settle down | (m)
• pairing: min yoongi x reader, roommate! yoongi
• genre/warnings: smut, angst, fluff, slow buuurrrn, enemies to lovers
• words: 14,930
→summary: An unfortunate event finds you living with the man you practically despise over the summer. However, maybe through a series of fortunate events, you find yourself falling for him…
• note. this is a remastered version of the originally story I wrote called ‘and july’ (found here) that I wrote for suho back when I started this blog, albeit slightly (very?) different.
“Three months?!” You squeaked, your voice shrill as your eyes widened in shock.
“I’m sorry, but I don’t really have a choice. My mom misses me and she wants me to visit her over the summer. I can’t do anything about it,” your best friend Gian, apologised, biting her bottom lip nervously, her gaze meeting yours.
Wow, she must really feel that guilty… you hadn’t realised, and you sighed in defeat, “It’s okay Gian, really,” you reassured her, placing your hand over hers, “it’s just you know how I get about bills, I’m just worried about paying rent, that’s all — it’s okay, though, I’ll figure something out.”
You watched her swallow loudly, eyes beginning to flicker around, “um, about that Y/N,” she began, and you watched as she bit her lip more furiously, ripping off bits of dry skin, “I’ve kinda already sorted that out.”
You watched her smile weakly at you, and you nodded your head enthusiastically back at her for her to continue, feeling confused as to why she looked so nervous. This was good news. This meant you didn’t have to look for a last minute temporary roommate — or, worst scenario, try and find all the money to pay for rent yourself.
“Well, he needed somewhere to stay for a bit seeing as his lease just ran out at his last apartment… so, I said he could stay till I come back, or before then, whenever he —
“Gian, who’s he?” You cut her off, your tone demanding. You suddenly had a bad feeling, the story of an expired lease sounding familiar, as if you’d heard it before, and then the realisation washed over you. You knew who he was. Of course you did.
“Yoongi,” she squeaked out, her voice barely audible.
You were silent for a moment, trying to expel the anger out through your nose and as you breathed in and out deeply, Gian took this as a sign to carry on talking and explain further, “It was either this or him go back home. He didn’t have time to look for a new place so soon. It’ll be fine, Y/N — it’s only three months! He’ll probably be gone before then anyway!”
She kept going on and on, but to you she was just a muffle. You weren’t interested, the same two words just floating around in your head; three months. Three months. What the hell was she thinking? Gian knew you hated Yoongi with a passion and he hated you right back! This was a recipe for disaster. Why had he even agreed to this in the first place? He would be dead by the time she got back —murdered, and you would be in jail, your whole life ruined, all because your best friend was an idiot.
“Please say you agree to this,” she begged, clutching you hand, aware you hadn’t said anything since she’d uttered Yoongi’s name.
You sighed in defeat. There wasn’t much else you could do. You didn’t have a choice but to agree with it. “I’m going to have to be ok with it, aren’t I?” You spoke angrily, “I don’t have a choice — I need someone to pay the damn rent!”
Gian squealed in happiness at your reply, clapping her hands together loudly, “thank you! Oh, thank you, Y/N! I’m really going to miss you, you know — bestest friend in the wholewide world!” She grinned, and you just grimaced, gritting your teeth tighter as you replied, “you owe me.”
It was just a week later when Yoongi moved in, and you mourned the loss of Gian like she was dead. This wasn’t fair. You didn’t want to live with a boy — especially one called Min Yoongi. He was horrible; miserable, sarcastic and moody, and now you were stuck with him for the next three months. The thought made you want to curl up into a ball and cry, even more so when you saw all the shit he was moving in.
“Why do you have the whole entire contents of your apartment with you?” You asked him, as you watched him bring like the fifteenth box upstairs.
“What do you mean?” He dead panned, dropping the box in the middle of the living room floor with a thud. “These are my things and I need them to live.”
“What, you need about fifty sets of headphones and three desktop screens?” You asked, picking up a pair of headphones that had been left on the coffee table and looking towards the computer equipment that was beside the door to his Gian’s room.
“Watch it!” He scolded, grabbing the headphones off you and placing them around the back of his neck. “Those are my favourite ones.”
“Seriously — this is a place to live and sleep, not your office space!” You rolled your eyes. “Couldn’t you have left some of this shit at your parents’, or even in storage? Where the hell is it all gonna go?”
Yoongi shrugged, turning his back to you as he began to unpack the box, “my room, the living room — maybe your room if space is tight…”
“First, it’s Gian’s room — not yours, and secondly, none of your shit is going anywhere near my room! If there’s nowhere for it to go, take it outside!” You half-yelled, “and anyway, don’t you have a studio—” you mimicked, using finger quotations to emphasise, “—half way across town you could put this shit into.”
“Stop calling it shit!” He whined, “and of course I need to be able to work from home too. How do you expect me to do that without my stuff when I get inspired?”
“It’s not your home,” you shot childishly, but not even caring anymore. The conversation had already turned bitter, and unlike it usually played out, there was no Gian to tell you to stop. “Sorry, Mr. Hot shot, I forgot I was living with Jay Z — tell me, how many songs have you produced — OH! What was that?” You exclaimed, pretending not too hear his non-existent reply. “Oh, yeah, I forgot — none!”
“I have, too!” He got out, sounding highly offended.
“Your own don’t count,” you shot. “I haven’t heard any on the radio, so it’s nothing to me — Just face it, you aren’t as hot as you think you are. Just small fry, interning for the big boys. Tell me Yoongi, is it fun making people coffee every day of your life?” You smirked nastily.
His face was like thunder when he finally turned to face you, his eyes practically black as he stared you down, “fuck you,” he spoke menacingly, and with that he stormed into Gian’s room, trying to escape your giggles of triumph.
“Looks like living me was a bad idea!” You called as you made your way into your own room, smirking and loving the feeling of being slightly evil, until that was, he shouted back and wiped the smirk right off your face.
“Tough luck, doll — I’m not going anywhere! Your plan isn’t working!”
You sighed out loud, slamming your door closed before you slumped onto your bed, rolling over on your back to look up at the ceiling angrily. How the hell did I get here, you thought. Oh yes — Gian. Your precious friend Gian, forcing you to live with the man that you hated. In fact, that wasn’t the only thing she was guilty off. She was culpable of a multitude of crimes that stretched out for two long years. She had been the one to welcome Yoongi with open arms into your friendship group, and of course — they had loved him right away. However, not you… never you.
You had taken an instant dislike to him, and the feeling was mutual on his part too. In your honest opinion, it had all been on him anyway. He had been the one to insult you, and if you were again being honest — to hurt you. Right when you first met, and Gian had wanted to cheer you up after a bitter break up. Your boyfriend had ended things just two weeks prior, out of the blue and you had been left heartbroken.
Gian had been adamant that you meet her friend from pysch class, and granted, the first time you had met Yoongi, you hadn’t been feeling too great, you were moody and barely spoke all night when he tried to make conversation, but that didn’t give him the right to act like a Class A jerk after that. It didn’t excuse him for what he said about you when you had overheard him talking to his friend as you came out the restroom.
You still remembered it word for word — two years on. Well, I’m not being a dick, but I can sort of understand why her boyfriend broke up with her. She seems a bit standoff-ish. I bet Mommy and Daddy pay for her rent and her weekly grocery bill. Privileged snob.
You weren’t, and he found that out as the months dragged by, but the damage was done. His first impression of you and further developed yours of him, and there was no going back. You couldn’t forgive him for what he’d said, no matter how small and meaningless a stranger’s opinion was of you. Even now, two years on and completely over your past relationship; his words still stung. You didn’t like how he was so quick to judge — made a quick assumption so abruptly, when you had only just met.
Things has gone from bad to worse after that, become petty in your bickering and nature, until you pretty much blanked each other nowadays, settling on a hi here and a goodbye there whenever necessary. Only now, it looked like that would be changing, seeing as you were roommates… and for the millionth time this week, you wondered what the hell Gian had been playing at?
It was 2am, and the dull sounds of a girl moaning echoed through your wall and bounced around your room. Yoongi hadn’t even been here a week yet, and he was already acting as if he owned the place. You had work tomorrow morning and the last thing you wanted to be doing right now was listening to some girl getting fucked. She sounded liked a wailing banshee, and the last resort was to bury your head under the covers, grabbing your pillow and holding it over your head, ignoring the jealous ache that throbbed through your body.
Listen here, it had nothing to do with Yoongi — at all. It was just you couldn’t remember the last time you’d had sex — well, you could, and it has been three months ago, and right now anything was able to make you miss the sensation, even some stranger’s fake pornstar screams.
However, overpowering the jealously was your hate for Yoongi. How dare he have the audacity to bring a girl back to yours already. He may be staying here for three months, but he was a guest nonetheless. He was staying in Gian’s room for crying out loud. She’d have to disinfect the damn thing before she could use it again. It was disgusting and the only saving grace was the fact you couldn’t hear him. You thought you’d actually vomit if that was the case.
Really speaking, you should probably bang on the wall and yell at them to shut the fuck up, or just kick her out altogether. It was your place, not his, but the embarrassing possibilities were too much, so instead, you thought, you were going to give him a piece of your mind! After work, he wouldn’t know what hit him.
Only it didn’t happen after work, it was before, when you were walking out of your room bleary eyed from lack of sleep, catching Yoongi ushering his date from last night out the front door. His voice had an edge to it, pretty obvious he didn’t want her here anymore and it was further solidified by his words.
“I could stay, Yoongi — make you breakfast,” the girl cooed, leaning closer into him and you watched as he quickly dodged out of the way, his speech fast as he cut her off, “No, I have to go to work, sorry baby.”
False sadness filled his voice and you rolled your eyes at the stupid pet name he had given her — that, and the fact he was lying. He didn’t have work today — it was his day off.
“I’ll phone you soon, okay?” You heard him carry on, and you scoffed quietly. That was a lie too. In your two years of knowing him, he had never once called any girl back.
As he finally managed to get her out, leaning back against the door as he closed it with an audible sigh of relief, he noticed you making your way into the kitchen, a woman on a mission for your morning coffee.
“New girlfriend, I see,” you noted and he laughed in response. “As if,” he replied, following behind you as he rummaged through the cupboards for some cereal.
As he reached up for the top shelf you noticed the way his t-shirt rode up, revealing his stomach a little, his sweats hung low, and you quickly averted eye contact, feeling awkward. What the hell was wrong with you?! Just because you were going through a dry spell didn’t mean you should stoop that low. Come on Y/N, have some decency for yourself, you thought.
“Good, actually,” you retorted finally, trying to fill your mind as you cursed at yourself, and you turned in time to see him look slightly shocked, his eyebrows raised as if he was anticipating for you to continue. “That means I don’t have to hear you two going at it again — seriously gross, Yoongi,” and you watched as his face dropped slightly, unexplainable and unplaceable, before it was gone, as if it had never happened, and then it was replaced by a smug smile, his eyes closing into nothing as he judged you.
“Someone’s just jealous, huh?” and you went to scoff, but he carried on, “because they’re a shrivelled up old prune and no one wants them? Tell me Y/N, has another man actually touched you since your ex broke up with you?” He remarked nastily, and you wanted so hard to act as if his words hadn’t bothered you, but you felt the twinge of hurt anyway. Of course, it wasn’t true — he knew that too. He’d seen you on dates and with new boyfriends. He had just wanted to hurt you, to stick the knife in, because that’s what he liked to do best. “Is that the best you’ve got, Yoongi?” You asked, concentrating on keeping your voice steady, and smiling to yourself proudly when you did. “Now, excuse me —” you started, leaning away from the counter you had been stood by, “— some of us do actually have work to get to,” and with that you flounced off, coffee in hand, back to your bedroom before he even had time to reply.
Over the next few weeks, things went better than you expected. Of course Yoongi still brought girls around and proceeded to have sex with them so loudly, most of the time it just sounded like they were in pain rather than pleasure, and of course, he was still as annoying, moody and condescending as ever, but over time, you just learnt to get used to it. There wasn’t much you could do about it anyway, and if you were being honest, it wasn’t that bad really, mostly because you kept yourself to yourself and he did the same.
Living with a guy wasn’t so bad as well, but there was that one time he caught you changing in the bathroom after having a shower. You’d thought Yoongi wasn’t coming home from work until later, so, in true ‘yay — I’m home alone’ fashion, you had left the door open. It wasn’t until you had your back to the door, underwear already on and strapping your bra in place, that you got the feeling you weren’t alone…
You turned your head behind you to check the situation out and saw Yoongi there, half way to his bedroom, frozen it seemed, and when he saw you noticed him, his eyes became wide, rabbit caught in headlights some would say, his mouth opening before he even knew what he was going to say, fumbling over nonsensical words that you couldn’t make out. It wasn’t until you let out a screech of, “GET THE HELL AWAY FROM HERE, NOW!” that he got the message and jerked into motion, scarpering into his room as fast he could.
Oh great— now you lived with a peeping Tom… another thing to add to the list, but instead of feeling creeped out, you felt weirded out. Yoongi hadn’t been looking at you in a pervy way, more like… you didn’t know, but he wasn’t leering anyway. It was a look you couldn’t place, and after that, confusingly or not, he had become exceptionally jerky the few days that followed the incident.
You couldn’t hold it against him anyway, catching an eyeful of you partly clothed, because you did that on a daily basis. You don’t know why he felt like he didn’t need to wear any clothes around the apartment, must have been the fact he had made himself well and truly comfortable here, and there was many a time you had to avert eye contact as he traipsed around in his just his underwear, and it wasn’t even just that, it was the way he looked, all rough and just getting out bed, hair untamed and in his eyes— even the light stubble hairs on his chin did something to you, and it was getting out of control. You didn’t know why it sent jolts of excitement through your body every time you saw him like that, and it was hard to stay mad at Yoongi for eyeing you up in the bathroom, when you were doing the same thing. You blamed your dry spell — it was making you do crazy things… like lusting after your sworn enemy.
You quietly slipped through the front door in hopes that if Yoongi was still awake he wouldn’t hear you. You had just come back from a date, which surprisingly had gone pretty well — You didn’t fancy the night being ruined by his incessant teasing — but it was too late. He was surprisingly in the living room, watching a film it seemed. You hadn’t seen him in the living room once since he’d began living here.
“Oh, there you are! Where have you been till this time? Dirty stop out,” he called over, teasing you with a smirk, and you froze, like a burglar caught in the act, shoulders stiff as you inwardly sighed.
“Nowhere, just with a friend,” you lied, reaching down to take off your heels. You didn’t really understand why you were lying. You knew you didn’t want him to tease, but it wasn’t like you couldn’t take it if he did…but maybe it was something else you couldn’t put your finger on… It was strange, and you frowned to yourself as you placed your bag over the coat stand.
“Are you tired?” He asked, and you shook your head, unsure of why he was asking. “Come join me, I’m watching a film. I’m looo-nely,” he whined, shifting on the sofa as he yawned, stretching his arms out, and his fringe fell into his eyes. Your stomach flipped, and you blinked slowly, trying to make sense of the situation.
Of course you thought Yoongi was handsome —who wouldn’t? They’d have to be blind to not see it, because even you — who disliked him, knew he was. It wasn’t the fact that you found him attractive that unsettled you, it was the fact that it was this setting; this atmosphere, that made you nervous, and you couldn’t pinpoint why. He was acting different tonight. His voice was cheerful and he never acted like this around you, and naturally, your eyes went to the coffee table. Sure enough there were empty bottles of beer there. He was drunk — or tipsy, same thing really. It all meant he wasn’t acting the way he usually did around you. However, you couldn’t help the overwhelming urge to join him like he’d asked. Maybe you were a masochist, who knew.
“Are you sure you aren’t tired yourself?” You asked, taking in his appearance as you joined him, sitting right next to him. He looked tired, his face slightly swollen and his eyes bloodshot.
It was his turn to shake his head now as he replied, “I need to watch a film to help me wind down — I’ve had a stressful day,” he hummed, turning back to the television.
“Want to speak about it?” You asked, surprising yourself at your genuineness. Since when had you cared what was going on in Yoongi’s life?
“No, it’s okay,” he smiled at you, and your stomach flipped again. You had never been on the receiving end of that before. “Just watch this film with me? That’s enough.”
You nodded and settled down, your head lulling to the side as you leant against the back of the sofa. You had planned on going straight to your room and daydreaming about how handsome your date had been, psyching yourself up for date number two that he had promised you, and trying to curb your excitement at the thought of your dry spell coming to an end —but now here you were, sharing a sofa with the roommate you hated, who was being weirdly nice to you in his drunken state. He wasn’t usually like this when you’d had a few, but maybe that was because you were usually drunk with him too, on the rare occasion Gian had dragged you out the same time he was joining. Maybe you being sober made a difference, who knew, but you agreed with yourself to take it with a grain of salt. Maybe this was the start of some so-called truce…?
“What’s the film?” You asked, before he pressed play again, and he shrugged, “the grudge,” leaving him followed by a grin when you whined in annoyance.
“Why, is little old Y/N scared of horror films?” He laughed, his eyes twinkling as he hit play, and you shot him evils, “No, I’m not scared. It’s just I’ve seen this film like a hundred times before.”
“Ok, ok, I believe you,” he shot, but his eyes called your bluff. “Now shush, be quiet and watch it.”
You settled down quickly, trying to ignore the little white lie you had just told. You had seen the film a lot, but truthfully, that didn’t mean you weren’t scared. Horror films were great to watch in the day, when the sun was out — but in the night, it was a totally different ball game. Even if you were watching it with someone else; you still had to sleep alone tonight, and just as you were lost in your thoughts, a jump scare happened causing you to scream, unconsciously burying your head into Yoongi’s shoulder.
You were too frightened to realise what you’d done, but once you heard him pause the film and chuckle lowly your heart beat began to return to normal and you jolted away from him, embarrassed.
“Yeah, you’re definitely not scared,” he noted sarcastically, carrying on chuckling, and you whacked his arm, annoyed at his teasing. “You can use my arm as a protective shield if you want, I don’t mind,” he shrugged. “Of course you need a brave man to keep you safe.”
You rolled your eyes at his words and scoffed, “I don’t think you’re a very brave man, Yoongs.”
You waited for his witty response (or pissy, who knew really…), but instead there was silence, and you looked up to see him watching you, a small smile tugging on the right side of his mouth.
“What?” You asked, looking confused and feeling vulnerable. He’d never given you that kind of smile before either.
“Nothing, I just like it when you call me Yoongs,” he continued to smile, his voice oddly soft.
“Everyone we know calls you it,” you retorted, feeling oddly defensive, a heat creeping up your cheeks, and you prayed to God you weren’t blushing right now.
“You never do though, and besides it sounds nice when you say it.” He was still smiling down at you and you began to feel even more awkward. You had no words, what could you say to that — you’re drunk…? You couldn’t, it didn’t make any sense either way, and you quickly cleared your throat, taking the remote out his hand. “Quickly, let’s get this film over and done with before I chicken out.”
“Ah, so you admit your scared?” He asked, looking away from you now, voice low as if he’d realised what he had just been doing and saying.
“Fine,” you give in, wanting to avoid all awkwardness. “I’m scared, happy now?”
“Only if you use this,” he said, holding his arm out towards you, watching you from the corner of his eyes, “to hide behind. Go on,” he urged when he saw you hesitate. “It will make me feel better for forcing you to watch this stupid film.”
“Okay,” you managed to get out, grabbing a hold of his sleeve and leaning back against the sofa again, bringing it with you. If it made him happy, you thought.
The rest of the film was watched in silence, no more talking, as if Yoongi had realised he’d stepped over the non-existent mark with you, and you tried your best not to jump again at the scares. Surprisingly, with the safety of Yoongi’s arm to hide behind, it was all better though. Too better in fact, and you found yourself dropping off, your eyelids fluttering shut, the warmth of his body making you sleepy as you practically fell against it, his scent filling your nose and soothing you to sleep…
You must have fallen asleep for real, because the next thing you knew, you had woken up in your bed; still fully clothed, but with a blanket on top of you. You rolled on your side, dazed and confused, looking at your alarm clock to see it was 4am. You groaned slightly when you realised how you must have gotten here, but mostly in disbelief. Had Yoongi really carried you into your room? On second thoughts, had you really fallen asleep against him? You whined. So embarrassing, and not to mention strange. Why didn’t he just wake you up?
Too sleepy and in a sog to bother getting changed, you buried your head under the blanket, and even though you knew you should be falling asleep to the memories of your date that night, you couldn’t help but remember the feel of Yoongi… his warm skin and the smell of him, soapy, but with the mild stench of alcohol, which at the time had been oddly soothing… and still was.
After that night, that both of you never talked about by the way, things began to change. Although you didn’t see him very often with your conflicting work schedules, he seemed to ease up on his general jerkiness and you suppose you did the same. It was confusing more than anything. You no longer felt yourself filled with bubbling anger when you remembered his existence; instead, you found yourself laughing at the little things you saw him do, as you both got used to living with each other. It had been nearly two months now, and you were surprised at how fast the time was going.
It had gotten to the point now where you would even watch television together and movies. You initiated small talk and you were able to have a steady conversation without it ending in bickering. You learned to live in sync and, dare you say harmony. Just this morning you had both laughed together after you caught him tripping over his own feet before leaving for work.
You even found yourself excusing things he did that used to annoy you tenfold, like leaving dishes in the sink and now, instead of whining at him, you shook it off, smiling and telling him you would wash it before you left for work yourself. At this rate Gian was going to have a fit when she came back and found you guys playing happy families.
It was a Friday afternoon, and you had another date tonight — your fourth to be exact, and you were excited, albeit it slightly nervous. This was the first time you would be going over his, and you had left work early to take a shower, making sure to shave and moisturise before putting on a pair of shorts and a vest to lay on your bed to read a book — the lotion needed time to sink into your skin. It had been a long time since anybody other than you had touched this body and you needed to make sure it was as smooth and as soft as could be. This was the night, you were sure of it.
Whilst reading you could hear the low hum of Yoongi’s television, and you gathered he was playing video games by the string of steady curses that were leaving him every once and a while, and to your surprise, five minutes later you heard a tap at your door.
“Y/N, are you in here? Can I come in?” You ignored the flutter of your heart a little, and called out a yes, instantly regretting it when you realised how little you had on, reminding you of the time he caught you in your underwear, but it was too late as he entered, game controller in one hand.
“Do you have any— uh, b-batteries?” He asked, stuttering in shock as he caught a look at you, his eyes instantly looking down at his feet as he waved the controller around, signalling that his had run out.
You nodded, quickly sitting up but keeping the book tightly in your hands, as if it was protecting your modesty or something. “I’m sure I have some in my side drawer,” you indicated with a nod of your head and he walked forward, eyes trained on the bedside table, his body crouched down centimetres away from yours that was sitting awkwardly on the bed, as he opened the top drawer and began rifling through it.
“Why do you have ear plugs?” He asked, sight bewilderment in his voice as you looked over to see him holding the buds in his fingertips.
“Um,” you began, suddenly feeling awkward, “because of you…” and you watched him raise his eyebrow in confusion, so you carried on, “I told you, you were loud,” you indicated, widening your eyes at the last word, and you saw him open his mouth in a little ’o’ shape, understanding you completely now, his own bulging for a moment.
“Oh, sorry,” he mumbled, turning towards your drawer and putting them back. You noticed his cheeks turn a cute pink tinge, and you hid a smile — was he embarrassed? Cute. If you were being honest, you hadn’t needed to use those ear buds for a while now — he hadn’t brought a girl back in a long time.
“Yes! Here they are!” He half-yelled in triumph, when he pulled out two batteries and you watched in horror as he plonked himself down next to you on the side of your bed, back turned, his butt sitting only millimetres from your legs as he replaced the old batteries. You went back to reading your book, trying to preoccupy yourself as you began to wonder why you were feeling so weird when it came to Yoongi.
It didn’t work however; your brain was still going ninety to the dozen. It was probably because he was being nice to you. He had never been nice to you in the history of you two knowing each other. It also, maybe-probably had something to do with the fact you fell asleep on him too… and the fact that he had carried you to your bed… It was weird, and awkward, knowing that he had put you on your bed and placed a blanket over you. Even a couple of weeks on and you still weren’t over it.
“What you reading?” He asked suddenly, looking over his shoulder, and you jumped, pulled out of your thoughts involuntarily.
“Nothing,” you shrugged, trying to sound casual, placing the book down on your bed.
“Sounds completely boring,” he teased, before shrugging. “If I had known you were home from work early I would have asked if you wanted to Netflix or something. We could have watched the last episode of Stranger Things.”
“I, er…” You were lost for words. He probably didn’t know you had been back because you had made sure to be extra quiet. You and Yoongi had been hanging out a lot lately and it was confusing you. There was no more arguing, no more bickering and shooting jabs at each other, and you had found yourself purposely trying to avoid him now. It was getting too weird, and right on cue, it got weirder.
“Budge up!” He told you, turning around and nudging your legs with his hands and you jumped. His hands were cold and they had just touched your bare skin!!! His fingers gripping your calves as he urged you across the bed so he could fit on too, back pressed against the headboard, placing the Xbox controller on your side table. Tingles shot through you, and you shook your head trying to erase whatever was happening to your body right now. Yoongi seemed unaffected — or if he was, he did a good job of hiding it. You suddenly felt naked.
“I-I’m,” you stuttered, forcing yourself to sound normal, even though your heart rate was going through the roof. You wanted to tell him you had a date and that he’d need to leave in a bit, but the words wouldn’t come out.
You could smell him again, all fresh and clean and you inwardly groaned, knowing that your bed would now be smelling of him too now. As if he could read your mind and wanted to test you, he hummed to himself, looking over at you, “You smell nice.”
What the hell? Please, someone tell you what was going on? Was this his new tactic on winding you up now? Be so nice it drove you crazy? Was this his ploy to make him look like the better person? Anything was possible, and everything was flooding your mind.
“Yoongs, you’re game?” You reminded him, looking over at your side table. Wasn’t he in the middle of a game right now? You could use this as a way of getting him out before you spontaneously combusted.
He shrugged, silently shushing you, before he made a sound, like he’d realised something. “Oh, I could have asked you to play video games with me! It’s fun, right? I’d love to beat your ass.” He smirked, and you rolled your eyes. There he was, the Yoongi you knew and loved loathed.
You lifted your eyebrow questionably, judging him before you spoke. “Yoongi, are you seriously bored right now? Is that why you’ve come here to annoy me?” The nervousness was ebbing away now, feeling comfortable as you began to jest again, before he laughed weakly and pressed his head back against the wall, his fringe falling in his eyes.
“Actually, I’m just really stressed… and sad, maybe…” he admitted, even though he was still smiling, albeit rather crestfallen.
“Why, what’s up?” You asked, taken back by your concern and you leaned in closer, strange feelings of worry taking over you.
“It’s just work… I don’t know, sometimes I just think I’m not getting anywhere. I’m not learning anything new and, I don’t know… maybe I am just crap at producing.”
The words spilled out of him quickly, with slight hesitance and you guessed he had been thinking them for a long time, not being able to confess them. Your stomach jumped a little — he had chosen to voice his concerns with you? How come?
“Don’t be stupid! What makes you think that?” You scoffed, and he shrugged, his hair still in his eyes, and you suddenly had the urge to sweep it out the way and even upturn the frown that appeared on his face. You wouldn’t, of course, but you had the urge…
“Well, like you said, I’ve only ever produced my own songs, and with how long I’ve been doing this, you’d think I’d catch a break soon, but everything I do never ends in anything… no matter how hard I try.”
His voice was small now and he pulled his knees to him, playing awkwardly with his fingers as he clicked them — a nervous habit. He was letting you in on his deepest darkest fears, and before you could stop yourself, you were reaching for him, your hand coming out to grip his shoulder and nudge him encouragingly.
“Don’t be stupid,” you brushed off, “you’re amazing at what you do,” and he looked over at you, shock in his eyes as his fringe fell, his mouth open. “One day you’ll get your big break. I’m sure of it, and when you do all your friends will be there supporting you — me included… if you want me to, that is.” You added as an afterthought, realising that you had gotten a bit too passionate with your pep talk.
He smiled then, a big gummy one as his eyes twinkled, chuckling slightly. “I thought you didn’t like my music… but of course I want you to support me.”
“I may have just been pissy when I said that. I actually do like it,” you grinned shyly, feeling embarrassed for ever saying such a stupid thing to him when he had been so worried about it.
“Good,” was all he quipped, a playful smirk on his face, but you could see it in his eyes that he was pleased.
Something was changing, the air was close as you smiled at him, lost in a moment for a second — your little moment, and you almost forgot you had to get ready for your date, that was until you your eyes caught your alarm clock behind his shoulder.
“Look… I sorta wanted to talk to—
“OH SHIT!” You interrupted, your voice loud as you flew off the bed, dropping the book you’d been reading in the floor. “I need to get ready!”
You quickly grabbed at your outfit hung up outside your closet, the funny feeling in your stomach because of Yoongi disappearing with the rush you were under, thoughts of doing your makeup and hair already filling your head instead of thoughts of what the hell had just gone on.
“Where are you going?” He asked, sounding mildly interested, albeit a little put out seeing as you’d interrupted whatever he was about to say. He sat up, placing his feet on the floor, grabbing the game controller as he did so.
“I have a date,” you answered casually, the words sounding weird once they’d left your mouth. You hadn’t told him about your dates yet — it was none of his business, really?
“A date?” He repeated, disbelief filling his voice, and you rolled your eyes. “Don’t sound so shocked,” you teased, placing the clothes on your bed.
“No, it’s not that… I just didn’t know you were seeing someone.” He backtracked, and you give him a pointed look. “No offence, Yoongi, but you’re hardly Gian. I’m not going to tell you every detail of my life.”
He was silent after that, his eyebrows furrowed together and you sighed, pulling him up by the arms, which he let you, as if he was in a trance. “Now, shoo, I have to get ready!” You exclaimed, ushering him out the door playfully. “Oh — and don’t wait up!” You added, grinning madly. “This is like, our fourth date and I think tonight may be the night.”
You giggled, taking one last look at his face in the doorway, his mouth open and his expression still in shock, before you closed the door in his face and began to get ready.
It wasn’t until around 3am when you returned, once again creeping inside in fear of waking up Yoongi, even thought you were sure he’d be in bed by now. WRONG — he was in the living room, on the sofa, and he eyed you as you came in, his face unimpressed.
“Well?” He demanded, and you frowned, confused by what he meant.
“Did you get lucky?” He asked crudely, and you gasped out loud, your eyes instantly moving down to the coffee table to see empty bottles again. Oh — he was drunk.
“Yoongi, what the fuck? You can’t just go around asking me questions like that!” You hissed, your voice a whisper as if the neighbours could here you.
“Well, you said I wasn’t Gian. So, here we go,” he shrugged. “I’m all ears. Did you fuck him? Was he any good?”
“Yoongi,” you repeated, visible shock in your voice now and your cheeks began to heat up. Why was he even asking you these questions? Instead of fuelling him, you began to make your way to your room, only to be interrupted by him again and you stopped dead in your tracks.
“I mean, you probably did, but how come he sent you home? Didn’t want you to stay the night.”
You turned yo face him abruptly, ready to give him a piece of your mind, but he carried on, and your blood ran cold. “I wouldn’t blame him if so.”
He sounded so causal as the words rolled of his tongue you were stunned for a moment, all insult you were planning leaving you as you felt shame wash over you. What did he mean by that? You tried to keep your crestfallen face hidden well as you spoke, your voice clipped as you kept it steady.
“Yoongi, do yourself a favour and go to bed. You’re drunk.”
You didn’t let your resolve fall until you got into your room and then you kicked your bed, anger filling you. How dare Yoongi make you feel guilty for having sex with someone. You’d only come home because you had work in the morning. Why did he have to get drunk and ruin everything? Become a jerk again in 2.5 seconds, and you weren’t going to pretend what he’d said hadn’t hurt you, because it had. It was just like that time two years ago, but only this time worse, because he had said it to your face. He’d ruined everything.
The next day, you arrived home from work later than usual, dreading facing Yoongi when you got in. He’d been asleep when you’d left this morning, his beer bottles still strewn across table, and he’d probably be in when you got home. You wondered if he would apologise, but that went out the window when you put your key through the door. A laugh so annoying and penetrating you winced. It was oddly familiar… and when you looked up, you realised why. It was the girl Yoongi had brought back with him a few weeks ago. She was back… after all this time…
“Oh, hey Y/N,” he greeted you, as if last night hadn’t happened, and you noticed his arm slung around the girl’s shoulders, her head nuzzled in his neck, and then there was a tug at your chest, unexplainable, but it still hurt. “This is Yunghee. You remember her, right?”
You nodded wordlessly before he carried on, feeling the strangest urge that you were shrinking, whatever that meant, as if you wanted the ground to open up and swallow you whole.
“Yunghee, this is my housemate Y/N,” he smiled down at her, and you suddenly felt a little bit sick when you saw them kiss. It was just a peck, but it lingered… It was enough, and you put it down to being a huge hater of PDA. It had to be it, right?
“Nice to meet you,” you greeted, forcing your voice out. Since when was he still seeing her? You hadn’t seen her since that morning all those weeks ago.
“Same, Yoongi’s told me so much about you,” she grinned, laughing a little condescendingly.
You cleared your throat awkwardly, about to evacuate to your bedroom, not being able to take her literally just sat there on your sofa laughing at you when Yoongi spoke again.
“Actually, Y/N, I wanted to ask you something?”
You turned around, your eyebrow raised in false interest as he carried on. “I was thinking of throwing a party tomorrow night — that’ll be okay, right?”
You had every right to say no. What was he even playing at right now? But instead, you nodded, giving in. Whatever he was up to — whatever he wanted from you, whether it be a rise or something else, you wouldn’t give it to him.
“Sure, that sounds fine by me.”
“Great,” he grinned, before Yunghee squealed. “Maybe you could invite the guy you’re dating? I didn’t catch his name?”
“Taeyong,” you mumbled, feeling confused.
“What? Say it again, I didn’t hear you,” he smirked, and you took a deep breath, your annoyance growing, “Taeyong,” you repeated louder.
“Oh, okay… Maybe you can invite Taeyong?” He asked, his tone obnoxious.
“Sure thing,” you shrugged him off, worn out with whatever game he was playing right now, and you smiled weakly, not in the mood for his antics tonight, before carrying on your way into the hallway and to your bedroom.
“And Y/N, you still have those earplugs, right? You may need them tonight!” He called after you, and you shut your bedroom door, leaning up against it and sighing loudly.
He knew you still had those damn ear plugs, he’d held them in his hands yesterday when he been friendly, now he was back to being a Class A jerk and you frowned, trying to ignore the pang in your chest again and the heavy feeling in your stomach… What the hell had happened in under 24 hours?!
Surprisingly, the party did actually end up happening the next night, and even more surprisingly, you did actually invite Taeyong. It was an odd night, filled with many piercing and dare you say it, dirty looks from Yoongi. For someone who had organised this party he sure did look moody, and even though Yunghee was here too, he practically ignored her most of the night, standing in the kitchen with his drink. You weren’t shocked to see her storm out after a few hours, and you couldn’t help but feel evilly gleeful — that would teach him for doing whatever he had yesterday. Karma you liked to call it, and you wasted no time in inviting Taeyong to your bedroom. You’d leave it to Yoongi to ask the guests to leave and to tidy up the mess they’d made. You had other plans, ones that would make Yoongi wish he had a pair of ear plugs too, but tough luck — serves him right. However, to be honest you were still a little confused as to what was up with him anyway…
After that, two weeks past fairly quickly and it would only be another two until Yoongi was moving out. You were practically counting down the days now. He had turned into such an insufferable bastard you couldn’t wait to kick him out on his head. He has barely said two words to you since the night of the party, and you kicked yourself for ever thinking that maybe you could be friends — even after everything he had said the other day… and you too.
You had the day off work today, and you had spent it lounging on the sofa and watching television seeing as Yoongi was in work. You had planned on making yourself scarce before Yoongi got back, but luck wasn’t on your side as you heard him turn his key in the lock. Unable to run as fast as the flash back to your room, you watched him as he walked through the door, worry etched on his face, and for a moment you panicked for him. Had something happened at work? However, you told yourself you were being stupid. He didn’t deserve your sympathy, not after he had messed you about so much.
He saw you on the sofa as he began taking off his jacket and he sighed. Although, it wasn’t a noise of disgust, more like pity. “Hey, you’re here…” he greeted, placing his keys on the kitchen counter and kicking off his shoes. “Good… I, er, needed to tell you something…”
You wanted to say something back, maybe a grunt, that’s all he deserved, but the worry in his voice made you panic. Why was he looking at you like that and why did he sound like he was about to break some life altering news?
“Um… this may sound strange… but are you, um, still seeing Taeyong?” He asked awkwardly, leaning against the counter and not meeting your eyes.
“What?” You couldn’t help but get out, confused. Of course you were still seeing him, he must know that. When he didn’t answer, you nodded your head, sitting up straighter. “Yes, I am. Why?”
Yoongi sighed to himself although it resembled a groan more than anything, his hand running up and down his face as if he was building up the courage to say something. “I don’t know how to say this… and I’m pretty sure you don’t want me to be the one to anyway… but seeing as I’m the one who saw it, it needs to come from me.” He began, sounding ominous, and you already felt the colour drain from your face as he lifted his head to look at you in visible discomfort. When you didn’t say anything, he carried on, his face wincing as he broke the news.
“Um, I saw him — on my lunch break… Y/N… he was with a girl, and well, it looked, not like friends…”
You sat there in silence, what he was telling you washing through your body until it didn’t make sense anymore. How could Taeyong be there with another girl? He was dating you. Yoongi was wrong. It wasn’t Taeyong he had seen.
“You probably got the wrong person,” you shrugged off, shocking yourself with how chirpy your voice sounded, and Yoongi, who had been watching you carefully for a reaction, looked bewildered. “No! Honestly it was him. I know what he looks like.”
He was adamant, but you weren’t having any of it. He was wrong, you knew it. “Well, he was probably with a friend then.”
“Did you not listen to me?” He half-yelled in frustration. “I know what just friends look like, and that was not it. You don’t see me and you with our tongues down each other’s throats, do you?”
Stunned by his outburst, you took your time to think of a valid response, your brain not working properly as you stood up and pointed at him accusingly. “You’re lying.”
He opened his mouth, visibly in shock, before he was frowning, angry words falling from his mouth quickly, “You think I’m lying? Why would I even do that? Do you think I’m that fucking pathetic?”
You nodded, all sense of reason leaving you as you refused to believe him. “I don’t know, Yoongi, you tell me! You seem to like acting it.”
“I’m just looking out for you,” he argued. “I don’t want—
“Oh, pull the other one. Like hell do you care about me, Yoongi. We’re not friends,” you spat, standing your ground. “You’ve ignored me for the past two weeks and now you expect me to believe whatever you say. We’re not friends. Whatever you tell yourself at night to make yourself feel better, isn’t true — We don’t like each other and never will. So just leave me alone until you have to move, and then do me a favour—” you sneered, turning and walking towards the hallway. “—never speak to me again.”
You didn’t see Yoongi’s reaction to your words as you were already making your way to your room, but after a few seconds pause, he shouted back to you.
“Fine! Don’t believe me then. Just make sure to check his phone when you see him next —You’ll see I’m telling the truth!”
…and you did, only then it was too late to eat your words. You felt stupid and like the biggest bitch in the world. You didn’t know why, because deep down you knew Yoongi would be telling the truth. He had no reason to lie to you at all. Yes, he liked winding you up and teasing you, but he wouldn’t purposely want to hurt you. That’s what made it worse. You had acted like such a bitch when all he had been doing was trying to help.
Deep down you knew Taeyong had been cheating, and the curiosity had been eating you up ever since Yoongi had gotten home, so quickly you had text him to meet you, asking to hang out. He’d complied, meeting at some sort of restaurant, and when he had gone to the restroom you took his phone, quickly rifling through his messages until you found what you needed — BABY, written in capitals with a heart beside it. Yoongi was right, he had been cheating, with you it seemed, because it seemed like this mysterious baby was his girlfriend. He’d caught you and tried to explain, but you didn’t give him the chance to — you were mortified and fled home, afraid that Yoongi would be there to tell you I told you so.
Luck wasn’t on your side tonight again, and as you flew through the door you ran straight into Yoongi. He let out a huff as you bumped into him, and steadied your shoulders, looking at you concerned.
“Y/N, what’s wrong?” He asked quietly.
“Nothing,” you whispered, adverting eye contact as you tried to push past him, wanting to hide in the confines of your own room.
“Nothing? You’re crying! What the hell happened?!”
You were crying? How come you hadn’t noticed, and on instinct you brought your hand up to your cheeks, feeling the dampness, and you wiped quickly. How stupid were you? You sniffed loudly, feeling humiliated. “You were right, Yoongi.” You said, your voice emotionless, as you looked up at him finally. “Taeyong has a girlfriend already.”
There was silence then, as Yoongi took in your words, his eyes dark as they darted back and forth. “Aren’t you going to tell me, I told you so?” You asked, and you watched him frown, looking at you as if you were stupid. “Why would I say that?”
“Because I outright said you were lying.” You replied, brows furrowed. You had been so sure he would take this time to gloat and to bask in your sadness, but instead his eyes softened, although his expression was stern, his mouth forming a thin line.
“I would never do that, Y/N. I don’t blame you, I would think the same by the way I’ve been acting…”
You wanted to ask what he meant by that but before you could open your mouth, he had his arm around your shoulders, comforting you and moving you to the sofa. Your eyes fell to the floor as you heard him place something down and you opened your mouth in a silent gasp. It was a bag filled with some of his things, you guessed.
“You’re moving out already?” You got out, “because of me…”
“No,” he chuckled softly. “Not because of you, and to be honest, all of my stuff is still here. I just thought maybe you’d want me to leave you alone… I was just gonna take some clothes and go to Hoseok’s…”
You opened your mouth to protest, the thought of Yoongi leaving suffocating you, and you couldn’t explain the panic that filled you at the thought, but he hushed you, “It’s okay, I won’t go now — unless you want me too?” He added as an afterthought.
“No, no,” you rushed and he chuckled again, smiling softly. “Okay then, good,” he nodded. “Now, let’s just sit on the sofa. We can talk if you want, or not… I know you really liked the guy…”
You frowned as you let Yoongi sit you down, taking a seat next you as he waited for you to reply. Did you really like Taeyong? Of course he was incredibly handsome and funny and you two had gotten along really well, even though the big jerk had been hiding a secret girlfriend, but in regards to feelings? It was difficult to explain. You had been happy dating him, but when it came to a relationship you didn’t really want that. Not with him anyway. Maybe there was some people in life that were meant to be fleeting… Taeyong being one of them. The real reason you were crying and so upset, wasn’t because you liked him so much, it was because it had hurt you so much. Every guy, no matter how much or how little you liked them, always hurt you in the end. You were cursed.
“I didn’t really like him that much,” you said after a few minutes, your voice sounding weird as it filled the room, and he looked at you slightly shocked, his eyes questioning you. “I wasn’t crying because I was in love with him or anything — I was crying because it’s a shitty situation,” you carried on, laughing bitterly at your own misfortune. “Every guy — Every guy I have ever been involved with has messed me around one way or another. No matter what they meant to me.”
“That’s not true, Y/N,” he comforted you, placing his hand on your knee, his head to one side as he watched you, and you silently admired the way his fringe flopped over his face, covering one eye. He really was beautiful, and it hurt a little. Hurt more than Taeyong’s betrayal anyway.
“It is, Yoongi,” you smiled sorely. “Come on! You’ve known me for two years. Remember that time I got stood up and I waited two hours for the guy to arrive and he never even did in the end.”
He looked blank for a second but you carried on, “Of course you do, you laughed about it solid for a whole day when you found out…” He looked up at our then, surprised and he began to apologise, “I’m sorry, I had had no clue you were so upset about it — I-I don’t even remember it that well…”
You scoffed, suddenly annoyed. What give him the right to be sweet to you right now? After all he had done to tease you over the years. “You’ve done it plenty—” you murmured, “—in fact, you did it the first time I met you.”
He furrowed his eyebrows in confusion again and you inwardly sighed. He didn’t remember, again? Did you have such little significance to him? Again, you couldn’t explain how much that hurt more than what Taeyong had just done to you.
“You said you understood why my ex broke up with me… I heard you that night, you said some horrible things — I didn’t forget them.”
You felt his hand leave your knee as the realisation of your words hit him, and he was silent for a moment. “Damn, Y/N. You shouldn’t take what a miserable, twisted dick like me has to say, to heart. I’m bitter… so very bitter… and well…”
He trailed off and you cut in, “Maybe I care what you think. Has that ever crossed your mind?” What did he even have to be bitter about anyway? Why was he so miserable? It didn’t make sense.
He raised his eyebrows, visibly thinking as he bit down on his bottom lip. “So I hurt you, right?” and you nodded slowly, feeling awkward that you had finally confessed to it. However, you felt a pang of surprise when he began to laugh, albeit slightly acidic. “You do realise the only reason I was a dick that night was because I thought I stood a chance with you?” You looked at him in surprise. “Yeah,” he agreed, “I’m that pathetic. Gian told me she has a friend who was upset after a break up… that she might need cheering up.” He explained and you stayed silent, waiting for more. “That friend just so happened to be the girl I’d seem leaving the library a couple of weeks prior, and also someone I think I began crushing on…” He trailed off, his voice low with embarrassment, but he looked you right in the eye anyway. He wanted you to understand, and you did.
“Oh god — and I was a bitch to you that night, and that’s why you said those things…?” You spoke for him, understanding the situation perfectly, feeling oddly amused.
“And all the other times after that, too,” he smirked, finding the situation just as funny. “I mean, I don’t blame you. I shouldn’t have said those things back then. I was being a jerk — I should have realised that you were still upset and that you weren’t ready for anything straight away… but I guess my ego took a bashing and I couldn’t handle it,” he admitted, his voice filled with relief. His confession finally freeing him.
You giggled after it all sunk in, “So, really… we were both jerks to each other for no reason at all these last two years?” You asked slowly, a smile tugging on your lips when you caught Yoongi’s eyes as he nodded, looking bemused. “I guess so,” he chuckled. “Our whole acquaintanceship has been one big fat lie — a misunderstanding, some would say…” and you both giggled at his joke, the reality of the situation hitting you, playing havoc with your emotions, that — and all that had happened tonight.
“Let me do something for you. Let me make it up to you,” he spoke quickly, after the laughter had settled down, and you looked up at him, interested. “Let me take you out, I don’t know, dinner? Cinema?” He asked and you don’t know why, but you agreed.
Maybe it had something to do with the fact that you wanted to make new memories with Yoongi now; real ones, not false ones…
“Really?” He asked, shocked at your answer and your heart flipped as he grinned at you wildly. “I’ll let you decide where to go.”
“Um, ok, the cinema? I haven’t been there in while, but then again… dinner sounds nice —ahh, I don’t know, I —
“How about dinner, then the cinema?” He proposed, leaning forward and placing his hand on your knee again, and you nodded, grinning at him. Now that was offer you couldn’t refuse. The night had been shitty, but now it seemed like everything was finally looking up. Maybe once Gian returned home, she’d have the shock of her life… You and Yoongi, best buds for life.
Only, the next day you woke up with doubts. On one hand you were relieved to finally have a clean slate with Yoongi, but the more you thought about it, the more anxious you became. If Yoongi admitted to liking you back then, did that mean he still liked you now? Had he liked you this whole time or had your attitude made him realise that he didn’t? Did he just feel sorry for you because you were lied to by Taeyong? He felt sorry for you, because no man wanted you? Was tonight going to be a date? The questions clouded your brain, and you were as confused as ever.
Maybe this was all a big mistake. Maybe you and Yoongi were destined to be acquaintances. What if you found out you really did have nothing in common and that you truly did hate each other? Why the hell were you so bothered anyway? You felt like tearing your hair out, and the only thing you could think of was cancelling on him. He would understand, you could say you weren’t feeling up to it, or that you were working late… Yeah — that would be good… You had to work on. That way you could build the courage up to actually talk to him some more, and find out what the hell was going on, because really, right now, you had no clue.
It was half eight when you got back and after texting Yoongi to say you were working late and would have to take a rain check, you went over your friend’s house, too chicken to look at your cell and see his reply. Lying was not a good look for you, and by the time you arrived home, you were feeling sick with guilt.
You greeted him quietly as he was in the kitchen and kicked off your shoes, trying to make a dash for your room, but he wasn’t having any of it.
“Have fun in work?” He asked, his voice hard and you watched as he rounded the corner of the counter, watching you intently.
“Yup,” you answered quickly, “just the usual…”
“Don’t you check your phone? Or is it off?” His voice was steady, but it was laced with something and you frowned pulling your cell out of your pocket. It had been on silent all this time, and you quickly pulled up your texts, the colour draining from your face as you read, all of them from Yoongi.
[4:30pm] No problem
[4:35pm] maybe I’ll stop by and keep you company for a bit? You must have a break soon?
[5:25pm] Ok, no need to reply, I’m already here
[5:25pm] sorry, I couldn’t help myself. See you soon x
[5:30pm] Where are you?
[5:30pm] They said you went home at 5?????
You quickly pushed your phone back in your pocket, feeling incredibly awkward and horrendous. “I’m sorry Yoongi. I can explain, honest —
“You could have just said no, you know,” he interrupted. “If you didn’t want to go on a date with me, you didn’t have to lie.”
Your jaw dropped. A date? So it was one… You fumbled over your words as you tried to explain. “No, I did honest, I just —I just needed some time to —
“Save it!” He snapped, already walking out the kitchen “I don’t want to hear it. You do realise that I was gonna surprise you when you got home from work,” and you followed his eyes to the kitchen counter, not noticing all the snacks he’d bought when you first came in, and you looked back at him, even more guilt washing through you.
“I thought if you couldn’t make it to the cinema, we could watch a film here. How stupid was I?!” He exploded, before storming off to his room.
You stood there in shock at his outburst. He’d never shouted like that before. It made you feel weird, and you didn’t like it. You didn’t like any of it. Everything you had been ignoring these past few weeks suddenly bubbled to the surface, and then, everything made sense.
As well as you, everything made sense with him too. He thought he’d confessed last night, but you hadn’t got it, too engrossed in your own problems, not seeing the bigger picture — even when he had invited you out, and stupidly you had rejected him, in the worst way possible — lied to him and made him look stupid; made him feel unwanted…
You moved, and before you knew it, you were outside his room, tapping lightly on the door and when he didn’t answer you let yourself in slowly. He was stood up, facing his wall where his bed lay, his shoulders hunched.
“Yoongi,” you spoke softly, and when he didn’t reply you carried on, walking closer to him, your hand reaching out to touch his back. He flinched, but didn’t pull away, and you tried again. “Yoongi, you said it was a date…”
“Yeah,” he scoffed. “Don’t have to rub it in how stupid I was.”
There was silence for a few seconds as you tried to think of what to say. Were you really going to do this?
“I-I want it to be a date…”
“Wha—?” He asked, not being able to hide his surprise as he turned around to face you.
“Do you want to know why I cancelled on you? It’s because I was scared… I still am,” you admitted.
“I don’t understand,” he said finally, looking up at you, his eyebrows knitted together.
“It means that I like you, Yoongi,” you answered clearly. “I haven’t always liked you…for obvious reasons,” you paused to smile, “but since spending all this time with you, seeing you every day, speaking with you like we’re friends… Honestly, the idea of you leaving and not being around all the time, it hurts my heart. Last night when I saw your bag and I thought you were leaving… I-I was sad.”
Yoongi went to interrupt you but you held up a finger, signalling to him you weren’t finished, you needed to get this out. “When I see you, when I hang out with you, I don’t know… it makes me happy, even if we’re bickering all the time… I think — no, I hope you like me too… otherwise you’re gonna rib me so had after this.”
Yoongi sighed in relief at your words, looking at his feet as he began to reply, before looking at you defiantly. “Y/N, I’ve liked you ever since I first saw you and then I blew my chance. You just didn’t notice me, you never notice me… That’s why I turned into such a bitter bastard. I had to see you with all these guys, ones who didn’t treat you right — used you, cheated on you. All the while knowing that I could treat you better than they ever could… but you didn’t want me…”
He trailed off, but a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, “but you noticed me now, even though I probably don’t deserve it. I’ve been such a jerk to you since I found out you were dating Taeyong. No wonder you didn’t believe me when I told you about him yesterday.” He sighed, and you brushed him off. “It’s okay, that doesn’t mean anything. All that matters is now, and I don’t know… I can’t explain it… the way you make me feel…” you chuckled.
“And you think I can?” He laughed along. “Honestly, you turn me into a dithering idiot. There’s so many times when I wanted to confess to you, but I chickened out.”
“Weellll,” you began slowly, your tongue darted out and grazing your teeth, and he looked down at it, mesmerised a little. “Maybe you should show me with actions…” and as you smirked, he closed the space between you, as if he’d been waiting for your permission, his hands wrapping around your waist as his lips found yours.
His lips felt odd against yours, foreign, but good-odd, and you shut your eyes, falling into the kiss as he deepened it, your arms wrapping around his neck as his slid up your back and to your face, cupping your cheeks as he pecked once, twice, a third time before pulling back a little.
“This is really happening?” He asked out loud and you nodded, giggling as rubbed your nose with his. “I’m so sorry I was a jerk to you all this time,” he murmured.
“It’s okay,” you smiled, “I forgive you, only because I was such a jerk too.”
He chuckled along with you, pressing sweet kisses to your forehead and nose as he went, and your heart hammered in your chest. He was so close, and he was all yours. “Let’s just forget about that now, concentrate on other things,” you said, pulling his hands from your face and gripping them in yours, entwining your fingers together. “I like you, and you like me.”
He watched your fingers link together before he broke out into a grin, agreeing with your words. “So so much,” and before you knew it, he was on you again, his lips pressing harder against yours now as his tongue darted out, parting your mouth instantly, eager to taste him.
The kiss turned feverish as hums began to leave you both, making up for lost time as one of his palms found the small of your back, twisting your body around until you felt the back of your knees hit his bed, and he slowly pushed you down into laying position, his body crawling over yours as he continued to kiss you passionately, his hands now running down your sides gently, as if you were made of china.
“Is this too much?” He questioned, his mouth sliding down your neck, sounding breathless as he trailed wet open mouthed kisses down your throat and to your collarbone. “I sort of wanted to take you out on a date before we took it this far.”
He pulled away to look at you, his tone sincere, but his eyes laced with lust, and a bolt of electricity flowed through you, simmering in your stomach as the realisation washed over you. You wanted to have sex with him. You wanted to kiss him, and touch him, and feel him — everywhere, and you never wanted to let go. The urge was breath-taking and you reached for his neck, pulling him down to kiss him again, letting your actions speak for you, moaning into his mouth, which he swallowed with his tongue.
His mouth trailed down your chin, finding your throat again, as you uttered out the words that he’d been dying to hear, “I want you,” and he nipped at your clavicle, a low moan rumbling from his chest as his hands wasted no time in clumsily undoing your blouse buttons, his mouth finding yours again as your tongues lapped at each other, dancing around, hot and wet; hungry for each other.
The strange thing was, you thought, as he pulled opened your blouse, exposing the swell of your breasts in your bra, was that none of this felt weird to you. In fact, for the first time in a long while, sexual relations felt natural too you. It felt right — like you’d been doing this for as long as you had known each other.
“You’re beautiful,” he murmured in awe, his hands hovering over you as if he was too afraid to touch you.
You grew impatient and sat up on your elbows, tugging at the t-shirt he was wearing, wanting him to take it off too. He complied and your hands reached out, finally getting to touch his skin that you had seen him parade around the apartment so often.
“Ah,” his voice broke, “your hands are cold!”
He grabbed a hold of your hands as he pushed you back, holding them to your sides as you giggled. That must have been the push he needed because suddenly, he was on you; touching your abdomen and running his fingers up your ribcage delicately. You quickly pulled yourself out of your blouse and Yoongi’s hands shot to your jeans, pulling the zipper down and tugging at the waistband, desperate to get you undressed. You lifted up your hips and he shimmied them down as you kicked them off the edge of his bed. You then watched as he unzipped his own, discarding them too. He was back on you then, hovering over you, mesmerised by your body and you smiled coyly up him.
“Is this a dream?” He asked out loud, “I feel like it is, I’ve wanted this for so long…”
“It isn’t a dream,” you whispered. “I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere. Now, touch me more,” you whined, keening as you jutted your body up to him, feeling needy for his touch on you.
His hands shot to your breasts and you felt him tug them out of your bra, exposing your nipples to the cool air, as his mouth enclosed around one suddenly and you moaned out in surprise, Feeling his hot tongue swirl around and form goosebumps on your skin. A groan fell from him and his hand came around the back of you to undo your bra, leaving you fully bare now. One of his hands began needing your other breast roughly, as if he couldn’t believe you were really under him and he could touch whatever he wanted, as he sucked harder on your nipple, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin, and you arched your back as you whined, the pleasure flowing through your body, and you felt a pulsing between your legs, shifting uncomfortably because you wanted more. You wanted it all.
After a few moments his mouth came back to meet yours, his tongue not holding back as it explored your mouth, greedy moans and hums leaving him as moved with haste, as if he wanted to do everything at once, before he pulled back, tugging your bottom lip with his teeth. You felt a flash of excitement run through you when his hands slid down your legs, cupping your ass cheeks as he went, spreading your legs so he could fit in between them before he veered back on his heels, his mouth attaching itself to one of your calves and working his way to the underside of your thighs. You squealed as his kisses fluttered over your flesh, feeling each kiss and touch everywhere, a painful ticklish pleasure that had you squirming.
“I’ve wanted to do this for so long,” he murmured against your skin. “When I saw you changing in the bathroom, I thought I was going to die right there and then… I don’t care if that sounds creepy,” and you giggled at confession, remembering back. “To kiss you,” he let out, his lips moving to your other calf, “to hold you,” he continued, his mouth travelling up the underside of your leg, his grip on you turning to a caress as one hand reached for your ass again, causing you to shut your eyes and sigh in pleasure. “To touch you,” he concluded, his mouth now dangerously close to your core as he finally made his way up to your bikini line, and you shivered, opening your eyes to find him playing with the top of your underwear, tugging them down as he went, meeting your gaze, his eyes blown out with lust between your legs, and when he flicked them off he let out a groan, taking in your wet heat as his eyes fluttered closed, slowly adjusting to reality. After all the waiting and dreaming, it was finally coming true — it was finally happening.
“Fuck,” he let out. “Can I taste you?” His voice was an octave lower as he opened his eyes again, head close to your mound as he swallowed loudly, practically salivating.
You bit your lip lightly, nodding as you looked back at him with lidded eyes, your own arousal growing as you watched him descend a little, eyes watching everything as he placed one kiss above your clit — a small, sweet kiss before his tongue came out, curling around it, swirling around as if he was kissing your mouth. You had never felt this amount of pleasure before; you felt alive, your veins flooding with a substance that made it feel like you were floating, and you sighed out loud — Yoongi, making him growl into you, the vibrations rolling through your body, making you arch your back into him, as he grabbed your thighs and spread your legs wider.
That’s when he began sucking against your clit, pulling back before blowing softly, the cold air making you squirm and hold your breath as you craned your neck to watch him as he repeated the action. He chuckled at your reaction before pouncing back on your, applying more pressure as he took pleasure in knowing you were watching him intently, moans falling from under your breath as your fingers dug into the tops of your own thighs.
His tongue left your sweet spot and swiped down your folds, dipping into your hole, and you moaned louder this time, loving the feeling of finally being filled somehow, and you moved your hands to tug on his locks as he dipped in and out, flinging your head back as you felt your orgasm approach, his thumb now leaving light circles on your clit, adding to the pleasure.
Only your release never happened because you felt emptiness as he moved back, sensing you were close by the way you were squeezing against his tongue, cold air hitting your centre and you looked down, whining in annoyance as he smirked at you. It was made worse by the fact that you saw yourself on his chin, your juices shining, his lips kiss bitten and parted open.
“Yoongi,” you pouted, pushing you head back into the pillow, even in sex he liked to tease. Your clit was throbbing, and not in the ‘good after orgasm’ kind of way; it was in the ‘I need attention now’ way and you instinctively shut your legs as he sat up, rubbing them together to gain some kind of friction.
He chuckled at your reaction, apologising, “I’m very sorry, babe, but I want— no, I need you to come with me. I need to feel you… fuck.” He trailed off, cursing as he palmed himself over his underwear, watching you spread your legs again at his words, the babe still ringing in your ears.
“Get naked then. Come here — have sex with me,” you whispered, watching him groan at the way you made what you wanted clear, the throbbing in your clit now turning to anticipation and you followed his eyes to your now dripping core, there was no doubt about it, and he took a shaky breath, his hand rubbing his dick one last time before he pulled at the waistband of his boxers, his dick springing free and bouncing, rock solid, the head angry and red, weeping with arousal already.
The thought of him entering you and filling you up sent tingles up your spine and you tugged him down quickly, your lips meeting his again, only this time it was your turned to explore his mouth with your tongue, as you turned manic, wanting to feel and touch every inch of him, your hand coming down to run your fingers down his length as you thrust your hips up, the head of his dick brushing against you, making you both gasp out, and you did it again, jerking your hand quickly so that he brushed against your soaking slit, teasing him repeatedly until he was panting, his palms holding himself up beside your head as he looked down and watched you.
“Y/N,” he said, letting out a strangled cry, “I’ll get a condom…”
You nodded quickly, letting go of him as he leaned over your body, opening his bedside drawer and pulling out a foil wrapper, and you watched as he knelt in between your legs, his hands fumbling as he tried to open it and then place it on, jerking his hand slowly over himself to make sure it was secure. He quickly scurried lower towards you, flattening his legs as he practically laid over you, and with a grin from you, he wasted no time in pushing slowly and steadily inside of you, holding his breath until he was all of the way inside, gritting his teeth to stop him from making a noise, and you hissed in pleasure feeling him fully inside of you, the stretch painfully pleasurable, your vagina hugging him tight to you, contracting a couple of times, causing him to huff out as he gripped his nails into the pillow, as he held himself up.
“You feel so much better than I imagined,” he breathed, beginning to thrust into you slowly, now that he was used to you. “Don’t be surprised if I bust a nut in like two minutes.”
His joke made you laugh, the sound breathless as he pushed in harder this time, picking up the pace when he felt you widen your legs, and it wasn’t long before you were moaning, wrapping your legs around his waist and linking your feet, wanting to feel his now sweaty skin on top of yours, your head falling further into the pillow as he thrust in and out quickly.
You needed to feel every inch of him so you jutted your hips forward, meeting him with just as much power, feeling him slip in further and he gasped out, grunting loudly until he was moaning, falling out of you fully, only to push back in and he watched you circle your hips around him, making him hit spots he wasn’t sure he knew existed. You hadn’t heard him be this loud before, all the times he’d brought a girl back, but now he seemed like he was officially losing it, letting you slip and slid against him as he watched you in awe, his dick slick with your juices that made wet noises fill the room.
“Fuck,” he groaned, “you’re gonna make me cum.”
Suddenly, he was kissing you sloppily, his movements picking up once again as he chased his high and one of his hands moved to come between you, his thumb finding your clit again, rubbing furiously as he tried his best to make you come as well. If you were being honest, it wasn’t going to take much. Your senses were heightened, every touch and kiss, and thrust of his dick felt new and foreign to you, and you moaned into him as he joined you, encouraged by the way you were enjoying it.
“Cum for me,” he whispered quickly, “I want to feel you squeeze around my dick — please.”
He sounded so desperate and needy, his thrusts turning as sloppy as his kisses as he gritted his teeth, trying to hold on until you met your end too, and that was all you needed; the heat flying from your core and through your body, every nerve ending tingling as your orgasm over took you, your muscles clenching around him, squeezing him as you moaned loudly, your hips stilling as your body tensed, your hands clamped around his arms as you tried to anchor yourself to him, and then like magic, he was coming too, a croaky whine leaving him as he pulled away from your mouth and flung his head back, his hips moving on their own as he snapped furiously into you, releasing into the condom; all the pent up frustration he’d been feeling for two years finally coming to an end.
He didn’t pull out straight away, you both wanting to bask in the moment for as long as possible, letting your post-orgasm bliss ebb away slowly, your body still entwined around his, your skin now clammy and his fringe damp from his exertion, your chests heaving with the adrenaline, and after a few minutes of kissing each other and sharing coy smiles, he pulled out, rolling over onto his back and pulling off the soiled condom, shoving it back into the packet on his side table.
His hands run across your legs once he turned to face you, caressing every inch of your skin sweetly, before he wrapped his arm around your hip, turning you so that he was spooning you tightly.
“Wow,” he exclaimed, his breath hot against your ear. “Really, wow,” he repeated, a breathless laugh leaving him and you joined in, feeling high from this euphoric state.
“Really, Gian is gonna freak when she gets home,” you said eventually, giggling as you imagined her face.
“Nah, she probably knows I’ve been harbouring the biggest crush on you forever,” he shrugged, watching as you turned to face him, cradling you in his arms in the process. “Honestly, I think everyone and their mother knew except you.”
You raised an eyebrow, joy filling you as he talked about his crush, but you wondered if it was true. Did Gian really know — did everyone know? Seriously, all your friends were going to have a heart attack once they found out, and as if he read your mind, he snickered, “Everyone is going to think I’m such a God now — I managed to melt the ice queen’s heart. It’s a miracle!” He rejoiced dramatically and you giggled again, reaching up to peck at his lips.
“They’re gonna have to get used to that from now on,’ he smiled as you pulled away, “because let me tell you — I won’t be able to control myself around you whatsoever…”
His smile turned to a smirk as his hands wondered, cupping your ass as he pressed you close to him, reaching for your mouth again, his tongue peeking through his parted lips as he teased you.
“Trust me, I have two years to make up for,” and you gulped as he kissed you hard, your heart pounding against his chest, that matched his.