#yoongi x reader drabble
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CHAI!READER wears gingersnap lip balm

The studio smelled like warm vinyl and something faintly sweetâmaybe the remnants of her coffee, or the faint idea of lemony chewing gum from an hour ago. The old speakers hummed low in the dim light, and the air was thick with quiet concentration, the only sounds the soft click of a keyboard and the faint crackle of an unfinished beat looping through the monitors.
Yoongi sat across from her, one hand propped against his jaw, the other scrolling lazily through their project file. His hoodie sleeves were pushed up to his elbows, veins peeking through the pale skin of his forearms. He was the picture of ease, as alwaysâmellow, unshakable, perfectly composed.
She, on the other hand, was not.
She pressed her lips together, barely aware of the small, round tin in her hands. She unscrewed the lid, and the pad of her finger met the smooth, waxy balm inside. When she rubbed a light layer over her lips, more out of nervous habit than necessity, the scent of gingersnap curled warm in the airâcinnamon-sweet with the faintest bite of spice.
A shift. A glance. Thenâ
âWhat flavor?â
Yoongi's voice was quiet, easy, cutting through the hush like the low pull of a bassline. She startled slightly, looking up too fast to see that he was watching herâactually watching her, eyes flicking from her mouth to the small tin between her fingers.
She swallowed. âGingersnap.â
Yoongi hummed, nodding a little. âMm. I like gingersnap.â
Her brain short-circuited. The words were so simple, so casual, but the way he said themâsoft, matter-of-fact, completely unbotheredâsent something electric sparking down her spine. She blinked at him, gripping the tin a little too tightly between her fingers, suddenly unable to stop herself from thinking aboutâ
No. She was reading too much into it. She had to be reading too much into it. He didnât mean anything by it. She had a big fat crush and an overactive imagination, which made situations like this just... torturous.
Though she watched his face with wide eyes, Yoongi's expression didnât shift, still loose and neutral, gaze flickering back to the screen as if he hadnât just ruined her entire composure in under five seconds. His fingers tapped absently against the desk, nonchalant, detached.
Like he hadnât just made her imagine the taste of gingersnap on his lips. What it would be like to lean in and taste the spiced ginger sweetness on his mouth or, better yet, what it would feel like to have him lean in softly to taste it on hers.
God. No matter how badly she wanted to shake her head like a dogâshe exhaled, slow and controlled, fixing her eyes on the monitor with a level of forced determination that was probably laughable.
âCool,â she said, voice only slightly strained.
Yoongi smirked. Just barely. Almost imperceptible.
But not quite.

#god he would be such a tease if he knew u had a crush on him. i could CRY#âË⥠moonjelly drabbles#âË⥠myg#âË⥠yoonchai#yoongi bts#yoongi#min yoongi#yoongi x you#yoongi x reader#yoongi x y/n#min yoongi x reader#min yoongi x you#min yoongi x y/n#suga bts#suga x reader#suga x you#suga x y/n#yoongi fic#min yoongi fic#yoongi drabble#min yoongi drabble#yoongi x you drabble#yoongi x you one shot#yoongi x reader drabble#yoongi x reader fic
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Embrace of Ruins. Jk


Pairing: King jk x widowed (fem) reader.
Character count: 14,962
Genre: Dark Romance | Historical
Tropes: Dominant , controlling jk, forced proximity, obsession , captive romance, war , fragile female lead, mentions of death, mature.
Summary: When ruthless warlord Jeon conquers a rival kingdom, he slaughters its royal bloodline including the cruel king who once claimed Y/N as his wife. But instead of casting her aside, Jeon takes her as his own, stripping her of her former title and making her his possession. She was never meant to be a queen. She was meant to be his.

The air reeked of blood and burning wood, the sky dark with the smoke of a fallen kingdom. Screams had long since faded into silence, leaving only the sound of victorious banners fluttering in the wind.
The Kingdom had fallen.
This was not just another kingdom swallowed by his empire. No this war had been waged with a purpose far beyond power. It was her. The ghost of a woman he had never seen, only heard of in whispers the famed beauty of the lost kingdom, Y/N.
People had spoken of her ethereal grace, of her skin that glowed like moonlight and eyes that held galaxies within them.
At the heart of the carnage, Jeon sat upon the grand throne, one boot resting on the fallen kingâs lifeless body and the golden crown of the fallen king crushed beneath his boot.
The scent of blood and smoke lingered in the air mingling with the screams of the last remnants of a dying dynasty.
His victory was absolute. The kingdom now belonged to him. And so did everything within it.
Including her.
She was a vision in a silk dress , the color of winterâs first snow.
___
Amidst it all, She ran.
Bare feet against the cold marble, her silken gown now soaked in the lifeblood of her people, dragging behind her like a ghostly shroud. The palace corridors, once familiar, had become a maze of death and ruin. She barely noticed the bodies, the shattered glass of once grand chandeliers. All she could hear was the pounding of her own heartbeat, the rasp of her breath and the distant clamor of armored boots in pursuit.
She had seen him.
He had stood amidst the wreckage of her throne room, a wolf in the den of slaughter, dark eyes scanning the ruin with calculated indifference.
He had looked at her like a claim already made, and that had been enough to send her fleeing.
She stumbled through the grand doors of the palace and into the frozen night, her thin gown no barrier against the relentless cold. Snowflakes kissed her tear streaked cheeks as she pushed forward, her breath rising in desperate clouds.
The forest loomed ahead a tangle of frostbitten branches and endless dark. She plunged into its depths without hesitation. The crown she had once been forced to wear had been torn from her head, her hair cascading around her face in disheveled waves.
The trees whispered around her, the wind howling like a grieving specter. Her feet tore through the frozen undergrowth, bare skin sliced by unseen thorns but she did not stop.
She could not stop.
She knew they would come. She had seen it in his eyes obsidian pools that swallowed light, a gaze that spoke of possession and a hunger far more dangerous than the battlefield he had razed.
She tried to be silent, tried to disappear into the vast expanse of snow and night but her body betrayed her. A misstep her foot catching on a hidden root sent her tumbling forward. She crashed into the snow, pain exploding through her limbs as she gasped, clawing at the frost with trembling hands.
She scrambled to rise, but it was too late.
A shadow loomed over her, swallowing the pale light of the moon.
Him.
The air shifted with his presence, heavy with something she could not name. His breath came steady, controlled, unaffected by the chase. He had known this would happen. He had allowed her to run, entertained her futile escape before closing in like a beast playing with his prey.
"You thought you could run from me?" His voice was velvet over steel, dark and slow, as though savoring the moment.
Y/N trembled, her body wracked with exhaustion, yet she found herself inching back, her palms sinking into the snow.
Jeon crouched before her, gloved fingers tilting her chin upwards, forcing her to meet the gaze she had so desperately tried to avoid.
"You should know better" he murmured, his lips brushing against hers. "I do not chase what I do not intend to catch."
The rumors had not done her justice.
She was exquisite, a masterpiece carved by the gods themselves.
Even in her disarray, she was ethereal.
Tears welled in her eyes, but she did not fight. She had nothing left to fight for.
A cruel smile tugged at Jeon's lips as he leaned forward.
"Your king is dead. Your kingdom is mine"
With that his hand moved lower, gliding down the torn fabric of her gown, feeling the tremor beneath his touch. And then without warning, he slid his arms beneath her one under her knees, the other wrapping around her back.
She gasped as the ground disappeared beneath her, the sudden closeness of him knocking the breath from her lungs. Her hands instinctively grasped at his shoulders, clutching at the thick fabric of his cloak as he lifted her effortlessly.
The world around them blurred as Jeon carried her back, his strides slow, deliberate, savoring every second of the act.
His men stood waiting at the forestâs edge, their eyes carefully averted, knowing better than to interrupt.
Jeon was the master of every inch of this kingdom now but she was a different kind of victory.
A victory he would not let slip from his grasp
__
Jeon had wanted her from the moment he had laid eyes on her. A forbidden desire had taken root deep within him when he had first seen her beside the now dead king , a man unworthy of even touching the hem of her gown, much less claiming her as his.
__
The journey from the snow laden forest to Jeonâs kingdom was a silent one. His kingdom loomed ahead like a fortress of stone, walls that could never be breached.
When they finally crossed the threshold into the warmth of Jeonâs kingdom, the heavy iron gates closed behind them with a resounding clang, sealing off the outside world.
He called for his servants, his voice firm and authoritative.
âTake her to my chambers,â he ordered coldly. âStrip her of the dead kingâs colors. She wears only what I give her now.â
__
The scent of lavender and jasmine filled the air as the maids scrubbed away the blood, the dirt, the remnants of her former life.
But no matter how many times they washed her, no matter how many hands gently soothed her skin, there were things that could not be erased.
The marks on her body. The scars both physical and emotional that she had borne under her husbandâs cruel reign.
Afterward, Y/N was dressed in a delicate white nightgown. It clung to her thin frame, the silk soft against her skin, but it did nothing to ease the chill in her bones. The gown was far more modest than the opulent dress she had worn in her past life but it was far too intimate for her current circumstances.
As the maids finished their task, they led her down the stone corridors of Jeonâs castle to his private chambers.
The room was enormous, warm with a roaring fire. She stood silently before him, her eyes cast downward. Jeon stood by the bed his posture strong, unyielding and as always, a palpable aura of control surrounded him.
He moved toward her without a word, his presence overwhelming.
His eyes narrowed as they settled on her shoulders and arms.
His fingers hovered near her shoulder, brushing against the faded remnants of bruises.
âThat pathetic excuse for a king,â he spat, his voice dripping with disgust.
âA man unworthy of a throne, unworthy of a crown and certainly unworthy of you."
Jeon growled, his hands flexing as if he longed to tear apart a man who was already rotting in the ground.
"What did you call him?" he mused, tilting his head. "My king? My husband?" He laughed, dark and mocking.
"No king allows his castle to fall while he cowers in his chambers. And a husbandâŠ" He paused, his fingers ghosting over the fading bruises on her wrist.
His expression turned cold. "A husband does not treat his wife like a common whore to be used and discarded. I barely had to lift my blade before he was groveling at my feet, begging for his life like a spineless dog"
Y/N squeezed her eyes shut, the image flashing in her mind. She had not loved the king, but his death had been brutal. The sound of steel slicing through flesh, the gurgled choking as he bled out it haunted her.
Jeon exhaled, stepping back slightly.
"I should make you my whore," he mused. "A slave to warm my bed, nothing more. It would be fitting for the widow of such a disgraceful man."
Her stomach twisted in fear.
"But no," he murmured, as if reconsidering. "Though your husband was a disgrace, you are now mine"
His gaze darkened, something unreadable flashing in his eyes.
"Did he ever touch you properly?" Jeon murmured, his voice turning low, almost teasing.
Jeon chuckled darkly. âOf course not. I imagine he was just as pathetic in bed as he was on the battlefield. Weak. Incompetent.â
He leaned in, his breath ghosting over her ear. âDid he even know what to do with you? Or did he fumble like the fool he was?â
Y/Nâs breath stuttered. The air in the room felt heavy, suffocating. She didnât want to answer. She didnât want to think about it.
Jeon chuckled at her silence.
âYou will no longer be a widow,â he said casually, as if discussing the weather.
âYou will be my wife. You wil bear my mark and sleep in my bed and by the time I am done with you, you will forget you ever belonged to anyone else.â His voice low in command.
Y/N's breath caught in her throat. "W-what?
Jeon smirked, amused by her reaction. "You are still royalty, no matter how pathetic your bloodline is. And I do not waste what has value." He reached for her again, his fingers brushing over the fabric of her underdress.
Before she could protest, Jeon grasped the thin strap of her underdress and pulled, the silk slipping from her shoulder with ease.
Y/N gasped, instinctively clutching the fabric to her chest.
"Still shy?" His fingers trailed down her arm, his touch deceptively soft.
"Your husband must have taken his pleasures without care. Rushed. Unskilled."
His gaze flickered over her, unreadable.
"A shame. I prefer to savor what is mine."
Y/N trembled as he grasped the other strap, slowly sliding it down her shoulder. The silk pooled at her collarbones, threatening to slip further.
Y/Nâs throat tightened, a tear slipping down her cheek . Heat rushed to her cheeks, shame and something unfamiliar twisting inside her.
"You were wasted on him," Jeon murmured. "But you will not be wasted on me."
His hand gripped her waist, pulling her closer. She gasped, her heart hammering against her ribs.
"You will be my wife before the sun rises. And no kingdom, no force in this world will take you from me."
Jeon murmured, his voice laced with something deeper, something unshakable.
âI could touch you in ways that pathetic fool never could. I could make you beg, make you forget he ever existed.â
His hands slid lower, gripping her thighs holding her still.
âYou will know what it means to be wanted,â he promised. âTo be craved.â
She closed her eyes as his lips descended, as his touch deepened, as the last of her old self was stripped away like the silks of her gown.
She had been the queen of a doomed king. A nameless ghost in a gilded cage. A woman forgotten by the very man who had sworn to own her.
But Jeon was not a man who forgot what belonged to him.
He pressed her back against the silk draped bed, his gaze burning into hers as he loomed above her, all shadow and heat, all power and intent.
"You will curse me," he whispered, his lips hovering just above hers, "and you will crave me all the same."
His mouth claimed her then, slow and consuming, as if proving his words true. As if sealing the vow between them with something far more binding than marriage, more damning than devotion.
She let herself sink, let herself be undone, because there was no kingdom left to fight for, no crown left to bear, only this. Only him.
And as his hands traced a path of ruin and worship alike, she realized something with aching finality.
She was not lost. She had simply been claimed.
__
The first light of dawn crept through the towering windows, painting the stone walls in hues of muted gold. The warmth of the sun did nothing to chase away the lingering shadows of the night before.
She stirred, her body aching not from pain, but from the imprint of him.
Her body heavy with exhaustion.
Her skin burned where his touch had claimed her, the memory of his hands and his voice still lingering in her senses like a lingering scent, impossible to escape.
She blinked against the morning light, the thick, heavy silence of the room pressing down upon her. The bed was empty beside her, the space where Jeon had been only a ghost of heat.
A low voice broke the silence. âDid you sleep well?â
Her body tensed, her muscles still trembling from the storm of the night before. Jeon stood near the tall windows, his silhouette framed by the light, his presence as imposing as ever.
He looked unchanged powerful, untouchable.
"Get up," he commanded, already reaching for the black silk robe draped over a nearby chair. "We have matters to attend to."
She hesitated, sitting up slowly, the silk sheets slipping from her bare shoulders.
"What matters?"
Jeon turned, fastening the robe around his waist, "Our wedding."
Her breath caught.
Jeon chuckled, "What? Did you think I would leave you as a nameless concubine?" He stepped closer, gripping her chin between his fingers.
She searched his gaze, trying to understand, to make sense of this shift. "Then... I will be the queen of this place?"
"You wish to rule?" His voice was measured but there was an edge of something deeper beneath it.
Y/N swallowed hard. "No. But.." She hesitated, unsure how to put the ache in her.
She trailed off, shame burning in her throat.
Jeon studied her, a thoughtful hum vibrating from his chest. "You are not meant for war," he said at last.
"Not meant for bloodshed and for dirty politics." He tilted his head, his gaze heavy.
"You are meant for me."
His words did not soothe her as he likely intended them to.
She had listened. She had obeyed. She had surrendered in body.
But she would not surrender this.
"I will not marry you," she said, her voice quiet, yet firm.
"I will not be your wife unless I am your queen," Y/N said, her voice trembling but unwavering. "You took my kingdom, my home, my name. If I am to be bound to you, I will not be just another possession. "
His fingers curled slightly, then relaxed. Slowly, he turned, dark eyes locking onto her with something unreadable something slow-burning, something dangerous.
"You will," he said simply.
She lifted her chin, a flicker of defiance breaking through her usual obedience.
"Not if I am not to be queen."
A slow, mirthless smirk tugged at his lips. "Is that what you want?" He stepped toward her, his presence suffocating, the air in the room shifting like a storm about to break.
"A throne?"
She clenched her fists in her lap, her pulse thrumming against her throat. "I was a queen before you tore my kingdom apart." Her voice did not waver, though her breath did. "I will not be cast aside as some nameless wife while you rule alone."
Jeon studied her in silence, the weight of his gaze heavy, assessing. Then, without warning, he moved.
Faster than she could react, his fingers closed around her throat not choking, not hurting, just a firm grip, possessive, commanding. He tilted her head back, forcing her to look up at him, his thumb pressing lightly against the delicate pulse at her neck.
"You speak as though you have a choice."
She gasped softly but she did not break away.
Jeonâs other hand traced the curve of her jaw, his touch deceptively gentle, a contrast to the quiet fury simmering in his dark eyes.
"You were not a queen," he murmured. "You were a prisoner in a cage, a wife to a spineless rat who did not deserve you. You wore a crown but it was never truly yours. "
His fingers tightened slightly around her throat, enough to remind her of his power, enough to send a shiver down her spine.
"And now, you demand a throne beside me?" He leaned closer, his breath fanning against her lips. "No. You will kneel before it instead."
Her heart pounded, her breath shallow, but she still managed to whisper "If I mean nothing more than a body in your bed, end this now."
The air shifted violently.
Jeonâs grip tightened for the briefest moment just long enough to make her dizzy before he released her completely. He exhaled sharply, stepping back, his jaw taut, his gaze dark with something volatile.
For the first time since conquering this land, since taking her, someone had denied him.
And he did not tolerate defiance.
"Very well," he murmured, his voice eerily calm. "If you will not walk to the altar, you will be dragged to it."
Today, she would become his wife.
Not his queen.
He would marry her, not as a political arrangement, not as a necessity but because he wanted her.
He was a conqueror. He alone was enough to rule his land.
__
The silk gown clung to Y/Nâs trembling frame, the deep red fabric as heavy as the chains she could not see but could feel in every step she was forced to take. Her hands clenched into fists at her sides, nails pressing into her palms as the realization settled deeper into her bones. The room was deathly silent, the air thick with the scent of incense and candle wax.
Jeon stood before her, a predator draped in black and gold, exuding dominance with every breath. His patience was a thinly veiled thing, stretching dangerously as he watched her remain still, unmoving, unyielding.
"Come forward," he commanded, his voice steady but edged with warning.
Her feet refused to move.
In a single, fluid motion, he closed the distance between them, his fingers wrapping around her wrist in an iron grip. He yanked her forward, forcing her to stumble against his chest.
âYou speak of power as if it is something I would give you,â he murmured, his voice deceptively soft, venom laced beneath the words. âYou forget your place.â
She gasped, struggling against his grip, but he was relentless, his fingers digging into her wrist as he pulled her through the vast hall.
"You will stand beside me, Y/N," he said, voice cold, final. "But a throne is not something I share."
He did not stop until they stood before the officiant.
A lump formed in her throat, but she swallowed it down, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing her break.
Jeon studied her for a moment before sighing, almost in disappointment.
âI was willing to grant you this wedding without force. To let you walk beside me, instead of dragging you like a conquered spoil of war.â
âI did not win this kingdom with patience. I won it with blood.â
Then, louder, he addressed the officiant. âBegin.â
The ceremony was as empty as her heart. No grand feast, no celebration. Just her, him and the officiant bearing witness to the binding of a vow. She repeated them in a hollow whisper, her voice barely her own.
But as he pulled her in for the final kiss, sealing her beneath his name, his rule.
He tasted the salt of her tears on her lips.
For a moment, just a moment, he felt the bitter sting of something less than victory.
Because despite binding her to him, despite claiming her, despite stealing her body, her name. He felt the weight of something he could not conquer.
He had burned kingdoms for her. Killed kings for her. Stolen her from the ashes of a life she never wanted. Yet her sadness was a wound he could not stitch.
Jeon had indeed won the war.
But he had not won her.
__

(End)đ€
#jungkook fics#bts imagines#bts fic#bts#bts jungkook#dark romance#jungkook angst#jungkook#jungkook x reader#bts army#jungkook scenarios#jeon jungkook#jungkook bts#bts angst#jk#jungkook jeon#jeon jungkoooook#jeon jungguk#jungkook x y/n#jungkook x you#jungkook x oc#jungkook x original character#jungkook drabble#jungkook imagine#jungkook fic recs#jungkook fic#namjoon#yoongi#park jimin#taehyung
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canât stop thinking about boyfriend!yoongi who in a way, found his match with you.
for decades, his oldest friends always teased him for being the textbook definition of ânonchalantâ, labeling him as a stoic man who loved to pretend that he didnât care about anythingâeven though in reality, there were always a few tells that made it obvious that he did.
he was the type of guy who made it seem like he didnât care if you forgot about his birthday, but would send a joke afterwards saying that he was disappointed that you didnât remember.
or the type who acted like it didnât matter to him if the meal he worked hard on cooking tasted delicious for your taste buds, only to grin really wide as soon as you complimented him and uttered a string of praises afterwards.
it was an endearing quality of yoongiâs, a rather fascinating trait that also became the butt of the joke at times whenever the topic was his love life and his bad luck when it came to relationships.
âyou can come off as emotionally unavailable,â hoseok told him over beer once. âladies donât like that. they want men who can tell them how special they are.â
âisnât it enough that i show it?â yoongi asked, having just been dumped by the girl he was dating. âi mean, i drive her to work every single day. i fetch her from work whenever i can too. i buy her stuff if itâs necessary, like shampoo or paper towels.â
hoseok stared at him. âpaper towels?â
âyeah.â
âwow. i take it all back. you are the most romantic man on the planet.â
yoongi rolled his eyes at the sarcasm. âshe mentioned she was running out of them so i bought more for her.â
âare you her dad or something?â
âi heard ladies like a provider.â
âyes, but not in that sense. itâs more like⊠you get the bill whenever youâre having lunch or dinner at a restaurant, or buying her a bag sheâs been eyeing, or paying for her nails when she gets them done. doing all of that without not being asked is the key aspect of it, really.â
âhow do you know this stuff?â
hoseok shrugged. âi have an older sister,â he says. âalso, iâm engaged to my girlfriend of 6 years. being in a relationship that long ought to teach you a lot.â
thanks to that conversation, yoongi began understanding what it really meant to be a great and affectionate boyfriend without sacrificing his rather reserved personality. he knew what the right gestures to do, what the right things to say, what the right gifts to buyâand he did all of that with utmost sincerity, genuinely wanting to be a better partner for his current girlfriend, which also happened to be you.
the funny thing, though?
you couldnât seem to recognize the nice boyfriend things yoongi was doing and how much he improved compared to his last relationship.
you were just⊠independent, he thought. a strong woman who didnât like to be coddled and didnât like asking help from anyone regardless of how much you may be already struggling. he had a realization that you were naturally like this because of the stories you used to tell him that made him understand that you just werenât used to relying on others, a trait that he didnât have an issue with and sometimes even admired.
however, he couldnât lie and say that it wasnât sometimes frustrating as well.
for example, just last week, the both of you had a semi-big fight because of how you constantly insisted on changing the broken lightbulb in your bedroom yourself even though yoongi was already telling you that he could do it instead. in the end, since you were stubborn as hell, you still tried changing it on your own but had a very minor injury due to falling off the stool you were standing on for extra height.
yoongi was furious when he found out, and you ultimately became furious because it seemed like he was being unfair to you, the negative energy impacting your mood and rationality that you didnât get how he was more mad on the fact that you let your pride get to you than just asking for his damn help for the freaking lightbulb.
when the both of you calmed down and said your apologies, yoongi took your hands and looked directly in your eyes. âbabe, you have to start depending on me,â he said.
the straightforwardness caught you off guard. âhuh?â
âi meanâŠâ you felt him squeeze your fingers softly, âi understand that youâre used to doing things all on your own⊠how you donât like being treated like some baby⊠but that shouldnât be the case with me, okay? iâm here to take care of you, to always help you with whatever you need.â
you opened your mouth, about to say something he knew was not going to align with his point, so he took the liberty to cut you off.
âiâm serious. you know what iâm talking about. let me take care of you, ____.â
âbutââ you couldnât continue with your sentence, a wave of emotions suddenly flooding you that made your throat tighten and voice quiver as you began speaking againâ âhow? i⊠i donâtâi just⊠you donât need to. i donât want to be a burden.â
yoongi gave you a look, a mixture of fondness and disbelief. âyou? a burden?â
âyeah. you donât need to take care of me.â
âiâm well aware that youâre a grown woman who doesnât need taking care of.â he joked. âbut that doesnât stop me from wanting to do it. thatâs why if i were you, i would just start depending on my poor boyfriend and learn how to be comfortable in being taken care of because itâs definitely how things are going to be now that heâs here.â
you snorted at the use of third person. âfine,â you sniffled, âokay, iâll try to be better at asking for help next time.â
he sighed in relief, releasing your hands to instead engulf you in a tight embrace. âthank you, baby. i appreciate it a lot.â
****
the first time you willingly asked yoongi for a favor after that talkâregardless of how small and trivial it wasâit still affected him big time.
âcan you help me assemble the drawer i bought?â you asked him over dinner, ever so casual and nonchalant.
he almost dropped the chopsticks he was holding. âwhat?â
âi said, can youââ
âno, i heard that perfectly well. iâm just surprised at what iâm hearing.â
your lips twitched while your face visibly burned. âdonât start teasing me or elseââ
âiâm not.â he laughed, a little too loudly than usual, before reaching for your hand and kissing your knuckles. âiâm not, i swear. iâm just happy.â
âyouâre happy because iâm asking for help?â
âiâm happy because youâre letting me take care of you,â he corrected. âitâs a bit overdue in my opinion but who am i to complain?â
you playfully shoved his hand away, which made yoongi laugh harder and lean towards you to give you a chaste kiss on the cheek, letting you know that your simple effort of trying to let him in meant so much more than words could ever say.
note. this blurb is unedited and has been in my drafts since december because it's always yoongi missing hours!!!!! but for real though, i wish yoongi is doing great and is always surrounded by good people who can give him the support he needs + remind him how loved he is :(
#đ§§ă.Ë â
ăbangtan brainrot!#yoongi#yoongi x reader#yoongi imagines#min yoongi#min yoongi x reader#min yoongi imagines#suga#suga x reader#suga imagines#bts#bts x reader#bts imagines#bts drabbles#bts scenarios#yoongi drabbles#bts suga#yoongi scenarios#suga drabbles#suga scenarios#yoongi fanfiction#suga fanfiction#min yoongi fanfiction#bts fanfiction
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wanna try out some freaky positions? | myg



plot | that time popstar!yn is on her tour's day two in paris, and fans are wondering if she's finally doing the most requested position of all time. the one that may require her bassist (and rumored boyfriend), yoongi.
w.c | 1980
pairing | bass guitarist!yoongi x popstar!reader
genre | fluff, humor, enemies to lovers, slow burn
note | i'm still calling it twitter
main masterlist | series masterlist

DAY 301: PARIS, FRANCE


It's everywhere. Predictions about your possible Juno position for your second performance night in Paris are all over social media before you even officially land in the said country. It didnât help that you and your band members are active on social media, alluding that something is happening behind the scenes. There were also sightings of your close friend, another celebrity, who you knew was staying in France for his vacation. Your fans, who were already elated with the upcoming performance later tonight, flooded you with mentions on Twitter, which resulted in a short and unplanned Q and A.
You were in the middle of your rehearsal break when you finally got hold of your phone after posting that late IG story hours ago. Knowing how excited your fans are at the moment, you reinstalled your Twitter app just to have some interactions with them. It has been so long since you opened your account there, since you were avoiding seeing any tweets about your breakup from last year. You smiled as you typed in your tweet, along with a photo you prepared for today, swaying your feet as you sat at the edge of the stage.




While you have all of your focus on your phone, you didn't even notice Yoongi, who's sitting on one of the empty seats in the area where the VIP audience usually sits. He cannot help but smile while he sips his Americano, looking at you. He wondered what made you so giggly and smiley on your phone. Meanwhile, his phone kept on vibrating in his pocket, which made him reach for it. Thatâs when he got the answer to his curiosity. Notifications from your Twitter account popped up one after the other. He chuckled before clicking on the app to read more of your tweets.



You giggled at the friendly banter you had with one of your fans. Scrolling down the tag, you smiled even harder when you found an interesting question to reply to.




Yoongi had to laugh with that one. Hearing that, you turned your head up, finally seeing him sitting alone just a few feet down the stage. Your left eyebrow raised, wondering what made him laugh on his phone.
âWhere are the others?â you asked all of a sudden, just to get his attention.
Your bassist looked up and met your gaze. âThey went out for snacks. I got your coffee here.â
He points out the still-warm takeout coffee cup he has on the empty seat next to him. You smiled before reading yourself to jump from the stage rather than taking the stairs. Seeing that, Yoongi immediately stood up.
âHey, what are you doing?â
âIâll jump,â you replied, already inching yourself at the edge.
He clicked his tongue while shaking his head, âNo, just take the stairs.â
You pouted. âThis is easier. I hate the stairs.â
âYou might get hurt. Art and Cal will both kill me if I let you do that,â he said while walking towards you. He then stood just a few feet lower than you.
From your point of view, he looked nonchalant, yet he opened both his arms.
You squinted, âAre you gonna catch me?â
âNope, I just like opening my arms at random times like this,â he scoffed.Â
You rolled your eyes. âAnd I like jumping from high places.â
He shook his head again before telling you sternly, âI donât care. Just jump, diva.â
So you did. Even though you would have loved to continue the childish banter. And he did catch you, helping you carefully land your feet on the ground. Steadily and easily, he got you with one hand, holding you up against your back. Unconsciously, your face is almost buried in his neck, like you were magnets, they just connect instantly. Maybe it was because he still wore the familiar scent that makes butterflies stir in your stomach.
And maybe thatâs why you didnât pull away right away.
With how close you are, you can feel his heart beating almost at the same pace as yours. Fast and loud. Slowly pulling away, your eyes interlocked with each other. It was a heavy exchange of stares, anchored with something heart-fluttering that you two didnât have to label anymore. A small smile tugged at your lips as you noticed his eyes moving down.
âThank you,â you whispered before stepping back.
Yoongi followed behind you, trying not to put his heart over his beating chest. He sat in a seat apart next to you while you took a sip of the coffee. The much-needed caffeine helped you feel warmer and comfortable in your baby blue sweatshirt.Â
âYou liked it?â he asked even though he already knew the answer.
âYep, I needed that. Thank you,â you replied, putting down the cup. You turned to him. âWhy are you here, by the way? You donât want to explore the city in your free time? Weâre only here for a few days.â
He shrugged, âI donât know, I just had this gut feeling that you will do something reckless and I need to stick around.â
It was your turn to scoff, âYoongi, just say you stayed behind for me. Itâs okay.â
He looked at you, brows furrowed, âDonât flatter yourself.â
And he didnât even deny it, you thought to yourself.

As soon as everyone got back, the rehearsal resumed. This time, it was a dress rehearsal. So you had more time and room for errors and adjustments. While Art is talking with the band about something related to your time on stage, you take a quick scroll on your phone. You instantly took notice of a certain tweet getting a lot of attention. You laughed at it as it sparked something in your brain. You swiped up your finger on the app to see more tweets from your fans, but a notification from a verified account popped up. You turned around to see Yoongi raising his brows. You typed in your phone before giving it to your very pregnant assistant, Cal.



The fishbowl method.
That method is known to be Yoongi's greatest enemy. Whenever any staff member of your tour brings out that glass bowl that was filled with rolled papers, he just knows he will hear his name from that staff memberâs tongue. And today is no different day.
It was during the second rehearsal break of the day when Cal came in holding the infamous transparent bowl.
âSo, everyone, this is for the Juno performance. We need two people for tonight,â she said it like itâs gonna be something fun.
Although Yoongi literally had no idea why, everyone seemed to be excited upon hearing Calâs instructions as they cheered, including you. Fred, who is happily married and permanently removed from choices for the Juno performance participants, sat along with you and your dancers. He was cheering too. For more variety, the fishbowl included the names of your band members and dancers.
âYN, will you do the honors of picking two names in our bowl of names?â Cal called you up.Â
âOkay, here we go. Drumroll, please,â you quipped, but Fred followed, running to his drums and playing them.
Knowing his fate, Yoongi was not surprised anymore when he heard his name after Noahâs. He is not even disappointed or frustrated. He just accepted and expected that the fishbowl method loves him. But what he did not expect was the reason for todayâs fishbowl method. While you explained your plan for tonightâs Juno performance pose, Yoongi just shook his head with a smile as he was already used to your straightforward poses. He just didnât expect that you could be this creative for positions.
âSo, do you want to be at the back or the front?â Noah asked, which can sound strange without context.
Yoongi blinked, âWhat?â
He was obviously dumbfounded, making the others laugh. You tried not to laugh while you bit off your inner cheek.
âHe means for the Eiffel Tower,â you explained, which didnât really clarify anything for him.
Noah cuts in to help, âWe are basically the tower itself, while YN is the centerpiece. She will bend forward, and we-â he clasped his hands together, âAre gonna high-five over her.â
âThatâs your Juno position for tonight?!â Yoongi looked at him, then to you.
You nodded enthusiastically, âYeah, the Eiffel Tower!â
When it finally registered in his head, everyone can see Yoongiâs shoulders deflating as he shakes his head with a smile. Just smiling over how stupid yet creative this whole thing is. His defeated stance made Fred and the dancers laugh.Â
âI swear, we should change that fishbowl method,â he muttered, pushing his hair back.
âI think the fishbowl likes you a lot,â you teased him.
âI donât think it was just the fishbowl,â he replied, making you pause while you three walk to the heart-shaped center stage.
Noah, who did not hear that last line since he walked faster, snapped his fingers, âCatch up, lovers. Letâs do this test run for the Eiffel Tower. Iâm honestly starting to feel like the third wheel here.â
He said the name sarcastically, which resulted to you rolling your eyes and Yoongi scratching the back of his neck. You get into the position. You have your sparkly mic in your right hand, singing the last line before the pose.Â
âWanna try out some freaky position?âÂ
The guys stood on your front and back. Noah was on the front, while Yoongi was behind you.
âHave you ever tried⊠this one?âÂ
You bent forward as Yoongi and Noah high-fived over you, which instantly earned some whistling and cheers from your tour staff and dancers. You laughed, making you lose balance and accidentally grind against Yoongi. You only snapped out of it when he instinctively gripped your hips to steady you in place.
Noah, who saw this happen, gaped, âOh my god, someone wash my eyes with holy water.â
Being the dramatic one, he threw up his hands and walked away in exaggerated disbelief. You and Yoongi, on the other hand, seemed to be in your own little world as you looked over your shoulder to look at him.
âOops, sorry,â you said without really meaning it.Â
He raised an eyebrow, âReally?â
You shrugged, standing back up, âEh.â
Noah groaned from afar, leaning on one of the big speakers near their instruments, âWhere is the HR for this tour?! I need to report something!â
The joke made everyone laugh. Akio, being the second most dramatic one in the band, dramatically consoled Noah. You stifled a laugh, turning around in their direction.
âOh my god, youâre making me look like Iâm a problem here.â you fed into their little bit that was going on.
Your best friend accusedly pointed out his finger, âYou are the problem, and so is Tower B over there.â
Mr. Tower B, who stood next to you, remained casual as he muttered, âI donât mind whatâs going on. I kinda liked the view.â
The subtle smugness in his statement got a loud reaction from everyone. Fred laughed. The dancers howled. Akio and Noah groaned. The rehearsals are getting a little messier so Art had to step in.
âOkay, everyone. Letâs go rehearse the performance from the top again,â he signalled the dancers to stand up before turning to you and Yoongi. âAnd less thrusting, this time.â
You gasped even though you knew he was just teasing you, âThere was no thrusting! I accidentally ground against him, thatâs very much different!â
Art gave you a look that said, âUh-huh, sure.â
Yoongi remained unbothered, âYeah, thrusting is different. It requires intent.â
With that unexpected remark, the room erupted with laughter. All while your eyes widened, feeling the blood rushing to your cheeks.
âYoongi!â you scolded him through an embarrassed gritted grin.
He looked at you, nonchalant as he blinked innocently, âWhat? I was just explaining!â

SERIES TAGLIST
@busanbby-jjk @jimingirl95 @treacherqus @jajabro @marnz1990 @ktownshizzle @notarshia @m00njinnie @thelilbutifulthings @tarahardcore @livisdoingfine @jungshaking @eridanus-lynx @enthralled-bandit @goodnight-n-go-home @ronyiboniyy @jimeg629 @lveegsoi @madussthoughts @jalexad @ryryvna @kiki-zb @kam9404 @rtyuy1346 @esam28
PERMANENT TAGLIST (CLOSED)
@dunixxd @cixrosie @jksjx @embrace-themagic @buttvi @starbtslove @missseoulite @vanntaesworld @kenqki @imajinthis @stopeatread @seolaquotes @greyrain23 @chimchimmarie @petalsofink @jayhope88 @moonchild1 @laylasbunbunny @nikkiordonez12 @misshale21 @marblemoonstones @butnotmontana @mar-lo-pap @ficluvr613 @senaqsstuff @stars4kooo
#bass guitarist! yoongi#yoongi fluff#yoongi x reader#yoongi imagine#yoongi au#yoongi x y/n#yoongi x you#bts drabble#bts aus#bts fanfic#bts x reader#bts x you#bts x y/n#yoongi fanfic#bts suga#httpknjoon#Spotify#love is... on tour myg
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FALLING FOR YOU | MYG
summary. you and yoongi have been best friends since childhood, and you pride yourselves in knowing everything about each other. well⊠everything except the quiet, growing warmth neither of you dare to name
pairing: min yoongi x reader
genre: childhood friends to lovers, idiots to lovers (theyâre both so oblivious omfg), fluff, angst
word count: 5.5k
warnings: swearing, alcohol consumption, kissing, lmk if i missed anything!
note: itâs my birthday :> i mentioned this in my wip update, but iâm posting this cuz i feel bad that iâm not able to get the jk fic out in time and wanted to give you guys at least something. i wrote this ages ago and only briefly edited it, so itâs probably not amazing loll. likes, comments, reblogs, asks and feedback are really appreciated!! enjoy reading my angels <3
â masterlist. â taglist. â feedback
The sun is way too hot for a Saturday. Itâs one of those summer days where everything feels too bright and too loud â ice cream truck music echoing down the street, kids screaming over whoâs âitâ in tag, and the cicadas loud in the trees.
You sit on the curb in front of your house, legs stretched out so far that your toes are practically cooking on the asphalt. Your thighs are sticking to the concrete, and the back of your shirt is damp with sweat. Youâre a little bit miserable, but not really. Because Yoongiâs next to you.
Heâs got his usual half-annoyed, half-bored face on, like he canât believe he let you talk him into running around the neighbourhood all morning.
His knees are scraped â both of them. One of them is still bleeding a little, but he doesnât seem to care. You care more than he does. You tried to wipe it earlier with your sleeve, and he just grunted like an old man and told you to stop fussing.
Now, heâs eating a blue raspberry popsicle like it betrayed him. Slow bites. Little scowl.
You glance over at him and then back at your own red one. Youâve already got sticky syrup running down your wrist because you keep forgetting to lick the sides.
Yoongi nudges you with his shoulder. âYouâre making a mess.â
âSo?â You lick your wrist dramatically. âIâm still eating it.â
âThatâs gross.â
âYouâre gross.â
He doesnât argue. Just takes another angry chomp out of his popsicle and kicks a pebble with the tip of his shoe.
Thereâs a comfortable silence for a bit. Not quiet â nothingâs ever quiet in your neighbourhood â but the kind of silence that feels like its own little bubble. Like you and Yoongi have your own world, just the two of you, sitting on the curb with sticky fingers and banged-up legs.
You glance over at him again. Heâs squinting into the sun, his dark hair sticking to his forehead, a little piece of popsicle juice on his chin.
You say it without thinking.
âIâm gonna marry you when I grow up.â
Yoongi freezes.
You blink. You werenât really planning to say that out loud. It just slipped out of your mouth. But now itâs out there, just floating between you like a bubble thatâs either going to pop or land.
He turns to look at you slowly, eyes narrowed like heâs trying to figure out if youâre joking.
Youâre not. You shrug like itâs no big deal. âI mean, youâre my best friend. Youâre funny. Sometimes. And you always give me your pickle slices when we eat burgers. Thatâs boyfriend stuff.â
He snorts. Itâs a weird, sudden little laugh, like he canât stop it in time. âYouâre so weird.â
âYouâre weird too.â
âYeah, but youâre weirder,â he says, but heâs smiling now, and thereâs a faint pink blooming on his ears that you donât notice at the time. You just smile back like youâve won something.
âSo youâre saying yes?â you press.
âI didnât say that,â he grumbles, and looks away quickly. âYouâre gonna forget, anyway. Youâll probably marry some tall idiot who plays guitar or something.â
You kick at his foot. âNope. Itâs you.â
He sighs like heâs got the weight of the world on his tiny shoulders. Then he turns to you and says, âFine. But only if you stop stealing the last popsicle.â
You hold up your half-melted red one. âDeal.â
And he bumps your shoulder again â lighter this time â and finishes the rest of his popsicle in one bite like a monster.
You donât know it yet, but this is the moment that will live in the back of his head forever, long after the popsicles are gone.
You just know the sunâs still too hot, the ground is still too hard, and Yoongiâs still here. Right next to you. Where he always is.
Youâre laughing again.
Itâs loud â too loud for the classroom, and definitely too loud for whatever dumb joke just came out of Hoseokâs mouth. It's probably not even that funny, but youâre leaning over your desk, face buried in your folded arms, shaking with laughter like itâs the greatest thing youâve ever heard.
Youâre wearing that white top again â the one with the fraying sleeves that you play with when youâre thinking. Your hairâs a little messy from gym. Thereâs a tiny smudge of ink on your cheekbone.
And Yoongi is staring at you.
He doesnât mean to. His eyes just find you like they always do. Like itâs a reflex.
You throw your head back and laugh harder, and something happens in his chest. Not a big, dramatic boom or anything. Itâs smaller than that. Quieter. A weird little flutter, like his ribs just skipped.
He blinks. Looks down at his notebook. Itâs blank.
Focus. Come on.
The teacherâs still talking about sentence structure, and Hoseokâs still trying to make you laugh again, and youâre still glowing in that obnoxious, infuriating way that makes it impossible to think.
Yoongi grips his pencil tighter.
Youâre just his best friend.
Youâve always been his best friend.
Since the popsicle days and scraped knees and pinky promises made without thinking. Since birthday parties with too much sugar and movie marathons where you fell asleep on his shoulder and drooled on his hoodie.
Youâre his person. Thatâs it.
Right?
He sneaks another glance at you.
Youâre trying to stifle your giggles now, hand covering your mouth, shoulders trembling. And Hoseok looks at you like heâs proud of himself, like he wants to make you laugh again. Yoongi wants to tell him to shut up. Wants to drag you out of this classroom, down the hall, outside, anywhere.
Away from everyone else.
Just so he can have you to himself for a little while. Just so he doesnât have to share.
He swallows.
What the hell.
This isnât... this isnât how it's supposed to feel. Heâs supposed to roll his eyes when you get like this, not sit here with his heart doing gymnastics over your smile. Heâs supposed to find you annoying when you poke him in the ribs during class or call him "Grumpy Yoongi." But instead, he finds himself hoping youâll do it again.
He looks down at his notebook again. Still blank.
Great.
He tries to tell himself itâs just a phase. A random glitch in the system. Youâre still just you. Still loud and stubborn and kind of a disaster. Still his best friend. That hasnât changed.
He glances at you again â now youâre doodling little stars on the corner of your worksheet, tongue poking out in concentration â and something in him quietly, undeniably shifts.
He turns back to his paper, presses the pencil down too hard, and curses under his breath.
Because he knows.
Even if he doesnât want to know yet.
Middle school parties are always weird.
Too many kids crammed into someoneâs basement, bad pop music echoing off the walls, the lights dimmed just enough to feel scandalous. Someone's older sibling is âsupervisingâ from upstairs but mostly just stealing snacks and pretending they donât hear anything.
Youâre sitting on the floor with a half-melted cupcake in your lap and Yoongi next to you, shoulder grazing yours every few minutes.
There are about ten of you in the circle. Everyoneâs either trying to act too cool or trying too hard. Youâre somewhere in between â buzzed on sugar and nerves, pretending you donât feel weird sitting this close to your best friend.
Truth or Dare starts like it always does: harmless. Embarrassing questions. Dares to do a cartwheel or chug a Capri Sun in under ten seconds. You're mostly laughing, swatting at peopleâs arms when they try to rope you in.
Until Ari â a classmate of yours â grins at you like sheâs plotting something.
âYour turn,â she says, eyes flicking to Yoongi. âTruth or dare?â
You toy with the edge of your sleeve. âDare.â
Her grin widens.
âI dare you to kiss Yoongi.â
Thereâs a chorus of gasps and dramatic âoooohâs. The kid next to him starts laughing. Someone else claps like this is the best thing theyâve seen all night.
Your face burns instantly.
You glance at Yoongi. Heâs frozen. Stiff. His hands still on his knees, his mouth slightly open like he was mid-breath when the dare landed.
You laugh it off. âWow. Okay. Real original.â
âCome on,â Ari says, nudging you. âItâs not a big deal.â
âYeah, itâs just a dare,â someone adds. âItâs not like you guys havenât known each other since diapers.â
That doesnât help. If anything, it makes your stomach twist harder.
You look at Yoongi again. He meets your eyes this time.
And something⊠flickers.
His expression isnât teasing. Heâs not rolling his eyes or laughing with everyone else. He looks nervous. Careful.
He clears his throat. âOnly if youâre okay with it.â
You try to sound casual. âItâs fine. Letâs just get it over with.â
But you canât stop your heart from racing.
You both shift toward each other, awkwardly, slowly, like two magnets confused about which way they're supposed to go. Heâs so close now you can see the way his lashes touch his cheeks, the tiny mole just above his lip, the uncertain way he tilts his head.
Someone counts down, loud and obnoxious. âThree! Two! One!â
You kiss him.
Itâs not long. Itâs not deep. Itâs just a press of lips â barely there, barely breathing.
But itâs soft.
Way softer than you expect.
Yoongi doesnât move. Doesnât push forward. Doesnât pull back. Heâs just⊠there. Warm. Still. His lips are chapped but gentle, and his breath stutters against yours for a half-second before you both pull away like the floorâs about to collapse.
The room explodes. Cheering. Laughing. Someone yells, âTheyâre in love!â
You grab the cupcake from your lap and toss it at them.
Yoongi stares at the floor. He scratches the back of his neck and mutters something you donât catch. His ears are red.
You force out a laugh. âYou guys are ridiculous.â
But your voice cracks on the end.
He doesnât meet your eyes for the rest of the game. You pretend not to notice, but you do. You notice everything â how quiet he gets, how he taps his fingers against his knee, how he shifts away from you just a little when someone else sits down on his other side.
And you tell yourself it was nothing.
Just a stupid dare.
Just a game.
----
Youâre lying on your stomach on Yoongiâs bed, chin propped on your hands, staring at your phone like itâs a live grenade. The text is typed out already. Itâs stupidly short. Two sentences. Fourteen words. Youâve reread it twenty-seven times.
Yoongiâs next to you, sitting cross-legged with his back against the wall. Heâs flipping through the songs on your playlist like itâs the most boring job on earth. His thumb pauses on a song you like and skips it.
You glare at him. âHey. I like that one.â
âYeah, and Iâve heard it a million times. Get a new personality.â
You kick at his leg. He dodges without looking.
The light in his room is warm, and the windows are cracked open just enough to let in that late-afternoon breeze. Youâre both still in your school uniforms, slightly wrinkled from the day. His tieâs loose. Your shoes are off. It feels normal. Comfortable.
But it doesnât feel easy anymore.
Your phone screen dims. You tap it back on and sigh, loud and dramatic.
âI think Iâm gonna send it.â
Yoongi doesnât look up. âSend what?â
You roll onto your side so you can face him, and your heart kicks like itâs trying to climb out of your chest. âThe text. Toâ uhâ Taehyung.â
Now he looks at you. Blankly. Like you just said something in a different language. âTaehyung?â
âYeah. From science.â
His expression doesnât change, but something in his eyes shifts. Slight. Quick. Like a flicker of static.
âYou like Taehyung?â he says flatly.
You nod, even though your stomach doesnât. âI think so. Heâs funny. And he smells nice.â
Yoongi snorts. âYouâre so shallow.â
âI never said I wasnât,â you shoot back, but itâs softer than it should be. Youâre trying to keep it light. Playful. Like this doesnât feel wrong already.
Thereâs a pause.
Then he shrugs and holds out his hand. âLet me see the text.â
You hand it over without meeting his eyes.
He reads it silently. Itâs short, awkward, obviously written by someone pretending not to care too much.
hey, i was wondering if you maybe wanna hang out sometime? no pressure lol
He raises an eyebrow. âYou used lol. Thatâs tragic.â
âI panicked!â
âYou sound like a robot. A sad, nervous robot.â
You grab a pillow and smack him with it. âThen fix it, genius!â
He laughs â really laughs â and wrestles the pillow away from you like itâs a life-or-death situation. His fingers brush yours in the process.
You still.
Itâs barely a touch. Just a moment. But your body reacts like it always does now; your stomach flips; your face burns. And then the guilt rushes in.
You asked him to help you text another guy.
He doesnât notice. Or pretends not to. Heâs busy editing your message, adding a line about how you liked Taehyungâs project on sustainable energy (you did not). Then he adds a smiley face. The old-school kind, with a colon and a parenthesis.
âThere. Now you sound like a dork, but at least a sincere one.â
You take the phone back and read it.
hey, i liked your science project btw. wanna hang out sometime? :)
Your thumb hovers over the send button.
You glance at Yoongi.
Heâs staring at the ceiling now, one leg bouncing absentmindedly. He looks bored. Normal. Like this doesnât matter.
You hit send.
It feels like swallowing a rock.
----
You donât see him at first.
Youâre on the couch, curled into Taehyung like you belong there â knees tucked between his, hand lazily draped over his arm, head thrown back in that kind of laugh you donât fake. The kind that starts in your chest and takes over your whole body.
Taehyungâs saying something low in your ear, his voice too soft for anyone else to catch. You lean in, partially to hear him better, partially to get closer to him.
Yoongi walks into it like a punch.
He hadnât planned anything dramatic. Heâs holding a plastic bag with snacks â some random things he knows you like â intending to drop by like always. Just show up, sit too close, talk about nothing until the day disappears.
But youâre already laughing. And itâs not at something he said.
He stops halfway into the room.
You still havenât noticed him.
Taehyung sees first. He looks up and gives a casual, almost smug nod. âYo, whatâs up?â
You turn your head fast, like youâre caught doing something wrong. But your smile doesn't fade. âHey! You didnât text me you were coming.â
âI did,â Yoongi says. âLike ten minutes ago.â
You blink. âOh. Sorry.â
You shift slightly, pulling your legs back, not completely â but just enough that you can pat the spot beside you like nothingâs weird. âCome sit.â
He does. He sits. Of course he does.
He drops the bag on the table and slides into the open space next to you, but it feels exactly like what it is â too late.
The three of you make some awkward, half-hearted small talk. Taehyung says something dumb about your chemistry class and you laugh again â less wild this time, but still bright.
Yoongi forces a smile. It stretches across his face too tight. âDidnât know this was a thing now.â
âWhat?â you ask, but your voice has that careful edge to it. You know what he means.
He shrugs, cool and neutral. âYou and Taehyung.â
Taehyung answers for you. âItâs not, like, official-official. Yet.â
You laugh under your breath, brushing a piece of hair behind your ear, not looking at Yoongi when you say, âWeâre just seeing where it goes.â
Right.
Cool.
Yoongi leans back against the couch and nods like that makes perfect sense. Like it doesnât feel like someone just hit the mute button on the world around him.
You look happy. And not in a fake, putting-on-a-show kind of way. Youâre relaxed. Glowing, even. And Taehyung? Heâs just there. Confident. Comfortable. Sitting way too close.
Yoongi swallows it all.
The way your fingers had been resting on Taehyungâs arm like it was nothing. The way you pulled your legs back but didnât move farther away. The way his name sounds too easy coming out of your mouth.
He laughs dryly at something Taehyung says â he doesnât even hear what it is.
And he stays. Of course he stays.
Because heâs your best friend.
Thatâs what he is. Thatâs what heâs always been.
And if it hurts, if it feels like the room is spinning just slightly off-axis â well.
You donât need to know that part.
----
You donât cry right away.
At first, you just laugh. Too loud. Too sharp. The kind of laugh that feels like it has nowhere else to go.
You sit on the edge of your bed, phone still in your hand, screen black now. The last text from Taehyung stares back at you in your head, branded there like it wants to stay.
âI just donât think this is working anymore.â
No call. No warning. Just a half-hearted paragraph and a stupid, passive âsorry.â
You set your phone down on your nightstand. It slides a little and stops.
You stare at the wall across from you. Itâs the one with the old polaroids and dumb notes and a drawing Yoongi made of you in sixth grade that looks like a potato with hair. You donât blink. You barely breathe.
The first tear slides out before you even notice it. Just leaks out. Quiet. Like your body knew before your brain caught up.
And then youâre crying.
Not pretty, dramatic crying â the ugly, silent kind where your chest hurts more than your heart and you canât quite breathe right. Your hands shake. You press your face into the pillow to muffle the sound, and it doesnât help. You feel like youâre sinking through the bed.
It wasnât even a long relationship. A few months. A few kisses. Some hand-holding and shared playlists and awkward texts. But Taehyung made you feel seen. Liked. Wanted.
And now you feel... disposable.
Thereâs a knock on your door. Light.
Hesitant.
You donât answer.
It creaks open anyway. You know the sound of his footsteps before he even speaks.
Yoongi.
He doesnât say anything at first. Just stands in the doorway, taking you in â all curled up and messy and miserable. Then he crosses the room, slowly, like he doesnât want to startle you.
âYour mom said you werenât feeling good,â he says softly.
You turn your head, just enough to look at him. Your eyes are puffy. Youâre not even trying to hide it.
His brows draw together instantly. âWhat happened?â
You open your mouth, and it takes two tries before anything comes out.
âTaehyung dumped me,â you mumble.
It sounds small. Childish. Not even worth the weight in your throat. But the look on Yoongiâs face shifts â his whole posture softens, and before you can stop him, heâs sitting beside you.
He doesnât ask for permission, just reaches out and pulls you into his arms.
You fall into him without hesitation.
Itâs warm there â his hoodie smells like detergent and the faintest trace of cinnamon gum. His chin rests on top of your head. His hands stay still on your back, not moving, not rushing you.
And you just let yourself cry.
Not because of Taehyung, not entirely. Not even because of the rejection. Itâs all of it. The hurt, the disappointment, the slow-burning truth that you were hoping for something more than what he gave.
Yoongi holds you like heâs done this before in a dream. Like he knows exactly how to steady you without needing words. Like he feels what you feel.
But heâs quiet. Too quiet.
Thereâs something in the way his fingers curl into your top, in the way he presses his mouth into your hair and doesnât move for a long time, like heâs clinging to something heâs not allowed to want.
You donât say anything.
Neither does he.
Eventually, your breathing slows. You wipe your nose on your sleeve and shift in his arms, suddenly aware of how close he is. How good he smells. How warm he feels. And how badly you wish this was something else.
âThanks,â you murmur, voice hoarse.
He just nods. âYeah. Always.â
And you donât talk about it again.
Not the breakup.
Not the way you cried into his chest.
Not the way his shirt smelled like you for two days after.
----
Youâre still his favourite person.
That hasnât changed.
What has changed is everything else.
He still walks you home when itâs late. Still sends you memes at 2 AM. Still saves the red gummy bears for you and pretends itâs not a thing. But itâs not like it used to be â not the same easy closeness, not the same comfort.
You date people now.
Sometimes you talk about them like theyâre no big deal. Other times, your eyes light up in a way that makes something twist deep in his stomach.
He listens. He nods. He laughs when heâs supposed to. But underneath all of it, something grows. Slow and impossible and heavy.
Love is a quiet thing, heâs learned. Sometimes it lives in the silences. Sometimes in the way you pass him a drink before he even asks. Sometimes in the fact that you always take the seat next to him, even when thereâs room on the other side.
Itâs been building in him for years.
And tonight, it almost spills.
Youâre both on his bed, legs stretched out, backs against the wall. Itâs late â later than you said youâd stay â but neither of you mention it. A movie plays on his laptop, mostly ignored. Some old favorite youâve both seen a dozen times.
Youâre in a hoodie that doesnât belong to you â his, probably â and your hairâs a mess and your socks donât match and you look like home.
He canât remember what the movieâs about. He hasnât looked at the screen in a while.
You say something, soft and tired, and laugh at your own joke. Your head drops lightly against his shoulder, and he freezes.
You donât move.
And he doesnât either.
You just stay like that â your cheek resting against him, your breath slowing, your body slowly going still. Youâre warm. He can feel the shape of you through his top, the weight of your trust in the way you lean into him like itâs nothing.
Itâs not nothing.
Not to him.
He looks down at you. Your lashes flutter slightly. Your lips are parted. You smell like your shampoo and something sweeter underneath. And he wants to say it.
He almost does.
The words rise in his throat like a wave, a whisper, a fragile truth heâs carried for too long
But he doesnât say it.
Because youâre tired. Because the timingâs wrong. Because heâs afraid youâll look at him with surprise , or worse â pity.
So he sits there, still and aching, while the credits roll and your breathing deepens.
You fall asleep on his shoulder.
And Yoongi memorises everything â how your head fits perfectly into the curve of his neck. How your fingers twitch in your sleep. How you murmur something he canât quite catch and then go quiet again.
He thinks, If this is all I ever get⊠maybe itâs enough.
But he knows itâs not.
Not really.
Youâre drunk.
Not sloppy or reckless, just that warm, loose kind of drunk where the room spins slightly and everything feels a little softer. Someone's phone is plugged into the speakers, playing something moody and bass-heavy. The lights are low. People you barely know are dancing in the kitchen.
Youâre on the couch, legs curled up, red solo cup half-empty in your hand. And Yoongi is beside you, same as always.
Except nothing feels the same anymore.
Heâs wearing black jeans and a simple, grey t-shirt, dark hair falling slightly into his eyes. His knee brushes yours every time he shifts. Youâve stopped pretending not to notice.
He says something dry â some sarcastic comment about the guy doing shots off a frisbee â and you laugh too loud. Youâre tipsy. Youâre floating. But your heartâs not light. Itâs buzzing. Loud and tense and full of every little thing youâve been holding back.
You look at him.
Really look at him.
The way his mouth curves slightly when he talks. The way he never quite meets your eyes when youâre this close. The way he smells like laundry and something distinctly him â faint mint, skin-warm cotton, late-night comfort.
And it hits you all at once.
You want to kiss him.
Not because someone dared you. Not because you're drunk and stupid. Not even because you canât stop thinking about that first time years ago. But because you mean it. Because youâve been meaning it for a long time.
You lean in before you can talk yourself out of it.
Soft. Slow. Hesitant.
Your hand brushes his cheek. His eyes widen â just barely â and then your mouth is on his.
And he doesnât move.
Not at first.
For a second, he kisses you back. Long enough to make your whole body hum.
But then he pulls away.
Not roughly or dramatically. Just enough. Enough to break your heart a little.
âHey,â he says, voice too gentle. âYouâre drunk.â
You blink, confused. Hurt blooming fast behind your ribs.
âSo?â
His jaw tenses. He looks away. âI donât want you to wake up tomorrow and wish you hadnât.â
Your chest goes tight. âYou think I didnât mean it?â
He doesnât answer.
And that tells you everything.
You pull back slowly. You donât say another word.
The rest of the night blurs. Someone turns the music up. You make some excuse about needing air. He drives you home without being asked, hands tense on the wheel the whole time. The silence is too loud between you.
You lean your head against the passenger window, pretending to be asleep before he can try to explain.
You donât want to hear it.
Because you meant it.
And you thought, for a second, maybe he did too.
Itâs been weird for weeks.
Not explosive. Just off.
A slow shift. A stretching silence.
You're still around. Still close enough to touch, to laugh at his jokes, to send dumb videos to in the middle of the night. But thereâs something behind your smile now. Something guarded. Distant. And he knows itâs his fault.
You kissed him.
And he pulled away.
Not because he didnât want it â fuck, he wanted it â but because you were drunk, and he was scared, and it felt too real too fast. So he froze. You backed off. And neither of you brought it up again.
But youâve both been pulling back ever since.
He doesnât know how to fix it.
Youâre in his room now, sitting on the edge of his bed, tapping your foot, eyes on your phone but not really reading. Yoongiâs at his desk pretending to study. The silence has weight. It presses on the back of his neck.
You exhale through your nose. Not loud, but sharp. Tired.
âDo you even want me around anymore?â
The question hits him like a slap.
He turns slowly in his chair. âWhat?â
You glance at him. âYou act like you donât care anymore. Like Iâm justâ I donât knowâ there.â
He sits back. His jaw tightens. âIâve just had a lot going on.â
âYeah?â you say. âCool. Same.â
Something in your voice snaps.
He straightens up. âWhatâs that supposed to mean?â
You stand now, phone forgotten on the bed. Your arms are crossed. âIt means Iâm tired of pretending everythingâs fine when itâs obviously not.â
He doesnât answer.
âYou donât talk to me like you used to. You barely look at me.â
âI look at you all the time,â he mutters.
You laugh once, the sound sharp and bitter. âRight. When youâre not busy avoiding me.â
He hates this. He hates how defensive he feels, how all the words he wants to say get trapped behind the ones he thinks are safer.
You step closer. Not too close. Just enough for him to feel it. âIf you didnât want me to kiss you, you couldâve just said so. You didnât have to make it this awkward.â
His throat tightens. âYou were drunk.â
âAnd you made it clear it was a mistake.â
He flinches.
âI get it now,â you say, biting the inside of your cheek. âIt was a stupid moment. One I shouldnât have started.â
His heart is pounding.
You look away like youâre ashamed, like you regret all of it. And maybe you do. Maybe he shouldâve let you believe he didnât feel anything, because that would be easier than this â than hearing you call it a mistake like it meant nothing.
He wants to stop you. Wants to grab your hand, say your name, rewind time.
But he just says, âYeah. Maybe it was.â
Your mouth opens a little, but you donât say anything. Just blink, like youâre trying not to show how much that hurt.
Then you grab your phone. âI should go.â
He doesnât stop you.
You close the door behind you a little too gently, like slamming it would give away too much.
And Yoongi just sits there, staring at the space you left behind, hating every second of the silence that follows.
Because the kiss wasnât a mistake.
But letting you believe it was? Might be the biggest one heâs ever made.
You havenât talked since the fight.
No texts. No âare you home?â No memes.
No Yoongi.
Itâs only been a few days, but it feels like weeks â like somethingâs gone missing in the background of your life. Like you keep reaching for something that isnât there anymore.
Youâve reread the last texts between you two more times than youâll admit. The tension. The things you said. The thing you didnât say.
Itâs past midnight when your phone buzzes.
Yoongi [12.36 AM]: Are your parents home?
You stare at the screen, heart suddenly in your throat. You donât know what propels you to reply, but you do.
You [12.37 AM]: no
Less than ten minutes later, you hear the sound of pounding rain outside.
And then â knocking. Hard, fast, urgent.
You open the front door.
Yoongi is standing there, soaked to the bone. Hair plastered to his forehead, hoodie clinging to him, chest rising and falling like he ran here.
You step aside without saying a word, and he walks in like heâs scared youâll change your mind if he hesitates.
Water drips onto the floor. Heâs breathing heavy. His eyes are locked on yours.
And then he starts talking.
âI didnât mean what I said. That it was a mistake. I didnât mean any of it. I was scared. I didnât want to screw up what we have and Iâfuck, I already did, didnât I?â
You donât move. You just stare. Let him unravel.
âThe kiss wasnât a mistake,â he says, voice breaking just slightly. âNothing with you has ever been a mistake.â
You open your mouth to say something, but he doesnât let you.
âIâve been trying to stay away because I thought maybe you were better off not knowing. But I canât do it anymore. Not talking to you isâ it's fucking unbearable.â
His eyes meet yours.
And then he closes the space between you in two steps.
He kisses you.
For real this time.
Not soft or scared or careful.
Itâs soaked and breathless and honest â his hands cradling your face like heâs been waiting years for this exact moment and couldnât risk wasting another second.
You melt into it. Everything inside you aches with how much you missed him.
He pulls back, eyes searching yours, his thumb still brushing your cheek.
âI love you.â
You blink once.
Then you grin, so wide it almost hurts.
âTook you long enough, asshole.â
He laughs. Breathless. Relieved.
And then you kiss him again.
Not because of a dare.
Not because you're drunk.
Not because you're trying to get over him.
But because you finally donât have to pretend anymore.
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The Missing Track - Min Yoongi One-Shot
Pairing: !Idol Yoongi x ! producer f. reader
Genre: explicit romance (smut) !! MINORS DNI !! đ
Word count: ~ 30k
Summary: Suga of BTS is on the edge, racing against the clock to finish his solo album. With just three songs left to complete and a looming deadline, he's struggling to find inspiration. In a last-minute move, his company pairs him with the highly secretive Producer K, a renowned but elusive figure in the music industry. Everyone assumes Producer K is a male, but when Suga meets the mysterious producer, he's shocked to discover that K is actually a talented and confident woman. As they collaborate, the line between professional and personal begins to blur. Their chemistry is undeniable, but with a ticking clock and the pressure to deliver, can they finish the album on time? Or will their growing connection derail everything they've worked for? Secrets, passion, and music. Can Suga keep his focus, or will Producer K. change everything?
!! Warnings !!:Â vaginal sex, protected sex, oral sex, slow burn, angst, fluff, enemies to lovers, jealousy
A/N: I miss these two already!! đ„ș This story was highly influenced by me having Yoongi's SDL and Reed Wonder's The machine on repeat. Hope you enjoy reading this story as much as I did writing it! Let me know your thoughts đ.
Love the story? â Support me on Ko-fi! đ
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The soft hum of equipment filled the studio, punctuated by the click-clack of Yoongi's keyboard. His desk was a mess of coffee cups, scribbled notes, and sheet musicâproof of hours spent chasing inspiration that eluded him.
"Hyung," a staff member, Jihoon, said cautiously, standing near the doorway. "I think we need to talk about your album. Specifically, the last tracks youâre stuck on."
Yoongi swivelled his chair, eyebrows knitting together. "I'm not stuck," he said sharply. "I just need time."
"You have three months before the release date," Jihoon reminded him. "And right now, three of the songs donât have melodies. Youâve been staring at the lyrics for weeks."
Yoongi sighed, dragging a hand through his hair. "Iâm working on it."
Jihoon hesitated, holding back a smirk. "The team suggested bringing in another producer."
Yoongiâs eyes narrowed. "I donât need help. This is my album. Iâve handled everything myself before, havenât I?"
"This time, weâre short on time," Jihoon countered. "And weâre talking about Prod. K. Heâs incredible! The guy with the minimalist beats and genre-blending compositions. Even youâve praised his work."
Yoongi leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. "I praised the music, not the person. And I donât work with strangers, especially ones Iâve never even met."
"Itâs non-negotiable, hyung." Jihoon sighed. "The higher-ups already agreed. Weâre bringing him in to collaborate."
"Bringing him in?" Yoongi repeated, his tone laced with sarcasm. "Iâve never even seen his face. For all I know, he could be some arrogant newbie."
Jihoon smirked, his gaze flickering with amusement Yoongi didnât appreciate. "Lets not judge, just wait until you meet him."
Yoongi grumbled, turning back to his monitor. "Fine. But donât expect me to make this easy for him. And when he leaves because Iâm too âdifficult,â you can tell the higher-ups they were wrong."
~~ Y/N POV ~~ "Are you out of your mind?!" I hissed, pacing the small office where my team had dropped the bombshell of the century. "To collaborate with Suga of BTS in person? Sure, itâs an honor, but thatâs a no from me. If my identity gets leaked, the fact that Iâm a woman, working with him in some tiny studio, any sasaeng will have me on their hit list before I even step out the door."
My manager, Minji, leaned back in her chair, arms crossed but eyes pleading. "Y/N, listen. This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. His songs are streamed millions of times. You canât just brush this off."
"Iâm not brushing it off," I shot back. "I respect his work, donât get me wrong. But Iâm not willing to risk it. There are plenty of artists who would kill to have me on their projects just by sending them my demo, and theyâre happy to communicate with me online without ever knowing who I am. Why him? Why now? Why like this?"
Minji sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. "Itâs not just about you. The label needs this. Weâre in a tight spot financially, and this contract is massive. Do you know how much theyâre offering?"
I didnât want to hear the number. Money had never been my motivator, but the way Minjiâs face softened told me it was enough to make a difference, not just for me but for my entire team. I groaned, dropping into a chair and crossing my arms. "Why canât anyone hear my opinion? I donât want to do this. Iâm not just some faceless entity, you know."
"Youâre not," Minji said gently. "But you also know how much this could elevate your career. Three songs, Y/N. Thatâs all theyâre asking for. Just three."
Her words echoed in my head, the weight of them pulling me in two directions. Logic screamed to take the job, but fearâfear of exposure, of judgmentâheld me back.
"Fine," I said finally, hating how small my voice sounded. "Iâll think about it."
*** That night, I found myself on an unintentional deep dive into Min Yoongiâs a.k.a SUGA a.k.a AGUST D world. It started innocently enough: a quick search to refresh my memory of his discography. But then one song led to another, and another, until I was buried in hours of music heâd produced, lyrics heâd written, and performances that made me forget why I was so hesitant in the first place. Scrolling through fan edits and live clips, I couldnât help but be charmed. There was a reason people adored him, not just for his talent, but for the quiet charisma that seeped through the screen. His easy confidence, the way he handled himself on stage and in interviews, was magnetic.
"Focus," I muttered to myself, shaking off the distraction. But the deeper I went into his work, the harder it was to ignore his genius.
His music was haunting, intricate, and raw. The kind of art that pulled you into someoneâs soul, no matter how much they tried to hide. I couldnât help but wonder how someone with this much expertise got stuck?
By the time dawn broke, I called Minji. "Minji," I said the moment she answered, her voice still groggy. "Iâll do it."
"Wait, what? Youâre serious?" she asked, clearly surprised.
"Yes, but on one condition."
"Name it."
"No one finds out who I am. If my identity leaks, Iâm out."
Minji exhaled sharply. "Weâll make sure of it. Iâll talk to the higher-ups and confirm everything. Thank you, Y/N. This is the right decision."
I wasnât sure if it was the right decision, but it was the one Iâd made. The next couple of days blurred into a whirlwind of paperwork. Contracts, NDAs, and endless signatures filled my time, the reality of the collaboration sinking in more and more with each passing document. Ironically, a small part of me hoped that Min Yoongi would refuse to sign the NDA. Maybe heâd see the clause about not sharing my identity, find it too ridiculous, and decide the collaboration wasnât worth it.
But no.
He signed it.
When Minji told me, I stared at her like sheâd grown a second head. "He signed it?"
"Yeah," she said, looking just as surprised. "No arguments, no complaints. Honestly, I thought heâd push back, but he didnât."
I leaned back in my chair, letting out a long breath. "This guy⊠Heâs full of surprises."
"Donât get your hopes up," Minji warned. "Just because he signed doesnât mean this will be smooth sailing."
"I know," I muttered. But in the back of my mind, I couldnât help but wonder. How different was the man behind the screen, the one whose music Iâd admired for a while, from the person I was about to meet?
*** A few days later, everything was finalized. Minji and I were contacted by Jihoon, one of the team members who worked closely with Suga.
"Heâs coming to pick us up personally?" I asked Minji, eyebrows raised as I adjusted my headphones around my neck.
"Apparently," Minji replied, glancing at her phone. "Guess he wants to make sure we actually show up."
When Jihoon arrived, he was younger than I expected, his energy warm and casual. He greeted Minji with a polite bow and a bright smile, then turned to me. For a moment, his expression faltered, his eyes darting behind me like he was waiting for someone else to appear.
"Uh⊠Hi," he said, looking between Minji and me. "Youâre both here for Suga, right?"
"Yes," Minji answered smoothly. "This is K." She gestured toward me.
Jihoon blinked, confusion written all over his face. "Wait⊠Youâre Producer K?"
I gave him a tight-lipped smile. "Thatâs me."
"Youâre kidding," he said, then immediately looked apologetic. "I mean, sorry, I justâuhâ"
"You were expecting someone else?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Kind of, yeah," he admitted, scratching the back of his neck sheepishly. "No offense, but I thought youâd be, you knowâŠ"
"A guy," I finished for him, crossing my arms.
He laughed awkwardly. "Well, yeah. I mean, your music has this⊠vibe. Itâs not what Iâd expect fromâ" He cut himself off again, realizing he wasnât helping.
"From a woman?" I challenged, though there was no malice in my tone.
"Not what I meant!" Jihoon exclaimed, waving his hands. "Itâs justâŠforget it. Iâm sorry. I wasnât trying to offend you."
Minji chuckled, patting him on the shoulder. "Donât worry. She gets that a lot."
I didnât hold it against him. The entire point of my stage name was to avoid this kind of reaction, but moments like these reminded me why I kept my identity under wraps. Jihoon composed himself quickly and gestured toward the sleek black van parked nearby. "Anyway, letâs get going. Sugaâs waiting for us at HYBE."
*** The drive to HYBE was surprisingly pleasant. Jihoon was chatty, making an effort to ease the awkwardness of our initial interaction.
"So," he began, glancing at me through the rear-view mirror, "Iâm curious. How long have you been producing?"
"About six years," I replied.
"Wow, and youâre already working with Suga," he said, genuinely impressed. "Thatâs not something just anyone gets to do."
"Iâm aware," I said, keeping my tone neutral. "Itâs a privilege."
He nodded. "Have you been a fan of his music for a while?"
I hesitated. "I respect his work. Heâs incredibly talented."
Jihoon grinned knowingly. "Youâre downplaying it, huh? Thatâs fine. Most people get nervous meeting him for the first time. Donât worry, heâs actually a lot nicer than people think."
Minji let out a quiet laugh beside me. "I donât think nervousness is the issue here."
Jihoon glanced between us, confused but wisely decided not to press further.
*** Pulling up to HYBEâs towering building was intimidating, to say the least. Iâd seen pictures online, of course, but being there in person was a different experience.
"Here we are," Jihoon announced as he parked the van.
As we stepped out, I adjusted my hoodie, making sure it covered my face as much as possible. Even with the NDA in place, I couldnât shake the paranoia of being recognized. Jihoon led us through the back entrance, avoiding the main lobby and elevators filled with staff and trainees. "Weâre heading straight to the studio," he explained. "Heâs already there."
The walk felt longer than it probably was, my heart pounding with a mix of anxiety and anticipation. When we finally reached the studio, Jihoon paused at the door, turning to us.
"Ready?" he asked.
"As Iâll ever be," I replied, tightening my grip on my laptop case.
He opened the door, and there he was, Min Yoongi, sitting in front of a massive console, his back to us.
He turned at the sound of the door, his expression neutral as he stood to greet us. His gaze swept over Minji first, then landed on me. For a moment, he said nothing, his sharp eyes scanning me from head to toe. Then he frowned, looking at Jihoon.
"This is K?" he asked, his tone sceptical.
Jihoon winced. "Uh, yeah. This is K."
Yoongiâs frown deepened as he crossed his arms. "Youâre joking, right?"
I stepped forward, meeting his gaze head-on. "Last time I checked, Iâm not a joke."
His eyes narrowed slightly, his expression unreadable. "Youâre not what I expected."
"Good," I said, setting my laptop on the table. "Letâs get started." Yoongi smirked, leaning against the edge of the console, arms crossed. His sharp gaze never left me as he added, "I have to say, your previous work didnât exactly⊠scream âfeminine touch.â If anything, I thought youâd walk in here with a beard and flannel shirt."
I blinked, caught off guard. "Excuse me?"
Jihoon coughed awkwardly, stepping back as if distancing himself from Yoongiâs comment. Minji shot him a warning look, but I could see the corners of her mouth twitching like she was trying not to laugh.
Yoongi raised a hand, his smirk widening. "No offense. Iâm just saying your music has this raw, almost aggressive energy. Itâs impressive. I just didnât picture..." He motioned vaguely toward me. "...this."
Minji quickly interjected, "Alright, weâll leave you two to it. Jihoon and I have some things to take care of."
"Waitâ" I started, but Minji grabbed Jihoon by the sleeve and dragged him toward the door.
"Youâll be fine," she called over her shoulder. "Just... play nice, both of you."
The door shut with a soft click, and I was left staring at Yoongi, who looked far too amused for my liking.
"Let me guess," I said, narrowing my eyes. "You think this whole thing is a waste of time, right? That Iâm here because someone in your company thought you needed âhelp.â"
He shrugged, moving to his chair and spinning it lazily before sitting down. "Help isnât the word Iâd use. But yeah, I wasnât exactly thrilled about this arrangement."
"Trust me," I said flatly, "neither was I."
That earned a low chuckle from him. "At least weâre on the same page."
I took a deep breath, trying to keep my irritation in check. Iâd dealt with condescending colleagues before, but Yoongiâs nonchalant attitude was already grating on my nerves. How different was he from the Yoongi Iâd seen in interviews or fan videos? This guy wasnât the soft-spoken, thoughtful artist fans adored. He was sharp, blunt, and entirely too smug.
"Letâs just get to work," I said, pulling out my laptop and external drive. "You have lyrics, right? Show me what youâve got."
Yoongi grabbed a notebook from the desk and slid it across the table. "Here. Three tracks Iâm stuck on. The lyrics are solid, but I canât find the right sound to match them."
I flipped through the pages, skimming the lines. His handwriting was neat but compact, and the lyrics were, as expected, incredible. Emotionally raw, introspective, and layered with meaning. They demanded a melody that could do them justice.
"Whatâs the vibe youâre going for?" I asked, keeping my tone professional.
Yoongi tapped his fingers on the desk, his expression thoughtful. "Something atmospheric. A mix of minimalistic and haunting, but with enough depth to make it feel powerful. Think piano-driven but layered with electronic textures. I want it to hit hard emotionally but not overwhelm the lyrics."
I nodded, already forming ideas in my head. "Okay, letâs try something."
Opening my laptop, I connected it to the studioâs system and pulled up my digital audio workstation. I started layering a simple chord progression on the piano, experimenting with minor chords to create the moody tone he wanted. Yoongi watched silently for a moment before leaning forward. "No, thatâs too soft. It needs more tension."
I adjusted the progression, adding a dissonant note to the second chord. "Better?"
He nodded. "Yeah. Now bring in a low synth pad to fill it out."
I worked quickly, adding the synth and tweaking the sound to give it a subtle pulse. The room filled with the beginnings of a melody, and for a moment, the tension between us eased as we both focused on the music.
"Not bad," Yoongi muttered, almost to himself. "But it still feels... flat."
I bit back a retort, reminding myself that this was his music. "What do you suggest?"
He leaned back, closing his eyes as he listened. "The transition between the first and second chords needs more weight. Maybe a reversed sample or a swell to build anticipation."
I nodded, grabbing a sample from my library and reversing it. After a few adjustments, I played it back. The swell added a subtle but impactful build to the transition.
Yoongi opened his eyes and smiled faintly. "Thatâs better."
"Glad I could meet your standards," I said dryly.
He chuckled again, the sound low and almost teasing. "Relax. Iâm not here to make this harder than it has to be."
"Couldâve fooled me," I muttered under my breath, earning another amused glance from him.
Despite his initial scepticism, Yoongi was a perfectionist, and that part of him was something I could respect. He pushed for the smallest details, catching nuances that most producers might overlook. But he also didnât hold back his opinions, which made working with him both frustrating and oddly invigorating.
As the hours passed, we fell into a rhythm. Heâd point out what wasnât working, Iâd offer a solution, and weâd tweak it until we found something we both liked. By the time we wrapped up for the day, weâd made significant progress on the first track. The rough demo already had a haunting, melancholic energy that complemented his lyrics perfectly. Yoongi leaned back in his chair, stretching his arms above his head. "Not bad for our first day."
"Letâs hope tomorrowâs just as productive," I said, saving the project file.
He smirked, standing up and grabbing his notebook. "Weâll see. Youâre not as bad as I thought youâd be."
"Gee, thanks," I said, rolling my eyes. "Youâre a real charmer."
"Only when I want to be," he shot back, heading for the door.
As he left, I let out a long breath, leaning back in my chair. Working with him was exhausting, but I couldnât deny the excitement bubbling under my frustration. For all his arrogance, Yoongi was undeniably talented, and I found myself looking forward to the challenge of working with him. *** The next morning, Yoongi and I sat in the studio reviewing the progress from the day before. The demo played softly in the background, and while it sounded promising, there were a few sections that felt off.
"We need to rework this transition," Yoongi said, pointing at the waveform on the screen. "Itâs too abrupt. It needs more build-up."
I nodded, fingers hovering over the keyboard. "Agreed. Maybe adding a soft vocal sample or layering the synth more would smooth it out."
"Try it," he said, leaning back in his chair with a thoughtful expression.
As I adjusted the track, Yoongiâs phone buzzed on the table. He glanced at the screen, frowned, and stood up. "I need to take this. Keep working. Iâll be back."
He left the room without another word, the door clicking shut behind him. I sighed and refocused on the track, tweaking the layers as the melody slowly started to evolve. But after about twenty minutes, I decided to take a break. My coffee from earlier had caught up with me, and I needed to find the bathroom.
Stepping into the hallway, I started down the corridor when I heard Yoongiâs voice from around the corner. I paused, not wanting to interrupt, but something about his tone made me linger.
"...So yeah, Jihoon, I didnât know she was a girl," he was saying.
I froze, my pulse quickening.
"I mean, if Iâd known that was the case, maybe I wouldâve pushed back harder at the beginning. Told them I didnât need the help. Sheâs okay and talented, sure, but there are other producers out there who couldâve done this just as well."
My stomach twisted. Was that really what he thought of me? I took a step back, the faint creak of my shoe on the floor startling me. Afraid he might notice, I turned and quickly walked the other way, heading toward the nearest staircase to find another bathroom. I didnât want to hear anything else.
After finally finding a bathroom and giving myself a moment to cool down, I headed back to the studio. I was determined not to let Yoongi know Iâd overheard him, but my annoyance simmered beneath the surface. When I stepped back into the room, he was already there, seated casually at the console like he hadnât just dismissed my abilities a few minutes ago.
"Done with your break?" he asked, not looking up as he scrolled through the project file.
"Yeah," I replied shortly, taking my seat across from him.
He raised an eyebrow, glancing at me briefly. "You okay? You sound... off."
"Just tired," I said, forcing a neutral tone.
He didnât seem convinced, but he didnât press the issue. "Alright. Letâs pick up where we left off."
We dove back into the work, but my responses to his suggestions were clipped.
"That transition is too smooth," he said at one point. "It needs more contrast."
"Fine," I replied curtly, adjusting the settings without looking at him.
A few minutes later, he frowned at another section. "This part feels like itâs missing something. Maybe we shouldâ"
"Add another layer?" I interrupted. "I know. Already on it."
Yoongi blinked at me, surprised by my tone. "Whatâs with the attitude?"
"Nothing," I said quickly, not meeting his gaze.
"Doesnât seem like nothing," he said, leaning back in his chair. "If youâve got something to say, just say it."
I clenched my jaw, my fingers tightening around the mouse. "I donât have anything to say, Yoongi. Letâs just get this done, okay?"
His eyes narrowed slightly, and for a moment, I thought he might push further. But then he shrugged, turning back to the monitor. "Whatever you say."
The tension in the room was palpable, and it didnât go unnoticed by him.
"Look," he said after a long silence, his voice softer but still firm, "if somethingâs bothering you, itâs better to air it out now. Weâre supposed to be a team, remember?"
I laughed humourlessly. "Team? Right."
Yoongi sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Okay, what did I do? You were fine this morning, and now youâre acting like I kicked your dog."
I hesitated, torn between calling him out and keeping what Iâd heard to myself. In the end, I shook my head. "Itâs nothing. Letâs just focus on the music."
He didnât look convinced, but he let it drop, his focus returning to the track. For the rest of the session, I kept my replies short, my tone professional but distant. If he noticed, he didnât comment again. But as I left the studio that evening, I couldnât shake the sting of his words. He might think I was talented, but apparently, that wasnât enough.
*** Sunday was a rare blessing, my day off, a chance to breathe away from the suffocating confines of the studio and Min Yoongi. The contract was clear: three months to collaborate on three tracks for his upcoming album. That deadline loomed over every interaction, and yet, the past week had felt like a year.
I sat across from Minji at our favourite café, the smell of freshly brewed coffee mingling with the faint hum of chatter around us. She was nursing her caramel latte, her expression a mix of curiosity and concern.
"Okay, spill," she said, leaning forward. "Howâs it going with Yoongi? Are you two getting along?"
I scoffed, stirring my drink with unnecessary aggression. "Getting along? Not even close. Heâs impossible."
Minji raised an eyebrow. "Impossible how? Isnât he just... quiet and focused?"
"Quiet? Sure. Focused? Definitely. But itâs like working with a brick wall that also has an opinion on everything. Heâs a perfectionist to the point where itâs unbearable. We made progress on a track, a full weekâs worth of progress, and on Friday, he decided he didnât like it and scrapped the whole thing. Weâre starting from scratch tomorrow."
Her eyes widened. "He threw it all away? After a week? Was it really that bad?"
I shook my head, frustration bubbling to the surface. "No, it wasnât bad. It was good, really good, actually. But it wasnât perfect by his standards. He nit-picks every little thing, and donât even get me started on his work ethic. The man doesnât stop. I get it, heâs Yoongi, heâs supposed to be this genius producer or whatever. But does he have to be so infuriating?"
Minji smiled sympathetically, sipping her latte. "Well, you knew this wasnât going to be easy. Heâs got a reputation for a reason. But isnât it a good challenge? Youâre working with one of the best."
I leaned back in my chair, staring at the ceiling. "I thought it would be different, you know? I had this idea of him in my head. This brilliant, creative artist who would respect me as a collaborator. Instead, heâs... cold, demanding, and so stubborn."
Minji chuckled. "Sounds like heâs met his match."
I rolled my eyes but couldnât help the small smile tugging at my lips. "Oh, please. If heâs met his match, he doesnât realize it. He probably just sees me as another producer he has to tolerate."
"Thatâs not true," Minji said, shaking her head. "Youâre talented, Y/N. Heâll see it eventually."
I sighed, taking a long sip of my coffee. "I hope so, because right now, it feels like weâre just butting heads. He questions everything I do. And donât even get me started on his attitude. Heâs so... smug sometimes."
"Smug how?"
"Likeâugh!" I gestured vaguely, trying to find the words. "Itâs the way he looks at me, like heâs constantly judging whether Iâm good enough to be there. He doesnât say it outright, but I can tell heâs thinking it. And it drives me insane."
Minji laughed, leaning back in her chair. "Youâve got it bad, huh?"
"Bad?" I asked, narrowing my eyes. "Bad as in annoyed? Yes. Bad as in anything else? Absolutely not."
"Sure," she said, her tone teasing.
I groaned, burying my face in my hands. "Youâre impossible."
Minji grinned, nudging my arm. "You know, maybe this is good for you. A little friction can spark creativity. And who knows? Maybe heâs just testing you."
"Testing me?" I repeated, giving her a sceptical look.
"Yeah. Like, seeing how far youâre willing to push yourself. Maybe heâs trying to figure you out."
"Or maybe heâs just a workaholic control freak," I muttered.
Minji laughed, raising her hands in mock surrender. "Okay, okay. Point taken. But donât let him get under your skin too much. Youâve got this, Y/N. And who knows? By the end of three months, maybe youâll even like him."
I snorted. "Not a chance."
But as much as I hated to admit it, her words stuck with me.
*** The following week was no easier than the first. Yoongi and I worked tirelessly in the studio, bouncing ideas off each other, experimenting with melodies, and layering sounds. For every step forward, there seemed to be two steps back.
"This bassline isnât strong enough," Yoongi said on Tuesday, frowning at the speakers.
"I think it works," I argued. "Itâs subtle, but it adds depth to the track."
"Subtle isnât what weâre going for," he countered.
"And what are we going for, exactly?" I asked, crossing my arms.
He gave me a look, the corner of his mouth twitching like he was holding back a smirk. "Something better than this."
I wanted to throw my notebook at him.
By Wednesday, weâd managed to salvage some of the earlier work, only for Yoongi to suggest another round of revisions.
"Youâre kidding," I said, staring at him.
"Do I look like Iâm kidding?" he replied, completely serious.
"Do you ever smile?" I shot back.
He raised an eyebrow. "Do you?"
The tension between us was constant, a tug-of-war where neither of us was willing to back down. And yet, beneath the frustration, there was a strange kind of rhythm to our interactions. As much as I disliked him, I couldnât deny that he was brilliant. Watching him work was like witnessing a master at his craft, every decision precise, every movement deliberate. But that didnât mean I liked him. And I certainly wasnât going to let him know just how much I respected his talent.
*** The afternoon sun filtered through the blinds of the studio, casting soft golden stripes across the equipment. I was at the workstation, tweaking some samples on my laptop while Yoongi stepped out for a meeting, or whatever it was he disappeared to.
The door opened suddenly, and I assumed it was him coming back. "Did you finally decide toâ"
I froze mid-sentence as someone entirely different walked in. The man was tall, with a warm smile and an unmistakable energy that lit up the room. His eyes scanned the studio until they landed on me, his confusion immediately evident.
"Uh⊠hi?" he said, his smile faltering slightly. "Iâm looking for Yoongi. Did I walk into the wrong room? I am pretty sure this is the right one though..." he started scratching the top of his head, clearly confused.
"No, this is the right place," I replied, standing awkwardly. "He just stepped out for a bit."
His eyebrows shot up, and he pointed at me with a mix of curiosity and disbelief. "Waitâwho are you? Why is there⊠a girl in here?"
I frowned, crossing my arms. "Whatâs that supposed to mean? Girls arenât allowed in studios now?"
His hands shot up defensively, and he chuckled nervously. "No, no! Thatâs not what I meant! Itâs just⊠Yoongi didnât mention working with someone new today. And youâre clearly not Jihoon."
"Clearly," I said dryly.
He laughed again, but this time it sounded more genuine. "Okay, let me start over. Iâm Hoseok, but you probably know me as J-Hope."
Ah, then it clicked , of course it was J-Hope. His sunny demeanour didnât match the grumpy energy Yoongi radiated, though, which was a refreshing change.
"Nice to meet you," I said, offering a polite nod. "Iâm Y/N."
Hoseokâs expression didnât change for a moment as if he were trying to process something. Then he grinned, leaning slightly closer like heâd just discovered something exciting.
"Wait a second," he said, his tone playfully suspicious. "Iâm not even supposed to be here, you know. I heard Yoongi was working with the producer K who doesnât even disclose their identity, but I just couldnât resist. I love the music that K has done, so I had to come meet him. Will sign an NDA and everything."
I felt a twinge of amusement at his enthusiasm but kept my expression neutral. Something told me it was okay for him to know. "Well, congratulations. You just met⊠him."
Hoseok blinked, and then his jaw dropped dramatically as he pointed at me. "No way!"
"Way," I said, trying not to laugh.
His hand flew to his chest as if he were clutching imaginary pearls. "Thatâs why Yoongi didnât even say anything when I begged for details! He just said, âThereâs an NDA in placeâ and refused to elaborate."
"Pretty much," I replied with a shrug.
Hoseok stared at me for a beat longer before a wide grin spread across his face. "Youâre good. Like, really good. Iâve been following your work, but I never wouldâve guessed you were⊠Well, you!"
I chuckled, shaking my head. "Is that a compliment or a subtle way of saying I donât look the part?"
"No, no, definitely a compliment," he said quickly, waving his hands. "Itâs just⊠Yoongiâs been extra secretive about this whole thing. And now I see why."
"Yeah, well," I said, gesturing vaguely around the room, "heâs not exactly a ray of sunshine to work with."
Hoseok laughed loudly, his shoulders shaking. "Trust me, I know. But if youâre still here, that means youâre tougher than most. Or really patient."
"Or both," I muttered under my breath.
Hoseokâs grin widened, and he gave me a mock salute. "Well, Kâer, Y/Nâitâs an honor to meet you. Seriously. Your work speaks for itself."
He continued, a small smile playing on his lips. "Trust me, when I say this, Yoongi wouldnât work with you if you werenât talented. Heâs picky about these things. So if heâs giving you a hard time, itâs probably because he knows youâre good enough to keep up with him."
I blinked, caught off guard by the compliment. "Thatâs⊠nice of you to say."
"Just calling it like I see it," he said with a shrug.
Before I could respond, the door opened again, and Yoongi walked in. His eyes flicked between me and Hoseok, his expression unreadable.
"What are you doing here?" he asked Hoseok, his tone laced with mild irritation.
Hoseok grinned, completely unfazed. "Came by to check on you, of course. But I see youâre in good hands."
Yoongiâs gaze shifted to me, and for a moment, I thought I saw a flicker of somethingâannoyance? Curiosity? It was hard to tell.
"Donât you have your own schedule to worry about?" Yoongi asked, walking over to his desk.
"Iâm on a break," Hoseok replied cheerfully. "And besides, I wanted to meet your mystery producer. You couldâve mentioned sheâs not a guy, by the way."
Yoongiâs jaw tightened slightly, but he didnât respond. Instead, he focused on the stack of notes in front of him, clearly dismissing the conversation.
"Well," Hoseok said, standing up and stretching, "Iâll leave you two to it. Nice meeting you, Y/N."
"Nice meeting you too," I said, watching as he strolled out of the room.
The door clicked shut behind him, leaving Yoongi and me alone again.
"Youâve been busy making friends," he said, not looking up from his papers.
"Is that a problem?" I asked, arching an eyebrow.
He glanced at me, his expression unreadable. "Just donât let him distract you. Weâve got work to do."
"Wouldnât dream of it," I said, turning back to my laptop with a hint of sarcasm.
Yoongi didnât push further, but I could feel his gaze linger on me for a moment before he returned to his papers. But as I settled back into the project, I couldnât help but think about what Hoseok had said. Maybe Yoongiâs high standards werenât a bad thing. Maybe, just maybe, they were proof that he saw something in me worth pushing for. *** The next day, I walked into the studio, ready to dive into the work, but there was something off in the air. Yoongi was sitting at his desk, staring at his screen, tapping his pen rhythmically on the surface. It was a subtle change, but it didnât escape me, he wasnât his usual, calm and collected self.
I sat down at my workstation, glancing over at him. He was clearly deep in thought, but there was an edge to his silence today that felt... different. More charged. I wondered if it had anything to do with yesterdayâs interaction with Hoseok. Yoongi didnât acknowledge my arrival, which was typical, but today his lack of response felt unusually pointed. After a long, tense silence, he finally spoke without looking up.
âDidnât you want your identity a secret?â His voice was cold, almost accusatory.
I froze.
âExcuse me?â I asked, trying to hide the annoyance creeping up my neck.
âTalking to Hoseok yesterday," he continued, now looking at me with an unreadable expression. "The whole 'I canât reveal my identity' thing. So why are you suddenly so comfortable with him knowing?"
I felt a flash of irritation surge through me, but I kept my voice level.
âI never said I was âcomfortableâ with it,â I replied. âIâm just doing my job. And I donât owe you an explanation about my personal decisionsâ.
He narrowed his eyes, as if trying to read between the lines, but said nothing more. The tension hung heavy in the room as he returned to his screen, though his fingers seemed to hesitate over the keys. I couldnât help but scoff under my breath. What did he think? That I just decided to throw away years of carefully cultivated anonymity for fun? Minji had already alerted me that J-hope had also signed the NDA. I glanced at the clock on the wall.
âLetâs just get to work,â I said, my tone clipped, trying to deflect from the awkwardness of his question. âYou said you wanted to tweak the second verse.â
âYeah," he muttered, still not meeting my gaze, "but now Iâm wondering if I even want to keep collaborating with someone who canât keep things private.â
There it was again. That little jab. He wasnât even trying to hide it. I gritted my teeth, my patience thinning.
âIâve been working in this industry for years, Yoongi,â I said, fighting to keep my composure. âLong before this project. I know whatâs at stake. Donât lecture me about privacy.â
He finally glanced up, his eyes meeting mine. There was a flicker of something, was it guilt? But he quickly masked it with his usual indifference.
âRight,â he said, standing up and walking toward the soundboard. âLetâs get this over with.â
The rest of the session passed with both of us avoiding eye contact as much as possible. Despite the friction, we did manage to make some progress. Iâd never admit it aloud, but Yoongi was damn good at what he did. Even when he was being insufferable. After a while, he took a deep breath, rubbing his temples like he was trying to stave off a headache.
âYouâre not what I thought youâd be,â he muttered, half to himself.
I raised an eyebrow. âOh? And what did you expect?â
He gave me a sideways glance, not quite meeting my eyes.
âI donât know,â he said slowly. âMaybe someone more... calculated. Or quieter.â
âIs that so?â I shot back, my voice laced with sarcasm. âBecause I thought you liked chaos in your music.â
He smirked at that, but the tension still lingered between us, thick and unresolved.
As the day wore on, we continued to push through, though it was clear neither of us was really in the mood for any small talk or the usual banter. The chemistry that had started to form in previous days was gone, replaced by an almost uncomfortable distance. I finally stood up to stretch, my back aching from sitting for so long. Yoongi glanced at me, his expression unreadable.
âYouâre leaving?â he asked, voice cool, as though he didnât care.
âYeah. Iâm going to grab something to eat,â I replied curtly, gathering my things.
Halfway through gathering my things, for a split second, I thought I saw Yoongi open his mouth as if he was about to say something. Maybe it was the exhaustion on his face or just the weird tension between us, but for a brief second, I thought, just maybe, he was going to offer to grab something to eat with me. Instead, he just turned away, his back to me as he focused on his work. I blinked, swallowing the unexpected disappointment that bubbled up. What was I even expecting? It wasnât like we were friends. Shaking off the weird feeling, I grabbed my bag and left the studio, the door clicking shut behind me.
*** Once I got to the companyâs cafeteria, I was finally able to relax. The soft buzz of voices and clinking silverware was a welcome break from the tension in the studio. I grabbed a tray and found a seat by the window, trying my best to shove aside any thoughts of Yoongi.
He was a talented producer, no doubt, but the way he treated me was... irritating. I shouldnât have expected anything different. This was business, not friendship, and I had no time to be distracted by someone who probably saw me as just another collaborator, nothing more.
I opened my notebook and jotted down a few ideas for the next two songs we still needed to work on. The first song was nearly done, but weâd been working on it for two weeks, and I wasnât sure how to feel about it. It was slow progress, and I could already feel the deadline creeping closer.
I was so deep in thought, sketching out some melodies, that I didnât notice Hoseok standing in front of me until he waved his hand in front of my face.
âY/N?â He raised an eyebrow, looking amused.
I jumped a little, then glanced up at him. âOh, hey, Hoseok. Didnât see you there.â
He slid into the seat across from me, still grinning like he knew something I didnât. Hoseok leaned back in his chair, his eyes scanning me curiously. âSo, howâs it going? Heâs not making it too hard for you, is he?â
I almost snorted at the question. âHard? Thatâs an understatement. But yeah, Iâm surviving. Weâre getting somewhere.â
He raised his eyebrows, clearly surprised. âI didnât think youâd be the type to get along with Yoongi so easily. Heâs a bit... stubborn, right?â
I shrugged, taking a bite of my food to avoid answering too directly.
âYouâd be surprised what I can tolerate,â I said, feeling defensive for some reason.
Hoseok tilted his head, his gaze sharp. âI guess so. But you know, itâs funny.â
I looked up from my food, confused. âWhatâs funny?â
Hoseok smirked. âI didnât think youâd be the type to be such a fan of Yoongiâs music.â
I blinked, unsure if I heard him right. âWhat do you mean?â
Hoseok just pointed at my phone on the table, where Iâd left it open to a playlist of Yoongiâs songs.
I froze, then quickly reached to hide it, but it was too late. Hoseokâs grin widened.
âYou know, I really didnât expect that,â he said, leaning in a little closer, his tone teasing. âI mean, I always knew Yoongiâs music was good, but seeing you listen to it like that... I got to admit, Iâm curious what you think of it.â
I felt heat rise to my cheeks. âIâm just... trying to learn more about him, okay? Itâs part of the job.â
âSure, sure,â Hoseok said, still grinning. âI mean, I get it. Heâs got a certain... appeal. But hey, donât let it distract you too much. Heâs not the easiest person to get close to.â
âYeah, Iâve noticed,â I muttered, returning to my food, trying to act like I wasnât the least bit fazed.
Hoseok studied me for a moment, then leaned back in his chair with a thoughtful expression.
âWell, if you want my advice...â He grinned again, his eyes mischievous. âTry not to fall for the music and the man, yeah?â
I choked slightly on my food, coughing. âWhat?!â
Hoseok laughed, clearly enjoying my reaction. âIâm just saying, Y/N, donât get too swept up in it all. Yoongiâs a complicated guy. Heâs not someone whoâll make things easy.â
I scowled, but there was a small part of me that couldnât help but appreciate Hoseokâs frankness. âIâm not falling for anything, Hoseok. Iâm just here to do my job.â
Hoseok just winked and stood up. âWhatever you say. But if you do need to talk about him... Iâm always around.â
Hoseok paused, about to turn around before he shot me a sly grin over his shoulder. âActually⊠I donât know if youâre comfortable with all this yet, so you donât have to if you donât want to. But Iâm known for throwing some pretty epic parties around here,â he said, his tone playful. âIâm throwing one at the company soon, gathering the staff, and some of the BTS members will be there too.ïżœïżœïżœ
I raised an eyebrow, confused at where this was going. âA party?â
âYeah, and I can introduce you as the âAssistant of Producer K,â so you wonât have to expose your identity if youâre worried about that. Itâll be low-key, just a way for you to get used to the vibe here. Who knows? You might even get a chance to chat with Yoongi... outside of the studio.â He smirked, his gaze lingering on me as if he could see through the walls Iâd built up. âYou can bring a plus-one too, if you want.â
It was tempting, especially with the idea of getting out of this studio for a while. Plus, Hoseok seemed genuine, and I didnât want to just keep hiding away in my little corner of the world.
Still, I was cautious. This wasnât my scene, and I wasnât sure I was ready to step into the spotlight, especially if it meant running into Yoongi in a setting like that. The thought of it made my stomach flip.
âIâll think about it,â I said, trying to sound neutral.
Hoseok grinned, clearly satisfied with my answer. âTake your time. You know where to find me if you decide.â
With that, he left, leaving me alone with my thoughts.
I sat there for a moment, turning the invitation over in my head. A party? An opportunity to get used to the vibes, meet people, and possibly see Yoongi in a completely different light. It could be good for me to step out of my shell, get out of my head for a bit. But... was I ready for that?
I shook my head, pushing those thoughts aside for now. There was no need to make decisions in a rush. Iâd think about it later. I finished eating in silence, trying to push all the thoughts about Hoseokâs offer out of my head. It wasnât like me to just drop everything for a party, but something about the idea of getting out of the studio, meeting people, and maybe getting a chance to see Yoongi in a less... tense environment intrigued me. But I couldnât focus on that now.
I stood up, pushing my tray toward the dirty dish bin, and made my way back to the studio. As I walked through the hallway, I couldnât help but feel a strange sense of dĂ©jĂ vu. It was like Iâd just left, but already it felt like Iâd been away too long. The faint hum of the studio's equipment reached my ears before I even stepped through the door.
When I entered, the first thing I noticed was Yoongi, still at his spot, but now with a bowl of noodles in front of him. The faint smell of the broth hit me, and I couldn't help but cringe. Didnât he ever leave this place?
Yoongi looked up from his meal, barely acknowledging me as I entered. "Youâre back," he muttered, his voice a little muffled by a mouthful of noodles.
"Yeah," I said, letting the door close behind me. "Still working, I see."
âOf course,â he replied, the tone in his voice sounding almost too casual. "The faster we finish this, the sooner we can move on to the next track."
I dropped my bag onto the table and pulled my chair out. âThatâs the problem, isnât it? You keep rushing through everything, thinking you can just âmove onâ from one song to the next. But this isnât a race, Yoongi.â
He looked at me sharply, his brows furrowing. "I'm not rushing anything. We need to get this done before the deadline, and you canât expect me to just waste time on something that isnât working."
I stared at him, my patience thinning. âYouâre not even open to trying something new. Every idea I suggest gets shot down, but youâre so attached to this âperfectâ vision of yours. Well, guess what? Perfect doesnât exist.â
Yoongi set his bowl down, the chopsticks clinking against the edge. âSo what, you think Iâm not doing my best?â His eyes narrowed, and the room suddenly felt smaller. âYou think I donât care about the quality?â
I leaned back in my chair, crossing my arms. âItâs not about that, Yoongi. Youâre too set in your ways. You think your way is the only way, but this is a collaboration. I canât just keep following your orders. Iâm not your assistant.â
He let out a frustrated sigh and rubbed his forehead, like I was the last thing he needed in his life right now. "I never said you were my assistant."
âThen stop treating me like one,â I snapped, feeling my annoyance rise. "Iâm not here just to cater to your ideas. If weâre working together, we need to meet in the middle."
The silence stretched between us for a few long moments. Then Yoongi glanced away, exhaling sharply as if trying to push back his own frustration. "Fine," he muttered. "Weâll figure it out. But donât expect everything to happen overnight."
âI donât,â I replied dryly. "But I expect respect, which is something you seem to be lacking in."
He didnât answer right away, just went back to staring at his noodles. For a moment, I thought it might be best to just call it a day and leave, but something about the lingering tension kept me rooted to the spot.
"By the way," I said, the words leaving my mouth before I could second-guess myself. "Hoseok invited me to a party. At the company. Iâm thinking about going."
Yoongiâs head snapped up at the mention of Hoseokâs name, and I caught the flash of something in his eyesâa mix of surprise, confusion. It was hard to tell. But whatever it was, it was there, even if he quickly masked it with a smirk.
âHoseok?â he repeated, almost like he couldnât believe it. âWhatâs he got to do with you going to a party?â
"I donât know," I said, shrugging. "Maybe Iâll go. I might need a break from the studio. Get out of here for a bit. And who knows? It might be nice to talk to someone who isnât you."
Yoongi didnât seem pleased with that, but he said nothing. Instead, he shifted in his chair and looked at the screen in front of him, ignoring me completely.
âYouâre really not going to let this go, are you?â he asked, his voice low.
âI donât know,â I replied, leaning forward on my elbows. âYouâve been pretty hard to work with lately. Maybe a break is exactly what I need.â
Yoongi sighed, running a hand through his hair. âI didnât ask you not to take a break. Iâm just... trying to get this done.â
I tilted my head, studying him for a moment. "Fine. Just let me know when youâre ready to actually collaborate. You can stop being so defensive for two seconds."
There was another tense silence before I stood up to leave the room. But as I reached for the door, something inside meâmaybe frustration, maybe curiosityâmade me turn back.
âBy the way,â I said, walking back to Yoongiâs desk. âCould you give me Hoseokâs number? I might need it for the party.â
Yoongi froze for a second, his fingers stopping mid-air as if Iâd just thrown him off balance. His eyes narrowed, and for a second, he didnât say anything.
"Why would you need that?" he finally asked, voice tight.
"Because I need to respond to him if I am showing up or not," I replied, my tone sharp.
Yoongi glared at me but didnât say anything else, a muscle in his jaw twitching. After a beat, he reluctantly scribbled something down on a piece of paper and slid it toward me. âHere. But if you think Iâm going to chase you to the party... youâre wrong.â
I took the paper, glancing at it before shoving it into my pocket. âThanks. Iâll make sure not to expect you there.â
Without another word, I turned and left, my mind buzzing with more questions than answers. What was going on with Yoongi? And, most importantly... Why did his attitude bother me more than I cared to admit? *** I grabbed my phone, fingers hovering over the screen before I hit send. The past few days had been a blur of studio time and late-night meals. I needed something to break the routine. So, Thursday evening I finally decided to take Hoseok up on his offer.
Y/N: Hey Hoseok, it's Y/N! I just wanted to double-check the party details again. You said itâs at the company building, right? What time should I be there?
The response was almost immediate, Hoseokâs usual energy practically jumping out of the screen.
Hoseok: Yep! Itâs at the company building. Weâll start around 7 PM, but feel free to come anytime after that. You know how these things go. And donât worry, Iâll make sure youâre introduced properly as âProd Kâs assistantâ so no one will know who you really are. Itâll be low-key, promise!
I let out a relieved sigh. That sounded like exactly what I needed ⊠low-key, no expectations, just a chance to escape the studio for a bit.
Y/N: Thanks, that sounds perfect. Iâll be there. Can I bring my friend Minji? Sheâd love to come.
Hoseok: Of course! Bring whoever you want. Itâs all about having a good time. Iâm looking forward to seeing you there!
I grinned at the message, feeling a little lighter. At least for one night, I could just focus on having fun and not worry about my identity or working with Yoongi.
Putting my phone down, I leaned back in my chair, letting out a breath I didnât realize I was holding. The whole idea of going to a party sounded so... normal, so different from the chaos I had been drowning in lately. The studio, Yoongiâs sharp comments, and the constant pressure to produce. Maybe this would be a good chance to just... breathe.
I glanced over at the calendar on my desk, mentally counting the days. The next day, I texted Minji.
Y/N: Hey, Iâm going to that party Hoseok invited me to on Sunday. Want to come with me?
Minji: YES YES YES YES. This is going to be so fun! Who else is going?
Y/N: Apparently, all the BTS members will be there too.
Minji: Wait, like ALL of them? Are you serious? We need to plan our outfits then.
Y/N: Just donât go overboard, okay? Letâs keep it chill.
Minji: You know I can't do âchillâ when it comes to parties!
I couldnât help but laugh at that. Minji was always up for an adventure. I knew sheâd be bouncing off the walls all weekend in preparation. I didnât mind though. If anyone could pull me out of my head and get me excited for something, it was her.
When Saturday evening arrived, the studio was buzzing with an unexpected energy. After three weeks of near-constant back-and-forth, I finally felt like weâd made some real progress. The first song was done. It wasnât perfect, but it was as close as we could get in such a short time, and for the first time in a while, I felt the weight lift off my shoulders.
I glanced at Yoongi, who had been hunched over his computer screen for hours, typing away at the final tweaks. His brow was furrowed in concentration, but when the last beat dropped into place, he sat back in his chair and let out a long, satisfied sigh.
"We did it," he said, turning his head to meet my eyes.
It wasnât much, but there was a slight spark in his gaze. A hint of pride, even if he tried to hide it behind his usual indifference.
âYeah, we did,â I said, unable to stop the small smile tugging at my lips. "Itâs... good."
Yoongi paused, eyes locked on mine for a moment before a smirk tugged at the corners of his mouth. "I guess you donât completely suck at this after all."
I raised an eyebrow, playing along. "Iâm glad to know youâre impressed."
We both laughed softly, the tension that had been hanging between us for weeks finally easing. It was a strange feeling, one I wasnât used to with him, but I couldnât deny it. It felt... nice. Like weâd just hit a milestone together.
Yoongi extended his hand, and I hesitated for a split second before I went for it, my palm feeling warmer than usual. Our high-five was awkward, neither of us really knowing how to react. But in that brief moment, I realized how unusual it was for us to share something this... simple.
"Congratulations," I said, nodding toward the screen. "We actually did it."
"Yeah," Yoongi replied, his voice softer than I expected. "Iâll see you on Monday, then. Weâll tackle the next one."
I blinked, taken aback for a second. Monday? Just like that, the professional distance came back. I hadnât expected him to say that so casually, but I guess it was what we were supposed to do: get the work done, pack up, and move on.
But for some reason, as I sat there in the quiet of the studio, a thought lingered. Heâs really not coming to the party, huh?
I glanced over at him, but Yoongi was already packing up his things, seemingly focused on getting out of the studio as quickly as possible. He didnât even look back at me as he gathered his notes and the leftover snacks we had both been snacking on throughout the day.
I stood up and grabbed my bag, deciding it was better to just let it go. No need to dwell on something that wasnât going to happen. He was Yoongi, professional, distant Yoongi. He wasnât someone who would show up to a party for fun.
"Alright," I said, the awkwardness settling back into my chest. "See you Monday, I guess."
Yoongi glanced over at me for a brief moment, nodding. "Yeah. See you."
As I left the studio, I couldnât shake the feeling that something had shifted, but I couldnât place what. Maybe it was just the relief of finally finishing the first song. Or maybe it was just the weird dynamic between us, the unexpected moments of quiet camaraderie that had popped up over the last few days.
But as I stepped out of the building, I realized how much I was looking forward to the party on Sunday. It was the break I needed. *** Sunday evening came faster than I expected. Minji showed up at my apartment just as I was pulling out a few potential outfits from my closet. She threw her bag on the couch and plopped herself down with a dramatic sigh.
âFinally, a party!â she exclaimed, leaning back and stretching like sheâd just run a marathon. âWeâve been cooped up with that brooding genius for weeks. We need this.â
I rolled my eyes, laying a sleek black turtleneck dress over the back of the chair. âItâs not âweâ. Iâm the one stuck with him in the studio.â
Minji snorted. âYou say that like Iâm not the one dealing with your constant texts complaining about how annoying he is. âMinji, heâs impossible. Minji, heâs a perfectionist. Minji, heâs so irritatinglyâââ
âOkay, okay,â I interrupted, throwing a pillow at her. âI get it.â
She caught the pillow with a grin. âAdmit it, though. Youâre starting to like working with him, arenât you?â
âLike is a strong word,â I muttered, holding up a dark green dress and then discarding it. âWe finally finished one song yesterday. Thatâs it.â
âBut youâre not denying it.â She smirked, standing up to rummage through the pile of clothes Iâd pulled out. âOoh, this oneâs cute.â
She held up a sequined gold dress, and I shook my head immediately. âToo flashy. Iâm not trying to stand out. Just look professional and approachable.â
Minji rolled her eyes. âYou know this is a party, right? Not a corporate meeting?â
âStill. I want to keep a low profile,â I said, picking up the black turtleneck dress. It was tight enough to show some curves but modest enough to feel professional, with long sleeves and a hemline that hit just above the knees. âWhat about this?â
Minji tilted her head, considering. âItâs very you. Chic, understated, mysterious. And Yoongiâs probably going to notice you in it.â
I groaned. âNot everything is about Yoongi!â
Minji raised an eyebrow, smirking as she flopped onto the couch. âOh, really? If itâs not about Yoongi, then why are you quoting him like heâs living rent-free in your head?â
I rolled my eyes, crossing my arms. âBecause itâs relevant! When I told him Hoseok invited me, Yoongi literally said, âBut if you think Iâm going to chase you to the party... youâre wrong.â And yesterday, after we finished the song, he ended with, âSee you Monday.ââ I huffed. âHe couldnât have been clearer about not showing up.â
Minji snorted. âWow. He really went out of his way to make sure you knew, huh?â
âExactly.â I tossed the dress onto the bed. âSo, can we drop this whole âYoongi might surprise you at the partyâ thing? Itâs not happening.â
Minji held up her hands in mock surrender. âAlright, alright. No Yoongi talk. But honestly, he sounds so extra about it. Like, whatâs his deal? Youâre the one who didnât even want to be there with him in the first place.â
âExactly!â I said again, throwing my hands up. âI donât even care if he shows up or not. This is supposed to be my break. I just want to go, enjoy the night, and pretend I donât have deadlines hanging over my head for one evening.â
Minji smirked knowingly but didnât say anything more as she got up to sift through her own options for the party. After a moment, she held up a red dress with a dramatic neckline and sparkling details. âWhat about this for me? It screams âIâm the fun friend.ââ
I laughed, shaking my head. âYou donât need a dress to say that. Everyone already knows.â
***
A little while later, we were both ready. Minji had gone with her glittery red dress, while I stuck to my black turtleneck one.
As we grabbed our things, Minji gave me a playful nudge. âOkay, so, final thoughts: what if Yoongi does show up, despite everything he said?â
I shot her a withering look. âThen Iâll eat my words. But thatâs not happening.â
Minji grinned as we headed out the door. âWeâll see.â
*** The energy of the party was already palpable as Minji and I entered the venue. The music was loud enough to drown out any awkward thoughts, and the lighting cast a warm, celebratory glow. Before we could get our bearings, a familiar figure spotted us and made his way over with an enthusiastic wave.
âWelcome, welcome!â Hoseok beamed, his smile as bright as the room itself. âYou made it! I was starting to think youâd ditch last minute.â
Minji laughed. âNot with you hosting, J-hope. She couldnât say no.â
I shot her a quick glare but turned to Hoseok with a polite smile. âThanks for inviting us.â
As we exchanged pleasantries, a small group approached him, each handing over neatly wrapped gifts or gift bags.
âHappy birthday, Hobi!â one of them exclaimed, pulling him into a quick hug before leaving the gift with him.
I blinked, taken aback. âWait... birthday?â I turned to Hoseok, brows furrowed. âIs this... your birthday party?â
Hoseok gave me a sheepish grin. âWell, yeah. Kind of.â
I stared at him, stunned. âYou didnât tell me it was your birthday!â
âOf course, I didnât,â he replied, laughing. âIf I told you, you wouldnât have come. Admit it!â
I opened my mouth to protest, then paused, realizing he wasnât entirely wrong. ââŠOkay, fair. But now I feel terrible. I didnât bring you anything.â
He waved it off with a casual flick of his hand. âDonât even worry about it. Your presence is enough of a gift.â
Minji rolled her eyes playfully. âWow, smooth.â
I ignored her, offering Hoseok a tentative smile. âWell, if thatâs the case, I owe you dinner. My treat. Birthday special.â
Hoseokâs grin widened, and he gave me a mock bow. âIâll hold you to that.â As the party carried on, my mind wandered, unbidden, to Yoongi. If it was Hoseokâs birthday, then surely Yoongi would be here, right? They were bandmates, practically brothers. Despite everything heâd said, it felt impossible that he wouldnât show up to celebrate.
Right?
Hoseok, catching my distracted expression, nudged me lightly. âCome on, let me introduce you to the guys.â
As Hoseok led me through the crowd, I tried to shake off the lingering thoughts about Yoongi. I couldnât help myself, though; the idea that he wasnât here, despite everything, gnawed at me. Was he really just going to stay out of sight, like heâd said? Or had something else kept him away?
"Hey, over here," Hoseok called, his voice cutting through my thoughts as he pulled me toward the others. "Everyone, this is Y/N and Minji, the assistant and the manager of Producer K!"
The guys all turned to look, some with grins on their faces, others with more curious expressions. I gave a small wave, trying to maintain the composure I knew I needed for moments like this. Being around people like themâBTSâwas something I wasnât used to, but I was starting to adjust, or at least, I hoped I was.
"Y/N and Minji, huh? Nice to meet you," Jimin said first, flashing me a grin that lit up his whole face. "Hoseok's always talking about Producer Kâs work. You must also be a pretty big deal if youâre working with him."
"Yeah, I've heard about his skills," Taehyung added, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "Nice to meet some of the brains behind the scenes." He gave a slight bow, which I returned awkwardly.
"We've been hearing a lot about you guys," Namjoon said, his deep voice steady and reassuring. "It's nice to finally put a face to the names."
"Thanks," I replied, trying to keep the mood light. "We just do our part in the background."
They all nodded, seeming satisfied with my answer. But it was clear that Hoseokâs introduction had piqued their interest, and the attention felt overwhelming. I quickly shifted my gaze to see if Yoongi had come in yet, but the crowd was thick, and I didnât spot him immediately.
"Minji," I whispered, trying to keep my voice low, "Do you think Yoongiâs coming?"
Minji raised an eyebrow. "Why? Are you hoping he does?"
I shot her a sharp look, but she just laughed, nudging me playfully. "Relax, Y/N. If heâs coming, heâll show up eventually. For now, just enjoy the party. Youâve earned it."
I sighed and nodded, trying to push the thoughts of Yoongi aside. There was no point in stressing over something I couldnât control.
As the introductions continued, Hoseok pulled me into a more private corner of the room, away from the group for a moment. "Youâre doing great," he said with a genuine smile. "I know this might feel like a lot, but youâre handling it well. The others are just excited to meet you. Theyâve heard a lot about producer K."
"Thanks," I replied, a little surprised at his sudden encouragement. "Iâm just trying to keep a low profile, honestly."
"Yeah, I get it," Hoseok nodded knowingly. "You know, though, if you want to meet some more people, I can introduce you around. You donât have to worry about your identity being exposed here. "
I just nodded, grateful for his understanding. But part of me was still wondering, was Yoongi going to show up? Or had I been right all along? Was he truly not interested in stepping outside of the studio for something like this?
At that moment, Jungkook stepped over to join us. "Whatâs up, guys?" he said with a smile.
Hoseok grinned and gave him a playful nudge. "Hey, you! This is Y/N, Producer Kâs assistant. Youâve heard a lot about her, right?"
Jungkook looked at me, his expression slightly puzzled at first before breaking into a smile. "Ah, yeah, Iâve heard a little. Nice to meet you, Y/N." He gave a casual wave, but there was a glimmer of curiosity in his eyes.
"Nice to meet you too," I replied with a slight smile.
Jungkook seemed to sense the tension in the air, glancing between Hoseok and me. "So, Hyung, who else did you invite?"
Hoseok grinned, looking around the room. "A lot more people, but ah, yes, Y/Nâthe only member you havenât met yet is Jin. Heâs in the military, so itâs just the rest of us holding down the fort tonight."
I nodded, trying to mask my surprise. "Ah, I didnât realize. That must be tough for you guys."
Hoseok shrugged, but there was a hint of something bittersweet in his eyes. "Yeah, but it is what it is. Weâre all proud of him, of course. We just miss him, thatâs all."
Jungkook nodded in agreement. "Itâs been a while, but weâll manage. Heâll be back before we know it."
I felt a pang of empathy for them, understanding how difficult it must be to have someone so important absent from events like this. But the conversation quickly shifted as Hoseok directed it back to me.
"So, Y/N, now that youâve met the guys, are you having fun? No pressure, just curious." He raised an eyebrow, clearly looking for my reaction.
I forced a smile, trying to get out of my own head. "Yeah, itâs been good. Just a little overwhelming."
"Totally understandable," Jungkook said, giving me a reassuring smile. "But donât worry. Itâs just a party. No big deal."
I chuckled softly, grateful for the small bit of comfort. But my thoughts still drifted back to Yoongi. Would he really not show up?
Just then, I spotted Minji on the dance floor, looking like she was having the time of her life. Without a second thought, I nudged Hoseok. "I think I need to join her," I said, already pushing my way through the crowd.
"Go ahead," Hoseok replied with a grin. "Iâll be around if you need anything."
I made my way over to Minji, and we quickly fell into the rhythm of the music, letting the beat carry us away. The drinks were flowing, and before I knew it, the atmosphere shifted into a carefree, almost electric vibe. As more people showed up, the party grew livelier, and from time to time, some of the BTS members would come over and join us on the dance floor. It was fun, it was wild, but... my mind kept drifting back to Yoongi.
Unable to hold it in any longer, I pulled Hoseok aside when I caught him by the bar. "Hey, Hoseok... Whereâs Yoongi?"
Hoseok glanced at me with a raised eyebrow, then shrugged. "Oh, he was here earlier, literally before you showed up. Now that you mention it, though, I havenât seen him since."
I felt a strange mix of disappointment and... relief? I wasnât sure anymore. Maybe it was better this way, but somehow, a part of me couldnât shake the feeling that something was missing from the night.
Minji and I were having a blast, drink after drink, dance after dance. The music, the energy, everything was a blur of fun. I couldnât remember the last time I had let myself enjoy the moment so freely, and for a while, it was exactly what I needed. But after a few more songs, I started to feel a little dizzy, the world spinning just slightly out of focus.
"Minji, Iâm going to head somewhere quiet for a bit," I said, my voice a little unsteady. "I just need to lay down, get myself together. Iâll be back in a bit, okay?"
She shot me a playful grin, still bouncing to the beat. "Take care of yourself, girl! Iâll be here if you need me!"
With that, I slipped away from the dance floor, trying to stay steady on my feet. I remembered the studio Iâd worked for the past weeks had a cosy sofa tucked away in one of its corners. It was the perfect place to rest for a bit until the dizziness passed.
I made my way to the studio, feeling the coolness of the hallway against my skin. The noise of the party seemed to fade as I pushed open the door, the silence of the room a welcome contrast to the chaos outside. I sank onto the sofa, closing my eyes for a few moments, hoping to just let the room settle.
I was only half-aware of how long Iâd been there when I heard the door creak open. My eyes fluttered open, and I instantly tensed. Had someone followed me in?
There, standing in the doorway, was Yoongi. He looked surprised to see me there, his eyebrows knitting together as he glanced around the room before fixing his gaze on me.
"What are you doing here?" he asked, his tone still as clipped as ever.
I raised an eyebrow at him. "What are you doing here?" I shot back. "I thought you weren't even coming to the party."
His eyes narrowed for a moment, but then he seemed to shrug it off. "Well I did. But, I donât exactly need to announce my presence to everyone." His voice was colder than usual.
I bit my lip, frustration rising in my chest. "Then why are you here, Yoongi? If you're so indifferent about the party, why are you hiding out here?"
His shoulders tensed slightly as he crossed his arms in front of him while standing next to the coach, his eyes not quite meeting mine. "Not hiding. Just... thinking." He sighed. "I could ask the same thing."
I crossed my arms too, feeling the heat of irritation flood my veins. "Iâm just getting away from the noise for a bit, okay?"
He didn't seem convinced, his lips forming a faint, sarcastic smile. "Right. Just taking a break. From everything, including the party, in my studio huh?"
Before I could respond, the unease that had been building between us finally snapped thanks to the alcohol. I pushed past him, moving toward the door. "Fine, Iâll leave. You can have your privacy too, Yoongi."
I turned sharply, my frustration boiling over, and reached for the door. The cool metal handle felt solid beneath my fingers, offering a small comfort. But as soon as I used it to crack the door open, I heard a sharp intake of breath behind me. A hand shot out, and in one swift motion, Yoongiâs arm stretched across me, pushing the door shut and blocking my escape.
I froze, my pulse quickening as I felt the warmth of his body close behind me. I couldnât move, couldnât breathe for a moment, caught in the tension of his presence. His arm hovered just inches from my face, the muscles in his forearm flexing as he braced himself against the door. I could feel the faint shift of air from his movement, the pressure of his proximity filling the space between us. He was so close, but he didnât touch me.
His breath was warm against the back of my neck, his presence so tangible that it almost felt suffocating. I couldnât help but stiffen, the tension in the air thick and heavy. My hand, still gripping the door handle, trembled slightly, and I could feel my heart thudding in my chest.
"Let go," I muttered, my voice low, tight with a mix of anger and something else that I couldnât quite place.
But Yoongi didnât budge. He was silent for a long moment, his body pressed just behind mine, not quite touching, but close enough that I could feel his every movement, his breath still brushing over the back of my neck.
"No," he said, his voice soft but firmââ...stay.â There was no hesitation in his tone, as though he had made up his mind about this. About me.
I didnât turn to face him. I couldnât. But I could hear the subtle shift in his tone. It wasnât just the frustration from beforeâit was something else now. Something quieter.
"Why?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper, though my hands were still shaking, my fingers gripping the door handle as if it might ground me. "Why should I stay?"
Yoongiâs breath seemed to hitch at that, and he shifted slightly, his chest brushing against my back as he leaned in just enough for me to feel the weight of his presence. "Because," he started slowly, his voice almost a murmur, "I didnât tell you to leave."
His words were unexpected. I hadnât anticipated this, whatever it was, this softness in his tone, this tension building between us.
I could feel myself bristling and I turned around to face him. "Why should I listen? You didnât even want to work with me in the first place. Why should I stay here with you now?"
"Who told you that?"
His voice, quieter now when his eye caught mine, but the words still stung. "I overheard you that day, talking to Jihoon on the phone, during the first week. You said you should've argued harder with your company to not work with me... and you said it was because Iâm a woman."
I could feel my chest tighten as the words left my lips. The tension in the air thickened, and before I knew it, I felt tears pricking at the corners of my eyes.
Yoongiâs face faltered. His eyes softened.
"I didnât say that." Yoongi's voice was quieter, almost apologetic now. "If you heard me properly that day... I said I knew you were talented. And I knew how much you value your privacy. I know this whole thing is risky for you. Thatâs why⊠if I had known you were a woman, I probably wouldnât have agreed to work with you. I didnât want to blow your cover or make you feel uncomfortable around me the whole time".
I blinked, my heart dropping. I felt like I had heard those words, but it was as if I hadnât truly processed them until now. Not in that context. I could feel my breath catch in my throat. I didnât know what to say. His words were so different from what I had thought. My mind was swirling, and before I could stop it, a few tears broke free and slid down my cheek.
Without a word, Yoongi stepped closer, his hand brushing my cheek gently, his thumb swiping away the tears while holding my face.
I froze, staring up at him, unsure of what was happening, but the proximity, his nearness, was overwhelming. I could feel the weight of his gaze on me, and his touch was so soft it almost made my heart ache.
His eyes met mine again, searching, lingering. We were so close now. His breath mingled with mine as he looked down at me, and I could feel the heat between us.
"Can I..." He started, his voice low, almost hesitant, but before he could finish, the door suddenly jolted behind me.
I jumped, both of us stepping away instinctively, my heart racing. The air between Yoongi and me shattered in an instant.
It was Hoseok. He stepped inside, a playful grin on his face, but his eyes didnât seem to notice me. "Yoongi! Whereâs Y/N? She was looking out for you earlier, and then she just disappeared on me."
I couldnât look at either of them. I just stood there, my back to the door, trying to breathe normally.
Hoseok stepped further into the room, a confused expression crossing his face as he noticed me and the way Yoongi was standing. He glanced between us, his gaze flicking back to Yoongi. "Everything good here?" he asked, sounding half-serious, half-playful.
I quickly moved, my cheeks flushed, and hurried out of the room, unable to handle the awkwardness any longer. Hoseok called after me, but I didnât look back. I just needed to get away, to breathe, to think.
But as I walked away, I couldnât stop the images of Yoongiâs eyes on me, his breath on my skin. What had just happened? I wasnât sure, but my heart was pounding in my chest as I moved further from that room, from him. *** When I finally made it back to the party, I spotted Minji chatting away with Taehyung. She looked up and waved me over, her usual bright energy making her stand out. But I couldnât shake the feeling from earlier. Yoongi's words, his actions. I knew I needed to leave.
"Minji," I said, cutting through the conversation. "We need to go." She blinked, surprised at the abruptness of my tone, but nodded without questioning me. I turned to Taehyung, who had been listening to Minji ramble on, with a smile on his face.
"Tell Hoseok Iâm sorry, but I have to leave. I'll see him again soon," I said, my voice steady. "And remind him that I still owe him that dinner."
Taehyung raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. He just gave me a knowing smile. "Alright, take care. Iâll let him know."
Minji and I made our way out of the venue, the lights of the party fading as we stepped into the cool night air. The moment we were in a taxi, I let out a breath I didnât realize I had been holding.
Minji glanced at me, her eyes practically sparkling with mischief as she read me like an open book. âWow. So you did meet him. What happened? Tell me everything. Now."
I rolled my eyes but couldn't help the small smile tugging at my lips. "Youâre relentless, you know that?"
Minji threw me a playful look. "You're not getting away with it. I need to know all the details. Was it awkward? Did he talk to you? What did he say? Was it... was it like, a moment?"
I groaned, leaning back against the headrest. "Honestly, it was... complicated." I paused, gathering my thoughts. "We had a bit of an argument, and then, out of nowhere, he blocked the door when I tried to leave. He didnât want me to go. And then, he... he said some things. I donât know. Things about me being a woman, about my privacy... It just felt like it was all crashing down in one moment."
Minjiâs face shifted from excitement to concern. "Wait, what? He said what about your privacy?"
I sighed deeply, recalling the mix of emotions from that moment. "I told him I overheard him on the phone saying he didn't want to work with me because I was a woman. I was mad. And I think I was hurt, too. He didnât deny it. He said... he said that he knows Iâm talented and that he wouldnât have worked with me if he knew I was a girl because it couldâve blown my cover. I... I didnât know what to think."
Minji stared at me, processing everything Iâd just said. "Wow. Thatâs a lot. But it sounds like he really didnât want to hurt you, Y/N. I mean, he doesnât want to blow your cover, and heâs not the type to just say stuff for no reason. I think he mightâve been trying to protect you in his own way."
I shook my head, still not fully understanding it all. "Maybe. But it doesnât make it easier. Heâs so confusing, Minji. One minute, heâs mad at me, then weâre... closer than I thought. I donât even know if I want to deal with it."
Minji placed a hand on mine, her expression softening. "Youâre allowed to be confused. I get it. But maybe, just maybe, this could be a good thing. Heâs not the only one with walls up, you know? Youâve got yours too."
I sighed, leaning back again. "Yeah, but this... this is different. Heâs not supposed to make me feel like this."
Minji didnât say anything at first, but then she shrugged slightly. "Look, I canât tell you what to do. But whatever happens, youâll figure it out. You always do."
Her words were comforting, even though I wasnât sure if I agreed. I wanted to know what Yoongi wanted from me, if anything. But for now, I had to focus on what came next.
***
The next morning, I woke up feeling like I was moving through a fog. I didnât know if it was the alcohol from the night before or the confusion swirling around my thoughts, but I had to get up, get ready, and go to work. It was just another day. I was a professional, after all.
As I stared at myself in the mirror, I couldnât help but think about everything that had happened between Yoongi and I the night before. The words, the tension, the way he blocked the door... It all felt like a surreal dream now. I quickly pushed those thoughts away, forcing myself to focus. Iâd told Minji last night that I wouldnât mention it again. That was the plan. I was going to walk in, act normal, and get through this day like nothing had happened. I had a job to do.
I dressed quickly, choosing something that felt both comfortable and professional, jeans and a simple blouse. Nothing too attention-grabbing. With one last look at myself in the mirror, I headed out.
The drive to the studio was quiet, my mind a little too preoccupied with what Iâd left behind. I thought about texting Minji again, but I didnât want to be that person who overanalysed everything. Iâd deal with it.
The moment I stepped into the studio, I immediately spotted Yoongi, already seated at the desk, headphones on, his gaze focused on the screen in front of him. The familiar quiet hum of the place seemed to swallow up any lingering awkwardness between us.
I set my bag down on the sofa and made my way over to the desk, trying to appear as casual as possible. I could feel Yoongiâs eyes flicker briefly in my direction, but he didnât acknowledge me right away. That was fine. No need for anything weird to happen today. I wasnât going to let it.
âMorning,â I said, offering a neutral smile, willing myself to act as though last night had never even happened.
Yoongi just nodded, his expression still unreadable. "Morning."
I took my seat and opened my notebook, flipping through the pages as if the routine of it all would help settle the tension that had been gnawing at me since our confrontation the night before. The silence between us felt a little less suffocating, though. It wasnât that we were talking more, it was just that Yoongi didnât seem as harsh on his tone today. No biting comments yet, no sharp observations either.
He adjusted the volume on the speakers and clicked around on the computer for a few seconds before speaking again. "You finished that beat you were working on Saturday?"
âYeah, itâs done,â I replied, finally meeting his gaze. His eyes were focused on the screen, but I noticed there was a slight change in his demeanour. The tension from before, the coldness, seemed to have faded. It wasnât gone completely, but it was much more subtle now.
He didnât respond immediately, just tapped a few keys on the keyboard before nodding. âAlright. Letâs hear it.â
I slid the flash drive with the updated track across the table. Yoongi took it, plugged it into the system, and started the track without a word. The room filled with the sound of the beat I had been perfecting, and I waited, watching his reaction closely.
As the beat played, Yoongiâs brow furrowed slightly, but he didnât make any negative comments this time. He just let the track play all the way through, his eyes scanning the waveform on the screen, listening intently.
When the track ended, he leaned back in his chair, finally looking over at me. âNot bad.â
I couldnât help but feel a small relief wash over me. "Not bad" from Yoongi was a compliment, even if it didnât sound like one. At least he hadnât outright criticized it.
âThanks,â I said, trying to keep my voice steady, though I could feel my nerves creeping back up again. âAnything you want me to change?â
Yoongi scratched his chin thoughtfully. âItâs a little too clean. Add some grit, something to make it stand out more. We need it to hit harder.â
I nodded, taking mental notes. âGot it. Iâll work on that.â
It felt almost normal, the way we interacted. No lingering animosity, no mention of what had happened the night before.
As the session continued, the vibe between us remained steady, calm and professional, with just a touch of the underlying tension we hadnât addressed. We worked for hours, tweaking the track here and there, going back and forth on the sound and rhythm until everything was just the way we wanted it.
At some point, Yoongi stood up and stretched, letting out a quiet sigh. âIâm going to grab a coffee. You want anything?â
I blinked, surprised. Heâd never offered to get me anything before, not like this. His tone was casual, though, like it was no big deal.
âIâll take an iced coffee,â I said, half-smiling at the unexpected gesture.
Yoongi didnât say anything, just nodded and walked out of the studio. The moment the door clicked shut behind him, I let out a breath I hadnât realized I was holding. It wasnât like everything was magically fixed, but there was something about this new, less tense dynamic that felt... better. More comfortable, even.
As I sat back in my chair, I tried to focus on the track again, but my mind kept drifting. What has changed between us? I knew I wasnât imagining it, there was definitely something different today. But I wasnât sure what to make of it.
When Yoongi came back with the coffee, we fell back into the routine of the session, but now, it felt almost easy. We were working smoothly, and I caught him glancing over at me once or twice, his eyes lingering a little longer than before.
Still, neither of us brought up what happened the night before. Not yet. Maybe it wasnât the right time. Or maybe it was something neither of us wanted to revisit.
***
As the day came to a close, I packed up my things, feeling the weight of the day lifting off my shoulders. I had managed to get through the session with Yoongi without any more awkwardness, which was a small victory in itself. As I grabbed my bag, I looked over at Yoongi, who was already absorbed in his work again.
âSee you tomorrow,â I said casually, ready to leave the studio.
Yoongi gave me a small nod, his focus not wavering. âYeah, see you.â
I left the studio and stepped into the cool evening air, the city lights twinkling in the distance. I needed a distraction. Something to take my mind off everything that had happened with Yoongi.
I pulled out my phone and quickly sent a text to Hoseok.
Y/N: Hey, are you free tonight?
Hoseok: Yeah, Iâm free. Whatâs up?
Y/N: I told you I owe you dinner. Want to grab some barbecue tonight?
Hoseok: Haha, of course I didnât forget! Even Taehyung reminded me about it last night after you left! So yeah, sure, letâs do it. When and where?
Y/N: How about at 7 at that popular spot in Gangnam?
Hoseok: Perfect! Iâll see you there. Iâll be starving by the time we meet!
Y/N: Same here. Iâm ready to eat my weight in meat.
Hoseok: Haha, Iâm looking forward to it. See you soon, Y/N!
Y/N: See you soon!
I smiled as I read our conversation. Hoseok had a way of lightening the mood, and the idea of spending the evening with him, laughing and eating good food, felt like the perfect way to unwind.
When I arrived at the restaurant, the smell of grilled meat hit me as soon as I stepped inside. I scanned the room for Hoseok and spotted him right away. He was sitting at a table near the back, looking up at me with a wide smile as always.
"Y/N!" he greeted me, standing up to wave as I approached.
"Helloo!" I said with a grin, taking my seat across from him.
He immediately grabbed the menu, flipping through it. "So, what are you in the mood for? Meat, meat, and more meat?" he asked, wiggling his eyebrows playfully.
"Definitely," I replied, laughing. "Iâve been craving barbecue all day."
We both ordered a few different cuts of meat, and as we waited for the grill to heat up, Hoseok leaned back in his chair, looking at me curiously.
"So, what happened last night?" he asked casually, the question catching me a bit off guard.
I hesitated for a second, my fingers tapping on the table. "What do you mean?" I asked, pretending not to understand what he was getting at.
"You know... I could tell something was a little off when you left the party, after i caught you with Yoongi at the studio.." Hoseok said, his tone soft but inquisitive. "Everything okay between you two?â
I shrugged, forcing a smile. "Yeah, everythingâs fine," I said, though the words didnât feel entirely true. "We finished the first song. Two more to go, and then weâll be done."
Hoseok didnât seem convinced. He nodded and took a sip of his drink before continuing. "Well, thatâs good. Iâm glad to hear youâre making progress. But, uh... are you sure everythingâs okay with him? You know... since youâve been working really closely together."
I looked down at my hands for a moment, gathering my thoughts. "Itâs fine, Hoseok. Really. Just... we have our days, you know?"
He raised an eyebrow but didnât argue. "If you say so."
The food arrived, and the sizzling sounds of meat on the grill distracted us both for a moment. Hoseok was quick to start cooking, flipping the pieces of meat with ease. The smell was intoxicating, and I could already feel my stomach growling in anticipation.
We continued to eat, talk, and laugh, the mood light and easy. Hoseok was a great conversationalist. We talked about music, our favourite songs, and his plans for the future. It felt so natural, like weâd known each other for years instead of just a month.
At one point, he pulled out his phone. "Hey, Iâd like you to hear something," he said, tapping away at the screen. A moment later, his phone was playing a new track, a smooth, upbeat melody that instantly grabbed my attention.
"This is one of my newer tracks," Hoseok said, watching me closely as the music played. "Iâm really proud of it so far, but Iâd love to hear your thoughts on it. What do you think?"
I closed my eyes for a moment, letting the music wash over me. "This is really good, Hoseok," I said, smiling. "Itâs got such a great vibe. Itâs... itâs got that perfect energy."
He grinned, clearly pleased with the feedback. "Thanks. Iâm hoping itâs going to be a hit. But, you know, itâs not finished yet. Still got a bit of work to do."
"Well, Iâd be happy to help with anything you need," I said, my tone sincere. "I think youâre on the right track. I can already picture it in a club."
"Yeah? Youâre the expert," he said, leaning back in his chair with a proud smile. "Maybe I should bring you on as a collaborator someday."
I raised my eyebrows at the suggestion. "Collaborator? That would be interesting."
Hoseok laughed, shaking his head. "Iâm just saying... if youâre up for itâŠ"
"Maybe," I teased, taking a sip of my drink.
As the night went on, we continued to enjoy the barbecue, the conversation flowing easily between us. It was a welcome distraction from the confusion that had been hanging over me lately. It was hard not to feel at ease around Hoseok. He was kind, funny, and genuine in a way that made me feel like I could let my guard down.
Eventually, after weâd eaten our fill and were lounging in our seats, Hoseok pulled out his phone again. "Come on, letâs take a photo," he suggested, grinning. "You know, for the memories."
I nodded with a smile and he grabbed his phone, opening the camera. We both leaned in, the grill between us, holding our drinks up like we were toasting. "Best birthday gift ever," Hoseok said dramatically as the picture snapped, before quickly typing something into his phone.
"Done!" he said proudly. "I posted it to my close friends on Kakao Talk. You know, just in case anyone wants to know how I spent my special days."
I laughed, shaking my head. "Youâre crazy."
"I know," he said with a wink, taking another drink from his glass. "But seriously, Y/N, this has been fun. Thanks for asking me to come out tonight. Youâre a lot of fun to hang out with."
I smiled, feeling a warmth in my chest. "Of course. Iâm glad we did this. Itâs been way too long since Iâve had a night like this myself."
"Same here," Hoseok said with a smile. "We should do it again sometime."
As the night wound down to an end, I couldnât help but feel a sense of contentment. It had been a good night, and it felt like Iâd finally had a chance to breathe again. The pressure Iâd been carrying, the weight of my thoughts about Yoongi and everything that had happened, seemed to lighten a little as I had sat there across from Hoseok, laughing and eating with no other worries.
When the bill arrived, I was quick to grab it, remembering my promise. "Itâs on me tonight," I said, pulling my card out before Hoseok could protest. I shook my head, giving him a playful look. "I owe you dinner, remember?"
He laughed, raising his hands in surrender. "Alright, alright. Iâll let you have your moment." He watched me pay, his expression softening into something more genuine. "But next time, Iâm the one picking the place and bill."
"Deal," I said, with a smirk. "But only if itâs something equally as good as tonight."
"Haha, Iâll try," he replied, still laughing.
As we walked out of the restaurant, we decided that the evening had been a success, and that we would definitely plan another time to hang out. It was nice to have a real moment with him, away from all the stress and confusion, it had been exactly what I needed, an evening of laughter, food, and friendship. And for that, I was thankful. ***
The next day, I walked into the studio feeling lighter than I had in weeks. My relationship with Yoongi seemed to had softened after yesterday, and dinner with Hoseok had been a bright spot in an otherwise chaotic schedule. I was ready to tackle the second track with a fresh perspective.
As always, Yoongi was already in the studio when I arrived, sitting at the mixing desk, adjusting levels with his usual quiet focus. He acknowledged me with a small nod as I set up my things. His demeanour seemed normal at first, calm and business like.
We dove into the track, bouncing ideas back and forth. At first, everything felt fine, normal even. But as the hours ticked by, Yoongiâs feedback became sharper, his tone more clipped.
âCan you take this seriously?â he snapped suddenly after I made a suggestion about the arrangement.
I looked up, startled. âI am taking this seriously. Whatâs going on with you today? You seemed fine yesterday.â
âNothingâs going on,â he said curtly, not looking at me. His fingers tapped at the keyboard with more force than necessary. âYou just need to focus more on the job youâre supposed to do.â
I frowned, confused by his sudden change in attitude. âWeâre making progress,â I said cautiously, trying to keep my voice calm. âIâm confident weâll meet the deadline.â
Yoongi spun his chair to face me, his eyes narrowing. âIf you really cared about the deadline, you would focus on the work instead of going out to dinner with Hoseok and wasting your energy there.â
His words hit like a slap. I blinked, completely taken aback. âHow do you even know about the dinner?â
He leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. âHe posted it on Kakao Talk. All the guys were talking about it in the group chat.â
I froze, trying to process what he was saying. Of course Hoseok had shared it, but it was a perfectly innocent dinner, and heâd been excited about it. Still, I felt a strange pang of guilt under Yoongiâs intense gaze.
âI invited him because I felt bad about going to his birthday party without bringing a gift,â I explained, my voice steady but defensive. âI just wanted to make up for it.â
Yoongiâs eyes stayed locked on mine, unreadable. âItâs interesting,â he said coolly, âhow close you are with him. Iâm the one you work with every day. You donât see us going to dinner, do you?â
I opened my mouth to respond but hesitated, unsure of what to say. Before I could gather my thoughts, Yoongi waved a hand dismissively. âNever mind. Letâs just get back to work.â
The room fell into an awkward silence. I stared at him for a moment longer, trying to make sense of his reaction, but his posture was closed off, his focus fully on the screen in front of him. With a frustrated sigh, I turned back to my notes and forced myself to concentrate on the task at hand.
The rest of the session felt strained. Yoongiâs usual calm, measured feedback was replaced with sharp, almost impatient remarks. It wasnât just the work, something else was clearly bothering him, but I couldnât figure out what.
Then, halfway through a take, his phone buzzed. He glanced at the screen, his expression tightening. Without a word, he stood and began gathering his things.
âWhatâs going on?â I asked, breaking the tense silence.
âNothing,â he said shortly, not meeting my eyes. âLetâs cut this short today.â
âYoongiââ I started, but he was already slinging his bag over his shoulder.
âIâll see you tomorrow,â he said, his tone final.
And just like that, he was gone, leaving me alone in the studio. I stared at the door for a long moment, my emotions a mix of confusion and frustration. Whatever had just happened felt personal, even though I couldnât understand why.
As I packed up my things, my mind kept circling back to his words, to the way heâd looked at me. You donât see us going to dinner, do you? What did that even mean? Why did it sound like he cared, like it bothered him?
Shaking my head, I gathered my bag and left the studio. No matter how much I wanted to make sense of it, I wasnât going to let Yoongiâs mood derail the progress we were making, or my own peace of mind. I had a job to do, and I wasnât about to let this strange tension get in the way.
*** The next day, Yoongi and I exchanged only a few words when I arrived at the studio. His mood seemed calmer than yesterday, though still a little distant. I decided not to push it.
We worked steadily through the day, both of us falling into the rhythm of our tasks. It wasnât awkward, just focused, like two professionals determined to meet their goal. The hours passed in a blur of music, notes, and adjustments. By the time Yoongi looked up from the computer, his face was lit with mild surprise.
âAh, shit,â he muttered, glancing at the clock. âItâs late,â rubbing the back of his neck. âWe should stop here for today. Itâs good progress.â
I nodded and stood up, but as soon as I tried to take a step, my legs wobbled beneath me. I reached out to steady myself against the desk, my vision spinning slightly.
Yoongi was already on his feet, stepping toward me with concern etched on his face. âAre you okay?â
âYeah,â I said quickly. âI think Iâm just a little dizzy. Now that I think about it⊠I didnât even eat lunch.â
Without a word, he reached for my wrist and tugged gently. âLetâs go.â
âWait, what?â I asked, caught off guard. âGo where?â
âTo eat,â he said simply, his tone leaving no room for argument.
I tried to protest as he led me out of the studio and toward his car. âYou donât have to do this. Iâll grab something on the way home.â
Yoongi ignored me, opening the passenger door and gesturing for me to get in. Reluctantly, I slid into the seat, and he shut the door before walking around to the driverâs side.
The drive was quiet, the hum of the engine the only sound between us. I glanced at him a few times, wondering why he was going out of his way like this, but his expression was unreadable.
We arrived at a small, cosy restaurant tucked away in a quiet part of the city. Yoongi parked the car and got out without a word, waiting for me to follow.
Inside, the warm lighting and inviting atmosphere made me relax a little. We were seated at a corner table, and soon, the smell of grilled meat and savoury dishes filled the air.
âAbout yesterday,â he started, his voice softer than Iâd ever heard it.
I glanced up, momentarily stunned. He wasnât looking at me; instead, his gaze was fixed on his plate, as if the words were hard to push out.
âI was out of line,â he admitted, exhaling sharply, almost like the confession itself was a weight lifted.
I blinked, my chopsticks hovering mid-air. Yoongi rarely, if ever, admitted fault. This was unexpected.
âI took a lot of things out on you,â he continued, his tone laced with a hint of self-reproach. His chopsticks moved idly, pushing food around on his plate as if it could somehow distract him from the vulnerability of the moment. âThings that werenât your fault. And for that, Iâm sorry.â
The sincerity in his voice made my breath catch. This wasnât the stoic, sharp-tongued producer Iâd been working with for weeks. This was Yoongi stripped of his usual defences, and it threw me off balance.
âYou... Youâre apologizing?â I finally said, a mix of disbelief and teasing slipping into my tone.
His lips twitched into something that wasnât quite a smile. âYeah. Donât make a big deal out of it.â
âI mean, how can I not?â I said, leaning back in my chair, folding my arms in mock astonishment. âMin Yoongi admitting heâs wrong? I didnât think Iâd live to see the day.â
He let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head. âDonât get used to it.â
Despite his attempt at brushing it off, I could tell the apology mattered to him. He wasnât the type to say things he didnât mean, and the effort behind his words wasnât lost on me.
âLook,â he continued after a moment, his voice steadying. âYesterday... I just have been under a lot of pressure, and I let it get to me. That wasnât fair to you. Youâve been working hard, and I shouldâve recognized that.â
âThank you,â I said, my voice softer now. âThat means a lot.â
I couldnât help but laugh, the tension between us melting away. As the meal went on, we started to relax, trading small talk about work and life. Yoongi even ordered a bottle of wine, and soon we were sipping glasses of it, the conversation growing lighter.
For the first time, it felt like I was seeing a different side of him, one that wasnât guarded or buried in his work. And for a moment, it was easy to forget the weight of the studio, the deadlines, and everything else that had been hanging over us.
By the end of the night, my cheeks ached from laughing, a rare, warm contentment spreading through me. Yoongi had surprised me, not just with his apology, but with the way he let his guard down, even if just a little. Maybe he wasnât as closed off as Iâd assumed. Maybe there was more to him than Iâd ever expected.
As we stepped outside the restaurant, the crisp night air greeted us. "Hey, you canât drive now since youâve had a drink," I said, glancing at Yoongi. "Should we call a taxi or something? Or maybe Hobi? I saw his stories, he was bored at home, he could probably come pick us up."
Yoongiâs expression shifted, and he immediately shook his head. "No," he said, his voice firm. "Iâll handle it. Iâm calling Jihoon." I raised an eyebrow, confused for a moment but let it slide. The warmth from the alcohol in my system faded quickly, leaving me shivering slightly in the cold. I wrapped my arms around myself, trying to stave off the chill.
Yoongi noticed. âItâs getting cold,â he said, almost to himself. Before I could respond, he shrugged off his jacket and draped it around my shoulders.
The unexpected gesture made me pause. The weight of the jacket and the faint scent of his cologne caught me off guard. I looked up at him, my eyes wide. âOh, you didnât have to do that,â I said softly.
He waved it off. âItâs fine. Iâm not cold.â
I tilted my head, sceptical. âReally? Your hands must be freezing,â I said, blowing warm air over my own hands and rubbing them together in a futile attempt to warm them.
Yoongiâs eyes flicked to my hands, his expression unreadable. Without a word, he reached out, wrapping his hands gently over mine. The sudden warmth of his touch stopped me in my tracks.
His hands were warm, enveloping mine completely. I glanced up at him, startled. He didnât say anything, his gaze locked on mine, intense yet unreadable. For a moment, the world seemed to fall away, leaving just the two of us standing there, connected by something unspoken.
My breath hitched, the moment heavy with tension neither of us dared to break. But before it could go any further, the sound of a taxi pulling up snapped us back to reality.
âJihoonâs here,â Yoongi said, his voice steady as he stepped back, letting my hands go.
I quickly pulled my hands behind my back, hiding the tingling warmth that lingered from his touch. Jihoon stepped out of the car, waving casually as he approached.
âThanks for coming,â Yoongi said, handing him the keys to his car.
âNo problem,â Jihoon replied with a grin. âYou guys look like you had a good night.â
Yoongi nodded and gestured for me to get in the backseat. He opened the door for me, waiting until I was seated before climbing in beside me.
The ride was quiet, with Jihoon humming along to the radio in the front seat. I stared out the window, my thoughts swirling as I replayed the events of the night. The warmth of Yoongiâs jacket around my shoulders and the memory of his hands over mine lingered, leaving me more confused than ever.
Unable to resist, I flicked my gaze toward him. His profile was sharp in the dim light, the strong line of his jaw catching my attention. Why does he have to look like that? My eyes drifted downward, landing on his hands resting casually on his lap. Those veiny, capable hands that had so effortlessly wrapped around mine earlier.
My face grew warm as I recalled the moment, a rush of heat spreading through me. Embarrassed by my own thoughts, I quickly snapped my gaze back to the window, determined not to look at him again for the rest of the ride. âFocus on something else, anything else,â I told myself, even as my heart stubbornly refused to settle. When we pulled up in front of my place, Jihoon parked smoothly, and Yoongi stepped out of the car before I could say anything. He stood there for a moment, looking composed as ever, his hands tucked casually into his pockets.
âBye,â he said simply, his voice even but low enough to make my stomach flip. âSee you tomorrow.â
I managed a small smile. âOkay. Bye.â
He watched me walk to my door, and when I turned back for a second, he was already getting back into the car. Jihoon gave a small wave before driving off, leaving me standing there, suddenly alone.
Once inside, I leaned against the door, the events of the evening replaying in my mind like a whirlwind. Dinner, the jacket, his hands over mine... It was all too much. I sighed, pulling the jacket off to hang it up, only to freeze mid-motion.
âOh no.â My voice echoed in the quiet space. His jacket. I still had it.
I grabbed my phone, typing quickly.
Me: I just realized I still have your jacket. Did you guys leave already?
His reply came faster than I expected.
Yoongi: Itâs fine. You can give it back another day.
I stared at the screen, his words making me bite my lip. For a moment, I debated responding, but what else was there to say? Sighing, I put my phone down and folded the jacket neatly. The faint scent of him lingered, a mix of something warm and clean, distinctly Yoongi.
I groaned softly, shaking my head. âDonât overthink it.â
But as I walked away, I caught my reflection in the hallway mirror, my flushed cheeks betraying my effort to play it cool. ***
The next day, everything felt smoother. The tension from the past week seemed to have evaporated, leaving behind a productive atmosphere in the studio. Yoongi and I worked through the second track effortlessly, the beats and lyrics falling into place with surprising speed. By lunchtime, we had made significant progress, and the track was nearly perfect. Yoongi gave a brief nod of approval before leaning back in his chair.
"One more to go," he said, his tone casual, but I could tell he was feeling a sense of accomplishment too.
Just then, the door to the studio opened with a loud creak, and Hoseok walked in, a grin spreading across his face as he spotted us.
"Hey, look at you two," he said, his voice light. "I come in, and itâs all quiet. Something going on huh?"
Yoongi and I exchanged a glance. "The second track is done, so we're almost there. One more track, and the albumâs done."
Hoseok leaned against the doorframe, his expression softening slightly. "Damn, itâs hard to believe weâre almost there." His eyes flickered toward Yoongi, then back at me. "Iâm excited, but... also a little nervous. You know, with everything happening soon."
I raised an eyebrow, curious. "Whatâs going on? What are you talking about?"
Hoseok sighed dramatically, walking further into the room. "Well, since you two are now so close to wrapping up, I need to tell you something." He sat down on the edge of a nearby desk, his eyes locking on me. "Iâm going to the military soon."
For a moment, there was silence as I processed the information. My stomach dropped slightly as the reality of it set in. "Wait, youâre leaving already?" I asked, the words slipping out before I could think.
Hoseok smiled gently, his eyes a little softer than usual. "Yeah. Itâs going to happen soon. So..." He leaned forward, his tone turning playful but with an undercurrent of something more serious. "Iâm going to use that to guilt-trip you two into hanging out with me tomorrow night. Iâm hosting a little get-together at my place. Come along, since youâve worked hard on this album, you deserve a break. You know you want to. Letâs have one last hurrah before I disappear for a while."
Yoongi, who had been silent until now, looked up with a raised eyebrow. "You really think you can just guilt-trip us into going out?"
Hoseok nodded with a sly grin. "Yup. Itâs my last chance to make you guys hang out with me before I go. Please?" He looked at both of us, his expression softening, almost pleading.
Yoongi shot me a glance, and I shrugged. "I mean, weâre done with the second track, so it wouldnât hurt to let loose for a night."
Yoongi looked hesitant for a moment, but Hoseok wasnât backing down. "Come on, itâs just one night. You can relax and have some fun. Besides, you two need a break, right?"
I chuckled, the tension in the room starting to melt. "Alright, alright. Iâll come, Hoseok. You donât need to keep trying to guilt-trip us." Yoongi also nodded.
Hoseokâs face lit up, a wide grin spreading across his face. "Yes! Thatâs what Iâm talking about. You wonât regret it. Iâm inviting a few people, and weâll just hang out, eat, talk, maybe play some games."
Yoongi grunted, but there was no denying the slight curve of a smile on his lips. "Fine. One night. But donât expect us to get drunk or anything."
Hoseok laughed, shaking his head. "Who said anything about getting drunk? I just want to spend some time together, thatâs all. Weâre all so busy, and before you know it, Iâll be gone."
He was right. As much as we all had our own things to focus on, this was a moment to come together before everything changed. And honestly, after working so hard on the album, I could use a little time to relax.
"Alright, weâre in. What time should we be there?" I asked, already feeling a little more at ease about it.
"7 PM. Donât be late," Hoseok said with a wink. "Iâm going to make sure thereâs food, so just come hungry."
"Okay," I agreed, nodding. "See you tomorrow, then."
As Hoseok left the studio, I glanced over at Yoongi, who was already back to his work. I couldnât help but feel a sense of relief. Despite everything, the day had been productive, and now we were going to take some time for ourselves. I didnât know how often Iâd get moments like these, where things felt normal, light and easy.
"Guess weâre going to Hoseokâs," I said, trying to keep things casual.
Yoongi gave a small nod, his expression unreadable as always, but there was a faint sense of relaxation in his posture. "Yeah, yeah," he muttered again, almost as if to convince himself.
***
The next day, Yoongi and I had somehow hit a streak, two days in a row of working together without any tension. We finished everything we had planned for the day, and as the evening rolled around, we were both in a surprisingly good mood.
As the last song for the day played out, I looked up from my computer and caught Yoongiâs eye.
"Guess thatâs a wrap for today," I said, stretching out my arms. "See you at the party, yeah?"
Yoongi gave me a small nod, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at his lips. "Yeah, see you there."
I stood up to grab my things, feeling a sense of calm wash over me. It had been a long time since weâd gotten along this well, and I wasnât going to overthink it. Tonight was supposed to be fun, a chance to relax.
"Try not to get too drunk," I teased lightly as I started toward the door.
Yoongi rolled his eyes. "Could say the same thing to you.â "Uh-huh," I shot back, laughing as I left the room. "Sure."
As I walked out, I could feel the lightness in my step. For once, it felt like things were moving in the right direction. The night ahead felt full of possibilities, even if it was just hanging out with the rest of the team.
When I got home, I quickly changed into something casual, not wanting to overdo it for Hoseokâs party. I kept it simple, a pair of jeans and a loose top. Around 7 PM, I made my way to Hoseokâs place, and when I arrived, I found the others already there.
The atmosphere was warm and relaxed, the smell of food filling the air. The place was buzzing with laughter and easy conversation. I caught sight of Yoongi sitting at the corner of the room, his usual calm demeanour in place, but there was something different about him tonight. His hair was styled, and the black shirt he was wearing seemed to fit him just right, accentuating his broad shoulders. There was an easy confidence in his posture, and as I studied him for a moment, I realized he looked⊠hot.
I quickly averted my gaze, not wanting to get caught staring. The last thing I needed was to get all flustered over him again. I turned my attention to the rest of the room and spotted Hoseok in the middle of a conversation with a few other guests. He seemed to be doing his usual thing, laughing and talking animatedly, but I wasnât sure I wanted to interrupt just yet.
Instead, I made my way over to where Jimin, Jungkook, and Taehyung were chatting near the food table. They were all mid-laugh when I approached, and Jungkook waved me over with a grin.
âY/N! Come join us, we were just talking about the new choreography for a music video,â he said, his eyes lighting up with excitement.
âOh? What is it about this choreography?â I asked, raising an eyebrow.
Taehyung leaned in with a mischievous grin. âWeâre learning this really complicated move that involves, like, spinning and flipping, but it looks ridiculous when we try it,â he said, laughing.
Jimin jumped in. âTaehyungâs over-exaggerating, itâs not that bad. But weâre definitely working on something new for the next video, and itâs going to be fun.â
âYeah, weâre going to have to rehearse a lot,â Jungkook added with a playful smirk. âTaehyung might need extra practice though,â he teased.
I chuckled. âIâm sure youâll all manage. You guys are pros, after all.â
Taehyung pouted but then grinned again. âYeah, but you should see us try. We look like a bunch of drunk chickens. Maybe weâll film it for behind-the-scenes footage.â
âPlease do, Iâd love to see that,â I replied, laughing along with them.
As we were talking, I noticed Hoseok making his way over with a big smile on his face. He clapped his hands together and announced, âAlright, everyone, I think itâs time for a drinking game! Whoâs in? Itâs going to be fun, I promise!â
Jimin immediately jumped up, grinning. âIâm in! Letâs do this!â
âCount me in too,â Taehyung said, raising his hand. âIâm ready to win this game.â
I glanced at Jungkook, who gave a playful nod. âLetâs go. This should be interesting.â
With that, the four of us headed over to the designated table where the drinks were already set up. Hoseok was already grinning, ready to start the game, and I couldnât help but feel a little excited about just having fun and not overthinking things.
The game started with some light-hearted activities, rapid-fire questions, and silly tasks that made everyone laugh. It was a great way to break the ice, and before long, we were all feeling more relaxed, enjoying the playful atmosphere.
Then, the game shifted into something a bit more daring: Love Shots. The concept was simple: when the bottle spun, it landed on a couple who had to take a shot together. The catch? You had to show the best âcouple momentâ before drinking.
I glanced around at everyone as the bottle spun, my heart racing a little at the thought of it landing on someone I knew. Of course, it landed on me and Hoseok first. He flashed me a grin that was as mischievous as it was charming.
"Well, looks like we're the first couple for the night, huh?" he said, winking.
I laughed and leaned in slightly. "Guess so. Letâs make this quick, yeah?"
We took our shot in sync, laughing after, and I couldnât help but notice the way Hoseokâs eyes sparkled when he was having fun. It made me a little giddy.
The game continued, and once again, the bottle spun, this time landing on Hoseok and me again. A few people around the table groaned, teasing us about being the âofficial couple.â We just grinned at each other, ready for the next round.
I quickly glanced over at Yoongi, who had been quiet all night, sitting at the table but not participating. He wasnât drinking either. His gaze was locked on Hoseok and me, and there was a strange tension in his expression. He wasnât judging, but he wasnât engaging either. It was hard to ignore, and I wondered if he was actually bothered by us being partnered up for the game.
Earlier, I had briefly talked to him when the game first started. I asked why he wasnât drinking, and he had simply said, âNot feeling like it tonight.â There was something about his tone that made me want to ask more, but I didnât push it. He wasnât the type to open up unless he was ready.
"Alright, Y/N, itâs your turn again!" Taehyung called out, snapping me out of my thoughts.
The bottle spun again, and this time, it landed on Hoseok and me again. We both burst into laughter, but this time I noticed Yoongiâs eyes briefly flicker towards us. He didnât look away, but he didnât speak either. He just observed, his hands folded in front of him as the game carried on.
Hoseok, being a bit more playful, shot me a grin and said, âGuess weâre really the perfect couple, huh?â
I smirked, playing along. âYeah, looks like Iâm stuck with you, Hobi.â
We drank again, and I could feel the warmth of the alcohol creeping through me, loosening my nerves and making everything feel lighter. But despite the fun, I couldnât shake the feeling that Yoongiâs quiet presence at the table was adding a certain weight to the game. His lack of participation made the contrast between us even more noticeable.
The game finally came to an end after what felt like hours of spinning bottles and laughing until our sides hurt. But as the night wore on, a lot of people were either passed out, waiting for their turn, or feeling too sleepy to continue. I noticed the energy in the room starting to wind down, and with work to do tomorrow, I figured it was best to leave.
I stood up, scanning the room for Hoseok. I spotted him laughing with a few of the other guests, his eyes bright and full of energy despite the late hour. I made my way over to him, tapping him lightly on the shoulder.
âHey, Hobi,â I said, offering him a warm smile. âI think Iâm going to head out now. Iâve got work tomorrow.â
Hoseok turned to me with a disappointed but understanding expression. âAww, already? Well, it was really fun having you here. You sure you donât want me to come with you?â
I shook my head, grateful for the offer but knowing he had a lot of guests to attend to. âNah, you stay and enjoy. Iâll just grab a taxi. Iâll be fine.â
Before Hoseok could respond, there was a shift in the air. Yoongi, who had been quiet all evening, stood up suddenly from his spot at the table. His voice was calm, but his words caught us both off guard.
âIâm leaving. Iâll take Y/N with me,â he said, tone firm but casual.
The room fell a bit quieter at his declaration. Hoseok blinked in surprise, clearly not expecting Yoongi to step in. There was an unspoken tension as we all stood there for a moment, unsure of how to react.
I quickly turned to Hoseok, offering him one last smile. âIâll see you soon, okay? Thanks for everything tonight.â
Hoseok smiled back, still a little surprised by Yoongiâs sudden intervention, but he nodded. âAlright, take care. See you soon.â
I didnât give him a chance to say anything else before I quickly made my way toward the door, following Yoongi. I couldnât help but feel a little flustered. What just happened? Why did Yoongi suddenly decide to take me home?
âYoongi, wait up!â I called out, catching up to him as he made his way outside.
Yoongi was already ahead, his long strides purposeful. When I caught up with him, I hesitated for a moment before speaking. âYoongi⊠you didnât have to do this, you knowâŠâ
He didnât look at me as he continued walking, but his voice was calm. âItâs fine. Youâre not going to take a taxi alone this late. Itâs safer this way.â
I opened my mouth to argue, but I stopped myself. There was something in the way he said it that made me not want to push back. Instead, I just followed him outside, the cool night air brushing against my skin as we made our way to the car.
I had no idea what this meant, or what was running through Yoongiâs mind, but for now, I was just grateful that he had decided to take me home.
The drive back home was quiet but comfortable, with only the hum of the car filling the space between us. It wasnât awkward, though. There was something peaceful about it, something unspoken that made the silence feel easy.
When we arrived at my apartment block, Yoongi stepped out of the car first, walking around to open the door for me.
âThanks,â I said softly, already preparing to say my goodbyes as I stepped out.
But before I could, Yoongi spoke up, his tone surprisingly serious. âActually⊠Can I have my jacket back?â
I blinked in confusion, not entirely sure Iâd heard him right. âSeriously?â I asked, laughing a little at the unexpected request. âYouâre really asking for it back now?â
He glanced at me with a small shrug, his eyes hiding whatever thoughts were going through his mind. âItâs cold,â he said simply.
I let out a sigh. âOkay, follow me. I took it from the dry cleaners today, and I was planning on bringing it to you tomorrow.â
I stepped inside my apartment, Yoongi following and standing halfway between the living room and the corridor. I quickly scanned the room, searching for the bag with the jacket in it. The silence stretched on as I fumbled through a few things, but Yoongi broke it, his voice unexpectedly blunt.
âSo, you and Hobi, huh?â
I paused for a second, confused by the sudden shift in the conversation. âWhat about me and Hobi?â
âWell, all the dinners, the flirting today with the love shots⊠is there anything I should know about?â His gaze was steady, but I could see something flicker in his eyes.
I shook my head, trying to keep my tone light. âNo, weâre just friends. Heâs actually a nice person who respects me and my work.â
Maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe it was just me overthinking things, but Yoongiâs next words caught me off guard. âBut I thought these past few days we were on good terms as well.â
I felt a little defensive at that. âBut Iâm not working with Hobi. Iâm not under a contract with him.â
Yoongi didnât seem satisfied. âBesides all that, I still felt like we could be more than just coworkers.â
I blinked, not sure if I understood him right. âWhat? Do you want us to be friends?â I joked, trying to deflect the tension.
Yoongiâs eyes narrowed slightly, but I continued âDo you even hear yourself right now? If I had told Min Yoongi two months ago that heâd be asking me to be friends, he wouldâve laughed in my face.â
Yoongiâs expression darkened for a moment. âHell no, I donât want to be friends with you.â
I crossed my arms, trying to hide the sudden heat rising to my cheeks. âPff, then I donât want to be friends with you either,â I shot back, scoffing. âBesides, youâre the one who brought it up in the first place. You were the one sulking about me being friends with Hobi and not with you.â
Yoongiâs eyes flickered with irritation. âIâm not sulking because you are friends with him, I am because you are close to a guy thatâs not me.â His voice was quieter now, but there was an edge to it.
âWhat?â I asked, genuinely confused.
Yoongi took a step closer, his expression darkening. âLetâs cut the crap. Youâre telling me that after everything thatâs been happening these past two months, the tension, the lingering touches⊠you never felt anything?â His eyes were locked onto mine, searching for something in them.
My breath hitched in my throat, but before I could respond, he continued. âAnd after what happened at Hobiâs birthday party⊠you didnât move away from me. Hell, you were practically begging me to kiss you with the way you were looking at me. Donât tell me you werenât thinking about it too.â
I froze, my mind racing, trying to process his words. I hadnât expected him to bring up that night, let alone accuse me of anything. My pulse quickened as I searched his face, unsure of what to say. Yoongi watched me closely, waiting for my response, but all I could do was stare at him, caught in the web of his words.
âWhat? I donât know what youâre talking about,â I stammered, stepping back slightly, trying to play it cool, but my heart was pounding in my chest. Yoongiâs gaze was intense, his expression unreadable, and I couldnât help but feel exposed under the weight of his words. Was he serious? Was I imagining all of this? I didnât want to admit it, but everything he said was starting to make sense, whether I liked it or not.
Yoongi didnât seem satisfied with my denial. He stepped closer, his eyes locked on mine with a new intensity. âOh really?â he murmured, his voice low and steady, but there was a hint of something sharper in it now. âThen tell me to stop.â
Before I could process the situation, before I could even think about what to say, he was on me. His lips crashed into mine with a sudden force that caught me off guard. The kiss was hard, desperate, as if he was trying to prove something to both of us. His hands gripped my arms firmly, pulling me in closer.
For a few seconds, I froze, not sure how to respond. His lips moved against mine with an urgency that made my mind race, but my body just⊠didnât react. I couldnât. My heart was beating so fast, my thoughts tangled in confusion. Was this real? Was he really kissing me?
Yoongi pulled back suddenly, his hands dropping from my arms. He stepped away, his expression flickering with something I couldnât quite place. His breathing was heavier now, and he seemed to be searching for something in my eyes, a sign, maybe, of whether or not I felt the same.
âIâ maybe I misunderstood,â he muttered, almost to himself, his voice quieter, as if the weight of his actions was suddenly dawning on him.
His words trailed off into a shaky breath, and for a moment, it felt like the room held its breath, everything hanging in the air between us. I stood there, wide-eyed, my lips tingling from the kiss, not knowing how to process what had just happened.
Yoongiâs eyes flicked to the ground for a second, and he muttered a curse under his breath. âFuckâŠIâm sorry⊠I actually thoughtâŠâ He cut himself off, looking at me like he was trying to gauge my reaction, like he was waiting for me to say something, anything.
The silence between us stretched on, thick and heavy, and I could feel my chest tightening with every passing second. I couldnât let him walk away thinking he had made a mistake. I couldnât just stand there and let this moment slip away.
Without even thinking, I stepped forward, my hands shaking slightly, but I reached for him. I grabbed the front of his shirt, tugging him closer to me until there was no space left between us. My heart was still racing, but this time, there was no hesitation. I kissed him back, pressing my lips to his with the same urgency that he had given me.
Yoongi stiffened at first, but after a second, he responded, his hands coming up to cup my face as he kissed me back. This time, there was no hesitation, no second-guessing. His kiss was deep, full of everything he hadnât said, all the things that had been building up between us. His lips moved against mine, his fingers threading into my hair as he pulled me closer, if that was even possible.
I could feel the heat of his body against mine, the way his heart seemed to be racing just as fast as mine. The world outside of us faded, and for the first time in a long time, all I could think about was him, Yoongi, and this moment we were sharing.
When we finally pulled apart, both of us breathless, I was left reeling. My mind was spinning, but there was something in the way Yoongi looked at me, something that made it all feel right, even if it didnât quite make sense yet. I took a step back, trying to catch my breath, still processing everything that had just happened. "Whatâs happening?" I asked softly, my voice a little unsteady. "Are you sure tomorrow you're not just going to act like none of this happened?"
Yoongi didnât say anything right away. He seemed to be weighing my words carefully, like he was searching for the right response.
Then, he took a slow step forward, closing the distance between us once more. His eyes were intense, but there was a softness in them now, something that made me feel like I wasnât just some passing thought. "Nah," Yoongi finally spoke, his voice low and steady. "Let me show you how much I've been stopping myself from anything happening."
Before I could process his words, his hands were on me again, pulling me back toward him with an urgency that caught me off guard. He kissed me again, this time it wasnât rushed, but full of something more than just desire.
Yoongiâs hands were gentle yet firm as he backed me toward the living room, the heat of his body practically radiating against mine. I could feel my pulse quicken with every step he took. When my backside finally met the armrest of the sofa, a shock of electricity shot through me, my heart hammering in my chest.
He didnât give me a moment to breathe before his hands were on me again, this time lifting me effortlessly, laying me down onto the sofa. I gasped slightly as I landed, and Yoongi followed, his body pressing over mine, his presence suffocating in the best way.
His eyes never left mine, and the way he hovered above me, his weight just barely touching me, made my stomach twist with anticipation. "Are you gonna tell me to stop, Y/N?" Yoongi's voice was rough, but there was something almost challenging in it. He leaned in slightly, the tip of his nose grazing mine as he waited for my response. "Or are you actually gonna admit how much you want this? That this is actually happening."
I swallowed hard, my mind swirling with conflicting thoughts. I was caught between every instinct screaming at me to push him away, to stop this before it went any further, and another side of me that wanted to give in, to feel everything he was offering without hesitation.
His lips hovered just inches from mine, and I could feel the warmth of his breath on my skin, making my heart race. I opened my mouth to say something, anything, but the words caught in my throat. Instead, I just looked at him, trying to understand what this all meant.
The silence between us was almost suffocating now, the tension thick as I weighed my next move. Yoongi didnât pull away, didnât pressure me further. He just waited, giving me space, but still holding me in place with that unyielding gaze of his.
For a moment, I thought I might choke on the words I wanted to say. But the truth was, I already knew. I couldnât deny it anymore.
"Iâ" My voice faltered, and I quickly cleared my throat, suddenly feeling exposed. "I want this," I admitted, the words coming out breathlessly, almost as if they were ripped from me. It was scary, letting the truth hang in the air between us, but it felt... necessary.
Yoongiâs eyes softened, just a little. He leaned down, his lips brushing against mine once more, but this time, it wasnât a question. It was an answer, his answer to everything we had left unsaid.
Despite the clothes still between us, I wrapped my legs around his body, pulling him closer, craving more of the intimacy building between us. Yoongiâs voice was low and dripping with desire as he whispered, âGood, because Iâve been dying to know how you tasteâŠâ
Smirking, he lowered himself further, letting his breath ghost over my pants. My heart raced as I gave him a silent nod, granting permission. Slowly, he unzipped them, his movements deliberate and teasing. My breath hitched as he slid my pants down my legs, throwing them on the floor. Just as he hooked a finger under my panties to remove them, I gently stopped his hand.
âWaitâŠâ I whispered, my voice shaky. Gathering what little confidence I had, I added, âItâs only fair you lose a piece of clothing too.â
His eyebrow quirked up in amusement. âDesperate to see me naked already, Y/N?â he teased.
âHuh, youâre the one who just claimed youâve been dying to know how Iââ
Before I could finish, Yoongi silenced me with a kiss, his lips rough and insistent, leaving me breathless. His tongue swept against mine, teeth grazing in just the right way. When he finally pulled back to let us catch our breath, he reached for the hem of his shirt and tugged it over his head. Smirking, he stood before me, his torso now bare, revealing his defined muscles despite the soft lines of his body.
âThere. Happy now?â he asked, a teasing glint in his eyes.
This man. Such a tease.
âMuch better,â I quipped with a smirk of my own.
âNow, let me finish what I started,â he murmured, his voice a low growl that sent a shiver down my spine. âLet you experience my famous tongue technology...âŠâ His lips quirked into a mischievous smile as he lowered himself between my thighs, his hands trailing down to hook under the waistband of my panties. He slipped them down with tantalizing slowness, his fingers brushing against my skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake.
âWho callsââ I started, but the words dissolved into a gasp as his tongue made its first bold stroke, fast and deliberate, over my folds. My head fell back against the sofa, a moan escaping before I could even think to stop it.
He didnât give me time to recover. His tongue moved again, sweeping over me with precision, eliciting another sharp cry. Each stroke was firm, purposeful, and maddeningly good. My body arched into him, instinctively chasing the pleasure he so expertly provided.
âYoongi,â I managed to whisper, my voice shaky and strained, but he didnât respond, not with words at least. Instead, his lips and tongue continued their relentless exploration, the wet heat of his mouth driving me to the edge of reason.
My hands shot to his hair, my fingers tangling in the soft strands, pulling lightly, not to guide him, but to ground myself. His name fell from my lips in fragmented pleas, each one blending into the next. His low hum of approval vibrated against me, sending an electric shock straight to my core.
He reached for one of my knees, pushing it further aside to open me up to him completely. His grip was firm yet gentle, and the shift only deepened the intensity of his attention. His tongue flicked, swirled, and teased, hitting every spot that made my body tremble.
The room was thick with the sound of my ragged breathing and unrestrained moans. Each cry seemed to fuel him, urging him on as his pace quickened. I gripped his hair tighter, the sensation building with every stroke. A hand reached for his shoulder, my nails grazing the smooth heat of his skin.
âYoongiâŠâ I whimpered, my voice shaky and raw, a desperate plea in the form of his name.
He pulled back briefly, his lips glistening as he looked up at me with a devilish smirk. âThat was to answer your question,â he said, his voice rough with satisfaction. He ran his tongue slowly over his lips, collecting anything heâd missed, and the sight alone sent another wave of heat through me.
I couldnât let him have the upper hand, not entirely. Tugging at his hair, I directed him back between my thighs. âLess talking,â I breathed, my voice barely above a whisper, âmore doing.â
He chuckled low, the sound vibrating against me as he dove back in without hesitation. This time, his movements were even more determined, his tongue working with an intensity that made me cry out. My body writhed against him, my breaths coming in sharp, shallow gasps as I clung to him, overwhelmed by the pleasure coursing through me.
Yoongiâs hands gripped my thighs firmly, keeping me in place as he worked his magic. His tongue alternated between long, teasing strokes and quick, precise flicks, sending me spiraling closer to the edge.
He was relentless, unyielding, and devastatingly good. Too good. If he could do this with just his tongue, the thought of what else he could do made my head spin. The heat pooling low in my belly grew hotter, tighter, until it felt like I might combust.
âYoongi,â I gasped, my voice breaking as my body tensed beneath his touch. âI think Iâm gonnaââ
âCum on my mouth, baby,â he murmured against me, his voice low and commanding, the vibrations sending me over the edge.
I shattered, my release hitting me like a tidal wave. My back arched, my head falling back as his name tore from my lips in a broken cry. My vision blurred, and for a moment, all I could feel was the overwhelming heat of pleasure washing over me.
He didnât stop, his tongue continuing to lap at me, drawing out every last tremor until I was trembling beneath him. When he finally pulled back, his face was smug, his lips glistening as he swiped his tongue over them again.
âYou taste better than I imagined,â he murmured, and my cheeks flushed at his confession. How many times had this man fantasized about this? It wasnât like I hadnât entertained some dirty thoughts over the past weeks, but hearing him say it out loud, so unabashedly, felt different.
Before I could reply, Yoongi leaned back up and kissed me passionately, sharing the taste of myself on his lips. The kiss was deep and consuming, his tongue sweeping over mine with deliberate slowness. Then he trailed wet kisses down to my neck, biting softly, not enough to leave a mark, but enough to make a point. It was possessive in the most exciting way.
As he toyed with the hem of my shirt, I decided to turn the tables. My hands moved to the waistband of his pants undoing his zipper. He froze for a moment, his eyes wide, searching mine. âY/N⊠you donât have to. Just becauseââ
âI want to,â I interrupted, my voice steady despite the nervous flutter in my chest. His breath escaped in a shaky exhale at my words.
âBesides,â I teased, leaning in closer, my lips brushing against his ear, âlet me show you what other sounds these hands can produce.â
I bit my bottom lip as I pulled his pants down completely, leaving him in nothing but his boxers. My hand brushed over him, his length already hard and straining against the fabric. My fingers lightly grazed over him, stroking just enough to tease. Yoongi hissed, a mix of pleasure and frustration.
âY/N⊠donât tease me,â he groaned, his voice thick with need.
âMe? Tease you?â I feigned innocence, grinning up at him as my hand continued its slow, deliberate motions. He let out a shaky breath, his hips instinctively bucking toward my touch.
I leaned up to capture his lips again, all while my hand maintained its slow, torturous rhythm. âY/NâŠâ Yoongi moaned, the sound low and drawn out. With that, I tugged his boxers down, his cock springing free and slapping against his stomach. My hand wrapped around him, the heat and hardness startling me for a moment. Pre-cum was already dripping from his tip, and I swiped my thumb over it, spreading it along his length as he trembled beneath my touch.
His hips instinctively bucked forward, chasing the friction as a low groan escaped his lips. My fingers moved deliberately, starting with slow, measured strokes that made his thighs tense beneath me.
âY/NâŠâ His voice was barely above a whisper, a strained mixture of need and restraint.
I leaned forward, brushing a kiss along his jawline before murmuring, âRelax.â My breath was hot against his skin, and I could feel the shudder it sent through his body.
One hand worked up and down his length, my palm twisting slightly with each stroke, while the other cupped and teased his balls, massaging them gently. His body responded to every touch, his muscles taut and trembling as he fought to stay in control.
âFuckâŠâ he groaned, his brows furrowed, his teeth sinking into his bottom lip as his chest heaved with uneven breaths.
The intimacy of it all had my own heart racing, my body reacting to the sight of him unraveling beneath me. My hand picked up speed, stroking him faster and firmer, my thumb gliding over his sensitive tip with each pass.
âYouâre driving me crazy,â he muttered, his voice rough and breathless.
âGood,â I teased, leaning in to kiss his collarbone, my lips trailing over the sharp lines of his neck. âThatâs the idea.â
His hips lifted again, chasing the rhythm of my hand. His groans deepened, each one more desperate than the last. The sounds he made were intoxicating, sending heat pooling low in my belly.
âY/N,â he gasped, his voice cracking slightly. One of his hands reached out, gripping my thigh tightly as though he needed something to anchor himself.
Yoongi eyes fluttered open, locking onto mine with a fiery intensity. âIâmââ
âI know,â I cut him off softly, my hand never slowing.
His half-lidded eyes met mine, his skin glistening with sweat. âWhereâŠ?â he managed to ask, his voice barely audible.
I didnât answer with words. Instead, I went to my knees and opened my mouth, holding his gaze. His expression faltered for a split second, a mix of desperation and awe flashing across his face.
Yoongi adjusted slightly, taking his cock in his own hand, his body hovering over mine, and with a few more strokes, he spilled into my mouth. I took everything, swallowing it down as I maintained eye contact. His breathing was ragged, and I could feel the slight tremble in his legs as I kissed the tip of his cock, making sure nothing was left behind.
When it was over, he sank down, his body pressing against mine. His lips found mine again, kissing me deeply, as if he couldnât get enough.
When he pulled away, he rested his forehead against my shoulder, his voice soft but filled with satisfaction. âFuck, youâre incredible.â Yoongiâs hand trailed lazily across my skin, finding the thin strap of my bra under my shirt. âNext time,â he murmured, his voice low and teasing, âIâll make sure youâre not wearing anything at all.â
He hooked a finger under the strap, pulling it slightly before letting it snap back against my skin with a soft smack. I gasped, half-laughing, and swatted at his chest, but he just grinned, his eyes gleaming with mischief.
With a satisfied sigh, he stood up, stretching slightly before scanning the room. His pants and boxers lay crumpled on the floor a few steps away. âAs much as I love this view,â he teased, casting a lingering look at me sprawled on the sofa now, âwe might want to at least partially dress before someone accidentally walks in.â Rolling my eyes, even though I lived alone, I reached down to grab my panties, slipping them on with a quick movement. âHappy now?â I quipped, arching an eyebrow as he smirked at me.
âNot entirely,â he shot back smoothly, already heading to the smaller sofa across the room. He grabbed the folded blanket and returned to the larger couch where I laid, tossing it over us as he sat back down and pulled me toward him.
âAnd why is that?â I teased, arching a brow as I snuggled into his chest.
He smirked, his arms wrapping securely around me as he scooped me into a comfortable position against him. His warmth enveloped me, and I felt myself relaxing despite my teasing words.
âBecause, Iâve been messing up so far,â he said, his voice soft but firm, â but Iâm not letting you go away this time.â
I blinked, startled by the quiet sincerity in his tone. It wasnât just a playful remark; it felt like a promise, one that made my heart flutter and my chest tighten all at once.
âYouâre stuck with me now, Y/N,â he added, resting his chin on the top of my head. âHope you can handle that.â
I couldnât help but smile, burying my face against his chest to hide the blush creeping up my cheeks. âWeâll see,â I replied softly, my voice muffled away.
For the first time in a long while, I felt safe. Wrapped in his arms, I allowed myself to close my eyes, lulled by the steady rhythm of his heartbeat and the warmth of his embrace.
***
The next morning, I woke up to an unsettling emptiness. The warmth of Yoongiâs embrace from last night was gone, replaced by the coolness of the sofa beneath me. Disoriented, I blinked against the soft morning light streaming through the curtains. Everything about last night had felt surrealâlike the universe had finally shifted into place. But now, as I sat up and looked around the room, it all felt like a dream.
My gaze darted to the floor, where his shirt had been tossed haphazardly, and the hallway where his shoes had been kicked off. They were gone. Every trace of him had vanished. A sinking feeling settled in my chest.
Did he regret this? Was it a mistake for him?
I couldnât stop the questions from flooding my mind, each one louder and more insistent than the last. For me, it hadnât been a mistake. Not even close. Last night had been a moment of pure, unfiltered connection, a night that felt like it had shattered every barrier between us.
But had it meant the same to him?
Frustration began to bubble up, mixed with a touch of anger. If he had regrets, he shouldâve said something. Leaving like this? That was low.
Determined not to let him get away with it, I marched to my room, pulling on a fresh pair of jeans and a casual shirt. If he thought he could disappear without a word, he had another thing coming. The moment I was tugging on my shoes, ready to storm out and demand answers, my phone buzzed on the coffee table.
I snatched it up, my frustration spilling over as I saw Minjiâs name on the screen. Great, this better not be about work, I thought as I pressed the phone to my ear.
âHello?â I said curtly.
âY/N, are you okay?â Minjiâs tone was brisk but edged with concern.
âWhat do you mean?â I asked, more annoyed than curious.
Minji sighed heavily on the other end. âThatâs good. Youâre fine. I was worried for a second. Didnât you hear? Someone raided HYBE last night. A crazy fan broke in and they believe they were trying to expose Sugaâs album.â
âWhat?â I froze, my heart skipping a beat as her words sank in.
âYeah, itâs all over the news this morning. Securityâs gone into overdrive,â Minji continued. âAnyway, just wanted to check if you were caught up in any of it.â
âI have to go,â I said abruptly, hanging up before she could respond.
My mind raced. If HYBE had been raided and rumours about Yoongiâs album were true, then that meant he must be there. I grabbed my car keys and drove as fast as I could, keeping just within the speed limits. My mind buzzed with thoughts about Yoongi and everything Minji had said. Twenty minutes later, I pulled up in front of HYBE.
I stepped inside, my pulse quickening as I made my way through the familiar halls. When I reached the studio, I stopped in my tracks. Yoongi was pacing back and forth, his phone pressed tightly to his ear. He hadnât noticed me yet, too absorbed in his conversation.
âPlease make sure theyâre caught and thoroughly questioned about what they saw,â he said, his tone firm but composed. Whoever he was speaking to replied, but I couldnât make out the words.
Yoongi sighed, running a hand through his hair. âYeah, I know we had contracts here. Honestly, I donât care about the album, itâs going to get released soon anyway. What matters is that Producer Kâs information stays protected. Make sure no sensitive details leak, okay?â He paused to listen again. âAlright. Call me as soon as you have any updates.â
As he ended the call, his gaze finally landed on me. I was frozen in place, trying to process the past 24 hours, the intimacy, the sudden emptiness when I woke up, and now this chaos.
âHey,â I said, breaking the silence. âWhatâs going on?â
Yoongiâs expression softened when he saw me, but the stress in his posture remained. He sighed and motioned for me to sit down, but I stayed standing, waiting for answers.
âSomeone broke into HYBE last night,â he began, his voice steady but laced with frustration. âThey managed to get into a secure area. Luckily, nothing was taken, at least nothing physical, but thereâs still a risk of leaks.â
I blinked, processing his words. âSo⊠this morningââ
He cut me off with a sheepish smile. âShit, Iâm sorry. I shouldâve woken you up, but you looked so peaceful, and I didnât want to disturb you. When I got the call, I panicked. I didnât even think, I just grabbed my stuff and rushed over here. I had to make sure everything was locked down. The NDAs, your information, everything. But I think weâre okay. Nothing seems to have been compromised.â
My chest loosened at his explanation, relief washing over me. âSo⊠you didnât leave because you regretted it?â My voice came out quieter than I intended. âIt felt like⊠maybe you didnât care about anything that happened yesterday.â
Yoongiâs eyes widened, and he stepped closer to me, closing the distance between us in just a few strides. âAhh, baby,â he said, his tone filled with disbelief. âAre you kidding me? How could I ever regret it?â
He leaned down and brushed his lips against mine, soft and lingering. The kiss was brief, but the warmth of it stayed with me. As he pulled back, he smirked, a playful glint in his eyes. Without another word, he scooped me up effortlessly, his hands firm on my thighs as he lifted me.
âYoongi!â I squealed, instinctively wrapping my arms around his neck.
âYouâre stuck with me now,â he teased, his smirk deepening as he carried me toward the door. My back pressed against it as he gently pushed me, one of his hands leaving my body just long enough to twist the lock. The soft click echoed in the quiet room. His eyes flickered with something darker, more intense, as he leaned in closer.
âAnd donât even think about doubting me again,â he murmured, his lips brushing against the shell of my ear, sending shivers down my spine.
Before I could respond, Yoongi moved us again, carrying me to the producerâs table, the one weâd spent countless hours working on together. He placed me on top of it, the cold surface pressing against my thighs. My body shifted slightly, the edge of the keyboard beneath me accidentally activating a few buttons with soft clicks and beeps.
A mischievous smirk spread across his face as he leaned over me, caging me in with his arms on either side. âLooks like weâre making more music, Producer K,â he teased, his voice low and dripping with amusement.
Immediately his lips captured mine, soft and demanding all at once. The kiss deepened almost instantly, his hand threading into my hair to tilt my head for better access. I gasped against his mouth as his other hand slid down, gripping my waist firmly to keep me anchored to him.
The kiss was electric, slow, and yet so full of intensity it left me breathless. His tongue brushed against mine, coaxing me into a rhythm that made my heart race. My hands found their way to his shoulders, then slid up behind his neck, pulling him even closer.
Yoongi let out a low hum of approval, the sound vibrating against my lips. The tension in the room grew thicker with every passing second. His teeth grazed my bottom lip, tugging gently before he soothed it with another kiss.
âYou taste soo good,â he whispered against my mouth, his breath warm and tantalizing. He kissed me again, harder this time, as though he was trying to erase any lingering doubts from my mind.
âAre you going to fuck me or not?â I asked, my voice laced with impatience and desire. Enough with the teasing, I wanted him, here and now.
A smirk played on his lips as he looked at me. âYes, right here on this table,â he murmured, his voice deep and full of promise. âIâm going to make you feel so good, baby.â
Slowly he reached for the hem of my shirt, pulling it up and over my head. His dark eyes lingered on me as he kept his promise from the night before. He leaned down, gently biting one of my bra straps and pulling it down with his teeth, the act equal parts sensual and possessive. Then his hand slid the other strap off my shoulder, his fingers brushing over my skin in a way that sent shivers racing down my spine.
His hands unclasped my bra, letting it fall away completely. The cool air of the room ghosted over my now-bare skin, goosebumps forming in its wake. His gaze was hungry, appreciative, as he took me in.
He didnât waste a moment, cupping both of my breasts in his warm hands. His thumbs brushed over my nipples, teasing them until they hardened under his touch. Leaning in, he wrapped his lips around one, his tongue swirling and flicking while his other hand kneaded the other.
A soft moan escaped my lips as my hands tangled in his hair, pulling him closer. My legs around his waist instinctively pull his body closer and flush against mine. The hardness of his arousal pressed against my clothed core, teasing me further.
Yoongi groaned softly against my skin, his breath hot as he alternated between kissing and sucking on my sensitive flesh. After a moment, he pulled back slightly, his lips glistening as he grinned down at me.
âYour skin is so soft,â he murmured, his voice low and husky. He stood upright and reached for the hem of his shirt, pulling it off in one smooth motion.
The sight of his toned chest and the way his muscles moved as he tossed the shirt aside made my breath hitch. My hands instinctively trailed over his bare skin, feeling the heat of him beneath my palms.
He proceeded to slide my pants down along with my panties in one smooth motion, leaving me bare beneath him. My cheeks flushed as I turned my head to the side, shying away from his gaze. The reality of the moment hit me, this was happening, in the studio no less. Something I had never done before, especially not with a co-worker. I had always been professional, keeping clear boundaries. But Yoongi? He was different. He was so much more.
Before my thoughts could spiral further, two of his fingers gently grasped my chin, tilting my face back toward him. His dark eyes softened as they met mine, a faint smile curling his lips. âYouâre perfect,â he murmured, his voice filled with genuine adoration.
He leaned down and kissed me deeply, his lips moving against mine with a passion that made me forget all my worries. When he pulled away, I was left breathless, my body trembling.
Without breaking eye contact, he stepped back and slid his boxers down, his cock springing free in a way that had my stomach tightening with need. He reached into a nearby drawer, pulling out a condom. The sight of him, so confident and focused, made my mouth water.
I whimpered softly, my body arching toward him. âPleaseâŠâ I whispered, my voice trembling with desperation.
Yoongi smirked at my plea as he rolled the condom over his length slowly, his eyes never leaving mine. He moved closer, his cock teasing my entrance as he pressed the tip against me, applying just enough pressure to drive me wild.
Then he pulled back, a devilish grin on his lips.
âYoongi!â I cried out, my hands gripping his shoulders in frustration. Yoongi chuckled softly at my frustration, his deep voice resonating in the quiet studio. âPatience, baby,â he teased, leaning down to press a kiss to the corner of my mouth. âI want to savour this.â
His words sent a shiver down my spine, but my body was anything but patient. My legs tightened around his hips, trying to draw him closer. He gave in just a little, letting his tip press further against my entrance, his cock teasing me.
âPleaseâŠâ I whimpered again, my voice trembling.
âGod, youâre so needy,â he murmured, but there was no mockery in his tone, only a mixture of desire and affection. He pressed forward slightly, just enough to stretch me, and the sensation made my breath hitch.
He paused, his hand brushing over my cheek. âAre you okay?â he asked softly, his gaze searching mine.
âYes,â I breathed, nodding. âI need you, Yoongi⊠all of you.â
That was all the encouragement he needed. Slowly, he pushed into me, his cock filling me inch by inch. The sensation was overwhelming in the best way, an exquisite mix of pleasure and pressure that made me gasp. My nails dug into his shoulders as he slid himself fully inside me, both of us pausing to catch our breaths.
âYou feel so good,â he groaned, his head dropping to my shoulder. His lips brushed against my skin, leaving hot, open-mouthed kisses as he began to move.
The first few thrusts were slow and deliberate, his hips rolling against mine in a rhythm that made me lose all sense of time and place. My moans filled the room, blending with the soft sounds of his breathless grunts and the quiet creak of the table beneath us.
âYoongiâŠâ I gasped, my hands sliding down to his waist to pull him closer. His movements grew more intense, each thrust hitting deeper, sending waves of pleasure coursing through me.
His hand slid down to my thigh, lifting it higher to change the angle, and the new position made me cry out. âThatâs it, baby. Let me hear you.â
I clung to him, my body arching into his as the tension built to an unbearable peak. Every movement, every touch, was driving me closer to the edge. His name fell from my lips in a breathless chant, and I could feel his body tensing too, his control slipping with each passing second.
âIâm close,â I managed to gasp, my fingers tangling in his hair as I pressed my forehead against his.
âNot so fastâŠâ he murmured, his lips brushing against my ear. In one swift motion, he pulled out completely, leaving me trembling and desperate for more. He grabbed my hips, pulling me down and guiding me to turn around. His hand on my back guided me to lean forward, making my chest press against the cool surface of the studio desk. I tried to make myself stable, hands roaming over the desk for support when I accidentally hit a button on the keyboard that sounded like the recording audio one.
âYoongi, I think Iââ
âLeave it on,â he growled, his voice dripping with lust. His hands ran down my sides, gripping my hips firmly as he aligned himself behind me. Without another word, he thrust into me again, harder this time, making me cry out in surprise and pleasure.
The new angle was overwhelming, his movements fast and relentless, each thrust sending shockwaves through my body. My hands scrambled for something better to hold on to, finding the edge of the desk as I felt my climax building faster than ever before.
âYoongi,â I moaned, my voice trembling. âIâm going toââ
âMe too,â he groaned, his pace quickening. His fingers tightened on my hips, pulling me back to meet every thrust.
The tension inside me snapped like a rubber band, and I shattered around him, a cry escaping my lips as waves of pleasure consumed me. His name fell from my lips in broken gasps, my body trembling with the force of my release.
âFuck,â Yoongi hissed behind me, his movements growing erratic as he followed me over the edge. With a low groan, he stilled, his hands gripping me tightly as he emptied himself into the condom.
We stayed silent for a moment, both of us catching our breaths as the studio filled with the sound of our laboured breathing. Yoongiâs hand slid up my back, his touch gentle now as he leaned down to press a soft kiss between my shoulders.
âYouâre perfect,â he whispered, his voice softer than before, filled with a mix of affection and satisfaction.
I turned my head slightly to glance at him, a small smile tugging at my lips despite the lingering haze of pleasure. âYouâre pretty perfect yourself,â I replied breathlessly.
His lips quirked into a smirk as he helped me straighten up, his hands still lingering on my waist. âYou keep driving me crazy when thereâs work to be done,â he said, his voice still low, a hint of amusement in his eyes.
âWork?â I teased, arching an eyebrow.
We both laughed softly, the tension replaced by a comfortable warmth as we started dressing up together. After fixing ourselves up, Yoongi and I sat back at the desk, quietly adjusting to the shift from intimacy to professionalism.
A sudden realization hit me like a bolt of lightning. My eyes widened as I glanced at the screen. The red "REC" light was still blinking, the audio still rolling.
"Wait," I said, trying to keep my voice steady, but my heart was racing. "Yoongi... the recordingâŠ"
Yoongi's gaze followed mine to the screen.
I stifled a laugh, trying to process the situation. "We... we didnât justâ"
"We did," he muttered, running a hand through his hair as he reached for the mouse, clicking the stop button on the recording. The sudden silence felt almost louder than the chaos that had just unfolded.
There was a long pause before either of us spoke, and then Yoongi burst into a fit of laughter, the tension completely evaporating. "I can't believe you hit the record by accident," he said between chuckles, shaking his head. "Thatâs... that's going to be something to remember."
I shook my head, laughing despite the embarrassment that was slowly creeping in. "Oh my god, I didnât mean to! What ifâwhat if someone listens to that? You have to delete itâŠ"
Yoongi leaned back in his chair, still chuckling. "Relax, Iâm pretty sure the only one whoâs ever going to hear that is you... and maybe me, when Iâm in need of some... inspiration."
I shot him a mock glare. "Youâre terrible."
But the laughter between us continued, as if weâd both just acknowledged the absurdity of it all. "Alright, alright," I said, regaining some composure. "So, do we actually erase it... or keep it as a very private memory?"
Yoongi eyed the screen for a moment, a playful glint in his eyes. "I think we keep it," he said with a smirk. "Just in case we ever need to prove whoâs really in charge around here."
I raised an eyebrow, a challenge in my smile. "I still have to work with you..."
Yoongi leaned closer, his smirk widening. "We can always record something else to balance it out."
My face flushed again, but this time, it was the shared humour that made the tension feel lighter. The teasing, the jokes, the way we were able to slip back into this comfortable space of banter, it made the moment feel normal again. *** As time passed, Yoongi and I quietly navigated our secret relationship, keeping things low-key while indulging in countless late-night dates after work. Between stolen moments in the studio, quick getaways to his place, and intimate sessions that blurred the line between work and personal time, we found our rhythm. Every touch, every kiss, every fleeting glance became a quiet promise, a bond that only grew stronger despite the secrecy. The sexual tension between us was undeniable, and we gave into it time and time again, the boundaries between us disappearing with every heated exchange. April 17 arrived, and Yoongi and I were standing in J-Hopeâs living room. It was a quiet evening before the storm of emotions that would come the next day, J-Hope was leaving for the military, and Yoongi was going to see him off tomorrow. As much as I wanted to be there for the farewell, I knew I couldnât. Not yet. My identity had to still stay hidden, my relationship with Yoongi too, at least for now.
Yoongi caught my eye from across the room, a soft smile playing at his lips as he walked over to where I was standing by the window. "You okay?" he asked quietly, concern flickering in his gaze.
I forced a smile, trying to hide the tension I felt. "Yeah, just thinking about tomorrow," I said, glancing over at J-Hope, who was still chatting with some of the others in the room. "Youâre going to see him off right?"
"Of course," Yoongi replied, his voice warm but heavy with the realization that things were changing. "Heâs my brother. Iâm not going to let him go without saying goodbye properly."
I nodded, feeling a pang of longing. "I wish I could be there, but... you know why I canât."
"I know," Yoongi murmured, squeezing my hand. He leaned in slightly, lowering his voice. "Itâs just... itâs tough for both of us, huh?"
I nodded again, my chest tight. "Yeah. Itâs not just about J-Hope going. Itâs about the secrecy, the not being able to show anyone who we are... it gets exhausting."
Before Yoongi could respond, J-Hope called out from across the room, his voice teasing. "Yoongi, Y/N! You two are awfully quiet over there. Whatâs going on?"
I looked up and forced a grin, trying to act casual. "Nothing, justâ"
J-Hope walked over with a playful glint in his eyes, crossed his arms. "You know, Iâve always seen the tension between you two," he said with a teasing smirk. "Thatâs why I kept pushing Y/N to hang out with me when Yoongi was around. I had to give him a little nudge."
Yoongi raised an eyebrow, clearly amused by J-Hopeâs words. "Really? You were the one pushing her?"
I laughed, feeling the heat rise to my cheeks. "Well, it worked, didnât it?"
J-Hope chuckled, but his smile softened as he looked between the two of us. "I get it now. You two are like an open secret. But listen," he continued, his tone more serious, "tomorrow, when Iâm gone, make sure you both take care of yourselves. Yoongi, I know youâll look after her. And Y/N, be good to him, alright?"
I nodded, the words heavy in my chest. "I will. You just... you just be safe, okay? Come back to us soon."
Yoongi echoed my sentiment, his voice steady and sincere. "Take care of yourself, man. Weâve got your back. Always."
J-Hope smiled at us both, his eyes a mixture of gratitude and affection. "I know. Thanks, guys. Iâll miss you both."
*** The next day, after Yoongi returned from seeing J-Hope off, we somehow managed to finish the last track just before the deadline. It felt like a weight lifted off our shoulders. The album, which had been months in the making, was finally ready, set to release on April 21st with nine tracks. It was a huge achievement, and that night, we celebrated in typical Yoongi fashion, with whiskey at his place, and, well, sex. The kind of passionate, no-holds-barred kind that made me forget about the stress of the last few months.
The following days leading up to the album release were a whirlwind. We couldn't spend much time together, since Yoongi had a full schedule of promotional activities. Meanwhile, I was at home, taking the rare opportunity to relax and mentally prepare for the next project Minji had set up for me. Life was moving quickly, and I knew the grind would start again soon.
That night, as I was settling into my evening routine, my phone buzzed with a notification. Yoongi's live stream was about to start. He had mentioned earlier that his company would have him livestream his full album for his fans to celebrate the release. I was excited, though admittedly a little nervous to hear how the tracks we worked on together sounded to the public.
I clicked on the stream and watched as Yoongi greeted his fans, his usual cool demeanor giving way to the warmth of being surrounded by people who admired his work. I listened closely as he played the first six songs, the ones he had worked on solo. Each track was a piece of his soul, his sound so distinct and raw. Then came the three songs we collaborated on, and I couldnât help but smile. Hearing them in front of thousands of fans was surreal, but in a way, it felt like we were still connected. Every note, every lyric felt like a reflection of the quiet moments we shared, the time we spent creating together.
As the ninth track played, I expected the stream to wrap up, but then Yoongiâs voice came through again. It was softer this time, almost like he wasnât sure if he should say the words that were coming.
âThis last song is a very last-minute addition to the album,â he began, his tone low and a little more introspective. âMaking this album have a total of 10 tracks. I felt like this album was missing something... and this track summarizes everything thatâs been going on with me lately. Itâs called SDL.â
I froze, heart pounding in my chest. I hadnât known about this last-minute addition to the album. I thought everything had been finalized. But here he was, introducing a track that was somehow more personal than any of the others. My stomach tightened as the beat dropped, and the chorus rang out:
"Yeah, somebody does love
But I'm thinking 'bout you."
The lyrics hit me like a wave, each word carrying a weight that I couldnât ignore. It felt so raw, so vulnerable. Before I could process it all, I grabbed my stuff and rushed out the door. I knew Yoongi would still be at HYBE, where the livestream was taking place. Without thinking twice, I jumped into my car, determined to get there. The song had caught me completely off guard, and I needed to see him. I needed to understand what this song really meant.
It wasnât just a trackâit was a message. A message that had left me reeling, and I wasnât going to wait to figure it out. I arrived at HYBE, my heart still racing from the drive. As I stepped out, I caught sight of Jihoon leaving the building, and without thinking, I called out to him.
"Is Yoongi still here?"
"Yeah, last time I saw him, it was just a few minutes ago at the studio," Jihoon replied casually. I didn't even say goodbye as I ran inside toward the studio, my mind set on finding Yoongi. When I reached the door and pushed it open, I could tell it wasnât the same as the first time we met, where his eyes had been skeptical and full of surprise. This time, when our eyes met, I saw something completely different, softness, warmth, and love.
I closed the door behind me and moved closer to him, my breath still catching up from the run.
"Y/N, what are you doing here?" Yoongi asked, his voice laced with concern. He came to me, his hands instinctively reaching up to fix my hair, his touch gentle as he noticed my flustered state.
I took a deep breath, trying to steady myself. "That last song, I saw your live... where did that come from? I thought the album had only 9 tracks."
Yoongi paused, his hands lingering in my hair as he gave me a soft smile. "As I said on the live, that song is whatâs been going on in my head these past couple of months."
I raised an eyebrow, still trying to piece it together. "So, you mean to tell me... Iâm your inspiration?"
He nodded, his eyes never leaving mine. "Yes. You know Iâm not great with my feelings, and better than anyone, you understand how hard it is for me to express myself. With everything thatâs been going on between us lately⊠I thought this would be the clearest way to show you how I feel, the way we know best: through music."
âWhy didnât you play it for me before? In private?â I asked, my voice soft but laced with curiosity.
âI wanted it to be a surprise, like a big romantic gesture that only we would recognize,â he admitted, his voice wavering slightly. âI felt like I needed to redeem myself for how I acted at the start. To be honest, we were so good together that Iâm sure we couldâve finished those tracks in less than a month. But I kept being a jerk, nit-picking everything just so weâd have to restart. It was selfish, but I wanted to steal every last minute with you. You walked into this studio and captured my heart and soul with everything you are, and I wasnât ready to let that go so easily.â
His words hit me with full force, my heart pounding in my chest as the weight of his confession settled. I stepped closer, my emotions bubbling to the surface, and before I could think or say anything more, my lips found Yoongiâs. The kiss was soft at first, tentative, as if I were trying to tell him everything I couldnât put into words. It was a kiss full of everything: love, apology, understanding, and a promise for more. We didnât need more words, just the closeness, the music, and the quiet understanding between us. The kiss deepened, and in that moment, we both knew: this was just the beginning.
#bts imagine#bts one shot#bts fic#bts#bts au#bts drabble#bts fanfction#bts ff#bts fanfic#bts fanfiction#bts fic rec#bts fic recs#bts fluff#bts smut#bts scenarios#bts imagines#bts masterlist#bts suga#bts yoongi#yoongi drabble#min yoongi#yoongi#min yoongi x reader#min yoongi drabble#bangtan smut#bantangboys#bangtan seonyandan#bangtan#btswritingcafe#bts fanfics
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Ë. jealous!bts â reaction â§ (hyung line version)
[ about. bts as secret boyfriends, quietly showing their love and jealousy when someone flirts a little too close with you. ]
â
:inc. f!reader, idol!au, secret relationship, long-term couple, soft jealousy, tender moments, bittersweet comfort, nsfw for hoseok genre. scenarios, reaction, fluff, nsfw at the end
à«źê°ïœĄâąÌâżâąÌïœĄê±á
â kim seokjin
jin doesnât get jealous easily. he doesnât need toânot when he carries himself like he already owns every room he walks into. that easy elegance, the unshakable calm, the smile honed from years of being effortlessly adored.
but when something does stir beneath that polished exterior? oh. itâs not messyâitâs devastating. he is witty, theatrical, laced with sarcasm.
heâll laugh, sure. play it off, smooth and theatrical like itâs all part of the performance. but watch closely. when the smile drops just half a centimeter, when the grip on his glass tightens just slightly, youâll knowâheâs simmering. itâs not toxic. itâs territorial. and seokjin, when territorial, is razor-sharp velvet.
youâre at a private charity gala hosted by the countryâs top culinary institute. invited for your critically acclaimed essays on food cultureâpieces laced with dry humor and sharp insight that caught the eyes of chefs and critics alike. jin arrived later, slipping under the radar in a tailored suit and loosened tie, blending in seamlessly among the glittering crowd.
your dress is deep red silkâfluid, sharp, confident. a slit high up your thigh, delicate jewelry catching the light. youâre every inch composed and magnetic, skimming through conversations with ease. jin watches you from afar, lips twitching every time your wit slices clean through a pompous comment.
and then one of the event organizers slides in beside you. older, distinguished, charming in that well-traveled, silver-fox sort of way. he leans closer than necessary, complimenting your writing, your dress, your smile. hints at exclusive tastings and private toursâprofessional, technically, but layered with something smoother, sweeter.
you handle it like you always do. polite. cool. warm enough to be graceful, distant enough to draw the line. but jin sees everything. he always does.
from across the room, his gaze lingers longer nowâsharpened behind the soft curve of his grin. when your eyes flick toward him, he tilts his head just slightly, brows raised, as if to ask: having fun? you hide a smirk, tucking it behind your wineglass, and turn back to your conversation.
đ±
Jin: making friends, sweetheart? or collecting tasting invitations? You: just working the room, handsome promise I wonât sample anything off-menu Jin: good because Iâm already setting the table at home and dessertâs going to be you
later, when you step into the quieter lounge near the balcony, jin is already there. leaning lazily against the railing, city lights scattering like jewels behind him. his tie loose, glass of red wine poised effortlessly in his hand.
he doesnât greet you right away. just watches, gaze slow and steady over the rim of his glass.
âgood company tonight?â he asks eventually, voice smooth as aged whiskey.
you hum, sliding closer. ânot bad. a few offers for private tastings.â
his smile curls at the cornersâbut it doesnât quite reach his eyes.
âlucky you,â he murmurs. âsounds like youâre very⊠sought after.â
you step even closer, fingertips brushing the lapel of his jacket. âare you fishing for something, seokjin?â
his smile deepens, slow and dangerous. he sets the glass down carefully, turning fully toward you.
ânot fishing. just reminding.â
one hand slips around your waist, palm pressing warm and deliberate over silk.
âreminding you that no matter how many tastings youâre offered,â he leans in, voice dipping lower, âthereâs only one kitchen youâll be cooking in tonight.â
your breath catches subtly. his gaze drops to your lips, then drags back upâsteady, unflinching, dark with intent.
you tilt your chin, sass cutting through the heat. âi couldâve handled him, you know.â
âi know.â his thumb drags idly along your waist. âi just like watching you remind people youâre already taken.â
he leans in, lips ghosting along the shell of your ear. âi like it even more when i get to remind you.â
later that night, jin doesnât rush. he never does. he moves with that same unhurried confidenceâlike he has all the time in the world to savor whatâs his.
fingers trail down the line of your spine, lips mapping slow, deliberate kisses along the slope of your shoulder. he peels silk away inch by inch, like unwrapping something rare and expensive, eyes dark and molten.
when you tug him closer by the loosened tie, breath catching against his mouth, he exhales soft against your lips.
âstill jealous?â you whisper, teasing.
his grin is lazy, dangerous, beautiful.
ânot jealous,â he murmurs, voice thick and low. âjust making sure you remember where you belong.â
his mouth finds yoursâslow, thorough, claiming. and as he drags you beneath him, warm palms spanning your hips, his touch leaves no room for doubt.
you already know.
â kim namjoon
he is quiet, rational on the surface. possessive underneath. checks himself constantly. but when pushed, he canât help the flicker of dominance in his toneâespecially when he thinks someoneâs trying to outsmart him for your attention.
youâre an up-and-coming actress. sharp, striking, all slow-burning charm. namjoon fell for your brain first, but that doesnât mean heâs blind to the way people look at you.
tonight is no different â a private after-party after the film festival, where youâd been invited as a presenter. like always, you and namjoon arrived separately, pretending to be nothing more than distant acquaintances.
the problem is the actor by your side tonight â respected, smooth, and just clever enough to be a threat. namjoon doesnât interrupt. he trusts you. but trust doesnât erase the slow flare of possessiveness when he sees the man leaning in too close or making you laugh a little too hard.
youâre in the middle of a casual, low laughter conversation when you feel itâeyes. his eyes. you turn slightly and see namjoon across the room, his jaw flexed, one hand tucked into his pocket, the other holding a drink heâs barely touched.
heâs watching. always watching.
you feel confident. youâre used to this kind of attention and you know how to handle it. you arenât playing into itânot reallyâbut you're not rushing to walk away either. itâs more fun when you make him wait. watch. simmer.
he wonât interrupt. namjoon trusts youâhe always has. but that doesnât mean he doesnât feel the flare of something hot and territorial when another man leans in too close or makes you laugh just a little too freely.
he waits. always waits. he knows how to check himself. But when pushed, when tested, thereâs always that flickerâthat low, deliberate shift in him that feels like gravity pulling tighter.
tonight is no different.
fifteen minutes later, you finally excuse yourself smoothly, your dress swaying as you slip toward the quieter lounge. you know exactly where heâll be waiting.
he doesnât look at you right away. instead, he stands in the dim hallway light, broad shoulders relaxed but his posture coiled.
âgood conversation?â his voice is even. almost too even.
you smirk, unhurried as you cross your arms. âjealous?â
a breath. his eyes finally liftâsoft brown, now darkened with something molten.
"iâm not jealous,â he says, measured. âjust wondering how long iâm supposed to stand there listening to someone else flirt with my girlfriend like he wrote the damn dictionary.â
your brow arches, amused. âwas it bothering you? you looked so calm.â
he steps closer, slow and steady, one hand ghosting the curve of your waist. his body heat slides against you as he leans close enough that only you can hear.
âi donât like sharing your attention.â his lips graze the shell of your ear. His next words are velveted steel. âand I donât like the way he looked at you like he was trying to figure out how you taste.â
a shiver skips down your spine. your smirk deepens, but your eyes soften with something warmer.
âhe didnât touch me,â you say, voice honeyed but edged.
namjoonâs lips curveâjust barely. "he didnât need to. that was his way of touching you.â
your fingers trail teasingly along his lapel. âyou know⊠you couldâve walked over sooner. staked your claim.â
âi wanted to see how long youâd keep me stewing,â he murmurs, leaning in until his nose brushes yours, âi shouldâve known better. you like making me wait.â
âi like making you watch,â you correct sweetly, batting your lashes. âyouâre hot when you simmer, joon.â
his breath hitches, a soft chuckle rumbling from deep in his chest. his lips press deliberately against your cheek, a slow drag that lingers near the corner of your mouth.
đ±
You: was someone feeling territorial tonight? đ Namjoon: i let it go longer than i wanted to. if he touched you i wouldâve ended up in a scandal. You: he didnât. you know Iâm yours, right? Namjoon: yeah. still hate watching someone want what I already have. you looked good tonight. too good. You: say that again when Iâm on your lap, baby Namjoon: get home. iâll say it with my mouth. everywhere.
later that night, the door clicks shut behind you, and before you can even toe off your heels, namjoonâs hands are already sliding against your waist. he moves like heâs reclaiming somethingânot rushed, not franticâjust deliberate, confident, consuming.
he presses you back onto the sheets, his weight settling heavy and comforting. his mouth traces a slow, reverent path down your throat, across your collarbones, teeth dragging lightly at your skin as his fingers splay against your hips to anchor you in place.
âyou were jealous,â you whisper against his jaw, voice thick with amusement as your nails skim his biceps, âjust admit it, baby.â
he breathes out a soft laugh against your sternum, warm and low.
âof course I was,â he murmurs, lips dragging to the inside of your thigh, his voice roughening as he speaks against your skin, âbut only because youâre everything. and everything thatâs mine should never be touched by anyone else but me.â
you grin, tipping your chin proudly. âdamn right, joon.â
he hums approvingly. His hands tighten on your thighs. his lips seal against the inside of your knee like a silent oath. and that night, he shows youâwith touch after touch, kiss after kissâexactly how much he meant every word.
â min yoongi
yoongiâs jealousy isnât loud. it doesnât explode or unravel messily. it brewsâlow, lethal, precise.
he doesnât interrupt. doesnât stomp across the room or tug you away like heâs staking a claim.
no, yoongi lets the irritation sit in his chest, slow and smoldering, until it finally sharpens into a single line youâll hear echoing in your head for days.
a sentence that slices cleaner than a scream ever could.
yoongi doesnât like loud scenes. he doesnât do crowds unless theyâre under the blinding lights of his profession, and even then, itâs workânot pleasure.
which is why tonight is the perfect setting: a small, private gallery event tucked inside a quiet art collective, recommended by one of your professors as extra credit for your film studies course. quiet, dim, curatedâyoongiâs pace entirely.
you invited him because you knew heâd like the obscurity. he came because he likes you even more.
he lingers behind you as you move through the exhibit. youâsharp-eyed, brilliant, articulateâyouâve always loved pulling apart the composition of other art forms, finding parallels to film. thatâs what caught his attention when you first met: your mind sharper than your eyeliner, wit faster than your smile.
tonight, though?
youâve attracted the eye of one of the eventâs featured guest curators. a man a little too well-versed in indie cinema. a little too eager to quote obscure 1960s directors at you.
a man who clearly likes the way your lips part when you get passionate explaining shot composition.
yoongi watches from across the roomâleaning against a polished concrete column, dressed lowkey and muted. black cap, dark bomber jacket, silver rings glinting faintly under gallery lights.
he sips slowly at his drink, one brow slightly raised, expression unreadableâbut his gaze is cutting and direct.
you feel it before you see it.
the weight of his stare sliding across your shoulder blades like warm silk. you donât falterâyouâve always been good at handling attentionâbut your smirk twitches wider.
you angle your body slightly toward yoongi (just enough to let him know you know), while still entertaining the curatorâs chatter. confident. untouchable. youâre not flirting, not exactlyâbut youâre not running, either.
after a while, you wrap up your conversation with practiced grace and glide over to yoongi, the heels of your boots clicking quietly on the polished floor.
he doesnât move. doesnât even look up immediately. just tilts his head slightly toward you, deadpan but razor-sharp.
ânice lecture you got there,â he says dryly, voice low and unimpressed. âi almost enrolled in his class.â
you let a slow smile curl your lips. âwere you eavesdropping, min?â
he finally lifts his gaze to yoursâdark, amused, the corner of his mouth twitching like heâs trying very hard not to grin.
âdidnât need to eavesdrop. the dude was practically panting when you started breaking down italian neorealism.â
you huff a laugh, cocking a brow. âjealous?â
ânot jealous,â he says smoothly, sliding a hand into your back pocket with infuriating casualness. his thumb brushes slow circles into your hipbone.
âjust bored. watching him trip over his tongue trying to impress my girlfriend was sad.â
your lips part in faux surprise. âoh? your girlfriend? i donât remember you coming over to claim me.â
yoongiâs smile sharpens.
âi donât need to claim whatâs already mine, baby.â
he leans inâhis nose brushes the shell of your ear, voice a hushed growl.
âi just remind you whoâll be unzipping this dress later.â
your breath catchesâjust slightly.
but you recover fast. always do.
you hum coyly, tilting your chin up. âdonât make promises you wonât keep, yoongi.â
his chuckle is low, sinful, hand squeezing tighter at your waist as he drags you flush to him in the darkened corner.
âi donât make promises,â he whispers, lips ghosting your jaw.
âi just keep receipts.â
đ±
You: you were broody tonight, min. jealous of the film nerd? đ Yoongi: broody? you kept tossing around french new wave terms like foreplay. i almost dragged you into the supply closet. You: almost? coward. Yoongi: get home. say âmise-en-scĂšneâ in that voice again. iâll show you exactly what scene i want to set. You: bold of you to assume iâm wearing anything under this dress might have to âexplainâ it to me in detail, professor. Yoongi: keep talking. iâm locking my door right now.
he doesnât say much as he pulls you into bed. hands grip firmer than usualâcommanding but unhurried, fingers biting at your hips like a quiet claim. his lips drag rougher kisses along your throat, teeth grazing just enough to leave blooming marks in their wake.
when you arch against him, breath catching on his name, he leans closeâbreath hot against your ear, voice husked deep.
âdonât let another man talk to you like that again.â
you smile against his mouth, exhaling a soft, cocky laugh.
âdonât let another man think he has a chance, baby.â
his breath shudders, smirk ghosting against your jawline.
âsmart girl.â
his mouth traces slow, burning paths along the curve of your neck and down your chestâevery kiss a silent reminder of exactly where you belong.
you sigh, teasing lazy against his jawlineââstill jealous, min?ââ
his only answer is teeth against the inside of your thigh, slow and claiming.
âno,â he rasps, voice rough with want.
âjust making sure you remember who gives you real lessons, baby.â
and by morning, youâll have marks on your skin like underlined citations.
â jung hoseok [ nsfw ]
hoseok has always been magnetic.
heâs the light in the room, the warmth at the center of every circle. he laughs easily, listens deeply, and never lets discomfort linger in the air. heâs thoughtful. polished. sharp. but everyone who truly knows himâeveryone close enough to see past the glitterâknows one more truth:
hoseok is possessive. quietly. beautifully. the kind that doesnât say âyouâre mine.â he just makes sure everyone else feels it.
he takes care of whatâs his. he keeps things neat, under control, exact. and when something crosses a boundaryâwhen someone crosses youâhis shine doesnât crack. it drops.
itâs a friend-of-a-friend party. not flashy. a cozy rooftop with warm lights and too many drinks. youâre in a soft knit dress and a jacket he gave you before you left home. not a celebrity. not a name anyone recognizes. you like it that way. you belong in the quiet.
and hoseok stays close. hand at your back, brushing your waist. always aware of where you are in the room.
but eventually, you wander. grab a drink. laugh with someoneâsome guy who works in media, apparently. you donât know him. heâs too loud, too sure of himself. but youâre being polite.
what you donât see is hoseokâs face from across the space.
heâs not smiling anymore. mouth set. jaw stiff. someone asks him something, and he answers too fast, eyes already gone back to you.
and the guy?
heâs leaning too close. not touching. but itâs the lean that does it. the way he looks at your legs. how he says something and nudges your arm like youâre sharing some private joke.
you step back half a pace. just enough to reclaim the space between you. but itâs not enough.
not for hoseok.
đ±
Hoseok: baby. come here.
you look up. heâs still on the other side of the rooftop. watching. the look in his eyes pins you in place.
another buzzâ
Hoseok: heâs looking at you like he wants to fuck you. donât laugh at his jokes. theyâre not funny.
your stomach flips. heat rises behind your ears. you shoot him a quick look across the space, mouthing sorry.
he doesnât blink.
Hoseok: if you laugh one more time iâm going to drag you out of here and make you remember who makes you laugh like that for real
you swallow. hard. and excuse yourself.
you find him leaning against the hallway wall near the stairwell. arms crossed. one eyebrow lifted. not speaking.
âhey,â you say softly.
he tilts his head. âhaving fun?â
âit wasnât like that.â
âwasnât it?â his voice is low. too low. âyou smiled at him.â
âi was just being niceââ
âno.â he steps in. close. âyou donât smile at people like that. not men like that.â
you exhale, frustrated. âhobi, i wasnât flirtingââ
his hand slides up your jaw so fast it stuns you silent. thumb pressed just under your lip. his eyes are dark. voice quieter now.
âi donât like being jealous.â his tone is a whisper against your mouth. âi hate how it makes me feel. but baby, if someone else looks at you like they want you⊠and you give them anythingâŠâ
he leans in, lips brushing your cheek, your ear.
ââŠi get so fucking mean about it.â
when youâre back at your place he doesnât waste time. the second the door shuts behind you, hoseok crowds you back against itâmouth claiming yours in a kiss that steals the air from your lungs.
Itâs not rushedâbut itâs deliberate. hands gripping your hips hard, fingers digging in like heâs anchoring himself to you.
when he drags his mouth down to your throat, biting lightly, you gaspâhands threading into his hair.
his jacket is on your floor. so are your panties. your hands are flat against your wall. his hips are locked behind yours. heâs been taking his time.
not fast. not desperate.
punishing.
âstill think he was funny?â he whispers it right against your shoulder as he pushes into you again.
you gaspâeyes squeezed shut, nails biting into the paint.
ân-noâhobiââ
he thrusts deep. slow. deliberate.
âthink he could make you come like this?â
you shake your head, but he waits. still inside you.
âsay it.â
ââŠno.â
âsay why.â
you whimper, breath catching in your throat. ââcause youâre the only one. the only one who gets toâfuckâgets to touch me like this.â
a pleased hum. a kiss to your spine.
âthatâs right. youâre mine. donât forget it again.â
you wake to the soft rustle of sheets and the smell of coffee brewing. hoseok walks into the bedroom, setting your cup on the nightstandâhis hair messy, a soft hoodie hanging off one shoulder.
he sits on the edge of the bed, gaze fond but still serious.
âiâm not usually like that,â he says quietly.
you smile sleepily, fingers lacing with his.
âi like when youâre like that.â
his lips twitchâhalf-smile returning.
âgood.â a kiss to your temple. ââcause i wasnât faking a single second of it.â
#bts#bts imagines#bts x oc#bts reaction#champagnevi#bts x reader#smau#bts smau#min yoongi#jungkook au#bts fic#bts edits#run bts#bts angst#bts angst reactions#bts army#bts aesthetic#bts au#bts drabbles#bts drabble#bts fan fiction#bts fics#bts fluff#bts fanfic#bts fanfiction#bts fanfction#bts fic rec#bts hoseok#bts icons#bts imagine
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đȘđźđđ„đąđđČ đđšđ§đđ«đšđ„ â đČđšđšđ§đ đą
â based this off of a dream i had the other day; idol!yoongi x best friend!reader â yoongi is seeking some feedback for his new track and the only person he trusts for quality control, is you.
đ°đšđ«đ đđšđźđ§đ â 1,389
đđšđ§đđđ§đ đ°đđ«đ§đąđ§đ đŹ â fluff! almost friends to lovers, yoongi is sweet, affection, physical touch, words of affirmation
it wasn't unusual to just exist in yoongi's presence whilst he worked on music. he'd sit at his computer, slouched in his chair headphones lazily draped over his ears, fingers tapping at the keys on his keyboard as he endlessly looped the same section of music over and over again.
he would do this for hours while you entertained yourself; either catching up with emails or as much as you hated to admit it, probably doom scrolling on social media. your conversations over the span of a couple of hours usually consisted of you calling out his name, followed by a distant but acknowledging grumble, you asking him a question which he would answer with another disengaged exhale.
today, however, he seemed particularly irritated. not easily discernible; but you could tell by the way he shifted in his seat, the abnormal number of frustrated exhales, and the moment he suddenly thrust himself back and cursed under his breath, pressing his head into his hands. it was difficult to fight off the urge to ask "are you okay?" which was threatening to escape your lips, as you knew he'd just glance at you nonchalantly and utter a succinct, blasé "yes."
you were reclining on a couch not too far away from his setup. his long, dark hair was neatly swept back by his headphones, except for a few odd strands which draped over his forehead, occasionally sticking to thin veil of sweat beginning to coat his skin. his eyes just wandered the screen intently, although there was a tired glaze over them.
"can you do me a favor?" he asked softly, casually, turning his head toward you. you blinked. that had to be his daily word count used up all in one go.
his eyes were soft, mouth slightly ajar with a subtly curve to his lips. you didn't know why he was smiling, especially when he looked so frustrated just moments ago. maybe it was the way you looked: lazily sprawled out on the couch, limbs wrapped around a blanket, sleepily scrolling through your phone.
"hmm?" you murmured softly, unaware of how tired you had become. though grateful for the break in silence as you were probably only moments away from unconsciously dropping your phone from your hand and falling asleep.
there was a slight chuckle in his voice. "can you give this a listen?" he asked softly, a faint rasp coloring his words; likely from hours of silence, and maybe the fact that he hadn't taken a sip of water in just as long.
yoongi removed the headphones from his head, shaking his hair back into place as he did, lightly grasping them in his hand. he blinked at you again, letting out a gentle exhale that bordered on a laugh, eyes crinkling when he noticed you hadn't even budged.
being a night owl, it didn't bother him that it was creeping into the early hours. the sun had set long ago. you, on the other hand, had gotten far too comfortable on his couch and were only just managing to stave off sleep.
"come here, bring your blanket." he mumbled, his eyes still crinkled with amusement, the corners of his lips pressing into his cheeks in a tender smile. yoongi continued to watch you fight your way into an upright position, his attention unwavering.
if you hadn't of been so tired, the way he was staring at you so intently would have made your hands sweat, but you were too focused on standing up; which you eventually did, slowly pottering over to his side as he slid the headphones over your ears, gently adjusting your hair with his slender fingers so they didn't get in the way.
"why are you asking me? i'm not a producer," you sleepily quipped, adjusting the blanket that you had draped over your shoulders. "why don't you send it to pdogg or something."
"no, you're not," he stated softly. yoongi gently placed his hands to your waist and guided you to sit on his knee, pressing his chin onto your shoulder as he leaned forward, hovering the mouse over the play button, "but your input is important to me. you don't have to understand music to know if it sounds good."
you could've sworn you could feel your cheeks flush with heat, either that or you were getting too warm from the blanket.
he pressed play, and the silence of the room combined with the almost audible pounding of your own heart was swiftly replaced with bass.
sleepily, you found yourself subconsciously leaning back into the warmth of yoongi. he didn't pull away or resist. one hand rested gently on the side of your thigh, whilst the other affectionately hooked around your waist, holding you comfortably on his knee.
the song had so many elements that screamed yoongi, while still feeling fresh and different. it was the kind of track you'd listen to with headphones on, back against the mattress, eyes closed.
it was so immersive, you had almost forgot how close yoongi was, until you felt his warm breath on the side of your neck, his chin resting comfortably on your shoulder as he cocked his head ever so slightly to the side.
eventually, the song came to a stop. he used the hand that had been softly resting on your thigh to pull back of the cup of the earphones from the ear closest to him. "well? what did you think?" he uttered softly, a hint of apprehension in his tone.
"yoongi - i, i mean, it's just incredible-" you started, before feeling a short gust of warm air on your neck as he softly exhaled in a laugh. he eventually pulled away, reclining back in his seat, and the immediate loss of closeness and warmth left you feeling a little hollow.
"you don't need to be sarcastic," he mumbled, though you could hear the smile in his voice.
"i'm not. friend to friend," you said, almost tasting the bitterness of the word friend on your tongue, knowing how giddy and anxious you felt around him at times. "this song is beautiful. i, i have nothing else to say. it's perfect."
you turned to look at him, feeling a little uneasy under his intense, affectionate stare. "that snippet at the end - the rain and the laughter," you started, "is that from when-"
"we were at hangang park," you both said at the same time, laughing softly.
yoongi's hand unconsciously made itself comfortable on your thigh, his thumb absentmindedly grazing back and forth. "even though i told you to bring an umbrella. you were so soaked. i mean, we both were..." he spoke fondly, stumbling on his words slightly as if he was just now remembering that he got wet too; like you were the only one who really mattered in that moment.
"i didn't realise you still had that video. that was a while ago." you chuckled, reminiscing on yoongi almost keeling over belly-laughing as you were absolutely sodden, sat on a picnic blanket trying to shield yourself from the rain in between laughter. he had his phone out recording you as the heavens opened from above and a torrential downpour assaulted you both. yoongi, however, was under the luxury of an umbrella 'this is what happens when you don't listen to my advice.' he said between ragged giggly breaths.
with perfect comedic timing, the wind swept the canopy of the umbrella inside out and he lost his grip, it rolled down the grassy bank and hurled itself into a nearby bush. and this was the point of the video you heard overlapped on the song; you laughing at the wind taking revenge for you, and yoongi laughing at the absurdity of it all. you both laughed until it hurt, absolutely soaked through, cold, damp and filled with a euphoric sense of happiness.
"you always notice the little things," he murmured, brushing astray strand of hair from your face. his voice quiet, almost reluctant before he added with a subdued smirk. "maybe that's why i keep you around."
you smiled, feeling your heart flutter but saying nothing, letting the moment hang between you for a beat.
"what's the song called?" you queried, smile lingering on your lips as the memory remained in the forefront of your mind.
"only you."
#đ àŁȘË ÖŽÖ¶Öž âïžàŒàŒ my work#screaming crying throwing up writing this#bts headcanons#bts imagines#bts drabble#min yoongi#min yoongi x reader#x reader#yoongi x reader#bts fluff#yoongi fluff#yoongi x you#yoongi imagine#agust d#bts suga#bts yoongi#yoongi fanfic#min yoongi x you#min yoongi x y/n#bts x reader#reader insert#oneshots#bts oneshot#yoongi oneshot
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volume 1
[ 35 / 35 ]
áŻáĄŁđ©
â idealizations concerning real life relations â by @venusiangguk
jungkook loves to be loved, but he doesnât love in return. â 40.9k [s, a]
â wishing for you â by @kookiestarlight
you and your husband decide to finally start trying for a baby. It should be easy enough, you thought. But it turns out getting pregnant is a lot harder than you expected. â 25.4k [s, f, a]
â visions â by @trivia-yandere
youâre convinced by your friends to go to a party and let go of the memories of your ex just for one night. unfortunately for you, jungkook doesnât want to be let go. â 5.1k [s, a]
â espresso â by @joonberriess
14.6k [f, s]
â perfect â by @readyplayerhobi
Jungkook has always been in your life in some way, the friend that keeps coming back time after time and the one friends and family are convinced is the one for you. Yet despite so many perfect moments, it just never seems to work out between the two of you. â 13k [f, a]
â but we loved to young â by @jl-micasea-fics
Jungkook is everything youâre not, the ying to your yang. Your tight knit friendship nurtured from childhood survived the major life events that most donât, and to that end, you suppose youâre fated to be together, until unrequited longing is eventually noticed, and boundaries are forever crossed. â 10k [s, m]
â the blue princess and her red rose â by @cutaepatootie
After all, he was her red rose, while she was just another one of the many blue roses that grew in the dying gardens of Greyria. â 34.8k [a, f, s]
â rigor mortis â by @readyplayerhobi
A night out at a bar results in you going home with a young and attractive police officer. But if you think the night was something to remember, thatâs nothing compared to waking up to find a zombie outbreak in the city. A chance encounter with Officer Jeon leads to him helping you escape from the plague infested city. â 28.5k [s, a, f]
â sweet apple biscuits â by @rosaetae
a story about someone who receives letters from themselves ten years in the future and asks them to fix all their regrets and save a particular boy. â 15.5k [a]
â i hate you, i love you â by @jungblue
You hated him at seven, warmed up to him at twelve, and liked him at fifteen. Now the two of you are twenty years old and inseparable best friends... and youâre absolutely in love with him; heâs in love tooâjust not with you. â 19.4k [a, s]
â we canât be friends â by @joonberriess
9.8k [a, s]
â do i wanna know â by @joonberriess
âMaybe Iâm too busy being yours to fall for someone new. Now Iâve thought it through, crawlinâ back to you,â. â 19.8k [s]
â down bad â by @2hightocare
Despite undeniable chemistry, your guysâ relationship remains undefined, caught between playful teasing to deeper, unspoken longing. â series [a, s]
â sweet serial killer â by @explicit-tae
The city is shaken up by the sudden murders going around - all by a man who claims he is doing so in the name of justice. People are divided - those who agree with the mysterious serial killer to do what the justice system has not; and those who disagree and want him captured and sent to prison. â 12.2k [s, a]
â pent up stress â by @kissforyouu
? [s, f]
â shut up and drive â by @agustdtown1
Anyone could have predicted how bad it is to make a bet with your brother, yet you were hoping the outcome would be different. But alas, you were meant to be taught a lesson tonight; never go behind your brotherâs back. â 23.7k [s, a, f]
â tempest â by @kooktrash
youâve always considered your life to be more mundane than you would like to admit. it was a constant cycle of the same things over and over again that when you meet jeon jungkook at a bar, of all places, you didnât expect to see just how much he would change your life and those around you. heâs got an air of mystery around him with his charming good looks and a violent past that you slowly begun to unravel when it feels like everything is going perfect. â 31k [s, a]
â safety net â by @pradaksj
on new yearâs eve, you and jungkook reflect on each otherâs entire year together. â 40k [a, f, s]
â rattled â by @gukslut
series [a, s, f]
â how long will we fall â by @jiminrings
if itâs fate, it should already be set onto your skin â thatâs why jungkookâs initials are already on your finger. heâs always there for you, but not only for you. if youâre his fate, heâd rather not have it. â 14k [a, f]
â sweater weather â by @mini-pretzel
You and Jeongguk have that unspoken rule; just sex, no strings attached. And itâs worked well for you for years. But lately, itâs been harder and harder to keep your feelings separate. â 14k [s, a, f]
â miracle of the season â by @cybrsan
Cast out of Heaven after a painful betrayal, you find yourself having to navigate the intricacies of human life without any guidance from the Creator or the family you have always known. Things only get worse as the holiday season reaches its peak, with reminders of the life you left behind everywhere you look. When a familiar face pops up, you arenât sure whether to consider it a blessing or a curse. â 17.2k [a, f, s]
â oath â by @bangtan-yeonghon
What if one day everything you ever wanted is taken away and your whole world comes crushing down? If you were to forget today, who would you be tomorrow? â series [a]
â pick & roll | la lakers â by @xpeachesncream
being one of the most popular players in the nba, jungkook takes absolutely no shit from anybody. he could give a fuck about the press, what people think about him, serious relationships. itâs a personal hell getting wrapped up with jeon jungkookâ and you canât help but fall into the same trap as every other woman who crosses paths with him. the more you fall, the more you realize that you will never be able to change a man who doesnât want to change his ways. â 19.2k [s, a]
â when she loved me â by @jungkookstatts
How does one live when life is bound to end? â 11.2k [a, s]
â aim for the heart â by @writemywaytoyourheart
Jeon Jungkook is an infamous hitman, known for his inability to fail at whatever job is thrown his way. At least, up until now. Y/n, a kind-hearted and full of life teacher, is his newest target. Jeon isnât sure who would put a hit on this seemingly innocent girl, but fortunately, that isnât his problem. All he has to do is pull the trigger. â series [a, f]
â bedeviled â by @writemywaytoyourheart
series [a, s, f]
â will it fit? â by @jeonsweetpea
So what if your roommate caught you masturbating? At least he forgot about it the next day. But he canât exactly forget the big dildo you left in your shared bathroom⊠â 6.7k [f, s, a]
â ultimatum â by @parkmuse
Your pervy, idiotic boyfriend just so happens to also be your friendly neighborhood Spider-man (in bed). â 10.3k [s, f]
â kaiho â by @99liners
7.1k [a, s, f]
â crybaby â by @lavishedinjimin
he calls you crybaby, crybaby. but you donât fucking care. â 9.6k [s]
â commitment â by @eureka-its-zico
Everything seems to be going perfect in your life. Your boyfriend Jungkook is more than you could have dreamed of and thereâs been a break in the case that could define your career â one of the members of the most elusive mafia, The Devils has been captured. Heading down to the precinct you couldnât shake the overwhelming feeling: Was everything too good to be true? â ? (incomplete)
â what was i made for? â by @spideyjimin
have you ever met someone with whom you instantly clicked? well yes, but never to the extent of how it happened with jungkook. in a matter of days, he made you feel like the prettiest and most special woman. right there and then, you understood what you were made for. â 8.8k [f, s]
â a loverâs bond â by @latetaektalk
whatâs jungkook supposed to do when he loses you, but go beg the god of the dead and king of the underworld to give you back? â 18.7k [a, f, s]
â petals with luv â by @hisunshiine
Hanahaki Disease runs rampant, and Emperor Jeon Jungkook is able to change laws for common folk, but in the palace some rules are hard to change. When his Empress-to-Be arrives, your trysts must end, but when petals begin to be coughed up, someone could lose their head. Yoonstradamus has access to magical items that could cure the disease, but at what cost? Venture back into the past with this classic âBe careful what you wish for...â fairytale. â 6.2k [a, f, s]
NEXT
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#bts#bts jungkook#bts moodboard#bts fanfic#bts imagines#bts smut#bts updates#btsedit#bts x fem!reader#bts x reader#bts jimin#bts taehyung#bts hoseok#bts yoongi#bts namjoon#bts seokjin#bts drabble#bts scenarios#bts series#bts fanfction#bts fluff#bts rm#bangtan#bts oneshot
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Every Little Thing
Yoongi x Reader
Summary: When you overhear Yoongi talking about how clingy youâve been lately, you decide to take a step back from your friendship to give him space. But your sudden absence goes far from unnoticed by him.
Word Count: 2k(wtf?!)
Warnings: angst, swearing, only partially proofread
A/N: Thanks so much to the lovely anon who requested this! This story, I... I donât know what happened, I went from struggling to get it to work at all to getting waayy too carried away. I kinda had to stop myself at the end before it shifted into something else, but maybe if yâall want a part two, we can pick up from there?
Masterlist
°âąÂ°âąÂ°âąÂ°âąÂ°âąÂ°âąÂ°âąÂ°âąÂ°âąÂ°âąÂ°âąÂ°âąÂ°âąÂ°âąÂ°âąÂ°âąÂ°âąÂ°âąÂ°âąÂ°âąÂ°âą
As you got off the elevator, you couldnât help the faint bounce in your step as you made your way to Yoongiâs studio, your bag slung over one shoulder, a grocery bag of snacks and drinks for the two of you to share.
Ever since you and Yoongi(and in turn, the rest of the members) had become friends, The Genius Lab had become a hideaway of sorts for you. Whenever you were feeling stressed or overwhelmed, you knew you could call Yoongi, and he would tell you to come over, letting you camp out on his couch while he worked, occasionally asking for your thoughts or opinions on a specific song or line.
As you neared his studio door, you noticed it was slightly ajar, allowing the voices from inside to slip out into the hall, quickly recognizing them as Yoongiâs and Namjoonâs.
âYou wanna come to lunch with me and Hoseok?â Namjoon asked.
âAgh, I canât, I told Y/nâs we could hang out today.â You heard Yoongiâs chair creak as he stretched, letting out a groan.
âAgain? Thatâs like the third time this week, people are gonna start thinking youâre a couple or something at this rate.â Joon joked, making your cheeks flush lightly.
âNah, itâs nothing like that,â Yoongi replied, sounding tired. âTheyâre just being clingier than usual, you know what theyâre like.â
You frowned at his words. What did he mean by that?
âI know itâs just cause theyâve been stressed lately,â Yoongi continued. âBut honestly, itâs gotten to the point where itâs weirder for them to not be here.â
Joon chuckled. âIâm surprised you donât find that annoying.â
âI didnât say that I donât,â Yoongi said. âBut itâs Y/n, so I let it slide. Anyway, on that track you showed me-â
You stepped back from the door, the sudden tightness in your chest making it slightly difficult to breathe as you quietly made your back down the hall to the elevators. As the metal doors closed, you replayed what you had overheard in your head.
Yoongi had always told you that he didnât mind you hanging around, but maybe you had started to abuse that privilege, grown too dependent on him. Was that how he really felt about you? Had you become a nuisance? And if so, why hadnât he said anything?
Pulling your phone out of your pocket, you quickly found his number and hit the call icon, trying to swallow down the lump in your throat before he picked up on the second ring.
âHey, are you almost here?â He answered, sounding much brighter than a few minutes ago.
âUh, actually, I donât think I can make it today.â You said, trying to keep your voice steady.
âIs everything okay?â He asked, concerned.
No, one of my best friends hates me. âYeah, everythingâs fine, something just came up, sorry.â You bit your lip, managing to slip out of the building without running into any of the other members and making your way down the street to the bus stop.
âOkay.â He sounded unconvinced. âIs it anything I can help with, or-?â
âNo, no itâs-, itâs a work thing.â You said, the words falling flat on your own ears. âDonât worry about it, Iâll call you later, okay?â
âAlright.â He said reluctantly. âBye.â
âBye.â You hung up, letting out a deep breath.
You could tell he hadnât believed you, but you didnât really care at the moment. If he wasnât going to be honest with you, why should you be any different?
Suddenly presented with the afternoon to yourself, you decided to head to the park, wandering along the river as you thought over everything.
You and Yoongi had come here together not long after you had moved to the city, the last few blooms of the cherry blossom season clinging on stubbornly to their branches. Heâd promised to bring you back the next year, so you could see them in their full glory at peak bloom.
Of course, life and work had gotten in the way, as they often did, and before either of you had realized, the season had nearly passed again before he could keep his word. Youâd told him at the time that it didnât matter, youâd just been happy to spend time with him, a recurring theme for you apparentlyâŠ
Had you been a bother to him back then as well? You didnât believe so, but the earlier sting of his words had left you questioning everything, even if you knew it might be an over-reaction.
It was dark by the time you made it home, flopping down on the sofa with a tired sigh as you contemplated your options.
So youâd been bugging him lately, that was an easily fixable problem, right? Just leave him alone for a bit, it was as simple as that, wasnât it?
You werenât so sure as your phone suddenly buzzed on the cushion next to you, drawing your attention to Yoongiâs name illuminated on the screen. Youâd forgotten you said youâd call him.
âHadnât heard from you, just wanted to make sure youâre okay?â The text read.
Now whoâs the clingy one? Was your immediate first thought.
âIâm fine, just tired. Talk to you tomorrow.â You typed shortly before turning off your phone and going to bed, with no intention of texting him the next day unless he did so first.
For the next week, you tried to keep up with your new normal; you didnât go by the studio, you avoided texting him unless he did first, and generally avoided his invites to hangout with vague excuses.
One place you couldnât avoid him though was dinner with the other members. It was a monthly tradition that you usually looked forward to, but as you stepped through the door of the restaurant, you only felt a wave of nervousness, for what though exactly you didnât know.
âY/n!â Tae quickly hopped to his feet to give you a hug, the others all greeting you enthusiastically. You noticed Yoongi didnât speak, only nodding to you politely, but his eyes never left you for a second, seeming to study your every move.
âY/n, do you want my seat? I know you usually prefer to sit by Yoongi-hyung.â Jungkook asked, starting to get to his feet, but you quickly waved him to sit.
âItâs okay, you donât have to move for me, Iâm fine over here.â You said, settling in the free seat next to Jimin, which happened to be directly across the table from Yoongi.
Everyone quickly settled into their usual routines and conversations, the mix of voices blurring into an almost comforting buzz, allowing you to zone out for a moment and relax, but a single low voice managed to snap you back to attention.
âI havenât seen you all week.â Yoongi said quietly, a noticeable heaviness in his voice.
âYeah, things have just been kinda busy.â You tried to say convincingly, but it was hard to pull off under his gaze. Luckily, Jin asked you about something from the show youâd been watching and gave you an easy out of the conversation.
You managed to get through the evening well enough, talking with the others, even making plans with Jimin for him to help you pick out some new furniture for your apartment. Youâd felt Yoongiâs eyes on you all evening, but hadnât said anything.
It was later that night when you were pulled from sleep by the sound of someone knocking persistently on your front door.
Cautiously, you climbed out of bed and padded to the door.
Whoâs there?â You called anxiously, trying to remember where youâd put your old baseball bat, in case you needed to defend yourself.
âItâs Yoongi.â
You froze, staring at the door in surprise for a second before going over and peering out the peephole.
Sure enough, he was standing on your doorstep, causing a brief sense of relief that was quickly replaced with confusion and the same nervousness from earlier.
Not quite knowing what else to do, you cracked the door open slowly, taking in his slightly disheveled state; hair mussed and faint bags under his eyes. He looked the same way as when he would pull all-nighters at the studio.
âWhat are you doing here?â You asked.
âWhyâve you been avoiding me?â He responded with his own question, staring you down.
âI-, I havenât-â
âDonât lie.â He stopped you.
Glancing around quickly, you pulled him inside, not wanting to have this discussion in the hall.
âYouâve been dodging my texts and calls, you wouldnât sit with me at dinner, you asked Jimin for help with furniture shopping, which you know heâs terrible at.â He continued as you closed the door. âSo, tell me please, what has happened to make you start ditching me?â
âWhy didnât you tell me that I was annoying you?â You snapped.
He stopped, staring at you in confusion. âWhat?â
âI heard you and Joon talking last week,â You said, his face falling as the memory came flooding back. âAbout how clingy Iâve been, and how Iâve been annoying you by hanging around so much.â
âYou havenât been-â
âDonât.â It was your turn to cut him off. âDonât try to tell me that itâs not true or you didnât mean it. What I want to know is why you werenât just honest with me?â You hated the way your voice started to shake as you spoke. âWhy didnât you just tell me to fuck off or something? Why do you put up with me if I'm such an annoyance?!â
âBecause I fucking love you!â He blurted out.
You froze, staring at him in shock. âWhat?!â
âI-, I love you.â He said quietly.
âYou love me?â You repeated, hurt and frustration still churning in your stomach, not letting you take his words to heart. âYou love me, but you think Iâm annoying?â
âI think everyoneâs annoying!â He tossed his hands up in frustration. âThe difference is that I like your annoyance!
âI like that youâre loud and weird and make terrible jokes, I like that you nag me to take better care of myself.â He said. âI like that youâre happy holed up in my studio with me. I like that you sing along to every song that you recognize, even without realizing that youâre doing it.â
He took a cautious step closer, pleading with his eyes as he spoke.
âI like every little annoying thing that you do, because theyâre what make you you. Iâm so sorry that I made you think anything otherwise.â
You hadnât moved as he spoke, fighting the tremble in your lip as your eyes had misted over with tears.
âY/n?â He asked anxiously.
You didnât speak, choosing instead to lunge forward, wrapping your arms tightly around him in a bruising hug. He staggering back slightly at the force of the collision, arms immediately coming up to hold you in an equally tight embrace.
âI missed you.â You sniffled, burying your face in his chest.
âI missed you too.â He replied, holding you tighter, pressing a soft kiss to your head. âIâm also sorry for telling you I loved you in a shitty way.â
âEh, itâs kinda on brand for us, honestly.â You teased, making him let out a huff of laughter.
âI guess youâre right, fuck.â He shook his head.
âYou wanna try again?â You offered.
He pulled back to look at you. âReally?â
You nodded. âIf you want to.â
He nodded, pulling away enough to take your hand, running his thumb over your knuckles as he pressed his lips together nervously, eyes shaking slightly as he met your gaze.
âI love you, Y/n.â
Heâd barely gotten the last word out before your lips were on his, effectively shutting you both up for the next several minutes.
When you finally pulled back, his eyes were blown wide, lips swollen and red from your assault, his breaths coming out in shaky puffs.
âI love you too, by the way.â You said, grinning at his slightly dazed expression.
âCool, câmere.â He said, pulling you back in, making you giggle as he eagerly reconnected your mouths.
Taglist: @sopebubbles-replies @btsw1fe @this-must-be-my-tardis @whitefoxgirl @bethanysnow @coffeedepressionsoup @main-bangtansmauyeondan @captainorangegoose @k4ngelz
#yoongi drabble#yoongi fluff#yoongi angst#yoongi x y/n#yoongi x reader#yoongi scenarios#yoongi oneshot#bts x y/n#bts x reader#bts requests#bts angst#bts fluff#bts drabble#bts one shot#7ndipity
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Crybaby | Yoongi



MDNI! Inspo: 1
Yoongi hated seeing you cry. He hated to see the wetness of your cheeks and the slight puffiness of your eyes, given any situation heâd make it his right to avoid it - like when he accidentally spoke to you in a different tone, or when he was being short with you one time. But he couldnât help the feeling he got when he heard you cry out for him as you became eager and eager for more of his touch.
Especially when he had a full view of you lose it as you grind on top of him. Rubbing your clothed throbbing pussy against his cock. You were desperate for more, the wet patch on the fabric of your panties full proof. He could tell you were on the verge of tears as you eagerly rocked against him, trying to ease the tension between your legs. Eyes shut tightly as your pussy ached for something more.
You were so needy - so good for him.
It made him go feral every-time he noticed the first tear escape your eye, and then when the rest followed along with your whiny whimpers and soft cries did he tell himself this was probably one of his favourite sights.
His hands would run up your stomach, caressing your breasts - thumb circling over your hardened nipples as you trembled with pleasure. His cock was a twitching - leaky mess too - seeing you in that state was just enough to get his cock rock hard and ready to fuck you, and when he feels your clothed pussy against him does he go even more insane.
Heâd give in to your plees, fucking you just the way you like. Eyes lighting up in awe as he watches you in all your glory as he pounds you from below, your hands caressing the bare skin of his torso, working up towards his neck, playing with the silver chain hanging loosely around it.
His lips would kiss your tear stained cheeks whispering praises in your ear, a small smirk hidden on his face. He hated it but he truly couldnât resist it.
His fingersâones he knew were your weaknessâ would trail feather-light across your skin, sending chills up your spine. Heâd caress your neck, tilting your head just enough so he could see your pretty face better, admiring you as you took him so well. Because he wanted to see it all, every whimper, every cry, every tear that escaped your eyes.
The way he made you act. Like a baby.
His crybaby.
The nickname he never let you forget.
Heâd coo some meaningless sentence like, âhey hey, shh⊠I got youâ caressing your wet cheek knowing damn well he thrives off of seeing you in such a state like this. His cock hits every spot inside you, making you cry out more as overstimulation consumes you with each movement against your skin.
âYoongi⊠i-iâ, you stutter unable to form a proper sentence. And who can blame you when his cock is pounding deep inside your wet cunt, your body collapsed on top of him as youâre unable to support yourself due to his harsh movements. He supports you by wrapping his arm around your waist, holding you close to him as he takes control.
His eyes never stray away from your face - mesmerised.
âDonât cry, babyâ he bites his lip as his thrusts continue, knocking you forward with each movement. If your eyes werenât so blurred by your tears and the grip he has around your neck, you would be able to see the mischievous glint in his eye.
He catches your cries with a sloppy kiss. Giving you a sympathetic look as he says, âah youâre close arenât you baby?â As he can feel your pussy clench repeatedly. Your eyes shut tightly as you try your best to keep your composure. Even though youâre a mess already.
âLook at meâ
He brings his hands towards yours, holding them as he eases you through your orgasm. He kisses your knuckles, eyes never leaving yours as he looks up at you.
When he feels you come undone around him, wetness coating his thighs - he caresses your body, shushing you as you shake and cry. His lips kissing your shoulder as you slowly unwind.
And when heâs finished with you - you near enough falling asleep, he will kiss along your skin. Praising you every way he can with words like, âYou took me so wellâ and âIâm proud of youâ. Words he knows has you weak. Running his slender fingers along your back caressing your skin, soothing you to sleep. Slowly working along towards your shoulders as he massages them until he hears the soft sound of your snores.
#7brownsuga7#7brownsuga7goinginsane#yoongi the man that you are#yoongi boyfriend material#yoongi smut#yoongi imagine#short smut#black reader#iâm losing my mind#yoongi#yoongi x reader#yoongi x you#min yoongi#smut#drabble#bts yoongi#min yoongi x reader#bts#bts smut#bts x reader#bts x black reader#yoongi drabble#yoongi bts#yoongi marry me#suga bts#suga x reader#bts suga#bts x poc#suga bangtan#bts army
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HUSBAND!YOONGI who asked you to marry him without a ring or planning, just the desire to be yours forever motivating Yoongi. you were about to go to bed, tired from another long day of work, but when he looked at you, focused on your night routine, arranging things for the next day, Yoongi realized that was a vision he wanted to have for the rest of his life; Yoongi's words came without hesitation, spontaneous, carrying with them all the hope and desire for a full life by your side. âletâs get married. i can't bear to spend another day with the fear of losing you. i want this life we have forever.â
HUSBAND!YOONGI who at your wedding, at the end of the day under the sunset, pulled you away from all the guests and said private vows just for you. at the ceremony Yoongi was nervous, too eager to hurry up the ceremony and finally have you forever and ever, and, as such, his vows were beautiful, yes, but brief; however, when the day was ending, when dancing and laughter occupied all the space, Yoongi gently held your hand, taking you to the garden, pouring out his soul in the form of simple words. âi promise to love you. not as i love you now, or as i loved you yesterday, but as i will love you tomorrow and the day after, for i continue to fall in love with you constantly and my love will never diminish, only grow.â
HUSBAND!YOONGI who sits in the kitchen with a guitar and serenades you. whenever you were cooking, cleaning the kitchen, or simply working, Yoongi would take his guitar to the kitchen and embellish your tasks with a gentle melody echoing through the room, the music that your husband played for you comforting your heart and making you smile every time Yoongi decided to accompany his guitar with his sweet voice. âi wrote a new ballad with you in mind. wanna hear it?â
HUSBAND!YOONGI who likes to be the little spoon when you take a nap on a sunday afternoon. Yoongi liked to have you in his arms, to have the feeling that, in a way, he was protecting you from the world and that he contained within you all the essence of your soul that made you so unique, so beautiful; however, Yoongi wasn't going to deny that he also liked to feel held, to have your hands around his body in a warm blanket of pure love and tranquility. âdo you want to take a nap with me? i wouldn't mind being held now... because⊠i need you, to... you know. please?â
HUSBAND!YOONGI who adopted a dog on your first anniversary. Yoongi would be lying if he said he hadn't been thinking about a family with you since the day he told you he loved you â it was stronger than him. you made Yoongi dream, dream about things he never thought he wanted, things he never thought he was worthy of wanting; you were magic for Yoongi, an eternal source of dreams and hope and he just wanted to repay you â a dog, an animal that would keep you company when he was away, an animal that was capable of loving you almost as much as Yoongi, almost. âi donât know what magic you have in you, but i just want to continue to grow with you and make our relationship grow. this dog is the beginning of our family.â
HUSBAND!YOONGI who reads you books out loud when you are tired or sad. Yoongi asked you to lay your head on his lap and choose the book he would read: poetry, fantasy, even plays he was capable of reading and interpreting for you if it meant you resting and laughing for moments; there were entire hours of nothing more than your husband's melodious words filling the room, various tales and stories coming to life through his voice while you closed your eyes and let yourself be carried away by the narrative recited by Yoongi. âif i read you shakespeare and look at you while i read the love dialogues, does that count as a confession from me to you?â
HUSBAND!YOONGI who loves you unconditionally for years and years on end, the feeling that was planted in Yoongi's heart only growing with each moment shared with you without ever withering or losing a single fragment. as if linked by the oldest constellations, your love was constant, long ago idealized by the universe itself with traces of stars and magic making your relationship lasting in each lifetime. âi donât want to stop dreaming about you. i don't want to stop loving you. you are the only reality for me and i only exist with you by my side.â
#!BTS bouquetê±âËá°.#yoongi#bts#yoongi scenarios#yoongi x reader#yoongi fluff#yoongi drabble#bts yoongi#bts scenarios#min yoongi#suga fluff#suga fic#bts suga#suga#bts fic#bts gifs#bts army#bts x reader#bts fluff#bts imagine#bts imagines#yoongi imagine#yoongi imagines#min yoongi x reader#min yoongi imagine#min yoongi imagines#suga imagine#suga imagines#yoongi headcanons#suga headcanons
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DOPAMINE (PT. 2) ê« - JJK
synopsis: jungkook has a question for mingyuâs sister
paring: brothersbestfriend!jk x fem!reader
info & warnings: explicit language, angst, risky rendezvous, forced proximity, tones of corruption, established crush, sexual tension and slow burn, oral sex (m. receiving), face fucking, hair pulling, manhandling, dom!jk, pretty short but itâs preparing to transition into a much longer pt 3 đ
a/n : part 2/3! comment to be added to the taglist for this series! first part here: <3
âdo you think iâm stupid?â
jungkookâs irritated voice rang through you. you had officially pissed him off, and for the last time at that. annual vacations with your family to jeju were usually jungkookâs favorite. your parents owned a cozy little house by the beach that you went to a few times a year. he had the privilege of getting away from school and work for a week. just a full week of kicking back by the ocean with some beers and seeing his favorite girl in a way too revealing bikini that mingyu planed on burning when you were back at the house. even jihyo tagged along, this being her first vacation with the kim family, to which your parents were ecstatic, and ohâ and heâs here. jaehyun.
jungkook knew he didnât hate anyone... but it was all too easy for him to hate jaehyun, all because of your maniacal actions on this getaway. having jaehyun win stuffed animals for you, sharing boardwalk treats with him, and clinging by his side had been enough for poor jungkook, who really enjoyed annual vacations to jeju. things escalated from a simple boardwalk treat to rubbing sunscreen down your back, and drying you off with his towel after dunking yourself in the ocean. he was no longer enjoying his annual vacation to jeju.
the worst part about it all? it was his fault. he knew youâd never touch jaehyun, not even with a ten foot pole. yet after the moment you and jungkook shared in his car, you might as well. after he dropped you off at home something changed. jungkook was around less and when you needed a favor he was suddenly busy. it was like nothing had mattered. all of the things you had done together, the things you had said, nothing mattered anymore. he left you in the dark, and you were two strangers with a secret now, nothing more. he had to be the bigger person. if jungkook couldnât tell you no then he would just have to start acting on it, even if it meant ignoring your existence all together.
if jungkook wasnât going to fuck you, there was someone who wanted to. and who better than jaehyun, whoâs pants form a tent when you do as much as smile at himâ and who better to flaunt your power around than jungkook. which bought you here, laid out on your beach towel, sipping on your soju mixed cocktail and reading a novel when jungkook came to you with a scowl on his face and a question ready on his tongue.
âdo you think iâm stupid?â he couldnât hold himself together anymore. you were prancing around in a tight bikini and letting another man touch you. a man that wasnât him. so he took his chance when your brother, jihyo, and jaehyun joined a volleyball game on the far side of the beach. he finally caught you after you made yourself very unattainable during this trip.
âyouâre blocking the sun, too big. move.â you moved your sunglasses up on your face.
âlisten, come back to the house with me. i think we should talkââ
âabout? about how i was another pussy to you, is that the conversation you want to have?â now he had your attention, because talk? about what?
âget up.â
âno.â you turned a page on your book.
ây/n,â a very frustrated jungkook pinched his nose. âi said get the fuck up.â
âand i said no. the fuck do you think you are? my brother?â you spat back.
ânah, iâm worse.â
now you were being dragged by your arm down the beach, up the boardwalk, and back to the house. you stumbled up the sandy porch with your things in hand, jungkook angrily flinging your arm from his tight grip and trailing behind you. once the door was unlocked and you were being pushed inside, coming into the dimmed living area that had sun sneaking in through the curtains. âokay, iâm here. now what? and make it quick because theyâre probably looking for us.â
âi let gyu know i walked you back to change.â
âto change? iâ okay sure. my parents will be home soon though.â
âtheyâre out at dinner. so iâll ask again, do you think iâm stupid? just picking at me, trying to piss me off.â he had you corned, taking another step back with every word that fell from his lips until your bare back hit the door. âyouâre gonna get that lil boy hurt y/n. mingyuâs one thing, but me? tsk tsk.â he sucked his teeth. âhe wonât walk intact around me.â his voice dropped a few octaves and you had nowhere to look but his disrespectfully, good looking face.
âwhoâs fault is that?â you couldnât help the smirk that came onto you when jungkook indirectly confessed just how bothered he was. âyouâre the one thatâs gonna get him fucking hurt. now hyunnie has to get whacked by mingyu because you wanna ghost me.â jungkook thought it was comical. your mouth was too big for your body, constantly trying him, picking at him, and now you were folding under his strong gaze. his eyes were darker than what they usually were, holding something more intense.
âhyunnie?â he raised his eyebrows, letting out a loud cackle. jungkook actually laughed out loud. âyouâre so full of shit. both of you, probably made for each other even.â
âmhm pretty much.â your eyes rolled dramatically. he was close enough to where you were able to poke at his hard chest, landing your finger four times to match the speed of your words. âsuch. a. fucking. hypocriteâ i canât take you! god forbid i flirt with jaehyun to pass some time. i forgot youâre the only one that can eat my pussy and dip out as if it never happened.â
he put his hands on his waist, shut his eyes, and took a deep long breath. âi never forgot about us, i didnât want to just forget, but i had to.â
âtwo months! two jungkook!â you screamed, waved your fingers in front of him. âthatâs how long iâve waited for you to speak to me, touch meâ fuckâ something! this right here,â you gestured to the little space around you. âiâd rather have us arguing like this than nothing at all!â it was hard to mask the hurt in your voice, it certainly didnât go unnoticed by jungkook. yet his own jealousy had been too persistent for him to calm down right now.
âand thatâs how you went about it? hopping on mediocre dick to spite me?â his voice, his fucking voice. you hated how it made your bikini bottoms cling to your pussy. âhave fun fucking on somebody that canât make you cum. thought thatâs what you wanted though, right baby?â
âget a fucking life, jungkook.â you couldnât even look at the man. probably because the atmosphere was getting thicker and you could hear his voice dripping with the same condescending tone that got you into this mess.
a maniacal smirk spread across his face. he could do this all day with you, he wanted to do this all day. âjaehyun too? mhmm just gonna ruin that boyâs life. thatâs cool, when im telling mingyu about his backstabbing friend i wont tell him how much of a slut his lil sis is. secrets safe with me.â
âbut youâre gonna leave out how you had his slutty little sister first?â you stepped forward, closing the gap between you. the two of you couldnât help your wandering eyes, his eyes taking in your lips and sandy skin, yours being stuck on his mosaic of tattoos and the piercing in his lip that you desperately wanted in between your teeth. it was all a matter of who was going to break first now. âgoing on and on about how pretty my pussy is, so wet and tight for you wasnât it kookie?â
âmouth way too big for your body, baby.â
âwhat? canât handle it? oh and you are fucking stupid by the way. and youâll look even stupider when jaehyun is balls deep in thisââ
âgo upstairs.â his voice was so quiet, yet ringing in your ears like bells. his resolve was the thinnest itâs ever been when itâs come to you. âi can show you whatâs stupid, come on.â he titled his head towards the stairs, starting up them while you stayed put, defying him for the last time.
âcome and get me then.â
just like that, the composure, the respect, all came crashing down. without warning, jungkook tangled his fist in your hair, wrapping the strands around and around until his hand was full. his grip was rough, making sure to make a statement, not with pain, but control. âon your knees. you woke me up now baby.â before you could do you were being forced. here he had you, making you crawl for him while he pulled you along by your hair. like a fucking mutt. it was a scene so lewd and degrading to where you didnât even think you could muster up the thought of it.
âjungkookâ ouch!â
jungkook stopped your journey mid way. with a fistful of your hair still, he turned his half naked body towards you, ducking down just so the metal of his piercing was grazing your ear. âoh uh uh, whereâd she go? what happened to my big, bad pretty girl? what? canât handle it?â he cooed, spitting your words right back at you as he ignored your whining and continued to walk you up the stairs and into your bedroom. a bedroom heâd known since childhood due to how much he and mingyu terrorized you in it during family vacations. now decades later he was dragging you into the same bedroom, ready to fuck some sense into you. still on your knees, you rested yourself against your door and watched him.
âgonna ruin that cute face, but weâre gonna clean up that attitude.â adrenaline ran through you when you realized just how much bigger he was than you. his broad shoulders, veiny forearms, meaty thighsâ it had just occurred to you how screwed you were. jungkook yanked down his swim shorts, damp cloth still clinging to his legs and outlining the muscle. he bit back a laugh when he heard the way you audibly gasped when his cock slapped against his stomach. he was already leaking for you, fuck heâs been leaking since your tits were ready to fall out of that excuse of a bathing suit.
âclean up my attitude?â and still your mouth was moving. âif you canââ jungkook quickly made use of your mouth, taking ahold of your locks again and sank inside of your warmth. deeper, deeper, deeper, until you became a drooling, slobbery, babbling mess who struggled to adjust to his size. he mustered up a groan when he began moving. bottoming out, dragging himself back down your warm tongue, and leaving you just to suck on his tip. he repeated the same motion which felt like a thousand times over. you breathed in sharply when bullied his cock just deep enough into your hole so that your nose tickled his pelvis. tears started to prick your eyes, your face flushed with violent heat, along with muffled cries for him to slow down. your cunt had a mind of its own, only wanting his torture to continue further.
âaht aht. pretty girls donât talk with their mouths full.â this was who he really was, mocking and plain evil. âthatâs how you listen? when youâre full of my cock huh?â no response. now you were being pulled up for air, your once comfortable and full mouth now deserted. he held his thick cock in one hand and your hair in the other. âi asked you a question doll.â
you nodded slowly through stained tears and plump, glistening lips. slow nods transitioned to quick and now he couldnât believe what he was hearing. his snippy girl finally had no more fight left in her. âiâ i listen.â you nodded frantically. âi listen when im full of you.â
âfull of me? use all those nasty words you learned.â
âi listen when im full of your cock koo.â
a laugh rumbled through him, now itâs koo and kookie again when heâs making a mess out of you. âwell look at that, i fucked this cute hole into obedience.â he pushed himself back down your throat with the goal of watching you slurp up his nutâ until you both heard the front door creak open, followed by the familiar footstep pattern of none other thanâ
your brother.
your face morphed with panic, trying to push back at the same man you werenât supposed to be giving into. jungkook wasnât letting you off easy, you were going to finish exactly what you started. he didnât give a fuck who came in, he wasnât done with you. so if he had to finish you off with your brother knocking on the other side of your door so be it. ây/n! jungkook! where are you guys?!â mingyu called throughout the quiet house. your names rang from each end that he searched. âguys? youâve been gone for like an hour!â your fear filled eyes locked with a way too calm jungkook who did nothing but move to lock your door and hit the back of your mouth with his tip again. his tatted finger went up to his lips and now you were wondering if youâd come out of this alive.
both of you.
âgyu!â jungkook called out. you could hear your brothers footsteps get closer until they stopped at your door. your heart thumped against your chest so loudly you felt like he could hear. he tried the door, jiggling the knob. âhey man calm down, iâm naked.â
ânaked? in here?â mingyu said with disbelief.
ârelax, y/n just let me use her bathroom. you know her room has the best shower,â he sounded completely at ease. way too at ease for someone face fucking his best friends sister. âshe isnât here, changed and went back out to the boardwalk, you probably walked past her.â
mingyu sighed. âfucking figured, all her shit is all over the living room. just dropped it and went back out?â why did the thrill of potentially being caught have you opening your mouth wider, tongue resting against the underside of his shaft while you waited for him to spill into your mouth. âweâre finishing up on the beach though now. also weâre doing snores tonight, so we might have to make a store run. she left her phone downstairs so if you see her just let her know.â
âgotcha, iâll beâ sshitââ jungkook didnât mean for that to come out as a grunt, but he was so close and you felt so goddamn good. âiâll be on the lookout for her.â he said just as he spilled down your throat. he kept himself so well put with mingyu on the other side, youâd think heâs snuck around like this before.
âthanks man, and hey, iâm glad you and y/n are talking again. hated this vacation at first.â you heard mingyu strut back down the stairs. you felt like you could breathe once you heard the front door slam shut. jungkook pulled your head up, his cock dropping from your mouth with a pop! he didnât even have to tell you to swallow. it was already done, and you were already showing him that you swallowed it all like the big girl he knew you were.
âdid so well for me doll, sâ pretty and all mine.â he caressed your face with gentleness after using you as if you were nothing to him. youâd never done something like this, so lewd and obscene. now you felt like an addict, aching for your next fix. jungkookâs jaw tensed as he gazed at you, a flicker of guilt breaking through his cocky exterior. âif weâre going to do this, we need some ground rules⊠are you sure you want this?â he said firmly, though his touch betrayed his reluctance to let you go.
âjungkook,â you sighed softly. âweâre too far gone.â
âi didnât ask you that. i asked you if you want this.â
you stared at him, the weight of his question settling in your chest. âthis is all iâve ever wanted,â you whispered, the words barely audible but firm. jungkookâs eyes softened for a split second before a smirk tugged at the corner of his lips.
âgood,â he muttered, pulling you up from your spot in the floor and into his arms. his mouth was on yours before you could say another word, firm and demanding, yet fleeting enough to leave you wanting more. when he pulled back, the cocky glint in his eyes was back in full force. âsee how you just saved a manâs life? your little boyfriend gets to live.â
You rolled your eyes. âyouâre insufferable, you know that?â you shot back, grabbing a nearby throw pillow and launching it at him. He dodged it effortlessly, laughing as he caught your wrist before you could grab something else.
âhad you choking on this insufferable dick though,â he quipped, his hand lingering a moment too long before he finally let go. the moment he did you landed a hard punch on his chest. ânow, get dressed, with actual clothes.â as much as he liked looking, you were no longer prancing around like that for as long as jaehyun was here. in fact, jungkook was declaring him banned from any family vacations from here on out.
âi hate you.â you said, but the smile tugging at your lips betrayed you as you followed him into your bathroom.
later on that night while the boys were helping setting up with your parents, you and jihyo stayed in the kitchen to prepare some smores. you thought you were the only one who knew about your secret rendezvous with jungkook, to which you were about to learnâ was completely wrong. as you and jihyo yapped about everything under the sun you learned a lot about her that youâd prefer you didnât know. yet she knew more about you than you did. âjihyoâ okay ew. anymore talk about my brothers private parts and no oneâs having smores because my throw up will be covering them.â you cringed for hopefully the last time after she thought it was hilarious to tell you how good mingyu was with his tongue.
âokay fine, you then lil gyu.â she grinned deviously, nudging your side while assembling the smores stack. âsomeoneâs been pinning after you, howâs that going?â
âohâ me and jaehyun? thatâs never gonna happen,â you let out a nervous giggle. âheâs nice and all but not my type. gyu also wouldnât ever let me date his friends. over before it started.â
jihyoâs silence and smile only grew. âi wasnât talking about jaehyun⊠in fact, i think you guys are more obvious than you realize.â you froze. before letting panic settle you remembered, itâs just jihyo. however you still looked around the perimeter of the kitchen and living room, even glancing at the sliding patio doors to make sure mingyu was far away from them.
your hands stopped their actions and you breathed in once, a heavy sigh following. âdo we make it too obvious?â
âumm with that cold war that you two dragged everyone else into? hell fucking yes!â she turned to you dramatically, growing serious for a moment. âdonât worry, mingyu doesnât have enough brain cells for it to click for him yet.â
you stared outside, taking in the sight of your parents joking around with jungkook. jaehyun and mingyu were still throwing wood into the pit, ready to chuck one at jungkook for being the one with the most muscle yet not helping. âdo you think heâll be mad at us? at him?â jihyo gave you a small pout at first, but her lips quirked into a smile. you never cared about yourself in this situation. you knew youâd always be mingyuâs sister, his full fledged family.
but would jungkook always be mingyuâs friend?
jihyo walked you over to a stool and sat you down. she took your hands in hers and gave you the best she could. âi think itâll be⊠an adjustment. thereâs no thought in the back of his head telling him jungkook might have feelings for you. so when he knows, yeah he might be taken aback.â in other words, mingyu was going to have yours and jungkookâs heads on a stick. she tried to sugar coat it as much as she could, but you knew her sweet words for you had a double meaning.
âfeelings?â you could laugh out loud. âif you count feelings as leaving me high and dry and then randomly deciding to look at me again when you feel threatened by someone else then yeah, feelings⊠i guess. weâre still working out the kinks.â
now you had jihyo laughing out loud, slapping her knee even. âyou two donât even have to acknowledge each other. itâs seeping off of you. you really are lil gyu, plain ole stupid.â the two of you giggled like schoolgirls, hitting each other lightly. it felt good to have someone to speak to about this. your friends were heavy liabilities, if they knew then mingyu knew. you couldnât even speak to your sibling, and you couldnât even imagine his hurt when heâd find out. suddenly all the cares you never had were coming to the surface, you understand jungkook now. could you⊠really do this?
your thoughts were interrupted by three rowdy, hungry boys who made their way through the sliding doors and into the kitchen. in just a matter of seconds they had managed to steal half of your prepared smores stacks, which earned them a nice scolding from a very mean jihyo.
as the banter continued between the five of you, it had been distracting you long enough to realize that jaehyunâs repeated attempts at you had finally come to a halt. mingyu must have given him a stern talking to while jungkook was busy dragging you to the house to give you an equally stern face fucking. with a few beers cracked open and everyone working in tandem on the smores, there left a lot of room for usually unnoticed things to start coming to light.
mingyu, who was still lazily holding jihyoâs waist, suddenly straightened as the chatter in the kitchen became background noise. he took another swig of his beer, but his eyes stayed locked on the way jungkook leaned slightly toward you, his shoulder brushing yours as you both laughed softly at something only the two of you could hear.
it wasnât anything obviousâno stolen glances or shy touchesâ but just the way jungkookâs body naturally angled toward you, like he couldnât help it.
mingyuâs grip tightened on the beer bottle, his gaze narrowing ever so slightly. he knew jungkook wellâbetter than anyoneâand this wasnât just friendly. realization hadnât settled just yet, maybe he was just mistaken, reading too much into it.
it was just odd. the way your smile lingered just a bit longer for him than anyone else, it was odd.
masterlist
taglist <3: @jungshaking @junecat18
#bts fanfic#bts jimin#bts jungkook#bts rm#bts smut#bts x reader#jk smut#jungkook#jungkook smut#jeon jungkook#jungkook x reader#jungkook drabble#bts jhope#bts jin#park jimin#jjk smut#jk x reader#jk x you#kpop smut#bts drabble#bts oneshot#bts updates#bts v#kim seokjin#kim namjoon#kim taehyung#min yoongi#jung hoseok#jungkook oneshot#one shot
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Chasing Tornados (m)
synopsis: Ever since you were young, you found solstice in the clouds. Found haven in their winding winds, their chilling storms. Monsters of the air meant to destroy became your loveâ your safety. You know everything about the skies, yet you only want to know more about him. Wish for him to love you just as much as you do him. Your best friend. Your scorpion. Your impossible. Your Yoongi. -> part of the rest, relax, reserve series
m.yoongi x f.reader
â ïŸ â : wc: 21.0k+
â ïŸ â : genre: hybrid au, storm chasers au, soulmate au, friends/coworkers to lovers, idiots to lovers, angst, smut, fluff
â ïŸ â : content: scorpion hybrid!yoongi x human!reader, storm chaser!yoongi+reader, angst, semi-public sex (bathroom), fingering, p in v, dom!yoongi, sub!reader, bratty!reader a lil, rough sex, thigh riding, sex under the influence (alcohol), multiple orgasms, unprotected sex, one mention of a breeding kink, yoongi has a tail, mates, misunderstandings, fights, jealousy, non-linear storytelling, reader and yoongi are both kinda stupid idk, but also v cute, angst but a happy ending <33
â ïŸ â : notes: heyyyyy itâs ur girl, back with another mc letâs play video!! kidding lol, sorry this took so long to write, life has been really hectic. trust me on this fic lol. but i rlly fell in love with these two nd I hope you do too <33 and i hope u enjoy my attempts at comedy! remember!! my requests are always open nd you can always feel free to send asks to characters <33
18+ -> minors / blank blogs dni
Wind wraps in your hair, blowing itâ making it form into some beastly, monstrous thing around your head. Tangling your face, your eyes falling askew as it finds itself messing around your very being. The howls of gusts form in your ears, sounding of ghosts that would haunt any normal person.Â
But you, no. Not you. You live for this. Live for the rain that beats into your skin. Live for the cracks of thunder roaring above your head. Find serenity in the dark clouds that hang overhead, the adrenaline pumping through your veins. In the knowledge that it's coming. That itâs coming soon.Â
The world acts as something greater- something more than yourself. A collective that has not a care for you or the people in it. A system acting for its own desires. A storm that takes and takes and takes until there's nothing left to give.Â
You love it. Love every second of it.Â
Even if you should be scared, even if you should be terrifiedâ look for cover just like everyone else. To hide and cower away from the winding beast that destroys homes, takes down power lines. That kills. You canât. Not when you feel thisâ this calling deep in your bones. This calling to know more. This calling to conquer a monster.Â
To chase the impossible.Â
You have always lived for that very thing. Have constructed your entire life around finding answers for beasts that are beyond reason, to construct something real from what can only be construed as fake. To look the storm in the eye, to live within it rather than to be consumed.
And that is exactly why you stand where you find yourself now. Tornado Alley. A storm brewing just in front of you. Warm air meeting cold, finding breath, coming to life.Â
Maybe you should be scared. Maybe you should let panic set you alight and carry you far, far away from the death spirals. Maybe you should do a lot of things, yet you can't. You can only stare in wonder as rain hits your flesh. As the wind tries to take your clothes, battering them in the breeze. As electricity cracks above your head, light debris flying past your form to entertain the forming tornadoes fury. Â
Bang, Bang, Bang.Â
Now that sound isn't from the storm, it canât be. Sounds too much like metal, like a fist hitting it. Oh right, the car.Â
â(Y/n) get your ass in here, now!â His voice is loud, forced to so you could hear him above the storm. He would never yell otherwise. Never raise his voice a single decibel against you.Â
Your body turns to face him, a smile breaking across your cheeks without a second thought. Eyes turning to crescents, rain dripping down your cheeks.Â
Right, Yoongi.Â
The impossible.Â
You donât know when it happened. It shouldnât have happened. But you knew it did. Felt the shift in your soul whenever you looked at him, felt your blood pumping just a fraction faster whenever he was close. Felt yourself yearn to smell his signature Yoongi scent whenever you sat in his car, whenever he drove you around on one of your little escapades.Â
Maybe it was a year ago. Maybe less. Maybe more. You could never be sureâ emotions never were your strong suit. But he knew that, and he didnât care. Never pressured or pried, always just let the two of you be. Act in co-existence in a way you doubt two people could.Â
Your partner in crime, your solace among the disarray perpetuating every second of your jobâ your life. The only person you knew crazy enough to chase the storms with you. To risk their life driving you into the eye. Your right hand man. Your friend.Â
None of it should have happened. But it did anyway. Isnât that always the way life goes? The same way the storms control the skies, he found himself controlling your heart with no will of his own. No knowledge of the underlying flutter that found its way into your guts the second he looked at you, nor any knowledge of the way your eyes fell into adoration when they fell on him.Â
Why did you have to fall in love with the storm?Â
You werenât sureâ never cared to look deeper into the fact. Never cared to think about why you couldnât fathom a future without him. Never dared to dip into why the scrawny kid from your college has suddenly become a man before you. Never even thought to challenge the pre-disposed ideologies that held your friendship by its core.
No. You would never do anything as stupid as that.Â
Yes, you were a creature of impulse. Never the type to take into account the consequences your actions disclosed. But you like to chase the impossible. You would never think to actually attempt to change it. Especially when you could lose everything in the process. Lose him.
In more ways than one.
Plus, you know where he stands. Know he could never see you as anything more than a friendâ a little sister. The hair ruffles, the slight glares he gives when men talk to you in the bars, the way he puts up with your âoverly affectionateâ cuddlesâ as much as you wish the simple actions meant more, you knew they simply didnât.
A big brother. Unfortunately for you, he knows thatâs the role he plays in your life too well.Â
But heâs not your big brother. He's a man, youâre a woman. Itâs not like you ever asked to get caught up in the stringers that tangled you together. Not like you ever asked for this crush to form.Â
âFor fucks sake! (Y/n)!â His voice is louder now, a harsh yell pulling you from the thoughts that sunk you under the waves. His body forcing itself through the wind to get to you, arm raising to shield his face. âWe have to fucking go!!âÂ
He would admonish you later for getting too caught up in your own thoughts againâ something you knew all too well. But when the storm was raging around you, it was almost easier to think. To get lost in the recesses of your brain until you drew the conclusion you had been looking for all along.Â
His hand grips your wrist now, dragging you back to the safety of your company truck all while scolding you harshly with words he never actually meant. Just his salt-coated concern peaking through the surface. And well, his concern about getting swallowed up by the storm. Yeah, most people worry about that kind of stuff. At least thatâs what you suppose.Â
âAre you that fucking stupid?â He shouts roughly at you, forcing you to get in the passenger seat. His touch is gentle even if his words are strong. He always has been strong. âYouâre going to get yourself killed!âÂ
He slams the door closed before you can say anything backâ frustrated but not mad. Never mad at you. And for that you canât help the giddy feeling on your lips. Your eyes watching him as he quickly walks to his side of the car, tail curled close to his back almost as if to protect himself.Â
Right, his tail. You forget about it a lot of the timeâ but at the same, you are so very fond of it. Smile whenever it moves in response to his emotions, giggle whenever he forgets about it himself, tripping over the thing.Â
You often forget Yoongi isnât a full human. But itâs never played much of a role in your life, in your friendship. So you donât really see the point to care. Choose to ignore the scorpion blood that runs through his veins and view him as any other person walking the face of the earth. Itâs never bothered you.Â
Most people around you call you a fool anyway, itâs not much to add another reason to it.Â
âAh~ Donât worry, King Yoongi. I donât plan on getting myself killed anytime soon.â You let out a gentle giggle as he finds his way into the car, pressing on the gas almost immediately and driving as fast as he can away.
His body is so rigid, so stressed. Yet you canât be further from it. Your legs propped haphazardly on the dashboard, your body sinking deeper into the seat. You trust him. He always gets you out. Something about his special senses, probably. Maybe.Â
Actually, you donât know. You should ask him about it laterâ how he can see in such horrid conditions.Â
âYou will if I just leave you there.â He rolls his eyes, glancing over to you for only a second before managing back to the road, âDonât think I wonât.âÂ
âYou wonât though.â He only scoffs, but you can see the smile at the corner of his mouth. It warms you almost as much as the sound of the rainâ or maybe it's hail now, pelting the roof of the car. Â
âI could and I will.âÂ
âBut you wonât.âÂ
âJust put your fucking seat belt on.â He grumbles, his voice getting a fraction louder as he turns the wheel harshly, a last second manoeuvre. A stick flying through the air past your window. A narrow avoidance.Â
The car bumps harshly as it drives, the roads narrow and in disarray. Swerving to avoid debris that litters the ground and jumping as it dips into potholes. It feels like a race. Makes you feel alive even as you click the belt into placeâ as he moves his tail across your frame to act as a second one.Â
You should be scared. Should be terrified of getting caught in the storm. But you trust Yoongi. You know heâll always protect you.Â
âDid the other teams drop their equipment on time?â You ask, reaching below your seat and grabbing the computer. He sends you a pointed glance.Â
âAccording to the sensors we were the last ones.âÂ
âWell we always are~â You mumble back, a little sing-song in your voice while your head tilts towards your chin. Eyes scanning the array of measurements that pop up on the screenâ reading them, taking in their meaning.Â
It is your job, anyway.Â
âWhoâs fault is that?â His words donât perfectly cross your ears, never do when you're trying to focus. An input of too much information at once and a computer might explode! Aka your brain, aka heâs known for years you have selective hearing when trying to understand complicated things.Â
âMhmmâŠâ You quietly mumble out, fingers moving quickly to type as he finally drags the car out of the storm. Slows down to a more human speed as you type out a few observations, input pieces of code to make your readings more sensible.Â
You completely miss the small smile he sends your way, the tilt of his head trying to check. âAnything interesting?â
âMmm⊠Nothing we havenât seen before. Got a couple of cool 3D models of the storm your screen, thoughâŠâ You tilt the laptop in his direction, showing him the model of the storm. Exactly how big it was, how fast it was moving. âJust an E2, but still pretty.âÂ
âYeah, had toâve been to almost let it eat you.âÂ
You roll your eyes, shutting the laptop as he pulls over to the side of the road, âOf course, Iâd let anything as pretty as that take me out.âÂ
He scoffs, âAnything, really?â
âYeah, you know that guy on Attack on Titan that's like âoh iâd let a pretty female titan eatâ-- Wait a second it is not my fault!â You suddenly announce, his words before finally registering in your mind, âYouâre always tinkering with the the the bits!! Thatâs why it takes so long!â
You grump, crossing your arms. A fond smile finding its way to his lips.Â
âYeah, cause the âbitsâ are the real issue, arenât they? Not you playing out music videos in your head while a tornado is hurrdaling at us?â
âOkay! That was one time! And totally not my fault!â You huff, not in any real annoyance, just simply banter. Yoongi always seemed to like your over-dramatic reactions anyway. âYou said we could play Hurrcane!! By my girl Bridget Mendler! You know what that song does to me!âÂ
He can only laugh in response, the gums of his mouth showing as he tilts his head back. Long black hair falling lower against his shoulders. Tail falling lax for the first time in forever. Crests shown in his eyes.Â
You like giving Yoongi your reactions if it means he can smile like this.Â
When he looks in your direction for a breef second, you canât help but puff out your cheeks and stick out your tounge in pestilence. The action only causing him to shake his head, eyes returning to the road a little brighter than before.
âYeah, yeah, youâre right. How could I possibly forget.â A thousand words are said behind his tone that you could never pick up on. Never notice. âYou get so excited, like a kid. Itâs funny.â
Your head jerks to look at him, a pointed glare in your eye, âShe makes me feel things you canât even hope to understand, Min.â
He rolls his own, âUh huh. Iâm sure.âÂ
College. Senior Year. The perfect hell it bestows on all of its captors.Â
The combined effort of senior thesisâs, grad school searches, advanced level course work, and the unyielding need for money after graduation, as it turns out, is the best possible combination for stress any one person can find! How wonderful. Especially for you, with a stupid gpa you need to upkeep to keep your stupid scholarships, so you can get your stupid degree and get your stupid jobâ
Well, okay. Now youâre just spiralling.Â
Annoyed and tired has never been a good combination for everyday dreamers. Especially those that have been working their entire lives for a single goal. To chase their every last dying hope since they were a child. To become the very person they could only wish to be in their youth.Â
But in all fairness, your ass has been handed to you on a silver platter after your last exam grade was horribly, terribly slid to you face down against the table. A quiet note of âsee me after classâ listed on the top without reverie. Your thoughts a sudden cyclone vortexing you inward and onward, wishing you could tell the sweet summer child of your adolescence that you had failed her. That you were never going to be able to live inside a tornado as she had wished.Â
Oh. The monster that you were.Â
That was, at least, until you did meet with your professor. And, apparently, he wasnât going to drop you from the class and (somehow) get you removed from the college like you had thought! Even better, he saw how hard you workedâ how much you truly care. Deciding to lend a hand rather than pull it back. Giving you a building and a time to meet with a tutor he specifically picked out.Â
Someone he would apparently trust his life to. Your lifeâ okay, academic career, to as well.Â
Thatâs how you found yourself now. Walking through a library that had to be older than your great grandparentsâ the scent of mildew filling your nose as you moved farther and farther into the recesses of the building.Â
Why, exactly, you had to meet in the deepest, darkest corner of the library at an absurd hour of the day confuses you even now. Annoys you a little, quite frankly. Leaving your dorm past 8pm feels like a nightmare.
But you trust your professor, you trust that he wouldnât steer you wrong. Well, hope is probably a better term. One that more accurately portrays your inner conflicts as you make your way to the back conference table nestled deep within walls of encyclopaedias. Dust entrapping the air you sit inâ age and memories baked in the walls.Â
At worst, thatâs all you shall make. Memories. Call the whole thing a bust and look online for some tutors or go to a used bookstore and buy a few more outdated textbooks. At best, youâll pass the class and become one of the best meteorologists the world has seen. No pressure on Mr. Mystery Tutor or anything. Obviously.Â
None at all.Â
Your fingers find themselves tapping against the table as you think; seat already taken, items already spread out as you wait. Just your ring finger over and over in a repeated motionâ the beat of wind speeds picking up on a desert plane. The bubbling of magma under the surface of the earth. Theâ
â(Y/n)?â A husk of a voice breaks your almost monotonous silence, your tapping suddenly ceased as a chill travels down your spine. A chill from the tone of someone's voice aloneâ can you believe that?Â
Somewhere, once, when you were little, you heard that a chill runs down your spine whenever a serial killer passes by. But this isn't that. No, this is something entirely different. More familiar. More recognizant.Â
Your eyes shoot pitifully fast up at him, almost tilting your head as you take in the features. Black hairâ maybe brown, baggy hoodie, slouched shoulders. One hand supporting the shrap of his bag that hangs over his shoulder.Â
No, you donât know him. Maybe a future you doesâ one where a timeline passes over this exact spot. Where youâre friends already, maybe something more. Something safe. Though, that isnât a very scientific explanation. One colleagues and professors may make fun of you for. You disregard the notion, only nodding your head to confirm.Â
He only mirrors the motion in return, seemingly not one for conversation himself. Finding himself pulling out the chair across from yours, setting himself inside of it. Wasting no time in pulling out his own belongings.Â
Laptop, textbook, notebook.Â
âThe professor said you were having trouble with qualitative analysis ofâŠâ His voice trails off, and you canât help but wonder how someone's voice can almost sound like a well-loved record. A tune that canât quite find its sinkâ almost too rigid to hope itself melodic.Â
You listen to the same voice as it sings out the songs of your lessons. As he goes over the failed exam beat by beat. Explaining the first few questions in such simple terms anyone could understand them. Not in a way that felt condescending, no. Again, it just felt so warm that you couldnât do anything but listen to him quietly. Absorbing everything without a single interruption.Â
Well, until question 7 at least. That is when you feel two synapses connecting in your brain reminding you of an ultra-important task that absolutely cannot be forgotten. A handshake. Your small hand cutting him off, reaching across the table without a second thought.
He stares at the pervasive hand as if it is something heâs never seen before. Never been offered in the first place. Something offensive to hurt rather than anything else.
Interesting.Â
âMy dad always said you have to shake hands when youâre meeting someone. Or else itâs bad luck down the road. SoâŠâ You explain away simply, like it should be obvious to every person on the Earth. It should, honestly. But youâve been told you have issues with thinking that wayâ that things obvious to you should be obvious to everyone else. That everyone else lives within the same bubble youâve found yourself residing in your whole life.Â
You know it isn't trueâ that the bubble youâve created is something you simply live in alone. Periphery finding itself resident to everyone else. But thatâs awfully lonely, isn't it? You choose to think the former.Â
His shoulders slowly unfurl, defences slowly lowering as he meets your hand in the middle. Rough palm meeting yours, shaking slowly up and down before both sides pull away. A magnet short of attraction of two bodies as you pull away.Â
âGood.â You nod, pulling your knees up to hover off of the ground. Resting them against the edge of the table instead. âI donât like bad luck either.âÂ
There's a beat of silence, one that you donât mind.Â
âDo you not like black cats then either?â His tone has an edge of pessimism to it. His defences considering a raise.Â
You, on the other hand, feel immediate offence. How dare he! âWhat?! Are you crazy! Or course I like them.âÂ
You miss the crook of his lip into a light smirk, defences gone once more, âWell, normally theyâre seen as bad luckâŠâÂ
âThatâs just a stereotype!â You instantly defend. Your body leaning over, moving your face closer to his.Â
He holds his arms up in defence, pencil still wedged between his fingers, âIâm sorry, Iâm sorry. My bad completely.â He lets out a quiet chuckle at the end, you only puff out your cheeks.
âEntirely.â You huff quietly, almost sounding like a petulant child, âI would never judge something just off of how theyâre born.â At that, he almost perks an ear.Â
âReally?â He asks, his eyebrows slowly raising, âNot even hybrids?âÂ
Ah, hybrids. A common discussion other people find themselves having, one that you never really found the purpose of. Arguments on their rights, the ethics of keeping them as pets, on if they should even be classified as intelligent life. You hated all of them. Didnât understand for a second why people kept themselves concerned with class divisions or keeping others subservient at all.Â
As far as you care, theyâre the same as humans. Think like humans, act like humans. Another creature just as deserving the right to live and exist as all others. You donât concern yourself with the difference in their existenceâ seeing them, treating them the same as you would any other person.Â
You canât stand that others find different opinions than yourself. Cutting them off entirely for treating another living, breathing creature with the capacity to think for itself as less. Reminding you desperately that you live on the periphery.Â
âNo, why should I care.â You scrunch your nose up at the notion youâd think otherwise. He takes the action differently. âTheyâre the same as everyone else.âÂ
You surmise your ideologies simply, though youâre never sure if your words construe correctly. His results are inconclusive as well, letting out a quiet grunt. Dropping the subject. Keeping his words from revealing what is true.Â
âWhat else is bad luck then?âÂ
You donât notice the quick subject change, âWalking under ladders, whistling in the woods, doing your laundry on a sunday. âŠI canât imagine saying Bloody Mary in a mirror 3 times is much help either.âÂ
He pauses for a second, his eyes just looking at you. Theyâre sharp thingsâ knives against a grinder maybe. Could even be too sharp to be human, if you cared to look a little closer. Cared to notice the differences between you and him.Â
But you donât, nor will you probably ever. Just allow him to shake his head simply, let him return to your test questions without a single other thought leaking into that brain of yours. Only this time, you feel comfortable enough to ask a few more questions. Let him delve more deeply into the work without the threat of your mind wandering off to useless things. Allow the clock to tick later, later, later into the nightâ moving from your exam, to the most recent concept your class has been working on. Carefully treading the water, staying afloat as you finally begin to understand.Â
You hate to admit it, you really do for the sake of your pride alone, but he really is a good teacher. He doesnât seem upset when you ask questionsâ no matter how stupid you are. He stays calm whenever you start to get frustrated, carefully talking you through it instead of getting upset himself. He seems so peaceful you almost want to hate him for it.Â
Almost, because between the gentle instructions and messy handwriting as the hours tick late into the night, jokes begin to crack freely between both of your tongues. Gentle jabs that mean nothing, topics construing into obscurity flowing into something more entertaining to discuss.Â
Thoughâ he did seem to have pause when you told him you don't trust fish. Something about them thinking theyâre better than youâ of which he agreed. Not that theyâre better than you, of course not. But that yeah⊠they do seem to have that kind of look in their eyes.Â
He feels the same way about birds, you learned. Interesting.Â
It isnât until midnight that he calls it, a time you didnât even think was plausible. You thought it was 9:30, 10 at the latest! Thereâs no way midnight could have come so soon! Just the idea of it sounded fake. But then you checked the clock in the library, then your phone, and now you donât know what to think.Â
Time has never flown so simply with another person.Â
âI told you I wasnât lying.â He has that stupid smirk on his face, the one youâve decided means heâs feeling cocky and amused.Â
âYou could⊠you could have changed all of them when I wasnât looking! To trick me?â
âYeah.. mhmm.. And what would that do.. For either of us..?â
â. . . I havenât gotten there yet.â
âRight.â He smiles, a real smile that shows off his gums. You canât help but reflect a smaller one back at him.Â
Once again he moves first, standing after heâs collected all his belongings. Tossing his bag over his shoulder while you hurry to catch up. Sliding your laptop inside before making sure your pens know their correct homes in the caseâ
What was that?
It was something so subtle anyone could have missed it. A mouse scurrying between cases, a piece of trash floating by. Something brown moving quickly in the corner of your eye. Something you neglected to notice. How could you not notice something so obvious?
When you look up at himâ finally take the man youâve spent the night with in his entirety, you see it. You missed it while he was sitting down, obviously trying to keep the thing from view, but now there was no hiding it. It was impossible to hide the thick brown tail that hung behind him in such a relaxed posture you wonder if he forgot about it, too.Â
You couldnât help the instant fascination as you took the form of it in. The pretty segments it appeared to be broken intoâ 5 if you counted them correctly, all stacked neatly upon one another. All leading to a stinger resting at the end, gently curled inward rather than held in defence.Â
The gentleness of the man himself contrasted so nicely with the firmness of the tail.Â
So pretty.
It was only then that he mustâve realised his mistake. Mustâve noticed your silence, followed your eye line to see exactly where it was laying. Realised that he let his guard down too quicklyâ understood too quickly that you didnât already know about his⊠condition. His state of existence.Â
The professor mustâve not told you. Probably thought it was a negligible factor even though it never is. Maybe when he came in you missed it, you didnât actually look up at him until he sat down anyway. Until his tail was already tucked deep under the chair for protection.Â
Without realising it, his tail raises. Curing behind his back, the tip looking even sharper than it normally does. Meanwhile his body tenses up entirely. Defence utterly encasing his form.
Fuck, and then your eyebrows are raisingâ and next youâre gonna start screaming and heâll have to run so he doesnât get taken in by hybrid services andâ
âCan I touch it?â Your voice brings him back to reality, back from the âend-of timesâ it found itself careening towards. Now heâs just, heâs just confused. Did you just ask him if you could touch it? Why arenât you acting like heâs suddenly the scum of the earth? Thatâs how hybrids are treated anyway.Â
Even if you said otherwise earlier, that doesnât mean much to someone who's never experienced otherwise.Â
â. . . oh⊠or maybe thatâs rude. Forget it. Sorry.â You rush out instead, taking his appearance softly. Honestly, you donât know much about what could be considered ârudeâ to hybrids⊠you donât have much experience with them at all, actually.Â
âYouâre notâŠâ He fumbles with himself, his tail remaining raised like a predator. He forces himself taller, forces himself to appear more together. More ready to ïżœïżœstrikeâ-- figuratively. He clears his throat, âWhat, you have something you want to say?â
You cock your head back sharply, rising to your feet, âNo, why would I?â You feel just as confused as him. Maybe asking to touch a hybridâs parts is more taboo than you thoughtâŠÂ
âLook I didn't mean any offence it was just pretty andââ
âJust fucking run off and report me if youâre going toââ
Both sentences are said at the same time from each party, the response mirroring exactly as well. Both faces twist into that of almost confusion and offence, upset that the other would dare say something like that for entirely different reasons.Â
âWhat are you talking about?â Your question comes from annoyance, almost anger that he would think you would do something as nasty as reporting him when he was just trying to live his life.Â
His comes from the simple word pretty. Why would you think his appendage was anything of the sort? The one thing his entire life thatâs set him backâ the very blood in his veins betraying him. The reason he canât be accepted by normal people. The reason he has to take stupid night classes at this university with any professor that is actually willing to accept him. To accept his under the table payments.Â
The very reason heâll never get a real jobâ just hope to be adopted by someone who will let him do what he wants. Just hope that the authorities donât find him, or that his own landlord wonât turn him in before he can do that.Â
And you think itâs pretty? No fucking sane person would.Â
âWhy would you think Iâd report you?â Your tone is hurt, the pang in his heart hurting just as much. He hates that he feels it, and he hates that he wants to comfort you more than anything else. Stupid fucking scorpion genes.Â
âWhat else would you do?â He scoffs, crossing his arms.
âLiterally nothing. I would do nothing.â You glare at him slightly, âI donât care that youâre a hybrid, why would I?â
âWhy wouldnât you?â His tone is accusatory, but he doesnât quite know what else to make it.Â
âOkay, letâs go down the list, yeah?â The spite in your tone lets the both of you know this night is taking a sour turn, âYou can think, you can feel, oh right, youâre your own fucking person.â
You roll your eyes, âI know words donât mean much, probably, but I view literally every creature as equal.â He still stands firm, your words and his life experiences battling in his mind. You sigh, this isnât going anywhere. âListen, I know it probably doesnât mean much, and like, we both just met so I know it doesnât hold much value. But Iâm really sorry for whatever youâve gone through in your life. It couldnât have been easy. But I really, truly donât care about whatever laws are in place. As far as Iâm concerned, youâre equal to me.â
Your tone had gone soft, more gentle. Trying to dispel the hostility that hung fragrant in the air. But it looks like he canât move. Doesnât really know how after all of that. You probably wouldnât eitherâ though youâre not sure, youâve never been good at putting yourself in other people's shoes. You just hope he believes you⊠thatâs all you can do.Â
âIâll head out first. You have my number, text me if you want to meet again.â You start towards the door, the ball left in the other manâs court. You wish you couldâve at least got his name first but.. He never introduced himself. Hmm, maybe you did the handshake too late, thatâs why the bad luck kicked in.Â
âYou think itâs pretty?â You almost donât hear his words, too far away.Â
You turn your body back to face him, a gentle smile crocheted onto your lips, âOf course I do. Exquisite.âÂ
The two of you stand in silence for a minute longer, trying to navigate the confusing energy moving between both of your forms. Itâs only when you turn back around again to leave that he finally speaks. The simple word of his name.Â
âYoongi.âÂ
âWell, it was very nice to meet you, Yoongi.â You say softly, tilting your head to look at him once again, âI really do hope we can be friends.â
But that was years ago. Friends came and went; now you want so much more. More than you could ever quite articulate. You know it now as you sit with him, an after-chase ritual in whatever cheap roadside bar you can find. Never finding yourselves regulars, always on the moveâ save for the presence of each other.Â
âI donât think luck is real, you know.â Yoongi drawls into your ear, the scent of alcohol heavy on his tongue. His body leaning against yours in the crowded bar, hair dancing against the side of your neck all while his tail finds itself curled around your back. A simple motion that could only be described as protective, possessive.Â
âWhat?!â You dramatically slap your hand against your mouth, an action you picked up from him. Alcohol inhibiting both of your minds only slightly, letting words flow a little easier than they otherwise might. Letting touch feel a little more commonplace.Â
An afterwork tradition, if you will.Â
âYouâre insane!â You announce, slapping his shoulder playfully, âYouâre gonna make bad luck get us Yoongi!! Take it back!âÂ
Your voice is almost a whine, and he wants to fold because of it.Â
âYou say that like you arenât a stem major!â He laughs, his eyes shining like crescent moons you want to live on. Wait, does that even make sense?
âThat doesnât matter! We're likeâ the least scienc-y!! Our whole job is practically based on luck! Oh my god!â Now youâre stopping your foot a little, and his tail finds itself pulling you closer.
âYeah, but you have no idea how many ladderâs Iâve walked under and you still say I have the best luck.â He gigglesâ fucking giggles!! Can you believe the audacity of this man?!Â
âYoongi!! How dare you!! Do you know how many E5sâ youâve cost us?! Probably like.. Like 20!âÂ
âMm, maybe yours just keeps it up for the both of us. Huh?â You humph, you fucking humph, and maybeâ just maybe, Yoongi feels himself going a little insane. Forgetting himselfâ what you are meant to be to him.
âThatâs the only plausible explanation⊠obviouslyâŠâÂ
He hums, âObviously.âÂ
Thereâs a brief moment, a flicker in the air of something indescribable. Something that makes your skin feel a quiet, humble flame strumming under the surface. That makes you feel as if there's electricity pulsing through the space left between your noses. That makes you feel almost invincible as your eyes meet his warm brown tones.Â
Youâve come to love earthy hues since meeting Yoongi. Heâs full of them, after all.Â
But, the flame of the match is blown out far too quick for you to truly comprehend what that moment was. Why it felt the way it did. Instead, your left sputtering with the absence of Yoongi, the slow withdrawal of his form.Â
âIâll go get us more drinks.â His gravelly voice mutters just loud enough to hear over the music. You can only nod along, already missing the security of the tail curled around your back.Â
At least he isnât so shy about itâs presence anymore. At least not like he was back thenâ trying to hide it, trying to make the rest of the world forget about it. You never understood why, no, how could you when you love it so much? Find it just another integral part of Yoongi for you to love.Â
You can even smile now, thinking back to how cute he got the first time he let you touch it. How he turned red to his ears, the chill that travelled down his spine. The flick of it as it chased after your hand when you retreated. It was too fucking cute back then⊠mm. Maybe thatâs when you first started to grow a crush on the man.Â
Or maybe it was always how struck he was when you complimented him. Pushed it aside like it meant nothing, yet he always seemed a little out of it for the rest of your time spent together. You suppose Yoongi has always been reticent to your gaze; but then again, he was always aloof when it came to his feelings as it was. Nothing to dwell on, honestly.Â
Youâve never tried to hide your feelingsâ have never wanted to, really. You donât think you even know how. But youâre not going to force them on him either. If he wants to act, the door has always been open. And it will remain open to him, probably forever.Â
âHowâd the chase go this time?â A voice carries you from your head, your feet returning to the solid ground. Jisung, a fellow chaser finds himself in the seat next to yoursâ the seat Yoongi used to fill. A friend in the industry, you could say. Though, you take to thinking he probably wants more.Â
âMmm⊠âbout as good as any other this late into the seasonâŠâ You hum, taking a sip from your half-full glass, âNever as good around this time of year.âÂ
Your sigh makes a gentle smile grow onto his plush lips, âReally? I thought you fell in love with every storm.â He lets out a quiet snort, swirling his own cup. His eyes seem to remain focused on you, though.Â
âOf course I do. Everyone is perfect and special!â You declare a smile stretching back, âHowever, like every caring mother, I do have favourites.âÂ
âI donât thinkâ thatâs notââ He laughs, âArenât parents not supposed to have favourites?â
âYou really believe that Lie, Sung? Bold of you.â
âWell, do you have favourite pets?â
âOf course not!! How dareâ okay, yeah. Itâs the goldfish. His name is Guppie and he is my pride and joy. Named after my first love in elementary school~ imagine I let out a dreamy sigh here.â
His laugh makes your own come out as well, âYour first love was a⊠fish?â
âWhat, no?â
âThey were named Guppie? ⊠Like a fishâŠâ
âNickname, of course.â You giggle, girlish and cute.Â
âDo you give nicknames to everyone then?â He moves his face closer in wonder, excitement, âWhatâs mine? You have to tell me.â
You hum, tapping your chin in contemplation, âI donât know âSung, nicknames are reserved for extra special people in my lifeâŠâ
âAh!â He clutches his chest, looking down before popping his head up. Puppy dog eyes, âIâm not extra special? You wound me (Y/n)! You really do! And I really thought we had something, I canât believe this.âÂ
You laugh loudly at the dramatic actâ emotions on the sleeve are so much more fun to display. You know he probably means none of it, but itâs still adorable. You canât help but lean in closer, slapping his chest gently.Â
âShh! Shh! Youâre too loud! Too loud! Youâre extra special!â The conversation is easy, just as it always is with Jisung. Though it isnât the sameâ you canât help but notice that fact. It feels easy, smooth⊠though like there is a wall in the way of true connection. Like there is a way you are meant to act. Just like there always is.Â
Always is with everyone but Yoongi.Â
Itâs strange. But something youâve grown attached to. Fond of.Â
He clears his throat behind youâ think of the devil and he shall appear. Or however the saying goes. Youâve never been good with them, anyway. Your strengths and your faults, the simple facts have become all too aware of over time. Not that you mind them, of course. You just accept them as a fact of âyouâ. Just like your bubble, just like your impossible.
âOh, hey!â Jisung is bright as always, giving a gentle wave to the man behind you.Â
âPoongie!â You smile, your inebriated mind already attempting to wrap itself around his torso. Itâs not your fault you already missed him!
Jisung erupts in a fit of giggles, âPoongie?! Thatâs his?!â
âYep! Mixture of Pookie and Yoongi. He loves it.â He certainly does, but he would never admit it. Actually, he feels kind of odd right now. More⊠stiff than he was before he left. Like something⊠darker? Is radiating off of him. Though, itâs not actually dark. Just kind of⊠displeased. You can't seem to find the right word.Â
âI can tell.â Jisung rolls his eyes, âHe looks thrilled.âÂ
That only seems to further upset the man, his tail slowly curling around itself on instinct. Moving to find purchase on your waist. To pull you closer. To claim you. Sober thoughts slipping into a drunk mind, his actions freer than he normally allows them to be.Â
Jealousy. Thatâs all he feels. Jealous that you just called someone whoâs been openly hitting on you the entire season âextra specialâ. How fucking childish of him. He knows that even now, but he doesnât want to stop. Everything that normally does feels as though theyâve gone into hibernation at this very moment. Â
He just wants you.Â
The next thing the Scorpion knows, heâs setting the drinks on the counter while you gaff away. Lifting you by your hips, sliding his form underneath yours with a grunt. Placing you on his lap and finally, making sure youâre secure to him with a hug of his tail around your midsection.Â
He almost feels proud at your little squeal of surprise. At the blush on your cheeks. Thatâs right. Heâs the only special one to you. This other manâ other predator should know it.Â
He knows heâll regret this display in the morning. That heâll feel utterly embarrassed by the whole thing. But right now Min Yoongi feels on top of the world.Â
âYoongi! What are you doing!â You hiccup out in surprise, trying to turn to face him. But he holds you still, holds you secure. Holds you safe just like he always makes sure you are. Gives you a response only by the shrug of his shoulders, his chin finding purchase in the crook of your neck.Â
âW-well.. Fine then!â You huff, puffing out your cheeks just a little, âIâll stay, but⊠just for a little! Iâll stay here for a littleâŠâ You grow a little quiet near the end, a little nervous. But you couldnât feel more warm than in this moment. So heavenly.Â
Jisung only laughs, what else is he meant to do anyway? A small, petulant part of Yoongi was hoping heâd run for the hillsâ he would with such aggressive scent marking. But then again, the other man is a human, probably doesnât know anything about such a thing.Â
The other part of Yoongi almost wants him to watch. Wants the other man to watch you drown in your own blush, watch as you learn more and more into the firm chest behind you. Feel the connection you two have thatâ
Oh, youâre laughing again too, what a pretty sound. The conversation picking up once againâ Jisung is a conversationalist isnât he. Yoongi almost wishes he was the same. Jealousy is an ugly emotion. It makes people do drastic things. It makes Yoongi want to do even more drastic things.Â
If only he was human.Â
If he was human he'd do so much more. Would have already done so much more. But now, in his current state of being, he couldnât handle it. He wouldnât be able to handle the rejection. He knows it. Knows it in the way motherâs comfort their children after one look at his tail, and knows it in the way you look at storms.Â
Yoongi isnât a tornado. You would never look at him the same way you look at them. With such love and light in your eyes.Â
But god he wants you to, he wants you to more than anything. He wants to be an option. He wants to be the center of your universe just like those dumb fuck storms are. He wants to be the wind that plays with your hair, the rain that kisses your skin. He wants to be the very thing that envelopes your entire consciousness just like those storms do.Â
And maybe, just maybe if he presses himself close enough to you he can. He can pretend with the poison in his blood that you like him. He can be yours, even if it's only for a night.
He would always be yours. You never hisâ.Â
And as the night ticks on, venom bubbling up every second that ticks, he feels himself becoming looser. Feels you melting into his grip as pretty drinks and florals fill your mind. Feels your scent starting to overpower his nose as his mind blurs with thoughts of you. Almost feels the tangle of souls joining in the way heâs always wished them to. Â
âYoonie..â You hum, fingers coming up loosely to move through his hair in a way they only do when the two of you are alone, âHe went to get a drink, can let me go nowâŠseats open.âÂ
He almost feels annoyed at your words, and you canât help but let the disappointment of them bubble, too. You donât want him to let you go. In fact, youâd be happy staying like this forever. But you know Yoongi, you know he doesnât like to be so⊠affectionate in public. Heâs one to show his love quietly, something else youâve come to find endearing over the years youâve spent by his side.Â
Only, you donât feel relieved movements like you expected to, no. While his arms go lax, his tail almost pulls tighter. The two sides of him fighting, arguing over what to do next. And next, next you feel something so warm. So soft against your neck that you donât know what to do.Â
Lips. His lips are against your neck. A gentle press to the side of the column robbing you of your ability to breath, ability to think. Normal affectionate pecks are common, sure, when the two of you have spent too long reaserching and analysing the your brains are working a little slower than they normally do, they might even be seen as common. But this kiss, this kiss was slow. It was languid. It was so much more. Everything youâve ever wanted.Â
âHave to?â His words are quiet, gruff. Lips moving against your neck as he talks. Spoken to you alone in the world, emboldened by the alluring mix of jealousy and alcohol.Â
You shake your head, much emboldened by the same. He never has to let you go.Â
âGood.â You feel your heart in your ears, ready to explode as he moves his arm back around you, back to your hip to hold you steady, âMine.âÂ
Neither of you ever expected that single, life altering word to ever leave his lips.
âY-Yours?â You canât help yourself, you need to make sure you heard him right. Needed to make sure this whole thing wasnât a dream. That his lips, slowly kissing along the ridge of your shoulder are real and not a figment of your imagination.Â
Though he doesnât say it again, doesnât will himself to. Instead the sound you hear is something low, one youâve never heard him use against you. A gentle growl lodged in the back of his throat, confirming it. Confirming everything for your head and your heart to hear.Â
âYoursâŠâ You try again, tilting your head to the side, giving him more room. He hums in assurance, in want.Â
You think you could die happy.Â
The impossible. The impossible is claiming you for himself. Is holding the heart of the love struck college student, the nervous new-hire, the assured scientist all in the palm of his hand. Is confirming your affections. Confirming the fire brewing deep in your belly. The coals that have been slowly and tenderly cared for over time.Â
Yoongi and the stormsâ theyâre both your impossible, your fate finding reality.Â
âY-Yoongi Iââ He tilts your chin, cutting you off mid sentence. Passion alight beneath the subtle glow of amber that robs you of your words. Lets you know exactly what you need to. Makes the fire burst into flames as his fingers gently dig into your hip, makes your entire body heat as he rubs in gentle circles.Â
âI donât like him.â He grunts, letting his forehead rest against yours, âKeeps you from me.âÂ
âNo one can keep me from you.â The reply is instant, your lips barely missing his. âYouâre for me.â
God, and at that moment you know that the prettiest noise in the world is Yoongiâs quiet groan. The way his eyes close, the way he practically pulls you down into his lap sends you into overdrive. The way he slowly rolls his own up is enough to send you into a puddle of your former being.Â
The rest of the world is gone, entirely melted away from reality. Now, now itâs just you and Yoongi. Cornered away from the rest of the bar, out of sight. Out of mind. Just his hands slowly moving your hips to be seated on just one of his thighs, his tail making sure youâre secure. Just your scent driving him crazy.
He can tell how wet you already are. He can tell how much you want him, just as he wants you.Â
The contact is rough, a little maddening. His jeans pressing up against yours, the thin cotton of your panties not doing much to stop the harsh heat. But you donât want it to stop. You want him to do whatever he wants.Â
âYouâre wet.â He isn't shy to admit it. Isnât shy to admit the smell invading his nose. Isnât shy to let you know exactly what itâs doing to him with the rock of your hips. Letting you feel something hard pressed right against your back.Â
âShut upâŠâ You instantly complain, whining as you lean your back against his chest, further into his touch. He cracks a soft smile at your words, rocking you back and forth so slowly, so carefully. Letting you feel every flex of the muscle, every rough movement of the jean against your clit. Savouring every second now that the threat of the other man has dissipated. Taking his time in case all of this is a dream and he will have to give you up tomorrow.Â
âWhy? Not cute when I say it?â He chuckles, jumping his leg slightly off the ground, sending a wave through your body. A shock of pleasure to the system that has a gentle moan tumbling from your lips. That has your hips sending a gentle buck back. That has your brain feeling as though it might become mush.
Yoongi is going to be the death of you, youâre sure of it.Â
âHey guys IâŠâ Yoongiâs eyes find Jisung before your own do. Before the flushed expression on your face can quell and certainly before you can find a coherent thought. And suddenly the lazy foreplay in the corner of the bar is gone. Suddenly Yoongi is no more than an animal once again.Â
âO-Oh! Jisung! S-sorry let me justââ You try, but there isnât any use. No, Yoongi is pissed you even said his name. Pissed you tried to move away from him. Why would you try to move away from him? A predator with his mâ prey being stolen right out from under him. A predator that has everything to gain and everything to lose.Â
Yoongi isnât thinking anymore as he stands, just barely keeping you upright as he pulls you away. Grabs your hand and leads you to the bathroom, locks the door once youâre both inside.Â
Sanity is no longer present. Only the jealousy he feels inside. Only annoyance at the other man for trying to take you away from him. You said he was yours, that he was made for you. And the other predator dared try to take you? Take you from him when you were about to share something so sweet?
Yoongi knows he isnât thinking right. Knows he might regret it in the morningâ but he also knows if he doesnât do something now heâll regret it even more. For once, for once in his life he wants to be selfish. For once in his life he wants to forget he canât ever have you because heâs a hybrid. For once he just wants you.Â
Youâd let him have you. Over and over again. For the rest of your lives.Â
âYoongi what are youââ He cuts you off with his lips against your own for he doesnât know the answer. Heâs letting himself just exist for once. Exist in the way he wants to without care. And all he wants right now is to kiss you.Â
You couldnât want anything more. Have been waiting your entire life to feel the press of his lips against your own. Kiss him back without a second thoughtâ without reprieve. Let your mouth slip open easily for him, let everything get as messy as he wants.Â
The time for gentle foreplay is over. No, now is the time to consume.Â
Without a second thought he lifts you by your hips, your hands falling into place against his shoulder. Letting him lead, letting him take control as he fits his body against yours with such perfect harmony. Nobody would doubt youâre two pieces of the same puzzle, ready to fit together for the rest of eternity.Â
He groans when he feels your hips press against his, as he feels your heat seep through layers of clothing. Cusses when he finally pulls back, sees the saliva collected at the corner of your lips. The hazy look in your eye that tells him you need him just as much as he needs you. That you want him so terribly you canât help but fall against him for love, for safety.Â
Itâs just the alcohol.
Yoongi practically growls at his own thoughts, his tail rising in defence, in defiance against his own brain. Forcing the thoughts away, forcing everything away other than your body in the room. Other than your desire in the room.Â
When his mind is no longer clouded he can come to terms with all of this, come to terms with his feelings and shove them so far back down theyâll never see the light of dayâ but now, right now he needs this. Needs it more than anything.Â
âWant you.â He grunts, his knees falling onto the dirty bathroom floor. His hands splay against your thighs, feeling them. Worshipping the skin as if it is an altar. As if youâre his religion. âCan I?â
He doesnât have to ask, he doesnât need to. He would never have to ask you. Every single time youâd fall for the storm that is Min Yoongi. Over and over again. As if itâs as easy as breathing, as easy as thinking.Â
The answer is even easier nowâ as your heart beats in your ears, as arousal pools in your gut. As his blunt fingernails dig themselves ever so slightly into your flesh, begging for entry. Begging for you to just give in. His cheeks a flush, his hair already a wreck. His chest rising and falling and thinking just for you.Â
He looks like a god.Â
âW-want you.â Your stutter makes you feel meak, but his groan of approval makes you feel strong. Makes you feel like your bubble has been popped, like the world finally has meaning past tornados and cataclysms.Â
He takes your approval without any grace. Without a second to even think before heâs pulling your pants down with such hunger, such carnal need. His throat releases a groan of desire as your scent hits him at full force, as you give yourself to him.Â
He canât help himself as he presses his face against your panties, his nose right against your clit as he inhales. Takes in all of you for himself. Lets himself be greedy.Â
âY-Yoongi!â You squeak in surprise, the noise tapering into a whine. How could he do something so embarrassing! What is wrong withâ
You canât even finish the thought before his fingers pull your panties to the side, his eyes focused directly on your wet, needy cunt. âSmell good.âÂ
If you werenât entirely red before, you certainly are now. There is no way you couldnât be. Not with the hunger in his eyes. The fire in your belly.Â
His tongue darts out, licking your pussy directly without a second thought. Parting your lips, collecting your arousal on his tongue. Tasting you, basking in everything you. Listening to the pretty little moan that comes from your parted lips. Falling apart without a second thought.Â
And suddenly heâs hungry. Hungrier than heâs ever been in his entire life. Hungry in a way that heâs sure can only be satiated by you. By making you his.Â
âFuck, (Y/n)...â He almost sounds more affected than you are, like he could cum from your taste alone. But he canât, he wonât let himself. He wants, needs to be inside of you more than everything. Needs to fuck you, consume every part of you like he so selfishly craves.Â
âGotta get you readyâŠâ Heâs talking to himself more than to you as he stands again, trying to keep himself from succumbing to the scorpion screaming at him to just claim you as his. He can only be selfish for tonight. This night. âYou gonna be quiet for me? Canât get caught.â
âPleaseâŠâ Your voice is practically a whimper, practically begging him to just do something, anything. And who is he to deny you of such simple pleasures? Especially when you whine just for him, moan just for him. Jut your hips out ever so slightly to present yourself just to him.Â
His thumb finds your clit almost instantly as you call out to him. Rubbing circles into the bundle of nerves with quick, fast precision while another digit presses against your leaking hole. Preparing you, getting you ready for the intrusion.Â
Your voice is a sirenâs song, and Yoongi then knows why pirates used to get lost at sea. Used to become entrapped by the mermaids that sang for them. He feels himself going crazy now, as your head tilts back. As your cunt flutters around nothing, begging him to slide his finger inside just as you both desperately crave.Â
A buck of your hips is all he needs to fuck the digit inside, trusting it in and out slowly. Making sure it goes as deep as it can before curling and slowly retracting. Increasing pace with the volume of your sounds, with the circle of your clit. Combining sensation, driving you further and further into the clouds with every movement.Â
It is then you know that his hands are a deadly poison, one you know you will fall apart to. Especially with the gentle sounds of his grunts, with the push of a second finger into your hole. With his heated gaze focused on nothing but how well youâre taking him, how youâre stretching so prettily around his fingers.Â
You place your hand over your mouth, try to keep your moans to a minimum. Try to suppress every little sound that threatens to spill past your lips. Yet you canât help it, how could you when he knows exactly where to curl his fingers? When they press right against that little bundle of nerves inside. When they rub against you so perfectly.Â
âY-Yoongi!â You accidentally shout, your hips bucking in surprise. The band growing tighter and tighter in your lower abdomen. Your eyes clouding with pleasure as your head feels lighter and lighter.Â
He only smirks, gentle and sinful. âFound it.âÂ
He thrusts his fingers back in the exact same way, their pace hurried. Concise. Locating that exact same spot over and over again, curling his fingers up just right. Timing the strokes perfectly with a roll of your clit. You feel like you could scream, youâre going to scream.
âY-Youâre so mean!â You whimper, the hand on your clit moving to hold your thighs down. To resist your messy bucking. Resist your adorable begging for more. This other thumb moving to press against your clit instead.Â
Then you see it, see the pretty brown thing that had you so enamoured to begin with. Remember just how sensitive it was when you touched it first, and just how mean heâs being to you now.Â
With all the clarity you have left in your little brain you reach for his tail, hold it in your tiny hands. Whimper at how big it is, how strong it feels. How much it protects you. And without a second thought, you wrap your lips around the tip of it and moan. Using it as a gag, using it to stop your cries.Â
Yoongi suddenly tenses below you, his entire frame shifting as your mouth sucks on the tip. Your eyes closed in concentration, little tears bubbling up in the corners as you whine around him. Fully focused on your pleasure, the feeling of his fingers inside of youâ so close to falling apart.Â
He thinks he could cum at that second. Heâs sure of it.Â
A choked groan leaves his own lips as his fingers resume their pace, his senses going into overdrive. No longer thinking, no longer able to do anything but act. But take and take and give and give until there's nothing left.
And god he wants to burn this picture into his brain. Wants to cement it into the rest of his thoughts, his very being. His movements are messier, faster as he fucks his fingers into your cunt. Doesnât care about the noise as his tail moves on its own, slowly thrusting in and out of your mouth. Your g-spot battered, you clit burning with pleasure.Â
Sounds that resemble words fall deaf on your tongue as the band finally breaks, as the world around you spins. As you find euphoria from Yoongiâs fingers. The eye of the storm befalling your very being as electricity moves down your spine as the winds subside.Â
Youâre left panting in front of him, your walls tightening as he slowly coaxes you through it. Helps you feel every ounce of pleasure that you deserve. Kisses your shoulder gently, softly, watching you come down from your high.Â
You can only whine at the affection, the fog lifting for a brief second as he slowly pulls his fingers out of you. You feel so emptyâ too empty. You still want him. You still want so much more.Â
You try to say his name, try to vocalise but it only sends vibrations down his tail. A groan leaving his lips, heat still heavy in his eyes. You realise his tail is still moving, still slowly moving in and out of your mouth. You know he isnât finished.
You know you never want him to be.Â
You raise your leg up, kicking, trying to push his pants down. Begging them to just drop a little lower. To get his cock out so he can fuck you properly. So he can make you feel so much more full of everything him.Â
He lets out a chuckle of a scoff, his bangs falling in front of his eyes as he shakes his head, âNeedy.â He grunts, yet he feels the exact same way. Removing his tail from your mouth, finally letting you speak. Ignoring the way his heart hammers at the sight of your puffy, glossed lips.Â
âShut up.â Is the only reply you can muster, hands quickly moving to try and shove his pants down. To try and get him inside of you. He just smiles, the predatory glint never leaving his eyes. The dig of his nails never leaving your thigh.Â
Finally, with your messy attempts you urge them down, force the annoying material down his thighs, his boxers moving right along with it. And fuck, you canât help but gawk. Canât help but whine because shit, youâve never seen a cock so pretty! What the hell! That isnât fair! None of this is fair and he hates you!
âYou hate me.â You whimper, letting him take the lead once again. Following as he slowly leans you back, manoeuvres your hips in exactly the way he wants. Presents your puffy, fluttering cunt just for him. Messy and aching, desperate for more.Â
âMaybe.â He smiles, teasing you. Heâs teasing you! Can you believe that! You certainly canât, a whine and a gentle smack to his chest telling him everything he needs to hear. Yet youâre forgetting about it all too quickly as you feel the head of something hard gently press against your lips.
In your hazed stupor, you completely missed the action. The way he gripped his cock in his hands, the languid strokes heâs made up and down the length. The way he flicked his thumb over the head just before he decided to so sinfully trace it along your slit. Teasing himself, tracing around your hole with the head. You think he might kill you.Â
He thinks much of the same.Â
âIâm on birth control.â You messily squeak out of the blue, eyes trained between your bodies where heâs so close. So very close to fucking himself inside. Into being exactly where you want him. Snapping that final line you two could never come back from.Â
His eyes dart up to your face, something dark in the iris. Something neither of you address as he finally lets go of his last bit of reserve. As his lips slam into yours, consuming your very being.Â
His hand finds your leg, pulling it up, resting it against his hip to draw you closer. In one single thrust drawing all the air out of your lungs, removing all thoughts from your head as he thrusts his entire length inside. Filling you, stretching you in the most perfect way. In a way you never imagined another person could do.
Your cries are drowned by his lips, his own curses lost in the same. The stretch, the burn is subtle, yet you could never want anything less. Anything more than the euphoric feeling of Yoongi feeling your ever being.Â
âShitâŠâ He finally lets himself breathe, let himself have a moment to feel you. Feel your plush walls wrapped around his length, feel you fluttering around him so perfectly. Youâre going to make him insane.Â
He pants softly, trying to waitâ trying to hold himself back from fucking you so hard you canât walk. So hard heâll have to carry you out of this shitty bar. So that everyone will know what the two of you did. Just who you belong to.Â
You give an experimental wiggle of your hips, a signal to move. A signal to stop holding back. The only signal that he needs.Â
âYoongi!â The cry is loud, but he canât seem to care anymore. The pace he takes is anything but slow. It's fast, hard. Rushed. Like he canât wait a single second longer. Canât waist a fucking millisecond doing anything else other than laying claim to your soul.Â
His hips snap against your own, his cock practically hitting your cervix with every thrust. His cock pressed against that same bundle inside every time he draws back, every time he fills you again and again. Itâs messyâ messy and so wet. So perfect.Â
âFuck, fuck.â He mutters to himself, damp hair falling into his eyes, âHave to be quick, gonna fuck you hard, okay?âÂ
He drawls, scratchy. Rough. Pressing his hips fully against yours, fully feeling your slick heat. The lewd noises bouncing against the walls, filling the space. Sending a symphony into your strumming ears. Into your already worn out frame.Â
You nod in agreement quickly, almost dumbly as you try to fall into a rhythm. Try to meet his movements the best you can. It feels pointless, all of it does. Trying to do anything feels so pointless when heâs fucking you so relentlessly. Like heâs waited his entire life for this moment and heâd rather die than waste another second.
Fucking you like it means something. Like you mean everything.
âShit, (Y/n). So fucking wet.â He groans, his head rolling back, no longer able to look at the mess between your legs, âSo needy.âÂ
You whine, shaking your head. Trying to gain a semblance of reality when it feels like it has been shattered in the most beautiful way.
âSh-Shut up!â You whine, your walls clenching around his cock, âA-Am! Am not!âÂ
Your denial sends a wave of something through Yoongi. Something that makes him growl, that makes his sight darken just a bit more.Â
âYouâre not?â He scoffs, his eyes finding your own, reading you like an open book, âLittle fucking liar.âÂ
His pace changes, taking shape into a different beast entirely. Something new. His thrusts turn from messy, hurried to sharp and preciseâ the pace never changing. Every single thrust knocking the wind from your lungs, changing the very shape of your DNA to scream for him and only him.
âY-Yoongi what the fuck?!â You whine, your head knocking back, hitting the glass behind you. Even more of your brain cells scrambling, trying to stay in reality. Trying not to float off in the great beyond where Yoongi wants you to stay.Â
âHmm?â He grunts, his eyes focused back downwards. Right to where your slick coats him, to where a pretty white ring has formed around the base. He wonât last long. Even if he wants to keep fucking you forever, he knows heâs done for. âThought you werenât needy.â
You whine, unable to stop the band from pulling tight in your gut once again. Unable to stop the pleasure from coursing through your veins. Already a wreckâ your body warm with sweat and your hole fluttering uselessly around him. Trying to draw him back in over and over.
Never get him to leave.Â
His voice is suddenly in your ear, far closer than you remember him being. Far closer than you can manage him being. Fuck, and now his thumb is pressing against your clit again. You donât know what you can do, what to do.Â
âYou can cum if you just admit it, human.â Youâre going insane. âTell me how fucking needy you are for me. Câmon, do it. I know you can.âÂ
Itâs over for you. You had no clue Yoongi could ever be like this, no clue just how much youâd want it. How much youâd love it. Even as tears bubble in the corners of your eyes from the pleasure, even as your hips buck up weakly to meet his thrusts. As his cock makes you feel like youâre about to enter the pearly gates.Â
You know you love it.Â
âY-Yoongi!â You whimper, your hands gripping his shoulders with so much strength you think they might bruise. Hell, youâre sure heâs bruised your hips. There isnât much difference. âI-I!âÂ
âMhmm..â He hums, sounding entirely unaffected on the surface, yet itâs clear heâs falling apart just as much as you. Clear in the way his hips stutter so slightly, losing their pace. Clear in the way he holds you tighter and tighter. The way his tail curls possessively around your leg. âYou can do it. Say it, human.â
âI-Iâm needy!â You whine, forgetting your volume, âI-I need you, Yoongi!âÂ
Just like that, heâs tumbling off the edge. Your words acting as an anchor, as the very thing heâs wanted to hear for years. His hips stuttering inside of you, filling your cunt with his cum without a second thought.Â
âCum, pretty thing.â His voice is guttural. A command as your legs lock around him. His thumb never giving your clit reprise. while he doesnât stop the movement of his thumb. Your own release finding you the second you feel his cock twitch inside of you, the moment you feel his cum leak inside.Â
Winds swirl at your very being. Lifting you higher and higher into the clouds as your walls clench around him. Milking him for everything, for all heâs worth. Making sure every drop lands inside, making sure you stay nice and full of him while your head wanders into the clouds. While every bit of your being feels fireworks.Â
Your legs donât even let go as the two of you slowly begin to calm down. As your heart rates try to return to normal and air returns to your lungs. As Yoongiâs length slowly begins to soften inside of your cute, worn little cunt.Â
You donât want to let go. You never want to let go.Â
His grip slowly softens on your hip. Thumb working to rub slow, gentle circles in their place. His lips finding the column of your throat once moreâ gentle, nipping kisses find home over the marks he left while sitting at the bar. Not any real bonding marks like his scorpion may have wanted, but pretty red things that claim your skin in a human way.Â
Your fingers find his strands, knotting themselves in them. Keeping his head where it belongs. Youâve never felt more loved, more wanted in this moment.Â
You never want it to end.Â
âNeedyâŠâ He smiles to himself, shaking his head softly. His hair tickles your ear. âCanât believe you actually said it.âÂ
âY-you!â You try, realising how severely youâre still out of breath. You hate how quickly heâs bounced back. âYou made me! You ass!âÂ
He only smiles, shaking his head. Still in complete and utter disbelief that this is real, âI wanted to hear it. You were cute.âÂ
Your legs finally relax when you whine. They easily fall on either side of him, kicking slightly in petulance as he pulls away from your cunt. Removing himself from you, smiling as his cum starts to collect at your opening.Â
This still all has to be a dream for him, it has to be.Â
âYou hate me!â You repeat again, warmth coming to your cheeks once more as his hands find your cunt. One thump pulling your lip open, letting him see just how much of a mess heâs made you. Letting him watch as his cum drips from your core.Â
âMaybe.â He canât help the fond glow in his eyes as he kisses your cheek. A thought coming to the forefront of his brain that he forces back. Another thought he could never let surface, not even now as youâre stuffed with his cum.Â
His scorpion still preens all the same, though. Filled with thoughts of kids. Thoughts Yoongi, the human, not the scorpion, would never say aloud. Drunk, tipsy, or sober.Â
He reaches for the dispenser, grabbing a few paper towels before turning on the sink and running them under. Not the best tool, but it will do.Â
âWell, I donât hate youâŠâ Youâre blushing as you say the words, almost embarrassed without real reason to be. What you just did, it was so much more than âI donât hate you.â At least, it wasnât to you. You hope it wasnât for him either.Â
You help him with his pants, reaching your hands down and pulling them up slowly for him, âI donât hate you either.â He rolls his eyes, gently cleaning the space between your legs.Â
âAwkward if you did.â You huff, lifting your hips as he moves your underwear back in place. Stay hovering as he slides your jeans back up as well.Â
He leaves a gentle press against your temple, offering you a hand as you hop off the counter. Hips and legs already entirely too sore, a whine shedding your throat as you let him know the pain. All while he only laughs, patting your butt as he helps you walk.
The picture of domesticity.Â
Neither of you address the elephant in the room, both for entirely different reasons. For radically different realities. The morning would be better anyway, you surmise. With fluid thoughts and no liquor in your system.Â
You assume Yoongi feels the same way as you both walk home. Gentle shoulders and banter thrown around as casually as ever. The only solid thing the both of you know: you can never go back to that bar again.
God, your fucking head hurts. Maybe?? Maybe everything hurts? When the hell did the sun get so loud?! Since when did light feel like fucking screaming, man?! This isnât fair! Nothing is fair and the world hates you! Exclusively you, and no one but you!
No, thatâs not true. Thatâs completely illogical, actually. But you canât find it in yourself to care. Especially when your head is buzzing and your stomach is already growling for some kind of food.Â
Oh god, food would be so good right now. Warm steamy pancakes, eggs, some kind of potato with a dash of Yoongi to eat it with like you do every morning.Â
Suddenly, the other side of the bed feels entirely too cold. Freezing. A void empty where the warmth you felt last night should reside.
He fell asleep there, you're sure of it. You remember the feeling of his arms around you, the soft snores that left his lips after you both stumbled into bed. Barely getting undressed before falling into your bed. You remember everything about last night. So much so that you canât help the heat that rises to your cheeks at the memory. The thought of everything done in that dingy bathroom, all the words spoken, the care professed.Â
Even if you were tipsy, you would never forget it. You would never regret it. Were waiting to wake up in his arms to make everything officialâ a long overdue conversation that would finally set in motion your lives together.Â
So where the hell is he?
A pout forms on your lips as you stretch, your body too tight for the morning and even more so for your search. The soreness in your hips, the bruises he left from his grip a brutal reminder of his absence as you sit up, your eyes squinting as you scope the scene.
You donât think you like what you seeâ itâs a weird feeling, honestly. His bag is gone, his shoes are gone, his clothes are gone. For the first time in all the years youâve known him, he feels utterly gone. Not a speck of him in your room, not a single sign he was even on this trip with you.Â
Does he regretâŠ
The frown pulls deeper as you reach for your phone. You definitely donât like this feeling. Like he wasnât even there to begin with after everything that just happened.Â
âAh, stop it.â You say to yourself, one of your hands coming up to gently pat your cheek. You hate where your brain is going so quickly. Maybe youâre just a sop that needed more aftercare than he knew aboutâ yeah, that's probably it. He probably just wanted to go back to his own room and shower before you had to work today. See, that makes much more sense, doesnât it? You nod your head, almost in agreement with your thoughts. Set on your decision, on the most-likely-possible solution.Â
[9:27am] To: Poongie
> Goodmorning :> I hope you slept wellÂ
> Did you wanna go get breakfast at the diner? I think Iâm dying and only hashbrowns can fix me unfortunatelyÂ
You wish you could say you werenât affectedâ wish you could say you werenât sitting there, waiting for a response. Heart beating out of your chest like a schoolgirl in love. Itâs silly, isnât it? What emotions can make you feel inside and out. How they can seem to affect every part of your being without even trying.Â
You suppose storms are the same way. Suppose all natural forces areâ the sun, the moon, the stars. They all have their own cosmic power that distils someone at their very core. Leaving them waiting, abating in agony over a simple text back from the man you like.Â
You toss your phone to the side, choosing to get ready instead of imagining anymore fantasies. You live in reality, a woman of science. Thereâs no sense in trying to explain everything you feel, only accepting that you feel it.Â
Mmm. As you get dressed, you wonder how long youâll be able to go on like that for.Â
[10:02] From: Poongie
> gm
> i already ate
Oh. You donât like that. In fact, you hate it so much you want to start making a powerpoint presentation on how to text just for him. But, you give him the benefit of the doubt once more. Yoongi has never been a good texter, anyway. Youâre lucky if you can get more than a two word reply from him. He prefers phone calls.Â
[10:03] To: Poongie
> So u hate me okay
> Come sit with me tho, I donât want to look like a loser
> Meet me down there in 5 ;P
You give a soft smile as he reacts to your final text with a thumbs up. It doesnât leave you feeling the best, but heâs not avoiding you entirely. And he never has been a morning person. Plus, heâs probably hungover too and doesnât wanna look at his phone screen. You two are fine and last night was amazing. And soon you could make everything official.Â
Your smile grows. Yeah. Yeah, that all makes perfect sense.Â
You know what doesnât? A lot of things, actually. Too many to count, but you try anyway.Â
One.Â
Yoongi walking in 10 minutes late acting like nothing happened. Like you didnât happen. Just sliding into the seat across from yours, the thick plastic of the booth squeaking while he does so. His hands stuffed in his pants, nothing but a nod in your direction to acknowledge your existence. His face utterly blank, entirely neutral.Â
Never once has Yoongi greeted you with less than a gummy smile. A ruffle of your hair. A jab at your tired appearance. But you ignore itâ ignore the sense of unease, of dread already building inside. He must really have a bad hangover, poor guy.Â
âGoodmorning!â You chirp brightly, a smile of a thousand suns cast in only his direction. Your usual greeting, of course. Maybe just a little extra chipper to balance him out. To try and prepare yourself, maybe to get a little excited for the conversation to come. Pull him out of any awkward tension he may be feeling.Â
âGoodmorning.â He simply replies back, his eyes following the waitress as she places a cup of coffee, extra sweet, in front of him. His usual order. Something youâd never forget. Something he knows youâd never forget, but the way he stares into the warm liquid says otherwise.Â
His eyes never stray from the cup, like he's thinking. Like he wants to say something but doesnât quite know how. Like he isnât sure whether to ignore it or bring it to light.Â
You know that look well, and you donât want to ignore it.Â
Two.Â
He calls the waitress back and orders another coffee. Black.Â
He hates his coffee black. You know this. Everyone does. He hasnât had the stuff since before he met you. You opened him to the world of how delicious sweet drinks can be. So why the hell is he planning on pretending to like something he doesnât? It makes no sense to youâ your expression shows it all. Eyebrows quirking together, lips pushing outwards slightly.Â
âWow, the great Min Yoongi is changing up his order?â A creature of habit never does, you would know yourself, âHangover that bad?âÂ
You try to lighten the mood, raise the cloud that hangs above the booth. Or maybe itâs a cloud only you feel, youâre not sure. It doesnât matter anyway, does it?Â
âMmm, you could say that.â He grunts, his chin tucking ever so slightly to his chest. His tail curling closer. Almost defensive. Almost.
âGod yeah,â The conversation feels stunted, and you hate that even more. âMy head has been throbbing since I woke up. I donât know if I drank too much or not enough.â The banter isnât flowing as easily, and he curls in on himself even more. Almost like the mere mention of last night rings alarm bells in his mind.Â
Oh! Okay, yeah. Maybe heâs just nervous about everything that happened, you know? Maybe heâs worried that you donât remember, or that youâre having different feelings about it. Maybe his brain is playing the same tricks on him that trickled into your consciousness that morning!Â
Yeah, okay. That makes so much more sense now that you think about it. You have to stop beating around the bush, just come out and say everything you think. Everything you feel and you can talk about it. Youâll just bring it upâ he obviously isnât going to, but then youâll be in a relationship by the time your pancakes come out! Perfect!Â
Yet as you look up at him, find his face utterly void of anything, your confidence wanes.Â
Three.
Heâs refusing to look at you. Another thing he never does. Youâre always the one to avoid eye contact, never him. Youâre always the one to stare out the window, not him. He normally looks at you. Normally basks in you.Â
You feel your mouth drying, all words becoming lost on your tongue the longer you stare at his disposition. You donât break it as the silence becomes awkward, as he doesnât try to do anything to fix it. Simply sips at his coffee. His disgusting coffee.Â
Drinks it until it empties. Until the pancakes now in front of you remain nearly untouched and cold. Until the world stops spinning and time freezes. As the comet hits and the world ends. As society descends into chaos yet you canât do anything but look at him.Â
Okay, maybe youâre exaggerating. But thatâs exactly how it feels for some strange reason. How it feels to be unable to reach him.Â
It isnât until he grabs his coat, sliding $30 across the table that you finally gain the courage to speak. Finally blurt out the words sitting on the tip of your tongue for the last 20 minutes.Â
âWe should talk about last night.â You didnât expect to say anything honestly, shocked at the air leaving your lungs.Â
And finally, finally he looks at you. The diner is still frozen, yes, but now heâs looking at you and for some reason thatâs all that matters.
A deep drag of air fills his lungs as he sags his shoulders, rigid disposition weakening in attempt to show signs of aloof. His tail gives everything away. Sharp and pointed. Unnerved.Â
âWhat is there to talk about?âÂ
Oh.Â
âWhat?â You feel blood leave your face, âEverything. Thereâs everything to talk about.âÂ
He sighs, his eyes almost rolling at your words. Everything he does is ten times louder. Ten times greater than any storm, any power in the entire universe.Â
Four.Â
âListen, (Y/n). Last night was a mistake, okay?â
Oh.
Is it possible for the Earth to stop rotating around the sun? For the moon to find home in another planet? Is it possible for the rings of Saturn to disband, to crack and shatter, leaving the planet feeling hollow? No more than a gaseous ball floating around an unyielding core forcing it to stay together?
It has to be. Because if itâs possible for Yoongi to say those very words, say the very words that are able to rip your soul from your body, you think anything is.Â
You feel something in you crack. Something so fragile and innocent that you want to protect it with your everything. Run far and hide. Nurse it alone until it stops kicking and screaming for its unending pain to yield. For it to have rest in a world that only seems to take and take and take.Â
âWhat?â You donât even care that your voice cracks.Â
He sighs again, his gaze dropping to the table. âI just donât think thereâs anything to talk about, okay?â
âThereâs a lot to talk about.â Your eyebrows crinkle, your mouth moving into a frustrated frown. Red isnât a colour you feel often, but your walls are up. Your bubble now a sphere frozen in timeâ a place with room for no one but you. Your body curled around that innocent glow. Protecting it. Keeping it warm. âFor one, calling it a mistake.âÂ
Heâs rigid again too, maybe red glowing around his form as well. But you canât seem to care. Not right now. Maybe not ever. Not able to sense the danger. The tail pointed in your direction. Venom dripping from his lips.
âWasnât it? Weâre friends (Y/n). One stupid night shouldnât change that shit.â It changes fucking everything. Especially with your pining. Especially with your heart on your sleeve. With your affections for him always oh-so-fucking obvious.Â
âLike hell itââ He cuts you off.Â
âWeâre done with this conversation. Just forget last night ever happened.â He stands, not planning on waiting around anymore. Not waiting for you anymore. âJust act like it never did. Nothing has to change. Weâre not talking about this anymore.âÂ
With that he leaves without letting you speak. Without letting you talk. Shutting you down entirely in a way he never has before. In a way he promised he would never do to you. And for the first time since you discovered your crush on him, you feel something negative simmering for Min Yoongi.Â
Q/Hybrids_HumansÂ
U/YGS_Min âąÂ posted 5y ago
Can Hybrids and Humans actually fall in love? -> Advice
> Hi. Iâm new to this page so I might get things wrong with this post. Sorry in advance if I do.Â
> I am a Hybrid and I recently met a girl who I think is my mate. I get all the classic mate feelings someone does when Iâm around her. When we first met, a few days ago in the library, I automatically felt a pull towards her. Like I needed to be close to her. Everything in my body, my hybrid side especially, was begging for me to make her my mate right away. She even complimented my tail. Does she even know what that means? What it did to me?
> After that, she gave me her number (Iâm helping her with a few things) (we're both âinâ college) and I havenât been able to stop thinking about her. Whenever I open my phone my brain automatically fries and moves to open her contact so I can text or call her. It actually feels a little crazy.Â
> She said she wants to be friends and I donât know what my brain is going to do if we actually get closer.Â
>The issue is that she's human, though. So I already know she doesnât feel the same way about me. She doesnât feel the bond or the pull to get closer. And she already knows Iâm a hybrid so thereâs no way to avoid it.Â
> Iâm also not the most friendly Hybrid, I guess. People donât like my species. My mom doesnât even like the way I was born. And Iâm lucky enough to get away from where I was before and am living my own life now. Trying to do good things with it. Maybe be human with it, I donât know. It doesnât matter anyway.Â
> Point is, Iâve looked online and while I know legally it is possible to be mates with a human, I havenât found anything about Humanâs with more odd species. And I really just want to know if this could be possible, or if I should give up before things even start. Sheâs the prettiest person Iâve ever seen. Her mannerisms kill meâ I love them. Sheâs so cute. And she acted like I was just like everyone else.Â
> I donât know. I want her to be my mate. But I just want to know other peoples experiences. I know sheâd never be able to love me in the way I automatically do her, but if I told her she was my mate would she feel forced into it? Would she feel like I actually care? Could she ever actually care? Should I do anything about it or just pretend that it was never there in the first place?Â
> I never thought my mate might be human. I never thought I'd find my mate. Any advice would be appreciated. Thanks.Â
6 am.Â
Yoongi isnât sure if heâs slept. Heâs not sure heâs ever slept with the exhaustion weighing on his bones. His consciousness. His very being. In fact, all heâs had is his thoughts as the hours have ticked by, unrelenting. Unwavering. As the sun starts to shine through the curtains and the reality of everything that transpired rushes to the surface. Past the alcohol. Past your adorable soft snores.Â
He had you. He fucked you. For one night, you belonged to him.Â
The first thing he felt after he held you in bed was peace. Complete and utter satisfaction with life, with you. Everything itching at him, pulling him towards you was, for once, content. He no longer felt the burning in his heart or the pulling at his skin to get you closer. The fuzziness in his brain whenever you smiled. All of it was gone. There was nothing but happiness in his being.Â
Nothing but the ideas of his dream being true. Of getting to hold you like this every night. Getting you to smile for him, only him. Getting to belong to you in ways humans could never understand.Â
In ways you could never understand.Â
Something else starts creeping into his consciousness, then. Something starting in the pit of his stomach, rising until it feels like he's choking. Until not even the scent of your shampoo can calm the race of his heart. Not even the pull of his tail drawing you closer to his bodyâ his hybrid side trying to calm him down in ways it only knows how.Â
How could Yoongi let himself live in such a sick dream?Â
Youâre a human. Heâs a hybrid. You would never actually love him.Â
Your words were drunkâ of course they were. Influenced by the alcohol and the idea of a warm body next to your own. Maybe you didnât even realise it was him, maybe it could have been anyone and you would have been satisfied.Â
Itâs such an ugly thing, the words he thinks. The ideas that form behind his skull, twisting and turning. Forming an amalgamation of tangles and death defying drops to nothingness. Of the reality of things, his reality that is. One where heâs worthless. One where you are the sun and he is nothing but an asteroid following the orbit of someone else.Â
Hybrids are never meant to be with humans.Â
He knows that for a fact. Has read all the history books, looked at all the articles, scoured for any sign that the two of you could be together in a society that hates him only to be left with mockery. Left with anonymous strangers telling him that scorpions are meant to kill. Meant to destroy. How could a human ever care about him when his entire life heâs been told itâs the worst parts of himself? How could you care about him?
Well, he knows that isnât all true. He knows you care in some ways. But they arenât mate ways andâ
Fuck. Fuck Yoongi, he knows heâs not supposed to think of those things. Heâs never allowed to think of you and that word together. He forbade himself of it. Promised himself it couldnât be true. That he would never admit it to you or anyone else.Â
You are not his mate.Â
But you are.Â
Butâ
He wishes he could get his head to shut the fuck up for a fucking second so he could think. Think about anything other than those two words together, even if he knew them to be true from the moment he met you in the library. When he agreed to be your tutor. When he fell in love the moment you looked his way.Â
And even then he thought that maybe, just maybe if you didnât know he was a hybrid he would have a chance. That if he could keep it hidden for long enough, if you saw him as a human and not a terrifying creature bred only to kill, that you could fall for him. That he could be your mateâ boyfriend. That he could be your boyfriend.Â
But then you saw it. Saw the fucking thing he wishes he never had, wishes he could live without. The very thing he has been hated for his entire life. His genetic abnormality, originally bred to be used for attack, used by the government to kill. The very piece of his being he rejects time and time again to try and just feel a little more normal, a little more human. And you⊠you said you liked it.Â
And no, you didnât have any clue what those words meant at the time. Of course you didnât. Didnât know what they impliedâ didnât know the true meaning they held. The acceptance of courtship behind their very tone.Â
A nice tail to a human? Nothing. A nice tail to a scorpion? The very thing used by the hybrid to attract mates? To show their viability and strength as a partner? Everything.Â
In that moment, you were everything.Â
But you didnât know the meaning behind those words. You didnât love him the way he so implicitly did you. And while you accepted him as a friend, you would never accept him as more. He would never let you.Â
That night was the night he promised himself you werenât his mate. Promised himself he had no mate.Â
Last night was the first time he ever broke it.Â
Last night he could have killed you.Â
You had his tail in your mouth. His tail. The tail that carries his venom. The venom bred into his cells meant to kill others. If he let any of it out by accident⊠if heâŠ
Fuck.Â
The heaviness that realisation brings is what finally makes him get out of bed. Finally set in motion reality. Stop himself from living in whatever dream he was playing with. Stop playing house with a girl that would never be his. That would probably think the entirety of last night was a mistake.Â
Who gives a shit what you thought. He couldâve killed you. He couldâve killed his fucking mate.
Societally, he couldâve never had you. He wouldnât have been able to live with himself if you had to face the same things he did on the daily. What others thought of you. What they would say about you if they saw you two together. What would happen with your kids. How much hate and fear you would receive by being with him.Â
He could sacrifice his own life for you a thousand times, but he would never let you do the same for him.
And last night. Last night his venom couldâve been your end.Â
He doesnât need to think anymore. He knows what heâs going to do. Even if it hurts him. Even if the grenade is set to go off and destroy his very being, itâs worth it to keep you safe. To keep you content. To keep you away from him.
Best case, you donât remember last night or donât bring it up. WorstâŠ
Yoongi knows the ship heâs boarding is bound to sinkâ that heâs destined to drown. But if it means your happiness, heâd do anything.
The car feels cold. The heat is blasting, but it still feels frozen. Decrepit. All fireplace memories hazing into ice as you ride next to him.Â
Him.
Fucking him.
Fucking Min Yoongi. The fucking asshole that tore your heart out and stomped on it. The fucking asshole that didnât even have the decency to talk to you. To explain why the fuck he was being so cold. The fucking asshole that made you feel loved. Like you werenât alone in the entire universe, only to make you realise you were trapped in a metal boxâ steaming. Bubbling.
Maybe you arenât cold. No, you definitely arenât. Youâre steaming. Burning upâ ready to explode at the slightest thing. Still a burning blaze because he didnât fucking let you talk. Just shut you down without a second thought. Without fucking anything.
Not that he owes you anythingâ he doesnât owe you a relationship. He doesnât owe you love, of course not. Youâre not dumb enough to think that. But you do know he owes you an explanation. A chance to speak. Years of friendship tell you that much.Â
Promises tell you that much.Â
And you canât fucking stand broken promises. Canât stand acting like strangers after years of friendship. After all the time spent together. After all of the memories formed, all the bonds created. You donât deserve to be treated like nothing.Â
Hell, he probably wouldnât have even come with you today if you hadnât texted him. Probably assumed youâd rather go alone or with one of the other people on the crew. Probablyâ shut up, you decide in that moment to stop making excuses for him. To stop giving him the benefit of the doubt when he treated you as no less than a one-night-stand. A fuck that meant nothing.Â
Were fucking years of friendship just for that? Just so he could fuck you? This fuckingâ
You scoff to yourself, crossing your arms over your chest. Shaking your head. An outloud reaction to the continued spiral that started this morning, that will continue to brew until it inevitably boils over. Until the pot filled with too much water gets too hot and just boils over.Â
You never have been able to keep your opinions in. Open book pages laid out for the world to see. Another reason youâve always been aloneâ should have stayed alone in your bubble.Â
âWhat?â Oh, he wants to talk to you now?Â
Your eyes shoot over to his figure from the corner of your eye. You canât believe that yesterday you were smiling at him. You hate that today a piece of you still frets at the trapping of his fingers against the wheel. At his apparent aloof demeanour is automatically disillusioned by the simple movement indicating his nerves.Â
He always does that when he knows a big storm is comingâ when heâs worried about safety, your safety. When he's concerned about whatever events are going to follow. A tick tick tick, fingers tapping delicately one after the other. Not a harsh grab against the wheel, not an unease of temperament. Yoongi, even when nervous or agitated, has always been gentle.Â
Well, every time except for this morning.Â
You roll your eyes.Â
As much as you hate how self destructive you become in times like these, you hate the bubbling feeling even more. Hate the strong emotion that floods your veins, the same one that makes you feel oh-so weak. The same one that makes you need to be strong. Need to be more.
Maybe you wish you could be more like Yoongiâ be entirely unaffected by the strong feelings that permeate your being. Maybe you wish you could act as âchillâ as him. To separate how you feel from who you are. To be calm even if you want to be brash.Â
But you canât. Not when it's about him. Never when itâs about him. Almost like a piece of you continues and will always pull you towards Min Yoongi.Â
You turn away from him, back to the laptop resting in your lap. âThe PAR says a tornado is forming north-east. Head North so we can drop the doppler in the right position.â
âMm.â He grunts. Doesnât say anything. Doesnât do anything.Â
You donât know what you expect him to do anyway. You didnât give him anything to work with. Yet it doesnât seem thinking logically is on the table, and you canât help but get more mad, more frustrated by the second.
âAre we really not going to talk about this?â Youâre quiet, almost vulnerable when you ask the question. So quiet he might not even hear. Hanging on the precipice, two winds twisting against each other in equal strength.Â
Never have you felt this way about another person before. Dejection and anger weigh equally on the soul. You donât quite know how to handle it. Donât know how to combat what youâre feeling inside, just knowing the kettle is set to boil.Â
He doesnât answer your question.Â
It was probably a bad idea to text him. Probably equally bad for him to answer and take you. An even worse idea to let the words slip out of your mouth without holding them back.
âAsshole.â The wind starts to pick up speed around the car, sucking you in. Pulling you deeping into the void. Itâll be no time at all before the tornado hits.Â
âWhat?â His head jerks backwards, chin tucking ever so slightly to his chest. His tail coiled firmly behind him, acting like it isnât even there. Trying to pretend he isn't there, maybe.Â
âI said youâre a fucking asshole.â You canât help the rumble that forms in your heart, the twisted words that spew from your mouth. The subtle ache from every insult you fling.Â
Almost like youâre attached to him. Like youâre attempting to sever a chain never meant to come undone.Â
âWhat the fuck?â Why heâs acting so scandalised, flinching at every word, leaves you almost confused. Almost. Because he has no reason to be confused, at least not in your eyes. Not in the storm's eyes either.Â
The rumble of thunder hammers outside, deeper into the freeze. Deeper into ash.Â
âI thought we were going to move past this, (Y/n). We need to be adults here.â He sighs that stupid fucking sigh that you hate. The same one he used in the diner. The same one he used to brush off your feelings. Your chance to speak.Â
Maybe later you would reflect on how selfish youâre being. Maybe later you would realise how childish you actually are acting. But right now all you can see is red. Right now all you can feel is a part of yourself trying to rip away.Â
Maybe later you would find out Yoongi is feeling the exact same thing.Â
But right now, right now all you see is red. All you hear is the beating of hail against the car roof, the image that it is your own heartbeat set in your own mind. Right now all you know is the soul crushing weight of the only man you ever loved pulling away.
Your soulmateâ if such things were real, breaking the bond.Â
âAre you serious? Iâm the one that needs to be the adult here? Me?â You scoff, indignant. âYouâre the one playing pretend, acting like nothing happened!âÂ
âI told you that we shouldnât talk about it.âÂ
âYou said it was a mistake.â Your eyes are set firm in a glare pointed at him and no one but him. Petty and Spite are your new best friends. Congratulations! âJust tell me if you fucking regret it Yoongi, just tell me.â
â(Y/n).âÂ
âWas it a drunk accident? Did you think I was someone else? Please! I rather you say fucking something than nothing at all! Please just let me be selfish for once! Iâm begging for something! Anything!â
âŠ
âWe have a job to do. Focus on it rather than us.â You hate that he paused before he spoke, that it gave you some sort of hope. You hate even more that his tone has not once changedâ settling from incredulous to neutral. Almost like he exists as nothing but a robot reciting lines. You hate it. You hate it. You hate it.Â
He makes you feel like a child throwing a tantrum. He makes it feel like your feelings mean nothing. Like everything you trusted him with was all for naught. Are you not expressing yourself well enough? Are you a complete idiot? What the fuck are you doing wrong?! What's wrong?!
âYouâre serious?â The logical side of you says heâs right, your job is more important than anything else. But the piece of you falling apart, pulling away and leaving an empty hole inside feels otherwise. Youâre convinced youâve never felt any emotion other than frustration and annoyance.Â
The car rolls to a stop as a clearing hitsâ hail ceasing, wind slowing even if it's just a fraction. A calm before the storm. Where youâre meant to âdO yOuR jObâ-- fucking asshole. Does he really think you donât know that? Does he really think that little of you?
âFucking joke.â You canât help the dry laugh that exits your lungs as you step out of the car. Your peace, the time you love to spend most in the world set askew, your feelings anything but. You love your time in the storms, but the tornado brewing inside casts a much larger shadow than the one overhead.Â
Your hands fumble as they move the DOW out of the trunkâ an action youâve done time and time again feeling entirely foreign. Your body clumsy as it carries it to the front, your mouth spewing annoyed half thoughts all the way.Â
âWhat?â Yoongiâs window is rolled down, his head leaning out of the front as he asks.Â
Your eyes circle your skull again, âFucking joke!â You call, trying to set up the radar. Your body only half in the moment. Half in the clouds.Â
âThis whole thing is one big joke!â You shout, foot kicking the dirt beneath your feet. The storm beginning to dissipate, a swell of rain forming behind your eyelids instead.Â
â(Y/n) are you serious?!â You hate that his own frustration feels like a punch to the gut.Â
âI have been this whole time!â You shout, brain finally working to kick the last pieces of the radar in place. In good time too, the wind is picking up again. The tornado will be coming soon.Â
âAre you?! Are we seriously not going to talk about this?!â Your voice doesnât feel like your own. It feels foreign, like something deeper inside is speaking for youâ like itâs taking control. âAm I seriously just a cheap fuck to you?! Was I really a mistake, Yoongi?! Please, please just tell me.âÂ
â(Y/n), donât do this to meâŠâ Donât do this to him? Donât do this to him?! Does he realise what heâs doing to you? Does he even fucking care? You told him you want him! That nothing could keep you from himâ and he doesnât even have the decency to reject you properly.Â
Maybe you're the bad guyâ the villain for forcing this. For the path of destruction it might cause. But you truly canât stand this. And maybe, just for once, the consequences mean as little to you as getting swallowed by the storms youâve always cared for.
Yoongi is your impossible, remember? âBut itâs always been about you! Donât you get that, Yoongi?! Itâs always! Always been about you from the second I met you!â You yell, not holding back your shouts. Letting them echo with the thunder coursing through the skies, coursing through your veins. âIâm not asking you to love me! Iâm not asking for any of that shit! I just want a rejection!âÂ
What? What the hell are you saying? Why are you asking him to do that? Why are you asking him to do the one thing he canât do?
He loves you. He loves you so much it keeps him up at night. That it infests his days like a parasite. Youâre not asking him to love you? Are you crazy? Do you not see how he looks at you? Do you not see that youâre the person thatâs hung all the stars in the night sky?
He canât reject you. He canât. His brain wonât let him form the wordsâ his lips never to curl in the right shape to let them out. He canât reject you because he doesnât want toâ because it would practically kill him to.Â
He loves you. Youâre his mate.
Why couldnât you just make this easy? Why couldnât you reject him? Why did you have to look so broken this morning? Why did you like him back? What does it mean? What is he supposed to do? How is he supposed to keep fighting when he knows he could have you for himself, for real?Â
How is he supposed to protect you from him when it feels like heâs ripping a part of himself out when he tries to? He doesnât want to hurt you. He never wanted to hurt you. He just wants to keep you safe. Why canât you see that? Why canât you understand that? Why canât he just have you?
âNo one can keep me from you. Youâre for me.â
Your words from last night ring in his ears. Existing as the only thing he can hear, the only thing that matters. Maybe it is. Maybe heâs wrong, maybeâÂ
A sharp beeping suddenly penetrates his ears, a sound resonating from your laptop. A map laid out of the tornado's path.
It's formedâ its body barrelling straight for you.Â
Yoongi looks scared, nervous. His tail uncurling from behind him. Reaching out the window, reaching out to you. â(Y/n)! Get in the car!âÂ
âShut up!â Youâre not listening to him, not listening to a word he says, âIâm not even worth a rejection?! Our friendship means nothing, huh?â
âThatâs not what Iâm saying!â His breathing is accelerating, his heart rate going crazy. He needs to get to you. He needs to protect you. To get in the car and drive as fast and as far as he can so nothing bad happens. âGet in the car!â
âWhy does it even matter if I do or not?!â You yell over the sounds of rushed winds, ignoring debris that begin to fly past. Ignoring everything but the man in front of you, just like youâve done time and time again. âIf I get in, youâre just going to pretend nothing happened! Youâre going toâ youâre going toââÂ
Tears begin to clog your vision, your words welling up in your throat. Scratching the inside, making you feel like you canât breathe. Canât think. Where you want to be strong, you are weak. And where you want to be weak, you feel strong. Itâs a strange sort of feeling.Â
âI canât just fucking pretend like nothing happened last night, Yoongi!â A sense of peace washes over you, a complete contrast to the storm surrounding, enveloping the world. Acting as a monster, not caring about your feelings, swallowing everything whole. You finally feel at peace, oddly enough.
âI canâtâ I canât just act like everythingâs fine! Iâve always been so fucking shit at that, you know that!â You throw your arms up in defeat, standing right in the path of the storm. Almost ready to watch the tornado come into view, to become the storm yourself. âBut it feels likeâ it feels like youâre killing a part of me! Like youâre, youâre pulling out a piece of my very being and I donât know why! It doesnât feel real! And I donât know if I can live without it!âÂ
What? It feels likeâ it feels like that for you?Â
Yoongi steps out of the car, his tail curling almost too pleased at his human sideâs actions. If it was anyone else, they would think youâre crazy. They would think youâre just being manipulative without a care in the worldâ but to Yoongi, to hybrids, he knows exactly what you're talking about. He knows the exact same thing. Has felt it every day of his life since he decided he couldnât have you.Â
The mate bond. The soulmate tie that will always lead two halves of a conjoined soul together over and over again.Â
You feel it. Humans arenât meant to feel it but you do. You feel the same pull, the same bone crushing heartbreak upon rejection from your mate. The sameâ the same everything Yoongi feels.Â
Heâs the one that's been hurting you like this, the one hurting himself by acting the same. In his bid for protection, he did the opposite. What kind of fucking mate is he? Why didnât he just listen to the bond? Why didnât he just let himself follow his heart?
Everything heâs dealt with in his past no longer carries any point. The comments under his stupid post to that stupid forum mean nothing. The words of his âfamilyâ are jack shit. The societal implications of him being less than human mean even lessâ you never saw him as less. His mate cares. His mate sees him.
This is what having a mate feels like? Yoongi thought he would never know. Never understand. But the warmth that feels him now, the subtle yearning heâs suppressed rises to the surface. His feet carrying him automatically, urging him to find you. To take care of you. To keep his mate safe.Â
âWe have to go!â He rushes, his legs moving quickly to try and meet your form. To try and find you.Â
âNo! No!â You shout, your foot stomping into the Earth. In any other scenario, heâd be shaking his head. Laugh at your antics. But right now, all he cares about is getting you to safety, and working on both of your communication skills. âI need you to tell me Iâm a mistake! I need you to say I meant nothing!â
There you stand, arms open. Wind rushing past you, eyes closed yet looking straight ahead. You could never mean nothing, you mean everything. Itâs his own stupid fault he ever let you think otherwise.Â
âI just said what I needed to say!â He shouts, his body finally meeting yours in the open field. His hands land on your shoulders, trying to ground you. Hair blowing around him, sticks flying past but never hitting the two of you. Almost like this needed to happen, like fate was set in stone for this very moment.Â
Your eyes slowly open, and Yoongi thinks the world freezes around him. Misty watersheds sit in your tearline, your eyebrows forming together in confusion with his words. Your lungs raising and falling quickly, chest panting with effort held back. Emotions yet to be unraveled.Â
If you feel the bond now, how long have you felt it? How confused you mustâve been. Yoongi feels awful.Â
âWh-what?â Your voice cracks, cheeks warm and irises searching for an answer. What is he doing? Why is he saying this now? Why does some part of you feel whole again?Â
He doesnât answer, doesnât quite know how to articulate his words. But his body does. His body does what itâs been begging to do since he met you in that library. That heâs been holding back from every day of his stupid, (Y/n)-lacking life.Â
He leans in, his lips pressing against yours roughly. Trying to tell you all the words he never said, trying to put everything, all of him into one measly kiss. One that means something. One that tells the story of the two of you.Â
You, you canât do anything but listen. Your eyes closing, your body returned whole. The piece of you pulling away settling back into your heart like stone. Warmth flooding your veins, home filling your very being. Making you feel safe, making you feel cared for.Â
And when he finally pulls away, you hear the words youâve always longed to know, âI love you and Iâm sorry.âÂ
Yoongi feels free upon their utterance. A ball chain holding him back breakingâ reality setting the world into motion once again. The earth that needs to keep spinning, that needs to keep the two of you afloat.Â
You should feel mad, but you canât feel anything but peace. But feel like your soulmate has returned home from a voyage you would never understand.
Before anything else can be said, Yoongi snaps his head to the left. His eyes going wide as the winds begins to form in front of him. Looking as if theyâre not moving. As if nothing is moving. âFuck, fuck.âÂ
He grabs your hand, pulling you back to the car as it starts to take focus in front of your mind, too. Fuzzy feeling fading, eyes going wide as you scramble from his door into your seat. He follows in quickly after you, not even thinking to buckle before taking off. Driving as if his life depends on itâ your life depends on it, too.Â
Sticks flying past the windshield, hitting against the body. Thunderous roars of the world being consumed outside. A tail pressing against your frame, holding you steady. Keeping you in place.
Itâs only when you come to safety that all the words needing to be said finally spill out from both of your mouths. When everything is set ârightâ again instead of feeling oh-so-wrong. Itâs only then that he explains everything. That he explains his logic, that he explains how hybrids have soulmates. Donât forget the scolding he gaveâ the promises made to each other that the other would never do something so stupid again.
He knows you meant them.
Heâll never forget the way you smiled at him then. When the heaviness left the air and the freedom surrounding the car became almost overbearing. He wishes he could tattoo the places you playfully slapped into his arm. Where you scolded him for keeping this from you. When you told him you would never have a second thought about rejecting him.
When you told him you could never think of a life where he isnât your mate.Â
â...Or boyfriend. Or partner. Whatever you wanna call it.â
Youâll never forget his gummy smile in that moment, when he has a possessive hand on your thigh.Â
âI donât care. I just want to be yours.âÂ
Wind wraps at your hair, blowing itâ making it form into some beastly, monstrous thing around your head. Tangling your face, your eyes falling askew as it finds itself a messing around your very being. The howls of gusts form in his ears, sounding of ghosts that would haunt any normal person.Â
But you, no. Not you. You live for this. Live for the rain that beats into your skin. Live for the cracks of thunder roaring above your head. Find serenity in the dark clouds that hang overhead, the adrenaline pumping through your veins. In the knowledge that it's coming. That itâs coming soon.Â
And Yoongi? He canât help but think you look like an angel enthralled in the storm. One that came to earth. One that was meant to find him. One that was created just for him.Â
He canât help but bask in youâ bask in his mate as you live in your freedom, your happiness. Gets to be one of the lucky few finding sanctuary in your world. In your bubble made just for you.Â
He smiles to himself as he watches. Shakes his head like a stupid boy in stupid love that couldnât be happier. Heâs so happy.Â
He pulls his phone out of his pocket, opening a familiar app that he once looked to for advice all those years ago. Going to the same post he read the replies to over and over againâ convincing himself that his impossible couldnât be reality. He shakes his head as he reads them now, almost feeling foolish for believing him in the first place. Why should he have asked on a human forum anyway? Itâs like he was asking to be let down.Â
As he scrolls, his thumb comes to a stop above a comment heâs never seen beforeâ a recent one. Posted just a few months ago.Â
RMB_Joon
> Hey! This post is being talked about a lot on another forum specifically for hybrids! :-) I left the link for you as I think it would be a lot more helpful getting perspectives over there! :-) PM me if you ever want to talk.
Yoongi feels a curl of interest grow in his gut. Other hybrids? Interest in his post? He almost wants to know more. Almost wants to follow the inkling leading him to delve deeper into the world of others.Â
âYoongi!!â You shout, waving his attention over to where you stand. And suddenly, he doesnât care about anything else anymore. How could he when he has the whole world in front of him?Â
He chuckles to himself, marking his post as âresolvedâ before tucking the device into his pocket. His legs catching into a jog, joining you at your side. Exactly where he should be. Where heâs meant to be.
âđ WAHH THERE IT IS!!! I hope you all enjoyed <\\33 pls let me know any of your thoughts!! this is officially the longest fic Iâve ever written, and I put a lot of myself into this piece so I hope u all love it and it isnât too skdhsksks yk?? MWAH ily © all rights reserved to ctrlhope 2019-2024 ; do not copy, plagiarise, or translate.Â
#yoongi x reader#yoongi smut#bts x reader#bts smut#bts#yoongi#min yoongi#min yoongi x reader#hybrid bts#hybrid bts smut#hybrid yoongi#hybrid yoongi smut#yoongi x y/n#yoongi x you#min yoongi x y/n#min yoongi x you#suga#suga x reader#suga x you#suga x y/n#bts reactions#bts drabble#bts oneshot#bts imagines#bts fanfic#bts hybrid fic#yoongi fic#bangtan x reader#bangtan smut#đïž ctrl.chasing tornados
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love is... on tour | myg; masterlist



synopsis | Tell everyone you know, Love Is... On Tour! Popstar!YN is set to start her sophomore world tour with her new hit songs, sparkly outfits, and talented live band. There are 352 days of this tour, which means 352 days of YN and her new bassist, Yoongi getting on each other's skin in every way possible.
pairing | bass guitarist!yoongi x popstar!reader
genre | enemies to lovers, slowburn
note | for requests, feel free to send a song from the playlist and iâll make a drabble out of it!
main masterlist | spotify playlist | requests are closed

FIRST LEG: ACROSS THE US
DAY 32: mister cute guy with the white jacket
that one time popstar yn surprised everyone by inviting her live bandâs bass guitarist with her on stage for a performance.
DAY 53: have you ever tried this one?
that time popstar!yn and bassist!yoongi had a very intense staring contest throughout the whole concert.
DAY 60: from your point of view
that time bassist!yoongi thinks popstar!yn is not that versatile when performing her songs. (alternative: that time bassist!yoongi made popstar!yn cryâ unintentionally!)
DAY 64: an awful good girl
 that time in december of their tour where popstar!yn sang while sitting on santaâs lap. (but whoâs santa anyway?)
cont.: santa, tell me that time in december when popstar!yn and bassist!yoongi agreed to do something.
DAY 67: what do the lonely do at christmas
that time when popstar!yn found herself on bassist!yoongi's bed on a cold December morning.
THE LATE LATE SHOW TAKEOVER
that time in december where popstar!yn takes over the late, late show along with her band to celebrate her epâs release. (alternative plot: that time yn interviewed her bassist, yoongi live)
AFTERPARTY: quite an impression
 that time when the afterparty left quite an impression on the not-so-friendly relationship between the popstar and her bassist.
cont.: bad idea that time where popstar finds herself in a strange situation with her bassist right after the afterparty.
SECOND LEG: ACROSS ASIA & AUSTRALIA
PICKUP THE PACE
that time when the tour resumes after a month-long holiday break and you and yoongi are not really talking.
DAY 103: say goodnight and go
that time when everyone seemed to be doing something on valentineâs day and the popstar and her bassist have all the time with their single asses.
THIRD LEG: EUROPEAN TOUR
DAY 283: the boy is mine
that time when rumors about bassist!yoongi went around that popstar!yn cannot really stop herself from addressing it.
DAY 301: wanna try out some freaky positions?
that time popstar!yn is on her tourâs day two in paris, and fans are wondering if sheâs finally doing the most requested position of all time. the one that may require her bassist (and rumored boyfriend), yoongi.
posting more soon
LATEST POST HERE

NEWS ARTICLES, TWEETS, etc â§â Ë âč àŁ â . â âč .âàč
For One Night Only! Pop Star YN to Host The Late, Late Show
#LoveIsOnItalia tweets and IG stories

RELATED TAGS â§â Ë âč àŁ â . â âč .âàč
love is... on tour: ask | love is... on tour: media | love is... on tour headcannons

SERIES TAGLIST (OPEN)
@busanbby-jjk @jimingirl95 @treacherqus @jajabro @marnz1990 @ktownshizzle @notarshia @m00njinnie @thelilbutifulthings @tarahardcore @livisdoingfine @jungshaking @eridanus-lynx @enthralled-bandit @goodnight-n-go-home @ronyiboniyy @jimeg629 @lveegsoi @madussthoughts @jalexad @ryryvna @kiki-zb @kam9404 @rtyuy1346 @chxmachxps @enfppuff
#bass guitarist! yoongi#yoongi fluff#yoongi x reader#yoongi imagine#yoongi au#yoongi x y/n#yoongi x you#bts drabble#bts aus#bts fanfic#bts x reader#bts x you#bts x y/n#yoongi fanfic#bts suga#bts slowburn#yoongi slowburn#love is... on tour myg#httpknjoon
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đčââ there's no other love, it's only yours...



âËâč á° đđ đđđđđ đđđđ || MYG.
âđ”A/N: kinda inspired by cas' discography. I've missed doing this sm.. đ€§ pls lemme know what u think! enjoy đč!
âđ” no warnings, just delusion.
The moon speaks the language of night, beauty, and love. The moon sits in his eyes and underneath his tongue.
Yoongi loves just like the way he writes, the way he sings, and the way he speaks. Slow, deep, careful, and passionate. With one hand on your waist and the other one deep in your hair, his lips, ever so shy and sweet, press against yours, as if testing the waters of your very soul before allowing his body to dive head first in.
Slowly, they press harder, then longer, the shiness melts and slips right into your saliva as your lips crash together. A gentle brush turns into a sinful dance. The familiar butterflies in your stomach are wild as his hand slowly creeps its way up to your torso, and you've never felt more human than you do in his arms, inside his mouth.
Your skin, like dew drops resting on smooth leaves, quivers with every single brush of his maddening fingers. A hungry man he is, kissing on your neck, starving for the burning stardust that drops from the sky onto your skin.
His kisses taste like the combination of whiskey and a tinge of cigarettes, long sessions of work, and sleepless nights. When his teeth, the ones that peek brightly every time he gives you a smile, are never shy to carve dark red bites everywhere they can reach on your body, and your smooth skin burns as his tongue plunges into your ocean and sinks deeper, lower, down to your core, to then lift you up to highs unknown.
His kisses taste like a poet yearning for the words to spill out of his mouth and crown the little poems he often writes for you.
His kisses taste like soft petals on an early spring night. When his body is pressed against yours and the bed craddles your pair. His lips touch your temples, then your forehead, across your face, to finally reach your own in a gentle, innocent kiss.
His kisses taste like the wind, ruffling tall grass and heavy tree branches. Together, they dance and they sing, loud and passionate.
" trust you with everything, even with a sharp blade against my skin," he says, shaving foam spread all around his mouth, right after you make the joke of accidently tearing his pale skin open with the razor in your hand.
He never declared it aloud, but it wasn't hard to recognize the way he loved it whenever you shaved his face for him.
His eyes, they never lie. They watch your every single move. The way you pour your entire attention on the small task of shaving his face, A task so frequent and simple in its nature, yet so incredibly, intimate, and heartfelt, just like the kisses he leaves on your shoulder and the whispers he declares into your skin every single morning, while your limbs tangle together underneath your duvet.
It is his way of letting you, the sun and the sky above know that he's there, flesh and bones. That he breathes, loves, and cares for you, too. His way of saying: 'Thank you, for never leaving razor scars on my skin, for never letting my hands run cold, for always putting a smile on my face.'
His kisses taste like the way he loves you; slow, deep, careful, and passionate.
#yoongi#bts#bts yoongi#yoongi x reader#yoongi fluff#yoongi scenarios#yoongi drabble#bts scenarios#yoongi icons#yoongi angst#yoongi smut#suga fluff#suga angst#suga fic#bts suga#suga#bts writing#bts fic#bts gifs#bts army#min yoongi#yoongi fic
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