothering to pull his headphones off. You don’t think it’s a double entendre, but you don’t want to entertain him long enough to find out.

“No,” you snap, and then you slump back down to the safety of your seat, slamming the controller on the wall until you’re fully horizontal. You tug the provided headphones over your ears, hoping they might block out your racing thoughts as you desperately try to ignore the dull ache between your legs.

~*~

Getting any more sleep proves to be an impossible task, your mind too keyed up at the possibility of another airplane bathroom dream. By the time you make it through the rest of the flight, and customs, and the car ride to your hotel, you’re nearly delirious with exhaustion, and your body is thoroughly confused about what fucking time it is, though your phone says it’s apparently the middle of the night.

Your brain feels like it’s been in a blender, your reaction time so slowed that, standing at the hotel check-in counter, it takes you several seconds to process the words leaving the front desk agent’s mouth.

She must be able to read the dumbfounded look on your face, because she repeats herself. “King bed executive suite for three nights?”

“Um, no,” you finally manage to stammer, and though he makes no discernible noise of reaction, it’s like you can feel Yoongi smirking over your shoulder. “No, we need— I booked a room with two queens.”

The agent purses her lips slightly, then shakes her head as she stares down at her computer. “Mm, I’m seeing in the system that we have you down for one king.”

Your exhaustion steamrolls over whatever professionality you might normally have while conducting a business transaction. “I don’t care what your fucking system says, it’s wrong. That’s not what I booked.” Scrolling through your phone for a few seconds, you manage to dig up the email, and you’re almost more compelled to show it to Yoongi, just to make sure he’s well aware— you did not fuck this up.

“See, two queens,” you reiterate helplessly as you extend the receipt on your phone toward the agent.

She tuts once, her eyes barely glancing over at your phone before returning to her computer screen. “Unfortunately, it doesn’t seem like we have any availability to switch you. Given the Grammys are on Sunday, this is quite a busy weekend for us.”

You set your phone on the counter and try to keep your breathing steady, to remain calm despite the overwhelmed panic starting to rise in your chest.

“About that,” you say, doing your best to speak in an even voice. “We wanted to keep a low profile, but my… associate here is actually a nominee. For Song of the Year?” You hate that it comes out more like a question as your gaze flits to Yoongi for the briefest of seconds, then back to the front desk agent. “So, really, if there’s anything at all you could do, we would appreciate it.”

There’s a pause as she regards you for a moment, her lips pressed into a tight smile, and then she speaks again. “I really do apologize, but a mistake on your part does not constitute an emergency on ours. No matter who the accommodation is for.”

It takes a second for your jetlag-addled brain to process the words, and their direct contrast to the forced sunny expression on her face. If you were in a better state of mind you might be able to take a breath, state your case more calmly, or figure out some other alternative, but instead all you can manage is a knee jerk reaction.

Because you can’t be in a room with Min Yoongi and only one bed.

“Are you fucking kiddin—”

“Hey.” 

A hand pressed to your bicep nearly makes you jump out of your skin. Despite every cell in your body urging you to lunge over the counter, you don’t fight it when Yoongi pulls you back a few paces, giving enough room for him to take your place at the counter.

“It’s fine,” he mutters over his shoulder.

It feels like your heart is beating a mile a minute, enough that you can hardly keep up with the soft apology he concedes to the agent. She hands him the room keys without another word, that same fake smile still plastered over her face. With one last nasty look over your shoulder, you follow Yoongi toward the elevators, dragging your suitcase along behind you.

Practically seething, you can barely manage to wait until the doors slide shut before you pounce.

“Look, I don’t know what you think is about to happen here, but I did not fucking book a single bed room.”

“It’s fine,” he sighs wearily, eyes fixed on the overhead number as it counts up to your floor. “I just want to sleep. Whatever that was about to turn into wasn’t worth the trouble.”

The doors slide open with a soft chime, and you storm after him down the hall to your room as he continues, pressing the key to the reader and pushing the door open. “Besides, I've stayed here before, and I know these suites have couches.” He holds the door and gestures for you to enter first, and you do.

He's not wrong: there’s a small living room area with a sofa, a desk, and a television mounted into a wall that effectively separates it from the bedroom on the other side, though there isn’t actually a door. The bathroom is immediately to your left as you step inside.

“So,” Yoongi says simply as the door shuts behind him. “I'll take the couch. All good.”

Of fucking course.

The rational part of your brain knows that he has done nothing to upset you. He's been quiet and polite on your long day of travel, and is treating you simply as if you were business acquaintances. It all makes perfect sense, given that you told him your night at his apartment couldn’t mean anything. He's done everything you’ve asked of him, really.

And yet it’s all of it: your stupid sex dream, the lingering bad taste of your encounter with the hotel agent, and the fact that Yoongi can’t seem to even fathom the idea of sharing a bed with you, not here and certainly not at his apartment. Everything has you simmering with a sudden vicious, unreasonable anger.

“Do whatever you want,” you snap as Yoongi sets his suitcase down on the floor of the living room. “I don’t give a shit.”

The rage burns like acid in your gut as you move through your night routine in the bathroom, and it’s only worsened by the knowledge that your alarm will be going off in just a few hours, and you’ll have to drag yourself through a long day of press and prep for Sunday. And that Yoongi will be there, through all of it, just like he’s on the other side of the door right now, inescapably and overwhelmingly present.

It doesn’t make sense to you how he can somehow manage to be too distant and too close at the same time. As you spit toothpaste into the sink, you wonder why the fuck you ever agreed to go on this stupid trip.

~*~

You don’t think you manage more than ten minutes of sleep the whole night. Despite exhaustion weighing heavy in your limbs, you toss and turn and kick at the blankets, too frustrated by all the confusing feelings churned up inside of you to be able to slip into any kind of real rest.

When you glance at the clock for the millionth time, it’s now only thirty minutes until your alarm is due to go off. With a sigh, you decide to give up.

Your mind is already racing with the schedule for the day, and you go over it a million times in your head as you shower and dress and apply your makeup. When you emerge from the bathroom already entirely put together, Yoongi is on the couch blinking blearily at his phone, clearly having just woken up.

“The car will be here at seven,” you call over your shoulder without a second glance back at him.

He grunts his acknowledgement, and after a few moments you hear the sound of the bathroom door sliding shut again. You dig your work laptop out of your purse to double-check everything, and before you know it you’re sucked into confirming specifics and answering emails, and you completely lose track of time.

The sound of Yoongi clearing his throat snaps you back to reality, and you shut your laptop as you glance up to find him standing in the threshold of the bedroom. He’s dressed nicely for his many interviews, in a sky-blue button-down, and you have to blink twice as you take in his appearance.

“You wear glasses?”

The warm lamplight of the bedroom reflects off his lenses as he shrugs. “I don’t like to. But I forgot my contacts.”

“We can stop for some on the way to your fitting,” you answer, adding it to your mental to-do list. The reminder of your booked itinerary is enough to get you to your feet, one arm wrapped around your laptop to press it close to your chest. Trying to remember what else you need to do to get ready proves impossible as Yoongi steps closer, and then you hear him laugh softly under his breath.

“Wow, glasses? Really?”

“What?”

“You have that look on your face,” he says simply, and you can feel an embarrassed heat creep up your neck. You hate that after all this time, he can still read you like a book.

You swallow hard. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He continues to close the distance between you, and you take a reflexive step backward, only for your thighs to bump against the mattress behind you. “Would’ve worn these more often if I knew they’d get you all flustered.”

You attempt to argue that you’re not flustered, but the words die on your tongue with the realization of how close Yoongi is to you now. His eyes are fixed pointedly on your mouth. “I—” you try again, your voice breaking slightly. “I’m not—”

The sharp buzz of your phone vibrating on the nightstand makes both of you start, and it’s like you can think clearly again when Yoongi steps back to give you room to grab it. You thumb open the text with one hand as you shove your laptop into your purse with the other. “They’re downstairs.”

Yoongi doesn’t say anything else to you until you’re in the car, crawling through Los Angeles traffic. “Remind me what all we’re doing today?”

You stare out the windshield, not wanting to meet his gaze as you recount the schedule that’s permanently seared into your brain. “You have press interviews in Studio City all morning until one. We’ll pick up lunch— and we can grab you some contacts, too— and then you have a fitting in Beverly Hills at two. After that, your boss wants us to tour the office out here and take a few meetings with the team, so that’ll be the rest of the afternoon. And then I guess whenever we’re done with that, the label execs want to take us to dinner after.”

He’s silent for long enough that you’re forced to glance over at him, wondering if he was even paying attention. There’s a small smile on his face, but it doesn’t quite read as smug. You don’t know what to make of it.

“Huh,” Yoongi finally remarks.

“What?” you snap in response, probably a little harsher than he deserves, but you haven’t had coffee yet.

“Nothing,” he says innocently. “It’s just funny, compared to when you first started.” He crosses his arms over his chest, shifting back slightly in his seat. “I remember when you couldn’t even use Outlook.”

You narrow your eyes in his direction. “I guess people change.”

“Guess so.”

The day passes in a hectic blur, and though ostensibly all of your scheduled engagements are meant to be about Yoongi, you find yourself just as busy as he is, if not moreso.

His press interviews run long because of course they do, and you’re forced to drop him at his fitting while you run out to pick up lunch and contacts— and most importantly, more coffee, which you desperately require to survive the rest of the day.

You’re admittedly thankful for the extra tasks. Even if you do feel dead on your feet, it’s still preferable to sitting around and watching Yoongi try on a suit. You can easily recall firsthand how deadly the image is, and putting off that suffering until the real thing tomorrow is perfectly fine, as far as you’re concerned.

The coffee gives you just enough of a caffeine boost to power through your afternoon meetings, reviewing branding strategies and opportunities for collaborative promotions with the label’s overseas team. Your heart sinks a little when you go through the marketing summary slides prepared by Jungkook, not a single detail out of place, and you try to shove thoughts of him to the back of your mind so you can focus on the work.

At dinner, it’s all you can do to not fall asleep over your extremely overpriced sashimi. Yoongi’s been pulled away to the far side of the table for what you can only assume are deeply boring conversations with the Los Angeles production team. Thankfully, your side is a bit more lively.

“Matthew,” the A&R rep who you’re pretty sure introduced herself as Tiffany stage-whispers. You realize she’s speaking to the tall and ridiculously built guy seated next to you when her gaze flits up to him, and then she resumes poring over the extensive drink menu. “Can we get sake bombs?”

“Why are you asking me?” Matthew responds, and you look over to see his face scrunched up in confusion.

“You’re in finance! I need you to tell me that I can get white-girl wasted on the label’s dime tonight.”

He sighs for a moment, like he’s trying to think. “I don’t… actually know if we’re allowed to reimburse that.” Tiffany’s lower lip trembles, dangerously adorable, and he exhales as if he’s been defeated. “Fuck it. I’ll cover it out of pocket if we can’t.”

“God, I love you,” she breathes, chasing the comment with a throaty laugh and quickly flagging down a server to order. “Can we please do thr— Vernon, baby, how old are you?”

The intern seated next to her blinks slowly. “Twenty four?” You’re pretty sure those are his first words of the evening.

“Huh. Your skincare’s doing wonders,” Tiffany shakes her head disbelievingly. “Four sake bombs, please?”

They arrive in an instant, and Tiffany smiles proudly to herself as she balances her shot glass on a pair of chopsticks laid across the top of her beer. You follow Matthew and Vernon’s lead as they set their drinks up to mirror hers.

“To Matthew’s wallet,” Tiffany toasts solemnly. “The only thing bigger than his tits.”

As if in hearty agreement, Matthew bangs his fist against the table so hard it makes everyone in a five foot radius flinch, and all four of your shot glasses plummet into the awaiting beers beneath them.

“Kanpai, motherfuckers!” Tiffany cackles, and you throw your drinks back in perfect sync.

The rowdiness of your corner is too loud to be ignored, and your stomach twists slightly as you set your empty glass down only to catch Yoongi staring from across the table. When your eyes meet his, he quickly lowers his gaze and adjusts his glasses, his mouth pulling into a flat line.

You turn back to your new friends as Tiffany finishes her own drink. As if she just witnessed the silent exchange, she leans toward you.

“So,” she drops her voice a little lower, “What’s it like working with Suga?”

Doing your best to keep your face neutral, you inhale deeply, wondering where to begin, or what would even be workplace-appropriate to say. The jetlag makes your mind move that much slower. “It’s—”

“Oh my god,” she immediately interrupts you. “You’re sleeping with him.”

Vernon nearly spits the last swallow of his drink back out.

“Tiffany,” Matthew interjects, sounding exhausted, like this is a regular occurrence. “Don’t fucking say that to someone you just met.”

“I mean,” you concede, your lips loosened by the warm rush of alcohol. “She’s not wrong.”

Matthews eyes widen, and he purses his lips for a long pause before he finally speaks. “Shiiiiiit, okay. Alright then.”

You sigh, slumping to rest your cheek in your hand, so exhausted that you can barely stay upright. “I don’t know if ‘sleeping with’ is the right term. It’s just a… mistake that we’ve made. A few times. Several, I guess.”

“I bet he’s even richer than Matthew,” Tiffany says, awestruck, clearly more to herself than to you.

“If it’s a mistake, why do you keep making it?” Vernon asks bluntly.

“Damn, Vernon with the deep cut,” Matthew remarks, and you shake your head.

“I don’t know,” you murmur, your words running together slightly. “I’m just trying not to think about it, at least not while we’re on this stupid work trip.”

All three of them nod like they understand, and then Tiffany leans in again. “Let me guess: there’s only one bed in the hotel room.”

“Please ignore her.” Matthew sounds as tired as you feel.

“Yes!” you exclaim, your anger from the night before temporarily reigniting. “The hotel fucked our room up, and the lady wouldn’t fix it because she was a fucking bitch—”

“Naturally,” Vernon interjects.

“And even though we only have one bed, he chose to take the couch. Like, that’s where we’re at.”

“That’s sweet,” Tiffany murmurs, and you make a face.

“Is it?”

“He’s being respectful. I bet he doesn’t wanna make you feel uncomfortable, or like… pressured. ‘Cause sleeping with somebody is a world of difference from… sleeping with them, you know?”

You roll your eyes. “Or he wants to be as far away from me as possible, even while sleeping.”

“If I was the one nominated for a Grammy, I’d make you take the couch,” Vernon scoffs around a piece of edamame.

“Right?” Matthew chimes in. “Ain’t no way I’m getting good sleep on a hotel couch. Them things are like fuckin’ cement blocks.”

A yawn escapes you before you can manage to stifle it, and you press a hand to your mouth, suddenly overwhelmed from exhaustion as well as the conversation. You scoot your chair back from the table to stand and politely excuse yourself to the restroom.

“You gotta cool it with that shit, Tiff,” you hear Matthew mutter as you depart.

Your mind swims while you traverse the long back hallways of this bougie restaurant. It’s almost laughable now, but you really never thought to give Yoongi the benefit of the doubt for sleeping on the couch— not here, and not at his apartment.

You’re still so used to expecting the worst from him that you’ve just assumed the intention is laced into his every action. Even the nice things have felt like a cause for concern, like a reason to keep your guard up, small gestures meant to distract you so he can get the upper hand, somehow. It’s hard to shake the idea that he’s your enemy, even after everything that’s happened.

And yet you can’t help wondering if Tiffany is right. Is Yoongi really just being… respectful? And if so: what does he want? And how does he feel? You’re torn between wanting to know and hoping you never find out.

A voice saying your name drags you out of your thoughts. You turn back just shy of the restroom door, unable to stop another yawn from slipping out, and you bring a hand to your mouth to hide it. Your eyes widen as your brain works on a delay to process the familiar voice, then the sky-blue shirt and the dark framed glasses. It distantly occurs to you that Yoongi has you all alone in this fancy hallway.

You blink a few times, willing the weight of sleepiness out of your eyes, then finally respond with the first thing you can think of. “I’m not fucking you in the bathroom, Yoongi.”

He blinks right back at you, clearly not expecting that. “I… wasn’t asking you to.”

“What do you want then?” you snap, crossing your arms over your chest.

“I—” he sighs, and you can’t help but wonder if he suddenly regrets coming after you. “You’re tired.”

“Yes, because I barely fucking slept. And?”

You tell yourself that you’re just imagining the way his voice has softened slightly. “Dinner’s over. We don’t have to stay. They’ll get it.”

“I’m having fun,” you retort. “I made friends.”

“I saw,” he remarks, not quite able to hide his smirk.

“So please, don’t cut your boring producer conversation short on my behalf,” you continue dryly.

Yoongi rolls his eyes, to your surprise. “Yeah, it’s brutal. I’d much rather be sleeping.” He quirks an eyebrow. “Or doing sake bombs.”

The question rushes out before you can second guess if it’s a good idea to ask. “How did you sleep? On the couch?”

Yoongi shrugs, then rubs a hand at the back of his neck, making a face as if you’ve put him on the spot. “Like shit.”

You nod, your gaze dropping to the carpeted floor. “Well, I mean. Maybe it would make more sense if, uh—”

“’Scuse me—” a new voice causes your head to snap up again, and you take a step away from Yoongi as Tiffany slips between the two of you, moving quickly toward the women’s restroom.

“Sorry love, I have to break the seal!” she calls over her shoulder before the door slams shut.

The interruption is enough to make you swallow your suggestion, and Yoongi reaches into his pocket for his phone.

“I’ll call a car, because I’m tired,” he murmurs defensively. “You’re welcome to get your own later, if you want to stay out—”

“I don’t,” you say firmly. “It’s fine. Just tell me when the car’s here.” Before Yoongi can so much as respond, you shoulder the bathroom door open and fast-walk to the safety of a stall.

After breaking your own seal, you make your way out to a sink, and you’re a little taken aback to find Tiffany still there waiting for you. She’s hovering over the mirror, blotting at her forehead with a paper towel.

“I wanted to apologize if I came on too strong,” she says softly as you turn on the tap. “Matthew says my mind-reading abilities can be intimidating to people who don’t know me well.”

You can’t help but laugh. “It’s cool. You remind me of my best friend.”

“The highest honor there is,” she says with a knowing nod. When she turns to fully face you, shifting to rest her hip on the sink as you dry your hands, you have a feeling there’s more coming.

“So, can I be honest?”

“Go ahead,” you say, suddenly a little nervous.

“I know I just met both of you today, but— the way Suga was looking at you? Girl. He’s not taking the couch because he wants to.”

You smile politely at her reflection, and her eyes narrow. “I know you don’t believe me, and you don’t have to. Matthew doesn’t believe that he’s in love with me either, but we both have Leo Moons, so obviously we’re each waiting for the other person to cave first.” She shrugs, nonchalant. “Which is fine for us, but all I’m saying is, if you want something, there’s really nothing wrong with asking for it.”

The urge to shut her down is strong. It’s slightly unnerving to feel like a relative stranger is peering into your soul. “You make it sound easy,” you murmur with a dry laugh. “I don’t think bed-sharing is part of our… arrangement.”

Tiffany preens a little more in the mirror, deftly flipping her curtain of dark hair over one shoulder. “Maybe it’s not supposed to be, but trust me on this one. He won’t say no. And if he does, I owe you a sake bomb.”

A genuine smile blooms across your face, and it only widens when she holds up her pinky finger. You lock yours around it for a single shake. “Deal.”

Arm-in-arm with Tiffany, you return to your corner of the table, where she entertains you by bullying Matthew into buying another round of drinks while he groans about burning a hole in his pocket.

“If it helps,” you giggle, “I’m about to head out. So make it three instead of four.”

“Thank god,” Matthew breathes a sigh of relief. “This girl is so damn expensive.”

Tiffany pauses with a spoonful of matcha gelato— also ordered on Matthew’s dime— halfway to her mouth. “I literally have a Leo stellium, what the fuck do you expect?”

While they continue to bicker, your gaze floats down the table. You wonder if Tiffany’s mind-reading powers might be catching as your eyes land on Yoongi just in time for him to look up from his phone and meet your gaze. He nods his head once toward the entrance, and you nod back.

A shoulder bumps into yours, and you turn to see Tiffany subtly shoot you a thumbs-up. “Fighting!” she murmurs under her breath, and you laugh as you get to your feet and bid everyone goodnight.

Yoongi holds the door of the restaurant for you to exit first, then follows you into the large black car waiting for you on the curb.

The drive back to the hotel gives you just enough time to immediately talk yourself out of Tiffany’s suggestion. The thought of asking for what you want feels like a trap, like displaying weakness to the one person who could hit you hardest. Besides, what if she misread Yoongi entirely? She doesn’t know him at all, and has no idea of the way things are between you. It’s a terrible idea, you decide.

So you find yourself right where you were the night before, like a bad dream you can’t wake up from: face washed, teeth brushed, tossing and turning in a bed far too large for one person. You can feel your final thread of resistance snap clean in half as you angrily kick the blankets off, then get to your feet and storm into the living room.

Yoongi is still up, peering down at his phone screen on the couch, his glasses deposited atop the coffee table.

“You’re being stupid,” you huff, and he glances up, clearly not expecting the interruption.

“I am?”

“You’re going to the Grammys tomorrow,” you say, as if that will explain anything.

“So are you,” Yoongi counters.

“Well yeah, but nobody’s going to give a shit about me.”

“I’d argue that’s also true for me,” he murmurs dryly, then squints at you. “Sorry, why am I stupid?”

“Because you’re going to sleep terribly on this couch.”

Yoongi nods once. “Probably, yes.”

You sigh, because of course he’s going to drag this out of you. “And the bed is perfectly big enough for two people. We wouldn’t even be touching or anything. So…” Fuck, saying what you want is hard. “Can you just… stop being stupid?”

There’s a flash of recognition in his eyes, and you’re surprised when that trademark cocky smirk doesn’t spread across his face. If anything, he just seems hesitant as he slowly sits up. “You’re sure?”

You fold your arms across your chest, suddenly feeling exposed like this, standing in front of him in only your thin sleep clothes. “Please don’t make me say it again.”

The corner of Yoongi’s mouth just barely pulls up, so slight you could be imagining it. “I’ll be there in a sec.”

In the bedroom, you leave the lamp at the empty side of the bed switched on, then crawl back under the sheets on your side. Heat blooms in your face as you press your cheek to the cool pillowcase, purposefully facing out, then reach one arm up to turn off your own bedside lamp.

True to his word, a few minutes later you hear the unmistakable sound of Yoongi’s steps across the carpet, then feel the shift of the mattress as he slips into bed on his side. He fumbles on the nightstand with what must be his glasses and his phone, and then you hear the click of the light, and the room disappears into darkness.

There’s a rustle and a sigh as he makes himself comfortable, and you were right: the two of you can easily share the bed without touching, plenty of space on the mattress between you.

Even so, having him closer is somehow… better. Comforting. You try not to dwell too much on it.

Flipping over onto your back, you stare up at the infinite black of the ceiling above you, your eyes already starting to weigh heavy. You don’t know where the question comes from, or why you ask it.

“Are you nervous?”

When he answers, Yoongi sounds half-asleep, too. “About what?”

“The Grammys?”

“Oh.” There’s a stirring sound, and then he speaks, like he’s just remembered you can’t see him shrugging. “I don’t know. A little.”

The only reply you’re capable of is a soft hum, and now you really can’t keep your eyes open. You curl up on your side again, cheek smushing into the pillow, and your consciousness whirs up one last coherent thought before you fully slip under: What else would he be nervous about?

~*~

You wake up to the warm glow of morning beneath your eyelids, and when you blink them open, the room is lit soft, dappled in sunlight that has managed to sneak between the thick hotel curtains. It’s warm in this bed too, and comfortable, and you sigh quietly to yourself as you stir a little under the covers. With a stifled yawn, you move to turn onto your back, and it’s only when you meet a gentle resistance that you realize why you’re so warm.

Yoongi must just be waking up too, because you immediately feel his body start at the realization that he pulled you close at some point during the night: an arm thrown over your waist, his hips pressed flush against yours.

“Fuck,” he mutters, his voice low and rough with sleep. “Sorry.” As the mattress starts to shift behind you, you respond on pure physical instinct and close your hand around Yoongi’s wrist.

“Stay.” The word comes out hoarse, barely more than a whisper.

Yoongi’s response is a soft grunt, and a bolt of panic quickens your pulse. You’re suddenly worried he might not want to stay, that he might even laugh at you for thinking you could have it like this, wrapped in his arms and waking up slowly. The furthest thing from hatred— and isn’t that what this is supposed to be?

But then his grip tightens to pull you that much closer, and he wordlessly presses his face into the crook of your neck. Your heart flutters in your chest, sweet and terrified. The heat of his breath over your skin makes you lean into him instinctively, and when your hips tilt, you can feel the unmistakable bulge of his clothed cock against your ass.

“God,” Yoongi groans. The deep gravel of his voice is enough to tighten your nipples beneath your tank top. “You make me so fucking hard. Dreamt about fucking you in this bed.”

“We woke up early,” you murmur. “So. There’s time.”

He grunts a low note in response. You can already feel the thin material of your sleep shorts growing wet between your legs as you slowly grind your hips back on him. 

Yoongi’s hand slips up your body, fingertips dragging over the fabric of your top until his palm is pressed to the column of your throat. You inhale softly, your head tipping up to allow him better access. His grip just barely tightens, and when he speaks in your ear, you can hear the smile around his words. “Tell me what you want.”

“Want you to fuck me, Yoongi,” you breathe. “In this bed.”

When you repeat his words back to him, Yoongi exhales a laugh, and then you feel him press a kiss to the hinge of your jaw. Something melts open inside of you at the brush of his lips, a sudden rush of an emotion you haven’t felt in a very long time. Something you certainly never expected to feel with Min fucking Yoongi, of all people.

He releases his hold on your throat, and his hand makes short work of slipping the straps of your tank top off your shoulders, then yanking the loose fabric down to expose your tits. You shiver a little at the morning air against your bare skin.

Yoongi’s palm closes around one of your breasts, lazily massaging it, and you rut your ass back on him with a small whimper. The heat of his mouth trails more kisses up your neck, and then his deep voice is in your ear again.

“Did you sleep okay?” He pairs the question with his thumb dragging circles over the stiff bud of your nipple, earning another soft noise from you.

“Y-yeah,” you manage to respond. “Better than the first night.”

He hums against the shell of your ear, the timbre of his rough voice setting every last one of your nerve endings alight. Overcome with desire, you can barely focus on his words as his hand traces along your waist to slip down the back of your shorts.

“Me too. So much better than the fucking couch.”

Two of his fingers tease over your slit, and he huffs a disbelieving laugh at how wet he finds you, how turned on you already are. When he swipes between your folds to circle at your entrance, you can hear your own slickness, chased with a soft noise of appreciation that escapes Yoongi’s mouth as he plunges both digits into your pussy. You can’t help but moan, too.

He could easily make you come just like this, but you want him too much.

“Yoongi,” you murmur, twisting slightly to reach a hand behind you. You trace down the hard muscles of his stomach, apparent even through the thin fabric of his t-shirt, until your palm drags along the thick outline of his cock straining beneath his boxer briefs. He’s so hard that he pulses under your touch, and you’re sure he must be able to feel the way your pussy flutters at the thought of this cock filling you up.

“Needy,” he purrs, his mouth against your neck.

“Shut up,” you answer automatically, not quite able to keep your voice steady with the way he’s fucking his fingers into you.

But Yoongi doesn’t torment you— you only have to give his clothed length one slow pump before his hands are pushing your shorts over your legs, like he can’t get them off fast enough. You kick them the rest of the way off while he works his boxers down, and then you arch back as his cock starts to tease your pussy lips apart.

He slips easily through your folds, painting you both in a mixture of pre-cum and arousal as he grinds himself over the whole of your slit. You bite back a moan when the head of his dick rubs up to your clit, smearing wetness there in steady strokes that make you gasp and writhe.

“Can I go raw again?” he asks so softly in your ear, and your cunt throbs as you whimper your consent.

It’s impossible to keep quiet now, not with how perfectly his cock pushes into you, stretching you open to take him. You press your face into the pillow to slightly muffle your sounds, and you can hear Yoongi groan behind you.

“Fuck,” he hisses roughly. “You’re ruining me. I may never be able to go back to condoms.”

“Yoongi,” you whine as he sheathes himself fully with a grunt of effort, giving you a few moments to adjust before he moves. “If you keep fucking talking in my ear with your morning voice like that—” your own voice breaks off mid-sentence as he drags his cock out just to fuck it back into you, and you have to take a breath before trying again. “I’m gonna come in five seconds.”

When he presses his mouth to your shoulder, you can feel the smirk on his lips. “Is that right?” The low rumble of his question buzzes through you, and your walls tighten around him in response. “You like it that much?”

You can barely remember how to form words with the way he’s started to thrust, the head of his cock sparking hot pleasure each time he rubs himself over the ridges of your front wall. “What if I do?”

Yoongi hums into the crook of your neck, purposefully drawing the sound out to make a shiver run up your spine, and you can’t help moaning. His hand slips between your thighs to nudge them apart, and you’re easily pliant for him, spreading yourself at his guidance so his fingers can find your clit.

“I’d tell you how fucking good you look like this,” he murmurs against your skin. “How well you take my cock.” You roll your hips in time with his strokes, and his free arm slips between your shoulder and the bed to wrap around your chest, giving him leverage to fuck you harder.

“Oh my god.” You nearly choke on your words as he pounds into you, unrelenting now, and your fingertips claw desperately at the pillow beneath your head.

“Pussy’s always so fucking tight, shit,” he groans. “Should’ve just done this the whole weekend. Don’t know how I even let you leave the room.”

Your feet flex helplessly against the bedsheets as Yoongi’s hand rubs a steadily building pressure into your core that threatens to overflow. His fingers move in tight circles over your clit like he knows your body well— which, you guess, he does. The thought of him keeping you here all weekend, tangled up in these sheets, fucking you senseless and making you come again and again and again is dizzying, enough to make your pussy start to pulse around his length.

“Yoongi,” you gasp. “Fuck, fuck, you’re gonna make me come.”

His lips brush over your shoulder, his voice stilted by how roughly he’s fucking into you. “Yeah, come on this cock. Make a mess for me.”

The pleasure is so overwhelming you almost want to squirm away from it, but then his fingers press your clit just right to snap a final thread and send you over the edge. Your thighs shake violently as your climax rips through you, and a rush of fluid squirts out of your cunt to coat the length of his dick and soak a wet spot into the sheets.

Yoongi groans unabashedly at the sight, still fucking you through the waves of your orgasm, his thrusts slowing as if to hold off his own end while your pussy keeps shuddering around him.

You take your time coming all the way down, lost in how good it feels, and then you slump back against the pillow with a ragged sigh, your head swimming. “Holy shit.”

His throbbing-hard cock is still clenched inside your heat, and the bed shifts when he gently pulls out. Dazed, you turn over to watch him as he kneels up on the bed next to you, his knees sinking soft divots into the mattress, and starts to slowly pump himself.

And fuck. He looks so good like this: long hair mussed from sex and sleep, with a half-awake look of concentration on his face, his tongue toying at the corner of his mouth and the muscles of his arm flexing with every stroke. Watching him get himself off has only gotten hotter since you saw it the first time, and you didn’t think that was possible.

It feels like it takes all the effort you have left in your body, but you manage to sit up and turn to face him. In one assured move, you reach down to grab his wrist and pull his hand off his cock.

Yoongi whines a little at the realization of what you’re doing, and he leans back to give you full access as you settle yourself on all fours in front of him.

“Oh fuck yeah, please suck me off.”

“Please?” you laugh, pausing to glance up at him. “Who taught you manners?”

“That fucking mouth did,” he growls, and it’s punctuated with a relieved moan as you drag your tongue up his shaft. One of his hands tangles in your hair while you lick the heady taste of yourself off his cock, then breathe deep through your nose so you can swallow him down.

Yoongi’s breath comes in ragged pants as you hollow your cheeks around him and start to bob your head, letting his tip rub against the back of your throat on every pass. You feel his fingers in your hair tighten, and his hips shove up to match your strokes, like he’s already close to coming undone.

This thick cock weighs heavy and familiar on your tongue, warm like the rays of morning sun that have reached far enough into the room to wash over the bedsheets now. Drool spills out from the seal of your lips around Yoongi’s shaft, and the sound of him fucking your mouth is obscene, pornographic as it floats up to the ceiling.

“God,” Yoongi gasps. “Gonna come down your pretty fucking throat.”

And it’s funny— once, this would have made you feel powerful, in control, like the person with the upper hand. The winner. But in this moment, it occurs to you that you don’t really give a shit about winning anymore. Now his words just make you hum and suppress a smile around his cock in your mouth. When you notice the way his thighs tremble in response, you keep going, vibrating his length while you sink as far down as you can take it.

The hand in your hair releases, and then his palm just barely brushes over the bulge of his cock in your throat as if in admiration. Eyes rolling back, you let your jaw slacken and swallow hard on the stretch of him there.

“Jesus, fuck,” he groans, and then he’s coming, and the throb of him in your mouth still feels like a reward. You pull back a little to keep from gagging as he paints fat ropes of cum into the tight clutch of your throat. Sucking firmly around him through spasm after spasm, you swallow it all down greedily until you feel him going soft on your tongue. 

You finally pull off with a wet pop, dazed and laughing as you roll over and collapse into a heap against the mattress, thoroughly spent.

“Okay,” Yoongi manages to say on an exhale, though you can hear he’s still short of breath, too. You glance up to see him raking a hand through his hair, looking fucked out of his mind. “I’m ready to go win a Grammy now.”

There’s just enough time for each of you to shower and get dressed before a whole team of people arrive for Yoongi: stylists, hair and makeup, and most importantly, coffee delivery. Yoongi blinks wide-eyed at you as you press the largest iced Americano you could find in downtown Los Angeles into his hands, and then you step back to let everyone get to work.

Meanwhile, you spend the next few hours in a rush of attempting to get yourself ready, all while double-checking the schedule, answering emails on the fly from your phone, and trying desperately to ignore the anxiety that’s started to hum in the pit of your stomach.

Once your hair and makeup are as decent as you can get them, you slip the black dress you packed for tonight— a rental, because buying a black tie dress was absolutely out of your price range— off the hanger and step carefully into it. Watching yourself in the mirror, you reach behind you for the zipper only to realize you can’t quite manage to pull it up past the small of your back.

Fuck. You didn’t even think about the fact that Jimin helped you zip this thing up when you tried it on initially, during a night at your place where you split two bottles of wine and he performed his own personal critique of all your dress rental options. This was the only one he’d liked.

With a nervous sigh, you head for the bathroom door, figuring that you’ll be able to subtly grab the attention of one of Yoongi’s many stylists to help.

But when you slowly slide the door open, one hand pressing the fabric of your dress in place over your chest, you realize the room has fallen quiet. As you lean across the threshold, you see why: everyone is gone.

Except for Yoongi, who glances up from where he’s sunk into the couch, scrolling aimlessly on his phone.

“Where is everyone?” you snap, probably a little harsher than you need to be.

He frowns like he doesn’t understand the question. “They… left? Because they were done? I don’t know if you’ve heard, but there’s a big awards show tonight. Means the stylists are pretty booked today.”

Yoongi gets to his feet to cross the room, and you fumble awkwardly, trying to keep your dress up. He’s fully put together now in a well-fitted suit and tie, and with his long hair styled and subtle makeup applied to enhance his features, he looks… good. Too good. Deadly. You can’t quite manage to maintain eye contact, and find yourself staring dumbly at the floor instead.

His voice softens slightly as he steps in close to you. “What’s wrong? Does it not fit?”

“It fucking better,” you mutter. “I just… can’t reach the zipper.”

“Are you asking for my help?”

Your gaze flits up to meet his, and you’re a little surprised by his question. “There’s nobody else here,” you retort, stubborn.

When he blinks evenly back at you, like he’s waiting for something, you realize he’s not going to make this easy. Fucking hell. Another tense moment passes, and he just blinks again.

“Yes,” you finally give in with a frustrated sigh. “Will you please help me, Yoongi?”

“Turn around,” he murmurs, and you do.

His hand slides over the small of your back, and then he slowly starts to ease the zipper up. You don’t dare move a muscle until he’s done, and it’s only once he buttons the closure at the top that you breathe a serious sigh of relief. The dress fits like a glove.

You attempt to compose yourself enough to thank him, but the words get stuck in your throat when you feel the heat of his breath against your skin.

His low voice resonates in the quiet of the room as he leans in. “Was that so hard?”

You turn your head as if to argue, but then there’s a split second where you feel his lips brush over your neck, just below your ear. So slight it could’ve been an accident.

“Thanks,” you manage to choke out, and then you slip away from him to get your heels from the bedroom and try to remember how to breathe. You do your best to ignore the fact that your hands are shaking as you pull your shoes on, then pause in front of the full-length mirror on the wardrobe, giving yourself a final once-over.

As you smooth your hands down the black velvet fabric and turn to the side, you glance up to find Yoongi hovering in the threshold, watching you.

“That dress,” he remarks, sounding a little dazed. You have to fight to keep the smile off your face when he trails off, unable to say more— you didn’t think it was possible to make Min Yoongi speechless. It’s not a bad feeling.

And you do like this dress, even though you could never actually afford it. It’s simple but elegant, a sleeveless column style with a plunging neckline and a slit that reaches your mid-thigh. Nothing groundbreaking, but it sticks to your curves like water and makes you feel somewhat more like a person who belongs at a fancy awards show.

“Jimin picked it,” you respond, and you hear Yoongi exhale a laugh.

“He has good taste.”

You turn toward him as your hidden smile pulls into a smirk. “Well, I’m not dressed up for you,” you chide, and you revel in the way his face drops briefly in surprise before he’s able to conceal it. “I’m trying to meet Kendrick.”

“Is that right?”

“Uh-huh.”

You’re thankful that you purposefully padded your schedule with extra time, because you lose nearly every last minute of it stuck in the gridlock of Los Angeles traffic on the night of a huge event.

By the time you make it to the venue, you’re practically nauseous from all the stopping and starting and crawling of the car, and Yoongi looks equally bad, though you suspect his condition might be more anxiety-related.

As it turns out, the Grammys are a lot less glamorous when you’re only mildly famous, at least by American standards. The two of you are shepherded by security to another ‘lane’ of the red carpet and warned not to stop as you make your way into the building. You observe from afar while A-list celebrities pass in a blur, flashbulbs pop bright enough to blind you, and chatter is drowned out by the sound of fans screaming and the clamor of reporters trying to grab the biggest names for an interview.

“I’m so glad I’m not that fucking famous,” Yoongi scoffs, though he doesn’t quite manage to hide the nerves in his voice.

“Come on,” you murmur once you get inside, nodding toward a pop-up bar in a far corner of the lobby. “Take the edge off. And I’m gonna need alcohol if I have to sit through a fucking three-hour show.”

You down your drinks quickly, only a few minutes shy of the time by which you have to be in your seats, and you return from tossing the empties in the trash to see Yoongi eyeing a piano pushed against the far wall, clearly for show. He takes a seat, glancing around as if in fear of getting yelled at, then gently pushes up the key lid.

“Ooh, do Wine!” you tease with a laugh as you drop onto the bench beside him, but he actually does start to play, one foot pressing down on a pedal to keep the sound soft. His fingers alight over the keys, and the song he plucks out is beautiful. It’s a melody that almost feels nostalgic to you, even though you know you’ve never heard it before.

“What is this?” you ask, and he keeps playing as he responds.

“Do you know Sakamoto?”

You hum a no as you shake your head.

His eyes narrow slightly. “Remind me how you work in the music industry?”

A smile plays at your lips, and you roll your eyes. “Shut up. You know I’m a fraud.”

Yoongi doesn’t miss a note when he glances up to meet your gaze. “Are you?”

It’s only now that you realize how close he is: the two of you are basically sitting hip to hip, shoulder to shoulder. For a moment, you forget about the Grammys, forget that anyone else is even in the room.

“Excuse me!” A voice snaps you out of the moment, and you scoot away from Yoongi so quickly you nearly topple off the bench. “That’s not meant to be played, and we need everyone to head to their seats, please!” Your face flushes with an embarrassed heat, and Yoongi lifts a hand apologetically as he covers the keys back up.

You stick close to his side so as not to lose him in the large crowd of people. “Bet they’ll let you play whatever piano you want once you have one of those dumb little trophies,” you mutter under your breath, and Yoongi really laughs, like he wasn’t expecting the comment.

Another thing you didn’t necessarily anticipate: the Grammys are fucking long. You knew it would be over three hours, but you realize you severely underestimated how long that time would feel. While the performances are incredible (and you have to dig your nails into the cushion of your seat to keep from squealing when you spot Lil Nas X a few rows in front of you), there’s plenty of filler between them, and it feels a lot drier when you’re physically in the room for it. Even the commercial breaks are far too short for you to have enough time to actually run to the restroom or get another drink.

You’re also starving. “I hate that they don’t serve food at these things,” you hiss to Yoongi during a break, but it’s late enough in the night now that he’s barely speaking, apart from the occasional monotone grunt. 

Though you’ve been waiting for it all evening, you still don’t quite know if you’re ready when the host starts to run down the list of nominees for Song of the Year.

As he’s only credited as a writer, they don’t actually say Yoongi’s pseudonym, but pride still squeezes tight in your chest when you see “Suga” spelled out across the on-stage monitors beneath the name of the song.

They get through all the titles in what seems like less than a second, and your heart feels like it might give out as an anticipatory silence settles over the crowd. The host fumbles with getting the envelope open, and you’re so tense, you flinch hard at an unexpected brush of contact.

You glance down, and it takes a moment for your brain to process what’s happened. He’s not looking at you, hasn’t said anything, but Yoongi has nevertheless reached over to grab your hand. His long fingers lace through yours, gripping surprisingly tight, and the skin of his palm is warm and dry. It’s like your brain short-circuits for a moment as you stare stupidly at your joined hands, and he gives yours a single nervous squeeze.

“And the Grammy goes to…”

You look over at him, still dumbfounded, and then you hear them call a song that isn’t his.

Your heart sinks as you watch Yoongi blink up at the screen, his mouth pulled into a flat line. You realize belatedly you’re supposed to be clapping, but his hand is still clasped in yours. And you don’t want to pull away from him.

But then he moves first, untwining his hand from yours and bringing it up to rake through his hair with a disbelieving laugh. A little delayed, you both join in the applause as the winner makes their way to the stage. You can’t even process who it is.

You have no idea what to say to console him, so you don’t say anything at all.

Thankfully the category is one of the last of the night, so you only have to sit through a few more rounds of acceptance speeches and watching other people’s dreams come true before you can finally get to your feet. You feel like you can’t leave fast enough as you’re herded out of the stadium and into another car to depart for the afterparty.

There’s a heavy silence in the backseat that feels like a chasm between you as you crawl through Los Angeles traffic.

You realize there’s a bottle of champagne tucked into an ice bucket behind the front seat— a thoughtful touch from the label execs, you assume. Yoongi spots it at the same time you do, and he immediately reaches for it. With a grunt of effort, he pops the cork, a little bit of excess foam dribbling onto the floor of the car.

He raises his eyebrows at you, then brings the bottle right to his mouth for a long drink. Longer than long. You watch his adam’s apple jump in his throat as he swallows several times.

“Alright, chill the fuck out,” you snap after a few seconds, reaching over to grab it from him. “At least eat something first.”

“It’s my consolation prize,” Yoongi quips, but he lets you wrest the champagne from his hands without resisting. You take a thorough swig yourself, then recork the bottle and drop it back in the bucket. “Such a good little admin,” he purrs, and you try to convince yourself there isn’t a hint of venom in his words.

The car pulls to a stop at the designated hotel, and you climb out after Yoongi. Upon making it inside, the two of you peel off in different directions: him for the bar, and you to find anything that remotely resembles food. You keep glancing over at him from across the room as it fills with more and more people, nervous to take your eyes off him for too long, unsure of what he might do. Every time you find him again, it seems like he’s downing another glass of whiskey, drinking like the fucking world is ending.

Meanwhile, you’re struggling to find anything that isn’t kale, quinoa, or… whatever grain-free bread is. With a frustrated sigh, you finally decide to give up. If Yoongi wants to drink on an empty stomach until he gets alcohol poisoning, you figure that’s his fucking problem.

When you shove your way through the crowd back toward him, you find that he’s been pulled into a conversation with a bunch of older men you can only assume to be local industry reps. As you get close enough to make out their words, you quickly understand why he has such a sour look on his face.

“Song of the Year, huh? You know we can cross-reference the nominees and figure out if you’re full of shit, right?”

Yoongi grimaces politely into his drink as he throws it back, but you have no problem cutting in. “You’re actually speaking to an incredibly accomplished producer and songwriter,” you retort without thinking. “He has over 100 KOMCA credits.” You don’t miss the smirk Yoongi tries to conceal behind the rim of his glass.

“KOMCA?” Another one of them speaks up, the question paired with a harsh laugh. “Never heard of it. That anything like payola?”

“Wild that anyone can just buy their way into the industry these days.” The first man shakes his head, eyes scanning Yoongi up and down as if the tailoring of his suit tells him everything he needs to know. “Guess that’s the way the world works now. Never had to struggle a day in your life, huh?”

Your response is immediate and far too loud. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

A loud laugh ripples through all of the men, clearly more excited about evoking a reaction than the gravity of their claims. “Wow, man,” the one who spoke first chortles, clapping Yoongi hard on the shoulder. “Looks like you need to control your girl.”

Your heart thuds in your chest as you watch Yoongi shrug off the guy’s hand to set his empty glass down on the closest table. He moves slowly, deliberately taking a long pause before correcting them. “This is actually my assistant.” His voice is laced with a deadly calm you know well.

“Assistant?” A third pipes up, acting as if he’s never heard the word before. “Huh. You know, back in my day we just called them secretaries. Or mistresses.”

Yoongi moves so fast you barely have time to process it, lunging forward and shoving the guy in the chest with enough force that he stumbles backwards into his shitty friends. “What the fuck!” one of them shouts, purposefully loud, and you can hear a ripple of shock roll through the crowd, can see heads turning to look your way in alarm.

“No, no, nope,” you immediately mutter. “This is not fucking happening.”

Yoongi is already taking another step toward the group, and you tighten a hand hard around his bicep. “We’re leaving.”

When he whips around to face you, the mixture of anger and pain reflected in his dark eyes is so overwhelming, it hits you like a truck. You try to force yourself to stay calm, because at least one of you has to be.

“Come on, Yoongi,” you say, letting your voice soften. “Fuck this place. I need some real food.” Your eyes search his, pleading. For a moment, you can’t help but wonder if you’re staring down an enemy or a friend.

But then you see the fight go out of him as he nods, and you breathe a silent sigh of relief.

Shifting the hand on his arm to press firmly to the center of his back, you guide him in front of you and wind through the packed room of people until you make your way outside again.

Fate does you one good turn by leaving an empty cab out front, and you push Yoongi into the backseat, then slide in next to him. You lean forward to greet the driver, doing your best to smile politely and act composed, like you didn’t just almost get into a fight at the Grammys afterparty.

“Can you take us to Koreatown, please?”

~*~

The cab drops you off outside a strip of bars and restaurants, lit up with neon signs in both English and Korean. To his credit, Yoongi seems more subdued as he follows you out of the car wordlessly, but you allow him a little more time to cool off in silence. You wander somewhat aimlessly, attempting to shake off your lingering anxiety in the warm evening air, until you stumble upon a food truck parked at the end of the block. Your eyes go wide at the posted signage.

“What do you think?” you ask as you turn to Yoongi, and he shrugs, like he really doesn’t care. Perfect. You’ve never had a problem a gamja hot dog couldn’t fix.

Securing one for each of you, you nod Yoongi toward a small group of tables set up at the curb to sit down. Once seated, you immediately drown your hot dog in ketchup and mustard, and you can hear him scoff before taking the bottles from you to do the same. Admittedly, you must look fairly ridiculous eating fried street food in full black tie, but you’re far too hungry to give a fuck right now.

It’s perfection from the first bite, crispy and hot, the batter studded with potato pieces and the inside loaded with cheese.

You’re also too hungry to bother making conversation at first, but after a few more bites you glance over at Yoongi, and your heart sinks all over again. You really do feel bad, and then the words are leaving your mouth before you can stop them.

“I’m sorry,” you murmur with your mouth full. “That you didn’t win.”

He makes a face as he chews. “We already agreed I wouldn’t have been happy even if I won, right? So it doesn’t really matter.”

You roll your eyes, unconvinced. “It’s okay to have feelings, you know. You’re allowed to be upset.”

Yoongi just shrugs, but he can’t quite meet your gaze. “It’s whatever.” You take another bite as he continues. “If I’m gonna win a Grammy, I want it to be for something that’s all mine anyway.”

The sentence surprises you, and you blink back at him. “You’re going to release your own stuff?”

As if he instantly regrets bringing it up, his face reddens a little, his expression twisting into an unsure grimace. “Ahh… I don’t know, probably not. People know me as a producer. I don’t know that anyone would actually listen to it.”

“I would,” you say without even really thinking, and his eyes widen. “You know,” you continue quickly, adopting a fake-serious tone. “Since I work in the music industry. Strictly business.”

A small smile plays at the corner of his mouth, and you find yourself relieved to see it. “I appreciate that.”

You’re also desperately curious, wondering if he’ll say more about his own music, but he goes quiet again. Given the night he’s had, you don’t exactly want to push it.

Taking the final bite of your hot dog and mourning the loss, you stack your skewer and paper tray on top of Yoongi’s, then get to your feet to toss them in the nearest trash can. When you return to the table, you smack your palms decisively against it.

“Come on. I think the circumstances call for some binge drinking.”

Your first stop is tucked into two seats at a neighboring dive bar, alive and roaring with enough ambient conversation that you have to speak fairly loudly to be heard over the noise. The bar in the center of the room is wrapped around a small open kitchen, where you watch the line cooks hustle to steam, grill, and fry what seems like a never-ending rush of food orders.

You and Yoongi stick to soju, pouring each other shot after shot. On the first one, he tilts his full glass toward you, and you knock yours against it.

“To losing,” he toasts, and you can’t help laughing as you tip your head back to drink. He’s smirking as he swallows his down, then pours you another. “Hey, maybe Jungkook will throw me a commiseration party when we get back.”

You grimace automatically at the name as you take the bottle from him to fill his glass up, and Yoongi doesn’t miss it. “Trouble in paradise?”

With a roll of your eyes, you determine that you need to be drunker for this. You take your shot, then instantly hold your glass out for Yoongi to pour another before he even gets to his. He obliges, and you throw it back immediately. The bottom of your glass hits the bar with a loud thud.

“I kinda… freaked out on him. Right before we left.”

Yoongi’s eyebrow lifts, questioning, as he drinks. “Any reason?” he prompts when he’s finished.

“Yes,” you answer stubbornly, tapping at the rim of your empty glass. He fills you up again, and you return the favor to finish the bottle. Yoongi motions to the bartender for another as you down your shot and steel yourself.

“You don’t have to tell me,” he offers.

“Don’t you want to hear that you were right?”

He shrugs like he can’t argue. “I mean, always.”

“Well for one, he asked if anything was going on between you and me.” You glance over to see Yoongi’s eyes widen slightly as he drinks. “I said no.”

“Uh huh.”

“And then he was like, ‘Good, I’m glad I don’t have to tell you to raise your standards.’”

Yoongi is clearly trying to keep his expression neutral, but it’s a losing battle. You can see the way his shoulders are starting to shake, and then he finally caves in, his palm smacking flat against the bar as he really laughs. “Wow,” he eventually recovers enough to huff, and you reach for the fresh soju bottle that’s been dropped off. “He really just said it.”

“Mm-hmm,” you intone, filling his glass and then handing the bottle back. Yoongi’s still chuckling a little as he pours your drink before taking his own, and you continue. “And then, I don’t know, there was some other stuff, and I was just like… oh fuck.”

“Because you realized he’s in love with you.”

You sigh dejectedly into your soju. “I’m so stupid.”

“Nah,” Yoongi shakes his head, reaching for your glass once you’ve emptied it again. “You wanted to avoid an inconvenient truth. Just makes you human.”

There’s a pause as you take the bottle to pour his drink, and then his next words nearly make you choke as you throw back yours. “You should date Jungkook.”

You’re sure you must look entirely dumbfounded as you stare at him. “What?”

“What?” he retorts, like he hasn’t said anything shocking. “He’d be good for you.”

For a long moment, neither of you speak as you regard him. You finally shake your head, nudging your empty glass toward him until he gets the memo. “Don’t say shit like that,” you mutter under your breath, and you’re not sure if he hears it over the din of the bar.

“Besides,” you continue as you snatch the soju out of his hands to pour his drink, “I’ve tried dating a coworker before. It’s a bad idea.”

“Sounds like a good story.”

“It’s not, really,” you murmur, staring down at the liquid in your glass. “My last job I was a waitress.”

“Mm,” Yoongi interrupts with a hum as he takes his shot. “Waitress. I was close.”

You pour him another, mostly to keep him quiet. “Yeah yeah, you’re very fucking perceptive. Anyway, I dated another server for a couple years. He ended up cheating on me with one of the hostesses, but I was honestly kinda tired of him, so I was glad to end it.” You hear Yoongi snort a little at your fairly heartless admission. “But then I walked in on them fucking in the walk-in, and it put me in a bad mood. Long story short, I ended up throwing a drink on a customer and they had to let me go.”

“Christ,” he laughs, pausing for a moment to fully take in your words. “And now you’re a pain in my ass.”

You roll your eyes as you motion for another soju bottle. “Correct.”

“Sounds like your ex was an idiot.” You glance over to find Yoongi already looking at you. “I mean, in the walk-in is just… nasty.”

“That’s what I said!” Your mouth pulls up at the corners as you try to suppress a giggle. “I don’t think we can really judge anybody though.”

Yoongi blinks, staring blankly into the middle distance. “That conference room trash can condom still haunts me.”

With a loud laugh, you bury your face in your hands, and you can feel your cheeks burning from alcohol and embarrassment. You peer between your fingers as Yoongi sets down a fresh shot for you, and you gladly take it.

“People are stupid,” he remarks wisely. “That’s why I don’t date.” You quirk an eyebrow as he passes you the bottle.

“What, a prize like you?” you deadpan. “You just fuck people in bar bathrooms like a well-adjusted human?”

“Yeah,” he admits with a shrug. “So. Wanna check this one out?”

Your mouth drops open in disbelief, and you immediately smack him on the arm. He nearly spills his drink from laughter, and you can’t keep yourself from laughing a little, too. “I already gave it to you this morning, you freak.”

“Come on,” Yoongi’s voice is teasing, and he bumps his shoulder against yours when he leans in closer. “I had a hard night.”

Pouring him another drink is your only distraction, and you do it with the utmost focus. “This dress is a rental.”

“I can pay for it.” The heat of his breath ghosts over your collarbone as he answers. You shove the bottle hard into his chest, and he takes the cue to fill your glass again, still smirking as he pulls away.

“First,” you say, sounding more confident than you feel, especially with the way your pulse has started to quicken. Your expression is deadly serious as you turn to stare into Yoongi’s eyes and he stares right back. “You have to prove that you can keep up.”

When you swallow your shot easily to punctuate the dare, a look flashes over Yoongi’s face like he’s impressed, and then he follows your lead.

After a few more bottles, the bar is so crowded and so loud that you can hardly hear yourselves think, and you stumble out of it and into the next place you see, and then the next, and then the next. All bets are off tonight, and you’re not about to tell Yoongi that he can’t get fucking trashed considering he just lost at the fucking Grammys. You figure you’ll be able to sleep off your hangovers on the stupidly long flight home tomorrow.

With each stop, Yoongi’s mood seems to improve a little. He eventually drinks enough that his suit jacket and tie come off, and they end up draped over your shoulders, despite your loud protests that you don’t need any more responsibilities. With the sleeves of his white button-down pushed up, it gets increasingly hard to divert your attention away from his hands and the muscles in his forearms, especially as you get progressively drunker and drunker.

Yoongi’s palm brushes over the small of your back as you make your way out of the last place, his touch warm even through the velvet of your dress.

“I know it was your personal nightmare,” he murmurs, words slurring together slightly, “but I really am glad you came on this trip. I mean it,” he insists when you shoot him a look. “I would be fucking insufferable if I was alone tonight. And I definitely would’ve punched that label guy in the face.”

You exhale a laugh and nearly fall over in your heels, and Yoongi’s hand slips to your waist to keep you upright. “He deserved it.” You lean into him, not entirely for balance, and you can feel it when he shrugs.

“Sorry you didn’t get to meet Kendrick.”

The glow of the various open-late establishments and the glitter of the pavement under your feet are all beautiful, especially in your current state, and the night air is still and warm. As you approach the next building and are met with the dull thud of music, your eyes go wide.

“Oh, I just figured out how you can make it up to me.”

The noraebang is surprisingly busy given that it’s a Sunday night, but you’re still able to book a room, and you giggle your thanks as Yoongi opens his wallet to pay the hourly rate like it’s nothing. The two of you work your way through more bottles of beer and soju, and when you start up the karaoke and teasingly pick the HEIZE song he produced, you’re surprised that he actually joins you.

Yoongi must be able to read the expression on your face, because he smirks mid-song. “Let the record show that I am actually a very fun drunk.”

And he is. You sing dramatically and loudly, not caring if you hit the notes, jumping and dancing and occasionally dropping passionately to your knees before dissolving into laughter. At first you monopolize the controller, but after you force a third Kendrick song on him Yoongi gestures for it, and you begrudgingly hand it over.

Crossing the room, you kneel down to dig through the provided box of props, immediately spotting and slipping on a cat-eared headband. You glance up at the screen, eyes widening as you realize he’s searching through Epik High songs. “Do Love Love Love!”

When you look back at him, Yoongi is squinting at you, laughing a little at your new set of ears. “What the fuck do you know about Epik High?”

“What do you mean what the fuck do I know?” you snap back. “I love them! I should be asking you that question, Mr. ‘I don’t listen to music’!”

His mouth pulls into a grin, his tongue toying at the inside of his cheek. “I have a few exceptions, alright?”

Still knelt down, you flop sideways onto the floor when he selects Born Hater. “Ugh, I’m too drunk to say that many words.”

“I got this,” Yoongi reassures you, flipping his microphone coolly with one hand as he gets to his feet. You can’t help giggling dumbly from your spot on the ground as you drunkenly prop your feet on the booth and reach up to pull your high heels off.

If there’s one thing tonight has taught you, it’s that Yoongi has a really good voice, even raw and live and drunk as hell. You don’t know why it surprises you, but it does. To you, performing seems like a different world from writing and producing tracks, but he does it just as effortlessly, with no trace of the anxiety you’ve seen grip him in a crowded room. The passion in the way he growls and gasps out lyrics, even just in the way he moves, it’s all undeniable and exhilarating to watch. He raps like he has nothing left to lose, mouth pulled into a snarl, occasionally reaching up to push his sweaty hair back off his forehead.

You can only gaze up at him, awestruck, wondering how many different versions of Min Yoongi you have left to discover until you hit the bottom.

The two of you trade the controller back and forth until every bottle on the table is empty, until the words blur on the screen, until Yoongi flops over to lay down in the booth with his head hanging off the edge, clearly exhausted. “No more,” he groans. “I’m so tired. And so drunk.”

Hovering above him, you pry the controller from his grip with a smile, slipping the cat ears onto his head for an even exchange. And then you get an idea.

“Last song!” you assure him as you type, and he groans even louder when Cat & Dog starts to play.

“God, this song is terrible,” Yoongi complains, but you’re singing too loud to care about his critiques.

With a severe amount of effort, he pulls himself to a sitting position, and you kneel down in front of him, miming cat paws with your hands and wiggling your hips. “I didn’t know you were into petplay,” he deadpans, and you stick your tongue out, determined not to let him ruin your fun.

You get to your feet and turn toward the screen as the second chorus finishes, yelling over your shoulder, “This is my favorite part!”

“Feel like Cinderella naega byeonae—”

When Yoongi’s voice suddenly reverberates from the other microphone, you almost drop yours. You whip around in complete disbelief. He’s on his feet and moving towards you as he continues the rap verse, the inarguable best part, with a renewed cocky energy. And you have to admit, he’s putting Yeonjun to shame.

“What the fuck!” you practically scream, but he just keeps going.

Seized by full-body drunk laughter, you stumble forward and nearly fall over, knocking into his chest. Though Yoongi’s reflexes are a little delayed, he still manages to right you without missing a word, one arm hooking around your waist. You swallow hard as you suddenly find yourself intimately close to the broad sweep of his collarbone, exposed between the top buttons of his shirt that came undone at some point during your debaucherous evening.

Fumbling for your microphone, you make it back to reality in time for the final chorus, only to fall entirely to pieces when Yoongi starts barking at full volume to match the outro. You can’t take it, and he’s not fast enough to keep you upright, so you drop straight down to the floor on hands and knees, laughing so hard it feels like your lungs might give out.

The microphone rolls dejectedly out of your grasp as you flop over onto your back, and you scrub your hands down your face, trying desperately to catch your breath as the song fades out.

“That was the best thing I’ve ever seen in my whole life,” you mumble into your palms. You uncover your face to look up at Yoongi, only to find him laughing down at you, still wearing the fucking cat headband. “I thought you hated that song.”

He rolls his eyes despite his smile. “Yeah, well, it was also stuck in my head for like a week after you played it that one night.”

You sit up with a dramatic glare. “Oh, you mean the night you stole my fucking keys?”

A proud smirk flickers over his mouth. “You know, I am sorry about that. Or at least sorry I couldn’t see the look on your face when you realized.” He tosses his microphone onto the booth bench next to his abandoned suit jacket, then reaches down with both hands to pull you to your feet. It belatedly occurs to you that you might’ve left his tie at the last bar, but you’re too drunk to give it another thought.

“I hate you so much,” you say, though you can’t quite keep your expression serious. “Fuck, I should’ve taken a video. Could’ve used it for blackmail.”

Yoongi’s voice is lower when he speaks again, and you’re suddenly very aware of how close to you he is, the fact that his hands are still closed over yours. “Guess you’re the only one who’ll ever know.”

“Mmm,” you hum, swaying a little where you stand. His palms slip to your waist to keep you steady as you blink up at him, and your hands flatten against his chest, your fingertips tracing over the buttons of his shirt. “You look good in cat ears.”

“Shut up,” Yoongi murmurs, and then his mouth is on yours.

Your hands reach up to tangle in his long dark hair, knocking the headband to the floor, and with the amount of alcohol currently coursing through your system, you don’t have a single inhibition left in you. You kiss Yoongi like you can’t fucking breathe without him.

He pulls you as close as he can, until your bodies are flush all the way down, and you don’t ever want it to be any other way. You want it just like this, sucking and nibbling at his bottom lip until his tongue licks your mouth open and you groan into him. Just like this: his palms moving down to grab your ass unapologetically, your grip on his hair tightening, even your teeth knocking together with how drunk and desperate you are for each other. Just like this: two stupid, wildly flawed humans in black tie attire, making out in a Ktown noraebang at two in the morning on a Monday.

The sound of the door opening might as well be a gunshot for how loud it feels, and you just barely manage to jump apart as an employee pokes their head in.

“Hey, we’re closing in five.”

You don’t realize you’re not breathing until you hear the door click shut again, and your gasp for air quickly turns into an overwhelmed, embarrassed laugh. Yoongi groans drunkenly, running a hand through his hair, then sighs out a long exhale, like he’s trying to calm down.

“Come on,” you giggle, still close enough to tug playfully at one of his belt loops. “Let’s get out of here.”

Thankfully a cab is still easy to flag down even this late. The two of you manage to pour yourselves into the backseat and give the driver the name of the hotel. It’s not a terribly long drive, and you watch wide-eyed out the window as the sprawl of Los Angeles rushes by, painted in neon glow and the amber wash of streetlights.

Yoongi slumps against you, and he goes quiet for so long you think he might be asleep. When he finally shifts again, he presses his face into your shoulder with a noise of discomfort, and you’re suddenly worried he might be silent for a very different reason.

“Yoongi,” you murmur, trying to keep your voice low. “Don’t puke in the cab.”

“Stupid,” he responds, and you figure he must not be doing that bad if he can still talk.

You run your fingers through the soft, dark strands of his hair, admiring the texture, the way it’s nearly long enough now to graze his shoulders. “What’s stupid?”

“I’m—” he tries, but the car dips over a pothole, and he’s talking so quietly you lose the rest.

“You’re what?”

It’s quiet for a moment, save for the click of the turn signal.

“In love with you.”

His words stun you where you sit, and you have no idea what to do, say, think. You just keep twining your fingers through his hair, like you’re stuck on auto-pilot, distantly aware that every alarm bell in your inebriated brain is going off. It feels like way too much to try and process any of it right now. It feels like a trap.

“We can talk about this tomorrow,” you finally answer. Yoongi just stays slumped against you, and he doesn’t say another word.

The cab drops you off at the hotel, and it’s quiet between the two of you as you get him up to the room. You feel like you’re watching yourself from a distance, and it’s like your brain isn’t processing any of this as really happening, as if to keep you from thinking too hard about the big picture. From what it all could mean.

In the bathroom, you stand over the sink as you lend Yoongi your makeup remover and you both brush your teeth.

“Contacts,” you remind him through a mouthful of toothpaste when he spits out the last of his, and he nods sleepily.

“You don’t have to… administrate me all the time,” Yoongi slurs as he carefully slips one lens and then the other out of his eyes.

You spit out your own toothpaste, then sigh as you rinse the sink clean. “Well, you’re very drunk, and it’s my fault.”

“It was fun,” he says quietly, fumbling the case closed.

“It was,” you echo. “Really.” 

The bathroom door is half-open on its sliding track, and you glance up in the mirror to see Yoongi hovering in the threshold, looking back at you as you wipe away stray traces of mascara from under your eyes. You think he’s going to leave, but then he steps in behind you again, and you feel his hand slide up the small of your back to ease the zipper of your dress open.

Something in your heart twists as you stare down at the marble counter, and you can already tell this isn’t meant to be flirtatious. That thought is confirmed when you finally look up, only to find yourself left entirely alone.

With a small sigh, you slide the bathroom door shut, then flip the switch to turn on the fan. The white noise still doesn’t feel like enough, so you run the shower as well, then grab a plastic water bottle from the counter to chug. You retreat into the far corner with your phone, scrolling until you find the name of the only person who can possibly help you right now.

“Hey babe,” Jimin answers on the third ring. “I’m at rehearsal so I really can’t chat. You good?”

“Yoongi said he loves me,” you answer immediately, and the reality of it hits you impossibly hard as soon as you say it out loud.

“Uh-oh.”

“But,” you lean back until your head knocks against the wall. “He’s drunk as shit. I— we are drunk as shit.”

There’s a pause, and you swear you hear Jimin laugh a little under his breath. “He really said it, huh?”

“Yes, Jimin,” you groan. “In love.”

“And?”

You grimace at the flippant response from your supposed best friend. “What do you mean and?! What the fuck am I supposed to do?”

“Well, that depends,” Jimin starts.

“On?” you snap, impatient.

“Have you realized you’re in love with him yet? ‘Cause if I have to hear you babble on about this man for another week without piecing it together, I really might lose it.”

His words actually make your stomach churn. “Jimin!”

“I—” he sounds like he’s preparing to explain himself, but then he pauses, and his voice is quieter when he speaks again. “Fuck, I’m getting yelled at. I gotta go. Call me tomorrow.”

You want to scream at him to stay, to help, that he can’t just unravel you like this and then leave you to figure it out for yourself. “Mochi, I’m on the fucking plane tomorrow—”

“I’ll come over when you get home!” Jimin interrupts. “And then you can tell me the entire story of you two finally figuring out how to be normal humans with feelings.” You scoff at his biting remark, but he’s already talking over you. “You’re smart, you got this, I love you!”

You hear him blow a dramatic kiss into the speaker, and then the line goes dead.

The world spins around you as you stare helplessly at the silent black screen of your phone, and you can’t shove it all down anymore. It’s overwhelming, all of the things that you’re feeling in this moment, so much so that you can’t even identify what you feel. It’s just a giant, tangled mess, in your brain and in your heart. The tears spill out like you’ve been holding them in for weeks, hard and fast, until you can scarcely catch your breath. You scrub at the first few that roll down your cheeks, but they continue relentlessly, and you eventually give up and just let it all pour out.

You don’t know how long you stay like that, crying on the bathroom floor. You can’t even really explain why you’re crying, except that everything inside of you feels like too much to handle.

There’s a dull ache in your head by the time you finally manage to cry yourself dry, and then you peel yourself off the floor to slip out of your dress and shut off the shower. You pull on the tank top and sleep shorts you’d grabbed earlier from the bedroom, trying to avoid your swollen face in the mirror as you turn the lights out and shut the door behind you.

Yoongi has left the lamp on your bedside on, and you immediately flip it off to plunge the room into darkness, not wanting him to see you like this. He stirs slightly when you slip under the covers, and you can feel the mattress shift as he turns over.

Like it’s the most natural thing in the world, his arm slides over your stomach to pull your body flush to his, and his lips brush at the join of your neck and shoulder. As confusing as it should be, there’s something about the weight of him pressed into you that relaxes you, even through your current haze of emotion. You allow yourself to sink back against him, to breathe deeper, though your inhales are still a little shaky.

Yoongi’s rough voice in your ear pulls you up from the edge of sleep. “Did I fuck everything up?”

You sniff softly, and your own reply is barely more than a whisper. “No, Yoongi, it’s okay. Let’s just sleep."

As you hear him settle in beside you again, you make a promise that you’ll deal with the fallout tomorrow. You’ll figure out how you really feel, and how he does, and what you want, and what the hell you’re supposed to do about it all. But tonight, you just want this: to lay here with Yoongi and pretend your entire world isn’t about to change when you wake up.

chapter eight | masterlist | chapter ten

A/N: oh hiiiiii, super secret bonus author's note down here!!! just wanted to share that, now that we're officially through the grammys, that means we are down to just two more chapters left in the series!!! i held off confirming the full length of LDOMLT until we got to this point (and honestly i could've easily split this into two chapters but i am NICE and i did not give you the WORST CLIFFHANGER OF ALL TIME LMAO) - but now i'm sure. chapter 11 will be the final one. gonna do my best to get 10 and 11 up before end of year, or by very early 2023 at the latest!!! and thank u, as always, for reading 💜💜💜

[strwberri-milk]

Can i request friends wuth benefits to lovers with kaeya? At first it was just for sex but after a while, they both slowly fell for eachother<3 (this was based on a cai bot💀)

The two of you sort of just fell into the relationship. It wasn't going to be anything special and the two of you trusted the other person enough to know that the secret would be safe between the two of you.

However, you couldn't help but feel more for Kaeya. How couldn't you when he was so tender with you sometimes, the sweet words that could sometimes slip past his lips, or the way that he would stay some nights if you were having a bad day.

You trusted him a lot, and easily you fell in love with him. Kaeya on the other hand seemed to be sticking to the terms of your relationship easily. He didn't betray the feelings he was also hiding for you, only letting himself indulge in the fantasy if you fell asleep after another rendevous and kissing your cheek softly before slipping away.

He started pulling back from you, something you thought you were grateful for because it meant that you didn't have to confront your feelings for him. Each day that passed you thought was another day that let your feelings push back, ignoring the dull ache in your chest that reminded you how much you missed him any time you thought you saw him in passing.

Kaeya was no better, you constantly running around in his mind as he tried to convince himself that this was the best course of action. You two had to stay apart unless he wanted things to be ruined. His body craved your touch and the more he had to be without it, the emptier he felt.

It was after yet another sleepless night that Kaeya decided he just had to tell you how he felt. He knocked on your door late at night, praying you'd be asleep so he could avoid it for another night. Unluckily for him, you'd also been unable to sleep thanks to thinking about him, opening the door in a bedraggled state that he just wanted to hold close to him for the rest of time.

"i love you."

He said the words so easily it terrified him, eye widening as he covered his mouth in disbelief. You mirrored his expression, not even bothering to invite him in with how shocked you were.

"What?"

"I love you. And I don't know why it took me this long to realise it, but now I'm here, on your doorstep, confessing when I didn't even know that's what I set out to do."

You stay quiet, not sure what to say. After a second he laughs awkwardly, beginning to turn with a wry grin.

"I don't know what I expected. I just...I guess that you at least deserve an explanation for why I stopped talking to you. That's all."

Kaeya leaves, or tries to. You grab his wrist, tugging so sharply it makes him yelp as you hug him tightly. Like him, you had no idea what to say so you hoped that this would suffice for now.

When you feel him press a kiss to your hair you know it would, holding him until the sun came up for the first time in a long time.

[leonenjoyer69]

I hope you don't mind this ask, but I'm in a huge Jekyll and Hyde hyperfixation rn (both TGS and OG novella) and I saw a post from you about how "Cotard's Solution" fits his Vibe; did you ever go on a ramble of Will Wood songs that fit Jekyll/Hyde? I'd love to hear them! I'm usually either an emo rock or hyperpop fan but I'd love to dip my toes into more Will Wood ever since my friends have shown me his songs :] I hope this isn't too much of an ask!

OF COURSE I DON'T MIND HEHEHE >:3 (also I'm so so sorry I kept forgetting about this 💀 BUT I'VE FINALLY DONE IT), I did originally connect a bunch of will wood songs to TGS characters in this post, and then I talked a bit about my Jekyll and Hyde playlist here (tho these are all various artists and Chonny Jash, not will wood, still a good collection of songs imo! Especially if you like emo rock and Hyper pop!!), but I would gladly go into detail about a bunch of Will Wood songs and how I connect them to TGS/J&H once more >:3

I LOVE WILL WOOD I'M SO NORMAL (also if there's any specific song from that first post, the honorable mentions in this, or my playlist that anyone wants an explanation for, just ask, bc idrk off the top of my head what to explain lmao, and if I have the thinking capacity to, I love explaining my reasoning!! :3)

OKAY OKAY, I'm probably not gonna hit many songs, but I'll try to get a few :3 I usually don't do these this in depth and I don't wanna make it too horribly long 💀

FIRST UP, A FRESH ONE I HAVEN'T TALKED ABOUT (bc apparently it hasn't been on my main playlist... I'm kinda slow sometimes): SKELETON APPRECIATION DAY

HEAR ME OUT, the "bones" could be interpreted as Hyde, or just all of Jekyll's hidden parts-- anything that isn't the perfect gentleman he prefers to show. And like!!! The lyrics can be connected so easily!! "While my cracking backbone lacks but backs up my false starts" transformation, next.

"All nightmares start as dreams and I hear my subconscious screaming" I don't even feel like I gotta say anything on that one.

"All love starts as a scheme, So wake me up, I'm tired of sleeping" bro literally didn't believe Lanyon loved him, the 'waking up' could be the first transformation.

And like!! The chorus!! "Bones, bones, bones, let me see your bones / Well, I don't wanna know if the feeling follows home /Bones, bones, bones, hell, we're all alone / If I come home, baby, will you show your bones?" Hell, I can see this as Jekyll asking (or at least wishing for) Lanyon to be more vulnerable, but!! Better yet, Lanyon asking/wishing that of Jekyll, since he knows how Jekyll just tends to cover everything up.

Idk, maybe I'm just talkin outta my ass, but I think this is really up there on my list of TGS-able Will Wood songs.

NEXT (another fresh song I haven't rambled about before): HALF-DECADE HANGOVER

I LOVE THIS SONG SM!!! I EAT IT UP EVERY TIME IT COMES ON!! PROBABLY MY FAV WILL WOOD SONG RN!!

Anyways, this song is so so soooo angstily Jekyll coded, let's go straight to the lyrics >:3

"Wonder how I didn't die / This is not my life. I'm no survivor, I only happened to survive" right out the gate, first lines. Bro literally drank chemicals and now shares half his life with an entirely different consciousness.

"Down the days I have left, with one eye open"- could be him drinking the potion, with the one eye open being only half of him--"That was me screaming "Bitch, I am reality" / And stumbling off to lose myself in a brown paper bag cause me and / Sweet Evan Williams got a date down on Avenue / A staving shakes scraping change till daybreak / Turns out anyone can eat out the trash / Then wake up on the freeway mid-crash" could literally just be Hyde doing stupid shit and Henry regaining control 'mid-crash', ie when problems arise because of either of them tbh.

And the chorus!!! "Cause I was drunk when I made my bed / Now with a half-decade hangover I lay down in it /What have I done? Don't know what I've said / It's a half-decade hangover, either this, in jail, or dead / It's a half-decade hangover, Jesus Christ my aching head" bro was at his worst when he made that potion, and now he's stuck with the consequences. And the "this, in jail, or dead" those are the only options he thinks he has to deal with Hyde now!!

"Tripped on a couple steps, and collapsed on the stairs / Broke my neck on the backs of those who I've hurt and scared" my guy has been lying to everyone around him for years, but now everythings falling apart and it's coming back to bite him in the ass so hard now.

LAST LYRIC BC AT THIS RATE I'LL THROW THE WHOLE SONG IN-- "Sober, but still so much still hangs over / Please believe me when I say I poured my whole past down the drain / Say that a second chance is a chance I can take" first of all, the poured my whole past down the drain could be him literally giving up the man he was and taking the potion, OR, him dumping all the potions in that one scene, teehee. Secondly, the second chance part and the lines that follow in the song, totally him at Lanyon.

Next: OUTLIARS AND HYPPOCRATES

This one to me is a very Hyde song, specifically him talking to Jekyll.

"Cause I doubt that you would even if you could change / You think it makes you special, but it makes you strange / I doubt that you would even if you could change / The things that make you special are the things that make you strange" could be Hyde tellin Jekyll that he wouldn't get rid of him, even if he could, because it makes Jekyll fell better about his "lonely prince" persona, as Jasper put it lmao.

"I am the shadows cast aside by gallows, and you the red-hot sky" I just really like thinking about this line with them bc ✨imagery✨. Like, shadow Hyde, check. Gallows? Hell yeah. Red-hot sky? We got color AND, by proxy, sun and moon references, Let's go 🗣️

"You become immune to my toxic fumes / My dose-dependent presence in your life / It's all subjective, all due respect to the collective mind" I mean like. Toxic looking green potion. 'Collective mind', they're both parts of the same guy.

"Horrified at the sight of my reflection in your eyes, I don't belong there" mmmmm bodyswap mishaps 🤤

"Well, it's your conclusions that make mine delusions, so I make you sane / You can thank me later" idk how to explain it but the way this is said just gives major Hyde vibes, you get it, right chat?

"Who'd want to belong to anyone? (Ay, ay, ay, ay) I mean, what do people even do? / So, if you love me, let me let you go, my love (ay, ay, ay, ay), so I can be no one" him and his little crush/loathing on Lanyon, the silly

Next!!: MR CAPGRAS ENCOUNTERS A SECONDHAND VANITY

Literally the Jekyll and Hyde song ever. I mean, it starts with "you're trying to replace yourself" 💀

"Carving out a fact from a reckoning! /Beckoning your back, skin sagging off its skeleton / Levitating off the ground / Is another man wearing your face" LIKE DO I EVEN GOTTA SAY ANYTHING? This whole song is about false identities 😭

"All the other false identities / Remedies or enemies to mitigate your memories / Shuddered at what they found / When they stripped away the grace" like...

"Damn, I thought you're not your imposter / You're so sure you're not gonna get caught / Dead in your own skin / But you didn't choose what you were born in" this song gives big vibes for chapter 14 and 15, with the constant switching and fear of identity reveal and such.

"What you feel and what you do, are those things really you? / And if not, then what is? (Never, never, never) / So, my God, what's wrong with you? / And I'm still asking who that is" I really like thinking about this part as Lanyon asking Jekyll those things, even without an identity reveal! Since he puts up this gentleman facade and hides everything, Lanyon barely knows who Jekyll is.

"You'll never take me alive, baby (this is not enough) / You'll never take me alive (this is not enough to prove it yet) / You'll never take me, you'll never take me, you better pray that I die (no, I need to hit the bottom)" This part feels like a simultaneous Hyde and Jekyll part, with Jekyll being the parenthesised parts. Hyde being all cocky n shit while Jekyll tries to figure things out or something, idk lmao running low on explanation brain cells.

Honorable mentions that I just don't feel like explaining in depth rn, but probably could!!

The Song With 5 Names- very Jekyll coded

Dr Sunshine is Dead- kinda Jekyll coded, but VERY Hyde coded

2econd 2ight 2eer- the Hyde song ever

6up 5oh Copout- another mega Hyde song, if I could animate it would be over for y'all

Against The Kitchen Floor- Jekyll and Lanyon, these gay people make me upset

Cicada Days- also very Jekyll and Lanyon :(

Hand Me My Shovel!- Jekyll coded, I like to think of him making the potion

Basically, 90% of Will Woods discography can be spun to fit these silly characters. I love Will Wood guys :3 sometimes I wish I could verbally ramble about this kinda stuff, but also words are hard (and it makes me feel annoying lmao) 💔💔 but anyways!!! Thank you for the ask! I hope Will Wood consumes you just as well as it has most of the TGS fandom :3 <333

[not-goldy]

I always felt Vmin supporters were better then Tkk. They aren't & this enlistment has proved it. Watching Vmin & TK supporters make tweets saying they hope Vmin use the buddy system or that they were confident they would go together, writing their war romance novels & fanart. Same with Tkk. Tweets saying they hope Tk use the buddy system or clinging to something young Tae said about enlisting with Jk. Now that Jikook are, Vmin & Tkk changed their story. Saying this proves Jikook aren't real, cause they would face consequences if they ever came out, for enlisting as undercover queer men using their companion program.

Now wait a minute. Does this mean Tkk & Vmin supporters are publicly announcing they think Vmin & Tk are not romantically involved, since they wanted them to enlist together? This argument would apply to Tk & Vmin, too. So I'm just wondering, if you ship Vmin & Tk romantically in the first place, by this logic you are claiming about Jikook, then why were you praying for them to enlist together in the first place then, then threw a tantrum and cried foul, when they didn't? Hmnnn ?? See using this logic NOW that Jikook enlisted, isn't the gotcha Vmin & Tkk are making it out to be. You either exposed yourself not thinking Vmin and TK are actually romantically involved, cause you yourselves wanted them to enlist together or that you are all pathetic, bitter hypocites lying about consequences for Jikook, to justify your favs not enlisting, cause you mad. So which is it?

BTW, the odds of Jikook ever coming out, is very slim anyways. At least while in BTS, if ever. So maybe if they knew they were never coming out, they did it and took the risk to still be together. And you can't make up lies about Jikook's future and what will happen, cause your dreams got shattered. Want me to pull up your dirty fics about TK in military screwing on cots or your Vmin fanart holding hands in the military bathroom. You

Vmin is one of my favorite ships go easy😔

Jikook just blew them off the the best friends chart with this military service stunt and VMin have lost the bragging rights about being true soulmates in BTS😔

I'm happy for Jikook but I'm low key experiencing heartbreak when I see people make fun of vmin😢

I would love to read the VMin in military fanfic😔

Happy for Jikook😙

Sad for vmin😔

Happy 🤭

Sad😭😭😭😭😭😭

I'm lowkey going through it so take it easy on vmin mi beg yuh💀

I can't mourn Tuktuk they never had legs to stand on in the first place 🥴

But VMIN? There was a real chance there they could have served together if Jikook weren't a couple😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

Couples trump besties and this is just Jikook bullying all other ships in BTS 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

And I'm guilty for harboring wishful romantic thoughts about VMIN too so I can't even judge anyone🥴

My guilty fics are the ones where V pines Jimin and eventually Jimin chooses him🥲

Don't worry I have my clown suit ironed

I know they are best friends but come on there's something visually pleasing seeing them together

They talk the big friendship talk but sometimes it feels they don't walk the talk cos how are you two soulmates and best friends but aren't the ones doing the buddy program together?????????????????

THE MATHS AINT MATHING VMIN MAKE IT MAKE SENSE😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

The only explanation to why VMin aren't serving together is that Jikook are dating period. Jimin protects V more than any member in BTS he could have insisted V serve with him so he protects him. Even better, they could have protected eachother😭

Why is Jimin serving with Jungkook they aren't even best friends 🤡

Vmin is easily defined as the soul mates, Tae Kook are defined as the crime partners and some how they always skirt around what Jikook are- are they best friends too? If they are best friends then VMin can't be the best friends of the group cos Jimin can only have one best friend out of all his friends-

And if Jikook are best friends too then we can all agree they are the bestest friends out of the best friends group- yet that's not the narrative right? No, cos it's Jikook hate eachother, they fake their friendship for the cameras, they aren't even that close, FAN SERVICE, they never interact online therefore they are not even friends and my personal fav- THEY ARE JUST FRIENDS.

Cool. Just friends. VMIN ARE FRIENDS TOO WHY ARE THEY NOT SERVING TOGETHER? THATS WHAT FRIENDS DO RIGHT? SAME AGE CALL THEMSELVES SOULMATES AND CHINGUS SWEAR UP AMD DOWN THEY ARE ALWAYS THERE FOR EACH OTHER- WHICH IS TRUE- BUT WHY THE FUCK ARE THEY NOT SERVING?🤡

I'm sorry but Jikook has ended VMIN.

They ended Tae Kook 2017.

At the end of the day, couples trump besties🥲

Vmin can cuddle up all they want, Tae Kook can buddy up all they want JIKOOK WILL ALWAYS PUT THEIR RELATIONSHIP NEEDS FIRST. THEY CAN NEVER AND WILL NEVER INVALIDATE JIKOOK.

WE'VE EARNED THAT BRAGGING RIGHT RIGHT HERE RIGHT NOW

When we tell insecure shippers not to sweat the side friendships or assume jikook are in a relationship with those side friends they don't understand.

JIKOOK DO HAVE A MEANINGFUL RELATIONSHIP

THE MOST MEANINGFUL RELATIONSHIP OUT OF ALL BTS KNOCKING VMIN OFF THAT VERY HIGH PEDESTAL THEY'VE PLACED THEMSELVES ON

IF YOUR SHIP IS REAL LET THEM SERVE TOGETHER AND LETS SEE

LET THEM THEY CAN'T DIVIDE OUR LOVE AND LETS SEE

LET THEM STANDING NEXT TO YOU AND LETS SEE

All that said, am I going to stop shipping Vmin??

Nope. Never

I'm addicted to my own fantasies about them to let Jikook proving yet again that they are a couple deter me from wishing silently for a vmin French kiss on screen🥲

[04tenno]

Yeah. It’s a bit of an interesting part of his character when you stand back and try to unravel it. But hitting women is a quick way to turn a character unlikeable.

Before getting into this series, I was not expecting well… any of this. I was genuinely believing it was going to be the same as other masculine media that seeks to uphold that very masculinity in very off putting ways. The kind where every guy is obnoxiously straight. Really took me by surprise to see Kiryu who’s crazy about toy cars, Yokoyama depicts him as a virgin, he lacks social skills (me too, king) and he’s still really cool. Majima is uh, everything about him. Ichiban needs no explanation. And Shinada is a sexual character who sometimes says something kind of perverted, yet hes got a lot of depth, a real golden retriever attitude, and has a lot of kind things to say about sex workers. Normally, I can’t stand the lovable pervert trope, but Shinada feels so different from that. I could stand here all month talking about just the surprising characters. The homoerotic subtext is something else 😭

I suppose I’ll be looking forward to the potential ask lmao. But it’s crazy how personally Mine took the stuff that happened when he went out with Daigo. Oh boy, I’ve made a few jokes about Nick and Daigo, but I’m wondering what you’ll have to say about them.

Wooooow. I noticed the pretty boy features, but didn’t know there were that many. The Dead Souls one sticks out to me a lot. Starting to really wonder if Yokoyama has a subconscious thing for GNC men. Do you have a picture of that man, btw?

I remember making a joke about Hayashi (while we were looking at the original Ishin) being a fruit to my friend and cousin which mortified them because it’s Hayashi. When I learned they switched it to Awano I was shell shocked and still kind of am💀

Baba and Zhao in that role really says a lot of course. Especially given how they already are in their own respective games. There’s some questionable behavior like Zhao’s excitement to see Ichiban nude if you choose that along with implying he’d want to get naked with him. A lot of things really, but there’s also an odd line from Baba and Zhao (although in his case it was being said about him) using the same word: horete. I only recently learned what that word can mean, and I’m still really curious about it and the scenes themselves. Seong-hui telling Ichiban that at the last minute just made me wonder “Why???” Baba though…

Japan liking 5 a lot makes sense. I remember seeing a popularity poll from around that time. The placements were pretty shocking.

Me neither! But I think that's one of the reasons I ended up giving the series a chance, because I'd read an article about how the series subverts traditional masculinity and that was one of the first things to get me interested.

I think before that I'd expressed that I was adamant about not getting into it, but I honestly have no memory of that, I just take my friend's word for it lol. Of course, there are also ways the series upholds traditional masculinity, but the characters are overall super refreshing.

With Shinada and Ichi, I especially love how those themes started to be explored in Y5 and were followed up in Y7 with Yokoyama having more to say and a better grasp on what he wanted to say. Of course, all of the protagonists (and even some other characters) have influenced Ichi's character in some way, but I was a fan of how big of a piece of the pie Shinada seems to have since we have yet to see him since.

And yeah! I don't think there's too much to conclusively say about Nick and Daigo, it's all the implication, but it's fun to connect the dots. Because I generally feel like the Champion District is a mix of Golden Gai and "Nicho," Shinjuku's hub of gay subculture.

At least that's the impression I get from the cluster of Bars Of A Certain Variety in the Champion District; I feel like if you're a regular there despite it being a "bad neighborhood," that probably says something about you. And of course Nick frequents Earth Angel, but Mine and Daigo's favorite bar is also located in the Champion District.

Well, of course some of Yokoyama's comments raise eyebrows, but in complete fairness he had basically nothing to do with the development of Dead Souls and I don't want to speculate too much. I'm a little split on DD as a character, but I'm trying to keep this "short" since I have a stream to get to, so here's DD and his actor Peter/Shinnosuke Ikehata (honestly slay):

Arguabiy Hayashi's always been like that too haha, but he and Awano definitely were Choices. Someone has to play Takeda though, right? I think all three make for entertaining villains at the very least, so they fit well in that regard.

Baba I honestly don't remember too well (though I remember him fondly!), because I missed Saejima's part in my friend's playthrough of Y5R when it came out and haven't gotten there myself, but of course when you have a bond like that it's noteworthy.

Zhao, on the other hand, I kind of honed in on him immediately even when Y7 was only out in Japanese, for sure. Since Ichi is pretty much canonically into men their interactions were a lot of fun to watch. Seong-hui does a fair amount of hinting, not just with Zhao but also the Florence Nightingale comparison with Nanba, right? But I think it's natural, because queer people somehow just find each other.

The usage of horeru I generally don't put too much stock into, at least by itself, though. I'd need to go back over the scenes to be sure, but usually when it means something, there are other clear indicators or it's worded in a really intense way.

Because I did go and compile a number of usages of the word by itself when KHHSubs found my post, and more often than not it wasn't romantic or anything by itself, and in some cases it would've been kind of alarming if it were. So a huge point in my updated post ended up being that it's never just the word by itself for Mine.

[eviltiddyprodnz]

I love how Mumbai and Goa would seem different countries as how Shivika have moved on to the next day while Rikara are still at the party. I skimmed that the last time but iss bar himmat karke pura dekhti hun 😭

Also, Veer is a mood and a creep for watching Shivika 24x7 (his laughs lmao, we're supposed to take him seriously?)

Every extra on this show is fake 😭 I know they bullied some crew member to act, like what is this. Omkara is shorter than Tej ?? 🧐

Omkara grabbing Gauri. Don't let her go!!! Run with her. I wish the couples on this show fell into this mess together 😭 it's a rare occurrence but it's always better to flop with someone.

Why did I skip this on my first watch. My poor birds got like 2 mins of total screentime and maybe 30 seconds of conversation 💀

I love how 80% of my first watch was for Shivika and one day I woke up and saw Rikara and now I sit through all these scenes again to find crumbs and cry about it. Oh wow it's bad for them.

I love how this ghostlady (veer' real wife apparently) gently held her hand out to Anika and the moment she held it started a weird hand pushing fight with her lmaooo.

Honestly is there a point to the Tia blindness plot or do they just skip explaining it? I don't think I've ever paid attention to it.

Noooo Gauri is about to jump in the trap my baby 😭💔. Since it's going to be stupid I'm muting it Gauri NOOOO. Aah much better on mute.

One thing about Omkara he's at least gentle with her post the nonsense he pulled pre Bareilly. I know the other brothers would've flipped 😭 Poor Gauri though 💔 it's okay

One thing about this show and me that has stayed consistent is my ears grating and my soul leaving my body everytime someone's says ishqbaaz. (also i just realised dadi quit talking to dadaji after episode 1 😹)

Soumya and Bhavya sitting together 💀 Also considering Rudra is already giving explanations to Shivaay to listen to both sides, he's clearly still an asshat my girl needs saving from. #howdoisaveherfromthescreen

Soumya is so #real.

WHY DO YOU LOVE HIM BHAVYA?!? eggsplain 🥚🥚🥚

I think one thing consistent about them is abruptness. Like isn't this random as hell. Like one day they woke up and decided Rudy marriage time. I wish they got a little privacy 😭

Shivaay said Khushi and we pan to Veer ofc who has superhero listening skills.

At least Veer is as observant as us. He knows he doesn't need to do something Anika will make an issue of and make Shivaay do. Time to count the poisoned notes!

Tejsasuma again. Weird how this show makes it terribly hard for anyone to redeem Pinky but Jhanvi gets a free pass for all the shit she pulls or is a part of. 💀 I know the fam has a soft spot for her but we need to let that #go.

Pandit is more professional than these idiots.

Omkara you should be the one hugging gauri. But hey dadi will do too.

How did no one see Tej setting up the puja stuff 💀 The way he could've said she's dead to him and ignored her like Shivaay ignored Pinky but nope, khurafaati dimaag hai inka, shanti se chain kahan miley. Kar diya shradh.

Big on Tej thinking he has any authority making decisions for Omkara. 💀

Hug my girl! Wow I think y'all could've given that poor girl something to say before cutting to Rudra eating a sandwich like someone just performed her last rites 😭

No way we cut to the scenes to listen to Sandwich calorie and recipe talks 💔

Rudy might not know a single thing about his fucking relationship but he's bang on about other people's 😹😭. Him saying his mom and dad still haven't begun the marriage part.

Poor Gauri has to cry every 2-3 business days.

The Pinky actress eats it up. Her saying Oh My Mata still sends it's soooo 😭❤️

Gauri crying in a room alone 😭

On the one hand I absolutely love the fact that Shivri have that thing where if he ensures her, she's calm. On the other hand I would've sorta traded it for a corn chip had I gotten a Rikara one. Also pls we know Shivaay is broken about this. Not the 5 minute conversation on this 😭

Not Anika saying he needs to take care of all this, give my man a break. Yes he's the wall or whatever but damn.

The first time we get to see Omkara put Sindoor on our girl 🧐

(also i wish y'all got at least some legal document signing paper ceremony 😭 or are we still running strong on the temple marriage)

The way Om was lulled out of dreamland by Anika.

for all the nonsense I'm typing here this scene means so much to them and so much to me. maybe more to me.

a very weird scene for me to confess my love for Shrenu but like they've replayed this scene a gajjilion times to the point where I'd be on my deathbed and remember it but it's so !!!! Like everytime I see her close her eyes I'm right there with her for the gajjilionth time. UGH i love her. Shrenu come get your forehead kiss.

he was kinda surprised to give back the plate too 😂

AAAH him wiping her tears

Anika is ME.

the way Bhavya might be the only one of them to get all of this pre wedding niceness before her 1st proper wedding. Had to go through a lot though 😭

Rudy dragging omkara for siding with Gauri 😂😭

how is Shivaay's back not breaking? Not only does he handle all the stress and hate of the family, he's the only one observant enough to see Bhavya tear up and the rest of the 4 are right there 💀

his mini faint will be a little bit of respite

If they have only one room in the house, where were these guys sleeping during the carnival episodes? 🧐

Watched this episode to her Omi Kumari Sharma. ❤️😂

It's kinda stupid how hopeful and wishful I get thinking about what Rikara and honestly all of this show could've been in 2021 when I know how it ended💀. Like watching them bicker a little, i would do with crumbs.

[king-maven-calore]

ayo as a poc, Mare’s poc status seems very iffy in my eyes idk 😭😭

To me it feels like Victoria rlly said “yk what I feel like avoiding some controversy” *vigorously tries to call Mare a poc without giving her any ethnic features or even mentioning it at all in the 1st book*

I had to read the RQ for school so no, I didn’t miss it, I took heavy annotations on it. Mare is honestly my least favorite character because of how WHITE she’s written from a poc standpoint.

It’s this very common thing with yt writers where they darken a characters skin tone and think that’s all it means to be a person of color. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t expect Victoria to make insightful commentary as she IS a white woman, and since it’s fantasy and our ideas of race in this world aren’t supposed to exist. But representation isn’t just “wow she also has dark skin” it’s more the features. Mare is consistently described as having Eurocentric features.

And then white people always try to talk over us like “oh well it doesn’t matter she’s just written that-“ like shush omfg. People calling Mare Latina is hella disrespectful 💀 like what the actual fuck Latin countries don’t even exist in their world. Her last name is fucking Barrow. Her middle name is Molly. That’s so European I had a seizure. Just randomly saying “yuh girlie this character is Latina” seems fucked up.

Not directed @ you but just in general this shit sucks because it gets us further and further away from actual helpful representation in media.

I get you're upset about this. Maybe you've read too much of this type of character and you're fed up with it. I feel you. I agree Mare's skin color being barely described in canon (it got better as the books went by, but it was too little too late🎵) when the Calore boys' skin color was mentioned every two sentences was not great. I don't think Mare was described as having Eurocentric features tho... she simply wasn't described all that much 🤷‍♀️

My personal take on white writers making characters random ethnicities in fantasy/sci-fi and that not having any relevance whatsoever on the plot is that I freaking love it. I find it refreshing, a good step toward diversity in fiction as long as they don't bring up real-life stereotypes into the page 🤡. Why does the character having X skin color have to affect their journey if the plot has nothing to do with it? It's like the issue with the S&B adaptation: in their effort to be more "woke" and shoving fictional anti-Asian racism into the show, they alienated Asian viewers. I'm a brown, indigenous Latina. I like reading stories where people who I can imagine looking like me are getting the magical stone and their skin color doesn't matter. When I want to read stories where racial/gender/sexual orientation issues are central topics, I'll simply go read authors who have an actual say in the matter bc of their lived experience.

About Mare having a European name. I say this with all the love in my heart: please stop thinking of us Latines as brown-skinned, brown-eyed people with the last name Torres or Rodriguez. That's not what our demographic looks like (I do look like that tho). There have been so many immigration movements all through history, there are black ppl with European last names, there are blond-whiter-that-mayo ppl with Torres last name. We mixed around these places. I kindly invite you to watch a video on the topic (reading statistics on Wikipedia is no fun).

And finally, you won't catch me defending a white writer lady in my house, but VA only said Mare would be of latine descent after being asked about it by fans. Her reply and explanation made sense with the RQ world-building. Now it became of relevance bc of fancasts and for me personally bc I write modern AUs where Latin America is very much still around geographically speaking 🥴.

That's my personal stance on the matter, but I respect your frustration and the points you brought up about the lack of description of Mare's physical appearance.

[mooshs-crack-headcanons]

Spardac3st shippers explaining on why they ship them:

Dante, Vergil and Nero: 💀💀💀

I'm going to open up a little bit on this topic and just why it fucking baffles me so much.

Cw: talk about SA variety themes coming from someone who has personal trauma with incest sexual assault and you know the "excuses" pros proshippers use as their "explanation" on why they think shit like this is okay. This is a very serious matter so read under the cut only if you feel comfortable I dont want to trigger anyone but proshippers are fucking gross

"They're fictional characters, separate fiction from reality." Fiction can absolutely have an effect on one's reality and romanticizing and sexualizing abuse, even if it is fictional is never okay and it's fucking sick.

"It's my coping mechanism!" Not all coping mechanisms are healthy and this type of shit can lead to a very ugly downward spiral.

"Just scroll." We do but you're shit is literally fucking everywhere and it's fucking gross, we can block tags, block certain keywords, and STILL your gross ass shit still pops up so it's hard to just "scroll"

I was sexually assaulted by a family member for several years when I was younger, someone I was taught to love and trust and he took advantage of me every single chance he could. But proshippers, Spardacest shippers in particular eat that shit up with their "art" and their "fics" because it's ""hot"" and it's ""tabbo"" they use for their fucking jerk material and a good fucking amount of them (the other half that's not the "it's my coping mechanism" crowd) probably don't give a fucking shit about me and other people trauma who have been through it personally - afterall we're all just "antis" to them, right? And they'll go out of their way and pull any excuse from the book for their justifications and their reasoning when called out.

Incest, no matter how you look at it in any form is assault its just something that should be fucking obvious that isn't okay and it just fucking worse with, again Spardacest shippers in particular, who have been known to fucking have """""""ship art""""""" of the child versions of Dante/Vergil together with the adult version of the other twin in, yes, a romantic and even sexual aspect. Fucking pedophilia. I've had to report more fucking incest shipper twitter accounts than the fingers on hands and toes on my feet combined because of twitters algorithm being so fucking dogshit because I personally follow a lot of dmc accounts for art/photography/and gameplay but Twitter sees that is like "Oh this person likes dmc better recommend them all of the dmc stuff including the incest shit and its fucking nauseating but at least for me it's better because I have a whole entire blocklist accumulated up so its not as bad but 😑 ugh I fucking hate twitter.

Anyway my point is proshipping gets into extremes I mean, and the fact that these people can go "it's just fiction 🤪" when it comes to incest and pedophilia concerns me, even if it's just "fiction" it's still fucking incest and pedophilia, what is the fucking reason to ship something like those? Just for your gross fetish? Because you think it's "hot"?

I just don't get it, looking back at my trauma to personally evaluate all of this I just can't understand it the romantism/fetishism proshippers have towards something that I was a victim of. And it certainly doesn't help to me personally a character as a kid I personally clung onto (vergil) and was kind of like an escape and a comfort character for me during those times I was attacked repeatedly over and over being used just for someone's incest rape fantasy is just very nauseating and always has been to me.

So yeah if anyone was curious of my stance on the issue, even though I hate the term "anti" because it makes the whole issue of people shipping abuse like incest and pedophilia just "fandom drama" instead of the serious of the issue I think it is, I'm definitely anti Spardacest without a doubt and that will never change.

[nightswithkookmin]

JIMIN PLEASE PROTECT JUNGKOOK 😓

Not to be that person but I see nipples😥

Too much nipples😥

Jimin please protect Jungkook!😭😭😭😭

The hets finna thirst the shit out of this

Also is he having a wardrobe malfunction or is my mind playing tricks?🤔

Looks like a slightly dislocated vagina.

It wouldn't be the first time but chilee can they at least blur it out??? Protect your artists dammit. I wonder why he didn't hide his hip behind Jimin. That's usually one of his tactics. Or maybe it wasn't a rip chilee. Minding my business.

I highly recommend Jungkook to Jimin😌

Definitely his style😏

Jungkookie don't worry Jiminah will protect you ok. Just hold on tight to him 🤭

I wanna talk about V almost kissing Jimin😥

- When will the teasing end!

I'm trying to see some vmin homo erotic fanservice in action 😭😭😭😭😭

Tae better risk it all on Jimin and Jin one day🤣🤣🤣🤣

Please don't ask me why. I have no tangible explanation for this😐

I will cyber bully anyone who disagrees with Vmin or any Jimin SHIP dynamic😐

I disagree with anyone who disagree with ships and shipping period.

JK looked like shit stopped being funny real quick when he noticed vmin🤣🤣🤣🤣

He said

My client disapproves of this fanservice script Bighit. Please cease and desist. Lmho

Who said BigHit does Jimin"s make up to look more feminine??

WHO SAID THAT.

If you think make up makes him feminine, he femininizes himself just as much as he masculinize himself💀

Never mind that they've said a countless times make up isn't reserved strictly for females in Kpop or even in SK chilee.

Goldy

[gracefulweather]

WHY IS YOUR TOP 3 POSTS ON THIS BLOG ALL OF MY ASKS LMAOO

ok anyways. another round of questions bc im hyper and that’s when i spam the most✨

1. would you rather disney land in california with juyeon or universal with younghoon in florida and WHY. I WANT AT LEAST A 4 SENTENCE DETAILED EXPLANATION IF NOT AN ESSAY.

2. if you had to choose one of your fics as your REAL LIFE love story with [ insert member] , which one would you choose and why? i am actually so proud of myself for coming up with such a clever question like 💅

3. If you could choose one member of THE BOYZ to let go through your blog which member would it be and WHY.

omg LMAOOO IT'S BC I DON'T MAKE ORIGINAL POSTS ON THIS BLOG 😭 and our convos in the comments seemingly boosted the post popularity AHAHA

1. uHhhh younghoon in universal florida!!! the cali disneyland is not thaaat fun esp at this age (don't ask about how i got roped into taking a pic with mickey mouse a couple of years ago... the most embarrassing thing). anyways the humidity will make my hair look terrible but younghoon will look great and that's all that matters 😍 not sure if he likes rollercoasters tho? i know hyunjae doesn't so he'd be my first choice (and like, it'd be disney sea in tokyo since i missed my chance to go). bc i got forced to go on that twilight zone elevator ride in universal florida and i HATE DROPS. worst decision smh hyunjae and i wouldn't need scary rides, we could just be cute and take selfies!! eat the giant turkey leg super messily!! wear cute couple outfits!!! ....why does every convo circle back to hyunjae. you can see what is happening here

2. oooh clever question indeed!! hmm well the lab partners to lovers already happened for me irl which was a fun time even though it didn't last 💀 this question suddenly made me forget all the fics i've written omg. i do want the younghoon in heartbreak for hire but i don't want the events leading up to that LMAOO. but uhHhHh realistically.... friends to lovers...... at the toronto christmas market.... preferably not with jacob, i'll leave him for you hahaha. wait actually i have that short friends to lovers fic with younghoon so maybe that one? though i wouldn't want a high school romance so ok we can just go back to the chem lab one LMAO

3. my blog is nice and clean so any of them 😇 better if they can't read in english (just... in case...) but i don't think i have anything to hide??? maybe eric so he can laugh at/with me esp with that eric fic i wrote (or the barista juyeon one). i just know he'd he HOWLING with how funny everything on my blog is 🤡